The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3) (14 page)

“I see.”

She grinned. “Do you really?”

“Nay, but it pleases me to hear you speak of it.” He gave her a lopsided grin.
“
’Tis certain you have many suitors at home, lass. Was there anyone in particular?”

“I dated plenty, but . . .” She shrugged. “Keep in mind, my dad . . .” A
grin broke free as memories flooded through her. “Well, you can take the man out o
f the thirteenth century, but you ca
n’t take the thirteenth century out of the man.”

“I dinna ken your meaning.”

“Imagine, if you will, a young man from the twenty-first century coming to pick me up for an evening out being greeted by a knight from your era. One of the first things my dad did, after intimidating my date with glares, wide stances and crossed arms, was to invite the hapless soul into his man cave.”

“Man cave?” Puzzlement filled Hunter’s eyes.

“His chamber in the lower level of our home . . . the place where he kept all of his swords, daggers and war clubs on display.”

Hunter chuckled. “Ah, I begin to see how that might put a damper on your date’s
enthusiasm. Robley has told me how much men have weakened from our time to yours. ’Tis difficult to imagine.”

“That’s not entirely true.” She cast him a glance. “There are men and women warriors in our age who are every bit as powerful as you are. Soldiers, professional athletes, boxers . . . all kinds. Keep in mind Robley was with us for a very limited time, and the circle of people he met while there was small.”

“Och, for certes you have it aright. You yourself are a fine example of just such a warrior.”

She nodded, and her heart rate and breathing came down a few notches. She could do this. She could carry on a normal conversation as if she hadn’t just made a pass at him and been rejected.

“It’s nice to talk about my family.” She glanced at him. “My brother Aaron is an accountant and still single. My dad owns a fencing club, and it really bothered him at first that neither of my brothers wanted to go into business with him on a full-time basis. They both fence, fight with broadswords and joust though. Occasionally they’ll do exhibitions with us at the Renaissance fairs.” She took a deep, calming breath before continuing.

“I am the only one of the three of us who works for the family business, and I love it. I love working with my dad and performing at the fairs. I have big plans for . . . for . . .” Her throat closed up, and her eyes filled. Too much. After the way Hunter had put her aside, missing her family was the last Jenga block to be pulled out before her entire tower collapsed. What if she never got back home? She stopped walking. What if she never saw her family again for as long as she lived?

“Och.” Hunter drew her into his arms, confusing her further. “Dinna fash, Beag Curaidh.” He rocked her back and forth while she cried against his linen shirt. “No matter what it takes, I will convince Madame Giselle to send you back to your home. After all, she is my granddam many generations past. I shall become like a thistle pricking at her skin until she relents.”

“What ails you, Lady Meghan?” Tieren strode across the bailey to join them. “What has Hunter done now to make you weep so?”

Hunter stiffened and stepped away from her. “I took her from her time and place,” he bit out. “Is that no’ enough to make her weep?”

“He didn’t do anything.” She’d been the one who had kissed him first, and she really couldn’t bear the way he always stiffened and pulled away. “I’m just homesick is all.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks and sniffed. “I miss my family, and it just got to me.”

Tieren took her hand in his and placed it in the crook of his elbow. “Let me escort you to the keep, my lady. I vow to do my best to turn your mind to happier thoughts.”

Hunter grunted. Scowling, he took the place on her other side. What was he scowling and grunting about now? Her head ached, and she wanted to escape to her chamber. Hunter had sworn to find a way to get her home, and home is where she belonged. She didn’t even want to imagine never seeing her folks again. What must they be going through about now? It broke her heart to think of the pain her disappearance must be causing them, not to mention the chasm it caused in her own heart.

“I hear you plan to begin training with the lads,” Tieren said.

“Where did you hear that?” She shot him a look of surprise. “We just talked about it a little while ago.”

“I overheard Robley speak of it to George in the great hall. He’s to inform the other lads.” He winked at her. “I would learn this hand-to-hand combat as well, if it pleases you.”

“Sure. The more the merrier.”

Hunter let go of another grunt as they climbed the steps to the doors of the keep. “I will escort her from here.” He removed her arm from Tieren’s. “Rest well, for I plan to give you a sound thrashing in the lists at daybreak.”

Tieren’s mouth quirked up. He bowed low. “Good eve to you, my lady. I look forward to training with you.” He straightened and flashed Hunter a wry grin. “As always, you are welcome to
try
to defeat me.” He turned and hurried down the steps. With a backward wave, he crossed the bailey and headed for the portcullis.

“Can he?” she asked.

“Can he what?” Hunter opened the doors and ushered her through.

“Defeat you.”

“Aye, he can. Over the years Tieren has managed to find a way to confound my abilities. Were it no’ for him, I would no’ be nearly as skilled as I’ve had to become. Remind me to tell you how he and I came to be friends.”

“How about now?”

“Nay. I’ve things to do before I retire, and your guardians will be wanting to see that you’re safely tucked away in your chamber for the evening. Where have they put you?”

“I’m in the turret next to the room Erin and Robley always stay in when they’re here.”

“Do you find it to your liking?”

“It’s wonderful.” The round chamber with its small hearth, feather bed, medieval tapestries and murder holes made her feel like a princess.

He placed a hand at the small of her back and moved her closer to the wall, taking up a protective position on the outside as they mounted the narrow stone stairway leading to the living quarters. “Do you still suffer bad dreams, lass?”

“I’ve had a few, yes.” The image of the man she’d killed flashed through her mind. Regret stole her breath, and she was sure she’d dream about that day for a long time to come.

“I’m sorry I canna be there to wake you from them.”

Me too.
The thought of his being in bed with her sent her heart racing, and a spool of heat unwound in her center. Ah, but did he mean it the way she wanted to take it? Probably not. “I’m fine. Robley and Erin are right next door if I need them.”

They reached the hallway, and awkwardness overtook her. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. How would she get past the fact that she’d been the one to kiss him, not the other way around?
Confusion and longing swirled around in her brain. She stiffened her spine. Hunter was determined to send her home. She wanted to go home. So why had she tried to start something with him? She shook her head. What a mess.

“What is it, lass?”

“Hmm?” She looked up to find him scrutinizing her, his expression a little too sharp for her comfort. “I was just thinking about . . . my situation. A lot has happened in the last couple of weeks. I’m still playing catch-up.”

“Catch-up?” He arched an eyebrow. “I see. I found it most gratifying to speak with you this eve, and my worries have lightened indeed. Dinna fash about . . .” He waved a hand in the air. “These things happen. ’Tis why young ladies of gentle birth should always be chaperoned, so that young men like me dinna take advantage and steal kisses.” He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and peered into her eyes.

“You didn’t steal a kiss. I did.”

“Nay, your forget the first kiss upon your brow.”

His tender smile had her aching for another round of his mouth on hers. “Your chivalry is showing.”

“Mayhap you have it aright.” His eyes lit with amusement. “I would have your promise that you’ll come to me should aught trouble you.”

“I will.” She nodded. “I promise.”

“Good. Sleep well, lass.” With that he turned around and hurried back down the stairs.

“OK. You too,” she called after him. Dang it. What would Robley do if Hunter told him about the way she’d thrown herself at him? Her guardian would probably throw a fifteenth-century fit and lock her in her turret chamber. Sighing, she turned toward her room, eager for a little privacy to sort through her feelings about this disastrous evening.

“Good eve to you, my lady,” a voice said behind her.

Meghan spun around, her muscles tensed for battle. “Cecil. What are you doing here?”

“Like you, I am a guest,” he said in an offended tone. “I share a small chamber with my pages and squire on the next floor up.” He gestured down the hall in the opposite direction from where she was heading. “I am of noble blood, lass. Did you expect they’d have me sleep on the floor in the great hall whilst there are chambers to be had?”

“Of course not. I’m sorry.”
Avoid any circumstance where you might find yourself alone with him.
That’s what Hunter had said, and here she was—alone with the man who had demanded she be abandoned in the woods. “I was just startled. I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”

“Mayhap ’tis because I didn’t come up the stairs. I’ve just come down them.” His expression turned contrite. “Have you truly forgiven me for the foul accusations I made toward you?”

“I have, but it doesn’t mean I trust you.” She inched away. He followed.

“Then let me endeavor to prove myself worthy of your trust, my lady. Accept my pledge to protect and aid you however I might.” He placed his hand over his heart. “I swear to search for the faerie who snatched you from your home until she is found.”

And then what?
He didn’t say anything about seeing her safely home, only that he’d find Giselle. Hunter was right. Cecil wanted to sidle up to her to get to the fae, or he believed she was the current faerie in residence. “Thanks. Good night, Cecil.”

She didn’t give him a chance to say any more and hurried to her room. Once she reached the chamber, she put herself behind the closed door as fast as possible and dropped the bar into the brackets on either side to lock it. As long as Cecil thought he could benefit from being nice to her, he would act accordingly. Somehow that didn’t give her much comfort.

Tomorrow she’d be back in her tunic, hose and chain mail with her sword hanging down her back. Now
that
would make her feel a whole lot better, and if Robley gave her grief about it, she’d just challenge him to settle their differences in the lists.

Meghan surveyed her pupils, all standing in a neat line in front of the two newly constructed frames holding the leather punching bags. As the rest of the men training in the lists, her trainees wore plain brown woolen kilts and saffron shirts, allowing for a great deal of freedom in movement.

She strode from one end to the other as they practiced the drills she’d taught them. The drills would eventually enable them to effectively block any blows coming their way, and in the five days she’d been working with them, she was seeing great progress. Of course, fifteenth-century Scottish men were used to training and had been doing so since they were just little kids. She squinted against the morning sun and corrected Allain’s posture.

“All right. Listen up.” They were ready to move on to the next demonstration. “Today we’re going to begin the kickboxing phase of our training.” She gestured toward the punching bags. “Watch as I demonstrate a simple kick; then I’ll have each of you give it a try.” She approached one of the punching bags, curled her fists next to her chest, aligned her side to the target and sent a swift high kick to the center of the weighted leather, snapping her leg back as quickly as she’d kicked. The impact made a nice smacking sound and sent the leather swinging. Grinning, she turned to face her line of pupils.

Furtive glances bounced down the line, and the younger boys shuffled their feet. Puzzled by their reaction, she stepped closer. “Come on. Who wants to be first?”

“Uh, my lady . . .” Allain, her staunchest supporter, murmured. “Mayhap this would be best saved for another day.”

“Oh, come on.” She set her hands on her hips and scowled. “It’s not
that
hard.” Tieren and Hunter made snorting sounds. She glared them into silence. “Will no one volunteer?” She stared at each one. “I’m disappointed.”

“I will volunteer, my lady.” George stepped forward, a cocky grin on his face.

“Good. All of you circle around and watch me demonstrate once more.” Again a flurry of glances back and forth mystified her. Shaking it off, she demonstrated with another swift kick to the leather. “You want to be slightly sideways with your balance on the outside leg.” She backed up. “Go ahead, George.”

“Aye,
go ahead
, George,” Tristan taunted. “
Show
the lady how high you can kick.”