The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3) (16 page)

“Nay. I thought it best to speak with you first as is proper.”

“Hunter . . . are you certain this is what you truly want?”

“I am.” He lifted his chin and met Malcolm’s stare. “Why do you ask?”

Malcolm shrugged. “You dinna lack for determination, and none can doubt your honor or your word, but what of Meghan?”

“What of her?” His stomach and heart tangled into a hard knot. “I will see that she is returned to her home as I have sworn.”

“Aye, lad. I ken you have vowed to do so, but—”

“Have Sky and the earl of Mar’s grandson met?”

“Of course,” Malcolm said, rising from his place. “Sky and Oliver have met on several occasions during the summer gatherings. Talk to her, lad. Discover what is in her heart, and then we shall meet again.”

His hopes soared.
If
Sky wanted him, he still had a chance. “My thanks, Malcolm. I will speak with her at the earliest opportunity.”

“Good. In the meantime, a celebratory feast is planned for three days hence. ’Tis good to have all of us gathered together, aye?” Malcolm came around the table and placed his hand on Hunter’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Go. Find Angus. He kens you are to replace him, and he will be honored to learn you wish to train under him.”

“I will.” Hunter rose and clasped Malcolm’s forearm. “You willna regret granting me this post, Da. I swear it.”

Malcolm laughed. “For certes, you make more vows than your three brothers combined.”

“Mayhap.” Heat surged to his face. “But I keep them.”

Hunter pulled his still damp hair back and fastened it into a queue with a piece of leather. Bathed and dressed in his
feileadh breacans
and a crisp linen shirt, he looked forward to the feast about to begin.

Angus had kept him busy these past three days, and he’d not had a single chance to speak with Sky. He’d inspected the curtain walls, the armory, rosters and schedules, while familiarizing himself with the members of the earl’s garrison. Angus had introduced him as the clan’s new commander, and he had spent every waking hour learning his new responsibilities. He hadn’t even had the time to join Meghan’s mixed martial arts training, but he’d noticed Tieren in her ranks each and every day. Tension banded his chest, and he forced himself to relax. He and Tieren hadn’t spoken since the day of Sky’s return.

He uttered a curse under his breath. Now that he and Tieren were estranged, he didn’t ken who he could trust to protect his back—and all the tension betwixt him and his childhood friend had to do with a lass. ’Twas best that he keep his distance from Meghan. He would talk with Sky this eve, and all would be settled. The feeling that his life was fast unraveling would disappear. Aye. He needed to focus on the future stretching before him, and he was eager to take the first step upon his chosen path.

With that thought, he left his chamber and came face-to-face with Meghan. “Good eve to you, Lady Meghan.” He bowed and fixed a polite expression upon his face, hiding the breathlessness seeing her caused. Could she hear how hard his heart pounded? For certes the sound reverberated loudly enough inside his skull to chase out any ability to think.

She wore a gown of pale green. ’Twas the exact shade of the thistles growing in the meadows, and it suited her well. The fabric draped over her lithe form, accentuating each and every curve. Her lustrous hair hung in a braid that began at the crown of her head and reached her shoulders. Ribbons had been woven into the strands. He ached to unravel the arrangement so he could run his fingers through her soft tresses. He clasped his hands behind his back.

“Good evening,” she murmured, color rising to her cheeks. She moved around him and hurried down the hall toward the stairs without another word.

He scowled. Had he offended her in some way, or had Tieren said something to turn her against him? All his good intentions to keep his distance vanished, and he wanted nothing more than to go after her. Voices behind him drew his attention, and he turned to find Robley and Erin.

“Lad,” Robley said, slapping his back, “do you find your new position as garrison commander to your liking?”

“I do indeed. Good eve to you both,” he said, bowing to Erin. “I’m fortunate to have Angus to aid me as I learn my new responsibilities.” The three of them moved toward the stairs to the great hall and met Cecil at the landing.

Cecil turned to him. “Any word yet on the fortune-teller’s whereabouts?”

“Nay. No’ a word,” he said. “You will hear of it the same time I do should a message arrive.”

Cecil walked before him as they started down the stairs. “There will be dancing after the feast, aye?”

“Aye,” Robley said. “My brother, Lady True and I will provide the music.”

“I look forward to it.” Cecil rubbed his hands together. “I have heard Lady True is quite gifted when it comes to the harp.”

“She is, and my foster uncles are every bit as good with bodhran and pipes,” Hunter boasted.

Cecil glanced over his shoulder at Hunter. “Where did you say your foster mother hails from?”

Tension arced through him, and he focused upon Cecil. Curiosity, yes, but also suspicion and cunning motivated the man’s query. “I have said naught on the subject, since this is the first you’ve asked of it.” Erin placed her hand upon Hunter’s shoulder.

Robley grunted. “My lady wife and True are from a land unfamiliar to most, though the Norse oft travel to their shores for trade. ’Tis a vast land lying due west across the Atlantic Ocean.”

“Och, aye?” Cecil’s eyes widened, and speculation ran rampant from him. “How did you come here, my lady?”

“My husband has an insatiable thirst for adventure and knowledge,” Erin answered in an easy tone, though Hunter sensed her unease. “He traveled to my land. We met by chance at a fair, and he persuaded me to become his wife. I made the journey home with him.”

“And Lady True?” Cecil asked. “Did Malcolm also make the journey to your land?”

“Nay. My foster mother is descended from royalty,” Hunter told him. “Her father and mother were murdered, and her kin thought it best to send her abroad for her safety. They intended to sail to France, but their ship got caught in a storm and the captain was forced to change course. Lady True’s party took shelter in Port Leith and decided to travel cross-country to London instead of continuing on to France.”

How easily the story his foster family had concocted to explain True’s origins fell from his lips. “They were waylaid by brigands who thought to hold her for ransom. Malcolm and his men happened upon them whilst traveling home from the earl of Douglas’s holding. My foster father rescued Lady True and brought her to Loch Moigh. They too fell in love and wed, and she has remained here ever since.”

“Ah, I see.” Speculation and doubt pulsed from Cecil. “A land across the Atlantic, you say?”

“Aye, ’tis called America,” Robley added, catching Hunter’s eye with a wink. “If you wish, I can share with you the route I took. Mayhap you’ll want to make the journey for yourself.”

“Nay.” Cecil shook his head. “I’ve no wish to leave Scotia, as I have just recently returned.”

They reached the great hall, and Cecil’s attention shifted. “If you’ll excuse me, I wish to pay my respects to Lady Meghan.”

Hunter’s gut roiled as the man’s lascivious attention fixed upon her. In fact, she drew every man’s eye. How could she not? She radiated innate grace and confidence, and her beauty was beyond compare. He stifled the rising growl and forced his attention elsewhere. If anyone was to win Meghan’s hand, he hoped ’twould be Tieren. At least then she’d remain close to Robley and Erin, and that eased his mind.

He sought Sky in the throng of family and clan milling about. He found her near the hearth, chatting with her cousins. His palms sweating, he strode toward her. Her eyes met his, and a welcoming warmth filled her expression.

“You look lovely this eve, Lady Sky.” He bowed before her. Her burgundy gown of velvet set off the chestnut of her lustrous hair and made her eyes look more brown.

“Hunter,” she said, holding out her hands to clasp his,
“
’
tis good to see you. Angus has kept you from us these few days past, has he no’?”

“He has. There is much to learn before command falls solely to me.” He greeted the cousins surrounding her, and asked her, “Might I have a word with you in private?”

“Of course.” A slight frown caused a wrinkle to form between her eyebrows. “Is aught amiss?”

“Nay,” he said, offering her his arm. “Let us take a stroll in the inner bailey before we sup.” The doors to the keep had been set open, letting in the fresh air whilst the hall was filled with so many of their clan. “If it pleases you, my lady.”

Her brow rose, and she concentrated, sending her senses to read him. “
My lady?
Why so formal, Sir Hunter? Am I no’ still kin to you?”

“Come,” he said, leading her toward the door. “I wish to speak to you of a matter close to my heart.”

Color filled her cheeks, and the frown returned. He forced himself to be calm, lest she sense the turmoil churning his insides to pulp. The sunlight tarried later and later each day as summer grew nearer, and this was an exceptionally fine evening. He guided her farther away from any who might overhear. Sky seemed lost in her own thoughts beside him. He placed his hand over hers where it rested upon his forearm. “I spoke with your father recently.”

“
Our
father.”

“Nay, lass. I am but a fosterling. You and I share no bloodline of kinship. We are no’ related.” She stopped walking, and he sensed her confusion. “You ken the vow I made the day you were born, aye?”

“How could I no’?” She chuckled, but the sound held more nervousness than humor. “The tale has been told oft enough all the years we were growing up. Dinna feel you are bound by such a—”

“I want to be bound to you, Sky.” He turned to face her. “I have asked Malcolm’s permission to court you. I wish for your hand in marriage.”

She gasped and studied the ground. “Let us walk in the direction of the keep.”

“If that is what you wish.” His heart plummeted. “What are your thoughts, my lady? Is the thought of a life with me as your husband so distasteful to you? Do you care naught for me?”

“Of course I care for you,” she exclaimed. “You are my beloved elder brother. We played together as bairns, and ’twas you who always took my side in scraps with other children. ’Twas you who always protected me from hurt. Hunter, you hold a special place in my heart and always will, but—”

“Can you no’ turn that love for me into that of a wife for her husband?” He searched his mind for some way to convince her of the rightness of their troth. “Think on it, Sky. ’Tis all I ask. We would remain here, and you would stay close to your parents. That would please you, aye?” They reached the broad stairs leading into the great hall, and desperation set its claws deep into his chest. “Will you consider the matter at least?”

“Hunter . . .” She twisted her hands together and gazed toward the great hall as if she wished she were within rather than strolling the bailey with him.

“Is it my lack of a title and land that troubles you?”

“Nay. You ken it is no’.” Anger sparked her tone. “You are my brother. I . . . I am no’ certain I could ever see you as aught else.”

An angry shout arose behind them, and Hunter sought its source. Two men shoved each other, whilst others attempted to separate the two combatants. The altercation was over almost as soon as it began. He turned back to Sky, only to find her gone.
Damnation.

He’d handled things poorly, been too blunt, and now he’d frightened her off. Words of love, flattery and wooing were what was needed, and he had no experience with such nonsense. His jaw clenched, and he kicked at the ground beneath his boot.

“What’s the matter, Hunter?” Meghan’s voice sent his heart racing. “Did you have a fight with your girlfriend?”

“Girl friend?”
He whipped around. “I dinna ken what you mean. Indeed, where you are concerned, there is much I dinna understand.”

“Don’t mind me,” she huffed. “I just came outside for a breath of Cecil-free air. He’s suddenly developed a case of static-clinginess where I’m concerned. I don’t like it at all.”

“Humph.” Her nearness weakened his knees and stole his breath. He did not like the feeling at all.

“So, did you?”

“Did I what?” He scowled at her.

“Did you and your
betrothed
have a fight?”

“Sky Elizabeth is no’ my betrothed.” Not yet, but he hadn’t given up hope. He’d have to go about it differently, but she had admitted she cared for him. That was a start. “And nay. We did no’ have a
fight
. Unlike you, she does no’ train in the lists with a claymore and war club.”

“She’s not your fiancée?” She canted her head and crossed her arms in front of her. “The day Sky and the twins arrived, Tieren told me you two were pledged. I assumed—”

“Tieren told you, eh?” he said with a snarl, frustration twisting his innards.

“Do you want to talk about whatever it is that has your boxers in a twist?”