Highland Angel (5 page)

“Aye.” He took off her cap, almost smiling when her hair immediately started to slip free of the odd lump she had pinned it up into. “Word spreads slowly but surely, however. Yet, there are so many other troubles at court that worrying about a mon with a liking for lads isnae something many have time for. There is a struggle for power o’er our wee king amongst the Board of Regents. The Boyds rapidly gain more and more power. There are whispers that Lord Boyd and his brother Sir Alexander may try to grasp full control o’er young James.”

Kirstie sighed and shook her head. “So the only lad most wish to hear about or fret o’er is our young king.”

“And whether England may try to take advantage of all the squabbling and fighting for power.”

“Do ye think there will be war?”

“I pray it willnae come to that, but when the rule of a country is at stake, war oft results.” Unable to resist, he took her hair down, combing his fingers through the silken mass to loosen the tangles. “But, we have our own battle to fight and cannae fret o’er those who try to steal power from a too-youthful king who hasnae the strength to hold fast to it.”

“What are ye doing?” she asked, knowing she should move out of his reach, yet liking the feel of his fingers in her hair too much to stop him.

“Fixing your hair. Ye willnae wander the town alone.”

“Oh? I willnae? I believe I requested that ye be my champion, my ally, nay my father.”

“As your champion and ally, ’tis my responsibility to see to your safety.” He grasped her by her slender shoulders. “’Tis nay safe for ye to wander these streets all alone.”

“Then I will take someone with me.”

“Curse it, ye barely escaped one attempt upon your life. Why do ye now court another?”

“Sir Roderick believes he succeeded in killing me, so he willnae be looking for me.
Nor will any of his people. I need to do this. I cannae go to court and help ye. I cannae go to any of the few people I ken for I am supposed to be dead. I have been fighting to save the children too long to just stop now. There was danger in it before, wasnae there? And, that bastard tried to kill me. I cannae let that lie, cannae just sit by and pray he doesnae find me so that he can try it again. As ye make it impossible for him to get his filthy hands on the children of the highborn, he will turn more and more to the poor, to the ones in the town. I mean to sorely hinder him in that.”

Payton could understand her need and agreed with her reasoning. Someone spreading the word about town and searching for allies and witnesses would be helpful. Strong Ian tried in what time he had to spare, but he was more apt to elicit fear than confidences. Logically, he knew her plan was a good one. Emotionally, he wanted to lock her in a room and surround it with burly guards until Roderick was dead and buried. That was not something he intended to confess, however, and he struggled to think of some compromise.

“I can take Callum with me,” she said, fighting not to be too strongly stirred by the way he was stroking her arms.

“Roderick and his men would easily recognize the boy.” He stared at her full mouth as she spoke, feeling nearly desperate to taste it.

“Nay when I am done with him. Two lads are in less danger than one and ye ken that I am verra good at creeping about unseen and hiding. Callum is nearly as good as I am. I swear that, at the first hint that my disguise is nay working or that I have roused my husband’s interest, I will come back here and nay leave again until Roderick is dead.”

Kirstie could not fully suppress a shiver of delight when he gently held her face between his elegant hands. The shards of green in his golden eyes seemed to sparkle and gleam, fascinating her. She did not really want to find him so alluring; far too many women did. The very last thing she needed was to become just one more in an undoubtedly impressive line of women he had seduced. And yet, she mused with an inner sigh, to be seduced by such a man would certainly be a memory any woman would cherish.

“At the verra first hint of danger?” he asked, not sure why he was giving into her.

“E’en the suspicion of a hint.” The way he was lightly caressing her face with his fingers was making her almost uncomfortably warm.

“And ye willnae go out alone.”

“Nay.” She almost squeaked the word when he touched his lips to her forehead.

“And ne’er at night.” He kissed the outside corner of each of her eyes.

“Nay, ne’er at night.”

Kirstie could hear herself speaking, but was not exactly sure what she was saying. Her mind and her body seemed to be melting into a heated pool at his elegantly shod feet. She hoped she was not promising anything she would regret later. With each soft kiss upon her face, she cared less and less about talking. In fact, she was increasingly desirous of seeing how fast she could tear those elegant clothes off his too-tempting form and get him down on the floor. Since she was not entirely sure what she would do with him after that, she thought it a passingly strange urge. When he brushed his lips over hers, she felt her whole body tremble and clutched at the front of his tunic.

“And ye will let me ken where in town ye mean to be,” he said softly, his mouth so close his lips brushed against hers as he spoke.

“Oh, aye.”

Payton tangled his fingers in her soft, thick hair, cradling the back of her head with one hand. He curled his other arm around her tiny waist and tugged her body closer to his. It had been a long time since he had had to use such subtlety, to coax or steal a kiss, but he was pleased to see that he still had some skill at it. Kirstie was intoxicatingly responsive. He knew he ought to feel guilty for taking advantage of that, but he did not. If it took a sly maneuver or two to get a kiss, he would not hesitate. He felt as if he had ached to taste her full lips for most of his life.

A heartbeat after Payton pressed his lips against her, Kirstie wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. When he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, she readily parted them. Roderick had kissed her a few times on their wedding night and, when he had stuck his tongue in her mouth, she had nearly gagged. Payton’s kiss was beyond words, each stroke of his tongue making her feel hot and desperately needy. So many strong feelings were tearing through her, she was surprised she did not swoon. As he moved his hands over her body, she felt the urge to throw off her clothes so she could feel them against her skin.

When he placed a hand against her backside, holding his groin firm against her, Kirstie heard herself moan softly. She realized she ached to rub herself against him in a blindly wanton fashion, and she was so shocked she was able to finally grasp a few shards of control. There were a hundred reasons why she should not take what Payton offered. The fact that she could not think of a single one at the moment showed her just how much danger she was in. She quickly pulled free of his hold, staring at him as she struggled to calm her breathing. She was pleased to see that he was breathing as hard as she was.

“That must ne’er happen again,” she said, wishing she did not sound quite so unconvinced and breathless.

“Ye want me.” He reached for her.

Kirstie started backing up toward the door. “I want a lot of things, but that doesnae mean I can or should have them.”

“Ye could have this.” Payton wondered what had happened to his renowned skill with words, then decided that, when every bone and sinew in his body cried out to possess her, it was no wonder his lust-crazed mind could not conjure up any practiced words of seduction.

“Nay. I willnae just be one of the multitude,” she said, grasping the latch on the door.

“Ye wouldnae be.”

“And, I think ’tis wise to cling to my virginity. After all, if all else fails, I could still seek an annulment.”

She fled before he could argue that. She could not possibly believe there was any chance of an annulment. Roderick wanted her dead, had already tried to kill her once. Since Kirstie was not dim-witted, Payton suspected that statement had been no more than some hasty attempt to make him leave her alone.

He poured himself some wine and emptied his goblet in one long drink. It did little to cool the fever in his blood. No woman had ever stirred him as Kirstie did. He wondered if some part of him had suspected that was how it would be, hence his obsession with her. Up until this moment, he had been struggling to be a perfect
gentleman, to refrain from trying to seduce her. That searing kiss had ended that noble plan. For once, he rather hoped rumor did not exaggerate his seductive skills, for he was going to use every one he had on Kirstie. He would not, could not, rest until she was in his bed.

“He wants to get under your skirts.”

Kirstie nearly stumbled, then steadied herself with a hand on the rough stone wall of the building they stood near. She stared at the scowling Callum. He was well disguised, with a large cap hiding his bright hair and shadowing his green eyes, but it was still easy to see his anger. She wondered how long he had held it in. They had been wandering the town for eight days, then exchanging information with Payton and Ian in the evening, and not once had Callum revealed that he knew Payton was trying to seduce her.

And the man was doing a very good job of it, too, she mused as she calmed herself. Constantly touching her in small yet sensuous ways. Stealing kisses and speaking words that heated her blood. Kirstie grimaced when she realized she should have been prepared for this. Callum was too quick-witted, too worldly wise, not to have seen what was going on.

“What he wants and what he will get are nay the same thing,” she said and started walking again.

“’Tis said he could seduce a stone.”

“Exaggeration. The mon is beautiful, holds all a woman favors, and he kens the art of seduction. Whether he kens it better than another mon or nay, I certainly couldnae tell ye. What I
can
tell ye is that I am a married woman and I believe in the vows I spoke.”

“With Roderick?”

“True, he is nay what I want and he deserves to roast in hell’s hottest fires, but the fact that my husband is a perverted, murdering swine doesnae change the fact that I said vows afore God. Payton is obviously far too accustomed to women who ignore such vows. Too long at court, I suspect.”

Callum walked by her side and, after a moment of staring at his new soft boots, he said, “He hasnae bedded ye. Roderick hasnae, I mean. So, ye have no marriage.”

“I havenae ended it.”

“He did when he left ye unbedded for five years. There is naught holding ye in that marriage save the need to get some church mon to agree that ye have no marriage and sign a wee paper or two. I think ye ken that and Sir Payton does as weel. So, why are ye resisting him?”

“He is nay my husband.”

Callum made a rude noise and shook his head. “That matters naught. I ken ye want the mon.”

There was a sulky tone to his voice and Kirstie wondered if, like many boys do, Callum was suffering a first infatuation—with her. If so, she had to be very careful what she said. If he had feelings for her, they could not be openly acknowledged, but they could also not be callously ignored. She would have to tread warily.

“Sir Payton has kenned many, many women. E’en if one believes only half of what is said about him, ’tis still a longer line than I am inclined to join.”

A brief, very male grin lightened Callum’s face. “He is a rogue. Yet, I dinnae think he sees ye that way.” He shrugged. “I dinnae ken. I ken about men and women and what they do, but I have ne’er seen the game ye two play. Where I grew up, if a mon wanted a lass, he took her, then paid her for the pleasure or smacked her to stop her wailing or wedded with her. Ye two kiss and hint and blush and argue. ’Tis a muddle.”

It was hard to maintain her calm. Kirstie was filled with horror over the life he briefly referred to and laughter over the way he described the strange courtship she and Payton indulged in. She was knotted up inside with the desire Payton so easily stirred in her and her head often ached from the numerous arguments she had with herself over right and wrong. If Payton’s growing ill temper was any indication, he was also suffering, which pleased her. Such upheaval had to be confusing, however, even to a boy like Callum.

“There are rules, Callum. Rules that say a married woman should be faithful to her husband. Rules that say a maid should give her innocence only to her lawfully wedded husband. I will confess that Sir Payton makes me want to turn my back on all those rules, but then I would be nay better than all the adulteresses, courtesans, and licentious widows he has taken to his bed in the past.”

“Ah.” Callum nodded. “Pride.”

Kirstie shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Which do ye think will win? Pride or the lusting?”

“I have no idea,” she admitted softly.

“Would being with him make ye happy?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “Aye, I think it would.”

“Then ye should do as ye wish. Ye deserve to be happy.”

“Mayhaps. Yet, with a mon like Payton, that happiness could be verra fleeting, followed by a heart’s pain.” She slipped into the shadows of the wall surrounding the foundling home, Callum swiftly joining her.

“Weel, I will say one last thing on the matter,” Callum said in a near whisper. “If ye decide ye want to reach for a wee bit of joy and pleasure, I will nay mind. S’truth, I will kill any fool who dares to cry ye wrong or shameful.”

“Thank ye, Callum.” Ignoring the way he hunched his thin shoulders, she kissed his cheek. “That will weigh most heavily in whate’er decision I make.” She studied the large, thatch-roofed home that Roderick so often used to feed his dark hungers. “’Tis verra quiet. I wonder if the bastard will come here today. Payton says more and more people are quietly keeping their lads from his reach. Roderick will be hunting new victims soon and this has always proven to be fertile ground.”

Callum watched as a too-thin, ragged boy stumbled toward the well with two heavy buckets. “I think I ken who that lad is.”

She quickly grasped his shoulder when he made to move toward the boy. “I think your disguise is good, but I daren’t risk ye being seen by these people. They are Roderick’s lackeys.”

“They willnae see, Kirstie. Trust me.”

He gave her no chance to reply, slipping free of her grasp and moving toward the well where the boy struggled to fill the buckets. Kirstie began to relax when she realized even she was having a difficult time keeping him in sight. Then he was gone, but the way the lad at the well suddenly tensed and chanced a peek around, told her Callum was there. She tried not to get her hopes up as she waited; yet, if Callum could gain them an ally within the foundling home, they could more easily help the children there. They might even be able to end Roderick’s ability to help himself to the boys housed there.

It seemed like hours before Callum rejoined her, tense hours filled with the fear that he would be caught. Kirstie was compelled to grasp his hand when he reached her
side and hold it tightly for a moment to reassure herself that he was safe. It pleased her when Callum made no attempt to free himself of her touch.

“That lad is Simon, a weaver’s son,” Callum told her. “He only just arrived here. His father died and there was no one else to care for him.” Callum frowned. “I think he will be safe from that bastard, for he isnae a pretty lad. He has a big nose and his skin is spotty.”

“Ah, so he is a wee bit older than ye, is he?”

“Aye, twelve. He told me Sir Roderick hasnae been round for weeks. Said the mon what deals with Roderick has been acting nervous and afraid lately. O’erheard the mon and his bitch of a wife muttering about rumor and suspicion and needing to be verra careful for a wee while.”

“Ah, good. The rumors are starting to work their magic.”

Callum nodded. “Simon says the wife isnae happy about it, is whining about the money lost if they dinnae keep Sir Roderick happy.”

“Jesu, ’tis times such as this that I wish I was a verra big, hairy mon so I could stomp in there and pound those wretched people into the mud.” She ignored Callum’s soft laugh, even though the sound of it made her heart soar. “Can the lad be of any help to us?”

“Aye, he says he will do what he can. Told him we would come round each day we could at this time, for ’tis when he fetches the water for the evening gruel. He will nod his head as he works if he has something he needs to tell us. I didnae tell him where we were to be found, for I am nay sure he could stand firm if pressed for the truth.”

“’Tis probably for the best,” she said as they began to creep away from the wall, slipping into the deep shadows of an alley a few houses away before they eased their stealthy progress a little. “We will follow your plan for now.”

“He is a good lad, Simon is. He will do all he can to help. Ye see, he kens what Roderick is. His father told him. Nay too long afore he died.”

“How did his father die?”

“Stabbed in an alehouse. The mon went there every Saturday evening for a drink and a tumble with one of the maids. He had just returned from taking a few bolts of fine cloth to Sir Roderick and had a full purse. Told his son to nay get near the mon, went for his drink and tumble, and died.” Callum frowned. “The mon saw something, didnae he.”

It was not a question, but Kirstie still replied, “I believe so. He was silenced. Roderick is verra good at silencing people, either wih a heavy purse or a knife in the back. Roderick must have kenned that the weaver was nay one to be silenced by coin. I think we should tell Strong Ian about it. He may be able to get some people to tell him about how the weaver died, mayhap e’en get enough information to lay the blame at Roderick’s door.”

For a while they walked in silence, winding their way through the narrow, sheltered alleys of the town. It was time to return to Payton’s home, but they were always careful not to be seen coming or going. It was as they made their way carefully through a refuse-strewn alley that Kirstie heard an odd sound. She grasped Callum by the arm, halting him beside her, and then listened carefully.

“Did ye hear that?” she asked Callum a moment later, speaking as softly as she could yet still be understood.

“Sounds like someone is crying,” Callum whispered back, even as he searched the
alley all around them.

Kirstie bit back a protest when he moved toward a bundle of filthy rags near one damp, moss-covered wall. She carefully followed him as he bent down and, knife held at the ready, began to peel away the rags. Huddled beneath the filth was a small boy. Kirstie knelt down and, murmuring comforting words, gently turned the child’s face toward hers. As the dim shaft of light coming down into the alley from between the rooflines of the buildings hit the child’s face, Kirstie inhaled so quickly, she nearly choked. Filth, streaked and smudged by tears, and vibrant bruises marred the little face, but she still recognized it.

“Robbie?” she asked, not daring to believe that the little boy could have survived for so long, injured and on his own.

“M’lady Kirstie?” the boy mumbled.

“’Tis Robbie, isnae it?”

“Aye, m’lady. Moira?”

“She is weel,” she replied as she took off her cloak and, as gently as she could, wrapped his bone-thin body in it. “We will take ye to her.”

“She is safe?”

“Aye. I got her away from that mon. Ye should have waited for me, lad. I came back.”

“I needed to find Moira.”

He gasped when she picked him up in her arms, then swooned. Kirstie tried not to think about how many injuries might be hidden from view. Callum quickly took the lead as they headed to Payton’s house.

“Jesu, lass,” cried Wee Alice as Kirstie and Callum entered the kitchens, “what have ye found?”

“Moira’s brother,” she replied. “I dinnae ken how he survived or how he got to where we found him, but right now he needs cleaning and his wounds seen to.”

The next hour passed in a taut silence as they cleaned the child, tending all his bruises, and wrapping his ribs when Wee Alice decided that, although not broken, there was a need for binding them. Each bruise she put ointment on, each glance at the tiny, battered body of young Robbie, fed Kirstie’s anger. There was no excuse for anyone doing such hurt to a child.

Moira edged up to the side of the bed even as Robbie opened his eyes. “Moira?” the boy called.

“Here I am, Robbie,” Moira said, taking his hand in hers. “I thought the angels had taken ye away.”

“Nay. Not yet.”

“And they willnae,” Kirstie said firmly as she helped the boy to drink some of the thin gruel Wee Alice had hastily made and brought to the room.

“Do the bruises hurt?” Moira asked.

“Nay, not so bad. The old ones are near healed. ’Tis the ones I got a few days ago that sore pain me.”

“What happened a few days ago?” asked Kirstie.

“I nearly got taken back to that bastard,” the boy said in a surprisingly hard voice. “His men grabbed me and thumped me some, then threw me on a horse. I threw myself back off and went back into the town to hide.”

“Such a brave, resourceful lad.”

“I had to find Moira.” Despite the swelling around his mouth, he managed a little smile for his sister. “I have to take care of her. Promised Mither.”

“And I am sure her heart is fair bursting with pride as she looks down on ye, her braw son,” said Wee Alice as she sat down on the edge of the bed and gently coaxed Robbie into drinking a potion that would ease his pain and help him sleep.

“What has happened?”

Kirstie looked at Payton, who stood in the doorway, a frowning Ian behind him. “It seems the angels didnae take Moira’s brother, after all.”

Payton cursed softly and strode to the bed. The little boy lying there fighting to keep his eyes open was sorely injured. Despite the bruises and bandages, however, he could see the resemblance to little Moira. Robbie had the same dark hair, although not as curly, and the same dark eyes. Payton found it difficult to believe that such a battered child, a boy of only seven, could have survived on his own for several weeks. Then he recalled that Callum had survived for years.

“I will care for Moira, sir,” the boy said, his voice slurred as Alice’s potion began to do its work.

“Aye, I am sure ye will,” Payton said, deeply moved by how the small boy thought only of his smaller sister despite the travails he had obviously suffered through. “Let the women help ye first, however. Ye need to be healed and strong so ye can care weel for your sister.”

The boy’s eyes closed. “I am feeling tired.”

“He is just sleeping,” Moira said as she climbed onto the bed next to her brother, but her voice shook with fear.

Payton stroked her thick curls. “He is truly just sleeping, lass. Wee Alice gave him some medicine so he can rest without pain.”

“Thank ye, Wee Alice,” Moira said as she lay down next to Robbie. “I will stay with him, I think.”