Highland Hawk: Highland Brides #7 (20 page)

"Aye, well, she..." But it dawned on Haydan suddenly that the sun had not yet risen. "Why are you not abed? And where are your guards?"

"Where is your tunic?" James asked.

"I—" Hawk glanced down at his bare chest in some surprise. Good saints, he must be out of his mind. " 'Twas hot." Hot? A half-witted dolt could think up a better excuse than that.

"Hot?" James said. " 'Tis barely above freezing—and not yet dawn."

"My thrust exactly," Haydan said, parrying to win the upper hand against the quick-witted lad too fast approaching manhood. "What are you doing in the stable?"

James maneuvered easily around the query. "You look flushed. Are you feeling well?"

He was feeling like a randy spring buck--damn his gimpy leg. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I saw a light and thought mayhap Catriona needed assistance with her mare," James answered, and with that brief explanation, sped past Haydan and into the stall.

"Your Majesty!" Catriona's voice sounded ungodly breathy.

Haydan gritted his teeth and followed the lad inside.

"Lady Cat, are you well?" James asked.

"Oh, aye. Aye."

"You look flushed too."

" 'Tis warm in here."

Even from the side, Haydan could see the boy frown. " 'Tis not yet dawn and somewhat chilly," he said, bemused. "Mayhap I should waken Leech."

"Nay!" Haydan said.

"Nay," Cat echoed. "We've been working, is all."

"Working?"

"Aye. Sir Hawk thought..." She drew a deep breath.

Their gazes met for a fraction of a burning second before she yanked hers away. "He thought Celandine's bandage should be changed and her wound cleansed."

"In the wee hours of the morning?" James's tone sounded more and more incredulous, and the strange thing was that she had told the exact truth.

So why did it sound so ludicrous? And why did he feel so guilty? Haydan wondered. Surely he was old enough for a midnight tryst if he so desired, and she...

He skimmed his gaze to her, and all logical thought ground to a shivering halt, for before him stood a goddess. Bronzed by the flickering light of the tallow lamp, her hair shone like sable. Her face and throat gleamed like molten gold, and her eyes, wide as royal jewels, glowed like sun-struck topaz.

"Hawk?"

"What?" He snapped his gaze to the boy king and remembered to breathe.

James scowled. "I'm waking Leech," he said and turned away.

"Nay!" Hawk insisted. "I feel well. Did you ask something?"

The lad's scowl had deepened. "I asked if the mare is mending."

"Oh! Aye. Aye. She is. She is mending." A pause. Too long. Too uncomfortable. "See?" he hurried to add and stepped toward the mare. "I found a wee puncture wound near her fetlock."

"It will heal then?"

"Aye. It will heal."

"By the morrow?"

Haydan lifted his brows and tried to find his bearing. "Tomorrow?"

"Lady Cat promised to teach me some of her skill with horses."

"Oh," Cat said, still somewhat breathless, but better. "Nay, Your Majesty, I fear my Celandine will not be mended so soon."

"But 'tis my birthday soon," James reminded them as if it were news.

"Not to worry, Your Majesty, I can use my Bay."

"Then we shall ride tomorrow?"

"We shall have to see whether the rain—"

"Or shall I wake Leech?" James interrupted, his tone sly.

Haydan scowled, but Cat spoke.

" 'Twill be a pleasure to ride with you, my lord."

Though Catriona was certain she would be unable to sleep, the opposite had been true. Her dreams had been kind but forgotten, and against all odds, she awoke refreshed to Caleb's raucous complaints of hunger.

Rising from bed, she fetched a pouch and opened the willow branch cage where he was confined. Looking strange in his rough linen suit, he struggled onto her hand to peck at the offering while Calum, overjoyed by his companion's newfound appetite, promptly glided over from the window to steal the other's breakfast.

A fight broke out, and Marta sat up abruptly.

"He is better," Catriona said, breaking up the battle and glancing toward Grandmother. "I think 'tis a good omen."

"I dreamed a dream," Marta said, her voice low with sleep and reverence.

Cat caught her breath. "About Lachlan?"

"Aye. He was laughing."

Catriona felt the blood drain from her face, for suddenly she remembered her own kindly dreams. They, too, had been filled with her brother's laughter. "Where is he?" she murmured.

" 'Tis a room. A small room, and there are guards."

Cat's heart twisted. "But they have not hurt him?"

"Nay. He has charmed them." The old woman smiled and did not turn her gaze from her own dream world. "They tell tales and play games."

Depositing the grain and the birds inside the cage, Cat hurried to sit on the edge of the bed. "Where is he kept, Grandmother? Where? Is he near?"

"I..." Marta squeezed her eyes closed in concerted thought. "I do not know, Catty," she said finally and opening her eyes, reached for her great-granddaughter's hand. "I do not know the where. I only know that he schemes and awaits your arrival. I am sorry."

"Nay," Cat said, squeezing the gnarled old fingers. "He is alive and every day we get closer. I feel it. All will be well."

"Aye. 'Tis true."

Drawing a deep breath, Catriona rose to her feet. It did not take her long to don her garments for the day—a pair of gauzy, bronze pantaloons beneath a brown, serviceable gown.

She and Marta entered the great hall together not much later.

"So you ride with the king again today?" asked the old woman, sedately stirring honey into her sowens.

"Aye."

Marta nodded. " 'Tis good. 'Twill give me a chance to be alone with the men."

Catriona turned a horrified glance on her grandmother, and the old woman laughed, her mood lightened by her kindly dreams.

"I shall try not to excite the gossipmongers," she said.

"Grandmother!"

"You needn't worry," Marta soothed, "for I fear the one who interests me will be leaving with you."

"Who—" Cat began, but when she glanced in the direction of Marta's gaze, her eyes met Haydan's.

Warmth flooded her face as every moment of the previous night washed back into her memory. She pulled her gaze away with a start

"Ah," said the old woman. "So that be the way the wind blows."

"Whatever do you mean?" Cat asked, fiddling with her own oat cereal.

"I mean..." Marta leaned closer. "Is all of the Hawk as well proportioned as what I see?"

Catriona's face burned. She refused to look up. "I have no idea."

"You soon will," the old woman said, and turning her attention to her breakfast, gave a heavy sigh for her old age.

Just past the drawbridge Catriona slowed her gelding to match pace with James's smaller mount.

"Did you order such a morn?" she asked, for the air felt soft and kind against her face and the sky was as blue as a robin's egg.

"Aye, I did," said the king, grinning impishly. "Do you like it?"

" 'Tis as bonny a morn as I've ever seen."

"Your Majesty," Hawk said, riding up on James's opposite side. "I ordered the nooning to be brought to High Lochan. Have you any objections?"

"Nay. Have you seen High Lochan, Lady Cat?"

"I have not."

" 'Tis a bonny spot," he said, and when they arrived there nearly an hour later, Cat had to agree.

'Twas not the lake that was actually high. 'Twas the land above it—an outcropping of sorts. Dotted with smooth, weathered rocks and scraggly gorse bushes, the earth fell steeply downward, giving way to the rolling countryside below. A small lake, sapphire blue and glassy smooth, lay beneath them. Rowans and chestnuts, just beginning to show the first signs of life, stood guard on the distant hills, making a russet barrier between the brilliance of the sapphire sky and the emerald turf.

"I have been practicing my horsemanship since your last visit to Blackburn," James said, sitting very straight on his placid cob.

"Have you indeed?" Cat asked.

She and the king were in the middle of a rolling dale. The guards stood at the top of a nearby hillock, and for reasons Cat had no wish to contemplate, Haydan had stayed with them.

"Aye, I have," James said. "Would you like to see what I have accomplished?"

"If you do not make me look the fool with my own poor attempts."

He smiled crookedly, a raggedy urchin who happened to be born king. "I would not worry on that, lady," he said, "the Hawk watches me like... well, like a hawk. If I do anything more dangerous than tie my own laces, he frets like an old hen."

She laughed as she shifted her gaze to the hillock where the Hawk sat his horse. His cape had blown over his stallion's croup, making him look regal and powerful, and reminding her how it had felt to be held in his arms. Although she knew she should be ashamed, she had hoped he would come to her after James was safely abed again, but he had not.

"Let us ruffle some feathers," she said softly.

James laughed out loud. "A fine idea."

She turned her smile on him. "You first."

"As you wish," he said, and tossing his cloak onto a nearby rock, slipped past the cantle, over his palfrey's rump, and onto the ground.

"Very good," Cat said, smiling at the simple trick.

"There is more," he said, and walking around to his mount's near side, grabbed the pommel and launched himself into the saddle. "Did you see?" he asked, beaming at her. "I did not use the stirrups."

"But your horse was not moving."

"What?"

"Your horse was standing still."

He gave her a peeved expression. "Do you know nothing about royalty? You're supposed to be quite impressed and tell me I am magnificent."

She laughed. "Come. Get off," she ordered, slipping from her own mount. " 'Tis almost simpler when the horse is galloping than when he is standing still."

"Galloping!"

"We'll try it at a walk first," she said, and leaving her gelding to graze, grasped the king's reins and led his palfrey forward. "Here now, you go on ahead and move toward us on the left side. Then when you're even with his neck, do not stop. Let your movement work for you. Grab the pommel and throw yourself upward."

He scowled. "As you wish," he said, but his tone was rife with skepticism.

Despite his doubts, however, the trick worked on the first try. The king beamed with pleasure. "Aha!" he crowed. "He wasn't standing still that time."

"But he was not trotting."

His scowl reminded her sharply of Haydan's frequent expressions of disapproval. "Are you always this difficult?" he asked.

"Frequently," she assured him, then, taking the reins again, she ordered him to dismount.

He did so in a moment. She tugged the gelding forward, trying to convince him to trot. But he was a mount chosen for his sense, not for his sense of adventure, and apparently saw absolutely no good reason to trot along beside her.

Catriona stopped to frown at the horse.

"You might use my mount," she suggested.

" 'Tis a grand idea," James agreed eagerly, and in a moment she was leading the taller gelding along at a trot.

On his third try, James managed to launch himself into the saddle and from then on there was no stopping him.

Catriona taught him terms and actions—how to make the gelding strike forward with his front feet on command, how to launch him into immediate motion, and how to make him rear. And through all this, Hawk perched on the top of the hill, ready to fly down upon them at the first sign of trouble.

The morning breezed along with teasing and tricks and guileless praise.

"What a marvelous steed," James trilled, breathless with exhilaration and exertion. Bay danced in place, lifting his feathered forelegs high.

"Oh, I know another trick," announced the king.

"Do you?"

"Aye. But..." He leaned forward to pat the gelding's neck before sliding from the saddle. "I had best use my own mount. He is somewhat shorter."

Catriona watched as James walked behind his own placidly grazing animal, his strides long and determined. But once there he stopped, pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, and gnawed in earnest concentration. "You will not laugh if I fail?" he asked.

"That depends how amusing you look."

He scowled, but he was eleven and he was game, so he rubbed his hands together, hunched his shoulders, and launched himself toward his horse's haunches. His palms landed on the animal's rump, and the quiet cob, certain he was being attacked by a fanged adversary, sprang into action.

There was a moment of breathless terror as James flew through the air, and then it was over, with the king crumpled on the turf like a broken marionette.

Chapter 16

"James!" Cat gasped. She rushed forward, but Haydan rushed past her.

"Lad, are you well?"

The boy opened his eyes slowly. "I think I forgot to warn Courtier of my intent," he said, his voice raspy.

"Come," Haydan commanded. Worry gnawed at him with ravenous teeth. "I shall take you on my own steed."

"Nay. I am well," said the lad and managed a single deep breath. "I am well."

"We go to Blackburn," Haydan ordered.

James caught him with a hard, slanted gaze, though it lost some of its effect due to his position on the ground. "I did not interfere when I found you afevered in the stable."

"That was entirely different," Haydan said. "I was not trying to kill myself on my horse."

"What exactly were you doing?" asked James.

"I...'Tis not the concern here," Haydan countered. "Where do you hurt?"

James shifted his gaze to Catriona. " 'Twould not be gentlemanly to say in a lady's presence."

"Oh." Haydan settled back a quarter of an inch. Broken bones and head injuries were serious. Bumps to the privates rarely were. He knew, he had taken his share. But then, he was not the crowned king of Scotland. There were few folk concerned with the condition of his privates. "We had best have Physic see to you."

"Leech!" James said and blanched. "Do you think I do not know what's said about him?"