Highland Hero (8 page)

“Ye didnae follow me all this way on foot, did ye?” she asked, curiosity briefly overwhelming her unease.

“Nay, I left my horse back among the trees. He will be safe enough. These are still my lands.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her, one dark brow raised in an expression of slight derision. “Ye havenae gone verra far.”

“Weel, I have been walking only for two, mayhap three, hours.”

“And ye intended to walk all the way back to Glenfair?”

The bite to his words began to annoy her, and she put her hands on her hips, staring at him belligerently. “Aye. Mayhap ye failed to notice that I dinnae own a horse. The only way I can get back to Glenfair is to walk there.”

“Ye didnae think ye should tell me that ye were leaving? One usually pauses to thank one’s host before fleeing his home.”

“I said faretheeweel to Malcolm,” she replied, some of her belligerence fading as she fought a sense of guilt over the way she had crept away from Dunmor.

“Oh, aye, ye spoke to the only one who couldnae understand and certainly couldnae tell anyone that ye were leaving.”

“I came to Dunmor to be certain that Malcolm was safe and that he would be weel cared for. That has all come to pass, so there is nae any reason for me to stay another day.”

“Not even to say a proper faretheeweel to your lover?”

Edina cursed the blush that immediately warmed her cheeks. “One night of madness doesnae make ye my lover.”

“Weel, then let us make it two so that ye can reconsider your decision to creep away like some thief.”

Before Edina fully understood what he was saying, Lucais grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder. That abrupt move and her own surprise kept her breathless for a moment as he started to walk back in the direction of his keep. She was not sure why he was acting so offended or even why he had come after her, but as she regained her senses, she decided that she did not like the way he was toting her about like an old blanket.

“Put me down, ye great oaf,” she snapped, and punched his broad back, cursing when he did not even flinch. “Gar,” she called, and frowned when she looked around and did not see her dog. “Where is that foolish beastie?”

“He trotted off into the wood, nose to the ground.” Lucais lightly slapped her on the backside when she wriggled violently in his hold. “Enough, or ye shall tumble to the ground and break your bonnie, empty head.”

“Empty head?” She hit him again, then watched in growing suspicion as he took a blanket roll from the back of his saddle and tossed it on the ground, spreading it out with a few nudges from his feet. “Just what are ye planning?”

A soft screech that was a mixture of alarm and annoyance escaped her as he picked her off his shoulder and gently tossed her onto the blanket. Before she could get away from him, he pinned her there by sprawling on top of her. Her attempts to hit him were stopped with an embarrassing ease when he lightly grasped her by the wrists and held her arms down on the blanket. Edina glared at him, struggling to cling to her sense of outrage and ill use and not be distracted by how good it felt to have his big, strong body pressed so close to hers.

Lucais saw her beautiful eyes darken slightly, the hint of passion in their clear depths contradicting the anger on her delicate face, and he inwardly smiled. That small sign that she wanted him still was enough to restore his battered confidence and soothe some of the pain she had inflicted by leaving so abruptly. His cousins might be right. He just needed to tell her how he felt and offer her more than passion.

At the moment, however, the feel of her soft, lithe body had him eager to do something other than talk. Mayhap, he told himself, it would not hurt to remind her of the sweet fire she was walking away from. And, when lying in his arms, sated from the fierce passion they shared, she might also be more inclined to listen to what he had to say. If nothing else, he decided as he lowered his mouth to hers, he craved one last time in her arms before she walked out of his life forever.

Edina gasped when his mouth covered hers, unwittingly giving him the chance to deepen his kiss immediately. A part of her was outraged. That little voice spoke of sin, warned her about allowing herself to give in to passion without love, and urged her to say no. As Lucais released her wrists and smoothed his big hands down her body, a louder, stronger voice told her cautious self to be quiet. Edina groaned softly as desire rushed through her veins, silencing the argument in her head. She wrapped her arms around Lucais’s neck and returned his impassioned kiss.

It was not until they were lying flesh to flesh, their clothing scattered over the ground, that she grasped a fragment of clear thought. She briefly wondered how they had gotten undressed so fast, then struggled to think about what she was doing and not about how much she wanted to do it. The night she and Lucais had spent together had been beautiful. In a strange way, the need to go and save Malcolm had enhanced the sweetness of it. There had been no morning regrets, no wrong things said or done to spoil everything, even the memory. This time they were alone with no chance of interruption, and this time she could not use Malcolm as a reason to stay close, hoping for more than passion.

Lucais slowly kissed his way to her breasts, and Edina shuddered. There had been no promises, no words of love. Lucais could have sought her out because he hungered for another taste of the passion they shared, and for no other reason. As he drew the hard tip of her breast deep into his mouth, she decided that she did not care why he was there. Another taste of the passion they shared would just add to the memories she could cherish when she was alone again. She wrapped her body around his and let passion rule her.

Lucais held Edina close as he regained his senses. Never had lovemaking been so sweet or so fulfilling. He could not understand how she could walk away from that. When he felt her start to tense and shift slightly in his hold, he knew he had to start talking, demanding a few answers from her, and being painfully honest himself.

“Edina,” he said, touching a kiss to her forehead as he gently but firmly held her still when she tried to move out of his arms. “We must talk. Since we first set eyes on each other we have suspected each other and desired each other. We have protected my sister’s child, beaten my enemy together, and talked about little parts of our lives. Now we must swallow our pride and our doubts and talk about what is to happen between us.”

She peered at him through the tangled curtain of her hair, not sure what he meant. A little knot of fear formed in her stomach. If he was planning to ask her to be his lover, to stay with him as his leman, she was not sure she had the strength to refuse.

“What about us?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

“This might be a wee bit easier for me if ye didnae look so frightened,” he said, and smiled crookedly.

“Uncertainty makes me frightened.”

“Edina, do ye think I ran after ye just for this, sweet as it is?”

“I am not sure why ye are here.” She took a deep breath and decided to be completely honest. “I cannae stay if all I am to be is your leman. ’Tis best if I leave now.”

“I wouldnae chase my leman down if she left me. I would just go and find another.” He brushed a kiss over her mouth when her eyes widened slightly. “Aye, I want ye in my bed, but I also just want ye.” He grimaced. “I have ne’er spoken of such things with a lass before, so I ken that I may not say it weel, or prettily.”

“Say it badly or any way ye choose,” she whispered. “Just say it.”

He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “I was nae really sure until I found ye gone, but I love ye, Edina MacAdam. I want ye to stay with me as my wife.”

“Are ye sure? I have no dowry.” She was not surprised that she found it hard to speak, her voice choked with tears, for she was elated, stunned, and afraid that she had not heard him right.

“Ye are all I need. I have lands and I am wealthy enough to satisfy all my needs.” He looked at her, frowning a little when he saw a tear roll down her cheek. “I was hoping that ye would answer in kind.”

She hugged him with her whole body. “Idiot. I love ye. Aye, I will marry ye. I have just dreamed of hearing ye say such things so often that I feared I had imagined them.” As she got her emotions under control, she looked at him and smiled slightly. “Actually, I do have a small dowry.” She glanced at Gar as he trotted up to sit beside them. “A big, furry one.”

Lucais laughed and reached out to pat the dog. “A prize any mon would welcome. We shall have to find him a fine bitch to breed with.”

“And then we shall have puppies tumbling underfoot. Puppies, and Malcolm, and mayhap a bairn or two of our own?”

“As many as ye want.” He gently kissed her. “And they will ne’er be left alone, nor will their mother.”

Edina did not think she could ever love him more than she did at that moment. “I do so love you, Lucais.”

“And I you, my wee forest maid.”

She smiled and looked around at the trees encircling them. The forest was where her mother had cast her aside. The forest was where she had found Malcolm and where she had met Lucais. And now it was in the forest that they pledged their love. Perhaps, she thought with an inner laugh of pure joy as she gave herself over to his kisses, there is something good to be found in the forest.

The Magic Garden

Chapter 1

Scotland
Summer, 1390

“He willnae hang me. He only wants some food.”

Rose Keith repeated those words again as she took the apple tarts she had made out of the stone oven. It had to be the hundreth time she had said those words, but she was not feeling any calmer. She said them again as she dribbled honey over the top of the tarts, but noticed that her hands still shook a little. If she did not calm herself down, she would never make it to the keep. Someone would find her sprawled on the road in a swoon, crushed tarts all around her.

“Why would the laird wish to see me?” she asked the black-and-white cat sprawled on her kitchen table, but he simply opened one eye a little, yawned, and turned onto his back. “A fat lot of good ye are, Sweetling.”

She took off her apron and hung it on the hook by the back door of her cottage. The day had dawned so bright and warm, she had been certain it would be a good day. Then little Peter had arrived with word from the castle that the new laird wished her to bring him some of her fine apple tarts in time for his evening meal. Rose had felt her heart plummet into her feet and it had not returned to its proper place yet, no matter how many comforting things she told herself.

Visiting the old laird had never troubled her so. She had skipped up to the keep several times a week since she had been a small child to deliver food to the old laird. He had been very kind to her, had even grieved with her when her mother had died three years ago. In fact, she was sure it was the old laird who had left the basket of kittens at her door in an attempt to cheer her. But the old laird was dead now, his son now home to take his place.

As she braided her hair, she tried to recall the boy she had once known. Dark, she thought, and smiled faintly. Dark hair, dark gray eyes, and dark skin. He had been so surprisingly tolerant of and kind to the child she had been. It had saddened her when he had left to fight in France almost ten years ago. His visits home had been rare and brief and she had not seen him, so her last clear image of him was as a young man of barely nineteen years. Now he was nearing thirty, his youth given to battle and the last of his family dead. It was no wonder he was dark-humored she thought, then scolded herself for heeding rumor and gossip.

Men grew up. Kind, smiling young men were changed into stern, solemn lairds. It was a sad fact of life that the sweet joy of youth faded. She had been a happy child, sheltered and blissfully innocent. Time and understanding had stolen that cheerful ignorance. Her mother had not been able to mute all the ugly whispers about the Keith women or halt every outbreak of fear and anger. Rose could understand people’s fears, for she had felt the touch of them herself from time to time, but she was not sure she would ever understand why their fear made them cruel.

Gently setting the tarts in her basket, she prayed the laird was one of those rare people who felt nothing when eating her food. Or, that he accepted the soothing or lifting of his spirits as simply the result of eating something delicious. Rose had enough trouble in her life without having the new laird cocking a suspicious, fearful eye her way.

“Weel, lads, wish me luck,” she said as she donned her cloak.

Rose shook her head when only two of the four cats sprawled around the kitchen deigned to glance at her. It was very sad, she decided as she picked up her basket and headed out the door, when a woman of only one and twenty was reduced to talking to her cats. Even sadder was the fact that, since her mother’s death, she rarely had anyone else to talk to.

“Pssst! Rose!”

Then again, she mused, there were times when talking to cats was preferable to talking to some people. She hastily scolded herself for being unkind and smiled at the young girl who stumbled out from amid the tangled shrubbery she had been hidng behind. Meg was at that awkward age of not quite a child, but not quite a woman. Even harder, Meg had a lively mind that was not being kept fed. Unfortunately, that lively mind had become fixed upon Rose, her family, and her garden.

“I fear I cannae visit now, Meg,” Rose said, almost smiling at the way the young girl had to brush her thick dark hair off her face. “I must hie to the castle.”

“I ken it,” Meg said as she fell into step beside Rose.

“The laird wants to see ye and test your food for himself.”

Rose frowned slightly. “How did ye hear about that?”

“ ’Tis being whispered all about the village.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Aye. Seems the old laird kept a journal. ’Tis said he thought it might help his son settle in as laird if he kept clear records of all that was said and done at the castle, in the village, and all about the lands of Duncairn.”