Highland Promise (16 page)

        "You." Faith pushed her fist against his shoulder. "You are my biggest worry. I do not want you damned to perdition because of me."

        He smiled as she moved up and snuggled her head in the crook of his neck. He decided she fit him just right. "Are you planning to entice me then?"

        "Nay!" She sighed. "But I have been thinking about it."

        "About what?"

        "Enticing you." She raised a tired gaze to his. "I have committed more sins of contemplation since I met you than I ever did in all the rest of my years combined. Lucifer is probably planning horrid tortures for my hereafter."

        He pressed her head back down and kissed her silky hair. "Faith, go to sleep. Everything will sort out on the morrow."

        "Nothing will sort out well for me," she grumbled. "My life is ruined by my own disloyalty. With my luck, King Henry will wed me to some surly lout who will never trust me. I should never have warned you about Leland's ambush."

        "Would you prefer that my men and I were dead?" he asked quietly.

        "Nay," she said fiercely and clutched his shoulders. "God sent you to be my defender. I cannot bear the thought of your death. I do not expect you to understand. I am confused too."

        He said nothing. The lass knew she wanted him, but couldn't reconcile her desires with the unholy penance she had received. The need to ease her burden and make her happy grew within him. He gently stroked her hair, wondering what miracle it would take to dispel the fear instilled in her so long ago.

        They lay together in a mutual embrace, surrounded by silence. After a while, her breaths blew warm and even against his chest. She looked totally tame and helpless. He traced her delicate cheekbone, and her nose twitched. Aye, he was her defender, and he would fulfill that role until his last breath.

        There was one thing he could do that might help her with her present anxiety. "Ah, Faith, I do understand you. Probably better than you understand yourself." He sighed and tightened his embrace. "I never thought I would say this to a woman, but I'll be giving you the one thing you want. My trust. The price is great though. You are going to have to trust me too. When your disguise comes off, you shall have your heart's desire."

~ * ~

         Brendan's dagger turned up in one hell of a place.

        "They found it where?" Faith bellowed.

        "Now, milady, calm yourself," Jamie urged while sending Luthias an uncomfortable look. "The laird will handle this."

        The clansmen had just informed her that Brendan's dagger was found in the chest of a woman, killed during the night. Faith settled her hands on her hips. "How will he accomplish that—by being executed?"

        "Jamie is right," Luthias said in a placating tone. "The laird would not want you to fret—"

        "Not fret! How can I not fret?" Faith tossed up her arms, wishing she were strong enough to knock the skulls of these two giants together. "Where is Laird Sutherland now?"

        "Do not tell her," Luthias ordered Jamie.

        "Why not?" Jamie asked, looking at Luthias as if he were daft. "The lady is meddlesome, so she is bound to find out. If we tell her, then we can at least keep her in our sights when she takes off. You know she is going to."

        Jamie returned his gaze to hers, and she hoped he knew from her glower that she didn't appreciate his insulting words.

        "The laird is in King Henry's great chamber," Jamie said. "But he gave orders for you to stay—"

        Faith spun around and dashed through the corridors, fear for Brendan nipping at her heels. She couldn't let anything happen to him.

        Rounding a corner, she almost fell, but managed to push off the wall to restore her balance. He would make her die before her dotage from worry. The man had left her chamber at dawn before the servants stirred just to prevent a scandal. Now look at the muddle he was in. Trouble followed him like a shadow, for heaven's sake.

        Rats, but her own plans were in a jumble. If Brendan didn't stay out of mischief, she would never make it to a convent. She would have to do some serious planning for her escape just as soon as he was safe.

        By the time she reached the great chamber, her heart was beating a wild rhythm. She panted like a serf hacking wheat under a blazing sun. Faith pressed a hand to her bosom to regain control. She must be calm if she wanted to help Brendan.

        Just as she gathered her wits, Jamie and Luthias arrived. They wore angry scowls, but she didn't have time to pacify them. Brendan needed her.

        "Milady, you are not making it easy to protect you," Luthias admonished.

        Faith ignored them and squared her shoulders. Two English guards blocked the entrance to the great chamber. She raised her chin. "I must see the king. I have important information he must hear at once."

        The guards exchanged hushed words, sending suspicious glances toward Jamie and Luthias. Then one said, "Only you. They have to stay out here."

        Faith inclined her head. The guards opened the doors. She entered the chamber then paused to assess the situation. The door shut quietly behind her.

        Brendan stood at the far end of the room, his back to her, his feet braced and his hands clasped behind him. King Henry paced in front of him, and the king's council stood to the right side of the chamber. A sunbeam from the tall window glinted off of something on the long table in the center of the room. Taking a step closer, she discovered Brendan's ornate dagger. Blood coated the blade.

        The king's ominous tones trickled into her mind. "...one hell of a predicament. Your blade was in the harlot's chest. She appeared to not only have been raped and strangled, but also feasted upon." He stopped pacing in front of Brendan. "You say you were with someone all night, yet you will not tell me who. I want to believe you, but you bind me on this matter unless you speak."

        "I was with a lady in her chamber all night," Brendan answered.

        "He was with me in my chamber, Sire," Faith blurted out.

        The king and councilmen turned astonished gazes upon her. She wondered if it were possible for a body to spontaneously burst into flames from humiliation.

        Brendan also turned his gaze on her. She would certainly burn up now, because his eyes looked like twin cobalt fires shooting in her direction.

        "Damn it, Faith, you will stay out of this," Brendan ordered.

        She wouldn't let him intimidate her. She had come to save him, and save him she would. "I shall not stay out of this. And do not take that tone with me or curse in my presence. Am I supposed to stand by and watch you be condemned for a murder I know you did not commit?"

        "Lady Faith," the king said, raising a calculating brow. "Is it your testimony that Laird Sutherland was with you in your chamber all night?"

        She favored Brendan with a smug nod, then turned her attention to King Henry. "Aye, Your Grace, but we had a bundle, so 'twas all right."

        A perplexed frown crossed the king's features. "A what?"

        "Faith, you have said enough," Brendan ground out.

        She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "We had a bundle. 'Tis a Highland custom. That way we could both use the same bed."

        "So he was in your chamber all night, and you both shared the same bed. Is that correct?" King Henry's lips twitched.

        "Aye, Your Grace. And I assure you 'tis the truth. So you see, Laird Sutherland could not have killed that poor woman. Why, his dagger went missing the afternoon Edrik and I arrived. Laird Sutherland did not even have it."

        King Henry frowned and turned to one of his councilmen. "Cecil, have Edrik brought here at once."

        Faith nodded her approval. "'Tis a wise decision, Sire. Edrik is mean enough to kill a woman. Why, just a week ago, a young serf went missing from Hawkhurst, and later we found nothing but her bones. Edrik was the last one seen with her too."

        Brendan released a harried sigh. "Faith, come here."

        "Nay. I have told you not to order me. I am wearied by your constant commands." As she spoke, her feet carried her to stand directly in front of him so he could see her glower. She suddenly realized she had followed his order. "Well, rats. 'Twas a mistake that I did as you bid. I came over here only so you could see how angry I am at you."

        His cheek twitched. "Give me the linen you keep tucked in your sleeve."

        "More orders?" she scoffed. "You have too much gall if you are angry with me. And after I saved your surly hide too. Has anyone ever told you that you could try the patience of a saint?"

        "You are not a saint yet, lass." He arched a mocking brow and placed his hands on his hips. "Now cease your insolence and do as I bid."

        She suppressed the urge to let him know just how insolent she could be, pulled the linen square from her sleeve, and thrust it toward him. "Here."

        Something she couldn't decipher flickered in his eyes, and his features softened as he accepted the cloth. He poured wine onto the linen from a flagon on the long table. Taking one of her hands in his, he proceeded to cleanse the blood from her palm. She sucked in a hissing breath. She had been so worried for Brendan that she hadn't even noticed the sting in her palms.

        Her irritation subsided along with the pain. She couldn't stay upset with Brendan when he kept surprising her with such kindness. No one but her father and Noreen had ever given her this much attention. She would end up in perdition if her fondness for him continued to grow.

        "Laird Sutherland, you are released from the charges, of course," King Henry said, his tone satisfied.

        Faith expelled a breath and relaxed. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear that Brendan was vindicated until the king uttered the words.

        "The archbishop will be summoned, and we shall gather in one hour for the wedding," the king added, then turned to his council and spoke in quiet tones.

        Dread crashed upon her like a giant boulder. "Whose wedding?" she whispered.

        "Ours," he replied, sounding resigned.

        Faith gaped at him and shook her head. She tried to pull her wrist from his grasp, but he wouldn't allow it. Try as she might, she couldn't get a single word out of her mouth.

        He placed a finger under her chin, stilling her head movement. "Lass, when an unwed lady tells her king that she passed the night alone with a man in the same bed, she weds the man."

        A chill drove all the blood from her limbs. "But we had a bundle."

        "This is not the Highlands." He released her chin and crossed his

arms over his chest. "Be careful with your hands. I'll make a healing salve for you before we leave. Now go to your chamber and prepare for the wedding. And pack only a few necessities for our journey."

        "Laird Sutherland is right, Lady Faith," King Henry said, joining them. "Go prepare yourself."

        Dazed, Faith curtsied to the king. She turned and walked toward the door, fighting the urge to flee while screaming like a banshee.

        Oh Lord, what had she done? In her haste to save Brendan, she had condemned them both. She blinked back tears. She couldn't think of anything in the world she wanted more than to be Brendan's wife, but she was sentenced to life in a convent. And Brendan surely couldn't want a dowdy frump like her for his wife. Even if she wasn't truly a dowdy frump. He didn't know that.

        She needed to get them out of this predicament. But what if she couldn't come up with a plan? Brendan would learn the truth about her disguise after they wed. That would infuriate him. He would brand her a liar and never trust her. Mayhap she should tell him. If he understood the full truth about her problem enticing men and her need to fulfill her penance, he might help her think of a way out of this dilemma.

        She stopped at the doors and turned, intending to tell her secret to Brendan then and there. His back was to her as he shared a celebratory wine with the king and the councilmen.

        As they lowered their goblets, one councilman shook his head. "Condolences, Sutherland. Of all the beauties in England, and you are stuck wi—" The man broke off and turned bright red as his gaze collided with Faith's.

        "Your condolences are misplaced," Brendan answered, his tone jovial. "The lass may be fat and ugly, but I shall never have to worry about being cuckolded in my home. She has good hips for birthing and will bear me strong sons. She is used to hard work and is hardy enough to survive the Highlands. And above all else, the lass is honest to a fault. She has not a deceptive bone in her body. What more could any man ask?"

        Faith felt as if a mounted army had just trampled over her. He spoke as if she pleased him. Of course, he was such an honorable man that he would naturally defend an insult against her. But he would be furious if he learned all the merits he attributed to her were a ruse. Especially the last one, for every bone in her body was covered with deception.

        One of the councilmen nudged Brendan. He turned around and sent her an arrogant grin. "Did you need something, lass?"

        Faith swallowed and glanced about at the others. Then she shook her head. "Nay. 'Twas not important."

        She fled the chamber. Now she not only had to save Brendan from marriage to her, she also had to save herself from discovery.

Twelve

        Brendan always heard the eyes were windows to the soul, but he never imagined he would so clearly see a mind at work by looking into a pair. The lass liked to plan, and he could tell she was laboring away. Aquamarine eyes sparkled with all the bursting energy of a waterwheel.

        He crossed his arms over his chest as Faith approached him in the crowded hall. Her ivory gown made her look fatter. She apparently wasn't ready to give up her ruse. He wished she would accept fate, but that was evidently too much to hope for.