Highland Promise (19 page)

        She jerked her hands from his grasp and scowled. "You are mean enough to do that too."

        "Aye, I am." He let a slow grin spread over his lips and winked, appreciating her fury. Damn, her eyes were dazzling.

        "Oh, all right. But if I get so frightened that I toss up, I shall make sure I do so on you." She stomped over to the bed and picked up her bundle.

        Brendan grabbed the rest of the items, and they crossed the chamber to the door. Her hand settled on his arm. He glanced down and discovered her eyes filled with contrition.

        "I did not mean it…about tossing up on you. Everything is happening so fast, and I am truly afraid, but I shall try not to embarrass you."

        In that moment he was proud of her bravery, and the notion struck him that whether he liked it or not, her feelings mattered a hell of a lot to him.

        "I know, lass." He slipped an arm about her padded waist, kissed her brow, and guided her from the chamber.

        They walked down to the courtyard, where his men awaited with their mounts. Just outside the main portal, Faith came to an abrupt stop and clutched his forearm, digging her nails through his tunic sleeve.

        "I thought you understood that I shall not allow the horses to harm you," he whispered gently.

        "I know I said I was more terrified of horses than anything in the world, but I was wrong." She swallowed and her gaze fixed before her. "'Tis the truth, the look on Michael's face has me beyond simple terror. I believe I am petrified."

Thirteen

        Snow would surely fall if Michael gazed upon her much longer with his cold, granite eyes. Faith decided now would be a good time for flight if she could just get her legs to work. All her pitiful limbs seemed capable of doing was shivering.

        Roland chuckled and slammed a hand against Michael's shoulder. "Since the lady cannot take her eyes off you, I shall allow you the honor of going first."

        "Hell." Michael shook off Roland's hand. "You spent the night reveling, and I'm the one who woke with a headache." He strode toward Faith with the prowess of an attacking bear. The closer he got, the meaner he looked.

        Faith plastered herself to Brendan's side and whispered, "Now would be a good time for you to remember your duty to protect me."

        Michael halted an arm's length away, went down on one knee, and placed his right fist over his heart. "Lady Sutherland, my life for yours."

        The pledge stunned Faith, and she thought she detected admiration in his lyrical burr. "I thought you hated me."

        "You are not one of my favorite people at the moment, but I'll not allow you to die on my watch." Michael cocked a brow and gave her a wry grin. "Nor will I willingly drink any more of your brews."

        As Michael returned to his mount, Brendan leaned down. "He is angrier at himself than at you. You used cunning to best him, and Michael respects that trait."

        Roland soon took Michael's place. One by one Brendan's men knelt and vowed to give up their lives to keep her safe. The display of loyalty so overwhelmed her that she wanted to cry, which didn't make a spit of sense to her way of thinking. She rarely cried. Brendan had her emotions in such a jumble that her reactions weren't normal anymore.

        After the last man rose, Brendan guided her across the courtyard to his mount. He took her bundle and bow, then handed the items over to Cleit who tied them to the saddle of the gray mare Leland had given her. Brendan's black stallion snorted, and Faith was sure his tongue flicked out to lick his chops. She took a tiny step away and hoped Brendan hadn't seen her cowardly move.

        She tried to maintain a serene mien as Brendan secured his own bundle to his steed. Her heart raced. Her palms grew clammy inside their protective shields. The urge to flee increased. She clasped her hands tightly before her and studied the mare to distract her fears.

        The mare's big eyes shimmered soft and brown, and she appeared well behaved. Her gray coat glistened under the sun. She was a beauty to be sure. Faith didn't know much about horses, but this was surely a horse of value, and she appreciated her brother's generosity.

        She still wasn't going to ride the beast. It was all she could do to keep her face serene and not succumb to the panic welling up in her chest.

        She must not have attained a calm poise. Brendan was beside her, and his exasperated sigh stirred the air. Turning toward him, she settled a hand against his chest. "What think you of walking to the edge of Londontown, then mounting?"

        "I think 'tis a bad notion." His hands gripped her waist, and he lifted her to sit astride the black beast. She sucked in a breath, and her entire body went rigid. The steed fidgeted, and his powerful muscles rippled against her inner thighs, increasing her pulse to a deafening rhythm. Perspiration poured into her palms. Brendan mounted behind her, placed his hand against her belly, and pulled her back against his chest.

        She wanted to remain calm, and she didn't want to embarrass Brendan. But fear rose up like a big, vicious serpent intent on devouring her. Trembling seized her. She tried to pant air into her constricting chest.

        "Faith, look into my eyes," Brendan ordered.

        She twisted about and found herself caught in the power of his gaze. She read a promise of refuge in the cobalt depths. A toasty glow spread in her belly beneath his warm hand. A sense of security cloaked her. The sun haloed Brendan, making him appear as mighty as one of God's warrior archangels. Aye, he was her defender. No harm would befall her.

        She released a shaky breath and smiled. "I am not afraid now."

        He favored her with a pleased grin that made him look like a handsome rogue sent by the Devil to tempt her. Then he kissed her brow. "Good lass. A horse cannot kick you while you are on his back."

        "Mayhap not, but they can still turn back their long necks and bite."

        He grunted in reply.

        Leland rushed toward them. "If you are leaving, you best make haste."

        "What's happened?" Brendan asked.

        "The Arturian queen decided to use the time of your wedding to redecorate King Henry's chamber in her colors. Every door is being barred while they commence the search."

        Faith turned anxious eyes on her brother and grabbed his hand in a

desperate grip. "You will help Chris if she needs it."

        "As if that woman would accept help." Leland grinned. "'Tis too bad your sister is wed. I wouldn't mind having a virago of her caliber on my side in any battle."

        "I mean it, Leland," Faith persisted.

        "If it becomes necessary and she allows it, I'll help her. 'Tis my opinion she is long gone, and you should be too unless you desire to be detained until the morrow." Leland hurried back inside and a guard closed the door behind him.

        "Ready?" Brendan asked.

        Faith hesitantly nodded. "I wish we could be certain Chris is all right."

        She faced forward and settled against Brendan as he set his horse in motion.

        They exited the large stone archway that marked the entrance to the king's residence. The Highlanders rode single file through the narrow roadways lined with rickety thatched buildings. Faith remembered her father once telling her of the great fires of the last century that had wiped out Londontown. She decided they certainly needed to do a better job of rebuilding, because a good spark might burn this whole section of the city away without much effort.

        The road widened as they passed through a market area. With throngs of pedestrians darting about, they still rode single file. Merchants here sold everything from spices, vegetables, and meats to fine fabrics, iron works, and serfs. Some had stalls or sold from the back of carts, while others had shops along the row. The familiar hanging gauntlet alerted passersby to the glove maker. The fine painting of a silver goblet dangling outside another shop identified the silversmith, while the clanging of iron above the haggling banter of the crowd heralded the direction to the blacksmith.

        Progressing to the outskirts of town, they made their way through squalor and debris that littered the roads of a poverty-stricken area. A youngster darted across their path, spooking Brendan's stallion. She sucked in a breath. Brendan's hand on her waist tightened and his calmly whispered words swiftly brought his mount under control. Faith relaxed. The child raised a bleak gaze that nearly stopped her heart with its utter despair as the boy waited for Brendan to retaliate. Her husband surprised her then. For a man who didn't seem to tolerate being thwarted, Brendan did an amazing thing. He drew a few coins from a pouch and tossed them to the lad before riding on. Faith sent up a quick prayer for the Almighty to watch over all those in need and thanked Him once again for sending Brendan to see her safely to the convent.

        She couldn't believe she was finally on her way. This was real and no dream. Her last memories of Hawkhurst would be nothing more than a quick ride across the land. She couldn't imagine Brendan would have the patience to stop and let her bid a final farewell to people she had cared for all her life. She had expected to return to Hawkhurst from court and finish preparations for Leland's bride. Saying adieu to everyone was supposed to happen then. She would be moping and lonelier than an old crone in the woods if she let her thoughts go there. She needed to look forward to the new life God placed before her as a nun. A life of drudgery and penance. Did she want that? Nay, but that didn't matter. She had known her fate since she was twelve. It was too late to change what was set in motion now.

        As they rode onto the Great North Trail, Faith wished for a moment that she wasn't bound by her penance, for she would like to become Brendan's wife. He made her feel special…and safe. She couldn't think of another person who would be so patient with her fear of horses. In her heart she knew he would never harm her, even in anger. If she wasn't bound by her penance, she might even try to talk him into keeping her. She chided herself for dreams that could never be and decided to enjoy the time she had with him.

        The horse's gentle gait and her sense of security lulled her. She relaxed against Brendan's chest. His male scent embraced her, and she breathed deeply, soothed by bliss. "Would you tell me about Scotland?"

        "What would you like to know?" He goaded his mount to a trot.

        "Everything," she choked out. Bliss vanished with the vengeance of hell. She shifted as sharp pains jabbed her bottom with each bounce. She must have bruised herself worse than she had thought when she tripped the past night.

        "You must know something, else why would you pick a convent there?" he asked.

        She leaned forward to ease the bang on her backside. "'Tis far enough away that I did not think Leland would look there if he took a notion to find me. And I heard—"

        She hissed as Brendan pulled her back against his chest, causing her bottom to land hard against the saddle.

        "What did you hear?" he prodded when she didn't continue.

        "There is not a resident priest at the Saint Bride Abbey." She hoped she had sounded casual. She didn't want to admit why that mattered, but she couldn't concentrate. One more bounce and her bottom might squish open.

        "And that matters?"

        "It might." She wasn't about to tell him that without a resident priest she was less likely to be flogged. Of course, a flogging might hurt less than riding a horse. "Will you tell me about the Highlands?"

        He sighed. "Did Noreen tell you about nothing but bundling?"

        "She told me mainly about the Lowlands. My sister Chris married a Highlander when she was young. She told me things about the Highlands that were so outrageous. I do not believe them."

        "What did she say?"

        "You like to throw trees for fun, wear skirts and dance around swords, go into battle naked, and you keep sheep as pets." Faith couldn't help but chuckle at the stories. "She also said you think whisky is a cure for all ailments. And you live so close to the edge of the world that the sun never shines, so 'tis cold all the time."

        "We wear plaids, not skirts," he said curtly.

        She twisted about and gawked at him. "You mean the things she told me are true?"

        He grunted and turned her to face forward, then pulled her against his chest. "You will like the Highlands," he ordered. "You do not need to know more."

        Lord, the man could turn surly without warning. "Did I say something to anger you?"

        "You talk too much." His insult made it clear that he didn't desire her conversation.

        The lout! All she had attempted was to have a civil discussion and to get along. She would just keep her mouth shut and not speak to him at all. Why she had dreamed of staying with the brute eluded her now. The woman who ended up with this surly man didn't deserve him no matter how many sins she had committed.

        Brendan nudged his mount to a faster trot. Faith's tender backside took exception to the jarring gate. She groaned and shifted.

        Brendan flattened his hand over her belly and pulled her against him 'till her bottom nestled in the junction of his legs. "Stay put and cease squirming."

        "I cannot help it," she replied, making an effort not to whine. "I tripped last night when I was dragging Michael and bruised my...a tender part. 'Tis uncomfortable." And heaven help her, she was riding high on his thighs, which helped her pain to some extent, but caused her heart to race and made it hard to catch her breath.

        "Considering what you were doing when it happened, you deserve your discomfort," he said without mercy. "Now sit still."

        The man had all the compassion of a snake. She clamped her mouth shut, determined not to speak to him again. She meant it this time too. She wouldn't acknowledge her husband in any way.