Highland Promise (5 page)

        She looked at the fruit in his hand then raised a guarded gaze to his. "I do not wish to presume or waste favors."

        A frown settled on his face. "What do you mean by that?

        Faith shrugged, then glanced back at the fruit. "I had hoped you and your men would escort me to the convent at Saint Bride in exchange for my warning. Now I realize I already owe you more than I could ever repay. 'Tis probably wrong for me to ask for more favors when I know I cannot reciprocate, but I am going to. It may take a little effort on my part, but I am capable of picking a pear without troubling you."

        Her stomach grumbled loudly. Even beneath her floured mask, he noticed the crimson hue that swept over her cheeks. She wouldn't look at him, so he nudged up her chin until she did.

        "Faith, do you agree that you are under my protection at the moment?"

        She hesitantly nodded.

        "Let me assure you that I take that duty seriously and do not expect repayment. I also consider it my duty to see that all who are in my care have their needs met."

        "But I—"

        He placed a finger over her lips. "Do not interrupt. From the noises your stomach is making, I believe you are hungry. Toward meeting your need, I am offering you this pear and you will eat it."

        She snapped her brows together. Her eyes turned stormy-sea green. "You think to turn an offering into an order?"

        The woman's temper was too quick to rile, and she was damned frustrating. He sighed. "Now, Faith—"

        "And that is another thing. I have not given you permission to address me so informally." Her stomach rumbled again. She snatched the pear from his hand and bit into the fruit, her glare daring him to say another word.

        He grunted and took a bite of his own pear, enjoying the sweet nectar. She pulled a linen square from her sleeve, grabbed his jaw, and dabbed at his chin like he was a wee babe. He jerked his head back from the unexpected gesture. Her casual touch not only took him off guard, but it had sent a sizzle through his flesh.

        She shrugged and patted her own lips with the cloth. "We need to walk while we eat. Had you ridden, you would already be well on your way. Walking, it will take another few hours just to reach the main trail."

        Brendan nodded, took hold of her arm, and signaled to his men. As they resumed their journey, Michael, Roland, and Luthias took the lead, while Tormey, Cleit, and Jamie guarded from the rear.

        They walked for a while in silence, then Faith spied two chipmunks chasing each other through the trees. Her musical laughter floated about the forest. Brendan marveled over the joy and vivacity in the sound.

        "How old are you, Faith?"

        She favored him with a disgruntled frown. "Old enough, Brendan."

        He smiled over her baiting and was pleased that she wasn't afraid to banter with him. "Since you speak of joining the convent, I assume you are twelve as that is the common age for entering the novitiate."

        She leaned down and picked up a fallen walnut, then picked at the hull. "I am seventeen...eighteen in three weeks. I know that seems too old, but my father refused to let me go and promised me to Baron Alford. Then Leland took over after my father passed, since Rawlins was dead. He needed me to take care of the holding. Now that he has turned nineteen, King Henry has ordered him to take a wife." She shrugged and threw down the impenetrable hull. "Soon he will not need me. The timing is right."

        Brendan grabbed two walnuts from the ground, slammed them together, and the hulls disintegrated. He frowned and removed the meat from the shells with an ornate dagger bearing the Sutherland crest emblazoned with jewels on the hilt. Then he held the nuts out to her. "You are betrothed?"

        "Was." She accepted the treat. "Baron Alford was killed when a cart ran over him two weeks after the pledges were made. He was fifty-eight and could not see very well."

        She must be jesting, but she acted perfectly serious. "Your father betrothed you to a man with one foot in the grave?"

       She stiffened and fisted her hands. "I...changed... when I was twelve. My father could find no one else willing to have me. Leland never tried."

        "Tell me of your epiphany."

        "My what?"

        "Your flash of enlightenment. The moment when you learned God had called you to sanctity."

        "Oh." A nervous chuckled escaped her. "God did not call me to sanctity. He called me to penance. Father Abernathy explained this to me."

        "What exactly did Father Abernathy explain?" He hadn't raised his voice, but asked the question more harshly than he intended. He had heard tales of the cruel penance some English priests doled out, and he had a gut feeling that he was about to learn what drove Faith.

        She shook her head and glanced off into the trees as if something there suddenly claimed her interest.

        "Faith," he ordered.

        "I do not wish to speak of this."

        "But I wish to hear."

        She glared at him, then compressed her lips into a thin line and increased her pace.

        He caught her by an arm and forced her to stop and face him. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. "We are not moving until you tell me why you believe you have been called to a life of penance."

        She cast her gaze about at his men who had also stopped.

        "They are not listening. Now tell me."

        "Do people always tell you what you want to know?" she gritted out.

        He leaned down until his nose almost touched hers. "They do if they do not wish to suffer my wrath."

        Her eyes widened and turned cloudy blue, then narrowed and shifted to sea green. She stood on her toes until their noses actually touched. "I am a sinful woman—Eve incarnate as a matter of fact," she whispered grudgingly. "Many men are going to Perdition because of me. Does it make you happy to know this?"

        Brendan frowned over the implications of that remark, but he wanted to hear the entire truth. He promised himself he wouldn't condemn her for anything that had happened before they met, but he was damned angry and couldn't hide the tic in his cheek.

        "You allowed these men to use your body?" he asked in furious tones.

        "I did not!" she shouted, then glanced about before scowling back up at him. "You do try my patience," she whispered. "If you must know, one tried to use me, but all he did was rip my gown. My maid stopped him, and you killed him. The others I enticed. I did not mean to or want to. And I do not ever want any man to use me like that. Father Abernathy had to flog me for penance. He explained I am the Devil's handmaiden. That is why I must go to the convent, so no more men will be damned for all eternity. My father tried to tell me that the bishop cancelled my penance, but I know Church law

says penance can only be overridden by the Holy Father."

        Her cheeks had blanched to a ghastly pallor, and her hands twisted the fabric of her gown. "Could we continue our journey? I truly do not like sleeping on the ground."

        The tears in her eyes were just about his undoing. When she bowed her head and sniffed, he realized she believed every word she had spoken. "Your brother would truly shut you out?"

        "He would not notice I was not in," she replied, dabbing at her eyes.

        "But surely the guards would let you in."

        "Edrik's orders." She shrugged. "Anyone out when the portcullis drops is out for the night—even me."

        He frowned. "Who is Edrik that your brother allows him such power?"

        "My brother's commander. He is a thorn in my side for many reasons I'll not discuss no matter how you pester me," she said in a tight voice. "Can we please go now?"

        They continued their trek in silence. Brendan seethed inside. He was appalled by what Faith had told him and glad he had killed her brother. He wanted to kill the bastard all over again just to make sure suffering accompanied the lecher's death. He was damned tempted to find one Father Abernathy and kill him too.

        He glanced down at her slumped shoulders in the shadows beside him. She obviously felt mortified by her confession. And damn if that didn't make him madder.

        At least now he understood the reason for her disguise.

~ * ~

        Dusk was upon them when they arrived at the main trail. Faith pulled away from Brendan and clenched her fists at her side. He crossed his arms over his chest in what he considered a relaxed pose and waited for her to speak. She peeked up at him, then looked away.

        "Laird Sutherland, about what I..." She cleared her throat and her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white. "Would you please disregard what I said and...I know you have many important duties and your men are irritated with me over the horses, but I truly need your help. I hope you will please escort me to Saint Bride when you return to your home."

        "Faith, quit digging your fingernails into your palms and look at me." Brendan locked gazes with her as soon as she glanced up. "When I return to the Highlands, you will be going with me. You have the word of The Sutherland."

        Sparkles danced in her eyes. "My thanks. I promise I shall be good and not be a bother. Well, mayhap about the horses, but I shall not give you trouble over anything else." She glanced about as if she had just realized where they stood. "'Tis almost dark. I must hurry."

        Waving to his men, she took off at a full run into the forest on the far side of the trail.

        Brendan sighed then whistled to his horse. The lass would never make it to her brother's keep by dark.

        "She has done it again, laird," Luthias exclaimed.

        "Why does she not understand she is not to leave our protection?" Jamie asked. "The laird explained it well enough."

        "She is English," Michael said as if that explained everything.

        "Let's find a place to make camp," Roland ordered. "The laird is off to guard his bride."

        Brendan swung onto his mount and headed after Faith with his men's laughter ringing in his ears. He had no trouble following the lass. She made enough noise to alert every bandit in England of her presence.

        As darkness cloaked the trees, he dismounted, took the plaid roll from his saddle, and continued on foot. Catching up to her near the forest's edge, he remained in shadows untouched by the moonlight.

        She came to a halt and gazed toward Hawkhurst as the portcullis dropped, sealing the outer curtain of the keep. Any other lass would weep. Faith stamped her foot and exclaimed, "Rats!"

        Heaving a heavy sigh, she turned to the west and trudged along until she came to a shallow brook. After quenching her thirst, she knelt, made the Sign of the Cross, and said more litanies than he knew existed. She finally lay upon the mossy bank and closed her eyes.

        Sitting at the base of a tree, Brendon placed his sword and bundle on the ground beside him and prepared to spend the night keeping watch over his bride. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension of the headache that had plagued him these past few days. Odd that he hadn't noticed it during the afternoon. The headaches had started soon after his parents and younger brother died, victims of a Viking raid while he was away from the holding. They continued because of one wee sister with the personality of a prankish imp. Heather was constantly into mischief and frequently landed in danger. No matter what he did, she hadn't changed. Never knowing what to expect next, he worried over her constantly, leading to headaches that sat at the base of his skull like a boulder and throbbed through his neck and shoulders. He had vowed to never again allow anyone the same power. The women of Clan Sutherland considered him hard and unyielding. They even called him Stoneheart behind his back. That suited him just fine. At least he didn't have to worry about anyone else trying to steal into his heart.

        Faith tossed, turned, and grumbled for several minutes. Then she sprang to her feet and surveyed the area. Brendan stiffened, instantly alert, and searched for danger. He found no cause for alarm and thought he might have made some small noise until Faith hitched up her gown. She tugged on a cord and pulled off the padding over her belly.

        He enjoyed a shadowed view of sleek calves and trim ankles just before her gown dropped back into place. Rolling the padding, she used it as a pillow and lay on her side. He would give the lass credit for being practical.

        After a while, her breathing deepened with slumber, but she remained restless, shivering from the damp ground and cool night air. She obviously wasn't used to the elements. She was more fragile than she appeared. He realized he wanted to keep her. He didn't know why, and he didn't like it, but he wasn't going to let her take an ague and die.

        He silently joined his bride to share his plaid and body heat. But hell if he would get any sleep while she was wearing that wart.

Three

         Killing was messy.

         This harlot pleased him though. Aye, she pleaded well, not knowing 'twas to no avail. She deserved to die. All of her kind did. Strutting about, enticing men with their wares. They were evil and must be destroyed. This one enjoyed his mastery until his hands wrapped around her throat. She had struggled then. Of course they all did, but this one turned it into a fight before begging for her life. He had to beat her soundly. That was enjoyable too. He would have to beat them all in the future.

        There was such ecstasy in causing fear. Ah, but beyond fear, there was the glorious rush of the kill. The flowing of blood induced pleasure as the life force of his victims left their bodies and strengthened his own. He even enjoyed added entertainment as a pack of wolves found the still-warm body and shredded her flesh. The blood dripping from their fangs and jowls provoked a new appetite within him. Oh, how he wished he could join them in their feast. Next time their banquet would be the remains of his. But not too soon. He would bide his time then find another slut. They were so easy to find. Aye, he would experience this pleasure again...and often.