Samantha James (3 page)

To her surprise he gave a dry, raspy chuckle. “I am lucky I’m not called Egan the One-Eared. Were it not for Ronald MacKay, I would not be here at all.”

Glenda tipped her head to the side. “I didn’t know that. Tell me how.”

“When I was a lad, I stole a sausage at a market fair in Inverness. The vendor did not take a liking to being robbed, and he was determined that I pay. He set out after me and caught me by the scruff of my tunic. As he pulled me back, he struck at me with a dagger. It glanced down my cheek.”

Glenda was appalled. “How vicious! And for such a trifling item—a sausage, yet!”

One corner of Egan’s mouth turned up. “You must understand, Glenda, ’twas hardly the first time I’d stolen from this particular vendor. In truth, I had a fondness for his sausages—and I was usually quick enough to elude him.” He paused. “Ronald chanced to be nearby and saved me from further harm.”

“Lucky for you. Your parents must have been most grateful.”

“My mother died when I was but a wee bairn. I have no memory of her. And my father, Marcus MacBain, seldom knew where I was. He was more often sotted than not, you see.” He shrugged. “When I was a lad of ten, I grew tired of the ache in my belly, so I left my village for Inverness. I ate much better on my own than I did waiting for my father to put food on the table.”

Glenda blinked. “You mean you stole it?”

“Much of the time, aye. It was either that or go
hungry.” Again that matter-of-fact tone.

So. Egan had been a thief. That, too, was something she hadn’t known. “And what of your father? He never came after you?”

“Ah, no doubt he never even knew I was gone!”

“But…where did you sleep?”

“Wherever I could. If I was lucky, in a doorway. If not, beneath the open sky. In either case, as far away from the firth as I could. ’Twas cold there!”

“And what of Ronald? Did he take you back to Dunthorpe?”

“Aye. He kept my belly full and saw to it that I had a warm place to sleep, and trained me as well as any of his sons.”

Glenda listened intently to his tale. This, then, was how Egan had come to live with the MacKays. She had never even thought to ask the details until now, and suddenly she felt almost guilty.

There was a moment of quiet reflection before she spoke. “You are lucky,” she said soberly, “that you did not lose your eye.” She paused. “What of your father? What happened to him?”

“Once, when I was older, I went back to the village to see him. He had long since perished.”

“I’m sorry.” Glenda knew not what else to say.

But Egan was already shaking his head. “Do not be. I was lucky that Ronald found me when he did, else I might never have completed my journey to manhood. Ronald was more a father to me than my own.” He was silent for a moment, then glanced up at the sky. A frown pleated his brow, for dark, threatening clouds had begun to gather high above. “The
hour grows late. We should rest. We’ve a long way ahead of us yet.”

A short time later, Glenda crawled into the tent he had erected. Though she was weary both in body and spirit, sleep did not come easily that night. For she could not stop thinking of the little boy Egan had once been.

And the man he had now become.

Each day took them further south toward the Borderlands. It was a tiring journey, both for beast and man, for the countryside was a vast sea of steep, undulating hills and valleys. Egan had cursed himself soundly that first night, for pushing Glenda so hard when she was unused to the travails of travel.

She had been right. Though he’d denied it, Egan had indeed been angry, though not with her. Nay, never with her. ’Twas himself he was furious with…

For now that he was alone with her…Egan could not help it. He’d longed for her from afar for years now. He wanted her. He wanted her as much as ever. More. For now she was free…

And yet she was not. Mayhap she would never be free.

I shall never marry again
.

There had been no jest in the statement, naught but the fervor held deep in her being. Nay, there was no doubt she meant it, he decided bitterly.

He had always hated it when Meredith would occasionally tease Glenda that she must marry again.
An occasional prospect had appeared now and again at Dunthorpe; Egan had been secretly glad when Glenda spurned those who would have courted her. Indeed, Meredith had teased her yet again the morn they had departed Dunthorpe.

But now…his mouth twisted. Sweet heaven, but he was a fool!
She grieves for Niall still
, Cameron had mused sadly. Little wonder that she claimed she would never marry again!

Aye, but he was a fool—and would ever be one, it seemed!

On the third afternoon, they stopped to rest. Egan helped her down, resisting the urge to allow his hands to linger. It flashed through his mind to wonder what she would have done had he dared. But already she had pulled away, as if she were anxious to be quit of him!

He watched as she moved away to seek refuge beneath the soft, mossy ground of a shady tree. Laying back, she dropped off to sleep. Egan couldn’t stop himself from stretching out beside her. Propping himself on an elbow, he stared yearningly down at her. Though they did not touch, he could feel the warmth of her body. His imagination took flight. Were he to touch her, what would he find? Heat mingled with softness. Unaware of his perusal, her breathing deepened. Her chest filled with air, yielding a supple, rounded shape that her clothing but hinted at…

One he’d dreamed of many a night.

That shape drew his gaze endlessly. When she had awakened and they were off once again, he fixed his eyes upon her anew. What was it, he found himself
puzzling, that made him burn so? Her breast was primly covered. Her legs…he’d never seen her legs, though he somehow knew instinctively they would be slender and shapely, like the rest of her. Was it her smile? ’Twas a dazzling smile, he reflected almost somberly, not because ’twas flashed so sunnily and so often—nay, just the opposite. Nay, in truth her smile was sweet and demure…much as the woman herself.

’
Tis not her smile, but the lushness of her lips that hold you entranced
, whispered a voice within him.

Her lips. Ah, he acknowledged wryly, but it was too true!

That night as she ate, he could hardly tear his gaze from her lips, moist now with the juices of the hare he’d roasted. Her mouth was small, the lower lip slightly fuller, naturally tinted a ripe rose. He watched as the tip of her tongue came out to savor the last bit of flavor. The ache that started in his middle was almost a physical pain. What would it be like to kiss that sweet mouth, to let his own tongue run wild across that very same path?

Christ! He was abruptly disgusted with himself, for he was a man who always kept tight rein over his primal urges. What the devil was wrong with him? Were he a believer in such things, he might have been convinced that he was bewitched. That she, or some other, had cast some nebulous spell upon him!

They had been traveling for nearly five days when Glenda noticed her mount began to limp. At first she thought it was the uneven terrain, for the hill they traversed was uneven and dotted with rocks. She
glanced over at Egan, who rode several feet away.

“Egan.” Softly she spoke his name.

“Aye?”

Glenda pointed to the palfrey. “Something is wrong with Druscilla.”

Egan’s gaze sharpened. “She’s favoring her left foreleg.”

“Aye. I noticed it but a short time ago.”

“We’d best stop and have a look.” He pulled his stallion to a halt, while Glenda did the same. Swiftly he swung her down. Glenda felt her cheeks heat as she placed her fingertips on his shoulders. Egan did not dally; as soon as her feet found purchase on the ground he turned to Druscilla.

Yet it was not the palfrey who commanded Glenda’s attention, but him…
Egan
. He bent over Druscilla’s hoof. As he lifted it toward her belly, she blew out a snort and tossed her head skittishly. Immediately Egan raised a hand. Long, lean fingers ran over Druscilla’s dappled skin; it rippled, then stilled. Softly he spoke, but the words did not reach Glenda’s ears.

Satisfied that the palfrey had been quieted, he resumed his task anew. This time Druscilla remained calm as he bent over her hoof.

Glenda’s throat grew dry. The fabric of his tunic stretched taut across his back, clinging to the muscled span of his shoulders. Glenda could not help but think that never in her days had she seen a man’s shoulders as wide and sweeping as a bold new land.

He straightened. Glenda’s gaze jerked back to his face. She prayed he wouldn’t notice the intensity of
her regard. It took a moment to realize he was speaking.

“I suspect there is something lodged in her shoe, but I cannot tell for certain.” He patted Druscilla’s neck. “She should be examined further.”

Glenda nodded. “Aye. But where?” The last village they had passed through had been early yesterday afternoon.

Turning slightly, Egan shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun. “I believe there is a keep in the next vale. Mayhap there will be a blacksmith there who will oblige us.”

He whistled, and his horse trotted forward. ’Ere she could discern his intent, Glenda found herself atop his stallion’s back.

Glenda blinked. “Egan! I can walk—”

Her protest might never have been uttered. Egan had already taken up the reins in his hands and was walking briskly forward. Glenda’s mouth pursed, but declined against further argument. Druscilla trailed obediently behind.

It took nigh unto dark to reach the keep Egan spoke of. Pale yellow light flickered from high in the tower when at last they crested the top of the hillock. From his perch aloft, a sentinel hailed them.

“Ho there! Who ye be and why are ye ’ere?”

Egan called up to him. “I am Egan MacBain and I travel with Glenda, sister-in-law to Cameron, chieftain of the Clan MacKay. We ask a boon—the assistance of your smithy for the lady’s mount—and then we will be on our way.”

“Wait there!”

The echo of running footsteps down the tower
stairs were heard. Glenda guessed the guard had dispatched someone to seek permission. The minutes seemed to drag by before he shouted down to them again.

“Enter!”

The gate creaked open. Glenda gave a sigh of relief, for if they had been refused admittance, who knew how soon they might find another smithy?

Egan led his stallion through the towering arch. Glenda glanced around and saw that they were within a large bailey. Tufts of grass grew sparsely. Egan halted. Strong hands caught at her waist and she felt herself lowered to the ground.

By now several figures had appeared. In the glow of a torchlight, she saw that a man strode toward them. Just ahead of him trotted several lads. He was clearly in charge, for he beckoned to the lads.

“See that the horses are fed and the lady’s mount attended to!”

Glenda smiled at the pair of youths, who reached for the reins. “Her name is Druscilla,” she said softly.

By now the man had reached them. Some years Egan’s senior, a sprinkling of gray dotted his hair and beard.

“Welcome, Egan MacBain!” he greeted. “I do believe I have heard of you.”

“Have you, sir?” Egan’s gaze was as steady as his tone.

“Oh, aye! I am Dugan.” He swept a hand wide. “This is my home. And you, fairest lady, must be Glenda.”

He took the hand Glenda offered and bowed low. When he arose, he glanced between them. “Forgive
me my curiosity, but my sentry said you were sister-in-law to Cameron of the Clan MacKay. A pity”—he shook his head—“the deaths of his father and brothers.”

Glenda’s smile seemed to freeze. “I am Niall’s widow,” she said quietly.

An awkward silence ensued. Egan cursed inwardly. Quickly he said, “I must thank you for allowing us entrance.”

“I can do no less for someone in need.” Dugan stroked his beard. “But come now. You are just in time for the evening’s feast. If a hot meal and a soft bed are to your liking, they are yours for the night.”

Glenda had already taken a long, slow breath. Dugan’s invitation nearly made her sigh with yearning, for the thought of sleeping on something other than the damp, hard ground was tempting indeed. Though Egan never seemed to tire and always appeared fresh and alert no matter the hour, Glenda could not claim the same hardiness.

In truth, Egan had no knowledge, either bad or good, of Dugan of Ragmoor. It was Egan’s first instinct to refuse, for it was not his way to embrace a man of which he knew naught, but then he glimpsed the undisguised longing which Glenda couldn’t quite hide.

Softly he addressed himself to Glenda. “What is your wish? Would you like to stay?”

“I would indeed.” His breath caught, for her smile was as radiant as a blazing summer sun.

“Excellent!” Dugan rubbed his hands together. “Come into the great hall and I’ll see that you are settled.”

“Let us go then.”

Egan placed his hand between her shoulder blades. Glenda’s heart leaped with quickening awareness. This was hardly the first time he’d touched her, she chided herself. Many a time he’d helped her from her horse. But as they followed Dugan up the stairs and into the great hall, his hand fell to the nip of her waist. His palm seemed to encompass her as well; she felt the warmth from his body, and now her heart was beating so hard she feared it would choke her. Why it was so, Glenda could not say. Yet this time it was different, and she knew not why. For this time his touch was almost…

Possessive.

There was no help for it, she thought, no help at all.

’Twas the only word that came to mind.

Once they reached the great hall, Dugan summoned several servants to show them to their respective chambers. The chamber to which she was taken was small but comfortably furnished. Though Glenda longed for nothing more than to crawl deep within the depths of the feather bed on the far wall, she knew the proper respects to their host must first be dispensed. Indeed, by the time she’d washed the coating of dust from her body, hunger gnawed at her belly.

When she returned downstairs, Egan was already seated at table. Dugan rose and seated her several chairs to his right, while Egan was placed directly opposite her. Nor, it seemed, were they the only guests. Glenda nodded and murmured greetings while Dugan introduced various guests—his cousin
Clarice and her husband Alpin, an Englishman, Robin of Chadwick, his knights David, Michael and Edward.

Very soon the table overflowed with food. There was an assortment of fish, whole roasted hen and hare, stuffed piglet, stewed fruits and an abundance of wine.

The man next to Egan was Robin of Chadwick. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, the neck and sleeves of his tunic were trimmed with fur. As the meal progressed, more and more he fixed his unbending scrutiny upon her; so piercing was it she grew uneasy. When at last he propped his chin upon his hand and stared, Glenda could abide it no longer.

She turned her own regard upon him full tilt.

“Must you stare at me, sir?”

His teeth gleamed against the darkness of his beard. “How can a man help it when there is such beauty to behold?”

“’Ah, but ’twould seem there is an abundance of beauty here this night.” Egan cut in smoothly, then gestured toward the far end of the table, where several ladies were engaged in conversation. “In particular, the one gowned in red velvet.”

Three pair of eyes swung to the far end of the table. As if she knew she was the subject under discussion, the woman threw back her head and laughed, displaying the arch of her slender white throat. In the very next instant, she chanced to glance at them…it was Egan upon whom her attention resided the longest.

Without breaking the hold of their eyes, she in
clined her head with a ruby-lipped smile, in silent acknowledgment of him.

There was a strange pinch in Glenda’s chest. She turned her gaze away, but Robin’s disclosure reached her ears.

“That is Elfrida.” He laughed softly. “She gives her favors quite freely, I fear. Not a quality one wants in a wife, eh? Ah, but when it comes to entertainment for a night, ’tis oft precisely what a man needs.”

His meaning was clear. Startled by such boldness, Glenda felt a hot tide of color rush to her face. Egan’s response was lost on her, for just then Dugan spoke her name.

Very soon the last dish was served. Glenda was vastly relieved, for she was suddenly anxious to quit the repast and seek her bed. Rising, she thanked Dugan for the meal and his hospitality.

’Twas then that she felt the touch of Egan’s eyes upon her. He had risen to his feet as well.

“Glenda, wait. I will escort you to your room.”

She adopted a smile. “There is no need. I can find my way to my room quite well.” Though her tone was pleasantly even, she did not look at his face as she spoke—she
could
not, for something within her did not wish to know what Egan thought of the lady Elfrida’s conduct.

Yet just before she turned from the table, a swirl of red velvet flashed in her line of vision. She saw that Elfrida was at his side, deftly slipping a hand into the crook of his elbow. It seemed the lady returned his interest in full measure.

“We’ve not yet had the opportunity to speak. I should like to rectify that, sir. Will you tell me of the
rugged Highlands?” She gave a clear, tinkling laugh and ran the tip of a finger down his sleeve. “I daresay they are as rugged as you, are they not?”