Tamed by a Laird (19 page)

“Then you must next teach me how to keep one from doing that,” Jenny said. “I would know how to protect myself.”

“I’m thinking we should be getting back,” he said. “Ye’ve much more yet to learn, but I dinna want yon great Hugo looking
to skin me for flirting with ye. The man looks as if he’d ken one end of a blade from another better nor most.”

Aware that Hugh might well come in search of her if he did not see her with the others when he thought he should, she agreed.
But when she realized they’d soon reach the campsite, she said, “I must leave you here, Gilly, for the usual personal reason.
But thank you for teaching me. I want to learn all I can of such things.”

“Hoots, lass, mayhap ye’ll become a fool like us. I warrant ye could add much to our performance by singing whilst ye fling
your knives. I ha’ nae doots ye’d soon outdo both Gawkus and me.”

“Aye, sure,” she said, laughing.

He grinned back and hurried away.

Hugh frowned at the long, stout stick of wood he held and then scanned the common area of the encampment again. Still no Jenny.
Where the devil was she?

“D’ye mean to hold that stick all day, man, or will ye be turning it into a proper torch for us?”

He smiled ruefully at Gawkus and thought the man looked as if he had been put together from sticks himself. His long thin
arms were akimbo, his long-oval head tilted to one side, and his mop of red curls was as wild as Peg’s, albeit not as long.

“I’ll have this one finished in a twink,” Hugh said, noting that others who helped them were also watching him. “Do you really
mean to juggle torches?”

“Aye, sure,” Gawkus said. “We dinna fling them about inside great halls, because their owners tend to object, but we nearly
always do it when we’re outside at night, as we will be in Dumfries market square.”

“The torches always impress folks,” the Joculator said, joining them.

“Gawkus is not the only one who juggles them, then. You do, too?”

“Most of us do any number of things,” he said with a smile. “I just do everything that everyone else does, plus a few trifling
things of mine own.”

“Your skill with the daggers is most impressive,” Hugh said.

“Ah, so ye saw that, did ye? I thought ye’d come into Lochmaben afterward, but I expect I miss a number o’ things whilst I’m
juggling the dirks. It does require at least a prick’s worth o’ concentration even when one has done it for years.”

“I’m sure it does,” Hugh said, castigating himself for the slip. He had spoken without thinking, remembering the man’s skillful
performance at Annan House.

“So where do your wits keep a-wandering, lad?” Gawkus asked. “Not that one has to ask,” he added. “She’s a bonnie one, I’ll
grant ye.”

Hugh smiled, glad that Gawkus had changed the subject but wishing he had chosen another. Mildly, he said, “We sing well together.
Doubtless that is why you suspect me of thinking about her more than perhaps I should.”

“Aye, sure, and ye were just looking around for another suitable torch stick, I expect. Sakes, lad, she seems to treat ye
kindly enough.”

“She does, indeed,” the Joculator added. “I’ve nae doubt ye’ll bring her round your thumb yet, if ye exert a wee bit o’ patience.”

“I wish that were so,” Hugh muttered. Then he said frankly, “In troth, it did occur to me that I’d not seen her for some time.
And she does tend to wander about without thought o’ the dangers one may find in the woods.”

“She went off with me wife, Cath,” one of the others said.

Hugh recognized the man Cuddy, who played a flute and the pipes. Eyeing him, he wondered what had possessed Jenny to dream
about a scrawny middle-aged man with crooked teeth. But he also noted that Cuddy’s accent was more akin to the English Borders
than the Scottish ones. The accents were much alike though, and Hugh doubted that Jenny’s ear was as well tuned to the differences
as his was.

As Hugh pondered what the discovery might mean, if anything, the Joculator said. “Aye, Jenny and Cath went off together over
an hour ago, but Cath came back shortly afterward. Doubtless, our Jenny went on to the hilltop for a look at the view and
lost track of the time.”

“I think I’ll just take a walk myself then,” Hugh said. “I’ve made at least a dozen torches. With all these others helping,
we should have enough for the first performance at least.”

“As that first performance is tonight, I hope ye’re right,” the Joculator said. “We expect a sizable crowd.”

“And, with luck, it will rain gelt,” Gawkus added with a grin.

Saying he would return long before then, Hugh strode off, wondering if the sheriff would grace that night’s performance, too.
The thought did not worry him. The sheriff had not recognized the purple-caped troubadour as the Laird of Thornhill, so doubtless
he would accept him henceforward as a troubadour.

The encampment was well behind him before he saw Jenny, standing with her back to him, peering into the woods. There seemed
to be a small clearing there, with the sun beaming mote-ridden rays down into it.

Whatever she saw fascinated her, because she did not hear his approach.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, meaning to startle her, to remind her how dangerous inattention could be in such a place.

She turned quickly, clearly angry. “You scared them away! Two fawns!”

“Look here,” he began, “you have no business—”

“
Don’t
try again to tell me my business. I—”

Grabbing her by the upper arms, he gave her a shake that broke off her reply, making her eyes widen and her lips part in shock.

They looked invitingly soft and rosy.

He had intended to tell her just what he thought of her behavior. Instead, without another thought, he pulled her close and
kissed her hard.

No one had ever kissed Jenny in such a way in all her life. Her first reaction was stunned disbelief that Hugh had taken such
a liberty. But as he pulled her closer, her body began to respond of its own accord to sensations racing through it.

He kissed her hungrily, letting go of her left arm to put his right one around her as his other hand moved to cup the back
of her head. Her breasts pressed against him, and the warmth of his body radiated through hers.

A warning flitted through her mind that she ought to feel trapped. Instead, she felt a sense of comfort that she had not felt
since before her father’s death.

When the pressure of his lips eased against hers, her own moved as if something deep inside her wanted him to go on kissing
her. Curiosity, she told herself as her body pressed harder against his. That’s all it was.

Then his tongue touched her lips and tried to slip between them. She put a tentative hand to his chest, uncertain whether
she wanted him to continue or not.

That light touch was enough.

With a low moan, he straightened and looked at her ruefully.

The woods felt chilly again.

“As you see, the woods can be dangerous to a woman alone,” he said. “Especially when she pays more heed to a pair of fawns
than to her own safety.”

Striving for calm, she said, “I should slap you for taking such a liberty.”

“I’d advise against that, although I’ll admit I should not have done it. What were you doing here?”

“I
was
watching a pair of fawns,” she said.

“Don’t try me too far, lass. You’ve been away more than an hour.”

“Mercy, do you keep such a close watch over me?”

“I should,” he replied. “I’m sure Dunwythie would expect me to, but I was helping make torches for the performance tonight.
Cuddy saw you go, but ’twas the Joculator who knew how much time had passed. He must have been watching you.”

Catching movement in the trees behind him, she shifted to see who was coming, but saw only a flash of red-and-black stripes.

“I think he is still watching me,” she said. “Or us.”

“The devil he is!” He turned. “I don’t see anyone.”

“I saw red-and-black stripes. He has a robe—”

“Aye, and he was wearing it,” he said. “Mayhap I shall have to tell him the truth about you. But I dislike taking anyone here
into our confidence, especially if there might any substance to these feelings of yours.”

That he might confide in the Joculator reminded her of the fib
she
had told the man. That produced a stab of guilt and made her say hastily, “It may be better if I talk to him. I can tell
him I saw him watching us and explain that singing love songs with me stirred you to think I might…” She looked down, uncertain
just what she could say, then added impulsively, “I can just tell him it won’t happen again.”

“Aye, that might be best,” he said. “And it won’t, lass. I’ll see to that.”

She nodded, hoping the twinge of disappointment that stirred then did not reveal itself in her expression.

“So, what
were
you doing out here for so long?” he asked, stern again.

“I was learning to throw a dirk,” she said with a smile, patting the sheathed blade nestled on her hip between two folds of
her skirt.

Clapping a strong hand atop of hers, he said curtly, “Give it to me.”

Stiffening, angry again, she said with ice in her voice, “Take your hand away, or by heaven I will do you an injury.”

Already annoyed with himself for giving way to a foolish impulse and kissing her, Hugh realized he had taken a second misstep.
But he had acted from pure instinct when she reached for the weapon.

Certain that she had only meant to show him where she kept the dagger she had supposedly learned to throw, he relaxed his
grip but did not let go of her hand.

Gently, he said, “Just as it is unwise to hit someone larger and stronger who might well hit back, lass, it is unwise to issue
threats you cannot carry out. Nay, you won’t catch me that way,” he added, turning slightly when she brought up a knee, so
it struck his hard thigh rather than the target she had surely hoped to strike.

“Let go of me,” she said, her tone still icy.

“I want to see that knife. You may give it to me properly, or I will take it from you. I can promise you won’t like it if
I have to do that.”

“I could shout for the Joculator.”

“Aye, you could,” he agreed, holding her gaze.

With a sigh, she said, “Very well, but you may not keep it. It was a gift.”

“From whom?” he demanded, hearing an unexpected note of jealousy in his tone and nearly wincing at the sound. Bad enough that
he had betrayed Ella’s sweet memory by kissing Jenny. What he felt now was surely naught but the childish feeling many men
felt at learning that someone for whom they bore responsibility had been doing something unbeknownst to them with another
man.

Jenny said calmly, “Wee Gilly gave it to me.”

Mentally giving himself a shake, Hugh took his hand from hers and said, “I’m told that both he and Gawkus are highly skilled
with knives, albeit not as skilled as the Joculator. Show me what Gilly taught you.”

She took the knife carefully from its sheath and found its fulcrum. Then, taking a moment to seek her target, she said, “That
tree with the boll on its trunk.”

Bringing her arm back, she let fly… and missed the tree.