The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel (13 page)

“Robert wouldn’t do such a thing,” she said vehemently. “He would never harm Ellie.”

Neither man acknowledged her outburst. Whether they agreed or not, it didn’t matter. Ralph had once been a close friend of Bruce. Her father’s feelings for his son-in-law were harder to quantify. Though he would not help his son by marriage outwardly, at times she wondered whether he wanted him to succeed. But both were Edward’s men. They would do their duty despite their personal feelings. And if Robert had anything to do with this …

She shuddered. Her father’s anger would rival Edward’s.

“How did they escape?” John asked.

Ralph’s gaze hardened and his mouth turned white with rage. In crisp, staccato tones, he described the confrontation at sea and the ensuing chase by his men.

“This hawk boat was surrounded by four galleys and escaped?” Thomas asked incredulously.

Matty gave him a stifling glance, but it was too late.

Ralph stiffened. “So it appears.”

Matty could see that his pride had taken a heavy blow. Ralph set high standards for the fleet of galleys under his command, and he took his men’s failure personally. She took a step toward him before stopping herself. He was not hers to soothe.

“I don’t care what it takes,” her father said in a voice that held no mercy, sounding every inch the most powerful earl in Ireland. “Find him.”

Seven

    They
were
blue. Sparkling blue, like the ocean on a sunny day.

Ellie had been prepared for that. What she hadn’t anticipated, however, were the dimples. Two of them. Two perfectly aligned deep craters on either side of that incorrigible grin. Combined with the thick, sun-bleached hair, the white teeth, and the golden tan that by all rights should have faded by now …

Her mouth pursed with annoyance. It was ridiculous. No man had a right to be that handsome—especially when he had a personality that was every bit as magnetic. It seemed an unfair bounty for one person to manage. Yet he did so with ease.

Of course, Ellie wasn’t the only one noticing.

Since the moment they’d first knocked on the door of the old longhouse, Hawk—as Meg had screamed, giving him the kind of welcome that left Ellie in no doubt of their relationship—had been the center of attention.

The excitement had quieted down for the night, but revved back up the moment he sauntered back through the door this morning. Didn’t he have things to do? Plunder for gold? Conquer small countries? Abduct more innocent women?

Apparently not. It seemed he had all the time in the world for his adoring throng. The small room was stuffed to the rafters with female visitors. It hadn’t taken the island women long to learn of his arrival, and they’d been knocking on Meg’s door ever since.

Ellie had learned from Meg that they were on a small island just off the Scottish coast of Kintyre. Counting the seven women in the room, Ellie wouldn’t be surprised if half the unmarried female population was sitting around Meg’s hearth—though she was only assuming they were all unmarried.

“Of course I missed you, love. How could I forget that pie you made me before I left?” she heard him say. “It was the sweetest thing I ever tasted.” Ellie didn’t need to look to know that his eyes were twinkling mischievously, but she did anyway. “Or the
second
sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

He didn’t direct it to anyone in particular, but let it hang out there as if it were meant for each one of them individually.

Ellie had to admit that he had a talent. Watching him was akin to watching a master craftsman at work. He exuded charisma; it dripped off him like cold cream. He doled out compliments with deft sincerity, was unfailingly attentive, and treated each woman as if she were a princess. It wasn’t hard to understand why everyone liked him.

Then why did her jaw ache and her teeth feel whittled down from listening to him as the women fawned all over him? Like a Saracen surrounded by his harem, he had the women clustered around his chair, hanging on his every word. He had one arm draped lazily over Meg’s shoulder while another woman pretended to perch herself on the arm of the chair but ended up half on his lap.

Not that he was leaving all the fondling to the women. She’d never seen so many bottom pats and long “welcome” kisses in her life. This had to be the most hospitable island in Scotland!

Realizing she was frowning, she turned back to the bread and cheese Meg had given her to break her fast. It was no business of hers who he touched as long as it wasn’t her. If anyone had cause for complaint it was Meg, and she didn’t seem to mind the competition.

Ellie surreptitiously watched the group from her seat at the table on one side of the small hall. After that greeting last night, she’d been certain Meg was his mistress. The pretty redhead certainly looked the part. Probably a few years older than Ellie, she had a wide, welcoming smile, rosy cheeks, and the biggest breasts Ellie had ever seen. Her lush sensuality was everything Ellie was not. She felt like a dried-up old prune in comparison. But watching the two of them now, she wasn’t so sure about the nature of their relationship. He treated her with the same roguish good humor that he did everyone else.

He was so infuriatingly
nice
. Yet Ellie couldn’t help but think that he used his affability as a mask to keep everyone at a distance. All these people who thought they knew him so well probably didn’t know him at all.

Even his name was a mystery. “Hawk” was how even the women referred to him. Not that it didn’t fit. The bird of prey that soared over the sea, wild and free, hunting with sudden attacks from a place of concealment, was perfect for a pirate.

She nibbled at her food, listening to the master at work. Behind the lazy grin hid a very observant man. He asked about Maura’s new hairstyle, Deidre’s new gown, and how Bessie’s young son was recovering after having hurt his leg in a fall from a tree last year. He made a point to ask something personal of each one of them, but any attempts to ask questions of him were deflected with a grin and a jest—usually a naughty one. It was so expertly done, Ellie wondered if the women even realized what he was doing.

It made her curious as to the real man behind the golden veneer.

“Something wrong, Ellie?” he asked.

A crowd of curious faces turned toward her. She was surprised he’d even noticed she was here, with his attention so well occupied.

“You don’t seem your usual chirpy self this morning,” he added innocently, those wickedly blue eyes twinkling with mirth.

Ellie’s gaze narrowed; she was too exhausted to properly ignore him. Nor had she forgiven him for the little story he’d told Meg last night on how she came to be with him. “I’m perfectly chirpy,” she growled.
For someone who’d had two hours of sleep after being stolen from her home by a boatload of Vikings
.

He looked at her as if he was trying not to laugh. “Aye, I can see that.”

She had to grit her teeth not to glare at him again when he whispered—loudly—an apology to the other women about her being so grumpy in the morning.

His needling was all the more grating because it happened to be true. She had always been slow to rise (as her mother had generously called it) in the best of circumstances—and today definitely hadn’t been the best of circumstances. Meg had been up since the crack of dawn cooking and, after helping her tend Thomas and Duncan—the man who’d been struck by the arrow—Ellie had collapsed on the makeshift pallet before the fire just a few short hours ago.

She told herself she was grateful when he seemed to forget all about her once again and returned to the adoring throng surrounding him.

“How long will you stay this time?” one of the women asked.

Finally something worth listening to.

“Until I can bear to tear myself away from Meg’s fine cooking.” He turned to their hostess. “That was one delicious stew you sent over this morning, love. The men appreciate your trouble … as do I.”

Meg turned pink with pleasure. “It was no trouble at all. Just something I tossed together.”

At dawn
, Ellie wanted to point out ungraciously. And once again he hadn’t answered the question.

He rose slowly from the chair as if he couldn’t bear to drag himself away. Though the room was a good size—probably twenty by fifty feet—his height and broad shoulders suddenly made it feel much smaller. The man dominated everything around him.

“I’m afraid I must get back to my men,” he said sadly. The obvious protests started, but he waved them off. “I just came up to thank Meg for her hospitality and tending to my men.”

Duncan and Thomas had stubbornly insisted on returning to the beach to join the others first thing in the morning. Ellie thought they both could have benefited from more rest—as could she—and had urged them to stay, but they’d taken her suggestion as an insult.

Meg frowned, having tried to keep them here as well. “I didn’t like the look of the young one. Keep an eye on him. Men can be such stubborn fools.” She gave Hawk a pointed look. “Are you sure you won’t let me see to those hands?”

He grinned. “If I let you see to my hands, it will be hours before I get back to my men.”

Meg gave him a little swat, and everyone laughed except Ellie. Did he ever take anything seriously? And what was wrong with his hands?

He turned to leave, then stopped as if he’d forgotten something—apparently her. “You’re sure it’s no trouble?” he said, referring to Ellie as if she weren’t sitting right there.

Meg shook her head. “I’ll enjoy the company.”

Hawk bent over and gave the curvy redhead a kiss on the cheek. “I owe you, love.”

Meg dimpled. “And I will enjoy collecting payment.”

“Naughty, lass,” he said with another one of those bottom pats.

His gaze leveled on Ellie. “Stay out of trouble,” he ordered, as if she were a child.

She fought the most ridiculous impulse to stick out her tongue at him.

Good God, what was wrong with her? Less than twenty-four hours in his company, and she was acting like her five-year-old sister Joannie.

Their gazes held a moment too long. He frowned, but by the time he glanced back to Meg he was smiling again. “Put her to work. I’m sure there’s something she can do.” From his tone it was clear he wasn’t overly convinced.

Ellie felt a spark of outrage. She wanted to argue that there was plenty she could do, but had to bite her tongue and force herself not to rise to the bait. If he knew how much he was getting to her, it would only encourage him. And in truth, she wasn’t sure how her lady’s skills would be of help to Meg and her small holding.

Ellie knew how to manage the castle’s servants and oversee the cleaning, cooking, and tending to the livestock and crops, but she’d never actually baked bread, made a stew, changed the rushes, laundered linens, milked a cow, or harvested barley herself. It was more than a little humbling to realize how impractical her skills were outside of a castle.

Once he’d left, it didn’t take long for the room to clear of visitors. With Hawk’s words fresh in her mind, Ellie helped Meg clear the table of the platter, bowls, and cups from the morning meal.

“Thank you,” Ellie said when they were finished. “The food was delicious.” Though it was far less elaborate than what she was used to, the simple fare was surprisingly satisfying. As were the accommodations. Though small and rustic, Meg’s home was comfortable, clean, and organized. “I should like to add my thanks to the captain’s for taking me in like this.”

Meg took her hands and gave them a motherly squeeze. “Poor lass. Hawk will get you home before you know it.” She laughed. “I’ll bet it’s some time before you hide away on a boat again. But you will have an adventure to tell when you get home.”

Ellie’s face reddened with mortified heat, wanting to protest with the truth but mindful of her vow. She cursed him for the devil again, recalling after a few whispered words his explanation to Meg last night of how she’d come to be with him.

The pirate had shaken his head sadly. “The lass fancies herself in love, and when I told her I had to go”—he shrugged helplessly as if this kind of thing happened all the time—“she went half-crazed with grief and hid herself under the sails on my boat. By the time one of my men found her, it was too late to take her back. Until I can get her home, I feel responsible for her.”

Her eyes had been shooting daggers at him the whole time—which had only added to his amusement. The arrogant scourge was lucky she didn’t have a real one in her hand.

Meg, on the other hand, looked at him as though he’d just ridden in on a white horse. “Of course you must.” She looked to Ellie and shook her head. “You poor wee lamb.”

She’d taken the bedraggled Ellie and enfolded her in such a sympathetic embrace that Ellie lost the heart to argue.

Ellie didn’t know what was worse: his story or how readily Meg had accepted it.

Meg was watching her now and mistook the source of her discomfort. “Don’t be embarrassed. Hawk’s the kind of man to make even a sensible woman lose her head.”

“Did you?” Ellie blurted, eyes widening when she realized what she’d said. “I mean, I couldn’t help but notice …” She gnawed on her lip, knowing she was only making it worse.