The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel (29 page)

He should have known she wouldn’t be able to not take it seriously. Ellie was the type of lass who took
everything
seriously.

He sensed the danger—knew she was getting too attached—but he couldn’t seem to stay away from her. One taste of her wasn’t nearly enough; it had only made him hungry for more. Much more.

As it turned out, it hadn’t been the sauna—his control had been every bit as tenuous today. He didn’t know what it was about the lass that made him lose his mind.

He should be with his men, preparing for the most important battle of their lives and planning for the journey back to Ireland across heavily patrolled waters, instead of sneaking away like a lad with his first maid for a few moments of stolen pleasure.

But damn if it wasn’t worth it. He’d gotten more pleasure from her hand than he’d experienced in a long time.

But the pleasure was becoming too complicated.

He sure as hell hoped he’d discouraged her romantic wanderings. Pirate or nay, he was an outlaw and in no position to offer her anything more, even if he wanted to—which he didn’t.

He’d only been joking about keeping her. The twinge he’d felt at her quick refusal had been pride, that’s all.

He watched as she finished adjusting her clothing. If her averted face was any indication, she’d gotten the warning.

They started to walk to the door of the barn, and he felt the strange pressure growing in his chest again. The overwhelming—maddening—urge to make her happy.

She reached for the handle.
Let her go
.
It’s better this way
.

“Wait!” he blurted.

She turned around slowly, her small face tilted to the side in question.

His heart thumped in uneven beats. He didn’t know what to say. But that couldn’t be. He was never at a loss for words.

She stared at him expectantly. He wanted to drag his hands through his hair and shuffle his feet. Finally, he was saved from further awkwardness when something caught his eye. He reached out and plucked a piece of straw from her hair, holding it up for her perusal. “You might have trouble explaining this.”

Heat warmed her cheeks. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman who blushed more adorably. “Thank you,” she said.

They stared at each other for a long moment before he finally broke the connection. “You should go first.”

She nodded and started through the door, but turned suddenly. “Will I see you tonight?”

He knew he should stay away from her—that it would make leaving easier—but he found himself nodding.

She smiled, and the warmth of it spread over him in a gentle embrace. It was the craziest thing. It almost seemed that he could feel her emotions as clearly as his own. As if her happiness were more important than his.

He watched her make her way across the yard and waited until she’d disappeared inside the house before leaving the barn himself.

He was nearly to the edge of the cliff, at the top of the path that led to the beach, when he heard someone behind him. From the angry stomp, he guessed who it was even before he turned around.

Hawk eyed the florid-faced young knight, who’d donned full armor for the first time since falling ill. Randolph’s mail had apparently weathered the sea better than he had; it was as bright and shiny as a new piece of silver. Randolph, on the other hand, had lost quite a bit of weight, and even the small exertion of walking fast seemed to have tired him. He was breathing hard, and sweat had gathered on his brow.

“It’s good to see you up and about, Randolph.”

It said something for Randolph’s mood that the diminutive didn’t even get a rise out of him.

“By the rood!” the young knight exclaimed, appropriating his uncle’s favorite oath. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Returning to camp. Care to join me?”

Despite his youth, there was something formidable to Randolph. In the square set of his shoulders, the hard glint in his eye, and the stubborn line of his jaw, Erik could see the steely shadow of the man he would become. If he could lose some of his priggish arrogance, he just might make one hell of a warrior—for a Lowlander.

“You know very well that’s not what I meant. What are you doing with Ellie?”

Erik’s face hardened dangerously. He felt a rare flash of temper. Randolph electing himself Ellie’s protector and riding in like some knight-errant annoyed the hell out of him. Ellie was his. His responsibility, he added hastily. “It’s none of your concern.”

“It is, if you are dishonoring her. I saw her come out of the barn. What are you thinking? We stole her from her home. There might not have been any other choice, but the least we can do is bring her back safely.”

Erik bit back his rising fury. “I will.”

“
Without
ruining her. What you are doing is wrong, and I will not be a part of it.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed, not liking being taken to task by a pompous, uptight youth who’d barely had time to dull the shine off his spurs. “Why suddenly all the knightly bravado? I’ve been with women before, and it’s never seemed to bother you.”

“Ellie isn’t like the type of women you usually pursue. She’s different. She’s a lady.”

Erik flinched, every instinct rejecting Randolph’s words. She wasn’t different. Not really. He liked to spend time with her because it was fun to fluster her. If his desire for her seemed intense, it was only because of the circumstances. He was having a little fun, that was all. “She’s a twenty-four-year-old unattached nursemaid, capable of making her own decisions.”

Hell, he was doing her a favor.

“She’s an innocent maid and you are taking advantage of her,” Randolph countered. “This isn’t like you, Hawk.”

Erik’s fists clenched, wanting to lash out at Randolph for making him acknowledge what he was trying to ignore.

He forced his anger to cool and flashed a careless grin. “You’re making too much out of this, Tommy. I’m only having a wee bit of fun, that’s all. It’s nothing serious. The lass will be returned in the same state that she arrived.”

More or less.

Randolph looked at him as though he didn’t know whether to believe him. “Then you do intend to return her?”

“Of course. You didn’t think I’d keep her, did you?” He made it sound as if it was the most ludicrous suggestion ever.

“I wasn’t sure,” Randolph admitted uncomfortably. “I’ve never seen you so focused on a lass before.”

Erik forced himself to laugh, ignoring the building pressure in his chest. It was ridiculous. He wasn’t focused.

He liked his life the way it was, blast it. It didn’t matter that he’d never been able to talk to anyone the way he talked to Ellie, that he couldn’t stop thinking about her, that she had the softest skin he’d ever touched and the sweetest lips he’d ever tasted, that the faint lavender scent of her skin was about the most incredible thing he’d ever smelled, or that her smile made him feel as if he’d just slain a thousand dragons. He liked her, but she wasn’t the woman for him.

Even were he to consider marriage—which he wasn’t—he needed someone to enhance the power and prestige of his clan. A nursemaid didn’t qualify. Nor was he currently in any position to take a wife, not when he had a rather substantial price on his head.

“Time and circumstance, Tommy. You can’t honestly see me tying myself to one woman?”

Randolph finally cracked a smile. “Nay, perhaps you’re right.” Erik hoped he’d move off, but Randolph didn’t appear done. “When will you take her back?”

Erik shrugged as if it wasn’t important, as if he didn’t care that in less than forty-eight hours he would likely never see her again. He
didn’t
care. “On our way to meet the Irish,” he said.

“You don’t think she heard anything?”

He shook his head. “Nay, but even if she did, by then it will be too late.”

“So you will let her be until we leave?” Randolph pressed.

Erik was damned if he’d be taken to task by some overzealous Sir Galahad intent on saving maidens who didn’t need to be saved. “You’ve nothing to worry about, Tommy lad. I know what I’m doing.”

He always knew what he was doing.

    It was dark when Erik and Domnall headed back to camp after a scouting trip to the south side of the island. With the time of their departure approaching, Erik wanted to keep a close eye on the English patrols and attempt to get some sense of their pattern.

He’d expected to see the number of galleys diminish by now, but if anything they’d seemed to increase the past few days. The cook had been right: something unusual was going on. Fortunately, the English had not returned to search Spoon Island again, but perhaps it was a good thing they were leaving soon. Even if it meant having to say goodbye to Ellie.

“Something wrong, Captain?”

Erik realized he was frowning and shook his head. “Nay, I was just thinking that it’s a good thing we are leaving soon.”

Domnall nodded. “It’s not like the English curs to be so tenacious.” He gave him a look. “I thought you might be thinking about the lass.”

“I’m always thinking about lasses.”

Domnall wasn’t fooled. “You like her.”

First Randolph and now Domnall? “That’s hardly unusual; I like most women.”

His henchman had known him too long to be put off so easily. “But not like this one.” Domnall went on as if he were talking to himself. “At first I though it was the novelty of not having someone fall down at your feet, but then I began to think that it was more than that. The lass is good for you. She doesn’t put up with any of your shite.”

Erik pushed aside a limb in the pathway, letting it snap back on his second in command. “Assuming I had any shite to put up with, that’s hardly a point in her favor.”

Domnall ignored him and scratched his whiskers. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never looked at a woman like that.”

“With irritation?”

The older man snorted. “Call it what you want. But what are you going to do about it?”

His jaw hardened. “Return her to her family as I promised.”

“So you’re just going to let her go?”

Erik didn’t like to be questioned, especially when the answers made him feel so angry. “What else would you have me do? I stole the lass from her home and family; I need to take her back. And I’m hardly in a position to be offering her anything else right now.”

“You could give the lass a choice. You could tell her you care for her. Maybe she’d wait for you.”

“For what?” Erik snapped back, irritated with the turn of conversation. “To be my leman? You don’t seriously think I’d marry a nursemaid, do you?”

“Why not?” his old friend challenged. “You do whatever the hell you want the rest of the time. Your mother and sisters would never object, not if you were happy.”

He was already happy, damn it. He sure as hell didn’t need a wife to make him so. “This is ridiculous. I’m not getting married. I’ve known the lass for barely ten days, and in ten more I’ll have forgotten all about her.”

He was certain of it.

Domnall gave him a pitying look, which, as they were nearing the camp, Erik promptly ignored. Everyone was making too much of this.

He whistled softly—letting the men standing guard know they were approaching—and heard the answering hoot. But when they turned the corner of the headland and the small bay came into view, he stopped in his tracks, noticing a small fishing boat coming from the east turn into the harbor.

As fishing was the mainstay of the Islanders and this bay was one of two anchorages on Spoon, it was an ordinary occurrence, but he didn’t recognize the boat. He motioned to Domnall to wait and hoped the guardsman watching the bay had seen the boat in time to alert the men in the cave.

It took a few minutes for the skiff to pull all the way into the shore. The full moon provided enough light to count five figures aboard. Something about one of the men set the hair at the back of his neck on edge. His size … he was far too big and burly for a fisherman. Erik knew only a handful of warriors that powerfully built.

He tensed, suspecting this man was no fisherman. But he couldn’t believe the English would be smart enough to attempt such furtive tactics—nor did the cowards like to travel in small groups without an army to protect them.

A few minutes later, two of the figures jumped overboard, including the large man, and waded through the knee-high water to the shore. Though he was dressed like a poor fisherman, wearing a plain wool cap and a rough brown plaid around his shoulders, there was no mistaking the muscular build of the strongest man in Scotland.

A broad smile crept up Erik’s face. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What is it, Captain?”

“It appears we have visitors.”

Erik left the shadows of the shoreline and strode down the beach. He called out, “Look what the tide dragged in.”

The big man turned at the sound of his voice. His granite-hard face didn’t give an inch, though it had been months since they’d seen each other. “I see no one’s killed you yet?”

“You don’t need to sound so disappointed.” Erik laughed and clapped a hand across his back. It almost hurt. “It’s not for lack of trying. What the hell are you doing here, Raider?” Erik turned to the man at his side, expecting to see Boyd’s partner, Alex “Dragon” Seton, but was surprised to see the king’s brother instead. His enjoyment dimmed somewhat. Edward Bruce was a volatile, arrogant prig who, unlike his royal brother, seemed to represent all the bad qualities in noblemen. Of Bruce’s four brothers, Edward was Erik’s least favorite. Erik gave him a curt nod of his head. “My lord,” he said, before turning back to Boyd. “How did you find me?”

“It’s a long story. One better told around a warm fire.”

Boyd instructed the fishermen to return for them before dawn.

Erik pointed him in the direction of the cave. “I look forward to hearing it.”

Boyd gave him a hard look. “And I look forward to hearing why you have half the English fleet crawling up your arse.”

Sixteen