The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel (44 page)

In an effort to reclaim control of the conversation, he said idly, “It doesn’t matter. Whether the king believes me or not, I did offer for her.” He met his friend’s stare. “The lass refused.”

“It’s about time,” MacLeod murmured.

Erik glared. “What did you say?”

MacLeod shrugged. “Just that I would like to meet her.”

Erik hoped she was far away from here. Back in Ireland or—he swallowed bitterly—in England. Gritting his teeth against the reflexive surge of anger, he drained his flagon of ale and called for another.

It was his bloody Saint’s Day, damnation; he was going to enjoy it. Thirty years, he thought angrily. And everything had been going perfectly for twenty-nine and three-quarters of them. Last year he would have shared in the revelry, enjoyed teasing and flirting with the lass in his lap, and looked forward to a long night of pleasure.

Perhaps sensing the return of his attention, the lass resumed her efforts. She kissed him again, bolder now, as she attempted to take matters into her own hands, so to speak. He felt her hand close over the unresponsive bulge between his legs. “Ah, you’re a big man,” she giggled. “All over.”

He couldn’t even muster a naughty rejoinder. He tried to enjoy himself. Tried to relax and concentrate on her skilled hands, but it gave him only the unpleasant sensation of bugs crawling on his skin.

Ellie had bloody ruined him. Turned him into a damn eunuch.

He was just about to send the lass off on some false errand to fetch him more ale or whisky or God knows what else he could think of when he heard a commotion near the flap of the tent.

It was Boyd. He and Seton had drawn the unfortunate lot of being on guard duty tonight. A good thing, from the looks of it. The strongest man in Scotland was holding an intruder by the waist, dragging him inside with some difficulty. She—from the dainty slippers peeking out from below the cloak, now he could see it was a she—kicked the big warrior in the
shin
and attempted to wrench away.

“Let go of me, you oversized brute!”

Erik froze. His heart, his blood, everything came to a sudden, jerking halt.

“Robert,” she said in that bossy, authoritative voice that Erik knew so well. “I certainly hope this isn’t an example of how you treat the people trying to help you.”

Erik didn’t want to believe it, but the next minute his worst fears were confirmed. She tossed back her hood, pushed away a stunned Boyd, and stomped up to the table.

“Lady Elyne!” the king exclaimed, equally as shocked.

But Erik barely heard him. An angry red haze descended over him, blinding him from anything but the danger she’d put herself in.

The lass appeared to have a maddening penchant for stumbling into the wrong place at the wrong time.

He swore. Loudly.

Her gaze shot to his, and he registered her shock and then the hurt. It wasn’t until he stood up and snarled, “What the hell are you doing here?” that he remembered the woman on his lap.

Twenty-three

    How ironic. The man she’d been dreaming about for weeks—months—and she hadn’t even recognized him. When the muscle-bound brute had thrust Ellie into the tent, instinctively she’d done a quick scan of the room. She’d noticed the buxom blond wrapped around the grizzled warrior, but hadn’t bothered to take a closer look.

Nothing about him felt familiar. Admittedly, with the woman hanging all over him she hadn’t been able to see him that clearly, but there was something different in the way he was sitting. The relaxed, utterly at-ease posture that characterized the man she knew had been replaced by a surly indifference that exuded danger and seemed to warn not to get too close.

It wasn’t until she’d heard his voice and turned to meet the familiar piercing blue-eyed gaze that her heart did a sharp tug in her chest. He was safe. Alive. She drank him in, noticing that the changes had gone far beyond posture. He was dressed differently, clad in a black war coat and a dark plaid. His hair was long and shaggy, and he had a week’s worth of scruff on his chin. His face seemed thinner, with a lean, hungry look to him that went along with the hard, humorless glare in his icy blue eyes and the surly twist of his mouth.

Instead of the swaggering pirate with the devilish glint in his eye, he was the most terrifying-looking man in a tent full of battle-hardened warriors.

Her relief to see him hale quickly turned to hurt. Her heart pinched. The woman had been kissing him. She’d had her head buried against his neck and her hands had been gripping the hard muscles of his broad shoulders. Muscles and shoulders Ellie knew intimately and had foolishly thought of as hers.

What had she expected, him to be pining after her?

Maybe a little.

Even seeing the woman fall to the floor, obviously forgotten, did nothing to lessen her hurt.

Fearing everyone in the room must be reading her thoughts, Ellie mustered her pride, lifted her chin, and with an imperious flick of her head, turned decisively from the irate, axe-wielding, dangerous-looking Viking.

It’s over
. Her heart clenched. She’d known that. Now, she’d seen it for herself.

“Please, Robert, I must speak with you. It’s important.”

“It must be,” her brother-in-law said, but Ellie could tell that he was confused—and perhaps suspicious. Robert looked to the big man who’d grabbed her as she neared the camp. “She came alone?” he asked.

The rough-looking brute nodded. “Aye, but we’re checking to make sure.”

Robert nodded and came around the table to take her hand. “Come, sister, you can tell me what has brought you here.” He looked over his shoulder and motioned to a man seated next to Erik, and then to a few others. She noticed that the first warrior was dressed similarly to Erik and appeared well-matched in impressiveness. He was tall, heavily muscled, and ruggedly handsome—though not as shockingly so as the man on Erik’s other side. There was an air of authority about the first man that made her wonder who he was. Her brother-in-law obviously relied on him.

Edward Bruce had also risen to join them, as had an older warrior and a much younger one. Almost as an afterthought, Robert looked to Erik. “You might as well come, too.” He didn’t sound very happy about it.

She could read the tension between the two men and dearly hoped she wasn’t the cause.

Ellie followed her brother-in-law out of the tent and across the makeshift camp to a large gap in the rocky mountainside, intensely aware of the seething man behind her.

Erik was obviously not happy to see her. Not that she blamed him under the circumstances, but she hadn’t expected such vitriol—not from him. Did he hate her so much?

She hadn’t meant to deceive him; she’d only wanted to see if he could care about her for herself, without the trappings and duty of her nobility.

As it was well-lit by torches, she could see that the small cave had been set aside as the royal chamber of sorts, replete with a rustic chair, writing table, and mattress. It was a far cry from a palace, but Robert seemed perfectly at ease in his rough surroundings.

She’d always admired the handsome knight who’d won her sister’s heart, but she could see that Robert had been changed by the past year. She’d half-expected to find an outlaw with the furtive, anxious look of a hunted man. Instead she’d found a formidable warrior of strength and steely determination who seemed more a king in his dusty, dirty armor than he had in his crown and kingly robes.

Robert motioned for her to take the chair, and the men made use of various boulders and rocks scattered about the cave. As far as war councils went, it was an unusual one.

She could feel the heat of Erik’s angry glare on her, and some of the glow of success she’d been basking in for getting here dimmed. Her hands twisted anxiously in her skirts. Admittedly, traipsing across the war-torn countryside pretending to be a serving-maid-turned-spy for the English wasn’t exactly the safest thing to do, but it had been necessary.

Perhaps sensing her nervousness, Robert said gently, “I hope you won’t misunderstand, sister, when I say that although I’m happy to see you, I’m most interested in why you are here, and how you managed to find me.”

She concentrated on Robert, ignoring the fury emanating from the man leaning against the wall with his arms crossed forbiddingly before his broad, leather-clad chest. She wasn’t here for him anyway.

Well, not completely. Although she wasn’t sure her sympathy for her brother-in-law’s cause alone would have compelled her to such extremes.

She hadn’t snuck out of her chamber since she was a child. And stealing away in the night with a couple of unfamiliar English soldiers who thought she was a serving-maid to inform the most hunted man in Christendom of a trap awaiting him …

If her father ever found out he’d be horrified—and infuriated—by her betrayal. But after what Edward had done to her sister, Ellie would not feel guilt.

She took a deep breath and relayed the conversation she’d overheard between her father, Ralph, and Sir Aymer.

It wasn’t what they’d expected to hear, and she sensed an immediate shift in the occupants of the cave as the gravity of the information hit.

Robert swore. “They know where we are? Are you certain about this, sister? You could not have been mistaken?”

She shook her head. “I’m not mistaken. The English know where you are camped and plan to attack at dawn. They intended to have my sister’s maidservant come here to find out information—I convinced her to allow me to come in her stead.”

Leaving out Matty’s role in covering up for her, Ellie explained how she was led by a few of Sir Aymer’s men to the edge of the valley. They were awaiting her return to escort her back to the castle. She intended to tell them that she was refused entry to the camp, so she needed to return as soon as possible.

Edward Bruce was much less subtle than his brother. “How do we know you are telling us the truth? This could be a trap.”

Ellie gave him a withering stare. “It
is
a trap, though not one set by me. If you don’t believe me, send one of your men to the woods at the head of Loch Troon. You’ll find nearly fifteen hundred Englishmen to prove that what I’m telling you is the truth. But make sure to do it before dawn.” She turned to Robert. “You must ready your men and leave immediately.”

Bruce rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t think so.”

Ellie froze with disbelief. “But I swear, I’m telling you the truth.”

Robert smiled. “I believe you.” He looked to the impressive warrior she’d noticed before. “This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

She saw a glint in the other man’s eye. “Aye. A place of our choosing to meet the enemy.” He knelt down, picked up a stick, and scratched a few lines in the dirt. “If we position the men on the south hillside here”—he indicated a point on the left—“we’ll be ready for them as they leave the shelter of the woods. We’ll gather boulders to take out the horses, and Arrow and his archers can take care of the rest.”

“It will be a trap,” Robert said delightedly. “Just not one for us.”

The men talked among themselves for a few more minutes and made their plans. When they’d come to an agreement on how to proceed, the king again addressed the warrior dressed like Erik. “Chief, gather the men. We must make our preparations. Any who are too drunk, throw them in the loch.” Robert turned to Erik. “I’m afraid we’ll have to celebrate your saint’s day another time.”

Erik shrugged indifferently, still glaring at Ellie. “I don’t seem to feel much like celebrating right now anyway.”

Robert came toward Ellie, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. “I don’t know how to thank you, sister. I owe you a debt of gratitude I cannot hope to repay—at least not at the moment. But when I win my kingdom back you may have anything that is in my power to give you.”

“I don’t want anything,” Ellie said. “Other than my sister’s safe return.”

She could see the flash of pain in Robert’s eye, and he nodded. “I want that, too.”

He turned to dismiss his men. Erik started to walk away with them, but Robert stopped him. “No, you stay,” he said, in a hard voice. “This concerns you.”

Ellie fiddled with her cloak, guessing that what Robert had to say wasn’t about the information she’d brought him.

He looked back and forth between Ellie and Erik. “As much as I appreciate your warning, sister, I suspect your coming here was not solely for my benefit.”

Ellie felt her cheeks grow hot under her brother-in-law’s knowing gaze.

“Hawk told me what happened,” Robert said. “I’m sorry for what you were forced to endure. His taking you was unavoidable under the circumstances”—he shot an angry glare to Erik—“but his conduct beyond that was inexcusable and dishonorable.”

She glanced at Erik, surprised to see his mouth pressed in a hard line. Obviously, he had no intention of speaking up for himself.

“Nay, Robert,” she said, putting a hand on his arm insistently. “You are wrong. I was treated with every consideration. I could have—
should
have—told him who I was, but I chose not to.” She smiled wryly. “I think I was enjoying my freedom a bit too much. I’m as much responsible for what happened as Hawk is.”