Taming the Highlander Page 6

  Dawn fire was streaking through the sky as Innes climbed and settled down on a flat rock, facing the sea. Just offshore, the heads of a dozen seals popped up, watching her before slipping beneath the surface again.

  The storm from the night before had washed many sea creatures ashore. The gulls were in a frenzy, flying high with clams and oysters and other shellfish and dropping them on the rocks before diving on them. Innes drew paper and charcoal from her leather case and started to sketch. Her thoughts returned to the crypt and to Ailein.

  Her sister needed causes to champion. She needed purpose in her life to avoid wasting her time on the trivial. This mystery of Shona’s death, serious as it was, remained for the younger sister to unravel.

  Perhaps such a search would result in healing the rift between Bryce and her sister. Perhaps this was a good way for Ailein to develop more empathy for her husband.

  It was time for Innes to leave Girnigoe. She only complicated her sister’s life by staying. She was a confidante to Ailein when none was needed.

  Another thought hovering on the edge of her mind was that she’d stayed long enough for the earl to come back. But last night he’d treated her as if she’d overstayed her welcome.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw the wolf racing toward her.

  “Thunder! Come back here.” At the sound of Conall’s voice, something stirred deep within her. This pointless attraction wasn’t going away. More reason for her to return to Folais Castle.

  Innes quickly slid her drawings into the leather case and clutched it to her chest. She drew in her legs as the excited animal jumped over her, pulling at her cloak and licking her face before bouncing down the rocks toward his master.

  Innes smiled. The unsolicited affection tickled her and she loved the wolf for it. She wiped the wetness off her face and watched the Highlander throw a stick into the sea. Thunder jumped into the water after it.

  Conall’s long black mane was loose this morning. With the wind in his face, he resembled a lion. Her gaze traveled the lines of his powerful body. The span of leg from kilt to boot top was muscled. The shirt was open at the neck and her gaze caressed every inch of the exposed skin. She bit her bottom lip, feeling a gentle tug low in her belly.

  He looked up, catching her perusal, and she glanced away, embarrassed.

  He tossed another stick of driftwood for the wolf and started toward her.

  “You’re an early riser,” he said. The earl of Caithness didn’t believe in formal greetings and small talk.

  “I keep my own schedule,” said Innes.

  “Nocturnal, eh?”

  “As much as I’m allowed.”

  “Allowed?” He raised a brow and climbed the rock to where she sat. “I hear there is no man nor woman alive that you mind or take orders from.”

  She looked up at his face framed by the early morning sky. “I had no idea that I’ve already established such a reputation at Girnigoe.”

  “It’s not bad. They could say worse.”

  “Worse than being called a shrew?”

  “I’ve heard no one call you a shrew.” He sat down on the rock beside her. His shoulder bumped hers, and he seemed to make no effort to move away. “But they call me the ‘mad’ brother. I’d say that’s worse.”

  Innes slid over to make room. “I see no evidence of madness.” She nodded at Thunder scattering seabirds by the water. “Unless you suppose keeping such a wild creature as that one enhances your reputation. Then I’d say you’re indeed mad.”

  “Did you just insult me and my wolf?” His bearded face was fierce, but his eyes showed amusement.

  “Did I?”

  “You implied that he’s not a wild creature and I’m mad to think so.”

  “Look at him. I’m just saying he’s far too sweet to be wild, and that must come from you.”

  “So now you insult my manhood.”

  Her gaze flew to his, and heat rose into her face. “I did no such thing.”

  “You said his sweetness comes from me.”

  “I meant your training and treatment of—”

  “That animal is a killer. A dangerous beast. Ask anyone at Castle Girnigoe. I need to keep him on a chain or he’ll rip apart the throat of any man that comes within his reach. In fact, not a month ago, a woman about your size made the mistake of—”

  Thunder bounced up onto the rocks and shook himself directly in front of them. Innes shrieked and Conall cursed, sending the animal scampering off the rock and down to the water again.

  She laughed. “That one is a terror.”

  Innes dried her leather case on her skirts and placed it on the rock. He picked it up.

  “That’s mine,” she said. She held on to one end, he the other. Innes didn’t share her sketches and paintings with strangers. Her work wasn’t for display. She sought no audience. Their gazes locked in a challenge of wills. She was agitated and excited at the same time. This close, she saw her own reflection in his blue eyes.

  “May I?” he asked.

  Her defenses crumbled. She hesitated for a moment longer and then shrugged, glad she’d left the sketch of his battlefield memory back in her room. Conall pulled out her sketches. Innes ceased to breathe as he spread them on his lap.

  “This is German paper,” he said, looking up with surprise.

  “It’s the only luxury I allow myself.”

  “An artist.”

  “Hardly.”

  He studied them, taking his time with each drawing. “You have an interest in birds.”

  “All animals interest me, but birds especially, I suppose.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re free.” The words sounded hollow to her ears. She recalled the months that he’d spent in captivity and felt obligated to explain. “Because I imagine that they’ve traveled so far, to places I’ll never see.” She stared up at the seagulls floating in the wind. “When I draw, I share in their stories of far-off lands. They whisper to me tales of adventure.”

  “Do they also whisper of sorrow and loss and grief?”

  Innes looked into his eyes. He was serious now, all joking forgotten. If he only knew that she had already seen into his soul. Felt his anguish and pain.

  “Aye. They do. Too often.” She tore her gaze away and reached for her basket. Her gloves lay at the bottom of it. He sat too close. She needed to put them on.

  “I see you came prepared.” He took the basket off her lap and lifted out the cloth filled with food. “I smelled Cook’s bread from a hundred paces off.”

  She snatched the basket back and took out her gloves. Realizing she was being watched, she tucked them in her belt.

  “Wynda told me she’d have Cook prepare a feast for today.” He tore a small loaf of bread in half and offered her a piece. He had no difficulty manipulating things with his one hand.

  She accepted the piece, making sure her fingers didn’t brush against his.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t see them when you passed by the kitchens,” she said. “The two were in there quite early, leading their troops.”

  “I came out a different way.”

  “Oh?” A sea breeze lifted his kilt, exposing more of his muscular thigh. She forced her attention onto the bread in her hand.

  “I don’t move around the castle as others do.”

  “I see. A secret passageway. The door at the bottom of the East Tower. You disappeared through that door the first day you caught me falling down the steps.” She took a bite out of the warm bread and licked her lips. A glaze of butter and sage coated the crust. “I keep testing it every time I go by, but it’s always latched.”

  He was watching her mouth. She lowered the bread to her lap, suddenly self-conscious. Her cheeks burned. She wasn’t used to having a man sit this close and watch her.

  “And what will you do if one day that door is unlocked?” he asked.

  Her heart beat so loud that he had to hear it. Was he making a proposition?

  “Perhaps I’ll op
en it and see what lies beyond,” she said.

  “There are tunnels.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the towers of Girnigoe looming over them. “I wouldn’t wish to get lost. I won’t take them.”

  “What if someone left you directions? Signs to show you which passage to take?”

  “I might follow the signs, but only if the paths led me to the hills. You know how fond I am of my solitary walks.”

  “I thought we were done with that foolhardiness.”

  She intended to be amusing, but the gruff tone made her bristle. “And I thought we made it clear last night that I won’t be dictated to about where I go and what I do.”

  “Nay, you can do what you like when you’re at Folais Castle, in the bosom of your family.”

  “I am free to conduct myself as I wish wherever I am.”

  His distaste for her answer showed plainly in his expression. “From now on, you will take an escort with you when you go for your walks.”

  “And if I choose not to?” she challenged.

  “You know my duty as host is to keep you safe,” he said curtly. “You will abide by the rules of the Sinclairs while you’re staying at Girnigoe.”

  “When you were away, no one appeared to mind my harmless jaunts. So are these rules of the laird of the castle or the earl?”

  The sharp look made her cringe inwardly. She stopped herself from inching away. He threw a piece of crust to a waiting gull.

  He ignored her question. “We shall provide our hospitality and protection. In return you will behave like a gracious guest and abide by our instructions.”

  “You mean your orders.”

  “Call it what you want,” he snapped, pushing to his feet. “You’ll do as I say.”

  Innes couldn’t let it go. It wasn’t in her nature to let someone else have the last sharp word. “So now that the occasionally present earl has returned, and hospitality has been restored, are you planning to introduce yourself to my sister?”

  He shot an accusatory glare at her. “Since you bring it up, we need to talk about your sister and my brother.”

  “What about them?”

  “Only a fortnight into this marriage and they’re having a row.”

  “And why should you care? You didn’t even show up at church. You could not be bothered to be introduced to my father while he was at Girnigoe.”

  He climbed down from the rock, but he was obviously not done with the argument.

  “There are three people who have a right to be possibly offended by my actions. Bryce, Ailein, and your father. You are not one of them.”

  Hot anger rose into her face. She was not about to let him dismiss her. Innes threw her things into the basket and yanked on her gloves. “Then when it comes to Ailein and your brother, I have nothing to say to you.”

  “I—”

  Innes cut him off. “And I’ve clearly worn your ‘hospitality’ thin. But I’ve agreed to stay six more days. Then I return home.”

  “A bit hot-tempered, I see,” he said. “Poor Bryce, if your sister is anything like you.”

  “Poor Bryce?” She shook her head and came to her feet. “Don’t you dare judge my sister before even meeting her.”

  He walked away while she was still talking. It was impossible to miss the storm brewing in him the way he tossed the next stick for Thunder.

  Innes climbed down and eyed the door back into the castle. She took a couple of steps toward it, then changed direction and headed right at the scowling giant. “And another thing. My temper is justified.”

  His dark gaze fixed on her face, and she decided to let him know exactly what was on her mind.

  “You provoked me,” she continued. “I am not leaving while you speak ill of my sister.”

  “The fact remains that they are having matrimonial issues.”

  “They’ll solve it. I’m not getting involved, and I’d advise you to do the same. Stay out of it.”

  “I happen to care about my brother,” he growled into her face.

  “Do you think I don’t care about my sister?” she retorted.

  “It’s only because of my brother that I am alive,” he snapped, towering over her. “He’s the only reason why I continue to carry on with this muddle of a life. He is the strength that keeps the Sinclairs together. I care deeply for him. And if you had a fraction of that feeling for your sister, you’d do whatever needs to be done to help them.”

  Innes rose on her toes and poked him hard in the chest. She might as well have poked a rock.

  “Do not presume to think you understand how I feel . . . or why I do or don’t do anything. Do not assume that you know me. And don’t you ever question my loyalty to my sister. You know nothing about me!”

  Without waiting for a response, she turned and marched off.

  Chapter 7

  “ . . . And the stories came down from the distant past how Lugh used his many skills to make better the lives of men and eventually became High King. When the Spirits of Hell rose up and threatened the people, Lugh defeated them. Knowing their magical powers, he forced them to take the sling-stone that he used to kill Balor the Poison Eye and harness four of his many skills within it. Each spoke of the Wheel held great power: the first being the ability to heal grievous wounds and sickness; the second, to speak to the dead; the third, to read a man’s past; and the fourth, to read a man’s future . . .”

  From the Chronicle of Lugh

  Innes was numb and isolated. Walking back to her chambers, she tried to comprehend what had happened. One moment, Conall’s attention delighted her. The next they were arguing.

  He was authoritative and she’d lost her temper. Innes scorned petty rules. For too many years she’d been allowed to go about her life as she pleased. But she was a guest at Girnigoe. An unwelcome one at that. And there was no reason for her to lash out at him for failing to meet with her father when she knew the inner wounds that continued to fester and cut him off from society.

  Was she just looking for opportunities to push him away?

  Innes’s mind turned to what he had asked about the newlyweds and her refusal to get involved.

  She was defensive of her own actions. Having composed Ailein’s life for too many years, Innes knew it was wrong to meddle in their marriage. What could she say to them? They went about their business day to day. They appeared to behave with civility toward each other. They never raised their voices. They never made derogatory comments about the other in public. What advice did she have to offer? What did she know about marriage? About men? In all certainty, she was the least qualified person on earth to help someone with matrimonial issues.

  Two weeks was a long time to be at odds, but Innes believed Ailein and Bryce’s quarrel wasn’t serious. He’d protected her reputation on their wedding night. She’d decided to stay at Castle Girnigoe. Perhaps they needed this time to get accustomed to marriage.

  Innes hoped she was right.

  Back in her room, the lack of sleep from the night before caught up to her. She stripped off her dress and fell asleep, only to have Shona haunt her dreams.

  The young woman stood before her in the window of the top floor of East Tower, dark eyes pleading, hands cradling her swollen belly. Innes reached out, but Shona slipped from her grasp and disappeared out the window.

  The sound of the woman’s screams as she fell awakened Innes.

  There was persistent knocking on her door. Innes was upset about the nightmare, but she still needed to sleep.

  Whoever was at the door, they were not giving up.

  She groaned and peeked out from beneath the quilted counterpane. A brilliant sun blazed outside her window.

  “Innes, you open the door this very moment or by the saints, I’ll fetch a couple of men to come and knock it down for me.”

  “Blast you, Ailein,” she called out. “Go away.”

  The knocking only got louder.

  “Now, Innes. This is your last chance.”

  Innes k
icked aside the covers and marched toward the door. “Sister, you’d better be in pain. There’d better be blood or protruding bones. Because otherwise, I’m going to kill you for disturbing my sleep.”

  The moment she unlatched the door, Ailein pushed it open and marched into the room. Behind her, Jinny and a line of servants followed, carrying a tub and buckets of steaming water.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Innes asked.

  “You’re putting on your best dress and accompanying me to the Great Hall tonight for dinner.”

  “I’ll do no such a thing.”

  Ailein motioned to the others. One by one, the women poured water into the tub and laid out the towels and pitchers of oils so fragrant Innes could smell them across the room. Then, like a well-trained army, they filed out in the same order they entered. Jinny closed the door on the last one and turned to Innes.

  “This is lovely, Jinny, but I have no intention of going to the Great Hall.”

  “Come, mistress. This petulant creature of a sister has grand plans for you. Don’t you look at me like that, Ailein. You know it’s the truth. Come now, Innes. Let me wash your hair and dress you.”

  “Very well, Jinny. But you know I can do it myself.”

  “She can’t,” Ailein warned, standing like a sentinel by the bed. “She won’t. She’ll crawl back into that bed the moment we leave the room,”

  Innes turned on her sister. “I am this close to taking a stick to your backside, brat. And don’t you have someplace you need to be?”

  “This is where I need to be.” Ailein’s tone became pleading. “And I need you at dinner tonight . . . desperately. So you need to prepare yourself and accompany me. Please, Innes.”

  “We had an agreement. You promised to leave me be while I stayed. No ceremonial functions. No clan dinners. No interrupting my sleep.”

  “I’ve done as I promised. And I will continue to. But not now.” Ailein turned her doe eyes on her. “Please, Innes. Do this for me.”