Taming the Highlander Page 9

  Innes’s heart was heavy as a millstone, hurting for those innocents who fell into the clutches of such men as Evers.

  “This was the reason for the meeting,” Bryce said. “The Highlands are no longer safe as they once were. We need to organize. We must stop this madman and his bloody marauders.”

  Conall looked about him and at the unattended fire. “We need to get back to Girnigoe. But I don’t like the two of you doing this alone.”

  “Why don’t you leave your two men to escort us?” Wynda suggested. “If we get started, we can be back at the castle long before dinner.”

  Conall considered this for a moment, his eyes never leaving Innes. His reluctance was evident in his face, but finally he nodded and directed his warriors.

  He cast one more look at Innes as he mounted his horse, then called to Thunder and rode off with his brother.

  Chapter 10

  “For centuries, the Wheel of Lugh was lost. The religion of our Savior ruled supreme, but the old religion did not die. And then, when the four of us were still young men, the pieces of the Wheel surfaced. The priests of the oak gave one to each of us and commanded that we travel over the sea to our homeland. We were to protect each tablet until summoned to the Crypt of Lugh, where a high priest, a giant, and a great bird would take them and protect them for all time . . .”

  From the Chronicle of Lugh

  After a walk along the bluffs, Innes returned to the East Tower to find her sister pacing in the Inner Ward, waiting for her.

  “Nothing you say will convince me to change my plans again. I’m leaving tomorrow,” Innes warned.

  What had happened with Wynda on their outing continued to prey on her mind. She didn’t say a word of the incident to her sister. She hoped the old aunt would remain true to her word and stay silent about it. Ailein didn’t need the worry.

  The morning sun was just clearing the castle walls, and the courtyard lay half in shadow.

  Ailein frowned, glaring at Innes with that stubborn look she used when she wanted something that she’d have to fight for. “Come and walk with me, at least.”

  “Nay. Come inside.” Innes headed for the door.

  “This is your last day. Am I less deserving of your company than your precious birds?” Ailein turned and stalked off toward the bridge leading to the Outer Ward.

  Innes sighed. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to leave Castle Girnigoe feeling that her sister harbored ill will. She hurried to catch her.

  “What’s this all about?” she asked. “Say it.”

  Ailein barely slowed down. “You didn’t show up to dinner last night. You avoided him.”

  Innes knew perfectly well who her sister was talking about, but for the sake of pretense she had to say it. “I wasn’t trying to avoid your husband. But Wynda and I walked for miles. I was tired.”

  She was also troubled that her secret had been exposed. Those young men had to know. She shivered, thinking what the consequences of rumors could be.

  A cart carrying sacks of milled grain passed in front of them, heading for the kitchens. The drover lifted his cap and smiled toothlessly. Innes looked around the courtyard at the faces that had become familiar to her over the three weeks of stay. She knew some by name.

  Ailein took her arm and spoke quietly. “I’m talking about the earl. Conall Sinclair.”

  “I wasn’t avoiding him. I saw him yesterday with Wynda.”

  “In passing,” she said. “What do you have against him?”

  “Nothing.” Innes had nothing against the earl. In fact, her problem was that she liked him too much. “Last night, I got to bed early. I need to readjust myself to the schedule I’ll have when I return home.”

  “You mean Margaret’s schedule. You can’t be looking forward to her constant harping.”

  “Not the harping, to be sure. But I do miss Father and the boys and our own folk.”

  “They’ll be there waiting for you whenever you get back,” Ailein said. “Father will be anxious to have you sit in on clan meetings.”

  “Aye, but he’ll have Robert for that after this year.”

  Robert, their brother from Hector Munro’s second marriage, would be returning from university in Paris. They both knew he was to be the next laird and Baron Folais.

  “Which means Father is certain to bow to Margaret’s pressure and marry you off before he steps down.”

  “They could try. They’ve tried before. It will not happen.” There was only one man she’d ever been tempted to dream about. Conall Sinclair. But she would learn to forget him. She had no other choice. “Did you ask me to walk with you so you could remind me of the difficulties that await me at home?”

  “Aye.” Ailein smiled. “Stay another fortnight.”

  Innes was relieved that her sister didn’t try to lie about troubles with her husband as a reason to stay. They were together now, although for some insane reason they still tried to keep a pretense of disagreement in public.

  “Please?”

  Innes shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. This is your home. These are your people now. You don’t need me.”

  Growing serious again, Ailein stopped and looked about her. “I’ve discovered something. Actually, Jinny found out. It’s about Shona.”

  Innes frowned at her. “Let the woman rest.”

  She shook her head. “There’s an elderly woman who lives in a village a half day’s ride from here. Her name is Teva. She was Shona’s nursemaid, and later her maidservant. She only left the castle after Shona’s death.” Ailein started walking again. “I want you to come with me in a few days when I ride over to see her.”

  “I won’t be here in a few days . . . or in a fortnight, either,” Innes reminded her. “But even if you speak with her, what makes you think she’ll say any more about the past than you’ve been able to gather already?”

  “Jinny says the word among the household is that Teva talked too much. That was why Wynda sent her away.”

  “Wynda sent her away?”

  “She did.”

  They turned around and started back toward the East Tower. Innes liked the aunt a great deal. She could believe that Wynda might find the serving woman’s gossiping unsuitable. On the other hand, what if she sent her away for openly saying things that were true?

  “You can get an escort of Sinclair warriors and ride over there yourself.”

  Ailein sent her an exasperated look. “Don’t you think Bryce would find out? And what excuse could I use? It’s one thing if I say I went riding with my sister and we ended up in that village. It’s quite another if I—”

  “Your husband has been gone for most of the week. Why couldn’t you tell me this two days ago? A day ago? We could have gone today,” Innes said shortly. “I swear, I believe you’re plotting this whole thing.”

  “Ask Jinny yourself. She only told me this morning.”

  Innes was tempted to use the gift of the relic to get the answers Ailein wanted. The challenge was that a person’s past didn’t come to her in one sweep. Like yesterday, the past came to her in bits and pieces. Often they were images or thoughts that were on a person’s mind at the time. Recent nightmares. Secrets they didn’t want revealed, but that were always weighing on their minds. Often, she saw recent events that had strong emotional connections—both good and bad. The key was to ask a question that triggered the memory of that specific moment or event. She could read the truth then, even if the person refused to answer or lied to hide it.

  She pushed the temptation away. She wouldn’t do this to her sister, not when she planned to go away. Besides, Innes had a nagging feeling that this would only open Pandora’s box. The past was never as neat and tidy as Ailein naively believed.

  “I promise this will be the last time I ask. Only a fortnight,” said Ailein.

  Innes shook her head and started toward the door.

  “Please, Innes.”

  “Let me think about it,” she said over her shoulder. “But I doubt I
’ll stay.”

  Stepping into the East Tower, she welcomed the cool darkness of the stairwell. As always, her gaze drifted to the latched door. Could she stay at Girnigoe and not encounter Conall? And if she did, could she keep herself safe from him? And what about those young men from yesterday? Would they talk? Would her mere presence here complicate her sister’s life?

  Innes climbed the stairs, knowing that she needed to go home.

  As far as Teva, there was no urgency in the information that Ailein sought. Shona was dead. Why she took her own life—and the mystery of where she was buried—mattered less with each day that Ailein spent at Castle Girnigoe. Ailein needed to look to the future and give up her obsession with the past.

  Innes spotted something enfolded in silk cloth at her door. Picking it up, she went into her room and unwrapped the object. It was a book.

  She gasped in delight when she opened it and saw the contents. An emblem book of birds. She’d seen only one before. Her fingers touched the delicate illustrations and moved under lines of French poetry.

  She pressed the precious gift to her chest and saw the letter left in the silk wrappings. She broke the Sinclair seal and stared at four words scribbled in a rough handwriting.

  The door is unlocked.

  She wasn’t coming.

  Conall turned his back on the window and peered over at the table where Duff had laid the new sword.

  Bryce had sent it up to him. He was being a pain in the arse, plain and simple. He wouldn’t give up until Conall joined the men in the courtyard and began training again.

  “The laird says the armorer worked on it all night to finish it this morning.” Duff tooled a harness as he spoke. “It’s a bloody fine sword. The blade edge looks sharp and true as anything Toledo-made. You can see I wrapped the grip the way you like. O’ course, if you want to use one of your old swords, they’re ready in the back room.”

  “Did I tell you how pleasant it was at the hunting lodge without you yammering in my ear all the time?”

  “Nay, m’lord. I know that’s hardly the truth. Why, Thunder was just telling me you both missed me.” The wolf raised his head at the mention of his name.

  Bloody hell. Even Duff had been instructed to harass him. And there was no need, especially after everything they’d heard these past few days. They were far to the north, but he’d fought against bloodthirsty English raiders before. This commander, Sir Ralph Evers, sounded like the worst of the worst.

  Conall agreed that it was time to work on strengthening his left arm. He could swing a sword with skill using either hand, but it had been a long time since he’d tried.

  He picked up the weapon. It was lighter than he’d been accustomed to when he still had his other hand. The grip was perfect. He swung it in the air a few times, pivoting and lunging.

  Thunder jumped up from his bedding and rushed out the door and down the steps.

  Duff grinned. “You scared the beast, m’lord.”

  “Is the door into the stables closed?”

  “Aye, I closed it tight. Won’t be making that mistake again.” Duff tugged on his ear. “But if he goes out that bloody window and tears up the scullery . . .”

  Duff caught hell from Wynda and Cook the day Thunder got into the kitchens. Conall feared that the stable workers would be even less forgiving if the wolf got in with the horses.

  He’d trained Thunder since finding him as a newborn pup. But with the exception of his own steed, the horses in the stable became downright panicky whenever the wolf was around.

  “This will do.” He laid the sword back on the table. “Give my regards to the armorer. Looks to be a fine weapon. On second thought, I’ll tell him myself.”

  When he looked up, Duff had snatched the hat off his head and was bowing politely. Conall turned around and saw Innes standing in the doorway with Thunder beside her. The heat rose in his face and he smiled despite himself.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said.

  “Not at all. We’re done here.”

  Duff bowed at least three times more as he moved hurriedly toward the door. She stepped aside, letting him pass.

  Conall had hoped to see her before she left. Yesterday, with the audience of Wynda and Bryce, their meeting had been restrained, impersonal. He wanted so much to sweep her onto his horse and take her away someplace where the two of them could be alone. Lately, those were the times when he felt the most alive. He behaved, however, forfeiting that moment with the hope of this one.

  Conall let his gaze take in all of her. She wore another of her black dresses, and with her matching gloves every inch of her from the neck down was covered. But her face, as always, fascinated him. Her wide mouth with those full, pink lips. The straight nose and high cheekbones. The gray eyes, large and beautiful. The pale, flawless skin. His eyes were drawn to the patch of the white hair, some of which had escaped the braid and hung down the side of her face.

  “So you were able to read my terrible handwriting.”

  “Of course.” Her gaze darted to his right hand before returning to his face.

  “And you found your way with no trouble.”

  “I followed the trail of broken bread crusts and found myself at the bottom of these steps. That’s where Thunder greeted me.”

  “I couldn’t risk having you get lost in the tunnels and caves that honeycomb the shore.”

  “It was a good idea leaving the bread.” A smile tugged at the corner of her lip. “But the first ones tasted a wee bit stale, so I left the rest.”

  “Thunder will like you all the more for it. He’s not quite so fussy.” He motioned to her to come in.

  She stayed near the door, looking as skittish as a colt. “I only came to thank you for loaning me the book. I’ll leave it with Ailein to return to you.”

  “It was not a loan. It’s a gift.”

  “I cannot accept it. That is far too precious a volume.”

  “Nay. It’s yours now,” he said firmly. He leaned against the table and motioned to the shelves along one wall. “That book is better off with someone who has an interest in the topic than collecting dust here.”

  Her gaze moved over the shelves and the weaponry in the room to the chess set. Her frown told him she was still bothered by the value of what he’d given her.

  “If you want to thank me for the gift, then come in. We can sit and chat for a few minutes.”

  “About what?”

  “About my brother and your sister. I have no one else to talk to about them once you return home tomorrow.” Thunder nudged her hip.

  “You see?” laughed Conall. “Even that beast agrees with me.”

  He tried to hide his pleasure when she moved away from the door.

  “These are the only comfortable chairs I own.” He gestured to the seats on either side of the chess set.

  She didn’t sit but moved around the room, looking out each of the windows, crossing to the shelves, running a gloved finger lightly across the volumes. Conall tried to imagine what she was thinking. The Munros were a wealthy clan, and the baron was especially generous with his daughters. Bryce’s complaints nudged into his thoughts. An earl shouldn’t be spending his time in two rooms above the stables like some pauper. Still, Conall had no regrets about living here, especially at this moment.

  “Wine?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Are you a reader?”

  “I wasn’t always. As a peer, I needed to learn, of course, but I always preferred hunting and riding and fighting as a young man. These days, I have much more time on my hand, so I’ve begun to read more.”

  “And you play chess.”

  “I enjoy it, but it’s difficult to find a worthy opponent at Girnigoe. Thunder prefers to eat the pieces rather than play the game. Bryce doesn’t do much better.” He motioned to the board. “Do you play?”

  “I have an elementary knowledge of it.”

  “Excellent. Then we shall play.”

  He moved to her chair, holding it
for her to sit. She bit her bottom lip, taking hesitant steps.

  “I doubt that you’ll find me a worthy opponent,” she said.

  “I promise to be gentle with you.”

  She smelled of fresh sea air. He recalled the day in the hills when she held on to him as he helped her stand after Thunder knocked her down. He’d wanted then to continue holding her, protecting her. It wasn’t until he rode off that the desire crystalized in his brain. That was the second time that they met, but the incident was different. For those few moments she was in his arms, Conall felt a bond forming between them. He couldn’t explain it, didn’t understand it, but he’d never felt such a connection with any woman before. He still felt it.

  Today, knowing she was going away, he’d set his mind on seeing her, alone. Conall was glad that she came and he didn’t have to go to the East Tower in search of her.

  He pushed in the chair and she sat down. Thunder forsook his bed to curl up at her feet.

  “Thank you for being gentle with me,” she said, smiling sweetly.

  For a few seconds he found himself only staring at her lips. He guessed she would object if he leaned down and tasted them.

  She pointed to the board. “This is the queen and this the bishop, if I recall.”

  He carried the pitcher of wine and the cups to the table, and took the seat across from her. As he poured the wine, he explained names of each piece and how they moved and captured the opponent’s pieces on the board. “Am I being too elementary?”

  “Nay. I’m grateful.”

  Her eyelashes were long and dark and they fanned the translucent skin of her cheekbones as she watched the board. He explained just enough not to bore her. “The best way to learn is to play. But have no fear. As I said, I’ll go easy on you the first time.”

  “First time? Don’t forget, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  “How can I forget?” He motioned to her to make the first move. “You’re going to abandon me here with a pair of feuding newlyweds.”