Conall: The 93rd Highlanders, Book Two (3 page)

“
Conall!” A
man hollered in a loud, angry voice behind them. Graeme turned to
see Conall’s oldest brother, Douglas, stalking their way. Conall’s
twin brother, Brodie, hurried in his wake. Brodie winked and
grinned at Conall. The twins looked so alike but were so different.
Conall was quiet, serious, steadfast. Brodie, on the other hand,
was a quick joke, a troublemaker and a flirt. Brodie was all flash
and gilt. Conall was the real treasure, though few saw it. Graeme
did. He thought Avril did too.

“
Dougie,”
Conall cried in delight, holding out his hand. Douglas slapped it
away.

“
You couldn’t
come to see your brothers first?” he angrily demanded. “I had to
hear from Ham that you were both back.”

Conall rubbed his
offended hand. “Well, then, Ham came and told you, didn’t he? Sorry
to worry you, Mother,” he apologized with mock sincerity. He turned
to Brodie, who took his proffered hand and shook it vigorously.
“Brodie, you scoundrel. What trouble have you made while I was
gone?”

Brodie gave a
belly-shaking laugh, his head thrown back. It was the sort of laugh
that invited others to join in, and few could resist it. Graeme
resisted. He knew these Fletcher brothers too well. Trouble was
brewing.

“
I was chased
to ground by the colonel’s lovely daughter,” Brodie told Conall.
“She took the whip to me.”

Conall turned big eyes to
Graeme, who nodded. “I barely kept him out of the
trenches.”

“
She likes
me,” Brodie said with another of his trademark winks. “You watch
and see.”

Douglas smacked him on
the back. He was a bigger, rougher version of the twins, with the
redheads temper that neither Conall nor Brodie suffered. “Damn
fool,” he muttered. “No skirt is worth that, no matter how bonnie
she be. One is like another. Don’t be making a fool of yourself
over that one. She thinks she’s too good for the likes of you.
Remember that.” He turned back to Conall and his scowl grew
fiercer. “And is that why you’re here?” he asked. “Chasing Mrs.
Scott’s skirts again?”

Conall’s face was flushed
with anger. “You’ll show more respect when you speak of her, or
you’ll be meeting my fist.”

“
And who’s
the one being disrespectful?” Douglas said in a loud whisper,
looking around to see who was listening. “You’re the one sniffing
after her as though she was a bitch in heat.” His scowl turned to a
glower. “If I find that you’ve taken advantage of the widow, you’ll
be black and blue and back at Scutari, brother or no.”

“
You bloody
bastard,” Conall said angrily. “Bitch in heat, indeed. I ought to
be laying my fists to you right now, brother or no. Watch your
language.” He glanced furtively at the hut and pushed Douglas
farther away. “What nonsense are you talking about? You know I’d
never take advantage.”

“
Well, I’m
ordering you to stay away from her,” Douglas said, and Graeme
nearly groaned aloud. Didn’t he know ordering Conall around like
that was the same as waving a red flag in a bull’s face?

“
Ordering me
to stay away from her?” Conall said in disbelief. “As though you
have the right?” He shook his head as he took off his forage cap
and passed it to Brodie. Then he shoved up his sleeves. “I’ll lay
you out for thinking the worst of Mrs. Scott. You’ve insulted her
with your speech and your manner. You’re an uncouth lout, Douglas
Fletcher.”

“
That’s Major
Fletcher to you, Lieutenant,” Douglas said, whipping off his own
hat and handing it to Brodie, who then wisely stepped back. He
started to unbuckle his scabbard to remove his sword and Graeme
sighed inwardly. This wouldn’t be the first Fletcher brother brawl
he’d had to break up. Young Brodie was no help at all.

“
Major
Fletcher,” Graeme barked. “Shall I have to report this
misconduct?”

Douglas made a face and
growled. “You wouldn’t dare. Ach, you’re always taking up for him,
Munro. You don’t know the scamp like I do. He’ll make trouble for
her, and hasn’t she got enough?”

“
He’ll do
nothing of the kind, and I hardly think scamp is an apt
description,” Graeme said calmly. “He’s a man, not a boy, or so he
tells me. He certainly acts like one. Held his own at Balaclava
now, didn’t he? If he’s old enough to fight and die for queen and
country, by God, he’s old enough to know the difference between
right and wrong, particularly in the case of Mrs. Scott, for whom
he has great affection.”

“
And it’s
that affection that’s worrying me,” Douglas said. “A man can forget
right and wrong when affection clouds his judgment.” The look he
was giving Graeme was too knowing for Graeme’s peace of mind. Did
the eldest Fletcher suspect his feelings for young Conall? Or for
Mrs. Scott? Graeme forced himself to meet Douglas’s gaze
unflinchingly.

“
That may
often be the case,” Graeme conceded, “but not in this instance.
Conall may be young, but he knows his own mind and he minds what
he’s about. You can’t order him about in matters such as this,
brother or no. He’s a man, and you have to let him make his own
decisions.”

“
Ach, away ye
go,” Douglas said dismissively with a disgusted look. “The boy has
you fooled, Graeme, and you’ll rue the day you took up for him,
mark my words.”

“
And fine
words they are for your brother,” Brodie chastised, handing their
hats back. “’Tis me you’re thinking of, Douglas, not Conall. Isn’t
he the considerate one of the two of us? The one who always made my
wrongs right, or so Mum said. He wouldn’t cross a sparrow, and Mrs.
Scott is certainly made of sterner stuff.”

“
It’s true,”
Conall said. “I wouldn’t hurt her for the world. I swear it,
brother.”

Douglas slapped his hat
against his leg as he regarded Conall from under lowered brows.
“Aye,” he said with a sigh. “Don’t I know it. Sorry I am, Connie,
for taking after you like that. It’s hard to forget you’re not a
lad anymore.” He reached out and shook Conall’s hand, and then to
Graeme’s surprise shook his as well.

“
Thank you,
Graeme, for once again being the voice of reason.” He turned
abruptly and began to walk off. “Come see me later,” he called out
to Conall over his shoulder. “Brodie, with me.”

Brodie skipped after his
brother, spinning around to run backward as he gave them a jaunty
salute. Then he raced to catch up with his older
brother.

Graeme started to turn
away when Conall stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Graeme
froze at the contact, heat racing down his arm to his fingertips.
He felt his cheeks warm. “Munro,” Conall said. “Many thanks for
taking up for me like that, especially considering my behavior
today.”

Graeme turned slowly,
breaking Conall’s hold on his shoulder. “It was the
truth.”

“
I appreciate
the support and the respect you gave me.” Conall smiled ruefully.
“I’ll try to deserve it.”

“
I know you
will,” Graeme told him, staring over Conall’s shoulder, afraid if
he met his eyes he’d give too much away. “You do already.” He
couldn’t resist Conall’s pull and finally looked at him. Why this
man? God knew, redheaded, blue-eyed Scotsmen were abundant here.
But none like Conall, none with his sense of loyalty and bravery
and honest emotion. “It’s more than respect,” he said. Without
waiting for a response, he walked off, leaving Conall staring after
him.

“
And you’re
back,” Avril said with disgust, standing there holding back the
door of the hut with one hand, the other hand on her hip. “It’s
only hours since I sent you off. Checking up on me, are you?” She
stepped out of the way and waved a hand at the empty interior of
the hut. “No men here. Just me. As usual.” She let the door go, but
Munro caught it and stepped inside before letting it close behind
him. Avril let him in. Truth told, she’d missed his conversation.
He’d been her constant companion since Conall had gotten hurt and
been shipped off to Scutari.

“
I missed
you.”

She turned slowly and
faced the captain. Never once had he admitted any sort of feeling
for her. Now Conall was back and he was practically declaring
himself.

“
Staking your
claim, eh?” she asked suspiciously. “Since you’ve not taken
advantage of what I’ve offered, I can’t figure out what you’re
about. Trying to make Conall jealous?”

“
No.”

She waited in vain for
him to say more, suddenly remembering most of their conversations
had been her talking and him grunting every now and then. “Not
going to tell me, then, I see,” she said. “You’ve always been one
for your secrets.” She sighed. “Well, don’t be hoping Conall will
show up. By now he’s realized I’m a tart and there’s prettier,
younger, more virtuous women about, and more fitting to his
station.”

“
No, there
aren’t.” Munro looked at her with those eyes of his. In the dim
light of the stove he ought to have been menacing, with his dark
coloring and size, but she didn’t fear him. Never had. He was
fierce, it was true, but he’d always been kind and gentle with
her.

“
Flattery
will get you everywhere,” she said sarcastically, and had the
pleasure of seeing a small grin on his face. This one didn’t smile
often. “Here, then,” she said, “give me your coat. I can see plain
you’ve got a button coming loose.”

He looked down, and for a
moment she had a flash of what he might have looked like as a boy.
Without another word he began to unbuckle his scabbard. She turned
away. She didn’t know what she’d do, honestly, if she were to watch
him undress even that much. She took a deep breath and closed her
eyes and prayed for strength.

“
Here,” he
said. She turned and took his jacket from him. He’d taken off his
gloves, and when their bare hands met she shivered. She barely
glanced at his chest, now covered by just a thin shirt.

“
Take this,”
she told him, grabbing her one blanket off her cot. “It’s not much,
but it’ll warm you.”

“
Thank you,”
he said.

She sat down on a small
stool someone had given her. One of her soldiers. There were many
who came to her for the little things, like cooking and mending.
She didn’t mind. They paid her, and she was storing the coins away
for passage back home.

She pulled out needle and
thread from her small box of sundries and began to work. The
silence between them was easy, as though he sat and watched her
work often. She supposed he had done so the past couple of months
as they both waited for Conall to come back. Now that he had, she’d
thought the captain would disappear. She was glad he hadn’t. There
was a steadiness and a calm about him that made her think
everything would be all right. She hadn’t thought that in many a
long year.

“
I wish you
would let me find you better quarters,” he said. “The French have
dug huts of a sort. They’re far warmer than this one. I could get
someone to dig one for you. Or a tent. A nice big one.”

“
Oh, you’ll
be getting me a marquis tent?” she asked with a laugh. “I’d be too
far away from the Ninety Third, then, wouldn’t I? And the ground is
too frozen for digging now.” She smiled at him as she stitched.
Several of the buttons on his double-breasted jacket were loose.
“You weren’t a farmer, were you?” she asked, curious about his
background. He’d never said much about it.

He shook his head,
pulling her blanket tighter about himself. She idly wondered if it
would smell like him when she wrapped it around herself tonight.
She hoped so.

“
No,” he
answered her, to her surprise. “My father was a professor of
history.”

She stopped sewing and
blew on her fingers to warm them up. “A professor?” she exclaimed.
“So you’ve got schooling, then? What are you doing
here?”

He laughed. “I’m not
really sure,” he admitted ruefully. “It just seemed like a good
idea at the time.” He gestured to the jacket in her lap. “And I
liked the scarlet.”

“
Ah, laddie,
we all like the scarlet.” He laughed with her.

“
Mrs. Scott.”
Their laughter died at the sound of Conall’s voice outside the
tent. They just sat and stared at each other for a second or two.
Avril’s heart began to beat fast and hard, and she wasn’t sure why.
It didn’t feel like fear. It was the same way she’d felt earlier
today, when they were surrounding her in her tent.

Munro slowly stood up,
never breaking his stare.

“
Come in,”
she called out quickly, afraid of what he’d do or say. Why was she
afraid all of a sudden? He always retreated when things got too
intimate between them, and he’d retreated today when Conall had
returned.

Conall came into the tent
and stopped short when he saw Munro there. His back stiffened.
“Munro,” he greeted him cautiously. He turned and bowed his head
slightly. “Mrs. Scott. I hope I’m not intruding.” He was being very
formal. Avril felt out of her depth.

“
Lieutenant,”
she said just as formally. “I’m mending the captain’s jacket for
him. What can I do for you?”

“
I came to
see if you needed anything,” Conall said, and there it was again,
that tone full of longing and affection. The voice that made her
foolishly want things he wasn’t willing to give.