Fraser 01 - Highland Legacy (7 page)

To let his heart rule his head would be a mistake, but his gut twisted in knots, his mind filled with thoughts of her writhing beneath him as they coupled in a mating ritual as old as time. Since the moment he’d laid eyes on her, she haunted him day and night. He’d been guarding his heart for so long that these emotions were foreign, and certainly unwelcome. Determined to regain control of his emotions, he stiffened his spine and straightened his trews.

“Give me a minute, and we’ll be on our way.” After pulling his shirt over his head, Connor slid his sword into his baldric and slung it over his shoulder. “We still have a long ride ahead of us, and we best not tarry any longer.” He spun around and headed to where Bryce waited with the horses.

Chapter 7

Thunder rumbled in the distance and lightening streaked across the sky. After six hours of nonstop rain, there appeared to be no end in sight. Connor glanced down at the woman tucked in his arms
.
Her small hand curled against his chest. The slow rise and fall of her breasts and her slightly parted lips left him longing for a kiss.
If only this were another time and place.

Bryce rode up beside him. “She trusts you.”

“She’s exhausted and doesn’t know me well enough to trust me.”

“You’re wrong, Connor. She would not sleep like a babe in your arms if she dinna feel secure. Claim what you will, but bringing her along with us is more than just a good deed. I’d wager you were moonstruck.”

“When I pledged fealty to Robert the Bruce, I vowed to protect all of Scotland’s sons, and daughters. Lady Cailin needs my help, and nothing more.” Connor shifted his weight in the saddle. His shoulder throbbed and his legs were numb, but neither of these discomforts rivaled the painful bulge beneath his trews. If they had to ride much farther, he’d likely go insane with lust and need.

Pelted by icy rain, the woolen cloak he’d wrapped around Cailin’s shoulders did little to keep her dry. She shivered in his arms and snuggled against his chest. “The storm is getting worse. We’ll have to stop soon and find shelter for the night. Her clothes are drenched and she’ll catch her death of cold.”

“You’re not thinking about going to Glasgow? Someone is sure to spot us.”

“Nay. A wee bit further to the north is the village of Kirkintillock. There is an inn where we can get a hot meal and a dry place to sleep.”

Alasdair joined his brothers. “Do you think it wise to stop in a public place? A little rain never hurt anyone. In fact, it has done wonders for the lass. With her face washed clean, she is quite comely.”

“You and Bryce could not wait to stop and eat this morning.”

“Aye, but we stopped in a secluded spot. Not in a village where mayhap we’ll be recognized or captured,” Alasdair replied.

Bryce agreed. “By now, the English will be combing the countryside. I vote we keep moving. We’ve traveled in far worse weather than this before. Do you remember the battle in Lanarkshire? It rained nonstop for three days and nights.”

Connor nodded. “Aye, like it was yesterday. But we are hardened warriors, trained to do battle in any type of weather. Cailin is not. She needs to get out of these wet clothes.”

Alasdair shook his head. “We’re all soaked through, but each mile we travel brings us closer to Kildrummy Castle and safety. The Bruce is waiting on news from Perth.”

“Robert will understand, and my decision stands. We’ll stop at the inn and take our chances. If either of you wish to go on without us, I’ll not stand in your way.”

The discussion ended there, but when they reached the outskirts of the village, Alasdair spurred his horse, and rode on ahead. Bryce answered Connor’s question before he asked it. “He goes to check out what lays ahead. We tossed a coin, and he lost. If there is any sign of danger, he’ll ride back to warn us. If all is clear, he’ll meet us at the inn.”

Connor nodded and kicked Thor into a trot.

The inclement weather appeared to work in their favor. The streets were deserted. “Wake up, we’re here,” he murmured in Cailin’s ear.

“Where are we?” Her hand came up to stifle a yawn.

“We are in the village of Kirkintillock. The rain has shown no sign of letting up, so we’re stopping here for the night.”

Cailin shivered. “I—is it safe to stop?” Her teeth chattered. “P—please dinna do so on my account.”

“We dinna have a choice. The storm worsens, and if we’re careful, no one will take notice.” As if on cue, a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, followed by a loud clap of thunder.

Connor dismounted and pulled Cailin from the saddle, her legs giving out as soon as her feet touched the ground. His arms enveloped her and he pulled her close. “Easy, lass. You’ve been on horseback for a very long time, and you’re bound to be stiff. Even a veteran warrior has wobbly legs after spending so many hours in the saddle.”

She placed her hands on his chest and tried to push him away. “You must let me go. If anyone sees us like this, they’ll wonder why you are holding a lad.”

“No one, aside from beggars and fools, is out in this weather.” Connor closed his eyes, losing himself in her scent—an even bigger mistake than pulling her into his arms. The tantalizing scent of rain and crisp mountain air, laced with a hint of pine, clung to her skin like dew on a delicate spring blossom. His heart quickened to an unsteady rhythm, and his breath caught in his chest. A firestorm of primordial need swept through his body, igniting every nerve and fiber in its path. As his ability to stay his desire waned and it appeared he might succumb to temptation, reality once again reared its ugly head. They could never be together and if they tarried any longer, the English would find them and see them executed. Drawing on his last ounce of self-control, he released his grip and took a step back. “We best go inside. Can you walk?”

“Aye. The feeling has returned to my legs.” Cailin followed, but came to an abrupt halt and touched her cheek. “The rain has washed away the soot.”

Connor traced her jaw with his finger. Her delicate features would give one reason to question, but the faint bruising around her left eye gave the illusion of a lad who had been in a brawl. “Follow me. Keep your head down and speak to no one. The inn will be dark and smoky, the patrons more interested in their ale than those who come and go. If we are careful, no one will notice.”

They entered the inn and Connor quickly scanned the room. His brothers sat at a table near the hearth. Alasdair had a tankard of ale in his hand and was asking an attractive, buxom barmaid for another when they approached the table.

“Sit down brother, l—laddie.” He gestured to two empty chairs. “I’ve asked the innkeeper’s daughter to bring us some venison stew, a loaf of bread, and four more tankards of ale. That will stick to your ribs and warm your insides, little brother.” He slapped Cailin on the back.

The blow almost knocked her off her feet. Connor glared at his brother, then checked on Cailin. With downcast eyes, she huddled in the chair beside him and said nothing.

The barmaid returned, carrying a tray with four tankards of ale, trenchers, eating knives, and a steaming loaf of bread. “Your stew will be ready in a few minutes. If there be anything else you need, just ask. My name’s Emma.” She leaned forward, batted her blue eyes at Connor, and dragged her fingertips along his forearm in a blatantly suggestive manner.

The waitress’s low-cut bodice afforded him an enticing glimpse of ample breasts. Connor quickly turned away. He was riled enough already. “That will be all for now.
Tapadh leibh
.” He thanked her and picked up his tankard of ale.

“You’re very welcome. If you’re sure there is nothing else I can do for you, I’ll see to the stew.” With a shrug, she turned on her heels and headed toward the kitchen.

“She’s taken quite a fancy to you, brother.” Alasdair grinned. “It must be a terrible curse to be blessed with such a pretty face.”

“She was just being friendly.” Connor kicked his brother under the table.

“Ouch! What did you do that for?” Alasdair rubbed his shin and scowled at Connor. “I only speak the truth.”

“You speak too much, and most of it is nonsense.”

Bryce ignored the banter between his brothers and wasted no time helping himself to the bread. He broke off a piece and handed it to Cailin. “Have some while it is still warm, and before Alasdair digs into it.”

Emma returned with the stew and placed it on the table. She dipped the wooden ladle into the bowl, filled a trencher, gave it to Cailin, and winked. “Can I get anything else for you, lad?”

Cailin tugged the wet cap down around her ears and shook her head.

“Mayhap you’d like to hang your wet cloak by the fire to dry. There’s quite a puddle of water under your chair.”

Cailin almost choked on the small piece of bread she’d popped into her mouth. Coughing and sputtering, she tried to find her voice.

Connor patted Cailin on the back and grinned at Emma. “He tends to be shy around women.” He handed her a tankard of ale and watched as she gulped it down.

“He’ll soon get over it.” Emma circled around the table and stood behind Cailin’s chair. “You may be a tad small now, but if you grow up to look anything like your brother, you’ll be chasing away the lassies.”

“Emma! Stop bothering the gents. Your mother needs you in the kitchen.” The innkeeper stood by the bar, his arms crossed over his chest and tapping his foot.

Connor waited for Emma to get out of hearing range, and then leaned close to Cailin’s ear. “She has a point. You’re never going to warm up if you keep that wrapped around you. Let me hang it by the fire.” He reached for the cloak.

Cailin pulled away, holding the garment in place. “N-nay, I-I’m fine. W-what if someone sees through my disguise and betrays us to the English?”

“Dinna
fash
yourself, there are no soldiers here. Then again, the English have never been fond of our bonny Scottish weather.” Alasdair tore off a large chunk of bread and tossed it in his mouth, then spoke while he chewed. “The decision to stop here might not have been such a bad idea after all.” He swallowed his food, raised the tankard to his lips, and drained the contents in one gulp. After a loud belch, he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.

Bryce shook his head. “A wild boar has better manners.”

Ignoring the insult, Alasdair smiled at Emma when she placed a trencher of stew and a knife in front of him. “Could you bring us more ale and another loaf of bread?” He tossed some coins on her tray before digging into his meal with gusto.

Connor watched Cailin push the food around on her trencher. “Is there something wrong with your stew?”

“I’m not hungry.” She shoved the trencher away.

“You dinna eat enough to keep a bird alive.” Bryce scooped up some stew. Popping the hardy mixture of flavors into his mouth, he chewed with gusto.

With his mouth full and gravy running down his chin, Alasdair surveyed her platter. “I’ll eat her portion if she dinna want it.”

Connor moved Cailin’s trencher out of his brother’s reach. “Best you eat while you can. There is no telling when we’ll be able to stop for another hot meal. I’ll not have you fainting from hunger.” Connor handed her a knife. “Eat.”

As they finished their meal in silence, Connor kept a close eye on everyone who entered or left the inn. By the time they’d finished, most of the patrons had gone home or had retired to their rooms for the night. Only a few stragglers remained.

“Would you like another round of ale?” Emma asked with a broad smile.

Alasdair nodded. “That would be great.”

“We’ve had sufficient, thank you.” Connor held his hand in the air. “Could you ask the innkeeper to stop by our table? I’d like to speak to him.”

“If you change your mind, just call for me.” Emma accepted payment for the meal, tucked the coin in her apron, and then headed for the kitchen. “They dinna want anything else, Mum!” When a stocky woman came to the door and held out her hand, she promptly dumped the money into her palm, then turned and spoke to the innkeeper.

Ambling past the scarred tables and drunk patrons, the heavyset man approached them. “My daughter said you wished to speak to me.” The innkeeper glanced down at Cailin’s untouched trencher of food. “Did you not like the stew, lad?”

Connor spoke before she could answer. “The meal was excellent, but he’s had a bit too much ale. We are in need of lodging for the night. Do you have any vacant rooms?”

“The storm has brought in more travelers than usual.” The innkeeper stroked his chin while he pondered the question. “I’m afraid that we’ve only one room left with a very small bed.”

“The lad can take the room. We saw a barn behind the inn. If you’ve some fresh straw and a couple of horse blankets, it will do fine for Bryce and me.” Alasdair slapped his younger brother on the back.

The innkeeper’s wife marched over to the table, her stare fixed on Connor. “Where might you be sleeping? We run a reputable establishment.”

Connor frowned at the question. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. While it was true Cailin needed a warm place to sleep, he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. If he left her in the inn alone and anything happened during the night, there would be no time to fetch her and make their escape. However, if forced to spend the night in a room alone with her, there was no telling what might happen.

“Speak up, man. Where will you be sleeping?” When he failed to answer, she narrowed her eyes, planted her chubby hands on her ample hips and tapped her foot. “Do you think me a fool, and blind as well? Anyone with eyes can see the lad is a lass. I run a respectable inn, and she’ll not be plying her favors under my roof.”

“Now Cora, give them a chance to explain.” The innkeeper placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“They are married.” Alasdair answered her before Connor had a chance to speak.

Cora gasped. “Married? Why she’s little more than a bairn.”

“Of course they’re married. I’ve never known a husband and wife to be more in love?” Bryce bit down hard on his lower lip, in an obvious attempt to stifle a grin.

Cora spun around to face Connor. “Speak up, man, are you married to the lass, or not? If the glower on your face is any indicator, something is amiss, and while you are at it, you can explain why she is dressed like a lad?”

Connor helped Cailin to her feet. “I’m her husband.” He kissed the back of her hand, and then held it in the air for all to see.

“What say you, lass, is it true? Is this man your husband? You look as timid as a wee kirk mouse.” Cora took Cailin’s free hand and patted the back of it. “Dinna be afraid to tell the truth.”

A hush fell over the room. Connor tightened his grip on her hand. “Tell her.”

“A—aye.” Cailin coughed and cleared her throat. “He is my husband.” After speaking the lie, she glanced down at her feet.

A broad smile tugged at Cora’s lips. “Well, if you were not married before, you are now. James, get the key and show them to their room.”

“Right away, Cora, my love.” James hurried off to do his wife’s bidding.

“What did she mean?” Cailin whispered.

“Dinna question me now. I’ll explain later.” Connor turned, and faced Cora. “We appreciate your kindness.”

“You still have not explained why she’s dressed this way.”

“Her father is a tyrant and dinna approve of our marriage. This was the only way we could be together, and not be discovered.” Connor quickly changed the subject. “If you’re agreeable, my brothers would appreciate the use of your barn.”

“Aye, for a fee.” Cora held out her hand. “There’s fresh hay in the loft and on the morrow, they may join you and your wee wife to break their fast. I’ll have my husband fetch some blankets.”

“This should cover the room, and the use of the barn.” Connor placed a small bag of coin across the woman’s palm and watched as she counted it. “Now, if you could give us a minute alone, I need to speak with my brothers.”

Connor waited until she was out of hearing range, then spoke to Cailin. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He held out a chair, waited for her to sit down, then stomped across the room to where his brothers were waiting. “Step outside. Now!” He shoved open the heavy oak door, and the three men left the inn.

“Thunder and damnation, what were you thinking?” Connor threw his hands in the air, then spun around to face his brothers. “Why in the name of Saint Stephen did you have to tell them we were married?”

Alasdair’s grin broadened as he leaned in close. “Relax, little brother, I only did what was necessary. You should be thanking me, not shouting at me.”