Highland Master (17 page)

“Ye are going nowhere,” the man snapped, and dragged her over to a tree.

Ignoring him, Triona looked around just as Brett and the others broke through the surrounding trees into the small clearing. The way the men dismounted, two men quickly grabbing the reins of the horses and moving them out of the way, impressed her. Here was the training she had wanted for her own men. The sight of Brett stole her breath away as well. Tall, strong, his sword held expertly in his hand, he was the brave knight every small girl dreamed of. Triona almost smiled at her own romantic thoughts. After one hard look her way, which she returned with a smile, he turned all of his attention on Sir John.

The other men who had come to rescue her were busy cutting down Sir John’s men and chasing after the ones who had bolted, running for their lives into the forest. A couple of sharp screams of pain told her that they had not managed to get very far. Then she looked at Brian and Callum, who, all the while keeping a watch on Brett, came over to stand in front of her. It was only then that she realized the priest had set her in front of him like a shield.

“Wheesht, what a coward ye are to hide behind the skirts of such a wee lass,” she muttered, and could tell by the way the priest clenched his free hand into a fist that her comment had caused his anger to rise.

“I but try to be certain these men dinnae mistakenly kill a mon of the Church, mistaking him for one of the enemy,” Father Mure said.

“Nay a mistake,” drawled Brian, and grinned at the man. “Ye are a priest willingly helping a mon, declared an outlaw by his own laird, to marry a lass against her will.” He poked his sword a little closer and laughed when the priest quickly pulled her more firmly in front of him.

“I am unarmed,” Father Mure said.

“But shielded. Ye want me to move the fool, lass?”

“Nay, he is fine where he is.” She held out her hands. “I would like these gone, if I might.” She stood calmly as he neatly cut through the ropes with his sword. “I dinnae suppose Brett means to capture Sir John alive.”

“Nay.” Brian did not lower his sword, but he looked where Brett faced Sir John. “He may make him sweat a wee bit first, but he will kill him.”

Triona nodded and watched her lover face her enemy. For a moment she feared for Brett, not wishing to see him wounded, or worse. It only took a moment of seeing how he easily and gracefully fended off every swing of Sir John’s sword to know that Brian was right. Brett was going to make Sir John sweat a little and then kill him. She knew that should probably trouble her a little, but it did not. She only had to think of her garrison imprisoned for nearly two years for no reason other than this man’s greed, and how they must have struggled to survive, losing hope with each passing day that they would ever see the outside again. That was the sort of inhumanity that earned Sir John whatever punishment Brett meant to mete out. She only wished she were a man, just long enough to do it herself.

“Your death should be as slow and painful as the one ye condemned her garrison to,” Brett told Sir John, “but I fear I have nay wish to see ye breathe the same air as the rest of us for that long.”

“I didnae kill her garrison and ne’er intended to.” Sir John grunted when Brett’s sword sliced open the front of his jupon, cutting through to split open the skin beneath it. “’Tis nay my fault the guards didnae do what they had been told to. That plan cost me a lot of money.”

Brett almost paused to just stare at the man. Sir John was one of those who never accepted blame for anything. He could see it now. He suspected the man even blamed Triona for saying she did not want to marry him for the way he had tried to destroy Banuilt. They would probably never understand why the man had done all he had, for he did not think clearly or with any sense of the truth.

“I think the people of Gormfeurach will be much better off without ye sitting in the laird’s chair,” he said, and cut the man’s arm.

“So this is why ye mean to murder me, to take what is mine for yourself, just as ye took Lady Triona. She was supposed to be mine. That fool Boyd should ne’er have left her that land, and his error should have been my gain. Instead ye came here and have ruined all my plans.”

For a brief moment Sir John fought fiercely, and Brett actually saw the hint of skill in the man’s use of his sword. Then he saw how badly the man was sweating, his chest heaving with the effort of continuing the fight. There would be some touch of sweet justice in it if he let the fool fight until he stumbled to his knees and had to stay there trembling, unable to save himself as Brett killed him, but Brett decided he really did not have the stomach for it. If Sir John were a worthy opponent there could have been a sense of victory in it all, but the man was no true warrior, and that would make it a cold slaughter of a weak man.

Despite Brett’s decision to be quick about it, Sir John had time to see that he had lost. As Brett drove his sword into the man’s chest, Sir John’s eyes widened with something that looked much like surprise followed rapidly by sheer terror. Brett pulled his sword free and watched Sir John’s body fall to the ground, wondering idly if the man had, in that last breath, caught a glimpse of where his soul was headed. It would certainly not be heaven he saw.

He then looked for Triona and found her standing in front of a tall, thin man who had to be the priest. The man was staring at Sir John in surprise, as if he had believed the man would win. A quick look around told Brett that all of Sir John’s hirelings had been killed or captured, so he walked over to stand in front of Triona.

“Why is that mon hiding behind your skirts?” he asked, and very gently touched the bruises forming on her face.

“He is a cowardly priest,” she said, “who felt Sir John was doing as he should and that I was just some disrespectful little whore who didnae understand what good fortune had befallen her.” She grinned at the look of anger that tightened Brett’s expression.

“Were ye hurt in some way?” Brett asked, fighting the urge to beat the man, despite the fact that he was a priest. “Uven said ye had gone limp.”

“Aye, just a trick to make it verra hard for someone to get ye to do something they wish ye to do.” She saw Sir Brian nod but decided now was not the time to ask why he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“I told ye nay to give him what he wanted,” Brett said.

“I ken it, and I was glad ye ne’er asked me to promise ye that I wouldnae go to him. I would have hated to have to lie to you. Do ye ken if Ella and the women made it home safely?”

“Aye, they did. We met them on the way here.” Brett told her of how Ella had helped them and smiled at her look of pride. “She thinks she ought to get a kitten for that.”

Triona laughed. “Weel, mayhap I will have a look at the kittens in the stables and see if there is one I can abide being treated as if it is a member of the family. Now, I would verra much like to leave this place, but I am nay sure what we should do about this priest.”

“I shall need someone to take me back to Gormfeurach,” Father Mure said.

“I thought ye might be theirs. Poor people of Gormfeurach. A bad laird and a worse priest. They have been twice cursed.”

Father Mure stepped around her to confront her, his face hard with anger. “Ye dinnae understand your place, woman.”

“Och, nay, the fool just called her
woman
,” muttered Brian.

“Since he has already called me worse, I suppose I shouldnae be surprised. May I?” she asked as she looked at Brett.

Brett noticed how her small hand was curled in a tight fist. “If ye wish.”

Triona punched the priest in the mouth so hard he staggered back with a cry. He stared at his hand when he took it away from his mouth and paled at the sight of his own blood. To her astonishment his eyes rolled back and he collapsed on the ground.

“I didnae hit him hard enough for that,” she muttered.

“Nay.” Brett nudged the priest’s body with his foot. “He swooned when he saw his blood on his hand. Swooned like a wee lass.” He started laughing with the other men and slung his arm around Triona’s shoulders. “Ye really need to stop hitting priests, love.”

“I will do a penance.” She turned into his hold and wrapped her arms around his waist, deeply moved when he hugged her back with obvious affection, even though she wished it was more than that. “May we go home now?”

“Aye.” He kissed the top of her head before setting her aside. “Just let us clear away the mess and get Sir John’s body on his horse.”

She nodded and went to her pony. It would not be easy for the little animal to keep up with the men’s horses, but there was no need of any great speed. Triona wanted to see with her own eyes that her daughter was safely back at Banuilt, but that was the only pressing need she had. It was going to take her a while to accept that her troubles were now over, at least until a new laird came to Gormfeurach, but she would deal with any problems when they arose.

It took her a moment to wonder why she was not happier. Although she did not wish anyone to die, Sir John would never have given up, and his death did not trouble her at all. Then she realized why there was a growing sadness in her: her troubles were indeed over, and that meant that Brett had no more reason to stay at Banuilt.

Turning away so the men clearing up the bodies in the meadow could not see her face, she fought the sudden urge to weep. He had given her no words of love, just affection and passion. He had made no promises except the one to help rid Banuilt of its troubles, a promise he had fulfilled admirably. Brett, as well as Brian, Arianna, and all the others, had no more reason to stay, and they all would undoubtedly leave soon—and it hurt.

She had tried not to nurse any hope in her heart, but it was evident that her heart had not listened to her and had simply gone its own way. Triona struggled to hide how badly it was breaking. At best she had one more night with her lover. She was not going to spoil it by letting him see her sorrow. There would be plenty of days after he was gone to indulge in that.

When he stepped up, brushed a kiss over her mouth, and then set her in the saddle, she gave him her warmest smile. What little time they had together would not be marred by regrets or unfulfilled wishes. Brett, she decided, was going to be blinded by passion if she had anything to say about it. That way he might miss the hurt she knew she would not be able to hide completely when he said farewell.

“We will leave in the morning.”

Brett looked at Brian and then quickly looked back over the walls of Banuilt. The keen way Brian was watching him was not comfortable. He knew the time to make a firm decision had come, and yet he was still not sure what he wanted, or even needed, to do.

“We will ride with you and Arianna,” he said finally and was not surprised to hear Brian curse softly.

Nothing had been said concerning the fact that he had fulfilled his promise to end Triona’s troubles and that he would now leave. Not on the whole journey back from where she had nearly been forced to marry Sir John, or after he had come back from taking the priest and Sir John’s body to Gormfeurach. If Triona wanted him to stay, she was showing no sign of it, neither trying to nudge him into making any promise nor even just asking him to stay.

And waiting for her to make the first move was the coward’s way, he thought, and inwardly grimaced. It would have helped him with his own unusual indecisiveness, but it would not have been fair to her. He certainly would not wish to risk being told no to his face. When he had first taken her to bed, he had more or less set the boundaries. They were lovers, he would clear away her problems with Sir John, and then he would leave. He had given her no hint that that had ever changed. Why should he expect her to be the one to do so?

“Are ye still wearing that hair shirt of penance for the death of that lass?”

“Brenda. Her name was Brenda,” said Brett, “and she wasnae just a lass. She was carrying my bairn, and I intended to make her my wife. I should ne’er have played the secret-lover game with her, a game that soon became verra serious for me. But I should have been mon enough to go to her father, marched right up to those gates, and . . .”

“Got kicked right out on your arrogant arse.” Brian held up a hand to silence him when Brett began to speak. “Ye told me ye had naught to offer her father for her hand, neither land nor a heavy purse. She was a weel-dowered lass, aye?”

“Weel, aye, but . . .”

“Bonnie, young, and fulsome, and ready for her father to choose a mon for her. Nay, ye would have been verra fortunate if all he had done was beat ye senseless and toss ye into the mud. Struth, I suspicion he already had a mon chosen for the lass, one who could give him something he wanted or needed, and that is why she insisted on keeping ye such a secret.”

“Aye, he did have someone in mind, but naught had been signed and no pledges had been given.”

“Doesnae matter. They were undoubtedly still bartering. She kenned it and probably kenned there would be no changing her father’s mind, nay for a lad who had a lot of allies, a lot of kin, and nay much else save for a bonnie face. I think she also kenned that she was putting your life at risk when she succumbed to your allure.”

Brett opened his mouth to defend what he thought was a somewhat harsh criticism of Brenda, but thought over what Brian had just said. “Succumbed to my allure?” he asked, and frowned at a grinning Brian.

“‘Sounds fine, doesnae it?’ Arianna bellowed that at me whilst we were still arguing. Something about how badly she wished she had kenned what a heartless bastard I was before she had succumbed to my allure. I liked the sound of that, of her succumbing to my allure.”

The man was grinning like a mischievous little boy, and Brett laughed. “She also called ye a heartless bastard.”

“I chose to ignore that because she was speaking in anger.”

“Of course ye did. And, aye, Brenda kenned I was at risk and probably kenned all else ye think she did. All that doesnae matter. She was but a lass of eighteen who had been weel guarded all of her life. I was nay so innocent. She was coming to meet me that night and we were going to run off together, to marry and raise the bairn she had just discovered she was carrying. While I waited for her, feeling sorry for myself because she was late and I began to fear she had changed her mind, she was caught by her clan’s enemies. Five men beat her, raped her, and left her there in the wood, left her for dead. She crawled the rest of the way to where I sat pouting, then died in my arms.”

Brian sighed. “A sad ending, and now I ken where your guilt o’er it all is bred from. Ye, as so many of we men like to do, somehow think ye should have saved her. Should have kenned she was in danger, kenned she was hurt, kenned where it was all happening, and also been able to ride swiftly to her rescue with sword held high. Aye, we men all have moments like that. It shames us when we discover we are nay omnipotent when it comes to the safety of those we love. We all chew o’er the
what if
I had done this or that, or
what if
this had happened instead, when there is a tragedy. Ye were nay there to stop it. Ye were waiting for her as promised. I suspicion ye had nay knowledge that her enemies were close at hand. There is nay wrong there, Brett, only sad mischance.”

“I see her,” Brett whispered.

“See her? Do ye mean ye see her ghost? Now?”

Brett smiled fleetingly at the way Brian looked all around. “Nay, nay now. I see her when I try to bed down with a lass and seek a wee bit of pleasure. Suddenly there is her ghost, looking sad as she watches me with the woman.”

“Jesu, that must be, weel . . .”

“Wilting? Aye, verra much so. If it didnae end all attempts to gain my ease, it certainly stole away the pleasure I may have gained from the act. Even drink didnae banish her, although it occasionally allowed me to gain a little ease ere I was sober enough to see her again.”

“Do ye see her when ye are with Triona?”

“Nay, and I confess that is why I stand here struggling to decide if I should go or if I should stay. I still have no lands to call my own, no heavy purse to offer her. She has had two men seek her only for her holdings, nay for herself. Her husband sought the heavy purse that was her dower and Sir John sought this land. I dinnae wish to appear to be a third who but seeks gain through wedding her.”

“I dinnae believe anyone here, including Triona, would e’er think that was why ye married her, but I understand. I sought such things when I wed Mavis, although I did want her and I did like her, could e’en see the chance that I would come to love her. When she died so suddenly and I was left with naught, I decided to ne’er do that again. ’Tis why, e’en though I had coin, I hesitated to wed Arianna despite how much I loved the lass. And ye do love Triona, aye?”

“Aye, I do. I wonder if that is why I am nay seeing Brenda when I am with Triona.”

Brian nodded. “Could be. ’Tis nay just an enjoyable rutting ye are indulging in. So ye need to find something to make ye feel more equal in standing with Triona, something to make ye feel that ye have brought something of worth to the marriage and nay just gained. Seems to me there is a keep and land near at hand that no longer has a laird. No heirs to cry foul if someone gets hold of it, nay more than a few distant cousins and mayhap a bastard or two aside from the six lassies.”

Brett stared at Brian for a moment, unable to speak as his mind was flooded with ideas. “And I have many powerful friends, and kin, who owe me a boon or two.”

“Plus enough coin in your purse to pay a bribe or two as weel, if it is needed.”

“I think ye mean a wee gift, a show of gratitude.”

“Aye. Exactly.”

“And it will help if I have a mon or two already holding Gormfeurach.”

“The men there do have need of someone strong to hold the place until they get a new laird.”

Brett exchanged a grin with Brian. “’Tis good to have a plan.”

“And part of that plan is to claim Triona, is it?”

“It is, but I will do naught about that until I ken I can come to her with something of my own to offer. In the end, her husband did right by her, by naming her his heir. He recognized her work here and her worth. I ken I could have her without going to all the trouble I am about to, because the lass cannae hide how she feels even when she tries to. It sounds cursed arrogant to say that, but ’tis there to see in her eyes. Howbeit, for once I want her to be the one who gains something in a marriage. I want her to be the one offered something of worth for the privilege of her hand in marriage.”

“Good mon.” Brian slapped Brett on the back and then suddenly sniffed the air. “’Twill be time to eat soon. Good cooks they have here, who ken how to make hearty, tasteful fare with little. Arianna has gathered a few recipes from them. We do weel, but there are always the lean times to face—or when ye just dinnae wish some guests to eat all that game ye struggled to catch, in but one sitting. Arianna told me that the lassies in the kitchen said it was your woman who is most responsible for those meals.”

Your woman,
Brett thought as he followed Brian down off the walls. The words stroked him, giving him pleasure. Even if he could not gain hold of Gormfeurach, he would find something else to offer Triona, because he knew he had to claim her. Brenda had been the love of his youth, but he was a different man now. This man wanted Triona; she was his future.

 

 

Triona suspected her blushes would be enough to heat the bathwater she was in if it had not been well heated already. All during the evening meal she had done her best to let Brett know that she wanted him in her bed tonight, with every smile and light touch of her hand. Her plan was to greet him in something more alluring than a plain linen night shift. Bathwater, scented and faintly cloudy with soap, seemed like a wonderful idea. The way she was tensing at every small sound outside her door made her think she had vastly overestimated her ability to be sultry and inviting.

“Just how cursed long do ye have to be with a mon to start being comfortable being naked around him?” she muttered as she scrubbed at her foot.

“Most men would like that to be about two minutes,” drawled Brett as he quickly stepped inside the room and shut the door, not wanting anyone to see the delightful vision of Triona in her bath.

The sight of her, her pretty face flushed from the heat of the water and the fire the tub was set in front of, stirred the ache of raw need inside him. He liked the way her thick hair was messily pinned up on top of her head, damp tendrils slipping free to curl around her long, elegant neck. Brett realized that the more he saw her, the more he realized she had beauty. It was not the kind that grabbed a man’s gaze immediately like some women’s did, but it was beauty nonetheless.

Triona squeaked in surprise and nearly sank down beneath the water. Catching herself before she did so, she frowned at Brett. A moment later she recalled she was trying to be sultry, to be a woman he would never forget.
Or a woman he had to return to
, a little voice whispered in her head, and she ruthlessly silenced it. She would not allow herself any false hope.

Brett nearly grinned. She had looked irritated about being startled but suddenly had changed to looking coy and inviting. It appeared that Triona was trying to seduce him. He should probably tell her she did that by simply standing within sight of him and breathing, but he was enjoying her efforts far too much to put an end to them. He walked over to the tub, crouched down beside it, and picked up the little dish of soap.

“What are ye doing?” she asked as she watched him dip the edge of the linen washing cloth into the soap.

“I am about to help my lady in her bath,” he said, and reached over to grab one of her surprisingly long and strong legs, all too easily recalling how good they felt wrapped around him as he buried himself deep inside her heat. “Ye just relax and allow me to do all the work.”

Her blush revealed her unease with such intimacy, but he calmly ignored it. Brett knew that such reticence disappeared quickly once her desire began to rise. He washed her carefully, enjoying the way her eyes grew heavy lidded and turned a richer blue, as well as the feel of her soft, wet skin beneath his hands. The soft little gasps she made when he spent a long time washing between her legs, stirring her desire with his fingers, delighted him.

Deciding that the game had to end or he would be trying to climb into the tub with her, leaving a mess that would be embarrassing to explain to the maids, he tugged Triona to her feet and helped her step from the tub. He took the same care in drying her lithe yet nicely rounded body as he had in washing it. Except for the few faint birthing scars, her body revealed few other clues that she had borne a child. Her breasts were not quite as firm as a childless woman’s but far more so than other women’s he had had the privilege of exploring. Triona did not just direct her people in what work needed doing, she lent a hand herself, and it showed in the lightly muscled fitness of her body. He was not a man who cared if childbirth left its mark on a woman, but he also liked the strength and vigor displayed in Triona’s form.

Eager to have that fit body wrapped around his, he tossed aside the drying cloth and took her to the bed. The way she watched him as he shed his clothes was so flattering, he knew she could easily make him a bit vain with those looks alone. It had certainly made him prefer to stand before her and remove his clothes rather than just toss them aside as quickly as possible. Instead of just lying down beside her, he crawled onto the bed near her feet and began to slowly kiss his way up her body. When he touched a kiss to the very red curls at the juncture of her thighs, he grinned when her whole body tensed. He then grasped her by the thighs, held her in place, and began to make love to her with his mouth.

Triona was so shocked when he kissed her there, she could not move. By the time she thought she ought to pull away from such an intimacy, he had a hold on her that prevented that. In another moment she did not care, opening to his kiss as the heat of desire flared through her body from each touch of his tongue.

She heard herself make a sound of complaint when he began to kiss his way up her body, for she had wanted
that
kiss to continue. That tautness she now knew led to a delicious burst of pleasure that had begun, and she did not wish it to ease, fading a little as he stopped kissing her so intimately. When he paused to lavish attention on her breasts, she wrapped her body around his, rubbing against the hard length of him with increasing need. By the time he reached her mouth, she was desperate to feel him inside of her.