Kilts and Daggers (2 page)

“I've ne'er seen so many bloody English,” said Laird Ian Munro in his best English accent. “Be sure to keep them here, and whatever ye do, donna let them cross the border to my lands. I beg ye.” Ian smoothed his long, red hair, which practically reached his elbows and was secured at the nape of his neck.

“Aye. I couldnae agree more. Most will be taking their leave on the morrow. Thank God for small favors.” Fagan nodded to Lady Grace. “Unfortunately, some will be with us for a while.”

Ian lifted a brow. “I donna see how that is a problem for ye. The lass is rather pleasing to the eye. Mayhap ye will find yourself enjoying the pleasure of her company after all, eh?”

“Och, aye, I enjoy the pleasure of her company until she opens her mouth and words escape it. Besides, she's betrothed, poor bastard.” Fagan pointed across the great hall. “And look. The lass isnae the only one who makes a man daft. Set your eyes upon poor Torquil.”

The boy approached them, looking over his shoulder. He placed his fingers to his lips in a conspiratorial gesture. “Shhh…donna tell Kat ye've seen me. I believe that I lost her somewhere in the bailey. I think I'm safe now.”

Ian slapped Fagan on the shoulder. “I think it will be good for all of ye to have some women under the Sutherland roof. I'm certain ye'll take a liking to having them around.”

“I donna think that will ever happen.” Fagan folded his arms across his chest, realizing at the last moment that he was sounding much like a certain boy he knew.

Ian gave him a knowing look. “I've learned to ne'er say ne'er, my friend.”

If it wasn't bad enough that the castle was under siege by the Walsingham sisters, now Ruairi and Ian were taken by the wily ways of the women, English women no less.

* * *

A sour look crossed Kat's face as she approached Grace in the great hall. Kat bowed her head, rounded her shoulders, and leaned against the stone wall.

“I don't understand why he runs from me. I didn't do anything to him.”

Grace patted Kat on the top of her head. “No one understands why boys do what they do. Why don't you leave him alone for a little while?” When Kat shrugged, Grace realized she needed to keep her sister occupied with something other than the laird's son. “I find myself needing a bit of fresh air. Do you want to walk in the gardens with me?”

“Shall I find Elizabeth? Perhaps she'll want to come along.”

“Yes. I'll meet you both by the door.”

A cool breeze brushed the small tendrils of hair on the back of Grace's neck. As she gazed out into the courtyard, she couldn't help but notice the many colored kilts and the brawny men who wore them. At least she was able to make out the Sutherland clan colors now. She'd seen the tartan more often than not, and frankly, she'd had enough of it and the men who wore it.

A rich voice spoke against her ear. “Have I told you lately that you look very lovely, my lady?”

She spun around and smiled. “You have, and I thank you again, my lord.”

“Are you certain you don't want to return with us on the morrow? It's not too late to change your mind.” Daniel leaned in closer. “I know you don't feel at ease here. You could always come back and marry me now.”

“I appreciate your concern, but you know I want to be here for—”

“Your sisters.”

“Yes. I know this is difficult for you to understand, but I wanted to make sure they—”

He brushed his hand lightly on her arm. “What is there to understand? Take all the time you need, my lady. I have no intention of going anywhere, and family is most important. Now if you'll please excuse me, I do believe I could use another drink. Could I bring you anything?”

“No, thank you. I'm taking the girls for a walk in the garden.”

Daniel brushed a brief kiss on the top of her hand. As Grace watched him walk away, she was aware that her relationship with her sisters was hard for him to grasp. With her mother and father passed, Grace only had Ravenna, Elizabeth, Kat, and of course, Uncle Walter. Her family meant everything to her, and they were all close in the way families should be. Her parents had raised them well.

But now she had Daniel.

The last she wanted to do was make him feel as though she was keeping him at arm's length. After all, the man was going to be her husband. Lady Grace Casterbrook sounded lovely, if she did say so herself. Lost in her reveries, she turned and continued to watch the bustling courtyard. She thought perhaps she should start to look for the girls because they were taking longer than expected, but then someone pulled on her skirts.

“I found Elizabeth, Grace.”

“Perfect. Let's go then.”

Grace watched the girls amble along the garden path. She loved them with all her heart and had a hard time trying to imagine her life without them in it. She didn't blame her sisters for wanting to stay in Scotland and knew they thought of Ravenna as more of a mother figure. At nine and fifteen, Kat and Elizabeth needed stability in their lives. And although Grace was reluctant to admit it, Ravenna's new home was the best place for the girls right now, even if that meant they were far away from England and her.

When Kat and Elizabeth stopped to study a rose, Grace realized none of her siblings had a singular trait that distinguished them as being a Walsingham. Kat had beautiful blond locks, while Elizabeth had reddish-brown hair. Ravenna had long red hair, and Grace's was a warm-colored brown with golden strands, compliments of the sun. Then again, no one had thought their mother and Uncle Walter looked like brother and sister either. Her mother had pale skin and Uncle Walter's was much darker. Frankly, the man looked like a bloody pirate with his dark looks and cool demeanor. He had an air of command about him, as if he were the captain of a ship on a stormy sea.

Grace made her way over to a stone wall about waist high. Orange and yellow flowers lined the stone path, and the scent of roses wafted through the air. A few buds were in bloom and the garden was lovely. Stretching her neck, she leaned forward and looked over the wall. She found herself smiling with pleasure. Laird Sutherland had a fine home.

The blue waves of the ocean crashed onto the rocky shore below. She closed her eyes, and the sound was so peaceful, so soothing. Although she detested many things about the Highlands, she enjoyed the sea wholeheartedly. She couldn't imagine waking up to this view.

A shrill scream rang through the air, and she froze.

“Grace!” yelled Elizabeth.

Tiny stones crushed under Grace's feet as she lifted her skirts and darted along the path. When she reached the girls, she found Elizabeth kneeling on the ground beside her sister as blood dripped from Kat's forehead and into her blond curls.

“I told her not to run. She tripped and hit her head on a big stone.”

Tears fell down Kat's cheeks. “Look at my dress. There's blood all over it.” Her voice wavered with panic.

Grace lowered herself to the ground and tried unsuccessfully to wipe the blood away from Kat's gash with her hand. “There, there, everything will be all right.”

“What happened?”

When Grace looked up, Ruairi's captain was standing there, towering over them with a look of concern. She didn't understand how the man had arrived so quickly, but she was glad he did. “Kat fell and hit her head on a rock.”

Without hesitation, Fagan unsheathed his dagger and cut a piece of cloth from his tunic. He knelt down and pressed the material to Kat's head. When she whimpered, he gave her a compassionate smile and smoothed her hair.

The man was so gentle with her sister that Grace was taken aback by his kindness. “Should we try and get her to stand?” she asked.

“Nay. Leave her still for a moment.” As Kat's sobs became louder, Fagan added, “Ye only have a wee bit of a scratch. Donna worry upon it.”

Although the gash bled like a raging river, Grace understood his look telling her not to frighten Kat. He continued to apply pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding. After a heavy silence, she heard approaching footsteps and the laird's son appeared. His expression became serious, and for a moment he paused.

“What happened to her?”

When Fagan answered the boy in what Grace presumed to be Gaelic, Torquil sat on the ground beside Kat. The boy took her hand in a gentle gesture. “I know the blood may frighten ye a wee bit, but ye'll be all right. I've fallen and hit my head before too. Do ye want to see the scar?” When Kat nodded, Torquil lifted his hand and separated a section of his hair with his fingers. “Do ye see that?”

Kat gulped hard. “Yes. It's very big.”

Torquil turned back and smiled at her. “And ye see I'm all right.”

When Kat nodded, Fagan spoke to Grace. “Hold the cloth firmly to her head, and I will seek the healer. I want her to take a look at your sister's wound. We may need to patch that up. Keep her here and donna attempt to move her.”

He started to walk away, and Grace called after him. She wasn't sure what she was going to say, but when the steely captain turned and his eyes met hers, she smiled her thanks. He bobbed his head in return, and she didn't understand how a single look from the man could make her feel like there wasn't anything in the world he couldn't handle. For some odd reason, she was slightly comforted by the thought. As her mind wandered, she barely noticed that Fagan had passed Daniel on the path. Her betrothed reached her side and glanced down.

“What the bloody hell happened to Katherine?”

“Daniel,” Grace chided him. “She hit her head on a stone.” Grace shifted and glanced at her fingers, which were now covered with blood. “I need another piece of cloth. Blood has soaked clean through.”

Daniel looked around. “I don't have anything.”

“Mister Murray used a piece of his tunic,” said Grace. To her surprise, Daniel lifted a brow and then gazed down, studying his courtly attire. The man's clothes could be replaced. Her sister could not. “Please, Daniel, I need something quickly.”

He felt around his chest pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. When he attempted to give her the material he used to blow his nose, Grace scowled. With her free hand, she attempted to pull her dagger from under her skirts. She'd cut her own clothing to help her sister, but she didn't have to. Torquil ripped the bottom of his tunic and handed her the material.

“Thank you, Torquil.”

She shot Daniel a cold look and thought perhaps she may have even growled. Who'd have thought a twelve-year-old boy would have more sense and compassion than her husband-to-be?

Grace barely survived the night from hell. For heaven's sake, she couldn't even roll over. Elizabeth had an elbow in her back and Kat had a knee in her gut. Perhaps having her two sisters sleep in the same bed with her wasn't one of her best ideas. Not that she had any particular desire to be tortured in the middle of the night by flailing arms and legs, but she wanted to keep an eye on Kat and had thought this was the best way to do it.

When the sun finally cast rays of light through the slits in the curtains, Grace freed her hand from under the blanket and rubbed her tired eyes. She tried not to think any more about Daniel and his behavior last eve, but what unsettled her even more was that she couldn't get Fagan out of her mind. No matter what she did, she couldn't banish the images of the brawny captain. How could she possibly erase the memory of the man who'd kindly held her sister's hand as the healer placed three stitches into the girl's head? And Daniel… He had simply stood there. At least he had moved out of the way, because he'd been no help whatsoever.

Her sisters finally rose, and once everyone was dressed, they descended the stairs to the great hall to break their fast. Grace was about to ask Kat for the hundredth time how she was feeling when her sister started talking about what mischief she and Torquil were going to get into today. Kat's wound was all but forgotten. That's when Grace reached the conclusion that her youngest sister wasn't going to have any problem adjusting to life in the Highlands, as long as the laird's son was around.

Grace placed her hand on Elizabeth's arm. “Is everything all right?”

When they reached the last step, Elizabeth stopped. “Can I ask something of you?”

Grace nodded. “Kat, why don't you go on ahead? We'll catch up to you.” Grace smiled at Elizabeth. “What is it?”

“Do you think I'm too young to wed?”

“Yes,” replied Grace without hesitation. “You're fifteen and have your whole life ahead of you.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “I have a feeling I'm going to regret this, but why do you ask?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “Ravenna didn't wed until she was twenty-six. Granted, you'll soon be nineteen when you wed Lord Casterbrook… Who do you think will be my guardian, Laird Sutherland or Uncle Walter?”

“Since you'll be staying with Ravenna, I'd have to say Laird Sutherland, but you know our sister will look after you. What are you worried about?”

“When the time comes, do you think Ravenna and her husband will arrange a marriage for me with someone back in England, or do you think perhaps I'll be wed to a man here in the Highlands?”

Grace smirked. “I should hope not.”

“Why not?” Elizabeth suddenly couldn't look Grace in the eye.

“What's the matter with you?”

“Nothing. I just… Now that you'll be wed, I know I'm next. If Laird Sutherland wanted to arrange a marriage for me, I would like to say that I do think Laird Munro would be rather pleasing.”

Grace couldn't help it. Her jaw dropped. “Wait a moment. Laird
Ian
Munro? Are you telling me that you fancy Ruairi's redheaded neighbor? The one who looks like some kind of unruly Scottish vagrant?”

“Shhh…lower your voice. I think he's very handsome, and he doesn't look like a vagrant.”

“He's nearly twice your age.” Grace placed a patient hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. “When the time comes for you to wed, I'm sure you'll find a more suitable mate than Laird Munro.” She looked around to make certain no one was near and then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Elizabeth, these Highland men lack comportment. Don't you want to find a man from your own country who's refined and doesn't sport a kilt? Wouldn't you rather wed someone who understood your beliefs and customs, someone like Daniel perhaps?”

Elizabeth looked at Grace in surprise. “Like Daniel?”

“This is really not the best place to have this conversation. Why don't you go and break your fast? I'll be along shortly.”

Grace watched Elizabeth walk away, and then she closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. Her best decision yet was deciding to stay. Her sisters—well, one sister in particular—needed her guidance now more than ever. Ravenna may have fallen in love with a Highlander, but there was no way Grace would allow Elizabeth to be so foolish.

After finally composing herself, Grace entered the great hall and tried to mask her discomfiture. Ruairi's clan was already seated for the meal, and no remnants of the prior evening's festivities were left to be seen. As she approached the dais, Grace noticed that Ravenna simply glowed. For a slight moment, Grace was envious of the love her sister had found with Ruairi. Although the man lived and breathed everything Scottish, his actions showed that he adored Ravenna as he placed an errant curl behind his wife's ear and cast a warm smile.

“Niece, come and sit beside us.”

Uncle Walter and Daniel both stood upon her approach, but her steps slowed when she saw Fagan sitting at the other end of the table. He didn't stand, but one corner of his mouth turned upward as he tossed a piece of biscuit into his mouth. When his eyes met hers, he gave her a brief nod, and her lips puckered with annoyance. The beastly man had no manners whatsoever, but she was trying to overlook his poor behavior, especially after his kind actions with Kat last evening.

“Good morning, Uncle Walter, Daniel.” Grace was about to address Ravenna, but her sister and her husband were too busy exchanging wooing looks with each other. Daniel pulled out Grace's chair, and she sat between Daniel and Elizabeth and across from her uncle. She refused to glance toward the unrefined folk at the other end of the table. “Stop it, Grace,” she said under her breath.

“Stop what?” asked Daniel.

She waved him off. “Oh, nothing. Please forgive me. I'm merely talking to myself.”

“There is nothing to forgive. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you. And you?”

“I will certainly sleep much better when I'm back under my own roof. Are you certain you don't want to return with us?”

“I'm certain.” She took a bite of oatmeal.

“I'll make sure the manor house is ready upon your return,” said Uncle Walter.

“Thank you. I only intend to remain in the Highlands for about a month at the most.” She lowered her voice. “I think that is all I'm able to bear.”

Uncle Walter chuckled, and Daniel leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “I admire your courage and determination, my dear. If you change your mind and want to come home sooner, I can always send a carriage for you.”

Grace pulled back and smiled. “Thank you, but I don't think that will be necessary. I'll be fine.”

“Kat, stop!
Thalla
dachaigh!
” Torquil bellowed.

As the boy ran behind Grace, she turned on the chair and held out her arm to stay her sister. “Kat, you know better than to give chase to Torquil. Your behavior is not very ladylike. Now I want you to stop.”

“Torquil,
thig
an
seo
,” ordered Fagan in a steely tone. He grabbed the boy by the tunic and pulled him close. Grace didn't know what Fagan said, but he and Torquil continued to speak in hushed tones at the other end of the table.

“Lady Katherine, why don't you come with me to the courtyard while the horses are readied?” asked Daniel, standing. “Lady Elizabeth, would you care to come along?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I think I'll join you,” said Uncle Walter. He walked around the table and placed his hand on Grace's shoulder. “We'll leave you to eat in peace.”

Grace gazed around the table, realizing she was the only one left of the group. “I hope it's not my company.”

“Of course not. Take your time. There is no need to hurry.”

“Thank you.” Grace turned to Kat and gave her sister a stern look. “I want you to listen to Uncle Walter and Daniel. Do you understand?”

Kat let out a heavy sigh. “All right.”

While the men escorted Kat and Elizabeth out of the great hall, Torquil dashed off in the other direction. Once Grace had a chance to talk privately with Ravenna, the two of them would need to make certain that rules were in place for Kat in regards to the laird's son. The thought barely crossed Grace's mind before another followed. Unsuccessfully, she tried to suppress a sudden giggle. She knew men often chased skirts, but this was the first time she'd ever encountered a female chasing them.

“What do ye find so amusing?”

She lifted her eyes to find Ruairi's captain across from her. “Mister Murray…” She didn't remember extending an invitation for the man to sit, but this was another example of his total lack of comportment. Shaking her head with displeasure, she gestured to the chair on which he already sat. “Please, why don't you join me?”

He failed to notice her mocking tone and folded his arms on the table. “I see your sister is feeling much better this morn.”

“Yes. I truly can't thank you enough for seeing to her last eve. Your kindness was most welcome.”

Fagan's face reddened before he quickly changed the subject. “I donna want to trouble Ruairi and Ravenna since they are recently wed, but we need to do something about Katherine and Torquil.”

She lifted a brow. “
We?
”

“Aye. The lass follows him relentlessly, and he's verra annoyed by it.”

“Mister Murray, they're children, and I think they're simply getting to know one another. I understand this may be difficult for you to believe, but Kat's never done anything like this before. I think she's just not used to having someone around who's near her own age, a boy, and everything here is so new to her. She's left England, lives in a castle, and has people around her with whom she's not familiar, but I do understand your concern. What did Torquil say to her? I assumed his words were none too kind.”

Fagan paused. “Ye assumed right. He told Katherine to stop, and then he told her to go home. I assure ye the lad will nae be speaking that way again to the lass, but can ye—”

“Yes, of course. I'll talk to Kat.” Grace shook her head and spoke in a dry tone. “Frankly, I don't know what's wrong with her
and
Elizabeth lately.”

“Elizabeth?”

When Grace realized her words were spoken faster than she could stay them, she looked down at her oatmeal. “It's nothing. I spoke before—”

He lowered his voice. “Ye had nay trouble telling me your sister wasnae a governess, but ye have an issue talking to me about what's wrong with Elizabeth?”

“Mister Murray, I don't feel at ease discussing these subjects with you.”

“Then call me Fagan. Mister Murray was my father's name anyway.”

Grace looked around and then softened her voice. “Now is that truly appropriate?”

“I told ye before. Ye're a long way from England, lass. Lest ye forget, ye're in the Highlands now. We do things differently here.”

She lifted a brow. “How could I forget?”

“Ruairi said ye'll be staying with us for a few weeks. More to the point, I already call Ruairi's wife Ravenna.” He turned up his smile a notch. “Ye and I are practically like family. Ye will call me Fagan, and I will call ye Grace, or I could always call ye
bhana-phrionnsa
. I'll be kind enough to give ye a choice.”

“Ravenna may permit you to call her by her Christian name, but I certainly do not, Mister Murray. Although you do make me laugh, I'm afraid you and I are far from family.”

* * *

When Grace's eyes smoldered, Fagan knew he shouldn't get too close to the flame for fear of getting burned. There was still enough time to take his leave. Otherwise, he'd be verbally sparring with a lass in the middle of the great hall. Ruairi would no doubt have his head for causing mischief with his kin so soon after the wedding.

Fagan slapped both hands on the table and casually stood. Instinctively, he took another step back in case the lass suddenly had a strong urge to reach across the table and throttle him—or worse. Nevertheless, once she heard what he was about to say, the table wouldn't provide enough space between them.

“Verra well then. I think
bhana-phrionnsa
suits ye quite nicely.” When Grace's cheeks turned scarlet, Fagan smiled. “Donna say I didnae warn ye. Remember I did give ye a choice.” He winked at her and then turned on his heel.

“Wait!”

He had a hard time trying to mask his smile. He turned around slowly and lifted a brow. “Aye?”

Grace flew to her feet, walked around the table, and closed the distance between them. She lifted her head, and by the way she was unsteady on her feet, he swore the daft lass was standing on the tips of her toes in a futile attempt to look him level in the eye.

“England and Scotland have been warring for centuries, Mister Murray, yet somehow Scotland has never won.” Lifting her skirts, she brushed his arm with her shoulder and took a few steps away from him.

That was until he called after her and stopped her dead in her tracks. “
Cuine
a
chì mi a-ris thu
, Grace?”
When
will
I
see
you
again?
He made certain he said the words as though he spoke to his lover, which obviously had the desired effect because her whole body stiffened, and then she left him without a backward glance. Fagan's mood was suddenly buoyant. He wasn't exactly sure why he loved to unnerve Princess Grace, but he had one hell of a time doing it.

“What happened with Torquil?”

Fagan turned around and let out a chuckle. “My apologies, I didnae recognize ye without Ravenna strapped to your body, my laird.”

Ruairi folded his arms over his chest. “Arse.”