Teresa Medeiros (24 page)

Tabitha’s cheeks flamed even hotter. Oh, why couldn’t she be one of those sophisticated women who languished in bed blowing smoke rings at her lover after a torrid night of passion? Instead, she was forced to blow a disheveled strand of hair out of her eyes before it blinded her.

Arjon only worsened her discomfort by circling them like a sleek hound, his aristocratic nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the air. “Most curious, is it not? Not a hint of smoke nor a speck of ash do I detect on the lady’s milky skin.”

“You knew!” Tabitha accused, jabbing him in the chest. Since he was wearing his mail breastplate, she
only succeeded in jamming her finger. “You knew Colin wasn’t going to burn me at the stake, didn’t you?”

He gave her another of those infuriating Gallic shrugs. “One can never predict what a Scotsman will do. They’re all quite mad, you know. Especially when afflicted with
mal d’amour.”

“Seasickness?” she ventured, sucking on her injured knuckle.

He favored her with a patronizing smile. “Lovesickness, my dear.”

Colin shoved his way between the two of them and marched to the hearth, the back of his neck darkened to an endearing shade of fuchsia. “The only affliction I’m suffering from is having such a braying jackass for a friend. And to what, pray tell, do we owe the honor of this unexpected visit?”

The amusement fled Arjon’s face, leaving it uncharacteristically somber. “ ’Tis the MacDuff.”

An odd flicker of emotion darted between the two men, jarring Tabitha. She’d never imagined that Colin could look furtive. It definitely didn’t suit him.

Arjon cast her an enigmatic glance. “One of my men sent word that Brisbane has dispatched an envoy bearing gifts to MacDuff’s castle. If he convinces the old rogue to break faith with you and forge an alliance with him, Ravenshaw will be surrounded by enemies on all borders and you’ll have no chance of survival.”

Colin fisted one hand against the mantel and gazed into the cold, dead ashes in the grate. “How much time do we have?”

“If we leave now, we can arrive at MacDuff’s castle several hours before Brisbane’s messenger.”

No longer caring if she tripped over the quilt, Tabitha dove for her discarded gown. “I can be ready in five minutes. Just let me get dressed and wash my—”

“No!” Colin’s command startled them all.

Tabitha straightened, gripping the rumpled gown.

He seemed to be having difficulty meeting her eyes. “ ’Twould not be safe. The MacDuff is nearly as unpredictable as Roger when he chooses to be. I’ll not risk your comely neck again.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “How chivalrous of you! Then while you’re gone, I’ll just march back down the mountain to Castle Raven where I can bask in the adoration of your people. That is, until they decide to roast me with an apple in my mouth.”

Arjon nodded thoughtfully. “She is no lackwit, I fear. I warned you about that.”

Colin shot him a savage glare, then sighed. “ ’Tis God’s truth you speak, lass. You’ll not be safe at Ravenshaw either until I can return with you. Once I’ve commanded them not to harm you, my people will obey. My word is their law.”

She brightened. “Then you’ll just have to take me with you.”

His eyes narrowed speculatively. Without a word of explanation, he marched across the cottage, took her hand, and pulled her toward the door. She was about to protest that she couldn’t ride all the way to MacDuff’s wearing nothing but a quilt when they emerged into the blinding sunshine. She found herself blinking into Chauncey’s shocked eyes.

The boy dropped the reins of Colin’s stallion and snatched off his cap, plainly torn between bowing and fleeing down the hillside in horror.

“Chauncey,” Colin said, “I want you to remain here at the cottage and guard the lady until we return from the MacDuff’s.”

His master’s faith in him seemed to restore his swagger. “Aye, me laird, I’ll see to it the vixen don’t escape.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “I’m not appointing you Lady Tabitha’s jailer. I want you to guard her against all harm.” He slanted Tabitha a look that warmed her heart and almost made her forget he was leaving her. “She is a most precious charge.”

“Oh.” The hulking boy looked vaguely disappointed. “Very well, sir. I’ll look after the witch.” He cut her a wary look. “If she’ll promise not to cast any spells on me.”

Tabitha gave the amulet a mocking stroke, but Colin shook his head at her in warning.

Before she could come up with any more compelling arguments for taking her along, he had swung himself astride the stallion.

While Arjon was mounting his own horse, Colin unhooked one of the bulging knapsacks from his saddle and tossed it to Chauncey. “No witch burning, lad.”

The boy cast the handsome stake with its thicket of crisp brush a crestfallen look. “Aye, sir.”

Colin shifted his scowl to Tabitha. “And you?
No witchcraft!”

“Yes, Darrin,” she muttered.

He squinted at her. “What was that?”

She bobbed a mocking curtsy. “Yes, darling.”

He nodded his approval and wheeled the horse around. Tabitha’s spirits plummeted. He was just going to ride out of her life without giving her so much as an affectionate pat on the head.

But as he and Arjon reached the edge of the clearing, he drew back on the reins and clucked a command at the stallion. The horse pranced around to face her in an equine minuet of breathtaking grace. The morning wind rippled through Colin’s hair, making him look as if he could have ridden straight from the gilt-edged pages of one of her mama’s books. Tabitha’s breath caught with
poignant yearning. Until that very moment, she’d never realized how much it had cost her to stop believing in those fairy tales.

He nudged the horse into motion with his well-muscled thighs. As the beast came trotting toward her, Tabitha stood her ground, trusting that Colin would not trample her fragile heart underfoot. Drawing the horse to a rearing halt, he leaned down, wrapped one powerful arm around her back, and lifted her to his kiss.

As his tongue swept through her mouth like sweet wildfire, Arjon and Chauncey seemed to vanish as if she’d wished them gone. She and Colin were alone just as they’d been during the night, free to pour all their passion into each other.

As he lowered her to the ground, she clutched both the quilt and his knee, surprised her trembling legs would support her.

He reached down and stroked her tousled hair, the fierce light in his eyes softened by tenderness. “All will be well, my lady. I swear it.”

Tabitha gazed after him long after he was gone, bittersweet longing tightening her throat. If his vow was true, then why had she tasted such desperation in his kiss?

Tabitha and Chauncey perched on the stoop of the cottage like a pair of sulking gargoyles. They relaxed their bored vigil only long enough to exchange a sullen glance or pinch another hunk of bread off the loaf they’d shared for lunch. The moments crawled past, ticked off by some giant invisible clock.

Tabitha yawned. Chauncey scratched at his waist-length mop of auburn hair. She eased a few inches
away, wondering if he had head lice and if so, just how far they could jump.

She squinted up at the pale disk of the sun. The men had been gone for less than two hours and already her patience was waning.

She brushed a bread crumb from the wrinkled skirt of Magwyn’s gown. “They could be gone for days, couldn’t they?”

“Weeks,” he replied glumly.

She looked at Chauncey. Chauncey looked at the sprightly sorrel tethered to a nearby cedar.

“You didn’t want to be stuck here with me, did you?”

“No, my lady.”

“You wanted to go with Sir Arjon, didn’t you? To serve as his squire.”

“Aye, my lady.” His expression was growing more wretched by the second.

“But Colin told you to stay here and you always do what Colin tells you, don’t you?”

He nodded. “With the old master gone, Sir Colin is my laird.”

“Well, he’s not mine.” Tabitha rose and started for the horse, the skirt whipping around her ankles with each of her determined strides. “And if he thinks I’m going to spend my life hanging out of castle windows tearfully waving a kerchief while he gallops off to fight pagans or Brisbane or whatever dragons he believes he’s been divinely appointed to slay on any given Friday, then he’s got a few things to learn about modern relationships. And Tabitha Lennox is just the woman to teach him.” She threw a searching glance over her shoulder. “Aren’t you coming?”

Chauncey sprang to his feet, slack-jawed with shock. “We dare not disobey Laird Colin. His word is—”

“—the law,” Tabitha finished with a weary sigh.
“Well, this is one law I have every intention of breaking. Do you know the way to MacDuff’s castle?”

Chauncey nodded. Apprehension had bleached his face, making his freckles stand out.

“Then I’ll have to insist that you accompany me.”

He stole another longing look at the horse, a thread of excitement creeping into his voice. “If I do, Laird Colin will surely punish me.”

She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice to a menacing purr. “And if you don’t, you’ll be stuck here with one very unhappy witch.”

Tabitha had never before used the threat of magic to intimidate anyone. She nursed a brief spark of guilt, but as the boy started eagerly for the horse, it was smothered by a flood of wicked exhilaration. After all, she was only making him do what he really wanted to do anyway. What harm could there be in that?

Chauncey mounted and she swung herself behind him, biting back a wince of pain. But the tenderness lingering between her legs only strengthened her resolve. She belonged at Colin’s side and she had every intention of proving it to him. Even if it killed her.

Now that Chauncey had decided to commit himself to the low road, he did so with enthusiasm, pointing out a barely discernible path that wound its way through the dense underbrush. “I know a shorter way. I didn’t tell Laird Colin because I didn’t want him to tell Mum I’d been sneakin’ over to MacDuff lands to court one of the auld tyrant’s milkmaids.”

Which is how a beaming Tabitha and a cringing Chauncey came to arrive at the perimeter of MacDuff’s moat approximately three minutes before Colin and Arjon came cantering across the meadow. Before Colin
could rein his horse to a complete halt, Chauncey had flung himself off the sorrel, landing on his knees in the grass.

He clutched at his laird’s leg, his voice cracking from the strain of being a boy trapped in a man’s body. “Oh, please, sir, don’t have me flogged. The witch made me bring her. I begged her not to, but she fixed me with a devilish glare and enslaved me with a wiggle of her fingertips.” He shot Tabitha a triumphant glance from beneath his stringy bangs before smothering Colin’s leg with kisses.

She rolled her eyes and sniffed. “I did no such thing. The boy was just as eager to come as I was.”

Colin struggled to disengage his ankle from Chauncey’s grip. “Cease slobbering on my boots, lad! I’ve no intention of flogging you.”

That promise only succeeded in earning him a fresh spate of kisses. “Bless you, my laird. You are the most kind, generous master Ravenshaw has ever known. I tried to resist the witch, truly I did, but her charms beguiled me.” He shuddered. “ ’Twas most distressing.”

Colin turned his narrow gaze on Tabitha. “Believe me, I know just how persuasive the lady can be.”

Her sunny smile failed to warm his stormy glower. She had expected him to be furious with her for disobeying him. She had not expected to find such a wild glint in his eye. He looked almost … trapped. Although he’d faced the monstrous Scot-Killer in armed combat without betraying even a trace of fear, her unexpected arrival seemed to have thrown him into a panic.

Arjon clapped him on the back. “Come, my friend. Your lady has proven her devotion and risked much to join you. Is that any way to welcome her?”

His manic joy only intensified the apprehension prickling down Tabitha’s spine. If the impish Norman
knight was
that
happy, it couldn’t bode well for any of them, especially Colin.

Tabitha blinked up at the imposing edifice looming over them. “So what do we do now? Ring the doorbell?”

It seemed that wouldn’t be necessary. With a deafening clanking of chains, the massive drawbridge began to lower. Tabitha could not quite suppress a wistful sigh. Here at last was a castle worthy of her mother’s fantasies. Soaring towers and flying turrets crowned walls of white stone. Wrought-iron bars shielded the lower windows, but high above them, ruby and emerald panes of stained glass basked in the glow of the sun. A graceful standard rippled from the highest tower, boldly proclaiming the might and splendor of the lord who dwelled within. As the drawbridge crept downward, Tabitha would have almost sworn she could hear the distant strains of “Camelot” wafting on the wind.

She stole a glance at Colin. His expression was so grim she might have thought the gates of hell were creaking open to swallow him up. Kneeing Chauncey out of the way, he slid off his horse, plainly wanting to face whatever terror would emerge from that yawning abyss on his own two feet.

Utterly baffled, she looked at Arjon. His expectant smirk revealed nothing. The drawbridge thudded to a halt at their feet. But the creature who appeared at its peak was hardly the horned demon Tabitha had expected.

What enchanted castle, after all, would be complete without a fairy princess?

The lithe sprite came scampering down the ramp, a cloud of ebony ringlets rippling behind her. Her tiny feet barely seemed to skim the planks and her every movement was a study in artless grace. Tabitha sat up
straighter in the saddle, making a conscious effort not to slump.

“Colin!” The girl sang his name as if it were an angel’s hymn before throwing her arms around his neck and smothering his flushed face with kisses. Her feet dangled nearly a foot off the grass.

Tabitha frowned. That was odd. Colin had never mentioned a sister. And he certainly wasn’t old enough to have a daughter so … so … voluptuous.

“Oh, Colin,” the petite pixie chirped. “I thought you were never coming back! Papa vowed you were a man of honor, but six years is a very, very long time to wait. It seemed like an eternity.”