The Bedeviled Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) (4 page)

After a moment, the latch rattled, and she heard a woman grumble, “Ach, what is it now?”

Maura was a young, creamy-skinned, charming lass with bright blue eyes, dimples in her cheeks, and an amply curved figure. Having recently inherited the cottage from her aunt, she had moved to Stirling a short time ago and had found work as one of Stirling Castle’s chambermaids.

Knowing that Kate was searching for an affordable room, the alewife had introduced them a fortnight ago. Feeling her heart would burst before Maura could reply, Kate blurted, “Tell me quick! Is the room still to be had? If it is, I’ll take it now!”

“Aye, ‘tis still free.” Maura nodded, frowning. “But ye haven’t the shilling, and—”

“I have it now!” Kate fairly danced, pressing the coin into Maura’s hands. “I’ve had the most blessedly fortunate day!” Closing her eyes, she hugged herself in excitement. Perhaps her father’s health might strengthen, now that they could move into the tiny back room of Maura’s cottage, away from the rank, dismal almshouse that presently served as home.

The woman stared at the coin in surprise before snatching it and stuffing it down her bosom. “Then I’ll borrow the Fletcher’s cart and we’ll get your father right here, but tell me first, where did ye get a shilling? ‘Twas only two days ago and ye had nothing!”

Kate grinned foolishly, thinking of the outlaw in the alehouse. Pressing a finger to her lips, she could almost feel the warm touch of his kiss. With a secretive lift of her brow, she only replied, “From someone most generous!”

Maura’s eyes lit with interest. “‘Twas a man?”

Kate hesitated. While she didn’t know Maura well, it was obvious that she was the jealous type, particularly where men were concerned. The woman desperately wanted a husband. “Aye, a man, but not a braw one,” she lied. Maura didn’t need to know the outlaw had been exceptionally handsome, broad-shouldered, and tall with the most compelling dark eyes.

“If he’s wealthy enough to hand out shillings, it matters little if he is pock-marked and long of tooth!” Maura eyed her suspiciously.

“Ach, but he was an outlaw, not to be trusted,” Kate replied truthfully enough.

The woman was a bit surprised at that, but shrugged it off, muttering, “If he can hand ye coin, then I still say it matters not.” Grabbing her cloak from its hook, she tied it under her chin. “Let’s be off to the Fletcher then.”

Unable to contain her exhilaration, Kate found it difficult not to run there, but Maura did not share her enthusiasm and would only walk. She had other concerns on her mind.

“Now that ye’ll be living with me, Kate, ye can share some of those secrets of love,” she said, broaching the sorest subject between them.

Kate stifled a sigh.

Maura was under the impression that she truly knew how to make charms, and even though Kate had promised her, time and again, that she truly knew nothing of such arts, Maura refused to believe her. “I wish I had knowledge to share.” She sighed.

“How can ye expect me to believe ye?” Maura twisted her lips in a scowl. “Ye clearly bewitched the outlaw into given ye a shilling, didn’t ye now?”

“’
Twas only luck.” Kate expelled a long breath through her nose. Living with Maura wasn’t going to be easy, but anything would be better than where they lived now.

Maura dropped the subject because they had arrived at the Fletcher’s house, but Kate knew the conversation was far from over.

The Fletcher’s home was a tiny place, but well kept. The man’s wife was less than pleased to see them. When asked, she pointed to the cart readily enough, but with dark looks that made Kate nervous.

Maura rudely brushed past the woman, pulling Kate along to the small courtyard where the cart stood under a scraggly pear tree. With a smug laugh, she assured, “Ach, Kate, no need to worry! The harridan is just jealous of me. Think nothing of her!”

“Jealous?” Kate repeated apprehensively.

“Her husband fancies me,” she replied proudly, vainly patting her own cheeks.

Kate suppressed an uneasy feeling. Was it a mistake to rent the woman’s room? But the thought of her weak father still battling his long illness reminded her that she had no choice. Maura’s room was the only one she could afford. If her father remained much longer in the foul environment of the decrepit almshouse, she was certain he would die.

Shrugging her worries aside, she grasped the handles of the cart.

As Maura babbled about the many men of Stirling who swooned at her feet, swearing that she had the finest complexion of any woman in Scotland, Kate strained to lift the cart handles with a loud humph.

It was too heavy. She cleared the cobblestones by only a few inches.

“The men of Stirling are mad for me.” Maura was saying. “But I’ve not the eyes for them now. I’ve set my sight upon the Earl of Lennox. They say he’ll be at Stirling Castle, mayhap even on the morrow!”

Kate dropped the cart with a crash.

Mention of the earl brought back her lies and about the mysterious outlaw in the alehouse. He had clearly been annoyed at her conversation, but then, he was probably angry over her reaction to the kiss. He must have felt cheated, paying an entire shilling for only a kiss and a stone. Though ignorant of how much kisses were worth, she had thought it to be a remarkably thrilling one. But then she’d never kissed anyone before, either.

“What is it, Kate?” Maura eyed her with suspicion.

Flustered, and not quite sure why, Kate lifted the cart and wobbled a few feet before letting it fall again. “I dinna think I can do this alone, Maura!”

She wasn’t about to tell Maura of the outlaw’s kiss.

“Dinna look to me! I’ve done more than my share in getting ye the cart!” The woman flicked her fingers in irritation. “I’ve errands to run. Ye’ll have to get your father to the cottage on your own.” Drawing her cloak about her, a bit indignantly, she hurried away into the gathering darkness.

Kate watched her go with a frown but also with a small measure of relief. The woman was difficult to be around for any length of time.

She gave the cart a rueful look, wondering how she could push her father back to the cottage when she couldn’t even get the empty cart to where he lay to begin with.

Heaving a sigh, she strained to push it forward, cursing under her breath and vainly wishing herself taller and stronger. By the time she had made it down to the end of the lane, she was sweating and short-tempered. Kicking the cart with her worn shoe, she cursed at the top of her voice, “Ye fobbing loggerheaded motley-minded barnacle! I’ve had enough of ye!”

A dry chuckle sounded from the shadows nearby.

Kate whirled, assuming a stern expression to cover a ripple of panic. “Who goes there?” she demanded harshly.

To her utter astonishment, the outlaw from the alehouse stepped forward to tower over her. In the darkness of the deserted street, he was even more intimidating than before. He stood, tall and proud, with a fine cloak clasped about his neck by an intricately wrought silver broach. She eyed it sourly. He must have been busy pilfering things since their last meeting.

Clenching her fingers tightly, she adopted a fierce look. “If ye want the shilling back, ‘tis too late. I no longer have the thing!”

The man’s lips twitched in what could have been amusement, but she wasn’t entirely sure. As his dark eyes roved over her and the cart, his deep voice queried, “Ye bought a cart?”

“Ach, this isn’t mine, and it is worth far more than a shilling!” Kate rolled her eyes, amused by his ignorance. Of their own accord, her lips cracked into a smile.

His chiseled lips momentarily curved in response, and they stood there in the street as Kate wondered what it was about the man that made her heart flutter. She knew the man was an outlaw and that she should not keep company with such men, but it did little to still her beating heart.

Suddenly, the evening church bells tolled.

Kate tensed. It was late. Her father was most likely fretting over her this very moment. Worrying would not help him recover. With a polite curtsey, she nodded a farewell. “’Twas a pleasure to see ye again, sir, but I’ve places to be.”

Grasping the handles, she hefted the cart with all her might. A sharp jab ripped through her side, and she abruptly doubled over to gasp aloud in pain.

“Ach, Kate!” She felt the man’s strong hands about her waist, steadying her. “A wee lass like ye can’t wield this thing! What are ye up to?”

Sucking in her breath, it was some time before she could reply, “I’ll be fine, sir. I’ve need to hurry now. I canna cause my father to fret. ‘Tis not good for his health.”

“Then, allow me to assist ye,” the man suggested, placing a hand firmly on the handle.

“’
Tis quite a valiant offer, but I must refuse,” Kate replied, impressed by his kindheartedness. “Ye’ve done plenty for me this day, in the payment of the shilling for the charmed stone.”

He laughed softly at that, and leaning close, whispered in her ear, “’Twas a fair trade for the kiss, lass.”

Kate blushed. Turning her head away, she was grateful for the darkness as she gripped the cart handle once again in determination, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the pain still burning in her side.

To her surprise, the man planted both hands firmly upon her waist and lightly tossed her into the back of the cart. And then with a gallant bow, unclasped his cloak to throw it over her shoulders, and said, “Pray tell me where ye wish to go, kind lady. I am your humble servant.”

With a grateful sigh, Kate quickly gave in and smiled widely. “I dinna know what I did to deserve ye this day, kind sir, but I’m grateful. What with the shilling and now your brawny arm, I would think ye an angel if ye weren’t an outlaw.”

Easily lifting the cart handles, he shook his head in disagreement and commented wryly, “I am far too cursed to be an angel.”

“What might I call ye?” she asked, unable to stop herself from admiring his rippling muscles.

“Cameron.” There was a hint of arrogant amusement in his tone as he dipped his head gracefully in yet another bow.

Kate blinked, taken aback.

Apparently, he had a wicked sense of humor.

“I won’t betray ye. Ye can tell me your true name,” she promised, drawing her brows into a frown.

His lips twitched a little as he asked, “And why do ye think that is not my true name?”

“Ach, man!” Kate replied with an insulted huff. “I know well that ye only chose the name of Cameron because I told ye this very afternoon in the alehouse that the Earl of Lennox was my lover!”

Cameron’s dark eyes lit with laughter even as his lips thinned into a line. Jiggling the cart a little, he rumbled deeply, “The only name I’ll give ye, lass, is the one I was given, and that is Cameron. Now, tell me where ye wish to go afore I take ye to the Brass Unicorn for another kiss.”

Feeling herself blush at the thought of a kiss, Kate burrowed into his fine cloak and ordered, “Then, hie ye off to the almshouse, and be swift of foot,
Cameron
!” The man was obviously intent on keeping his identity secret. Not for one moment did she believe that he shared the same name as the Earl of Lennox.

As he set off, she settled back into the cart to enjoy the unexpected respite. She had slept only a few hours that night, rising before dawn to care for her father, and then taking to the streets to sell charms. The past few weeks had been particularly harsh. She’d only earned a few pence before stumbling upon the brawny thief now pulling the cart. Her gaze flickered over him appreciatively. Ach, but she couldn’t help again admiring his broad shoulders and hard muscles.

It was a good several minutes before she noticed they had gone the wrong direction.

“Dinna ye even know where the almshouse is, Cameron?” she asked, astonished. “What manner of outlaw are ye, man?”

“Apparently an ill-taught one,” he replied dryly. Setting the cart down, his dark gaze ensnared hers.

Ach, but he was handsome. His lips seemed carved of stone, and she found the dash in the middle of his chin remarkably distracting.

Slowly, he propped his elbow on the edge of the cart, reaching back to playfully pinch her cheek as his deep voice suggested, “Perhaps ye should tell me where it is then, lass.”

Blushing still more, Kate pointed to the opposite street.

She watched in silence as he hefted the cart and moved forward, all the while searching for a witty response but finding none. His touch had caught her off guard. Ach, but the man was disturbing in the most delightful of ways.

Once they had achieved a steady roll, she couldn’t resist asking, “So, why did ye become an outlaw then, Cameron?”

“Why do ye think?” he responded evasively.

Pursing her lips, she mused aloud, “’Tis always over coin, but how did ye lose yours? Gambling? Ill fortune? Are ye seeking revenge, or did ye commit a crime and were forced to flee—”

"I’ve done no wrong!” He interrupted strongly, but then added in a voice much less sure, “Intentionally, that is. Though mayhap I am cursed …”

The thought of a curse tugged at her heart, and she couldn’t help but say, “Ye’ll only make it worse with the path ye’ve chosen! ‘Tis never too late to turn back.”