The Bold Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) (26 page)

“Aye,” Merry agreed soberly. “’Tis fortunate that Cameron is there to help lessen the fighting, aye?”

Kate nodded. Opening the door to her apartments, she stood aside to let Merry enter. “Cameron’s done a fine job of influencing the prince,” she said with a hint of pride in her tone. “James will make a fine king, when it comes to that, but now that we’re in private, tell me your story, lass! Why are ye parading about as a lad?”

What followed was a lively conversation, one in which Merry recounted her tale, trying at first to share only the happy details.

But when she came to Alec’s death, the news subdued the mood at once.

“Hugh Cunningham,” Kate repeated the name in a deceptively neutral tone and her sharp brown eyes took on a shrewd cast. “Dinna fear, lass. Justice will find him, of that I have no doubt.”

There was something in the way she said it that made Merry pause. Kate was described oft throughout the kingdom as being Scotland’s most powerful woman, and in that moment, Merry knew she truly deserved her reputation.

They discussed other things then, mostly relating to Ewan. It was hard to keep from gushing about him, and Kate didn’t miss her change of tone whenever she mentioned the man.

The woman was far too perceptive.

“Ach, ye love him!” she said with an infectious laugh. “’Tis in your eyes, Merry, and in your voice.”

Laughter escaped Merry’s lips. “Aye, I do,” she admitted candidly. “And I must confess, I dinna care to be clothed as a lad any longer. I would have him see me in a proper dress and with hair not caked in mud, even though my hair is shorn as if I’ve had a fever.” She pointed to her head with a wry expression.

“Nonsense, ye look exquisitely fetching,” Kate insisted brightly before lifting her lip in a suggestive tilt. “And I daresay he must already think so, aye? Ye’ve travelled quite a ways with each other, haven’t ye now? Just the two of ye under the stars at night?”

To her surprise, Merry felt the tips of her ears turn pink. “Nay,” she quickly disagreed.

But Kate only laughed. “Aye, I can see Ewan wanting to do things in the proper way, though ‘tis abundantly clear the man is a passionate one. I’ve oft wondered what lass would unlock his heart. Heaven knows, I’ve tried to send many his way, but he wouldna open his eyes to even see them. I should have thought of ye sooner, Merry. Now that I think on it, ye are the perfect match for each other.”

It took some doing to find a dress to be modified for Merry’s height and build. But in the end, they found a soft orange brocade with brown braid. And as three of Kate’s best seamstresses busied themselves with the alterations, Merry soaked in lavender-scented water, and for a time, simply enjoyed the sensation of finally being clean.

But she’d no sooner slipped the brocade dress over her shoulders than she began to fret.

Ach, she possessed nothing like Iona’s delicate beauty.

“Ye look so bonny,” Kate said, clapping her hands in delight. And then she added with a sly grin, “He’ll be sweeping ye off your feet and into his bed, Merry, with Ruan’s permission or no.”

Merry sent her a dry glance and then straightened. “Mayhap I should have stayed dressed as a lad,” she said then. “I fear such fine dresses dinna fit me, Kate. But ‘tis too late now, I suppose.”

“Nonsense,” Kate replied briskly, and looping her arms through Merry’s, she drew her to the door. “We’ve missed the midday feast, but I’ve asked for a meal to be sent to Cameron’s privy chamber. Wait for me there, will ye?”

“Aye,” Merry agreed easily enough as she stepped through the door.

Moving down the narrow corridor in a soft whisper of silks, she smoothed her hands over the voluminous skirt. After living in breeches and binding her breasts for such a long time, wearing a dress felt a wee bit odd.

Almost too revealing.

The gown was a fine one, not the kind she usually wore. And though a properly modest one, the cut was different, accentuating her breasts more than she was accustomed to.

Mayhap after she’d eaten, she’d find some breeches to borrow before she saw Ewan. Aye, her hair was still far too short for a lass, it might just be wiser to stay a lad until she’d reached home and could grow it out.

Lifting the latch, she stepped inside Cameron’s privy chamber.

The place was airy and spacious. Two Spanish leather chairs sat before a fireplace, and a tapestry depicting a unicorn graced the opposite wall. A large wooden table stood in front of the open window, and upon its surface stood two silver candlesticks holding beeswax candles and between them, a bottle of Rhennish wine.

Moving to the window, she placed her palms flat on the table and leaned forward to take a deep breath of fresh pine-scented air. In the distance, she could see the highlands spreading across the horizon and a wave of homesickness washed over her.

The ache of grief over Alec’s death had finally begun to dull, at least enough to be manageable. Aye, her heart would always be sad when she thought of him, but it was time to go home. To laugh. And to think of other things, such as tall, brawny warriors with flaxen hair.

Absently rubbing her shoulder, she enjoyed the soft early summer breeze blowing against her face, and then the latch of the door clicked.

“Have ye heard from Ewan, Kate?” Merry asked.

“Aye,” a man’s soft voice replied.

Summoning her self-composure, she slowly turned upon her heel to see the man himself.

Ewan stood tall and broad-shouldered, and he cut an impressively imposing figure in his crisp clean shirt and magnificent MacLean plaid. With his aristocratic bearing and fine sword buckled at his side, he was every inch the formidable warrior.

Merry swallowed, feeling all at once like a brown hen fluffed up in fine feathers belonging to a fancier bird.

He didn’t move. He stayed rooted upon the threshold.

Uncertain of his response, Merry cleared her voice and with an awkward wave at her gown began in a hurried explanation, “’Twas Kate’s idea that it be a fine gown. I dinna care for such clothes …”

He approached then, in slow measured steps and didn’t stop until he stood inches away. Reaching to smooth back a stray tendril of her hair, he whispered, “Aye. I’d rather see ye not wearing it myself.”

Her cheeks warming, she drew back sharply but then saw the look in his eyes.

There was no mistaking the desire in them.

His hands slid down to slowly envelop hers and then cradling her fingers in his, he brought them up to his lips. He kissed each fingertip before moving to kiss the insides of her wrists. And then dropping her hands, he ran his fingers up her arms, leaving a trail of blazing fire so hot that she nearly choked.

Cradling her head between his hands, he kissed the top of her head and then ever so slowly, he allowed his thumb to trace her lower lip, making it tingle with pleasure.

She parted her mouth in silent invitation then and their lips met in a kiss, at first spell-bindingly gentle but growing in urgency with each passing moment.

And then he pulled her close into his arms with a satisfied growl. 
Coaxing her teeth open with the tip of his tongue, he took her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss, one charged with intense emotion. It was a kiss full of need, possession, a kiss that left her wanting more, and a kiss she returned with abandon as she curved closer into his embrace.

His drew back a little then, and his chest heaved as his eyes’ passionate gaze burned every inch of her body.

“Ye look unbelievingly ravishing, lass,” he said in a ragged voice. “Your beauty fair steals my breath away! And ‘tis a struggle to keep my eyes from straying shamelessly over ye.”

She didn’t want to hear more. She had no patience. With a low moan, she pulled his head back down to hers and covered his lips with a feverish kiss. He let his hands rove over her then, accidentally knocking the bottle of wine upon its side.

As the wine pooled on the flagstones, he tore his lips away and groaned. “I missed ye by my side last night. I canna sleep without ye—”

“Is this some kind of
jest?”
  Ruan’s deep voice hailed.

Moving a little as if intoxicated, Ewan lifted his eyes to the door as Merry drew in a steadying breath.

Her brother, Ruan MacLeod, stood framed in the door, lean and muscular with his shoulder-length brown hair bound by his usual strip of leather. His dark brown eyes took in the scene before him as a touch of amusement warred with outright dismay upon his face.

At his side stood Cameron, the Earl of Lennox, towering in his fine cloak. His dark hair hung loose over his broad shoulders, and for a moment, it seemed his chiseled lips twitched before he quickly turned to cough into his fist.

And then several others stepped into the chamber.

The first was the grizzly-faced governor that she’d met the night before, Shaw of Sauchie.

Behind the governor stood a slender, pale-faced youth with red hair, green eyes, and a long thin nose. His fine ermine-trimmed clothing and exquisitely crafted Italian leather boots announced him to be Prince James Stewart, Duke of Rothesay, and heir apparent to the throne of Scotland.

Immediately, Merry dipped into a curtsey and the rest bowed as well.

Straightening to smooth her skirts, she then glanced up to see that the last man to enter the chamber was none other than the rail-thin Hugh Cunningham.

Merry froze.

Ewan betrayed no emotion.

Hugh’s unsettling blue eyes swept over them in an indifferent inspection. It took several seconds for a belated recognition to flood his face, and his eyes quickly darted back to search their faces.

And then Ruan stepped close to enclose Merry in a warm embrace.

“Ach, ye look beleaguered and pale,” he grumbled in her ear before casting a critical brow at Ewan. “Has he not kept ye well?”

“I’m well,” Merry murmured in reply, and she reached up to plant a light peck on her brother’s cheek.

But Ruan’s hard scrutiny continued to settle upon Ewan anyway as he said in a low voice, “We’ll set the matter aside for now.”

“Aye,” Ewan agreed firmly matching his gaze.

Then the prince turned upon the governor with a polite abruptness. “I willna allow the king to enter Stirling Castle. Refuse his request.”

Cameron folded his arms and tapped lightly with his long fingers. “Such a refusal will guarantee a battle on the morrow, my prince,” he warned calmly.

“Then so be it,” James replied in a solemn manner. “If he willna resign his crown and put an end to this madness, then we have no choice but to fight. But let all know that no man, and I repeat,
no man
shall lay violent hands upon the king. I willna have my father’s blood upon my hands.”

Cameron tilted his head in respect. “Aye, your highness,” he murmured in agreement.

As Merry watched nervously, the young prince eyed each man in turn before turning upon his heel and quitting the chamber.

No one moved.

Not until Hugh Cunningham took a step toward the door.

“Cunningham,” Ewan called out as Cameron did the same.

Ewan cast him a surprised look and stepped aside as Cameron moved to block the man’s path.

“My lord?” Hugh cleared his throat with a slight bow, plainly nervous.

Cameron stood still for a moment, thoughtfully rubbing the dark stubble on his chin as he eyed Hugh keenly. Finally, he said, “I’ve heard unpleasant tidings of ye, Cunningham.”

“Tidings?” the man repeated, his eyes flicking back and forth between Ewan and Cameron. “Tidings or lies?”

A muscle ticked on Ewan’s jaw, and then he gave a mirthless chuckle. It was a disturbing sound and one so cold-hearted that Merry was certain Hugh Cunningham quaked in his boots.

“Aye, the tidings were such that I wonder if I should allow ye to fight under the prince’s banner,” Cameron continued, his lips crooking into a scathing smile.

The blood drained from Hugh’s face.

“But I’ve decided to allow Ewan to handle the matter as he sees fit.” The Earl of Lennox’s eyes flashed in a rare display of anger. “Aye, I’ll allow ye on the battlefield, Cunningham. But be aware, there may be more swords pointed at your back than the ones ye face.”

The man turned white.

“There is justice on the battlefield,” Ewan ground out through clenched teeth.

“Then if ye’ll excuse me, I’ve other matters to attend,” Cameron announced with a curt nod. And then turning to Ruan, he arched an inquisitive brow.

“I’ll see ye soon, my wee Merry lass,” Ruan murmured, planting a brotherly kiss upon Merry’s cheek.

He didn’t speak to Ewan. He merely scowled his way. 
And then pivoting on his heel, he followed Cameron out of the chamber.

Ewan waited until the door clicked shut behind them before turning upon Hugh. “If you’re a wise man, ye’ll start running,” he warned grimly.

Instead of answering, Hugh turned upon Merry. “We’ve met afore, have we not, sweetings?” he asked, letting his eyes slowly rake her from head to toe.

In one fluid movement, Ewan had unsheathed his dirk and, yanking the man’s head back, pressed the blade’s edge against his throat. And then glancing over at Merry, he said, “My lady, leave us, will ye?”

Chapter Thirteen – Isle Men and Their Wee Sisters

As soon as the door closed behind Merry, Hugh Cunningham asked, “Then ye’ll slay me in cold blood?”

Ewan shoved him back roughly and then thrust his dirk into its scabbard. 
“’Tis no less than ye deserve,” he said in a voice of deadly calm even as he seethed inside.

The man was surprised, clearly not certain if he should be pleased or angry. After a moment, he schooled his expression and bowed low.

Ewan watched him with contempt. And then he said in a low voice, “I dinna care if ye sweep the floor with your chin, Hugh. Have no fear, I’ll take my sweet vengeance.” 
Aye, he would, but not with Merry within the castle walls. He’d not let her see that side of him.

Hugh’s nostrils flared then and with a savage hiss, he warned, “Tread carefully with the mighty Clan Cunningham.”

Ewan snorted. “I’ve naught to fear from that soon-to-be once mighty clan.”