The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3) (15 page)

George aligned himself to the punching bag, curled his hands to his chest as she had done and looked expectantly her way.

“Go ahead.” She touched a spot on the leather. “Aim here.”

Smothered laughter and gasps erupted. Tristan and Allain’s faces were both bright red, and Tieren shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Och, enough.” Hunter strode forward, but it was too late.

George kicked. His kilt hiked up, and she got a flash of bare butt and . . .

“Oh cripes! That was . . . that was just
wrong
,” she cried, slapping her hands over her eyes. “Not at all acceptable.” Laughter erupted, and she aimed a scathing look at George between her fingers. He smirked and strutted back to his place in line.

“From this day forward, you will all train in hose and tunics,” she snapped. “Got it?”

“The lads are used to training in the lists with only other men about.” Hunter arched his brow at her. “What did you think they wore under their
feileadh breacan
s
?”

“I don’t know.” She lowered her hands from her eyes. “Biking shorts? Briefs? A sumo wrestler’s
mawashi
thingie?” She’d figured the males in kilts bound things up with strips of linen or something. Hadn’t she read that somewhere? “My dad and brothers wore biking shorts under their kilts, and I just figured—”

“Och, well, I ken naught about the things you speak of, but I suspect we’ve none of those garments to hand.” He snorted. “Have we?”

“Course not. I didn’t think of that.” Just then the village horn rent the air with two blasts.

“We will continue on the morrow,” Hunter commanded, aiming a pointed look at the boys. “George, another jape such as this one, and you will suffer my wrath. Do you take my meaning?”

“Aye, Sir Hunter. My apologies, Lady Meghan.” He shot her a sheepish look. “I forget sometimes that you are no’ . . . I mean, you’re our trainer, and . . .”

“And you see me as one of the boys?” She grinned. “I’m honored.”

“Dinna forget in future that she is a lady first and foremost.” Hunter scowled at the boys until they squirmed. “I must see who is come. Until later, my lady.”

“OK.” How could she have been so unaware of her trainees’ dressing habits, especially here in the lists where it was usually all male? Her students didn’t have any idea what martial arts involved, so they wouldn’t have given what they wore a single thought. Kilts wouldn’t work for the flips either.

Tieren approached her as Hunter took off for the ferry landing at a jog. The younger lads moved on to swordplay or followed Hunter.

Tieren smiled. “May I escort you to the landing?”

“Sure. Two tones means clan members have arrived, right?” She picked up her scabbard and strapped her sword to her back.

“Aye.” He placed his hand at the small of her back, and they made their way toward the ferry landing.
“
’Tis a fine day. Mayhap you’d enjoy a ride through the hills after the noonday meal? I’d be most happy to accompany you.”

“That would be nice. I’d love to see the surrounding hills.” Two boys, maybe sixteen or seventeen, leapt from the ferry and wrapped themselves around Hunter. “Are those the twins I’ve been hearing about? Migizi and Bizhiw?”

“Aye, though they prefer to be called David and Owain of late.”

They reached the shore just as a young woman stepped off the ferry. Delicate, ultrafeminine and drop-dead gorgeous, she wore her hair in a long braid down her back. Her large hazel eyes were fixed on Hunter. He disentangled himself from the twins and took her hands in his. Their foreheads touching, the two murmured to each other, and tears streaked down the woman’s cheeks.

“Who is she?” Meghan asked, trying like hell to keep the jealousy out of her tone.

“
’Tis Sky Elizabeth, Hunter’s foster sister.”

“Ah.” Relief washed through her in a rush.

“She’s the reason Hunter journeyed to the continent to earn his fortune.”

“Huh?” She tore her gaze away from the intimate reunion and shot Tieren a questioning look.

“Aye. On the day Sky was born, Hunter pledged himself to her. He believes being in possession of a fortune will persuade Malcolm to grant him Sky’s hand in marriage despite his lack of a title or land.”

“Oh.”
Her stomach dropped, along with her heart and every other major organ. Of course. Hunter was already in love with someone else. Judging by the way the two lovebirds were cozying up together, obviously Sky felt the same. A lump the size of an apple lodged itself in her throat.
Great.
The happy couple turned her way, along with the twins.

“Meghan, this is David,” Hunter said, shoving the boy’s shoulder. “And this rapscallion is his twin brother, Owain,” he added, tousling the other boy’s hair. “I trow they’ll be joining us for your mixed martial arts training.” He arched his brow and looked from one boy to the other.

“I’ve no notion what you speak of, Hunter, but if you say we should, then we will,” David said with grin. Owain nodded, a look of adoration suffusing his face as he looked at Hunter.

Taking Sky Elizabeth’s hand in his, he drew her forward. “Sky Elizabeth, I’d like to introduce you to Lady Meghan McGladrey. She is our guest at Moigh Hall.”

Sky took in Meghan’s attire, her eyes widening slightly.
“
’Tis lovely to make your acquaintance, Lady Meghan. From whence do you come?”

“Your mother and I come from the same place and time,” she said, trying hard not to let her jealousy show. She wore hose, a tunic and chain mail, still dusty and sweaty from her training session. Sky was the perfect picture of elegance in her medieval gown. Meghan couldn’t compete with this paragon of fifteenth-century grace, beauty and proper
comportment
.

What the hell was she doing here, and how would she get back home? She hadn’t asked Erin yet if she had a way to contact her fae relative, and doing so just moved to the top of her list of priorities.

“I see,” Sky replied, her eyes growing wider still. “I look forward to hearing more about your journey, but first I must recover from my own.” She smiled, and her eyes filled with intense concentration as she scrutinized Meghan. “Welcome to Moigh Hall. ’Tis my hope that we will become great friends.”

Yay.
She was being read by yet another
gifted
person. “Thanks, I’m looking forward to getting to know you too.” So not true, but what was she supposed to say?
I dislike you intensely because Hunter is in love with you?
She needed to get away so she could lick her wounds and regroup.

“Sky, Migizi, Bizhiw,” True called as she hurried toward them, her arms outstretched.

The rest of the MacKintosh family converged upon the landing, and Meghan slipped away, desperate for privacy. She needed to get control of her gyrating emotions before she could face anyone. She had no right to be jealous, and no real reason for this achy heartbreak tearing her to pieces. Hunter had never done a single thing to lead her to believe she meant anything to him.

Sure, he’d protected her, looked after her, but it was because he saw himself as responsible for taking her from her century. This was not her time, home or family.
Concentrate on getting home.
The twenty-first century was where she belonged, and this whole situation should be pissing her off, not breaking her heart. Madame Giselle had made some kind of cosmic error. Her presence in the fifteenth century was nothing more than a miscalculation on the part of the faerie. After all, she had no fae genes or gifts, and no real reason for being here.

“Lady Meghan, wait.” Tieren strode toward her.

Stifling a groan, she stopped. “What is it?”

He frowned, canted his head and studied her. “Is aught amiss, lass?”

“Yep.” Her hands fisted at her sides. “There’s plenty
amiss
. I don’t belong in this time or in this place. I want to go home.” She turned away from his scrutiny. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to . . .”
Go cry into my pillow and hide out for the rest of the day.

“What about our ride?”

“Oh right.” She swallowed the bitter mass clogging her throat. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Catch me later?” He chuckled. “Och, lass, I fear I’m already caught.”

C
HAPTER SEVEN

T
he moment Hunter laid eyes upon Sky Elizabeth, all the familiar warmth and affection he held for her welled in his chest. Although, his heart didn’t pound at the sight of her, nor did he have to resist the urge to drag her into his arms and ravish her; ’twas only because of their long familiarity. They’d been raised together, after all.

Sky represented all he held dear: home, kin, that elusive sense of belonging and security. Aye. All his dreams would come to fruition through his union with Sky. Finally he would have a family to call his own. With Sky and their bairns to protect and cherish, he’d belong to the MacKintosh clan in truth.

While his foster parents gathered around Sky and the twins, Hunter’s eyes slid to Meghan. Her hands were fisted at her sides, and she hurried toward the keep with her head bowed. What troubled her? His heart lurched. He should go after her. The moment he took a step in the direction of the keep, Tieren clasped him by the shoulder.

“Let her be,” he commanded.

Hunter shot him a sharp look. “Do you ken what vexes her?”

“You dinna?” Tieren’s expression turned incredulous.

“If I did, I would no’ ask,” he snapped. “You spoke with her a moment ago, aye? What did she say?”

“If Meg wishes to tell you aught, she will.” Tieren’s eyes followed Meghan’s retreating form. “It serves me best no’ to enlighten you.”

“You speak in riddles.” Hunter focused his energy. Envy, desire, determination and frustration pulsed from his friend
.
Tieren’s intentions toward Meghan were serious. His emotions were those of a hot-blooded male in the throes of pursuit and uncertain of the outcome.
Hunter’s gut knotted, and he had to fight the urge to demand Tieren meet him in the lists. He wanted nothing more than to pound the desire for Meghan out of his friend.

“Cease, Hunter.” Tieren’s emotions muddled into an indecipherable buzz. “Have I no’ told you oft enough? My thoughts and feelings are my own and no’ yours for the taking.”

“Aye, you have.” Heat rose to his face.
“
’Tis habit.”

With a slight shrug, Tieren dismissed the topic. “Have you spoken to Malcolm about your intentions toward his daughter yet?”

“Nay, what with all that has occurred this past se’nnight, I wanted to wait until Sky and the twins were home.” He looked toward his foster family. They’d started out for the keep, and he set out to follow. “I will speak with him on the morrow, or mayhap later today should I find him unoccupied.”

“Good. I plan to speak with Robley myself this very day,” Tieren said, matching his stride to Hunter’s.

“About what?” Hunter stopped walking.
Meghan?
Tieren had hinted at his intentions, but declaring himself to her guardian—not something he wished to hear.

“My future.” Tieren jutted out his chin. “I expect Malcolm will place you in command of his garrison now that Angus is ready to be pensioned off. I had thought to ask him to make me a captain here at Moigh Hall, but I’ve decided to see about a post at Meikle Geddes instead. I’m going to ask Robley for Meghan’s hand.” He straightened.
“
’
Tis doubtful she’ll return to her own time, and I want her.”

Possessiveness gripped Hunter, sending his blood rushing through his veins and hazing his vision. “You canna have her.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he intended to say them. Everything in him rebelled at the thought of another man touching her, making her his.

“Nay?” Tieren widened his stance and crossed his arms in front of him. “Think
you
to gainsay me? By what right?”

“She wants to return to her life in the twenty-first century, Tieren. I mean to find a way to see that she does.” Hunter thrust out his chest, meeting the unspoken challenge. Truth be told, he did want Meghan—and had since the day she stood victorious above him with her boot planted firmly upon his chest.

“Think you I will no’ achieve that end now that I’ve set my mind to it?” Hunter arched an eyebrow and assumed his most intimidating glare. Aye, his passion for Meghan consumed him, disturbed his sleep and played havoc with his fortitude. But she was not for him. He’d laid out the course of his life long ago, and he meant to follow his chosen path to the end of his days. “I took her from her father. By rights, ’tis my responsibility to see her safely returned into his keeping.”

“I will no’ be swayed by whatever false notions you hold.” Tieren took a step closer. “Robley has assumed guardianship over her, and Meghan has accepted him in that role.” Tieren returned Hunter’s glare with his own. “You canna always have things your way, Hunter.”

“My way
?
”
Taken aback, Hunter’s eyes widened.

Tieren speared him with a look of pure exasperation. “Aye, your way.
You
were taken in by the earl’s household. I was no’. ’Tis you whose praises are sung relentlessly, and you to whom others look to for leadership.” He poked a finger at Hunter’s chest. “I am every bit as skilled. More so for I dinna have fae blood running through my veins to aid me. ’Tis well past time I stepped out from under your shadow to cast my own.”

“What?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “
You
have had every advantage I had as a lad. We were fostered together and brought up in the ways of knighthood by the same men.” His chest tightened, and he could scarce draw breath. “The only reason Malcolm and True did no’ take you into their household was because you still had your ma, and she had need of you in the village.
I
had no one.”

A roiling cloud of dark emotion surrounded Tieren. He shook his head, turned on his heel and strode toward the keep. Did his friend truly believe he always had things his way? How long had Tieren felt overshadowed? Guilt bit a swath out of his hide, but then he recalled how, when he was but four,
Tieren and the other village lads had thrown stones at him during the harvest. ’Twas Malcolm who had intervened, forcing him and Tieren to serve the clan together during the harvest. After soundly thrashing
Tieren that day, the two had gone on to become friends. The guilt dissipated, replaced by a soul-deep hurt and the familiar ache of isolation and betrayal.

Mayhap Tieren was not the friend he believed him to be. Shaken to the core, he struggled to gather his wits about him.
My way indeed.
No matter. ’Twas but one more reason to stay true to his path. After the noonday meal, he’d seek out Malcolm. Hunter turned toward the keep, his mind set.

Unbidden, the image of Meghan hurrying away with her head bowed and her hands fisted came to him. He didn’t like seeing her thus. When she was upset, he could think of naught else but coaxing a smile from her. The need to hold her until all was set right overwhelmed his senses.

Her image filling his mind led to other memories, like the way she’d kissed him when he’d shown her the way to the lists. Having Meghan in his arms had nearly swept his legs out from under him. Her kiss had tasted so sweet, and her feminine curves had fit against him as if she’d been formed solely for his pleasure.

Meghan lit a fire within him that smoldered and flared with a life of its own, and he grew hard just thinking of her. Her unique sweet scent, the silky feel of her hair against his skin and the way she moved stirred him like no other. Steering his mind away from his lust, he sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Resolute, he strode toward the keep to join his foster family in the solar.

Hadn’t Malcolm and William told him oft enough that passion burned hot but did no’ last? ’Twas common ground, like-mindedness, abiding love and respect that carried a husband and wife through the trials sure to arise in their marriage. Malcolm had instructed him thusly, so it must be true. What did he and Meghan have in common? Naught. They were from different worlds. Hadn’t she said she did no’ ken how to act as a gently bred lady?

Ah, but I am not a noble. Do I need a gently bred lady as my wife?

He shook off his conflicting emotions. Madame Giselle’s assertion that he must give up his false sense of control was naught but meddlesome nonsense, and he would prove her wrong. Or rather—he would prove that
he
was right. Control over his destiny was all he had, and he clung to it with both hands.

The noonday meal came and went, and ’twas late afternoon before Hunter caught sight of his foster father crossing the inner bailey. He hurried toward him. “Malcolm, might I have a word?”

“Aye.” He waited for Hunter to reach him. “I’m heading to the mainland to check on a new foal. Walk with me to the ferry.”

“Nay.” His mouth went dry. “I had hoped to speak with you in the privacy of the earl’s solar. Will you be free to meet with me after seeing to the foal?” His heart crawled up his throat. What if Malcolm refused him out of hand? Surely he’d want Sky wed to an earl, or a baron at the very least. Hunter cursed the circumstance of his birth.

Malcolm studied him for a moment. “I can check on the foal another time. Come, lad. Let us have our talk. ’Tis overdue, is it no’?”

“Aye.” His future on a precipice, Hunter walked with the man who’d raised him. He could not have chosen a better father. Malcolm’s character was beyond reproach, and he’d taught Hunter to be a leader in the very best sense of the word. Silently he followed Malcolm, gratitude and love filling him. They reached the solar door. Malcolm opened it and gestured for Hunter to precede him.

As a lad, he’d been taught the mysteries of life in this very chamber, sitting at the same scarred oaken table that faced him now. He’d listened raptly to his da and the earl’s lessons about what it meant to be a man. Swallowing against the constriction in his throat, he turned his thoughts to the discussion to come.

Malcolm took a seat in the earl’s chair. “Sit, lad.”

Gratefully he sank into the seat on the opposite side of the table.

“You ken Angus wishes to be pensioned off, and your homecoming at this time is most fortuitous. I want you to take over as commander of our defense here at Moigh Hall.” He raised his brow in question. “If it pleases you, that is.”

“It does.” Hunter straightened. “I’ll speak with Angus yet this day. Might you consider keeping him on for a bit? I’d like to have the benefit of his experience and training while making the transition.”

“
’Tis wise to do so,” Malcolm said. “I have no objections to such an arrangement.”

“I . . . I am grateful to you.” Hunter cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump so he could speak. “Words aren’t enough to—”

“Nonsense. You’ve earned the post.” Malcolm leaned back in his chair and studied him. “When first you became my foster son, I told your ma you’d grow to be a fine man and an asset to our clan.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “As usual, I was right.”

A strangled laugh broke free from Hunter, and he relaxed. “There’s another matter I wish to speak to you about.” He took a breath for courage. “Do you recall the vow I made the day Sky was born?”

“I do.” Malcolm’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Our Helen has made similar vows. First she insisted she would marry her grandsire, and then she declared she would marry me.” He propped his elbows on the surface of the table. “You were a lad of but five, Hunter. ’Tis common for bairns to say such things. Now that I have raised you and six more, I can attest to this. We dinna—”

“The vow I made means every bit as much to me now as it did then.” Hunter gripped the arms of the chair. “I am asking for your permission to court her. I am asking that I might make my intentions clear to Sky.”

Malcolm’s brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched.

“I ken I have no title and no land, but Sky holds land as part of her dowry, does she no’? Marrying me will keep it in the family. I have earned a small fortune with which to support her, and—”

“Hunter.” Malcolm grew solemn. “You were too young to understand or be aware of all that occurred when True and I wed.” He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “When the earl returned from London, he brought with him a contract for marriage he’d arranged between myself and the earl of Mar’s daughter. I broke that contract.”

He met Hunter’s eyes, his mouth set in a straight line. “As you can imagine, hard feelings sprang up between our clan and theirs. To rectify the situation, we suggested a union between Sky Elizabeth and the earl of Mar’s oldest grandson. The earl of Mar is a powerful ally, and in these times, such alliances take on greater significance. His grandson will inherit the title eventually. I will no’ lie to you, lad—I would prefer my daughter, all of my daughters, wed men who will inherit. ’Tis what is best for our clan.”

Hunter’s heart pounded so hard his ears rang. His world, all his carefully laid plans began to crumble. “Is this what Sky wants?”

Malcolm shifted in his chair. “I have no’ asked her.”

Hunter sensed the ambiguity filling his foster father. He latched onto the uncertainty and regret emanating from Malcolm. “And if she objects?”

“Humph.” Malcolm’s expression softened. “I canna force her, and well you ken I willna stand in the way of my daughter’s happiness. Have you spoken to Sky about this?”