The Highlander's Triumph (4 page)

“What is it?” she whispered, her French accent muted somewhat by her breathy tone.

“Ye are safe here,” he said with extra gruffness, even puffed out his chest, though he felt like a complete arse.

Mariana studied his face, a small quirk to her lips. Now he felt like a complete imbecile. She’d found him out, and thought it amusing.

“I know. You told me already.”

Curse it!
Brandon nodded. “Well, then, ye’ve told me about Ross and King Edward. Is there anything else I should relay to Wallace?”

Mariana’s brow
crinkled, and she gazed off in the distance, then slowly nodded.

“I
must return to King Edward.”

Brandon did his best not to show
his surprise. He frowned and leaned closer, trying to look intimidating. Most men would have been cowed by his stern gaze alone, but his attempt to scare her with his size and proximity didn’t work. Mariana stared at him as though he were nothing more than a flower she wished to pluck.

“Why?” he asked.

She shrugged. “He is expecting my return. Ross expected me to relay word of Wallace’s arrival to Kinterloch. If I don’t return, they will become suspicious.”

Brandon nodded slowly. What she said made sense, but he still wouldn’t allow it.

“We will let them think you perished in the fire.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, drawing his attention. His cock tightened with need, but his mind whirled with what that small hint of body language could mean. Was she lying? ’Haps she only said these things to trick him.
Did she want to return to the king?

A sudden thought made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut. What if Mariana was a lot closer to Ross and King Edward tha
n he thought? A lover perhaps? Why else would a French woman of noble birth be visiting a Scot who betrayed his country—
and
one sent by the English king?

Ballocks!

The thought had not occurred to him before and now he felt like a complete moron. This woman had tricked him. Played him for a fool. She may have succeeded this go around, but there wouldn’t be a next time. He would play her game, and see just where it led. And he’d keep the information to himself.

Mariana spoke, interrupting his revelation. “Do you think such a ploy will work?”

“It seems to me that any ploy can work with the right amount of believable deceit.”

Mariana raised a brow, perhaps wondering if he was referring to her current deception. Then again, he had no proof
as of yet.

“Very well.”
She bowed her head. “I would be pleased to accept your protection.”

Now it was Brandon’s turn to raise a brow. He
had
offered to keep her safe… But to what extent did she think his offer of protection went? To some, protection was an offer of marriage. That was the last bloody thing Brandon was offering, even if the wedding night would bring to fruition her naked length beneath him. Desire fired in his blood, making him feel as though his skin were afire. Her lips were so plush, red, kissable.

He gritted his teeth.
Marriage was
not
on the table. Now was no time to be thinking about kissing or bedding the woman. She was most likely his enemy, and he wasn’t about to put himself in a compromising and vulnerable position, even if his cock was telling him otherwise.

“Verra well, my lady, consider yourself under my protection.” He pressed his lips together before he offered for her to be under him completely.

Brandon hurried to stand, shifting his sporran from the side of his hip over his cock to hide his current state. Her eyes were like pools of seduction. A simple glance and he was ready to drop to his knees and yank her to the ground beneath him.

She reached out
, her sleeve falling back to reveal her arm, long and slender, as she handed him his flask of wine. A wee bit lighter than when he’d passed it to her. Or was it? He was having trouble thinking straight. Lady Mariana was most likely going to be a thorn in his arse until the day they parted ways.

“Many thanks, Laird Sinclair. I promise you won’t regret it.”
She batted her eyelashes, and quirked a seductive smile.

He grunted. Regret was something he was most certain he’d feel when this was all said and done.

Chapter Four

M
ariana watched Brandon retreat from her presence. He looked disturbed, and she could guess at several reasons why—he felt the attraction that burned a path through her veins, had guessed she was the English king’s mistress, or most likely, he sensed their enemy’s approach.

His gait was strong, confident, a swagger to his hips that gave character to his powerful form. Broad of shoulder and back, narrow at the hip,
Brandon was all brawn. Mariana could do nothing more than stare after him. The wicked thought of seducing him more than just a niggle in her mind. How would she go about it? Sneak into his tent tonight when it appeared all others had fallen sleep? Wait until they arrived at the castle, and then climb naked between his sheets to wait until he came to his bed chamber? Both were bad ideas—she could very well end up in the wrong man’s bed.

What was she thinking?
Seducing Laird Sinclair was not an option. In truth, she had to figure out a way to return to King Edward’s camp, or at the very least locate Ross. She wouldn’t tell them the truth. The fact that she’d met both Sinclair and Wallace would forever remain a secret, trapped forever on her lips. Mariana didn’t have a cruel or evil bone in her body. This was not
her
war. She might make something up to throw the English and that Scots bastard off their trail. But Edward prized her companionship—he’d not let her simply disappear. Had he not requested her for his mistress upon seeing her in France? Nearly got into a duel over her gracing his bed, too. In fact, the entire debacle had been an embarrassment she’d never live down. In the end, she’d been pleased to leave France so she wouldn’t have to face those who’d witnessed her shame.

Becoming a mistress to powerful men had never been her choice. She was merely a pawn stuck in a game of chess she’d never be free of. Indeed, King Edward would never let her go.
Her charred remains would be searched out, and he knew how resourceful she could be. Mariana was certain that in his gut, Edward would know she’d run away.

The price of her freedom would not be more Scottish lives. She wouldn’t allow it. Perhaps the life she’d been given was a test of her fortitude or penance for coveting the life of her sister.
They’d not been close growing up, which made Mariana’s sting of jealousy all the more painful. Margot had been offered for
after
Mariana became the French king’s mistress. She had a handsome, wealthy, noble husband. They had beautiful children. Love. Happiness. A family. All things Mariana wished for, but did not have, and most likely never would. She was barren. Never in the last eight years had life quickened within her womb.

Without a husband, and with a soiled reputation.
Love was out of the question. Who could love someone with such a tarnished past? It was time to face facts, she would never know true happiness. The only way she would ever marry is if she were given to someone as gift from the king. The idea of being someone’s compensation made her tremble.

With a hard swallow, Marian
a turned her attention away from her bitter thoughts and focused on the camp. She again took note of the guards, ever alert. Brandon had joined Wallace and Ronan. Julianna, too, was with them and kept throwing Mariana suspicious glances.

There seemed to be no
chance of escape just yet. But the sun was dimming, turning the area within their camp grey. Darkness would be upon them soon enough, then perhaps her chance to disappear within the forest would surface.

Until then, she’d have to settle in and wait. Several tents had been erected, but she’d not been given one.
Would they make her sleep outdoors? She prayed not. ’Twas nearing spring, but the temperature still bespoke of winter, and with the sun’s weak warmth gone, the night was sure to be close to freezing.

Mariana shuddered and burrowed deeper within her cloak and Brandon’s. The wool of his garment was soft, inviting and smelled of him—woodsy, smoky and a tang of masculine spice. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing his scent in deeply. Her entire body tingled from it. Odd that a man’s scent could have
that effect on her, like a potent tonic, the intent to intoxicate and draw in a victim. Mariana was that victim, totally beholden to this man’s fragrance.

Oh,
mon dieu!

There was something wrong with her.

Mariana pushed from the log, every muscle screaming as she slowly stood. Her movements caught the attention of half the camp. Some of the men gawked and the only other woman—Julianna—frowned. Mariana was sure the men’s reaction was due to the soot covering her face and hair.

A cursory glance told her there wasn’t water nearby, but she desperately wanted to wash her face. She slid her hands from within the confines of her cloak. They were dirty with soot, her nails black. The sight made her stomach churn. Mariana couldn’t stand having dirty hands.
A pet peeve of hers. No one in her service, nor any man she entertained, was allowed to touch her without clean hands.

She tried to think
about Brandon’s hands. Were they clean? Odd, but she couldn’t recall. They must have been, for she wouldn’t have let a dirty man hold her in his arms.

Granted, she wasn’t exactly being held in his arms. He rescued her, and she pretended to faint so she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. Keeping her eyes closed, exhaustion
had overtaken her and she had truly fallen asleep. She frowned, realizing at the last minute that her unseeing gaze had settled on Julianna. Luckily, the woman had turned away and not taken note of her.

With a deep sigh, she made a mental not
e to be more aware of her facial expressions and surroundings. At court, her face hurt from the constant demure smile or flat affect. When she wasn’t surrounded by such formality, she tended to fall into a comfortableness with herself and wasn’t on edge. Not entirely bad, except for right now she was within a camp filled with people who would consider her their enemy if they knew the truth.

Fear clawed at her spine.

“Can I get
ye something?” One of the guards stepped from his post to speak to her. His form was tense, stiff, as though he thought she might strike him.

Mariana gifted him with one of her flirtatious smiles—the one she used when King Edward was ranting about the Scots. “Thank you,
monsieur
, but I only wanted to find a creek to wash my hands and face.” She held out her hands, showing the soot, and hoping to gain his pity.

He nodded.
“Just a dozen or so yards that way.” He pointed behind her.

Before the man could change h
is mind, she dipped him a curtsy and rushed into the trees. Two yards in, she was tripping over the copious amount of fabric that was Brandon’s cloak. A disgruntled growl left her lips as she yanked it from beneath her feet, and then from a branch it had caught on—and a loud tearing sound rent the air.

“
Mon dieu
!” she snapped.

Mariana carefully pulled the fabric from the branch and examined the damage. A jagged three inch tear.
She exhaled, annoyed that her clumsiness had ruined his cloak. Well, she’d have to apologize and then promptly ask for needle and thread. Though she wasn’t the best at sewing, a tear this size couldn’t be too hard to repair.

Gathering the billowing fabric in her arms, she trudged forward in search of the
stream the guard mentioned. She could hear water trickling and knew she was getting close. She quickened her pace, but an odd feeling had her stopping mid-stride.

The hair
raised on the back of her neck and gooseflesh covered her arms. Her breath quickened. She sensed she was being watched, but the feeling was menacing, as if she were going to be pounced on.

Trying to breathe evenly, and not succeeding, she glanced around
several trees. There was nothing untoward in sight. But Mariana wasn’t stupid enough to think that an enemy who intended her harm would simply show themselves. That would be as unwise as her undressing and standing nude in front of a bunch of lusty warriors. Nay, the feeling skating uneasily along her limbs was that of prey being stalked by an animal of higher power.

Soot be damned, she was going back to camp. Perhaps Brandon had returned from his chat with Wallace and would escort her
back to the water.

Brandon stood in a tight circle with
Wallace, Ronan and Julianna, the latter of whom kept tossing suspicious glances behind him to the spot where he’d left Mariana. It took all of his willpower not to look. Irritation bit at the edges of his nerves, but truthfully he couldn’t blame Julianna. The warrior-woman was usually right. She had great instincts and wouldn’t be the Bruce’s personal guard if she wasn’t. And as much as he hated to admit it, Brandon was beginning to believe there was something not quite right about Mariana’s situation. But, he wanted to be the one who handled it—not Julianna. Best to catch the woman off guard. He’d found Mariana and he would get to the bottom of her secrets…and possibly steal a kiss or four in the process.

Clearing his throat, Brandon glanced at Wallace who nodded.
“She’s spoken of Ross,” Brandon told the small group. They’d moved out of hearing distance from anyone else, but even still he glanced over their shoulders to make certain no one had tried to sneak closer—namely Mariana. The lass knew he was going to speak to them about her situation, but he’d rather she not hear it. “She reported that Ross has gone. He fled after setting the fire, with instructions for her to remain behind and report back to him, as well as an army in the eastern woods and the bait ye found by the burn.”

“And no others?”
Ronan asked skeptically.

Brandon
narrowed his brows, pressed his lips together. “There were others, she said. But they perished in the fires. She was trying to help, but eventually ran, and that’s when we found her.”

“Who is she?”
Ronan crossed his arms over his chest, the way he did when trying to determine a puzzle.

“I dinna know yet, but I do believe her,” Brandon said
, glad his voice did not belie his true feelings. He believed most of what she said,  that many had perished, and that she’d been left behind by Ross. But there was so much left unanswered—that was where he doubted her, in the shades of gray she left smudged and filled with mystery.

Ronan frowned and Julianna continued her hard stares in Mariana’s direction.
Lord how he wanted to turn, to see if Mariana was cowering or glaring back.

Ronan said,
“Did she tell you why she’s turned against Longshanks? Obviously she was close to him, if he chose her to relay his message.”

Brandon shook his head, frown deepening
. “She did not go into more detail than to say she could no longer do his bidding in good conscience. I
trust
that she’s turned a new leaf.” He emphasized trust. Mariana may have told half-truths, but she wasn’t dangerous. Not as long as she was with them. The danger from Mariana wasn’t physical, but more what she might whisper into the wrong ear.

Julianna was quick to
respond. “But how can ye trust her? Ye barely know her.” Her voice held an edge of suspicion. “Ye want her,” she muttered under her breath, so Brandon just barely caught it.

“
’Tis a fact, ye are correct that we only just met”—he wasn’t going to let her know how much he wanted Mariana—“but there is something in her eyes. She’s no danger to us here.”