The Trouble with Highlanders (10 page)

She shouldn't be envious, and yet she was.

Which was childish. It was like wishing she were born a princess without ever knowing one or listening to the demands such a royal daughter had to endure. No one's life was free of responsibility. Norris might not want for food or a warm fire, but he was accompanied everywhere he went and had no doubt been raised on strict lectures about what he was expected to achieve because of who his parents were. Even Bacchus did not come freely. A raptor gave its loyalty only to the master who trained it. Norris must tend to the bird, else it would not have come to him.

Yet
he
seeks
ye
out…

It was a humbling thought and one that warmed her heart. She climbed back into the cart to avoid looking at Norris while thinking about him. The task proved more difficult than she'd imagined. Her back protested. Pain tore through her when she tried to lean over to duck beneath the cover. She had to hold her breath, only to lose it in a long hiss as she crawled into the makeshift tent. She collapsed onto the pillows, grateful for the flaps to shield her pride. Sweat had popped out on her forehead from the agony.

“That is why I did nae allow ye to ride,” Norris muttered softly from beside her feet. She lifted her head and glared at him when he peeked inside. “The pounding would have been torment for ye.”

“I'd have endured.”

The scent of roasted rabbit tickled her nose, and her belly rumbled. He offered her a stick with a steaming portion of meat on it.

“There is ale in the basket, to help with the pain.”

The flap dropped back into place the moment she'd taken the meat.

“Norris…”

He nudged the flap back, just enough to look in at her. His expression shamed her, for it was clear he expected her to argue with him.

“Thank ye.”

For a moment, his stony expression softened. He looked as though he even appreciated her gratitude, but she didn't have long to consider just what she saw in his green eyes. He gave a short nod and dropped the flap again.

The light faded quickly, and the men did not keep the fires going. Soon it was pitch black inside the cart, with only a dull glow from the moon. But with her belly full, it was easy to slip into sleep. She pulled her arisaid up and over her head, shook out the folds that had been secured to her waist all day, and used it as a blanket. The pillows helped keep her back warm, but as the night grew colder, she shivered.

The wind was blowing down from the north, heralding the approach of winter. Her teeth began to chatter, and she gripped a pillow tighter against her chest. She pulled her knees up, curling around it to try and get warm, but her body shivered more violently.

“Here now, lass… What ails ye?”

She was half-asleep when Norris swept the flap aside.

“I'm well enough.” But she couldn't stop her teeth from chattering.

“Ye're thin and injured,” he pronounced in a soft voice. “I should have realized the night air would cut into ye.”

“I'll endure… well enough.”

“Aye, we will.”

She lifted her head at the use of the word “we.” The cart rocked when he climbed in and set his sword along the side. There was suddenly not enough space, but she could feel his body heat.

“Come here, Daphne. We'll argue later about why ye do nae want me near.”

He gathered her close, touching her gently until he was pressed along her back. The man radiated heat. It felt like she was soaking it up, her body eager for more.

“Why…”

He smoothed his hand over her lips, silencing her. “We'll nae sleep long, and ye need yer strength to continue to make me dance once we've made it to Dunrobin.”

“I am nae making ye dance.”

She wanted to stay awake, but her body was warm, and she yawned. Sleep was suddenly very easy to fall into. His scent filled her senses, granting her a contentment she felt only when he slept next to her. She flattened her hands against the arm he had draped over her waist and lost the battle to stay awake.

***

“Aye, ye are making me dance to yer tune,” Norris muttered once slumber had settled over her. He drew in a deep breath, savoring the scent of her skin. Sleep eluded him. Thoughts of Daphne kept him awake.

He should be frustrated. Instead he was amused by his emotions. They were insistent and impossible to shake. The only thing he feared was that Daphne didn't harbor any feelings for him. He wouldn't be the first man she'd refused. Neither would it be the first time she'd left him.

His arm tightened around her waist momentarily before he realized he was responding. He had no idea how much further his feelings might go, but he would find out soon enough. Even if Daphne spit in his eye the entire way.

***

Norris left at dawn. At least that's what the man called it. Daphne rubbed her eyes, and with nothing but a faint pink glow on the horizon, stumbled from the cart to relieve herself. The Sutherland retainers were all massaging their horses' legs to get the animals ready to ride.

Her back ached, but she still stopped and looked longingly at one of the horses burdened with her clothing.

Maybe
she
could
ride…

The choice was taken from her as Gahan swept her right off her feet. She sputtered, but he carried her the last few paces to the cart and deposited her inside it while his men held the flaps open. The man had the audacity to tug on the corner of his bonnet before flashing her a smirk.

“I can ride well enough,” she informed him. But the cart jerked and began moving forward. He swung up onto the back of his stallion and dug his heels into its side to send it galloping up to the front of the line where Norris was.

She settled for hitting a pillow, but the soft impact offered her little satisfaction. The cart rumbled over the ruts in the road, making her scoot back into the corner to brace herself. The sun rose, and she enjoyed the warmth on her skin. By midafternoon, she'd taken shelter beneath the canopy to avoid getting sunburned, but the chill returned the moment the sun began to set.

Tonight the men did not hunt. They pushed on, lashing the cart to two horses when the road became steeper. The animals snorted with the effort but dug their hooves into the rocky ground that took her cart farther north.

She heard the village and pulled a corner of the canopy aside at the front of the cart to see it. The bells in the church began to ring, several of them, confirming just how well-off the Sutherlands were. The church was a sweeping structure, built in the shape of a huge cross, and rose several stories into the air.

But Dunrobin Castle dwarfed it. It was a true castle, not like MacLeod Tower. This had three large keeps, protected by a curtain wall. She could hear the sea behind it. Every ten feet along the curtain wall, the dark shapes of cannons reflected the light from the torches. In the darkness, it looked black with only the orange fire dancing along its stone surface.

In spite of the lateness of the hour, people came out of their homes to line the road. Children tumbled out of their beds, wearing nothing but their shirts, to wave as the retainers went by. The women pointed at the cart, turning their heads to watch it pass. The village was large, and people ran down the cobblestone-paved roads to see their laird's son returning.

Norris was a prince here.

He raised a hand and waved, even tugging on the corner of his bonnet when he made eye contact with an elder of the clan. His people cheered, while in the distance she heard the large gate that secured the curtain wall begin grinding its way up.

The sound of the horses' hooves clattering over the stones echoed loudly as they made their way beneath the gate. Even the inner yard was paved with cobblestones. It didn't stink, telling her the Sutherlands did indeed have wealth, for they had enough servants to see to the removal of animal waste.

“It's good to be home, lads!” Norris declared.

His men cheered as they dismounted.

“And fine it is to have me son home!” a new voice offered, one cracked by age. Everyone turned to look at the top of the stairs that led into the center keep.

“Thank ye for the welcome, Father.” Norris inclined his head toward the gray-haired man standing there. He was leaning on a cane, but there was still a sharpness to his eyes.

Every man in the yard offered the laird a tug on his bonnet before they set about taking their horses through an arched opening to the right of the keep. The animals pranced happily, clearly recognizing their home.

She was the only one not at home. Daphne hesitated at the edge of the cart, unsure of what to do. It would be foolish to stay inside the cart as if it offered some sort of protection, but she was also loath to step boldly forward as if she were arriving as some sort of honored guest. She wasn't sure what she was.

“Here, mistress.”

One of the retainers had handed off his horse to a boy and was now offering her his hand. Another one did the same, giving her no more time for lingering. They lifted her up the moment she placed her hands in theirs, neither one of them content with just her hand. They slid their hands to her wrist for a more secure hold and used their greater strength to whisk her out of the cart.

Men watched from the top of the wall, some of them pointing at her the moment her dress made it clear she was a woman. There was enough light from the torches to show off her MacLeod arisaid. As well as the bruises on her face.

“May I present Daphne MacLeod, Father.”

The retainers helping her relinquished their hold the moment they'd guided her near Norris. “Lytge Sutherland.”

She lowered herself, not truly thinking about it, but the motion had been instilled in her since childhood. The earl peered at her, studying her face for a long time before grunting.

“MacLeods are welcome here.” He turned, the frailty of his body evident in his faltering steps. But he waved away the men who tried to offer him assistance.

Norris captured her hand and led her up the steps to the doorway of the keep. It was a huge, arched entrance, with ten full steps to climb before reaching the landing.

“I need to speak with me father,” Norris muttered softly. “This is Asgree, head of house at Dunrobin. She'll see to ye.”

He lifted her hand to his lips, bestowing a kiss on the back of it while the head of house looked on. A line of maids stood neatly behind the woman, and they smothered their giggles. Norris winked at her then tugged on the corner of his bonnet and followed his father. For just a moment she watched the firelight dance off the hilt of his sword, where it was secured across his back the same as any of his men. The longer folds of his kilt swayed as he moved rapidly to catch up with his father.

“I should think a bath would suit ye well.”

Daphne turned her attention back to Asgree, grateful for the darkness, because it hid the color staining her cheeks. She chided herself for getting caught staring at Norris like a besotted fool—or an enchanted mistress. The older woman hid her thoughts behind a pleasant expression, but her eyes were full of knowledge.

“Yes, thank ye.”

Daphne still found it hard to walk through the massive doorway, because it felt like a surrender of sorts.

Like admitting she was Norris's mistress.

She shuffled her feet and earned a sidelong look from Asgree. The maids were still standing in a line, their heads all covered by linen caps that looked ironed. They wore matching household livery, to keep strangers from easily infiltrating the earl's staff.

“Are ye stiff from the journey?” Asgree asked.

Daphne shook her head and cringed when she heard the gate being lowered back into place. There was nowhere to go but in, so she stepped over the threshold. Candles illuminated the inside of the keep. There were stairs to the right and an entrance to the great hall on the left. The scent of bread lingered from supper, making her mouth water. Her belly rumbled long and loud.

“There will be stew from supper and fruit, fresh from the harvest,” Asgree extended her hand toward a smaller doorway near the base of the stairs. “I think we should wash yer hair first, so it might dry while ye're breaking yer fast.”

“Thank ye.” Daphne lowered herself out of habit, earning a curious look from the head of house.

“Ye are me laird's guest. But I see ye have pretty manners. Such a thing is a skill many forget to value.”

But it was clear from her tone she thought Daphne was there to warm his bed and nothing more. Clearly, she wasn't the first woman Norris had brought home. Or was she? There was no way to know except to ask him.

And
what
will
ye
do
if
he
tells
ye
there
have
been
no
others?

What indeed. It was tempting to smile, because the idea pleased her. Asgree led her through the doorway and down a section of steps to a hallway. The candles were lit in the sconces, their yellow flames dancing as the women walked by and disturbed the air. The scent of beeswax spoke of the means of the Sutherlands once again, because, even here, there were no tallow candles, only the best beeswax.

Asgree snapped her fingers, and two of the maids grabbed up their skirts so they might hurry ahead. The girls pulled open the doors that led to the bathhouse. Daphne could smell the water, but it wasn't dank. There was a slight scent of lye and rosemary but no mold.

“The men have their own bathhouse near the stables. We will nae be disturbed.” Asgree snapped her fingers again, and the maids began to prepare a large tub. It had been stored against the wall so water would not pool in its bottom. They placed it on the floor and pushed it toward a large hearth. Another girl was adding wood to the hearth and pushing it into the ash. She picked up a bellows and blew air into the coals until they flashed with a bright yellow flame. The wood popped as it caught, and soon the room was brighter.