Finding My Highlander (14 page)

Her eyes filled with tears and she lowered her lids hiding from his gaze, bewildered at her behavior. “I don’t want to earn a poor opinion from you. I don’t…I mean, I’m not…a loose woman. I have not been with a man since….” She paused, why did she suddenly feel the need to explain herself to him?

“Let me just say it’s been many long and empty years.” She took a deep breath, “I am embarrassed at how easily you have breached my defenses.”

Chuckling, he kissed her temple and gently pulled her into an embrace. “Do not fash yourself, Andra. ‘Tis I who should apologize for taking inappropriate liberties. It is out of the norm for me as well, you ken.” He held her away from him and studied her intently then stood and extended his hand to her.

Raising her to her feet, he draped his arm around her shoulders. “You are right, I am not behaving properly, and I should not press demands on you and take advantage of your vulnerability. Let us take our time, get to know each other better.”

Andra could barely look at his lovely face. She didn’t know how to handle this passionate reaction. Considering the situation, her behavior shocked and embarrassed her, especially in the glaring light of day. Everything she’d read about this time period suggested she’d be condemned for her forward behavior. Then again, sexual congress outside of marriage had been going on since the dawn of man. Maybe the societal mores often alluded to in books were overly presumptuous about women’s chastity throughout time. Still, she couldn’t argue that she seemed to be doing everything wrong and failed miserably at corralling her suddenly liberated libido. This passion, though magnificent, would most likely hurt her in the end.

As though he recognized her discomfort, he adroitly changed the subject. “The storm is moving in, we’d best return before the rain starts.”

Chapter Twenty-One

For the next week or so, Andra lost track of time as one day morphed into the next with easy routine. Awake before dawn, she repeated the exercises she’d begun on the day she determined to get back in shape. She offered her services wherever she could around the keep. Working with Jane making salves and herbal-scented creams and soaps became her favorite job. In the evenings, she joined the family at the dais engaging those around her in congenial conversation. The children often talked her into telling stories or singing a goodnight lullaby.

Kendrick’s duties took him away during the day and sometimes overnight. They had not spoken of their last outing and nor had he engaged her again. She longed for him to come to her, but at least they were on cordial terms.
That was good, wasn’t it
?

When in the keep, she could feel Kendrick’s presence and knew he tracked her movements as well. In all probability, no one missed his or her frequent furtive glances. Every night his footsteps halted outside her door, and every night he moved on to his own room and left her undisturbed. Then he would suddenly disappear for a few days.

Some days later, Andra walked beyond the castle walls for the first time, apart from her ride with Kendrick. She went with Jane and Isabel in search of the wild herbs that Jane said grew in a field adjacent the village.

A sudden ruckus near one of the cottages drew Andra’s attention to a man knocking a young woman to the ground. The woman, a girl really, perhaps only sixteen or seventeen, her lip already swollen and bleeding cowered with her arms wrapped over her head. A brute of a man continued to lash blows on her even after she’d fallen. Andra sprinted ahead and stood in front of the woman. Arms up, hands tilted in front of her, she yelled, “Back off, mister. What do you think you are doing?”

A shocked expression flashed over his face as he took a momentary step back. Fury quickly replaced his astonishment. He spit at her feet. “How dare ye speak to me, ye whoring Sassenach. I’ll treat my woman as I see fit, and ye’ll stay out of me way, or I’ll smack ye as well.”

Isabel and Jane collectively gasped and called for Andra to return to them. Ignoring their pleas, she stood firm. She also ignored his slur. The derogatory term didn’t surprise her. It didn’t please her either. Unfortunately, rumormongers here would not differ from anywhere else; but it did heighten her indignation. “I don’t think so, buster. She’s just a girl, and that is no way to treat a woman of any age. What could she have possibly done to deserve such a brutal beating?”

“That’s none of your concern,” he snarled, puffing out his chest and stepping forward in a threatening manner.

She could smell the whisky on him. He was drunk. She spoke to the woman while keeping her eyes on the man. “Get up and go to the healer.”

He pointed his finger at the woman. “If ye get up, ye’ll nae be returning to this house.”

Visibly shaken the woman seemed unable to respond. “Get up and go to Jane!” Andra commanded more forcefully.

“Ye’ll nae be ordering my woman aboot, ye filthy Sassenach.” He swung his arm to punch her. She effectively blocked the punch, though the block would result in a hefty bruise on her arm, and managed to flip him on his back. He kicked out and knocked her off her feet. By then, the guard who had been following the women at a discreet distance arrived, unsheathing his sword with a whistling hiss, which he pressed to the man’s throat.

“Dinnae move or you’ll taste my sword, you bastard. You’ll answer to the laird when he returns.”

That brought their outing to a swift, immediate conclusion. Andra refused to leave the woman with the man and dragged her back to the keep with them.

Vera, who had witnessed the fracas on her return to the castle, had obviously run ahead and informed Beatrice, because the laird’s mother and Lorne were standing on the steps when they came into the bailey.

By the time they reached the entrance, Andra had learned that the woman’s name was Sile, and the man was her betrothed. The girl was barely sixteen, as she suspected. She went directly to Lorne and Beatrice and dipped into an awkward curtsy. “I witnessed this young girl being accosted and intervened on her behalf. My apologies for bringing her here without your permission, but I could not leave her under the circumstances.”

* * *

Lorne shook his head, struggling to suppress a smile. Then he noticed Andra’s clothing, dirty with leaves and sticks stuck to her gown, and a large tear along the hem and one sleeve. Her hair looked like she’d rolled in the dirt, and it tumbled around her shoulders in disarray. The smile left his face immediately. When Kendrick returned and learned of this altercation, all hell would break loose. “Come into the keep, and we will discuss the matter.” He ordered everyone inside.

Isabel, Jane, and Sile were visibly upset. Beatrice turned to her son. “I’ll take them to my rooms and learn what they have to say about the matter. They should not stay here under everyone’s scrutiny.”

“Nae, let us all go to Kendrick’s solar to discuss the matter. Have one of the servants bring warm cider and wine.”

They had barely disclosed details of the event when thundering footsteps slammed down the hall. The door banged against the wall, and Kendrick entered with Rabbie and Struan close on his heels, still dirty, and sweaty from their activities of the day.

“News here travels faster than on YouTube,” Andra groaned. Lorne glanced at her quizzically, but did not remark on her strange words because all eyes were riveted on their laird. A scowl covered Kendrick’s face and tension flew off him in heated waves.

“Join us, Kendrick.” Lorne said to his brother, keeping his voice calm. “It seems there has been an altercation with this young lady and her intended,” he waved his hand toward Sile, “and Andra saw fit to intervene for her safety.”

* * *

“So I have heard.” He crossed his thick arms over his chest and scowled at everyone in the room, noting the young girl’s swollen face covered with bruises and her lip crusted with blood.

His mother, always calm and cool during times of distress, rose gracefully to greet him. “Won’t you take refreshment, son? Wine or whisky?”

“Whisky, thank you, Mother.” Glaring at the group he continued, “Someone better start explaining the situation.”

Before anyone could utter a sound, Isabel ran into her brother’s arms. “It was terrible, Kendrick. We found this poor lass being sorely mistreated by her drunken, crazed betrothed. Andra stepped in to save her. She was magnificent. You would’ve been verra proud.”

He raised his eyebrows at his sister, and patted her back. “Shush Isabel, you are safe now.” With a smoldering glare, he turned his face to Andra.

“Mother, I think the young ladies have had enough excitement for one day. Please escort them to their quarters. Sile will stay in the women’s solar for the night.”

Beatrice handed a cup of whisky to Kendrick then ushered the girls from the room. Isabel dipped a shy glance at Rabbie as they exited. When Andra rose to leave, he pointed at her, “You, stay.”

Lorne and the guard reiterated the story. “Shall we put the man in the dungeon for a day to dry out, brother?”

“Aye, that would be best. Struan will see to it. We’ll discuss what to do with the man once he sobers up. Meanwhile, I’d like to speak with Andra privately.”

When Lorne passed his brother, he placed a hand on his shoulder, “She was only trying to help. She’s been away from the Highlands for a verra long time. Besides, you ken you have said repeatedly that no man should raise a hand in anger to a woman. Any one of us would have done as she did.”

Kendrick grunted in response as his men left the room.

With a hard edge to his voice, he addressed Andra, “With a guard nearby why did ye not wait for his assistance?”

“He did assist me. Initially however, he was too far away from us for me to wait. The brute was huge and beating that poor girl. I couldn’t stand by and allow that to continue. And I would step in again if I came upon it tomorrow.” She stubbornly lifted her chin, making it clear she would not apologize for her action.

He took three wide steps across the room and pulled her into his embrace, cradling her head in one large hand the other one splayed across the small of her back. “You’re going to be the death of me. You could have been seriously injured or killed. What possessed you to step between a drunken man and his woman? Come to me first, or to Lorne, Rabbie, Struan, or one of the other men. You mustn’t put yourself at such risk, do you understand me?”

She laid her head on his shoulder. A bone-weary sigh escaped her throat. “I think I’m very tired and need a bath. We can discuss this later, can we not?”

He held her away from his chest and she winced at the pressure of his hand over her arm. When he pushed up her torn sleeve and saw a bruise already purpling, he stepped back and noticed the other damage to her gown. His nostrils flared and a battle roar shook the rafters. “I will kill the man myself.”

She laid a calming hand to his chest. “No, Kendrick, I’m fine. It’s just a bruise. He inflicted no serious damage, he was drunk, and he’s a brute. But you needn’t kill him.”

How had this slip of a woman managed to unleash his protective and possessive nature to a finely honed lance he’d gladly wield against anyone intending her harm? “You must promise me you’ll never do that again, Andra.”

“I am capable of protecting myself, but I’ll come to one of you first, if that’s possible.”

“Nae Andra, not if. You must always come to one of us. That is nonnegotiable. Our ways may not be what you’re accustomed to. A man has the right to do with his wife as he sees fit, but I will not abide brutality toward women and bairns in my clan. Still, you must not interfere. Do you understand me?”

She hugged him tightly, then stepped away, placing a cool hand to his cheek. “My honorable, fierce Highlander,” she smiled up at him and with a sweet, tired voice said, “I think I need to rest now.”

He recognized the avoidance tactic, but she did look exhausted so he dropped the subject for now. He offered her his arm and escorted her to her room. “Shall I stay with you, Andra?”

“No, I think I need some time to myself. I’d like to retire early.”

He had hoped she would invite him into her room, but he would not force himself on her. When she closed the door, he placed his hand on the hard surface, trying to quell the equally hard shaft between his legs. Just smelling her lemon-mint scent was enough to unhinge him. It took all his restraint to keep from going to the dungeon to rip apart, with his bare hands, the man who had injured Andra. How dare any man in his clan touch her with violence? He truly felt murderous at the thought. Staying with her would be a far more preferable and enjoyable release from his frustration.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Every night he found himself outside her door, hard and throbbing, wanting to enter her room and her body. Every night he left her undisturbed. He woke early every day and walked the parapets to observe her exercises. He engaged in fierce practice sessions with his men and took even harder rides, punishing every horse in the stables. He wanted her, more than he wished to admit. But his father and the elders would resist his marriage to an unknown with no clan ties. Her Cameron surname would also raise suspicion in many minds.

Almost a week had passed since the incident outside the village, and they had not been together for more than a few brief moments each day he was at the keep. Though always courteous, even flirtatious at times, their encounters never progressed to anything more. He’d tell himself it was best to stay away from her; the relationship shouldn’t progress further. However, that was a lie, and he knew it. He intentionally avoided her despite a throbbing urgency that robbed him of his sleep and interfered with nearly every waking moment.

He felt like a foolish, green lad courting his first lass. That feeling was beyond bizarre considering the passion they had already shared. What did this desire mean exactly? Most of the time, he craved her with unreserved lust. Yet when he thought about them together, he longed to have the spitfire as a permanent part of his life. What did she want from him? Not permanence it seemed. He often caught her staring into the distance with a sad, yearning expression on her face. And as yet, she had failed to disclose anything to help him understand the dilemma and mystery of her presence.

The next morning when Andra entered the bailey just before dawn, Kendrick watched as one of his young warriors approached her. They engaged in an easy banter. He could tell she attempted to cajole the lad into something. The crystal peal of her laughter drifted on the morning air as clear as a chime even from the distance he stood. A jolt of jealousy gripped him so savagely he nearly fell over the wall.

To his amazement, she engaged the man in hand-to-hand combat. “God’s teeth! What possesses the lass to be so brazen?” Then he had to cover a laugh as he watched her flip the man over her thrust out hip. “So that’s how she did it.”

Struan harrumphed coming to stand beside him. “Mayhap we should engage your wee banshee in our training practices. Her skills continue to improve and they were impressive to begin with.” Kendrick’s focus was so riveted on her activities that he hadn’t heard his friend’s approach.

“I think not.” Kendrick’s temper ratcheted up. “It seems I must stop her morning activities. It’s not good to have the lads too focused on her, especially if she can drop them with so little effort. ‘Twould cause no end of problems managing the men.” Why did Struan’s comment irritate him so much?

Struan laughed, “Seems to me it either speaks poorly of the lad’s skills, or quite highly of hers.”

The fact that Struan found the situation amusing provoked Kendrick. “Our men are the best-trained warriors in the Highlands and you ken it.”

“Mayhap you’re right though,” Struan continued, ignoring him, his usual scowl plastered over his face. “Next thing you ken other women will be in the bailey with their wee fists flailing aboot, challenging the men to duels.” Then he laughed again—a deep, rumbling sound. Kendrick could only stare at his friend in the throes of inexplicable humor.

Few people gained Struan’s praise, much less a woman. It surprised Kendrick to find the man champion Andra’s activities, even though he attempted to hide it under his bushy scowling brows.

Kendrick knew the guards also keenly followed her morning routine. Every day more guards walked the parapet to watch her target practice and exercise, and he found himself agitated and short tempered with all of them. However, to directly engage one of his men in her practices was unacceptable; the last straw. He shouldn’t have tolerated her unladylike behavior, but he had enjoyed watching her. He found her endlessly fascinating.

“I should have stopped this at the beginning,” he snarled. Racing down the stairs, he entered the lower bailey with purposeful strides. Unaware of his approach, she continued to parry and block blows with the lad.

“What de you think you are doing?” he growled. The lad, Michael, immediately dropped his arms and Andra landed a sharp blow to the young man’s midsection, bowling him over.

“What does it look like? We’re sparring,” she answered, with more than a little irritation in her voice.

“Our men dinnae spar with women. Leave the bailey, Michael,” he commanded with a growl. “Go polish and sharpen the blades.” He dismissed the lad with a wave of his hand while glaring at Andra.

“I’ve allowed this to go on long enough. I’ve made allowances for your behavior because you’re not a proper Highland lady, but you are not behaving like any lady I have ever known, from the Highlands or elsewhere. You will refrain from this undignified display henceforth.”

He raked his eyes over her lithe form and noted the skirt knotted to one side hiked above one knee. Even though she wore her tight trews underneath, this was not proper garb. So why did he find her attire so fetching, even a bit amusing? Even worse, why did he want to strangle every man who watched her?

He knew why. He had taken her body and that meant she was his and his alone. Yet that wasn’t true either. He had not taken her; she had presented herself to him. The first time, she had served herself up like a ripe, dewy peach on a platter of moonlight and pine scent. The second time was an equally satisfying, mutual coupling. She gave, he took. He gave, she took.

A snappish retort brought his focus back to the present moment. “Oh, that’s rich. I stand here in the wild Highlands where men are brutes who treat women with less regard than their horses, and you dare to tell me that it’s improper for a woman to strengthen her body or learn basic self-defense techniques because it’s not ladylike!”

A sheen of sweat covered her brow, her hands fisted at her hips; she near vibrated with a need to vent her anger and frustration. Moreover, she’d selected him as her target. “You think to chastise me and dictate whether I have the right to defend myself, yet you can’t even give me a proper greeting for days at a time. Well, think again, sir.”

“I’ll have you know, I am quite skilled in the art of self-defense. If I were you, I’d see that every woman and lass in this castle knew at least a few rudimentary techniques of self-defense, not to mention skill with a bow or at least with a dirk.” Her voice continued to rise precipitously. “What if one of your fine warriors or one of your enemies sets upon an unsuspecting woman wishing to do her harm? Should she not have the right to defend herself?” Of course, she referred to the incident with Sile.

“Hold your wheesht.” He grabbed her arm, his fingers biting into her flesh, “You are not me, now are you? The women of my clan dinnae need to fear for their safety because my men ken their duties and protect the clan and dinnae abuse women in their care.”

She smacked his hand away, “No, I will not quiet. I am my own person, more than capable of making a few decisions as to what I should do to improve my health and strength in order to survive in this—”

She stopped herself mid-speech, and he wondered what else she’d almost revealed. In her anger, she had disclosed much that made no sense to him. On the other hand, her father had probably taught her methods of self-defense for her safety as they traveled the world.

“You could hardly call what happened to Sile protection.” she hissed and jerked away stomping off toward the weapons shack.

Kendrick caught her in a few strides. “From this moment on you will confine yourself to the castle and duties of a proper lady.”

She raised her chin at him, “Maybe I’m not a lady. Maybe I don’t want to sit demurely sewing or tending to your every whim or the needs of your barbaric men. What then? You’ll cast me out—deem me unacceptable or damaged goods? Why can’t you just leave me alone if I don’t meet your high and mighty criteria of a proper lady? My workouts don’t interfere with other duties I have assumed in the keep. I have not heard any complaints.”

“There is much talk about you, lass, and some of it is not to your benefit.” Kendrick’s hand tightened on her arm. The speculation about her caused many raised eyebrows. After the confrontation over Sile, and everyone’s awareness of her morning exercises, the gossip had spun in every direction imaginable. Fortunately, she had charmed many clan members with her thoughtful interactions and quick willingness to lend a hand. Besides, a number of women had already expressed a dislike of Sile’s intended, so plenty of them praised her reaction in that matter. Still, he intended to squash further confrontations like this morning’s display and the gossip that would surely follow.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked to prevent them from spilling over her lashes and pelted him with a determined glare. “You’re hurting my arm—which proves my point. Please release me, and I’ll return to my room.”

He loosened his hold but did not release her completely. “You try my patience, Andra. Why must you constantly be obstinate and flaunt your differences? Dinnae you realize the harm it could cause you?”

She turned away from him, adopting that quiet stare that took her a million miles away. “Talk to me, Andra. Tell me what troubles you. Why do you feel the need to work yourself like a man training for battle?”

“That’s just it. It seems to me living
—,”
she paused, then heaved a heavy sigh dropping her shoulders as though defeat weighed them down. He felt her retract the words about to slip from her lips. When she spoke again, her voice barely lifted above a whisper. “Living in a world where every day you are faced with constant danger means everyone must be prepared for battle at all times, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Are you daft? Do you really think you could protect yourself against the likes of my men? Nae, you cannae. ‘Tis why you must do as I say. No woman could stand against a trained Highland warrior no matter how great her skill.”

Frustration creased her brow, “Never mind. It is clear you tire of your pledge to protect me. Since I do not fit snugly into your definition of a lady, I release you from any further obligation on my behalf. You needn’t concern yourself about my welfare.”

A flash of heated determination smoldered in her eyes. “However, listen well to me Kendrick; I will
not
cease my practice or workouts. If it is too distressing to you and your men, please advise where I might continue away from everyone’s observation.”

God’s teeth, she was pushing his last fiber of control. “You won’t defy me on this, Andra. You won’t go outside the keep unaccompanied, and you will desist with this uncomely display.”

“Then perhaps it is time I seek sanctuary elsewhere.” Andra broke from his grip and flew across the bailey and into the keep.

He watched her go, a war raging in him. He would not let her leave; of that, he was certain. He looked up to the parapet. Only Struan and Rabbie stood in view, the other men had wisely moved to the far corners and out of sight.

* * *

Later that day, as Andra approached the women’s solar, the earlier exchange between herself and Kendrick kept replaying in her mind. Why had she behaved like an angry shrew? She could not settle her thoughts. She wanted him with a fierceness that disquieted her. Her chest wrenched with a desperate need for Kendrick to want her as well. There was also a seething urge to smack the man. He had remained courteous, but aloof since their last sexual encounter. What? He hadn’t been satisfied? He certainly seemed more than satisfied at the time. By twenty-first century mores, many men would consider her behavior reserved, possibly even prudish. Yet here she didn’t fit the typical mold of an eighteenth century lady; she never would. Now he’d reprimanded her attempts to regain her full vigor. Of course, he could not understand her behavior; she barely understood it herself. More importantly, had her angry words this morning caused an irrevocable breach that would land her in far worse circumstances?

Once in the women’s solar, she fidgeted and shifted in her seat. All effort to ply her hand at stitching failed miserably. Beatrice noticed her poor attempts at needlework.

“I imagine accompanying your da on his worldly travels dinnae provide many opportunities to perfect your stitching.” Her voice was gentle, almost sad. It reminded Andra how imperfect and unqualified she must appear to the woman.

“I’ll admit it is not my best talent.” She smiled in spite of her discomfort.

“Aye, but she is an expert markswoman with a bow,” mentioned Isabel.

“So I’ve been told,” laughed Lady Beatrice. “Everyone brings their own gifts and talents to their family. Dinnae fash yourself, dear, I happen to agree that women should use every skill they possess, even if it be a bow and arrow. Many Highland lasses are quite skilled with the bow and even hunt to feed their families when the men are away.”

Andra’s face flushed with embarrassment. She had not been aware the women knew of her morning activities. She knew the guards observed her from the parapet, but no one attempted to curtail her activities until Kendrick so abruptly accosted her this morning. None of the women or the guards had made a comment to her about it. How stupid she was being. Gossip provided the main form of entertainment at the castle; of course everyone knew about her practices. The gossip mongers must be having a grand time at her expense.