Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) (2 page)

Twas little wonder he looked to her for stability and nurturing, though she was hardly the nurturing type.

"There now, James," she soothed, stroking his auburn hair as she glanced helplessly at Kelvin, the young boy she'd brought to entertain the king. "Twill all come out right. Ye'll see. I will return to visit ye now and again."

"You will stay!" he yelled, tightening his grip. "I command you to stay!"

"Hawk will stay," she countered.

"Hawk! You would leave me with a bird that eats its own siblings?"

She couldn't help but laugh, for such a statement was typical of the young king. He was known for his love of histrionics, but it would do little good to take them too seriously. She'd learned that some months ago during her time at court. In truth, it had been her relationship with James, and not with the mythical suitor her parents had hoped she would find, that had made her stay in the lowlands bearable.

"If I promise the Hawk willna eat ye, will ye let me go?" she asked.

"Never! I will never let you go!"

"I canna stay, James. I must return to my home. Ye know that. But Kelvin and I will come back as soon as ever we can to visit ye."

"Kelvin!" the king sobbed. "I don't want Kelvin. He's nothing more than a commoner and a thief."

"A thief?" It was true that she'd found the boy picking pockets on the streets of Edinburgh only a few months before, but she'd hoped she'd put a stop to the lad's thievery. Cupping her palm beneath James's chin, Shona tilted his face up so that their gazes met. "A thief?" For a moment she saw the sharp gleam of mischief in the boy's eyes.

"He stole my favorite brooch," James accused, though he was nearly weighed down by gems as it was.

Shona hurried her gaze to the red-headed lad who stood behind the king. It was impossible to know exactly how old he was, since he'd long ago been orphaned. But he, too, must be approximately seven. He was slim and small, like the king. His eyes could even show the same mischievous gleam, though right now they expressed little more than shocked innocence. An innocence that was apparently not reliable, since on his narrow chest rested a round brooch set with a large bloodstone.

"You know how I love that brooch," said the king, abruptly discontinuing his tears to gaze solemnly up into her face. He sighed. "Twas a gift from my sainted grandmother."

In truth, he had received it from his stepfather, the sixth earl of Angus, a man James didn't even like. But this hardly seemed the time to attempt to improve his honesty. It could well be that Kelvin had been a bad influence on him in that regard.

"Give him the brooch," Shona said softly, staring at Kelvin.

The boy opened his mouth as if to protest his right to it, but finally, instead of speaking, he unpinned the metal circle from his tunic and stepped forward.

James dropped his arms from about Shona's waist and turned toward the urchin. They stood eye to eye, and for a while they remained unspeaking, as if sharing some private thought. But finally Kelvin handed over the brooch.

"I've left ye all the others," he said, his brogue heavy. "Ye could have spared this one."

"I am king. I've a right to be greedy," James said flippantly, and suddenly the other boy grinned.

Twas a grin that gave Shona grave misgivings. It was very possible she was daft to think she could foster this wayward child alone, while insanity might well describe her thinking he would make a good companion for the king. Still, despite their frequent squabbles over the past four weeks they'd spent together, the boys had become frightfully close. Perhaps too close, considering the waif's dubious past. Mayhap Tremayne was right and it was best that Kelvin would not be staying to influence the king any longer.

"Tis time we left," she said.

"Indeed," Kelvin agreed happily. "To the Highlands."

Though the journey from Blackburn to Dun Ard had been slow and damp, Shona was finally home. She filled her lungs with the crisp spring air and felt her muscles relax. Nowhere in the world did it smell like it did in the Highlands of Scotland. Nowhere was the air filled with this heady mixture of heather and freedom.

Beneath her, Teine Lochan pranced in place. The mare had been left behind when Shona had gone to Blackburn, left behind, too long confined.

"Do ye want to run, then, lassie?" Shona asked, still holding the reins taut.

The mare stopped prancing. Arching her regal neck, she mouthed the bit, her muscles tense and quivering.

"Then run," Shona yelled, and leaning over Teine's withers, she loosened the reins.

Suddenly they were winged, flying like falcon across the verdant moor, swooping like swallows, as if they might catch the very essence of life, if only they flew fast enough. Shona gripped the mare's barrel with leather clad thighs, dropped the reins into the swirling flaxen mane, and lifted her arms to the wind.

The voluminous sleeves of her white tunic flapped like wild sails. Her hair streamed behind her. Caught in the glory of freedom, her fiery tresses crackled against the steed's chestnut hide like a cat o' nine tails, whipping the mare to greater speed.

On and on they ran until finally, tired and sated, they wandered into a quiet dell where a stream rolled along beneath the sinking sun. Perhaps she should return to the castle, Shona thought, but the water called to her, and she answered, letting the mare graze unfettered on the grasses that grew beside the chattering burn.

There was much to think about, much to dwell on. Shona had returned to Dun Ard less than three days before, but even here in her haven she could feel Scotland's turmoil. The Highlands were not immune to the troubles that bedeviled the country. For with the last king's death at Flodden Field some five years before, his son had been crowned, a boy far too young to take the government into his own hands. A French regent was elected, but the regent had returned to his homeland, leaving Scotland rudderless.

It was that state of unrest that caused her father, called Roderic the Rogue by those who knew him, to plan a gathering of the Highland clans. At least, that was what he said, though Shona firmly believed it was just another attempt to find her a suitable husband. Lord William, duke of Atberry, had long been a strong contender for her hand, but no vows had yet been exchanged.

Shona sighed and sat down, her legs curled under her on a rocky ledge. Bending forward, she let the brisk waves wash over her fingers. She was one of a lucky few, she knew, for she was nearly a score of years old and still she had not been promised away. Indeed, her parents would not give her to any man unless she herself approved the union, thus the delay. Whom could she approve when she had basked so long in the love of Roderic the Rogue?

Removing her soft half boots, Shona swung her legs over the stone and dipped her toes into the waves. In all the world, this spot was her favorite. There was a tiny cove here where the warm water was trapped by a bar of sand. It felt like sunshine to her soul just to sit thus, away from the tension of court, the bother of prying eyes. Would she ever feel such freedom again if she married? And how could she decide on a spouse?

Cousin Sara had thought herself well wed, and now she was. But her first husband had proved to be a cruel man.

Perhaps she would not marry at all, Shona thought. Perhaps she would join a cloister. But that was laughable. Shona MacGowan, in a holy order! Twould be rather like housing a badger with goslings.

Shifting her attention, Shona gazed into the new lacy foliage of the trees around her. Overhead, a tree pipit sang to her, and against her heart her amulet seemed to purr contentedly.

She lifted it from beneath her tunic and examined it. Dragonheart, she called it. Twas in this very spot she had found it some months before, but even then it had not been new to her. No. Many years ago, Liam the Irishman had found it. This was the same amulet Rachel had stolen from him and that the three cousins had made a sacred vow on.

Shona smiled at the memory. She had been young and carefree then and had almost believed in the incantation. Indeed, crafted of silver and set with a single ruby in the center of its chest, Dragonheart looked precious and magical. But she was far too old to believe such nonsense now.

And yet it did seem miraculous that she would find it here, for it had been three years since Cousin Sara had held it. Three years since the wizard called Warwick had tried to take it from her and had subsequently been killed by Boden Blackblade. His back pierced by Boden's sword, Warwick had fallen into the river and Dragonheart had fallen with him. Neither had been seen again.

How odd that Shona would find the bonny amulet miles from that spot, lying clean and sparkling upon the sand.

It would be nice to believe it had some magical mission.

"Mayhap ye have come to find me my true love," she murmured to it. It said nothing. She searched for other possibilities. "To bring peace to Scotland? To give me wisdom? To gain wealth for Dun Ard?" Still nothing. "To hang on your chain like a hunk of pretty metal and stone?"

The dragon seemed to smile up at her. She scowled. What a fool she was to try to imbue this simple bauble with magical powers. The truth was, she had decisions to make and deeds to do, and regardless of Liam's whispered warnings of the dragon's mystical powers she was on her own. For rarely had the Irishman been caught telling the truth.

Not a hand's breadth from Shona's toes, a fish splashed.

Startled, she jerked her feet up in surprise then crouched on the edge of the rock to stare into the water. Caught in the tiny harbor were five fat salmon, enough for a large pot of soup and sorrel, Da's favorite.

Glad for this distraction from her thoughts, Shona rolled up her sleeves, lay on her abdomen, and reached into the river. But the first fish slipped through her fingers with ease. Wriggling forward, she tried again. Another glided quickly between her hands, then another and another.

Finally, frustrated but determined, Shona rose to her feet and glanced about at the pastoral setting. It was just as quiet as before. Never, after many years of coming here, had she ever seen another living soul in this place.

The sun had sunk nearly to the horizon, casting a bright pink glow to the world. The water splashed by in silvery hues of blues and greens, and in that water were five fish destined to be her father's dinner.

Without another thought, Shona slipped out of her leather breeches. Hanging them over a branch, she stepped down from the ledge and into the water. It splashed in chilly waves above her knees and against her thighs, lapping at the fabric of her long, belted tunic. She shivered at the feeling but refused to stop. Those fish were teasing her. Anyone could see that.

She knew people sometimes thought her a bit foolhardy, even reckless. True, she had, upon occasion, acted with less than absolute maturity. Such as the time Da had brought that shaggy black bull in from the meadow. She'd taken one look at the bovine and bet Lord Halwart's son she could ride the beast longer than he could.

It had turned out neither could ride the animal. She learned, with the help of a bruised rump and extensive cuts that black bulls did not care to be ridden. But how was she supposed to know that unless she tried?

Besides, this was nothing like that. She was merely going to catch some supper, and since leather breeches were notably binding when wet, she had removed them.

All logical, all sensible. Bending to peer into the water, she made a grab for the closest fish. It streaked through her fingers and away, circling its small area of confinement. Shona reconnoitered and tried again. This time the salmon shot between her legs, getting caught momentarily in her shirt and flopping frenetically against her inner thighs. She gasped at the tickling sensation and grabbed at the same time. The fish fought its way out of the saturated fabric and dashed for freedom.

Shona splashed about in a wild circle and scowled into the depths again. She should have brought her bow. That would show these foolish fish who was smarter. After all, it would hardly be the first time she had shot her dinner. But she hadn't brought her bow, and though she kept a knife strapped to her waist, it would do her little good here.

Concentrating for a second, she made another wild grab. To her utter amazement, the fish came away in her hands. It was beautiful, streaked in a rainbow of colors that flashed with metallic brilliance in the sun. But it was one long, slick muscle. Loath to leave the water, it wriggled madly.

Shona wrestled to hold it, but the fish was slippery and her footing unstable. The mud oozed between her toes, and the sand sifted from beneath her heels, conspiring against her. The salmon jerked, the footing gave way. Shona shrieked as she slapped the water with her backside and slid beneath the surface. Silty water filled her mouth and nose. She scrambled wildly and came up sputtering, breathless from the cold, her hair streaming across her face like scraggly tendrils of doused flame.

It took her a moment to realize something was odd. It took her longer still to understand that a small bream had become trapped in her tunic.

No bigger than her middle finger, the fish was caught between her midriff and shirt and slapped frantically to be free. Shona squawked at the sensations, danced around a circle in an effort to shake it loose then finally stuck her hand down her neckline to fish it out. But it wriggled along her back and out of her reach. Finally, wiggling herself from the creepy feelings, Shona ducked back into the water, loosed her belt, and flipped up her hem.

A current washed past, pulling the bream away, and suddenly the fish was free and gone. Shona let out a heavy sigh of relief and took a weary step toward shore.

"Might you be keeping any trout in there?"

Shona jumped at the sound of the voice, splashed back a pace then peered at the rocky shore.

Through the mud, seaweed, and hair, she could just barely make out the shape of a man on the craggy ledge.

Her jaw dropped. Good Lord, how long had he been watching her? she wondered, but when her vision cleared she realized the intruder's gaze was caught on her breasts.