Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) (21 page)

he said, his tone low. “If I decide to scale the tower, you will see me at the window."

His husky tone called her to him, but she held herself back with careful control, making certain her own voice was haughty. "Indeed? I am very impressed, Dugald the Dizzy."

"If you were the prize I might reconsider. And that's Dugald the
Dragon
," he corrected.

"Such a grandiose name. But how do we know whether ye deserve it when ye refuse to exhibit your incredible prowess?"

"If proof is what ye want, lass, you should not have interrupted our play."

She turned, her breathing escalating a mite. "If that's what ye are so impressive at, I fear ye'll have to try the Lowland games. We are not so decadent this far north."

He watched her in silence then stepped smoothly forward. "Tell me, Damsel, which do you think is more important, the ability to make a woman happy, or the ability to make a man miserable?"

"Miserable?"

"Aye. Miserable," he said, then touched her face and ever so slowly slid his knuckles down her cheek to her throat. "Or happy?"

She felt his fingers like a thousand sparks of emotion against her skin, burning gently into her soul. She swallowed hard and forced herself to speak. "I fear ye overestimate yourself, Sir."

"Do I?" he whispered. "I come from a place known for its sensual delights." His fingers continued along her collarbone, pressing her gown away so that she shivered at his touch.

Fire was eating slowly at her soul. Her head was filled with the scent of his skin, the feel of his fingers against her shoulder.

"I could give you that delight," he whispered, and cupped his hand gently over her breast.

She jerked away, breathing hard. "There's more to life than..." She paused searching for words, trying to rid her mind of the lurid images he conjured up. "Than...that."

"Is there?" She both feared and hoped he would step closer. But he did not. "And what is more important, Damsel?"

For the life of her she could not remember. Couldn't even imagine, and now he did step forward.

"Morality!" She threw the word out like a spear. "Goodness. Strength. The ability to protect those weaker than yourself."

He scowled. "So you think these foolish games prove any of these things?"

She had no idea what she thought. In fact, it may be that her brain had been fried to a wafer by his mere nearness. "Aye," she said.

"Then in order to prove my worth to you, I would have to compete?"

There were several inches between them. Still, she could already feel his unnatural pull on her, as if she were being dragged forth by the chain around her neck. "Nay," she said, desperately trying to drive back his allure. "Ye would have to win."

Absolute silence filled the room then he nodded once and stepped toward the door. "Then I shall win," he said.

The day dawned cloudy and cool. The hall was filled with the sound of pipes and conversation.

A half dozen men flirted with Shona. She graciously flirted back. Hadwin gave her a garland of wildflowers for her hair, and Stanford said she was fairer than any blossom. Though she tried to enjoy the flirtations, her mind turned relentlessly to Dugald.

He sat across the hall near her cousin, Mavis, who giggled and pouted at regular intervals.

They deserved each other, she thought heatedly. For Mavis was nearly as conceited as Dugald.

And what did he have to be so vain about? True, his features were as regal as a marble statue's, his eyes unearthly entrancing, and his kiss...

She felt her face redden at the memory of his kiss. In truth, he was probably no great talent at kissing; she was just inexperienced. If she were wise, she would test other ponds—just for comparison's sake.

Kelvin scampered up, interrupting her shameful thoughts. "Lady Shona." His smile was gap-toothed, his hair messed, and when he bowed to her he looked like nothing more than a tiny mischievous lord. “Twould be my pleasure to see ye to the game field. They're about to begin the dancing."

She smiled, grateful for the interruption. "And are ye competing, Kelvin?"

"Nay. I'm saving my talents for the swordsmanship."

"Are ye, now?"

"Aye." His eyes lit up even more. "If I win, will ye marry me?"

She laughed, then leaned toward him and murmured. "I believe we've already discussed that."

"Aye," he said, "but—"

"Lady Shona," Stanford interrupted. "Might I escort ye to the green?"

She offered him a smile, but she could not help but notice that his feet did turn out rather like a water fowl's.

God's wrath, she reprimanded herself. She wasn't planning on choosing her husband because of the shape of his feet. Still...

"I am sorry," she said, "but I promised Kelvin."

"Beaten out by a lad?" Hadwin asked, stepping up and grinning around his swollen lip.

"If ye care to keep your teeth, I would suggest ye shut your maw," Stanford warned.

"Better to lose my teeth than my hair," Hadwin said, nodding to Stanford's receding hairline.

"Better my hair than—"

"Gentlemen," Shona said, "have I mentioned how I love to watch the Highland Fling?"

"Nay."

"Nay." They turned simultaneously toward her.

"Tis true. They are giving a dagger to the best dancer. Tis a lovely blade."

"I will win it for ye, Lady," Stanford vowed solemnly.

"Consider it a gift from me," Hadwin countered.

She smiled at each of them in turn. "Ye'd best go practice," she said, and laid her hand on Kelvin's bent arm.

The pair bowed and rushed off.

Kelvin laughed. "Promise me ye will not marry either of
those
two."

"Marry them?" She sighed. "I feel rather like spanking them."

He laughed, then sobered. "And what of
himl"
he asked softly.

She followed his gaze. "William of Atberry?" she asked, nodding to the older lord as they passed.

"Aye."

"I dunna know."

The lad was silent. They had crossed the bailey and were heading toward the bridge.

"And what of me when ye wed?" he asked finally.

The bridge echoed a deep resonance beneath their feet.

Shona looked down into the lad's solemn, dirt-streaked face. The crowd tromped on. Laughter wafted back to them, but she had no desire to join in the merriment. Instead, she turned the lad aside, taking a faded trail that led off to the left. Lifting her skirts, she skidded down the bank of the Gael Burn and drew Kelvin to a halt beside the babbling water.

A log lay half immersed. Shona took a seat there then patted a spot to her right. Kelvin joined her.

"What do ye think will happen when I wed?" she asked.

"I think ye will leave me," he said simply.

Her heart ached for him. He had seen far too much loss in his short life. "Have I not proved my loyalty to ye yet?" she asked.

He glanced away. "There have been others who proclaimed their love for me."

"I tell ye this now," she said. "For as long as I live there will be a place for ye at my side."

"Truly?" He lifted his small face to gaze at her.

"Truly."

His expression was tense, but finally it relaxed a mite and he shrugged. "It does not matter, really," he said, standing up on the log. "I can care for myself."

He wobbled a little, but his bare feet finally took root on the crumbling bark. Spreading his arms wide, he paced along the length of the log.

"It could well be that some day I will have to take care of
ye
," he said.

"Ye think so?" she asked, slipping out of her shoes.

He grinned. "I would bet all I have on it."

She snorted and stepping up on the log, took two shaky steps toward him. "And why is that?"

He shrugged. "Ye are only a maid."

Glancing up at him, Shona sighed. "Tis too true," she agreed. But suddenly the bark beneath her feet began to give way. She slipped sideways with a shriek of dismay.

Kelvin reached for her. Eyes wide, she caught hold of his hand, but instead of trying to hold herself up, she yanked him off his feet.

He hit the water in a geyser of silvery spray. "Help! Help!"

"Help?" she said, laughing, with her toes curled against the log's smooth truck. "But I am only a maid."

"Shona!" His arms windmilled.

"Say ye need the help of a maid."

He was being swept downstream.

"Aye. I need ye!"

She canted her head in thought, waiting a few seconds. The current took him farther along. "All right, then," she said, "Put your feet down."

"I canna reach the bottom!"

"Trust me," she called.

"Shona!" he gasped, but suddenly his head went under. One hand snaked into the air. But in an instant he rose from the depths like Neptune on dry land.

He was sputtering like a fish, with his hair streaming across his face and his clothes hanging heavy against his shoulders. "Ye pulled me in!" he gasped, affronted. "Me!"

She forced a smile, though in truth she had been momentarily worried that the river bottom had somehow changed since the time she had waded there. "A
maid
tossed ye in, lad," she said. "And it could well be that a
maid
will be your undoing, if ye dunna learn to show some respect. Ye'd be wise not to forget it."

Kelvin scowled as he pushed the hair from his eyes. "Couldna ye have taught me a lesson without getting me soaked?" he asked.

"Nay, lad."

Shona turned toward the sound of Dugald's voice. He stood grinning from the bank. He wore rich brown hose, a white tunic, and a russet doublet that was elaborately slashed and puffed. He should have looked ridiculous. She quite resented it that he didn't.

"Damsel Shona most enjoys teaching lessons and giving dousings at the same time."

Shona scowled at him. "And if Damsel Shona is seen with Dugald the Debaucher, her father will have his head."

Dugald laughed then bowed. "I will leave you, then... with my head intact," he said. "It looks as if the two of you will have to return to the keep for dry garments." He sighed. "And I was so hoping you would watch me dance. Now I will be forced to prove my grandness in another way."

Lifting her skirts, Shona traipsed along the log to step onto the bank. "Dunna bother," she said.

"Oh, but I insist," he countered, and leaning closer, he whispered. "Let us say tonight, in your chambers."

By the time Kelvin had changed clothes and they had reached the green, the Highland fling had been danced, and the dagger was being presented to Hadwin.

Stanford was looking grumpy, and Dugald, when Shona glanced at him, was watching her. She turned quickly away. What was wrong with the man? Surely he had been joking when he mentioned meeting in her chambers.

She glanced toward him again, but he was gone. She scowled, though God knew the farther away he went, the happier she would be.

"Nay," someone murmured.

Shona turned abruptly only to find Dugald standing only inches behind her, his chest all but pressed against her back.

"Nay what?" she asked, finding her breath with some difficulty.

"Nay, I do not think you should accept the dagger from him."

"I didna know I asked your opinion."

"In truth, you did not," he said. "But I assumed you were too shy to trouble me."

"How astute ye are."

"Tis true. In fact, the Duchess of Windway was going to call me Dugald the Astute," he murmured, his gaze still on Hadwin. "But she thought 'the Darling' better suited me."

"Are ye certain it was not 'the Dolt'?"

He smiled into her eyes. "Quite certain."

"Ye would be," she said, then, "be gone before my father sees ye."

“Truly, Shona, I do not think you should accept Hadwin's winnings. Twould not be seemly."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And may I ask why?"

He chuckled softly. “Tis quite obvious. That is to say, surely twould not be right to encourage another man's hopes, knowing I have stolen your heart."

"Stolen my—"

"After all," he interrupted, leaning closer. "I assume you do not share a bed with every man you meet."

She stared at him in silent shock.

"Do you?" he asked.

"Tis hardly
your
affair who—"

"Oh. Tsk," he said, bowing slightly. "I wish I could stay and chat, but I am told the archery contest is next and I must go win it."

She felt her back stiffen. ' 'Tis that simple, is it?''

"Of course."

"Are ye not afraid ye will muss your hair?"

He grinned at her like an evil satyr. "I've been told I look quite adorable with my hair mussed."

"The queen of France, I suppose."

"Nay, twas the Baroness de Lindon."

"Of course."

"The point is, lass, you should not accept a gift from any but your heart's true desire."

"Which would be..."

"Me." He smiled again.

"And mayhap tis ye whom I will not take a gift from," she said.

He grinned. “Truly? Then mayhap I should give it to your cousin."

She opened her mouth to berate him, but with a grin and a bow, he turned away.

Shona stared after him.

"Oh," he said, turning back. "I need a scrap of cloth to bind about my arrow. Would you like to give me a piece from your sleeve?"

"I'd like to give ye a punch in the—" she began, but he turned away with a chuckle.

"Do not trouble yourself," he said. "I will ask Mavis for one of her ribbons."

Shona watched him go. She would love to enter the contest herself and show Dugald Kinnaird some humility. Or better yet, perhaps Dugald Kinnaird could be the target. They could tie him to a tree and— "Lady Shona," Hadwin said, bounding up to her. "Twould be an honor if ye would accept this gift from me."

A disconcerting chuckle drifted toward her. She glanced irritably in Dugald's direction, but he failed to turn around. Still, she knew it was he, and every hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

"Lady," Hadwin said.

"Oh." She brought herself back to the present. "Ye are too kind. Surely ye should keep such a wondrous—-"

"Nay," he interrupted. "I would that ye have it."