Highland Jewel (Highland Heroes #1)

Chapter 3

Her cross! Rose clenched her hand over the empty place where it usually lay against her breast Air rushed into her lungs in one breathy inhalation. God's toenails! The barbarian had found it!

Behind her the abbess and chaplain were silent. Did they know?

"If ye could find it in yer heart to come..." The Scotsman slipped one hand neatly into the pocket of his dark doublet, his voice quiet. "There'd be na need for discussing—last night."

Her gasp was audible now. Her hand rose to where her throat was covered by the coarse wimple, as if to shield herself from his eyes. Had he seen her nakedness then, or just found the cross?

With a concerted effort Rose drew the shattered remains of her dignity about her, but her hands shook near her throat and she wondered if he could see. If the abbess learned of her shameful behavior of the night before, she would surely banish Rose from the abbey—or worse. She swallowed once, thinking fast and hard. But there seemed to be very few choices, for through the fabric of the barbarian's pocket she was sure she could see the telltale outline of her perfidious cross. "Your..." She cleared her throat, trying to sound concerned and sympathetic, but the single word squeaked rustily, so that she had to clear her throat yet again.

"Your lord is very ... ill then?" she breathed.

"Verra ill." His smile was gone now, replaced by an expression she could not discern in the dimness.

"And he has a ... Christian soul?" she asked weakly.

He hesitated only a moment. "Aye. He does."

'Then..." Her fingers curled emptily near her chest as she lifted her chin a bit. "It is my duty to go.” She'd said the words stiffly, with not the least bit of feeling, and Leith raised his brows silently.

"Ye've a heart of gold, lass," he murmured, but his tone held no more sincerity than hers had.

"You will find a companion to travel with her," commanded the abbess softly. "Someone from the village perhaps."

The Scotsman nodded, his gaze shifting to Lady Sophie.

"And you will vow to protect her," added the abbess.

"Aye, lady," he promised solemnly. "With me life."

Rose noticed with some irritation that the tone he used for the abbess was vastly different than the tone he used with her. There was no sarcasm now, no quirking of the lips that would make one wish to slap him. Only sober, quiet respect as he spoke to that lady.

"And return her here—if she wishes—after you have no more need for her skills."

"Aye," Leith promised, then shifted his deep-set eyes, so that they clashed abruptly with Rose's. "I will return her when I need her no longer."

Rose would have paced but there was no room in her cell. Instead she sucked her lip and wrung her hands.

The man was Satan personified. She was sure of it. Who else would be sneaking about in the woods in the midst of the night? she wondered, dismissing the fact that she herself had been there. Who else would ransom the cross of a poor postulate of the Lord to gain his own ends?

And what were his ends exactly? For all she knew there might not even be a dying laird.

Prayer time came and she prayed—with a vengeance. They would leave in two days. Enough time, he'd said, for her to gather her belongings and say her good-byes.

Leith had not slept the previous night, kept awake by visions of a fairy princess. A fairy princess with auburn hair and fawn-like eyes. A fairy who was not a fairy at all but the answer to his prayers. A woman of flesh and blood who could as easily as not be the daughter of the old laird of the MacAulays. She was enchanting, just as the Lady Elizabeth had been. And with the amethyst-jeweled brooch and wee plaid the abbess had given him, there would be no way for the old laird to be sure she was not his daughter. Aye, Ian MacAulay would accept her as kin, for he would want to believe it was true, and sick as he was, this would be his last chance to find her.

"She's a fine, bonny mare, brother," said Colin, leaning casually back against a post near a small herd of horses as he interrupted Leith's thoughts.

Leith issued an irritable grunt, wanting to lose himself in his musings again, but Colin was not to be ignored.

Shifting the weed between his teeth, and glancing toward the nearby barn, Colin raised one fair brow and added, "She is indeed the best of the lot."

Another grunt.

"She'll bear the long journey home well."

Silence.

Colin narrowed his eyes. "But why, I'm asking meself—why the best of auld Harold's mares when the others are worthy-enough steeds?"

Leith straightened, paced to the mare's left hind, and bent again, running one hand along the trim cannon bone. "She'll cross well with Beinn Fionn."

"Aye. That she will." Colin nibbled for a moment, watching the other's careful examination before breaking the silence again. "But yer stallion has a full score of bonny lasses awaiting his return. While ye..." He stopped on a thoughtful note, grinning crookedly while his brother could not see. “Tell me of this wee nun that's to travel with us."

"Ye will meet her soon enough," responded Leith evenly.

"Is she young?"

"Na so young as ye," said Leith, straightening to caress the mare's glossy hindquarter.

"Bonny?"

No answer came as Leith moved forward again to examine the mare's teeth.

"Is she na bonny?" repeated Colin, deliberately keeping a straight face now as his brother scowled.

"She is na likely to blister yer delicate hide should ye glance her way, if that be yer concern, lad," growled Leith.

"Ah." Colin nodded sagely, causing the ragged weed in his teeth to bobble with the motion. "A hedged answer from my liege is like the highest words of praise from another. So she's a bonny lass." He strode quickly forward. "Dark hair? Fair? What of her eyes?"

"Canna ye find sommat to do?" snapped Leith. "Is there na a thing to occupy yer time?"

"Na, brother," said Colin with a shrug. "Na a thing. The quest is at its finish. Failed—the child long gone from this world."

Leith turned away, ducking under the mare's delicate jaw to her far side.

"And yet ye seem na unduly troubled," continued Colin thoughtfully. "And after all the struggle to arrive here. If I were na such a trusting man and did na ken ye so well, I would think ye were keeping sommat from me. Why, I ask meself, would we take this wee nun to our homeland? To heal the MacAulay?" He snorted loudly. "Methinks na. Better to run a dirk through his black heart and be done with it. So why—"

"Go fetch a companion for the lass," ordered Leith suddenly, straightening abruptly on the far side of the black to glower over her glossy back.

"A companion?" asked Colin dubiously. "Mayhap I could find her a feather mattress too. We could tote it along in a fine carriage so that she will na bruise her backside on the hard ground at night."

"I promised the auld abbess she would have a companion," said Leith. "Ye will find a suitable female."

"Suitable?" Colin questioned glibly. "Suitable for what?"

"Suitable for acting as chaperone!" Leith exploded suddenly, his patience at an end. "With legs strong enough to keep her astride a mount for the long journey home. I am certain ye can judge the strength of woman's legs by now, brother."

"Aye." Colin laughed readily. "That I can, me liege. But it’s the wee nun ye've chosen that interests me most."

"Sweet Jesu!" swore Leith angrily. "She is a woman of God. And best ye na forget it."

"Me?" Colin lifted a quick hand to his chest, his expression registering shock. "I will na forget, brother. I can have me pick of the lasses," he declared, then scowled momentarily. "When Roderic is not about that is," he amended. "But one canna be expected to compete with one's identical self born into a separate body." He shook his head. " Tis difficult to believe the three of us be brothers in truth. For fair Roderic and I are constantly pressed upon by female attention, while ye..." He tipped a hand toward Leith. "Ye keep yerself to yerself like a monk."

"I only thank the good Lord I did leave yer devilish twin at home," vowed Leith. "Now go before I pummel some sense into yer flea-bitten head," he added, and, reaching across the mare, seized a fistful of the lad's doublet.

Laughing, Colin lifted his hands as if to ward off violence. "It is na me fault ye canna attract a lass, brother. Perhaps if ye quit yer scowling they would na be so scairt to look on yer scar-riddled—"

The sound of a door slamming interrupted his words, catching both men's attention. Leith dropped his hand and Colin raised his brows at the dark beauty who approached from the nearby house. "Ah, there," he murmured with appreciation. "A woman. And English, so surely she is desperate for a true man. Quit yer scowling now, brother, and give her a try."

"Quit yer yippin' and show some respect," rejoined Leith as he straightened.

"For the lady?" quipped Colin.

"For me, ye dolt," growled Leith before rounding the mare to greet the newcomer.

She was a bonny woman with perhaps a score of years to her life.

"I've come to bring you a bit to drink," she said, raising the tray of sweating pewter mugs so they could be clearly seen above the rough-cut rails of the fence. "Tis hot for so early in the season." Her gaze settled for a moment on Leith's somber face before turning downward to the mugs.

"Aye," Leith said shortly, and Colin grinned, fully appreciative of his brother's characteristic lack of banter.

"Verra hot," Colin supplied, then added, "and verra kind of ye to think of us, lady..."

"Widow," the woman said softly, lifting her gaze finally to Colin's. "Widow Devona Millet." Her eyes, Colin noticed, were an amber color, her features delicate, and her mouth utterly kissable. "I am told you are Scots."

Leith turned his attention to the mare again, seeming to dismiss the woman.

"We are indeed Scots," said Colin, his brows rising as he noticed the widow's low neckline and his brother's blatant lack of interest. "And about to travel back to the land of our clansmen." Leith had been laird of the Forbes too long if he could not appreciate such a fine display of bosom, thought Colin. But perhaps the widow was just the thing to break the monotony of the journey home, as well as pull Leith's mind from his ever-present worries.

Yes. Colin's smile widened as he forced his gaze from the widow's chest. "But we are in great need ..." He let the statement fall flat, thinking of his own needs for a moment before remembering his brother's. "We require a companion for the lady we will take back with us."

"A lady?" the widow asked.

"A nun," explained Colin, wondering for just a moment if he heard disappointment in the woman's tone.

"From the abbey yonder?"

"Aye," supplied Colin. Turning to Leith, he asked, "What of her, brother? She looks strong of leg—don't ye think, me liege?"

"Methinks ye talk too much," said Leith as he straightened to glare at his brother.

Colin only laughed. "'Twould be too much to hope that ye might be free to travel with us as a lady's companion," he said.

"All the way to Scotland?"

"Far into Scotland, in fact. To Glen Creag in the Highlands. But ye would be well paid for yer troubles, and carefully..." His gaze dipped to her bosom again for just an instant and his breath caught in his throat. "... carefully... guarded," he said roguishly.

Her cheeks colored prettily and her eyes lowered. "I am not needed in the house of my husband's family," she said softly.

"Then ye will come?" Colin asked, surprised by his good fortune and well aware of the rousing effect she had on him.

"Why do you take the nun to your country?" she asked. "And what would be expected of me at the journey's end?"

It was what was expected during the journey that interested Colin most, for if Leith wasn't intrigued by the possibilities, he certainly was.

"She is na yet a nun," corrected Leith evenly. "But a novice, and one said to be a skilled healer. We will take her to the MacAulay who is gravely ill. Ye would but keep her company and return here after our arrival."

"Oh." For a moment Devona's gaze flitted from Leith's to Colin's. "And you would guarantee my safe passage?"

"Nothing can be guaranteed," said Leith soberly. "But we will do all that is in our power." His hand went to the dirk at his side. "And that is a considerable amount."

She was silent, watching him, seeming to measure the man. "I will go," she said suddenly.

Colin grinned.

Leith nodded, giving the mare one last pat before striding away to duck between the rails and unwind his white stallion's reins from the post. "Buy the dark mare," he said to his brother. "Make arrangements with the widow."

"Arrangements?" Colin asked, pacing toward Beinn. "Does that mean ye are interested?"

Leith was in the saddle in a moment, but bent low to speak directly into Colin's face. "I am not an auld milk-fed maid who needs the help of her witless brothers to make a match. The widow will come as a companion and nothing more."

"And if she wishes for more?" asked Colin evenly.

"Then ye have me blessing," said Leith, and turned his stallion away.

"Well..." Colin turned back to the widow with a grin. "It seems we have much to do."

Devona blinked, lowering the tray slightly as Colin bent to step between the rails and straighten again.

"Me apologies for me brother," he said quietly. "He is the laird of the clan Forbes and does na take time for pleasantries."

"I'm certain he has much to occupy his thoughts."

"Aye." Colin smiled. She was indeed a beautiful woman. A woman unspoken for, and a woman apparently not desired by his brother. It would be a shame to waste such an opportunity, especially since she was a widow, a woman in whom the spark of sexual desire had once been lit and had now dimmed, left unfulfilled. "We dearly appreciate yer offer to travel with us," he said. "'Twas indeed generous."

Devona lowered her eyes with a blush. "Perhaps not so generous as you think. I fear I have my own reasons for wishing to be gone."

"Indeed?"

"There is no purpose for my presence here," she explained, resting her eyes on the mugs. "Since my husband's death I feel..." She shrugged.

"Unwanted?" The word slipped unbidden from Colin.

"Yes." She nodded slowly. "Unwanted."

Sheer instinct propelled Colin across the short distance between them. "I want ye." The statement came out as a husky caress.

Devona's mouth fell open.

Suddenly he gripped the wooden tray between them.

"But I... I don't know you."

"Ye will," he breathed. "In yonder barn."

The widow's eyes opened wide. "The barn?" she gasped.

"Aye, lass. I burn for ye. Let me take ye to the barn and ignite—"

Her palm hit his face with enough force to rattle the mugs atop the tray in his hands. "How dare you?" she hissed.

Colin's jaw dropped. Apparently he'd employed the wrong methods. "I did na mean to insult ye. I only meant to lay-”

"How dare you?" she repeated, sounding even more offended.

Colin's brows lowered as the unsated edge of his desire burned on. "There are those who have na been so insulted by me offers."

"And there are those who sleep with pigs," she hissed. "But I am not one of them."

"Pigs," Colin exclaimed, but already she was striding stiffly toward the house, leaving him to hold the tray in abject bewilderment.

"You will care for her?" asked the chaplain solemnly.

"I will," Leith said, looking down into the man's worried eyes.

Dawn had come and gone. It was past time to be off. Beside him Colin stood unspeaking, restraining his mount, the newly purchased black, and a horse which was packed with their belongings. Just behind him, the Widow Millet silently sat a mousy-brown mare with heavy bones and narrow eyes. Leith kept his gaze on the chaplain, wondering again at Colin's choice for the widow's mount. It was a sturdy-enough steed, but homely and bad-tempered.

"And you will be patient with her?" asked the chaplain.

"Patient?" Leith was momentarily intrigued by the question. Aside from the fact that the girl had not yet arrived, why should he need to be patient?

"Rose..." the chaplain began slowly with a single shake of his head, "Rose Gunther is a ... special child."

Leith glanced toward the north, wanting to be off. “Special?"

"Gifted."

Leith narrowed his eyes, shifting his gaze downward. "How is she gifted?"

"She has gifts of God."

"Canna ye be more clear, Father?" asked Leith impatiently.

But the chaplain only shrugged. "You will learn her worth soon enough, I think."

Leith scowled. When questioned, the people of Millshire had spoken freely of the lass' ability as a healer, granting him a perfect excuse to take her to Scotland. Now, however, he did not believe the chaplain meant her gift of healing.

The door of the abbey opened. Leith raised his eyes.

She stood there, looking small and young, overwhelmed by her pale, voluminous robes and concealing wimple. And yet there was something about her that drew his gaze—or was it his memory of her by the lochan that intrigued him?

"Protect her," said the chaplain quietly, his expression somber. " 'Twill not be a simple task."

Leith watched in silence as the chaplain turned away. He passed the girl at the door where he spoke a few words to her before disappearing into the abbey.

She approached finally, her steps slow and uncertain, her hands tucked demurely into her sleeves, her eyes reddened. From tears? For a moment Leith wondered if he'd been mistaken, for surely this small innocent could not be the bold, enchanting fairy princess he had seen by the lochan.

His fingers fell unconsciously to the pocket of his doublet, feeling the irregular form of the purloined cross through the fabric as she stopped before him.

Silence settled uneasily between them. Leith tightened his grip on Beinn's reins. She was little more than a child, he reasoned uneasily. And he was a deceitful bastard.

"Kill me, Forbes, and have done with it." The tortured words yet echoed in his head, though he tried to shut them out.

Deceitful bastard or not, he would do what needed doing. He would use Rose Gunther to heal the wounds he could not mend alone.

"Come, lass," he said, pushing back his dark memories. "The black mare I call Maise. Great Beauty," he translated. "She is yers. A gift for yer trouble."

Rose turned her gaze to the mare, seeming to note the wide-set eyes and clean limbs. But in a moment she dropped her attention to the ground at her feet. "I cannot accept her."

Leith scowled. He'd planned quickly but carefully and could not afford to waste time. He was not a patient man, but he was determined and he would be charming, for he needed to win her over to his way of thinking.

"Ye canna walk the long journey to me homeland," he said, keeping his tone gentle. “Take the mare. I give her freely."

"I cannot."

Leith swore in silence, gripping his hands to fists and feeling his jaw harden. He did not like delays. He did not like bickering, and he did not like women who failed to take orders.

Charming, he reminded himself irritably. He must be charming.

"I chose the black meself. She will give a soft ride. Will ye na—"

"No!"

The force of Rose's refusal surprised him, but it was her eyes that rooted him to the ground. Sweet Jesu! He had been unable to tell the color at their earlier meeting, but he saw now that they were violet in hue—as bright and sharp as precious jewels. So it was not only her deep—auburn hair and bonny features that resembled the old laird's deceased wife. It was her bewitching eyes also.

But Leith Forbes would not be bewitched. Nay. He would keep his head. She would ride the mare. And he would make her his wife.