Scoundrel’s Redemption (Highlander’s Pact #3)

Chapter Eleven

A fter waiting by the river in hopes Greer might make her way there, Teagan was just heading back past the gardens when he heard the bite of Bartholomew’s voice. He crept close enough to see, then leaned against the wall and strained to listen but caught very little. It appeared the Englishman had just interrupted a tender moment between Cecille and her daughter.

“I have been looking everywhere for you, Greer,” it sounded like Bartholomew said, scowling at Cecille. “Did you not receive word I was leaving?”

He smiled, pleased. Things were going as planned. Just so long as Greer didn’t join him, that is. Cecille had assured him she would make sure her daughter remained here. Especially considering Bartholomew was leaving due to word of trouble at his estate. Strife to which his future wife should not be subjected.

Even so, Teagan would be relieved once Bartholomew was gone, and Greer remained here.

“He is a bad man,” wee Besse whispered, appearing out of the shadows. She narrowed her eyes at Bartholomew before joining Teagan against the wall. “Are ye going to rescue Mistress Greer?”

“Aye, but not at this precise moment,” he whispered back.

The three in the courtyard continued conversing, the fire in Cecille’s eyes telling.

“How come not right now?” Besse asked .

“Because in cases like this,” he explained, “’tis best to bide one’s time before taking action.”

“Ahh.” She peeked around the corner at the three of them, then pulled back. “Mistress Greer said ye might do something like that.” Her eyes rounded. “So will ye be attacking with a mighty army?”

“Och, there ye are, Besse,” her mother exclaimed when she rounded the corner.

Besse put a finger to her lips and pointed into the garden. In turn, her mother shook her head and shooed her daughter along to do chores, then ended up staying. She leaned against the wall, introduced herself as Ada, though he already knew her name, and whispered, “Can ye hear anything, Teagan?”

Somehow he wasn’t surprised she already knew his name, too.

“Verra little.”

“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes on Bartholomew as he talked. “He is trying to persuade Greer to return to his estate with him. It seems he’s been called home due to unrest.” She released a dainty snort when she looked at Cecille. “Her mother is having none of it.”

He arched his brows at Ada. “Ye can read lips?”

“I can read just about anything.” She gave him a telling look before her gaze returned to the others. “Bartholomew doesnae like the idea of leaving Greer behind whilst a wild Scottish beast is in our midst.”

“Did he say all that?” Teagan replied, amused.

“Nay, but he might as well have.” She gestured that he follow her. “Come, join me for a wee bite. Greer willnae be going anywhere with the likes of that lout.”

He frowned, concerned. “How can ye be so sure?”

“Because I have met her mother.”

“Verra true,” he conceded, following Ada, curious what he might learn from the lass. Like Cecille had discovered, whilst poking around, he’d confirmed she and Greer were fast friends despite her uncle’s disapproval. But then Greer was clearly not the type to care about varying stations in life.

Ada tore a piece of freshly baked rye and barley bread in half and handed it to Teagan before urging him to join her for a stroll to the river.

“Us spending time together will get the focus off ye and Greer if ye know what I mean.” She winked. “Ye and I being together makes more sense to ignorant minds.”

“Aye.” No truer words were spoken. He thanked her for the bread. “She takes a big risk being alone with me, aye?”

“Only to her reputation, which I dinnae think she cares about all that much nowadays.” She eyed him. “As I’m sure ye know, the bigger risk is to ye in these parts. Now that ye’re to be her husband, though, Randolph willnae care as much.”

Even though he nodded, he intended to keep an eye out for Greer’s uncle. He was not to be trusted.

“How long have ye been here?” he asked Ada.

“Longer than I would like,” she replied. “I met Greer several months before she was married off, and it has been over a month since she returned. Altogether, we have known each other for under a year.”

“So ye havenae known her long,” he replied. “Nor was she married long.”

“Nay to both.” Ada shook her head. “Greer and I found friendship quickly.” She continued eyeing him as they headed down the path. “But then it doesnae take me long to sift out the good from the bad.”

“I dinnae imagine it does.”

“So are ye truly one of the good ones?” She stopped, planted a fist on her hip, and narrowed her eyes at him. “As ye’ve likely surmised, I know about yer plan to get my bairns and me out of here.”

No “thank ye,” for wanting to rescue them, but he imagined she would believe it when she saw it.

“I like to think I’m one of the good ones.” Something about Ada’s wary gaze prompted him to be honest. “Will I do everything in my power to get ye and yer wee ones out of here? Aye, absolutely. Will I treat Greer well? Most definitely. Will I love her as her good ma hopes? ’Tis impossible to know. Mayhap not.”

“Oh, ye’ll love her, friend,” Ada murmured, her gaze a little haunted as she looked at him. “’Tis impossible for someone capable of love not to.” She tilted her head, considering him. “’Tis just a matter of realizing ye are still capable of love. That yer demons can be pacified, and the shadows driven out.”

“Can ye see my demons then, lass?” he asked softly, used to dealing with Aunt Mórag. Though most thought her mind snapped from suffering so much loss during the illness, he sometimes wondered if she didn’t have a gift. Or mayhap even a curse. Either way, it was something, and it was right there in Ada’s eyes.

“Aye, I see yer demons.” Ada finished her bread. “And they arenae all that different than those plaguing my Greer.” Her gaze narrowed a fraction more. “But then I think ye already know that.”

“Aye.” He finished his bread as well. “And though tempted to ask ye about them, I—”

“Prefer to wait and ask her yerself, aye?”

“Aye.”

“Then ’tis her trust ye’re after.”

“At the verra least.”

Ada eyed him for another moment as though seeing straight into his soul before she crouched at the water’s edge and splashed water on her face. She hesitated a moment before she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Have ye met Margery yet?”

He shook his head. “Who’s Margery?”

“She’s the one Greer talks to when ye think she’s talking to herself,” she said more bluntly than anticipated. When she looked at the water again and went silent, he knew how important his answer was. How much it mattered to her .

“Aye, then I have met her.”

“And what do ye make of her?” She stood, crossed her arms over her chest, and eyed him again, gauging his reaction. “What do ye think of a lass that talks to herself so much, then even tends to answer?”

“I think I look forward to getting to know Margery better,” he said without hesitation, meaning every word. “As to Greer talking to herself and even answering, it doesnae bother me. Especially if it gives her comfort and a connection, not to mention the escape she so desperately needs.”

Ada gestured at the castle. “From all this, aye?”

“Aye,” he concurred.

“So ye see her need to escape clearly enough.” She cocked her head. “But what’s this about a connection?”

“’Tis just as it sounds.” He eyed her in return. “And I think ye know that. Though everyone else thinks her mad for talking to someone unseen, my guess is Margery keeps her balanced. A friendly voice in the darkness. A connection not just with hope but mayhap even to the past. Better times.” He shrugged. “Often enough during the war, I talked to my brothers or Edmund when they werenae there. ’Twas a way to keep me going.”

Ada considered him for a stretch before she finally spoke.

“Well, ye are a rare sort indeed, aren’t ye, Teagan MacLauchlin,” she murmured. “Undoubtedly broken but at the same time more whole than most.”

“I cannae speak to that.”

“Of course ye cannae because, in yer own way, ye’re as hard on yerself as she is.” Ada’s gaze narrowed down the path. “Speak of the devil.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Or in her case, an angel.”

Teagan glanced down the path but saw nothing, nor did he hear anyone coming. “There’s no one there.”

“Not yet.” She urged him to sit beside her on the bench. “But she will be. ”

He frowned. “Then why would I sit beside ye and give her a false impression?”

Because it surely would.

“There’s nothing wrong with sitting beside a new friend.” Ada patted the seat. “Now sit. Trust me, this will help things along.”

“Help what along?”

“Winning her over before exchanging vows.” She sighed and shook her head. “Amongst many things a lass her age should have experienced by now, I dinnae think she’s ever felt jealousy. She never cared enough.”

He scowled. “’Tis an awful emotion.”

“Not a wee bit o’ healthy jealousy,” she countered. “Right now, Greer sees ye as a man who means to own and lust after her.” She perked a brow. “Why not let her see ye as something else? Someone she might desire or lust after instead? Give her some of the control?”

“Nay, that isnae what she needs to feel right now.” He shook his head. “She needs to feel appreciated for something other than her appearance and what she can provide a man in coin. Not feel more insecure because she came to the wrong conclusion about her friend and future husband.”

“Och,” Ada whispered, eyeing him with approval before she stood. “Ye’ll do just fine, countryman. Just fine.” This had been a test, and he’d passed. She sauntered back up the path, throwing over her shoulder, “When he gets back, best tell yer Sassenach to stop lusting after me. I dinnae like Englishmen.”

“He wouldnae listen to me if I tried,” he called after her, unable to help himself. “And he verra much likes wee Scottish lasses.”

Foreseeing an entertaining trek north, he chuckled and crouched in front of the water. He noticed Ada hadn’t asked more about his plan to get her out, but then he hadn’t really expected her to. Folks like her didn’t hold out much hope for things. Especially plans like theirs.

As it turned out, Ada was right, and a few moments later, Greer appeared.

Which meant she had crossed her friend on the path.

Relieved to see she hadn’t gone with Bartholomew, he stood and nodded hello. “Good morn, lass.” He gestured at the bench. “Would ye like to sit?”

“No, thank you.” She joined him at the water’s edge, her skin a touch drawn. “I just passed Ada.”

“Aye, she’s verra kind.” He hoped she didn’t misunderstand things. “She cares a great deal for ye.”

“Yes,” she said softly. As if chilled, she pulled her thin shawl more securely over her arms. “She’s a good friend.”

He realized she wasn’t jealous in the least but somewhere else in her mind.

“Are ye all right, Greer?” He removed his cloak. “Ye seem cold.”

When he went to wrap it around her shoulders, she shifted and lost the grip on her shawl.

“Och,” he muttered when he realized what she was trying to hide. Several distinct fingermarks marred the delicate flesh of her upper arm. He frowned at her. “Bartholomew, then?”

He tried to remain calm, so he didn’t frighten her. No tightening his jaw. No clenching his fists. Lord, how he longed to wrap his hands around the Englishman’s throat so he could squeeze the life out of him.

“’Twas my fault for not joining him in the courtyard when he asked.” She thanked him when he put his cloak around her shoulders. “’Tis simple enough to keep him appeased by not inciting…”

When she trailed off, he again asked her if she would like to sit.

“Yes, perhaps I will, after all,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

“Might I join ye?” he said gently. “Or would ye prefer to be alone for a time?”

“I would rather not be alone if ’tis all the same.”

As it happened, she truly surprised him with what she said next.