Текст книги "My daring highlander"

Автор книги: Vonda Sinclair

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

She felt humbled and flattered that he’d singled her out. She trusted him to protect her better than anyone.

“’Tis disappointing that we must return you to your father,” he said in a lower tone. His gaze grew more intimate and, indeed, his disappointment was clear upon his face.

“Aye. I have enjoyed spending time with your clan.” And you.

“I wish…” Keegan shook his head, his expression sobering. “I wish you could stay longer, Lady Seona.”

A shiver passing over her skin, she savored his deep voice pronouncing her name. “As do I.”

His gaze intensified upon her, becoming as hot as a blue flame. He had given her interested looks before, but never one so breath-stealing. She felt near paralyzed. Captivated. But quickly tore her gaze away, her heart thudding loudly. She must protect herself, and him. This delicious enticement could only be destructive. As she had expected, talking to him caused her to want to draw closer to him.

He cleared his throat. “Have you a weapon?” he asked.

Chapter Three

When Keegan’s eyes met Seona’s this time, the heated passion was banked, and he seemed most solemn. Why had he asked her if she had a weapon?

“Nay,” she said, darting a glance toward her aunt. Her back was turned, and she was still conversing with the guard.

“Lady Isobel carries a dagger with her, and you should as well,” Keegan said. “You need to be able to defend yourself should—God forbid—something happen to me and the other men.”

Seona did not even want to consider such a horrid situation. “You and the other men are strong warriors and guards. I’m certain you will fight off any enemies.”

“Aye. I do hope so. But should you ever find yourself alone, ’haps after you return home, you need to know how to fight off an outlaw.” His gaze serious, he gave a slight frown. “Come. I want to give you something.” He turned sideways and offered his elbow.

“Where?” She sent another quick glance toward her aunt. The guard was giving Aunt Patience something to drink in a wooden cup.

“Just over here,” Keegan said. “’Tis in my pack.”

“Very well.” She curled her hand around his elbow. Just above it, her fingers stroked over the bulging muscle of his upper arm. The times he’d escorted her to the high table, when she’d been at Dunnakeil, were the highlights of her days. His hard, well-developed arm muscles were pleasing to her and, she had to admit, exciting.

Just as she did now, she’d always wondered what his arms would look like and feel like bare. And his chest. She felt overwarm of a sudden, but restrained the urge to fan herself. As well, a fluttering sensation overtook her stomach.

They approached his horse and his belongings on the ground. He bent and took a small dagger in a sheath from his pack. “I want to give you this, Lady Seona. I’ll teach you how to use it.”

“Oh heavens,” she whispered. His deadly serious demeanor chilled her heated skin. ’Twas no wonder he was such a skilled guard. “I thank you, but I’m not certain I will be a good warrior.”

“You’ve already proven you have a warrior’s instincts.” Keegan allowed a small grin to sneak out and she relaxed a bit. “Now you but need the skills. Besides, I’m not expecting you to be a fully-fledged warrior. ’Tis but for self-defense. I’m surprised your father or some other man in your family did not teach you. Do you have a brother?”

“Nay.” Her father would never want her to know how to wield a blade. Likely, he would fear she would use it on him.

“You can carry this small sgian dubh on the inside of your forearm, beneath your sleeve,” Keegan said. “And I’ll show you how to draw it quickly.”

“Very well. I shall try.”

Keegan was right. She must learn how to protect herself, should the need arise. Aside from that, she relished the notion of spending a few minutes with him for knife-wielding instruction.

She glanced back to see that the clansmen had set up another tent, this one for the chief, between where she stood and the rest of their party, giving her and Keegan a bit more privacy. No one seemed to pay them any mind, and her aunt was still focusing all her attention on the handsome guard.

Keegan motioned her to a flat grassy area in front of the horses and small trees. She moved to where he indicated, her attention shifting to the gleaming basket-hilt of the broadsword at his hip. A foot-long dirk hung on his other side, and she wondered if he had more weapons hidden beneath his clothing.

“If you will raise your sleeve, I’ll show you how to put the sheath on,” he said.

Her face heating, she untied the cuff of her sleeve and raised it a bit to expose her forearm. Aunt Patience would think it unseemly for her to bare her forearm to a man, but he was trying to help her.

He placed the sheathed knife against the inside of her forearm and pulled the straps around.

“Och, you have wee arms. I’m not certain this will fit unless I alter it,” Keegan said, eying the sheath. After removing it and kneeling, he took out the knife and worked on the leather, punching a new hole in both of the straps.

She stood two feet away and glanced back to see if she’d been discovered yet. No one was within sight.

Keegan stood. “Now, let’s try this again.” He held the sheath against her arm and secured the straps, which were much like small belt buckles. “There now.” He smiled at his handiwork.

“It fits perfectly,” she said, examining the sheath. The well-worn leather felt foreign against the sensitive skin of her inner forearm. “But I cannot possibly take your treasured knife and sheath.”

He waved a hand. “’Tis one I wore as a lad and too small for me now anyway. I was but using it for backup.”

She was stunned. He was willing to give her a weapon from his youth? There was no telling how many years he had worn this sheath on his arm. It made her feel closer to him. She caressed the nut-brown leather, tracing the worn Celtic knot pattern, then stroked her fingertips over the decorative handle of the knife, featuring a stag.

“Did you carve this?” she asked.

“Nay, my da did. ’Tis from the antler of a stag the former chief killed over twenty summers ago. I was a wee lad then, but I remember them returning from stalking deer. Everyone was excited and happy about the successful hunt.”

Though she had never talked with his father, Conall MacKay, beyond a greeting, she’d often seen him at Dunnakeil and knew him to be a friendly, hearty and boisterous man, quick with a laugh but also quick to defend those he loved.

“The knife is beautiful.” She was touched by his generosity, but he seemed unaffected that he was giving away personal items he must have treasured for many years. Or was he merely hiding his emotions? His eyes held no regret, only affection, when he observed her. He made her feel as if… she was special.

She swallowed hard and lowered her gaze. No one had ever made her feel special before. No one had ever cared whether she could defend herself or not.

“I’ve always wanted a weapon,” she confessed.

“In truth?”

She nodded, remembering how she used to dream of having a weapon with which to defend herself and her sister during her father’s violent rants. Such a thought was blasphemous, she knew, considering she was not honoring her father. But she had never done anything to deserve his wrath, nor had her sister or their poor mother.

“Why?” Keegan asked.

She could not tell him the truth and instead shrugged. “I admire those who are good fighters.”

“Well, mayhap you will be a good fighter when I’m through with you.” Keegan smiled.

Heavens! Did he expect her to spar as the men did during practice?

“The first thing you need to learn is how to draw the sgian quickly.” He moved his right hand near his left wrist and, within a blink of an eye, he held a knife in his hand. “Did you see how I did that?”

“Nay.” He’d drawn the knife so swiftly, ’twas but a blur.

Keegan returned his knife to its sheath on his left arm, then pulled back his other sleeve to reveal another on the right forearm. “I never want to be without a knife.”

“I see.”

“Watch. I’ll do it slowly so you can see what I’m doing.” He gradually moved his right hand toward his left. His fingertips slipped toward the inside of his wrist and tugged the handle. The knife slid out and he palmed the hilt. With the next demonstration, he repeated the movements a bit faster, but still not with the speed he’d first used.

“You try it,” he said.

After relaxing her arms for a moment, she lifted them as he’d done. She pulled at the knife within the sheath on her forearm. It would not budge. She tugged harder and the knife slid out smoothly into her hand.

“Aye. Very good.” Keegan grinned and a different expression entered his eyes, darkening them. The way his eyes changed amazed her. Sometimes they were pale and bright as the sky on a clear day. Other times, like now, they resembled the sky at twilight. She wished she knew what he was thinking so she could figure out why his eyes changed so much.

“I’m proud of you,” Keegan said. “Now, return it and draw it again. Often in the Highlands, who lives and who dies is determined by who can draw their knife, dirk or sword the quickest.”

Her stomach knotted with the thought she had to be quicker than an outlaw warrior. She did as he’d suggested and returned the knife to the sheath.

She yanked it out again, faster this time.

Keegan stood back, crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “Keep going.”

Concentrating on the task instead of Keegan’s intriguingly broad shoulders and muscled arms, she repeated the process several times. She was amazed at how she became much swifter and more proficient each time. She smiled. Of course, she wasn’t yet as fast as he was, but she likely never would be.

“Och, lass, you have a beautiful smile,” Keegan said.

She halted in the midst of returning the knife to its sheath, her hand shaking.

He quickly grabbed her hand. “Careful. Don’t cut yourself.”

She released the knife, her hands trembling. That’s what he did to her… him and his distracting, complimentary words.

He pushed the knife into the sheath and stepped back. He tried to hide his smile but she saw it easily. The heat rushing over her intensified.

He cleared his throat and sobered. “One thing you have in your favor, Lady Seona, is the element of surprise. Most men won’t expect you to be carrying such a stealthy weapon. Likely, an attacker won’t strike you with a blade. His main objective won’t be to kill you immediately.” He frowned, his expression turning lethal. “He’ll probably try to restrain you or capture you. He might grab you from behind, or he might rush you from the front.”

Imagining such things happening to her, she felt the blood drain from her face and a cold chill pass over her.

Keegan halted, eying her. “Did I frighten you?” he asked.

“Nay.” She didn’t want him to think her a complete ninny. While thoughts of being captured by a barbarous stranger did scare her, ’twas not more than she could handle. She had never been one to faint or grow frantic. Besides, she wished to be strong like Isobel. She admired her friend greatly for many reasons. “Go on,” she told Keegan.

“If some knave gets his dirty paws on you, you’ll want to learn how to make him release you so that you can escape. If you injure or kill him in the process, so much the better.”

“Heavens,” she whispered, unable to imagine killing or seriously injuring a tough, depraved outlaw. But mayhap she could if she learned how.

“Keep your weapon a secret until you can successfully draw and wield it for your benefit,” Keegan instructed.

“’Tis a good idea.”

“If a man grabs you from behind, he’ll probably put one hand over your mouth to muffle your screams. Then, he’ll wrap his other arm around you to restrain your arms while lifting you off your feet.”

She nodded, imagining how that could happen.

“If your arms are restrained, you have to make sure your hands remain close together so you can draw your knife. Once he is distracted by looking to see if he’s been spotted, withdraw the knife and grip it like this.” Keegan held one of his own knives in a backward position with the blade pointing toward his elbow. “Once you can move your arm freely, stab back into his groin or gut if possible. You’ll have to put some force behind it and stab deep.”

She nodded again, her face heating a bit with the mention of stabbing a man in the groin. But he seemed not to notice.

“Don’t try to stab through leather armor. ’Tis too tough for the small blade to penetrate,” Keegan said. “Make it count because if the first strike isn’t deep, he won’t be injured and he won’t release you. He’ll only get angry, and that’s when he’ll want to hurt you.” Keegan frowned darkly as if simply imagining the violence angered him. “If you stab him deep, he’ll shove you away from him.”

“Aye,” she said, realizing she’d have to practice stabbing if she was to get it right.

“If he then comes back for you again, unarmed, turn the knife around and slash at him. If he takes out a knife of his own, flee. In fact, running is your best defense. Only use the knife if you have to.”

“I can run,” she said.

“Good.” Keegan gave a slight grin. “You’ve made much progress in a short time. I’ll teach you more tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She was a wee disappointed their lesson was over already, but her aunt would be looking for her soon. “I thank you for the knife and for taking the time to instruct me. You’re very generous.” She glanced toward camp, not wishing to return. She enjoyed talking to Isobel, but her aunt and the maids were tedious and dull, doing naught but complaining. Whereas Keegan was the most fascinating person she’d ever met. Still, she had best bid him good evening lest he think her a wanton.

“Och. Did you see that lovely waterfall across the glen? I just noticed it.” Keegan pointed at a distant granite mountain where a generous waterfall sluiced down over rocks for several hundred yards. The snow at the top of the tall mountain was no doubt melting and feeding the stream.

“’Tis beautiful,” she said. The idea that Keegan wanted to show her something lovely warmed her heart. “I wish we could go closer.”

When Keegan remained silent, she turned back to find his eyes more intense as he stared at her.

“I wish… a lot of things,” he murmured in a low and mysterious tone. His charming grin was gone, replaced by a more serious expression.

“What do you wish for?” she whispered.

His blue gaze, far darker now than usual, slid from her eyes to her mouth and back again.

“Seona?” Isobel said, approaching them between the horses and tent. “Your aunt has noticed your absence.”

Chapter Four

Isobel’s unexpected presence yanked Keegan back from the brink of temptation. Saints! He’d almost told Seona exactly what he wished for—a kiss. He’d hungered to claim her lips for months, but he couldn’t do it now. He wanted to kick himself.

Isobel grinned as she approached. “I hope you can forgive me for the interruption, Keegan, but Lady Patience is looking for Lady Seona. Dirk went to tell her we were taking advantage of the privacy of the bushes for… you know.”

Keegan nodded. “’Tis not a problem.”

When he glanced back at Seona, her face was rose-colored. She was so lovely when she blushed. He wanted to grin but clenched his jaw instead.

“I thank you again for your generosity,” Seona told him as she moved toward Isobel.

Keegan gave a brief bow. “My pleasure.”

Watching the lass walk away, he regretted not making use of the brief amount of private time they’d had together and stealing a kiss.

“’Slud,” he muttered. Nay, he should never kiss her. He turned away to stare at the waterfall in the distance. The natural beauty of it only made him think about Seona and how he wished she was still by his side. He’d treasured watching the wonder and delight on her face as she’d looked at it. She had wished to go closer to it, and he was more than willing to take her. But that was impossible at the moment. Just as impossible as the two of them being together.

Kissing her would only make him yearn for her more. And that would be of no benefit to him.

Truth was… Seona could never belong to him the way Isobel belonged to Dirk. His chest ached with regret.

“Are you well?” A deep voice came from behind him.

Keegan turned to find Dirk standing there. “Aye.”

“Were you doing what I think you were doing with Lady Seona?” Dirk asked. Was he teasing Keegan? ’Twas a rarity.

“Depends on what you were thinking. I didn’t kiss her, if that’s what you mean.”

“Och. Well, you’re not as much of a rogue as I thought.” Dirk gave a slight grin.

“I wanted to,” Keegan confessed. “Damned badly. But that would’ve been madness. She’s a lady and her father will never approve of me.”

Dirk frowned, considering Keegan closely for a long moment. “You want… to marry her?” he asked as if realization was suddenly dawning.

“Of course. ’Twould be my fondest dream.”

Dirk raised a brow. “When did you decide this?”

Keegan shrugged. “Months ago. I know it seems daft, considering I hadn’t actually talked to her much until today. But when you meet the perfect woman for you, you just know somehow. Am I right?”

“Indeed. I respect your honesty. I was not quite so honest with myself when I was falling for Isobel. I thought I was going mad having such feelings for her. But, in truth, ’tis normal. I have never been so happy in my life as I am now.” Dirk grinned and glanced back toward camp, most likely hoping to catch a glimpse of his wife.

“I greatly admire what you and Isobel have. ’Tis what I want to share with Seona but…” Keegan shook his head, knowing he was wishing for something he could never attain.

“You never know. Why don’t you ask for her hand?”

“Hmph. Everyone has said her father insists she marry a chief or someone with a title and property.”

Dirk observed him, his expression serious. “If you truly want her, don’t let her go. Isobel was betrothed when I met her, and I was certain she was beyond my reach, too. But ’twas not the case. Sometimes you must take a chance.”

Keegan nodded, though he didn’t know how he could marry Seona if her father wouldn’t permit him to. What would happen if Keegan stole her away? Although kidnapping a bride was common practice among some clans, surely her father and his men would hunt Keegan down like an outlaw if he dared such a thing. Once he met Chief Murray, he’d know more about how to deal with him.

“I thank you for your advice, cousin.”

Dirk nodded and slapped him on the shoulder. “’Tis time to eat.”

They headed back toward the center of the camp.

Keegan had been hungry earlier, but after almost kissing Seona, a different sort of hunger gnawed at him. He craved a taste of her beautiful lips. She would be as sweet as flower nectar. He had no doubt of it. She certainly smelled sweet, he’d noticed as he’d strapped the knife sheath on her arm. He’d had a wild impulse to bury his nose in her hair and breathe her in.

As they all sat or stood around the camp, eating roasted rabbit, grouse and bannocks, he tried not to stare at Seona. Suspecting that anyone who caught him observing her would see his desires written clearly on his face, he only slipped a glance her way now and then.

Because she sat by her aunt, she seemed equally determined to avoid eye contact with him.

A quarter hour later, darkness descended a bit more and Dirk approached him. “We’ll stay here while ’tis dark and allow the ladies to sleep and the horses to rest. Half the men will guard the first part of the night, then the rest will guard the second half. We’ll leave early in the morn, just after daybreak. I’m concerned Haldane and his band of outlaws will attack again.”

“As am I,” Keegan said, watching Seona and her aunt disappear inside the tent with the maids. At the last second, Seona cast a quick glance his way and gifted him with a wee smile. Joy burst through his chest.

Saints! He was tempted to crawl in after her. To hades with her aunt.

“Are you too distracted to guard?” Dirk asked.

“Nay,” Keegan said, perhaps a bit too loudly. He wanted to kick his own arse for allowing Dirk to see he’d been distracted for a few seconds. No one had ever questioned his ability to perform his duty.

“If you are, ’tis naught to worry over.” Dirk gave an almost imperceptible grin. “I ken how that can be. Take the night off.”

“I’ll guard the ladies’ tent.”

Dirk nodded. “I’m certain you will protect Lady Seona better than anyone else.”

Keegan was a bit ashamed he’d allowed a lass to ensnare his attention so completely that it was obvious to the chief, and likely everyone else. But what could he do about it? He’d already tried banishing her from his mind. It didn’t work. The more he told himself not to think of her, the more he thought of her.

The men allowed the fire to burn down to coals. With several lanterns around the perimeter of the camp, the guards could see if anyone approached.

Dirk disappeared inside his tent with Lady Isobel. Keegan couldn’t deny he was envious they got to sleep together when he could not… ever… sleep with Seona. How could he live never knowing what it would be like to hold her close and sleep with her the whole night through?

***

In the darkness inside the tent, Seona pulled back the sleeve of her smock and placed her hand around the knife and sheath on her forearm. She’d been careful to hide it from Aunt Patience.

The leather sheath still held Keegan’s distinctive and entrancing male scent. The knife was like the man himself, sharp and lethal but also protective and comforting. He wanted to provide a way for her to protect herself when he wasn’t there. Her heart warmed.

But she didn’t want to think about him no longer being there, nor did she truly want to go home. Who would brighten her days with a single glance? No one had Keegan’s smiling blue eyes. Every time she looked at the summer sky, she would see his face. How would she survive? She couldn’t imagine life without him.

He had been within close proximity for many months. How could he not know how important he was to her? Of course, she didn’t have the courage to tell him. It would mislead him into thinking there could be something more between them than was actually possible. She would give anything not to be a lady at the moment… or the daughter of Chief Murray. Of course, the position came with certain privileges, but also heavy restrictions.

She pulled the sleeve of her smock over the knife sheath again. Her aunt could never see it. She would not approve of Seona carrying a weapon. Nor would she approve of Keegan teaching her how to use it, especially in private. Seona smiled, imagining Keegan giving her another knife-wielding on the morrow.

***

Haldane MacKay crouched behind gorse bushes next to Donald McMurdo and watched the lanterns flickering in the distance around the MacKay camp. “You kill Dirk and I’ll snatch Lady Seona,” Haldane whispered.

He could easily see the four tents and eight or nine guards patrolling the area. Half of them were obviously sleeping now so they could take a later watch. Dirk was canny to bring so many guards, but Haldane could be equally shrewd.

He glanced at the dark blue sky, seeing a scattering of wispy clouds, a full moon and a few faint stars. Summer evenings had a long period of gloaming and it would not be full dark for a while. Although Haldane was not known for his patience, he’d had to learn the virtue over the past several months since his infuriating older brother had taken over Castle Dunnakeil.

Once Dirk was dead and Haldane had Lady Seona in his possession, he would have everything he wished for—he would be chief of Clan MacKay and Seona would be his wife, as she was always meant to be.

“I like your plan,” McMurdo said, his voice raspy. His black eyes intensified in the dimness. “When I kill him, you will give me what I asked for, aye? What your father promised me.”

“Indeed. The tomb in the church will be yours.” Haldane still didn’t understand why McMurdo was so obsessed with being buried in Balnakeil Church. Sane or not, the man was a devious assassin. His long gray hair and pock-marked, wrinkled skin said nothing about his lethal cunning. The man was like a well-used, ancient sword—scarred and worn but he could still easily get the job done. At least, Haldane hoped he could. McMurdo had not yet succeeded at killing Dirk, despite a couple of attempts. The first time, everyone had thought Dirk was dead, but then he’d surfaced twelve years later. Haldane didn’t want that happening again.

“I want to see his dead body.”

McMurdo grunted. “How about his head on a platter?”

“Even better.” So long as Dirk was well and truly dead, Haldane didn’t care.

Nolan MacLeod slipped up and knelt beside him. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll take two men with me and head toward the tent where Lady Seona is sleeping,” Haldane said. “You go with McMurdo and kill the guard nearest Dirk’s tent so McMurdo can kill the bastard inside.”

“What about Lady Isobel?” Nolan asked.

“What about her? I don’t care.” Haldane knew Nolan had a bad itch for Isobel. The word was he’d almost raped her, but the lady had bashed him on the head and knocked him out. Haldane could understand his need for revenge, but he didn’t want Nolan botching the whole attack because he wanted retribution. Nolan certainly had no feelings for Isobel, not like Haldane had for Seona.

“What if she is carrying your brother’s heir?” Nolan asked.

Hell, he hadn’t considered that. If she was carrying a male bairn, that child would inherit the baron title and become chief when he grew to manhood. “She’ll have to die, too, then.”

“Nay. I want her,” Nolan said, his eyes gleaming like those of a madman. That didn’t faze Haldane. Several of his men verged on madness.

“Have her then, but make sure you kill her when you’re done with her. I don’t want any of Dirk’s spawn running around.”

Nolan grinned.

“But you’ll have to help McMurdo kill Dirk first. Isobel is in the same tent.”

“My pleasure.”

“I don’t need his help,” McMurdo grumbled, glaring at Nolan. “I can kill that whoreson with my bare hands.”

“I know you can,” Haldane said. “But use your dirk. I always thought it would be fitting that Dirk be killed with the weapon he’s named after.” Haldane snickered.

A half hour later, Haldane, Finlay and Gil slipped closer to the camp. Gil was the best archer he’d ever seen.

“Take out that guard, the one closest to us,” Haldane whispered to him.

Gil hesitated. “I cannot do that. He’s my cousin.”

“Do you think I give a damn? Dirk is my brother and I’d kill him if I had half a chance.” Haldane narrowed his eyes, observing the tent Lady Seona, her aunt, and their maids had disappeared into earlier. Keegan stood in front of it, then paced back and forth. “Looks like I’m going to have to kill my cousin, as well.”

“But you hate Keegan. I’ve never had a quarrel with my cousin. We got on good last time I saw him.”

“If you can’t do the job I’m paying you for, I’m kicking you out.”

Gil had been Haldane’s friend for years, but he was an annoying whiner at times. He needed a fierce kick in the arse.

“You’ve never paid me,” Gil said.

“I didn’t let you starve this winter, did I?” Haldane demanded in a harsh whisper.

Gil shook his head.

“Besides, I will pay you and everyone who’s helped me when I’m chief and wealthy. I’ll make you my sword-bearer. You’ll have a generous income.”

Gil’s eyes widened. Even in the near darkness Haldane could tell he was mulling that over. “Come. Let’s move closer. Once you kill one of the guards, the others may be alerted. I want to be able to make it to Seona’s tent.”

Haldane hunched low and crept through the bushes, Gil and Finlay behind him. McMurdo, Nolan and another man were stealing into the camp from the other side. The rest were entering from the east.

Haldane crouched again and peered from behind the bush. “There now, the guard closest to us is Balfour. No kin of yours, is he?”

“Nay.”

“When I give the signal, you shoot him.”

“Aye.” Gil knelt, nocked the arrow and drew back his bow string.

“After you kill him, shoot Keegan next.”