The Savage Highlander Page 9

  Kerrick tripped over his own feet as he backed toward the door, where Aiden grabbed him by the shoulder to practically throw him out. Aiden’s gaze slid to Scarlet, his face neutral. “I placed one of my sister’s clean smocks on the bed upstairs,” he said. Giving a nod, he shut the door behind them. Scarlet puffed out an exhale and ran up the freezing steps.

  Dressed, her legs warming under the wool trousers and skirts, Scarlet descended to find the room crammed with all the Campbells who had accompanied them to Castle Menzies.

  Kerrick had his back to the stairs as he spoke to Aiden. “I will return with Scarlet to Finlarig while ye lead the others back to Castle Menzies.”

  “No,” Scarlet said, the force of the word snapping every angry face her way. “No one is going back to Castle Menzies right now.”

  “Retribution is required,” Kerrick said, his usual smile replaced by a dark look that could only be described as lethal. “For the attack on ye.”

  She knew Aiden would explain her reasons for leaving Castle Menzies in the middle of the night, but Scarlet still felt her face flame over her foolish flight. Had he told them how easily tricked she’d been? Scarlet swallowed past her tight throat. “Not when everyone is still so angry.” She shook her head. “Retribution can come once tempers have calmed.”

  Kerrick raised his fist to thump across his heart. “My temper will never calm over this attack.”

  Scarlet gave him a slight smile. “Thank you, Kerrick, but I still insist that we all return to Finlarig. Despite Finlay’s sinister soul, I still wish to acquire his flock and entice his sister to attend the school. Even more so, since I now understand to what immoral standards Cicilia Menzies is subjected, living under her brother’s roof.” Had the poor woman seen couplings in the great hall?

  Kerrick looked back to Aiden, whose face had remained as fierce as usual. “Finlay will be giving his sheep to the school without requiring payment,” Kerrick suggested.

  Aiden’s gaze cut back to Scarlet, though he answered Kerrick. “A small price to pay for keeping his balls attached.”

  Scarlet let out a huff but gave one nod. “I will write to Cici immediately to ask her to come to the Highland Roses School. Now, since we are all thoroughly awake and great in number in case the wolves are about, shall we return tonight to Finlarig and Killin? I’m sure you would all like to sleep in your own beds.”

  “I will ready the horses,” Aiden said.

  Scarlet threw on her red cape that sat across one of the chairs. “I will bridle Caora.” She strode past them all to follow Aiden outdoors. The cold, clear air made her curl inward, shoving her bare hands into the folds of wool around her. But it was the damp hair that quickly pulled in the icy winter chill. She’d dried it as best she could upstairs with the damp drying sheet.

  “Go back inside,” Aiden said over his shoulder. “Yer hair is wet.”

  She grabbed it, coiling it into an icy snake to tuck between her gown and the cloak. “It will still be wet as we ride back.” She hurried her stride, following his footprints, which were visible in the bright moonlight that peeked from behind fast-moving clouds.

  Scarlet pushed into the barn. Warm and scented with hay, it was a sanctuary from the frigid night. She shook off the cold, striding to Caora while Aiden watched her. “Ye will freeze on the ride back.”

  “I will be well,” she said, though her voice sounded less confident than when she’d spoken inside the house. “’Tis not more than a length through the trees and then the meadow where the Beltane Festival was held near Killin. I will survive it.”

  Aiden grunted in response. Scarlet turned from him to spread the saddle blanket along Caora and fit the bridle over her head. She rubbed the horse’s neck, her warmth helping to thaw her numb fingers. Perhaps she would just hug the horse the whole ride back.

  Aiden mounted his tall white horse and watched as Scarlet guided Caora toward the barn doors. She glanced around for a bucket to step upon.

  “Here,” Aiden said, nudging his giant closer so that Scarlet stood between the sides of the two horses. He reached down, lifting under her arm, his grasp snug around her ribs. Scarlet jumped upward, and Aiden lifted, but instead of setting her on Caora’s back, he swung her up, her legs parting to sit astride his own horse before him.

  “Aiden?”

  “I won’t have ye grow ill,” he answered, and threw a wool blanket from the back of his mount around them. His lips came near her ear. “If ye’re sick in bed, there will be no one to stop me from slaughtering Finlay Menzies before or after my temper settles.”

  Scarlet swiveled in her seat to tip her face up to him. The moonlight barely lit the stables, making shadows cut along the planes of his face. “I doubt your temper ever settles,” she said.

  He looked down at her, their gazes locking. “And…I never, ever forget.”

  Chapter Seven

  Aiden rolled out of Grey’s bed and frowned at the bright light streaming through the windows. Getting little sleep the night before, and then returning to Finlarig close to midnight, he’d slept well past dawn. Washing and dressing quickly, he headed out of the room. Walking past the first set of steps, he paused outside Scarlet’s bedchamber door. Silence. Was she still asleep? He heard no coughing to signal an illness.

  Despite Scarlet’s wet hair, Aiden hadn’t felt her shiver under the blanket on the ride back through the night. He’d kept her completely covered, pressed against him, their body heat making him almost sweat. He inhaled, still smelling her flower scent clinging to him. Damn.

  He exhaled through his teeth and took the stairs down to the great hall. The room was empty. Grabbing a cold bun from a tray left on the table, he strode out into the sharp chill of the morning air. Several young warriors worked on a stone enclosure for the flock of sheep that Finlay would be gifting to Scarlet.

  Aiden climbed the ladder to the gatehouse where Hamish stood guard with several of the younger warriors. “Heard that Finlay Menzies is a dead man,” Hamish said, wiping an arm across his mouth as he glanced at Aiden and then studied him, squinting his eyes.

  Aiden snorted. “The bastard doesn’t know how lucky he is that Scarlet wants to bring his sister here to the school. Else he’d already be dead.”

  “Do ye know ye have bruises under your eyes?” Hamish asked.

  “I hit my nose,” Aiden said. Or rather, Scarlet had hit his nose. Aye, the woman could become fierce with some training. She was agile, graceful, clever, and surprisingly hardy for a Sassenach.

  Hamish looked out over the trees toward the empty meadow beyond. “Kerrick said he was organizing a raid on the sheep, in case Finlay doesn’t realize how lucky he is to still have his head.”

  “Kerrick’s about?” Aiden scanned the bailey but didn’t see him. “Where is he?”

  “He’s been up at the keep,” Hamish said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Some of the lasses from Killin came for their lessons. Said he needed to teach the self-defense class.”

  Aiden’s brows lowered. Kerrick might be wrapping Scarlet up in a hold right now. “I’ll be in the class if ye need me,” Aiden said.

  Hamish laughed. “I don’t think ye need any lessons.”

  Aiden ignored him, sliding down the ladder without bothering with the rungs and strode back into the keep. He leaped up the steps of the main stairwell to the second floor. The library door was open, but the room was empty. The door next was closed, and he pushed inside without knocking.

  Half a dozen lasses stood in two facing rows. Kerrick stood near the windows, but what caught his gaze was Scarlet. What the bloody hell was she wearing? Devoid of skirts, she stood talking to Kerrick in…the black woolen trousers.

  “Excellent,” Scarlet called. “Our other teacher is here.” She beckoned him over.

  Aiden strode over, feeling the stares of all the lasses following him. “Where are your skirts?” he asked.

  Scarlet looked down at her long, shapely legs encased in the tight wool, as if she hadn’t rea
lized her skirts were missing. She raised her gaze to his and planted hands on her hips. “Easier to learn defensive training without the burden of skirts.”

  Aiden looked to Kerrick, who slowly shook his head. “Lady Scarlet has hired Kirstin and Alana to make a pair for each of the students,” Kerrick said.

  “Yes,” Scarlet said cheerfully. “So we can kick with force and see our target.”

  Aiden crossed his arms over his chest. It wasn’t that he minded seeing Scarlet wearing trousers, or any of the ladies, but he didn’t like the idea of dishonorable men staring at Scarlet’s legs, the outline leading right up to show the round curves of her arse. “But when the time comes to defend yourself,” he said, “ye will be wearing skirts. ’Tis best to train in what ye will have on.”

  “That depends,” Scarlet said with a wry grin. She dropped her hands, bending at the waist to touch her toes. “Perhaps we will start wearing trousers all the time, to be better able to protect ourselves.” She straightened and smiled at him. “We might even be able to help protect Finlarig.”

  “A woman’s militia,” Alana called out.

  Young Isabel, or Izzy, as she was called, made motions with her hands. She hadn’t spoken since her mother died a year past, but her sister, Cat, seemed to understand her. “Like the Amazons,” Cat said, translating, and the girl nodded vigorously.

  The fun challenge on Scarlet’s face caught at Aiden’s frown. He moved his jaw left to right and rubbed his short beard.

  “I’m trying to explain that the idea is foolish,” Kerrick said.

  Och, was the man so dense? Telling a mule that it was foolish and must move would never make it take a step. And if having their legs free to kick and move taught the lasses to fend off bastards like Finlay, then he wouldn’t discourage them. Aiden shrugged. “I won’t ask anyone who wants to defend themselves or the clan to stand down.”

  Aiden was rewarded with a huge smile from Scarlet. Let Kerrick catch her frowns and sour looks.

  “Bloody wonderful,” Scarlet said, making Kerrick cough and several of the young lasses giggle.

  “Lady Scarlet, I don’t think Evelyn would approve of all your swearing,” Kerrick said, continuing to make himself less likable to Scarlet with each utterance. The more he spoke, the less Aiden needed to worry about Scarlet being seduced by him. Not that it mattered. The woman could love whomever she wanted. He had nothing to say about it.

  “In the heat of combat, I have found that swearing gives one strength and courage,” Scarlet said.

  “Heat of combat?” Kerrick asked, a smile growing on his face.

  Aiden walked to the end of the line of ladies, keeping his grin inside. If Kerrick wasn’t careful, he’d end up with bruises under his eyes, too.

  “Don’t you swear during combat?” Scarlet asked Kerrick.

  “Well…aye, I suppose I do.”

  “Then we will also learn to swear. Though, you are correct in that we should never use vulgar words outside of this room or battle.”

  Scarlet left Kerrick to walk down the short row of facing women. “Now to return to learning how to break someone’s hold.” She slid up her sleeve to show a bruise around her slender wrist.

  Aiden frowned, but Scarlet held it up like a scar of honor. “We mustn’t be afraid to train as if a villain is truly using all his strength. Else if the time comes, we won’t know how it feels to break away from an iron grip.” She lowered her arm. “Bruises will heal, sore muscles will mend.” She stopped to level a resolute stare on Alana, then Kirstin, her gaze sliding down the line of women. “But if you aren’t successful in thwarting an attacker, the experience, if you survive, will haunt you the rest of your life.”

  …

  The moon sliced across the dark room as if a polished mirror reflected it. It fell like silver liquid over the man, his black wig a contrast to his pale skin. Scarlet hid in the shadows, panic paralyzing her. She barely drew breath for fear of being noticed.

  The man’s member was erect, and he stroked along it with a bejeweled hand. How could she possibly flee without him seeing her?

  “Come out, my lady fair,” he called, his gaze scanning the gilt interior of the room.

  Scarlet’s breath caught in her throat as she watched another man enter the room, tall, his light-colored hair flattened with sweat as if he’d just removed his wig. Where the king’s gaze slid over her hiding place, the other man’s gaze stilled on the drapes as if he sensed her hiding there. With strong, silent strides, he walked across. “Where is my pigeon?”

  Scarlet’s fingers curled into the length of the curtain, grasping as if she were aloft, dangling, and the fabric held her life. Reaching forward, the man whipped back the curtain, and Scarlet screamed.

  Scarlet jerked awake, staring out from the quilts that she clutched in tight fists. A lamb slept curled in a heap of blankets by a nearly cold hearth. Snowball. Heart pounding, Scarlet breathed from an open mouth. Dawn sunlight lit the window panes across from her.

  I’m in Scotland. At Finlarig. I am safe. The words helped her breath calm, but she still shook as the dream played through her mind.

  “Damnation. Bloody hell,” she said, her voice clear in the room, making the little sheep raise her head for a moment before nuzzling back down. “Mo chreach.” She pushed the blanket back from her chin, propping herself up. “I am fierce,” she whispered, taking strength from the words. “I am powerful, and I resist every man who threatens me. I am free and fierce.”

  Speaking and hearing the words strengthened her. They battled back the terror that had gripped her in the nightmare. If only she could say them in the dream, but she always felt caught in numbness there, stagnant and helpless, tied by the chains of sleep.

  Scarlet slid from the warm blankets, her toes finding her slippers. She stirred the fire, patted the drowsy lamb, broke the ice on the water pitcher to wash, and dressed in a blue wool gown. Her trousers were stiff from drying after she’d washed them, and she’d left them off since they were still damp.

  “Come along, Snowball,” she called, and the lamb stretched out of her nest to follow Scarlet into the hallway. Scarlet glanced down toward the other end of the corridor. Was Aiden still abed? Sleeping naked under the furs?

  The lamb batted at her skirts. “Yes, you need to go outdoors.” She hurried down to the second floor, pausing when she heard a thump as if a heavy book had dropped onto the wooden floor. She walked with the lamb down to the library, but when she poked her head inside, the room was empty. She stepped inside and saw the art book sitting on the floor near the fireplace. “Ghosts?” she whispered, picking it up as she glanced in the empty corners. “Maybe Molly is right about fairies roaming the lands,” she said to Snowball, who hopped around the table.

  Cold whisked under Scarlet’s skirts as she walked into the great hall, reminding herself to commission a few more pairs of the warm trousers to survive the Highland winters. The lamb, seeing the pack of dogs near the hearth, ran ahead to join her new friends. Robert, the male dog, leaped up to jump around with her, his shaggy ears flopping about his head. The whole pack ran down the back hallway toward the kitchen gardens when Alana called, Snowball with them.

  “Good morn, milady,” Molly said as she brought forth a wooden trencher with several tarts upon it.

  “Thank you, Molly,” Scarlet said, going to the side table to pour some brewed tea into a tea bowl. “Have yourself some, too,” she said, pouring another.

  Molly’s gaze followed the lamb as it trotted off. “Will you be keeping the lamb in the keep like a pet then?”

  “No,” Scarlet said. “She will move out when her mother arrives and the shelter is built.”

  Molly nodded. “Best that, less mess in the castle.”

  They sat together at the table, Scarlet letting the heat from the tea warm her, soothing away the last tendrils of her dream. She sighed. “Do you ever have nightmares, Molly?”

  “Oh my, yes,” Molly said, her eyes widening. “Rats nibbling on me and
ghosts shrieking in my ears as I lie on me own grave.” She shook her head. “And sometimes I’m inside the grave, scratching to try to get out.”

  Scarlet’s inhale caught. “How horrid,” she said.

  Molly tipped her head back and forth. “Aye, but sometimes the rats are with me inside the coffin, so I’m not completely alone.” She took a drink from her cup.

  Scarlet opened her mouth but had no words. She took a sip of her tea and set it down. “I think we will all be better equipped to rid ourselves of nightmares when we learn to wield daggers and throw kicks and gouge eyes,” she said.

  “Possibly,” Molly said, her face scrunched in contemplation. “Though I doubt I could gouge out a rat’s eyes. Me fingers are too fat.”

  Scarlet shook her head, her lips parting over a slight grin. She cleared her throat. “I think I’d like to make up some glue to use on those china shards,” Scarlet said, rising to collect the basket from the corner. “I might have an idea of what to do with them.”

  “I’ll get right to it,” Molly said. “Me ma passed down a recipe to me as she was always having to glue her pottery back together.”

  Scarlet studied the wall next to her that was still darkened by scorch marks from the fire. “She dropped them often?”

  “Nay, she threw them often.” Molly whisked away down the hall toward the kitchens. Scarlet stared after her, her brows pinched.

  The front doors opened, and Kerrick strode in. “Menzies are here,” he said, a frown in place. Scarlet nearly pitched forward, feeling like she’d been hit in the chest. “Finlay?”

  “Nay, his men are bringing the sheep and his sister.”

  Scarlet stood, finding her red cloak near the entryway to follow him. “Cici?”

  “Aye.” She followed him out into the clear morning light. “Aiden’s been busy this dawn,” Kerrick said.

  Good God. What had Aiden been doing? She rushed across the snow-covered bailey where a flock of white sheep were running under the raising portcullis, making the chickens scatter about. A set of peahens trotted in circles in the bailey corner. She didn’t even have time to question why there were peahens in the bailey as Cici trotted her horse inside.