The Hellion and the Highlander (19 page)

“Come along,” she said abruptly, extending her hand and leaning down.

Laddie raised wide eyes to her. “Am I to ride with you, then?”

“Aye, since you have been ordered to remain at my side,” she answered calmly.

“Aye.” He looked relieved but did glance toward the pony once before taking her hand.

Laddie was heavier than he looked, and when
she struggled a bit to pull him up, several soldiers dismounted and were suddenly there to help.

“Thank you,” Averill said with a laugh, as they got Laddie settled on the saddle before her.

“You’re welcome, my lady.”

“Pleasure to help, my lady.”

“Happy to be of assistance, my lady.”

Averill blinked as the men all smiled at her widely, bowing as they backed away. These were men she had grown up with and who had always treated her—as the daughter of their lord—with a sort of indifferent respect. Certainly they had never graced her with the flashing eyes and wide smiles they’d just bestowed on her, or even rushed so eagerly to her aid and with such alacrity. ’Twas odd, Averill thought, then shook her head slightly with bewilderment at their behavior as she turned her attention to ensuring Laddie was settled comfortably.

“Are you settled?” she asked, surprised to find him scowling at the men who had helped them. “What is wrong?”

“They shoudna look at ye like that,” he said grimly. “Yer the laird’s wife.”

“Like what?” she asked with surprise.

“Like yer a lass they want to tup.”

Averill was so shocked at the words, she could hardly catch her breath, then a short burst of laughter slipped from her lips.

“They were not,” she said with disbelief, and then bent a frown on the boy, and asked, “And who has been teaching you to talk like that?”

“Oh, everyone says ‘tup.’” He shrugged, then admitted, “I’m no’ sure what tuppin’ is exactly, except it’s somethin’ a man does to a woman he likes.”

“Aye, well…” Averill cleared her throat, and said, “’Tis not chivalrous to use such speech in a woman’s presence.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “But ’tis all right fer a lass to use it?”

“What lass did you hear use it?” she asked with amazement. Her mother would have forced her into a cold bath for hours had she caught her using such language.

“Annie and Morag use it. Just the other day, Annie was sayin’ as how when she was takin’ them some ale at the table, Lord Will and Aidan were laughin’ and talkin’ about the laird’s disgust that every time he tried to tup ye, someone shot an arrow at him or some such thing.”

Men!
Averill thought and closed her eyes on a sigh.

“Besides, the soldiers use ‘tup’ all the time. They ha’e been goin’ on about how lucky laird Kade is to get to tup ye.” He frowned, and added, “I guess they havena heard that he’s no gettin’ to tup ye at all.”

“The men think my husband is lucky?” Averill asked with amazement, for if she’d considered it at all, she would have worried they pitied the man. They all knew how many men had rejected her before he had accepted her to wife. Besides, none of them were blind and could surely see how plain and unattractive she was.

“Aye,” Laddie nodded solemnly. “Ever since the laird was shot with the arrows and ye brought him home. They say ye came ridin’ in all wet and nearly naked, sittin’ at the laird’s back like a conquerin’ queen, and ye were a fine sight to see.” He sighed. “I wish I’d seen it.”

“I am glad you did not,” Averill countered in a mutter, flushing as she recalled the day in question. She’d been more concerned with getting Kade to bed and tended than in her appearance. It wasn’t until Bess had rushed up to drape a fur around her as she’d followed the men carrying Kade into their room that she’d even noticed her chemise was soaked, transparent, and plastered to her body.

Averill hadn’t thought much of it at the time, for—in her experience—men never looked at her as anything but Will’s plain little sister, or Lord Mortagne’s ugly daughter. To hear what Laddie was saying was rather shocking to her. No one found her attractive. She did not even think that Kade could, though he acted as if he liked her well enough. She thought he was just being kind because he had grown to like her as she’d nursed him and because she was his friend’s sister. Surely, those were the reasons he’d married her? That and for her dower, she had assumed. Now she was left to wonder about it all.

“My,” Averill said with surprise, as the men set to work cutting rushes with wide smiles for her and some vigor put to the task. “See? They do not mind at all.”

Will snorted at the suggestion. “They would not be smiling and working so diligently had
I
asked them to perform the task.”

“I am sure they would,” Averill murmured, turning to begin moving along the spongy earth in search of the plant she needed. While Will had agreed to detour into the village to speak briefly with the innkeeper and his wife, and had even agreed to allow the men to search for and gather rushes for her if they were willing, he had also refused to ask them himself, insisting she would have to be the one to do it.

Averill had felt a bit nervous as he’d called them
over to hear her, and she had stammered once or twice when she normally didn’t when speaking to the Mortagne soldiers, but had been relieved and pleasantly surprised when they had all agreed to help. She didn’t believe for a moment they would not have agreed had Will asked and not ordered it. In fact, Averill suspected they were all so bored to tears that they would have done nearly anything to end their ennui. And she was grateful for it. There was one more task off her list of things that needed tending at Stewart. They would have the keep in shape in no time at this rate, with or without the return of the servants.

Pausing as a familiar leaf caught her eye, Averill bent at the waist to lean down and brush the branches of a different plant aside to better see the one she wanted. She then nearly overbalanced as the soldier walking behind her didn’t stop quickly enough and bumped into her, sending her lurching forward. Averill caught herself by planting one hand on the wet grass, and then stiffened in shock when she felt the soldier grab at her hips to keep her from falling. When he didn’t immediately release her, she turned her head to peer wide-eyed along her back toward the guard. His own eyes widened in a sort of shocked horror as he took note of their stance, then he released her hips as if scalded and backed away.

“Sorry, my lady,” he mumbled, but she couldn’t help noticing his eyes were locked on her behind where it poked up in the air.

Completely flummoxed by it all, Averill pushed with her hand and straightened abruptly, managing a smile for Laddie when he hurried to her side, glaring at the hapless soldier like a small, mean dog.

“I do not think you need follow so closely, Dougie,” Will said dryly, joining them from the woods where he’d disappeared to “water the bushes.”

“Nay, my lord,” the man said quickly, and took several steps back.

Nodding, Will glanced to Averill, and asked, “All’s well?”

“Aye.” She nodded and turned away to crouch by the plant she had been trying to get a look at.

“Is that it?” Will asked, squatting beside her.

“Aye,” Averill murmured, quickly pulling out her knife to cut down the plant at the stalk.

“Is that enough?” Will asked as she straightened.

Averill smiled wryly and shook her head. “Several of these are needed to make one vial of the tincture.”

“And how many vials are you wanting to make?” he asked with a frown.

Averill considered the matter, then decided, “At least two.”

She was hoping to need only a couple of drops more before Brodie joined his father and brother in giving up the drink, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Nodding, Will took the plant and turned to show
it to the men gathered behind them so that they could keep an eye out, too. There were six men altogether guarding them from harm. Averill thought it silly. Kade was the one someone was trying to kill. However, she supposed six was better than having thirty-six hounding their every step.

The thought made her eyes slide to the thirty men grimly hacking away at rushes. Several had already gathered a goodly sum of the plant stalks. They were holding them under one arm while trying to continue thrashing away at more while thusly hampered, and it made her frown and realize they should have brought a cart.

“Will?”

“Aye?” He turned back in question.

“We have no cart to carry back the rushes.”

He clucked under his tongue with irritation, then turned and moved toward the working men, saying, “I shall send one of the men back to fetch a wagon.”

Averill turned back to scouring the ground for more of the particular plant she wanted, then straightened and said, “Laddie, chase after my brother and ask him to have the other men keep an eye out for the plant as well. With so many of them watching for it, we may be done and back at the keep in no time.”

The boy nodded and rushed after Will. Averill continued walking, but had only taken a couple more steps when she realized that she needed to water the bushes as well. Grimacing, she held off,
preferring to wait until they returned to the castle and the privy, but by the time Will and Laddie returned, Averill was coming to the realization that she wasn’t going to be able to wait.

Sighing, she straightened and gestured her brother over when he stopped to talk to the men guarding her.

“What is it?” Will asked, approaching.

Averill hesitated, then flushed and leaned up on her tiptoes to explain the situation.

“Ah,” he said with a nod, then glanced around and gestured to the men before taking her arm to lead her into the woods. Laddie immediately began to follow, but Will glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “You cannot stand guard this time, my little friend. She needs to empty the dragon.”

Laddie’s eyes widened incredulously. “She has a dragon?”

Will burst out laughing and merely waved him away. “I shall be right back and explain then.”

When Laddie slowed but didn’t stop, Averill glanced over her shoulder to give him a reassuring smile. “’Tis lady things.”

“Oh.” He frowned but did not stop, and said, “Then why does he get to go?”

Averill rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine. You may accompany Will.”

Her gaze jerked to the men now moving forward as well, and she snapped, “But not you.”

They stopped at once but glanced at each other as if wondering if they should disobey her.

“I have my two guards here and that is enough for this excursion. Why do you men not look for more weeds for me?”

They grimaced, but they also nodded and began to survey the ground. Though, she couldn’t help noticing they seemed to be moving in the general direction she, Will, and Laddie were headed as they looked. Shaking her head, she muttered, “I shall thank Kade for this when we get back.”

Will chuckled but merely steered her into the trees and along a little path for a way. He then paused, and asked, “How is this?”

Averill glanced around and then nodded. “’Tis fine.”

“Come along then, Laddie,” Will said, releasing Averill to turn and catch the boy by the arm instead. “Let us move away so Avy can water the bushes in peace.”

“Water the bushes?” Laddie asked, then clucked with disgust. “Well, why did ye no’ say so?”

“Ladies do not discuss such things in public,” Will said dryly.

“Hold on!” Laddie suddenly dug in his heels, forcing him to a halt. “I’m no suppose to let her out o’ me sight. The laird said so.”

“Aye, well you can hardly stay and watch, can you?” Will said dryly, catching him by the collar and forcing him on.

“Nay,” he agreed, grabbing at a tree trunk to halt their progress again. “But how are we to ken does she need help?”

Laddie was a tenacious little fellow, Averill thought with irritation, wishing Will would just pick him up and carry him out of the small clearing so that she could tend business. She was fair to bursting to go.

“She will sing, will you not, Avy?” Will said.

“Nay, I will not,” she said firmly. Averill couldn’t carry a tune to save her soul…or even to get them to leave. “But I shall talk if you will both just please leave.”

“There.” Will glanced down at Laddie. “She will talk so we know she is well.”

Much to her distress, Laddie took a moment to consider that before nodding solemnly and releasing the tree. “Well, all right then.”

“Thank God,” Averill muttered, barely waiting for them to step through some tall bushes and out of sight before yanking up her skirt. Honestly, ’twas sometimes such a trial to be a woman. Were she a man, she could have just turned her back to them and whipped it out. But nay. She was a woman who must drag up her skirts and chemise and squat without losing her balance, and—

“She’s no talking,” Laddie said with distress from the other side of the bushes. Those bushes then began to waggle as if he were coming back through them.

“I shall talk,” Averill squeaked with alarm, and
thought really she had been, just not out loud. Sighing, she asked the thought uppermost in her mind, “What do you think Kade will do about his missing men do they not show up soon?”

Averill knew he was fretting about them. The worry hung on him like an old cape, and now that his father had abdicated, he could turn his attention to other worries. Domnall, Ian, and Angus, she knew, were at the top of the heap.

“If they are not here by nightfall, he is sending a riding party out to search for them tomorrow morn,” Will answered.

“What?” Averill squawked.

“I said—” he began, but she interrupted.

“I heard you,” she muttered grimly, and wondered why her husband hadn’t mentioned that to her. Why was it men had no difficulty talking among themselves but seemed to find it impossible to discuss things with their wives? Her mother had always seemed to be the last one to know things at Mortagne, too.

“She’s stopped talkin’ again.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Averill snapped with irritation. Really, all this fuss and bother was rather intimidating her body. It didn’t seem to want to go in this situation. Clucking with exasperation, she said, “Can I not have a few moments of peace to—”

“Water the bushes?” Will suggested, seeming to assume she’d stopped because using the term would offend her sensibilities. But Averill had
stopped because a rustling to her side had caught her ear. ’Twas a little ways off, but too loud to be a rabbit or some other woodland creature hopping about.

“What did ye mean when ye said she was emptyin’ the dragon? She doesna really ha’e a dragon, does she?” Laddie asked suddenly.

“Nay, of course not,” Will answered. “’Tis just another way to say she is watering the bushes.”

“Oh,” Laddie said, and then after a moment pointed out, “She isna talkin’ again.”

“Avy?” Will called.

“Aye?” she said absently, eyes scanning the woods nervously. She thought she heard a grunt, and was sure the rustling sounds were getting closer. Deciding she would have to wait until they returned to the keep, she dropped her skirts and chemise and started to stand. “Will, I think someone is—”

Her words ended on a shriek as a plaid-clad man stumbled out of the woods to her side. He turned his head to find her, raised a hand toward her, then collapsed at her feet even as Will and Laddie rushed into the clearing.

The man and boy paused to peer wide-eyed at the man lying unconscious on the ground. Laddie was the first to speak.

“What’d ye do to him?” he asked, the question drawing her startled gaze.

“Nothing,” she said, even as Will knelt beside the man and turned him over.

“What is it?” Averill asked when he cursed. “Do you know who he—?” She stopped the words abruptly as she got a good look at his face. “Domnall?”

“Aye,” Will muttered, tugging his plaid aside and raising the bloodstained shirt he wore beneath it to reveal the wound in his side.

“Let me see,” Averill said at once, urging him out of the way so that she could examine the wound. She didn’t glance up when the Mortagne soldiers charged into the small clearing in response to her shriek. They surrounded them, swords drawn and at the ready, but slid those swords away and murmured among themselves when they took in the situation. Domnall, Ian, and Angus had been at Mortagne for two weeks before Kade had awoken from his long sleep. The Scots were known to most, if not all of the English soldiers, and Averill heard Domnall’s name murmured repeatedly as she examined the wound, then looked at the older and new bloodstains on his top.

“This wound is several days old and reopened,” she announced grimly. “We need to get him to the castle.”

Will nodded and moved opposite her to scoop the man up like a child. Averill watched worriedly, following when he carried him out of the woods and to where they’d tied up their horses. He handed Domnall to one of the soldiers to hold as he mounted, then took him up on his horse. As he waited for Averill and Laddie to scramble
onto her mare, he glanced to the men now mounting. “Dougie, go tell the men to stop gathering the rushes and search the woods for Ian and Angus or anything out of the ordinary, and stay and help them.”

The moment the man nodded and dropped back off his horse to hurry away toward the other men, Will turned his mount and set out for home at a gallop. Averill immediately urged her mare to follow and quickly wrapped her arm around Laddie when he nearly bounced his way out of the saddle. It was an automatic, almost absent action. Averill’s mind was on Domnall and all she would have to do for him when they got him home…as well as the question of where Ian and Angus were.

“The men will ha’e to pledge their fealty to ye,” Gawain pointed out as he followed Kade down the stairs.

“Aye,” Kade muttered, but then paused abruptly and simply stared at the activity in his great hall. “What the devil?”

“It looks like yer lady wife has the English soldiers a-cleanin’ again,” Aidan commented with amusement, as Kade glanced over the mass of bodies in the room. They were not all Mortagne soldiers. There were also women dressed like peasants and even a few men in peasant garb working among them.

“Again?” Gawain asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Aye, she had ’em removin’ the dirty old rushes the other day,” he explained, then added with approval, “I notice she hasna set our men to the task. A sensible woman is yer wife. She kens what an Englishman is good fer but doesna make the mistake o’ thinkin’ a Scottish warrior is o’ the same weak ilk.”