Chapter Three #2
There was no point in trying to disguise his Scots brogue. In any case, she was the future Lady of Greenock; headed to the highlands. She had better get used to it.
“You are here to escort me to Greenock?”
Her voice was rich and sweet, with an edge of aristocratic entitlement that made his hackles rise.
“That is to be our honor,” he answered, keeping his voice free of emotion.
She sniffed in displeasure, but sat easily in the saddle as her destrier wheeled around with agitation. Her blue gaze clashed with his and for a moment, Hamish felt as if she was reading the secrets of his soul.
“There are few of you.”
The steely challenge in her voice was undisguised. Hamish inclined his head.
“Even fewer of you.”
Had she rumbled them? By the grim set of her pink lips, he fancied she might have. This Lady of Greenock was no simpleton. But was she wise enough to judge the strength of her men against his? Or would she cry out in protest and force them to draw out their weapons?
He put a hand to the hilt of his sword in readiness, knowing that her sky-blue eyes were watching his every move. Behind them, Siegfried and Alaric closed in behind the saddle-weary escort.
“Is all well, milady?” The querulous query came from the first rider. A slight man who would give them little trouble.
His companion scratched his stubbled face and yawned. He was broad across the shoulders and might put up a fair fight, if he could summon the interest. “Our orders are to leave you here.”
The lady sat still as a statue atop her chestnut horse. Hamish fancied he could see the workings of her mind. She assessed her guard. Then she assessed Siegfried’s steady stance and Alaric’s wide grin. Both of them had followed his lead and stood ready to unsheathe their swords.
Her guards were mounted, reasoned Hamish.
She might think that would give them an advantage.
And she would be correct. But his men were seasoned warriors.
They would unseat these riders within moments.
The Lady would be his to deal with. He might choose to pull her from her horse and hold her tightly against him, only so she could not run away.
Or he might spring up behind her and take control of the destrier.
Mayhap his thoughts showed too easily on his face, for a look of alarm crossed her delicate features.
He must calm the situation, whilst it was still in his power to do so.
“Lord Gaunt has sent us to escort the Lady on to Greenock,” he proclaimed, throwing back his shoulders and daring the two English weaklings to question his authority.
Happily, they looked minded to deposit their charge and be on their way. One jumped from his horse and began unclipping saddle bags.
“But where is my brother?” The Lady looked about her, confused or impatient, he was not sure which.
Hamish said nothing. Would Gaunt’s men have been furnished with the details of the Lady’s family circumstances? ’Twas impossible to know.
But once again he found himself caught in the spell of her penetrating blue gaze. “Can you not answer my question?” Her voice held the slightest tremor, or was it only the effects of a chill wind and an uneasy horse?
Her golden hair was the color of ripe corn in the fields of Greenock. Inexplicably, he found himself wanting to please her.
“The house was deserted, milady, when we arrived. All locked up bar the main gates. I canna explain why.” He shrugged expansively, wishing she was off the horse and less likely to flee. “Mayhap we had best be on our way north. These are dangerous lands and it does not do to linger.”
He half hoped to frighten her. He did not expect her to break into laughter.
“What nonsense. I have known these lands all my life. Though never have I known Ember Hall to be so quiet. Some incident must have befallen my brother. And I do not intend to go anywhere until I have discovered what it is.”
As if picking up on the growing tension, her destrier shied to one side, flinging its head up and down.
Alaric stepped forward menacingly. Hamish stopped him with a sharp look.
“The door is locked, milady.”
“That is a problem I can easily solve.”
She solved the problem of the flighty horse easily enough, sitting deep in the saddle and bringing the creature back under control seemingly by effort of will alone.
Were it not for the broad-shouldered guard bringing forth four bulbous leather saddlebags, Hamish might have momentarily forgotten that anyone else was in the courtyard with them.
When the Lady looked directly into his eyes, his consciousness of everything else began to fade.
He breathed deeply to silence the humming in his ears and nodded to the guard, who had dumped the saddlebags on the cobbles by his feet.
He had to keep the ruse going just a little while longer. Once the guards had left and the Lady was undefended, the battle would be all but won.
He would send word ahead of them to Gaunt and set out his stall.
A bride for a sister.
And his castle.
But the younger guard was now looking at Alaric with a frown of confusion.
“Why does he reach for his sword?” he demanded of his companion.
“Because he is a young fool,” answered Siegfried, projecting both weariness and wisdom across the bleak courtyard. “We are all on the same side here, lad,” he enunciated, as if speaking to a half-wit.
Hamish thought for a wild and terrible moment that Alaric would retaliate against his own ally. He exhaled with relief when reason returned to the warrior’s angry face.
“I am charged with the safety of the Lady of Greenock. I believe ye canna be too careful with such a beautiful charge.” Alaric winked.
The older guard smirked as he sprang back into the saddle. “I shall carry word of your dedication back to the Earl of Felsham. I am certain he will be well pleased.”
“I am certain he will not care in the slightest,” the Lady murmured so quietly that only Hamish could hear her.
He hastily disguised his surprise. Victory was within reach and he must say and do nothing that would deter these men from leaving.
“Open the gates,” he ordered his men, waiting until the guards had trotted after them before reaching for the reins of the chestnut destrier. Triumph swelled in his breast as his hands closed around the supple leather.
She is mine now.
The Lady reacted quickly, snatching the reins back and plunging her heels into the horse’s sides so that it reared in retaliation. Hamish ducked away from the animal’s plunging hooves, regretting his impulsive move but unable to help admiring the way she steadied the creature in mere seconds.
“Do not presume to touch anything of mine until I give you permission,” she stated, her voice icy cold. Her horse lowered its head, its sides heaving.
Hamish bowed to hide his scowl of displeasure.
She should not talk to me that way.
But then again, he’d always admired a display of courage in a woman.
“We have much to discuss, milady.” He put mocking emphasis on the word. No Lady could be Lady of Greenock without his say so.
Once again, those vivid blue eyes locked with his. She gave him a tight-lipped smile, which tightened all the more when Alaric shot back the bolts of the gate after the departing riders.
“It seems we do.” She sighed, more with resignation than regret, and gracefully jumped down from her destrier.
She was a tall woman, he noted, but much too thin.
Her pale riding habit was well cut and trimmed with fur at the neck and the sleeves.
She patted her horse’s neck and spoke to it gently, despite her obvious awareness that all was not as it should be.
“Perchance we should first introduce ourselves. I am Isabella, dowager Countess of Felsham, recently betrothed to the Laird of Greenock.”
Hamish took a calming breath and put his hands on his hips, meeting the challenge.
“I am Hamish.”
“And do you serve the Laird of Greenock?” The aristocratic edge had returned to her voice. Her eyes showed a glimmer of desperate hope that the answer might be yes.
Hamish smiled grimly. “Nay, milady. Gaunt is my sworn enemy. I am the Laird of Greenock.”