Between a Highlander and a Hard Place Page 3

  She wanted to be relieved. But her worry only grew as she recognized just how much power Galwell wielded.

  “Stay in there, Athena. I shall return.”

  Her uncle was gone a moment later, slipping out of the back door.

  It left her alone with her thoughts.

  Love hurt.

  Her heart was torn. Oh, she understood she owed not a single tear to Galwell, not after what he had done and threatened to do.

  And yet her dreams were a pile of rubble at her feet, her world upside down, and even hope seemed beyond her grasp as she felt as though she was turning as hard and cold as the stones she was pressed against.

  Perhaps that was for the best.

  Yes.

  It truly was.

  She would never love again, for men were vile creatures. They declared themselves so many things, and beneath it all was naught but the craving to use women to satisfy their lust.

  She allowed her memory to offer up an image of Galwell’s gleeful face. It was an ugly sight, and she wanted it burned into her mind so she never forgot!

  Never.

  * * *

  “Athena, come now.” Her uncle had opened the door to the priest hole. He reached inside and drew her out. “We’ve things to accomplish before dawn.”

  “Did you see the sheriff?”

  Henry shook his head. “There is little point. The man is in Galwell’s pay. I will need time to contact men who can keep him from blackening my name. Until I can, you must be hidden away.”

  Her uncle took her through the room and into the kitchen. He pressed her into the corner where the bathing tub was tipped up against the wall and the window shutters closed. There was light from the coals in the hearth.

  “I have made arrangement for you to travel with Myles Basset. He’s a young man trying to make his mark in the world by traveling to markets in Scotland.”

  “Scotland?” she gasped.

  Her uncle nodded, taking up a bag that was sitting on the kitchen table. He dumped the contents out.

  “I must send you beyond the Scrope family’s reach until I can arrange a meeting with the lord of London. It will take several weeks. Galwell will have you broken and installed as his mistress long before that if you remain here.” Henry looked at her, his face solemn. “He is the worst sort of man. One with family ties that will make others turn a blind eye to his dealings.”

  “I am sorry, Uncle,” she murmured, feeling as though there was no escape. “Perhaps I…should…” She couldn’t force the words past the rising bile in her throat.

  “You shall not bend to his whim.”

  Henry was a mild man. Yet she heard the heat in his tone. He pointed a finger at her. “You shall never suffer the fate my sister did. I swore it before God on the night she died beneath this roof. Your father deserted her when you were born female and begged his way back into the good graces of his noble family. I took you as my own, and thank God your worthless father died before siring any of the sons he longed for. Sons he would have raised up to be exactly like Galwell. Black-hearted.”

  “You never told me…”

  Henry shook his head. “It was not your sin. My sister was as beautiful as you and just as much of a phoenix. You are as powerful as you are fair. It was her curse, and fate seems to have made it yours as well. Know this: I will keep my word, and I will enjoy knowing Galwell shall not have you. Now.” He held up a pair of breeches. “You will travel as a boy.”

  * * *

  “Boy? Are you deaf?”

  Athena jerked awake. It was barely first light, the morning gray and still dark.

  “Still sleeping?” Will Tinker demanded as he reached over the edge of the wagon to grab a hank of her hair and yank on it.

  “Sorry, Master.” Still groggy, Athena forgot to mask her voice.

  “You squeak like a girl,” Will Tinker complained. “Get your arse moving. We’ll never make it to the crossroads before May Day at this rate.”

  Myles Basset was a decent enough master, but he was also wise enough to know that dealing in Scotland meant he’d be best to employ Scottish men.

  Will Tinker was given full authority over her and the others. He was vulgar and short-tempered.

  It was raining again. Within moments of emerging from the wagon, she found her wool doublet soaked. At least she had a dry place to sleep, for their wares were fine cloth and had to be kept safe beneath heavily oiled canvas wagon covers. At night she crawled in and slept beside the bundles, making very sure she closed up the canvas when she left.

  Will cursed at the two burly men who handled the horses, complaining about how slow the animals were moving. She hurried to bring the reins to them, earning a roll of eyes from the man named Tanner. She kept a smile from emerging on her lips because Will wasn’t one to let mockery go without a good thrashing.

  Still, she preferred him to Galwell.

  In fact, it was remarkable how many things she found in Scotland that were to her liking. The weeks had passed and with them her heartache.

  Love truly was the folly it was preached to be.

  Or at least it was flimsy enough not to be anything she should ever trust.

  No, better to plan a future with good, solid sense leading the way. As soon as she returned to England, she would happily allow her uncle to settle her future in a match of his choosing.

  The plan was a logical one.

  So why did it leave her so cold?

  The reason was Galwell, of course. She was loath to trust any man with even friendship now, much less act as wife. She shuddered with revulsion as she remembered the way Galwell had stroked her.

  Ah, yes, like a fine possession…

  The rain was suddenly not so cold. She helped break camp and looked forward to the long day of travel because it meant doing something besides submitting to Galwell. Truly her uncle was the best thing in her life, for he had saved her from that fate, and she would not forget his parting words to her.

  There would be no submitting.

  Ever.

  * * *

  May Day

  Athena didn’t have to be woken. No, she felt the excitement in the air before first light. It was the first time since leaving England that she’d felt too grubby to endure the male clothing she hid inside.

  She left the wagon and moved away from camp, and she wasn’t the only one doing so either.

  “Hurry up, Rosslyn…ye do nae need yer shoes…”

  Girls were moving away from the camp that had arisen in preparation for the market fair. It was the only day they were allowed the liberty of going unescorted. Of course, their male relatives weren’t really duped. No, they were rolled in their plaids, pretending to sleep because it was tradition that the girls were allowed to sneak away to wash their faces in the morning dew.

  A pagan tradition, but one the Church realized would never truly be forgotten.

  Or at least no one was quite willing to defy fate by failing to raise a maypole and dance around it as Old Man Winter was banished so a good harvest might be ensured.

  The ritual was older than anyone recalled. Better safe than sorry. They all placed their faith in God and yet took the time to perform the acts of good luck their ancestors had.

  Athena’s memory was filled with years past, when she and her cousins had whispered to one another as they hurried to walk barefooted across the new grass.

  She didn’t dare…

  And yet she longed to so very much. Traveling as a boy had kept her from any attention along the road. She was truly grateful and should keep her hat on and the dirt on her face.

  But first light was beginning to break.

  The birds called out to one another.

  The breeze carried the scent of early spring flowers and flowing water.

  And she simply couldn’t resist.

  With a quick look behind her, she moved off before dawn broke. Off toward the woods where the other girls were going. Athena stopped to strip off her breeches and doublet. Doing so left her in a shirt that fell to her knees, and she swore to herself she would only stay long enough to wash her face in dew and let her toes get wet before returning to her role as a boy.

  Wasn’t it right to ensure Galwell not be allowed to steal everything from her?

  She’d have a bit of May Day happiness in spite of his black-heartedness.

  The thought bolstered her confidence enough to have her stripping off her boots and stockings. The grass delighted her with its chill as the sun began to turn the horizon pink.

  Now, she could see the other girls smiling shyly at one another as they moved off into the woods. Someone started to untie the braids that had kept Athena’s hair tightly bound to her scalp, combing it with her fingers until it rose up in a fluffy cloud of gold.

  Athena smiled, unwilling to use her voice lest her English accent be detected. But giggles seemed to be universal, and she happily indulged in a few as the sun began to warm her skin.

  * * *

  Symon poked Brenda through the wagon cover.

  He heard a soft grunt from his cousin. Tamhas and Lyall both looked up from where they were still “sleeping” to send him raised eyebrows. The wagon swayed as Brenda climbed down.

  “I am no’ a maiden,” she groused.

  “And I am no’ in the spring spirit,” he whispered. “But we both agreed we’d play along and no’ sour the day for others.”

  She fluttered her eyelids before making her way toward the woods, her dark hair flipping back and forth across her back. Symon jumped when Tamhas grabbed a handful of his
leg hair and yanked.

  “We’re”—his retainer gestured toward the rest of the clansmen—“supposed to be sleeping.”

  Symon returned to the ground, wide awake and more aware than ever of how bleak he seemed to find life. The truth was he was sick unto death of the hold the events in his past seemed to have on him.

  He needed to move on.

  Too bloody bad he was laird and no one seemed willing to kick his arse.

  He needed it rather badly.

  If he ran across Niul McTavish today, he needed to thank the man for knocking him across the jaw the season before. At least the fight had woken Symon up enough to shave off his mourning beard and try to live again.

  The thought was bloody frustrating. May Day was something every man near him was looking forward to. Now that dawn had broken, they were creeping off to peek at the girls. Symon sat up, but his member wasn’t stirring at the idea.

  And it damned well should have been.

  Which meant he was going toward the woods because he was damned tired of the way his blood felt like it was frozen in his veins.

  It was May Day. The girls washed their faces with morning dew with their hair flowing free and naught on but chemises. The only men not stirred by the idea of it all were the ones wearing sackcloth in the monastery.

  At last he grinned.

  He’d done too many things to be considered for a life of piety.

  Too many stolen kisses on summer days.

  Ah, but Tara’s had been the sweetest of them all. Shy little kisses that their wedding vows dictated she owed him, and yet he’d enjoyed coaxing them from her.

  He moved through the woods, using skills he’d learned to stay alive during raids. Today was an anomaly. A day when McPherson, McTavish, Grants, Robertson, and others dispensed with their feuds in order to indulge in spring festival.

  Today, he kept low to the ground and moved carefully in order not to be heard by the women. The game would last only until full light, when skirts and dresses would go back on, but the hair would be left down until sunset.

  Of course the fun was catching glimpses of the girls in their chemises.

  At last Symon felt his enthusiasm growing. He wasn’t sure if it was the promise of seeing a few well-turned calves or maybe just the idea of being able to sneak closer without being heard.

  Not that it mattered. He crouched low, staying in the shadows close to the trees and making sure he was near enough to the river to allow the sound of the water to mask his motions. He pulled his plaid up to cover his head, the muted color of the wool allowing him to blend better with the surroundings.

  Other men passed by, drawn by the soft sound of whispers farther away from the river. Symon decided to wait, leaning in so he was pressed against a thick tree trunk.

  At first, he thought he imagined her.

  While the other women moved deeper into the woods, this one hung back, content by herself.

  Her hair was a golden cloud. Like a crown, and she wore it proudly. She was graceful but tall. It drew his attention because he was accustomed to dwarfing the women around him. She reached up, finding new spring leaves that the other girls hadn’t been able to touch, and tipped them so that the dew dripped down on her face. The wind carried her husky laughter to his ears as he felt his lips being split by a grin wider than any he’d felt in a long time.

  She was magnificent.

  The first rays of the sun showed him the outline of the mounds of her breasts.

  Handfuls.

  Ones that would fit his hands.

  His member stirred. She lowered her head, and their gazes met. Her eyes widened as her lips rounded in surprise. It might have been an hour that they stood there, staring at one another; Symon honestly couldn’t have said. Her eyelids lowered, fluttering against her smooth cheeks.

  He reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet.

  Something flickered in her eyes as he performed the common courtesy gesture. A hint of trust perhaps. He fought the urge to move closer to her, caught between the need to close the distance between them and the fear that she’d take flight if he moved.

  Fear…

  He hadn’t worried about a woman’s opinion of him in a very long time.

  Something rustled behind them, gaining her attention, and then she took flight. Her long legs carried her swiftly, right out of his sight, as he cursed.

  The lad who had startled her stood gap-jawed while she disappeared.

  “Was she real?” he asked as he stopped beside Symon.

  “I’d no’ be surprised to discover her a forest sprite.” He patted the younger lad on the shoulder. “But ye can be sure I’ll do me best to prove her a mortal woman before the day ends.”

  And that was a promise he was going to enjoy making good on.

  * * *

  Her heart was pounding.

  It made stopping and fighting to get back into her clothing a chore and extremely frustrating. The strip of cloth she used to bind her breasts tangled as she fought with it. And her stockings felt twisted when she did finally succeed in drawing them up her legs. Why had she taken such a risk? It had been foolish.

  You wanted to spit in Galwell’s eye.

  Well, that was the truth now, wasn’t it? And so was the fact that she would see that pair of topaz eyes in her memory forever. Galwell was being burned away by the Scot. She might have been grateful if she could form logical thoughts. She’d never been so close to such a man.

  Yes, she’d expected to see Scotsmen, for she was in Scotland, but he had been something so very different from what she’d expected. So very suited to his environment.

  As she succeeded in getting her hair braided and pinned tightly to her scalp, her alarm faded, allowing satisfaction to fill the void. Her lips curved into a very satisfied smile as she shrugged into her doublet and buttoned it. The last thing was a skull cap that tied securely beneath her chin and then her flat cap.

  He’d been the most savage thing she’d ever encountered, and yet there had been something about him that inspired trust in her. Such a strange combination, and with it came the oddest intensity. She recalled a multitude of details about him, all as clear as if he were standing right in front of her now.

  Dark hair. He had it trimmed so it didn’t quite brush his shoulders, and he wore a beard like so many men did, only his was trimmed short and he hadn’t allowed it to cover his neck either.

  She liked that.

  Athena felt a blush sting her cheeks.

  Really, she shouldn’t like anything about the man. However, she decided ruefully, where exactly was the harm?

  He had topaz eyes.

  Almost golden and yet darker. Just like the rest of him. Dark was a word that fit him, for there was a hardness to him. He’d had his shirtsleeves tied up to expose his forearms, showing her how honed his flesh was. Galwell had often practiced his swordplay while she watched in order to impress her with his skills.

  This man put Galwell to shame.

  He’d also have towered over him.

  There were more people awake now. Athena jerked away from her thoughts as men sent her smirks.

  All in all, she passed for a boy well enough because of her height. There had been a few years when she despaired over the fact that she was taller than all the other girls, but her face had always captivated men.

  Such as Galwell?

  Indeed, and the fact left such a bitter taste on her tongue. Still, she enjoyed knowing she was somewhere she had never thought to go. Trudging back to camp, with morning fully broken, she found herself enjoying a sense of adventure. One so very unexpected too.

  After all, the Church would have her in the stocks or worse if she were caught in breeches.

  “What are ye about?” a girl demanded. “Have ye no shame?”

  Athena ducked her chin as her ear was cuffed. Girls were enjoying the right to reprimand the men for a change. Plenty of them had their hair down still, proclaiming them maidens and unspoken for. It was a topsy-turvy day. The rules reversed for the sake of celebration.

  “There ye are at last!” Will exclaimed as she made it back to the wagons. “Ye are no’ being paid to dally on the green!”

  Her cheeks heated as she considered just how many girls were coming back from the woods less pure than when they went out that morning. Even though the Church frowned on it, a spring pregnancy was considered an omen of good luck for the harvest. If the girl chosen as the May Queen failed to ripen, there would be worry about the harvest to come. There would also be a rush of summer weddings when girls declared themselves fruitful after a tryst on May Day morning and named the fathers of their babes.