Between a Highlander and a Hard Place Read online

  All around her, she heard babies crying and being put to breast. They were three months old, the crop from the year before.

  Immoral?

  She didn’t have the heart to judge them harshly. Not when there was such joy surrounding her. Such life. Couples came from the woods, hand in hand, offering each other longing looks before the men broke away to return to their duties or clans and the girls hurried to the side of their kinfolk. In a place where clans didn’t mingle with other clans, she could see the advantage of May Day. For many of the girls, it was the only way to meet someone new.

  As you did? The man in the woods had been tempting indeed. Part of her lamented the fact that she’d fled.

  She blushed scarlet and kept her chin tucked to hide it. At least there was work to do. Plenty of things to carry to the booth Myles was preparing to open for the day. The lengths of fabric were carefully displayed, a canopy set up to shade them and oiled canvas kept beneath the table in case of afternoon rain.

  “Well now, lads,” Myles said in an attempt to speak Scottish. “Let us see if our efforts are rewarded in profit for this venture.”

  Athena took a moment to sit in the back of the booth, out of sight and alone with her thoughts.

  She’d already reaped her rewards. Galwell hadn’t forced her submission, and she’d even found the means of driving him from her thoughts.

  At last fate was turning kind toward her.

  May Day, it would seem, was still a day full of wonder for her.

  * * *

  “It’s time ye told me what ye are looking for.”

  Brenda turned around, facing him down with a look he knew well. It promised him Brenda wasn’t planning on being denied what she wanted, which happened to be something Symon wasn’t entirely sure he was in the mood to share.

  “Is no’ shopping about looking for things?” he asked her.

  Brenda’s lips twitched. “Ye”—she pointed at him—“never accompany me when I go shopping. Tamhas and Lyall are both looking for an excuse to check yer forehead for fever because ye are sticking to me skirts.”

  Symon turned and caught both his captains looking slightly guilty. They covered it quickly enough, hiding their emotions behind stern expressions.

  “Now tell me.” Brenda stepped closer. “Who are ye looking for?”

  Symon tilted his head and looked down at her, but she shook her head.

  “Ye spied someone this morning,” she accused him in a hushed tone. “Do nae deny it.”

  “Well, if I did,” he answered, “and I am no’ saying I did…”

  Brenda snorted softly.

  Symon grunted at her. “There would be no reason for ye to take issue with me, since we have both agreed I need to find a wife this season.”

  “Why do ye think I am asking ye to share the details with me? I cannae help ye find her if I do nae know what to look for.” Brenda turned and leaned in close as she looked at the booths they had yet to visit. “What color hair?”

  Symon thought about not telling her.

  Brenda poked him beneath his ribs. He was quick to grab her hand and spare himself the pain she seemed to know exactly how to inflict.

  “Ye are a beast, Cousin,” she muttered. “Hulking and huge. I will have a much better chance of finding her if ye hang back just a wee bit. Elsewise, ye will meet only her brothers as they stand in yer way to shield her from the wild highlander ye appear.”

  “So certain she’s a foreigner?”

  Brenda fluttered her eyelashes once again. “We know all the eligible girls from the clans represented. Perhaps a cousin is visiting, hoping to meet someone. It’s the time of year for that sort of thing.”

  “Gold hair,” Symon supplied.

  Brenda was pleased with herself. She made a little motion with her hand. “And what else do ye recall about her?”

  Everything.

  Brenda’s eyes narrowed as she sensed he was holding something back. Symon tightened his expression. There were some things he wasn’t going to share with his cousin.

  “Lightest gold, like the first rays of the morning sun, and blue eyes like a mountain lake…tall…” He looked up at the crowd, feeling like he could hear the sand running through the hourglass. The thought of not finding her should not have been so important, and yet he’d be a liar if he denied it. He recalled every detail about the girl.

  Well, woman.

  Young and yet tall enough for him not to worry about taking her to his bed. She was passionate too, or at least bold, for she’d gone out in only a smock.

  He suddenly realized it had actually been a shirt.

  “Ye’re taken with her,” his cousin whispered. Brenda stared at him.

  “I have nae even spoken to her,” he defended himself. “I cannae be taken from a simple moment.”

  “And yet...” Brenda’s voice trailed off. His cousin was normally so poised, it was rare to see her hold her tongue because she was uncertain.

  “Do nae make more of it than…well, than it is. I would like to see her again is all,” Symon said.

  Brenda slowly smiled. Determination flickered in her eyes. “How tall?”

  Symon used his hand to show her. She let out a little “hmm” before turning and contemplating the merchants waiting to try their hand at selling to her. “That will make it a bit easier. No’ many women measure up like that.”

  It was the truth that at times, his cousin’s brazen nature had tested his patience. Today Symon decided it was worth every moment of frustration he’d ever suffered, for Brenda Grant was many things, and good at getting what she went after was on the top of the list.

  With the information he’d confessed, she was off and hunting with purpose, and he didn’t even mind that part of her motivation was so she would no longer need to find a mate herself.

  For the moment, he was content to let her believe he’d drop the matter.

  In fact, he just might even think about doing it if Brenda found the girl for him.

  Because the truth was he was taken with her.

  * * *

  She was breathless.

  Not out of breath, no. Athena had felt that way more than once while working under Will Tinker’s direction.

  This…this was something entirely different.

  Her breath felt lodged in her throat, while her blood seemed to be racing along in her veins, making her light-headed, and all the while she fought the urge to giggle because she enjoyed it so very much.

  He was there.

  She had no name to apply to the man she’d encountered that morning, yet her memory didn’t do him justice. Somehow, she’d failed to realize how large he was. Because she was taller than most women, men didn’t seem overly large to her. In fact, there were several she looked straight in the eye. Her uncle had found it amusing, while her aunt had despaired of ever making a match for her.

  Well, in Scotland, there were men who dwarfed her, it would seem.

  His strength was measured in more than just height, though.

  He was large through his shoulders and limbs, all the way to his hands.

  He was also the most savage-looking man she had ever seen.

  And there was a presence about him. Behind him, two other men seemed to be keeping guard, although she doubted he’d allow them to protect him. No, he was a hands-on sort of man. One who led and therefore deserved the respect of his followers.

  She wanted to see his eyes once more…

  He’ll know you for who you are if you look into his eyes…

  Athena looked down at a length of cloth, letting the plain color calm her thoughts. “Savage” wasn’t really correct. No, he was hard, his arms thick with muscle that spoke of hard work. Clearly the sword he carried was something he knew how to wield.

  Galwell had carried a rapier, and just like the thi
n Italian blade, his arms had lacked the muscle this Scotsman’s limbs had.

  You prefer him…

  She chided herself. She preferred no man. None at all. She was simply fascinated by how very different he was from any man she had ever met. He wore a kilt, pleated up around his trim waist and belted to his body. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and tied to allow her to see past his elbows, proving that he was quite comfortable in his climate.

  And then there were the topaz eyes. Not brown, but topaz. She didn’t dare take another glance for fear he’d recognize her in spite of her male attire, but she wanted to look at him again.

  Longed to, really.

  “Alex?” Will snapped his fingers at her. “Bring the linen for this lady to see.”

  Athena responded to her male name, carrying the fabric forward.

  “Soft and fine,” Will said, expounding on the quality of the fabric. “Fit for a lady of your quality.”

  The woman offered him a soft chuckle. She reached out and stroked the cloth, her fingers slim and graceful.

  “Have ye no women among ye to give testimony on the way yer cloth suits a woman’s skin?” she asked.

  Will stiffened. “It…it would not be proper to have a woman along the road with us.”

  The lady let out a little sigh. “However, it would be helpful. Men and women are very, very different.”

  “An excellent suggestion,” Will offered in an attempt to soothe his would-be customer.

  “Stop toying with the man, Brenda,” the man with the topaz eyes chided her gently, and then turned to Will. “Forgive me cousin. The winter was too long, and she has had only me to sharpen her tongue on.”

  So gentle a voice for a man of his size. He came forward with a purse in hand to settle the price. Athena melted back as they haggled. At last the deal was struck, coins exchanged hands, and the fabric was picked up by one of the men at arms attending the couple.

  Cousin. Athena didn’t care to admit how much she liked knowing the woman was not his wife.

  Well, he surely has a wife.

  There were six men set to walking with him. All of them faced partially away while he shopped to keep his back safe. And there was that purse. It jingled with silver and gold. The man’s knitted bonnet was different from his men’s as well; there were three feathers sticking up, while only one of his men had a feather.

  An important man, which meant he had a wife.

  She turned and busied herself making sure the stacks of cloth were perfectly neat. It was best not to look at him again.

  Not that avoiding looking kept his visage from rising in her memory.

  Would she never learn? Why was she drawn to yet another one instead of noticing how far she was from home because of her folly in dealing with men?

  She needed to gain wisdom.

  Needed to learn to ignore them.

  “I see ribbons, Symon,” Brenda declared. “Let us see if I can find some to complement me hair.”

  Symon.

  His name sank into her mind in defiance of her determination not to think about him.

  Clearly she was a poor student as well as being foolish.

  As clear as the blush staining her cheeks.

  Two

  Symon felt something deep inside him at sunset. A lament rippling through his heart over the fact that he had not found her.

  And it was the honest truth he was relieved to know he could feel such a thing.

  “Is that Symon Grant?” Diocail Gordon slapped him on the back before peering at his face. “Truth is ye look like Symon, but ye’ve been shopping like a woman all afternoon.” There was a round of chuckles from the retainers ringing them.

  Symon took the reprimand jovially.

  “I do wonder what yer new bride thinks of yer harsh judgment concerning spending time with female relations,” Brenda offered softly.

  Diocail tilted his head to one side and crossed his hands over his chest. “Well now, Mistress Brenda, it is no’ the first time ye have found me lacking. Is it, now?”

  “Ah yes, Harvest Festival,” she muttered. “How is yer new wife?”

  “Round with child.”

  Symon reached out to offer Diocail his hand. They clasped wrists before Symon took a mug of cider Diocail offered. He toasted the setting sun, feeling a sense of loss that once more struck him as a good thing because he was feeling something at last.

  Still, he’d wanted to find her. Now, at the end of the day, with no way to see her again, he might admit he had been taken with her.

  Perhaps it was better he hadn’t found her after all. Affection in a union was fine, but obsession led to distraction. What he needed was a female he found pleasing in company, one who would see to his home and be sturdy and strong.

  She’d been tall and sturdy…

  And captivating too.

  Aye, well, she was lost as well. Better to focus on the good that came of the encounter. Fires were being lit now, the mood turning pagan as the moon began to rise. Children were hustled off to bed before the more wicked nature of the festival was unleashed.

  The flames licked at the wood stacked in the center of the green. Behind it, the maypole turned scarlet as women with unbound hair began to dance around the fire. They spun their skirts high, baring their legs as they thrust out their hips in carnal display. Drummers accompanied them, playing ancient tunes.

  “Go on,” Diocail muttered gruffly. “Ye’re a single man…”

  There were many reasons why festivals were held at the crossroads. Clans could mingle more freely, and the Church was far away when it mattered.

  Symon moved closer, the heat from the fire warming his face. But he was content to watch as women danced and men tried to lure them away into the woods for a tryst.

  Some believed it good luck.

  He smiled wryly. Some were simply good at finding acceptable ways to talk about lust, for that was what the night was full of: heart-pounding, blood-heating, carnal lust.

  Symon peered intently at the dancers, seeking the woman he’d hunted for all day. If she danced by, she’d be his.

  And God could chastise as He would for it.

  * * *

  “Stay away from the fire, Alex,” Myles warned. “These are the highlands. Pagan practices abound. Guard your soul against them.”

  Myles muttered the Lord’s Prayer as he walked away toward the wagon he slept in. Will Tinker waited until he was gone before snickering.

  “Bloody English think themselves so pious.” He flashed a grin at Alex. “Yet yer women still swell with babes. Christ did nae put them in those bellies, men did!”

  It was a vulgar comment. Athena had become used to them, for anytime Myles was out of earshot, Will unleashed a volley of scarlet speech. Time had dulled her sensitivity to it, and Will pursed his lips together, clearly disappointed by her lack of shock.

  “Maybe ye should get out and lose yer virginity, lad,” Will offered. “Ye’re sure to get a warmer welcome from a good Highland wench than those English chits back home.” He rubbed the front of his kilt. “I know I’ll no’ be declining should some wench make me an offer.”

  Will wandered away.

  Athena stared at the fire. There was a hypnotic pull coming from the flames.

  It would be wicked of her to go.

  Yes. However, she realized she had done everything Galwell deemed proper. Conducted herself with piety and submissiveness.

  And what had it gotten her?

  A position of being his pet. For all that a wife’s duty lay in obedience, it was a respectable position. One earned through self-discipline and perseverance.

  She had been such a trusting fool.

  A timid little mouse.

  Temptation was licking at her insides as surely as the flames climbing up the dry wood. The night seemed ali
ve with a beat she’d spent the past few years stopping her ears against. A wild tempo that sent her blood rushing through her body with excitement and made her feet itch to dance.

  Not one of the Italian dances favored by court. No, she wanted to spin around the fire and let her body move freely.

  Well, you shall never have another chance…

  The voice inside her was too hard to ignore. And why should she? Driven into hiding by a man who was breaking a commandment by bringing false accusations against her.

  Shouldn’t she take advantage of the moment to taste adventure?

  Athena looked around, but everyone else had found the time to sneak away. Myles was behind a flap on one of the other wagons.

  Just a dance…

  She wasn’t going to give up her virtue, but by Christ, she was going to taste what it was like to be unbridled.

  At least for a moment.

  So she fought with her clothing, her breasts aching to be free. Once they were, she combed her fingers through her hair before looking around once more and leaving the wagon behind. She’d left her boots on to protect her feet as she moved closer to the fire. There was more light, and the heat drove away the chill of the night.

  The drums were louder too.

  Wilder.

  The tempo caught her, seeming to pull her in with the girls dancing around the flames. Her flesh seemed to know the way to move, sweeping, turning, dipping, thrusting. Control vanished, leaving her feeling more free than she had ever been in her life.

  And more aware of being a woman.

  Yet it wasn’t the sort of consciousness she was accustomed to. No, there was a sense of enjoyment now. A rush of delight connected to her gender that she had never experienced before. She was not the weaker sex, not the lesser in any way. In fact, she was the cradle of life, and it was a more precious thing than she had ever taken the time to realize.