Highland Destiny Page 9

  “Ye can cry nay whene’er ye wish to. This doesnae mean ye must now lie down with any mon.” The mere thought of Maldie with another man made Balfour’s chest tighten with anger and jealousy, but he fought to keep those emotions out of his voice. “I have ne’er believed that a maidenhead was all that decided a woman’s honor or innocence.”

  Her eyes widened, not only because his opinion surprised her for it was one few people held, but because of the faintly sharp tone of his voice. She did not know how or why, but something she had said had angered him. “Ye have a generous heart, Sir Balfour. I didnae mean that I must now walk my mother’s troubled path, just that I have now become your lover. That cannae be easily undone.”

  It could be, he thought, but bit back the words. If she thought that it could only work to his advantage and, guilty though it made him feel, he knew he would grasp the opportunity to keep her close. Maldie was too clever not to see the error in her thinking very soon, but her brief confusion would give him some time, time to strengthen whatever hold he had on her.

  “Do ye have regrets now?” he asked, touching a kiss to her shoulder as he smoothed his hands over her slim back.

  “I should, but I dinnae think I do.” She idly trailed her fingers over his taut stomach, enjoying the way he trembled beneath her touch. It was comforting to see such proof that she was not alone in her weakness. “I always swore I wouldnae make the same mistakes my mother did, yet, when I try to brand myself with such a fault, I find I cannae believe this is the same as hers. Howbeit, that could just be some bold conceit I tell myself so that I willnae look too closely at my own weaknesses. ’Tis more comforting to think I have none.”

  “True, but this is a weakness I share.”

  Maldie laughed softly and smiled at him. “And that should make me feel less disturbed by it all, should it?”

  Balfour smiled back and shrugged. “I could think of nothing else to say to soothe your troubled mind. As I have said before, I feared taking the same missteps as my father did. Yet, I too feel that this isnae the same. We both tried to fight what flares between us. My father ne’er even hesitated if he decided he wanted a lass.”

  She sighed and nodded in silent sympathy. “My mother ne’er hesitated either. Not when it was passion, not when it was coin. Since we are determined to delude ourselves, let us call our short time of restraint—”

  “It wasnae that short a time. God’s teeth, it felt like months to me.”

  “’Twas little more than a fortnight. ’Tis no great show of restraint. Howbeit, we can console ourselves, and ease our doubts and fears, with the sure knowledge that the parents we so fear to emulate would ne’er have held steady for e’en that long. Do ye ken, ’tis most sad when ye can so clearly see the failings of the ones ye are supposed to honor and revere.”

  “’Tis hard to remain blind to such things as one grows older and, God willing, wiser. That wisdom allows one to see those faults and, if not understand them, at least forgive them. The love I had for my father wasnae lessened by the discovery of his weaknesses. He also had many strengths and skills.” Balfour started to grin. “Aye. Mayhap if he hadnae been so skilled, I ne’er would have discovered his weaknesses for the lasses and neither would he.”

  Maldie found it sweet that he could smile about his father’s follies even as he acknowledged the error of such ways. She wished she could be so at ease about her mother’s mistakes and, the older she became, the more certain she was that her mother had made some serious missteps. The sting of guilt she felt when she thought such things, the sharp sense of disloyalty that pained her at such moments of doubt, were growing fainter, and that saddened her.

  Deciding that she no longer wanted to think of her mother for it only brought on pain and confusion, stirring up questions she had no answers for, she smiled back at Balfour. Although her body ached somewhat from its introduction to passion, it was a discomfort she could easily ignore. The passion she and Balfour shared was the first thing she had ever found that could so completely clear her mind of any troubling thoughts and her heart of all feeling save for the love she had for him. For a time it even pushed aside the cold, bitter need for revenge that had directed her every step for the last few months. Confident that it would not take much to inspire him to give her another taste of the blinding delight they could share, she slid her hand down his back and caressed his backside, smiling wider when he shuddered and instinctively pressed closer to her.

  “Mayhap one shouldnae fault your father for his skills,” she murmured, touching a kiss to the hollow in his throat. “’Tis clear that he gifted his son with many of them.”

  “Aye.” Balfour closed his eyes and reveled in the feel of her small, soft hand moving over his skin. “Many women have praised Nigel’s skill as a lover.”

  She felt a twinge of sympathy for all of the slights Balfour must have suffered from foolish women blinded by Nigel’s beauty, then quickly pushed it aside. Although she was a skilled healer there were some scars she could not mend. Balfour was the only one who could rid himself of such ghosts and finally recognize his own worth. The only thing she could do was let him know, by word and deed, that she was interested only in him, that her passion was stirred by his touch alone. She also decided that she would neither pamper nor pity his doubts and jealousies, for that could well extend their lives.

  “Weel, I dinnae think I will test that opinion,” she said sweetly as she slid her hand up his thigh and slowly curled her fingers around his erection. “I have all I need or want right here. I doubt I can find anything sweeter or fiercer. In truth, I dinnae want to, for I fear I wouldnae survive it.”

  Her intimate caress enflamed him so it made it difficult for him to speak. After but a moment he knew he would have to forego the pleasure of her touch or he would lose all control. He groaned softly, gently pulled her hand away, and rolled so that she was pinned beneath him. Balfour took a few, slow deep breaths to calm himself, then thought about what she had just said. He knew she was teasing him, yet the mere thought of her turning to Nigel made him both furious and terrified.

  “Aye,” he said, gently brushing the stray wisps of her wild hair from her face. “Ye may not survive bedding Nigel, but I dinnae think it is a fatal dose of passion ye should be afraid of.”

  Maldie stared at him, surprised by the hard chill in his voice. “Did ye just threaten me?”

  “Nay. Warned ye.” He sighed and touched his forehead to hers. “I fear I could lose all reason, and a mon who has had his wits stolen by anger can be a danger to all within his reach.”

  “True, but ye would regain your senses ere ye could hurt anyone too seriously.”

  “Ye sound verra sure of that.”

  “I am.” She reached up to caress his cheek. “But it matters not, for it will ne’er come to pass. Ye are a great fool, Balfour Murray, if ye cannae see that I want only you.”

  Her words touched him deeply, but he knew it would take time before he believed them without question. “So, ye say ye are mine.”

  “Aye, yours. Ye have marked me weel, my dark-eyed warrior.”

  “Good, for you have marked me too.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Although, methinks it needs to be reaffirmed.” He hesitated and watched her closely as he asked, “Do ye suffer any pain?”

  Maldie curled her arms around his neck and tugged his mouth down to hers. “Mark away, my laird.”

  When he kissed her she gave herself over completely to the feelings he stirred within her. The final confrontation with Beaton would come all too soon, and with it would come some harsh decisions. Would she then tell him the truth? Would she try for more than passion? Would he even want her anymore once he discovered that she was Beaton’s daughter? They were all questions she had no answers for, and she would not get her answers until she could tell Balfour all of her dark secrets. Even though she loved him, she could not tell him the truth. Not yet. So, she would have to keep all of her feelings secret as well, would have to accept that passio
n was all she could give or ask for until Beaton was defeated, and she was free of her vow to her mother. However, she thought with a shudder of delight as he began to cover her breasts with heated kisses, the passion they shared was so glorious she was sure it would be enough for now.

  Chapter Eight

  A huge yawn shook Maldie’s body. She hastily glanced around her, pleased to see that none of the men guarding the high walls of Donncoill had seen it. They would easily guess why she was so tired, and she did not want to suffer that embarrassment. Then she smiled at her own foolishness. She and Balfour had been sharing a bed for a week and, even though she was sure everyone at Donncoill knew it, no one had done or said anything to embarrass her. Their acceptance of her as their laird’s lover seemed to be complete and without condemnation. In truth, she was beginning to think that a lot of the people at Donncoill were pleased that their laird had a woman. Some were probably thinking their laird would soon marry her and finally beget himself an heir. Maldie hastily turned her thoughts away from that path. It was a tempting dream she could too easily become trapped in, and if in the end she was forced to leave Donncoill and Balfour, it would only add to her pain.

  She stared down at the people coming and going through the thick gates of Donncoill, wondering if anyone would notice if she slipped away to rest, when something caught and held her attention. A bent figure, enfolded in a worn brown cape, was hurrying away from Donncoill. Maldie could not see the woman’s face, but she knew in her heart that it was Grizel. She also knew that the woman was about to do something to help Beaton. Just as she wondered if she could find Balfour before all chance to follow the woman was lost, he stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

  “I have been looking for you,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

  “And I believe I ken why,” she drawled, feeling his arousal as he held her close to his body. “Ye are insatiable.”

  “’Tis your fault. Ye make a mon greedy.”

  “Ye make me feel verra greedy as weel. Howbeit, I think we must both forgo that pleasure for the moment.” She pointed toward the cloaked figure scurrying along the road to the village. “I believe ye will gain as much pleasure if ye follow her.”

  Balfour frowned down at the person she pointed out to him. “Her? Who is it, and why should she claim my attention?”

  “’Tis Grizel. Aye, I ken that ye can see naught but a woman in a cloak, but trust me in this. ’Tis Grizel and she is hurrying away to betray ye again.”

  Even as he released Maldie and moved to stand against the wall, leaning forward a little and watching the woman closely, he asked, “Do ye have visions or the like? How can ye tell who that ragged figure is and what she is about to do?”

  Maldie grimaced and shrugged. “I dinnae ken. I just do. Every bone in my body tells me that that is Grizel, and that she is rushing off to send word to Beaton. Please, just follow her. If I am right, ye will have the proof against her that ye have been seeking and can put an end to her treachery. If I am wrong, I give ye leave to hie back here and call me a fool.”

  “Being given leave to do so takes all of the joy out of it.” He grinned when she laughed, then started down the narrow stone steps which were one of the very few ways a person could get up onto the high walls of Donncoill. “I will find James and we will set out after the woman. I just pray that he doesnae ask me why I insist upon creeping after that cloaked figure. I shall undoubtedly be deafened by his laughter when I am forced to reply that your bones told me to do it.”

  She laughed softly, then quickly grew serious as she returned to watching Grizel. The woman needed to be stopped. There was no telling how much Grizel had learned before Maldie had turned suspicion her way, nor how much she had already told Beaton. Even now the woman could be hurrying off to tell a Beaton man something that could put Balfour’s life in danger. Just the thought of such a thing made Maldie eager to run after Grizel herself. She was relieved to see James, Balfour, and two other men come out through the gates and set after Grizel, trying to be both swift and secretive. Maldie decided they were doing a very good job of both and she started to climb down off the wall. While Balfour was gone, spying on the spy, she was going to get some much needed sleep.

  “Now will ye tell me why we are creeping after this filthy, ragged person?” demanded James as he, Balfour, and their two companions slipped into the cover of the trees bordering the road.

  “I think this is the one who has been helping Beaton,” Balfour answered, proud of how quiet they all were as they moved through the brush, all of them keeping a close watch on the one they followed.

  “I thought ye had decided that the traitor was that old, sharp-tongued sow Grizel.”

  “It is.” Balfour inwardly grimaced for he was being pushed to tell the truth about how and why they were all creeping through the wood. He was certain he could already hear the loud hoots of laughter. “That is Grizel.”

  “How in God’s high name can ye be sure of that?” James stretched his head forward as if that could make him see their quarry much clearer, then shook his head. “Did ye see her ere she draped herself in that rag?”

  “Nay. Ere ye can badger me to distraction with your questions, ’twas Maldie who said this was Grizel and that the woman is about to give us proof of her treachery.”

  “Ah, Mistress Kirkcaldy sent ye chasing after Grizel. The same lass who told ye that Grizel hates ye and spies upon us.”

  Balfour scowled at James, stung by the derisive tone in his voice. “Once Maldie made me look closely at Grizel, helped me to see the woman’s hatred and ponder the reasons for it, it all made sense.”

  “Weel, I may be willing to grant ye that truth, but this? Did the lass see the woman or hear Grizel speak of treachery?” James cursed softly as the sharp branch of a dying tree dug a shallow furrow in his upper arm.

  “Nay,” Balfour muttered, signaling everyone to halt as they reached the edge of the trees beyond which lay the wide open fields at the far end of the village. “Weel, we have gone past the village so, mayhap, there is no traitor there. Mayhap Grizel is the only one.”

  “Wait.” James rubbed his long chin as he stared at Balfour. “Now, ye are my laird, but ye are also the lad whose arse I set on his first horse. That be the one I talk to now. Tell me what was seen or what was said. Tell me exactly why we are afoot, creeping about like thieves after a shrouded figure.”

  As Balfour watched Grizel, waiting for the right moment to follow her, he softly cursed. “Nothing was seen and naught was heard. Maldie just kenned it. She said she felt it in her bones.” One sharp glance was all it took to stop the chuckles of the two young men with them, then Balfour met James’s steady gaze.

  “She had a vision, did she?” James drawled.

  “Nay, just a feeling. Aye, this may be foolishness,” Balfour ignored James’s telling glance and began to watch Grizel again, “howbeit, what harm can come of it? We will either see betrayal or see naught. Although, I dinnae think that hunched, ragged woman is hurrying off to meet a lover.”

  “Who can say? Passion can make anyone witless.”

  Balfour decided to ignore James’s muttered insult. He prayed Maldie was right, that this was Grizel and that the woman was about to prove herself a traitor. Although he hated the thought that one of his own people would help Beaton, even that distasteful situation was preferable to looking like a fool.

  The moment he felt it was safe to continue on without being seen, Balfour left the shelter of the wood, his men quickly following. For almost a mile they followed their quarry before she stopped at a crumbling cairn near a small brook. Taking quick advantage of the heavy growth of shrub and grass, Balfour and his men hid themselves and waited. The cloaked figure sat down on a rock and shoved the hood of the cloak back, revealing Grizel’s easily recognizable face. Balfour sent James a brief, triumphant glance.

  “So the lass’s tiny bones were right about who hid beneath the cloak,” James said, grimacing as he tr
ied in vain to get comfortable on the hard, rocky ground. “We have yet to see proof of any betrayal.”

  “I think that, too, is about to be revealed,” said one of the two men with them, a burly, usually taciturn man named Ian. “’Tis either Beaton treachery, or someone has finally decided to rid the world of that sour old hag.”

  Three men crept toward Grizel, cautiously looking around as they approached the woman. She looked their way with no sign of fear, only her usual expression of ill humor and impatience. What firmly caught Balfour’s eye was the badge clearly visible on one of the men’s dirty plaids. These were Beaton’s men. It was all the proof Baltour needed. He signaled his men to begin to encircle the group by the cairn.

  “Do ye intend to hold fast and try to hear what they say?” asked James.

  “Should I?”

  “Nay. ’Tis clear who the men are, and just as clear that they and Grizel are no strangers to each other.”

  “Try to capture one of Beaton’s dogs alive,” Balfour hissed as James began to move away, intending to come toward the traitorous group from the right. “Mayhap we can get him to tell us how badly Grizel has hurt us.”

  Balfour watched James nod before he disappeared into the tall grass and scattered bushes. He prayed he could do as well as he began to creep toward Grizel. Although he could not defeat Beaton yet or rescue Eric, he now had a chance to hurt his enemy and he badly needed that small victory. He would steal away the advantage Beaton had gained from Grizel’s betrayal of her clan.

  When the time came to move against the group it all happened so quickly that Balfour felt somewhat disappointed. He and his men rushed in from all four sides. Beaton’s men refused to surrender, tried to fight their way out of the trap they were caught in, and were swiftly killed. Grizel made no attempt to save herself, just sat there glaring at them all. Balfour could almost feel her hatred for them all as he wiped his sword clean on the padded jupon of the man he had just killed and slowly sheathed it. He wondered if the woman would now try to save herself by denying all they had just seen.