“Aye, love. Tell me what you will.” He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. “And then I will share my secrets with you.”
She bit her lip. Though she had tried to think of a way to break it gently, she had only the cold truth, and she feared how he would receive it.
“You asked how your brother came to be wounded, and at Inverene House. And the tale that Sabina and I told was true...” She sighed. “But there is more. Sabina and I were up in the meadow that night.”
“Searching for a lost sheep,” he amended.
“Aye.” She looked away. “For many lost sheep.”
“So, you were stealing.” He tugged on the lock of her hair to force her to look at him. “I suspected as much.”
“We were merely taking back what belonged to us.”
“And on the way home you crossed paths with the Avengers?”
She shot him a dark look. “Is this my tale, or yours?”
“Forgive me, my love.” He trailed a finger across her shoulder, tracing the path of several fascinating freckles.
She took another deep breath. “The villains who had stolen our sheep awoke and began to follow. We did not fear them, since we had often outrun peasants before. But this time, there was something different. As we approached the loch, a second party of scoundrels took up the chase. Almost as though they had been alerted that we would be there. But that was impossible. Only Sabina and I knew that we would be out that night.”
“Perhaps it was just ill-timed.”
“Nay. They were well armed, and as soon as they saw Sutton’s tall form, they began to attack. I suspect that they knew the Avengers would be out that night, and they lay in wait. That is why Sutton was so gravely wounded. I believe they mistook him for one of the Avengers.”
Shaw nodded thoughtfully. “And since they seek justice against those who rob and kill and burn the cottages of helpless peasants, they sought his death.”
“The Avengers do not do those things,” Merritt cried vehemently.
“As you have always insisted. But someone has been killing and looting and burning. If not the Avengers, then who is responsible?”
“I know not. But I would venture a guess that it is this Black Campbell who directs all the villainy. The only victims are those who refuse to denounce my father.”
“And who is to say that he and his cohorts are not the Highland Avengers?”
“Nay. The Avengers are not villains. They merely fight against villainy.”
“Why do you defend them, love?” She bit her lip and held her silence.
Hoping to make it easier, he whispered, “I have long suspected that you and Sabina know the identity of these Avengers and are trying to shield them. Is this so?”
“Aye. That is it.”
“They are men of your village, perhaps?”
“Nay. The truth is...” Her voice trembled, and she watched his eyes as she finally managed to say, “Sabina and I are the Highland Avengers.”
It took Shaw several minutes before he could find any words to speak.
“You and Sabina.”
“Aye.”
“But why?”
“We did it for Father, and for Edan. There was no one left to help us. You saw what the thieves did to our stables and our flocks. We were desperate.”
“And so you looted and pillaged and burned—”
“Nay. Those are lies that were spread to dishonor us. Each time they were repeated, they grew, until it was impossible to tell fact from falsehood. All we did was retrieve our flocks. But the thieves did not want to admit that they had stolen them first from us. So they invented tales that would make them look heroic and the Avengers look evil.”
Instead of the anger she’d expected, Shaw threw back his head and began to laugh. This was not the reaction she’d anticipated. “What is so amusing?”
“Oh, lass,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “How could I have been so blind?” He trailed a finger across her shoulders, up her throat, along her jaw. “The garb of a stableboy.”
He traced the outline of her lips with his fingertip. “Your skill with weapons.” He seemed fascinated with her lips. His finger probed inside her mouth and she playfully bit it. “Your knowledge of the forest. It all makes perfect sense.”
She pulled back. “You... are not angry?”
“Angry? Oh, lass. How could anything you do make me angry?”
She released the breath she had been unconsciously holding. He knew, and he didn’t hate her.
His smile faded as he brought his lips to her throat, where he tried, with gentle butterfly kisses and murmured words, to make up for the bruises that still marred her tender flesh.
She moaned softly as they came together in a storm of passion that had them both breathless. And as the morning dawned, gilded with sunlight sparkling on dew, they slipped once more into a world that only lovers know.
“’Tis time to awake, my brave Highland warrior.” Merritt touched a hand to her brother’s shoulder.
Edan yawned and stretched, then tossed off his cloak. Morning sunlight streamed into their forest clearing. Above them birds chirped. A fresh log crackled on the fire.
He glanced toward Shaw, who was just returning from the stream. His wound had been freshly dressed. Droplets of water still glistened in his hair.
Merritt’s cheeks glowed, and it was obvious that she, too, had just returned from a morning swim, for her fiery hair hung down her back in a riot of damp curls.
“I had not one unpleasant dream last night,” Edan said softly. “Nor did I even once reach for my sword or dirk.”
“That is a good sign.” Merritt handed him a joint of roasted deer, then began to roll their furs and clear their campsite.
As she worked she glanced often at Shaw, who was busy saddling the horses.
“But I did have a strange dream,” Edan continued. “I heard the sound of much laughter from the far side of the fire. And I thought I heard voices whispering. But of course I must be mistaken.”
Both Merritt and Shaw stopped in midstride to turn their heads and study the lad.
His eyes twinkled with merriment. “Mayhap I should tell Astra of my dream. She will surely explain what it means.”
Shaw’s eyes were equally filled with humor. “I see you have learned many new things on your journey, some of which would have been better unknown. Mayhap, instead of sharing them with old Astra, you should record them in a scroll for later generations to peruse.”
“Aye. A very good idea,” Edan said with enthusiasm. “I can write about my abduction, and the bravery of my sister and my tutor.”
“And about your own bravery, as well,” Merritt put in.
“And about the first steps you took,” Shaw added.
“And about the way my sister looks at my tutor whenever she thinks no one is looking,” Edan said with a laugh. “And about the way my tutor returns such looks. I think I was not dreaming last night.”
“Enough,” Merritt commanded, her cheeks flaming.
Shaw turned away to hide his grin. “I think our brave young warrior is strong enough this morrow to ride his own mount, and Merritt can ride with me. That is,” he added, “if you are ready to begin the journey home.”
“Aye,” Edan shouted. Tossing aside his cloak, he struggled to stand.
Beside him, Merritt reached out her hands as if to help him, but he evaded her touch, determined to do it alone.
By the time he was standing, sweat beaded his upper lip. He remained still, getting his balance, then lifted his foot and took one tiny step. At once he dropped to his knees.
He was so elated by his small success he failed to see the tears of joy that sprang to Merritt’s eyes. But Shaw saw. And shared her jubilation. Neither of them had a doubt that, in time, the lad would walk again.
“Inverene House,” Edan called as his mount broke free of the forest.
Behind him, Merritt and Shaw strained for a glimpse of the familiar fortr
ess.
Long before they arrived, the cry had gone up from the servants in the fields that they were approaching. By the time they reached the courtyard, it was filled with a cheering throng. The villagers milled about, shouting words of greeting.
“Oh, my lady,” old Astra cried. “Your father’s heart has been so heavy.”
Just then Upton pushed his way through the crowd, assisted by Sabina and Sutton, who stood on either side of him.
Behind him, much to Shaw’s astonishment, stood Dillon, and his man-at-arms, Walcott Maclennan, and their cousin Clive, along with Dillon’s army, all standing at attention.
“Dillon,” Shaw cried from the back of his mount. “How did you come to be here?”
“When we returned from Edinburgh and saw that you and Sutton were not yet at Kinloch House, we came in search of you.” It would not do for the laird of the Campbells to show his relief at the safe return of his brother, but Dillon’s heart was filled with joy at his good fortune. He would not have worried nearly as much if it had been Sutton who was trailing the villains. But all the Campbells knew that Shaw was not a warrior.
Shaw slid from the saddle and helped Merritt to alight. At once she flew into her father’s arms and hugged him fiercely, while Shaw greeted his brothers and cousin warmly.
“As you can see, Father, we are here, and we are unharmed,” Merritt said, kissing Upton’s cheek.
“Aye.” He held her a little away, studying her carefully. How grateful he was to see this lass who was so dear to his heart. There was a bloom on her cheeks that he had ne’er noted before. And a look in her eyes... much like the one he’d seen in his own Brinda’s, when first they’d loved.
“Assist my son from his horse that I may have the privilege of greeting him,” Upton called to a servant.
“Nay.” Edan waved the peasant away. With his gaze fixed on Upton he called, “I have brought you a gift, Father.”
Puzzled, everyone watched as the lad slid to the ground. For a moment he stood, clinging tightly to the saddle. Then, taking a deep breath for courage, he released his hold and stepped away. At first he wobbled, and it appeared that he would fall, but, as the crowd grew deathly silent, he took a step toward his father, and then another.
Upton, tears streaming down his face, broke free of Sabina and Sutton and ran forward before dropping to his knees, arms outstretched. With one last burst of strength Edan fell into his father’s arms. The old man drew him close and clung to him, weeping for joy.
All around him, servants and villagers cheered and wept.
Astra turned to Shaw, dabbing at her eyes. “Bless ye,” she said as she lifted herself on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek. “For there is no finer gift ye could have brought m’laird.”
Upton got to his feet, lifting his son in his arms. At once two servants positioned themselves beside him, in case he should falter. But the old man’s strength seemed to have blossomed at the first sight of his son’s newfound skills. It was as if the frail old man he had become had been pushed aside in favor of the strong, proud warrior he had once been.
He felt no shame at the tears that flowed freely from his eyes. Fixing Shaw with a look, he said loudly, “Shaw Campbell. I had believed my daughter and my only son to be gone from me forever. Instead, you have returned them to me, not only unharmed, but stronger than ever. It is truly a miracle. Hear me. All that I have, all that I shall ever have, is pledged to you and your clan. For you have returned to me all that matters in my life.”
“Come,” he then called to the assembled. “We will feast and rejoice.”
As Upton led the way inside, he was followed by the cheering throng. And though Shaw and Merritt peered around, trying vainly to return to each other’s side, they were helpless against the villagers that swept them along toward the great hall.
The feast was a magnificent affair. The servants carried platters of roasted deer and sheep, fish and fowl, along with great quantities of wine and ale. There were trays laden with tarts and puddings and every manner of fancy sweet.
The entire village had been invited to share in the laird’s celebration. And while they feasted, they watched in astonishment as the Lamonts and their hated enemies, the Campbells, sat side by side.
Shaw was flanked by Dillon and Sutton. Like his brothers, he wore a shirt of softest lawn and a tunic of deep green. Across his shoulders was tossed the green-and-black plaid woven by the women of his clan.
Across from him sat Merritt, in a gown of crimson velvet, her fiery tresses pulled to one side in fat ringlets that streamed across her breast.
Since their return to Inverene House, they had not had a moment alone. And now, as the meal wore on, along with the endless speeches, he gazed at her with a look filled with longing. She seemed to sense his eyes on her and, lifting her head, gave him a shy smile. At once his heart seemed lighter.
Dillon scraped back his chair and stood, holding aloft a goblet of ale. A hush settled over the crowd.
“As laird of the Campbells,” he said loudly enough for his voice to carry through the huge room, “I accept the gratitude of Upton, laird of the Lamonts, for that which my brothers have given him. And I add my thanks for the care given my brother, Sutton, by the lady Sabina. Her solicitude was such that Sutton is fully restored from his wounds. And he has come to me with an unusual request.” Dillon glanced around the great room before adding, “Our families have long held enmity between us. But my brother would heal these wounds by asking the lady Sabina to be his wife.”
At once the throng broke into a chorus of exclamations. Everyone was speaking at once.
Dillon waited a moment, then continued, “I have given my permission for this union, as has your laird.”
The crowd erupted into shouting and applause, the men thumping their tankards loudly on the wooden tables.
Merritt, seated beside her sister, threw her arms around Sabina’s neck and hugged her fiercely. “Why did you not tell me?” she whispered.
“There was no time. It has all happened so quickly.”
“Oh, Sabina. I am so happy for you. Later, when we are alone, you must tell me everything.” With a shy smile she added, “There is much I must tell you, as well.”
The two sisters clasped hands as Upton got to his feet and the crowd fell silent. “The Campbells leave on the morrow, and my daughter will accompany them.”
“So soon?” Merritt cried.
“Aye,” Sabina whispered. “The laird of the Campbells has commanded it.”
Merritt’s lower lip trembled, but she kept her head high, her eyes fastened on her father.
“It was not easy knowing that Sabina would be so far away,” Upton continued. “But I have given my leave for the marriage, since I will not be left alone in my old age. I still have my beloved daughter Merritt at my side, as well as my son, Edan.”
Across the table, Shaw looked thunderstruck as his eldest brother stood and touched his goblet to Upton’s. “We will form a new alliance,” Dillon said firmly. “Between the Campbells and the Lamonts. It will begin with Sutton and Sabina. And I know that it will continue with my brother. Shaw, a man of peace, who has pledged his life to serving the Church.”
At that Merritt’s eyes filled and she went deathly pale.
“What is it?” Sabina whispered.
But Merritt had already pushed away from the table. She dared not glance at Shaw or she knew she would fall into a fit of weeping. With her hand at her mouth to stifle her cry, she ran from the room.
Shaw pushed back his chair so quickly it fell over. He took no, notice as he strode quickly from the room. Behind him, the crowd fell silent. Upton and Dillon exchanged puzzled looks.
Shaw caught up with Merritt on the stairs but she pulled her hand away when he tried to stop her.
“Merritt, you must listen,” he said, but she continued on until she came to her chambers. When she tried to close the door on him, he shoved it open with such force the sound reverberated through the upper hallway
. Servants, fearing his wrath, scurried away.
“Now,” he said, leaning against the door, “you will listen.”
She shot him a hateful look and flounced across the room, putting as much distance between them as possible. Crossing her arms over her bosom, she shouted, “You lied to me. You led me to believe that you loved me. And all the while, you knew that you had already pledged your life to the Church. You are no better than a man who takes a mistress while concealing the fact that he has a wife.”
“That would be true, had I already taken my vows.”
She looked up, then narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying?”
“It is true that I intended to spend a lifetime serving the Church, in payment for the kindness shown by the good monks who raised me. I had intended to tell you of it this morrow.”
Merritt thought back to the scene at dawn, when Shaw had seemed anxious to tell her something of importance. But they had become... distracted by their lovemaking. Her cheeks flamed.
“That is why there has been no other woman in my life. I have tried to prepare myself for a life of service to the Church.”
“You have taken no vows?”
“Nay. And now that I have discovered your love, my lady, there will be no vows except those I make to you.”
It took several moments before she felt the full impact of his words. “Oh, Shaw Campbell.” She rushed into his arms and buried her lips against his throat. “When will you speak to my father?”
“Now, with your permission.”
“And when will we wed?”
“When I return.”
She went very still. “Return?”
He nuzzled her ear while he murmured, “I must first go to the monastery of Saint Collum, to break the news to Father Anselm. Then I will return, to claim you for my bride.”
“Truly?” Her tears had become tears of joy. “Then let us go to Father with the news.”
“Aye.” He swept her into his arms and carried her down the stairs. But when they reached the great hall she whispered, “Put me down. Else I will be laughed at by all the villagers.”