The Thistle and the Rose(30)

“Has he ever seen you? Would he know who you are by sight?”

“No. Not if I were alone. But why are you asking this?” Celia knew that Colin had decided to take her.

“It would not be wise for you to travel to Argyll's castle as Lady Caithness. We need to find some other name for you.”

“I can do better than that,” Celia said with a smile. She had a solution. “I have, more times than I can count, disguised myself as a boy.”

“You, a boy?” Colin grinned. This was the most outrageous thing he'd heard yet. She was so beautiful. How could she possibly hide the soft skin, the stunning auburn hair, the sensuous mouth? “I do not think so. Perhaps the men in the Lowlands are blind, but out here a beautiful woman is—”

“I'm telling you, Colin, I am a very convincing boy.” Celia thought of all the times she had effectively freed herself of the restraints of womanhood in the guise of a lad.

“You have too beautiful a shape for a boy, Celia.” He smiled, stepping back and eyeing her appraisingly. “Even under my cloak.”

“You'll see,” she responded matter-of-factly. “Clothes cover a great deal.”

“That may be a good thing in some cases,” he answered wryly. “But some things are better not covered.”

Celia flushed crimson at his suggestive response. “Perhaps I'm one who is better covered.”

Colin grinned broadly. “Then perhaps I'm the man to cover you.”

Celia stamped one foot at his incorrigibility. He was hopeless. “For some reason, I do not think we're talking about the same thing.”

“I think we are,” he replied innocently. “Are we not talking about your body?”

“We are not talking about my body,” Celia scolded. “We're talking about disguising me.”

“Too bad,” Colin sighed. “Such an uplifting topic.”

Celia considered doing bodily harm, but she didn't trust herself to get too close right now. Instead, she manufactured her fiercest glare, a look she could not sustain as her own amusement bubbled to the surface.

Colin burst out laughing at her poor attempt at intimidation.

“We'll have to come up with something better,” he said, shaking his head with a smile. “No one will be fooled.”

“If I can fool Alec,” she suggested brightly, “would you agree to take me as your squire?”

“Squire? You will not fool Alec,” he said, laughing. “Alec has a sixth sense where women are concerned. He’ll ferret you out in a moment.”

“If you do not alert him, I will fool him,” she stated. “Will you train in the morning?”

“Aye, before sunrise.”

“Good. I'll be there.” Celia realized that it was nearly dark now. She hadn't even been aware of the descending twilight.

“I'm not going to leave you and Alec Macpherson alone,” he said, suddenly serious again.

“You will not have to,” she said confidently. “But I have a great deal to do to get ready. So when you see your new squire Jack in the morning, do not give me away.”

Celia turned toward the door leading back through the library. She stopped after a step and turned back to Colin, removing the cloak from her shoulders and handing it to him.

“By the way, Colin. Thank you for bringing me out here. I love your garden.”

Colin took the cloak from her hand, holding her slender fingers in his grasp for a moment.

“I'm glad, Celia. We'll be spending a great deal of time here.”

Celia smiled and moved toward the door again. She stopped once more at the sound of Colin's voice.

“One question before you go,” he said. “But you do not have to answer if you do not want to.”

She stood quietly, her face obscured by the darkness and the distance.

“What is your name?”

She paused before answering.

“Celia Muir,” she whispered. And then she was gone.

Muir, Colin thought in amazement. She’s John Muir’s daughter.





Chapter 9





Why does he take us farther north? As we move up into the Highlands, there is less and less of value for our scavengers to take. What we find is ravaged more viciously than ever before. And every day we are farther from England.

I begin to think we no longer serve any king.



The dawn was breaking clear by the time Colin was able to drag Alec into the open training area he used with his select group of warriors. His eyes scanned the scene of ten fighters practicing with various weapons, the squires and pages scurrying to and fro in response to the shouted commands of the fighters.

Colin surveyed the half-naked bodies of the warriors, sweating from their exertion despite the biting dawn cold. His eye was drawn to the flashing arcs of the long swords and the knives, the slashing cuts of the halberds and the glaives. This is a very bad idea, he thought, suddenly aware of the dangers he was exposing Celia to here in the training yard.

Colin couldn't believe he hadn't objected to this plan last night in the garden. He had been so surprised by and caught up in her idea that the possible consequences had not even entered his mind. He circulated among the fighters and the working boys, trying to pick her out, to put a stop to it, but she was nowhere to be found. He thought with relief that perhaps she'd decided against going through with such foolishness.



Colin hadn't been able to go to sleep for a long time, thinking about Celia Muir. Celia Muir, daughter of John Muir, the notorious pirate and scion of the noble York family. Such a strange world. Colin had never met Muir himself, but he knew that Hugh and Alec's father had met him once, when they had divided the Irish Sea between them. Although Muir had been given a license by the English king to harry French ships while carrying on his own thriving mercantile trade, it was well known that he often crossed the fine line between privateering and open piracy. But Celia's father had always honored his agreements with Hugh Campbell and Alexander Macpherson, men whose activities so closely mirrored his own.

No wonder Celia had felt so powerless in determining her own future. After her father's death, the Tudor king must have cast a greedy eye on the enormous wealth and the fleet of ships rivaling his own. Celia's fortune had been usurped, and her future had become the plaything of kings. What had she said? A “ward of the court.” It was the English court. But she was in Scotland now. And more important, she was here.

Colin was, in a very satisfying way, thrilled that she had confided her identity to him. Knowing who she was only served to increase his affection for her. She might have lost everything, but she had a legacy of wit and courage.

And her inner qualities were matched by her physical beauty. Since that first night, Colin had not gone a moment without an image of her in his mind.



Alec went to the rows of weapons, and picked out a broad sword that he swung about him a few times. As he did, a squire ran to him with a pair of heavy leather gloves. Colin watched as the lad took the sword from Alec and stepped back, watching as the Macpherson heir stripped quickly to his waist, exposing his massive shoulders and rippling muscles. As Colin strode quickly to them, he could see Alec and the boy exchanging good-natured banter.

“Wait a moment,” Colin shouted, running the last few steps and grasping the squire by the elbow. The broad sword fell to the ground as the boy whipped around to face the master. “This has gone far enough!”

The startled look on the boy's face was matched by Alec's. The two looked at Colin as if he'd lost his mind. Colin knew the lad and abruptly dropped his elbow as if he'd been burned. He searched for something to say in explanation, but immediately gave up.

“Are you just going to stand around all day?” he snapped at the two of them, turning on his heel and striding away. She must have given it up, he thought.

Colin watched the workouts of his men, joining them when he felt inclined. Alec worked very hard, keeping several of the boys running for new weapons and drinks, crossing swords from time to time with one or another.

After the exercises the fighters began to drift back toward their quarters before breakfast, and soon Alec and Colin were alone, with just a few of the boys who were busy returning the weaponry to its place.

Alec finished his regimen with an impressive flourish of swordplay, handing the steel war implement and the gloves to a boy before walking to where Colin stood waiting.

“You are not your usual happy-go-lucky self today.” Alec laughed, slapping his friend on the shoulder. “Lady Celia stand you up again last night? Her absence at dinner was rather conspicuous.”

“Don't you worry about me and Lady Celia,” Colin began as they started for the door.

“Excuse me, m'lord,” a squire called, running up with Alec's shirt in his hand.

Alec turned and took the shirt, pulling it in one motion over his head. Colin stood impatiently, turning his thoughts to what Celia could call herself during the trip to Argyll's castle, and wondering as well what excuse he would give to Argyll for having a woman along. In truth, there were lots of places Colin wanted to take her, but Argyll's ruins was not one of them. But there was no denying it now. He'd given his word to her. Unless, he thought happily, she had changed her mind and come to her senses.

“Thanks, laddie,” Alec said. “You did well. What'd you say your name is?”

“Jack, m'lord,” the squire said, turning quickly to trot off.