True to the Highlander(25)

“I accept your apology, Alethia. Next time you will come to me.”

“What I mean is…” The doors to the great hall were thrown wide, and a half dozen men flanked by Liam and Robley strode into the room.

Malcolm took her by the elbow. “These are the earl of Douglas’s men. The one in the center is his second eldest.”

The man he’d pointed out approached and punched Malcolm in the shoulder before they grasped each other’s forearms briefly.

“Welcome, James, ’tis good to see you again,” Malcolm said.

“Aye, and you. Who is this lovely lass by your side?” James took her hand in his. Bowing, he brushed a kiss across the sensitive skin on the back of her knuckles. “Could she be the treasure you found by the side of the road? Your cousins have spoken of naught else since we boarded the ferry.”

James matched Malcolm in height and was every bit as fit. His frank appraisal made her uncomfortable. Lust radiated from him in waves. She snatched her hand away, feeling like a mouse in a hawk’s supper dish. “I’m sure you misunderstood. I am not his treasure. I’m his responsibility.”

James laughed and looked her over from head to toe. “Och, well, if he does no’ see you for the treasure you are, leave Moigh Hall and come to London with me.”

The precariousness of her situation pressed in on her. Her whole life she’d been surrounded by a loving and protective extended family. Here she had no one, and most considered women on par with their cattle. She inched closer to Malcolm.




Malcolm sensed Alethia’s discomfort. That she stepped closer to him was telling. Whether she realized it or not, he had her trust. That pleased him almost as much as her apology had.

One glance to his cousins brought them to flank her on either side. “Lady Alethia, this is James. James, this is Lady Alethia. She will no’ be going anywhere with you.” He flashed James a hard look. “Will we see you and your men in the lists on the morrow?”

James laughed and took a step back. “Aye, at dawn. Come,” he commanded the men behind him. “We have traveled far and wish to refresh ourselves before talking with the earl.” He bowed slightly and led his men toward the stairs, where a servant awaited.

Malcolm turned to Alethia. “Did you sense something that gave you cause to mistrust him?”

“No. He doesn’t mean me any harm. His interest made me uncomfortable, that’s all.”

“Milady.” Beth crossed the great hall. “Would ye be wanting to go see the weaver’s son now?”

“Go.” Malcolm gestured toward the doors. “They live within the curtain wall, and we must see to our guests. Remember well my words. You will come to me should you need anything.”




Alethia had managed to get the Imodium A-D down the boy’s throat, and with Beth’s help, she communicated as best she could with the family. Satisfied that someone would find the plants she needed, she walked with Beth back to the keep. “Do you know where I’d find the deaf boy? He’s always hanging around the keep in the mornings because there’s food out for any who want it, but I don’t know where to find him during the day.”

“Aye. We keep a few horses here on the island. The lad does well with the animals, and the stable master is kind to him. He gives him work to do, so the lad feels useful.”

“Where is the stable?”

“I’ll take ye.”

“Would you get a bath ready for him? Maybe you’d like to take one too,” she asked hopefully. “I’m sure the Douglas men have finished with the bathing room by now.”

“Och, ye think I’ll be takin’ me bath with the lad in the room?”

“There’s a screen we can place between you.” She crooked her arm through Beth’s and smiled. “The garments I’ve made for him are folded on top of the trunk in my chamber, and the basket with my soaps is on the mantel above the hearth. I’ll meet you there.”

Beth left her at the entrance of the stable. Smells of horses, sweet hay, and leather wafted over Alethia. Clean straw carpeted the dirt floor of the stone-and-timber structure. A still kind of peace hung over the place. No wonder the boy liked it here.

The aisle between the stalls led her to a room in the rear where saddles and bridles were stored. A wide window with shutters thrown open faced south to take advantage of the daylight. The child sat on an overturned half-barrel. He worked at rubbing oil into a bridle. An older man tended to a saddle across the room.

“Hello,” she called. “Do you speak English?”

“A bit, milady. Harold be my name.” He lifted his gaze to her. “Would ye be wanting a palfrey?”