The Scot's Spy (Highland Swords Book 2) Page 2

  That brought two sets of arched eyebrows from the two lairds, Da and Uncle Connor.

  Els nodded. “She’s verra quick.”

  Dyna continued, “She said she worked with Robert the Bruce, and she offered to help us retrieve Emmalin.”

  “She worked for him as a spy?” Grandsire asked.

  “Aye,” Els said. “She helped them find Emmalin, and she came back later to assist us, giving us the information we needed. I tried to find her before we left Berwick, but she had disappeared. I’ve not seen her since.”

  Da asked, “And she was alone when you found her?”

  “Aye, she turned around when she saw someone was coming, and galloped into the trees.”

  “’Tis a mighty strong lass who can find her way into the Highlands alone in winter,” Grandsire said approvingly. “I can see why she worked with the Bruce. Has she no clan?”

  Dyna said, “She never mentioned a clan, and we never had reason to ask. Given her position in Berwick, I suspect she’s accustomed to keeping information to herself.”

  “Leave her be for this eve,” his grandfather said. “We’ll question her more in the morning.”

  Els planned to wait right outside her door. The others filed out, but his father gestured for him to stay. “Els, hold.”

  He did as his father asked and stood to the back of the room, his mind still on who could have hurt her so badly without touching her. Was that even possible? Once they were alone, his sire said, “Do I sense something more between the two of you, son?”

  Els shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure. I was interested in her back in Berwick. She’s quick-witted, a keen strategizer, and she has a sense of humor I liked. Mayhap something more might have come of it, but ’tis as I said—she disappeared. ’Twas the end of it. I knew I was unlikely to see her again, so I decided to forget about her.”

  Da leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms. “And did you?”

  He shrugged his shoulders again, his gaze darting around the solar as he tried to think of what to say. “For a while, but lately…” His voice trailed off and he stared at his father for help.

  How could he tell his father, whom he admired more than anyone, that he was afraid to fight? That his fear kept growing worse? That the only reason he’d even seen her on her horse was because he’d run away from his cousins?

  Somehow it was the fear that had made him think of Joya, who’d always seemed so fearless. So direct. Indeed, this past moon he’d even thought of searching her out.

  “I see something different in you, and I wish to understand. You know I’ll help you with any problems you have. Is the stress of being in the Highland Swords becoming too much for you? Or is it the memory of the Battle of Methven that holds you back?”

  He couldn’t help but sigh at the mention of the Highland Swords. Grandsire believed Els, Alasdair, and Alick, who’d all been born on the same day, at the same time, were fated to fight for Scotland and had been bestowed with special abilities to help them do so. He’d pressed them to practice together as a group, and for Dyna, who had some skills as a seer, to join them. Under his tutelage, they’d formed the Highland Swords.

  The only problem was the more they practiced, the worse they did. Three years ago, they’d discovered that if the four fought together, the hilts of their swords would heat up, augmenting their strength in battle. Once, in a practice session with their family, they’d managed to transfer the heat to their opponents’ swords, scalding their hands.

  It had worked perfectly on Grant land three years ago. But not since. Then again, Alasdair and his wife, Emmalin, were now the chieftains of Clan MacLintock, and it had become difficult to get everyone together.

  And then there had been Els’s horrible failure at the Battle of Methven.

  As if reading his mind, Da said, “Methven happened because our king failed to strategize correctly. Robert the Bruce should have ordered you to attack at night. If you hadn’t waited, King Edward’s knights wouldn’t have gotten the best of you in the dark. ‘Twas a costly mistake.”

  He couldn’t argue his father’s point. He’d awakened just in time to see two Englishmen coming at him, hundreds behind them. He’d been too slow, his movements dulled by sleep. If it hadn’t been for the arrows fired by Dyna, he probably would have had his throat cut.

  His cousin had saved his life that night, but something had broken loose in his mind. Alick had also been with them, but Alasdair hadn’t been able to join them. Their swords hadn’t been any different than the others.

  Els fell into the closest chair and said, “Grandsire will be disappointed if I suggest we end the Highland Swords, and I refuse to let him down. But we all know we haven’t been able to replicate what happened in the beginning. Why continue to hold on to the hope of something that can never be?”

  Da didn’t say anything for quite some time, not that Els had expected otherwise. Once known for being impulsive and fun-loving, Jamie Grant had grown into the kind of man who thought things through, which was one of the reasons he was such a good peacemaker. He was balanced out by their other laird, Uncle Connor, who was known to have a bit of a temper.

  Connor Grant loved to do battle.

  Jamie and Gracie Grant wanted everyone to get along.

  When Els was younger, he’d wanted to become just like Connor. Then he’d fought in the Battle of Brechin Castle alongside his family, and he’d watched men get torn down one after the other. It had taken years for those memories to lose their teeth. He and his cousins had joined Robert’s forces to help rid Scotland of the English bastards when they were able, but the events of the Battle of Methven had shaken him. Badly. And the old memories had come tumbling back, twining with the new ones. They refused to break their hold on him.

  Winter had fallen and Robert the Bruce had disappeared, yet to return, so they hadn’t fought of late, but spring was nigh.

  He wanted to use his sword for Scotland, he did, but he wasn’t sure he could.

  “Talk to her in the morn,” his father finally said. “We’ll see what transpired. Get some rest and we’ll reconvene on the morrow.”

  “I’ll be outside her door this eve, Papa, just in case.”

  His father clasped his shoulder, giving him a look of approval, and said, “Do as you must.”

  Chapter Two

  Joya awakened in the middle of the night, or at least she thought it must be because it was dark and very quiet.

  Where the hell was she?

  She sat up and rubbed her forehead, trying to put the bits and pieces darting through her mind back together. Those two brutes had kidnapped her…was she still with them? Had they brought her to this place? The dark was the best time to sneak away, and it would be best not to wait. She threw the bedcovers off and crept to the door, opening it a crack and slipping out, only to trip over something directly in front of it.

  She fell forward, nearly landing on her face, but strong arms enveloped her, tugging her toward him so he could cushion her fall. She landed on top of someone, a forceful grunt telling her he’d felt the impact, too, but he rolled over and settled himself over her.

  Her gaze locked on his in the dark of night, but the small torch in the passageway shed enough light for her to recognize him.

  And it all came flooding back. Getting the Englishmen drunk. Running. Finding Els. Kissing him.

  “Els? Forgive me. I was frightened and didn’t remember where I was.” She stared at his lips, remembering that kiss, and his thumb came up to rub her bottom lip.

  “How can you be so beautiful when your hair is such a mess, lass?”

  She edged closer, wanting him despite everything, and his lips descended on hers. He kissed her, and while their last kiss had been akin to a ravaging, this one was a tender caress. She gripped the hard muscles in his upper arms as he made love to her mouth, and she lay there languishing in his touch, enjoying every moment of it, giving him the lead this time.

  A cough echoed in the passa
geway, and Els ended the kiss abruptly, jumping to his feet and bringing her with him. A huge dark-haired Highlander leaned against the wall, giving them a sly grin. “Am I interrupting? Clearly I am, so no need to answer me.”

  “Aye, Uncle Connor. My apologies,” Els said. He seemed embarrassed to have been caught in such a position, but still he reached for Joya’s hand. “Joya, this is my uncle Connor. He and my sire are our lairds.”

  “Greetings to you, Laird Grant,” she whispered. “My thanks for welcoming me into your keep.”

  “I think Els is much better at that than I am,” he said, still wearing a smirk. “Welcome to Clan Grant, but I think you two would be better off going down to the hall. Be grateful ’twas me who came along and not your mother or grandsire, Els.”

  Els was wise enough not to say another word. He escorted Joya downstairs into the great hall, leading her to one of the chairs in front of the hearth before he banked the fire in the hearth. When he finished, he lifted her gently and set her on his lap, leaning close enough to take in her scent of lavender. She rested her head on his shoulder, content to be in this moment with him. Clean, safe, and warm.

  “Are you ready to tell me what happened?” he asked. “How you ended up riding through the Highlands by yourself? Even for you, ’twas a dangerous journey, do you not agree?” His hand settled on her leg, rubbing her skin lightly through the night rail.

  He’d slept in front of the door with just his plaid on, and she couldn’t help herself—she lifted a hand to his chest and traced circles on his bare skin. “How much do you wish to know? I was running away from men who took me captive.”

  He lifted her chin so he could look in her eyes. “Everything. I wish to know how you were taken captive, who kidnapped you, and how you managed to escape.”

  She let out a huge burst of air through her pursed lips, using the gesture to give her time to decide what to tell him.

  “Everything, Joya. I can see that crafty mind of yours deciding what to hold back,” he said.

  She pouted and asked, “How did you know my thoughts?”

  “I’m not sure, but I could tell. All of it.”

  “Will you kiss me again if I do?” She’d learned how to charm the hardest of men—she’d needed to—and she gave him a flirty look she knew to be irresistible.

  “If I think you’ve told me the truth, then naught would please me more than to kiss you again, you wee witch. You come in and bewitch me with just a glance.”

  She smiled, but then dropped her head against his chest again. “All right. I’ll tell you what I can, but ’twon’t be easy.”

  “Are you still working for the Bruce? Shall we start there?”

  “Aye. I do what I can for him and for Scotland, but my brother found out, and when I last saw him, he said he’d never speak to me again.”

  “I didn’t know you had a brother. So he is the one who hurt you without even touching you?”

  “Aye. I had not seen him in many years, but ’twas more painful finding him than not knowing where he was or if he was alive.”

  “Hmmm. ’Tis a powerful statement you just made about your blood kin. How many siblings do you have?”

  “Just Derric. He’s older than me and can have a temper at times.”

  “Because he doesn’t support Bruce?”

  “That part he’s unsure of. He was a Wallace supporter until King Edward captured him and had him murdered. Now Derric doesn’t know where his loyalty lies. He came to our camp because he’d heard we were supporters of the Bruce. Had King Robert been at our camp, I believe Derric would have pledged his support to him, but since he’s never met the king, he doesn’t understand why he’s such a powerful leader.”

  Robert the Bruce had taken an oath as the King of Scotland a year ago, fully supported by most of the Scots, and his supporters now referred to him by the name he’d earned.

  “Then he should have followed you.”

  “Except he was not verra happy to see me there. He didn’t know I was working as a spy, something he thinks unseemly for a lass. Or mayhap he thinks me daft, making up stories. He became verra angry and left. So I went after him, and ’tis when I was captured.”

  He tugged her closer and kissed the top of her head. “Oh, lass. You thought you could find him on your own?”

  “I know ’twas foolish, but he’d only just left. I was not thinking clearly. I shouldn’t have attempted it.” She huddled into his warmth, grateful he’d come after her. Where would she be if he hadn’t brought her back? What if Clan Grant had not welcomed her?

  She’d probably be head first in a snowbank with her boots dangling in the air.

  “How long were you held captive? Did they abuse you? I don’t wish to pry, but mayhap you’ll feel better if you talk on it. ’Tis what my mama always tells me.”

  “I didn’t give them the chance. When we stopped, they drank from their skin and I put the water of life in it. I always keep a wee container of it for emergencies. They were both so deep in their cups a short time later that I talked them into playing hide. That each time they found me I’d take a piece of clothing off. I didn’t have to remove anything except my mantle. One fell asleep and I hit the other in the bollocks then struck his head with a stone. I took my horse and ran.”

  “You are a resourceful lass. Where did you learn your skills at spying?”

  She shrugged her shoulders, prepared to shift the subject, but then let out a deep sigh. Why not tell him?

  “After my parents died and my brother left, I stayed with my aunt for a couple of years. Then I overheard her talking about arranging a marriage for me. At first, I didn’t mind the idea, but then I overheard her discussing the two men who’d offered coin for me. The one who’d offered her the most was an old man. I didn’t wish to marry him, so I decided not to wait around and let her determine my destiny.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Seven and ten when I first heard her talking about a match for me. I ran away.”

  “On your own? Joya, you’re braver than anyone I’ve ever met. That could have been a disaster for you.”

  She sat up and squeezed his wrist to get him to stop his conjecturing. The worst had happened to her, so she didn’t wish to be lectured on it. Glancing up at him, she tried to gauge what he would say or do once she told him. In her heart, she knew he’d never berate or blame her. Els was a different kind of man, the sort you wanted to keep around. She’d only spent a short amount of time with him, but already she knew that much.

  Perhaps it was childish, but she tugged a few hairs on his arms to see how he would react. Would he lash out in anger? Would he shout at her?

  She didn’t think so, but she wasn’t sure she could deal with a second man she esteemed pushing her away. Condemning her.

  “You don’t wish to tell me?” he said. “I can see you’re doing your best to distract me.” He pulled on a hair on her arm in retaliation, making a funny face as he did so, and the only thing she could do was giggle.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and said, “Fine. I’ll tell all.”

  At this point, it did not concern her, so she continued, resting her head back on his shoulder so she would not need to look at him as she spoke. “Robert the Bruce found me lying in a field of heather, beaten and nearly dead. The worst did happen to me, Els. I was taken captive by two men, used and beaten. I wished to die. I truly did not care if I lived, but Robert taught me to fight. He showed me how to handle myself around men, and after I healed, he asked me if I would ferret information out for the Scots.

  “At first, I said nay, but then I realized my life could have purpose, something I’d been sorely missing. I wanted to matter to someone.” She forced herself to look at him, but there was no anger on his face, only a softness toward her that she liked.

  “I matter to Robert. And I suppose ’tis part of the reason I was so angry with my brother. I didn’t choose this life—it chose me. I didn’t know what would happen when I ran away, but
perhaps he could have protected me had he still been with me.”

  “Or at least convinced you not to go out on your own. Lass, I’m sorry you had to deal with that at such a young age. ’Twas wrong, and if you recall who committed the crime against you, I’ll set it to rights, gladly.”

  She reached up and cupped his cheek. “Els, I don’t recall them at all. I seem to have blocked it out of my mind, and I’m not anxious to gain that memory back. I like it hidden. Please, can we not discuss it any longer? I told you so you’d understand why I’m so dedicated to helping King Robert. He saved my life.”

  Els nodded emphatically. “Understood. He helped you when no one else would. ’Tis something to honor. Did you explain this to your brother?”

  “Nay, none of it. He chose not to listen. So I’ve forgotten it all again, but I don’t wish to lose Derric. He’s my only family. Foolish of me, but I must try to find him, no matter how far it takes me.”

  “How far did you travel? You looked worn by the time you got here.”

  “I tried to find my way back to Bruce’s men, but I couldn’t find them. Englishmen were everywhere. Everyone knows Grant land is in the north, so I came back this way, but it took me days. I probably went in circles around the mountains for all I know.” She yawned and sat up straight. “Els, kiss me quick because I’m going to fall back asleep. I’m verra tired.”

  He gave her a chaste kiss on the lips and said, “Then sleep right here. I’ll move into Grandsire’s chair and cover you with a fur. We’ll sleep together out in the open, and no one will bother us.” He stood, lifting her carefully, and to her surprise and delight, he inverted her near the basket where the furs were kept. She giggled as she reached for the furs upside down, pointing to a particularly lush one.

  “I want that one!” She laughed as he tipped her in the right direction, not the least bit concerned about what her night rail revealed.