The Scot's Angel Read online

  “Who?” she asked, her eyes narrowed at her.

  “Who what?”

  Of course, Dyna wasn’t put off so easily.

  “Who. Is. He?” she asked, putting emphasis on each word.

  Claray did an intentional snort to let her sister know how upset she was that she’d figured her out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Aye, you do. It’s written all over you. You think you love someone now or you wouldn’t have realized you never loved Cordell. Who is it? Mayhap you have a chance with him. Tell me,” she said, her eyes brighter. “I’ll help you snag him. I’ll find a way.”

  The last thing she needed was her sister holding Thorn down with a dagger at his throat, threatening him with a nick if he didn’t kiss her…even if the thought of him kissing her made her weak in the knees. Her voice came out in a low moan. “Nay, please, Dyna. I don’t need your help. When I’m ready to let him know, I’ll tell him myself.”

  “Sure you will,” Dyna said wryly as she crossed her arms. “I know you. You’ll say naught, hoping he’ll approach you, but he doesn’t know how you feel. I’d wager you’ve loved him for a while and never said anything. I’m warning you, ’tis a bad way to run your life. You cannot sit around and wait for everyone else to take action. You must do it yourself.”

  Claray shrugged, and fortunately, their mother came to her rescue.

  “Here are some more branches.” Mama checked their work and nodded her approval. “Dyna’s outworking you, Claray. What’s on your mind?”

  “Naught. I’m just enjoying the season, the smell of pine and the family together again…” Her voice trailed off. Because talking about family and togetherness reminded her of the very important person they were missing this year.

  “We all adored Grandpapa,” Mama said softly, “but if you believe in Heaven, which I do, then you’ll believe he’s happier with Grandmama.”

  Dyna said, “And Uncle Jake and Aunt Aline, Uncle Robbie and Aunt Caralyn, and Uncle Quade. Many from our family are there. He’s not alone.”

  Tears misted on her lashes again, something she wished she could stop. “Aye, I do, but I wanted him to stay for one more Yule.”

  “We all did.” Her mother kissed the top of her head, something that always comforted her.

  Derric came over with a trencher of stew, already spooning some into his mouth as he strolled over. “I’m happy for the man. I know he’s not my grandsire, but I saw how much pain he was in toward the end. I’m surprised he kept it so well hidden from all of you. His bones made him ache every single day. ’Tis a man’s pride not to have to be dependent on others.”

  “I would have cared for him even if he had to stay in bed all day,” Claray said.

  Dyna lifted her eyebrows. “Grandsire would not have wanted that, and I think you know it.”

  Claray reached into the pile of tree boughs for another pinecone, only to feel the brush of something moving across her hand. She screamed, jumping backward and guarding her hand while her mother brought her open palm down on the table with a loud smack, Dyna doing the same.

  “Was it?” Claray had a deep fear of spiders that had never diminished over the years.

  “Aye,” her mother said. “’Tis dead.” She brushed the dead critter into the sack of waste they were collecting, and then Dyna did the same with the one she’d swatted.

  “You’re sure they won’t come out of there? Stretch their legs and walk again?”

  “Neither of them will ever crawl again,” Dyna said.

  When Claray was just three summers old, she and her mother had been tortured with spiders. A cruel man had locked the two of them in a small chamber and unleashed a bag of the spiders, making them both suffer so Sela would do his bidding. Claray had no memory of the event, but she’d come away from it with a horrible fear of spiders. The sight of them reached into the dark recesses of her mind and reverted her to an almost childlike state of fear. She had occasional nightmares, though their frequency had decreased over the years. Only Dyna knew how to soothe her when she had those terrifying dreams.

  Everyone knew what she’d suffered and respected her fear.

  Especially Thorn.

  Claray shivered just as the door flew open. Thorn stood there, his eyes wide. “Claray? What’s wrong? I heard you scream.”

  Her mother arched a brow and looked at Dyna before shifting her gaze to Claray. But Claray barely noticed. Her gaze was locked on Thorn. He’d come back to help her, and her heart melted a wee bit because of it.

  “I’m fine, Thorn. Just a couple of spiders.”

  “Did someone kill them? If not, I’ll find them and kill them for you.”

  “Mama and Dyna took care of them, but thank you for your kind consideration,” she said, locking gazes with him, something that caused her cheeks to pink up again.

  Thorn nodded quickly and made his way back over to speak with Connor, sending her a backward glance and a smile that made her heart flutter.

  Dyna turned her back to Thorn and whispered, “He’s the one, isn’t he?”

  The glee on her dear sister’s face told her that Dyna would not forget this anytime soon. In fact, she’d bother her until she told the truth, so she might as well get it over with.

  “Aye, ’tis Thorn.”

  “Good choice, Claray. Now I can help you.”

  While she was pleased that Dyna approved, she hadn’t wanted her help at all. What would she do now?

  Chapter Three

  Thorn knew how Claray’s fear of spiders sometimes paralyzed her. How he wished he could end the life of the bastard who’d harmed her, but he was grateful Connor had dispatched the man years ago.

  Connor gave him a weighing look. “You’re quite protective of Claray. You should help her more often.” Then he headed outside. “I’m off to check the gates. Glad you’re here, Thorn.”

  Thorn couldn’t help but feel a wee surge of hope. Had Connor actually approved of his being around Claray? All these years, he’d thought of Connor as the fiercest, kindest, most admirable man of all. He’d always tried to impress him whenever the opportunity arose, but those chances had been few and far between.

  In Thorn’s eyes, Connor was still the man who’d rescued him in South Berwick. He’d been kidnapped by the men from the Channel of Dubh, and Connor had come after them for him…for him!…and saved him from a true life of torture. Although his captivity had been brief, he’d felt helpless and impossibly alone. Then he’d looked over his shoulder to see Connor riding toward him on a massive warhorse. He’d grabbed Thorn by the collar, using his sheer strength to lift him off the evil bastard’s horse. Thorn remembered flying through the air and landing on his horse.

  Aye, if he and Nari hadn’t met Connor Grant and Gregor Ramsay, their lives would have been much bleaker. They were the two greatest heroes ever in Thorn’s mind.

  He would never measure up to the greatness of the co-laird of Clan Grant. But he’d just been given a bit of approval. Perhaps Connor would save him again.

  A rare surge of boldness had him saying, “Claray, would you like to go for a walk? ’Tis a lovely night, a rare night when one can see all the stars above.”

  Claray looked like she couldn’t leave fast enough. “Surely, I would love to.” He could tell Dyna had whispered something that had upset her, so it was good timing on his part. Her ready acceptance pleased him.

  He knew which mantle was hers, having noticed how lovely she looked in the dark green fabric, so he reached for it from the peg on the wall and held it out for her, wrapping her up tightly before he held the door open for her.

  Once they stepped outside, he moved a touch closer to her, wrapping his arm around her, and to his surprise, she didn’t move away. But after he bumped into her clumsily three times he dropped his arm and reached for her hand instead. “This time of year always makes me think of your grandmama.”

  Claray brightened in an instant. “Aye, I have memories of how lovingly she placed everythi
ng in the keep. She’d let all of the bairns put wee decorations about, and it did not fuss her if they were crooked. She let it be the way each one wished it to be. Once she had us make faces on pinecones with berries. She said they were all gorgeous.”

  “I’m sure they were,” he said, cocooning her hand in his to warm it.

  “Nay, they were not. But to Grandmama, everything we did was beautiful. She used to have us paint pictures like her storybooks, but we always made a mess.”

  “I think I recall something like that right after Nari and I came to Clan Grant. She was a gracious woman. I thought she was an angel.”

  “Thorn, may I ask a question that might make you uncomfortable?”

  He’d never spoken with her like this, so openly, but quite liked it. He decided he didn’t want it to end. “Surely,” he said, “and I’ll answer if I can.” He found a bench in the garden and guided her to it.

  “What happened to your parents?”

  Thorn sighed and looked up at the moonlit sky before he answered, “I never knew my mama. Papa told me she died birthing me. My sire went off to sea when I was seven summers and he never came back. Nari’s da went after him and he never returned either. They say the men from Dubh got Papa and a boar got Nari’s sire—a sure lie.” He and Nari had gone in search of them on a couple of occasions on subsequent trips to Edinburgh with Loki, but they’d never found anything out about either man. After a time, he’d given up.

  But it still niggled at him occasionally. What if his sire had lived?

  “The evil men from Dubh. How awful for you. I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out to cup his cheek before she quickly dropped her hand. “Do you ever feel like you don’t belong here at Clan Grant?”

  From the way she asked, he could tell she’d felt that way herself. So he did not hesitate to answer. “Aye. It’s happened more than once. One time I awakened from a dream where I saw my papa in Edinburgh. He called out to me, but I couldn’t reach him. I thought at first it was a sign I should go to Edinburgh. Nari convinced me that I was just missing him.”

  “He is a good friend to you. It must be nice to have someone around who’s had such similar experiences…someone you can talk to about anything.”

  Again he had the feeling that she spoke of her personal experience. That she was lonely in a way he hadn’t realized. He reached over and squeezed her hand, knowing how hard her young life had been.

  “He’s steadier than I am. He always gives sage advice.” He tipped his head back to look up at the stars. “Do you see how bright the stars are this eve?”

  She glanced up and gasped. “I had no idea. I don’t go out at night often. I’m a bit afraid of the dark, too. I love that one far off. ’Tis the brightest of all.”

  Her words gripped him—he hated to think of anyone hurting her—but one of the things he liked best about Claray was her inner happiness and light. Despite what had happened to her, she was joyful and innocent. So he said, “Aye, and I like the one shaped like a bear. Can you find it?”

  “Where? I don’t see it?”

  “Over there.” He leaned closer and placed his cheek next to hers. She smelled of pine and cinnamon. He was taken by a sudden urge, so he slowly turned to face her. “Claray, may I kiss you?”

  She blushed and nodded, her gaze dropping to his lips.

  He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, surprised by how cold they were, but it was a cold night. Pressing his tongue against the seam of her lips, he got her to open for him, and he swept his tongue into the warmth of her mouth, tasting the cinnamon she so loved. She mimicked his moves and he tugged her closer, slanting his mouth over hers. When he ended the kiss, he lifted his head, surprised to see the smoldering look in her eyes. They were both a wee bit breathless.

  “Mayhap I’m too forward,” he said, for it seemed he should. “Forgive me if I overstepped.”

  She shook her head, her lips tipped toward him as if she wished he’d do it again, and he let out the breath he’d been holding.

  “I’m glad you kissed me,” she said after a moment. “I’ve always hoped you would.” She dropped her gaze to her feet, and it brought a small smile to his lips.

  “That pleases me, Claray. Would you be willing to let me pursue you? I mean, I’m not quite sure how to go about it since we’re not young anymore.”

  “I am two and thirty, and you must be five older than me.”

  “Seven and thirty is correct. I…I’ve always hoped to marry.” To marry you, he might have said, but he didn’t wish to overwhelm her. She had been betrothed, after all, and even though some time had passed since Cordell’s death, he expected the wound had not fully healed.

  “I feel the same way, Thorn, and I would be pleased if you pursued me.”

  “Should I ask your sire for his permission?”

  “I’m sure he would give it to you.”

  “But we should be prepared for the possibility he may reject me,” he said slowly, though his most recent encounter with Connor gave him more hope than he’d had before.

  She tilted her head, studying him, her lovely plait a halo around her head. “Whyever would he do that?”

  “I’m not of noble blood.”

  “Thorn, ’tis the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m not of noble blood either.”

  “But you are the chieftain’s daughter, and I am but a lowly warrior.”

  “There is no doubt in my mind that he will give you permission.”

  “Claray!” a sharp voice called out to her, the crispness in the air making it sound cold.

  “Aye?”

  They both stood from the bench, and Thorn stepped in front of her as if to protect her, something he did without thinking, although it was probably unnecessary to make such a gesture at the Grant keep, especially since whoever it was had spoken Claray’s name.

  “Are you out here alone?” the voice barked, which was when Thorn recognized it. Connor Grant. He came around the corner and stopped. “Och, Thorn. ’Tis only you.” He looked at them for a moment, Thorn slightly in front of Claray, Claray’s hand at his shoulder, and raised his brows. “Thorn. Is this what it appears to be?”

  “What does it appear to be, my lord?” Even though he was a man of seven and thirty, he felt his hands shake slightly as Connor towered over him, looking at them so intently. It wasn’t fear of Connor, truly, but fear of letting him down. He had always held the man in such esteem.

  A smile flitted across the great man’s face, only to disappear. “Claray, you look as though you’ve been thoroughly kissed. Though I know ’tis personal, you are my daughter and your mother would want me to ask.”

  Thorn cleared his throat and asked, “I’d like leave to pursue your daughter, my lord. Will you accept my suit?” If he’d thought his hands were shaking before, it was nothing on the tremor in them now.

  Connor Grant clasped his shoulder and said, “What took you so long?”

  Chapter Four

  Claray was so happy that she wished to shout it to the stars, but she managed to keep herself under control as she walked back to the keep with Thorn and her sire.

  Once inside, Thorn helped her with her mantle, then her father clapped his hands and said, “Guess who just requested permission to pursue my daughter?”

  All eyes turned to them and Thorn quickly took her hand, rubbing his thumb across the soft skin of the back of her hand, something she found oddly soothing. She wished she could stop the blush from invading her skin and her senses but she couldn’t.

  Dyna gave a hoot and clapped her hands, while their mother nodded, grinned, and said, “I don’t doubt he’s teased you, Thorn, but I heartily give you my approval. You’ve chosen a fine lass, but she’s also tender-hearted. Please remember that and come help us, both of you.”

  Aunt Kyla entered with a tray of goblets of warm cider, Alick and Branwen joining them from their chambers upstairs with their two lads and the new lassie resting on her mother’s chest.

  “What are we celebra
ting?” Alick asked. “Besides Yule. I can tell something happened.”

  “Claray and Thorn are a couple,” Dyna said.

  “Should have happened a long time ago,” Derric said with a grin. He chomped down on an apple from the basketful on one of the trestle tables.

  Dyna gave him a look. “Do you ever stop eating?”

  He smirked and said, “I don’t think you’d be happy if I did.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He finished his apple and tossed the core into the fire. “If I’m not eating, I’m coming after you.” Then he proceeded to make a show of chasing her around the hall, their playfulness putting smiles on everyone’s faces. “Run, Mama!” their eldest daughter, Sylvi, shouted.

  Tora, bold as she was, waited for her mother to pass and then stepped in front of her father with her toy bow and arrow aimed at him. Derric stopped, closed his eyes, clutched his heart, and proceeded to scoop his daughter up with a growl followed by a squeal from the wee one.

  “Good job, lassies,” Dyna said with a laugh. “You are outnumbered by females, Derric. You’ll never win.”

  Claray watched them with a jealousy that shamed her. She was often called upon to watch over the lassies with her mother, just as Aunt Kyla watched over Alick and Branwen’s brood of three. While she adored her nieces, she wished she had a bairn of her own.

  Would it be possible at her advanced age? First, she had to find herself a husband.

  Mama shook her head at their antics and continued her work. “Claray and Thorn, come help me hang this strand of boughs and pinecones over the door, where everyone in the keep can see it.”

  Someone had already fetched the ladders, and Papa settled it into place, then said, “I’ll guard the door so no one will topple you.” He pointed to her cousin who was across the room. “Alick, hold the base of the ladder for a moment, please.” Then he crossed his arms and leaned his long frame against the door while Sela climbed up.