Highland Resilience (The Band of Cousins Book 6) Page 3

  His mother stepped in between them, but not before shooting his sire a withering look. “I would trust you, Gavin,” she said firmly, “but you still need support. No matter what, take a few guards with you.”

  His father stared at his mother for a moment before, then took a sideways step so he and Gavin were eye to eye once more. “Nay, I still would not trust you as much as the others. And you know why.”

  Heat flushed Gavin, so intense, he feared he’d be burned. “Because of something that happened three years ago?”

  “Aye, three years ago you were not strong enough, and you still are not going northeast without Maggie.”

  Gavin couldn’t find any words. He glanced at Gregor, waiting to hear if he had anything else to offer, but he knew he could rely on his cousin. He would go along with him if Merewen proved determined enough to leave on her own. He spun on his heel and left, making sure to use his sire’s signature move on the way out. He banged the door to the great hall shut loud enough to be heard into the mountains.

  “That’s my move, and you can’t use it!” He heard his father’s yelling even through the thick stone walls and oak door.

  Gavin stalked back in, his face red with fury, and said, “Not loud enough for you? Then try this one!”

  He left and swung the door twice as hard this time.

  He hoped the damned door would fall off its hinges.

  The last thing he heard was his mother’s voice.

  “You had that one coming, Logan.”

  ***

  Merewen waited patiently for any word of her sister, but when none came she grew restless. Half the day had been wasted already. Since nearly everyone was on one of the patrols, or gathered in the hall or the courtyard talking about the patrols, she hoped she’d be able to sneak away and do the only thing that would settle her.

  Her mother and sire had gone to the great hall after the first patrol returned with no word of Linet. They were talking and pacing with the rest, but that wasn’t enough for Merewen. She had to do something or she’d sob for certain. Her mission was set and she hoped Gavin would travel with her, but she’d be foolish to try to go off on her own before mealtime. The patrols and the wolfhounds would find her for certain.

  No one understood her connection with Linet. They’d always been able to tell if the other was in trouble—when Merewen had tripped on a rabbit hole and twisted her ankle, Linet was the one who’d found her, and when Linet had gotten lost in the forest foraging for pine cones, Merewen had known exactly where she was. Now that special connection to Linet was telling her that her sister was far, far away.

  She had to go after her.

  Although she didn’t know where to go this time, she trusted that if she set out, the angels who guarded her and Linet would lead her in the correct direction. Or mayhap they had guided her to Gavin, who had knowledge of the Channel.

  She needed to find a way to pass the time, and she knew exactly what would serve her best. Bundled up in her mantle, she left the cottage and closed the door behind her. The gray skies had not relented, another indication that winter was indeed on its way.

  She had to find Linet before the weather got any worse. But first, she needed to practice. For all she knew, she might finally be required to put her secret skill to use. She hastened along, pulling the hood up on her mantle hoping she’d not be noticed by any in the small clan village. When she reached the end of the path, she headed down the part least traveled, looking ahead to her spot.

  Her favorite spot. The one she’d shared with no one but Linet, though Gavin had found her at the clan’s butts once. Because of her sire’s view of lasses and archery, she’d set up her own practice area, one she made just for herself. How she wished her sister had trained with her, like she’d asked, but although Linet had helped her keep her secret, she had expressed no interest in joining her.

  She moved into the copse of trees, pleased to see nothing had changed.

  Here it was—the key to her soul.

  Chapter Four

  Merewen leaned down to pick up the brush covering her crate. Lifting the top off, she let out a sigh of relief—the same sound she made whenever she opened the crate. Her things were still there. She’d have to bring her treasures home with her and hide them in the cottage until she left.

  She sat on a nearby log next to the crate and lifted out the bow, which she leaned against the log. Then she removed five arrows and her quiver, something she’d made herself. The arrows she’d snuck from the Ramsay butts after dark. She had two pairs of soft leggings, too, modeled after Gwyneth Ramsay’s clothing. Gwyneth had, in fact, given her one of them, along with a tunic.

  Gavin’s mother had been her first teacher—the one who’d given her the bow and ignited her excitement. Gwyneth Ramsay had offered to teach any lass in the clan how to become an archer, but few lasses expressed an interest, or were allowed to do so. Only Merewen and Maggie and Molly had been dedicated students. Her sire had put an end to the lessons, snapping her bow in two, insisting such a brutish sport wasn’t right for his fair lassies, which was the main reason she’d kept everything secretive. Whenever she left to practice, she’d come home with a sack of apples or hazelnuts to pretend she’d been out foraging. Her sire had never caught on to her tactics.

  Replacing the top on the crate over the leggings—it was much too cold to change into them—she found her way out of the trees and over to the clearing where her target sat on the far oak tree. Her soul began to sing a familiar song of accomplishment. She was good, although nowhere near as talented as Gwyneth or her daughters. If only her sire were more like Logan Ramsay, who’d encouraged all of his daughters to learn to shoot. He wasn’t intimidated by his wife’s reputation as one of the best archers in all the land. Merewen sighed, something she often did when she thought of the title Gwyneth Ramsay had earned. Och, how she’d like to gain such a reputation.

  A dream, surely, since she was no one of importance. She’d settled for practicing at every opportunity, for being as good as she could be for her own sense of achievement. And whenever she passed the chapel, she would say a silent prayer of thanks for Gavin Ramsay, for his generosity in replacing her broken bow. Had it not been for him, her favorite pastime would have probably ended. The bow he’d given her was exquisite, so well made that she’d thought to return it to him for one not as nice—because who was she to deserve such a gift? When would she ever put her skill to good use? But mayhap all of her practice had been for something after all—it might just help her save her sister.

  Merewen moved across the clearing, limbering up the muscles of her shoulders and her arms. The cold fought against her, but her routine warmed her body. When she was ready, she took her stance, carefully placing her feet the right distance apart as Gwyneth had instructed her all those moons ago. Then she checked her body and her posture, making sure her shoulders were back and strong and that she stood at the right angle to her target.

  She fired and hit her target dead center.

  And again. And again. And again.

  A smile spread across her face as she looked at the target, pleased to see how well she’d done. And then she startled at the sound of a long, low whistle behind her.

  “God’s bones,” Gavin Ramsay said. “I haven’t seen anyone shoot like that since my sister Molly spent all her time in the butts.”

  Merewen squealed, suddenly fearful that her weapon would be taken away from her. She spun on her heel to face Gavin, tucking the bow behind her back. There was no hiding her activity, but she didn’t intend to relinquish her treasure to him.

  Then she chastised herself for her daft thoughts. Gavin had given her the bow. Why would he take it away?

  Habit. It was just habit for her to hide everything. Even now, she couldn’t bring herself to hold the bow in plain sight.

  “That was expert marksmanship, especially considering the clothing you have on. Have you any idea how good you’ve gotten, lass?”

  Merewen could feel the blood pulsing through her body as Gavin moved toward her. What would be his response? She held her ground, her breathing became much faster as he stepped closer.

  Gavin reached out a hand, and she flinched, tipping backward to keep him from touching her bow.

  “’Tis mine. You gave it to me or have you forgotten? You said I could keep it.”

  Gavin lowered his voice, “Relax, Merewen. I’ll not take it from you. You have earned the right to keep it. I’ll make sure and find you some leggings, though you shoot well enough in a gown and a mantle.”

  She eased back so she could stand up straight again, dropping her arm to her side, her bow still clutched in her hand. Gavin wasn’t a threat.

  “My thanks, but I already have two pairs.” She felt blood rise to her cheeks. “’Twas too cold to change.”

  “Does anyone else know you can shoot that well?” he asked. His hand came up to her face again, and he brushed the backs of his fingertips across her cheek.

  She couldn’t help but tremble at his touch. No man had touched her so before. Her brothers were brutes who believed women existed solely to serve men and be used by them, but Gavin had never struck her as a brute. He was different.

  And she’d never forgotten the kiss they’d shared. Did he remember? The gift of the bow and the kiss that had followed had made her wish he would court her, but she knew how foolish those thoughts had been. She was the smithy’s daughter, and Gavin was of noble blood. His sire was the Beast of the Highlands and his mother was the best archer in all the land.

  She was no one special.

  His touch was gentle and, even better, warm. She leaned into him slightly, savoring the contact, but then forced herself to pull back.

  The way he was looking at her… No one had ever regarded
her with such smoldering heat in their eyes. It had a most strange effect on her, causing a heat to travel inside her. That thought was preposterous because it was winter and they were outside.

  But there it was again, a rush of flame through her insides.

  “You’ll keep my secret and not tell my sire?” she asked.

  “I will if ’tis what you want, but why keep your talent a secret? There are few lasses who could compete with you. Actually, verra few men could beat you. They tend to prefer swords, even on Ramsay land.” Gavin’s gaze seemed to intensify even more. “I applaud your hard work. No one knows you can use a bow like that?”

  “Only Linet. She would watch me sometimes.”

  “May I test your skills on something different?”

  She nodded, feeling uncertain, but if he could teach her something new, she’d be forever grateful.

  He pointed to the target. “You do verra well when you are aiming at something directly in front of you. When you’re on the hunt or in the thick of a fight, your target often changes. May I move your target from its usual location and see how you do?”

  She nodded, blushing from excitement. Gavin was going to teach her…her!

  He moved the target off to the left and above her line of sight. Once he stepped away, he said, “Sometimes your target could be above you. See how you do with that.”

  She set her stance and took aim, but Gavin held up his hand to stop her. Disappointed that she’d done it wrong, she let her arm fall to the side. But he didn’t wait, instead stepping behind her. “May I show you how you should adjust your aim for that type of target?”

  She gulped, then nodded and whispered, “Aye.”

  He stood directly behind her, their bodies now touching in a most intimate manner.

  “Set yourself as you normally would.”

  She did as he instructed, grateful to have something to do to hide her fine tremors from his closeness.

  He reached over her arms, the heat of his body suffusing her, and moved her position just a touch before he stepped back and said, “Go ahead. Try it now.”

  She took a deep breath, then followed his instructions and hit just a wee bit to the right of the target.

  “You have a gift, Merewen. Did you know that? I’ve yet to see someone who can adjust their shooting that quickly.”

  She angled her body toward him, lifting her gaze to meet his. Questions had tormented her ever since the day he’d given her the bow. If they were to travel together, she needed to ask them.

  “Gavin, many thanks for your gift of the bow. Without it, I could not have practiced this last year.”

  “Any Ramsay clan member who can shoot the way you do should have a new one every year. I’ll see that you do.”

  “Why did you kiss me then?” she blurted out.

  He chuckled. “If I remember correctly, you kissed me first.”

  She blushed and giggled. “Aye, ’tis true, but my kiss was not like yours.”

  She’d expected him to explain. Instead, he stepped toward her and cupped her face, his lips descending on hers, and stroked her, teased her, until she opened for him. The kiss was warm and sweet at the same time, his tongue reaching deep into her mouth until she tentatively touched it with hers, only to hear him growl. The kiss overtook her senses, heated, carnal, an assault on her control. Her knees nearly buckled, but she locked them.

  He ended the kiss, his thumb rubbing her lower lip. “Was it like that? Because ’tis what I recall.”

  She gave a quick nod, her gaze now locked on his. She forced herself to speak, to give voice to her thoughts. “But you kissed me before, and I never saw you again. What did it mean? What does this kiss mean?”

  He stepped back and stared at the branches in the trees overhead. “I’m sorry to have confused you, but they both mean the same thing, Merewen.” His gaze dropped to hers. “I like you. Honestly, I’ve not been interested in many Ramsay lasses, but you? You are something special.”

  He didn’t say anything but stared at the ground, his right foot shuffling the leaves, knocking nuts out of the way as if he were searching for an answer. His gaze lifted to hers again and he said, “I probably would have pursued you, but my cousins and I started our quest to put an end to this Channel. It got in the way.”

  He reached for her fingers, gently taking the bow from her and setting it down. “It doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for you. I just had another commitment. My apologies if I led you to believe anything different.”

  She shook her head. All her feelings for him had been reawakened by one kiss. She knew not what to say.

  He saved her, stating, “I’ll have to bring you a pair of gloves. Your hands are too cold.” He cocooned them in his own warmth, his heat traveling up her arms with a tingle that shot straight to her breasts, her nipples pressing at her bindings.

  Talk of the Channel brought her back to her focus. While hope had blossomed in her heart with Gavin’s confession, she reminded herself they had more important things to discuss. If her sister was in this Channel, they had to find her. “You will go with me to find my sister?”

  Gavin continued to rub her hands. “Aye. I will travel with you. I’ve just gained a new guard.”

  “Gregor? Will your cousin come with us?”

  “I suspect so, but I was referring to you. You will be able to assist us in most any situation. I just need to teach you how to react when fear strikes you, though you’ve already proven you’ll be an apt pupil. I just need to work with you a bit more to be prepared.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He let go of her hands and took a step back, staring up at the sky, which looked ready to downpour its contents on them. “I mean, you must learn how to stay focused when a boar comes straight at you, or a reiver with a sword. If you can learn that, you’ll be as deadly as anyone. Come, I think we need to get out of the rain that’s about to drench us.”

  “You will go with me? Truly? But I thought your father forbid you to leave until your sister returns. ’Tis what I heard.” She followed him down the path toward his horse after retrieving her bow and several arrows. “Wait a moment, please.”

  She hurried back to the crate and lifted the tunic and leggings out, stuffing them under her arms. Placing the lid back on the top, she covered it with brush and branches again, knowing she’d return her things to her hiding spot someday. She returned to Gavin’s side, casting him a small smile, relieved he was helping her and that he’d promised to keep her secret.

  He lifted her onto his horse and mounted behind her. “Aye, my sire says I’m not to leave until Maggie and Will return, which could be as soon as this eve. But if they do not return, I’m leaving whether he likes it or not. So my answer is aye, I will go with you. If you wish, I’ll hide your things in the stables and find a saddlebag for you. I’ll fill your quiver, too. You’ll need both.”

  She spun around to face him, nearly throwing her balance off. “You’ll defy your sire?”

  Gavin nodded. “I’ll do it for you, Merewen.”

  ***

  Gavin left Merewen at her cottage, promising to meet her down near the burn a quarter hour after supper began. If Maggie and Will returned by then, they would wait to leave. If not, they would set off. He found a saddle bag, stuffed a few things inside, then hid the bag and her bow and quiver inside a little-used cupboard.

  He had trouble admitting to himself how much their kiss had unsettled him. He hadn’t anticipated her question about the past, so he’d been as honest as possible. He did like her, and he had to admit, those feelings had just grown.

  Between the taste of her lips and the feel of her arse pressed against him, Merewen Baird was an enticing lass indeed. But her skill with the bow moved him most of all. Her form, her aim, her focus were all erotic dances to him.

  He’d used his bow since he was a wee laddie, but never like Merewen. Every time she fired her arrow, something fired inside of him, and he was uncertain of how to handle it.

  When he left the stables, he saw his sire approaching on foot with a strange man on horseback. The man dismounted not far from him.

  “Gavin, hold.” His father’s voice easily carried across the din of the inside bailey. “This is Rollin Fitzroy, the man King Alexander sent to assist us with putting an end to the Channel of Dubh. Fitzroy, this is my son, Gavin.” Logan and his guest closed the distance between them.