Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(58)

Morton was about to learn that he’d been successful in ending the feuding in the Highlands, and that meant the man would be facing them all as a united force.

Duncan was going to enjoy seeing the look on the man’s face.

*

“Finished at last?”

Katherine didn’t take offense. She was too tired to care what the men around her said. They enjoyed teasing her, thinking her a young lad. It served her purpose well, because they gave her more chores, since they felt their age granted them the authority.

She took the duties without complaint because it took her away from them. Hiding her face, she let the dirt build up on her skin, forbidding herself to wash it away. Rolfe had keen eyes. Staying out of his sight was the only way she would succeed.

So she did all of the work her companions heaped upon her and collapsed into an exhausted sleep well after dark every night. The days were longer with summer upon them, and they rode at a pace that covered ground quickly.

As they came into the Lowlands, there were more people on the road. More towns as well, and ones that were larger, with two-story buildings and paved roads. The horses’ hooves made a clip-clop sound on those streets while they rode past curious Scots who wore pants instead of kilts and peered at them suspiciously.

The barbarians of the north.

There were times when the Lowlanders were pleased to see Highlanders on their streets, such as when the English were roaming on Scottish land. Now, mothers hustled their children off the streets and peeked out of windows while they rode by.

At least the feeling was mutual.

None of the McTavishes or Lindseys cared to be there. Rolfe was riding for the stronghold where young King James was. Few ever saw the king because he was still being tutored and raised to adulthood. The Earl of Morton ran the country, and many whispered that he would continue to do so until he was forced to give power back to the king.

Of course, with the way it was at court, there would be men willing to help the young king wrest control from Morton’s hands. Such help would come at a price, though. As they rode through the gates, Kat looked around and wondered who was there to position themselves for the coming power struggle.

It would be soon. James was fourteen and approaching an age when he would no longer accept being treated like a child.

In fact, she would have sworn she felt the tension in the air. There were men watching everything and everyone, looking like wolves contemplating their next meal.

A chill was taking root inside her as she found herself back in the courtyard and dismounted. Years before, she’d dressed in Helen Grant’s worn clothing and escaped while Brenda Grant took her place. The gamble had landed Brenda in dire circumstances because she had been the one left to face the Earl of Morton’s fury.

Katherine risked a glance toward Rolfe. Determination was etched into his face, along with a sternness that she recognized as the way men held themselves when they were about to do something for all of the right reasons.

Such as duty.

Honor.

And noble intentions.

She loved him more for it, even though he might never forgive her for disobeying him. She looked back at the horse, working on the saddle as she accepted the fact that Rolfe was pure Highlander. He might jest about enjoying her being a hellion, but the reality was, he wouldn’t take help from his wife.

Not when it came to business matters.

Which was why she was there. She pulled her bundle from the saddle and pushed her bonnet low on her forehead. Her choice had been made, and there was no way she was going to allow Rolfe to suffer for her.

The only thing left to do was pray that God might decide to grant them both freedom. The only problem was that she doubted Morton answered to God.

*

“Marcus MacPherson,” Symon Grant bellowed. “It’s good to see ye, man.”

Marcus made a brisk path toward his friend. Symon’s grin faded as Marcus closed the gap.

“Ye look half dead.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow in response. “I’ve more strength in me than that.”

“Glad to hear it,” Symon responded. “But the look in yer eyes tells me I am no’ going to like the reason ye seem to be riding yer horse into an early grave.”

“Ye aren’t, and that’s a fact,” Marcus confirmed. “We need yer help to deal with Morton.”

Symon’s expression darkened as he listened.

*

The Earl of Morton had a great number of people waiting to see him.

Rolfe discovered himself among other lairds and ambassadors outside two large doors that were only opened when the Douglas retainers allowed them to be. Inside, the earl sat in a throne on a raised platform, with tapestries draped behind him.

In the main court, men clustered together in their clans, while women looked on. Tension filled the air, as each man waited for his name to be called.

“Just what we need.” Adwin spat on the floor. “Gordons.”

Rolfe turned and watched a new group enter. Diocail Gordon came to a stop as their gazes met. The man slowly grinned and turned his head, giving Rolfe a view of the side of his bonnet. Three feathers were raised high and held in place by a brooch.

“So Colum finally left the rest of us in peace,” Adwin remarked. “About time.”

Rolfe stepped toward Diocail. The men waiting in the other room moved back. The bad blood between the Gordons and the McTavishes was well known. Rolfe offered Diocail his hand, stunning their audience.