The Rogue’s Redemption Read online

  Every day the possibility of battle loomed larger. If it came to that, Clave would not be the only man forced to choose sides. Both of his brothers had married English women, and his sister an English lord . . . a folly he would be sure to avoid. Though they also had loyalty to their clans, their personal lives certainly complicated matters.

  “The choice is not between Scotland and England,” Juliette said. “’Tis between order and lawlessness.”

  “And when laws are broken?” He should not enjoy goading his sister-in-law. Despite his disdain for the English, even he had to admit they were not all bad.

  “Justice should prevail.”

  “Hmm.” Should. But it did not always. Which was precisely why the warden had called the council. The problem of a very crooked English warden was one that, unsolved, would doom the borderlands to the same unrest as before the Treaty of York.

  “Enough,” Toren said. “If we could resolve such issues here, there would be no need for the meeting.”

  Reid sat back and looked for the pretty blonde sisters, but they’d disappeared from sight.

  “Just be safe,” Juliette said. “And do not court trouble.”

  Ahh, he’d found her, the one he’d already tasted.

  “Trouble?” he asked distractedly, anticipating the night ahead. “Never.”

  He ignored Juliette’s laughter and sought out the woman’s gaze. It wasn’t difficult to attract her attention. The last great council had lasted weeks, and if Reid’s memory served, there had been no maids at Highgate to amuse him.

  Luckily, such was not the case this eve.

  * * *

  “You forgot to reorient the tip.”

  Allie sighed. Why did she forget every single time? “Perhaps you can show me a different method?”

  Aidan crossed his arms. “Very well.”

  She brought her feet back into the starting position.

  “Remember, you are aiming for my blade, not my body.”

  She tried to concentrate. Stood hips facing forward, sword at shoulder height. Brought it down decisively and—

  Ouch!

  Allie had remembered to reorient the tip of the blade, but she’d let her excitement distract her—so much so that Aidan was able to knock her blunted sword completely out of her hands.

  When he bent down to retrieve it for her, she moved quickly, positioning herself away from his reach. Aidan always said her speed was a strength, so she tried to use it whenever possible.

  “Nice recovery,” he said, looking up at the darkening sky. “Though I do think we should return to the keep.”

  Allie watched as Aidan put his finger to his lips. He was looking off into the distance, but she didn’t see anything there other than the tops of some very tall, old trees.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  Aidan frowned at her, something that only made her more curious. She couldn’t help it. Allie wanted to know what he saw. Or heard.

  “Aidan?”

  He gave her the same look he’d given her upon hearing her suggestion that they keep these training sessions secret. But she would not let his expression destroy her good mood.

  “Likely an animal,” he said finally. “Though if it had been anything else, you’d have given us away with all of that noise. ‘Aidan,’” he mimicked in an exaggerated, breathy whisper.

  “I did not sound like that.”

  He continued. “‘Aidan. Aidan. Who’s there? What’s happening? Is it—’”

  “You’re quite amusing,” she said, her tone suggesting just the opposite.

  Due to the rolling hills, they had a clear view of Highgate Castle as they walked back beyond the dense tree line. In silent agreement, they both stopped and watched as another retinue of men on horseback arrived. The leaders of the various border clans had begun to descend on Highgate End two days ago for the planned summit. Allie could not help but feel a twinge of excitement for the days ahead. Of course, Gillian kept reminding her—every day, it seemed—that this was not a celebration. She knew that. Knew better than most the dangers that lurked on both sides of the border and the implications for her family back in England and Highgate End. Even still, the arrival of so many men, and even some of their ladies . . . how could she not be excited after twenty years of boredom at Lyndwood? Gillian would have told her that was an exaggeration—that she couldn’t possibly remember being bored as a babe—but that was the way it felt.

  “You’re in good spirits.” Aidan said, watching the riding party’s procession. Then his eyes widened and his grin faded.

  “What is it?”

  He gestured up the hill. “I just recognized our new guests,” he said. “Go ahead. I will be right behind you to greet the men of Clan Kerr.”

  With a nod, Allie began the long walk uphill. The guards, of course, knew she and Aidan trained nearly every evening. They had promised her brother-in-law not to mention the fact to anyone, though they likely thought her as silly as Aidan did. Allie didn’t care.

  Allie tried to imagine the look on her father’s face if he were to find out what she was doing, and the image made her laugh aloud. She was still smiling when she entered the gatehouse and handed her sword to Aidan’s friend Lawrence. He kept the longsword for her, and he kept her secret too. Lawrence nodded knowingly, and she thanked him before she continued on to the keep.

  It was nearly time for the evening meal, and if she wished to escape the odd looks her unconventional outfit was sure to cause, Allie thought it best that she enter through Armorer’s Tower rather than the main keep. She could reach her bedchamber from there.

  A noise behind her made her turn back toward the gatehouse whence she’d come. The same men they’d seen earlier were exiting the stables as Aidan arrived to greet them. Allie could not see the men clearly, but she didn’t think she recognized them. Of course, she did not know many people in Scotland, save those here at Highgate.

  But that was about to change.

  3

  Reid sent the men ahead. He planned to return to the gatehouse to speak to the guards and ensure they were taking proper precautions. A gathering such as this occurred so rarely, and with Douglas in attendance along with so many of the clans’ chiefs, there was danger of a targeted attack. If de Sowlis’s men resented his line of questioning, so be it.

  And that’s when he saw her.

  Though she looked his way, her gaze did not linger. From this distance, he could hardly see her face, but something about her caught his attention. Mayhap it was the boys’ clothing she wore. He’d seen women dressed that way before, though it was not common. Such a thing would not normally intrigue him, but he wished to see what lay beneath the oversized tunic draped over her. As Reid approached, he could see her shape more clearly beneath the voluminous fabric. Her curves were all woman, and her thick, lustrous brown hair was braided down her back.

  The woman had turned away from him, and without thinking it through, he found himself following. His speed was enough that he would overtake her before she reached the keep. He did not know what he planned to say, but inspiration would come to him.

  It always did.

  Her hips swayed as she walked, the brisk pace making him wonder at her destination. He’d assumed she headed toward the keep, but instead she turned toward an attached tower building, reaching for the iron handle of the small wooden door.

  He grabbed it from behind and opened it for her.

  “Oh!”

  When she spun around, Reid sucked in his breath. His instincts, as always, had not let him down. He wanted her, this slip of a woman who walked as if she owned Highgate End. She looked at him with a mixture of astonishment and lust.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I did not see you behind me.”

  “Yet here I am.”

  She did not know how to respond, but he did.

  “I would follow you anywhere, fair maid.” He inclined his head to indicate she should continue inside.

  “I . . .” She turned,
peering into the entranceway. Her features were dainty for a lass who dressed as a man. “Are you looking for the hall?”

  Reid didn’t answer. He was not, and she knew it.

  “I . . . I’m afraid I am returning to my chamber to prepare for the meal. You cannot—”

  “Perfect,” he said.

  He expected a shy smile; she surprised him by frowning.

  “Are you suggesting you would like to follow me there?”

  Her speech marked her as a noblewoman. Though the revelation was disappointing—she was much less likely to entertain him—it did nothing to dampen his intrigue. Why was a noblewoman so oddly dressed?

  “Only if you need an escort.”

  She opened her mouth, likely to deny him, but then closed it instead. Her expression indicated she would have slapped him on the face had her good manners not insisted otherwise. Damn. He had very much misjudged her. Not just a noblewoman then, but an innocent. Too bad, since she really would have been an enjoyable way to pass the time here at Highgate.

  “Who are you?” he asked. The question had not mattered before, but it certainly did now.

  “Are you always so . . . direct?”

  “Always.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Their conversation had come to an end.

  Pity.

  “I am sister to Lady Gillian, wife of Graeme de Sowlis, chief of Clan Scott and—” she paused for effect, as if one were needed, “—your host.”

  Reid bowed, an exaggerated one sure to inflame her. Though why he goaded the lady, he didn’t know.

  “Reid Kerr,” he said, leaving the introduction at that.

  “I would say I’m pleased to meet you.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I do not care to perjure myself.”

  Indeed. Reid might enjoy himself at Highgate after all.

  “You will change your mind.”

  Eyes widening, she walked into the tower and left him holding the door. It was only as Reid watched her go that he realized she’d not told him her name.

  No matter. He would find out soon enough.

  * * *

  “If there is nothing else, my lady, your sister—”

  “Go,” Allie said. “And please tell Gillian I will be down shortly.”

  Morgan’s very proper curtsy was followed by her quick exit. The lady’s maid had attended to her and Gillian for years, and was as much a friend as she was a helper, yet she still insisted on politesse.

  Dressed for the evening meal but not quite ready to attend it, Allie thought back to her meeting with Reid Kerr, the most handsome and most irritating man she’d ever met. When she’d first turned around, Allie had nearly been knocked over by the sheer force of him. It was a ridiculous notion, of course, but true nonetheless. His height and muscular frame, his self-assured smile and piercing eyes, his thick light brown hair—one could hardly take it all in at once.

  Of course, he could tell how he affected her.

  For a brief moment, as her heart hammered in her chest and Reid looked at her with open admiration, she felt on the cusp of doing something foolish. Her sister had engaged in a passionate embrace with a stranger, Graeme, only to find herself wedded and headed to Scotland in a mere two days. She’d struggled to understand how rational, proper Gillian had been induced to do such a thing.

  She suddenly understood.

  For if the circumstances had been different, the man less arrogant and more . . . more like Graeme, or even Aidan, she’d have done the same. That embarrassing fact was overshadowed by another. Reid Kerr was a complete and utter arse. She should be embarrassed by the vile language, even though she hadn’t spoken the word aloud, but there was no other description that seemed to fit.

  Standing, Allie took a deep breath and made her way from her chamber down a set of winding stone stairs. She could reach the main keep from the bottom floor of the tower or go back outside the way she had come. A moment later, finding herself in the same spot where she had first encountered the insufferable Scotsman, Allie chastised herself for a fool. Was she really looking for him? No, she was not. Certainly not. He’d be long gone.

  And thank the saints for that.

  Of course, he was very likely to appear in the great hall for the evening meal—the meal that was already well underway by the time Allie entered the main doors of the keep and ascended to the hall. The din of clanging mugs and the murmuring voices grew louder with each step. The center of all castle activity became more crowded every night, and according to Gillian, Highgate’s hall would be filled to capacity by the time the meeting of the great council commenced in three days’ time. They’d greeted guests at Lyndwood, of course, but never this many at once.

  “Good to see I am not the only late arrival.”

  Allie jumped at the sound of Aidan’s voice. By the time she turned around, he was watching her with the same look of concern he wore any time she or Gillian appeared unhappy.

  “You really are the best brother a lady could acquire,” she said sincerely.

  “By marriage, of course,” he said, holding out his arm.

  She took it without thought and allowed him to escort her to the high table.

  “Well?” he prodded. “You want to talk about what has you—”

  “Shhh,” she said, cutting him off—she would never, ever, admit what had shaken her—and turned to greet her sister.

  “Gillian,” she said. “Graeme.”

  They both murmured greetings. Gillian had been watching one of the musicians play the rebec, the stringed instrument whose soft, melodic sound had entranced both sisters from an early age.

  “Gill,” she said, lowering herself. “Do you remember the time I begged Father to allow me to learn to play?” Taking her usual seat between her sister and Aidan, she forced herself to concentrate on the company of her companions rather than looking out into the crowd.

  “I do.” Gillian’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “And I also remember when you stole that poor man’s instrument—”

  “Borrowed,” she cut in.

  “My sister, the thief.” Aidan winked at her as he nudged his goblet toward a servant making the rounds with a carafe of wine.

  Allie did the same.

  Before responding to the accusation, she picked up her wine and took a small sip. Her eyes darted toward the crowded room and then back. “Father, of course, refused to arrange for lessons. But I simply had to know if I could play as well as the musician did. It did not look overly difficult—”

  “And was it?” Aidan asked.

  She shook her head. “Not at all.”

  Gillian’s laugh attracted more than a few stares. Allie hid her own smile behind the goblet as she took a more lingering sip.

  “Shouldn’t you ask those of us who had to listen?” Gillian said. “Mother caught her with it and gave the instrument back to its rightful owner. Thank the heavens. My poor ears—”

  “Enough,” Allie begged. “If Mother could have, just once, supported us over Father.” She’d tried to say it lightly, as a jest, but the words had too much truth to them. “I will gladly let the musician provide the entertainment this eve.”

  When she looked back out into the hall this time, their eyes met.

  Allie had spotted him moments before, three tables away from her, though she’d immediately looked away. The man was too large, too alive, to be ignored. Allie noticed two things at once. She was not the only woman in the hall looking at him. And his interest in her had not waned. If anything, his stares were even bolder. Though he was dressed simply, his deep green surcoat proclaimed him anything but common. A chief, perhaps?

  “No.”

  She looked at Gillian. “Pardon?”

  “Absolutely, not. Do not consider it, even for a moment.”

  Her sister had the attention of the entire head table. She gave her head a little shake as if to say, We will discuss this later. And proceeded to promptly change the topic.

  No? Had Gillian seen her looking at Reid Kerr? It seemed likely. He
r sister never missed even the smallest detail. If she had caught her looking—as she was doing surreptitiously now while pretending the just-served pigeon pie was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen—then she clearly had a poor opinion of the man. An opinion that likely fit Allie’s own observations.

  Then why did it take every bit of self-restraint for her to eat her meal without looking his way?

  “He is horrid.” Gillian whispered the accusation between sips of wine. Clearly, her aversion to Reid was such that she couldn’t wait to disparage him.

  “I know.”

  And she did. Rather than allow him to distract her, she should concentrate on enjoying the meal and listening to the fine music Gillian had commissioned. She turned to do just that, only her eyes didn’t heed her. They sought out Reid in the crowd. And he was still looking at her.

  4

  “Please, please, please tell me you were not looking at Reid Kerr that way.”

  Gillian had cornered her, waylaying her attempt to retire early. No longer hungry, she’d found it impossible to sit in that hall any longer. It was as if a swarm of butterflies had invaded the meal and were attempting fly up under her gown. Her hands shook and her head was filled with visions of the impossible Scotsman.

  She had made it across the length of the hall, past their guests and nearly halfway through the corridor that led to the stairs, and freedom, before Gillian grabbed her arm from behind.

  “That way?”

  “I apologize,” Gillian said, starting over. “I thought I saw him looking at you—”

  “You did.”

  Gillian was unwittingly emulating the concerned look their mother gave them whenever they did not agree with their father. She would have pointed out the fact had her sister not appeared to be genuinely upset.

  “We need to talk.”

  Her sister walked further away from the hall, toward the attached chapel. Instead of entering it, she took the winding stairs to the wall-walk above. Apparently whatever she felt needed saying required absolute privacy.