Her Highland Protector (Scottish Highlander Romance) Read online

  “He be a smart lad, Greer. I’ll ride tae the village and fetch him, so ye may hae a talk wi’ him.”

  “Dae that.”

  Gavin finished off his ale, and departed quickly, leaving Greer and gaze at Jared. “Could this work?”

  Jared shook his head. “Wi’ all the lasses be gone from the villages, he hae nae victims. Having this Murphy lad follow him as he hunts willnae help, as he hae nae one tae kill.”

  “Perhaps nae, but Murphy can still get us information on the Earl, talk tae people in England, maybe ask aroond the villages aboot him. Perhaps he killed in England before headin’ north to hunt his quarry.”

  “And what if Murphy gets killed?” Jared asked, his tone soft. “If the Earl catches him, ye ken he be a dead man.”

  “I dae.” Greer stared at the flames. “I would dae it meself if I could pass as an Irishman or Sassenach. But I cannae.”

  “If Murphy be loyal tae his maw’s clan,” Jared added with a sigh, “then he may be willing tae risk his life.”

  “I wi’ tell him what he risks, and what he may face,” Greer said. “I willnae order him, he has the right tae refuse me.”

  Chapter 8

  Right at the beginning, Myra had a fight on her hands. Idina took it upon herself to clean and sew Myra’s small collection of clothes, brush Myra’s long hair, tidy the lavish apartments Kerr insisted she occupy, and assisted Myra with dressing every morning.

  “I told you I don’t want or need a maid,” Myra said crossly, her hands on her hips as Idina all but ignored her, sewing a tiny rent in a gown.

  Idina glanced up. “Of course nae. I nae be yer maid. I be mending yer dress.”

  “Isn’t that what maids do?”

  “I dinnae. I ne’er been a lady’s maid before.”

  Flustered, Myra had no answer for that. Idina’s attitude seemed like a cross between a friend and servant, speaking to Myra like a friend, yet doing everything that Myra felt she should do for herself. “I should be mending it then,” she snapped.

  Idina’s brown eyes widened. “But I hae it nearly done. It make nae sense fer ye tae finish when I wi’ hae it nearly so.”

  “But you’re always doing things for me.”

  “Ach, I be bored. Need tae stay occupied.”

  Myra wanted to grit her teeth and howl. She discovered early on that Idina couldn’t be ruffled from her calm, humorous nature, and all of Myra’s fury at her servitude fell on deaf ears. Nor could she be persuaded to stop, and find something else to occupy her time. “I be happy wi’ this,” Idina stated, gazing around at the spacious suite. “I shared a small hovel wi’ me parents, me three brothers, and two sisters.”

  Myra sat on the edge of the vast bed. “I expect I had it better than you when I was a servant,” she admitted. “I worked from before dawn to late at night, but I had a very small room to myself.”

  “Dae ye miss it?”

  “The life, never. I do miss Lilibet. She raised me, loved me.”

  “Life fer us commoners is ne’er easy, is it?” Idina said, biting off the thread and examining her handiwork. “But lairds fight for us, Laird MacEilish be the best o’ them. Many lairds would’nae care that a murderer be about, killing his people.”

  Myra nodded, thinking back to the Earl of Primshire, forcing herself not to panic when she did. “The lord of the castle in England wouldn’t have cared,” she whispered. “He scarcely knew we were alive, or even human.”

  “Only cares when ye nae there tae serve him, eh?”

  Myra chuckled, her throat dry. “Exactly.”

  A knock on the door startled her, but before Myra could respond, Idina was out of her chair and across the room to the door. As though Myra were a great lady, Idina turned to announce the visitor.

  “It be Greer MacEilish.”

  Myra stood up, smoothing her gown. “Well, let him in, silly.”

  Greer’s shaggy red head emerged first, as though hesitant, inspecting the room as though fearing a trap. Idina stood respectfully aside to permit him entry, as he finally came all the way in. His green eyes rested on Myra, but he did not smile.

  “I came tae ask a favor of ye, Myra,” he said, walking all the way in as Idina closed the door behind him.

  “Of course. If I can help, I will.”

  Myra noticed him hesitate, lick his lips, and glance toward Idina, and suddenly knew she would not like doing this favor. She owed him her life, and because of him she was treated as an honored guest by his family, and not a corpse pecked at by ravens. “Tell me,” she said.

  “I wish tae send a man intae Primshire’s castle,” he told her, his eyes on hers. “I need ye tae tell him aboot the Earl’s habits, the servants, the soldiers.”

  Relief etched its way through her. “Do you want me to come right now?”

  Greer smiled, his own relief clear in his smile, his relaxed visage. “Aye.”

  Walking toward him, Myra said, “Perhaps Idina should come along as well. Keep her from doing things she shouldn’t.”

  “Ach, nay,” Idina replied, opening the door for them. “I ken little aboot earls and castles. I must catch up on me rest, I dae.”

  Myra spun on her. “Then rest, and for heaven’s sake. I do not need another dress mended or the bloody rooms cleaned again. Leave me with something to do, will you?”

  Idina smiled easily. “I might perhaps permit ye tae trim yer nails.”

  Myra stalked out the door with a long drawn out groan. “This is your fault,” she snarled under her breath as the door closed gently behind Greer and herself.

  “Me?” Greer asked as he strode beside her down the corridor. “What did I dae?”

  “You told her to be my maid when I expressly told you I didn’t want one.”

  “Ach, that. Well, I think she be good fer ye now. Dinnae ye like her?”

  Myra spun on him. “Of course I like her, you red headed frog. But I don’t want a friend waiting on me hand and foot. I can do for myself.”

  She didn’t much care for the sly grin that stole over his mouth, his green eyes glinting. “Ye be a stubborn wench,” he said, bending his head toward her. “But ye need a maid, and she needs ye.”

  Myra felt his lips close over hers, a soft kiss that sent a sweet thrill running through her. She leaned into his mouth, savoring her first kiss, feeling his affection for her, her sensations reeling from the force of her own emotions. A half thought – is this love – traipsed through her mind, as he withdrew his mouth from hers.

  Myra promptly slapped him across his cheek.

  Greer straightened with a yelp. “What ye dae that fer?” he asked, rubbing his skin. “I ken ye liked it, I ken ye did.”

  “Never kiss me when I’m angry,” she snapped. “And right now I’m furious.”

  “I expect I wi’ ken better next time,” he replied, his grin returning. “Wi’ ye accompany me tae me chambers? Jerod, Gavin and me da be waitin’.”

  “Perhaps I should have a chaperone.”

  “Me maw be oan her way.”

  Fiona had gotten there ahead of them, and sat primly in a chair beside Kerr, with Gavin and Jerod seated nearby. Myra discovered the only stranger was a stout heavy-set man wearing the quilted leather surcoat, sword belt, sword, dagger, leggings and stout boots of an English man-at-arms. He seemed uncomfortable in his attire, yet proud at the same time.

  “Myra,” Greer said, “this be William Murphy. He hae agreed tae gae tae the Primshire Castle and learn about the Earl. Wi’ ye tell him what ye ken?”

  Myra nodded, taking a chair next to Fiona. “What do you need to know?”

  For the next two hours, she answered questions about the Earl’s habits, his temperament, his soldiers, the layout of the castle, his seneschal, Lord Avery, the village and the villagers. “Hae there been any mysterious killings in the village?” Kerr asked her at one point.

  Myra thought back, remembering. “Yes, there was. Lord Platt, er, the son of the Earl, now the current Earl, discovered the body of
a girl he claimed was torn apart by wolves. Yet, no one at the castle or village had heard of any wolves in the area. And, well, they said wolves don’t do things like that. It’s not in their nature.”

  She watched as Greer and Jerod exchanged a significant glance.

  “It was about ten years ago, I think,” she went on. “I was just a child, and Lord Platt only a five or six years older. The old Earl kept his son in confinement for years, but I hardly knew what that meant. I was just learning my duties and hardly knew what went on in the castle.”

  “The old Earl died, what, a year ago?” Kerr commented, glancing around.

  “The killings started not long after,” Greer replied. “First, a lass e’ery other month, until now at least one death a week.”

  “He’s speeding up,” Gavin said.

  “I hadn’t though about that dead girl in years,” Myra mused. “I used to be terrified the wolves would enter my room and kill me, but over time it passed. I had almost forgotten it until now.”

  Kerr nodded, his expression tight. “It seems our killer be the new Earl.”

  Myra shivered, instantly recalling the evil in his eyes when he tilted her chin up that day in his chambers, the killing rage she saw just before he hit her with the silvery object. If he is such a brutal killer, why am I alive? Why did he not do to me what he did to those others? Why did he not rip me up and claim the wolves did the horrid deed?

  Unable to answer those questions, Myra glanced up to find every eye in the room on her. They gazed at her with emotions ranging from sympathy to fascination, forcing her to retreat in the only way she knew how. Trying to hide from their regard, she hunched her shoulders, bowing her head, her wealth of hair obscuring her face – the servant once more.

  “Be easy, child,” Fiona said, her voice soothing, her hand on Myra’s. “Ye be safe here. We love ye, sae we dae.”

  “Aye,” Kerr added, offering her a kind smile. “Ye be aiding us in catching a killer, Myra.”

  Greer rested his hand on her shoulder, forcing her attention to him. “And I thank ye, fer facing what frightens ye most on our behalf.”

  I refuse to face him. I cannot, for he frightens me to death, I will die from fear.

  Myra feigned a smile and a quick nod. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Dae we hae enough information tae send William oan his way?” Kerr asked, glancing around. “William, dae ye hae any questions fer Myra?”

  The stout man shook his head. In a brogue that reminded Myra, painfully, of Lilibet, he replied, “Nay, Laird. I be ready.”

  Greer leaned forward. “Ye be riskin’ yer life, William,” he said, his tone earnest. “Ye can refuse. Ye hae the choice.”

  William Murphy gazed back at him calmly. “One o’ the girls killed were me cousin, laird. I wi’ gae, and happy tae.”

  Kerr nodded. “I wi’ gie ye a horse. Ride out come dawn, mingle wi’ Primshire’s men-at-arms like ye belong there. Ye just been hired, see?”

  William nodded. “I wi’ nae fail ye, laird.”

  “E’ery third night,” Greer told him, “I wi’ be waitin’ in a small valley a’tween three hills. It be aboot a mile from the castle. Meet me there, and gie me what news ye can.”

  “I wi’.”

  “If ye feel yer life be in danger,” Kerr added. “Ye run. It nae be cowardly, lad. We need ye safe.”

  William bowed his head. “I wi’, laird, as ye command.”

  Myra sat silent as William, Kerr, Jerod and Gavin rose and filed out of the room. He’ll be all right. The Lord does not know faces, only sees numbers, he will not see the spy among them. Though she convinced herself of that, she knew William Murphy now rode into terrible danger.

  ***

  Unable to sleep that night, Myra tossed and turned in the wide, soft bed, feeling at first hot, then cold. When she did catch some sleep, nightmares haunted her, the Earl’s icy eyes staring into her own, the evil in them jolting her awake. Sitting up, sweat dripping from her cheeks, she gazed out the window at the moon’s half-light. It had already begun its descent into the west, the stars above informing her hours would yet pass before the sun rose.

  In the other room, she heard Idina’s light snores drifting to her from just on the other side of the wall. Rising, she padded across the room to the window, and leaned against the sill to stare out. If she glanced up and to her right, she could see the dim shadows of the guards on the parapets, pacing off their rounds. Knowing that they, and a hundred others like them, stood between her and the rampaging Earl did little to ease her fears.

  “Ye need yer rest.”

  Myra didn’t turn at the sound of Idina’s voice, not even surprised that the blonde girl woke. “I cannot tonight.”

  She heard the girl’s light footfalls on the rugs, then felt her hand on the small of her back. “Ye fear him.”

  Her mouth dry, unable to speak, Myra nodded.

  “He be as evil as the devil himself,” Idina murmured from beside her. “Ye should fear him. I dae. It nae be cowardice.”

  “I should be dead,” Myra whispered. “By rights, I should be dead. Like them.”

  “Dinnae think that way.” Idina’s voice hardened. “Be grateful ye be alive. Ye can still fight him.”

  Myra turned her head to gaze into Idina’s eyes. “I don’t know how.”

  “Dinnae let him intae yer heart. Dinnae let him hae control. Know that he be the coward, killing only women that cannae fight back. Remember that he failed tae kill ye.”

  Idina poked her finger into Myra’s chest. “Ye be stronger, braver than he, Myra. Ye be a true warrior. Remember this.”

  Myra stared out the window at the stars. “I’m just a servant girl.”

  “Aye,” Idina agreed. “If that be what ye tell yerself.”

  “I can be a warrior?”

  “If ye wish tae be.”

  Idina’s right. He failed in killing me. He can be weak, if I can be strong. If I can be stronger than he is, I can defeat him. “Greer will teach me to fight,” Myra went on staring up. “I will be a warrior.”

  “And only yer fears wi’ hold you back.”

  “Are you afraid, Idina?”

  “Nay. Nae any longer.”

  Groping for the other girl’s hand, Myra clasped it. “We will be fearless and strong together, you and me.”

  Chapter 9

  Three nights later, Greer, Jared and Gavin sat in the hiding spot where the hills conjoined, waiting for William’s first report. Gavin lay on his belly on the hilltop, watching listening for anyone arriving on horse or on foot. At last, when Greer feared the worst, Gavin leaped and jumped back down the hill to land near Greer.

  “He be coming,” he said. “I saw him.”

  Sure enough, his hand on the hilt of his sword, William rounded the base of the hill, and saluted Greer. “Laird.”

  “I hae begun tae fear fer ye, lad,” Greer said, his hand on William’s shoulder. “Hae ye any news fer me?”

  “Nae sae much as the evidence ye need,” William replied, “but His Lordship’s soldiers live in terror o’ him.”

  Greer sucked in his breath. “They dae indeed?”

  “Aye. The castle’s servants dinnae see him, and the butler and head housekeeper keep them from kenning tae much. The men-at-arms be chosen tae ride wi’ him fear he may turn oan them, and slay them where they stand.”

  “Hae he killed any?”

  William nodded. “He did, a month back. Tied the poor bugger tae a stake and ordered the others tae shoot him full o’ arrows. Fer nae reason they can ken.”

  “He dae like tae kill,” Jared commented. “Any rumors or talk o’ him stalking and slaying Scottish women?”

  “Nay, nae that I hae heard. But he be full o’ venom toward the Scots. It be told that Laird Pratt be kidnapped as a wee lad, beaten a little, frightened outta his mind. He were recovered by his da, and he grew up blaming the Scots. But nae evidence were found that any Scot did the deed.”

  “There be his ha
tred o’ Scots,” Greer said with a sigh. “Are ye at risk in there, William?”

  “Nay. His men-at-arms desert, then others come tae take their place, more coming and going than a tavern.”

  “Good. And yer Irish accent be passable?”