The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel Read online

  “Of course I missed you, love. How could I forget that pie you made me before I left?” she heard him say. “It was the sweetest thing I ever tasted.” Ellie didn’t need to look to know that his eyes were twinkling mischievously, but she did anyway. “Or the second sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  He didn’t direct it to anyone in particular, but let it hang out there as if it were meant for each one of them individually.

  Ellie had to admit that he had a talent. Watching him was akin to watching a master craftsman at work. He exuded charisma; it dripped off him like cold cream. He doled out compliments with deft sincerity, was unfailingly attentive, and treated each woman as if she were a princess. It wasn’t hard to understand why everyone liked him.

  Then why did her jaw ache and her teeth feel whittled down from listening to him as the women fawned all over him? Like a Saracen surrounded by his harem, he had the women clustered around his chair, hanging on his every word. He had one arm draped lazily over Meg’s shoulder while another woman pretended to perch herself on the arm of the chair but ended up half on his lap.

  Not that he was leaving all the fondling to the women. She’d never seen so many bottom pats and long “welcome” kisses in her life. This had to be the most hospitable island in Scotland!

  Realizing she was frowning, she turned back to the bread and cheese Meg had given her to break her fast. It was no business of hers who he touched as long as it wasn’t her. If anyone had cause for complaint it was Meg, and she didn’t seem to mind the competition.

  Ellie surreptitiously watched the group from her seat at the table on one side of the small hall. After that greeting last night, she’d been certain Meg was his mistress. The pretty redhead certainly looked the part. Probably a few years older than Ellie, she had a wide, welcoming smile, rosy cheeks, and the biggest breasts Ellie had ever seen. Her lush sensuality was everything Ellie was not. She felt like a dried-up old prune in comparison. But watching the two of them now, she wasn’t so sure about the nature of their relationship. He treated her with the same roguish good humor that he did everyone else.

  He was so infuriatingly nice. Yet Ellie couldn’t help but think that he used his affability as a mask to keep everyone at a distance. All these people who thought they knew him so well probably didn’t know him at all.

  Even his name was a mystery. “Hawk” was how even the women referred to him. Not that it didn’t fit. The bird of prey that soared over the sea, wild and free, hunting with sudden attacks from a place of concealment, was perfect for a pirate.

  She nibbled at her food, listening to the master at work. Behind the lazy grin hid a very observant man. He asked about Maura’s new hairstyle, Deidre’s new gown, and how Bessie’s young son was recovering after having hurt his leg in a fall from a tree last year. He made a point to ask something personal of each one of them, but any attempts to ask questions of him were deflected with a grin and a jest—usually a naughty one. It was so expertly done, Ellie wondered if the women even realized what he was doing.

  It made her curious as to the real man behind the golden veneer.

  “Something wrong, Ellie?” he asked.

  A crowd of curious faces turned toward her. She was surprised he’d even noticed she was here, with his attention so well occupied.

  “You don’t seem your usual chirpy self this morning,” he added innocently, those wickedly blue eyes twinkling with mirth.

  Ellie’s gaze narrowed; she was too exhausted to properly ignore him. Nor had she forgiven him for the little story he’d told Meg last night on how she came to be with him. “I’m perfectly chirpy,” she growled. For someone who’d had two hours of sleep after being stolen from her home by a boatload of Vikings.

  He looked at her as if he was trying not to laugh. “Aye, I can see that.”

  She had to grit her teeth not to glare at him again when he whispered—loudly—an apology to the other women about her being so grumpy in the morning.

  His needling was all the more grating because it happened to be true. She had always been slow to rise (as her mother had generously called it) in the best of circumstances—and today definitely hadn’t been the best of circumstances. Meg had been up since the crack of dawn cooking and, after helping her tend Thomas and Duncan—the man who’d been struck by the arrow—Ellie had collapsed on the makeshift pallet before the fire just a few short hours ago.

  She told herself she was grateful when he seemed to forget all about her once again and returned to the adoring throng surrounding him.

  “How long will you stay this time?” one of the women asked.

  Finally something worth listening to.

  “Until I can bear to tear myself away from Meg’s fine cooking.” He turned to their hostess. “That was one delicious stew you sent over this morning, love. The men appreciate your trouble … as do I.”

  Meg turned pink with pleasure. “It was no trouble at all. Just something I tossed together.”

  At dawn, Ellie wanted to point out ungraciously. And once again he hadn’t answered the question.

  He rose slowly from the chair as if he couldn’t bear to drag himself away. Though the room was a good size—probably twenty by fifty feet—his height and broad shoulders suddenly made it feel much smaller. The man dominated everything around him.

  “I’m afraid I must get back to my men,” he said sadly. The obvious protests started, but he waved them off. “I just came up to thank Meg for her hospitality and tending to my men.”

  Duncan and Thomas had stubbornly insisted on returning to the beach to join the others first thing in the morning. Ellie thought they both could have benefited from more rest—as could she—and had urged them to stay, but they’d taken her suggestion as an insult.

  Meg frowned, having tried to keep them here as well. “I didn’t like the look of the young one. Keep an eye on him. Men can be such stubborn fools.” She gave Hawk a pointed look. “Are you sure you won’t let me see to those hands?”

  He grinned. “If I let you see to my hands, it will be hours before I get back to my men.”

  Meg gave him a little swat, and everyone laughed except Ellie. Did he ever take anything seriously? And what was wrong with his hands?

  He turned to leave, then stopped as if he’d forgotten something—apparently her. “You’re sure it’s no trouble?” he said, referring to Ellie as if she weren’t sitting right there.

  Meg shook her head. “I’ll enjoy the company.”

  Hawk bent over and gave the curvy redhead a kiss on the cheek. “I owe you, love.”

  Meg dimpled. “And I will enjoy collecting payment.”

  “Naughty, lass,” he said with another one of those bottom pats.

  His gaze leveled on Ellie. “Stay out of trouble,” he ordered, as if she were a child.

  She fought the most ridiculous impulse to stick out her tongue at him.

  Good God, what was wrong with her? Less than twenty-four hours in his company, and she was acting like her five-year-old sister Joannie.

  Their gazes held a moment too long. He frowned, but by the time he glanced back to Meg he was smiling again. “Put her to work. I’m sure there’s something she can do.” From his tone it was clear he wasn’t overly convinced.

  Ellie felt a spark of outrage. She wanted to argue that there was plenty she could do, but had to bite her tongue and force herself not to rise to the bait. If he knew how much he was getting to her, it would only encourage him. And in truth, she wasn’t sure how her lady’s skills would be of help to Meg and her small holding.

  Ellie knew how to manage the castle’s servants and oversee the cleaning, cooking, and tending to the livestock and crops, but she’d never actually baked bread, made a stew, changed the rushes, laundered linens, milked a cow, or harvested barley herself. It was more than a little humbling to realize how impractical her skills were outside of a castle.

  Once he’d left, it didn’t take long for the room to clear of visitors. With Hawk’s words