The Rogue: A Highland Guard Novella (The Highland Guard) Read online

  The threat she’d sensed that had caused her to flee halfway across Scotland to seek refuge with her powerful cousin—what man in his right mind would challenge the Black Douglas?—had never materialized. Sir Stephen Dunbar hadn’t been waiting behind the next tree or shadowy corridor to what…? Capture her? It seemed so silly now. As if she’d heard too many tales of abducted brides.

  But it hadn’t seemed so silly then. Then she’d been terrified of the dashing young knight who at first had swept her off her feet—literally, she recalled, thinking of how he’d insisted on carrying her over every muddy patch of grass on that day they’d walked to the coast—but who had turned into an ogre when she’d learned the truth and refused his offer of marriage.

  When Sir Stephen, who’d fostered with her eldest brother, Alexander, arrived at Bonkyll Castle under the pretense of needing to speak to him, she’d been surprised. He should know that Alexander had been away for months fighting for Bruce under their kinsman and her guardian, Walter Stewart, and wasn’t expected home for a few weeks. She’d believed Sir Stephen when he said he must have misunderstood her brother’s intentions.

  She’d believed him because she wanted to believe him. Because he was handsome and charming and looked at her with a dazed look in his eyes as if he’d been struck by cupid’s arrow the moment he’d seen her. He’d spent two weeks wooing her, making her laugh, and making her feel as if she was the most special woman in the world.

  She was half in love with him by the time he asked her to marry him. She would have accepted, and probably would have run off with him to be married without her cousin Walter’s permission—he held her marriage rights—if her brother hadn’t arrived home early and told her the truth. Sir Stephen had borrowed a great deal of money from him and was having trouble repaying the debt. She—and her tocher—were to be the answer to his troubles.

  If he seems too good to be true, he probably is. Too late, she recalled her mother’s warning.

  She shivered, remembering Sir Stephen’s cold rage when she’d informed him of her decision. There was something hard and calculating in his eyes that had made her think he wasn’t going to accept her refusal. Her brother, too, had been worried enough by what had happened to send her to Jamie and Elizabeth “until things settled down.”

  In other words, until he and Walter could find her a husband. Only marriage would truly protect her from a man of Sir Stephen’s ilk. It was time. As much as she liked her independence, she could not put it off any longer.

  Izzie knew she had been luckier than most to have remained unwed for this long. Women in her position were often promised at a very young age, and certainly betrothed before the “advanced” age of two and twenty. If her father had lived, no doubt she would have been. There had been a few discussions since her mother’s death, but Walter—young himself—had never pressed her.

  But after he’d learned about Sir Stephen’s treachery, the frequency of the topic between them had increased. It seemed to be the first thing he said to her after greeting her. “Hullo, cousin. Any contenders yet?”

  She might have been picking a prized bull at market.

  The thought made her smile as she entered the hospital. The prioress wasn’t ready for her yet, so Izzie decided to look in on Annie, the very sick young girl who’d been so charmed by Randolph the other day.

  Upon entering the second-floor chamber where the most seriously ill patients were housed, Izzie glanced down the line of pallets that seemed to cover every inch of floor space to the one by the window. Her heart stopped. Seeing the empty pallet, she feared the worst. It was Annie’s pallet. She liked to watch the birds who’d made a nest under the roof, and the other occupants—all much older—had insisted the young girl take the prime location.

  The older woman on the pallet beside Annie’s must have guessed her thoughts. “The wee one is fine,” she said. “She has a visitor who took her outside in the garden.”

  Relief turned quickly to alarm—it was a cool morning. “In her condition? She’ll catch a chill.”

  “I don’t think so,” the old woman chortled.

  But Izzie wasn’t listening. She was already halfway down the stairs. What visitor? To her knowledge Annie was an orphan who had been left at the hospital by relatives who could no longer care for her. Izzie hastened across the hall, through the kitchens, and then outside into the—

  Garden. She stopped in her tracks and blinked, her brain refusing to believe the sight beheld by her eyes.

  My God. The rush of emotion at the scene before her was surprisingly strong, bringing an odd tightness to her chest and heat to her throat. It was a little hard to breathe, and her heart was beating funny.

  A man knelt beside a stone bench that had been stacked high with pillows—probably most of the feather pillows in the hospital—and cradled in the middle of that fluffy makeshift bed, bundled from head to toe in blankets, was a tiny figure. Annie. The man was pointing to something in the small pond, which the girl had obviously been positioned to enjoy.

  Although the man had his back to Izzie, and he was dressed in simple soldier’s garb of black leather breaches and a matching cotun, she recognized him instantly. Randolph. Here. Alone. Without his retinue or crowd of admiring spectators, to visit a little girl whom most noblemen wouldn’t notice, let alone take time to see. She couldn’t believe it.

  I’ve misjudged him. The truth hit her hard. It wasn’t all an act; not everything was about appearances and image. He wasn’t without feelings at all. For the first time she felt like she was seeing the real man. A man who was being kind for kindness’s sake, not because of how it would look. There was no one here to see him, and by the looks of his understated attire—not a glint of shining mail or colorful, emblazoned with arms tabard in sight—he was trying not to attract attention. But to her, he’d never looked more heroic. Maybe he wasn’t too good to be true. Maybe he was just… good.

  Izzie drew a little closer, curious to hear what they were talking about.

  “I wish that I could see it,” Annie said. “I’m sure there will be a great celebration when you take the castle from the English, my lord.”

  Izzie realized Randolph hadn’t been pointing to the pond but to the castle poised on the giant black rock that hovered over the city of Edinburgh like a sentinel. The church was higher on the hill that separated the abbey from the castle, and the view from this prospect was even more dramatic.

  “And you shall,” Randolph said, something catching in his voice. Izzie felt the same thing happening in her chest, suspiciously near her heart. They both knew how unlikely it would be for the girl to outlive the siege. “I will see to it myself.”

  Annie gazed up at him; a soulful, too-wise expression on the face of one so young. “Thank you for sending your healer, my lord. But I know Lady Helen told you there was nothing that could be done.”

  Randolph didn’t say anything, but the sadness and pity in his expression said it all.

  He’d brought Lady Helen to see the girl? Izzie had traveled with the vaunted healer and her husband Magnus MacKay from Roxburgh to Edinburgh. Why hadn’t she thought of it herself? She felt as though she was seeing him through different eyes. She was still attracted to him, but that attraction went far deeper than his too-handsome face.

  “You are very kind,” Annie said. “But you do not need to worry. I am going to a better place.”

  Izzie felt her heart tug again, hearing what the young girl hadn’t said. The life of an impoverished orphan was a difficult one. Most of what she’d known must have been misery and hardship. Heaven would seem an escape from hunger, squalor, and illness that had dominated her earthly life.

  Randolph seemed to understand as well. He squeezed Annie’s hand. “You are indeed.”

  “There was another girl about my age here not long ago. She said that in heaven she would be a princess.” She looked up at Randolph with hope shimmering in her eyes. “Do you think that is true, my lord?”

  Randolph’s