Highland Hope by Julie Johnstone
Six
Something was slithering atop her. Eve batted at it, a scream in her throat, and then she bolted upright in bed, letting out a sigh of relief as the morning sun made her squint.
Dreaming.She’d only been dreaming.
But then there it was again, something cold and wet moving over her leg. With a shriek, she jerked back the covers, gaped at the green snake sliding across her left shin, and let out a bloodcurdling screech. She followed it with another when a black snake appeared from the foot of the bed, head first and then its body, and started up her right shin. She screamed so loudly, her ears rang. Her bedchamber door slammed open, and Royce appeared in the doorway, hair dripping and nothing but braies clinging low to his hips.
“Snake! Snake!” she cried out.
Royce charged toward her, snatching a dagger from somewhere at his hip, and dropped to his knees on the bed, his weight making it tilt and sending her sideways into him, her shoulder hitting the side of his bicep. The black snake slithered higher toward her thighs, fully exposed by her bunched léine that Elena had set on Eve’s bed last night for her to have. Her heart pounded as Royce raised his dagger to spear, she presumed, the snake. He plunged the dagger down, but then he suddenly jerked it to a stop right before it went into the snake, now between her spread legs.
“God’s blood!” Royce cursed. And then he reached between her thighs, his warm fingers brushing the tender skin there as he grabbed the snake.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, her heart jolting, whether from his touch in such an intimate place or from his grabbing the snake, she was unsure. His blue eyes locked on hers, and he grimaced.
“This is Spear,” he said, holding up the black snake and shaking it in front of her.
Before she could react to his seeming familiarity with the snake, that same cold, slimy feeling hit her once more, but this time up her back, and a fresh scream ripped from her throat. Royce lunged over her and, to her utter shock, shot his arm down the back of her léine, his fingers tracing the length of her spine in a fiery path.
When he withdrew his arm, clutched in his right hand was the green snake. “This is Arrow,” he said, his tone grim and his expression even more so. “They’re nae poisonous. They’re the girls’ pets. Give me a moment, aye?”
She nodded weakly and watched as he rose and stalked toward the door, Arrow dangling from one hand and Spear dangling from the other. She stared after him, taking in his broad shoulders and muscular back. She’d never seen such a well-formed man. There wasn’t an ounce of extra fat on him, as if he never sat still long enough for extra weight or any sort of softness to settle. Slabs of muscles shifted as he lifted the snakes higher in the air, muttering—whether to them or himself, she couldn’t say—but his words made her smile as he exited the bedchamber. “Those girls will nae get any sweet treats this night.”
That was the appropriate response of punishment by a father who obviously loved his daughters, even if he didn’t spend enough time focused on them. She thought of her own father then, and how he’d thrashed the insides of her hands. She turned them up and looked at the faint white lines that rose just above the surface of her palms. Frederick had never held her hand, therefore he’d never felt the lines. Royce had held her hand briefly when they’d danced, but there been much going on in the great hall. If he held her hand when it was less chaotic would he notice the scars? She stared at the scars, tracing them with her fingers, her throat tightening and tightening until she felt she could not breathe.
“Did ye hear me, lass?”
Eve snapped her gaze up and toward the door at the sound of Royce’s voice while quickly turning over her hands. She didn’t think the scars would be noticeable from such a distance, but she didn’t want to take the chance. Royce towered in the doorway, nearly swallowing up all the space with his broad shoulders and massive chest. Flanking him were his daughters, both wedged in the frame and each holding a snake, presumably the one that was her personal favorite.
“The girls have something to say to ye,” Royce said, giving them each an obvious nudge on the shoulder.
They frowned simultaneously, and Lenora spoke. “We’re sorry,” she muttered, sounding anything but. On the other side of Royce, Lillith nodded her agreement while looking ever so slightly guilty with her pinkened cheeks, but her eyes held equal parts distrust and dislike.
Eve held in her sigh. She’d known it would not be easy to gain the girls’ favor, and she had not even been here a day. Of course, she’d not expected snakes, but if that was the worst they were going to do, she could handle it.
Lenora crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. “It was a harmless prank,” she insisted. “How were we to know ye were such a simpering lady?”
“Lenora.” Royce’s tone held a low warning.
“You could not have known I was mortally afraid of snakes,” Eve rushed to intervene before the stubborn girl got herself in more trouble. “As a child I fell into a snake pit, and I’ve been terrified ever since.”
“That’s terrible!” Lillith said.
“’Tis nae so terrible,” Lenora grumbled. “I would have picked my way out without crying. Our mother would have, too.”
“I’m certain she would have,” Eve said, focusing her attention on the girls, and trying to ignore how Royce’s stare was heating her through and through.
“Off with ye both,” Royce said, releasing his grip on their shoulders. “And there will nae be any sweet treats for ye this night.”
“But, Da!” they protested in unison.
He held up a palm and silence fell, the girls departing with only Lenora glancing back to glare at Eve. Once they were gone, Eve brought her attention back to Royce and found he was not looking at her face but lower. She followed his eyes, and her mouth parted in surprise at the sight of her legs on full display up to the very juncture between her thighs. Heat washed over her as she jerked the léine down, even as the memory of his hot touch upon her skin filled her head. Heaven above, why did this man stir her? She was embarrassed to look at him but forced herself to. His face was flushed, but his gaze was now on her face.
“I’m sorry I was staring, lass.” Her lips parted in surprise again, but this time at his utter honesty and his apology. Royce cleared his throat as she continued to gape. She couldn’t do any more than that. Whatever he’d awoken in her was in a whirl. She felt tingly and at a loss for any coherent thought beyond the realization that he had the most compelling eyes she’d ever seen. Wise and kind at the same time, yet guarded.
He shoved a hand through his hair, and a fierce frown settled on his handsome face, making his dark, thick brows dip into a slash. “I, well, yer legs—Ye’ve the sort of legs a man kinnae help but stare at, but ’tis nae an excuse, and I’m sorry if I offended ye. It will nae happen again.”
She had the sort of legs a man was drawn to stare at? She had to bite her cheek to stop herself from grinning foolishly. Frederick had never made one comment about her legs. Then again, Frederick had never seen her legs, and even if he had, he would not have cared. He preferred hairy, muscled legs to her feminine ones. She swallowed. She ought not say anything. She ought to let Royce think he’d offended her so there would be an appropriate distance between them, but instead, she blurted, “You’ve very nice legs yourself.” Her eyes went wide at her words, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Whatever had made her say such an inappropriate thing?
Royce’s eyebrows shot up, and then he glanced down at his legs, which made her laugh. When he looked up again, he was grinning, but just as fast as the grin appeared, it disappeared as if he’d recalled suddenly that he didn’t allow levity. “We should nae be staring at each other’s legs.” His tone was one of chastisement.
“No, of course not,” she said, mortified. Oh, how she wished she could throw the coverlet over her head.
“It will nae happen again.” His words sounded like an order, but then his gaze fell to her covered legs, and the urge to smile rose within her once more. He liked her legs. How inordinately ridiculous that such a thing should make her feel so happy. It was foolish at best, dangerous at worst.
With that in mind, she cleared her throat, and said, “Is there something else you wished to say to me, or might I rise and dress for the day?”
“Ah, God, I’m sorry.” His attention dropped lower, then rose up once more. He turned his head so that he was not looking at her at all. “I just wanted to ensure ye were nae frightened any longer and have the girls apologize to ye, and as I’ve done both, I’ll leave ye to get dressed. The girls can show ye where the healing room is so ye can acquaint yerself with it, and then I’d like ye to give them instruction on being appropriate lasses.”
“In what way?” Her own instruction from her stepmother had consisted of do as you’re told and be biddable always. She didn’t think he would wish that for his girls. At least she prayed he did not.
A frown creased his brow, and he tilted his head in obvious thought. The man was handsome as sin. She noted he had dimples as she stared at him. Finally, his face lit. “Such as dancing,” he said, “and stitching.”
“I don’t know how to dance, remember?”
“Ah,” he said slowly, “I’d forgotten.” But the way he grinned told her he had not. “Elena can teach all three of ye. She’s a verra good dancer. Do ye stitch?”
A blush instantly heated her face. “Not very well.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “I have nae ever thought it was the most important thing about being a woman in this clan.”
“No?” She found herself utterly fascinated with what exactly it was he might find to be the most important thing to master as a woman in this clan. “What is, then?” When he gave her a blank look, she clarified, “The most important thing—what is it?”
“Loyalty,” he said. The word was simple, but the way he said it with such force made her certain it was not so simple to him. “And blind obedience.”
The first she agreed with, but the last raised her hackles. “You expect the women of your clan to be obedient like dogs?”
He scowled. “I expect all members of my clan to be obedient. ’Tis what keeps the clan running smoothly.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, wanting to argue, but it was not her place. Frederick had expected obedience, as well.
“Ye do nae agree?”
She bit her lip, wanting to speak her mind but afraid it would draw him to anger. She could not help but recall the sting of Frederick’s open palm across her cheek on the few occasions she’d dared to disagree with him. “I think requiring blind obedience is for tyrants, not wise rulers who want to draw on the strength of their clan members.”
She cringed and braced herself for what might come, but when he grinned, she felt herself frown.
A rich, deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “Ye just passed yer first test, Abigail.”
“My first test?”
“Aye. I hardly know ye. Did ye think I’d just allow ye to mold my girls without giving ye tests to see what sort of character ye possess.”
Again, she thought of her lies and cringed but kept her silence on that. Instead, she said, “So loyalty and blind obedience are not the most important things to you for a woman of your clan to learn?”
His face grew serious, and his gaze seemed to burn into her. “Loyalty, yes, but my girls are loyal. Blind obedience, nay. Women are nae dogs. My mother is one of the most opinionated women I know, and her different opinions on things many times helped my father to see things in a different light and aided him with decisions.”
His words made her smile, even as she recalled that her father had once called her a dog and so had Frederick. But here was a man who valued a woman’s opinion. She had known in her heart that such a man existed, but suddenly just as quickly as his words had made her happy, they made her sad. She’d never have the love of a man like Royce.
She inhaled a long breath at the surprising thoughts he kept conjuring in her.
“I do expect obedience from my clan, men and women alike, but nae blind obedience, Abigail. Ye may question my orders, as I encourage all my clan to do, but do so directly to me, and I will consider yer opinion. If I agree, I will recant, but if I do nae, I will explain why.”
“Truly?” She could hardly believe it.
“Truly.”
“Royce! What the devil are ye doing in Abigail’s bedchamber with her gown revealing her pretties?”
The high feminine voice behind Royce surprised Eve, as did the words about her pretties. Just as she wondered what “pretties” were, Elena stepped to Royce’s side, her red hair tumbling wildly about her shoulders and her blue eyes shining with mischief.
She pointed at Eve’s chest. “That old léine I gave ye is as thin as parchment.”
Eve jerked her gaze down, and gasped as she brought her arms to cross over her chest. She looked slowly back up at Royce.
“I did nae look,” he said, “but the once, and that was an accident.”
“You could have told me,” Eve muttered.
“I could nae think how to say it.”
For some reason, perhaps it was how pained he looked, she believed him. His sister, though, obviously did not.
She let out a hoot. “Och! I’d wager if ye had wanted to find a way to tell her, ye would have. I imagine—”
“Cease speaking,” Royce barked at Elena.
His sister grinned wider. “I imagine—”
“Elena, did I nae tell ye to cease speaking?”
“Oh aye, ye did, but ye did tell Abigail we are allowed to question yer orders. Imagine my surprise at that! Ye’ve nae ever told me such a thing!”
Royce looked like he wanted to throttle his sister. “There was nae ever a need to tell ye such a thing, Elena. Ye always do what ye wish, regardless of the repercussions to the clan.”
Eve bit her lip on his harsh words, but she suspected his sister had embarrassed him.
Elena sniffed. “That was nae verra nice, but I’ll forgive ye since I can see by yer red neck that I embarrassed ye in front of the lass.”
Royce growled at her, and her response was to tug him by the arm. “Come on, Brother, and let the lass get dressed. Or ye can stand here and the entire castle will be awash with gossip and the lass will be labeled a wanton. Then ye’ll have but two choices: wed her or let her be whispered about, and we both know either choice would drive ye mad.”