03 - The Wicked Lady Read online

  Trevor studied the child, reluctant to admit he'd been wondering the same thing, and hating to acknowledge he didn't have the answer. He cleared his throat and tried to formulate an answer.

  "Trevor and I were discussing that very subject when you rode up, Master Hagan," Rodney said. "I think your sister is coming home very soon."

  "Good." Hagan's smile returned. "I want to have you both in the same place. I'm hungry," he informed Trevor.

  "Go dress for dinner. We'll follow soon."

  Hagan scampered toward the house, then stopped suddenly and came back. "Grandfather said they're going to have some Scottish games five days hence." Hagan held up five fingers. "He said lots of big Scottish lads will come to Scotgrow and compete. Can we go?"

  Trevor smiled grimly. "I wouldn't miss it."

  "Do you suppose they'll all wear those skirts?" Hagan asked, making a face.

  "Those skirts are called kilts, and yes, they will wear them."

  Hagan giggled, then turned and ran off toward the house. "Trevor," Rodney said, drawing Trevor's attention away from the boy. "I think there is something else you should know."

  "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

  "Your uncanny sense is as good as always." Rodney chuckled. "But this is news you will not find amusing, I assure you. I learned that the two men who sabotaged the Alastair and sent it to the ocean bottom worked for Ian."

  "That filthy bastard!" Trevor felt the blood surge to his face. "Are you sure?"

  "Evidently, Ian's grudge ran deep," Rodney replied grimly. He watched Trevor, but other than the tightening of Trevor's hand on the fence post, there wasn't any visible reaction to the startling news.

  "He most certainly will not get away with it," Trevor said with determination. "I'll press charges."

  "And put the old man in jail?"

  "Of course. What would you have me do?"

  Rodney shrugged. "Ian is technically related to you by marriage. That would make him a relative whether you like it or not. I don't think your wife would understand."

  Trevor slammed his closed fist against the stable wall. "You're bloody right."

  A lone rider galloped across the meadow, drawing Rodney's attention. "Are you expecting a guest?"

  "No."

  He nodded toward the advancing rider. "Well, I think you're getting ready not only to have company, but also to confront your enemy."

  Rodney bowed then headed for main house. "If you'll excuse me, I'll see you inside."

  Trevor turned back as Ian Johnstone galloped up on a magnificent white stallion. He must have seen Trevor for he headed straight toward him. Ian pulled his mount to a halt in front of Trevor.

  Ian didn't dismount at first. He sat upon the stallion and looked down at Trevor with a critical eye. Ian could see more of Constance than her husband in Trevor. Perhaps, there was some good in the man. However, Ian had yet to discover what it was.

  "So, have ye been missing me, lad?" Ian taunted as he dismounted and tied off his mount.

  "Like a bloody stomachache." Trevor folded his arms across his chest. "Why have you come?"

  "I've come for Kristen."

  Instantly, Trevor forgot his anger. "What's wrong?"

  "Kristen isn't verra happy. Somehow, Lord knows why, she seems tae be missing ye," Ian said, though it pained him to do so. "I think ye should pay her a visit."

  "Did she send you?"

  "Nay. However, since I'm the one who insisted she needed time to herself, I wagered it was my place tae fix the problem."

  "Then you are ready to let Kristen go?" Trevor showed very little emotion.

  "If that's what she wants," Ian said.

  "Strange that you should appear," Trevor said. "I was just informed that you had one of my ships sunk. Do you deny the fact?"

  "Nay, I do not," Ian replied, looking Trevor straight in the eye.

  "I cannot believe that you freely admit your deed. Perhaps, you're more of a man than I first thought." Trevor shifted his stance. "Why did you do such a thing?"

  Ian shrugged. " 'Twas before I met ye."

  Trevor glanced impatiently toward heaven. "What does that have to do with anything?"

  "Ye're family now," he acknowledged grudgingly. "I can see much of Constance in ye, so ye canna be all bad."

  "It's so good of you to approve of me," Trevor said sarcastically. "Especially when one of my best ships is at the bottom of the sea."

  "Did ye know that half the shipping business was once mine?"

  "Really?." Trevor arched an eyebrow.

  "Yer grandfather cheated me out of my half after I sank all my saving into the ships. I thought ye were just like him, so a few setbacks seemed in order. I figured ye were some dandy who had inherited his wealth and . . . ." Ian paused and shrugged. "Ye see the picture. Perhaps, I was mistaken. I will pay for yer lost ship."

  "You're damned right you will!" Did the old buzzard think he could waltz in here and confess and Trevor would forget everything?

  "Watch it, lad, I'm not used tae this generous mood."

  "What made you change your mind?"

  "Despite the fact that ye are a Claremont, I believe ye tae be an honest mon. And, as I said, I see much of ye grandmother in ye. You canna be all bad."

  "Thank you, I think," Trevor said, frowning. "You have mentioned my grandmother several times. What was the feud about? Grandmother would never explain."

  "I've just finished recounting the entire story tae Kristen. She will tell ye, providing ye are mon enough tae go after what's yers."

  Trevor's expression became a mask of stone. "What do you mean by that?"

  "In order tae be accepted by the Johnstones, I think ye need tae prove yerself worthy of my granddaughter. 'Twould be the way of it if she'd been living with me all along."

  Trevor chuckled. A sound that came out dry and cynical. "You want me to win back what is already mine?"

  Ian leaned back against the fence, his tension relaxing. "If ye think ye can," he taunted.

  "And how do you suggest I win her back?"

  Good, the lad was interested. Ian smiled. "By participating in the games we're having. There will be many brawny lads there, and Kristen has been long without a husband. She could decide that some of those Scottish lads look much better than ye do."

  Trevor stiffened immediately. "I need to play games in order to impress my wife?"

  Ian threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Are ye afraid, lad?"

  "Of course not," Trevor snapped. "I will participate in your bloody games. If for no other reason than to wipe that damned smile off your face when I do win!"

  "I'm warning ye, the games are verra hard. It takes a brawny mon tae hurl those cabers." Ian moved back toward his horse.

  "Thank you for your lack of confidence." Trevor propped both arms on the top rail. "I'll be there."

  Ian mounted his horse, then looked back at the man. "I'm glad we had this little chat. I won't tell Kristen that ye are coming. Just in case ye change ye mind."

  "I won't change my mind, you old buzzard," Trevor said. "Now be off with you before it's dark and I have to invite you to stay with me." This time the warmth of his smile echoed in his voice.

  "Heaven forbid." Ian laughed. Then, kicking his horse to action, he rode off. Everything had gone as planned. The Englishmon was easy to get riled.

  Maybe now Trevor would prove how much he wanted Kristen. If he didn't kill himself first. The man wasn't as brawny as the Scottish lads, though more hardheaded. And, perhaps, a wee bit more determined.

  Claremont just might be worthy of wearing the Johnstone colors after all.

  One thing was certain . . . they would soon find out.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The music had already begun.

  A haunting melody surrounded Kristen, filling her with awe. She hadn't realized what a festive event these games would be. Glancing out the window, she saw the men gathering in groups talking. The bagpipes played behind them. Such a s
weet sound, she thought. Somewhere in her vague memory she remembered hearing bagpipes as a child.

  Today, she truly felt like a Scot, dressed in her blue plaid. Her finger traced the fine yellow line that darted through the plaid, proclaiming for all who saw that she was a Johnstone.

  Taking the long drape of plaid material, she tossed it over her shoulder and secured it, then announced herself ready.

  Her hair hung loose down her back, and she was trying to decide whether to tie it or let it hang free when Keely marched through the door.

  "Are ye ready?" Keely asked.

  "I think so." Kristen smiled. "Should I tie my hair back?"

  "I didn't."

  Kristen held her hands out and twirled, showing the swirl of her skirt. "How do I look?"

  "Like a Johnstone." Keely grinned. "And exactly like me."

  " 'Tis true. 'Tis like looking in a mirror."

  Once outside, Kristen confessed to her sister, "I've never seen anything like this. Look at the colorful flags and there are so many tents. They remind me of wild mushrooms."

  Keely laughed. "I never thought of it like that, but ye're right." Arm and arm, the twins strolled to the top of the hill.

  "Just look at those brawny men," Kristen said. They were much bigger than the men she was accustomed to seeing when she had lived near the docks.

  " 'Tis the same every year. There is one in particular that is so big." Keely held out her hands. "He reminds me of a barbarian."

  "Does he frighten ye?"

  "Nay."

  Kristen looked sharply at her sister, and she detected a special light in her twin's eyes. "I believe ye like this barbarian."

  "Aye," Keely admitted with a blush. "He's almost as good looking as yer Trevor."

  Kristen frowned. "I'm not so sure he is my Trevor anymore. He hasn't been tae see me or sent any word. Probably doesn't think about me at all."

  "Perhaps he thinks ye dinna want tae see him."

  "Why would he think such a thing?"

  "Because ye dinna say a thing about going with him after the trial. Ye just meekly came with us."

  "He told me to go!"

  "He might have said one thing, but felt another," Keely said wisely. I know he was very concerned when he came here tae get our help. He was determined tae get ye out of jail."

  "Well he accomplished that, then politely sent me on my way," Kristen huffed.

  "Kristen," a youthful voice called from behind them, and they both turned.

  "Look, 'tis Hagan and a groom," Keely said.

  Kristen gasped. " 'Tis no groom. 'Tis Trevor."

  "Well, now ye have ye answer. He's come for ye," Keely whispered.

  Trevor and Hagan dismounted and handed their horses over to a groom, then proceeded to the top of the hill where the women stood. Hagan seemed eager to scamper ahead, but Trevor held him back.

  Unable to move, Kristen could only watch. She had wanted to see Trevor so badly and now he was here. She held her breath. Trevor was dressed casually in a white linen shirt and black britches, and, of course, shiny Hessian boots. He looked wonderful, even more so than she remembered.

  Lord, how could a mon look so good? she thought. And why did she have to be in love with him?

  Hagan ran up and hugged her. "Have the games begun?"

  "I dinna know. 'Tis where we are headed now."

  Trevor stood before her. Kristen found herself remembering the time when she had asked him to teach her how to kiss. They had certainly mastered that technique. She wondered what he would say if she asked for another lesson.

  He hadn't reached out to touch her, nor had he turned from her.

  He looked so handsome. His hair was a little longer than the last time she had seen him, his stubborn jaw a little more prominent. Then there were his eyes . . . those wonderful eyes with their mixture of blue and green, but a grayish turquoise. Today they were stormy, being neither blue or green.

  Her heart began to hammer in her chest as he gazed at her. Why didn't he say something . . . anything? hy didn't he take her into his arms?

  Trevor had gone over what he would say to Kristen when he saw her at least a hundred times in his mind. Unfortunately, he couldn't remember a word of that speech. God, she was beautiful. That glorious red hair hung in disarray around her shoulders and the sun seemed to catch each strand, making it sparkle like hot gold. Her emerald eyes seemed to trap his gaze. They glittered with uncertainty, and he realized she felt the same things he did. However, this time they were going to get a few things straight between them before they reacted.

  He reached out and pulled her to him. Thank God, she responded, wrapping her arms around him. It had been too long . . . much too long. "I've missed you," he whispered.

  "I've missed ye, too." Kristen's heart soared until she heard his next words.

  "We have to talk," Trevor said with absolutely no emotion in his voice as Ian walked briskly toward them.

  "So, you've decided tae come," Ian said.

  "I told you I would be here," Trevor replied, stepping away from Kristen.

  "What is this about?" Kristen asked, confusion made her frown.

  "Today, yer husband is going tae prove he's mon enough for ye," Ian said as he looked at her.

  "I dinna understand." Kristen looked at her grandfather with surprise.

  "Since Trevor never asked me properly for yer hand, I've challenged him tae compete against these fine Scottish lads."

  "He doesn't have tae," Kristen protested.

  Trevor glared at Ian. "Yes, I do."

  Ian chuckled. "Then, I suggest ye go and get dressed, or have ye not noticed ye are dressed differently from the rest?"

  "Are you going to wear one of those skirts?" Hagan asked.

  "It appears so." Trevor frowned.

  Hagan laughed.

  Trevor took him by the hand. "Come on young man," Trevor pulled Hagan along with him. "If I can wear a dress so can you."

  Ian showed them to a tent where he had clothes laid out for them.

  Kristen wasn't sure how she felt about any of this until Trevor emerged from the tent. She stared at him, feeling very proud to have him in the Johnstone colors. For some reason, Trevor looked so much bigger in the tartan. And Hagan was adorable, even though he was frowning and brushing his kilt with his hand.

  Trevor took Hagan over to where the other children were playing, and Kristen and Keely followed their grandfather.

  Some fifty yards in front of them, the first game had begun. Two big men nodded to Ian, then moved over to speak with him.

  One had to be the barbarian Keely had spoken of. Kristen found she agreed with her sister's description. He had brown hair that hung way past his shoulders and very dark brown eyes. He was as tall as a mountain and his body just as wide, and he certainly had a glimmer in his eye as he looked at her twin.

  " 'Tis a fine day for the games, Ian," the second man said. He had blond hair and eyes as green as the grass they stood upon. He was no small man, either.

  "I'm glad ye could come, Malcolm." Ian swatted Malcolm on the arm.

  Malcolm peered around Ian, then straightened, his expression startled. "What have we here? Ye have two of the same," Malcolm remarked, his eyes never leaving Kristen.

  "Malcolm Scott and Gillionan McDougald, I'd like ye tae meet my granddaughter, Kristen."

  Malcolm immediately stepped in front of Kristen. "Where has Ian been hiding ye, lass?" He took her hand. "I do believe I've lost me heart."

  "Then I suggest you find it quickly," Trevor said, moving beside her, and glaring at Malcolm.

  "And who might ye be, Englishmon?" Malcolm asked with a frown.

  "Her husband."

  Malcolm swung around to Ian. " 'Tis unfair, Ian. Ye been promisin' the winner of the games could have a kiss from yer granddaughter."

  "Kristen has been without a husband for awhile. We were not too sure Trevor was coming. But being that he has agreed tae participate in our games, the offer still stands. The winner
of all still gets a kiss from either of my granddaughters." Ian's smiled widened as he watched Trevor. "Ye havena changed yer mind, have ye?"

  "I haven't," Trevor assured him. "Let's get on with it."

  "Wait." Kristen tugged on her grandfather's sleeve. "Trevor doesn't have tae prove anything tae me."

  "Aye, but he does tae me," Ian stated with his hands on his hips, looking very much like the Laird that he was. " 'Tis been three months since ye've last see him." Ian looked pointedly at Kristen, his brow arched. "And if he'd asked me properly before he wed you, he would have tae have prove himself tae me."

  "But--"

  "Stay out of this, Kristen," Trevor snapped. "It's time that I demonstrate to your grandfather that I can beat any of these Scottish lads."

  "We'll see about that, Englishmon," Malcolm stated, then stalked over to where the game was being played.

  Ian and Trevor followed Malcolm and Gillionan. No one had ever been jealous over her, and the thought filled Kristen with wonder. Trevor had most certainly acted jealous. Did that mean he did care for her, or was it just that she was his possession? Perhaps, he'd come to tell her he wanted a divorce. After all, he'd said they had to talk. Somehow the day didn't seem as bright as it had before.

  Keely punched her sister in the side. "What did ye think of Gillionan?" she whispered.

  "He's a fine one," Kristen admitted, trying to shake off her gloominess for her family's sake. "I think he likes you."

  "I hope so. He makes my knees go weak," Keely admitted with a giggle.

  "Aye, I know the feeling," Kristen confessed as they followed the men to the playing field. "What is this game they are playing?"

  " 'Tis the stone toss."

  "That doesn't look like a stone tae me."

  " 'Tis a big stone," Keely said, but Kristen noticed her twin's gaze had settled firmly on Gillionan. "About sixteen pounds, I believe Grandfather said."

  "What do they do with it?" Kristen asked with a wry smile, knowing her sister would rather watch Gillionan flexing his muscles than tell her about the game.

  "That board there is a toe board," Keely finally said, her eyes still on Gilllionan. "They canna go past it. They take the stone, place it on their shoulder and under their chin. Then they whirl around and throw the stone. They get three throws, but only the longest counts."