Page 76 of Defy the Highlander

HIGHLAND PROTECTOR

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Hawkhill

Meet our new warrior.

That’s what Lady Currie had proudly exclaimed to Colly and the rest of the house and hold of Hawkhill on a crisp, cold morning. All except for Laird Currie. He wasn’t anywhere to be found, but the other inhabitants of Hawkhill found themselves looking over a very big man dressed in leather and mail. He was big and rough-looking, with a bushy beard and hair that needed to be groomed.

But Colly knew she’d seen him before.

There was something about him that seemed familiar, though she couldn’t put her finger on it. She watched the man stand like a stone as Lady Currie pawed all over him, finally leading him away so the drunk sergeant in charge of Hawkhill could show the man around. The last Colly saw, Lady Currie was following from behind as the old sergeant took Brody on his rounds.

So that’s the warrior from The Cal, Colly thought. Lady Currie finally had what she wanted.

But Colly couldn’t shake the notion that she’d seen him before. She returned to the house, to Lady Currie’s chamber, and snapped at the maids who were cleaning the room. No one ever cleaned to Colly’s satisfaction. Lady Currie had spent the night at the Ludus Caledonia, finding lodgings in cottages reserved for special guests, before returning the next morning with Lilia and the enormous warrior, and Laird Currie had yet to show his face.

The man was a ghost in his own home.

But that was of no concern to Colly. In her opinion, the old man was useless and would hopefully die soon, leaving the entire estate to his beautiful, young wife. All of that lovely money would go right to sweet Blanche and, consequently, to Colly as well.

Life would be much easier when that blessed event happened.

Meanwhile, Colly sat at Lady Currie’s dressing table, drinking what was left of the woman’s wine and stuffing herself on the sausages that had been brought for Lady Currie’s morning meal. She would eat them all and then blame it on the servants, which she had often done.

As Lilia entered the room with a fresh dress for Lady Currie to change in to once she returned to her chamber, Colly thought she might even blame the missing sausages on Lilia. After all, the girl had claimed to have lost sausages once before, but the truth was that she had probably eaten them and blamed robbers.

Sausages…

Colly suddenly sat up straight, setting aside the cup of wine. It occurred to her now just where she’d seen the warrior. He was the same man Lilia said had saved her from the sausage thieves, the one she’d brought back to Hawkhill to work in the stables. That man had been clean-shaven, however, and the truth was that Colly hadn’t gotten a good look at him. Still… it was possible that Lady Currie’s new warrior and Lilia’s protector were one and the same.

That made for a very interesting situation.

Colly watched Lilia as the woman cleaned Lady Currie’s day dress, brushing at it with a fine horsehair brush. Little Lilia had been much better behaved since their encounter in the kitchens when Colly had brained her and locked her up for a day to teach her a lesson. It had been a show of force and it had worked. The lesson had been learned because Lilia had been much better mannered since then.

Even so, Colly just wanted the girl gone.

Lady Currie listened to Lilia and valued her opinion, and Colly was threatened by that relationship. She wanted to be the only one Lady Currie valued. Perhaps the arrival of Brody McKay was just the excuse Colly needed to get rid of Lilia once and for all. She knew that Lady Currie would not want Brody’s attention diverted from her and if she knew the man had an eye for Lilia, or at least a history with her, she would surely send the young woman away.

Colly rather liked that plan.

Finally, she could be rid of the Galston wench.

Farewell, Lilia…

*

“What do you think of my humble home, Brody?” Lady Currie asked, her hands looped through Brody’s elbow. “We can certainly use your expertise on our safety. I think we are too relaxed, while my husband does not seem to share that opinion.”

Brody’s face was like stone as he and Lady Currie departed the gatehouse of Hawkhill, crossing the small and crowded bailey as they headed for the house.

“This is yer husband’s house, m’lady,” he said. “I should like tae meet Laird Currie and discuss it with him.”

“Discuss it with me.”

“He is yer husband, m’lady, and laird of the home. That is men’s business.”

Lady Currie was trying very hard not to become angry with him. He’d been like this since she purchased his contract from Clegg – stiff, unfeeling, unemotional. The man had ice water running through his veins, but she was determined to warm him.