The Bold Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) by Carmen Caine
Authors: Carmen Caine
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distaste.
“Scots?” she repeated, assuming an expression of solemn astonishment.
“You must stay off the roads,” he advised, patting her hand looped through his arm. “At least for a few days. No doubt, the wretches will be caught soon.”
“With so many soldiers on the roads, I’m certain they will,” she remarked lightly, gracing him with another bright smile.
“There you are, my child.” A man’s voice broke into their conversation.
Merry froze.
It was Alec.
Clad in a cowled monk’s robe, he stood on the side of the street with his hands planted on his hips, his emerald eyes twinkling, but the rest of his handsome face wiped of all expression.
Merry swallowed.
And then Alec swept forward to bless the soldier with the sign of the cross. “ Benedicte, my son,” he murmured in a deep tone as he lifted the heavy sack from Merry’s shoulders. “Make haste, my daughter. The others are waiting. We must not let the little ones suffer.”
The soldier’s brows knit in confusion.
Bobbing a curtsey, Merry found her voice. “I thank you, kind sir,” she said to him. “I trust I’ve been no trouble. Perhaps I could find ye … you when the market closes, at the market cross … to chat with ye more?” She bit her lip, annoyed she’d slipped into a Scots accent in her haste.
He didn’t appear to even notice.
“I shall be there, fair maid,” he promised. And with a courtly bow for her and a respectful one for Alec, he pivoted on his heel and marched back toward the guardhouse.
And then hard fingers closed upon Merry’s arm, and she nearly tripped as Alec pulled her down a narrow alley.
“Ye canna drag me like a sack of turnips, Alec!” she protested, wrenching her arm free.
But he caught her about the waist and half-carried her off the street and then into a small stone house with a thatch roof. It was some kind of storeroom, bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters, and the thick smell of aged roots hung in the air.
But fortunately, the room was vacant.
As he closed the door, she waited until the scrape of the latch slid into place before expelling a breath of relief. But consternation immediately followed as Alec grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his penetrating, green eyes.
“A sly vixen is what ye are, lass,” he said with his brows creased into a frown. “Does Ewan know you’re not a lad?”
Merry hesitated. Ewan had bade her to tell no one. She wasn’t inclined to ignore him. “Ye must keep this secret for me, Alec,” she answered instead. “Swear upon your honor as a highlander that ye won’t tell.”
He tilted his head, allowing his eyes to rove over her with an obvious flicker of interest. “How many secrets do ye have, lass?” he asked. “Who are ye?”
Merry scowled. “Swear ye won’t tell, on your soul!” she demanded.
Again, he let his green eyes sweep her from head to toe, lingering longer than necessary upon her breasts before he cocked his head toward the door and replied, “Aye, I’ll keep your secret. Ye saved my life. ‘Tis the least I can do, but ye’d best change, and right quickly! Ewan and Lothar will be here any moment. We’ve been searching for ye all over.”
She didn’t need to be told twice.
Grabbing the burlap sack out of his grasp, she upended it and, sifting through the pile, quickly found her clothing and the bandages to bind her breasts.
“Step outside now, Alec,” she ordered with a glare.
He stood there a moment, observing her with a smile just a wee bit too knowing before tugging his cowled hood over his head. Sauntering to the door, he then stepped outside.
Merry furrowed her brows. The man knew her secret now, but there was naught she could do about it. She heaved a sigh. What was done, was done. Quickly, she changed, and s he’d just tied the last lace on her shirt when the door sprang back on its hinges, banging against the wall.
Ewan stalked into the room with Alec and Lothar at his
“Scots?” she repeated, assuming an expression of solemn astonishment.
“You must stay off the roads,” he advised, patting her hand looped through his arm. “At least for a few days. No doubt, the wretches will be caught soon.”
“With so many soldiers on the roads, I’m certain they will,” she remarked lightly, gracing him with another bright smile.
“There you are, my child.” A man’s voice broke into their conversation.
Merry froze.
It was Alec.
Clad in a cowled monk’s robe, he stood on the side of the street with his hands planted on his hips, his emerald eyes twinkling, but the rest of his handsome face wiped of all expression.
Merry swallowed.
And then Alec swept forward to bless the soldier with the sign of the cross. “ Benedicte, my son,” he murmured in a deep tone as he lifted the heavy sack from Merry’s shoulders. “Make haste, my daughter. The others are waiting. We must not let the little ones suffer.”
The soldier’s brows knit in confusion.
Bobbing a curtsey, Merry found her voice. “I thank you, kind sir,” she said to him. “I trust I’ve been no trouble. Perhaps I could find ye … you when the market closes, at the market cross … to chat with ye more?” She bit her lip, annoyed she’d slipped into a Scots accent in her haste.
He didn’t appear to even notice.
“I shall be there, fair maid,” he promised. And with a courtly bow for her and a respectful one for Alec, he pivoted on his heel and marched back toward the guardhouse.
And then hard fingers closed upon Merry’s arm, and she nearly tripped as Alec pulled her down a narrow alley.
“Ye canna drag me like a sack of turnips, Alec!” she protested, wrenching her arm free.
But he caught her about the waist and half-carried her off the street and then into a small stone house with a thatch roof. It was some kind of storeroom, bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters, and the thick smell of aged roots hung in the air.
But fortunately, the room was vacant.
As he closed the door, she waited until the scrape of the latch slid into place before expelling a breath of relief. But consternation immediately followed as Alec grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his penetrating, green eyes.
“A sly vixen is what ye are, lass,” he said with his brows creased into a frown. “Does Ewan know you’re not a lad?”
Merry hesitated. Ewan had bade her to tell no one. She wasn’t inclined to ignore him. “Ye must keep this secret for me, Alec,” she answered instead. “Swear upon your honor as a highlander that ye won’t tell.”
He tilted his head, allowing his eyes to rove over her with an obvious flicker of interest. “How many secrets do ye have, lass?” he asked. “Who are ye?”
Merry scowled. “Swear ye won’t tell, on your soul!” she demanded.
Again, he let his green eyes sweep her from head to toe, lingering longer than necessary upon her breasts before he cocked his head toward the door and replied, “Aye, I’ll keep your secret. Ye saved my life. ‘Tis the least I can do, but ye’d best change, and right quickly! Ewan and Lothar will be here any moment. We’ve been searching for ye all over.”
She didn’t need to be told twice.
Grabbing the burlap sack out of his grasp, she upended it and, sifting through the pile, quickly found her clothing and the bandages to bind her breasts.
“Step outside now, Alec,” she ordered with a glare.
He stood there a moment, observing her with a smile just a wee bit too knowing before tugging his cowled hood over his head. Sauntering to the door, he then stepped outside.
Merry furrowed her brows. The man knew her secret now, but there was naught she could do about it. She heaved a sigh. What was done, was done. Quickly, she changed, and s he’d just tied the last lace on her shirt when the door sprang back on its hinges, banging against the wall.
Ewan stalked into the room with Alec and Lothar at his
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