Page 57 of What A Rogue Wants (Lords Of Deception #1)

“It did,” he replied. “You always know just how to help with her.”

“I’ll get a pink one if I can find it. The colors are becoming scarcer as the weather cools.”

Andrew, the younger of the two knights, smiled, displaying a set of straight teeth. He held up his covered arm. “My cut is almost healed.”

Marion nodded. “I told you! Now maybe you’ll listen to me sooner next time you’re wounded in training.”

He gave a soft laugh. “I will. Should I put more of your paste on tonight?”

“Yes, keep using it. I’ll have to gather some more yarrow, if I can find any, and mix up another batch of the medicine for you.

” And she’d have to do it before she escaped.

“I better get going if I’m going to find those things.

” She knew she should not have agreed to search for the flowers and offered to find the yarrow when she still had to speak to Angus and return to the castle in time for supper, but both men had been kind to her when many had not. It was her way of thanking them.

After Peter lowered the bridge and opened the door, she departed the castle grounds, considering her plan once more.

Had she forgotten anything? She didn’t think so.

She was simply going to walk straight out of her father’s castle and never come back.

Tomorrow, she’d announce she was going out to collect more winter blooms, and then, instead, she would go down to the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea.

She would slip off her cloak and leave it for a search party to find.

Her breath caught deep in her chest at the simple yet dangerous plot. The last detail to see to was Angus.

She stared down the long dirt path that led to the sea and stilled, listening for hoofbeats.

A slight vibration of the ground tingled her feet, and her heart sped in hopeful anticipation that it was Angus coming down the dirt road on his horse.

When the crafty stable master appeared with a grin spread across his face, the worry that was squeezing her heart loosened.

For the first time since he had ridden out that morning, she took a proper breath.

He stopped his stallion alongside her and dismounted.

She tilted her head back to look up at him as he towered over her. An errant thought struck. “Angus, are all Scots as tall as you?”

“Nay, but ye ken Scots are bigger than all the wee Englishmen.” Suppressed laughter filled his deep voice. “So even the ones nae as tall as me are giants compared te the scrawny men here.”

“You’re teasing me,” she replied, even as she arched her eyebrows in uncertainty.

“A wee bit,” he agreed and tousled her hair.

The laughter vanished from his eyes as he rubbed a hand over his square jaw and then stared down his bumpy nose at her, fixing what he called his “lecturing look” on her.

“We’ve nae much time. Neil is in Newcastle just as he’s supposed te be, but there’s been a slight change. ”

She frowned. “For the last month, every time I wanted to simply make haste and flee, you refused my suggestion, and now you say there’s a slight change?”

His ruddy complexion darkened. She’d pricked that MacLeod temper her mother had always said Angus’s clan was known for throughout the Isle of Skye, where they lived in the farthest reaches of Scotland.

Marion could remember her mother chuckling and teasing Angus about how no one knew the MacLeod temperament better than their neighboring clan, the MacDonalds of Sleat, to which her mother had been born. The two clans had a history of feuding.

Angus cleared his throat and recaptured Marion’s attention. Without warning, his hand closed over her shoulder, and he squeezed gently. “I’m sorry te say it so plain, but ye must die at once.”

Her eyes widened as dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

“What? Why?” The sudden fear she felt was unreasonable.

She knew he didn’t mean she was really going to die, but her palms were sweating and her lungs had tightened all the same.

She sucked in air and wiped her damp hands down the length of her cotton skirts.

Suddenly, the idea of going to a foreign land and living with her mother’s clan, people she’d never met, made her apprehensive.

She didn’t even know if the MacDonalds—her uncle, in particular, who was now the laird—would accept her or not.

She was half-English, after all, and Angus had told her that when a Scot considered her English bloodline and the fact that she’d been raised there, they would most likely brand her fully English, which was not a good thing in a Scottish mind.

And if her uncle was anything like her grandfather had been, the man was not going to be very reasonable.

But she didn’t have any other family to turn to who would dare defy her father, and Angus hadn’t offered for her to go to his clan, so she’d not asked.

He likely didn’t want to bring trouble to his clan’s doorstep, and she didn’t blame him.

Panic bubbled inside her. She needed more time, even if it was only the day she’d thought she had, to gather her courage.

“Why must I flee tonight? I was to teach Eustice how to dress a wound. She might serve as a maid, but then she will be able to help the knights when I’m gone.

And her little brother, Bernard, needs a few more lessons before he’s mastered writing his name and reading.

And Eustice’s youngest sister has begged me to speak to Father about allowing her to visit her mother next week. ”

“Ye kinnae watch out for everyone here anymore, Marion.”

She placed her hand over his on her shoulder. “Neither can you.”

Their gazes locked in understanding and disagreement.

He slipped his hand from her shoulder, and then crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture that screamed stubborn, unyielding protector.

“If I leave at the same time ye feign yer death,” he said, changing the subject, “it could stir yer father’s suspicion and make him ask questions when none need te be asked.

I’ll be going home te Scotland soon after ye.

” Angus reached into a satchel attached to his horse and pulled out a dagger, which he slipped to her. “I had this made for ye.”

Marion took the weapon and turned it over, her heart pounding. “It’s beautiful.” She held it by its black handle while withdrawing it from the sheath and examining it. “It’s much sharper than the one I have.”

“Aye,” he said grimly. “It is. Dunnae forget that just because I taught ye te wield a dagger does nae mean ye can defend yerself from all harm. Listen te my cousin and do as he says. Follow his lead.”

She gave a tight nod. “I will. But why must I leave now and not tomorrow?”

Concern filled Angus’s eyes. “Because I ran into Froste’s brother in town and he told me that Froste sent word that he would be arriving in two days.”

Marion gasped. “That’s earlier than expected.”

“Aye,” Angus said and took her arm with gentle authority. “So ye must go now. I’d rather be trying te trick only yer father than yer father, Froste, and his savage knights. I want ye long gone and yer death accepted when Froste arrives.”

She shivered as her mind began to race with all that could go wrong.

“I see the worry darkening yer green eyes,” Angus said, interrupting her thoughts.

He whipped off his hat and his hair, still shockingly red in spite of his years, fell down around his shoulders.

He only ever wore it that way when he was riding.

He said the wind in his hair reminded him of riding his own horse when he was in Scotland.

“I was going to talk to ye tonight, but now that I kinnae…” He shifted from foot to foot, as if uncomfortable.

“I want te offer ye something. I’d have proposed it sooner, but I did nae want ye te feel ye had te take my offer so as nae te hurt me, but I kinnae hold my tongue, even so. ”

She furrowed her brow. “What is it?”

“I’d be proud if ye wanted te stay with the MacLeod clan instead of going te the MacDonalds. Then ye’d nae have te leave everyone ye ken behind. Ye’d have me.”

A surge of relief filled her. She threw her arms around Angus, and he returned her hug quick and hard before setting her away. Her eyes misted at once. “I had hoped you would ask me,” she admitted.

For a moment, he looked astonished, but then he spoke. “Yer mother risked her life te come into MacLeod territory at a time when we were fighting terrible with the MacDonalds, as ye well ken.”

Marion nodded. She knew the story of how Angus had ended up here.

He’d told her many times. Her mother had been somewhat of a renowned healer from a young age, and when Angus’s wife had a hard birthing, her mother had gone to help.

The knowledge that his wife and child had died anyway still made Marion want to cry.

“I pledged my life te keep yer mother safe for the kindness she’d done me, which brought me here, but, lass, long ago ye became like a daughter te me, and I pledge the rest of my miserable life te defending ye.”

She gripped Angus’s hand. “I wish you were my father.”

He gave her a proud yet smug look, one she was used to seeing. She chortled to herself. The man did have a terrible streak of pride. She’d have to give Father John another coin for penance for Angus, since the Scot refused to take up the custom himself.

Angus hooked his thumb in his gray tunic. “Ye’ll make a fine MacLeod because ye already ken we’re the best clan in Scotland.”

Mentally, she added another coin to her dues. “Do you think they’ll let me become a MacLeod, though, since my mother was the daughter of the previous MacDonald laird and I’ve an English father?”

“They will,” he answered without hesitation, but she heard the slight catch in his voice.

“Angus.” She narrowed her eyes. “You said you would never lie to me.”