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  Twisting, he threw his heavy wool cloak around his back to cover them both. Kára’s fingers grazed his neck as she lifted it over her head to tuck it there. Her grip around his middle was strong as she drew as close as possible, her legs spread wide around his hips. He almost groaned with the feel of her straddling him, the crux of her heat pressed against his arse.

  With a slight tap, Fuil started off across the moor leading to the palace gate. Arriving, he raised one arm up, fist tight, into the air, the signal that he was a friend and not to shoot. He recognized the man holding a torch up high. “Tuck,” Joshua called. “I am coming in.”

  “Joshua Sinclair? What are ye bloody doing back here? I thought ye were on your way back to true Scotland.”

  “I killed the boat captain when he tried to steal my horse. ’Tis very inconvenient.” Joshua felt Kára stiffen at his callousness. Hopefully, she knew he was putting on an act. Like I have my whole life. The dangerous thought thinned and disappeared as Joshua squashed it down inside with the other things that made him weak. Things like remorse and the faces of those he’d failed.

  “’Tis not there another ship?” Tuck asked.

  “Aye, on the morrow, but I tire of sleeping with my horse in the village. Is Jean within?”

  Tuck grinned down at him. “Aye, she is likely abed. I cannot say if she is alone or not.”

  “She will kick another out of her bed if she knows I am here.” Conceit was an easy role to play. Kára didn’t move behind him, but it felt like she might be pressing harder forward along his legs.

  Tuck laughed, drawing the attention of the second man in the tower. Joshua nodded to Liam. “Come along inside then,” Tuck said. There was a portcullis, but since the wall was not completed, there was no need to close it for the night. Joshua kept as close to the shadows as he could and rode under the pointy maw into the bailey where the earl’s barn of horses sat off to the left next to hay and peat stacks, some under eaves, but most out in the open. Several men would be sleeping inside the barn, warriors who would rouse for their turn in the night watch. “Stay silent,” he whispered over his shoulder.

  Fuil clopped into the barn. One man jumped up. “Who is it?” he called out.

  “Stand down, Alec,” Joshua said. “I am bringing Fuil in for a bit while I retrieve something I forgot here.”

  “Something important enough to come all the way back?” he asked, sleep in his voice. Joshua could see him wiping a hand down his face.

  “My sword.”

  “It was sitting straight down your back when ye rode out,” Alec said, suspicion lacing his words. Och, but Joshua didn’t want to kill the man. They hadn’t spent time together, since Alec devoted most of his free time finding lasses to bed in the village north of the palace where the families of Robert’s men lived.

  “My short sword. I left it with Jean. I will be gone by morning, less than an hour if she is entertaining someone else.”

  Alec rubbed his chin. “There is a stall open next to Lady Jean’s horse.”

  Jean’s horse? Joshua willed Kára to remain still as he pressed Fuil to walk down the long aisle. He couldn’t dismount in the light of Alec’s torch or he would see Kára. Coming to the end, he halted Fuil in the corner full of shadows and twisted, grabbing Kára around the waist. His eyes remained on Alec while Joshua dismounted, holding Kára against him. Alec settled back into a clump of hay near the sliding doors. Two other men tossed and snored across from him. Kára kept behind Joshua under the cape as he walked Fuil into the stall, looping the reins on a hook so he would be ready to ride as soon as he came back out, hopefully with her aunt, Hilda. Kára crouched, sliding out from the cape.

  A small noise escaped her. She stood in the back corner where a low wall, which needed mending, showed the stall next to them, the stall with Jean’s horse, which wasn’t her horse at all. Broch, the bay horse with the white spot around one of her eyes, turned to look at Kára, moving her bulk toward her. The unique mare tossed her head, her nose sniffing in the darkness. Joshua had never seen a horse with such a marking, and he’d seen hundreds of horses.

  Without a sound, Kára slid her arms around the horse’s neck as Broch rested her head seemingly over her shoulder, the two of them comforting each other in silent communication. Bloody hell, he was going to be rescuing a healer and a horse that night. How was he to do so without raising Robert’s army to chase them back to the Flett homestead?

  For the first time since coming to Orkney, Joshua wished his older brother, Cain, was there. Horseman of Conquest, Cain had been raised to build effective plans in a very short amount of time. His guidance here would guarantee success. At least tonight. Success in conquering a battalion of trained warriors with a group of locals was not possible even if Kára couldn’t surrender her need for revenge.

  Joshua walked over to Kára, her horse raising its head to peer at him. His mouth moved close to Kára’s ear. “Saddle your horse as quietly as ye can while I am inside the fortress. If anyone sees ye, ride her to town for your tavern friend to keep, and I will meet ye in our den.”

  Round eyes met his, and she nodded, but lifted on tiptoe to whisper at his ear. “Do not leave here without Hilda.” He nodded, and reluctantly pulled away from her to walk down the aisle.

  Chapter Eight

  “To know your Enemy, you must

  become your Enemy.”

  Sun Tzu – The Art of War

  “All well?” Alec asked from his pallet in the corner near the door.

  “I may be making a quick trip back out if Jean will not take me in.”

  “Ye can sleep in the great hall if she won’t have ye. There are extra pallets stacked in the corner.”

  Joshua strode to the fortress Robert had named the Earl’s Palace. It was an odd name considering the walls looking out at the bailey on the first floor had musket holes cut into the walls instead of proper windows. Palace? Despite its lavash furnishings and frescos, it was a bloody fortress. The bedchambers and great hall sat on the second floor with proper windows paned with glass. The whole structure, made of local stone, was situated around a square courtyard and freshwater well in the middle. Towers soared upward from three of the four corners where more people could be housed, mostly Robert’s many children who still lived with him. Henry, who would move into his own palace on the east coast of Mainland Orkney, also lived there. Dishington, or The Brute as he called himself, had been given quarters, like Joshua, in one of the towers.

  Stepping into the dark entryway, he nodded to two guards who did not question his presence. He had worked with them for three months, gaining their loyalty on the training field as well as off. Killing them would be a burden after befriending many. Did they know the fate of the bandits from whom they stole? Did they know Robert had taken land, horses, and the strongest of Kára’s men to build his palaces under cruel conditions? Did the men care? He had trained the strongest to be stronger so they could subdue any threat with minimal casualties. But if he had known Kára then, known she would never be subdued, would he have continued to train them? Nay. He did not need the coin. He would have moved on. But if he had, Kára’s people would have little chance to survive against Robert.

  Several men, sleeping around the perimeter of the lower level garrison, snored. One of them moved from musket hole to musket hole, watching. The guard, Connor, nodded to him, obviously having seen him questioned and allowed to enter the gate. Would he question Joshua when he led the healer out?

  Joshua climbed the stairs quietly, with the casual air of a rogue seeking a willing woman. Her father did not really care, as long as she didn’t become pregnant, something Joshua had guarded against. As he walked past Robert’s door, he heard the headboard ramming against the wall. Robert was obviously tupping, mistress or wife. The next door was Jean’s, but he slipped past it. Two more doors down, he stopped to listen. The faint sound of a fussing bairn came through the d
oor. The nursery.

  “Joshua?” Jean’s stunned whisper made him pivot. She stood outside her door, wrapped in a white cloak. “You came back?” She lowered the hood, her brows furrowing. “Why are you at the nursery door?”

  A story grew in his mind, even as his lips began to move. He smiled. “I thought I heard ye behind this door, but it must have been one of your wee sisters.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “One of them is always whining about some pain or ache in the head.”

  He walked to her. Even in the dimness of the hallway, he could see her lips were red with rouge, and he smelled the heavy perfume scent she favored. “Ye are on your way out?” he said, his fingers touching the edge of the royal-looking cape. It would be the perfect garment to hide Hilda under. He met her gaze. “To meet a lover.”

  Her bottom lip stuck out. “Because you left. You did not expect me to pine away for you, did you?” She came closer to him, sliding one flattened hand up his chest to curve over his shoulder. “But, since you are here…”

  The artificial scent itched his nose and made him want to put distance between them, but he remained, letting her pet him. Kára did not wear the cloying scents that Jean and her sisters wore. Nay. Kára smelled of wild, fresh wind and the slightest bit of flowers and spice from her soap.

  Jean leaned up on her toes, pressing her unstayed breasts against him, and drew his mouth down to hers. “Who are ye meeting?” he asked before she could kiss him. He clasped her hands behind his head, pulling them around to rest between them.

  “That is none of your concern,” she said tartly.

  He caught her forearms as she pulled away. “Jean, lass, ye should guard well your person. Not every lad is as honorable as I, or as kind.”

  She yanked her arm away. “Kind enough to leave me? You are not one to talk of honor and kindness.”

  “I told ye I had to return to my brothers.”

  “And yet you are back here? Why?” Her hands settled on the slender set of hips he had known quite well during his stay at the palace.

  He could lie and tell her he came for one more kiss from her, that he couldn’t get her out of his mind, that he craved to bed her again. All lies. “I came to retrieve something.”

  “Something you forgot?”

  He didn’t answer her. “Jean, do not fall for the lies of rough men. Ye should guard yourself for someone who cares for your heart and mind, not just your body.”

  With a wicked grin, she pulled the ribbon tied at her throat, letting the cape drop to the floor outside her room. She was naked underneath, except for tiny slippers. Fok. All he needed was for her father to step out into the hall and see this. Pulling her close, Joshua pushed her backward into her room, shutting them inside.

  Her arms went immediately around his neck again, her painted lips sliding against his, and her hand slipped under his kilt to grab his jack. Was she shocked he wasn’t hard? Had she ever felt him so? Nay. But nothing about Jean Stuart enticed him now. “Jean,” he said against her mouth, and she trailed her lips down his neck as she stroked him, his jack blindly coming half to life.

  His hand caught hers, pulling her out from under his kilt. “I cannot relax thinking some other man might come up here looking for ye,” he said as an excuse. “And…” He pulled her back from him to look into her heavily lidded eyes. “Jean, lass, I am leaving Orkney. I just came back to retrieve something.”

  “Stay the night,” she whispered, giving him a saucy grin.

  He exhaled, running a hand down the stubble on his jawline. “I know your father has ignored ye for much of your life, lass, but ye do not need to use your body to lure men to ye.” He touched her cheek. “Ye are clever and a good person when ye want to be. Find a clever, good man to love.”

  Her face pinched tight as her round eyes squinted into a glare. “Says the man who spent night after night happily making love to this body.”

  Ballocks. He certainly didn’t need to make her mad enough to wake the castle, not when the mission to extract Hilda must succeed to save Brenna and her bairn. He forced a casual smile and leaned in to kiss her gently. “Ye are very right, lass. Ye are clever, kind, and luscious.”

  His words brought the smile back to her lips, and she tugged him toward her large bed. But he had no intention of falling into it. Not only had his desire for Robert’s daughter died, but he also felt sad for her and wouldn’t lead her into thinking he cared for her by tupping her again, even if he didn’t have a mission and a pale-haired angel of a lass waiting for him in the barn. He’d always been straightforward with the lasses he bedded. They knew he had never been loyal to only one woman before.

  He broke the kiss as she tumbled back onto her velvet coverlet. “Lass, I need to find what I forgot, and I would send the man ye were to meet away.”

  She pouted, pulling the blanket over her loins. “Very well. Send John away and come back up for the night. You can leave before my father wakes and tries to entice you to stay.”

  “John Dishington?” The Brute?

  She twirled a finger around her nipple. “He is as energetic as you.”

  “Jean, he is dangerous.”

  “So are you, my Horseman of War.”

  Damn. The woman had no proper upbringing, not that he had, either. But there was no time to spend trying to convince her to be more selective in her choices. He had to find the healer.

  “Stay here,” he said, and she stretched out like a cat in the sun. He exited into the hallway, grabbed up her abandoned cloak, and went directly to the nursery door. Stepping inside, he closed it behind him as silently as possible. An old woman rose into a sitting position on her small bed. Joshua laid his finger over his lips and came closer to her, his gaze drifting over the three sleeping children.

  He leaned in to her and whispered near her ear, “Brenna’s bairn will not be born. Kára has sent me to take ye there to assist.”

  Clinking broke the hush as Hilda lifted a chain that locked around her middle. It was short, the end tied through the center of an eight-inch rock. It would keep her from going anywhere out of the room without notice, but it was not linked to the wall. Trying to break her free of it would be loud and could split the edge of his short sword.

  Carefully lifting the rock to carry so as not to yank the elderly woman, Joshua beckoned her to follow him and handed her the cloak to put on over her dirty gown. Had she been imprisoned here without means to wash? The smell of curdled milk and urine mixed with the potent perfume coming from Jean’s cloak as she threw it around her shoulders. The poor woman had been locked up here while he bedded Jean two doors away. Self-loathing poured through him. To how much had he been blind?

  Out in the hallway, she followed right behind him without a word. Not only was Hilda Flett wise, she was also brave. If Robert came out, Joshua would have to stop him. Killing him would bring the wrath of his nephew, King James. And if Jean came out to look for him, she’d wake the whole palace with her shrieking.

  They moved swiftly to the steps and down the dim circular tower, Joshua bracing himself in case the woman was to lose her footing and fall into him. “I have a horse in the stable,” he whispered to her as they reached the bottom. He paused in the archway, his gaze sweeping the ten sleeping men within the great hall. Relief funneled through him when he saw that Angus had replaced Connor in his circuit around the perimeter. Joshua’s gaze dropped to Hilda. “I will carry ye. Keep your face tucked into me.”

  She gave a quick nod, pulling the cloak over her gray hair. He handed her the heavy stone she could hold only with two hands. Lifting under her knees, he picked her up. The rock and chain nestled into her lap, which she covered with the cloak. Joshua walked with light feet into the great hall.

  Angus turned toward him immediately, his mouth opening to yell. But he froze, his eyes going wide. Joshua slowly shook his head, and Angus shut his mouth.

 
Halfway across, one of the sleeping men sat up, blinking at him. “What goes on here?” Connor, who had not completely given in to sleep yet, also sat up.

  “Back to sleep, William,” Joshua said, authority in his voice, and he nodded to Connor. “The Lady Jean and I are taking things outside.”

  “Lusty bastard,” William murmured and lay back down. Connor glanced at Angus, and then, fortunately for him, decided his shift was over and returned to his pallet.

  Joshua nodded again to Angus and strode through the hall to enter the dark bailey, passing another watchman as he made his rounds. Apparently, the Horseman of War had not been gone long enough for him to look out of place on the palace grounds, especially carrying a woman wrapped up in Jean’s cloak. He entered the barn, expecting to see the three sleeping guards from before, but they were gone.

  “Come find me, love.” John Dishington’s rough voice came from the far end of the stables where Fuil was tethered and Kára was hiding. Bloody hell. There was no way around him to get out without being noticed.

  Joshua set Hilda’s feet on the packed dirt floor and lowered the rock and chain. “Wait here in the shadows,” he whispered. “Keep draped.”

  She nodded, and he moved quietly along the stalls lining the aisle toward the back where John apparently waited for Jean. As the silence continued, the hairs on the back of Joshua’s neck rose. His fists clenched, one of them wrapped around the hilt of his short sword. If John was still breathing with Kára back here, fully armed and vengeful, was she dead?

  “John Dishington,” Joshua called out, barely keeping the promise of death out of his voice. “Show yourself.”

  John kicked open the stall where Kára’s horse stood, pushing out into the aisle with Kára before him, a dagger at her throat. “I had planned on tupping Jean out here, but after I kill you, I will sample your woman instead.”