Chapter fourteen

 To the uninformed, hers might seem an impossible quest—the most handsome man in Scotland and a cute-ish twenty two year old bastard who was better with a swords than a needle? but Carissa knew there was a connection between them that defied logic or explanation. A connection beyond the surface.

 She might not be a ravishing beauty , but she did have many a good qualities. She was loyal and trustworthy and would fight to death for the people she loved . People liked her—except for Clara and her friends, but they weren't nice to anyone.

 If only Carissa could curb her temper. And her passionate nature . And behave more like a lady. But she was working on those things.

 That she and Maxwell were meant to be together might seem a rather bold claim for someone who'd seen him no more than a handful of times in seven years, but she had faith . She understood him like no one else. Not even his mother— especially his mother. God knew Lady Miriam had loved him, but she hadn't understood his drive. "He's so handsome, "she would say. "He can have whatever he wants. Why must he put himself in danger for a man who might never be king when he could marry a king's ransom? "

 But Maxwell was a man of deeds and accomplishments. He wanted to earn his way. That was why he fought so hard. Indeed, his dedication, integrity, loyalty were the things she most loved and admired about him. There was no man she wanted to believe in more .

 She'd learned so much about him from his family, including Sam, who was still staring at her.

 Carissa laughed and , in what must be some primitive feminine instinct that had previously never been seen in her she twirled . Twirled! "Do you think so? "

 A broad smile spread across his familiar features. Sam was so much a brother to her , sometimes she forgot how handsome he was too. Not so like Maxwell—who could be ? —but his strong, masculine features were warm and pleasing. Especially now when he was laughing (rather than scowling)at her.

 " Aye , I've never seen you look so fine . "suddenly ,his eyes narrowed. "What's this about, lass? "

 Carissa looked away, pretending to adjust her gown , so he wouldn't see her embarrassment. "Nothing. Has Maxwell arrived? Is that why you came to fetch me?"

 He paused for too long before responding , as if he'd guessed exactly what this is about. She plastered an innocent look on her face and turned back expectantly. She didn't think he was fooled , but then he swore, remembering his purpose. "Ah hell, it's the lad . Have you seen him? I sent him into the village two hours ago with some coin to purchase some spice for the wine. If he's gambled it away again. . . "

 Carissa stiffened. "Paul didn't gamble away anything. It was stolen from him by that horrible Dougal MacCarty"

 "So he says . But someone saw the lad playing raffle at the alehouse that day."

 "I gave Paul that money from his share of the fish we caught;it was his own to do with as he liked . And the fool that saw him shouldn't be tale-telling. Perhaps I should mention to his wife that he was at the alehouse that day the rents were paid? " Their old retainer had a fondness for Mary and her ale. His wife had barred him from both. Carissa gave Sam a knowing look. " Besides , you shouldn't be so quick to jump into conclusions. For example , I might think that you had sent Paul for some spices because you were drinking Maxwell's good wine again and trying to cover it all up. "

 Sam's eyes narrowed. "Carissa. . . "

 The warning fell on deaf ears . He couldn't intimidate her even if he tried . " it won't work you know. He will know the difference. "

 Maxwell had a taste for the fine things in life—from food , to drink to horses and to women. The last would change when he found the right woman. In other words , her.

 Was she being a fool? Was it ludicrous to think he could ever love her back?

 Sam muttered a curse and dragged his fingers back through his Dark hair. "Damn it, I know . But he shouldn't leave it here for so long if he doesn't want someone to drink it. "

 Carissa tried not to laugh. "Let me know how that excuse works. "

 Sam shook his head . " You'll know. " He grimaced, unconsciously rubbing his shoulders as If already feeling the thrashing he would take on the practice yard. "I hope he hasn't learned any new more wrestling moves . The last time I had bruises that lasted for a whole week. "

 Carissa laughed , walked over to him, stood up on her toes and place a fond kiss on his cheek. " Poor Sam. " When she drew back , his eyes looked a bit odd. She hoped he wasn't coming down with the argue . Maggy had been such for like almost a week.

 " Don't worry about the money, "she told him. " I'll see where Paul has gone. He's probably on his way back with your spices right now. "

Despite what she'd told Sam, Carissa wasn't so certain about Paul's location. After searching the tower house and the handful of nearby buildings inside the peel, she hurried along to the path in the woods the short distance to the village. If she happened to be heading toward the alehouse, she told herself it didn't mean she didn't trust him. Paul was a troubled , confused sixteen years old lad who'd been abandoned by his mother. He needed someone to believe in him. And Carissa did. She was just being diligent in her coverings of all possible locations.

 As it turned out, Carissa's faith in him was warranted , although she would have rather found him at the ale House.

 Barely had the old wooden motte-and-bailey tower house of Glenlyon, built by Maxwell's grandfather vom the site of an ancient hill fort, faded into the distance when she heard a burst of laughter followed by the excited shouts and cries of children playing, coming from the river Nix on her right.

 She smiled and continued on her way . But a small prickle at the back of her neck made her stop and listen again. In the cacophony of noise she tried to sort out the different sounds. A chill spread over her skin, and she started to run. It wasn't laughing , but jeers . And it wasn't the excited shouts of children playing, but the inciting chants of a mob.

 Her heart pounded as she ran through the canopy of trees and burst out into the bright sunshine of the boggy riverbank. Her stomach dropped seeing the circle of bous—although two or three of them were already the size of full-grown-men gathered around watching something.

 Please don't let it be. . .

 "Get him, Dougal! "

 The hard thump of a fist in the gut , followed by a sharp"umph" and a moan, were enough to confirm her suspicions, even before she caught a glimpse of the black hair caked with mud and the bloody too-big nose.

 Rage stormed through her. "Get away from him! "she shouted, running towards the not-so-little brutes.

 The sound of he voice parted the circle of spectators like Moses at the Red Sea. The thugs-in-the-making gaped at her as if she were a madwoman. Which , as furious as she was, wasn't far off.

 Be smart. Sam's admonitions came back to her. Lead with your head, not with your heart.....