Chapter 2

Little did Mairead know, but she was being closely watched. In fact, she had been under almost constant observation since leaving her house earlier that day.

The man stalking her had caught a glimpse of her silken blue kirtle as she stepped out into the road, and admitted to himself right away that he was entranced. And unlike all of Mairead's other suitors, not only was this man honest enough to admit that he found the young woman beguilingly lovely, but he was brave enough to plan on meeting her.

It was her hair, he told himself. It reminded him of a torrent of fire, the flames that leaped up the chimney after licking the wood, burning so hot it was hard to look at for long moments of time. Then he changed his mind. He adored the siren call of her green eyes. They were spaced wide apart, making her look like a ginger kitten as it sticks its head above the basket. The same as her eyes, the lass' mouth was generous and wide. How he longed to see her smile and laugh.

He was a man used to lurking in the shadows. No one noticed him as he followed the girl to the market. Once he pulled the back of his feileadh-mor over his head to hide his face and sword, he looked just like any other extremely tall and well-built Kilmagarry villager going about their daily business.

When she raised her hand to wave a greeting to one of the callow youths who could not stop gaping at her swaying hips and the luscious swell of her breasts, the bonny lassie's smile was everything he hoped it would be. From the tips of her little feet to the top of the red curls on her head, he had never wanted a woman so completely before.

He should have come back here sooner. No woman in the world could compare to a winsome Scottish maiden, born and bred in the sweeping Highland mountains. The man straightened up, running his hand through his long brown hair to make sure the tangled locks were not as unruly as they usually were. The beauty with the long red hair was coming out of the bakery.

Mairead blushedwhen she saw the man stepping forward to greet her. She instinctively covered the lower half of her face with the veil as was the maidenly thing to do in such situations. The well-dressed stranger might have introduced himself to her father when he asked permission to woo her, but to her, he was just another unfamiliar traveler.

The man bowed so low that the top of his long dagged coif dragged on the ground. "A very good morrow to ye, Maid Mairead MacTavish. I have waited long for this moment. Might I have the pleasure o' yer company for a wee while?"

Feeling her heart sinking down into her patten boots, Mairead nodded reluctantly. No wonder Liadan thought this man would make her a splendid husband. He was older than she was–a lot older. Even if she was being generous, Mairead would have put the man's age at well past his prime of life. He would never see five and forty again.

But even if the man standing in front of her was mature enough to call her father a friend, he might have been able to charm her if he was not so plump and raddled. The bright yellow coif wrapped around his neck and covering his head was obviously there to keep the sun from bouncing off his bald pate. A wide-sleeved tunic with row upon row of dags stretched tightly over his bulging belly. There was a blade hanging from his belt, but it resembled a knitting needle more than it did a broadsword.

"Me name is Sir Archibald Templeton, Maid. Please call me Sir Archie. All those who love me do. I am seneschal to Laird Banneret. A knight o' the realm and recognized by the King as one o' the best tax collectors in the kingdom. The grocer can vouch for me. We are distantly related."

Still covering her face, Mairead curtsied, but did not know what to say. Some of the younger village lasses were watching the elderly knight bowing and smiling at her. Jabbing one another in the ribs and pointing, the young village women hid their laughter behind their hands. There goes Spinster Mairead MacTavishand her aged beau. She could read their lips as they enjoyed her discomfort.

Seneschal Templeton had asked her a question. He stood in front of her, a supremely confident expression on his face.

"I beg yer pardon, Master. I dinnae catch the question," Mairead stalled. Her thoughts were all chaos. She was a well brought up girl and would not have hurt this man's feelings for all the gold in Scotland, but not did she want to give him false hope.

"I asked ye if ye would do me the honor o' walking to the inn with me, dear Maid. I have brought ye a gift. A token o' the great love I hold for ye in me heart."

Mairead knew the path to the inn as well as she knew the back of her hand. It curved around the back of the market, to the sluice pits the farmers used for their livestock. The houses closed around the land tightly, blocking out the sun and casting the road into shadow. The last thing she wanted to do was walk there with this man, but she had no choice. Her family honor demanded that she be polite to her suitor until such a time as her father asked her for a decision.

Nodding and keeping the veil close to her face so that only her green eyes were showing, Mairead agreed to walk with Archibald Templeton to the inn.

He offered her his arm, but Mairead shook her head. "Nay, I thank ye, Master. I need to use the arm to hold up me veil. The dust from these backstreets can be thick at this time o' the year."

The seneschal sulked. "Cannae ye hold it with the other hand, Maid? Yer faither has approved me suit. We can be married just as soon as ye say that one sweet word to me… ‘aye'."

She wanted to giggle at his dramatic tone. If only there was a man who was the perfect blend between the shy youthful men she had known all her life and older men who had the confidence to flirt with her in the dangerous way she had been dreaming about for so long. "What if someone were to see us, Master?" Mairead said in a reasonable voice. "I would nae want to lose me reputation. A maid showing her face to her suitor withoot a chaperone in sight."

Sir Archie frowned. "I was told o' nae such tradition in these parts. Are ye nae being maidenly and shy? Come noo, let me gaze upon that bonny face o' yers."

Mairead did not want to give Sir Archie any encouragement. "Aye, well, what I meant to say is this; I dinnae think we should be alone together withoot a chaperone because I have nae made up me mind on marriage yet."

Mairead looked around the dark backstreets and she realized that there was no one around to witness her interactions with the elderly knight. She was completely alone with the middle aged tax collector. Fortunately, he was too much of a polite gentleman to take advantage of the solitude.

But Mairead knew it would be cruel to give Sir Archie false hope. She was not like Liadan—she would never agree to marry a man just because he happened to be the first one to come along. "We should go back to the market, Sir. I should have never?—"

It was too late. A dark figure loomed out of the shadows in front of her. The person was not large, but they were unexpected and looked poised to do mischief. Pushing her violently to the ground, the skulking person ripped the silk veil off her head and darted back down the way they had already come. Mairead was shocked, but not so shocked that she could not scream. "Stop him before he gets away!"

Her father would scold her badly if he knew she had gone into the backstreets of the village and lost the diaphanous silk veil. It must have cost him at least five shillings at the very least when he bought it from the harbor traders.

Sir Archibald withdrew the thin sword foil from his belt after checking to see if she was alright. "Never fear, me dear. I will catch the rogue!" He trotted off after the thief, leaving Mairead in the perfect position to watch events unfold.

Not more than forty steps down the alley, an imposingly tall man walked out from one of the side streets. His broadsword was not drawn, and nor did he need to rely on such manly props. He was a fierce-looking creature with a tangled mass of dark brown hair and a punishingly sharp jawline. The angular features of his face suited the man. It made him look like a dark avenging angel.

With an almost lazy gesture, the man reached out and caught the thief by the back of his neck. One squeeze of his massive hand and the small thief squawked, dropping the veil. Lumbering up in the dark, Sir Archie saw the mighty warrior holding the thief in one hand and the veil in the other.

Lunging forward with his sword, the knight shouted. "Unhand me lady's veil, ye rotten swine!"

Mairead screamed again. Sir Archie lunged forward with his sword, flourishing it around like a man trying to swat a fly with a stick. The tall warrior turned around to see what all the fuss was about. Sir Archie had expected the stranger to shrink away from the blade, not ignore it as if it was not even there! Archie's blade sank deep into the back of the feileadh-mor that was pinned around the man's shoulders.

The man sank to the ground with Archie's sword sticking out of him.