Chapter Six

Scarlet pulled her frozen nose under the blanket. Feet and nose. If they were cold, the whole body was cold, as if those appendages were a direct conduit to the marrow of one’s bones. Pulling her feet higher under her smock, Scarlet smashed her face into the pillow, listening to the howl of wind beyond the walls. Good God, was it still winter? Was the hearth fire out? She blinked against the gray light in the large bedroom and held her breath. Where was she?

She inhaled, eyes searching the corners of the room, and the haze over the night’s disaster cleared. “Hell,” she whispered, inhaling the frigid air in Aiden’s bedroom.

After her revelation last night, she’d refused to elaborate, asking to sleep. He’d given her his bed while he remained below with the horses for the few hours before dawn. The light filtering into the room looked different from the glow of a winter dawn. She sat up, her hand wrapping around one of the beautifully carved posters at the corner of the bed. Vines, wild grasses, and thistle twined up each of the sturdy arms with a matching scene of a moor carved into the headboard.

Scarlet slid her legs over the edge and looked down at herself. “It certainly makes it easier to dress when one sleeps in her clothes and cloak all the time,” she murmured. Lord, she wanted a soak in hot water. She and Evelyn had found a soaking tub at Finlarig, which she would be using as soon as she could.

She hurried across the hewn floorboards to the window, wiping the glass with her hand, but snow lay a coating of white crystals across the pane, blocking the view. Wind shrieked beyond the blind. Another storm? Scarlet washed as best she could, listening to the lulls and whistles of the wind. Nothing else stirred. If she didn’t know where she was, she’d think herself completely alone. She paused, half bent over to retrieve her boots. Could Aiden have left to return to Castle Menzies? In the storm? Could the storm have started suddenly after he left? Would he fight his way through the storm and kill Finlay? Would he be arrested? Would she be responsible for Clan Campbell going to war with their neighbor?

“Aiden?” she called, throwing open the door to hurry down the short hall, past the second unused bedroom, to the stairs. She bent over the wooden railing. “Damn,” she whispered. The horses were gone. Not even the smell of their manure remained, and the floors looked scrubbed clean. Her boots rapped as she ran down and threw open the front door, her stomach twisting at the sight of deep scratch marks in the thick oak. She shivered as snowflakes shot past her into the room and pushed the door shut.

She rested her back and shivered, despite her cloak and woolen trousers. “Bloody storm,” she said, taking strength in what seemed to be a favorite curse of the Highlanders. “Where did you go?”

Above her, the latch rope slid, pulling the toggle. Her head snapped up just as the door pressed inward against her back. She leaped forward, spinning around, hand to her pounding heart as a fur-covered giant blew inside with more swirling snow.

“Bloody hell,” she yelled.

“I see ye’ve learned to swear like a seasoned warrior,” the man said, pulling the hood from his head to reveal Aiden, his brows frosty. He shook out of the hood, scattering ice. “Today, we can start teaching ye to fight like one.”

“Aren’t we going back to Finlarig today?” she asked, her gaze going to the window where the curtain gaped.

“I didn’t get nearly frostbitten in a gentle breeze, lass.” Aiden continued to pull off wrapping around his legs that he’d tied on with long straps of leather, leaving him in his kilt, linen shirt, and boots. He glanced at the window. “This should blow over by tomorrow, and we’ll go.” As if to show her how deadly it was outdoors, he swung the door open.

Scarlet retreated toward the fire in the hearth as Aiden dragged in a basket and several frozen parcels. He slammed the door shut on the storm and carried his items over. “An advantage of being stranded in one’s own home is that it is typically full of provisions, if a man is wise.” He set the parcels down with a clunk on the hearth. “Frozen, skinned hare and plucked partridges, a rasher of bacon, and my hens were busy.” Scarlet looked inside the basket to see three apples, two carrots, and ten eggs. “I keep milled flour, yeast, and a crock of lard near the hearth.”

“Where are the horses?” she asked, pulling an apple to polish it in a fold of her skirt. The gnaw of hunger reminded her that she’d barely eaten the evening before.

“I have a barn in the back. They are cozy and fed, and my house is again free of their shite.”

“The wolves?” she asked and bit into the apple. The sweet juice tasted like the most delicious dessert.

“Nowhere to be found in this storm, and the barn is solid, or they’d have taken my chickens by now.”

She chewed, swallowing. “We should gather some snow for water. Is there ale or wine?”

“Both and whisky,” he said.

She smiled over the apple. “It could snow for a fortnight, and we’d still have enough for a feast. You must be a very wise man.”

He grunted. “Prepared.”

“If you have a pan, I can poach some eggs for us to breakfast. And if the rasher isn’t frozen solid, it will go well with the eggs,” Scarlet said, taking a bucket to the door to scoop some clean snow, away from the dark lumps where Aiden likely mucked out his cabin. Shivering, she turned with the heavy bucket to find Aiden standing there.

He took the bucket from her hands, carrying it to the hearth, where he’d placed the frozen meat to thaw. “I didn’t figure ye for knowing how to cook,” he said, pulling out a bowl and cast-iron pan. “Most English ladies stay away from kitchens.”

“I didn’t know that you were an expert on English ladies,” Scarlet said, pulling the eggs from the basket to line up on a small work table. He didn’t answer. “I’ve been helping Molly in the kitchens at Finlarig. We don’t have a cook, and it is too much for her with the rest of her duties.” With a good night’s sleep and a warm fire, Scarlet was feeling more like her old self. Although, given the chance, she’d like to stay right here, locked away from the world in this cozy cabin, which was nothing like her old self.

They worked next to each other in silence, Scarlet cooking the eggs in the hot, melted snow and Aiden working with the sizzling bacon. Even though the space was small, they didn’t run into each other. Scarlet knew exactly where and what Aiden was doing even without watching him. It was as if all her senses were alive without the clutter of words.

Scarlet scooped the eggs out of the water and placed them on two wooden plates that Aiden had laid out. They cooled as he finished the bacon, and they sat down across from one another at the table. Aiden paused, looking down at his food. Was he saying a prayer?

Scarlet folded her hands on the table. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, her words clear over the soft howl of the wind. “For this food provided, for this snug, perfect cabin, for the warmth of a fire…and for the wisdom you’ve bestowed upon Aiden Campbell. Amen.” She didn’t look at him but took up her fork.

Aiden added his own silent “Amen” and kept his gaze down at his eggs and bacon. She thought him wise. Although he’d said as much since his house was fully stocked. It didn’t mean she thought well of him, or even if she did, it mattered not. For she was a lady, an English lady, and didn’t belong in the wild and dangerous Highlands.

“You mentioned training today,” Scarlet said and took a sip of the ale he’d brought out of a back room he used just for storage. “Grey and Kerrick have been working with us, but the lessons have been short and sometimes far between as they’ve been so busy restoring Finlarig and fortifying the wall around the castle.”

Did a true English lady learn to fight like a Highland warrior? Maybe Scarlet wasn’t as English as he’d thought. “Ye could always benefit with more training,” he said, his voice gruff.

“Agreed,” Scarlet said with a deep nod. “Most ladies have no knowledge of defense. Which is why we’ve made it an official part of the Highland Roses School curriculum. Even though we don’t brandish it about as a large part of learning, I think it is the most important skill we are trying to teach, right after reading.” She tipped her head from side to side. “Well, it’s likely an equal priority to reading. They can both be used to defend oneself.” Her words slowed as if she realized that she was rambling.

“Wolves or villains?” he asked, scraping the last of his eggs onto his fork.

“Excuse me?”

“Wolves or villains bent on rape? Which do ye wish me to teach ye to defend yourself from?”

“Oh,” she said, her brows furrowing.

He drank some ale and wiped his mouth on a napkin. “As a lady, who may not live her whole life in the wilds, I think learning to throw off a man would be of greater need,” he said.

She nodded. “Though I’d like to learn to shoot an arrow like my sister or throw a dagger to hit its mark.”

“We can get to that, but we will start with how to deal with arse-worms like Finlay.” Just the rutting bastard’s name made Aiden’s hands contract into fists.

“Arse-worm?” Scarlet said, the word sounding comical in her aristocratic English accent. “Another curse I should learn.” She smiled as if proud of herself. “I do curse Finlay Menzies with worms up his arse.”

“Ye will shock the English aristocracy with your foul language,” he said, rising to take his empty plate to the wash bucket.

A small bit of laughter came from Scarlet, a soft melody under her breath. It sounded pleasant like a thawing spring creek. “I don’t plan to ever speak before English aristocracy again, so you can teach me all the foul words you know.”

He didn’t look at her but concentrated on the rag in his hand as he wiped his plate clean. “So ye think ye will remain in the Highlands? Not return to England?” His hand paused, waiting for her answer.

“I will never return,” she answered, and he heard her rise, the chair scraping slightly on the wood planks. Her boots clipped as she came behind him. “Evelyn, either.”

“Your sister is on her way there now,” he countered.

“With her husband who will make certain she returns.”

“What if she decides that the conveniences of her homeland and rich life in England are too tempting?” Aiden’s shoulders ached at the tension across his back.

“You don’t know my sister very well,” Scarlet said, humor in her voice. “She’s wanted this school forever. She’d no more abandon Finlarig and Scotland than she’d cut off her arm.”

He took her plate without looking at her. “Ye have no attachment to the school, Finlarig, or Scotland. And once ye feel secure in how to defend yourself, there won’t be any reason for ye not to return to the life ye had before. A pampered woman will always return to her nest of comfort.” Someone had certainly frightened her down in England, though she’d refused to give him a name or rank when questioned the night before. But it was certainly someone she viewed as being in the highest station in her circle.

Silence stretched as he finished washing the plate, and he glanced toward Scarlet. She frowned, her eyes devoid of the merriment that usually lurked there. “Shall we begin my lesson?” she asked. “I have a need to kick someone.”

Drying his hands, Aiden moved the table and chairs to the side. “Show me how Finlay held ye,” he said.

Scarlet stared at him for a moment, inhaling, before stepping to place her back toward him. She took his hand and moved closer, wrapping his one arm around her waist so that her breasts rested on it. She was a perfect size, not so slender that she seemed like she would break, and she was soft, with generous curves. “His other hand was free and… roaming,” she said softly.

Aiden’s stomach clenched. Finlay had gathered all of Scarlet’s softness against him without her permission, holding her so intimately. “And ye did what to get away?” he asked, his words full of anger, making her tip her face up to see his. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to see the effective moves ye made that nearly killed the man despite ye not even having a weapon, save your knee.”

She gazed forward again, grabbing the arm that was holding her. “Grey showed us how to surprise an attacker.” She shoved his arm outward as the heel of her boot came down hard on his toes, though his own boots protected them.

He relaxed enough to let her spin out of his grasp, and she came forward, grabbing his shoulder with one hand while the other yanked back her skirts to expose her knee. She rammed it high. He was ready for it, sliding instinctually to the side in case she made contact.

“Then he fell forward, and I ran out,” she finished, stepping back to cross her arms over her chest.

Aiden stared at her as she breathed hard, her chest rising. His jaw ached, and he cupped it, rubbing it through the bristle of his short beard. “His free hand. Where exactly did it touch ye?”

She stared at him, her lips pinched tight. “That has nothing to do with teaching me.”

She was right, but he wanted to know how much pain to deliver the next time he met up with the cocky bastard who tricked women from their rooms and attacked them. Before he could think of a reason he should know the details of Finlay’s words and groping, Scarlet stepped back up to him, staring him in the eyes. “I was lucky that he was drunk, barefoot, and distracted. I want to be able to react when the bastard is sober, heavily armed, and focused on getting what he wants from me. If that means I must become a warrior, then make me a warrior. I’m tired of feeling afraid.”

His gaze moved from one of her large brown eyes to the other, past the green flecks that encircled her pupils. “Who has made ye feel afraid, Scarlet Worthington?”

She glanced away, and he watched her swallow. “Men,” she said. “Men have frightened me.”

“Do I frighten ye?” he asked. “We are here alone, trapped by wind, snow, and wolves.”

She looked back at him, studying him, judging his intentions, his question. “Not in the same way,” she said, her voice low so that the shriek of the wind nearly hid it.

“In what way then?” He didn’t move, even fought against blinking as he willed her to speak. Scarlet Worthington had mysteries within her, mysteries he wanted to know. “How do I frighten ye?”

She inhaled, a smile spreading across her mouth that did not reach her eyes. “I’m afraid…” Her chin raised regally. “That you will beat me in a horserace. I’m afraid you will go back and start a war with Finlay Menzies.” Her eyes opened wide, and she shook her head. “I’m afraid you will jeopardize my brother’s new flock of sheep.” She tipped her head to the side. “I’m afraid that you haven’t a wash tub for me to bathe in.” She flipped her hands about. “I am just full of fears.” She set her hands on her hips, giving him a wry smile. “So, let us stop talking and start teaching me to be a warrior.”

Aiden pushed his tongue into his cheek and rubbed his chin. No, nothing was easy about Scarlet Worthington. Perhaps that was why she plagued his thoughts. Easy would be easily set aside, forgotten.

He inhaled, sliding up each of his sleeves and crossing his arms over his chest. “It will be a day of battle, and then fortunate for ye…” He met her gaze with a steely one of his own. “I have a soaking tub.”

…

“Bloody foking hell,” Scarlet whispered, gritting her teeth as Aiden latched on to her already bruised wrist. He loosened instantly, which made her glare up at him. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” he asked, his frown fierce as he stood opposite her, playing the attacker.

“Let up on my wrist because you know it hurt,” she said. “A bastard like Finlay won’t let up.”

“He might out of shock at the words that have been overflowing your lips,” he said, his fingers tightening again.

“Swearing makes things hurt less, makes me stronger.” Scarlet glanced up at him. “Is that why warriors swear all the time? So they can take bruises and slashes without crumpling in pain?”

“Your questions are not going to distract me. Now break my hold.”

The last four attempts, she hadn’t been able to break through the shackle he held around her wrist, though honestly, she hadn’t given it her whole effort. The man had taken a snow bath, whatever that was, and he smelled and looked deliciously clean, in a perpetually fierce kind of way. The soreness on her wrist, along with a foolish draw toward Aiden, may have prevented her escape.

When Scarlet thought back on the dandies at court, their perfectly tailored costumes, plumed hats, and perfumed wigs, she wanted to laugh at their ridiculous posturing. Trying to prove that they were men when their foppish ways just made them look like boys. She hadn’t realized it until coming to the Highlands. Aiden Campbell definitely qualified as a real man.

Scarlet glanced down at his large hand and breathed in through her nose, closing her eyes to imagine a different hand shackling her in place. As soon as the face coalesced in her mind, her heart kicked up. Her eyes flew open.

“No,” she yelled, hard enough that she may have spit. “No,” she yelled again, stepping into Aiden, the heel of her free hand snapping upward toward his nose. As she hit, she snapped her other hand down, her wrist sliding through the place where Aiden’s finger and thumb met.

He grunted, and she spun away, breathing hard.

“Bloody foking hell,” Aiden said, repeating her curse as he held his nose. He looked at his fingers where evidence of blood showed, and then his gaze slid to her. A grin relaxed his frown. “Ye’re right. The cursing helps.”

Scarlet stared at him for a heartbeat and then laughed. “I think I will add swearing to the school curriculum as part of self-defense.”

Walking to the hearth, she took a piece of cloth to give to him for his nose. “Sorry about that,” she said.

He grinned. “Nay, ye did exactly what ye should do.”

Scarlet let out a huff, her smile huge. “You didn’t go easy on me?”

“Not in the least,” he said, shaking his head. “See, ye have it in ye, Scarlet. Once ye let go of worrying about what someone will think of ye. Yell in their face. Spit in their face. Curse, piss, whatever it takes to get away. Nothing is sinful, forbidden, or wrong when fighting for your life.”

Scarlet nodded but felt her face redden. “Did I spit on you?”

His grin turned to a smile big enough to show his teeth. “Aye. Exactly how ye should.”

“I’m s—”

“No sorry,” he said, crossing to grab up two flasks of watered-down ale. He handed one to her but wouldn’t let it go, making her look into his once again serious eyes. “Ye do everything and anything to get away from a foking bastard. Understand?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He grunted something that sounded like an affirmative and let her take the flask. The cool, wet ale tasted heavenly. They’d been working on various techniques for the last hour while the storm whistled and battered against the cabin.

“When we return to Finlarig, you will teach my students?” Scarlet asked, putting the cork back on her flask. “The yelling, spitting, everything? I think Grey and Kerrick have been too easy on us.”

Aiden tipped his flask up to drink. His shirt lay untied at the neck, and she watched him swallow. His hair had dried in a short, tousled look that framed his ruggedly handsome features. He capped the flask and stretched his arms back as if to work his massive shoulders. Scarlet’s mouth went dry, and she took another drink.

He nodded. “Aye, I will teach. If the lasses want to have a real chance of saving themselves in an attack, they need a better teacher.”

Scarlet grinned. “One who curses and spits.”

“As much as she can.” Aiden kept his natural frown, but merriment shone in his eyes.

…

Scarlet groaned softly as the heated water enveloped her. The muscles in her legs ached as she bent her knees to fit in the deep, short tub that Aiden had filled for her by the hearth fire. With Aiden’s promise to stay with the horses for at least an hour, Scarlet had yanked the curtains closed on all the windows, stripped out of her grubby smock, and stepped into the water. Apparently, either she trusted him, or the allure of cleanliness was overpowering her modesty.

Heat prickled her skin as she took up the thin bar of soap that she’d thrown into her satchel. Luckily, Aiden had taken it from Castle Menzies before riding after her. She inhaled the fragrant jasmine as she scrubbed it along her skin. On Hollings Estate, her mother had gone against popular ideas about water disrupting the humors in the body. No dirty children for Margaret Worthington. She might weep and hide away in hysterics, but she’d smell like a flower doing so.

Scarlet slid down in the tub to wet her hair, the hot water feeling heavenly against her scalp. Blowing out bubbles, she rose to work the soap through her tresses and rinsed. She massaged her arms. “God’s teeth,” she whispered and stretched the aches in her muscles.

Darkness settled beyond the curtains, and the wind had finally blown itself out before she’d stepped into the tub. She sighed and sunk so that her ears were covered by the water. Her hands floated by her bent knees, palm side down on the surface. They would leave at dawn, but for now, she would let the warmth cradle her.

Bang! The door hit the wall, and Scarlet gasped, sloshing up. Aiden stood there, his gaze finding her, and she realized he could see her naked breasts above the water line. “Aiden,” she yelled, hands flying to her chest.

“Men are coming. Dress yourself while I keep them outdoors.” He charged back out into the night.

Men? Which men? Campbells, Menzies, English? Some horde of raping barbarians? Scarlet propelled herself up out of the water, a small wave washing over the side. The chill in the room, recently enhanced by the open door, made chill bumps rise over her skin. She dashed for her drying sheet, wrapping herself tight as she grabbed her dirty clothes.

Deep voices yelled outside. “She is here,” Aiden’s voice came through the door. “Safe, thanks to her own quick response to that foking arse.”

Rap, rap. Good Lord, it was too late to run upstairs. All she could do was hold her dirty clothes before her as the door opened.

Kerrick pushed past Aiden, his eyes growing wide as Scarlet dripped, her cold toes curling against the bricks of the hearth. “Lady Scarlet?”

Aiden followed, and then two others before Aiden could order them back. “Out,” Aiden said, turning to shove Lawrence and William. “Kerrick,” he called.

“Ye’re undressed,” Kerrick said, the words seeming to fall out of his open mouth.

Scarlet’s heart pounded hard, but she tipped her chin higher. “A custom we English employ when bathing. Now if you would be decent gentlemen and let me finish dressing…” She let her words trail off as she met Kerrick’s gaze with a razor-sharp, unblinking stare.

Kerrick tripped over his own feet as he backed toward the door, where Aiden grabbed him by the shoulder to practically throw him out. Aiden’s gaze slid to Scarlet, his face neutral. “I placed one of my sister’s clean smocks on the bed upstairs,” he said. Giving a nod, he shut the door behind them. Scarlet puffed out an exhale and ran up the freezing steps.

Dressed, her legs warming under the wool trousers and skirts, Scarlet descended to find the room crammed with all the Campbells who had accompanied them to Castle Menzies.

Kerrick had his back to the stairs as he spoke to Aiden. “I will return with Scarlet to Finlarig while ye lead the others back to Castle Menzies.”

“No,” Scarlet said, the force of the word snapping every angry face her way. “No one is going back to Castle Menzies right now.”

“Retribution is required,” Kerrick said, his usual smile replaced by a dark look that could only be described as lethal. “For the attack on ye.”

She knew Aiden would explain her reasons for leaving Castle Menzies in the middle of the night, but Scarlet still felt her face flame over her foolish flight. Had he told them how easily tricked she’d been? Scarlet swallowed past her tight throat. “Not when everyone is still so angry.” She shook her head. “Retribution can come once tempers have calmed.”

Kerrick raised his fist to thump across his heart. “My temper will never calm over this attack.”

Scarlet gave him a slight smile. “Thank you, Kerrick, but I still insist that we all return to Finlarig. Despite Finlay’s sinister soul, I still wish to acquire his flock and entice his sister to attend the school. Even more so, since I now understand to what immoral standards Cicilia Menzies is subjected, living under her brother’s roof.” Had the poor woman seen couplings in the great hall?

Kerrick looked back to Aiden, whose face had remained as fierce as usual. “Finlay will be giving his sheep to the school without requiring payment,” Kerrick suggested.

Aiden’s gaze cut back to Scarlet, though he answered Kerrick. “A small price to pay for keeping his balls attached.”

Scarlet let out a huff but gave one nod. “I will write to Cici immediately to ask her to come to the Highland Roses School. Now, since we are all thoroughly awake and great in number in case the wolves are about, shall we return tonight to Finlarig and Killin? I’m sure you would all like to sleep in your own beds.”

“I will ready the horses,” Aiden said.

Scarlet threw on her red cape that sat across one of the chairs. “I will bridle Caora.” She strode past them all to follow Aiden outdoors. The cold, clear air made her curl inward, shoving her bare hands into the folds of wool around her. But it was the damp hair that quickly pulled in the icy winter chill. She’d dried it as best she could upstairs with the damp drying sheet.

“Go back inside,” Aiden said over his shoulder. “Yer hair is wet.”

She grabbed it, coiling it into an icy snake to tuck between her gown and the cloak. “It will still be wet as we ride back.” She hurried her stride, following his footprints, which were visible in the bright moonlight that peeked from behind fast-moving clouds.

Scarlet pushed into the barn. Warm and scented with hay, it was a sanctuary from the frigid night. She shook off the cold, striding to Caora while Aiden watched her. “Ye will freeze on the ride back.”

“I will be well,” she said, though her voice sounded less confident than when she’d spoken inside the house. “’Tis not more than a length through the trees and then the meadow where the Beltane Festival was held near Killin. I will survive it.”

Aiden grunted in response. Scarlet turned from him to spread the saddle blanket along Caora and fit the bridle over her head. She rubbed the horse’s neck, her warmth helping to thaw her numb fingers. Perhaps she would just hug the horse the whole ride back.

Aiden mounted his tall white horse and watched as Scarlet guided Caora toward the barn doors. She glanced around for a bucket to step upon.

“Here,” Aiden said, nudging his giant closer so that Scarlet stood between the sides of the two horses. He reached down, lifting under her arm, his grasp snug around her ribs. Scarlet jumped upward, and Aiden lifted, but instead of setting her on Caora’s back, he swung her up, her legs parting to sit astride his own horse before him.

“Aiden?”

“I won’t have ye grow ill,” he answered, and threw a wool blanket from the back of his mount around them. His lips came near her ear. “If ye’re sick in bed, there will be no one to stop me from slaughtering Finlay Menzies before or after my temper settles.”

Scarlet swiveled in her seat to tip her face up to him. The moonlight barely lit the stables, making shadows cut along the planes of his face. “I doubt your temper ever settles,” she said.

He looked down at her, their gazes locking. “And…I never, ever forget.”