A Spy at the Highland Court

by Barclay, Celeste

  The queen offered Ric a warm smile as he rose from his bended knee. He nodded and waited for her to continue. When she turned instead to Robert, Ric was left standing alone.

  “Lady Isabella, would you be so kind as to guide Sir Dedric through the gardens? You know how easy it is for one to get lost in the maze. Sir Dedric, you might freeze in place, and we wouldn’t find you until the final thaw.” The queen tucked her arm through her husband’s, and the couple led the way followed by the ladies-in-waiting who encircled Isa and Ric. Some were subtle in their attempt to eavesdrop on Isa and Ric, but others had no compunction about trying to listen.

  “Are you warm enough, Lady Isabella?”

  “Aye. I’m used to this climate, and it could be far worse. We could be in the Highlands, which are still blanketed in several feet of snow. Are you not accustomed to such long winters?”

  “I am. I’ve spent most of my time in the north of England, so the weather is not much different. I simply wondered since your gown doesn’t seem particularly thick.” Ric made his final remark under his breath.

  “My cloak is sealskin and lined with fur. It’s far warmer than it looks, and I would say a far sight warmer than your own cloak. If you are going to remain in Scotland, you would do well to see a tailor about some properly made clothes.”

  Isa slammed her mouth shut as she caught herself discussing a man’s clothing with the man himself. She peeked at the other ladies who had grown bored with their conversation about the weather.

  “I appreciate your concern, Isa. Is there a tailor you would recommend?” Ric kept his voice down.

  “There is. Next market day I will take you, if you’d like.” Isa looked straight ahead, but her cheeks pinkened with her presumptuousness.

  “I would like that very much. Robbie can mend my clothes, but I don’t trust him to tailor anything for me.”

  Isa covered her mouth to stifle her giggle. “You must have been a squire once. Do you not know how to sew? Have you considered making your own clothes?”

  “I sew to mend, my lady, not to make.” Ric grinned down at Isa, and her breath caught when she was certain his topaz eyes twinkled at her.

  Isa was paying little attention to where she was stepping until she felt her feet slide out from under her on a patch of ice. Her arms flew up as she tried to keep her balance, but her feet were uncooperative. She clutched whatever she could reach, which happened to be Ric’s surcoat and cloak. He came to a stop and pulled her against him. He kept her from slipping, but he brought them back to the position they had been in the day before when they kissed.

  “Isa, are you all right?” he murmured, his warm breath smelling of mint as it misted around her lips.

  She could only nod her head while her heart continued to pound.

  “Startled,” she said at last.

  “Did you roll your ankle?”

  She shook her head, but she still felt unsteady on her feet.

  “Lady Isabella!” The couple looked over as the queen hurried toward them. “I saw you slip. You are most fortunate that Sir Dedric was standing nearby. You might have taken a nasty fall.”

  The queen stopped in front of them, and it was genuine concern etched in the lines of the older woman’s face.

  “Are you hale, lass?” The queen inquired softly. The informality spoke to her worry.

  “I am, Your Majesty. Startled and a wee shaken, but there is nothing wrong with me.”

  “If you are certain.” The queen sounded anything but. “Sir Dedric, do keep a tighter hold on her. The snow is gone, but clearly the ice is not. Lady Isabella is a slight thing. She would do well to have you tether her down lest she float away.”

  The queen and king, who had followed his wife to see what the commotion was about, moved on with their walk. However, several other ladies were not in the same rush.

  “Bella, are you well? That looked frightful,” Allyson Johnstone gushed as she peered at Ric rather than Isa.

  Ric grimaced at the diminutive. He had not heard anyone call her Bella before, and he found he disliked it as much as he had when he heard Isa refer to herself as such.

  “Is something wrong, Sir Dedric?” Cairren Kennedy purred as she eased closer to Ric.

  “Naught is wrong, but I do think I shall take Lady Isabella to that bench I see just around the corner.” Ric wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her to a bench that was blessedly only large enough for two.

  “Are you certain you’re well, Bella?” The soft-spoken Maud Sutherland seemed oblivious to the other women fawning over Ric.

  “I’m truly fine, Maud, but thank you. I think I just need a moment to catch my breath.”

  Maud nodded before glaring at the other ladies, making it clear that they needed to catch up to the royal couple. Once Ric and Isa were alone, she sagged against him.

  “Isa?”

  “My chest hurts from my heart pounding so hard. It did give me a good scare. I’ll admit that. Thank you for catching me.”

  Isa looked up at Ric and was unprepared for the tenderness in the kiss he placed upon her nose, then forehead.

  “You gave me a quite a fright.”

  “You and me both.”

  Ric held her against his side, and she burrowed under his cloak which he draped around them both. They sat together in silence for several minutes.

  “We should rejoin the others,” Isa murmured.

  “We should.”

  Neither of them moved, both enjoying the serenity of the garden and their embrace.

  “Tell me more of your research. I know little of these people you called Picts.”

  “They were the original people of Scotland descending from the Caledonii, inhabiting this land well before the Romans and Norse ever found our shores. They lived throughout Scotland until the Norse began to gain more strength and success with their raids. Their way of life slowly dwindled as the Norse and other Celts grew more dominant. However, there are lingering signs of their dominance all over Scotland. Standing stones with their art have been found in Lothian and Northumbria. There are records kept by the Romans and Britons that speak of fierce tribes that painted their faces white with ash or with blue woad and fought naked. They are much of the reason why the Romans failed to move much further north than Hadrian’s Wall.”

  Isa shrank into her cloak, embarrassed from how eager she had grown to talk about her interest. She knew few people who enjoyed history as much as she did. Cousins Deirdre and Elizabeth Fraser had both been scholars, but their interest lay in languages, whereas Isa longed to discover how their ancestors once lived.

  “Tell me more,” Ric encouraged.

  “The land upon which my clan lives was given to my ancestors by the Picts when they won a battle against the Norse. The first keep was built on a rise overlooking the harbor. Dun means hill, so it became the hill of the Bar, the original surname of my ancestors. It eventually blended into one, and so my clan is now Dunbar. I come from the Dunbars of Mochum, near the southwest border. I wish I could travel to other places in Scotland where Pictish art still exists. There are many more in the Highlands, but there are even several in northern England.”

  Isa paused, having come close to the sensitive topic of the border. She still was not sure where Ric’s loyalties lay on the matter. He may have left Edward of England’s court for Robert of Scotland’s, but that did not mean he agreed with either side’s claims to the land.

  “Are they tall rocks carved with swirls?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “I’ve seen them in both Northumbria and Cumberland. They are as tall as a man standing upon another man’s shoulders, and some would take three men forming a circle to wrap their arms around them. They are massive.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

  Ric listened as Isa continued to explain different periods of Scottish history, especially that of the Lowlands. He gained a deeper understanding of why the land was so important to the Scots. While Edwa
rd wanted it to demonstrate his power and dominance, the Scots wanted it because they were bound to the earth. Their people had conquered the landscape and protected it from countless invaders over several centuries. Ric wondered if any of the MacLellans knew half as much about the history of their land as Isa did about her clan’s. Neither realized the amount of time that passed until the queen and her ladies returned with red noses and wind-chapped cheeks. Isa and Ric jumped apart like two scalded cats, moving to their own ends of the bench before anyone caught them snuggled together.

  “I look forward to you telling me more,” Ric whispered as he eased her back to her feet.

  Isa stomped her feet as the blood began to circulate once more, and she nodded as the group returned to the warmth of the castle. Isa followed the queen, and Ric found his way to the lists. He released his pent-up need through his sword as he took on one Scottish warrior after another, demonstrating that he had earned the spurs he still wore.

  Isa spent most of the day in the queen’s solar as the women read aloud and embroidered. Isa sat at a loom and continued a tapestry she had been working on since before Hogmanay. The Lowlands had experienced fierce weather around Christmas, and days spent locked away inside had given Isa a chance to begin a tapestry that told the same story she had told Ric of how the Picts gave land to her ancestors. She hummed quietly to herself, but she nearly dropped the shuttle when she heard Ric’s name.

  “He is dreadfully handsome,” Allyson Elliot commented conspiratorially. “I wouldn’t mind passing the lists to see him train. I wonder if he’ll still be here in spring.”

  “Why are you wondering about spring? I’m wondering about him now,” Arabella Johnstone’s whisper was meant for the entire chamber to hear.

  “Because in spring, the men strip off their surcoats to train,” Allyson shrugged as though her answer explained everything, and to Isa, it did. She tried to remain focused on her tapestry and not the jealousy that fluttered in her belly as she listened to the other women talk about seeing Ric half undressed. She realized that she very much wanted her eyes to be the only ones enjoying that feast.

  “Allyson, you are horrible!” Cairren Kennedy giggled. “But you’re not wrong. Perhaps we could take a stroll in a while. Just to check the weather.”

  Just to check the weather. Isa mimicked Cairren in her head. She attempted to keep her face neutral, but she could feel her neck beginning to get warm, and she wanted to squirm. She knew she had no claim on Ric. She had no way of knowing if he was already involved with someone at court, but she prayed that she was the only one he had been kissing. Dear God, what if he’d been doing far more than kissing since he arrived here? Isa began to feel ill at the idea that she had allowed herself to get so swept away the night before with a man she did not know, and then she remembered how she clung to him in front of the ladies just that morning. She had felt so comfortable leaning against him as they talked, but now she began to wonder if she was making a fool of herself. He was clearly older than she was, and she was not naïve enough to think they were both innocents. Her stomach dropped as she pictured Ric with one of the bored wives or widows.

  “Lady Bella?” Queen Elizabeth broke into her thoughts. “You are looking markedly peaked. Are you still not recovered from your near-mishap this morning?”

  Isa looked up, but it took her a moment to piece through the queen’s words as the haze in her mind cleared.

  “I’m well, Your Majesty. I’m just planning what I’d like to do next with this tapestry.”

  “And that makes you pale? Perhaps you should retire until the evening meal.”

  Isa knew it was not a suggestion, so she deferred to the queen and stowed her yarns and threads before slipping from the chamber. As she wound through the labyrinth of passageways, she could not ease the tension between her shoulders as she wondered if she had made a fool of herself the night before. Even that day, she had sat pressed against him with his cloak draped around her shoulders. If anyone caught them, they could very well be on their way to the altar now. Isa was wise enough to not expect a future husband to be faithful, so she knew she had no right to wish for one who would be, but she did at least want to know her groom a little better than a passing stranger. A stranger who could very well be involved with any number of women at court despite having only just arrived. She had seen it before.

  Isa told Ric her entire clan’s history, but she knew almost nothing about him, and this only made her cheeks flame as she once again conjured a memory of their kiss. She did not regret it. It was the first real kiss she had ever experienced. She had been at court long enough for a few gentlemen to attempt stealing a kiss, but she never offered anything but a quickly turned cheek. There had not been anyone, until the night prior with Ric, who made her wonder if kissing could be as pleasurable as she had heard older women, even some ladies-in-waiting, describe. She had heard the descriptions of kisses being heart stopping, world spinning, arousing exercises, but until she had done it herself, she could not appreciate how true the words had been.

  A large window overlooking the courtyard and lists beyond drew her attention, and she did not bother attempting to discourage her curiosity. She peered through the glass, a rarity in most keeps but a more common luxury in a royal castle. She could see men moving about as they sparred and practiced archery. She wished she could be shooting her bow, but she rarely had a chance unless a hunt was organized and women were allowed to participate. Those had been few and far between in the years since she arrived at court.

  “See anything of interest?”

  Isa turned to see one of the most beautiful women she had ever laid eyes upon gliding toward her.

  “I was looking at the archery targets and wishing I could be practicing.” It was a half-truth, which was better than a lie.

  “Mmm. I would be looking at the men. They are quite the feast for the eyes, even covered up. Would that it could be spring.”

  The woman grinned at Isa, and Isa was transfixed for a moment by the woman’s appearance. She forced herself to look out the window before the other woman thought her rude for staring.

  “I rather like that one,” the unknown stranger pointed, and Isa followed her tapered finger and manicured nail until her eyes settled on Ric. She knew it was him even from this distance.

  “He’s English as well.” Isa could not think of anything better to say, and the observation made her brow crinkle. What was an English woman doing at court? Isa’s stomach soured as she knew there could only be one reason why an English man and an English woman would appear within a day when they were in the heart of where hatred for the English festered.

  “Is he?” the woman tilted her head.

  “Yes, I suspect you know that already.” Isa curtsied and turned away from the window.

  “And just how would I know him?” the woman called after Isa.

  Isa paused and looked back over her shoulder. “I would think you recognize your lover.”

  Isa continued walking and did not pause until she arrived at her chamber. She entered and turned the lock before collapsing backwards onto her bed. As she lay looking up at the ceiling, she had never felt a greater fool than she did in that moment.

  Chapter Eight

  Ric had an uneasy feeling as he settled onto the bench in the Great Hall. He looked surreptitiously around him, and cringed when he saw Bella Fitz-Bigod standing among a group of young courtiers. He felt his temper spike as she flirted with one, then another, of the men. He was ready to throttle her. Ric’s gaze shifted until he found Isa. He was prepared to offer her a warm smile, but her face was set in stone as she glanced at him then turned away. She looked directly at Bella, and Ric wanted to groan out loud. Isa’s gaze shifted to the ladies surrounding Ric, and Ric knew he had been effectively dismissed. He spent the remainder of the meal sneaking glances at Isa while trying to avoid Bella and being ignored by everyone else at his table.

  Once the tables were moved aside, Ric once more joined in the dancing, b
ut he could not successfully position himself to partner with Isa. He was growing more and more impatient until Isa’s current partner slid his hand far too low for Ric’s taste and Isa’s obvious comfort. He pushed away from the wall against which he had taken root and pressed his way to where the man was skillfully leading Isa to a less-crowded area, one that happened to be near the doors that led to the passageways. Ric’s pace increased as he watched Isa come to a halt. She refused to budge, but the man whispered something in her ear that made her take a step back. It was a step toward the door. The man pushed it open and backed Isa through.

  “My lord, I must return. I have not been excused for the evening. The queen will be most displeased with me if I disappear.”

  “Tell her you were finding a chamber pot.”

  “I will not. I will go back inside. Let go of me.” Isa ripped her arm away from the man, but not before his other hand snaked around her waist. It was only a moment later that the man was doubled over in pain. Isa had kneed him in the bollocks, and she did not feel a moment’s guilt for unmanning him. “I told you to let go.”

  She stepped around him and stepped into Ric’s chest. She gasped as she feared another man had come to join the first. She balled her fist and raised her arm to strike. Ric pushed it aside before tucking her behind him.

  “It’s me, Isa,” he whispered before turning to the man who was still doubled over.

  Ric grasped the man’s surcoat and pushed him against the wall.

  “Do not ever touch her again. Come near her again, and I will kill you. I know what you intended to do, and I heard her tell you to let go. Know your death will come suddenly if you persist.” Ric drove his fist into the man’s stomach.

  Isa watched as Ric came to her defense, and she knew she should be appreciative, but she was also angry that he had been watching her all night when he clearly had a mistress in tow.