A Spy at the Highland Court

by Barclay, Celeste

  Ric turned toward Isa before looking around. He drew her to his side, and they walked silently to an alcove where Ric pushed aside the tapestry and nudged her within.

  “Isa, are you all right?” Just enough light shone around the edges for Ric to find her jaw, which he cupped.

  A shiver ran through Isa at his touch, but she reminded herself that he was touching someone else just the same way, if not far more intimately.

  “I’m well and must return to the Great Hall.” She could not get around him in such a tight space, so she infused as much impatience and annoyance as she could into her voice.

  “I’ll take you back.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Isa, you shouldn’t be in the passageway alone.”

  “And going back in with you is safer? I think not. We are only just beyond the doors. I don’t need your assistance, but I do thank you for coming to my rescue. You seem to have done that twice today. But please excuse me. I must return to the queen, and you should return to your friend.”

  Isa could not think of a better term without bluntly admitting that she knew he brought his mistress.

  “What friend? I would say you’re my only friend here at court.”

  “I would prefer not to spell it out.”

  “I think you may need to. I don’t know to whom you’re referring.”

  “Your mistress,” she murmured.

  “My what?” It was not that Ric could not hear her, but it sent his mind reeling.

  “The stunning woman with the English accent. Who else could she be?”

  “Not mine, that’s who she bloody well is,” Ric barked. He cleared his throat and stretched his neck. “That is a woman I once knew, but I no longer tolerate her company. She most certainly is not my mistress.”

  Isa looked at him, but Ric could not read her expression. She seemed to be assessing him, and he felt determinedly lacking. It was not a feeling he cared for, though he was familiar with it. But coming from Isa, it hurt in a way he did not know was possible. He could not explain why her opinion mattered so greatly, but he was struck by how much he wanted Isa to think of him favorably. To think of him as she had while they kissed the night before.

  “She’s why you won’t call me Bella.”

  Isa’s words cut through to Ric, who was shocked that she had deduced the truth. He looked away before turning his topaz gaze back to her.

  “Yes.”

  It was a simple answer, but it sucked the wind from Isa’s chest. She took a step back, nodded, and spun on her heel, and pushed the tapestry aside. She marched the few steps back to the Great Hall and yanked open the door. She weaved her way through the crowd, but she knew Ric was not far behind her. It took him longer to grasp her hand than she anticipated, but the warmth of his fingers entwining with her, hidden by the material of her kirtle, made her arm tingle.

  “Don’t run from me, Isa,” he murmured. “Please.”

  The entreaty in his voice was so genuine that it gave her pause. She turned to look back at him, and she saw rejection and hurt flash in his eyes before the courtly mask fell back into place.

  “I’m not running from you so much as I’m not running to you. What do you want from me, Ric? I certainly am not taking her place as your mistress.”

  “She’s not, nor was she ever really, my mistress. She’s someone I knew from a long time ago when I was young and impressionable. Barely a knight and hoping to make a name for myself that wasn’t ‘half English.’”

  Isa looked past Ric’s shoulder to where she could tell Bella was attempting to watch them without being obvious. “Does she know that? She still seems very interested, even concerned, with you.”

  Ric wanted to rake his hands through his hair and groan. Isa was correct, but not for the right reasons. “I suppose because I’m the only other person she knows here.”

  “And that brings us back around to the question you never answered. Who is she and why is she here?”

  “Lady Bella Fitz-Bigod, the illegitimate daughter of an English courtier. My guess would be she chased after the wrong married man one too many times and decided she would do well to set her sights elsewhere.”

  “And the Scottish court is where she wound up. Ric, I don’t believe you. And rather than stand here while you lie or evade the truth, I would rather spend the rest of my evening with my friends.”

  Isa pulled away, and this time Ric let her. He watched her rejoin the other ladies-in-waiting, a false smile of serenity plastered to her face, but he could see the smile was for appearance. She had the same haunted and saddened expression in her eyes that he was sure he wore, too.

  It took Ric the better part of a week before he was able to speak to Isa again. She avoided him when she could and was distant when she could not. Ric continued to meet with the king in the mornings when the royal couple went for their stroll. The king and queen seemed determined to engineer opportunities for them to be alone, but Isa skittered away like a spooked doe. It was another near fall that finally forced Isa to confront Ric and her feelings.

  “Thank you,” she breathed as she covered her heart with her hand. “I seem to be making a habit of being clumsy. And of needing your assistance.”

  “I am relieved I was close enough to prevent your fall,” Ric was cautious in how he approached their first conversation since they spoke of his previous relationship with Bella.

  “You have taken a liking to walking with the king.”

  “I suppose one could say that. I’ve taken a liking to gardens and the beauty they behold.”

  Isa’s eyes widened as Ric’s meaning was clear. She nodded and looked around. They had been left behind by the others and were once more alone near the bench they had sat upon the first time Ric caught her.

  “Ric,” Isa looked around once more before continuing. “I shouldn’t have been so rash to pass judgment upon you. I suppose I can’t know what happens when I am not near, but I have seen how little interest you and Lady Bella seem to take in one another. Perhaps I was laboring under the wrong impression. I’m sorry.”

  Ric was surprised that Isa was offering him an apology when he had been trying to create an opportunity to offer his own apology.

  “You need not apologize, Isa. I can see how the situation would be confusing and appear unseemly. Please know that there is no one but one fair haired maiden who holds my attention.”

  Isa’s cheeks grew pink despite the brisk air. She smiled demurely and nodded before glancing away.

  “I’d like to learn more of your history tales,” Ric blurted.

  “Really?” Isa was cautious about growing too excited. The last time she thought she could trust Ric she had been disappointed. But she reminded herself that it was her assumptions that placed distance between them. Not anything Ric actually did.

  Their conversation was the beginning of many more within the gardens that spanned the next three weeks. Ric continued to join the king each morning, but he rarely spoke more than the necessary pleasantries to the king and queen. Later in the day, after he had trained and then bathed, he would slip into the scriptorium where Isa worked both on the luminations that she sold at market and her research.

  Ric even accompanied Isa to the market, and watched in awe as she warned the merchant that Ric would be acquiring the stall next to the mercer and would serve as her representative. They had laughed as they returned to the keep, enjoying a joke shared only between the two of them.

  Throughout those weeks, by mutual and silent agreement, they did little more than walk with Isa’s hand looped through his arm or dance after the evening meal. Other people at court began to notice the interest between the two, but they were cautious not to be too obvious. Ric sneaked a kiss to the back of her hand and even a peck on her cheek, nose, or forehead, but they did not repeat the tryst they had when they initially met. They used the time to become better acquainted, and both found they truly enjoyed the other’s company.

  Ric’s summons to the Privy Cou
ncil chamber came, and he was not looking forward to his conversation with the king. He was certain Robert had observed his interaction with Isa over the previous weeks. Ric had a sneaking suspicion that the Bruce was about to test him for the first time as one of the king’s warriors. He had made a good impression on more than one man in the lists, proving that his spurs had been earned and not given. He was quick to learn and adapt to the Scottish method of fighting, having observed and fought against it for years before he was introduced to using it when he stayed with the MacLellans.

  He made his way to the chamber to await his audience. He forced himself not to shuffle his feet, nervous about meeting with King Robert. He and Edward met countless times during Ric’s tenure, but Ric had known the man since he was a child. He was well versed in how to manage his conversations with the temperamental regent. He was not at all familiar with Robert’s disposition.

  Once admitted, Ric made his way directly to where the king stood with four of his advisors. Ric did not know who any of the men were. But he did know enough about court life to realize that if they met with the king hours after the other courtiers who usually flocked around Robert had given up to pursue other activities, they held significance. He approached the group of men and bowed before waiting for the king’s attention. He stood as patiently as he could, knowing that the Bruce was intentionally making him wait. The conversation would slow and nearly come to a lull before the king found another topic to discuss with the men who pretended as though he was not there. When the king could no longer delay addressing Ric, King Robert did little to keep their conversation private.

  “We have had another skirmish along the border. This time it was with the Maxwells. The English are moving west. Did you know that the Maxwells border the MacLellans?”

  Robert was aware, and his heart had already picked up its pace as he thought about his clan coming under attack. His heart skipped when he realized that he truly did think of the MacLellans as his family. They were no longer strangers distantly related to him, but rather people who had eventually welcomed him, reconnecting him to the family he lost.

  “When do you expect them to reach the MacLellans?” The tension in Ric’s voice made the king narrow his eyes.

  “We don’t know that they will.”

  “Your Majesty, if they’re traveling west, it’s because they know they can no longer gain victory over the Kerrs and Elliots. Edward has sent them to find a new way across the border.” Ric’s eyes shifted to the other men listening to their conversation. “Edward knows I returned to my mother’s people. He has chosen them as his upcoming target, and I fear he has done so to punish me.”

  “You are not alone in that thinking. And that is why, Sir Dedric, you will be riding out with a contingent of warriors to meet the English.” King Robert stroked his beard and once more narrowed his eyes. “You will undoubtedly come across men you know.”

  The king did not go any further, but the question was implicit. Ric knew the answer, his conviction true.

  “And I will kill any of them who threaten my clan.”

  The cynical laughter from the other men made Ric turn toward them. His voice was calm and smooth, but the determination brought the laughter to a sharp end.

  “Were any of you stolen from your family? Or did your families send you to court to better their position? Did any of you grow up in a country you never wanted to belong to? I suspect not. The MacLellans are my clan and they did acknowledge me. My mother and father died when I was too young to fight, but I’ll be damned if another MacLellan dies now that I can fight.” Ric turned back to the king. “Do I depart in the morning?”

  “I had thought to give you a day to resolve anything here at court.” Once more, the Bruce did not say anything more, but the implication was not lost on Ric.

  “I can be ready at dawn.” Ric would find a way to see Isa if he could, but he would also avoid Bella like the pox.

  “Very well. You will travel with two of my godsons who recently returned to court. They are none too pleased to be leaving their wives here, but they are among my most trusted warriors. They are Highlanders, but they will treat you fairly.”

  Ric knew what the qualification meant. The Lowlanders were fierce in their protection of their homes, but the Highlanders were unparalleled in their ability to fight, their loyalty to their land, and their unforgiving and unwelcoming character. Ric wanted to groan, but the king was not through.

  “You will meet Tavish and Magnus in the morning. They are currently saying goodbye to their wives.” This elicited guffaws from the men who had been smirking at Ric.

  “If that’s the case, no one is leaving until well after the nooning,” one man offered.

  “They won’t be leaving for at least a fortnight,” another chuckled.

  “Not unless you send their wives home, and then you might not have them at all,” a third chimed in.

  Ric looked at the men, then back at Robert.

  “They are both newlywed couples, and both are love matches. Neither man trusts anyone outside their clan to adequately protect their wives.” Robert sobered for a moment. “Though they have fair reason to feel that way.”

  “May I ask why they brought their wives if they feel that way?”

  “Both women were ladies-in-waiting to the queen and understand the inner workings far better than their impatient and straightforward husbands. They are also both very close to my sister-by-marriage, Elizabeth Fraser. There was an incident around Christmas, and Elizabeth and Edward left court to make their home in a nearby keep. Unfortunately, they have had to return here. The ladies came to visit with Elizabeth.”

  Ric watched as the humor Robert used to describe the two couples evaporated into a rigidity when he described his brother and sister-by-marriage. Ric could sense the swift change was not animosity toward his relatives, but a protectiveness and frustration at whatever happened that he could not control.

  Robert reached out and unexpectedly clapped Ric on the shoulder before giving it a squeeze.

  “You are a leader, and I could see that in the lists today. But listen to Magnus and Tavish. They will keep you alive long enough to return and resolve things here.”

  Ric nodded as the king removed his hand. Ric wondered if the king meant earning a plot of land, determining what existed between him and Isa, or to die a spy. He was nearly certain Robert suspected him of such; he could not imagine how the king would not.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Ric bent at the waist and was prepared to depart. He needed to find Robbie and prepare the lad for their departure.

  “She’ll be in the scriptorium before sunrise.” The words were barely audible, but Ric felt his chest expand. He nodded to King Robert and the courtiers before taking his leave.

  Chapter Nine

  Ric thought he would not be able to sleep when he returned to his chamber. He found Robbie with one of the maids and felt badly pulling the lad away when it seemed the younger man was making headway with the lass. Robbie gave the young woman a kiss that reminded Ric of the all-too-brief ones he shared with Isa. He was determined to find her before he left, if for no other reason than to say goodbye. He knew there was just as much chance, if not more, that he would die as there was a chance that he would return. He did not know the men he would travel with, and he was yet to meet the king’s godsons. He was not naïve enough to believe that simply because King Robert sent him along, he would merit the aid and loyalty of the other Scots.

  He and Robbie packed quickly, and both fell into a deep sleep with barely a word uttered once they extinguished the candles. Images of dancing with Isa and strolling through the gardens—with spring blooms offering them privacy as she regaled him with more of the knowledge she acquired during her years of studying history—filled his Ric’s dreams. He could feel her in his arms as he slept, his mind progressing to images of stripping her bare, laying her down on the very bed in which he slept, and making love to her over and over.

 
Ric had not had such vivid dreams of a woman since he was enamored with Bella, and he realized now those dreams had all been physical. There had never been the prelude of seeking out Bella’s company simply to be in her presence; he had never been fascinated by what she had to say. Bella had flattered his ego, but he understood now that he focused his attention on how she made him feel acceptable to his peers, not any genuine emotions of affection between them.

  He felt a combination of emotions toward Isa, and they ranged from the merely friendly to the need to join his body with hers and claim her as his own. He awoke well before the sun was even considering making an appearance. He felt restless and aroused; neither feeling would dissipate by laying in a half-empty bed wishing he was tangled in the sheets with Isa. He had already informed Robbie that he would look for Isa before they departed, so he slipped from the bed while his squire snored softly on the trundle. He dressed in the dark and found a sprig of mint to chew on as he slipped from the chamber.

  He found his way to the scriptorium and slipped inside just as he had done the night he discovered Isa within. This time he was sure he was alone. She had not arrived yet, and Ric prayed that she would come soon. He stood beside a window watching as the twinkling stars faded away, but the sun had not yet peeked over the horizon. He felt calm, which surprised him. He did not think he would feel this settled while waiting for Isa, and he almost never felt this way before riding off to the next battle.

  Ric was lost in thought as the sky welcomed splashes of pink and purple amid the yellow glow of the awakening sun. He heard the door click and the pause before it shut.

  “Ric?”

  Isa could not believe Ric stood alone in her sanctuary. While he had joined her there many other times, she had not expected to find anyone there, especially not Ric. He cast a handsome figure leaning against the window embrasure. His surcoat gleamed as light softly filtered through the glass. His dark hair and impressive physique gave him an air of danger, but Isa confessed to herself that she had only ever felt safe in his presence.