A Spy at the Highland Court

by Barclay, Celeste

“These are heavier than the others. They’re galloping, but my guess is they heard us rather than saw us. They’re racing to give their report. They assume they’ve covered their tracks.”

  “I’ll ride ahead. Stay far enough back that if it’s an ambush, you’re not caught,” Ric’s words were not a suggestion, but several heads shook. “How are we going to catch them without alerting them? There are forty horsemen with us. Forty charging horses make quite a lot of noise.”

  Everyone knew Ric’s observation was an understatement, but none of the other leaders were in agreement with Ric’s plan.

  “Ten of us ride ahead. I doubt their scouting party is any larger than that, so we will have to ride hard to catch them before they can rejoin the rest of their men. By the time we’re done chatting with them, our own men will have caught up,” Tavish reasoned.

  “And if it’s an ambush, I’ll be leading the king’s brother right to his death,” Ric’s mouth firmed into a thin line.

  “You speak as though I’ve haven’t spent the past fifteen years of my life fighting. I suspect it will be saving your arse rather than the other way around.” Edward Bruce’s temper flared at the unintended insult.

  Magnus mounted his horse and spurred it forward before tossing over his shoulder, “While ye squabble, they’re gaining more of a lead. Follow if ye wish, but I ride on.”

  Tavish was quick to join his brother, leaving Ric, Edward, and Malcolm little choice but to follow. Malcolm called orders for his men to follow at a slower pace, then pulled ahead as the only one familiar with the land. It did not take them long to spot riders in the distance. They could tell the other men rode at a breakneck pace, and it would be difficult to overtake them.

  “There is a faster way if we head to the left and follow a riverbed. The meadow wraps further ahead, and the riverbed follows it. We can cross it and be waiting for them.” Malcolm steered the sortie party as they charged through the meadow that stood between them and their detour.

  It was only fifteen minutes later that Ric and the others sat facing the approaching riders. They stood within a cluster of trees that grew along the riverbank. Magnus and Tavish had brought their bows and arrows. The first man to approach received Tavish’s arrow to his thigh. His horse bucked, sending him flying to the ground. The seven other men looked toward the trees, trying to discern where the attack was coming from. Magnus and Tavish unleashed a volley of arrows that landed near the horses’ hooves, agitating them and nearly unseating several more of the Englishmen. As they attempted to regain control of their mounts, Ric and the others surrounded the men. The surprise arrival of more horses only made the English ones nearly unmanageable. The Scots laughed as they waited for the horse to settle enough to begin their interrogation.

  “Your surcoat insignia shows you are Lord Graystone’s men. I take it Lord Hargate doesn’t travel alone.”

  The men looked at one another, but none spoke. Magnus and Tavish both drew dirks, and Edward and Malcom followed suit. Ric crossed his arms over his pummel and leaned forward as though he would strike up a conversation with a friend.

  “I already know that Hargate has been tasked with attacking the MacLellans. What I would like to know is whether Graystone travels with Hargate or if King Edward doesn’t trust Hargate to get the job done and has sent Graystone to finish the task.” Ric looked at each of the men before looking at the Scots. “String them up and cut off their bollocks. Perhaps their screams will bring their compatriots to investigate. They may even be cut down before they bleed to death.”

  Ric sat up and appeared to be ready to turn his horse, but one of the men spoke up.

  “I’d rather keep my twig and berries just as they are.” The whiny voice brought a smile to more than one Scottish mouth. “Hargate and Graystone ride together. Hargate sought Graystone’s assistance when he discovered you were on the way to the MacLellans. We already know of Lord Wingate’s defeat and disgrace.”

  Ric wanted to rail against the notion that Wingate was disgraced, but he knew the English would not see it any other way. Instead, he sat and waited along with the Scots. None of them would speak first, each having been taught to wait out silence until someone else was too uncomfortable and had to fill the void. They were not disappointed.

  “Hargate couldn’t raise enough men because most of his knights have already served their forty days, even though the new year is still young. He had to ask Graystone because King Edward didn’t send any other knights or foot soldiers.” The whiny man continued to speak as his terrified eyes darted around the group. “We’re merely scouts.”

  “Scouts who intend to return to your barons and inform them of your findings. Findings I would very much like to know about.” Edward Bruce spoke up.

  “We found the tracks of your army that marched to the MacLellans. The size of the force, along with what we know of the MacLellans, made us turn around.”

  “And just what does that mean?” Edward continued to press.

  “It means you are prepared to put up a mighty fight.”

  “Ye said Hargate could nae raise all forty knights. Assuming Graystone did, that would still be less than eighty mounted warriors. How many foot soldiers have they?” Tavish cut in.

  “Between the two, just over a hundred and fifty.”

  The Scots looked at one another, and Ric tried to gauge the unspoken messages that seemed to flow easily among the four men. Tavish broke the silence when he nudged his horse forward and grabbed the man closest to him by the front of the man’s surcoat. His fist landed squarely against the man’s cheekbone, and the crack was audible. Magnus followed suit, driving his fist in a nearby man’s nose. When Magnus pulled away, the nose was clearly twisted halfway across the man’s cheek.

  “Do any of you need convincing to send a message back to the barons?” Malcolm asked.

  Collectively the men shook their heads. Between Magnus and Tavish’s punches and the dirks the four Scots continued to hold, none of them were interested in tempting further violence.

  “Tell your lords that if they persist in their attack, they will find themselves outnumbered.” Malcolm declared. “Not only do the MacLellans possess more men than you’ve described, we are now joined with King Robert’s forces. There is no chance that they will be allowed to leave with dignity like Hage allowed Wingate. We will slaughter each and every man who steps foot on my land and deliver your entrails to your king.” Malcolm held his knife up, catching the sunlight that shone against the razor-sharp blade. “Did you know that a knife thrust upwards behind the sternum will kill a man even faster than a sword through the belly? Interesting notion.”

  The malevolent grin he offered the English men had them nodding. The circle opened for them as they spun around. Just before they were out of range, Malcolm flung his knife, catching one of the Englishmen in the neck. The man tumbled from his horse, dead before his body landed.

  “Just to reinforce the message,” Malcolm smirked.

  Once they reunited with the larger group, Malcolm and Edward tasked men with extra patrols and scouting. Ric was deep in thought about Isa when Magnus’s voice finally broke through.

  “So what next?” Magnus asked.

  “One of two things. English pride is not so different from Scottish pride, and it will be pricked. An attack will come within the next two days. If that doesn’t happen, they will try to wait us out, capturing or attacking our party when we leave for Stirling.”

  “And which do ye think is more likely?” Tavish inquired.

  “It all depends on how those men present the news. If they try to save their arses and don’t relay the message exactly, then it will be a waiting game. If they are accurate, then Graystone’s and Hargate’s tempers will get the better of them. Both men posture and present themselves as far superior warriors than they are. Not only will they want to defend their pride against us, but it will make them want to prove themselves to each other. We wait and see.”

  Ric rued his words when the next fort
night passed at a remarkably slow pace. His mind drifted constantly to Isa and whether she would still feel the same way about him after so much time apart. He feared she would reflect upon their actions and decide she had made the wrong choice in becoming involved with him. He wished he had some method of sending her a message, but sending anyone out was too great a risk. He lay awake in bed listening to Robbie snore, wishing he was sharing his chamber with Isa. His cock would harden as he remembered the feel of her warm, supple body against his. He had not realized how much he enjoyed her height, not having to bend to kiss her, their bodies aligning perfectly when he pulled her against him. When he did sleep, his dreams were even more vivid. He awoke frustrated and irritable. It was only during his baths that he could ease the tension. He sent Robbie on an errand after the squire filled his tub, then he allowed himself to soak in the warm water as his hand acted as a poor substitute for what he knew Isa could offer.

  As they moved into the third week of confinement at the MacLellan keep, scouts returned with news that the English force chose to return to the east. According to the scouts, the army began to move east when much of their camp washed away as the banks of the river upon which they camped swelled. The rushing water from the beginning of the spring thaw left the English with diminished food and shelter. The weather was still unpredictable enough to make living outdoors without adequate shelter life threatening. Without enough food, the two barons faced men deserting.

  The Scots remained another four days to ensure the English were not moving on as a decoy for an intended attack. When another three patrols reported them continuing to move east, eventually crossing the border back into England, Ric and the others decided it was time to return to Stirling Castle. Ric had never been more relieved to return to a royal court than when they rode out of the MacLellan keep.

  Chapter Twelve

  Isa felt listless and unsettled as the days slowed into weeks of waiting. She discovered even her research and luminations no longer held the same fascination when she could not cease wondering how Ric fared. She thought of him throughout the day, finding things that reminded her of him despite only having known each other for a short time. She performed her duties as a lady-in-waiting, but she was more reserved, even withdrawn, than usual. Her only comfort came from her time spent with the Sinclair women and Elizabeth Bruce. In the beginning, she feared the women would shun her after her less-than-noble comments about Deirdre and Magnus, but a sincere apology remedied the past. Then she feared they would believe she was an interloper who did not belong with their family, especially after making her attraction to an English knight so obvious. In her own mind, she considered Ric to be Scottish, but she also knew not everyone shared that sentiment. She heard it at every meal and often when the other ladies whispered about her behind their hands or fans. If Deirdre, Elizabeth, and Ceit had not taken her under their wings, she was not sure how she would have endured without slipping into despondency.

  Isa tried to reason with herself that her extreme shift in mood was unreasonable for how briefly she had known Ric, but try as she might, her mind could not convince her heart to cease feeling Ric’s absence everywhere she went.

  As time dragged on, she wondered if she was equipped to be a warrior’s wife. She was not convinced that she could be as brave as the other ladies if she had to watch Ric routinely ride out to battle. She questioned whether she would make a suitable wife for a man like Ric, and while she wanted to believe she would, she doubted herself. She did not want to fail him, but she also could not imagine finding a man she desired more for a husband. The conflict waged on in her mind as she attempted to research the standing stones left across Scotland and northern England. She still found the information fascinating, but she caught herself wishing she could share her discoveries with Ric. It soured the time spent in the scriptorium and castle library and only made her feel more isolated. It was moments like that when she sought out the company of the other women.

  “Isa, what did you write about today?” Deirdre asked as she looked up from her own parchment and quill. Isa had not realized how much she missed being in the presence of the only two other women who were as enraptured by ancient texts as she was. She had never been great friends with Deirdre or Elizabeth, but she had shared the scriptorium and the library with them many times. It was now lonely without them there.

  “I have found accounts from the Romans of the standing stones near Carlisle, and I am attempting to reproduce the designs using only the Romans’ written descriptions. I have to admit that my Latin is not serving me as well as I need.”

  Deidre came to stand next to her, and Isa pointed to the lines she was attempting to translate and then recreate as an image.

  “Lapidibus instar gigantum pertingat ad caelum ferre. Titanas venias maris magni stare inter arbores.” Deirdre read aloud. “The stones bear a resemblance to giants reaching toward the heavens. The great titans of the seas come to stand among men and trees.”

  “The Romans could certainly be poetic, even when conquering all of known civilization,” Elizabeth chimed in.

  Deirdre squinted as she mouthed the next lines before reading them aloud.

  “Runs in similibus arcubus noctem stellas caeli movent. Helices infra lunam egestas ornare petra vultus amo. The swirls and arcs resemble the stars as they move through the night sky. Spirals decorate the rock faces like women dancing beneath the moon.”

  “Quite poetic but I haven’t a clue how to draw any of that,” Isa grumbled as she ran her finger along the grooves between her brows. “I can’t know what direction these—”

  Ceit burst through the doorway, interrupting Isa, with flushed cheeks and a wide smile.

  “They’re home! The guards have spotted them. They’ll be within the walls in less than half an hour.” Ceit spun toward the door before pausing and looking back. “The guards counted all four of them on horseback!”

  Parchment and books forgotten, Elizabeth, Isa, and Deidre followed Ceit out of the library. The four women wound through the passageways until they reached the enormous double doors that led to the bailey. They stood with their arms wrapped around each other’s waists as they waited for the riders to approach the portcullis. The clatter of horse hooves and bridles along with the scores of foot soldiers following the horses was nearly deafening, but Isa was not distracted from watching Ric ride through the gate. His gaze found hers the moment she became visible to him, and the smile that brightened his exhausted face made her heart thud painfully against her ribs. She caught herself before she lurched forward, refusing to make another scene like when the men departed. As the men reined in and began to dismount, the wives ran to greet their husbands, but Isa was unsure of her role as neither a wife nor a formally betrothed woman. She twirled the ring that she wore on her thumb. She had only taken it off to bathe, and that was only because it slipped off her wet hand. She waited nervously for some type of cue.

  Ric watched as Isa stood upon the bailey steps, and he could read the uncertainty in her eyes. She looked as though she wanted to step forward, but she remained in place. When his horse came to a stop, Ric dismounted in a hurry and threw the reins to Robbie. He was across the bailey and standing at the bottom of the steps in what felt like only a handful of paces. He looked up at Isa, waiting for her to decide on how they would reunite. When she swayed but did not step forward, Ric turned his palms to her and raised his arms toward his hips. It was the invitation Isa sought. She flew down the steps, leaping into Ric’s arms, never doubting he would catch her. She buried her nose in the crook of his neck and absorbed the heat and strength that radiated from him. They stood silently clinging to one another as the scores of men and horses carried on around them. They were blind to the people continuing their daily chores as they moved about the bailey. Isa and Ric only had thoughts for one another.

  Isa ran her hands over his head and shoulders as if checking that he had returned in one piece while Ric’s hands itched to cup her backside and carry her off to th
e nearest flat surface where he could make love to her. He knew none of that fantasy was possible, so he reveled in the feel of her pressed against him, holding on just as tightly as he did.

  “I’m hale, Isa. I’m back in one piece, with nary a scratch to tell the tale,” Ric whispered against her hair.

  “Thank Michael and all the angels. God’s greatest knight watched over you and returned you to m—here.” Isa caught herself before she presumed too much. Despite being in Ric’s arms, she was not sure what his thoughts were after being apart for so long.

  “I returned to you, Isa. Don’t doubt that.” Ric lowered her to her feet but cupped her jaw as he lowered his mouth to hers. Before brushing his lips against hers, he inhaled her fresh scent of heather and honeysuckle. “I’m going to kiss you, Isa.”

  And with that pronouncement, Ric fused his lips to Isa’s, and she returned his ardor with her own. She fisted his surcoat as she pulled him against her lithe frame, then slid her hands up to his shoulders before tangling her fingers in his hair. The kiss was one that rivaled the ones the other ladies shared with their husbands.

  “I see you have returned. And not a moment too soon,” Robert’s voice once more boomed entirely too close to Ric and Isa.

  The couple pulled apart, and Ric did not miss the Bruce watching them from the corner of his eye, though his attention appeared to be directed toward his army. Ric kept one arm wrapped around Isa as he tucked her against his side. He could not bear the idea of not being in contact with her after dreaming of her the entire time they were apart.

  “I’m going to ask the king to notify your father that I intend to ask for your hand.” Ric’s warm breath tickled Isa’s ear as she attempted to look as though she was listening to the king.

  “Are you certain? Do you not want to spend more time getting to know one another?” Isa bit her bottom lip as she prepared herself for Ric’s answer. She would offer him the opportunity to retract his offer.