He reviewed the contract in front of him once more, the one that would deed Berwick to Ross. Only this time, Ewan had a plan.
A gentle knock sounded at the door.
He bade his guest enter and stood as Cait stepped in. “Thank ye for coming.” He bowed to her.
“Ye need no’ put on airs for me.” She waved her hand at him dismissively.
He indicated she have a seat while he came around his desk. “Ross claims to want a bit of land we own between the English and Scottish border. Do ye know why?”
She glanced down at the parchment, and her eyes flicked over the agreement, then rolled heavenward. “Ach, he’d be still after Berwick.” She sighed. “’Twas Ross land several ages ago but was taken from them by the English. ’Twas a sore spot for years that they were so soundly defeated, and they resolved to get it back. Except the English had fortified it so well, it wasna possible. Until Lady Isolde.”
“Lady Isolde?” Ewan sank into his chair.
“Aye, the land was part of her dowry,” Cait said. “But rather than wed a member of the Ross clan as she was supposed to, the Chieftain of the Sutherland clan swept her off her feet, killed the Ross clansman she was meant to wed and took the land for himself.” She shrugged. “It happened far before my time, but we’ve been fighting since, and my da has wanted the land back for as long as I can remember. As every chieftain before him has.”
Bits of the tale was familiar to Ewan from his own boyhood. But then, it had been Ragnall who would have been told the full details in his training to become chieftain.
Ewan framed his hand over the document and tapped it with his fingertips. “I dinna want to give this land to Ross. I’d prefer to deed it to yer eldest son, Drake.”
“It will anger Ross.” Cait’s brows furrowed, and a small line appeared on the skin between them, the same as Faye when she was in deep concentration.
“But it willna breach the marriage contract I signed with Ross the night I wed Faye.”
Cait’s mouth curled up at the edges. “Nay, it willna.”
“Then, it will be done.” Ewan pulled the stones from the corners and let the parchment roll up. But he hesitated to send Cait on her way.
He cleared his throat. “I want ye to know, I dinna have any part in forcing Faye to marry me.”
“I know.” Cait cast him a sympathetic look. “I spoke with her this morn while we were breaking our fast.” She leaned forward in her seat and put a slender hand on his forearm. “Faye told me how ye tried to help her. Thank ye for that.”
Ewan simply nodded in acknowledgement. After all, his efforts hadn’t been helpful.
Cait released him and drew her arm back. “Why did she agree to her grandda’s wishes?”
“I take it she dinna tell ye?” Ewan secured the rolled parchment with a string and placed it into the drawer at his side.
Cait shook her head. “Nay. And she’s no’ ever been one to desire marriage, so ye understand my confusion.”
Ewan remembered how Faye had stood proudly at his side when they met her family as if she were a woman who had wanted to wed rather than a captive forced into marriage. No doubt, she did not want her sisters to know she had done so to save them. “If she wishes to tell ye, she will,” he replied.
She smiled. “Aye, I’m sure.”
The fire crackling in the hearth filled the gap of silence while Ewan warred with indecision on whether to tell Cait about the option he’d presented to Faye. Her mother would most likely ensure Faye genuinely considered the choice. Regardless of what Faye decided, he wanted to ensure it was one she had thought through.
He tapped a finger on the glossy surface of his desk. “Did she mention anything else to ye this morn?”
Cait lifted her chin. “Do ye mean how ye have given her the option to come home with us and return once a year to ye?”
Ewan tensed, unsure if he was relieved Faye had shared the information with her mother, or fearful. “Aye. She’s no’ happy here. I dinna realize how much until I saw her with all of ye.”
Cait glanced at her lap. “Faye doesna share her thoughts readily.” She spoke slowly, as though considering her words before speaking. “I dinna know if ye remember her as a lass, but she wasna always this way. When my husband died, it was difficult for us all. But when our neighbors turned on us, that was what hurt Faye the most. It wasna her da’s death that changed her; it was the people’s betrayal.”
Ewan settled back in his chair. It made sense how she had tried to keep him at arm’s length, how she was so slow to share parts of herself. How she turned to lust and pleasure rather than conversations about who she was and what she wanted.
Cait got to her feet. “If ye asked if I knew about yer proposal to Faye in the hope I would sway her decision, I’ll tell ye ’tis a waste of time. The lass is too stubborn to be moved whatever way she doesn’t want to go.”
Ewan quickly stood as well, and Cait regarded him affectionately. “But if I had a choice myself, I would want her to stay here,” she said.
“Ye would?”
“She has happiness at Castleton, but it’s precarious,” Cait replied. “Here, I believe she can have happiness, security and love. She’s lucky to have a man such as ye in her life.” She inclined her head and swept from the solar, quietly closing the door behind her.
Ewan lowered himself to his chair and studied the closed door as Cait’s words played through his mind, warring once more with the indecision of what Faye would choose. And how it would impact both their lives.
Only time would tell.
15
The sun bathed over Faye’s face as her thoughts flitted once more to Ewan. In the distance, Kinsey fired arrows into the tree as Clara offered advice on her aim. Mayhap Faye ought to be listening to the instruction as well, but it was too difficult to do when the choice he’d given her weighed on her mind so heavily.
It should have been an easy decision to make. After all, she’d had no choice in coming to the Highlands. But every time she recalled her small bed at the manor in Castleton, tucked in the corner of a room she shared with her sisters, her chest rang with hollowness.
Mayhap she’d gotten too used to Ewan’s arms around her, his warmth drawing her into the cradle of sleep, his scent all around her, familiar and comfortable. She’d begun to enjoy how he always asked what she liked and what she wanted and waited with genuine interest in the answer. She knew all the things he enjoyed too and delighted in doing them, relishing in his pleasure.
He was a man of honor and character, who handled his people with genuine care, a man whose smile made her heart stagger. Fie! It was too many things to list at once.
An arrow flashed across the meadow and sank into the grass next to Faye.
She jerked away from it and glared at Kinsey, who stood fifty paces away with her hand on her hip and a smirk on her lips. “I said it was yer turn.”
“Ye could have hit me.” Faye pushed up to her feet.
Kinsey rolled her eyes. “I assure ye, I wouldn’t have.”
Faye regarded her sister with suspicion. While Kinsey was good with the bow, her confidence was oftentimes overinflated, resulting in the occasionally missed target. Not often, but it still happened. Faye would prefer she not become the first victim of a wayward arrow.
The clearing was surrounded by forest with enough trees nearby to practice their skills to their heart's content. They were just outside the castle, but it was nice to be away for a bit, a chance to breathe without the weight of her decision squeezing at Faye.
So long as her youngest sister didn’t kill her first.
“Kinsey, that wasn’t kind of ye.” Clara strode toward them, the daggers in the bag at her side clinking. “Although ye are quite skilled.”
“Aye, I am.” Kinsey pulled her bow off her back and plucked an arrow from where several thrust up from the ground in front of her. She pulled it back with her bow, lining up her site, and released the arrow. It flew towards the tree and sailed pas
sed it. A miss. Several inches from her target.
“That could have been me,” Faye exclaimed.
Kinsey turned to her with a grimace. “But it wasn’t. And that’s really what matters.”
“Oh, Kinsey.” Clara touched her fingertips to her forehead and closed her eyes.
Kinsey extended the bow toward Faye. “Ye do better.”
“Ye know I’m not as good as ye.” Faye sighed and accepted the weapon.
“Mayhap I need to feel better about myself now.” Kinsey grinned at her.
Months ago, this would have made Faye irate, but now, she couldn’t help but laugh at Kinsey’s bravado. How much Faye had missed her youngest sister! Even her overconfident impulsiveness and assertive demeanor. Kinsey burned brighter with life than any of them, and it warmed Faye to her very soul.
Faye pulled one of the arrows from the ground and readied her weapon. The bow had never been her weapon of choice. She had always preferred a hidden dagger and her own wits. But Kinsey knew that. They all were familiar with one another’s strengths.
And weaknesses.
As anticipated, Faye’s arrow went wide, flying past the tree and into a distant stream. Kinsey crowed in delight.
Faye propped her hand on her hip. “My lack of skill doesn’t mean that ye still wouldn’t have shot me.”
Kinsey pointed at her with a wide smile. “But, I didn’t.” She shifted her focus to Clara. “I think we’re both ready to be put to shame.”
Clara flushed. “That truly isn’t necessary. I’ve already done some practicing today.”
“Ye know Drake tells us we have to practice often to ensure our skills stay strong,” Kinsey argued.
“Doesn’t he?” Kinsey pressed when Clara did not acquiesce.
She was always trying to encourage their sister to become a mercenary. The idea was laughable. Especially when Clara was such a gentle soul.
Faye felt compelled to come to Clara’s aid. “She’s already done enough. I think even Drake would be satisfied with the amount of time she’s spent throwing her daggers.”
Clara shot Faye a grateful smile.
“Have ye made yer decision about coming home with us?” Kinsey lifted her brows.
Faye’s mouth fell open. “Don’t turn this to me.”
“I’ll do it,” Clara said quickly as she untied the bag of daggers from her belt. “Though I confess, ’tis hard to practice something I don’t think I could ever do to another person.”
Ever the obedient one, she still drew back the daggers one at a time and released them into the tree. They stuck neatly in a cluster in the dead center of the trunk.
Kinsey whooped with pride and threw her arm around Clara. “Ye’re a wonder, do ye know that?”
Clara’s blush deepened.
“But have ye made a decision yet?” Kinsey asked.
This time both of them looked at Faye in expectation.
“Ye should come home,” Kinsey said definitively.
Faye chewed her lower lip. The decision was not simply made. In the time she took to mull over her options, she’d tried to pull back from Ewan in the hopes that if she did choose Castleton, she wouldn’t miss him. At least not as much.
“Kinsey, will ye collect the arrows for another round?” Clara asked. “I think I may try my hand at archery again.”
The grin returned to Kinsey’s face, and she darted off to eagerly gather the fallen arrows.
“Ye hate archery,” Faye said.
Clara offered a helpless laugh. “I do, but I knew this would give us a few moments of privacy.” The wind picked up and blew at her dark hair, lifting the loose tendrils. “We’ll always love ye no matter where ye live. And we’ll always find ways to visit.”
Faye’s breath quickened. “What do ye mean?”
“I mean, if ye want to stay here with yer husband, then we would support yer decision.” Clara lowered her head and looked tentatively at Faye, the way she did when she had something blunt to say.
Trepidation crawled up Faye’s spine. “What is it?”
“Ye need to make a decision. Ye canna keep pushing the answer off.” Clara’s brows pursed with sadness. “’Tis cruel.”
“Cruel?” Faye echoed.
“I have them all,” Kinsey cried out victoriously in the distance. “Ready yer bow.”
“Yer husband greatly cares for ye.” Clara glanced to where Kinsey was racing back to them with shafts of arrows jutting out from both hands. “Don’t let yer stubbornness and fear of love ruin something good.”
Her words were a barb in Faye’s chest. And given the apologetic look on Clara’s face, she knew it. Which was all the more reason why what she said had such an impact.
Faye nodded in understanding and realized she’d known the answer the whole time.
Kinsey stopped abruptly before she reached them and put a hand up to shield the sun from her eyes, and she looked to the east. “There’s a rider approaching.”
Faye and Clara both searched and in the direction of Kinsey’s stare. Indeed, a lone rider raced toward them on a black horse.
There was only one person she knew who rode a horse with a back that straight, who looked that regal despite a poor upbringing. Before she could stop herself, she was running toward him.
After several days’ delay, Drake had finally arrived.
Ewan was in the Great Hall when shrieks of excitement echoed outside the large doors. Monroe, who had been in the middle of relaying the current farming status of one of the nearby villages, stopped speaking and glanced toward the sound.
“’Tis only the sisters,” Ewan explained.
In the last few days, he’d gotten used to the giggles and squeals between the ladies. It warmed his heart as much as it cut him deep. For Faye still had not given him an answer.
What was worse, she was pulling away from him. The quiet moments between them were once more filled with wild passion, where pleasure was sought rather than companionship. She still slept in his chamber with him, but she was gone every morning before he woke.
He was no fool. He knew well why she was taking so long to give him her reply. She was planning to leave.
It eased the pain in his chest to know that in doing so, she would once more find happiness.
After all, she would leave, aye, but she would be back in the summer. And in the days between, he would devote himself to his people as he always had.
The clatter of footsteps echoed off the high stone walls. Three ladies raced into the large room with a tall man between them. He had the same dark hair as the middle sister, Clara, with the same straight nose and generous mouth as the others.
Drake.
Tension wound up the muscles along Ewan’s back. He ought to be relieved as he knew he could now present Drake with the Berwick. Except that he suspected Faye was waiting for her brother’s arrival to give Ewan her reply.
Unbidden, Ewan’s gaze found his wife. Her blue kirtle was the same one she’d worn to his uncle’s wedding, and it fit her body so perfectly, it made him want to span his hands over her narrow waist and draw her to him. Sun had kissed her cheeks and lips, leaving them with a lovely glow, and her eyes danced with laughter. She was vibrant and bonny, so much that it made his heart ache.
He approached them and looked at the man. “I assume this is yer brother?”
“Aye.” Faye grinned. “This is Drake. The eldest.”
Where his sisters were all laughter and bright sunshine, Drake’s face was set with seriousness. “Drake Fletcher.” He nodded to Ewan politely.
“Ewan Sutherland, Chieftain of the Sutherland clan.”
“Well met, sir,” Drake replied with a soldier’s obedience.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ewan caught Moiré entering the Great Hall. She glanced shyly toward the sisters and hovered near the sidewall, appearing ill at ease among the lot of women.
Their arrival had put Moiré off somewhat, but then his cousin had always been somewhat reticent. Especially when it c
ame to other women. Faye had been considerate to Ewan’s cousin, though, and often made time to spend with Moiré.
“I hear ye’re Captain of the Guard at Werrick Castle on the English side of the border,” Ewan said.
Drake’s chest filled with apparent pride. “Aye, I’ve been fortunate to be in such a secure position.”
“I also hear ye’re a fine warrior.”
“I try, sir,” Drake said earnestly.
It was a curious thing to compare this man with his jubilant sisters. But then, from what Ewan had gathered in his conversations with Faye’s family, Drake had been their primary provider. Responsibility tempered a man’s senses and put his mind to task.
Such men also did not have the liberty to spend large amounts of time away from their duties.
“I presume ye must return to Werrick Castle posthaste,” Ewan surmised.
“Aye.”
Exactly as Ewan had anticipated. He would need to address the land with Drake immediately.
“I should like to speak with ye once ye’ve settled,” Ewan said. “Faye can show ye to yer room. I’ll be in my solar.”
Faye’s eyes met Ewan’s, and she nodded. But her gaze lingered. A jolt of energy raced through him. Was she considering him with interest? Or out of concern?
He roughly shoved aside the thoughts. He’d spent days analyzing every look, every smile, every damn word. It made his brain ache with how much he tried to determine what her decision might be.
Faye waved over Moiré and introduced Drake. It was the perfect opportunity for Ewan to depart. He could not be near Faye without imagining her soon gone. No sweet smiles in his direction, a cold side of the bed where she once lay tucked in his arms, the absence of her floral scent in the air of his chamber.
He would miss everything, and each little reminder tore at his chest.
It was maddening, this inability to stay away even as it hurt too much to be near her.
He was not in his solar long before a knock came from the door, so efficient and crisp that he knew it would be Drake before the man appeared.
Faye’s brother stepped into the room; his footsteps clipped. He didn’t gaze around Ewan’s solar as most did. But then, the few bits of furniture and simple tapestries were hardly impressive to a man who came from an English castle, which was rumored to be far more ostentatious.
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