The Renegade (Rebel Hearts, #1)

by Baldwin, Lily

  Would she ever look at him that way?

  Stiffening in his seat, he shook the thought from his head and reminded himself why he had agreed to her plan in the first place. He was after the Brodie chiefdom, not her heart.

  Forcing his gaze away from her elegant beauty, he turned his attention to the dancers. Temperance skipped close to their table. Her laughter rang out while she kicked up her heels. Her cheeks were flushed. She emanated joy. The sight made his chest tighten. Reaching for his ale, he downed the lot.

  “Ye ken what I can’t understand?” Caleb said suddenly in a low voice at his side.

  Nathan set his empty tankard down and waited for Caleb to continue.

  “What we’re doing here.”

  Nathan met Caleb’s keen blue eyes. “I’m marrying Elora so that I can be laird.”

  Caleb gave him an appraising look. “For years, I have ridden with ye. Never once have ye sought advancement of this kind. In fact, do ye remember when we tracked down that blackguard who stole Baron Clifford’s prize horse? Do ye remember his offer?”

  Nathan scratched at his chin. “Aye, that was last spring, and if I remember correctly, he paid us one-hundred silver pieces for the job.”

  “Two-hundred, actually, but only after he offered ye land and a title.”

  Nathan shrugged. “What good does an English title and land do me?”

  Caleb threw his hands up. “Plenty!”

  “I am a Highlander, not some border lord. But now I have a chance to be laird. Most men wouldn’t question my interest. What if ye had the same offer? Would ye turn down a chiefdom?”

  “Aye,” Caleb said simply. “I would.”

  Nathan lifted his shoulders. “’Tis fortuitous then that ‘tis I who have been given this opportunity.”

  Caleb rubbed the back of his neck. “I just...I just think ye’re chasing ghosts.”

  Nathan waved away his friend’s concern. “This is no different than any other job, except the prize, which is beyond compare. And ye shall profit also, my friend.”

  Caleb expelled a slow breath, then lifted his shoulders in surrender. “If this is what ye want, then ye and I both know that eventually she will have to wed. Just be sure ‘tis ye she chooses in the end.”

  Just then, Temperance rushed up to the table, her brow drawn with concern. “Where is Elora?”

  Tension flooded Nathan’s shoulders as he looked into Temperance’s worried face. “She is speaking with Hamish,” he said gently.

  A look of relief washed over her. “When I noticed her empty chair, I grew nervous.” She glanced over at Elora and, once more, a smile lit up her face. Her worry forgotten, she turned back to Nathan. “Come and dance!”

  “Not right now, but thank ye,” he replied.

  “I hope ye’re not waiting for Elora to join in. She never dances.”

  Nathan sat back in his chair. “Another thing she and I have in common.” Then he gestured to Caleb. “But my friend here lives for a good dance.”

  Temperance’s eyes lit up. “Come on then, Caleb!”

  Caleb sat unmoving.

  “Please!” Temperance said, batting her lovely blue eyes.

  Slowly Caleb stood. “Ye owe me,” he said in a low voice to Nathan before he walked the length of the high dais and met Temperance at the foot of the stairs. She seized his hand and pulled him into a reel.

  Nathan claimed his friend’s full tankard and raised it high. “’Tis good for ye, ye unsociable bugger!” His laughter trailed off. He was alone at the high table. A hollowness settled in his chest as he watched the surrounding gaiety. Caleb and Temperance danced past, and Temperance waved at him, her smile shining brightly.

  A mirthless laugh fled his lips before he took a long draught of ale. Caleb had been wrong. He wasn’t chasing ghosts. It was the other way around.

  Ghosts were after him.

  “I wish to retire.”

  He had not noticed Elora’s return. Shifting in his seat, he looked up, meeting her clear blue gaze.

  “So soon? ‘Tis our wedding feast after all.”

  “Betrothal feast,” she corrected him.

  He stood up. “Am I to escort ye to yer chamber?”

  She nodded, her face impassive.

  He finished his ale and offered her his arm. “Good. Now I will know where yer chamber is.”

  Her stony expression remained unchanged.

  “’Twas a jest,” he added. “Do we need to announce our departure?”

  She placed her hand on his arm. “I have already spoken with Murray and Declan. I wish to slip away and let the celebration continue.”

  Together, they retreated to the back of the high dais and behind the screen, which hid the passage to the family rooms.

  When they were alone in the hallway, he asked the question weighing most on his mind. “What will ye do when Lent is over? Laird Mackintosh will return when he doesn’t receive a wedding invitation.”

  She raised her chin higher. “Ye needn’t concern yerself.”

  He guessed by her answer that she had no ready solution. “’Tis a fortnight from now. I’m sure ye’ll think of something by then.”

  “Given yer taste for indulgence, I’m surprised ye know the dates of the Lenten season.” She looked pointedly at the tankard of ale still gripped in his other hand. “I assume ye’ve not given anything up.”

  He raised a brow at her haughty tone. “I was going to refrain from the company of uptight noblewomen, but I decided to make an exception for ye.”

  She stiffened at his side. Then she turned to face him. Her nostrils flared, but it was not anger he glimpsed in her eyes. He’d hurt her.

  Before she could voice her displeasure, he drew close and cupped her cheek. “I didn’t mean that. Forgive me.”

  She swallowed hard, and an instant later, he could see her composure return. “I was also in the wrong. I should not have criticized ye.” She started forward again. They ascended the large stairwell. “’Tis imperative that we, at least, in appearance think well of each other.” She gave him a pointed look when they reached the landing. “Especially now that ye’ve declared to all the world that we’re in love.”

  A smile spread slowly across his face. “I was trying to help. Forgive me for saying so, but ye seemed unprepared to answer some of his questions.”

  She lifted her shoulders. “I was. I hatched this scheme, quite honestly, out of desperation not even a month ago. Only Declan, Murray, and Temperance know the truth. It probably won’t surprise ye to know that neither of the men approved at first.” Her face lightened as she continued, “but they both took me aside just now and told me that my plan was going well. I’ve no doubt yer quick thinking earlier with Egan has fueled their sudden confidence.”

  He smiled at her praise. “We make a fine team, I think.”

  She neither agreed nor disagreed with him, but she held his gaze. And, for a moment, her countenance was easy as if she might be conversing with an old friend and not a scoundrel she’d hired for a job.

  “Come along,” she said, her voice kind. “We are almost to my chamber.”

  They walked in comfortable silence. When she stopped in front of a door, he took in his surroundings to ensure he remembered which chamber was hers. Then he bowed to her.

  “Goodnight, my lady,” he said softly before opening the door for her.

  She entered and turned to face him and held his gaze. Her expression was still guarded, but her features were soft. “Goodnight, Nathan.”

  She slowly closed the door.

  He reached out and flattened his palm on the wood. “Until the morrow,” he whispered.

  Then he backed away and looked at the half-finished tankard of ale in his hand. Shaking his head, he walked down the hallway. There was a table on the landing. He stood there for a moment, gripping the tankard. Then, with a deep breath, he set his drink down and walked away.

  If he was going to win Elora’s hand, he needed to be a better man.

  Cha
pter Ten

  Elora opened her eyes. Stretching her arms over her head, she savored the comfort of her own bed. Hazy and unguarded, her thoughts turned to the kiss she and Nathan had shared, to his silver eyes, and strong hands. Her memory traced the shape of his sideways smile, which had lingered on his lips as she slowly closed her chamber door.

  “Stop it,” she said aloud before turning her face into her pillow to smother the blush that sought to warm her cheeks. Then she lay on her back again and looked up at the ceiling.

  Certainly, he was appealing, but what did that matter? Nathan wasn’t the first handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. Caleb, with his long black hair, strong jaw, and deep-set blue eyes, was equally as fine to look upon as were several of her kinsmen.

  An ache settled in her chest.

  Nathan was different.

  There was something in his gaze, something she couldn’t name, that held hers captive, something she had glimpsed right from the start.

  “Enough,” she muttered, trying to force him from her thoughts. Instead, she reflected on how well the confrontation with Egan had gone, but that only led her thoughts straight back to Nathan. There was no denying that yesterday’s success was, in no small part, owed to his quick thinking. He was shrewd and observant, not to mention brave and—

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Come in,” she blurted, grateful for a distraction.

  Mary walked into the room, carrying Elora’s customary morning tray, which she set on the table near the hearth.

  “What is the hour, Mary?”

  “’Tis Lauds,” she smiled.

  Elora stood, crossed to her casement, and opened the shutters. She nodded her approval at the sun breaking over the horizon, casting beams of color across the sky. She breathed deep the crisp morning air.

  “Come sit, and break yer fast, my lady,” Mary bade her. “Then ye can make yer list.”

  Just hearing Mary speak the word ‘list’ brought peace to Elora’s soul. A day spent immersed in duty would cleanse away her frivolous thoughts. Feeling inwardly content, she sat down and, just as she did every morning, she spread a thin layer of butter on a warm bannock. Having started the last several days with a strip of dried meat, she closed her eyes to savor the first bite, but that was all the idleness she allowed herself. She quickly finished her breakfast, washing the bannock down with a small cup of milk.

  “Here ye are, my lady,” Mary said, handing her a damp cloth to clean her fingers.

  “Thank ye.”

  Mary removed the tray, setting it on the floor by the door. Then she turned back around and withdrew a small piece of parchment that she had tucked in the waist of her apron and spread it out on the table. “I will fetch yer ink and quill.”

  “Thank ye.”

  “I imagine today’s list is going to be a long one.”

  Elora nodded. “Not only have I been gone for days, but we have much to do to set the castle right after yesterday’s feast, not to mention our guests.”

  A slight smile curved Mary’s lip. “Don’t ye mean yer betrothed?”

  Elora looked away to hide the pink she knew suddenly colored her cheeks. After a few moments, she turned back to face her maid, confident that the moment of weakness had passed. “Of course, I meant Nathan and his kinsman, Caleb, but no doubt Egan and his men will want to break their fast—”

  “Forgive me for interrupting, my lady,” Mary chimed in. “But Laird Mackintosh and his men left before daybreak.”

  She paused and looked up from her list making. “Egan is gone? Are ye certain?”

  “Aye, my lady. I was helping wee Thomas rekindle the hearth in the great hall, he still struggles with the wood bin, sweet dear, when Laird Mackintosh came downstairs and roused his men. In no time at all, they marched out to the courtyard.”

  Skeptical that she could be rid of Egan so soon, Elora chewed her lip. “They may have just gone into the village.”

  Mary shook her head. “Nay, my lady. After they left the great hall, I bade Thomas finish up on his own, and I hastened to the battlements to see where they went. And sure enough, they gathered their horses from the stables and rode on their way. I saw them crest the hill beyond the fields.”

  “Ye’re certain?”

  “I saw them with my own eyes.”

  Egan was already gone!

  She allowed herself a long exhale. “Well done, Mary!”

  Elora’s praise made her young maid blush.

  With fresh resolve, Elora gripped her quill and dipped the tip in ink. “This is proving to be a fine day, indeed. Now, let us get back to work.”

  Mary nodded eagerly.

  “I must take full account of the pantry to see what needs to be replenished after yesterday’s feast.” Elora scribbled that down. “And before I left for Edinburgh, the stable master wanted to discuss repairing the holding coral.” She made her note. “And I mustn’t forget Hamish. I must ensure he is cared for and has everything he needs.” Then she added several daily chores to her list before she set her quill down. “That is all for now.”

  “Very well, my lady.”

  Elora stood ready to face the day. “Shall we begin?”

  Mary turned on her heel and crossed the room to Elora’s wardrobe. She opened the door and pulled out a deep blue tunic and silver surcote embroidered with a delicate row of white flowers around the collar.

  After Mary helped her dress, she brushed out Elora’s hair and separated her thick flaxen curls into three sections, which she plaited. Then she coiled the plaits on top of Elora’s head, using countless pins to hold her heavy tresses in place.

  “Ye look lovely, my lady.”

  Elora pulled at the cuffs to ensure the sleeves did not wrinkle before nodding with approval at her neat appearance in the mirror. Turning away, she paused to listen when the chapel bell sounded the hour of Prime. “We’re right on schedule.” Taking a deep breath, she crossed the room, savoring her well-ordered world. “Let us go to work.”

  Murray was awaiting her in the solar just as he did every morning. He showed her the recent adjustments to the accounts and told her about a dispute he had to settle while she was away. When they finished, she thanked him for his prudence and faithful service. Then she made her way to the kitchen.

  The cook, Agnes, was a tall woman with a sturdy build, ruddy complexion, and bright red hair, which she wore twisted in a high knot on her head. At that moment, Agnes was meeting with her team of undercooks, discussing the day’s menu; meanwhile, several of the younger serving children were helping with the wash and other chores. She spied wee Thomas carrying a bucket of water. He was a lad of six with auburn hair and a smattering of freckles across his cheeks.

  “Well done, Thomas! My, how strong ye’ve grown.”

  A smile rounded the apples of his freckled cheeks before his bashful gaze dropped to the floor

  “Good morrow, my lady,” Agnes said, meeting her gaze. The older woman dipped into a low curtsy and was soon joined by the other cooks.

  “Good morrow,” Elora said in greeting on her way to the pantry. “Do not stop on my account.”

  She opened the pantry door and smiled in greeting at Castle Bròn’s pantler.

  “I thought I would see ye today,” Alison said looking up from the basket she was holding, which contained several round loaves of bread.

  Elora smiled at the young woman.

  Alison was three and twenty. She had glossy blond curls, warm green eyes, and her cheeks dimpled when she smiled. Her mother, who had been the castle’s pantler for more than five and twenty years, had passed away two years ago from a fever that had ravaged the clan, claiming more than a dozen lives.

  “How are ye feeling?” Elora asked, looking pointedly at Alison’s swollen stomach.

  “Fat,” Alison said cheerfully. “She’s a strong lass to be sure. Kept me up half the night with all her kicks and shifting about, but the kitchen lads are as helpful as ever. They’re saving me from having to lift
too much.”

  Elora nodded with approval, then she opened the log and began to scan the shelves, marking what was used and what was needed; meanwhile, Alison called out additional numbers as she loaded fresh bread, eggs, and cheese onto the shelves.

  When the hour neared Terce, a knock sounded at the pantry door, and Temperance peered inside. “Elora, will ye come for a ride with me?”

  “I’m too busy,” Elora answered absently as she reviewed the number of loaves sent to the table the day before. “Take Firtha instead.”

  “She will tire too quickly and complain all the while about her aching rear.”

  Firtha, Temperance’s dressing maid, was tall and slim as a reed. She had black hair, a long, narrow face, and brown eyes framed by thick dark brows that were almost always pinched with worry. She fretted constantly, which was why Elora had thought to pair her with Temperance.

  “Ask Declan.”

  “He is busy.”

  “Two bushels of apples,” Elora said aloud as she wrote before answering her sister. “Ye’ll have to make do. I simply do not have time now.”

  “Ye never do.”

  Elora looked up and met Temperance’s disappointed gaze. “Ye aren’t a child anymore, Temperance. I cannot cease my duties each time a whim strikes ye. Go to the solar and work on yer tapestry. When I am finished here, we shall break for dinner and then take a short ride.”

  Temperance opened her mouth as if to ask Elora to reconsider, but then she sighed and shut the door.

  “She’s a spirited lass, yer sister,” Alison said softly.

  Elora nodded. “Aye, she is. I wish she would learn some restraint.”

  A moment later, another knock sounded.

  Elora straightened. “What does she want now?”

  But it was Declan who opened the door. “What has happened?” he began, “Tempest just fled the kitchen with tears in her eyes. She didn’t stop when I asked what was wrong.”

  Elora gave a wave of her hand, shifting her gaze back to the shelves. “She’ll be fine. What do ye need, Declan?”