Hearing Elora’s footfalls approaching the solar door, he again quickly retreated to the end of the hall, then turned back around and slowly walked back toward the solar so that she wouldn’t know that he had overheard the altercation.
She stepped into the hallway, her face as impassive as ever, and stopped short when she saw him. Her fists suddenly unclenched. “Did ye enjoy yer ride?” she asked, her voice even.
“I did,” he replied.
So many words clung to the tip of his tongue. He wanted to honor her courage and to comfort the pain he knew lived deep within her, but still she kept her shield of detachment in place.
She cleared her throat. “If ye’ll excuse me, I’m going to retire to my chamber.”
“Of course,” he said, stepping out of her way. After she had strode past him, he called to her. “Elora.”
She turned and met his gaze.
“Brodie land is beautiful, and yer people...they cherish ye.”
“I know,” she said simply. Then she turned back around.
He watched her go, wishing he could catch up to her and take her in his arms and tell her to let down her guard, smile, laugh—she had already won. But then the reality, which he had always known but never fully appreciated, suddenly rang true.
For Elora, the battle raged on. Without a husband, she was vulnerable and so were the good people of Clan Brodie.
Now, more than ever, he was determined to find a way to win her hand.
As he watched her near the end of the hallway, her feminine hips swaying as she glided, he was struck yet again by a new thought. Securing her hand was no longer enough.
He wanted to win her heart.
Chapter Twelve
Elora began her morning as she always did. She broke her fast, made her list with Mary, dressed, and then she met with Murray in the solar. But after that, she did not tend to the first item scribbled on the small piece of parchment, which she had rolled into a slender cylinder and tucked under the cuff of her sleeve. Instead, she went in search of Temperance.
For so many years, Elora had been preoccupied with raising her people up that somehow along the way, she had let her sister down. She had neglected Temperance’s education. Certainly, the task of taming her sister’s impulsive whims had, in the past, felt overwhelming when coupled with her many other duties. Still, at ten and six, Temperance was no longer a child. Elora would just have to hone her own discipline to ensure she met the needs of everyone around her, including those of her sister.
The first place Elora looked for Temperance was her chamber, but the room was empty. She crossed to the table near the hearth and picked up her sister’s needlework, which depicted waves crashing against rocks. In the exquisite detail, Elora could feel her sister’s passion and restlessness. It stirred something in her own soul. She grazed her fingertips over the soft color, but then she shook her head and set the fabric down. Leaving the room, she continued her search.
On occasion, Temperance would help Agnes in the kitchen, especially when stewed apples were on the menu, but Temperance wasn’t among the undercooks bustling around the tabletops. A prick of apprehension settled over Elora as she left the kitchen. Quickening her pace, she hastened out into the courtyard where she spied Declan who was hurrying her way. “My lady, I was just coming to find ye.”
She held up her hand. “Whatever it is, it will have to wait. I’m looking for Temperance.”
“She’s in the fields beyond the stables, but, my lady, I really must—"
Her eyes flashed wide. “Ye let her ride alone?”
“Nay,” he said quickly. “She’s with Nathan and Caleb.”
Elora picked up her skirts and hurried through the front gates. When she cleared the outer wall and had a view of the fields, she stopped in her tracks. Nathan was riding her sister’s dappled gray mare, but he did not ride alone. Her skirts hitched high, Temperance sat astride her mount in front of him. Elora watched in horror as they charged at a stack of grain sacks.
“Nay!” she cried, rushing ahead.
“My lady, ‘tis all right,” she heard Declan call out.
Her breath caught as Temperance’s horse bounded gracefully over the stack, drawing to a halt on the other side where Caleb awaited them astride his black mount.
Her face beaming, Temperance laughed with delight.
Elora shook her head at her sister’s recklessness.
“My lady, she’s all right,” Declan said, catching up to her.
“Elora!” Temperance called when she saw her approach. Then Nathan turned the gray mare around and rode toward her.
“Elora, did ye see me?” Temperance asked, breathless, her face beaming with joy.
Elora swallowed her fury, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I see more of ye than I care to,” she said looking pointedly at Temperance’s bare calf.
Blushing, Temperance tugged at her hem, trying to pull it down. “I cannot learn to jump Hazel side-saddled, but Nathan said that once I master it sitting astride, then I can learn the proper way.”
“Is that so?” Elora said, shifting her gaze to Nathan, but then her attention was drawn to his hand splayed wide on her sister’s stomach. Her nostrils flared. She pressed her lips together, fighting for calm.
Caleb dismounted and crossed to her sister’s mount. He reached up and grasped Temperance by the waist and lifted her down. “She’s a skilled rider,” Caleb added in a quiet voice.
Declan came forward then. “Exceptionally so.”
Temperance nodded and her chin lifted with pride. “When they saw how well I could ride, Nathan suggested I learn to jump.”
“Did he?” she said coldly, once more meeting Nathan’s silver gaze.
He slid to the ground. “Elora—”
“Wait,” she said, her voice clipped. Then she shifted her attention to the others. “I must speak with Nathan alone.”
After Temperance, Caleb, and Declan were out of ear shot, she turned to Nathan. “She is a lady of Clan Brodie.”
“I ken,” he said, “but she is also a spirited lass.”
“Do not praise her recklessness.”
He raked his hand through his hair. “Listen to me, Elora. If ye want to keep the tempest at bay, ye need to give her more than needlework to occupy her time.” A look of sudden anguish passed over his features. It was fleeting but unmistakable. “Trust me. I know of what I speak.”
The truth of his words settled around her. “I ken,” she said quietly. “I was planning on speaking with her about that very thing, but—”
“My lady!”
“What now?” she muttered, turning around to see the stable master rushing toward them on horseback. His rim of straggly black hair stood out on all sides while his bald head glinted in the morning sun.
Declan came forward then. “No doubt, Arthur wishes to discuss the matter I tried to address with ye in the courtyard. Laird Mackintosh has given ye a wedding present.”
“A present?” she repeated. “Whatever did he send?”
“A horse,” Declan answered. “But—”
The stable master thundered to a stop in front of them. Sweat beaded on his furrowed brow. “My lady, ye must come and quickly. I’ve had the lads searching the castle for ye.”
“I’m coming, Arthur,” she assured him and lifted the hem of her skirts, ready to race back to the castle, but then Nathan turned to her. “Ride with me.”
She hesitated, but only for a moment. Reaching for his shoulders, he gripped her waist and lifted her onto the saddle before he swung up behind her. They galloped into the courtyard and followed Arthur straight into the stables. Caleb and Temperance joined them a moment later, riding in on his black stead.
Arthur slid from his horse and pointed at a sleek chestnut mare with a black mane, thrashing against the stall. She bucked and snorted, making the other horses sidestep nervously in their stalls.
Eyes wide, Elora asked, “She is our wedding present?”
“Make no mistake,
my lady. She’s no gift. The Devil resides in her soul. She’ll not be ridden.”
Temperance slid to the ground. “Don’t say such things,” she chided Arthur. “She’s just scared.” Slowly, Temperance started to approach the stall, but Caleb dismounted and quickly grasped her hand, shaking his head. “Nay,” he said softly. “’Tis too dangerous.”
“Thank ye, Caleb,” Elora said.
Nathan slid from the dappled gray, then reached up and lifted Elora down.
“She’ll not be ridden,” Arthur repeated.
“Let me try,” Temperance pleaded. “I know I can ride her. She just needs some gentle handling.”
“Temperance, do ye even ken what ye’re asking?” Elora said, shaking her head. Then she turned to one of the stable hands, standing off to the side. He was a young lad with ten and two years and thick brown hair, which he wore in a long braid down his back. “Jacob, please escort Temperance back to the castle.”
Nodding, Jacob came forward, but Temperance’s eyes became like sharp daggers that narrowed on her older sister. “He needn’t bother. That’s one thing that I’m perfectly capable of doing on my own.”
Elora ignored her sister’s displeasure and turned to Arthur. “What is yer judgement?”
“I believe ‘tis a hidden insult. This beast will not be tamed. ‘Tis a shame, because she has good stock.”
Elora shook her head. “I would expect nothing less from Egan.” Then she declared. “No one rides her. Send her back.”
“Wait,” Nathan said, coming forward. “I will ride her.”
She turned and met his expectant gaze. “Nay, ‘tis too dangerous.”
A smile curved his lips. “She’s a beauty. The foals ye’ll have from her stock will serve yer clan.” He started to approach the horse, then he spied a door in the back of the stall. “Where does that gate lead?”
“Straight into the holding corral,” Arthur replied. “Thankfully, we repaired the fence two days ago.”
Nathan turned back to Elora. “What could be better than turning his insult into yer gain?”
Elora looked at the feral horse bucking and kicking while she considered Nathan’s suggestion, but then she shook her head. “’Tis not worth the risk. Send her back.”
Arthur nodded. “Aye, my lady,” he said and dipped his head to her.
With the matter settled, she turned to leave.
“Elora,” Nathan began, drawing her gaze, “forgive me,” he said softly. His silver gaze held hers for several moments, but then he turned away and spoke to Arthur. “Go around to the holding corral. When ye hear me give the word, open the gate.”
Arthur nodded. “Come on, Jacob,” he said, motioning to the lad.
Elora watched in surprise as Arthur obeyed Nathan’s command and left the stables. He hadn’t even sought her approval first. She turned to reprimand Nathan for using his temporary status to take the upper hand, but she faltered as she watched him climb up on the side of the stall.
“Nathan, this is lunacy!”
He looked at her and she saw a glint in his eyes—wild and dangerous. It was the same glint she had witnessed at The Devil’s Bridge.
“We’re not going to allow Egan to win this battle.”
She shook her head. “’Tis not worth it!”
A slow sideways smile curved his lips. “Trust me.” Then he turned back to the mare. He stood there for some time, crooning soft words, touching her coat when she came close enough. Still, the beast kicked and snorted. Finally, Nathan called out. “Arthur are ye ready?”
“Aye, my laird,” Arthur answered from the other side of the gate.
Elora’s eyes flashed wide when she heard her stable master’s reply.
“Get back,” Caleb said, clasping her hand and pulling her away from the stall.
In a flash, Nathan leapt onto the mare’s back, seizing fistfuls of her mane. “Now,” he shouted. The gate behind the stall swung open, and the mare bolted outside.
“Come, my lady,” Caleb urged her, pulling her from the stables into the courtyard. Together, they raced to the holding corral where Nathan fought to stay on the mare’s back while she bucked and kicked and tossed her neck.
Elora gripped the fence. “He’s going to get himself killed!”
Caleb expelled a long breath “I’m not sure that’s not his ultimate goal,” he said quietly.
She turned to face him. “What do ye mean?”
He shook his head. “’Tis nothing.”
“Tell me,” she insisted.
He lifted his shoulders. “Ye were at The Devil’s Bridge. Ye saw him attack the giant, Bowie.”
She nodded.
“He knew I was on my way. What’s more, he left his sword behind.”
Brow’s drawn, she asked. “What are ye trying to say?”
Caleb shook his head. “I do not ken. There is much to Nathan that is still unknown to me, despite the years we’ve worked together. He is haunted. That much I do know, but by what I cannot say.”
She gasped as Nathan was thrown from the wild mare’s back. “Enough,” she shouted.
But he leapt to his feet and chased after the mare. Seizing her mane, he swung up on her back.
“If anyone can tame her, ‘tis Nathan,” Caleb assured her.
“Not if she breaks him first,” she muttered. Then she jerked around. “I cannot watch!”
“My lady, allow me to escort ye to the castle,” Caleb offered. “This will take a while.”
She shook her head, showing her back to the corral. “Nay, just tell me if he is injured.”
What felt like hours passed. She chewed her lip and paced back and forth, glancing every now and then at Nathan to be sure he was still alive.
The horse snorted, drawing her gaze. She turned just as Nathan was thrown to the ground again.
“Please, make him stop,” she pleaded to Caleb and looked away.
“My lady,” Caleb said, once more drawing her gaze. “Look!”
She turned toward the corral and clutched the fence while she watched Nathan slowly walk toward the mare whose head hung low with fatigue. As he closed in on her, Elora could hear him speaking gently to the mare. When he reached the horse’s side, he slowly stroked his hand down her neck. She jerked upright and skittered back, but she did not stomp or kick. Then Nathan swung up on her back again. She snorted and stomped at the ground, but she did not buck. He nudged her forward, and she took several steps. Leaning low, keeping his body close to the mare, he continued to stroke her neck and croon soft praises.
Elora’s heart raced as Nathan and the mare drew closer. She expected him to gloat, or for him at least to look triumphant. But when he smiled at her, she was struck by the hollowness she glimpsed in his eyes. In that moment, she realized what had always made Nathan’s gaze so compelling. She was drawn to the quiet plea in his eyes. As she continued to watch him, her chest tightened.
“My lady,” Arthur called.
She tore her gaze from Nathan’s as the stable master rushed toward her with Jacob following just behind. “I am astonished! I’ve never seen such skillful riding!”
Elora took a deep breath and straightened her back, suppressing the well of emotion flooding her heart. She allowed a pleasant smile to upturn her lips. “It would appear that we are able to keep the mare after all,” she said.
Arthur nodded. “It will be a few days before we’ll be able to get a bridle and saddle on her, and several weeks longer until she’ll be safe for others to ride. But what impressed me most is that yer betrothed used gentleness and persistence to bring her around when some men might have resorted to the brutality of the whip.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “Ye’ve chosen a mate wisely, my lady. He is kind. I do not doubt that ye’ll be very happy together.”
Happy.
She had never given much thought to being happy. Her life had always been about duty and survival.
Her gaze shifted back to Nathan. His thighs flexed as he squeezed the mare betw
een his legs and continued to trot around the corral. Then her breath caught as he released the mare’s mane. His back arched, and he stretched his arms out to the side and let his head fall back. His eyes closed as if he was surrendering himself up to the sky. She leaned against the fence, compelled by what she saw. She knew all too well what he was feeling, for the same hole made her own heart impossible to fill.
Chapter Thirteen
Nathan sat huddled in the corner deep within the belly of a ship, rocking back and forth while great swells crashed and thunder rumbled. Water leaked through cracks in the deck, soaking him. He heard the cries of sailors fighting the storm and the ship creaking against the might of the angry sea.
“Nathan,” a soft voice said.
He jerked around. There, in the opposite corner, was a lass with her legs curled up to her chest and fear blazing in her blue eyes. Her wet black curls clung to her ashen face.
“Nathan, I’m afraid. I don’t want to die.”
Nathan sat up with a start. Sweat dripped from his temples. His breaths came in short bursts. He swept his blanket off and swung his legs over the side of the bed and cradled his pounding head in his hands. Cait’s plea still echoed in his mind.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so very sorry.”
He couldn’t escape his dream. Standing, he seized his plaid and belted it around his hips, leaving the upper folds to hang from his waist. Then he crossed his chamber floor and slowly opened his door enough to peer out. Torch fire, set in sconces along the hallway walls, cast dancing shadows on the ceiling. He listened intently, but no one stirred.
Stepping from his chamber, he eased the door shut behind him. Then, he quietly made his way down to the great hall where he spied several servants asleep on pallets laid out near the hearth. Softly padding barefoot across the cold stone floor, he entered the kitchen and headed straight for the buttery where he claimed a flagon of wine. Hooking his finger through the ring at the neck, he brought the vessel to his lips, taking a long draught. He closed is eyes, savoring the rich flavor, and expelled a long breath. With the flagon still hooked on his finger, he returned to the great hall and sat in a high-backed chair just to the side of the hearth.
The Renegade (Rebel Hearts, #1) Page 9