The area was familiar. Rhona had brought him here last night to the meet the others. Were they still here? Had she stumbled upon them? His heart quickened. Was she safe? He knelt for a closer view of the impressions. No, the tracks were all hers.
She must have been pacing. He scanned the area of disturbed leaves. Her footprints were all over. The breeze shifted, and in the silence, he heard sobbing. He froze.
He had hurt her more than the taunts she suffered from Bryce when they were younger. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t do anything about it now. “You did this to keep her safe,” he said over and over. But the words didn’t take away the guilt or pain. Separating from her was for her own good. He had to make her hate him, if she didn’t already.
He stomped around the boulder and stopped. Ten yards beyond, he spotted her back.
“Laura.” His voice made her jump as he moved to her side. “What are you doing here?”
She stiffened and didn’t turn. God help him, he wanted her in his arms as much as she wanted to be there. He wanted to tell her...
She turned to face him, composed. Her red swollen eyes betrayed her misery.
He scanned the area to make sure none of Rhona’s friends were about. She followed his gaze.
“Are you expecting someone?” Her words hung heavy in the air.
She had no idea he followed her. She suspects he’s here to meet... Rhona. He schooled his face to hide his thoughts.
Be proud of yourself. She thinks little of you? Isn’t that your goal. You went to great lengths to give her that impression, the voice in his head said.
Proud? Why did he feel dirty? His betrayal shook his very core.
“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice soft and inviting. He stepped close enough to see the gold flecks in her eyes.
“I came here for some fresh air. It was too close in the castle.”
He gently brushed a tear from her eye with a shaky hand. How she didn’t hear his heart hammering was beyond him. Every one of his muscles screamed to hold her, love her.
He nudged her chin up with the crook of his finger. “You shouldn’t be here. The forest isn’t safe. I’ll bring you back.”
Laura didn’t hide her thoughts well. They were written on her face as she tried to make sense of the last few hours. Sean was right. To protect her, she had to hate him.
“Thank you, but no. I can take care of myself.”
He spun her around and held shoulders.
She pushed him away and didn’t look him in the eye.
“Can you now? If so, why the tears? A lost love perhaps. You didn’t take us seriously,” he said in a teasing tone, his hand running down the side of her cheek.
All color drained from her face. He wanted to take her in his arms and make it right, kiss away her tears, and take her away from Herbert and the castle. More than anything, he wanted to go back to the way they were in the solar, tender and caring. Instead, he would be her villain.
“No,” she said and let out a deep breath, then raised her chin. “Not a lost love. A departed brother who should have come home to us today for father to give him his portion. You remember your good friend, Richard.”
Forgive me, Richard, for what I’m about to say. Jamie gave her his best blasé look.
“Richard is gone. A senseless loss, but life goes on for everyone. Wesley, Darla, Lisbeth, you, and even me. I prefer the carefree life, not warring for someone who has no concern for his subjects or their well-being. I don’t want to be shackled to anything or anyone.”
A red flush raced up her throat and settled in her cheeks. There was no mistaking it for embarrassment and anger.
“Ah, Saint Richard. Will you measure all men to his standard?” He held up his hand to ward off her answer. “That is for you to decide and none of my concern. Although, I’ll warn you, idealized saints, even ones exonerated for murder, won’t keep you warm at night or put a babe in your belly.”
She stepped forward, her breasts heaving.
He caught her hand before it landed on his cheek. Their eyes locked. He twisted her arm behind her back and drew her close to him. His lips were inches from hers. She didn’t struggle.
She would never be in his arms again. He opened his senses intent on remembering every detail. The scent of lavender that announced she was near. Her soft touches that told him she cared. The warmth of her body that said she was his. He pulled her closer and searched her eyes, slightly asking for forgiveness. Silently telling her everything. He brushed his lips against hers. She didn’t resist. He deepened his kiss.
He pushed her away and grabbed his lip. “You bit me!”
“That you mention yourself in the same breath as Richard is vile, and to speak about an incident that happened years ago and that you know so little about is despicable.”
He died on the inside. Bringing up the death of the Harmon Gualter was a cheap shot, but there was no other way. He couldn’t give her hope. For him, the memory of their kiss, her soft lips, her warmth and understanding, even her devotion was all in the past. It had no place in his future.
Her icy stare went through him. She walked past him and out of the forest.
“I’m sorry, Richard. There was no other way,” he whispered. He stood at the forest edge and made sure she returned safely to the castle.
She knelt in the kitchen garden and spent an hour pulling weeds. The intensity of her anger waned and left her empty and exhausted. She’d never raised a hand to anyone before. She wanted to believe she was wrong about Jamie. He made it clear where he stood in their relationship. Their relationship? There was no relationship, there never had been. Only a childish dream.
She scooped the weeds into a pile with other kitchen debris. She shook out her skirt, dusted off her hands, and went to the kitchen.
“You’d better hurry, Lady Laura. It’s almost time for the afternoon meal. Do you need any help getting ready?”
“No. That won’t be necessary.” She went up to her room. Preoccupied, she bumped into a servant coming out of Jamie’s room.
“Oh, excuse me.” When she glanced up, she stared into Rhona’s smug face.
With all the dignity she could muster, Laura moved on to her room. Rhona hurried down the hall.
Rhona didn’t belong in the house. She didn’t work in the castle. She didn’t belong in the house, unless invited.
Numb, she had seen too much, witnessed too many painful scenes. Feeling sorry for herself didn’t get her anywhere. She needed a diversion. She’d completed her mission here. It was time to return to Glen Kirk. She’d petition Herbert again. If he said no… Well, she’d leave without his consent.
Laura glanced into the looking glass and stared at the agate beads around her neck. Truth. Her hand hovered, a question on her lips. She hesitated. The truth. Confirming it would be—painful.
“Coward,” she said to the mirror. She didn’t need to ask the beads when the answer had presented itself in the forest. Nothing would change. She glanced at the deep lines set in her forehead and tried on a tentative smile. That wasn’t too difficult. She broadened it a bit. That was better.
Laura picked up her shawl and left her room for the great hall.
“Finally, I was waiting for you. Herbert asked that I escort you in.” Jamie held out his arm.
She looked at his arm with distaste. “No need. Why don’t you escort Rhona? She appears to be your new attraction.”
“Rhona?”
“Yes, I stumbled into her when she left your room. I thought you were more discrete, if not for yourself, for her.” She moved past him. “Captain Oliver, would you escort me in?”
“Of course, m’lady.” She took Oliver’s offered arm and swept into the room.
Why was Rhona in his room? Most likely searching for information.
“Excuse me, Lord Jamie.” Rhona came up next to him and placed her hand on his arm as if she declared him her own. “Sunset, at the tavern.”
He moved his head slightly to t
he side and glanced over her shoulder. Laura stared at him for a moment before she looked away.
“I’ll be there.” He entered the great hall and walked onto the dais as Oliver handed Laura to Herbert.
“I need your help,” Herbert said to Laura. “Guests are arriving, and with my Lady away there is no one—”
“Say no more. I will gladly be your hostess.” Laura straightened her skirt. “When will they be here? How many guests do you expect and how long will they be with us?”
“I received word from Duncan, asking me to host a party of fifteen. They should be here anytime. Duncan didn’t say how long they would be with us.”
“Is that wise?” Jamie asked Herbert. “A visitor now, with a traitor loose and who knows what else? There could be dire consequences.”
“It appears the Earl of Fife is having a housing problem. His wife’s family is ensconced and his rooms are filled. I told his messenger yes, but he neglected to tell me who to expect. For all I know, it could be the King of England. Come and sit. We’ll have our meal and wait for our guests to arrive.”
They were through the first two courses. He and Laura hadn’t exchanged a word.
“Lord Herbert, the Earl of Huntingdon,” Herbert’s steward said.
Herbert glanced toward the door as a tall man and four of his men walked into the hall.
“Reeve. You are my guest,” Herbert said.
The drone of the people stopped and everyone turned to the door.
“What a pleasant surprise. Come join us. The meal just started.”
It had been years since he and Reeve were in the same room. They both preferred it that way.
Reeve walked through the hall with an air of authority and the appearance of one who demanded immediate obedience.
Women found him handsome, and men who didn’t get in his way enjoyed his company. His straight black hair hung at shoulder length and framed a thin chiseled face with dark eyes that gave nothing away. Reeve cultivated his ruthless side, which he often displayed growing up. Now his reputation as a bully preceded him.
“Where are the rest of your retainers?” Herbert asked.
“I came ahead. They’ll join me tomorrow. I thought I would take the opportunity to see your new Caerlaverock. What little I’ve seen is impressive and solid.”
Herbert nodded. “So you came to spy on me. I heard you were preparing to build a fortress of your own. You know everyone here.”
“Collins.” He nodded, dismissing him. He turned to Laura. “M’lady. I wouldn’t have recognized you.”
“It’s been some time, m’lord.”
Jamie knew Laura didn’t like Reeve any more than he did.
“We’ve been friends for a long time... Laura. Please, you once called me Reeve.”
Laura’s smile began to melt. “Of course, Reeve.”
The exchange appeared civil and pleasant. Why were his hackles up?
Reeve and his older brother, Harman, and Bryce trained with Gareth at Glen Kirk. The three were the same in attitude, disposition, and mannerism, although, he thought Reeve was the best of the lot. After the accident and Harman’s death... He refused to let that memory take hold. He sealed it up where it belonged. Forgotten.
Dinner over, everyone talked in small groups scattered around.
Jamie wasn’t in a talkative mood. He grabbed a tankard from a passing steward and downed it in two gulps. It dulled the memory of the accident but not enough. It had been a long time since that guilt engulfed him. It was never far away. He may have learned how to tame the berserker, but not the memory.
“Lady Laura seems to be taken by Reeve.” Sean was next to him. Jamie studied her discreetly, certain that every laugh, toss of her head, and smile was meant for him to witness. He must stop this torture. She may be his in his heart, but he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her.
“I’m glad Laura is here to entertain our guest,” Herbert said, joining them.
“Why do you think the Earl of Huntingdon is here?” he asked.
“He campaigns with every house for a seat in the Scone Parliament.”
“An Englishman,” Sean blurted out. Conversation around him stopped.
“He has claims on both sides of the border.”
“The Earl’s claim in Scotland is by recent title and land won playing cards. It’s nothing like the long history of The Maxwells and Scotland.” Sean walked away.
“Yes, our allegiances are well defined. Reeve’s are not. He has a tendency to shift with the wind when the need suits him. His father taught him well.” Herbert sipped his ale.
“He was like that as a boy. He’s an Englishman who tolerates Scots. He and Harmon sided with Bryce most times.” It made Reeve his natural enemy. He didn’t like Reeve then. Now, he liked him even less.
The man still held Laura’s hand, his mouth hovering over her knuckles as if he would eat them. He wanted to march over to her and… do nothing.
“Parliament is concerned about England’s influence,” Jamie said. Herbert nodded. “Your comrades at Scone must be relieved he sought you out, rather than deal with him themselves.”
“Precisely.” Herbert let out a heavy breath. “He must be here to soften my heart and move me to his side.”
Reeve lowered Laura’s hand, but held on. “I was sorry”—he bowed his head before he gazed up at her, his face morphed into a pained expression— “to hear about Richard. We were separated on the battlefield. I admonish myself for not staying with him to protect his back.”
She pulled her hand away and leaned toward him, touching his arm. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Laura clucked at him like a hovering mother hen soothing her chicks. It made Jamie’s blood boil.
“I’m sorry to cause you pain. Come, let’s console each other.” Reeve led her to a private seat by the hearth.
Jamie stood with Herbert. He drank his ale, but looked over the rim of his tankard at Laura and Reeve. Their heads were together in soft conversation. Their friendship easily re-established.
Not once did she glance at him. Reeve stood, gave her his arm, and escorted her to the balcony outside.
Quiet conversations filled the room as small groups scattered about. He drained the tankard for a bit of courage before turning to Herbert.
“Relieve me of my duty and let me return to Cumgour. You’re armed sufficiently and with enough trained soldiers, you don’t need me. I am needed home.”
Herbert scowled. “No. You will stay here until I say you can leave. I made that very clear.”
“Home,” Jamie said and raised his voice. The conversations around him stopped.
Herbert didn’t back down. Jamie counted on that.
“I have no idea what you are about, but you will do as I say. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?”
Jamie threw down his tankard to the gasp of those around him. He was sure the news of his argument with Herbert would speed through the castle and village. That was fine with him. The sooner he found the traitor, the sooner he could go back to Cumgour and be a farmer.
He marched out of the room and headed for the tavern to meet Rhona.
Chapter Thirteen
The scent of ale and the woodsy fire filled the tavern when Jamie arrived. It was a cozy, familiar place. Somewhat empty in the early evening, this was the gathering place. Soon there wouldn’t be an empty seat, and finding a place to stand would be just as difficult. Jamie sat at a table with Rhona, and drank his second ale.
“You’re deep in thought.” Rhona sat close with her own tankard.
“Yes, nothing for you to worry about.” He emptied his mug and motioned to the innkeeper for another.
“When will you realize your Lord Herbert does not intend to let you go back to your Cumgour? He has too much to lose if he does.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I fulfilled my obligation to serve The Maxwell.” He took another sip and stared at the table. He wasn’t drinking to drown his anger. He wasn’t drinkin
g to erase the pain he saw on Laura’s face. He drank to erase the sight of her with Reeve.
“Only for one year. Why has he kept you here?”
He turned to her, a playful smirk on his lips. “I’m his nephew—”
“Where are his sons? Three grown men hiding with their mother. He keeps you here because you’re expendable. Open your eyes. He cares as much about you as he did for my husband and brothers, all lost in senseless fighting. I would do anything to stop it.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Anything.”
“Almost as much as I would to leave this place.” He drained another tankard. He left Cumgour to get away from Laura, now he would do anything to get back home for the same reason. He chuckled, finding his situation humorous.
Rhona glanced behind him, she nodded, and another tankard of ale appeared. Chairs and benches scraped across the floor. More people filtered into the tavern.
A pipe played the delicate lilt of a melody. A steady drum beat joined in. An infectious beat, he kept cadence on the table. The din of voices subsided and the drum beat synchronized with his heart. His pain subsided as his body responded to the music and the ale.
The music grew louder, feet stamped, and the words of a drinking song bubbled up. One man grabbed a serving maid and twirled her across the room to everyone’s delight.
Within short time the entire room filled with music, dancing, and song. And Rhona was in his arms.
Laura didn’t need to see him go to know he was no longer in the room. The void his leaving created left her empty and cold.
“For you, speaking of Richard is painful. You must understand his loss disturbs me, too. I kept away from Glen Kirk for a long time, since Harmon’s accident. Distancing myself from Glen Kirk gave me time to heal.”
She didn’t say anything. Still pre-occupied with Jamie, she forced her attention to Reeve.
“I understand the accident wasn’t Richard’s fault, although he carried the blame for some time,” Reeve said.
“That feud wrenched our families apart. We were very aware that nothing we said or did would bring Harmon back. When your father came to attack Glen Kirk, we understood why.” She let out a heavy sigh. “We all feared the worst.”
The Highlander’s English Woman (The Stelton Legacy) Page 15