Finlay placed a hand at the small of her back, and thankfully, she didn’t flinch at the surprise. “Come, sit.”
“Do ye think there are more?” Her gaze darted around before coming to rest on the reassuring hazel eyes of her husband.
“I’ll keep watch and warn ye.” Finlay’s mirthful smile held warmth and sincerity.
Nodding, she let him lead her back to the table, glad the laughter had died and the men had moved on to talking about the merits of having pets.
She slid into the chair gently, only barely able to keep the wince from her face that should have followed the shock to her rear. She welcomed Finlay’s hand as it reached for hers under the table and held on. The reassuring gesture calmed her racing heart.
Finlay focused on the door.
“Are ye expecting someone?”
“Nae. But ’tis always a good thing to be aware of one’s surroundings.” Leaning over, he whispered so only she could hear, “Ye never ken when a bandit or a wee kitten is lurking in the shadows.”
She almost laughed, but embarrassment won out as her cheeks heated.
He squeezed her hand and sat straight, his attention returning to the exit, but his demeanor was relaxed as if he was comfortable by her side. Maybe there was hope they could be partners, work together, and hold each other up as more than just a spouse.
Pleased, her heartbeat returning to normal, Blair glanced at the door, back at him, then scrutinized the men at the corners of the tables who, although they conversed, kept watch as if they could be under attack at any moment. She changed the subject, afraid to know what they were watching for, but also hurt. Were they not trusting her with some threat?
“Do ye come here often?” She hadn’t missed the innkeeper’s familiarity with Finlay.
“Aye. ’Tis usually my first stop when I go to England.”
“Tell me more about yer estate.”
“I dinnae ken the place well yet. My father gave it to me last year, and I haven’t had much of a chance to visit.” He avoided looking at her, and she wondered what he wasn’t telling her.
The cook started setting plates of poached eggs, sliced meats, and plums on the tables, one of which wobbled unsteadily, and she thought to suggest setting planks to act as balancers when the innkeeper set down cups filled to the brims with ale. Forgetting her purpose and wanting to quench her dry throat, she clasped a glass and brought the amber liquid to her lips.
“I want to see this house, too,” Robbie, the youngest man of the group, proclaimed. “I’m told yer father has favor with the king.”
“They are old acquaintances.”
“Have ye met King Charles?” She couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips.
“Aye.”
“And the queen?” Robbie asked.
“Aye, she is a good woman, despite what the Puritans say about her.”
After taking a bite of the meat, she sighed as her new husband continued to speak with her as if she were a friend. It gave her hope. How different he seemed from her father. Her flushed embarrassment was fading, but her mind wandered to an unpleasant memory.
She’d probably only been twelve summers when she’d been returning to her room after a riding lesson. Passing by the great hall, she heard a woman wailing and a man yelling. She stopped in the shadows and peered through the side door.
Her mother was down on the floor, a hand clasped to her face in pain, her body convulsed with sobs. Blair was about to run to her until a hulking form stood. Her father. He wore a look of unfiltered rage probably unleashed by a day of drinking. His chair tumbled to the floor behind him with such a thud it reverberated off the high ceilings and echoed in the chamber. The room was filled with men who had gone silent, and all she could hear was her heart thumping.
She froze.
“Ye are useless, Sara. I dinnae wish to see ye in here again with me and my men. I’ll call for ye when I have need.” He yanked her to standing by the meaty part of her arm, which on her frail mother didn’t offer much cushion. Her mother tensed, but her father didn’t seem to notice or care.
“Now, get out of here.”
The cruel words were etched in her memory. It was the moment her world had changed, when she realized women weren’t always valued in a man’s world.
Her father’s next announcement, intended for his men but aimed at her mother, still haunted her. “Women. If they cannae bring ye pleasure and heirs, what else are they good for?”
Sara ran from the room, and as she did, Blair felt tears streaking down her face for the humiliation her mother had endured. It wasn’t until that evening she screwed up enough courage to go to her mother’s private chamber, where she had locked herself away, to find her in bed despondent.
Her mother confided she’d only that morning lost another child growing in her womb, making Blair wonder if she would have trouble birthing babes, too. Would a husband find her useless if she could not?
She’d made herself a promise then, no man would ever make a fool of her in front of others. Women were worth more than bringing bairns into the world. Even if she couldnae have children, she would educate herself and be indispensable in a household. She would find a husband who would respect her.
She prayed Finlay was that man. Banishing the pain of the past, she concentrated on her husband as the men at the table continued to talk politics.
His hand eased from hers but clasped onto her thigh protectively, like he wanted her there. Och, please God, let him always respect me.
Not realizing how hungry she had become, she popped a piece of the warmed meat in her mouth. She’d barely eaten the night before, thank goodness, since she hadn’t known what was in the stew, and this morning, she’d only had a couple bites of bread. She’d never been one to eat straight after waking, but if the rest of this journey was going to be similar to today, she might have to change her habits.
As she finished off her last bite of plum, she caught Finlay staring at her. He gently pushed his plate toward her, wordlessly offering the two slices of fruit he had left. It was a sweet gesture, but she shook her head as she fought the mortification threatening to heat her cheeks. She appreciated that he was an attentive husband, but how could she prove she could help him with his estate when she couldn’t show restraint at the table?
Finlay polished off his food and reached for her hand.
“Let’s see to the horses,” he said.
She rose and let him lead her outside as the rest of the men lingered at the table. Her hand felt right in Finlay’s, and she leaned into him, wanting to get to know her new husband better. “Are ye always in such a hurry?”
“When I want a moment alone with my wife.” His eyes were soft, and he appeared genuinely happy to have her by his side. Her worries that he might not desire her melted away.
“We have no’ had much time alone yet.”
“We’ll remedy that as soon as possible.” He smiled, but it was only slight. “Once this business is taken care of in England, I promise we’ll have all the time we want.”
“We have the rest of our lives to ken each other now.”
“Tell me something about ye that I would never guess.” Finlay led her through the yard and guided her through the stable doors. They moved down the aisle toward the horses.
“I hum when I’m trying to solve a problem.”
“Do ye?” He twirled her around to face him. She actually giggled as he took her other hand. “And what do ye hum?”
“’Tis something different every time. Usually a song from a minstrel or from mass.”
“I’d like to hear ye.”
“I’m sure ye will catch me doing it many times. Now, tell me something I cannae ken about ye.” She squeezed his hands.
“When the weather is nice, I like to go for walks. I always find peace in the woods, especially on Cameron lands.” Finlay drew her forward, so there were only inches between them.
She studied his hazel eyes. “Will ye take me on some of
yer walks?”
“I was hoping ye would ask. Will ye hum to me while we stroll through the forest?”
“Aye. If ye arenae sick of hearing me by then.”
Her breath stilled as Finlay’s head dipped toward hers. A thrumming started through her limbs, and she rose up on her toes to meet him.
His lips brushed hers, and it was magic, just as it had been when they’d said their vows. Tingles erupted on her lips and spread down toward her chest. This is what she’d always imagined a kiss should be. His mouth moved over hers, and everything around them disappeared.
Voices from just outside reached her ears and Finlay pulled back. “Wait here. I’ll be right back to help ye mount. I have to pay the innkeeper and tell the men our route for the rest of the day.”
“Aye, husband.”
He released her hands and walked out of the stables.
Her fingers traced her lips, and it dawned on her that she looked forward to her next moment alone with him.
Chapter Seven
They still had a good distance to go before they reached the inn where Finlay usually stopped for the night, but so far, nothing about this trip had been typical. Although the sky had been dark all day, they’d managed to outrun the rain. But he hadn’t overcome the sense that someone was tracking them. He’d pulled the men aside and told them of his apprehensions, but as of yet, no one had seen anything suspicious.
He’d enjoyed how close his wife had sat next to him as they’d eaten at their last stop. Maybe tonight, he would finally feel what it was like to be with Blair. He still couldn’t believe she had married him. She must have known she’s expecting—her appetite this afternoon had indicated she was eating for more than one. He had seen the deliberation in her eyes when she’d considered taking what he’d offered of his remaining food, but her pride had gotten in the way. He’d almost confided that he knew her secret, but he needed to know she trusted him, and would wait for her to bring the news to him.
He hoped she would one day feel comfortable in front of him and tell him everything. He had wished she’d continue her chatter from this morning again as they traveled, but she seemed to be tired. Tonight, he’d ask how she was feeling to see if they needed to slow their pace. Despite the rush to get to England, he had to look out for her health.
Relieved to see the ridge in the next hill, which indicated they would be arriving at the next inn shortly, his thoughts turned to the evening ahead. His mouth went dry as he envisioned his wife naked and beside him in a warm bed. He wanted to know what her skin might feel like beneath him and wished for the sensation of her lips once again pressed to his.
Aware of the growing desire between his legs, he shifted in his seat.
Hedwynn let out a high-pitched squeal then bucked. He almost lost his seating, but on instinct, he eased, placing a steadying hand on the center of the saddle, loosening on the reins, and repeating, “It’s all right,” to the steed.
His horse had never acted in such a manner. Once he was able to calm the beast, he slid from the saddle onto the ground. The animal let out another small squeal but didn’t try to forcibly remove him this time.
“What’s wrong?” he crooned as he stroked the horse’s neck, and it groaned as if relieved. He recalled when he’d climbed on the steed’s back as they’d left the last inn, it had shuddered slightly under his weight.
Going on a hunch, he slid his hand under the saddle. Nothing. Sliding his hand around and under the edges, at the rear, his hand hit something wet. Pulling back, he saw bits of crimson on his fingers.
“Is everything all right?” Blair was still mounted but came so close he caught a whiff of her lavender smell just as Heddwyn bucked and squealed.
“Back up,” he ordered a little louder than he intended. She obeyed instantly, moving a good distance away, but he hadn’t missed the fear that flashed in his wife’s eyes.
After unbelting the saddle, he pulled it off and found a sharp rock embedded under the back of the seat. Having saddled the horses himself, he knew it had not been there this morning when they had left, and the only place they’d stopped was the last inn.
Was someone trying to stop him from reaching the king with news of the imminent threat from Scotland?
After handing the stone to Brodie, who had come up beside him, he took the time to inspect Heddwyn’s back, ensuring that he’d be all right.
“That was nae accident.” Brodie turned the sharp stone in his hand. “’Twas placed there to cause the most damage.”
Finlay had already figured as much but couldn’t think of anyone at the inn who would wish to harm him. He’d been stopping there for years, and they had always been kind to him.
“Inspect the rest of the saddles, but dinnae alarm my wife. She doesnae need to be frightened,” he muttered.
Brodie nodded.
Blair had enough to worry about. He would ensure their safety for the rest of the journey and keep a guard with the animals at all times. Obviously, this sense that they were being followed had been true. He needed to listen to his gut.
He contemplated heading back to the inn, but he’d lost too much time already. The signed copies of the Covenant were on their way to Edinburgh, and if he didn’t act fast, the Covenanter clan armies might join with English forces and beat him to the king. If that happened, he would have failed as a friend and a Scotsman.
Time was not on their side.
Realizing her horse might also have been sabotaged, he hastened toward Blair and ordered, “Dismount,” and held out his hand to help her down.
She hesitated, apprehension shining like the stars on a cloudless night, but she took his hand and slid down her palfrey. Hell, he’d not thought to scare her, only protect her from whatever was going on.
Once she was down, he held onto her fingers and started to walk back down the road.
“Come with me.” He gentled his tone once she was a safe distance from the horse.
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t like the tremble he heard in her usually confident voice. What would cause her to overreact so? Henry had used a sharp tone with her in Edinburgh, the one that had made him want to beat the man, and och, Finlay had been terse with her, too. His mind went to something unspeakable.
He stopped, and she skidded to a halt beside him. “Did Henry hurt ye?”
She blushed and glanced away, unable to meet his eyes. No wonder she flinched every time he touched her. That cowardly arse.
His fists clenched before he realized he still held her hand. She inhaled and seemed to shrink. He felt so large next to her. Loosening his grip he said, “Tell me.”
Shaking her head, she pulled her hand free and backed away.
“Did Henry hurt ye?”
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to—he saw the truth of it in her eyes. If Henry Graham weren’t already dead, he’d kill the man.
“All clear,” came the shout from Brodie.
He didn’t want to have this conversation in front of the rest of the men. “We will speak about this later.”
She didn’t acknowledge his words and averted her gaze.
“I promise, if I ever raise my voice to ye, ’twill no’ be because I intend to harm ye. ’Twill be for yer protection.”
She kept her focus pinned on the earth.
He gently tilted up her chin, so she could see he was sincere. “I will never judge ye for someone else’s actions. And I promise to never hurt ye.”
She gave him a tentative smile showing she didn’t believe him.
Hell, if he had time to reassure her now, he would, but someone might be out to harm them. He couldn’t afford to have this conversation out in the open. “Come on. We need to get to the next inn so ye can get some rest.”
When they reached her horse, he clasped her waist and lifted her up onto the animal’s back. Before climbing back onto Hedwynn, he took a small cloth out of his bag and placed it on the steed’s injured spot. He’d have someone see to the anim
al’s injury at the next stop, but it didn’t appear to be a deep cut. He’d been lucky.
As they rode on, he kept his anger at bay by trying to figure out who had wished him harm. It was easier than thinking he’d missed the signs in Edinburgh when Henry had laid his hands on Blair.
…
What was Blair going to tell Finlay about Henry? She’d let him make her into the very thing she’d never wanted to become—her mother. That Henry had only wanted her because of her connections, for bedsport, and for producing heirs.
She flashed back to that night in Edinburgh. Henry had forced her into his room and, against her protests, had taken his husbandly rights before they were properly wed. His words still haunted her. “Ye’ll become accustomed to it.”
And when she’d cried, he said, “We need heirs. And ye will give me more sons than yer mother gave yer father. I’ll see to that.”
Her chest caved in just thinking about it. She’d witnessed the pain her mother had gone through with the multiple babes lost. It was a heartbreak that her father wouldn’t forgive his mother. And she could not shake the feeling that she, like her mother, might not be able to produce many heirs.
She’d been afraid then that all her hard work was for naught, as was all the time she’d spent learning to become invaluable in a household. Henry didn’t want her as a partner, he wanted her as a broodmare.
She swallowed and took a deep breath. Telling Finlay she’d chosen poorly wasn’t going to change anything. Instead, she asked, “Where is Tristan going?”
“He’ll be back soon.”
Fisting the reigns, she gave a gentle nudge and scooted ahead of her husband. He was not being untruthful, but he was purposely evasive. She wondered if he would ever trust her enough to be honest with her, consider her an equal partner in their relationship.
A little while later, Finlay cantered up beside her. “What will ye miss most about home?”
“I dinnae ken yet. The only time I’ve been away from home was the trip to Edinburgh.”
“What did ye miss then?”
“My garden.”
“But I thought ye didnae cook.”
Highland Salvation Page 7