The Touch 0f Her Hand (Highlander Heroes Book 1)

by Rebecca Ruger

  Curiously, Bethany pulled her hand away and placed it against Tess’s throat.

  “Oo,” Tess obliged.

  Bethany smiled and moved to Serena, repeating her silent request with her small fingers now at Serena’s neck. Serena moved her fingers, so they were centered. “Oo.”

  Serena took Bethany’s hand and placed her fingers against her own neck and gave an encouraging nod.

  A sound emerged, though it sounded nothing like “oo.” But they didn’t care, Bethany’s eyes widened, and Agnus and Tess and Serena cried out with joy. So enamored of her own accomplishment, and the cheering that came with it, Bethany clapped her hands together excitedly and then put them back on her throat. “Ahhh.”

  Angus leant back and slapped his knee, his smile wide. Tess hugged Bethany to her, though the little girl kept her fingers at her own neck, “Ahhh.”

  Serena erupted in laughter, her eyes welling.

  Just then Fynn walked into the hall and brought all eyes to him when he asked, “What’s this about?”

  Many sets of happy eyes turned upon him. Bethany squirmed out of Tess’s arms and hurried over to him. If he were surprised, he didn’t show it, only raised one brow and knelt down to her. Immediately, she placed her fingers against his throat.

  “Say ‘oo’,” Serena instructed, still smiling.

  He gave a quizzical look but did comply, which sent Bethany racing around him, clapping her hands again, her own smile most joyous.

  Poor Fynn hadn’t a clue what was so exciting about this until his father said, “Bethany, show Fynn here what you can do.”

  Bethany stopped moving, and staring at nothing in particular, pressed her fingers against her neck and said, “Ahh.”

  Fynn eyes lit up. He clapped his hands and made a big fuss over this, which delighted Bethany yet more. He came to the ladies and helped them to their feet, first Serena and then Tess.

  “How did this happen?”

  No one had an exact answer, and no one seemed to care, though Serena said, “Angus did this.” They regarded each other with shining eyes, reveling in the joy of the moment. Angus gave a hearty chuckle over Bethany’s continued antics, skipping around calling out, “Ahh,” with her fingers pressed to her throat. Soon, she stopped and sank to her knees before Jakke, who lifted his head off his paws. Bethany looked under his chin and squished her fingers into his fur.

  “He canna make the sounds, lass,” Fynn told her cheerfully, “no like you.”

  UNDER THE CANOPY OF an ancient yew tree, the MacGregor sat next to the Kincaid. Gregor leaned against the thin and scaly bark, eyes closed, though the occasional lifting or furrowing of his brow indicated he was acutely tuned into their surroundings. Jamie MacKenna sat across from Conall, his large hands clenching and releasing, seeking physical or emotional release, Conall could not say. MacKenna’s elbows were draped across his knees, his head turned to the left, where stood William Wallace.

  “Bruce himself was sent off by Edward to find you, to bring you in,” Jamie said. “That was only few months ago.” His voice was, as ever, low and rumbling, more a reverberation from his chest that words from his throat.

  William Wallace squatted down on his haunches near to Jamie. He stared from one man to the next, his thumbnail digging at some bit of rabbit stuck in his teeth. His broad shoulders lifted only slightly, acknowledging this might well be true. “That was then,” he said after a while. Larger by far than any man present, with lengthy flanks and massive arms, he spit the offending piece of food from his mouth, his deep set blue eyes following the trajectory and path of the bit. “He’ll come around again. I ken he’s got his reasons, keeping his head, keeping his lands, biding his time.” He scratched his fingers through his close cropped reddish-brown beard. “You ken as well, he’s no pawn of Longshanks.”

  “Aye,” said Gregor, though his eyes remained closed. “And let Edward relax now, believing all the nobles who signed with him are true to their letters.”

  “They stand with Edward when his grip upon Scotland is strong; they stand against him when the tides do turn,” said Jamie, with some disgust.

  “But if not Bruce, then who?” Conall wondered. “Edward will find someone to betray you. A peace was offered and you dinna accept. He’ll no stop until you’re dead.”

  “Three hundred marks, Edward has promised, to the man that makes you headless.” This from Gregor, his grin impudent.

  “Aye,” said Wallace, with a deep and bitter laugh, “but you ken the offer of peace was no related to the bribe—he’ll no give me three hundred marks for my own head. Aye, they’ll come. Stirling castle gone now, too, so that only we remain. But freedom should no die with me, nor any of you.”

  “You’ve got hundreds with you now,” said Conall. “Back to where you started in ’96. And so, we begin again. Build the armies, win the battles, loosen his grip, and the tides will turn.”

  Wallace tilted his big head toward Conall, his smile thoughtful. “Sufficiently simple, aye?”

  Gregor opened his eyes, staring up at the evergreen boughs above. “Let us go, then, to make trouble down near Yrenside. The constable at Dundee is one of Edward’s own, and I ken he’s no making life easy for his wards.”

  Wallace nodded. They’d talked this strategy earlier this morn. His ragtag army of peasants and farmers and freemen, emboldened by the strength and numbers of the MacGregor, Kincaid, and MacKenna armies, was eager for a fight. They’d last ambled near Stirling, just after it was finally taken by Edward but had turned away from the sheer number of English still holding the castle, with nary an opportunity to let blood.

  Conall watched Wallace stand and stretch and walk away from the yew tree. The larger-than-life man that Conall had met almost eight years ago was no more. The fight lived still within him, but the bite was gone. The spring treaty between Edward and the Scottish nobles—and more notably, the Bruce’s signing of the shameful agreement—coupled with his largely ineffective trip abroad to curry favor and friends in other courts, had cut deep into Wallace’s spirit. In his mind, no reason existed to betray Scotland as he believed that living without freedom wasn’t living at all. Yet, curiously, he was distinctly sympathetic to those who were not sturdy enough to withstand the burden to concede, almost as if he understood that men like him, stalwart and unfaltering and true, existed only rarely.

  This put Conall in mind of Tess. She shared Wallace’s truism about living free, and hadn’t he suffered because of it, he thought with grim humor. He’d been gone now a month but had yet to find a day that he did not think of her—damn, he’d yet to pass an hour without thinking on her, despite the company he kept and the stakes at hand. He feared losing all recollection of her smile. He feared meeting his death—as he never had before—and being then deprived of the chance to make things right with her, for her.

  Conall laid back against the mossy rocks that surrounded the giant yew, closing his eyes, bringing to mind her face. But the image scattered quick enough when Gregor spoke beside him.

  “You’ve got the best circumstance.”

  Conall opened his eyes and shifted his head toward his friend.

  “You close your eyes, you’ve got something worth seeing,” Gregor said, only the smallest evidence of envy in his tone.

  Conall grinned and shut his eyes again. Yes, he did.

  CHAPTER 26

  July and August flitted by, a routine settling over the inhabitants of the castle. The women worked studiously upon the tapestry still, the fields and orchards grew and bloomed and yielded, and Bethany began to use actual words. True, they weren’t always easy to understand, sometimes frustrated both speaker and listener, but there was enough progress that the child could make her wants and needs known—and on occasion, her displeasure.

  With the harvests came much work—not least of which the reaping itself, though Tess and Serena had little to do with this labor. They did, however, receive the laird’s share and were made busy drying and pickling and salting large sto
res for the winter months. This put Leslie in a fair mood for several weeks, watching his inventories grow.

  Fynn was a regular visitor and Tess was pleased to witness a romance blossom between him and Serena, the pair often finding occasion to disappear outside the castle walls, causing Tess to feel both envy and gladness for her friend.

  Angus and Ranulph spent many hours together. Ranulph could be found within the castle several times a week. Though Angus’s age constrained him somewhat when it came to quantity, he took considerable pride in the quality of his work, as did Ranulph.

  Presently, laid out upon one of the tables in the hall were dozens of finished leather bridles. The bits were supplied by Ranulph, and Angus worked the leather to accommodate these in many assorted sizes, that they might fit destriers or work horses or palfreys. Tess had been amazed to watch his seasoned and worn hands use the tools so proficiently, make perfect measurements, and rarely have missteps. Regionally, there was only small need for the bridles, as so few people aside from soldiers owned horses. But Fynn had taken crates of these south and east and had buyers offering considerable coin for the fine craftsmanship, which lined the pockets of all three men. Aside from the bridles, Angus also helped with the sporrans and footwear and gauntlets that Ranulph had already been producing. The peddling of these—once the needs of the locals were met—fell now to Fynn as well.

  While Tess and Serena sat nearby, their hands busy with mending, Leslie joined Angus at the table. He’d offered his assistance to the record keeping of the leatherwork business, as Ranulph and Angus were not literate, and Fynn not good enough with figures to see to the task. Leslie kept one log book, recording all expenses, production, inventory, and profit, eschewing any monetary boon for the aid he gave.

  “A superior product once again, Angus,” Leslie praised. “No sure how it is you have time for anything else.” He began to tally the number of bridles just as Ranulph entered the keep.

  Ranulph bid good day to all present and added several baskets and crates of leather goods to the table for Leslie to record. Fynn was expected any day and they were eager to send him off with his largest supply yet. Ranulph inspected Angus’s work with sincere enthusiasm. “Aye, I’ve much to learn yet.”

  “Ranulph,” Tess called, “can we send some fish home with you tonight? We’ve too much for the next few days, and I’d not like to see it wasted.”

  “Aye, that’s very kind of you, milady,” Ranulph said, having weeks ago learned to speak around her. “Bridie’d be thankful, as the mutton and pottage do grow old,” he continued, speaking of his young wife.

  “I haven’t seen Bridie in so long,” Serena lamented. “I understand she’s busy, what with the help she gives you in the tannery, and then caring for the boys, and surely so much else, but tell her I’d love to see her.”

  “I’d like to meet her,” Tess said, much to Ranulph’s delight. “Oh, we should visit her, Serena. ’Would be ever so much easier than to have her take time out of her day to traipse up here to the castle.”

  “Wonderful!” Serena agreed. “Would that be alright, Ranulph? Might we visit one afternoon next week?”

  “Aye, if you’d not mind,” Ranulph answered, seeming quite pleased by the request. “I ken she’d like to see you again, milady, and to meet you as well, Lady Tess.”

  FYNN RETURNED AS EXPECTED, the next day, late in the afternoon. As he often did, he spent his first hours with Angus and Ranulph and Leslie, preferring that business was taken care of first so that it could be set aside. He spent most of his time traveling outside of Inesfree, often to larger towns and ports where trade was done. Fynn regularly brought news to Inesfree of the goings-on outside of the castle and village. Though they always hoped for word of Conall and Gregor and their armies, they knew this was unlikely, or at best, the news would not be specific to their loved ones. But he’d told them of King Edward’s siege of Stirling Castle, to the south.

  “With twelve siege engines, they come!” Fynn said, his astonishment clear. “But Stirling held out.”

  “But I thought there was a truce,” said Serena.

  “Aye,” responded Fynn, “and so Stirling Castle was the last major stronghold, still refusing. Edward’s engineers built a siege machine, right there at Stirling and when they surrendered after many months, Edward would no allow it. He wanted to try his new machine first, and then he accepted their surrender.”

  “So that’s it?” Tess asked. “Now all of Scotland has conceded?”

  “Ach, no, miss,” Fynn insisted. “It’s all just words. There are indeed many traitorous Scots but for most of them, it’s just biding time, until the tides turn again. That’s what your men and Wallace are about.”

  This appeased all those gathered round only minimally.

  An hour later, as Tess readied herself for bed, Bethany already sleeping upon her cot, there was a knock at the door.

  Tess called for entry and Serena poked her head around the door. Tess had no idea why Serena should visit her at this hour but sensed pretty quickly that it had something to do with Fynn, as her eyes—indeed, her entire face—shone brightly.

  Tess didn’t have long to wait, as Serena closed the door and pronounced immediately, “He wants to marry me!”

  Tess’s excitement promptly matched her friend’s. “Oh, Serena!” The girls embraced and Tess recalled that Bethany slept so near, and whispered, “Did he...officially ask you?”

  Serena shook her head, though her joy was not diminished. “He will have to ask Conall, of course.”

  “Have you—?” Tess began.

  “Kissed him?” Serena guessed and nodded with girlish excitement, her hand covering her heart.

  Tess actually referred to other things, though she supposed the vague air of innocence that still surrounded Serena answered these questions.

  “Fynn says he hates trading now, because it takes him away from me.”

  Tess felt the warmth of such a sentiment and was truly happy for Serena.

  After a little more conversation, Serena took her leave, anxious to find her own bed, or perhaps Fynn himself, Tess wondered.

  Tess sighed and stared absently out the window of her tower. It was now the third of September. She watched idly, appreciating the colors of the setting sun, shooting arcs of purple and orange and red across the sky, up over the tree line. She had the length of her hair pulled over her shoulder, braiding the mass of it against her breast. She sighed, thinking Conall had been gone now almost four months. She wondered often what he might be doing. Staring at that same sunset? Routing the enemy? Saving lives? Thinking of her? Without any proof, she somehow knew he was safe yet.

  She clung to this.

  TESS AND SERENA WALKED into the village several days later, each with a basket hanging over one arm. Tess’s borrowed cloak and Serena’s soft plaid were closed tight against the stiff wind and cooler air. They were followed, as always, by two MacGregor soldiers, walking behind at a respectful distance.

  Serena was speaking of Fynn, of course, and Tess silently delighted in Serena’s newest habit of beginning so many sentences with, “Fynn says....”.

  “Will Fynn give up his trading when you marry? Tess asked.

  “We haven’t actually discussed it, but I do hope so.”

  “I do, too—for your sake. It is dreadful when someone you love is gone so long,” Tess said, thinking of her own longing, wishing Serena did not have to suffer this.

  Tess paused and glanced back at Serena who had stopped walking and stared at Tess with a smile that had begun slow but widened quickly. Tess stared back, waiting for an explanation for Serena’s strange behavior.

  “You are in love with Conall! I knew it!” Serena cried. She moved closer and grabbed Tess’s hands, shaking them excitedly. “Will you marry him now?”

  Tess didn’t necessarily try to do an about-face, but she reviewed her own words. She let out an almost inaudible gasp, realizing what she’d just said and to whom she referred. But....

>   A rather ironic chuckle bubbled up. “He hasn’t asked in a while.”

  “Oh, but he will!” Serena predicted, squeezing Tess’s hands.

  “Because he still craves Marlefield.”

  Serena shook her head. “Conall will always crave Marlefield—as would you if your home were stolen—though I daresay—"

  “What?” Tess shook off Serena’s hands to hold her own up, palms facing her friend, almost defensively. “What did...why did you say that?”

  Serena breathed heavily and briefly shut her eyes. When they’d opened again, there were lighted with resignation.

  “Because it’s true!” Serena replied with rare impatience, which startled Tess. “He should have told you,” she said. “Your mother should have told you—though maybe she’d hadn’t any idea of her own husband’s machinations. You and Conall were to be betrothed.” She held up her hand when Tess opened her mouth. “’Tis true. It was so many years ago, Conall was younger than you now. Marlefield wasn’t an ancient home, but it belonged to the MacGregors, for several generations at least.” Her words tumbled out quicker as she continued, “The MacGregors have long sought Scottish independence, and Conall’s sire had refused to sign the Ragman Rolls—they’d never vow fealty to any but a Scot Your father pretended a desire for an alliance, but in truth, ‘twas a ploy to curry favor with the English king and gain himself another castle and land.” She shook her head and waved her hand, her irritation clear. “Conall should have told you. ‘Twas no trivial scheme, his taking of you—your father had murdered all but handfuls of his clan, including his own sire, before his eyes. ‘Twas only John that saved him.”

  Tess hadn’t any clue what to do with this information. She barely blinked, still gaping at Serena, trying to process this monumental cache of truth. While it explained much—not least of all her father’s agitated loathing of Conall, and Conall’s powerful wish to claim Marlefield—it raised many questions as well. All these words spun ‘round in her head. True, she’d known her father was a hard man, but she’d never—not once—thought him capable of such treachery.