“My father—murdered Conall’s family.” Her horror choked her.
Serena gripped her arms firmly, drawing Tess back. “And it hasn’t anything to do with you, Tess. Your father’s sins are his own just as Conall’s actions and reactions are his.”
Each breath in and out of her chest felt as if it were composed of heated and barbed steel. “My God, how can Conall even stand to—”
Serena shook her. “Because it has nothing to do with you! You didn’t commit any crime. You had no idea of any of the treachery—neither your sire’s nor Conall’s!”
“But how can he not hate me as well?”
“Why? Because of kinship? That’s ridiculous. Tess, would you hate Conall if you’d learned that his father had killed yours?”
“No,” she answered quite easily, but thought to add, “though I would not allow myself to love him.”
Serena gave a short laugh. “I believe he did try.”
Tess found no humor in this.
Serena pressed, “Tess, you are not your father and Conall knows this.”
“I know that,” Tess finally said. “My father—it has never been about me. But I’d thought Conall...”
“Yes. He does,” Serena said, finishing Tess’s thought. “Whatever it began as, you know—you know!—that is dead. It hasn’t been about Marlefield for a long time.”
This had teased her for a while. She often rejected it, favoring stubbornness over hope. Serena’s ferocity just now insisted she finally acknowledge that it wasn’t about Marlefield. Conall’s eyes danced before her, the blue so clear. She recalled his kiss, gentle and stirring and needful. And his temper, after the incident at May Day, all that ferocity wasn’t about Marlefield, she knew, only her.
“I love him.” She saw nothing just now but his face. Tess covered her mouth with her fingers. But she could not take it back. “It’s not anything I’d imagined.” Her words were slow and slight and musing, “It clutches my chest and waters my eyes and takes all my breaths.”
Serena smiled wondrously and hugged Tess to her.
They continued on to the village, though Tess had nearly lost interest in the purpose of their visit. She wanted only to return to the castle, to her tower room, and confront all this information and dissect it and tear it apart. She tried to relive conversations and moments with Conall, applying all this newfound knowledge, but was at a loss to create any different circumstance than the present: that she was in love with him, but still hadn’t any notion if he might return the sentiment.
They passed by large wheat fields now shorn to the ground and the tithe barn, larger than most of the homesteads, before reaching the crofter’s cottages, which were clustered around several crossing roads. Each tenant’s space was large enough for their own dwelling, a farmstead, and a garden. The village shared a communal pastureland, which sat on a rise at the north end of town.
Serena led Tess past the first few cottages and turned up the grassless walk of the next, slighter larger than the others, with whitewashed stone under the fresh thatch of the roof. She rapped smartly upon the wooden door and stepped back to wait. The two soldiers remained at the road, their backs to the cottage.
The door opened and filled with a young woman, whose bright and friendly green eyes passed nervously over Serena and Tess. Tess thought her very pretty indeed, with stunning red hair and a most disarming smile to accompany those pretty eyes. She stood taller than Serena, with lanky arms and a long neck.
“Milady,” she greeted, “tis fine indeed to see you again.”
“And you, Bridie,” Serena returned, “and this is Lady Tess Munro.”
Bridie turned her gaze to Tess. “I ken well who you are, milady, and I canna say I’ve ever been more pleased to meet anyone.”
Tess believed her, so transparent and constant was her gaze. “The pleasure is mine, truly. Your husband and Lady Serena speak often and fondly of you.”
“Aye, but where are my manners? Come in. Come in.”
They stepped inside and Tess was surprised to find the interior of the cottage so pretty and cheerful. Either Ranulph or Bridie herself had whitewashed the walls inside as well, brightening the sizeable main room which served as their eating, living and sleeping area. The room was very long, with a wide bed and small trunk at one end, the wall nearest hung with many garments in assorted sizes. In the center of the room sat the hearth, under a purposeful hole in the roof, and at this end near the door was the family’s dining table, just large enough for four, with squat benches on either side of it. Kitchen utensils hung from pegs on the wall near the table and in the corner, stacked neatly, sat many buckets and pots and crocks.
Bridie waved her hand toward the table. “Please sit.”
They did, setting their baskets upon the table.
“We’ve brought you some black bun,” Serena said, pulling the linen away from the pastry covered fruit cake.
“And honey.” Tess revealed several small crocks in her basket.
Bridie expressed her joy over these items and thanked the ladies effusively.
“’Tis very kind, indeed,” said Bridie, “but then I ken you would be.” Bridie offered to carve some of the black bun, but Serena insisted it was for her and Ranulph and her boys.
“Aye, they’re gone with old man Creagh, putting the cows to pasture.”
“How old are your boys, Bridie?” Tess asked.
“Five and seven now, but they’re growing up fast these past few weeks with their da gone so much.” She was quick to add, “Aye, but milady, dinna think we’re no grateful for... well, everything.”
“Not at all.” Serena quickly put her at ease. “But, Bridie, Tess and I have been discussing something, and it has to do with all this extra work for Ranulph. And we have an idea.”
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, they left Bridie’s home, feeling quite pleased to have the matter settled. The MacGregor soldiers moved off the walkway to let them pass and fell into step behind them.
“Oh, she’s quite lovely,” Tess said of Bridie.
“Isn’t she though?” Serena agreed.
They talked and walked, and Tess made mention that she was sorry that she’d not asked Bridie if she were any good with a needle.
At the question in Serena’s eyes, Tess explained, “I cannot, after all, wait until Bethany grows old enough to help us with that bloody tapestry.”
Serena laughed at this. “We should have started with the smaller ones.”
Coming just upon the ledge of Godit’s Rise, which showed the castle below, they saw immediately that the entire area in front of the gate was filled with hundreds of mounted men. Soldiers. It took not one more second to find the blue and gray banner and distinguish the eagle centered upon it.
Conall.
CHAPTER 27
Conall nearly bounded off Mercury before the animal had stopped fully. The boys from the stables would come to collect the steeds, but he paused to hastily untie several items from the worn leather saddle bag.
His shoulder was thumped, and he turned to find John giving him one of those fish-eating smirks he so loved to bestow, knowing very well what had Conall behaving so anxiously.
John said nothing, just tipped his big head and pointed beyond Conall, to the west toward the path from the rise.
Conall turned and saw several persons coming from the direction of the village, moving swiftly. He recognized instantly two MacGregor soldiers and in the next instant identified the forms of Tess and Serena, though their heavy outerwear concealed much.
She was far away, across the field, coming just from the bottom of Godit’s Rise. He was sure at first that his eyes deceived him. But no, it was Tess—bright hair, beloved face and all. Ah, that face, which had haunted him for months, became clearer as she neared. While all those around him still moved forward and through the gate, Conall’s hand fell away from his saddle bag. He stared for only a moment before, besieged with great purpose, he began to walk toward her.
He was home. A
nd Tess was here.
He marched across the field, leaving the castle and army behind, his starved gaze only for her. She picked up her skirts and began to run toward him, the hood of her cloak falling away from her hair. Conall lengthened his own stride.
Upon the great open field of Inesfree, against a backdrop of a dark gray sky, amid the tall grass of the late summer, they met neatly in the middle, neither stopping, but crashing into one another. His arms engulfed her, his lips crushed against hers, devouring her. Her arms hugged him close, clawing into his back. In the swift breeze, her hair fluttered outward, her skirts flapped against their twined legs while the wind billowed his tunic much like a sail, save for where her arms pressed against him.
When he pulled back, she cried out. But his hands cupped her face, his eyes darting from one feature to the next. "Dinna cry, lass," he said, a laugh, entirely jubilant, in his voice.
"Oh, Conall," she cried, but it was stirred with a nervous laugh. She hugged him tight again, laying her head against his chest. "Oh, I have dreamed of this."
Above her, Conall closed his eyes and held her tight. If he only dreamed now, it was too steeped in rightness to take for granted. He was holding Tess. He needed to absorb this, feel her, burrow deep inside and never surface.
Inhaling of her clean, fresh scent, Conall knew the fears that had plagued him for so many months—that he might return to Inesfree to find Tess gone—were unfounded. “You stayed,” he said, breathed into her upturned face. “Why?”
Because I love you. Those were the words he wanted to hear. Until this very moment, despite the haunted dreams and the ache he'd known for just one more moment with Tess, he'd not realized he'd craved those words.
Until now.
“I promised.”
She continued to press her head into is chest. She couldn’t see his interrupted joy at what had been a rather remarkable homecoming.
Stiffening, he lowered his hands. That damn promise. For Bethany. For Angus. It had nothing to do with him, save that he’d used it to keep her here. Because he couldn’t bear the thought of Tess not being here, not being with him.
He could not deny the disillusionment he felt. He’d just survived months and months of brutal and bloody fighting—some of the worst he’d ever seen—and had watched William Wallace, that great hero of this long war of independence, grow more and more desperate and weary. He’d begun to feel as if Scotland might now be actually further away than ever from complete freedom, and through all this rarely a day, sometimes not even an hour, had passed that he hadn’t thought of Tess, and his desire to be with her.
“Conall?” She lifted her head, now sensing his sudden detachment.
“I’m to meet with John and Leslie,” he said evasively. Dismissively.
Her hands slipped away from his shirtfront and all that animation faded from her features.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” He kept his gaze hard.
The stricken look on her face nearly softened him, made him beg. The light fading from those most remarkable green eyes almost undid him. But then she clamped her lips and turned away from him.
He sighed, the long breath releasing all that pent up hopefulness and the discontent that came with the reality of their reunion.
Oh, I have dreamed of this, she had said.
That was something.
Her retreating figure drew his attention.
She held her shoulders straight and her head high, arms swinging at her sides as she marched away. The tall grass reached near to her thighs, but she stalked through it as if it swept only her ankles. She would leave him, just like that. Conall frowned. No argument? Just walk away? His frown creased into a full-fledged scowl. "Son of a bitch." He cursed his own stupidity. Hands fisted at his sides. And he ran her down, reaching her quickly, the swaying grass certainly no hindrance to him. She turned, at the sound of his pursuit, just as he reached out and grabbed her arm.
Fresh tears shimmered in her eyes, darkening the orbs to emerald. She fought to stave off a trembling of her lips.
"Tess," he said, decidedly uncomfortable with the words forming in his head. "I had hoped you might have thought of me, maybe...missed me." And he waited. Endlessly it seemed, while she regarded him, fighting still the threat of tears.
Her expression registered only the briefest hint of surprise, but then softened, her face tilting, her eyes lightening.
“I would have thought that my ungainly gallop across the field to meet you might have said as much.” She said, her tone even, clinging yet to her own hurt, he guessed.
Conall nodded, holding her gaze, and his hand moved down from her upper arm, waiting until she turned her hand into his. She did so, slowly. How he loved the feel of her hand, so very soft and small, engulfed in his. Always, this had been good.
“I’ve been away for too long,” he said, by way of excuses for his untenable behavior. “I forget how to...be ‘round you.” He was staring at their linked hands.
She stepped closer and put her free hand on his cheek, bringing his gaze to hers.
“Not like that.” A slow smile emerged.
He laughed and swung her up in his arms, relieved by her forgiveness. God, she felt so damn good here. Her arms, wrapping around his neck, brought with them a peacefulness he’d not experienced in so long.
They walked hand in hand toward the castle. The large open space in front of the gate was stilled filled with most of Conall’s army. Those with family inside had probably already found their loved ones, might even now still be in their arms.
“Gregor?” She asked.
“He’d left more than a month ago,” Conall told her. “Was talk of some English bringing trouble down near the border. We’ll meet again. But I see you’re near bursting with news to share.”
Conall grinned. She was nearly bouncing beside him.
She nodded excitedly. “I’d almost forgotten—no, I hadn’t forgotten, ‘tis too huge to have forgotten, but then you kissed me and...well, where is John?”
Conall glanced around at the faces as they walked through all the horses and men and finally gained the outer, then inner bailey. “There.” He pointed to the captain, holding up the rear foot of one of the large destriers, inspecting the shoe.
“John!” Tess called out as they neared. The big man turned, and upon seeing Tess, set the hoof down gently. He stood straight and faced Tess, barely in time to catch her embrace. The old man’s eyes close while he hugged her back. Conall knew that feeling, that warmth, that irrefutable sense of peace John felt just now.
Tess released him, her eagerness tangible. “I know you have much to share,” she said. “Supper is probably a fine time to fill us in, but—oh, my—so much has happened. You must come with me!”
It would have been impossible to resist her enthusiasm, which they had no desire to do, and they followed Tess into the keep.
Only a handful of soldiers had reached the hall as of yet. Conall’s eye scanned the room, satisfied that it appeared almost exactly as he’d left it. Even Angus seemed not to have moved, perched as he was by the hearth, though perhaps he sported a newer tunic, courtesy of Tess, Conall guessed. Tess walked immediately to Angus, then bent down, her back to him and John near the door. When she straightened and turned, he saw that she held Bethany in her arms. The transformation of the child shocked Conall. She seemed years older, her hair pulled back into neat braids, these tied up atop her head. She was dressed in a miniature version of Tess’s burgundy gown, complete with matching metal belt and the same embroidery about the collar. And her face—she was smiling and appeared so carefree. Conall was stunned at this change.
She spotted Conall and John and her eyes widened, her joy evident.
“Cone!” She cried out, her arms reaching for him.
Conall’s jaw dropped. He looked at Tess, whose own delight was a beautiful thing. Conall and John exchanged glances, wearing similar dumbfounded expressions.
He moved swiftly
and claimed Bethany from Tess.
“Cone!” She said again.
Conall nodded, barely able to contain his emotions. He did not bother to hide these feelings, just buried his head against her and squeezed her tight, letting this new joy wash over him.
Bethany squirmed though—she had more to say. Conall lifted his head and turned them to face John, who only now moved, walking slowly at them.
“And who is that?” Tess forced Bethany’s attention to the captain.
Bethany scrunched up her face, making silly eyes at the older man as he so often did to her. “John,” she said finally.
Conall had never seen his captain cry. Not ever. Not when he’d lost his wife, nor any of his three sons. Not when Conall’s father had been murdered. Never once during the last few months when they’d seen more death and brutality than ever before.
But he cried now, unabashedly. Tears fell from his eyes and a strangled noise came from deep inside. Conall handed Bethany off to him and watched Bethany throw her arms around the big bear’s neck.
Tess stood with her hands covering her mouth. In joy and awe and wonder. Her own eyes were wet. Even Angus, his head tilted and listening, displayed a supreme satisfaction.
“Angus, my friend,” Conall knelt down to the blind man and touched his knee.
“Aye, now, laird, ‘tis good to have you home.” His voice was gentle.
Tess was crowding John and Bethany. “Bethany, what do we say when someone comes home after being gone a long time?”
Bethany looked at Tess, frowning while she tried to remember. Her little hands twisted over each other.
Tess nodded.
“Love you.”
Tess laughed. “Yes, that, too.”
And that was enough.
“That’s the highlight, of course,” Tess said. She slid her hand into the crook of Conall’s arm as they watched John and Bethany. “But oh, there’s so much more.”
The Touch 0f Her Hand (Highlander Heroes Book 1) Page 26