“Say you like me?”
Addie chuckled. “I don’t think you can be unaware o’ that.”
He felt his cheeks warm up. He grinned. He hardly ever blushed. “Maybe not,” he said.
“Well, then?” She was looking at him again. Now, the smile flattened out, she looked only sad.
“Lass,” he sighed. “I ken what I did was wrong. I know it. All I want is that you can forgive me.”
She smiled tenderly. “You are daft, Alexander,” she said.
“What?” He blinked, confused.
“You must ken how I felt. You have to ken I…wanted you,” she added awkwardly. “And then you must also ken that I cannot abide by what I did.”
“What you did? Addie!” His face twisted in remorse. “Listen. You don’t really think those priests are right, that you’ll go to hell?”
“I don’t know!” she looked at him, desperately. “I can’t know. I’m scared, Alexander.” She shifted on the wall, dropping to her feet. He turned to face her. His heart ached.
“Addie, my sweetling. Dinnae fash…”
“Fash!” Addie rounded on him; her eyes huge. “You think I’m fashing? I’ve committed an unpardonable sin. This is the fate of my soul! And you talk about fashing, like I’m a silly child? I dinnae ken ye, Alexander! I don’t even know your last name!”
He swallowed hard. She was right. What he’d done was wrong. She might think she deserved eternal torment for her sin – how much more tormented must he be? She was right! He had been wrong. “My name is Raeburne.”
“Raeburne?” she looked shy.
“Alexander Raeburne,” he said. He felt his title leap to his tongue, but stifled it. What would she say, if she knew he was a titled landholder! She was a servant – a skilled laborer, but a worker nonetheless! She would think he’d used her, and hate him more strongly.
“Oh, Alexander,” she whispered.
She slid off the wall and walked away from him. He watched her go back to the barn, heart aching. What could he say?
There was nothing he could say to contradict her. Nothing he could do, either. He had always intended to wed her, but how could he do that yet? He was a traitor. As a baroness, he could give her the life he longed for her to experience – as the wife of a traitor, she would be so much worse off than now.
No, he had to wait.
Walking back up the garden path, he slumped in the barn.
“Supper, sir?”
“Brogan?” he looked into his sergeant’s beaming face.
“Yes, sir?”
“Get lost?” he asked. “Just, I mean…please?”
Brogan shrugged. “If you want. I’ll sleep in the stables. Stands to reason, you’ll no’ want me around ye.”
He sounded hurt and Alexander winced, hearing it. What was happening, that he seemed to be hurting everyone he loved?
“Curse it, Alexander,” he said.
He lay down in the straw and closed his eyes.
* * *
Addie turned around, hearing steps on the pathway. She looked up to see Brogan, heading to the stable. He was walking slowly, back slouched. He seemed sad, she thought instinctively. She guessed it would be better not to disturb him and so she stayed where she was.
“I should go,” she said to herself. The sunset was almost gone now, a stripe of orange on a dark hilltop. She watched it darkening visibly, the autumn sunset was fast.
She knew, without having to think about it, what she should do. The King of England would be leaving soon, traveling back to his lands in the South – it was likely he’d already departed.
“Somebody will need to inform Alexander’s men.”
She had never thought about it before, but she was perfectly placed to collect information. She was literally at the ear of English and Scots nobles, as a hairdresser. She could feed information back to Alexander.
If I’m caught, I’ll be glad if they just kill me.
She knew, with vivid detail, precisely what happened to spies, and traitors. Such people were made unforgettable examples of. She had absolutely no desire to end up like that.
What else could she do? She had sinned with Alexander. Perhaps if she promised to help her country in this way, to free it from the threat of domination, she would receive atonement.
She nodded. It was what she would do. She walked back up the rise towards the barn. At the door, she paused.
Alexander was sitting in there, alone. She could see his profile, his hair fluffed out around it, drying from the misty condensation. He was a muscled, dark shape in the shadow. She could tell, from the way he was sitting, that he was feeling desolate.
“Alexander?”
He looked up. His eyes were dark holes. She felt her heart twist. She walked in, knowing what she would do. She knelt in front of him.
“Alexander,” she said.
He reached for her hand and held it. She leaned in and, without thinking hard, planted her lips on his in a sweet kiss.
His thin, firm lips parted under hers. She felt him play his tongue along the outline of her lips and closed her eyes. It was a beautiful feeling, one she felt tingling down right into her insides.
She sighed and grasped him. His hard, trained body pressed against her. She wrapped her arms around him and gasped as he drew her against him, his muscled arms holding her in a tight embrace.
“Addie,” he whispered gruffly in her ear. “I love you.”
She felt her heart move into her throat. “I love you, Alexander. Alexander Raeburne.”
He chuckled and pushed her back against the straw. She let herself fall, and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him toward her. He stroked her back and she felt his fingers fumbling with the button behind her neck, the back fastening of her dress.
She found her hands, skillful now, lifting his tunic. She could feel the rippling muscles.
He grunted and tossed his shirt aside, then grappled with her buttons, drawing her clothes aside. He bent down and started kissing her neck, her chest, her breasts.
She sighed and closed her eyes and let him undress her, their bodies moving with a sort of desperate haste.
He thrust into her, making her dazed with wonder. He felt so right within her, so firm! She would never have imagined the way it felt – so good, so satisfying.
They were moving together, pushing and grunting and gasping.
She felt herself start to twitch, that strange, pressing, rising feeling that grew from the place between her legs and flowered inside her belly and ignited her, start again.
“Alexander…” she whispered.
“Addie,” he breathed. He was grunting, straining, eyes shut. His powerful body was bent over, and she could see his firm shoulders as he knelt over her, his body pushing and pulling.
She felt herself cry out, white nothing floating across her vision. She heard him grunt, straining, and then collapse.
They lay there, their perspiration gluing them tight together and she wondered, with an aching heart, how she would sneak out that morning.
MOMENT OF TERROR
Alexander rolled over, feeling wonderfully warm. He was lying on straw, he recalled, smelling the scent of hay. The rest of the events of the previous day flashed, suddenly and vividly, into his mind. Addie, here with him, on the pallet, her sweet, amazing body pressed to his, those curves within easy reach of his hands as she cried out, her skin slaked with perspiration. He felt his belly tingle with wonder.
“Addie?” He reached out.
His fingers touched bare stone.
He sat bolt upright, heart thumping. A bright sunshiny day showed him an empty barn. He leaned against the wall, letting it support him as he shuffled upright.
“Addie?”
He stumbled forward, feeling the cold stone under the hay as he crossed the barn floor, away from the comfortable sacking. He stared through the door. The gentle slope on which the barn stood was clad with grass and some late-autumnal flowers. The yard was otherwise empty.
>
“No,” he said, not sure if he spoke to her, or to himself. “No, Addie.”
He threw on his hose and tunic, grabbed his cloak. Fumbling it shut in his haste, he marched to the stable, feet blueish in the morning’s chill.
“Brogan?”
His friend stretched and yawned, appeared in the stable’s door. He was dressed in his undershirt and leggings, and his hair was intermixed with straw.
“Somebody had a good rest,” his friend yawned, shooting him a reproachful look. “But for the rest of us? You might keep your voice down. My head feels like a drum.”
“Curse it, Brogan!” Alexander shouted, distraught. “She’s vanished.”
“She has?” Brogan ran a weary hand across his face. He was linen pale with lack of sleep, black prints of weariness round both his eyes.
“Yes!” Alexander strode to him, feeling frantic. “She was with me in the barn! Now she’s…gone! You must have seen?”
“I wasn’t watching,” Brogan shrugged. “Your business isn’t mine.”
Alexander felt his hands ball into fists, and he fought the urge to strike Brogan. He knew it had shown on his face, because his former sergeant went pale and he stepped back. Alexander sighed.
“Sorry, Brogan,” he whispered. “But, please…find her? We have to!”
He felt quite sick with fear. The woods were full of dangers! Outlaws, hungry animals – bears and wolves were not uncommon there – and criminals. Soldiers, too.
“If the soldiers see her…” he whispered.
He didn’t need to finish. They would arrest her and question her. She was with them, and they were being hunted. The safest place – the only place – for them was the abbey. Now she’d left its sanctuary.
“I understand,” Brogan nodded. “We’ll find her.” He was already turning swiftly to the stables.
“I’ll check the abbey grounds,” Alexander called back. He hadn’t been all the way round yet. Even though Addie would be excluded from the precincts – the holy brotherhood was very strict about admitting women to the sanctuary – she might have gone to talk to the abbot.
Heart thumping, he ran up the incline to the monk’s gardens.
He saw a figure in a brown habit, a long stick in his hand, raking leaves. The man looked up tranquilly, a smile on his seamed face.
“Morning, young sir,” he grinned. “Can I help you?”
“Have you seen a woman?” Alexander blurted.
The monk looked shocked. “No, sir!” he said. He frowned.
“Oh, for…” Alexander felt desperation twist his guts. “Look, there was a woman who came with us. We’re fugitives. We sheltered in the barn and she’s…she’s gone.”
He covered his face in his hands. Addie!
“Easy, son,” the old man said gently. “It can’t be so bad. How far could she have gone? She was on foot, yes?” he inquired.
“Yes,” Alexander said swiftly. Addie couldn’t ride. Where would she have learned the skill?
“Well, then,” the monk said reasonably. “She cannot have gone far. We can look close to…”
He trailed off as Brogan appeared on the slope.
“Yes?” Alexander demanded.
“The horse,” he said. He was grunting from the run, doubled over. “Did it have panniers?”
“Panniers?” Alexander asked, feeling daft.
“Saddlebags, things! You know,” His friend gestured impatiently. “Did it?”
“The saddle had a bag, yes,” he recalled. Whatever it was, it must have had supplies the soldiers – the horse’s former owner – had used.
“It’s gone,” he said.
Alexander closed his eyes. My wild, daft woman! Where had she gone? If she’d stolen the saddle pack, she must have been intending to go far. It would perhaps have some money, some medical supplies. Things she would need for a long journey.
He looked at the monk and shook his head.
“We need to spread out and look for her,” the monk said firmly. “She won’t have gone far. How fast could she reasonably walk?”
Alexander shrugged. He didn’t know. He felt as if he didn’t know anything anymore.
“The cart,” Brogan said, bringing his attention back to the present.
“What cart?” he frowned. Both he and the monk looked at Brogan, flustered.
“The wool seller’s cart,” the monk interrupted. “It was here this morning, coming to collect fleeces to take the to the fair for us.”
Brogan and Alexander looked at one another. Wordlessly, Alexander started to trot down the slope, towards the stables. When he got there, Brogan, following swiftly, pointed to the soil.
There, by the entry to the barn around the front, were deep cart tracks. Leading up to the tracks were two sets of footprints. One, with boots with hobnails in the soles, was the carter. The other, the prints less marked, the soles smooth under the shoes, was probably a woman’s tread.
“It matches Addie’s feet,” Alexander said slowly. He had noticed, once, that they were small feet, with high arches. The prints looked right.
“I thought so,” Brogan said softly. “Sir, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Alexander said tightly. He fought down his sorrow. He couldn’t quite believe this had happened. Addie had clearly meant what she said the night before. Consumed with guilt, she’d left him. He thought his heart might break.
“Sir..?” Brogan said slowly.
“I’m coming, Brogan,” He snapped. “Saddle the horse. We’re getting onto the road.”
With a heavy heart, he walked towards the gate, where the abbey garden wall met the trees.
Somehow he had the aching feeling that he would never see her again.
* * *
Addie watched as the trees went slowly past. The cart had thin wheels, and every stone in the path made a jostling jolt, making her head thump.
“Almost there, lass,” the carter said gruffly. “No need tae sit so straight. I see your head’s paining ye. In the back, there’s plenty of room.”
Addie glanced over her shoulder. The back of the cart was covered with a greasy canvas framework, and housed piles of raw wool. The smell of lanolin was strong, but it wasn’t that which put her off. She wanted to lie down and rest in the rankly scented piles of wool, sheltered from the rain. However, she had no plans to be at the mercy of the carter. What if she fell asleep?
“I’ll stay where I am, thanks,” she said decisively. “Berwick isn’t far.”
“No, it isn’t,” the carter said, giving a wheezy chuckle. “It isn’t more than five miles now. There’s been a right rumpus up there, I can tell ye.”
“Rumpus?” Addie frowned at him.
“Aye. The King! He’s on his way tae leave, and then…then these felons start taking shots at him! He said he’ll no’ be facing such things lightly.”
Addie felt her heart twist in fear. That was a bad thing. She recalled her encounters with the English king. Quiet, contained, he had the air of a sleeping predator. It might be restful, but the moment it chose to stand up, it could strike and kill you swiftly.
“He’s a right one,” the man chuckled. “As tall as me again, by half! I saw him across the valley once!” he added, sounding as if this was an achievement. “Him, and our king – Empty coat.”
“I did his hair,” Addie said.
The fellow stared at her, horrified.
That put an end to all conversation.
Addie could do what she pleased after that. She could, she thought, likely fall asleep in the sheep wool and wake up safe and unscathed at Berwick Castle. She preferred not to, though. The carter regarded her with shock for a while, then leaned back, gripping the reins.
Sitting tautly upright on the wooden bench, she counted the trees to make herself stay awake.
And one oak tree, and two…and three…remember Alexander, carving wood? I wonder if he finished that stave.
Her mind drifted, showing her pictures of Alexander. Sleeping, his ruined
hair falling onto his cheek, eyes shut, body restful. Alexander, awake, laughing at some joke from her, or Brogan. Alexander, stretching in the clearing, his strong shoulders firm and dense, his grin teasing her as he looked up.
“A pox on him,” she whispered.
“The King?” the carter nodded. “Aye. And on Baliol, too,” he swore.
“I liked him,” Addie said, eyes blazing. “And here we are at the crossroads. You can let me go, now. Thank you,” she added, reaching into her pocket for a coin.
The fellow looked at her, mouth opening and shutting like a fish. He took the coin from her hand with nerveless fingers. She turned away and marched up the hill.
“A pox on everyone who hates Lord Baliol,” she said, feeling her eyes stinging with tears. “The carter, and the lords, and you too, Alexander Raeburne. And you, too.”
She covered her face with her hands.
The rain had stopped, and she walked along the rain slick, muddy pathway, heading up the hill towards Berwick. The castle itself was offset from the village, and she heard the sound of a patrol near the gate before she reached it. She stiffened.
“Who goes there?”
“Addie McMurrie,” she said in a voice she held commendably level. “I’m here to resume my service in the household.”
“A runaway servant, eh?” the soldier grinned. He advanced on Addie and she shrank back, hands balling into fists at her side in terror.
“Leave her, Keith,” an older voice said sternly. “Well, lass…if ye’re a runaway, what can we do? We’ll take ye tae the steward. That’s his watch, not ours. But mind you’re not lying to us, see?” he added. “We don’t like lies, and we’ve had a pack o’ trouble up here as it is.”
He looked weary, Addie noticed, face gray, eyes ringed, stance tired.
“Trouble?” she asked, feeling her heart thump. That seemed to reflect the carter’s warnings too. What was going on?
“Nothing more than the usual,” the guard sighed. “Bunch of scalawags wanting tae kill the king. Both o’ them – Edward and his pet – and our job is tae stop them.”
The Highlander On The Run (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 1) Page 15