“You called me mademoiselle, but I’ve not been one in years.”
“Please forgive me, Madame Redmond.”
Her laughter echoed off the mossy stone walls. In the time he’d been here, he’d endured many silent evenings, and the lighthearted sound was a pleasant departure for him. “Don’t be absurd. How could you know such a thing?”
“Now that I do, I’ll be certain to address you properly.” After testing their meal with his fingernail, he added, “Your husband has been well blessed.”
“My husband is dead.”
The revelation came in a flat tone, devoid of emotion. He enjoyed the melodic quality of her voice, and the contrast disturbed him. Eric searched his withered heart for a remnant of the compassion he’d once possessed and was relieved to find that even now, a sliver of it still remained.
“My sympathies to you, milady. You’re far too young to be a widow.”
She lifted a delicate shoulder in dismissal. “I was far too young to be his wife.”
Rattled by her honesty, Eric busied himself with their meager supper. It was easier to maintain a proper distance from his lovely guest if he didn’t look into those sparkling eyes. Even in the faint light, they crackled with warmth and intelligence, and he felt her studying him, as if she were trying to ascertain what sort of man he was. His well-honed instincts told him that she was searching for something.
But she’d not find it in him. He had nothing left.
Chapter Two
While Eric tended to his horse in another chamber of the cave, Elisabeth stared into the flames and wondered.
Who was he? Where had he come from, and how had he managed to appear at the very time and place when she needed his help? She suspected that he would willingly answer the first two, but the last would evoke a stony silence. While she was a firm believer in fate, Eric didn’t seem the type to have faith in anything beyond the reach of his sword.
“That’s a most dangerous look you’re wearing.”
She started at the unexpected sound of his voice and let out a nervous laugh. “I’m hardly a threat to you.”
“Au contraire, milady,” he replied as he joined her near the fire. “In my experience, a curious woman is the most dangerous creature alive.”
Beneath the wry tone ran a current of seductiveness, reminding her that this man was a complete stranger to her. If he chose to press his advantage in having her alone, she’d be powerless to stop him. The shiver that rattled through her was equal parts fear and chill.
Eric reached to his throat and unclasped the brooch holding his cloak in place. She held her breath as he lifted the heavy wool from his shoulders and moved toward her. Hammering with apprehension, her heart seemed intent on slamming its way out of her chest.
He settled the cloak over her shoulders and pulled it around her like a blanket. Still warm from his skin, the well-worn fabric felt soft against her cheek. The caring gesture only added to the mystery of who, and what, he might be.
She looked up to thank him, but the words caught in her throat. His expression was a melancholy one, filled with longing. Far from lustful, it was loneliness she sensed within him. ’Twas the sort of pain she could no more heal than understand, but she couldn’t ignore it as if it had made no impression on her.
“Eric, may I ask you a question?”
“Mais oui.” He leaned back against the wall, draping an arm over his bent knee as if they were conversing after a pleasant evening meal at her father’s table.
“How did you come to be here?”
“On a ship.”
Not a twitch of humor showed on his face, but clearly he was teasing her. Elisabeth gave in with a laugh. “Of course. How foolish of me.”
He nearly smiled at that, but not quite. It was as if he’d forgotten how. Thinking to help him remember, she grinned. “It must have been difficult for you to convince a ship’s captain to take Micah on board. He’s quite large.”
“I’d not have left without him. He’s brave and cunning, and he’s saved my life many a time. Such loyalty deserves to be rewarded in kind.”
Beneath his words, she discovered a clue to his past. He’d been loyal to someone who betrayed him. “Why did you leave your family and come to Scotland?”
“As I have no family, it wasn’t as troubling to me as you make it sound.”
One of hundreds in her clan, Elisabeth couldn’t comprehend being alone in the world. Surely, he was exaggerating. “But you must have someone.”
“I never knew my father, and my mother died long ago.” His features darkened with anguish, and he rested his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. “My wife Claire is buried beside her.”
So he’d been married. That explained his gentleness with her. She longed to ask more questions but was loathe to sadden him further. It was clear that the loss of his wife still caused him a great deal of pain.
Elisabeth reached out to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he put up his own hand to stop her. Without opening his eyes, he said, “You’d best get some sleep, milady. We’ll leave at first light.”
Feeling like a scolded child, she lay down beside the fire and drew the cloak around her. While the fire dwindled, he remained half-sitting, arms wrapped about his chest. Though his eyes remained closed, she knew he wasn’t asleep. Apparently he meant to keep guard over her all night. As the air grew cooler, his tunic would hardly be enough to ward off the chill.
Improper as it was, she left the fire and settled beside him, draping the heavy cloak over them both. At his puzzled look, she smiled. “We’ll both be warmer this way.”
“You trust me so much?”
She shouldn’t, she well knew. He could be an outlaw, running from trouble in France. He could be a murderer or a thief. But he’d risked his life to help her, and the least she could do was show him a bit of kindness.
“If you meant to harm me,” she said with more confidence than she felt, “you’d not have shared the last of your food with me.”
“Interesting logic. I thought the Scots were uncultured barbarians with little use for brains.”
“Some are, I suppose. The Redmond aren’t among them.”
“Indeed? And what do the Redmond stand for?”
“Freedom,” she answered quickly. “We won’t stop fighting ’til we have it.”
“An admirable goal.” The respect in his tone told her that he realized she was speaking of herself, not only the Scots’ fight for independence. After several moments, he added, “Did you recognize any of the men who abducted you?”
She thought carefully. “I’ve not seen any of them before, and they wore no clan colors. They talked very quietly to one another, so I didn’t hear much.”
“Their intention, no doubt. If they remain unknown to you, they won’t be in danger of being caught. Have you any idea why they wanted you?”
“No.”
Without warning, her jagged emotions broke free in a flood of tears. Eric circled her in his arms and pulled her close.
“Gavin and Merrick,” she choked, her words muffled by his sleeve. “I canna believe they’re gone.”
“They were more than guards to you.”
“They were cousins, two of my favorites.” She paused to wipe her tears, but more rushed in to replace them. “Their mother will be heartbroken that she won’t be able to bury her sons.”
“You needn’t worry over that. After trailing you to the camp, I backtracked and found them. I cached their bodies so they can be retrieved for a proper burial.”
Astonished, she looked up at him. “You don’t even know them. Why would you do such a thing?”
“They died protecting you.”
She waited for him to go on, but apparently that was all the answer he meant to give her. Enigmatic he was, to be sure. How many more secrets did those dark features conceal?
“You’ve had a long and trying day.” Whisking away the last of her tears, he lightly kissed her forehead. “You should
get some sleep.”
She nodded and cuddled into his embrace. Completely worn out, she promptly fell asleep.
Rest didn’t come as easily to Eric. It had been so long since he’d held a woman in his arms, he’d forgotten the simple pleasure of it. Elisabeth’s soft curves molded to his chest, and he felt her every breath in his blood.
What had possessed him to kiss her?
The warmth of her skin lingered on his lips, making him yearn for more. By necessity, his life was a solitary one, yet he’d remained faithful to Claire’s memory, content to be on his own.
Until now.
But Elisabeth was a noblewoman under his protection, and he had no right to think of her that way. In fact, it was improper for him to consider her at all. The harder he tried to put thoughts of her from his mind so he could sleep, the more she intruded. The lilt of her voice echoed in his ears, accenting the depth of the loneliness he’d come to accept as a sort of punishment for surviving when so many had perished.
Weakness disgusted him, this more than any other. To combat it, he silently recited the psalm he’d read over Claire’s grave. It had been her favorite, and the comforting words evoked memories of her quiet strength, girding his resolve at a time when he had desperate need of it.
“The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.”
***
For the second time in as many days, Elisabeth awoke in near darkness in a place she didn’t recognize. A quick glance about did nothing to reassure her. She didn’t know the tall man holding her, and she scrambled as far away from him as she could.
In a single heartbeat his eyes flew open, and he blocked the grotto’s entrance, sword drawn. As he peered through the vines into the early dawn, Elisabeth’s foggy mind recalled where she was and why, and she let out a relieved breath.
“Forgive me, Eric. I—”
With a wave of his hand, he silenced her, then indicated that he felt someone watching them. Elisabeth nodded her understanding. She knew better than to question the instincts of a man who slept with his sword.
Micah seemed to sense the intruder as well, and he shuffled quietly in the chamber behind them. Aside from that, the chestnut stallion made not a sound. Eric quickly bridled him and boosted her onto the horse’s bare back.
“At the other end,” he murmured as he led them down a narrow tunnel, “you’ll find a glen beside a brook that flows down from the hills. Follow it north to Caileann.”
“What about you?”
He simply handed her the reins. “I’ll deal with our visitors.”
“But—”
Before she could protest any further, he shoved Micah down the corridor and disappeared into the darkness.
With Eric’s orders echoing in her ears, Elisabeth rode into the misty morning. The clearing was as he’d described, and she turned Micah onto the path. In the distance, she heard the sound of a commanding male voice. She couldn’t make out the words, but the calm answering tone was Eric’s. After several exchanges, all fell silent, and she smiled as she brought Micah to a halt.
“He’ll be along shortly.” She patted the horse’s thickly muscled neck. “We’ll wait for him here.”
The clash of metal broke the stillness, and Micah jerked his head around to stare in the direction of the skirmish. Nostrils flaring, a disapproving growl rumbled deep in his chest. Elisabeth nudged him forward cautiously, prepared to duck back at the first sign they’d been spotted. Of his own will, Micah stopped amid a stand of pine trees, thoroughly concealed by their branches.
Four men she counted, all far too occupied with Eric to notice her. A quick slice of his blade felled one, the next strike nearly decapitated another. The remaining pair grew wary, and well they should. He fought with lethal precision. While they feinted and parried, he struck without reserve, every blow meant to kill. He coolly dispatched the last two, then swiveled toward a rustling in the trees.
A muttered Gaelic curse was followed by the crashing sounds of a rapidly fleeing horse. Eric took several steps in that direction, then stopped as if recalling that he had no chance of catching them without Micah.
He cleaned his bloody sword in the grass, then balanced the tip on the ground and looked straight at her hiding place. “You may come out now.”
Awestruck, Elisabeth didn’t even think to take up the reins. Micah obeyed the command, however, and trotted over to his master like one of her father’s well-trained wolfhounds.
“What are you doing here?” Eric scolded him, scratching the horse’s forehead affectionately. “You were to take her away, not bring her back.”
This wasn’t the same man who’d just killed four men before her eyes. Having grown up along the hotly contested border separating Scotland from England, she was no stranger to battles. But nothing she’d seen could match the slaughter she’d witnessed this morn. Despite their greater numbers, Eric’s opponents had been woefully outmatched.
“The one who ran off will return with more,” he predicted grimly. “We must leave at once.”
Taking the reins from her, he led Micah back toward the cave. He lifted her down, then went inside to retrieve his scant belongings. While he strapped on the weathered saddle, Elisabeth couldn’t avert her eyes from the bodies strewn about the clearing. Where had he learned to fight the way he did?
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded, and he lifted her into the saddle before swinging up behind her. They returned to the winding brook and began making their way north. The trust she’d begun to feel for him was gone, and she kept herself away from the loose embrace of his arms as he held the reins in front of her.
“The Redmond have many fine warriors,” she ventured, hoping to entice him to reveal something about his background. “But none of them could best you.”
“Your praise is unwarranted, milady.”
After waiting for him to go on, Elisabeth realized that he would say nothing further. She turned to look at him, watched the steel in his eyes warm to the color of a flawless summer sky. What that signified, she couldn’t say, but one thing was certain.
She’d placed her life in the hands of a very dangerous man.
***
“It’s not far now,” Eric said, pointing into the distance.
Caileann Castle sparkled like a gem atop its defensive hill, walls spread like wings over the village they guarded. Constructed of pale gray schist, the fortress boasted eight towers that afforded guards an unobstructed view of the valley below. The tall keep rose from the center, flanked by buildings capable of housing dozens of people in times of danger. In a bright contrast to the fortress’s imposing façade, glass windows ringing the upper stories sparkled in the midday sun. A sharp-eyed sentry waved to them before turning away to call to someone in the bailey below. As they made the climb toward the castle, Eric noticed a flurry of activity on the other side of the tunnel-like barbican.
Outside the main gates, he brought Micah to a halt and dismounted. After lifting Elisabeth down, he made a slight bow. “This is where I leave you, milady. I’ll return with your cousins as quickly as I can.”
“Are you mad? After what happened this morn, how can you even think of going anywhere alone?”
Considering she’d not spoken a dozen words during their journey, her sudden concern for his safety touched him. “I’ll manage.”
After staring at him for several moments, her eyes widened with understanding. “They’re in the cave.”
Her expression was difficult to read. Was she horrified to know she’d spent the night so near her dead cousins? Or was she relieved to discover their bodies had indeed been safe? Not wishing to upset her, he remained silent.
“That’s why you told me not to wander,” she continued. “You didn’t want me to see them.”
Those keen emerald eyes studied him with such intensity, he could scarcely meet her gaze. Slowly, she shook her head. “By the saints, I’ve no idea what to think of you. One moment you’re kind and caring, the next you s
laughter an entire group of men with no thought of mercy. Are you a protector or a demon?”
Filled with both praise and condemnation, her words drove deeply into a withered heart he’d believed could feel nothing more. Why he cared what she thought of him, he couldn’t say, but he couldn’t deny that it mattered to him very much. While he was pondering his unsettling reaction to her, she yanked the reins from his hand and strode toward the castle. Micah, blast his stubborn hide, trailed after her like a lovelorn colt. Heaving a sigh, Eric hurried to catch her.
“If you’ll return my horse,” he snapped, “I’ll be on my way.”
“Once we’ve spoken with my father,” she replied without so much as a glance at him, “we’ll discuss when you’ll be leaving and how many men you’ll be taking with you.”
Her imperious tone infuriated him, and he strove to keep his voice down. “You can’t hold me here.”
“Can’t I?” She stopped just the other side of the gates and turned to him with a sweet smile. “This is Redmond territory, Monsieur Jordanne, and you’ve little say in what’s done hereabouts. Even a warrior as skilled as you canna force his way through five score of Scotland’s best fighting men.”
Five score? Surely she was exaggerating. He detected a motion on the battlements above and glanced up to find half a dozen men watching them. Further along, four more stood at their posts, the same number deployed on the other side and across the rear wall. Every third soldier held a bow in one hand, an arrow poised in the other.
Judging by the Redmond’s heavy defenses, he’d landed in the midst of the very clan skirmishes he’d been trying to avoid. Not long ago, Eric would have found the irony amusing, but any trace of humor faded as two stern-faced men approached them.
Leading the way was a brawny man whose flowing russet hair was streaked with silver. Dressed in trews of dark blue wool, he wore a crisp linen shirt and a length of burgundy and blue plaid across his expansive chest. The golden brooch at his shoulder gleamed in the sunlight. The other man was garbed in much the same way, and their grim expressions showed the strain of a sleepless night. As they drew closer, their faces brightened considerably.
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