Ian feared as much. “Sleep, man. We’ll rise in a few hours and head back. At least we’ve got ye to return to yer family.”
“Wake me when it’s my watch,” the weary man muttered, his words fading as sleep overtook him.
Ian rose to his feet. “I’ll take first watch.” He scanned the area. Visibility grew worse as nightfall strengthened. Gathering clouds blotted out any light from the rising moon.
“I’ll join ye. I’m not sleepy.” Sutherland pushed himself up from the ground, glancing back at the sleeping herder. “Should we try to find the reivers he said they downed?”
“No need. If they took enough care to wear black, I doubt their carcasses would tell us much.” Ian moved to higher ground, taking his post on the rise behind their camp. He doubted aught would trouble them. The reivers had gotten what they wanted.
Sutherland settled on the boulder beside him, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees. “I smell snow.”
“It’s too early.” But Ian had caught the crisp, biting scent to the air, too. An early snow would make taking Gretna and the boys to Edinburgh ill-advised. A messenger would have to carry the papers to Alasdair instead.
“Mother Nature doesna always heed the calendar,” Sutherland retorted. He scrubbed his hands together and lifted his nose. “Definitely snow. Soon. I’m never wrong when it comes to that.”
And he wasn’t. Ever since they’d been wounded, starved, and stranded in the snow after the massacre at Glencoe, Sutherland could predict snow as if he called up the storms himself.
“I’d hoped to get Gretna and the lads away from Ruadh and the Neal mess for a while before the weather hit. Maybe even winter in Edinburgh if she’d been willing. Isobel’s babe is due in January. She could help her.” Ian heaved out a disgusted sigh. “I suppose it’s best to face the fools head-on though. Deal with them now rather than later.”
Sutherland shook his head. “Ye’ve more than simple fools to deal with. Neal is a dangerous man. He knows how to stir people and sway them with lies. He’s after something here. Either gold, revenge, or both.” Head tilting as though pondering a puzzle, he resettled his arse on the boulder. “And I counted a half dozen of those crimson cloaked bastards from Inverness before we left. I’d not seen that many with him in the pub, but ye canna miss that bloody garb when they’re moving about the village.”
“Half dozen,” Ian repeated. He wished the feasting had already ended, and everything returned to normal. Less people to watch. Less opportunity for danger to hide. “Whatever Neal planned to do as far as Gretna and his family are concerned, he planned long before he returned here to lay claim to her and anything she might own.” He scrubbed his hands together. “How else could so many from Inverness suddenly appear?” He itched to ride back to the keep this very minute and pull Gretna into his arms to know she was safe. “I pray the divorce, then the wedding will settle this mess. Maybe then folk’ll go on about their business and forget the other. Leave us all in peace.”
“For Gretna’s sake, I hope so, cousin.”
“For my sake, as well,” Ian amended, praying this time fate would treat him kindlier.
Chapter Ten
“Nearly a fortnight, but the last of the visiting clans finally left today. Poor Catriona. Funerals for the three herders cut short all she planned for the gathering.” Gretna idly smoothed a fingertip back and forth across Ian’s collarbone. “My days should grow quieter now. Less folk in the keep to mend, and no more foolish games that tempt the older men to forget their age.” She lifted her head to make sure she wasn’t musing aloud to a man who already slept.
“And the guard we sent out recovered all the broodmares. Some of the reivers escaped, but most fell.” Ian pecked a kiss to her brow. “See? I am awake and listening to every word that falls from those precious lips.”
Gretna couldn’t help but giggle as she snuggled back down, safe and warm despite the sleet and rain pelting against the window. “The storm strengthens.” She splayed her fingers across his chest, stroking his hard landscape of muscle. A sheen of sweat from their recent loving reflected the light from the hearth, lending a polished glow to his skin.
“Ye warmed stones for the lads’ beds, aye? In case their hearth loses its coals before morning?”
She responded with another mirthful snicker.
“Heated stones for the bairns’ feet are amusing?” He hugged her closer with a stern shake.
“My sons and I have survived many a bitter winter, dear man. I promise I take good care of them.” She’d not taken offense, merely found it endearing that Ian had taken to fretting after the boys like a mother hen.
“I’m glad we were able to convince that bastard Colin to go ahead and sign the papers. Thankfully, we got them sent to Edinburgh before the storm hit.”
Gretna smiled. Ian always changed the subject when he knew he’d lost at making his point.
“Ye know as well as I yer gold is all that convinced him to sign so quickly and leave without a fuss.” Colin’s extortion still infuriated her. They had paid the fool entirely too much. “Ye filled his pockets. Paid off his debts. Even gave the man one of the finest MacCoinnich geldings. ’Tis more than a little shameful to have to do such when right is on our side. I dare say that’s probably why he returned after all this time.” The storm rattled the windowpanes as though agreeing with her. “At least he’s finally gone. Hopefully, forever this time,” she added. Moving on to a more pleasant subject, she relaxed back in place. “Do ye feel all will be official so we might marry by Hogmanay?”
“I pray so.”
The leeriness in his tone unsettled her. “What is it?” She raised up and looked him in the eyes. “Do ye fear the storms will keep us from getting word from Edinburgh?”
“Nay.” Ian smoothed his hand down her back. “My fear is Colin didna truly leave and may yet attempt some mischief. Neither he nor his witch hunters were actually seen leaving Ruadh. Their departure was reported by the alewife’s son and no one else. Ye can bet, the lad was given coin to make certain we believe they’re gone.”
She pondered this possibility, watching the firelight dance across Ian’s body. “I suppose ye’ll still wish me to stay close to the keep for a while longer then. Until we’re certain he’s not here?” It wasn’t that she minded overly much. She understood his concern and considered it a treasured gift. But with winter all but upon them, she’d hoped for at least another trip or two down into the village before the worst of the weather hit and confined them inside for everything except the most necessary tasks.
“Aye.” He squeezed her bum. “The boys, too. I’d not put it past the bastard to seek revenge by using them to cause us pain.”
That terrified her more than worrying about her own safety. She pushed up to a sitting position, unable to lie down any longer. A need to see her sons safe filled her. “I’m going to check on the boys, aye?”
Wrapping a throw around her, she padded across the room. The creaking bed and sound of footsteps close behind made her smile. “Stay abed where it’s warm. I willna be long.” She glanced back and caught her breath. Naked. Bold. Fierce. Ian moved with a predatory grace that made her ache to lie beneath him or straddle him and ride. She didn’t care as long as he took her again as soon as she returned to their room.
“All the fires need wood.”
She allowed him the lie. He’d tended the fires in both the sitting room and the boys’ room right before he’d tended hers. A delicious shiver hurried her steps. She’d check on the boys, and then perhaps they’d return to the rug in front of the hearth in their room. It had served them quite nicely earlier.
The sight of the tightly closed bedroom door warmed her. Finn hadn’t felt the need to rock nor had any of his screaming dreams since the one from several days ago. Even the keep’s constant buzzing about Colin’s presence hadn’t triggered any of his spells. Just one of the many reasons that told her the joining with Ian had been the right thing to do. Aye, one of ma
ny reasons. Each day, her tenderness for him deepened. It thrilled as well as frightened her. He was a mercenary, a warrior at heart. If anything happened to him, she couldn’t bear it.
She pushed away the thought and clutched her wrap tighter. Easing open the door, she moved as silent as a shadow. Her heart swelled as it always did at the sight of her angels. She smiled. Aye, the three were angels when they slept. More like wee demons when awake, but that didn’t matter. They were hers, and she loved them.
All she could see of any of them was the tops of their heads. They’d each burrowed deep into their layers of blankets. She peeped under Finn’s covers. He lay curled in a tight ball, his feet against the stone she’d used to warm his bed. He hugged his long leather glove to his chest. The glove Magnus had fashioned just for Finn to use when he helped with the falcon.
She hurried to brush a kiss to each of their heads, turning as the door creaked open wider.
Ian eased inside. “Are they well? Warm enough?” he whispered.
She nodded, shooing him back out the door as she hurried to follow. After clicking it shut behind her, she smiled up at him. “Ye fret about them as though they’re yer own.”
“As far as I’m concerned, they are mine.” He took her hand and led her to the pile of cushions and pillows he’d arranged on the rug in front of the hearth. As he knelt down into them, tugging for her to follow, he motioned toward a pair of glasses and a bottle. “I thought we’d have a drink or two before we returned to bed, aye?”
Although his intent was most welcome, she glanced back at the boys’ bedroom door. “What if we wake them?”
“We’ll be quiet,” he promised as he handed her a glass. He flipped the wrap away from her shoulders and tossed it aside. “And we’ll keep yer wrap close just in case.” He filled her glass, then his own.
She breathed in, still holding the liquid on her tongue. The robust flavor, not sweet but pleasingly full and aromatic, surprised her.
“Do ye like it?” He looked proud of himself. “It just arrived today.”
“Aye, mo chridhe.” And she meant it. This caring man was her heart.
A loud scratching sound from the direction of the main door to the suite startled them both.
“What could that be?” She made to rise, but he stopped her.
“Nay. Wait here.” He took up the iron rod used to stir the hearth fire. With it held like a sword, he strode to the door and yanked it open.
His actions struck fear through her. They were in the keep. Their own quarters. Surely, they were safe here. She gathered up her wrap and threw it back around her shoulders, then hurried over to him. She’d never allow her husband to fight alone. Especially not in their home.
“Whoever was there is gone,” he said as he closed the door. “But they left this.” He turned the small parchment bundle over, scowling at it. The thick, folded square was crisscrossed with a black ribbon. Ian untied it and carefully opened the layers, revealing three neat bundles of different kinds of dried herbs.
Gretna knew those from afar. The sight of them made her heart pound wildly. “Dinna touch them.” Taking care not to, she scooped the package out of his hands, ran across the room, and threw it into the fire. Uncontrollable shaking took hold as she hugged herself and struggled not to sob.
Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her back against the familiar safety of a hard chest. Ian held her tight, his chin propped on her shoulder. “Tell me,” he urged quietly. “Tell me what that was so I can ease yer fears.”
“Rue, pondweed, and elder.” She drew a shuddering breath. “All meant to drive away evil and repel witches.” In the past, when the rumors were at their worst, she’d often returned home to find such bundles nailed to her door and piled on her windowsills.
He didn’t comment, just held her tighter. Ominous silence took over as they stood staring into the fire.
“I will speak to Alexander,” he finally said, gently turning her to face him. “We will find out who left that at our door, and it will be handled, ye ken?”
“I dinna fear for me.” She glanced toward her sons’ chamber. “I fear for the lads.” Easing back, she pulled the wrap tighter about her. “If they’re not safe inside the keep…”
Without a word, Ian disappeared into their bedchamber, then reappeared a few moments later with her shift and shawl in one hand. He’d dressed and sheathed his weapons to his belt. He held out her clothing. “We’ll spend tonight here on the couch by their door, aye? I’ll have my sword and pistols close and at the ready.”
“Ye always know what to do to ease my worries.” A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.
“I swear to always try,” he said softly as he caught her tear on his thumb and pressed it to his mouth. “Get dressed, love, so we can settle for the night.”
With shaking hands, she donned her chemise, then wrapped herself in the soft folds of the knitted shawl. Ian waited on the couch, pulling her into the protective curve of his arm as she nestled against him. Even with her head resting against his chest, she knew sleep would never come. Not tonight. Her mind was too active.
Hours later, daylight struggled through the window. Steady rain still spattered against the panes. The dimness of the room eased its hold as morning came.
“If ye’ll stir the fires, I’ll fetch Magnus and Sutherland to engage the lads in some such activity and guard them while we meet with Alexander and Catriona. They need to know of this.” Ian yanked on his boots. “Bolt the door while I’m gone. Open it for no one but those ye’d trust with yer life, understand?”
“Aye.” Her fears had given over to a despondent weariness some time during the night. She had fought this battle before and prayed she’d never fight it again. It seemed worse this time. Danger inside the keep. Nowhere was safe. “I’d hoped we were at least safe here, but now…”
An urgent kiss confirmed Ian felt the same. Without another word, he hurried out the door. She let the heavy beam fall across the portal into the iron brackets. “Dinna lose hope,” he said through the door. “I will make this right.”
She didn’t answer, just pressed her forehead against the wood as the sound of his steps faded. “Dinna lose hope,” she repeated. Eyes closed, she struggled against a suffocating bitterness. She hadn’t lost hope; it had simply been ripped away from her one bit at a time.
“They willna win,” she muttered as she jerked away from the door. “I willna let them.”
She tended the fires in each of the rooms. Still fast asleep in their beds, she left the boys to their dreams, propping their bedchamber door open to better hear the soothing sound of their steady breathing. She’d dress, then tend to some mending ’til they awakened, and Ian returned. There would be no need to break her fast today. Her appetite had left her.
A peck on the door interrupted the braiding of her hair.
She stared across the room and felt locked in place with indecision and fury at those who had dared make her feel unsafe in her own home.
The urgent rapping sounded again. This time a bit louder.
Securing her braid with a ribbon, she went to the door but didn’t open it. “Aye?”
“A message for ye. Arrived just this morning, m’lady,” said an unfamiliar voice. A young lass. Perhaps Catriona had kept on a new maid because the girl had done such good work during the feasting.
It didn’t matter. Gretna didn’t know the girl. Therefore, the door would not be opened. “Slide it under the door, aye? I’m not yet ready to greet the day.”
“It willna fit, m’lady. ’Tis too thick a packet.”
“Then leave it on the floor. I shall fetch it once I’m ready.” She wasn’t a fool. If it was too thick to slide beneath the door, it had to be another ill wish determined to shake her.
“As ye wish, m’lady. Good morning to ye.”
The scurrying footsteps faded down into the stairwell.
Although she’d promised Ian to keep the door barred, Gretna ached to open it, fet
ch the thing, and toss it into the fire. Hands fisted, she stared at the base of the door. Finally, she shook her head and stepped back. Nay. She would not break her promise to Ian.
She finished putting up her hair and took up her mending just as the lads wandered from their room, rubbing their eyes. “About time ye decided to rise,” she said, greeting them with a forced smile. “How are my wee sleepy heads this morning?”
“Where’s Da?” Finn asked.
“Gone to fetch Magnus and Sutherland. I believe they’ve planned a day for ye,” she lied.
A loud knock thumped the door. “’Tis me, lass,” Ian called out from the other side.
“Why did ye lower the bar?” Evander asked, suspicion in his tone. The lad might only be eleven, but he never missed a thing, and, unfortunately, the child had seen much during his lifetime. “Ye never bar the door,” he added.
“Never ye mind,” she countered, waving him toward the door. “Let yer da in, aye? So, I dinna have to interrupt my mending.”
Her eldest didn’t believe her. She saw it in his eyes. Thankfully, he chose to remain silent in front of his brothers. Evander opened the door, glaring at the three men as they entered, all of them wearing tense smiles.
Setting aside her mending, Gretna rose. A glance at Ian’s empty hands puzzled her. “Was there not a missive on the step or maybe beside the door?”
Ian frowned and looked back toward the entryway. “I saw no missive.” He pinned her with a fierce look. “Did ye hear the same scratching as before?”
Magnus strode to the door, Sutherland close behind. He yanked it open. Both men stepped out for a brief moment, then returned. “Nothing on the steps,” Magnus reported.
“Was it the same as before?” Ian repeated, moving closer.
“Nay.” She rushed across the room and stared out the door, unreasonably hoping the men had somehow overlooked it. “A maid knocked and bid me let her in to give me a message.”
“Which maid?” Ian took hold of her arm and gently led her back to the sitting area.
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