by Fiona Faris
“Why thank ‘e Frances. Now let us see if we can find some whiskey somewhere in this town for I fear that it will be necessary to calm everyone’s nerves once we get t’hame.”
“Yes alright.”
Emily stepped slowly into the hallway, keeping an eye out for any sign of her husband. Slowly she crept up to their room and lay down on the bed, letting the tears fall from her eyes. She was homesick and heartsick and did not know what to do about any of it.
The door opened a few minutes later and she tensed, knowing who filled the doorway.
The door closed and for a moment she thought that he had gone, but then the bed dipped with his weight, and the smell of clean sweat, burnt leather, and grass filled her nostrils. She turned her head the slightest bit to peek at him from beneath her lashes. He looked as miserable as she felt and her heart softened with sympathy. For all his bravado, he was not much older than she.
His shoulders were slumped downward and his eyes downcast in sadness. She sat up, reaching for his hand. Before she could cover it, he moved it away, eyes lifting to meet hers.
She could see the despair in the depths of his blue gaze and it broke her heart. “What is it that you want from me?”
“I was just trying to help!” she held up her hands to him, supplicating, pleading with him to understand. “I just wanted to get the letters, that’s all.”
“You didna think for a minute that he could have done anything to ye? Ye were alone wi’ him, in a strange place. If he had dragged ye to his quarters and had his way wi’ ye, nobody would ha’ stopped him. Did ye think o’ thon?” his brogue seemed to thicken when upset.
She slowly shook her head. “I was in a public place at all times. Say what you will about Philip but he is a gentleman. He would never drag me off like some barbarian.”
“Like me, ye mean?”
Emily paled, wincing at her choice of words. “Of course I don’t mean you.”
“Did ye not call me a barbarian or some such once?”
“Perhaps I might have, in my ignorance. I know better now.”
Alexander snorted, regarding her cynically. “Do ye at the noo?”
“Yes, I do. I know that you are an honorable man.”
Alexander turned away. “Ye must not rely on titles to keep ye safe, Emily. Not everyone will live up to yer lofty expectations
“I’m not a fool, Alexander. I know that.”
“Well then act like it!”
Emily jumped at his sharp words and Alexander immediately looked contrite. “I am sorry. I didna mean to snap at ye.”
Emily sighed. “It’s quite all right. I think that we are just both rather stressed and we might feel better about this in the morning.”
Alexander huffed. “It’s in the middle of the afternoon. And there is work still to be done.”
“Oh yes, there’s always work.” Emily began to scramble tiredly off the bed.
“Ye can stay here and rest, princess. We wouldna want ye to be overtaxed.”
Emily was not sure if he was jesting, serious or just being plain sarcastic. She stared at him with narrowed eyes, trying to decide but his blank expression gave nothing away.
“I am not overtaxed. If I was, I would say so.”
He shrugged. “Very well. It’s nearly time for the afternoon milking so I shall take my leave of ye.”
He gave her an elegant bow before turning on his heel and trudging out the door. Staring at the door for a long time after it had closed it behind him; she felt a little dazed and confused; unsettled in her own skin because of the uneasy truce they had come to. She wanted to run after him and make him speak to her, smile and forgive her for anything he thought she might have done. Anything she could do to stop him from looking so discouraged and defeated.
Hurrying out her door, she stumbled down the corridor in search of him. He could not have gone far.
He was standing at the top of the stairs, talking to Frances.
The lady’s maid was handing him something and talking earnestly. Emily crept closer, intent on eavesdropping.
“Twas Miss MacTavish that got them from the scoundrel, she got right in his face and he just handed them over.”
Alexander smiled fondly. “Och aye, that just sounds like Rebecca.”
“She was so brave sir. Fair took my breath away.” Frances put a hand against her heart.
Alexander tucked the letters into his pocket, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
“She also got some whiskey. To calm tempers she said.”
Alexander chuckled and Emily started. She had never heard him make such a sound in her presence. Suddenly she understood very well his angst against Philip Bristol. She absolutely hated to see him so relaxed with her ladies maid. Did he laugh like that with her?
“I shall make sure to thank her. Perhaps we can all have a wee dram with our dinner.”
“That would be a good idea, sir.”
Emily did not like the way that Frances looked up at Alexander with worshipful eyes. She took a step forward, not bothering to silence her tread. They both turned in surprise and to her heated gaze, they looked guilty.
“Frances.” She scolded, giving her maid a once-over, “What are you doing up here?”
“I was just er…deliverin’ a message to master MacTavish ma’am.”
“Have you delivered it?”
“Yes, I have, ma’am.”
“Well then, I’m sure there are plenty of things that need doing.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Frances scurried off without another word. Emily could feel Alexander’s gaze like an accusation upon her. She turned to him, his gaze cynically amused. “Was that really necessary?”
Emily worked hard not to blush. “Was what necessary?”
“Chasing yer maid off like she was a vulture.”
“I did no such thing?”
“Did ye no?”
“Absolutely not, I was just reminding her that we have work to do as you constantly remind me.”
Alexander’s eyebrow arched slightly before dropping away as he reached into his pocket and held out an envelope. “From your mother.”
She took it with both hands. “Thank you.”
“Thank Rebecca. She’s the one that got it for ye.”
Emily nodded, feeling even more superfluous to requirements than usual. Of course, he praised Rebecca for doing the exact same thing that Emily had been trying to do. She turned away, hurrying back to her room and slamming the door after her. Heaving a few heavy breaths, she tried not to cry before finally giving up the fight and throwing herself on the bed began to bawl her eyes out.
Nobody came to see what the matter was or comfort her and Emily felt lonelier than ever.
Do I really belong here?
She sniffled, staring bleakly at the wall as she thought about her family. Her partially deaf sister who was not likely to make a match and would require a place to go should something happen to their parents. Her other sisters too, would need sanctuary until they settled down into their own homes. There was a reason that her father had chosen this groom for her, and there was a reason the king had decreed they should marry.
It was no use thinking whether she belonged here or not, she would just have to persuade Alexander that she did. She knew she was partly to blame for his continued skepticism but hoped they had moved on, into something more solid and dependable. Maybe it was not love, not yet, but she had such high hopes that it could be.
Reaching for her letter she smiled. She needed to be close to her mother in her time of need. Breaking the seal, she sat on the bed to read, her heart quickening with anticipation to hear about all the doings of her sisters.
Lord, I miss them!
My dearest Emily,
I hope this letter finds you well and happy. Although we miss you a lot, we are comforted by the hope that you are now blissfully wedded and perhaps even ready to start a family?
As I am sure you have heard by now, war has broken out again. We are s
till on tenterhooks here at Eddingfield, awaiting word from the king as to next steps. I do not think he will call your husband away just yet for there are still plenty of men who fight for our cause. He can spare one newly wedded husband especially as you have no one else there to protect you.
I understand that he might ask MacTavish to send men. As you know it has been a long time since we last visited Dun Alba so I do not know how well peopled your keep is. If you should send men, remember to ensure that the keep remains protected too.
Now as for news on the home front, there is not much to say. The Cambridges held a ball for the local centennial celebrations and one of their cousins was kind enough to pay Kathleen some attention. We wait to see if anything more comes of it. He is quite well-heeled for a third son and Kathleen informed me that he thinks of going for a barrister in London. I can certainly see Kathleen as the wife of a magistrate. I shall keep you informed of any new developments.
Elinor passes on her love as do all your other sisters.
Do write soon and let us know how you are faring.
With all my love,
Mother
Emily clutched the letter to her bosom, tears falling from her eyes. At that moment she missed her family so much that it was a physical ache.
“What shall I write to you mother? Shall I tell you of our fights or our passionate lovemaking? Shall I tell you how lost I feel and yet at the same time how alive? I should not know where to start.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Alexander did not come back to the chamber until very late that night. Emily had attempted to get to sleep but her spirit was too restless. So she went to the window, opened it wide and sat on the sill, looking south in the direction of home. The stars winked in a surprisingly clear sky. The wind was cold and laced with moisture and she grabbed Alexander’s plaid from a nearby chair, wrapping it around her like armour.
Frances knocked on the door to notify her that dinner was served, but Emily ignored her. A few minutes later, there was another knock.
“Ma’am? I brought your dinner. I’ll just leave it here.”
A soft thud of something placed on the ground and then footsteps walking away.
Emily sighed, a tear fall down her face and feeling so very lonely. Her stomach rumbled and she shuffled away from the window, trudging slowly to the door to see what had been left for her. On a tray was a loaf of bread filled with pickles and cheese and a pitcher filled with apple cider.
Picking up the tray she stepped back inside and closed the door.
“I am going to teach you how to shoot a gun.”
Alexander stood awkwardly just inside the doorway, hand still on the knob, his whole demeanor awkward-looking.
“I beg your pardon?”
Alexander took a step closer. “You need to know how to properly discharge a weapon and I am going to show you how.”
Emily continued to gaze at him, unable to fully comprehend what he was saying
“Why?”
“Well if ye are gaun tae continue to get between two men fighting, it would behoove ye to ken what ye are doing.”
“I…was trying to help.” Emily felt her heckled rise.
Alexander softened his voice. “I ken that. I do.”
Emily took a deep breath. “All right then. So you wish to teach me this as a way to improve my skills.”
“Exactly. Are ye agreeable?”
“Yes, yes of course.” She smiled, feeling as if the offer was his way of apologizing for doubting her earlier.
“Guid. We shall start tomorrow then. Get some sleep.”
He turned toward the door.
Emily immediately shot to her knees. “Where are you going?”
Alexander paused, his eyes on the floor. “I thought that ye might want some time to yerself tonight.”
Emily was shaking her head before he even finished talking. “I don’t want to be alone, please?”
He nodded. “Verra weel. I shall see ye soon. I ha’ some accounts to reconcile at the noo.”
Emily swallowed relieved. “All right then.”
“What do ye ken about flintlock rifles?” Alexander fingered the rifle in his hand like it was a baby.
“I know they use gunpowder.” Emily crossed her arms, as she met his eyes.
Alexander cocked an eyebrow. “Is that all?”
They had found a small half fallen-in enclosure on the property and were using it for lessons. derelict. Alexander suspected that the building was what remained of the castle’s keep. Picking up the rifle he handed it to her.
“The thing to remember is a rifle uses flint and steel to create a spark, which lights the gunpowder stored in the barrel of the rifle.”
Emily merely frowned at him, and Alexander bent down with a sigh, pointing out the flint, steel, and gunpowder as he repeated the explanation.
“Heavens, the flint is really hard,” Emily fingered, keeping her eyes on Alexander.
He gave her a steely smile, his eyes on the weapon. “Indeed, it is. When you strike it, the iron will ignite and burn. When it gets to the gunpowder, then you have ignition.”
Emily watched as Alexander demonstrated the process to her, realising that the discolouration on his hands was down to the burns from the gunpowder. It gave her a new respect for her husband. She hoped he did not expect her to burn herself in the same way. She might consent to shooting the gun but that was about it.
“Show me how to shoot.”
“Watch carefully.”
Emily nodded.
Alexander half-cocked the hammer and poured a measure of gunpowder down the barrel. Wrapping the lead ball in a small piece of cloth, he rammed it down the barrel on top of the gunpowder.
It was a nice tight fit.
He placed a small amount of gunpowder in the flintlock pan and snapped the frizzen in place over it. Fully cocking the hammer, he aimed at a wooden block set up five yards away and pulled the trigger. There was an explosion of splinters.
He handed her the rifle. “It’s your turn.”
She took the rifle with trepidation as he went to set up another block of wood.
Emily could feel the hard outline of Alexander against her back. His chin was almost resting on her shoulder. Emily shivered as Alexander’ hands cupped hers and adjusted her hold on the rifle.
“I ken ye’re a princess, Emily, but if ye hold it that way, ye will break yer wrist. We dinna want that do we?” Alexander’s hot breath tickled Emily’s neck. “Make sure yer feet are planted firmly in the ground, all right? Ye need a firm stance and a good grip on yer weapon.”
He placed his hands on Emily’s waist and steadied her
Emily’s heart sped up.
“I-I think I’m ready to try again.”
Alexander nodded and pulled away from Emily. He crossed his arms and smiled, nodding his head.
She shook herself, focusing intently on the target in front of her: a block of wood set five yards away. Pulling the trigger she winced, waiting for the loud explosion of splinters to occur, but it did not. Instead, there was only silence in the enclosure. A cow mooed in protest at the noise although it were far enough away the shotto be safe from stray bullets. She sighed and dropped her head. Alexander laughed and came up behind her.
“Dinna fash Emily,” Alexander returned to his stance behind Emily and fixed her positioning again. “Remember, always grip the rifle the way I showed ye, keep yer stance firm, and keep both eyes open.”
Emily nodded in understanding.
“Are ye ready to try again?” the soldier whispered right against her ear. A shiver of pleasure ran right through her.
“I am. Perhaps you should stay behind me, though. Just to make sure I do it correctly.” Emily kept her eyes on the target in a display of indifference. The solid block of warmth at her back moved closer until she could feel his body perfectly lined up behind her.
“I can do that,” he said.
Alexander curled his own finger over Emily’s trigger
finger. They shot at the target as one. Alexander let the rifle go as Emily turned to face him, a smile of triumph on her face and his arms ending up around Emily’s waist. “Very well done.”
“Thank you. Do I get a reward for it?”
“Put down the rifle, carefully, and we’ll see.”