“We should,” Duncan said, then paused. He was not sure what would be best. He had to leave the sword somewhere safe, but, now that they were out of the castle, he and Blaine with swords and fine horses between them, he was reluctant not to continue.
“Sir?”
“Sorry, Blaine. I was just thinking about where to go next.”
“Not home?” Blaine asked carefully.
“I was thinking...perhaps we should continue?”
“Where?” Blaine asked, sounding, if anything, quite eager to go.
Duncan bit his lip. The problem was, of course, that he had no idea. He had to find a pearl. He had no idea where. Pearls came from Italy at substantial cost, and a pearl would more likely be at court in Edinburgh than any local town.
“I think we should go back,” he said wearily. “We need to hand this sword in, anyhow.” He reached over and patted it fondly, revealing the ragged edge of his cloak.
He looked at Blaine's shirt, biting his lip. The younger man had cursed him when he brought it back with holes. They had changed in the woods, trying not to shout as the cold hit them. When Blaine had realized that a part of his was damaged, he had thumped Duncan, hard, but when Duncan explained, he had nodded gravely, clearly glad he had helped the youth.
Now, they rode on through the aching cold, heading towards Lochlann. Home. It was odd, Duncan thought, distractedly, that he had come to think of it as his home. He had lived there a few months in total, it was true. Nevertheless, it was not that, which made it seem his home, but her.
Alina.
His mind filled with thoughts of her. Her fine-boned face, frowning as she thought. Her soft body, pressed against his where they lay together, as he stroked that silky hair and her plump, tender lips parted below his own...
“Sir!”
Duncan swore as Blaine shouted out. He had been lost in thought, distracted by his thoughts of Alina. “What?” he said, hand against his heart as it hammered with fright.
“You nearly rode into a hole, sir,” Blaine said simply.
Duncan glared at him, and then looked down. He was right. There was a ditch running across the field. Not deep, but deep enough to trip a horse were the rider inattentive. He sighed.
“Thank you, Blaine,” he said, courteously enough. “I was thinking too much.”
“Allus said thinkin' could be dangerous, sir,” Blaine said cheerfully. “That's why I don't overdo it.”
They both laughed. Duncan joined Blaine as they picked their way carefully across the one place where the ditch became a bit more shallow, thumping his shoulder cheerfully as they reached firm ground. “You talk nonsense, you,” he said gently. “I've never known a man use his head to better ends than you.”
Blaine blushed. “Thank you, sir.” He cleared his throat. “But my grandsire, he did allus say that too much thinkin' was sure to kill a man. He allus said to cover your head like a horse in a house fire, that was the way to fight battles.”
Duncan stared at him, utterly bemused. “What?” he laughed.
Blaine just grinned and lifted his shoulders as they rode.
When he thought about it, it made sense. In a fire, the horses' would be blindfolded so that they could safely be led away without being frightened by the sight of the fire. Blaine's grandsire likely meant that it was better to be willfully blind to some possibilities than to let them stop you.
“Your grandsire said some clever things,” he said frankly.
“He also said some daft ones,” Blaine said with indecent glee. “Like: I'm gonna take me hand off yer face. He meant he'd skelp me lug, but why'd he say that?” he chuckled. “His hand was nae on me face tae start off!”
They both laughed.
Duncan rode on beside him, feeling his spirits lift. They were riding home, they had the sword, and soon, it now seemed likely, he would be able to marry.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
PARTING AND ARRIVING
PARTING AND ARRIVING
Alina stood on the steps. She swallowed, wishing she did not feel as if she was about to cry. She looked at Amabel, who stood before her.
“I wish you were staying,” Amabel said softly.
“I will not say goodbye,” Alina insisted. “I cannot leave you.”
Amabel sighed. “Yes, dear, I am with child,” she said, covering her abdomen protectively with long, slender fingers. They had talked of the child the night before, when they were together. Alina had said only that the child would be a girl. She looked at Amabel with concern as she continued, “but the birth is months off. You will have time to return and care for me then.”
Alina smiled, though the smile was tinged with worry. “I suppose that is true,” she said carefully. “But I will return sooner than that.”
Amabel laughed. “I would like that, my dear! I would I could have you here always. Mayhap that will be brought about.”
Alina bit her lip. She had told her sister something of the trials Duncan faced, feeling it was wrong to keep the knowledge to herself. However, she did not want to think of it overmuch, for fear discussing it would cause some dire bad luck. She smiled sadly. You were never superstitious, she chided herself. Still. It did not do to take risks unnecessarily.
“Yes, mayhap,” she said nonchalantly. She smiled at her sister. “In any case, do not think you see the back of me for long.”
Amabel chuckled. “My dear, I long for your return.”
Alina smiled. She reached for her hand and found herself enmeshed in a firm embrace. She squeezed her sister fiercely, breathing in the smell of rosewater and honeysuckle that clung always to her. She felt an almost physical sensation of pain at parting from her after so short a time together.
“I'll see you soon,” she said, but her voice was a hoarse croak. She blinked her eyes fiercely, batting away tears. She had not wept so when they parted first six months previously. I do not know if I will see her again. The threat of the dream hung over her, made all the more real by the discovery that part of it was true. Joanna would be born. She will be. I will do anything I can to make that happen.
“See you soon, Sister,” Amabel said. She took her hand and squeezed it. Alina squeezed back. She turned away then, letting the tears fall.
“Goodbye, Amabel,” Chrissie said sadly. She stepped up behind Alina and Alina heard Amabel give a little grunt as she wrapped her arms around the girl, holding her tightly.
Alina looked away across the forest, letting the two have their private moment together. She did not listen to their low voiced talk, but looked out across the forest to where the pine trees cleared the mist, her mind already on the long journey home.
I should have brought more sewing, she thought, recalling the scrap of linen she had worked on the previous day. It was filling up fast, and she would need more work if she wanted to distract herself on the journey back.
As she considered asking her sister for more supplies, she saw a movement on the edge of the woods. The men were hunting, and she had said her farewell to Broderick earlier that day. Their lodgers had already been in the courtyard, waiting for horses to be readied, and she had been spared their farewell. She stared at the speck on the edge of the woodland, knowing with a sinking feeling who the rider was.
It was Camry. She stared harder, feeling cold with something like fear as the features resolved to those of the young man who was so rude.
She shivered. The woods ended perhaps some forty feet away, so he was not hard to identify, his long blue cloak appearing from the mists, in contrast with the world of gray and brown and green around him. His face was too small this distance away for her to see an expression, but she guessed it was twisted in a mocking leer. As it had been the previous evening. She shivered again, wishing she had a cloak too, for warmth.
She felt transfixed by his watching gaze, as mesmerized as hunted prey, watching a huntsman approach. Tense, waiting, and unable to move. As she watched, he raised a hand in a mocking gesture of parting.
Alina swa
llowed bile. She turned to Amabel and Chrissie where they stood on the steps, the older woman's arm around the younger, chatting in easy conversation.
“We should go now,” she said urgently.
Amabel raised her brow in a gentle questioning look. Chrissie looked dismayed.
“Already?” She clung to Amabel's hand, suddenly like a child again, seeking safety.
Amabel looked oddly at her sister. “What is it, dear? You look as if you saw something awful.”
Alina shook her head, blinking to clear it. “I am sorry. I was foolish. I just had a sense of...I don't know.” She shrugged, feeling silly. “I can't describe it. Sorry I disturbed you.”
Amabel and Chrissie looked worried.
“Sister, I trust your unease,” Amabel said firmly. “If you think you ought not to travel today, why, there is so much space here at the fortress! You could easily stay a night or two longer...I would not have you face needless risks.”
Alina tensed. The mere thought of staying there for another night, with that hawk-eyed stranger mocking her from the shadows of the hall, making her wake, sweating and afraid, at noises in the hallway, lest it be him, was awful. She had not realized until that moment how much tension she bore from that alone. The man disconcerted her as no one else ever had.
“No, Sister,” she demurred hastily. “It would be well to be away. My feeling was...not a premonition,” she said honestly. Not quite, anyway. “It was just general unease.”
“You worry for me, Sister,” Amabel said gently. “I think it makes you more worried than you ought to be.”
“Mayhap,” Alina agreed carefully. She knew why she was worried and this facet of it had nothing at all to do with her worry for Amabel. Or Chrissie. It was all for herself.
“Did I show you what Bronn gave me?” Chrissie said, smiling. She held out a skein of silk ribbon, white and pretty.
“That is beautiful,” Alina said admiringly. The young lord had taken to Chrissie, though seemed to see her as a younger sister or a daughter. His care for her moved Alina, and made her think better of him than perhaps she otherwise would. The young man is a credit to his family, she thought warmly. She recalled the discussion about the Duncraigh's the day before, recalling the tale of the alliance and the possibility of Uncle's involvement.
I shall ask Aili about it when I return, she decided firmly. She looked at Chrissie, who was holding Amabel's hand firmly. She loved Alina as a mother, but she idolized Amabel.
“Shall we go?” she asked gently.
The younger woman stuck out her lip, pouting. “If you say so,” she said tiredly. Alina smiled.
“We will not be away long. Perhaps you can return sooner even than I do. With Uncle's consent and perhaps Blaine to escort you, I am sure you could stay longer.” she tucked the idea away in the back of her mind, knowing that Chrissie should meet a wider range of people. Amabel certainly entertained more than Uncle did.
Chrissie had been looking enraptured, but at the mention of Blaine she frowned. “Maybe Heath can come with me,” she said instead. Alina sighed. In her heart, she wished something would happen to raise the deeply loving man-at-arms to the status matching her own. Still, she knew how unlikely it was. Heath was by far more suitable, and perhaps it was better Chrissie preferred him.
“If you like,” she agreed, shrugging. She glanced towards the woods, biting her lip anxiously. The rider had gone.
Good, she thought, relieved.
Chrissie saw her face and dutifully squeezed Amabel in a bear hug. “Goodbye, Amabel. See you soon!”
Amabel kissed the girl's soft hair. “Goodbye, Chrissie. I pray you return immediately!”
She giggled. “I, too!” She seemed to brighten instantly and Alina smiled to herself. If Uncle Brien refused her request, she would not let him do so without severe contention.
She stepped up to face her sister. “Farewell, Sister,” she said. The words stuck and came out as a whisper, barely heard. Amabel nodded.
“Farewell.”
They embraced fiercely and when they stepped apart, both of them had faces damp with tears.
Alina walked carefully behind Chrissie down the steps to the awaiting carriage. She climbed in and sank back into the leather seat, weary with emotion. Only then did she turn and look back to where Amabel stood before the gate, pale hand raised in farewell.
She raised her own hand, waving to her. Then, as the carriage drew sharply away, she let it fall. The tears flowed and she bit her lip, not wanting to make a noise and alarm Chrissie.
At least, she thought, as the coach rumbled slowly across the track that led first through part of the forest and then around, onto the heath land, I will see Duncan again.
She and Chrissie had been gone almost a week. There was, she hoped, the slightest possibility that he might already have returned. That he would be there waiting when the carriage rolled in.
She closed her eyes, trying to sense the feel of him. When she did so, all she saw was sunshine. On the gray, rain threatened day, it fired her heart with hope. He was, it seemed, alive, if far from her. Perhaps the sunshine was not so much physical as it was a sign of hope, of happiness. Somewhere, Duncan was alive. And happy. That thought would sustain her all the way home to Lochlann Castle.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RETURN TO LOCHLANN
RETURN TO LOCHLANN
It was dark. Dark and wet and rainy. The sun had come out earlier, glowing in the mist and helping to dry their cloaks. Duncan was glad of the brief respite from the drizzling, icy rain. Even if it did not last.
“Think: it'll be warm, when we're there,” Duncan said to Blaine. Blaine snorted.
“Dinnae talk of it until we're sitting there afore the fire, sir,” he counseled. “Not till I'm warm enough tae no' have numbness of me backside again.”
Duncan laughed. He was numb, too, his legs long ago losing their sensation to the riding and cold. He would be more than glad to reach the castle. As it was, the terrain was known to them. They had passed across the moors during the light and reached the point where they climbed into the hills as night fell. They would be there soon.
“Almost there,” he said cheerfully. If Blaine had wished to comment, his reply was cut off by his horse lurching sideways. Blaine was about to swear, but only got out half the word when he chuckled.
“She's cannier'n me by half again, sir! She's found the road, sir.”
Duncan blinked, surprised. The cobbled road that led across the moorland and up to the raised hill where Lochlann stood was, indeed, below them. He felt as his horse, too, lurched to his right and the gait changed, walking more slowly and rolling on cobbles, slick with rain.
“We're almost there,” he said again. Blaine chuckled.
“You proved me wrong, sir,” he said cheerfully. “And yerself right.”
Duncan grinned. He didn't care who was right. All he cared about – all he thought about for the moment – was being warm and dry once more.
The horses certainly knew warmth and dryness for themselves was getting closer too, for they quickened their pace, heading slightly uphill towards the castle.
Duncan rode as if in trance, too tired to do anything but keep his eyes half open and keep himself awake. Home. Alina. Home. He kept himself awake with the litany, round and round his head. Home. Alina...
“Who goes there?”
Duncan jumped, biting his lip in surprise. The sentry!
They were at the gatehouse. After all that waiting and longing, it had sneaked up on him when he least expected. He smiled, too exhausted to feel any but the faintest haze of relief.
“I am Duncan MacConnoway,” he called up to where the sentry stood, perhaps ten feet above them. His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat, and then shouted again. “Duncan MacConnoway and Blaine MacNeil.”
“Yer business?” the sentry called cautiously from his position. Duncan bit his lip, feeling his patience fray. He was cold, exhausted, wet, and weary. He wanted a fire, new
clothes, and something to eat. The sentry was being deliberately difficult.
“I am a guest here,” he said firmly. “You know that as well as I do.” The instant he had said it, he felt his heart sink. All he needed was for the man to insist on proof, which would involve calling out the earl, who was probably dining and would not want to be disturbed. They could be waiting here for an hour, because of that. He was about to turn round again, cursing, when a voice called out from near his shoulder.
“Have sense, Alec,” Blaine bellowed cheerfully. “Ye ken it's me. Now stop bein' daft afore I come awa' up there and push ye off.”
Duncan could not help laughing. Blaine himself was probably ten years at least the junior of the sentry at the gate, but he heard the man clear his throat sharply. Blaine was, after all, the master-at-arms, and for all his youth, respected for the skills that had raised him so far so rapidly.
“Yes, sir.”
A moment later, the sound of metal, scraped on wood, told him that the locking bar was raised, the gates thrown open. An instant later, as the wood screamed a protest on badly oiled hinges, the gate was open and he and Blaine were riding side by side, together, towards the great hall. He did not think he had ever felt greater relief.
He and Blaine left their horses at the stables, a pleasure in itself to see their relief at warmth and dryness, bran mash steaming in buckets as the stable boys ran to care for them. Then, exhausted, the sword under his arm in its concealing ragged wrapping, they headed to the hall.
“Oat porridge, sir. And stew. And ham. And great big jugs of mulled ale, big as yer head,” Blaine sighed.
Duncan chuckled. “Quite so, Blaine. A few paces and we're there.” His own mind was filled with less uncomplicated longings. He wanted, more than anything, to see Alina.
They walked up the steps to the hall and were admitted to the hall. The warmth hit Duncan like a fist, searing into his marrow. He found himself beginning to sweat, fingers starting already to swell with warmth.
The Highlander’s Challenge (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Page 11