Ian couldn’t quite put his finger on it, how and when they had grown close as friends. But now, he regularly visited the McNeil keep and they spent many an hour walking and sharing everyday occurrences. Neither ever spoke of the future, for they were fully aware that one day she’d leave; marry and move to wherever her new husband lived. Meanwhile, Ian would remain in Moriag, the leader of the guard for his laird and friend, Declan Gordon.
A bird fluttered across their path and he followed its ascent to the trees. It was a pleasant day, the sunrays streamed through the clouds, threading through the branches before touching the ground. The lace sunlight patterns around them gave the area a magical feel and his companion’s beauty completed the setting, which he committed to memory. Not wanting to lose the image, he wished to be gifted with the ability of art.
“It breaks my heart to think of leaving,” Elsbeth said interrupting his musings. “I love Moriag and can barely stand the idea. Do you think I will be happy elsewhere?”
The imploration in her eyes took him aback. Strong and assured, she rarely showed this vulnerable side. She was twenty and, by society’s standards, should already be married and mothering a bairn or two. Yet she’d been fiercely against marrying until she felt ready. And surprisingly, the McNeil had conceded to his only child; at least for now.
“What brings such melancholy about?” He tipped her face up and pressed a chaste kiss to her nose. “It’s not at all like you to be in such spirits.”
When she jerked away, putting space between them, his brows shot up. Perhaps he’d pushed her too far with the kiss, past the rules of propriety. “I apologize. I should not have done that.”
“’Tis not that.” Her smile was wane. “I just find myself confused after current developments.”
His chest constricted at her words. “What happens?”
“Nothing unexpected,” she said, her eyes meeting his. “Do not look so worried. It is just that I will marry soon and go with my husband. The Seton is due here in a few days with a proposal and I have to accept it. I’ve put off marrying much too long as it is.”
A strange tightness enveloped him and he found it hard to breathe. “Of course, it is only natural that you marry and settle with a family. I understand your love of homeland and have always wondered how a lass feels at having to leave all she has known, to go live with another clan. I have not lived in Moriag long, but have grown fond of it.”
Whatever it was he’d spouted didn’t seem to please Elsbeth but, instead, put her further into a melancholy mood and she heaved a long sigh and looked away, down the path, before her gaze moved to the sky. “Knowing that one day I would leave was supposed to have prepared me for the day that it actually happens. Yet now, I understand the many times after a wedding feast when the bride becomes hysterical upon departing.”
“You will accept the Seton as your husband then?” He pictured the older laird he’d met many months ago. From what he recalled, the laird had a wife. “I thought Calum Seton was married.”
Elsbeth shook her head. “Not Calum Seton, his eldest son, Kiernan.”
“He is but a boy!” It was Ian this time that moved away, pacing before balling his hands into fists and glaring at her. “You cannot be thinking of accepting marriage to a boy who doesna know his stem from the apple.”
Her laughter rang out at his lack of subtlety. “He is the same age as I am and if he is pliable, then the better for me. I do not want a brute who will order me about.”
“Neither do you want a husband who, when faced with havin’ to defend ye, will cower and wet ’imself. Ye will probably be the one to fight off any attackers, with better swordsmanship I am willing to wager.” In his anger, his Highland burr became stronger.
His outburst only served to make her laugh harder. He growled in frustration at her lack of regard for the truth he spoke. “That yer father is actually considering it makes me wonder why.”
She stopped laughing, but her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Come, let us return to the keep. I am sure Declan searches for you as they were prepared to leave when I came out to seek you.” Elsbeth threaded her hand through his arm again and they walked back, both in silence. Just before they approached her home, she turned and smiled up at him. It was hard to decipher the emotion in her eyes. Fondness and sadness, if he had to guess. “Ian, I will miss you just as much as I will Moriag. Never have I considered having someone like you in my life, a good…friend.” She cupped his jaw as moisture filled her beautiful eyes and she blinked and moved away, the warmth of her touch on his face dissipating.
“Ah, there you are.” One of the guards approached with Ian’s steed. “We depart.” He nodded to Elsbeth. “Milady.”
“Good day to you, Tristan,” Elsbeth seemed to know every man’s name, always warm when speaking to everyone, never speaking down to a person regardless of station.
The guard flushed under her scrutiny, nodded again and shoved the reins into Ian’s hands and walked away with his.
“When you see me next, I should have news of when I depart,” Elsbeth said watching Tristan’s departing figure, “unless I see you at the town festival in a few days.”
“Ah yes, the festival. I had not given it much thought as I plan to spend a few days at my cottage hunting.” He’d not planned such a thing until just then, feeling the need to spend time alone to think. For whatever reason, his mood had darkened and he wished to steal away and consider what the future held for him. He never planned much further than the present, as he’d learned long ago most plans could easily be crushed by circumstances beyond a person’s control.
Elsbeth’s face fell. “Very well then, until soon.” Before she could move away, he pulled her against him in a fierce hug, shocking them both. Yet she did not push away. Instead, she relaxed against him and laid her head upon his chest. Ever so slowly, her arms encircled his waist and they remained there without speaking, the breeze gently caressing their faces. Finally, he took her shoulders and moved her away. “Until soon, Elsbeth.”
If anyone noticed his darkened mood upon joining the eight guards and Declan, no one mentioned it. The distance to the Moriag Keep was half a days’ ride at a leisurely pace, which normally didn’t bother Ian, but today he wanted to race back; arrive only to take his leave to the cottage in the forest where he rarely went. Only when hunting did he go there, either alone or with another guard.
“I cannot guess what brings about your dark mood, but whatever it is must be serious.” Declan did not look to him, but kept his gaze forward. “Did you and the fair Elsbeth have a disagreement?”
“No,” he replied curtly hoping to convey he didn’t wish to speak on the matter.
Unfortunately it was lost on Declan, who would argue not to be a curious man. Ian had another opinion on the matter. “I think to know the news she imparted on you. She will accept marriage to the Seton’s son and you are fiercely jealous after finally accepting you feel more than friendship for the beautiful Elsbeth McNeil.”
“You should consider becoming a traveling bard,” Ian replied dryly. “You spin everything into a romantic tale.”
Married almost two years and very much in love with his wife, Meredith, Declan had settled into his new role as husband and father quite well, much to everyone’s surprise as the man had been a ruthless womanizer and without much honor to speak of. Now he was greatly admired by his men and good laird to the townspeople entrusted to him.
Declan kept a neutral façade, but the trembling at the edges of his lips told another story. “I am only stating what neither of you will admit. You are in love, my friend. For the first time since I’ve known you, you have dedicated hours to a woman, spending every free moment seeking her out and she you in return. That neither of you admit to it is what is quite puzzling.”
Ian clamped his jaw so tightly his teeth ached. No matter what Declan said, he would not admit to feeling more than caring for Elsbeth. Yes, he was in a dark mood and, admittedly, it had to do with her upcoming marriage, but not for th
e reason Declan said. Elsbeth was a jewel, a woman to be treasured, cared for, and protected; none of which a twenty-year-old boy could or would do. How long would it take the lad to learn her ways? Would he even take the time to speak to her and discover her intelligence? What about her likes and dislikes? She hated the dark and indulged in long walks to clear her head and ponder through situations. Elsbeth was an accomplished archer and could wield her small sword with surprising agility. Yes, he did not like that she would marry a man not worthy of her, but mostly because she was his friend. Besides Declan, who knew him better than anyone, she was the closest he’d ever allowed himself to get to anyone.
“I hear Kiernan Seton is a braw lad now. Yet I doubt someone as young as he will be able to handle the strong-willed Elsbeth. It could prove entertaining to witness the first time he attempts to bend her to something against her wishes.” Declan’s chuckle grated at the already tender hold on Ian’s temper.
“I am going to my cottage in the morning and hunt for a few days.” He purposely left the comment without the usual invitation. Thankfully, Declan did not push the issue.
“You deserve time to relax. We have worked hard this past season.”
They’d spent weeks traveling the lands, visiting clans to not only collect rents, but for Declan to ensure all was well and there was nothing amiss. After returning, they’d gone straight to completing needed repairs to the keep stables and guards’ quarters.
Ian let out a breath of relief. Time away would serve a double purpose; relaxation and honing his hunting skills and he’d spend time doing repairs to his small home.
They returned to find the keep bustling with activity. Meredith, Declan’s wife’s brother, Aiden Stuart, emerged into the courtyard to greet them. Aiden had a smaller keep not too far, where he lived with his wife, Breena. The man had become not only Declan’s friend, but Ian’s as well. They clasped forearms and Declan welcomed his brother-in-law not asking for a purpose of his visit since the man and his wife often came. Other times, Declan and Meredith went to visit them. Often, they included Ian in their gatherings, which suited him fine. He enjoyed the company and camaraderie that came from being around family. Estranged from his, he appreciated the closeness of kinship.
Stable lads rushed away with their steeds leaving the three men to make their way inside. Aiden slapped Ian’s back and smiled broadly. “How did you find the fair Elsbeth today?”
Declan let out a chuckle. “I would not ask him such today.”
Ian couldn’t help the grunt of annoyance. “Elsbeth is doing well; she is planning to attend the festivities in town. I imagine your wife is planning to go as well.”
Thankfully, the distraction worked and the men began speaking of how to avoid much more than attending a few moments and perhaps assigning guards to keep their wives safe while they stole away to the pub in town.
As soon as the evening meal was over and he could disengage from the visitors, Ian made his way to his chamber. All through the evening, he couldn’t help but think of the emotions in Elsbeth’s eyes, as if she’d tried to convey a message to him. She’d been upset at the thought of leaving Moriag and perhaps that was what brought her to touch his face and lean into him. When he’d held her, she’d trembled. He’d half expected her to shove him away and laugh at his display of affection. Instead, she’d collapsed against him trembling.
After a discreet knock, a male servant entered. “I apologize for not starting a fire in the hearth, sir. I will do so right away.” The older man rushed to the hearth and began placing logs into it.
Ian narrowed his eyes. “Firth?”
“Aye?” the servant replied while continuing his task.
“You are married correct?” When the servant nodded, he continued. “When yer wife wishes to convey a message to you, when she wants you to understand something, but doesn’t voice it, how do know what she wishes?”
The slender man straightened and frowned in thought. “’Tis one of the hardest things, sir, to understand a woman. They rarely speak out loud what they wish and if you do not guess correctly, they are quick to anger. I tell my Mairead to tell me. I cannot read her thoughts. It does little good.”
“So ’tis best not to guess then?” Ian was relieved.
“Nay, sir. If you care, you keep guessing. ’Tis what we have to do. Sometimes we guess correctly.” The man chuckled and returned to his chore.
He’d not guessed, nor had any idea, whatever it was that bothered Elsbeth. If she didn’t wish to leave Moriag, there was precious little he could do about it. Marrying the lass would not be permitted.
Ian raked his fingers through his hair. What was he thinking? Of course marriage was not the option he would consider. His true identity would have to be revealed. Something he never wished to do.
Chapter Two
Elsbeth pulled the needle through the fabric, her fingers working nimbly on a tapestry for her new home. For the second day in a row, she’d remained indoors all day, choosing to stitch and read rather than her usual activities. The longer she considered her current situation, the darker her mood and rather than spending time with others, she chose to brood in private.
Her mother stood at the doorway to the sitting room, her brow furrowed. “Twice, you have not attended the evening meal. Are you unwell dear?”
Unable to smile, Elsbeth patted the settee. “Come sit with me, Mother. I am fine. I just have not been in the mood for all the noise of the great room.”
“You’ve been unusually somber. I assume it has to do with your upcoming betrothal.”
“I don’t know,” she replied with honesty. “I am not against it. As a matter of fact, I look forward to marriage and children. The idea of family makes me happy.”
“Yet?”
How to describe something she didn’t quite understand. A heaviness had formed in her chest since the day she’d spoken the words out loud to Ian. As if by sharing with him, a part of her became burdened.
“I’m sure it is nothing, Mother. Perhaps it is simply nerves. I shared with Ian about it. It was strange to speak of it out loud. It was as if when I spoke it, the situation became real. Leaving Moriag is not something I ever wish to do.”
Her mother studied her face. “Are you in love with the warrior? I find your friendship to be odd. It is quite unusual for a maiden and a single man to be such close friends as the two of you have become.”
Love? No, it was not possible. “I am sure what I feel for him is more caring and affection, like how one feels for a good friend or a brother; nothing more.”
Her mother studied her for a moment and became wistful. “It will reassure your father and me to know you are well provided for and protected. The Setons are a large, powerful clan. Kiernan Seton is an attractive man, is he not?”
A picture of the rugged, brawny young man formulated. He was powerfully built and handsome. From what she’d heard, he spent more time wenching than learning to use his sword. “I hope he doesn’t leave me a widow too long after we marry. From what I hear he is not adept with a sword. If so, he could be killed in the first battle.”
“I hear the same,” her mother added and Elsbeth wondered if her mother had also heard of his promiscuity. “Quite large isn’t he?”
Elsbeth smiled and shook her head. “Looks like a brute.”
“I’m sure he’s not. He is first born to the Seton of Reardon.” Her mother bit her lip. “Although I have to admit, the Setons are not known for proper behavior.”
The northern Setons claimed large chunks of land by pillaging and overthrowing lairds. Although known for their ruthlessness, the smaller two clans her father had befriended were not as much.
“They remind me of the Norse in a way,” Elsbeth mused. “I hope not to be expected to sail upon a vessel in search of villages to pillage.”
Her mother chuckled. “You do have the golden hair, a very Norse trait.”
It was refreshing to see mirth in her mother’s gaze. For too many days now, there we
re shadows of despair and when she thought Elsbeth didn’t notice, she drew heavy sighs. No matter how often she’d asked, her mother denied that anything was wrong. It could be her impending departure that saddened her mother. They were very close after all.
Elsbeth lifted her hand and pretended to hold a sword. “I will become a feared fighter; a Scottish lass known as The Great Castrator.”
“Oh, my!” her mother exclaimed as both fell into fits of laughter. “The things you say Elsbeth.”
A maid came to the sitting room. “Ladies, there are visitors in the great hall. The laird requests your presence.”
Arms linked, Elsbeth and her mother entered the great room. Her father, already seated at the high board, motioned them to remain in the rear of the room. Both sat in a chair brought by a maid, Elsbeth’s attention focused on the visitors.
The visitors were large men, warriors with Sinclair tartans around their muscled bodies. From what she could see, among the men who stood guard around them, they’d not bothered washing before entering.
Her father spoke loudly. “Sinclair, you and your men are welcome to stay, of course. There are guards’ quarters in the courtyard for you to rest and our well has clear water for you to wash and water your horses.” He motioned to two empty tables deliberately left open in the center of the room. “Please sit and enjoy a meal.”
A large bearded man, who she assumed was the leader, bowed his head. “The invitation is appreciated. And we accept. I come with a message from my laird, the Sinclair, cousin to Henry the second, Earl of Orkney.”
There were mumbles around the room. If these men were the Sinclair’s men, then the laird had definitely decided to send the fiercest in his employ. “We are on assignment to find a man.”
“A Scot?” her father asked leaning forward, obviously interested. He motioned for the others to sit. Everyone did, except for the man who spoke.
“Nay, not just any man, but the laird’s own son. Griogair Sinclair.”
Enticed by the Highlander: The Moriag Series Page 22