by Terry Spear
“Then ye must be in need of a draught to wet yer throat and a bite to eat while ye tell me of yer travels.” Ian nodded to the steward, who disappeared to do his laird’s unspoken bidding.
“Aye, now that ye mention it, I am.” Gavan grinned as his stomach growled. He decided to divert the chief’s attention from how he learned about this remote keep as quickly as he could. “As to where I’ve been, I went to St. Andrews first to complete the education required by the king. Then around the firth to Edinburgh for a season. From there I sailed to France and spent some time on the Continent.”
“Fighting with the French?”
“Aye, for a year. I’ve been wandering since. Lately, news reached me that summoned me home.”
A sense of presence behind him alerted Gavan someone else had entered the room. Then the scent of roasted meat reached him, making his mouth water.
“Ah, good,” Ian said as a lass came into view.
Marsali! Despite his hunger, he barely noticed the tray she carried. His gaze riveted to her face, hunger of a very different kind tightening his body, but he schooled his expression as she glanced at him, wide-eyed, then placed the tray loaded with cups, bread, and sliced meat on the table between the men. “Thank ye.” He had no idea how he managed to get the words out. Or to hear himself over the pounding of his pulse.
She nodded and turned to leave when a man entered behind her.
“Ian, Bruce is asking for ye,” he announced, then disappeared again.
Ian stood. “Excuse me, MacNabb. I’ll be back shortly.” He glanced around the room, then back at Gavan with an unreadable expression. “Marsali, dinna linger.”
Gavan nodded, but silently urged Marsali to ignore Ian’s command.
Marsali waited until Ian left, then collapsed into the chair he’d vacated, but after a glance toward the other men in the hall quickly stiffened and perched on the edge of the seat. “I nearly dropped the tray,” she told him, her voice low. “Ye said ye were on yer way home. I didna expect to see ye again.”
“Nor I, to see ye,” he answered, equally softly. Though I hoped to. The thought sprang unbidden into Gavan’s mind, startling him. He covered his discomfiture by sipping his drink. “But I did say before I left ye at the stones, I might come this way again.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Or, ye said, ye might not.”
Frowning, he studied her. Who was she?
She shifted in her chair, eyed the cup she’d brought for Ian, but didn’t pick up.
“Do I make ye nervous?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Nay, of course no’. I simply dinna ken what to say to ye, now ye have arrived all unexpected.”
Gavan nodded. “So ye dinna welcome me, though ye told me of this place?”
“That’s no’ what I meant.” She glanced away.
“Then what did ye mean?”
She kept her silence for a moment, then clasped her hands in her lap. “Perhaps my spell worked, after all,” she said to her hands. “Or perhaps ye simply followed me. But why would ye?”
“I told ye I dinna believe in spells.” He cocked his head to the side, glancing at the Murray men in the room. “I wanted to see ye safe.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Are ye worried, now Corrie isna here to protect ye?”
“Nay.” She snorted, then continued, “for I’ve only a hall full of men at my back, as ye see.” She settled into Ian’s chair and grinned. “No’ that Corrie wwould be much protection against ye. She seemed smitten.”
The same hall full of men Ian had glanced at before he left. Had Gavan misunderstood? Had Ian taken into account how many remained to protect Marsali from him? Perhaps it was a prudent precaution, but the thought unsettled him, nonetheless.
And what had made her grin? The mention of her deerhound? Or had Ian’s caution reminded her she was no longer alone and vulnerable? That he was in her home, subject to her chief while he stayed?
No matter. “Dinna fash, lass. I’m leaving in the morning. I simply wanted a night’s rest somewhere other than on the cold, hard ground. Ye seemed kind. I thought yer people might be as well, and so welcome a traveler.”
Her lips pursed. “I’ll see a guest chamber prepared, if Ian hasna already asked the steward to arrange one for ye.”
To Gavan, her expression seemed an odd combination of reluctance and…hope? Surely, she didn’t believe her spell had brought him to her door. “I appreciate that.”
She leaned forward and gathered a handful of her skirt’s fabric, preparing to stand. “Bruce never keeps Ian long. I should go.”
Gavan’s sudden reluctance to see her leave spurred his tongue. “I ken ’tis none of my business, but who is Bruce?”
“My grandsire,” she answered, letting go of her skirt. She pressed her lips together and glanced in the direction Ian had gone. “He isna well. He asks for Da at all hours.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded, accepting his sympathy matter-of-factly.
Her impending loss struck a sad chord within him, then her implication hit him. She was no serving wench.
“Ian is yer da?” Gavan tensed, recalling Ian had told her not to linger with him.
“Aye…he is.” Marsali kept her gaze on her lap.
Gavan swallowed—not ale, but his dismay. “Ye’re the chieftain’s daughter.” A chief’s daughter had great value to her clan, yet this one… “Does yer da ken ye run the woods alone at night?”
“Ye didna tell him, did ye?” The squeak in her whispered question betrayed her alarm as her gaze lifted to his. At the negative shake of his head, she continued in a more normal tone, “Anyway, I’m never alone. Corrie is with me.”
“Ach, aye, yer ferocious, great guard dog.” Gavan couldn’t keep the disgust from his voice.
But Marsali giggled. “She did take a liking to ye. I told ye I’ve never seen the like. I havena.”
Gavan shrugged. She hadn’t been harmed up to now, and he was just passing through, so why should he be concerned? “’Tis my charming personality,” he told her, raising one eyebrow so she didn’t miss the sarcasm.
“One of those things only dogs can detect, eh?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it so fast his teeth clicked together. She was laughing at him! He didn’t know whether to be insulted or amused. But when he gave the situation a moment’s thought, he accepted her jest and grinned. Her quick wit pleased him.
She quirked her lips and stood.
He gained his feet, politely, but refrained from reaching for her hand as he told her, “I’ll miss ye…and Corrie…when I leave.”
Marsali sobered. “And we shall miss ye. For as long as ye take to return to us again.”
Chapter 2
Had she really said that to him? Marsali nearly choked. Her mother always told her to guard her tongue. Her impulsiveness would get her in trouble someday. Perhaps that day had arrived. But something made her long for this man. The spell? Or his sky-blue eyes and impish grin? His broad shoulders and muscular arms would attract any lass. But none of that mattered. In the morning, once he left, Gavan MacNabb would have no reason to return here again. None. She had to accept that painful truth.
But what if she didn’t have to wait for his return? What if she could convince him to take her with him?
Nay, she couldn’t. Her father would be furious if she did something so foolhardy. Traveling alone with a strange man would ruin her. Lately, Da had been saying enough time had passed since her betrothed’s death. She still must wed. Given their dominance in the area, this time he would try for a match with a Campbell. The thought of living among that warlike clan terrified her. But she had no other prospects here, no lads she fancied, and none who would risk her father’s displeasure by asking for her.
So she had decided to test the tale of bluebells and the moonlit stones.
Gavan MacNabb might be her only chance to escape a marriage she did not want. And to see something of the world beyond their tiny village, the loch, and the standing stones. Even if
they only went as far as MacNabb territory, she could start anew.
The thought of such an adventure, the yearning for it, made her reckless. Who would care if she left? Her mother paid Marsali little more attention than she paid the maids. Her father had been disappointed when his firstborn was a lass and made no secret of it. Her younger brothers got all of her parents’ attention. After the disaster of her betrothal, if she disappeared they’d be happy. Her father would avoid having to pay a dowry, much less see her fed every day.
She shook her head. Nay, she was deluding herself. She might be trapped and unhappy, but dreaming that a spell had brought Gavan to be her one true love, to free her from this place, was madness. “I’d best go. Da will be furious if he finds me still here.”
“I think ye are mistaken, lass,” Gavan told her. “Yer father looked pleased when ye came into the hall. And concerned about ye remaining here with his men—or with me. He cares for ye.”
“Only because I brought him ale and meat.”
Was that pity in his eyes? She couldn’t tolerate pity. How could she make him see she shared his adventurous spirit? Nay. All her silly rhymes would not change her future. There was no truth to the stories about the stones. They were simply tales made up to entertain the clan through the long winter nights. And Gavan MacNabb was simply a traveler, passing through.
“He may no’ say anything, but I think ye bring him joy. Ye canna see that?”
She shook her head. Da was just Da, simply there, a part of her life, like the trees, the clouds, and the stones of the keep. She was invisible to him unless he wanted her to do something. “No’ in a very long time.”
On the other hand, Bruce was his da. Old and ill, he was not long for this world. Her parents would not be here forever. Life could be short.
All the more reason to make of hers what she wished, not what everyone expected of her.
“I’m sorry ye feel that way.”
Marsali stepped away. She did not want to hear this. His arrival had given her hope, but now, his reminder of who she was to her family had destroyed it. How unfair. She knew life could be cruel, but listening to Gavan telling her, in essence, to grow up, was more than she could stand. “I, too,” she said, turning back for a last look at him. At her hopes. She smoothed her skirt. “I’ve already wished ye safe journey. Now I’ll bid ye good night.”
“Marsali…”
She left him sitting there. As she went out the doorway to the stairs, she glanced back once more and caught him watching her with a sadness in his eyes he could not hide.
***
The next morning, Marsali woke up early, the image of Gavan MacNabb’s sorrowful expression still fresh in her mind. What regrets did he hide? She would never know. Surely, he was gone by now.
But when she stepped out of the keep with Corrie, she gasped. Gavan stood in the bailey, readying his horse. Corrie saw him, too. With a yip, she pulled away and raced to him, then danced happily around his and the horse’s legs until Marsali feared the horse would step on one of her great paws. But nay, Gavan got her daft hound under control by holding out one broad hand for her to lick, then commanding her to sit. Her rump hit the ground before the sound of his voice blew away in the breeze.
What power did he have over her dog?
“Ye were going to leave without saying goodbye,” she accused, though the evidence stood before her.
He glanced at her, then went back to his preparations. “Aye, I was. It seemed kinder.”
“Kinder to me, or to Corrie?” She crossed her arms over her middle.
“Both.” His flat tone gave away nothing of what he felt. “Ye’d best tie up yer dog,” he ordered, his expression distant.
Her chest tightened. He was standing before her, but somehow, he’d already left her. “I canna do that!” she protested, hoping to force his attention back to the here and now—to her. Besides, she’d never restrained Corrie, even when she was a pup. She’d never needed to. She’d saved the wee beastie, and Corrie had responded with devotion, as if she knew the master of hounds had planned to drown her, the runt of the litter. But Marsali had cried until her da had agreed she could keep the pup—if it lived. Corrie had been hers, always at her side, since she’d been weaned.
“Leave her tied up until long after I go.”
Heart breaking, Marsali bit her lip, but understood what he was saying. He expected Corrie would try to follow him. As well she might. Marsali could not predict her hound’s behavior around this man. Corrie howled, objecting loudly to being confined, but her yowls turned to frantic barking as Gavan rode out of the village without another word.
He didn’t look back.
Long after he’d disappeared, Marsali stared in the direction Gavan had gone, her hand on Corrie’s head trying to calm her. But her touch no longer seemed sufficient to satisfy her hound. Between standing, alert and panting, Corrie lunged against the rope, nearly choking herself.
Finally, Marsali turned tear-filled eyes to her and, kneeling, wrapped her arms around the whimpering dog’s neck. “I ken how ye feel. If he’s the one, we’ve lost him. But if he isna, he’s right to go. I fear we shallna ken which for a long time.”
While she’d waited, giving Gavan time to get away, the keep fully roused. Two young lads ran up to her, staring from her to Corrie and back again. “Why is she tied up?” one asked. “What did she do?”
Marsali shook her head. “She wanted to run after someone, but her home is here, and I canna let her go unless I go with her.”
“But, yer home is here, too,” the other lad reminded her.
She gave him the first smile she’d managed since Gavan rode away. “Aye, it is.” She rubbed Corrie’s head. “I guess that means we’ll be staying.”
The boys grinned and ran off.
Marsali watched them go with a wistful smile. They were only lads, as trapped here as she. But in a few years, they’d be men, able to wander the world as they pleased, while she’d still be here, or married away to someone her father wanted to ally with. Her smile turned to a frown. “It isna fair, Corrie.” She turned her gaze back to where she’d seen Gavan disappear into the trees. “But I dinna ken what else to do now that the spell has failed.”
She ran a hand through her hair and decided they’d waited long enough. “If I untie ye, will ye stay by me?” She frowned into the hound’s dark eyes. “I canna bear to see ye confined like this any longer.”
The moment the rope slipped off, Corrie raced away in the direction Gavan had gone, then paused and looked back as if waiting for Marsali to catch up.
“Corrie, nay! Come back here.”
Corrie took a few steps toward her, then ran farther away, paused and sat.
She was waiting for Marsali to come with her.
Dare she? Then again, what did she have to lose? Nothing. “Wait there,” Marsali shouted. “I’ll be right back.”
Corrie stretched out on the ground, then dropped her head to her paws.
Marsali took that for agreement, ran to her room and gathered a few things she might need— cloak, plaid, dirk, a change of clothes—and bundled them into a pack. At the kitchen, she took bread and cheese while Cook was busy with her back turned, then Marsali ran to the stables. The young stable lad was used to her wandering ways and saddled a mount without question.
“Let’s go,” she ordered, flicking the reins, eager to be gone before someone stopped her.
Corrie saw her coming and jumped to her feet, then raced off, following Gavan. They’d given him several hours head-start while she’d kept Corrie tied up. Although Marsali did not expect to find him, she’d get out of the keep for a few hours’ ride on Murray land. It would have to do as an apology for restraining Corrie. She’d let her hound do what she loved—run like the wind.
***
By early afternoon, Marsali had still not been able to get Corrie to turn for home. Every time she called, the hound would run back to her, then take off again. After following Corrie out of a co
pse of trees into yet another clearing, she paused to take stock of her situation. Though she was certain they remained in Murray territory, they’d traveled beyond her usual haunts, and Corrie seemed intent on leading her even further astray. Marsali was beginning to wonder if she’d be able to find her way home again. Was Gavan truly ahead of them, or had Corrie gotten them thoroughly lost?
“Corrie, we’ve been gone long enough. We have to go back.”
Would Corrie finally relent? Or would Marsali lose her to Gavan, assuming the hound ever found him? Or a wolf? Or…
Nay, this kind of thinking did not help her. If only she had Gavan’s way with her hound. She needed to focus on getting Corrie under control and finding her way back to the Murray keep.
“Well, now, what have we here?”
The taunting male voice came out of the woods behind her. Marsali flinched, then turned in her saddle to look back over her shoulder as Corrie started barking. Och, nay! Judging by the leer on the man’s face as he exited the woods, she was in trouble. Big trouble. Before she could kick her horse into motion, a companion joined him. Marsali’s pulse pounded in her throat.
She kicked her mount and raced away from the strangers, staying low on her horse’s neck. Could she outrun two? Though the men looked rough, their horses looked sleek and fast. Bandits. Gavan had been right. So far from home, she was a fool to be out here by herself. And now, if she couldn’t get away, she would pay a terrible price.
Corrie kept pace, but so did her pursuers. Corrie barked as they ran, then broke away from Marsali’s mount. Marsali couldn’t spare a glance to see where she went. Instead, she fought to control her horse, desperate to stay in the saddle and ahead of her pursuers.
Then she heard one of the horses scream, followed by a man’s voice, shouting a string of curses before a thud signaled a fall. Corrie! She’d gone after one of the mounts as she would go after a deer. Marsali wanted to cheer, but kept riding as hard as she dared. She could still hear one horse behind her. Drawing closer.