Core turned to Bran, confused.
“That old feller, Alasdair Ranald, greeted us like heroes when we returned.” Bran shook his head. “Said we had saved them from starvation. Said he wanted to thank us and started this celebration. Probably touched in the head.”
“Nay,” said Core softly. “Ye did save them.”
Bran cleared his throat. “I warrant ye’re right.”
“The men seem…happy.”
“Aye. They’re no’ accustomed to being welcomed. I figured they could enjoy it before Rex comes.”
“Dinna tell my father about Lady Jyne. Please.”
Bran gave him a quick nod. “I winna say anything. I like her. Got courage to her. But ye need to get her out o’ here.”
“I understand.”
It was all over. He needed to think of Jyne’s safety. And she deserved to know the truth. She would discover it someday. Though the mere thought of revealing himself to Jyne made his heart groan with pain, she should hear the truth from his lips. She would hate him and move on. It would be for the best, for her at least.
One thing was for certain: as long as Core lived, he would put anything and anyone he cared about in danger. He needed to separate himself from Jyne to keep her safe. His father would not stop, not ever. Unless…unless Core was dead.
He knew what he needed to do.
* * *
Jyne wandered about the kitchens with a smile still on her face. It had been there ever since she woke up with the memory of Core’s kiss on her lips. When she woke to find the marauders plowing the rest of the fields, she was astounded. She ran to the kitchens, where she heard the rumor being spread that the treasure was buried in the fields. She guessed Cormac must have had someone start the rumor, and since then, she could not stop smiling.
Even the elders had been thrilled by the turn of events and decided to reward the hardworking men with music and dancing. Possibly because they were all too tired to do anything else, the men seemed to enjoy the music, and as improbable as it sounded, the groups appeared to be getting along fairly well. It was a day of miracles!
Though she was pleased about the fields, her smile was for Cormac alone. She could not stop thinking about him. He was simply the most wonderful man she had ever met. This was the adventure she had been yearning for her whole life. After years of waiting, it was finally her turn to find romance.
Now she just needed to convince Cormac of that fact.
Jyne dressed in her nicest silk gown, taking a bit of extra time on braiding her hair just so and arranging her gauzy veil to frame her face in what she hoped was an attractive manner. Breanna had been helpful in the effort and assured her that she was looking quite bonnie. She smoothed the veil, feeling the edges to ensure it was straight. She wanted to look her best, for she knew she would be seeing Core.
She was not sure how long it would take to bring her clan to her rescue, but it could not be too much longer. If Core still intended to leave when her brothers arrived, she needed to act now, or all would be lost.
“Ye look right fine, m’lady,” said Cook, stirring a pot that hung over the fire. The other elders had gone into the great hall to celebrate with the renegades, leaving Cook and Jyne alone in the kitchens.
“Do I?” asked Jyne in a careless manner, as if it didn’t matter to her.
“Ye’ve only fussed wi’ yer veil now a half dozen times,” commented Cook. “He’ll like what he sees.”
“To whom are ye referring?” asked Jyne in feigned nonchalance.
“Ye ken who. That Cormac fella what’s been helping us against the Fire Lord. Not that I blame ye. He’s a braw one, or he will be once I fatten him up a bit.” Cook winked and went back to her roast, a new addition thanks to the continued hunting efforts of the men.
Jyne wisely held her tongue but could not hide the smile. She was finally getting her turn at a real, true romance. No wonder her siblings had done strange things for love. She felt as if she could fly!
Wait…love?
Was she in love with Cormac?
“I think I may be in love with Cormac,” Jyne confessed to Cook.
“O’ course ye are, dearie,” replied Cook with the straightforward confidence of a woman who knew about the world.
“I am in love wi’ Cormac,” Jyne repeated, getting used to the sound of her words.
“That’s right, dearie, ye are. But ye ought no’ to be.”
Jyne stared at the elder woman. “Why ever not?”
“What’s a man doing wi’out a clan? Who’s his people is what I want to know.” Cook gestured in the air with an iron spoon.
Jyne leapt to his defense. She could not believe anyone would voice complaints about him. “Cormac has helped us tremendously! We are deeply in his debt. What would we have done wi’out him?”
The woman shrugged. “Just a question, m’lady.”
“Well! I shall no’ be made to think ill o’ him.”
“Ye do what ye please. But if it please ye now, could ye help me wi’ this pot? I dinna have the strength I had in my sixties. Those were some good years.” A small, knowing smile came to her lips.
Jyne grabbed a cloth to protect her hands and lifted the other side of a large iron cauldron of hot water away from the flames. Jyne could not help thinking on Cook’s words. Perhaps she had a wisdom that Jyne, with her paltry twenty years, did not possess. Jyne realized she did not know much about Cormac’s clan, except that he did not wish to share the truth with her. Her brothers would certainly see this as a reason for concern.
And yet, whoever his people may be, he was a good man. A bad man would have left her in the bog. Instead, he had helped her, protected her, and now had acted to care for everyone around him. Besides, she had no interest in being cautious. She had done that for twenty years. She was done being the overprotected baby sister. It was her turn to embrace her destiny. Even if it meant making mistakes, she would not turn from it. Cormac was her friend.
More than a friend.
Much more.
“M’lady?” As if drawn by the fervor of her thoughts, Cormac entered the kitchen by the outside door, having to duck his head to enter the low doorway. He stood before her in his Highland plaid, belted at his trim waist and thrown over one shoulder. His hair was an unruly brown mess as usual, but tonight, he appeared wild and slightly dangerous with a bit of a bruise showing on his jaw. His face was unshaven, revealing black stubble that only seemed to enhance his appeal.
“Cormac!” Her heart thumped its greeting. “Ye’ve done it!”
“What did I do?” He gave her a worried frown.
“Did you think I would’na find out?” she demanded.
“I…I can explain,” stammered Core.
“I overheard the men talking.”
“Ye did?” Core’s eyes were wide. “Lady Jyne, I—”
“Ye’re the most wonderful man in all the world!” She rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides. He stood still, his face one of utter confusion.
“I heard the men saying that someone started a rumor that there was treasure in the fields and got the men to plow them up. How were ye able to talk to them? Ye must have pretended friendship. Och, ye’re so clever!”
She hugged him again, but he seemed too stunned to move. “Ye’ve saved the good folks here. Ye saved them.”
“Whatever I did, I did for ye,” returned Core, wrapping his long arms around her, engulfing her in his embrace. She rested her head against his chest, warm and content.
“Ahem.” Cook cleared her throat. “Begging yer pardon, m’lady, but in absence o’ yer brother, I feel I should speak up against such goings-on in my kitchen.”
“Aye, o’ course,” faltered Jyne, stepping back. She must be truly affected if she engaged in displays of affection in the kitchen. “Ye must be verra s
ore,” she said, sympathizing with Cormac. He had worked hard last night.
“A wee bit,” he admitted and sat slowly on the wooden bench. He moved like every muscle in his body ached.
“Then ye must have the reward I promised to that wicked false warlord.”
“Reward?” Suddenly, he didn’t look quite so exhausted anymore.
“Aye, but he may come and spoil things. I dinna ken where he is. I hav’na seen him all day.”
“I found what is left o’ yer sleeping potion and poured it in the wine he called for,” said Core. “He’s locked in his chamber wi’ that monk.”
Jyne smiled. “Then we are safe until he awakes. Come to the ground-floor chamber o’ the tower. Be there in an hour, and there ye shall receive your reward. Since I am the chatelaine o’ this keep, ’tis right for me to express our gratitude.” She said this in part for the benefit of Cook, who shot her a glance from behind Core’s back that said she was not fooled in the least.
Core, for his part, smiled at her with wide eyes. A moment later, a shadow passed over him, and his countenance fell. He stood and walked close to her, his voice low. “M’lady, may I beg an audience wi’ ye alone?”
“O’ course, if ye will call me Jyne.”
“My Lady Jyne.” He spoke slowly, as if savoring the taste of her name on his lips.
She followed him out the side door to the outer ward between the keep and the outer wall. The rising moon hung low on the horizon, large and bright. Little frogs in the nearby creek croaked and chirped, making a soft humming sound.
“I am sorry, but I need to tell ye something.” Cormac’s shoulders slumped. He began to pace back and forth on the grass. “I need to tell ye who I am.”
“But I already ken who ye are,” said Jyne. She could tell whatever he felt he must tell her was not going to be good.
“Nay, ye dinna.” Core stared at the ground and shook his head.
“Was it ye who pulled me from the bog?” she asked, boldly stepping forward and taking his hand.
He looked up at her, surprised by the question. “Aye.”
“And it was ye who helped me try to oust the brigands from my keep.”
He shook his head. “I knew it would’na work.”
“But ye helped me anyway,” Jyne pointed out. “And it was ye who found a safe place for the young ones, and ye who protected yer sister, and ye who tricked those sorry knaves into plowing the fields.”
“Aye…but—”
“Whoever yer father is, it doesna matter. What matters is who ye are.” She placed her open palm on his chest.
He stared at her, his dark eyes searching hers. “Do ye mean that?”
“Aye, I do.” She hoped she did. In truth, she feared what he was going to tell her would matter, and then the dream would die. She wanted to live that dream, to fall in love. She needed the dream more than she needed the truth.
“Thank ye. But…I still need ye to leave this place.”
Jyne frowned and dropped her hand to her side. “This is my home, my dower lands. I winna leave.”
“’Tis no’ safe. I’ve heard from some o’ the men that Red Rex will arrive soon.”
Red Rex. The name was synonymous with death and destruction.
“I canna leave these people.”
“I will work to get them out too. But ye must flee.”
“Nay! These are my lands. We just got the fields plowed. It will be worth nothing if we dinna plant them. We canna leave now. Things are finally starting to improve.”
“Any improvements will be destroyed when Rex comes. Please, Lady Jyne, I’m begging ye, please. Ye need to leave. I need to know ye’ll be safe.”
“Nay, this is my keep and my land. I’ll no’ be chased away. No’ by the Fire Lord, and no’ by Red Rex either! Besides, I sent my guard back to find my brothers. The Campbells will be coming soon!”
He opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it again. He was clearly struggling with something, unsure of how to proceed. If he was unsure, she was not.
“Meet me in the ground-floor chamber o’ the tower in one hour.” She turned and walked back into the kitchen, conscious of his heated gaze watching her as she left. It was her turn. She was in control now. Life was hers for the taking, and she was not going to miss it.
Twenty-six
It was all prepared. Jyne requested the water be heated and brought to the small chamber containing the wooden bathing tub. She was accustomed to Innis Chonnel, where they had a separate bathing chamber designed for that purpose. At the smaller Kinoch Abbey, they did not have the luxury of a separate chamber.
Jyne had found a large, wooden bathing tub in a small chamber on the ground-floor storeroom of the tower. Calling the room a “chamber” was a bit optimistic, for it was most likely designed to hold spices or other valuable commodities. It was small and had a locking door. The wooden tub was so large, it took up the majority of the space. It had taken many trips and a good many disapproving looks from Cook to fill it full of hot water.
The pieces in the storeroom were a hodgepodge of things. A wobbly bench. A broken spinning wheel. A stack of dented shields and crooked spears. Things ill-used and shoved out of the way and out of view.
She moved the unwanted items from the small chamber to the larger storeroom. How often had she felt like those discarded items? The youngest daughter of a large family was easily overlooked.
It was just because she had suffered so many illnesses as a child that everyone saw her as weak. She saw herself as weak. Well, maybe they were wrong. And maybe she was too.
She pushed her shoulders back and stood a little straighter. She was a Campbell after all. The same fearless blood that ran through the veins of her siblings ran through hers. It must, for she was about to do something very bold.
Jyne lit a few more candles and tested the temperature of the water. Now well after sunset, the air was a bit chill, but the water was hot. She had brought a thick robe, some lavender soap, and a jar of a particular balm that Isabelle had taught her to make, which was quite effective in soothing aching muscles. She sprinkled lavender and chamomile into the water, releasing a pleasant aroma into the room.
She smiled as she thought of Cormac. He had been remarkably supportive of her and all the people here. And yet…Cook had brought doubts to mind. She knew his father was not a good man and that he had attempted to tell her something earlier that she was not sure she wanted to hear. But what if it was something she needed to know? Did he have a wife? Was he betrothed?
Surely not. He would not have kissed her had he been married. Yet what if his secret was that he had a bride? He would not be the first man to steal a kiss from a lass who was not his wife.
Her feelings toward him darkened and became confused. She liked him. She liked him quite a bit. But if he was married, those feelings would sour quickly.
A soft rap came at the door, and Cormac stepped in to the dim, moist room. He had shaved since she had seen him last. The effect of the clean-shaven Highlander in the flickering candlelight was enough to get her heart to pound.
“Should I return another time?” he asked tentatively.
Jyne realized he had walked in when she had been contemplating the presence of an unwanted wife, and her face surely would have revealed her displeasure. She forced her expression into something more welcoming. “Nay, do come in wi’ ye. Ye’ve worked verra hard and deserve this reward. I have prepared a bath for ye.”
Cormac entered the small chamber cautiously, as if not sure he belonged there. “It smells verra nice in here.”
“Some herbs to soothe the muscles. As chatelaine o’ this keep, I…I…it is my responsibility to serve ye.” She stumbled over the words. Probably because she was attempting to give justification to something that deserved none. “I can either leave ye to yer privacy or stay and…tend ye.”
“Stay.”
Heat shot up the back of her neck at his simple reply. His eyes met hers, and no one spoke or moved or even breathed as they regarded each other in the flickering candlelight.
“As ye wish,” said Jyne softly, as if someone might hear her and rush in to put a stop to it if she spoke any louder.
Cormac shut the door behind him, and she noted that he drew the latch. “Thank ye, for I confess my back is unaccustomed to plowing.”
“Oh? What kind o’ work are ye accustomed to?” She wished to know more about him…as long as they were the answers she wanted to hear.
Cormac bent down to remove his boots, replying after a moment, “If I had my way, I’d be a scholar.” He gave her the wistful smile of a dreamer. “And read books all day long.” His face relaxed into a faraway look.
Jyne had never seen anyone so enraptured with book learning. It was not that her brothers were against it, per se, but she would hardly call any of her Highland brood scholars. But here was a man who held a passion for books.
“Do ye have anything else that has met wi’ yer fancy? A wife, perhaps?”
He looked up at her with a quick jerk of his head, and she knew she had been much less subtle than she had intended. “I have no wife.” Amusement sparkled in his eyes.
“Oh?” Jyne busied herself in arranging the already arranged jars of herbs and oils.
“I have me no wife, no betrothed, no one.” He answered her unspoken question.
“I’m sorry ye’ve found no one who has captured yer heart,” she said, pretending to be a neutral party in the affair. At least he had not been trying to tell her he was married. As long as he was a bachelor, she felt she could handle anything else that might be in his past.
“I would’na say that.” Cormac leaned lazily against the wooden tub.
She went back to focusing on the jar of soap, hoping the light in the room was dim enough that he would not notice her blush.
“And ye? Have ye a husband or a man to whom ye are betrothed?” he asked, though he did not sound concerned that her answer would be anything but a denial.
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