by Katy Baker
“Phew! My backside is gonna ache come the morning!” Connail said, shaking his shaggy-haired head.
Ewan laughed. “That, brother, is not a sight I want to think about! I’m looking forward to a fine meal and a few mugs of ale by the fire.”
Connail looked at him with a mischievous grin on his face. “And that’s not all yer looking forward to, I’ll wager! Perhaps seeing a certain bonny lass as well?”
Ewan glanced around but nobody else was paying them any mind. “Am I that obvious?”
Connail leaned back and bellowed a laugh. It was loud enough to send a flock of pigeons scattering in alarm. Connail was one of the largest warriors in the clan, almost as big as Ewan himself, and had a voice to match. He placed his hand on Ewan’s shoulder and together they began walking towards the keep.
“Aye,” he said. “Yer that obvious. Anybody with eyes in their head can see yer smitten with the lass. But what’s wrong with that? I’m sure Aunt Jenna would say it’s about time ye settled yerself down.”
“Aye, she would. But it’s not that simple, is it? Gretchen’s only here visiting. As soon as it’s safe to travel she’ll be off to find her friend and I’ll likely never see her again.”
Connail pursed his lips, stroking his stubbly beard. “Well, if ye want my advice, I think ye should tell her how ye feel. Mayhap she’ll choose to stay. Ye may not get a chance again, especially with all that’s happening with the MacFarlanes.”
A shiver ran down Ewan’s spine. War. That’s what Connail was referring to. Nothing good ever came of clan wars. Just casualties on both sides and years of bitterness and resentment.
“It might not yet come to that.”
Connail snorted. “Ye reckon? That’s exactly what will happen if Richard de Clare gets his way.”
“What do ye mean by that?”
Connail halted and glanced around the courtyard to make sure they were alone. Then he leaned forward and said in hushed tones. “We’ve been out on patrol how many times now? Ten? Twelve? And how many times have we run into MacFarlane forces or found evidence of MacFarlane encroachments? Exactly none. Don’t ye think it’s a little strange that it’s only de Clare’s men who ever seem to run into them?”
Ewan hesitated. He’d thought exactly the same thing himself and had said as much to Gretchen but had suspected it was his own dislike of de Clare coloring his view. But if Connail shared his suspicions what did that mean? And what should he do about it?
He had no answers. Merith was still wary of his return so he could hardly take his concerns to her. He hoped Connail’s worries were unfounded but he’d keep an eye on Richard de Clare all the same.
Together he and Connail walked up the steps to the great hall and pushed the doors open. A wave of heat and sound rolled over Ewan as they stepped inside. It was busy, with most of the benches taken and a hum of conversation filling the air.
They crossed the hall to the head table where his family were already seated. Amy and Jenna smiled and waved but Merith, sitting with Richard de Clare and her young son, just gave him the barest nod.
“There ye are!” Jenna said. “About time! We thought ye were going to end up missing dinner.”
“Miss dinner?” Connail said, flopping onto a bench and pulling over a jug of ale. “Ye should know us better than that by now!”
Ewan didn’t sit. Instead, he looked around. “Where is Lady Gretchen?”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Sit down, will ye? She’s busy right now. She’ll be along shortly.”
Frowning, Ewan took a seat and poured himself some ale to cover his disappointment at Gretchen’s absence.
Amy leaned over. “So, did ye find anything on yer patrol today then?”
Involuntarily Ewan glanced at Richard de Clare who was deep in conversation with Merith. “Nay. Nothing. Seems the MacFarlanes are keeping a low profile for now.”
“That’s good,” Aunt Jenna said. “Mayhap they’ll stop their raiding if they realize we’re onto them.”
Ewan shrugged. He took a sip of his ale and looked around the room. “Tis busy tonight. Is there some special occasion I wasnae made aware of?”
The kitchen doors suddenly opened and the serving staff bustled in. To his surprise, Gretchen strode at their head. She was wearing an apron over her gown, her hair pulled back and tied behind her neck. She had a smear of flour across her nose.
If anything, it made her look even more beautiful.
“What’s she doing?” Ewan said, frowning. “I didnae bring her here to work like a servant!”
“Would ye like to tell her she canna do it, brother?” Connail said, laughing. “If so, ye are a braver man than I!”
Ewan watched Gretchen as she moved around the great hall, ensuring everyone was given a big bowl full of something that steamed. Merith was served first by Gretchen herself, looking a little nervous.
Gretchen glanced up and saw Ewan watching her. Their eyes met. He smiled reassuringly and she smiled back before returning to her work. She placed a bowl of food in front of Ewan. It looked and smelled like nothing he’d ever seen before.
“What’s this, lass? I’ve never seen the like.”
“It’s paella,” she replied. “Or as near as I can get it, anyway. You don’t seem to have all the ingredients in this time...um...this...country but I’ve substituted things as best I can. I hope you enjoy it.”
“I’d enjoy it more if ye would sit down and join us!” Ewan replied. “Come, everyone is served. Take yer seat and eat, lass.”
Gretchen bit her lip, looking around. Finally satisfied, she pulled off the apron and slid onto the bench next to Ewan. She didn’t eat though, she just looked around nervously.
Ewan tucked into his meal. It was delicious. “Lass, this is mighty good.”
She beamed. “Do you think so? You’re not just saying that to be polite?”
“Ye have my word, lass.”
“My nephew is right, dear,” Jenna said. “Look around, I think the clan agrees.”
The whole clan was tucking into Gretchen’s paella and nodding in appreciation.
“Did nobody ever tell ye that a way to a clan’s heart is through its stomach?” Ewan said, leaning close to her. “And if this is anything to go by, ye’ll be the darling of the Murray clan by morning!”
Gretchen’s smile widened and Ewan’s heart soared at the sight of it. He was amazed by her. She’d fitted into clan life like she was born to it. Not only was she beautiful and clever, she’d shown herself to be resourceful and talented, seemingly able to turn her hand to anything.
Ewan had never met a woman quite like her.
He remembered Connail’s advice from earlier. Should he tell Gretchen how he felt? Could he ask her to stay? He longed for that. What would it be like to have a woman like Gretchen by his side? To make her his? He could think of nothing that would make him happier.
But it’s not just about me, is it? he thought. I need to put her feelings first. How can I ask her to give up her kin? Her home? And how can I even contemplate a life with her when we might be riding to war? When I might not live to see another Yule?
No. He couldn’t do it. It wasn’t fair. He couldn’t put Gretchen in that position.
No matter how much he wished it otherwise, he knew that he and Gretchen could never be more than friends.
Chapter 10
“SORRY I DINNA HAVE better news for ye, Ewan,” Brodie said. “But I’ve asked everyone I can think of all along my trade routes to the border. Nobody seems to know anything. Perhaps we’d learn more if the routes into MacFarlane lands weren’t closed but with the tension?” he shrugged. “There’s little more we can do.”
Ewan nodded and squeezed Brodie’s shoulder in thanks. “I know it. My thanks for all ye’ve done.”
He turned away from the old merchant and his wife and left the cloth stall they’d set up in the outer bailey. A sinking feeling filled his stomach. Brodie and Elise were his last hope. They traveled all over the Highlands selling
their cloth. If anyone could find word of Gretchen’s friend Darcy, it would be they.
He made his way across the bailey to the kitchen. He paused as he rounded the wall and peered at the little courtyard outside. The kitchen staff were taking a break. Gretchen was sat on a bench with Isabelle, the rest of the staff clustered around. Gretchen appeared to be telling them a story. She was pulling faces and gesturing animatedly and the listeners burst into uproarious laughing.
Ewan paused. He didn’t want to intrude on her happy moment. He didn’t want to disappoint her. He’d promised her he’d find Darcy and now he had to break that promise. His stomach lurched at the thought.
He turned to leave but Isabelle suddenly called, “Lord Ewan? Did ye need something?”
“Aye,” he said, clearing his throat. “I was hoping for a word with Lady Gretchen.”
Isabelle stood. “Right ye lazy lot. Let’s get back to it. Those pies won’t bake themselves!”
She chased the staff back inside, leaving Gretchen sitting on the bench.
Gretchen looked up at him. “What is it?”
He took a seat beside her and tried to think of how to start. “Ye’ve been here over a month now,” he began. “How are ye settling in?”
“Fine,” she said, fixing him with a puzzled glance. “Jenna’s asked me to take one of her reading classes on my own tomorrow, Amy is trying to teach me to use a bow, Isabelle lets me run loose in the kitchen and there’s this guy who thinks it’s his sole responsibility to make sure I’m looked after.” She smiled at him. “But I don’t think you came to just ask that?”
He shook his head. “Nay, not just that. When ye first came here I promised I’d help ye to track down yer friend, Darcy.”
Gretchen suddenly sat up straighter, her eyes alight. “Have you found her?”
The hope in her voice cut through him. “Nay, lass. That’s what I came to tell ye. My last messengers came in today. Brodie and Elise are cloth merchants. They’ve been traveling the length and breadth of Murray holdings and asking about yer friend wherever they went. They’ve returned today and have heard nay word of her. I’m sorry, lass.”
Gretchen said nothing. Her eyes became glazed, as though she was looking at something far away. They sparkled with tears. “I was so sure she must be here,” she whispered. “Why else would Irene MacAskill send me here?”
Ewan looked at her sharply. “What did ye say?”
Gretchen shook her head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” She sighed and gazed out towards the valley. Then she turned to Ewan. Her eyes were intense, unblinking as she watched him.
Ewan drew a breath. “Gretchen, I—”
At the same time Gretchen said, “Listen, Ewan—”
With a smile, Ewan stopped. “Ye first.”
“I was going to say that maybe it’s time I moved on. I can’t rely on your family’s charity forever. And if Darcy’s not here, there’s no reason to stay.” Her gaze sharpened. “Is there?”
Ewan hesitated. Tell her how ye feel, said a voice in his head. Ask her to stay.
“Gretchen, I—” he began. But then his eyes fell on a group of his warriors by the gates and his words faltered. They were preparing to ride out and were kitted out in full battle gear in case they encountered a raid.
How could he ask her to stay? How could he ask her to risk her safety, maybe even her life?
“Nay, lass,” he said, and the words were the hardest he’d ever spoken. “I dinna suppose there’s aught to keep ye here. I’ll see ye are escorted to wherever ye decide to go.”
Then, before his restraint could snap and he began begging her to stay, he rose to his feet and walked away.
He was suddenly angry. Furious. With himself for feeling so helpless. With his cousin and Richard de Clare for putting him in this situation. With the MacFarlane clan. With everyone.
He turned in the direction of the practise grounds and drew his sword. He needed to fight someone.
GRETCHEN STARED AFTER Ewan long after he’d disappeared around the corner. She felt like a bowling ball had settled in her stomach.
He doesn’t want me here, she thought.
His words had cut her to the quick. I’ll see ye escorted wherever ye decide to go.
She had so desperately wanted him to ask her to stay. For a moment, just for a moment, she thought he was going to do just that.
Idiot, she chided herself. You should have realized that he doesn’t feel anything for you. So he’s been kind to you? So what? He’s kind to everyone.
She hugged herself, biting her lip to keep back tears. Everything was suddenly going wrong. Not only had Ewan rejected her, there was no sign of Darcy either. She’d been so sure she’d find her friend here in sixteenth century Scotland. So sure. Why else had Irene MacAskill sent her here? It made no sense.
She shifted on the bench as the hard wood pressed into her skin. Storm clouds were gathering over the hills. If the wind direction didn’t change, she’d soon get a drenching.
She’d quickly learned how to read the unpredictable Scottish weather. It was one of many things she’d learned since she arrived in the sixteenth century. Like how content she could be living a simple life. Like how valued she could feel amongst this tight-knit community.
Like how alive a man could make her feel.
Ewan. Everything about him mesmerized her. The way he moved, with such deadly grace. The way he smiled, lighting up his face in child-like delight. The way he smelled of wood smoke and horse. The way he spoke with quiet dignity.
No. Don’t think about him!
“You don’t make things easy on yourself, do you Gretchen?” she muttered to herself. “Not only do you fall for a man from another time, you fall for one who doesn’t want you!”
“What’s that?” said Isabelle from the doorway. “Are ye talking to yerself now? A sure sign of madness or so I’m told.”
“Madness? That sounds about right,” Gretchen replied.
Isabelle cocked her head and then came and sat on the bench by Gretchen’s side. “What did Lord Ewan say to ye? Ye dinna look happy about it, whatever it was.”
Gretchen sighed. “It seems I’ll be leaving soon.”
Isabelle’s eyes widened. “Leaving? Why would ye want to do that?”
“Word came in from the last of Ewan’s messengers today. There’s no sign of my friend Darcy.”
Isabelle stared at her for a moment. “That’s sad news but it doesnae explain why ye have to leave. I thought ye and Lord Ewan were.... I thought ye would...”
“You thought wrong,” Gretchen said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “Ewan is perfectly happy for me to be on my way. Seems I’ve outstayed my welcome.”
“Poppycock!” Isabelle snapped. “Ye’ve done no such thing! Ye’ve made a place for yerself here. Ye have friends. People who care for ye. Ye canna just up and leave. What would we do without ye?”
Gretchen smiled, touched by her friend’s words. “You managed quite well before I came here. I’m sure you’ll manage just as well when I’m gone.”
This didn’t seem to placate Isabelle. She shook her head. Then she looked around, checking they were alone. She leaned close and lowered her voice. “Would ye stay if yer friend Darcy could be found?”
“What do you mean?” Gretchen asked, puzzled. “Ewan said there’s no word of her. I’ll have to look someplace else.”
“Lord Ewan doesnae have access to certain places round here. MacFarlane lands for example.”
Gretchen’s eyes widened as the meaning of Isabelle’s words sank in. “Are you saying that you do?”
Isabelle glanced around again, suddenly nervous. “Lady Amy and I both have friends in the MacFarlane clan. We’ve kept in contact with those friends, despite the recent troubles.”
“Isabelle!” Gretchen said. “That’s dangerous! What if Merith found out? How do you reckon she’d react if she knew you were in contact with her enemy?”
“Why do ye think we’ve kept it secre
t?” Isabelle replied. “But we trust ye. We know ye willnae betray our secret. The point I’m making is this: what if we could get word to our friends in MacFarlane lands? What if we could get them to ask around to see if Darcy is there?”
A little flicker of hope flared in Gretchen. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course!” Isabelle replied. “Especially if it helps me keep my best under-cook!”
Tears pricked Gretchen’s eyes. She threw her arms around Isabelle. “I’d like that very much. Thank you, Isabelle.”
Isabelle returned the hug for a moment and then sat back. “Well, that’s settled then. Come on. There are vegetables to be peeled!”
She held out her hand and, with a laugh, Gretchen allowed her to pull her to her feet. Together they went into the kitchen.
GRETCHEN STRETCHED her aching shoulders. She’d worked all afternoon in the kitchen and, as always, felt much calmer than before.
She finished cleaning down her workbench, took off her apron and hung it on a peg. Isabelle had disappeared earlier to go and talk to Amy about contacting their MacFarlane friends. Gretchen wasn’t comfortable with them taking such a big risk for her sake but they insisted.
Ewan might not want her but at least she might still find her friend. It was a faint hope but it was better than nothing.
She bid good day to Louisa and the others then stepped out into the courtyard. The storm clouds had dispersed away to the north and now shafts of sunlight were making their way through, bathing the castle in a golden glow.
Gretchen sucked in a breath and then strode from the courtyard. She turned left and made her way around the keep and then to a small gate in the outer wall that led down to the river. It was a lovely spot and Gretchen liked to come here when she wanted to think.
Gretchen grabbed the gate handle, pulled it open and hurried through. Lost in her own thoughts she almost didn’t see the person coming the other way, striding straight towards her.