The Highlander's Enigmatic Bride: A Scottish Historical Romance Novel
Page 4
After an hour the guard came, collected the tray and acquiesced to her request for tea. She enjoyed the warmth of it as she lay under the woolen blankets of the bed and felt actually quite comfortable.
No, there must be something wrong with me if I am actually enjoying this. Really, Isabel, what are you doing? This is not your home. This is not a holiday treat. You are here for revenge. Do not forget it, she reminded herself, feeling quite foolish.
Isabel stood and meandered toward the window. She opened it and looked out at the yard. She was maybe six or seven floors up in the castle. There was no chance of escaping had that been her desire. Had she truly been a prisoner with no intent of remaining to kill the Laird, she would perhaps consider tying together the wools and climbing down. Alas, she knew better, and she knew that that was not her wish. She was here to kill Edan. At the first chance she had, he would be dead.
Her eyes gazed over the view of green meadows and an elaborate garden. She had heard of such beautiful gardens in Scottish castles. She had seen beauties in England as well, but nothing so majestic as this. Roses and daisies and carnations, large bushes clipped into sharp-edged order. The colors rose and fell together, like individual brush strokes creating a fine masterpiece.
The fresh breeze floated in around her. Sun shone in the sky, and the temperature had warmed for the day. It was beautiful, magnificent and she felt refreshed.
Losing James was a grief from which she would not soon recover, but she came to realize that her lie had become a truth. She needed time away from her home, time to feel at peace.
And yet again she hated herself for considering this a place of peace. It was a place of bloodshed, the very land that murdered her brother, and in this castle, the very man that ordered it. Nonsense it was to feel otherwise.
“Isabel, what is the matter with you?” she asked herself aloud, before quickly turning to ensure the door was closed tight and no one could hear her soft, self-identifying question.
“Gardens, meadows, fresh air, boredom, gloom, and murderers. This is truly a land of contrasts,” she added bitterly.
As if sensing her disrespect, a large grey cloud moved into view and an angry wind whipped through the window, forcing her to back up a few steps. Over the next three hours of rain and wind, Isabel lay in bed, bored and waiting for her next meal as the only hope to provide a break in the day. When lunch came, it was soup again.
Isabel began to wonder if she would ever find the opportune moment she so desperately needed to finish her business or if, perhaps, she would waste away here after all.
Chapter 6
Edan finished a full meal and was ready to leave the great hall. The rack of lamb with neeps and tatties filled him well.
“Me Laird, have ye any news from yer sister?”
“None, Robert. I’m guessing she’s taking her time, enjoying the scenery. Ye ken how she is. Perhaps she’s even taken to a wanderer and up and left us all,” he joked. Edan was not concerned for the safety of his sister. Caitriona was far more fearsome than many of his bravest men. She could handle herself in a fight.
“Have ye any further thoughts on what to do about…Cormag?” he added the name in a low voice.
Edan sighed. “Aye, I ken it’s me duty, I havnae made me decision. Truthfully, I think it best we deal with it privately. It doesnae feel right to me, not with what the blighter did to me friend, but I cannae put the rest of ye at risk because of it. I cannae let ye all suffer at the hands of them rotten English because of his disgraceful choice. He knew we had chosen to not be haters of all the Englishmen, only for those who chose to rise against us and seek our death. But James was none of that. Yet Cormag still did what he did. So now it be up to me to defend oor clan while we quietly punish the man, ye ken?”
“I understand ye, Laird,” Robert replied.
“For heavens’ sake, Robert, call me Edan still. I havnae any crown on me head now, do I?” he asked.
“None that I see, Edan,” Robert said with a smile.
“Then here we are, two men, just men. Ye ken I’m right grateful for ye, Robert? I ken I can trust ye with me whole heart. So tell me, what do ye think of the lass Cormag brought here?” he inquired. They had begun walking together from the great hall and into one of the many corridors leading through the castle.
“I didnae get the best look at her, but she seemed right bonnie to me. Do ye think they’re made different doon there?” Robert laughed suggestively, slapping his leg.
“I dinnae ken,” Edan chuckled. “But I ken she’s got quite a pair of eyes to match her thøns. Ye cannae imagine how bonnie she is when they’re full of hate. Honestly, shining with hate for me. She isnae messing about. I ken that’s what happens when ye take someone prisoner, but aye right, she doesnae have to shaft me when I’m trying to treat her well, does she?”
“Ye seem awfully bothered by it all,” Robert added. “I didnae ken you cared so much what an English lass think of ye. Havnae ye seen oor ladies? Milk-colored skin reflecting the rare sun. Golden hair, brass hair, fire hair, like yers. Ye cannae deny oor ladies are ripe pickins,” Robert remarked.
“I’ll nae deny it, but did ye see her? She has the same skin, rosy cheeks, and that little mouth of hers with rosebud lips? She’s right bonnie and there’s a truth to be had,” Edan defended.
Robert laughed again. “Whatever ye say, ye are the Laird after all. I dinnae ken why ye’d notice her, but ye have, and that’s all there is to it,” he said with resignation, shaking his head in amusement.
“I cannae explain it, Robert, there’s just something…familiar about her. It’s like she reminds me of someone I knew, someone who is lost from me. I dinnae ken, really. She’s just stuck with me is all. Perhaps I need to be seen by one of their old Vicars who can cast this spirit out of me, this thing causing me to be drawn to her,” Edan said dryly.
It was meant as a joke, but he didn’t have the energy to say it with any humor and Robert didn’t take it as such. They both seemed lost in different worlds.
“Since we be on the topic of bonnie ladies…” Robert began with apparent hesitation.
“So long as ye never ask for me sister’s hand, ye know I’d love to see ye married off,” Edan inserted, bringing a genuine laugh from Robert. Sunlight was shining through one of the windows, and it brightened both their faces for a moment before retreating behind another cloud. The rain and sun had been battling the whole day.
“I havnae the stones for a cockfight that vicious!” he defended. “Nae, I’m speaking of another sort. One with brass curls and eyes like moss. A true Scottish lass.”
“Aye and who is she?” Edan prodded.
“Lorna McDougal,” Robert said with poetry and flair.
“Lorna?” Edan asked, surprised.
“Why are ye stunned? Is she not beautiful?” Robert asked, offended at Edan’s reaction.
“Aye, but-”
“Is she not kind?”
“Aye-”
“Does she not have tits carved by angels out of alabaster?” he asked breathlessly.
“Aye, that’s certainly true, but-”
“Then what’re ye about with all the ‘buts’ yer inserting? Have ye any problem with her? Is there something I cannae see?” he asked with rising anger.
“Her mother…” Edan said cautiously as if he were soon to be beaten to death.
Robert’s face softened. “Oh, of course. Well, she’s older than Moses. She’ll be dead soon enough.”
Edan burst out laughing at Robert’s deadpan, matter-of-fact expression as if he had just shared the most natural information possible to share.
“What are ye laughing about? Did I say something wrongly?” he asked.
“Robert, ye be wishing death upon yer mother-in-law before ye even started pursuing the bride! Of course ye said it wrongly!” he replied between gasping breaths. “Ye are a right twit, ye ken?”
“Sure, but I still dinnae see what’s so wrong about it. She’s a right old hag. Lo
rna thinks so too. Old Maid Morvan and her swinging bells,” he said in disgust.
“Ye ken Lorna’s going to have the same swing when she gets to be that old,” Edan reminded him.
“Well, that’s easily solved by the fact that I’ll be dead before she gets that old. So ye see, it’s all perfect. I’ll get to be with her during her prime when her mother is long dead, and then I’ll die before she becomes her mother,” he justified, finally seeing the comedy of his inordinate wishes and releasing the laughter Edan had already been indulging.
“Well then, I guess ye’ve got it all planned out. Anyhoo, ye can go see yer belle before she starts to swing. In the meanwhile, I’m planning to charm the English right out of the blondie upstairs,” Edan declared.
“Tell me if they’re made different down there!” Robert called back over his shoulder as he walked out of the hall toward the door of the castle. Down a few streets, he would find the woman he was searching for.
Edan, on the other hand, had only to go a few floors up. There he stood outside the door of ‘Elyse’ or whoever she was. The guard awkwardly tried to look straight forward and not notice his Laird at the door, not moving forward. Edan was lost in thought.
And what exactly might be the best approach? ‘Sorry for allowing me men to kidnap ye and for choosing to keep ye here. How’s the soup?’ No, she isnae going to swoon for me with that. What might be the best I can say? What might give her grace to look at me? he asked himself. He knew he couldn’t very well stand there forever. He could turn back. But no, the guard had already seen him, it would wound his pride to look so unsure of himself before someone who was meant to obey him.
“Open it,” he said quickly, unceremoniously. For a moment, the guard was unsure if he’d heard correctly. His eyes asked for confirmation and Edan gave him a nod of the head.
The door opened. Isabel sat up quickly from her position on the bed. She had been lying back, staring up at the ceiling. She looked comfortable with her hands folded across her stomach and legs stretched out, the right crossed over the left. Bored maybe, but comfortable.
Now she looked feral.
Her bottom half remained in its cross-legged position, but her eyes were ready to strike, and her hands held her in a firm position as they pressed against the mattress to hold her torso strong.
Edan took a deep breath in. “And how is oor fair English lass?” he asked casually.
“Bored. How is the Scot scum?” she replied pertly.
“Amused,” he replied with a curt smile. He had no intention of letting her see when she wounded his pride. It was his turn to win this time. She would not get one over on him. If he had to, he’d remind her of her slip in her cover story. Anything to wound her pride in return. But he hoped he would not have to sink to that, after all.
“Well, I suppose you are very fortunate to be so. Life must be awfully dire here, I cannot imagine one would possibly enjoy all this rain,” Isabel said.
“Aye, because England be the very portrait of sunshine…” Edan retorted.
“Do you think a lady might be afforded a book at the very least? Surely there is nothing violent I could do with a book, save for outwitting you,” she justified the request.
“A book? Why, of course, I can get ye a book! Why didnae ye ask sooner? I’ll say that I am rather surprised though. For one, I didnae think ye were bright enough to read, and for the other, I thought by now ye’d be asking for a bath. Have ye no knowledge of yer scent?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. Truthfully, he couldn’t smell anything but the post-rain aroma seeping through the windows, but he knew by now she would be wanting to bathe.
Isabel’s nostrils flared slightly, and her jaw clenched. Narrow eyes shot daggers at Edan.
“Aye, a book it is. I take it ye’ll not be having the bath after all?” he asked, leaving her to languish between her discomfort and her pride.
Isabel wanted a bath more than she could express, especially with the damp outside. The wools were warm, but a hot bath sounded like heaven. However, acquiescing to his insult was too great a wound for her to bear. Underlying it all was the fear that if she refused a bath, Edan might think she did not bathe. He may think she was dirty or uncivil. And a small part of her, a part she tried to bury, didn’t want to be seen that way by him.
Her pride relented to her desire.
“A hot bath would be nice…thank you,” she said, instantly berating herself for the politeness at the end.
Chapter 7
“Where be the Titan Laird in all his glory?” echoed a voice in the corridor the next morning. Edan had remained resting longer than he generally stayed. He’d felt a monstrous headache pounding, and his body started to ache, but the rest had done him good.
The door to his room swung wide open with no knock and Caitriona bounded toward the bed where she lazily dropped her body.
“What are ye doing laying about like this? There’s work to be done! Lives to save! English to kill!” she said exuberantly.
“What in the actual hell are ye doing, waking a laird like that?” he asked, eyes still half-closed and pulling the wool over his face. Using his position was meant simply to amuse her, but despite feeling better than before, he was still in no mood for his sister’s overwhelming energy.
“Forgive me, Laird Brother, but we havnae all day! I dropped the maid, met with a few travelers from the Gunn clan, and we made a right ruckus in one of the alehouses. But by then we were back in oor land, so we didnae have to deal with any Englishmen at that point.
Last night we werenae too far, but I had nae desire to keep riding. Me arse is aching like ye’d not believe. So, we rested the night, and I came in the morn. Anyhoo, how’s ye?” she rambled, using great hand gestures that disturbed the solitude Edan wished for.
“Ye ken I’m knackered. Will ye leave me be for just a few hours? We can deal with the rest later,” he begged.
“Whatever ye say. I’ll be out and about, I’m sure ye’ll have an easy time finding me,” Caitriona said, lifting herself from the bed and preparing to exit the room.
“Or hear ye…” Edan mumbled into his pillow as the door closed. His head began to pound again. All he could think about was Isabel. He had so many other things to concentrate on, like dealing with Cormag and keeping his lands safe and accepting his grief over the death of his friend, but that blonde beauty whose name would not be known, she was his only thought.
“Edan!” Caitriona loudly whispered, knocking on his door urgently.
“I told ye to be gone,” he muttered.
“She’s come out! It’s mother, she’s left her room. She is walking in the corridor!” she told him, coming back over to his bed on tiptoe, despite the high volume of her whisper.
At this, the Laird finally sat up in his bed. He looked his sister in her eyes, searching to know if she told him the truth. There was honesty in her face, and Edan felt a jump in his chest at the knowledge of his mother’s actions. Perhaps she would recover sooner than he thought.
“Dinnae mention faither, Caitriona. Ye ken it would only serve to upset her,” he warned. Caitriona took on her assertive irritation with a raised eyebrow.
“Ye think I’d be so daft as that? I ken what it’d do to her to have to listen to me talk on such things. And ye ken, I dinnae exactly enjoy reminiscing on me faither’s death either. She wasnae the only one who tasted ache that day,” she defended herself.
“Aye, of course. Forgive me for saying so, but ye ken I worry. She hasnae left but twice or thrice since it happened,” he said with great concern.
“Well, she be out and about this very second, so if ye intend on seeing her, now’s the time,” Caitriona replied matter-of-factly.
Edan got out of the bed and stretched the aching muscles of his exposed torso. Caitriona watched out the window at the sun over the meadows and enjoyed that it was looking to be a day without rain.
“I’m ready,” he said after a moment, now fully dressed in his kilt and cotton white shirt.
The siblings entered the corridor and turned a few corners before seeing her — their mother — wandering quietly, touching stones and portraits before landing upon that of her deceased husband.
Her wide, blue eyes gazed at the painting on the wall, and she began to weep. Edan and Caitriona silently walked to her, and each simply took an arm of hers and held it in comfort. Aware of their presence, she did not fully acknowledge them, but rather collapsed into a mess of sobbing.
Save for her echoing wails, the corridor was silent. Edan stroked his mother’s hair and pulled her head into his chest while Caitriona held her hand tightly. It was clear that she needed more time to heal, but what the wisest route to healing might be, they did not know. Wordlessly, they helped her return to her room where she lay on the bed and quickly fell to sleep.