Ravenna turned as he gestured for her to follow. They walked through the bustling courtyard, and as they strolled beyond the gate, she noticed that the curtain wall had to be at least twenty feet thick at the widest point. While Torquil ran ahead of her in the mossy field, jumping over rocks and simply enjoying being a boy, she turned and gazed at the fortified castle, with its round turrets and square watchtower.
To her left were the dangerous cliffs and to her right was a lush forest. Uncle Walter was right. With the large number of guards she’d seen standing on the castle walls, Sutherland could be a powerful enemy. When she and Torquil started to stray farther away from the castle, she stopped.
“Why don’t we turn around now? We’ve walked quite a way from home.” Ravenna waved her hand for him to return, but the boy shook his head and turned abruptly away from her. “Torquil,” she said sternly. “We’ve gone far enough.”
He raised his hand in the air to silence her. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he let out a piercing whistle. His eyes searched the trees as he patiently waited for something.
“Your father will be wondering where we are. Torquil…”
When he still didn’t move, she walked toward him with long, purposeful strides. She grabbed his shoulder and gently spun him around. “You’ve had your fun. Now it’s time we return.” She gave the boy the same look that frightened her sisters when they misbehaved, and thankfully, no further words were needed since he nodded in agreement.
They were starting to walk back when the tiny hairs rose on the back of Ravenna’s neck. She had a feeling she was being watched. She turned her head and thought she caught something move out of the corner of her eye. If danger was near, she would by no means chance Torquil being hurt. Feeling her dagger strapped securely on her thigh, she increased her pace until they reached the courtyard.
But to her dismay, Torquil didn’t follow her and walked into the stables. She let out a long, audible breath. If she didn’t set rules now, he would never respect her authority. She grudgingly went after him.
And then she froze.
A giant wolf had Torquil splayed on the ground. The beast’s massive paws were on the boy’s chest and a head was lowered in Torquil’s face. The animal was a mass of black fur and stood as tall as Ravenna’s waist.
“Do. Not. Move,” she said in a calming voice.
Ravenna lifted her skirts and fumbled for her dagger as the wolf turned and glared at her with soulless eyes. Once she felt the hilt of the blade securely in her hand, she slowly unsheathed her weapon. As long as the boy remained still, she’d be able to throw her dagger into the side of the beast. She never missed—ever. And she would not start now.
Torquil sat up abruptly and hugged the animal close to hold the massive jaws at bay. Ravenna couldn’t help but scream when she realized she didn’t have a clear shot. The boy’s life hung in the balance. Sheer black fright swept through her and she gasped, panting in terror. Her heart pounded furiously.
Without warning, Ruairi and Fagan clamored into the stable with swords drawn. The men looked around, back and forth, a shadow of alarm touching Ruairi’s face. His eyes finally met Ravenna’s.
“What is amiss?” he asked, resuming his search in the stable.
She looked back at the wolf with confusion. And that’s when she noticed Torquil’s smile. She slowly felt the color returning to her face as Ruairi and Fagan sheathed their weapons at the same time.
“Why did ye scream? Tell me ye arenae afraid of Angus.”
She lifted her fallen jaw. “Angus? You call that wicked beast ‘Angus’? But that’s a wolf.” She didn’t miss the chuckle that escaped Fagan when he promptly took his leave, and there was a trace of laughter in Ruairi’s voice when he spoke.
“Lass, Angus has been with us for many years. He will nae trouble ye.” He patted the creature on the head. “Right, Angus?”
Torquil rose to his feet and walked over to Ravenna. He gestured for the animal to come toward him. The wolf crept slowly forward, eyeing her as if for his next meal. She found herself renewing the grip on her dagger.
“Ravenna, put down the knife and hold out your hand. Let Angus approach ye.”
She couldn’t stay the tremor in her voice. “I think not. Tell him to stop right where he is.”
“Hold out your hand and let him get to know ye. Let him smell your scent.”
“I have enough friends and I don’t need any more companions, especially the four-legged kind. Please tell him to go away,” she blurted out.
“Angus is Torquil’s protector. He wouldnae harm the lad.”
“Be that as it may, I will not be giving Angus a chance to harm me. Please keep that beast as far away from me as possible.”
Ruairi rolled his eyes and spoke in Gaelic to Torquil. She breathed a sigh of relief when the boy left with the wolf in tow. She knew the Scottish Highlands were a dangerous place, but she was discovering that the men were not the only wild things in Scotland.
Four
Ruairi waited until the wee hours of the night. For the past two weeks, he had made certain he knew when Ravenna was sound asleep. She was a stranger in his home, and he couldn’t chance her stumbling across him as he stalked through the darkened halls. He also couldn’t risk anyone discovering his secret, especially an English lass.
The main torches were extinguished, but he could find his way easily in the dark. He knew every inch of his home. The castle was silent except for his footsteps as he treaded lightly across the stone floor. When he reached the kitchens, he stopped. He thought he heard a noise, but perhaps he was mistaken.
He pushed back the cloth and entered the pantry. Once the material had fallen, closing the opening behind him, he approached the shelved wall. Lifting the false shelf, he pulled the lever, and when the wall creaked open, he paused a moment to make certain he was alone. When he didn’t hear anything, he pushed open the partition and walked through. He fumbled to light a candle and kicked the wall closed behind him with his foot.
The air had changed to cold and damp. Holding up the light in front of him, Ruairi proceeded through the stone enclosure and descended through the tunnels. He wiped away the cobwebs that clung to his face. There were many passageways underneath his home, but only a handful of trusted men knew of their existence.
Ruairi walked several hundred feet and then turned east toward the sea. He could hear the sound of the ocean waves crashing in the distance. The tunnel narrowed and then the natural room widened, straight out into the bottom of the cliffs. Through the years, he had learned to study the tides, so he knew when it was safe to enter the cave. The only time he had that chance was at low tide. When the waters rose, the room flooded and was impassable.
Now was the perfect time.
Inside the cave, he bent over, his arms encircling a giant rock. He was able to nudge the rock a little farther each time he pushed, and after four attempts, he had uncovered the hole in the floor. Ruairi removed the pouch from his sporran and lowered himself to the wet ground. His fingers reached around in the hole, and when he grasped a handful of coins, he pulled them out and tossed them into the bag. After a couple more handfuls, he shook his hand, feeling the weight of the bag.
There. That ought to do it.
He shoved the pouch back into his sporran and stood, then inched the rock back in place until the opening was covered. While other greedy clans raided and pillaged, Ruairi made sure his clan’s wealth was protected. The bastards may slaughter his cattle, but they would never steal Sutherland coin. His enemies would never be that successful. And besides, Ruairi knew money bought anything and anyone. Coin had certainly secured the future of many Sutherland lairds that came before him.
He made his way back through the tunnels. When he reached the stone enclosure, he snuffed out the candle, lifted the latch, and pushed open the wall. He paused a moment to make certain he was alone. Once he was sure, he turned and pushed the shelf down into its rightful place, then lifted the cloth to the pantry.
When he heard the material fall behind him, he caught a familiar scent in the air.
Lavender.
***
Ravenna pressed her back so tightly against the darkened wall that she dared not breathe. Good God. The man stood a hairbreadth away from her. If she was discovered now, her assignment would be over before it had begun. She closed her eyes and silently prayed for a miracle.
That’s when she heard a slight banging sound, followed by a chuckle.
“Angus, what are ye doing here? Are ye hungry?”
Ravenna felt both relieved and panicked. She felt momentary relief because the sound was only that of a wagging tail. At least the dreaded beast had distracted Ruairi from her. But she was panicked because she knew that tail belonged to a large wolf with extremely sharp teeth. What she wouldn’t give to make the two of them go away!
“Here’s a piece of bread. Now off with ye.”
She heard Angus’s massive jaws devour the bread. She didn’t dare move until she was certain Ruairi and his odd choice of a companion had left. Ravenna wasn’t sure which beast would be more dangerous if she was found wandering alone in the dark—the handsome Highland laird or his wild protector. Only when all threat of discovery was removed did she dare move from her wall.
Knowing the wolf was under the same roof, Ravenna walked with hastened purpose through the halls. She needed to reach the safe confines of her bedchamber, suddenly longing for the security of its four walls. Over the last two weeks, she hadn’t been privy to any conversations among Ruairi and his men. And to her dismay, she was unable to determine the reason for the guard’s disruption in the great hall. When she’d asked a few of the servants if they knew anything about it, no one was forthcoming. She couldn’t say she was surprised.
Ravenna had just rounded the bend to her chamber when she saw a darkened figure rise from the stone floor at the end of the hall.
She froze and tried not to scream.
A big, black shadow crept slowly forward. She. Was. Going. To. Die. She caught herself glancing uneasily over her shoulder, praying for some sign of rescue by a certain Highland laird. She became more uncomfortable by the moment as the animal approached her, seemingly studying her every move. She began to shake with fear.
One bite.
That’s all it would take to tear into her soft flesh. Ravenna’s breath was choked and she could barely get enough air into her lungs. When the wolf stopped in front of her with his deadly stare, a cold knot formed in her stomach. She dared not move while memories of the past suffocated her.
The animal held his ground with purpose, and she didn’t want to wait to find out why. She briefly closed her eyes to find the courage that she so desperately needed and then softly whispered, “Hello, Angus. You’re going to be a good dog…er, wolf and let me pass. Aren’t you?”
Against her better judgment, Ravenna lowered her hand. Angus stuck out his cold nose, and as he brushed her fingers, she leaned back against the wall and reached for the door latch with her other hand. Never taking her eyes from the wolf, she slowly pushed open the door. She inched her way with two carefully placed steps along the edge of the wall, then darted inside and threw the door closed in the animal’s face.
Ravenna leaned against the chamber wall and scoffed at her predicament. “Damn you, Uncle Walter. You never said there would be dogs—well, a wolf. How many times must I tell you? I. Don’t. Like. Dogs,” she said through gritted teeth. She sat down on the bed and blew out the breath she held. “If I survive this, it will truly be a miracle.” She climbed into bed and closed her eyes, knowing morning would come far too early.
And it did.
When she realized the sun was up and she’d barely slept, she groaned and rubbed her fingers over her tired eyes. If she didn’t rise now, she would never hear the end of it from a particular kilted man. Ruairi had more than likely arisen before first light and started his day. He often made a point of insinuating that the English were pampered and the Scots worked much harder. What an idiot.
She lifted the blankets, sat up, and hung her legs over the side of the bed.
“We Highlanders donna lie in bed all day when there is work to be done,” she mumbled under her breath in her best Scottish accent.
Ravenna dressed and descended the stairs. Men and women were bustling into the great hall for the morning meal. As she suspected, Ruairi, Fagan, and Torquil were already seated at the table. When she approached the dais, Torquil lifted his eyes and jumped to his feet.
“Good morn, Ravenna.” He pulled out her chair for her.
“Very good, Torquil.” She sat down and smiled at the boy. “And thank you for being a gentleman.”
“Did ye sleep well?” asked Ruairi with a curious expression on his face.
“Yes, thank you.” Ravenna took a sip from her tankard before her thoughts gave her away. She wouldn’t mention the fact that she’d tossed and turned because her memory was plagued with dangerous animals—the four-legged kind and the two-legged kind.
“Torquil seems to be taking to his studies,” said Ruairi.
She swallowed her bite of oatmeal. “Yes, we still have a long way to go, but he’s doing well. You should be proud.”
He nodded. “I am always proud of him. ’Tis a nice day and my son has been confined in the library for too long. I want to take him riding this morn. Ye will join us.” Ruairi’s declaration was more of a command.
“If you wish.”
“And will ye need my assistance, my laird?” asked Fagan, as though something unspoken had passed between the men.
A strange look flashed in Ruairi’s eyes. “I donna think so. Why donna ye practice your swordplay with the men? Twice.”
Fagan chuckled. “Och, Ruairi, ye—”
“Twice,” he repeated.
“Aye, my laird,” said Fagan, trying to mask a smile.
Ruairi rose and Torquil stood, reaching for another piece of bread from the table.
“Torquil.”
Torquil’s eyebrow rose in surprise at the disapproving tone in his father’s voice. “Angus,” he replied.
“Angus doesnae need food from the table. He can hunt his own meal.” When Torquil paused, Ruairi repeated his words in Gaelic.
The boy nodded reluctantly and put the chunk of bread back on the table. The moment of temporary scolding clearly forgotten, Torquil ran out of the great hall with all the pent-up energy of a young boy.
“Are ye ready?” asked Ruairi, lifting a brow.
His tone of voice implied that Ravenna was being too slow. Granted, she had only eaten half of her oatmeal, but she couldn’t help leveling him with a withering stare. Spy or not, she would not let herself be put down by this Highlander. She stood, thinking how weary she was of the man’s negative references to the English.
“We English are always ready.”
***
Ruairi looked at Ravenna in surprise as she tossed her fiery locks over her shoulder. He continued to watch her in awe as she left the table, turned around, and placed her hand on her hip. She shot him a cold look and spoke with impatience.
“Well? Are you coming or not? We English do not like to be kept waiting.”
He couldn’t stay his smile as he followed the lass out into the bailey. The woman never hesitated to show her displeasure when he made certain comments about the English. Although Ruairi spoke the truth, he didn’t necessarily mean the words about his son’s governess. But he had to admit that he enjoyed seeing her green eyes flash with fury.
After the mounts were saddled, Ruairi watched Torquil as he rode out ahead of them into the field. His son and his governess had been huddled in the library, and he knew Torquil would rather be out in the air. To be truthful, he thought Ravenna could use a brief respite as well. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. Surely his actions weren’t because he wanted to spend time with her. The mere thought was absurd.
Ruairi followed Ravenna’s mount, which gave him time to study the lass without her k
nowing. Her shiny red tresses looked kissed by the sun. Her skin glowed. Her waist was slim. When she turned, providing a view of her full and rosy lips, he suddenly had a strong urge to taste them. Shifting in the saddle, he discreetly adjusted the front of his kilt.
Her voice broke his impure thoughts.
“Your son enjoys being out in the sun,” said Ravenna, watching Torquil run his horse through the grass.
“Aye. He is much like his father. I enjoy the open air.”
She laughed. “Being so close to the sea, I imagine so. The air smells…clean. Your home is beautiful.”
“I’m glad it suits ye, lass. Come. I will show ye the view from the cliffs.”
Ruairi led his mount to the cliffs but placed himself between Ravenna and the edge. He wouldn’t chance her horse getting skittish and tossing her into the cold depths of the abyss below. He shook his head and tried to direct his thoughts away from his wife. He’d certainly dwelled on that day long enough. Granted, he should’ve tried to stop the stubborn lass when she fled in a blind rage, charging her mount carelessly along the steep rocks. But two years had been a long time to be plagued by guilt. He couldn’t erase the past, even if he wanted to.
They stopped at the top of the cliffs and Ruairi dismounted. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Torquil still riding in the field below. Ruairi walked over to assist Ravenna and she placed her hands on his shoulders, sliding from her mount. When her feet were planted firmly on the ground, he knew he’d held on to her waist longer than he should have.
For a moment he just stood there staring at her. His heart ached in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Only when the scent of lavender spilled into his senses did he pull away. He walked to the edge of the steep rocks without speaking a word and looked down at the waves below.
“I don’t think I’d ever tire of that view,” she said, walking up beside him.
He placed his arm across her midriff. “Donna come too close to the edge.”
“Why? Because I’m English and you’ll push me off?”
My Highland Spy Page 4