Rose of Hope

by Mairi Norris

  “Verra well.” She turned, eased into the tree nook and felt for the ladder with her toes. She held on to the trunk and put her weight on the top rung. But when she stepped to the next, it started to topple. She lost her balance. Her arms flailed, frantically grasping at the rough bark. Before she plummeted to the knotted roots, the man caught her.

  “Oh!” She gasped and gripped his powerful forearms.

  He gently set her on the ground, and she turned to face him. A bit dazed, she ran trembling fingers down the front of her gown. His hands lingered at her waist, and when he didn’t step back, she looked up to find him smiling.

  “I believe ye owe me yer thanks, Mistress Cameron.”

  At his mention of her name, she searched his face. “How do ye know me?”

  He chuckled, his deep voice rumbling throughout his thick chest. “I make it my business to know all the bonnie lasses in the area.”

  The men behind him laughed.

  Her stomach tightened. She was no beauty. He obviously mocked her—in front of his men. Prickly heat tingled across her cheeks.

  “I’ll catch up to ye,” Robert called over his shoulder.

  “Oh, aye. Once ye’ve taken care of business,” one man asserted.

  “Important business to be sure,” the other bantered.

  The men chuckled as they nudged their mounts, then trotted down the path and out of sight.

  Robert’s gaze lingered on her mouth before he raised it to her eyes. “I believe it’s customary to thank someone when they’ve helped ye.”

  Cameron cleared her throat. “Aye, I do thank ye.”

  He studied her lips again. “I had something more in mind. Ye know ye’d still be stuck in that tree if I hadn’t come along, so ye owe me.”

  His warm breath caressed her face. He bent and placed his mouth on hers. His arms pulled her close, his muscular frame molding her body against his. Stubble scratched her skin, and she inhaled his male scent of leather, and aye, of horse.

  She should be horrified at his advances. What was she thinking, allowing a Graham to kiss her so…so wickedly and deliciously? She should push him away and demand he step back, but somehow, she loathed the idea. Indeed, she reveled in the feel of his hard body pressed against hers.

  Robert broke the kiss, and she tried to compose herself. He placed his hand on the side of her face and paused, gazing into her eyes. “I just returned from visiting yer da.”

  Cameron straightened. “Ye talked to Da?”

  Robert searched her eyes, his thumb caressing her cheek. “We have sealed a truce.”

  Her eyes widened. “A truce?”

  “Aye.” He lifted her hand to his mouth. “And I look forward to getting to know my neighbors much better.”

  He kissed her palm, and his whiskers scraped her skin. Tingles shot through her belly, and her breath caught at his dark mesmerizing eyes. They stared at each other through stilted silence. Finally, he stepped back and bowed. “Good day, m’lady.”

  He leapt onto his horse. The large black animal pawed at the ground while Robert continued to stare at her. The appearance of his dimples and the sparkle in his eyes caused her stomach to flutter. He turned his horse in the direction of Graham Castle and galloped through the woods.

  Her hands trembled. She pressed her fingers to her lips and stepped away from the tree, searching the path he took, but no one was in sight. Placing her hand on her chest, she fought to steady her nerves. Her legs shook, but she turned to her basket and gathered the spilt elder flowers.

  My first kiss.

  The desire lighting his eyes had both thrilled and horrified her.

  He was a Graham—Robert Graham, no less.

  A man who stole her father’s bull and because of his reckless act, Fergus might lose the use of his arm. She should not feel such exhilaration over her father’s adversary. But, no…he was no longer their enemy. Robert said they’d sealed a truce.

  Her heart soared with happiness over an accord she had prayed for and envisioned in her dreams.

  The sun shone directly overhead. It was time to return home. Muire would be waiting. She secured the ladder onto the horse and picked up her basket. With thoughts of her first kiss running through her mind, she led the animal down the path toward home.

  ~~~

  Robert’s pulse hammered in his ears. What was wrong with him? They had only shared a kiss. Something about the MacDougall lass intrigued him. He grinned. Her soft curves and plump lips stirred his blood, not to mention his cock. The strain against the front of his trews was a painful reminder of her full breasts crushed against his chest. How he longed to cup their fullness and taste their sweetness. He groaned and shifted from his uncomfortable position, his thoughts not helping the situation.

  Robert squeezed his legs around Eton, spurring him forward to catch Lachlan and Kendrick, who road ahead.

  Lachlan smirked. “Ye didn’t waste time getting the lass in yer arms.”

  “Och, I couldn’t leave her stranded in the tree.”

  “Nay, I suppose not. And of course ye wanted a reward for yer services,” Kendrick asserted.

  Robert grinned at his friends. “A token of my Lady’s favor.”

  “Oh, aye. To be sure,” Lachlan agreed.

  What was she doing in the tree? Her spilt basket had been full of elder bark and flowers. She didn’t appear a fanciful lass collecting fragrant flowers. More like willful and deliberate, berating him from her perch. Nay, MacDougall had boasted of Cameron’s healing ways. Most certainly, her habit of climbing trees aided the rendering of her treatments.

  She held him responsible for stealing her da’s bull. He wanted to clear his name, tell her he had nothing to do with the raid. Hell, he wasn’t even around when his father’s men took the beast.

  Why did he wish her to know he wanted no part of this feud? Did he desire her approval? The idea was absurd. Not since his former-betrothed had he coveted a lass’s acceptance. Upon finding Jacqueline in another man’s arms, Robert learned his lesson, no longer caring what women thought of him. He pleased them well enough and never lacked for bedmates, but he didn’t lose sleep over them nor waste time on a lass’s frivolous emotions. Important matters—the English soldiers and Scotland’s fight for freedom—demanded his attention. King Edward encroached on their land, getting closer to Graham Castle every day.

  So why did he want Cameron’s approval? He couldn’t understand his caring what the lass thought of him. The idea was ridiculous and…disturbing. Well, all that aside, he definitely wanted to see her again.

  This truce may prove to have advantages he had not yet considered.

  ~~~

  Robert walked into Isobel’s room at dawn to find his two sisters asleep in front of the hearth. A log rolled in the grate, sending sparks flitting up the chimney. Nichola cradled their baby sister in her lap, firelight dancing across them.

  When he gently picked up Isobel, Nichola woke and rubbed her eyes. Robert laid the little lass on her bed. She yawned and turned onto her side as he drew a blanket over her shoulder. Relief poured through him. She had survived another bout.

  Nichola rubbed her arms. “’Tis my fault she had another breathing spell. I shouldn’t have taken her out-of-doors. I only wanted her to have a wee bit of fun.”

  He stroked Isobel’s dark curls. “I understand, but we have to be more careful. She’s fragile.”

  Isobel had stolen his heart the day she was born. Could it really be five years ago already? Because of her illness, she had not experienced the joy of running and playing, or having friends. The only life she knew was living inside her bedchamber walls.

  He would give anything to find a cure, enabling her to live like other children. Da had brought in healers from around the country to treat her, but she continued to wheeze and cough, oftentimes gasping for air. At the healers’ insistence, heavy draperies covered the windows, and stifling oppressive air hung heavy in the room. Did the healers know what they were doing?

&nbs
p; Nothing they had suggested helped Isobel.

  He clasped Nichola’s shoulder. “I must start the drills. Ye will let me know if she worsens?”

  His sister nodded, and her disheveled blonde hair fell over her shoulder, her blue eyes sad. “Aye, I’ll be with her.”

  Robert strode across the room, down the stairs and into the bailey where sounds of clashing steel broke the early morning quiet. He marched across the line, inspecting his men’s progress. Even his old captain, Duncan, and Robert’s young brother joined in the exercises.

  At ten years old, Androu had trained with Duncan for three years now and someday would become a fine warrior. His brother struggled to manage his sword, but what he lacked in stature, he more than made up for in attitude.

  Robert approached the two sparring. “Well done, Androu. Watch for yer opening. Lunge in to take yer opponent out.”

  Androu parried blow for blow, but soon grew tired. Robert held up a hand and signaled Duncan to stop.

  “Yer technique improves every day,” Robert said.

  Androu proudly straightened his shoulders.

  Robert ruffled his brother’s dark hair. “Ye deserve a day off.”

  Androu’s eyes widened. “Duncan promised to take me hunting. Can we go tomorrow?”

  How Robert would enjoy a carefree day. “I’m ready for a good hunt, too. Mayhap I’ll join ye.”

  “Aye!” Androu jumped up and down while holding both arms in the air.

  ~~~

  The next afternoon, Kendrick raced into Robert’s solar. “Laird, the horses Duncan and Androu were riding came in without them.”

  Without them? Heart pounding, Robert swallowed the panic rising in his chest. He raced from the room, through the keep into the bailey with Kendrick following. To his left, Michael pumped the sharpening stone as Lachlan held his sword’s blade against the grinding rock, the noise loud and grating. Several others stood by, joking and laughing while awaiting their turn.

  “Lachlan, Michael, I need yer help.”

  Michael stood as Lachlan and the others turned to Robert. “What is it?” Lachlan asked.

  “Duncan and Androu are missing,” Robert shouted. “Brian, David, mount up. Kendrick, send runners to the clan families and have the men scour the area.”

  They ran to their mounts. Robert grabbed Duncan’s horse and sprang onto his back. He dug his heels into the animal’s sides, and the men thundered out of the bailey and into the woods.

  Duncan and Androu had gone on a simple hunt. Had something happened to both of them? How he wished Laird McCarthy’s untimely visit this morning had not prevented him from accompanying the two. If there had been an accident, he would have been there to help, perhaps prevent it.

  His chest constricted. Androu had followed in Robert’s footsteps, tagging along behind, mimicking and trying hard to become a man. He prayed they would find him alive and unharmed.

  Robert called for his brother and Duncan repeatedly, but received no response. He had no idea which way the two went. Frantic, he raked his fingers through his hair.

  Where would they have gone?

  “Split up so we can cover more ground. Brian and David, search the south side of the woods. Lachlan and Kendrick, come with me. We’ll head north.”

  Splashes of purple and red streaked the darkening sky. His shoulders slumped. Where were they? He searched the forest and the tall grass. He’d been over this area before, but as he turned, he caught sight of the captain lying in a thicket of weeds.

  “There’s Duncan!” Robert jumped from his horse, hurried to the old man and knelt beside him. Two arrows fletched with characteristic red and black feathers protruded from his back.

  MacDougall feathers!

  Fury welled from the pit of his stomach. His nostrils flared, and his breath came hard and fast. Duncan lay on his stomach, his head turned to the side. He was cold, but air puffed against Robert’s fingers.

  “He’s alive!” Robert called over his shoulder. “Can ye hear me, man? Where’s Androu?”

  Duncan moaned.

  How could MacDougall look Robert in the eye, give his word on a truce and perform such a horrific act? The old laird had betrayed him, broken his oath with this treacherous attack delivered directly to Robert’s gut.

  “Here’s Androu,” Lachlan yelled, thrashing through the undergrowth.

  Kendrick knelt beside Duncan, and Robert rushed to his brother’s side. An arrow protruded from Androu’s back and another from his thigh. Robert shook with rage.

  Blood soaked his brother’s tunic and trews. He lay on his stomach, his young face smeared with dirt and grime. Robert brushed his brother’s dark hair off his neck, pressing his fingers against his pulse point. He held his breath. Aye, a beat, then another—slow and weak—but steady. He exhaled a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his face. “We need to get them to the castle.”

  He grabbed the arrow shaft in Androu’s shoulder and strained to snap the wooden stick, careful to break it at least a hand’s-width from his skin. Kendrick handed him the rods from Duncan’s back, and Robert stuffed the four feathered-shafts into his tunic.

  He gathered the young lad in his arms and glimpsed at Kendrick and Lachlan. “I’ll carry Androu. Can the two of ye manage Duncan?”

  “Aye, Lachlan get on the other side of him,” Kendrick said as he knelt.

  The men lifted Duncan, and the old man cried out— the pitiful sound poignant. Robert clenched his jaw against the ache squeezing his chest. He cradled Androu in his arms and led the group back to the castle.

  His stomach roiled.

  Lord, please don’t let them die.

  When they entered the bailey, Nichola ran through the door and onto the landing. She pressed her hands to her mouth and shook her head. “Nay, oh nay.” She hiked her gown and dashed down the stairs. “What happened? Are they alive?”

  “Aye, barely,” Robert shouted. “Get Aine.”

  Although the woman was up in years, she was all they had to treat ailments and mend broken bones. Nichola ran off as Robert carried Androu up the stone steps. He raced into the main hall where the clan had gathered for the evening meal.

  Tessa placed a tray of leeks on the long trestle table and turned. “Oh Lord. What happened?” The old cook scurried behind Robert and his men.

  “It was the MacDougalls,” Kendrick yelled. “They attacked and shot them in the back.”

  The clan gathered. Women hugged their children close, their eyes wide.

  “The whoresons,” a man yelled.

  “I knew they couldnae be trusted,” another chimed in.

  Others roared in agreement. Fists shaking, they followed Robert down the hall. As he disappeared into a chamber, Michael faced the concerned group and held up a hand. “Wait here while Aine treats them. I’ll let ye know how they fare.”

  He shut the door as Robert placed Androu on a table face down in order to extract the arrows. Michael hurried across the room and dragged another table next to them. “Lay Duncan here.”

  Kendrick and Lachlan eased the old man down. Duncan cried out and groaned as they settled him on the hard surface.

  Robert was anxious to begin the arduous task of removing the arrows. He grasped his dagger and took a deep breath. Jaw clenched, he slit Androu’s shirt and tore open the fabric, revealing the implanted barb.

  Aine shuffled into the room and peered over Robert’s shoulder. “Ye’ll have to push the arrow through. The jagged edges will do more harm if they’re jerked out.”

  Duncan and Androu had lost a lot of blood. Their faces were pale, their breathing shallow. Robert stared at the embedded rod. What if the damn thing splinters and causes worse damage? How would they extract the fragments?

  He exhaled loudly. He didn’t have a choice. The barbs had to come out. Aine handed a mallet to him. His gut churned as he tugged his brother toward him until his small arm dangled over the side of the table. “Ye will need to support him while I shove the arrow through his shoulder.”r />
  Lachlan nodded and grasped Androu’s bicep.

  Sweat slid down the middle of Robert’s back. Taking a deep breath, he channeled his anger and slammed the mallet on the shaft. The arrow shot through Androu’s thin shoulder and clattered to the floor.

  Androu screamed and struggled against Lachlan’s grip. Blood flowed from the wound and dripped on Lachlan’s boot.

  Aine stroked the lad’s head. “Shh, ’twill be all right.”

  Whack! Duncan hollered. Robert’s stomach churned. He tried to ignore the agonizing sounds from behind him and concentrate on his brother, but the man’s wails reverberated through his head.

  He drew his mouth into a tight line, focused on extracting the second arrow and dragged Androu’s leg over the edge of the table.

  “Nay, nay, please nay!” Androu cried and thrashed against Lachlan’s grip.

  “Hold him still.” Robert’s voice sounded harsh even to his own ears.

  “It has to be done, lad,” Aine said, cradling Androu’s head. “Take a deep breath. He’s almost finished.”

  Sweat peppered Robert’s forehead and upper lip. He hit the rod with all his might, his brother’s screams echoing in Robert’s ears. The sharp arrow penetrated the other side of Androu’s leg, but Robert had to hit it again. “Damn it!”

  Androu howled. His arms flailed, but Lachlan grabbed them and pinned his upper torso down. “Shite,” Lachlan cursed and tightened his grip.

  “Hold on, lad. Hold on.” Robert slammed the shaft once more, and the arrow shot out the other side of Androu’s wee leg.

  Androu sobbed, the gut-wrenching sound piercing Robert’s core. He pressed a cloth over his brother’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around the lad. His small frame hung limp, his chest heaving from his wails.

  Robert smoothed Androu’s hair. “Shhh, ye’ll be all right, brother.”

  Alastair MacDougall will pay for this, if it’s the last thing I do.

  Kendrick wiped his brow with his forearm. “We got the arrow out of Duncan’s shoulder, but we can’t remove the one in his back.”