“Aye, it can manifest as storms.”
“Is evil here now?” she asked, her expression intent.
“I’m afraid so, and someone must stop it.”
“When did you feel it before?”
“When Gregor Ramsay was a wee bairn. It nearly killed him. But the fae came to Avelina Ramsay and granted her a powerful sword to fight off evil.”
“The sapphire sword?” Her eyes widened at the mention of the special weapon. Even if she hadn’t heard this particular story, all in the Highlands had heard of the sapphire sword.
“Aye. The fae came to Avelina Ramsay and told her what to do. She vanquished the evil force.” Alex Grant closed his eyes, saying a quick prayer to bring them through this turbulent time safely. When he opened his eyes again, he looked at his great-granddaughter. “The sword was hidden long ago. The cast is back, though, and Maddie has visited me again in my dreams. She tells me the time has come for the sword to be retrieved from its hiding place. Avelina is on her way, with Logan Ramsay, and we must find the new owner of the sapphire sword.”
***
Shortly after the evening meal the next eve, Chrissa sat and listened to her family discuss the coming battle at Stirling Castle.
She rolled her eyes, something she did a little too much according to her mother, although she’d replied to that accusation by making one of her own. “I roll my eyes as often as you squeeze yours nearly shut to intimidate me.”
Her mother had said, “Finlay, she’s your daughter, not mine.”
But her mother didn’t chastise her for the eye rolling tonight, perhaps because she was too distracted to notice.
Chrissa wasn’t interested in all the drivel about who would be where and when. And she had difficulty listening to endless conjectures about what might happen. She just wanted to know where and when her skills would be needed. Once she knew that, she’d get back to practicing. Her mind was on something else…or rather someone else.
Her mother had said once that when you kissed the right lad, it made you feel as if you were floating in the sky. That comment had made her roll her eyes, of course, but it had also roused her curiosity. She’d kissed a few lads before, none of the experiences good enough for her to repeat them. Her mother was clearly daft with her talk of clouds.
And yet…after hearing about the pledge she’d made to Drostan all those years ago—and he to her—she couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him. Would it be different with him?
The evening meal had been open to the warriors again, probably because of the upcoming battle, and Drostan had come inside, bringing Sky along. At least with the pup there, her mother wouldn’t question her interest in the man, thinking her attention was only for the dog. After he finished eating, he set the wee thing near the hearth and started speaking with another warrior.
Chrissa went over to coo and pet the pup, hoping to talk to Sky’s owner, too, but by the time she got there, Drostan had already picked up the pup and headed for the door.
She didn’t even consider the merits of her decision before she followed him.
“Chrissa? Where are you going?” her sire called out from the table she’d left.
Oh, heavens above, she was nearly twenty years old. Would they never leave her be? “Outside for fresh air, Papa.”
She glanced back to see if they would try and stop her, but they didn’t, though her mother looked at her with a narrow-eyed gaze that had her rolling her eyes. She headed out the door, ignoring her mother’s comment to her sire. “You spoil her so, Finlay. You know she’s after trouble.”
Being the only lass in her family did have its advantages. And Chrissa had never been shy about taking them. Drostan was not far ahead, and he took a quick turn toward the periphery of the bailey, searching out the grassy area near the curtain wall for the pup was her guess.
Sky probably needed to take care of her needs. And if so, Chrissa couldn’t think of a better time for her to take care of Drostan’s needs.
She wanted to kiss him. Now, if she only knew how to use her wiles to tempt him.
What the hell was a wile, anyway? She’d heard the phrase often enough, but no one had ever said.
She followed him quietly, not wanting to attract attention from anyone else until they were off the common path. They were nearly to the curtain wall when Drostan set Sky down in the grass. The wee pup started sniffing, turning, and sniffing again.
“Drostan,” Chrissa called in an undertone, and he flinched and turned back to face her.
“Chrissa?” he asked. “What are you doing out here?” He paused, taking her in, his gaze starting at her boots and traveling up her legs, finally stopping at her face.
The longing she saw in his eyes sent a tingle down her backbone.
He took a step closer, and she felt a sudden rush of heat, some of it from him but most of it from her. It shot from her belly to her core to parts that she didn’t wish to think about because she’d never felt anything there before.
What was happening to her?
His thumb came up to brush her cheek, the softest of touches. Her cheek felt as if something hot had been laid upon her skin, branding his name across the span of her face.
The edges of his lips quirked up in a slow smile.
He leaned forward.
And…
Oh…
He was going…
Before she could react, his lips melded with hers as his arm swept around her back, pulling her closer. He pulled back for a moment and whispered, “I’ve always wished to do this, but I never knew if you were interested.” He nuzzled her ear and she squeaked as the now-familiar tingling sensation ran across her neck and landed directly on her…
“Are you interested in me, lass?”
Incapable of speaking, she nodded and an involuntary moan came from her lips. Her own lips!
“The hell with it. I want you, Chrissa.” His lips found hers in a searing kiss, and she was powerless against him.
Her nipples tingled as his tongue pushed against her lips. This was no regular kiss. He tugged her close to him, so close she could feel the hardness of his chest, his belly, and oh!
Something else was hard against her belly.
She couldn’t stop another little moan from erupting so she threw her arms around his neck in the hopes he wouldn’t notice. His tongue pushed against the seam of her lips again so she opened for him, his tongue sweeping inside of her mouth until it mated with hers.
And she was lost in Drostan, tasting him, savoring the press of his body against hers. She hoped their kiss would go on forever.
This…was a kiss.
Forever. Kiss me forever.
Sky barked, interrupting their sweet interlude, and Drostan pulled away, his breath coming in short pants.
So was hers. What the hell? She could hear herself breathe, something that usually only happened if Dyna made her run four times around the archery field.
Drostan leaned down to pick up the pup, cuddling her close. He reached over and touched Chrissa’s chin, closing her mouth with a smile. “You liked it, too. Aye, lass?”
Not knowing how to answer, she nodded and stepped back, hoping he wouldn’t notice her labored breathing.
What the hell was she supposed to do now?
“Come, sit down with me. Have they heard from the messenger yet?”
He sat on a bench, taking her hand and tugging her down next to him.
“Nay,” she said, smoothing her skirt. She hated that her mother always insisted she wear a gown for the evening meal. “They expect to hear back on the morrow.”
“Do you not love to hear the tales of the traveling spy teams?” he said, tracing the lines on her palm. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if we were working together? We could be a team just like Logan and Gwyneth Ramsay. Would you not like that? Everyone would know our names.”
She stared at his lips, wondering how those two wet pieces of skin could make her tingle everywhere. She smoothed her skirts again just
to see if her private parts were still tingling.
Indeed they were.
“Aye, I’d like it just fine.” At this point, she didn’t give a shite where they sent her so long as she got the chance to kiss this man every night. “They’re meeting in the lairds’ solar after the messenger returns. I’ll request to attend, though I don’t know if my mother will allow me.”
“Ask your sire,” he said, leaning in toward her. “You can convince him of anything.”
“’Struth. If they turn me down, I’ll ask him.”
“Chrissa? Where are you?”
At the sound of her mother’s voice carrying over the courtyard, Chrissa bolted up from the bench and took off toward the keep. She knew better than to be found so close to Drostan. He stayed back, but she heard his final plea.
“Tell me on the morrow what you learn. Promise?”
She glanced back over her shoulder, put her finger to her lips to shush him, then said, “Promise.”
She ran directly into her mother as she turned the corner to head back to the keep.
“Where were you?” her mother said, pulling back with a scowl.
“Taking a stroll,” she said with her most innocent look. Oh, she could look as innocent as a wee lamb just born under a tree in the meadow when the need arose.
“Why did you not answer me?”
“I never heard you. What was your question?”
Her mother’s gaze narrowed again. “I asked where you were.” Her jaw clenched, usually the last warning sign before she erupted into a fury.
“I’m here, obviously, Mother. You are getting on in years, are you not?” She stepped around her mother and headed back toward the keep.
“I hate it when you hide things from me, daughter,” her mother said. “And asking me a ridiculous question means you’re trying to hide something from me.”
“Well, I must tell you that you were right about something.”
Her mother hurried to keep up with her. “And what was that?”
“It does feel like I’m floating in the sky.” She smirked and raced inside, knowing her comment would stun her mother.
She loved it.
Chapter Six
The next morn, Drostan climbed off his pallet in the warrior’s sleeping area inside the gates, off to see his sire as early as possible, knowing it was the only time he was likely to see him sober. Afterward, he’d go to the lists to meet Hendrie.
Heading out to the line of cottages outside the gate, he passed the outside stables, surprised to hear a voice call out to him.
“Will you not spar with me, master?”
Drostan coughed, nearly dropping Sky, and spun around to find Hendrie behind him. He hadn’t expected to see the lad so early. “I shall return.” He paused for a moment, a sudden idea popping into his mind. He moved toward the young lad and said, “Will you watch Sky while I visit my sire? I’ll return within the hour and we can spar. Protecting her is an important duty I assign to you. Do not take it lightly.”
“I’ll do a fine job, you’ll see,” Hendrie said, his tone quite serious. “I’ll feed her something special.” He took off toward the stables, a sure place to find a meal for a dog.
Drostan chuckled at the lad’s exuberance, then continued on toward his sire’s cottage, waving to the people he encountered along the way. He entered his sire’s cottage, his heart sinking when he saw his father seated at the table, his head in his hands.
He already knew this man would be completely different than the one they’d seen yesterday.
“Head paining you, Da?”
“Aye, and you know it,” he grumbled, his tone already hostile.
“Stop drinking so much ale and you might feel better,” he said, pulling up a chair and setting down the day-old loaf of bread and trencher of porridge he’d found for his sire.
“Did you bring me ale?”
“Nay, just food.”
“Why not ale?”
“You know why, Da.” He pushed the trencher in front of his father.
“Why’d you come?” He pushed his thinning hair back away from his face, the gray becoming more and more prominent. “I’ve seen more of you these last few days than I have for the past moon.”
“Because you’re too thin. Eat.” He pushed the bread toward his father and took a hunk of his own to chew on.
His father gave him a strange look, then surprised him by saying, “Sorry that I yelled at you.” He waved at Drostan’s face. “Who hit you?”
Shock slackened Drostan’s jaw. “You know who hit me,” he finally managed to say.
His sire sat up straighter to glare at him, his hands dropping to the table as he reached for the bread. “How would I know? I never leave this cottage. Ever since your mama abandoned me…”
“She left you because you get drunk and turn into a miserable old goat who no one wants to be around. You hit me, or don’t you remember? ’Twas an accident, but you did it, Da.” His father often pretended not to remember the things he’d done while in his cups, but Drostan didn’t believe him.
“Hit you? I would never hit you…” Tears misted the old man’s eyes. “Why would you say such a thing? I need more ale. Be a good son and get me more. ’Tis too hard for me to go out for a pitcher.”
“Papa,” he said, standing. “’Twas an accident. You were in your cups and your hands were flying about.”
“Pay more attention next time!” The old man stood up so quickly he knocked his chair over. “Get out. Get the hell out. My head aches too much to deal with this. Just leave me be.” His father ranted and weaved a path around the small hut, tossing things about in his frustration. “I loved your mother. She was everything to me. Why did she leave me? I’d have given up the ale for her.”
He knew talking to his father would not help at this point, so he ignored the older man’s comments. “Da, I came by to bring you some food and to let you know I’m probably leaving on a patrol. I know not when I’ll be returning.”
“Go. Just go.” His father picked up a pot and tossed it across the small space, the clatter a loud assault on the ears.
“No more, Da. I’m gone.”
“I was not trying to hit you. ’Twas not even close,” he bellowed after him.
He left, his sire’s ranting carrying to him as he walked away, but once the door closed, he heard nothing. The thick stone walls had protected his sire’s reputation. Somewhat. Three doors down, one of his neighbors said, “You should come around more often, Drostan. He’s turning daft some nights waiting for you. He’s verra proud of you.”
“He’s not waiting for me.”
The man looked confused. “If not you, then who?”
“He waits for my mother or death, I’m not sure which one.” He snorted at his own comment as he strode away, not needing any more guilt on his shoulders. “Don’t think he would know or care which one came along first.”
How he wished he could make either of his parents proud, but that was quite impossible.
***
Chrissa sat in on the meeting of Grants and Ramsays in the solar. The messenger had finally arrived, and she was excited to find out what action would be taken.
Would she be allowed to go or would she be forced to stay at home? Grandsire was present, of course, and so were Uncle Jamie, Uncle Connor and Aunt Sela, plus her mother and father, Dyna and Derric, and Alick. The small Ramsay contingent was also present. It was a lucky thing Grandsire had expanded the solar before passing the lairdship on to his sons.
Uncle Connor started the meeting. “Jamie, now that there are no listening ears, please tell everyone what you learned from the messenger from King Robert.”
Uncle Jamie leaned back in his chair, balancing on the back two legs for a few moments before he banged back down with a jolt. “He’ll face Edward head on. He’s training his forces to fight in groups. Though he hasn’t made his strategies known, I’m sure he’ll use schiltrons. He’ll also have some mailed knights with cavalry, and h
e’s attempting to collect as many archers as possible. You know that has been a weak spot for him in the past.”
“Because the English have strong archers,” Molly said. “He gave me a formal request to gather as many archers as possible, male or female.” Chrissa wished to let out a wee yip of happiness but decided it wasn’t quite the right group for that.
Uncle Jamie said, “We’ve also received a request for foot warriors, horses not necessary. That puzzled me.”
Maggie laughed. “Oh, he’ll take all your mounted warriors, but he’s eager enough to have Highland forces, he’ll take them without. The English fear the savage Highlanders so much, he’d take us even if we insisted on fighting nude like in the times of old.”
Maggie’s comment sent the group into gales of laughter. They’d all heard the stories, although it wasn’t a method any of them had ever used.
“Duly noted,” Grandsire said. “What does he want from us now? Or does he wish to wait until we are closer to Midsummer’s Day?”
“He requested ten of our finest to meet with him. Some may be used to train his people, and others may be sent out on patrol.” Uncle Jamie glanced across the solar. “He specifically requested Derric and Dyna be among the group. Said he could use your special skills.”
“How soon?”
“As soon as possible.”
Grandsire said, “Since we’re all here, I’ll add that he has asked for the Highland Swords group to gather. Alasdair, Emmalin, Els, and Joya are on their way.”
“Has he told you how he plans to use us?” Dyna asked. She was a member of the group.
How Chrissa wished she could be part of that group, but it was mostly chosen and managed by Grandsire. He believed it had something to do with the three cousins being born on the same night. And even though Dyna was younger, she was an active part of the group. It was what happened whenever the group fought together that truly determined who was involved.
That and Grandsire’s dreams.
“Nay, I’ve heard naught on this,” Uncle Jamie said.
Derric said, “The messenger said Robert believes he can be successful without it, but he’d like to have them available in case the Scots start to lose the battle. If so, King Robert wants us to be the final act, the grand show of lightning celebrating our win.”
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