A Warrior's Soul (Highland Heartbeats Book 8)

by Aileen Adams

  Now, lying alone in a foreign village—a foreign country—it was her heart which ached unbearably.

  21

  Earl Remington’s castle sat high atop a hill overlooking the River Eden, surrounded on three sides by thick, green forest of what appeared to be birch, asher, and elm trees. They would soon turn from green to a riot of colors which Brice nearly wished he would be there to see when the time came.

  The castle walls were a pearly gray and gleamed in the midday sun, towering high into the sky. Even at a distance, it was impressive, reminding Brice of nothing so much as a shining jewel.

  “That is where you’ll make your home?” Quinn asked, slack-jawed.

  Alana merely nodded. Her skin was paler than normal, the dark circles under her eyes standing out in contrast. It looked as though she’d been awake through the night.

  Brice could barely stand to look at her.

  “I suppose it is,” she whispered as they continued the ride along a winding road which cut through farm-studded fields.

  A few of the modest houses were near enough to the road that they who lived inside watched the procession. A freckle-faced young lad, whose smile revealed his missing front teeth, waved to them and followed alongside until his mother called him back.

  “They know who ye are and are anxious to see ye for themselves, the new bride of their earl,” Fergus observed. His arm was strong enough that he could ride on his own, leaving Alana with a horse which they’d purchased for her from the stable in the village.

  A gift from them, Rodric had announced. To celebrate her wedding.

  She’d barely managed to stop herself from crying.

  The bundle of clothing and personal items she’d brought with her from home sat behind her in the saddle, and Brice realized he was looking at everything she owned in the world. Her mother’s wedding gown, a kirtle or two, stockings, a linen shift.

  And the horse she’d been gifted that morning.

  It was a sorry image, to be sure, and he felt worse than ever as he watched her ride along with her head as high as she could manage. Prideful, willful. She would not be humiliating herself again.

  At least, not in front of them.

  How he knew this, Brice could not tell. It was a sense he got from the lass, was all. He’d certainly had enough time to think about her and about everything he had not been at liberty to tell her in those terrible, painful, embarrassing moments in her room.

  Such as how badly he’d wanted to give in and throw caution to the wind. To accept what would come after he’d had her for himself. To promise her anything and everything in the world so long as he could give in to what his body and soul so desperately craved.

  Better men than he had found themselves in unenviable situations after giving in during moments of madness.

  It was for the best that he had managed to control himself.

  Perhaps if he repeated this enough, he would believe it.

  The brown mare which Alana rode made a striking sight, prancing almost proudly down the road. As though it knew where it was going, how important the woman it carried. He’d chosen it for her himself, the white star on its forehead making it stand out from the others.

  The least he could do for her, as he was letting her down in so many ways.

  It was madness, really, the fact that he cared at all. She would no longer be his responsibility once she crossed the threshold of Remington’s castle, which was more astounding the closer they came. It seemed to be built into the hill itself, the rocky surface meeting the stones which comprised the walls and nearly blending together. As though some ancient creature had carved it, rather than it having been built up by the hands of men.

  They had hardly reached the edge of the forest, the alder and ash trees beginning to replace open field, when the pounding of hooves caught everyone’s attention.

  “That took longer than I’d expected,” Rodric observed with a wry smile. “I expect they spotted us from one of the lookout towers.”

  “And were waiting,” Fergus added. He looked apologetic. “I suppose they’ll have a great feast to celebrate your arrival, lass.”

  To her credit, Alana attempted to smile, but that smile only served to make her look more pained than ever.

  Within minutes, a half-dozen horses appeared, their riders pushing them to a hard gallop through the woods. Brice and the rest pulled up on the reins, waiting for the welcoming party to reach them.

  “They look a bit fiercer than any welcoming party I’ve ever seen,” Quinn observed.

  “Remington is asserting himself,” Rodric muttered. “And perhaps impressing his intended.”

  “He might have done well to spare the effort,” Alana whispered.

  The first of the riders reached them, a tall, healthy looking lad with a glow to his skin and a wide smile. Golden hair swept high off his forehead, glistening in the beams of light which filtered down through the trees.

  This boded well, Brice thought. Remington’s men weren’t mere brutes.

  A sobering thought occurred to him then. What if this was Earl Remington himself? Young, handsome, virile? Would that change anything for Alana?

  And thus make leaving her more difficult than he’d imagined?

  “Welcome,” the lad smiled. “Earl Remington sent us to escort you the rest of the way to the castle.” His eyes fell on Alana, who rode in the center of the group. “And you would be Alana Stewart, I presume?”

  “Aye,” she murmured, nodding.

  He bowed in the saddle, as did the men who waited behind him. “It is a pleasure and an honor to meet you. The earl has been most anxiously awaiting your arrival. All preparations have been made for the wedding celebration.” He looked around. “Let us proceed, then.”

  Rodric and Brice exchanged a glance. Alana merely rode ahead, positioning herself between Remington’s men and her escorts.

  Brice’s heart sank. She was already leaving him, in a way.

  She was never his to lose.

  He lifted his chin, determined to complete the mission Earl Remington had set for them.

  “How were your travels?” the smiling young lad asked as they progressed.

  “Lengthy,” Fergus snorted.

  “You’ve been injured?” The lad spied Fergus’s bandaged arm.

  “Aye. A boar. He came out the worse for it.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Just the same, you might visit the healer who lives within the castle walls. She can provide anything you may be in need of.”

  “Many thanks.”

  The lad raised his voice, likely for Alana’s benefit. “The castle affords every comfort and consideration. To my knowledge, there is not a single thing a countess would want for—though should you think of something, I’ve no doubt the earl would acquire it for you.”

  A countess. Countess Remington. Hearing the title come from the lad’s mouth was a cold reminder, indeed. A reminder that she’d be a noblewoman, living in a castle where she might look down upon everything and everyone.

  Including men such as himself.

  Remington’s men were well-dressed, their fine tunics and trousers dyed the deepest red, their leather saddles shining. Each of them wore a gleaming sword, freshly-honed and polished. Their horses were beautiful creatures, sleek and muscular and well-groomed.

  There was no reason to assume Remington would not be just as fine as the men and animals in his employ. Better, even.

  While Brice was merely a Highlander.

  He’d never thought little of his beginnings and never would, proud always of his Scottish blood and his strength and abilities.

  It was Alana’s opinion he questioned. Surely, she would begin to see now what a grave mistake it would have been to align herself with a man such as himself when she had everything she might ever need at her fingertips.

  The lad turned to him, still smiling, as they came out of the thickest of the forest and began the somewhat steeper climb up a long, curved road walled on both sides by jagge
d stone. It would take them to the castle’s courtyard. “I’ve been instructed to offer you the benefits of the earl’s hospitality, as well. Arrangements have been made for you to spend a few days outside the stables.”

  Rodric coughed, Quinn sputtered, Fergus gave a sharp intake of breath.

  Brice was neither surprised nor amused. “I’m certain we would be glad for the chance to rest,” he managed to reply with all the dignity he could muster.

  “The stables?” Alana finally seemed to come to life, shooting a sharp look over her shoulder at Remington’s man. “There is not enough room in the castle keep for them?”

  The lad chuckled. “It is not a matter a room, but rather one of the earl’s wishes. I’m certain he would be glad to make things clear to you himself.”

  Brice stared at her, hard as he could, willing her to look at him. She’d hardly looked at him all day, but this was when he needed her to most. Do not question him, do not question him, do not cause trouble for our sakes. Make it easier on yourself.

  She merely turned her attention back to the road, her shoulders squared in determination. Fergus cleared his throat to catch Brice’s eye, and his grimace told him they shared the same thoughts.

  There was no time to instruct her, for they were near enough to the castle that Brice heard the voices of the many men and women who bustled about outside. A few of them paused in their activity when they realized who approached, ravenously interested in the young woman who would be their mistress.

  “It has been a very busy time,” the young man explained. “The stable boys and scullery maids and cooks have been working throughout the day and night to prepare for the wedding. The earl led a hunting party this morning with the other men, but ought to be refreshed enough to receive you immediately.”

  “I do not understand,” Brice spoke up. “If the earl did not know when we would arrive, how are there already guests awaiting our arrival?”

  “They have been staying at the castle for a fortnight, as is sometimes the case in situations such as this. There are entire seasons which Earl Remington spends at the estate of a friend. He was in Nottingham for much of this past summer. But there has been plenty of time left to see to your comfort. He will wish to extend his hospitality to you in person, when I escort you to his study.”

  He was speaking to Alana, who merely nodded in reply. She would go in to see the earl alone. Her escorts were not welcome.

  This guard of Remington’s clearly did his lower business for him, the tasks he did not wish to take on himself. Such as alerting the new guests to their very low status and shuffling them off to the stables, where men such as them belonged, while fetching his bride and bringing her to him.

  Brice reminded himself yet again that she was not his. And now that they were on the earl’s land, riding into the courtyard of the earl’s castle, she was not even his responsibility. He’d done his duty. She was safe.

  Remington’s men dismounted, tossing the reins of their horses to the stable boys in a practiced gesture. They seemed to ignore the eyes and whispers of the servants who observed their mistress’s arrival.

  “Come, then,” the leader of their group smiled up at Alana. “He will wish to see you immediately.”

  She cast a nervous look in Brice’s direction, but lowered herself from the saddle nonetheless. “My horse, my belongings…”

  “They will be taken care of,” the guard assured her. “Your belongings will be taken to your room, and this beautiful mare will be fed and watered and shown to its stall.”

  “I see.” She hesitated, one hand still on the mare’s neck. Brice wished more than anything that he’d had the chance to offer one more word of encouragement, to assure her that all would be well.

  Alana lifted her chin, her blue eyes clear and determined, and only looked back and Brice and the others for the briefest of moments before following Remington’s men through the castle’s tall, wooden door which sat open as if in anticipation of her arrival.

  He wondered as he watched whether the crushing sensation in his chest was grief.

  “Come on, then,” Rodric muttered as he dismounted. “No one will see to us unless we see to ourselves, I’m thinking.”

  As if on second thought, the young man who led Remington’s band of knights or guards or whatever he considered them stopped and turned back. “The earl will wish to see the four of you at some point, as well, to settle the matter of payment.”

  Brice wasn’t entirely sure he wished to lay eyes on the man.

  22

  It was an effort to keep her knees from knocking together as Alana walked into the castle keep, her eyes moving this way and that as she took in sights which she’d never seen the likes of before.

  It must have taken a hundred years to build something so wondrous. The vaulted stone ceilings stretched far above her head, supported by stone columns so thick she doubted she’d be able to wrap her arms around them and touch her fingers together. The floor was stone, as well, though strewn about with straw which crunched underfoot.

  Large, wooden fixtures hung from chains affixed to the ceiling, holding thick candles which dripped wax onto the floor.

  A wide staircase caught her eye, leading up to a second floor. At the head of the stairs, across from the landing, was an arched window which nearly reached the vaulted ceiling above.

  Everything was so large, overwhelming her at every turn.

  And it would be her home. Hers to manage.

  How would she ever do it? And could she ever feel at home in a castle which made her feel so very small?

  “This way,” the young man who’d led the way thus far beckoned, motioning for her to follow him through a narrow passage of columns to a large, open room which boasted a blazing hearth at both ends. Blood-red tapestries hung from high up on the walls, embroidered with golden thread, and tall, narrow windows which came to arched points at the top allowed the sun’s light to fill the space.

  “The earl’s study,” the young man explained. “This is where he spends much of his days, going about the business of overseeing the earldom. You will be expected to assist him in the management of the estate.”

  Her head spun as her eyes fell on a table covered in scrolls and ledgers. She would be expected to assist in the management. An overwhelming prospect, but this was an overwhelming situation on the whole. It came as no surprise that yet another aspect of her new life left her breathless.

  Sharp, strident footsteps met her ears, and her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. Her intended. She lifted her chin in what she hoped was a confident, defiant gesture even as she questioned her ability to hold her water.

  She’d only known true terror twice. Once, while in a tree as a boar waited to make her his next meal. And now, at this moment, knowing she was about to meet the man who’d brought her to his home.

  He swept into the room, throwing his cape over one shoulder as he did. Her first impression was one of his great size, though he was not an inordinately large man—in fact, he was somewhat shorter than Brice, and more compact in build. But he was forceful, commanding attention with every step he took.

  His raven-black hair was streaked with white at the temples, telling her how much older he was than she. Yet his face retained a youthful smoothness even so.

  Likely because he had spent his time out-of-doors in the pursuit of hunting with friends, as he had just done prior to her arrival. While the management of an earldom could not be simple—she was not naïve enough to believe anything else, it surely had not taken a physical toll on the man.

  He came to a halt while still several paces from her, standing with hands on his hips as his eyes took a brief tour of her face, hair, and body.

  “So this is my bride.” Alana could not tell if he was pleased with her or not.

  “My name is Alana Stewart,” she murmured in a voice which sounded little like hers. She had so hoped to sound confident, sure of herself, in control. Instead, she might as well have been a shaking ch
ild.

  He held his head high, his features sharp. They reminded her of a bird. A hawk. “I’d heard you were a beauty. I’m glad to see I was not misled.”

  She felt as though the compliment—if it was one—deserved a reply. “Thank ye kindly,” she murmured, nodding in acknowledgment.

  “Edward.”

  “Pardon?”

  “My name is Edward Remington. Best become accustomed to addressing me as such now, as we will be sharing so much time together.” Dark eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “Yes. I find you pleasing.”

  Why, when his words were so pleasant, did they send a sick chill down her spine? He regarded her in much the same way as she’d regarded the lovely little mare Brice and the others had purchased on her behalf.

  As though she were an animal.

  Edward waved a hand to the steward who had accompanied him into the room, and the young man hurried off through a door cleverly concealed in the wall. “He shall fetch refreshment for you, my dear, as I’m sure you must be quite weary and malnourished after such a long journey.”

  “Aye, I am at that,” she agreed, feeling again as though she ought to be gracious. It was impossible to get a feeling for the man, to understand where his true intentions were when he spoke to her and offered refreshment. Impossible to know whether he truly cared about her comfort or was merely behaving out of habit or custom.

  He perched upon a chair cushioned in red velvet. “Please. Make yourself comfortable. I wish to know about you so that I might be better able to answer the questions my guests have already been asking.”

  She swallowed hard as she sat, hoping his questions were not too probing or uncomfortable—and that she might be able to come up with the correct answers for them. While she still had no intention of marrying the man, she did not wish to anger him, either.

  He looked her up and down once again as he sat back, leaning one elbow on the chair’s arm. Long, thin fingers tapped against his smooth-shaven cheek. “The men who escorted you here. They treated you fairly, I presume?”