Pledged to a Highlander: Highland Promise Trilogy (Book 1)

by Donna Fletcher

  Penn smiled, the old man confirming his words.

  Royden turned a curious eye on the man. If his white and gray beard and his hair the same color, though sparse, was any indication of his age you’d say the man was old, but there was a spryness to his blue eyes that told a different story. Though the wrinkles around them begged a different tale as well as did his body that had barely a belly to it. He appeared right fit.

  “You should talk to Old Mildred. She could use a good man,” Angus said.

  “She’s a good woman, but I got my eye set on one already and I brought something special for her,” Clive said with a gleeful smile.

  Angus muttered under his breath.

  “Clive, this is Chieftain Royden,” Penn said with a nod toward Royden.

  “It’s good to see you made it home, Chieftain Royden,” Clive said with a bob of his head.

  “I’m glad to be home,” Royden said and caught a gleam in the man’s eyes, as if the news more than pleased him.

  “Is there a mistress now that might be interested in my wares?” Clive asked.

  “Aye, there is and you’ll find Mistress Oria at the keep,” Royden said and saw the gleam grow brighter in the man’s eyes.

  “I’ll take myself right off then and present my wares to the fine mistress,” Clive said and, with a nod to the men, the cart rolled away at a slow pace.

  “How long has he been coming around here?” Royden asked Penn.

  “About two years now.”

  “He’s a harmless old man that walks with a limp and likes his ale, wine, and women,” Penn said. “He’s no threat.”

  Royden didn’t know about that. Those blue eyes of his told a different tale and he wondered what it was. He returned to work, no more than an hour’s worth of it left, but his eyes kept going to the cart meandering toward the keep. He was surprised when he saw his wife come around the corner of the keep and when she caught sight of Clive, she waved at him enthusiastically.

  That she waved and acknowledged him before he waved to her meant that Clive was no stranger to her. And that made him all the more curious about Clive.

  Oria hurried toward the cart with a smile. “I’m so glad to see you, Clive.”

  He bobbed his head. “Mistress Oria.” His voice turned to a whisper. “Be careful, I fear your husband may be watching us.”

  Oria had to force herself not to look toward the hut where Royden had told her he’d be working today. She had been foolish not to consider that, but she had been so excited to see Clive that she hadn’t even given it thought.

  “These bones are getting old,” Clive said, climbing down off the cart and limping around to the side to glance casually in the distance. His voice turned low again. “He does watch.”

  Oria pointed at the cart. “What wares do you have to offer?” She peered over the cart, her voice turning to a whisper as well. “You must deliver the news that Royden is home and that Arran will be home in a month or so.” She kept a smile on her face, but sadness filled her voice. “It’s time for the secrets to come to an end.”

  “Some yes, unfortunately, some no,” he said quietly.

  “How is everyone?” Oria asked.

  “They do well, but I think this news will bring joy to many.”

  “I often wished for life to be the same as it once had been,” she said and shook her head. “But I’ve realized life will never be the same. It must start anew.” She made a fuss about looking at the items in his cart. “It’s time to start fresh. Please tell them I can’t keep their secret much longer. I won’t continue to lie to my husband.”

  “But one may still be in jeopardy,” Clive warned.

  “I know and I will say nothing about that. You know the ones I mean. Please see it done,” Oria all but pleaded.

  “I will deliver your message,” Clive said.

  “I will hold my tongue for one week no more,” Oria cautioned. “That should be more than adequate time to see it done.”

  “Patience, Oria,” he cautioned as well.

  “I have no more patience left for this. It is time this is settled. It is time for life to begin anew. See it done or I will,” she ordered.

  “You have grown brazen,” Clive said.

  “No, I have grown wise,” she said. “Now show me what you have so that when my husband asks, I can show him what I found that had worth to barter for food and a night’s worth of lodging.”

  Clive laughed. “I’m sure he’s learned by now that Bethany has provided me with food and shelter out of the goodness of her heart. You’ll need to find something he’ll find more believable.”

  “Promises are nothing but headaches,” Oria complained.

  Clive laughed again. “Only if you keep them.”

  “If you’re honorable, you have no choice,” Oria said and foraged through his cart, stopping suddenly when she tugged on the corner of a tapestry. “Let me see this?”

  Clive piled items aside to get to it, finally yanking it out and sending things tumbling. He draped it over the side of the cart so she could have full view of it.

  She stared at it, shaking her head. “Where did you get this?”

  “Where do I get anything? Here, there, and everywhere.”

  “I need to know, Clive,” she insisted.

  The urgency in her voice had him capitulating. “Truth be told, I gave fair trade to the merchant for the whole cart. I have no idea where he got any of this stuff. Why do you ask?”

  “This tapestry once hung here in the Great Hall.”

  Oria got busy beating the tapestry with a thick stick, sending dust and dirt flying off it. Clive had left it draped over the side of the cart for her while he went to see Bethany. She beat it over and over again, eager to see it looking as grand as it once had. The keep was beginning to feel like home again and this piece done by his mother and several women in the clan would make the Great Hall feel even more like it once had. She couldn’t wait to see it hung.

  “I hope you don’t take a stick that hard to our children.”

  Oria looked up at her husband and shook the stick at him, standing on the opposite side of the cart. “You know I would never do such a thing. One scowl from their da and they’ll obey fast enough.”

  “So my scowl frightens, does it?”

  “It would take more than a scowl from you to frighten me,” she said, walking around the cart to poke him in the chest with the tip of the stick. Recalling a few of his scowls, she might have to amend that.

  “You think that puny branch would stop me?” he asked with a laugh.

  “I warn you, husband, I have hidden skills,” she challenged and swatted his arm as if she brandished a sword.

  He laughed again, hardier this time. “That will not keep me away, wife.” He pushed the stick away and took a step toward her.

  Oria was quick and swatted at both of his arms more than a bit playfully.

  Royden stopped and rubbed one arm. “You wound me, wife.”

  She smiled. “Then keep your distance, sir, or suffer for it.”

  “Are you really challenging me?” he asked with another laugh.

  “By all means, no.” Her grin grew. “I’m saving you from disgrace since you’ll not win against me.” She brandished the stick not far from his face.

  He laughed even harder as he stepped right at the whipping stick and Oria quickly swatted at his arms, but it didn’t stop him.

  “I warn you to stay back,” she said, continuing to swat at his arms and seeing he paid no mind to it.

  When his hand shot out to grab the stick from her, she threw it at him and ran.

  Royden ran after her laughing. “Where is your courage? Stand and fight. Or surrender.”

  “I’ll never surrender,” she called out, and turned around to run backwards, laughing. “And you’ll never catch me.” The next thing she knew her foot caught in something and she went flying backwards. Her hands shot out to her husband. “Royden!”

  Royden rushed forward, fearing h
e wouldn’t reach her on time. He had to bend over to catch her around the waist and the momentum sent him tumbling as well. He had just enough time to twist his body so that he took the brunt of the fall with her landing on top of him.

  Oria clung to him for a moment too shocked to move.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, fear for his wife’s safety evident in his rushed words.

  She lifted her head off his chest. “I should be asking you that. You took the hardest of the fall.”

  “I’m good, wife, it is you I’m concerned about.”

  “I’m good as well.” She grinned. “But I’ll have you know this is no surrender.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he said with a smile and shake of his head. “It looks like surrender to me.”

  “It’s a capture,” she said and moved up and placed her lips just above his. “This, dear husband, is a surrender.” She kissed him and not gently.

  After only a minute, Royden forced his mouth away from hers. “If you don’t get off me and we don’t hurry into the keep the whole village is going to see us making a bairn.”

  Oria scrambled off her husband, urging him to “Hurry!”

  Royden was almost on his feet when his wife stood, winced, and almost toppled over. He grabbed at her side to stop her from tumbling and once on his feet he took hold of her arm.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously.

  “My ankle. I must have given it a twist,” she said and was suddenly scooped up in his arms. “I can walk.”

  “I didn’t ask you if you could and don’t bother to tell me to put you down. That’s not going to happen.” He turned and headed toward the keep and stopped suddenly.

  Oria turned her head, realizing he had seen the tapestry. “I asked Clive where he got it. He bought everything in the cart off another merchant. He never asked the man where he got everything.”

  “You were cleaning it to hang in the hall again,” he said.

  “Aye. I wanted it in fine shape before it once again graced the wall of the Great Hall.”

  “Does he have any more of what is ours?”

  Ours.

  How one word could touch the heart so much and bring such joy startled Oria. She shook her head, needing a minute to form her words. “I looked through the cart myself. I saw nothing that once belonged here. But you might want to check yourself, since I might not be familiar with everything.” Oria could tell what he was thinking. “Put me down, Royden, and have a look. It’s nothing more than a light sprain. I’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll tell me if it pains you?”

  “I will,” she said and bit her lip before, I promise, spilled out. Some promises served no purpose and this was one of those times.

  Royden placed her gently on her feet and didn’t let go of her arm until he was sure she could stand without difficulty.

  Oria stepped carefully to the side and smiled. “The pain is minor. As I said, nothing more than a light sprain. I will keep off my feet the rest of the day and it should do well.”

  Royden grinned. “I know how I can definitely keep you off your feet.”

  “Hurry and look,” she encouraged with a soft laugh.

  Royden rummaged through the cart, pushing items aside in search of anything familiar. He was almost finished when something caught his eye. He hurried to clear things to the side, revealing a wooden handle.

  Oria could tell with the way her husband looked at the small wooden sword he had yanked out of the cart that it meant something to him.

  “It was Arran’s,” he said and turned the sword handle for her to see a fairly straight line carved in the wood and running from the top of the handle to almost where a blade would start and two lines crossing over the top of it. “He carved that into the handle, marking it as his own. I remember the day my da gave it to him. He was so happy. He started practicing with it right away and never stopped. He was proud of this, his first sword.”

  “It is good it will be here for Arran’s return home,” Oria said.

  “Found something else you like?’ Clive called out, walking toward them.

  Royden turned, pointing the wooden sword at him, a hard glare in his eyes. “I found two things that belonged to me.”

  “I didn’t know and you can’t blame a man for trying to survive,” Clive said. “I have no fight with you, Chieftain Royden. Take what is yours.”

  Oria was about to place her hand on her husband’s arm, hearing the familiar rumble of anger in his voice and stopped when he spoke.

  “You’re welcome to sup with us and shelter here the night if you wish,” Royden offered, his glare not as hard, but not completely gone.

  “I gladly accept your generosity,” Clive said with a nod.

  “Good,” Royden said, “It will give us time to talk about the merchant from whom you stole this merchandise.”

  Chapter 15

  Royden woke annoyed to find himself in bed alone, not that he wasn’t already annoyed from last night. The night had gone nothing as he had planned. Clive had begged an ailing stomach and hadn’t joined him for supper and when supper was nearly finished, he’d been notified that a small group of warriors had been spotted in the nearby woods. He had taken a few men with him, including Penn and Angus, while leaving Stuart and John to watch over the village along with the other men there.

  Angus hadn’t been happy about it. He had complained the whole time, insisting Clive wasn’t sick at all. He believed it nothing more than an excuse to spend time alone with Bethany, especially since Bethany had turned down his offer that they sup together.

  They’d found no sign of the warriors, but Royden hadn’t wanted to take any chances. He doubled the night sentinels and had sent notice to his wife that he’d be taking the first shift. He had thought to wake her when he finally joined her in bed, but she’d been sleeping so soundly he hadn’t wanted to disturb her. He figured one of them would wake in the middle of the night and they’d soon be making love.

  That hadn’t happened and when he woke to find himself wrapped around her pillow instead of her, he got even more annoyed. Where had she gone off to? Why hadn’t she woken him? And why did he feel that it had something to do with Clive, the merchant? If he were a merchant.

  Royden got himself dressed quickly and went in search of his wife and some answers.

  “Remember what I told you, no more than a week,” Oria reminded Clive as he climbed up to sit on the cart’s wooden seat.

  Clive looked to Oria after taking the reins. “I can’t promise—”

  “Once it is made known that Royden has returned home, it will no longer be for you to decide,” Oria said. “Deliver the news, the rest will see to itself. And please give them my regards. It has been far too long.”

  “From what I’ve been told, you had no choice but to stay—”

  “Clive!”

  Clive and Oria turned to see her husband at the top of the keep steps.

  Oria’s breath caught slightly at the sight of her husband. She had always thought him a man of fine features and body, but now years or perhaps circumstances had added to his features defining them in a way that made him all the more appealing, from the lines that crinkled at the corner of his eyes and the bridge between them, to the tight set of his jaw, and the commanding lift of his chin. And after making love with him, seeing the hard definition of his muscles, the ease in which he lifted her, he was beyond stronger than he had been.

  He took the steps down to them with a confident, quick pace and she saw Clive tense, intimidated by Royden’s approach.

  “I need to be on my way, kind sir,” Clive said with a forced smile.

  “Where are you off to next?” Royden asked, his arm going around his wife’s waist when he came to stand next to her.

  Clive hesitated, then grinned. “Learmonth. Detta might need something.”

  “Give her my regards,” Oria said.

  “That I will,” Clive said, keeping his grin wide as he went to snap the reins.r />
  “A moment, Clive,” Royden said, his sharp tone making it clear he was not to be refused.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” Clive asked.

  Royden watched as his mask slipped briefly and he caught sight of a man who didn’t take kindly to commands. A strange trait for a merchant.

  “You told my wife you don’t know where the tapestry or wooden sword came from, but tell me where was it you acquired the items?”

  “I got them from an old merchant who, like me, grew tired of the travel and wanted nothing more to do with the trade,” Clive explained.

  “And where was this?” Royden asked.

  “Where?’ Clive scrunched his brow as if confused by the question.

  Royden patiently clarified. “What area here in the Highlands did you come across this merchant?”

  Clive turned his glance up at the sky, scrunched his brow again, then looked at Royden. “I’m afraid age has robbed me of a good memory. I don’t recall.”

  Royden would have to be blind not to see that the man lied. The question was—why did he lie? “Were you in the woods at all last night, Clive?”

  Royden’s question caught Clive unaware and he wasn’t able to hide his surprise. “Why would I go into the woods?”

  “You tell me,” Royden said, keeping his dark eyes focused intently on Clive.

  “I kept company with Bethany,” Clive said.

  Royden’s brow went up. “I thought you had a bad stomach?”

  “I did,” he was quick to explain. “Bethany was kind enough to bring me a broth that helped settle it.”

  “So she did not stay long with you,” Royden said.

  Oria couldn’t help but tense. Bethany made it known to many a man that she would not be free with her favors. That was meant for marriage alone and she’d have it no other way. And if Clive lied, Bethany would make the truth known.

  Clive shook his head. “Nay, Bethany stayed until I finished the broth, then left.”

  “Then my original question remains. Did you go into the woods last night?” Royden asked, more of a demand in his tone and once again he watched Clive’s mask slip.