TWO LAIRDS ONE LADY

by John Ryan

  Dedication

  To My Lady, Elizabeth

  Two Lairds One Lady

  Prologue

  Dirleton Castle, Lothian, Scotland

  November, 1298

  “It’s him! Dear Lord, it’s truly him! I’d know those blue eyes anywhere!” a visibly shaken Lady Elspeth Mourney murmured into the trembling hand which she cupped over the ear of her younger brother, Graham. Eclipsed by the broad, towering frame of her lone sibling, Elspeth was compelled to stand on her tiptoes to reach him.

  The hulking figure approached, the brisk pace of his advance setting the pleats of his emerald kilt aflutter. As he neared, his eyes, crystalline and penetrating, never abandoned Elspeth. With purposeful strides of his long muscular legs, he quickly reduced the distance between them only to divert his course at the last possible moment.

  “Well, dear sister, if you’d know those eyes anywhere, why the devil has your betrothed stepped aside?” Graham managed, wincing at the unfortunate presence of Elspeth’s heel upon his big toe.

  Oblivious to her brother’s discomfort, Elspeth begrudgingly confessed, “But I was so certain! How in heaven’s name could I have erred so?”

  Ensconcing himself at the rear of the newly-arrived MacCourt clan, the strikingly handsome man continued to stare at Elspeth with intent. And, though the castle bustled with activity, he seemed incapable of diversion.

  Utterly preoccupied by his steadfast perusal, Elspeth scarcely noticed the one and twenty men and women which now milled about the MacCourt matriarch, Lady Katherine. Such was her distraction; she even failed to notice the approach of her own mother, the Countess Fiona Mourney, who glided down the corridor and toward the group to receive them.

  That the MacCourts were even present in Elspeth’s home, much less as honored guests, was indeed the talk of the Highlands. Though the rich and powerful clan was held in the highest regard by John, the Scottish King, they had long been at odds with Elspeth’s kinfolk. Yet, Elspeth’s impending marriage was designed to change all that. Arranged a fortnight prior by her father, Sir Rhoenne, the Earl of Lothian and the MacCourt Laird, it would at long last end the feud and form an alliance between the two most powerful Highland clans.

  The plan to unite the clans was initiated by Elspeth’s father’s chief rival, Bromwell MacCourt. When the ailing laird’s doctors told him that his death was imminent, he sought a temporary truce from Elspeth’s father before beckoning him to his fiefdom of Leith. Bromwell MacCourt had no desire to leave this world without some assurances of his family’s future safety and prosperity.

  Fortuitously, he chose an amendable and attentive recipient for his appeal. An even tempered and reasonable man, Elspeth’s father respectfully listened to the dying laird’s proposal. After a lengthy discussion, the two men agreed to unite their eldest children in marriage and end the feud. Claymores and dirks would be replaced with cakes and dancing; clashes and animosity with camaraderie and allegiance.

  Inwardly assessing the gathering, Elspeth reluctantly acknowledged her father’s wisdom in insisting upon the match. The MacCourts were surely a regal lot; their attire attested elegantly to their lofty position. The men donned their family’s traditional rich emerald tartans draped over adorned doublets. Bejeweled dirks dangled and clinked from their broad leather belts. The leather sporrans they sported bore elaborate family crests and motifs, finely etched in silver and gold. The clanswomen were just as well-dressed, if not more so. They wore richly hued silken skirts, held out by farthingales. Atop their heads, veils of luxurious violet and crimson silk were held in place with gilded cornets. Courtly gowns with rich brocades, elegant lace and lavish trims bore stark testament to their wealth and position.

  Returning her attention to the mysterious man, Elspeth watched as he casually brushed an errant sweep of flaxen hair from his eyes. Uneasy, she averted her gaze, desperate for any source of diversion. Her eyes flitted about the pale stone foyer, her gaze settling upon the stately tallow candles which glittered about her like fallen stars. Begrudgingly, she allowed herself to steal a quick glimpse back toward the man, just in time to notice the corner of his lip lift in a devilish, lopsided grin.

  A gentle tap upon her shoulder snatched Elspeth from her spell. “Graham, please not now!” she whispered between clenched teeth.

  “Lady Elspeth, please forgive the intrusion, but I believe your mother wishes to make the introductions.”

  The sound of the rich baritone swung Elspeth round. Her breath was snatched as her eyes met the inquisitive gaze of the man who, only a moment earlier, had somehow been standing across the room! Time stood still. Voices in the room drifted into amorphous mumblings. Feeling lightheaded, Elspeth began to swoon. Numbly, she opened her mouth, powerless to utter a single word.

  Flashing a bemused grin that revealed a set of perfectly straight gleaming white teeth, the handsome man bowed graciously and slipped back into the assembly.

  “Lady Katherine, please allow me to present my son, Graham, and my daughter, Elspeth,” Lady Fiona declared, dispersing the uneasy stillness.

  Her mother’s words, followed by a discreet and gentle prod of her brother’s elbow, snatched Elspeth from her heady abyss. Trembling, she gathered the remnants of her wits.

  Though her cheeks were still heated, Elspeth quickly reclaimed her disobedient aplomb. Breathlessly, she watched as Graham stepped forward, bowed, and brushed his lips upon the back of Lady Katherine’s hand. Inhaling deeply, she followed suit, curtsying with the refinement of the daughter of an earl.

  Lady Katherine smiled warmly. “Please permit me to say this, Lady Fiona. Ye have a truly lovely family.”

  “Thank ye very much, Lady Katherine. Alas, my lone repent is that my husband is not here to welcome you as well. He has joined the rebellion and will be unable to attend the wedding. But please allow me to welcome you to Dirleton Castle in his stead. And, please, it would afford me great pleasure if ye would address me as Fiona.”

  “Thank ye, Fiona,” Lady Katherine replied. “And, by all means, please address me as Katherine from this day hence. Now, if ye will be so kind to indulge me, I wish to present my twin sons, Thayer and Faolin.”

  “Twins?” Elspeth whispered to her brother.

  “Aye, it surely explains a lot.” Graham chuckled, rubbing the red-tinged stubble upon his broad chin. “I suppose you were starting to think you had gone daft, Elspeth. Yet, how could ye have known that your betrothed had a twin?”

  Indeed, how could she have known? The pair’s single, tumultuous meeting had occurred nearly six years ago. And, though the years had slightly eased her anxiety, it was a meeting she would never forget.

  Chapter One

  Woodlands of Dirleton Castle

  December, 1292

  “What a wondrous fifteenth birthday gift!” Elspeth declared as the tawny and white fawn returned a tentative glance before scampering into the dense woodlands.

  At the exhilarating sight, Elspeth found it impossible to contain her mirth and her effervescent laughter soon echoed amongst the towering trees. Watching the young deer melt into the forest, it never entered her mind that her gales of laughter might have beckoned a pair of eyes to watch her.

  Elspeth stood upon the precise spot where, just three weeks prior, her brother had felled a large doe with a single, well-placed arrow. Retrieving his prize, Graham had been dismayed to discover a tiny bedraggled fawn huddled alongside the prone body of its mother. Having noted the malnourished state of the pair, Graham had deduced that the doe, though clearly noting his approach, refused to flee, opting to protect her weakened offspring. He had been stirred by the creature’s admirable sacrifice, and ever mindful of his sibling’s deep and unwavering love for animals, Graham had hastily scooped up t
he trembling fawn and deposited it in Elspeth’s chambers.

  Elspeth had been grateful for her brother’s intervention, but horrified at the frail condition of the fawn. She had quickly shooed Graham from her room before coiling a woolen blanket around the animal’s tiny body. Clutching the fawn to her bosom, she had dashed to the chambers of Agnes, the elderly healer of Dirleton Castle. Though the room lay on the opposite side of the castle, Elspeth had quickly covered the distance and arrived, breathless, at Agnes’ door.

  Having wordlessly ushered Elspeth inside, Agnes had smiled sweetly as she watched the young lass frantically unwind the tiny bundle and gently lay it upon the stone floor. This was not the first wounded creature the Earl of Lothian’s beautiful young daughter had borne to her chambers, nor would it likely be the last. Since soon after taking her first steps, Elspeth had been wont to tend to any creature she happened upon in need of aid. And Agnes, along with Elspeth’s parents, encouraged her boundless empathy with the lone exception being the morn Elspeth laid a wounded skunk upon her parents’ bed.

  After snatching several sprigs of healing herbs and a flagon of fresh rainwater, Agnes had used a chunk of pumice to grind the leaves into an elixir to be added to freshly harvested ewe’s milk. Noting the girl’s look of utter despair, the elderly healer had assured her that with any luck, and with Elspeth’s caring touch, the animal would have a fighting chance at survival.

  For the first several days, the fawn hovered near death. Had it not been for Elspeth’s constant tending and Agnes’ powerful medicinal potions, it surely would have succumbed to its weakened condition. Yet, after one week, the fawn was able to stand on its spindly legs without teetering. With each successive day, and much to Elspeth’s delight, the animal had grown progressively stronger.

  Nearly one and twenty days later, as dusk fell, the young deer stood by Elspeth’s side. She was finally ready to be released. Now, if Elspeth could just persuade the animal to return to her woodland home! Hesitant to depart its compassionate benefactor, the fawn stood fast until Elspeth playfully slapped it thrice upon its rump.

  Brimming with a deep sense of gratitude and joy, Elspeth watched through red-rimmed eyes as the young deer disappeared into the columns of towering Scottish pines of her family’s forest of Lothian. Whirling around to cast a plaintive glance at the castle, in the direction of Agnes’ chambers, she smiled. Though the citadel was now wreathed in inky shadows, and despite the late hour, Elspeth felt utterly compelled to show her appreciation by collecting some of the herbs Agnes coveted so dearly. Since Elspeth and her brother had spent countless days frolicking amongst her family’s lush woodlands, she knew precisely where to look.

  Shuttering her eyes, Elspeth smiled as her thoughts drifted back to the many happy days she whittled away her time cavorting in the woods with Graham. As children, he had always served as her protector, and she loved him dearly for it.

  One bright early summer day, knowing his sister’s passionate fear of bees, he had stood guard as she gathered flowers in a clearing. Every time a bee flew anywhere near her, he would clap his hands and squash the bee in midair. One time, however, the bee managed to sting him before being smashed. Graham simply gritted his teeth, shook off the pain, and continued to guard her. Now, as she stared upon the foreboding woodlands, she secretly wished he were here to protect her once more.

  As if by command, the night air became wickedly still. Other than the occasional hoot of a wood owl or the plaintive song of a lonesome cricket, the only sound Elspeth could detect was the staccato thumping of her own heart. Gathering her royal blue gunna , richly embellished with golden lace and a ribbon of silver gaily laced through her hair, Elspeth tilted her chin and strode into the woods. Though the dark forest loomed forebodingly, Elspeth found solace in the fact that she wasn’t alone. For nestled inside the fur-lined wooden creel she toted, a tiny ebony kitten mewed it’s want of a meal.

  “There there, Asilin,” Elspeth soothed, peering into the creel and patting the soft fur atop the kitten’s head, “I promise it shan’t be much longer. I’ll see to your dinner the moment we return to the castle.”

  After scouring the forest floor for the herbs and shoots she sought, and finding few, Elspeth suddenly recalled a particularly rich pocket of elderberry that lay just inside the woodlands of the MacCourt clan. Their rival’s land directly abutted her family’s woodlands and it was at times challenging to determine where one ended and the other began.

  Regarding the towering ebon enshrouded pines of the MacCourt land with her hands planted firmly upon her hips, Elspeth paused to reflect upon the mysterious clan. Although they hailed from Edinburgh, and most of the clan still resided there; the MacCourts had been granted these lands by John, the King of Scotland. They were seldom inclined to use it and Elspeth wondered aloud the wisdom of the King’s decision.

  “If the MacCourts have no intent on using this land, mayhap they should give it up, or at least sell it to Father,” Elspeth suggested to Asilin.

  Although she uttered the words, Elspeth knew her contention was ludicrous. The MacCourts would just as soon see the land fall into ruin than sell it to her father. True, the Mourney clan also found favor with the King, but they surely did not find it with the MacCourts. An undying feud, fueled by frequent clashes and raids, had been borne nearly a score earlier. Curious about the origins of the bad blood, Elspeth had approached her father when she was a wee lass of five years. It had something to do with “grown-up things”, he replied solemnly. Heeding the disappointed look upon his young daughter’s sweet face, he promised to explain it in full once Elspeth was of age.

  Though her curiosity remained somewhat, Elspeth didn’t dwell upon it. Truly, she was yet to even happen upon a MacCourt. Besides, she mulled, it was of little import, as the MacCourts were seldom wont to use the land and even less likely to come into contact with her.

  “What harm would there be if I were to venture thither for a wee minute or two?” she posed to Asilin in hopes of convincing herself. “Verily, there is no one else in these woods at this time of night.”

  Her words had scarcely drifted from her lips when a sudden chill seized her, halting her in her tracks as she stepped into the MacCourt woodlands. Her blood turned cold. Her heart felt as though gripped by icy hands. Elspeth’s breath tightened in her chest. She gasped, sensing the distinct searing heat of someone’s stare. Whirling around, she glanced nervously to and fro, scouring the gloom for the source of her ill ease. Her eyes met the accusing stare of a small wood owl perched on a nearby pine bough.

  Elspeth let loose a nervous laugh. “Oh, ‘tis just a silly old wood owl, Asilin.”

  Relief flooded over her, and the air returned to her lungs.

  Crouched behind a copse of gnarled boughs overgrown with ivy, newly-knighted Sir Thayer MacCourt watched Elspeth with keen interest and admiration. Though he hadn’t intended on spying on the beautiful young lass, he quickly moved in to investigate the angelic mirth he’d heard wafting over the pines.

  Laughing inwardly, he stood amazed at his continued good fortune. When it came to women, luck seemed to follow Thayer everywhere. Throughout Edinburgh and the surrounding fiefs, it was widely renowned that Thayer, just more than a score of years, loved women and they loved him. His uncanny ability to charm most any young lass prompted his friends to tease him with an ode: Tis no bonny lass invincible to the charm of Thayer. Nor, foe worthy to challenge his sword. Neither has more than a wee prayer, when he wields but a weapon or a word.

  Now, even here in the dark recesses of his family’s woodlands, he seemed to be presented with yet another delicious opportunity. Watching Elspeth with ardent interest, Thayer knew his stretch of good luck had yet to abandon him. Especially since he recognized that by all accounts, he shouldn’t even have been there.

  Oft called to service on the battlefield, he seldom had the occasion to enter the clan’s woodlands. Yet, when a weeping lad approached him earlier that night with a frayed tether that once secured
his wee lamb and a plea to help him recover it, Thayer felt obligated to assist the boy. He tracked the creature for several miles before spotting it sipping from a shallow pool at the cusp of his family’s forest.

  Actually, the lad’s request was far from out of the ordinary. Though Thayer was regarded as a feared warrior to his enemies, he was a hero to the children of Leith. Time and time again, they were privy to his more tender side. Known never to forgo a person in need, the children flocked to him with all kinds of requests. Times, he’d scale tall trees to pluck wayward pets from branches or employ twigs to instruct the young boys how to properly wield their “swords”. This morning had been no different. And now that he had recovered the lamb, he tethered the tiny beast to a sturdy pine deep into the woods before advancing to investigate the laughter which beckoned him from the pitch-black woodlands.

  Watching Elspeth bubble with excitement as she released the fawn, Thayer felt an overwhelming urge to approach her. Her enthusiasm was intoxicating, her beauty sublime. And, as he perused the idyllic scene with wonder, he felt powerless to pry his eyes from her enchanting smile. Sweeping his appreciative gaze over the graceful curves of her lithesome figure, Thayer could see that despite her tender age, Elspeth was clearly blossoming as a woman. Her delicate and perfectly proportioned physique belied her years.

  Swallowing over the lump in his throat, Thayer followed her shimmering crimson tresses as they flowed elegantly to her slender waist. There, his eyes dallied for a moment before ascending to her exquisite face. She had the look of a tender young queen, he mused. Hers was a face as beautiful and refined as to be beyond compare. A face he could gaze upon forever. A face he would look forward to each night and each morn. He was nigh breathless by the time he perused the delicate high cheekbones which framed a pair of large liquid emerald orbs more alluring than any he had ever beheld. And, those plump, ruby red kissable lips...