TWO LAIRDS ONE LADY

by John Ryan

  Complain about me dress? Elspeth chided herself. Have I gone completely mad? Verily, there is so much more to concern myself with at this dire hour!

  The matter of her attire seemed so trivial, so inconsequential. Yet, Elspeth had such an array of emotions roiling about her mind and heart that she needed to say something--anything--to relinquish their overwhelming burden. Though she had ultimately accepted her fate, she refused to go down without a fight. Lifting a mirror of heavily etched pewter from her night table, Elspeth managed a wisp of a smile. Gazing upon her regally clad reflection, she realized that, yet again, her mother had chosen wisely. For her only daughter on this special night, Lady Fiona had opted for Maureen’s favorite creation, an elegant gown richly adorned with precious gems.

  The scores of tiny jewels, when met by candlelight, glittered as if afire. The gown’s elaborate kirtle was revealed by rings discreetly snipped in her flowing skirt of taffeta. The fitted waist conformed snugly to Elspeth’s middle, accenting her slender midriff. The sweeping sleeves draped elegantly to her calf. Fashioned from delicate ivory-hued silk, they were adorned with flowers fashioned from rows of tiny pearls.

  Ye will look most bonny in this, Elspeth, her mother’s words echoed in her mind. Verily, ye are such a beautiful young lass. At times, I wonder whether ye are even aware of it.

  Elspeth, delicately perched upon a chaise, slowly lowered the mirror to stare pensively at the gleaming hearth fire. Asilin, nestled peacefully upon her lap, sleepily lifted his head and remitted low, rumbling purrs of contentment.

  Verily, Sir Thayer is as handsome a man as there is in all of Scotland, she conceded as a gentle sigh escaped her lips. Mayhap, Mother is right. Mayhap, he has seen the error of his wanton ways and has matured into a gentleman. Och! Who am I jesting? All too vividly, she remembered the way he’d manhandled her, the way he’d ogled her with unabashed lust. No, she was sure he hadn’t changed a whit!

  With long, sweeping arcs, Elspeth began to rake her silky crimson tresses with her comb hewn of ivory. Pausing, she stared wistfully at the comb, her thoughts shifting to her father.

  He had presented the one-of-a-kind comb as a gift before his departure to join the War for Scottish Independence. The innocent looking ivory back-edge concealed a small sharpened dirk when separated from the comb’s teeth. Along its glimmering blade, an axiom of Confucius was etched: Virtue is not left to stand alone. He who practices it will have.

  Though her father’s words of advice had always been dear to her, none were closer to her heart than the ones he uttered before joining the war.

  “Elspeth,’twould behoove ye to heed the lessons of the peoples of ancient Asia”, her father’s disembodied voice now spoke clearly to her. “Virtue and honor are never to be compromised.”

  Elspeth took his words to heart.

  “Da,’” she had lovingly reassured him, “though I cannot ken what fate is to befall me, or what path I am to tread, I shall never yield me virtue or honor. I have ye to thank for that.”

  Yet, the respite from her consternation was brief. The knowledge that marrying the one man in this world whom she was certain would induce only unhappiness quickly came creeping back. The reality of the situation was too much to bear. From all accounts to which she was privy, Thayer MacCourt was a man intent on bedding every comely wench he met. It was as if her worst nightmare had taken physical form, the form of an impossibly handsome rake.

  ‘Tis as if my heart is being slowly crushed in a vice, she lamented, blinking away the tears that welled and then spilled down her reddened cheeks.

  A thousand emotions churned within her, unsettling her stomach. Apprehension, dismay, vexation, hopelessness, and dread swirled through her like a blowing winter tempest. As each minute slipped by, she felt as if she were dying inside, piece by piece.

  While Elspeth distractedly coiffed her lengthy tresses, Graham was busy expertly thrusting and parrying his sword in mock combat. His adversary this night was his hulking, ever shifting shadow. It glided mutely, a silent phantom projected upon the blanched stone wall by the glow of the hearth’s flames. To eliminate any obstruction of his quarry, he had trussed his generous sandy mane into a ponytail.

  Graham, now nearly five and ten years of age, had been schooled in the art of the sword by his father since childhood. Among his peers, none were considered more proficient. Uncommonly tall and densely muscled for his youthful age, Graham was rapidly developing into a fine Scottish warrior like his father. Tonight, he donned his father’s favorite ensemble: a loose flowing, fur-lined tunic with a laced neckline and a waistband of jade plaid. Now nearly fully grown, he was the spitting image of his father.

  “Sister, do ye think mayhap Orla would be verily impressed with me swordsmanship?” Graham inquired as he proudly thumped his chest.

  Elspeth, lost in her thoughts, didn’t hear his reference to the eldest daughter of Ian Townsend, the most prosperous of the family’s tenants.

  His query met with silence, Graham’s smile faded. Until that moment, he hadn’t been aware that his rich repertoire of assertive thrusts and defensive maneuvers had gone utterly unappreciated by Elspeth and Asilin.

  “Elspeth!” Graham barked, glowering at his sister as she continued to unthinkingly comb her hair.

  “Forgive me, Graham. Were ye speaking to me?” Elspeth murmured apologetically.

  “Och! Forget it!” Graham snapped as he returned his sword to the wall over the mantle and raked his hand through his hair. Sinking into the bed beside the chaise, he lay on his belly, his head dumped into his hands.

  Narrowing his eyes upon his sister, Graham dabbed the sweat from his brow and baited her between heavy breaths, “Well, m’dear sister, soon I’ll be joining Father in the fight against the English. It is fortunate that ye are to be wed. Else, you’d be the man of the house!”

  Breaking her gaze from the glinting flames, Elspeth whirled about and slapped Graham flush across his left shoulder.

  “Is it ye very lot in life to vex me daily, brother?” Elspeth snapped.

  “Forgive me, Elspeth,” Graham said, rubbing his chest and flashing a devilish grin. “Verily, ye have just given me cause to ponder whether I will survive this war lest I further hone my defensive skills. I was not prepared for the abruptness of your assail.” A wry smile curved his lips as he added, “I must declare that Father has indeed taught ye well. Mayhap ‘tis best I forewarn your betrothed. My dear angelic sister, this delicate wildflower, conceals thorns that sting!”

  “Aye, Father has instructed me well.” Elspeth’s rancor was fading and her smile was growing. Flicking a coy smile at him, she chided, “’Twould behoove ye to never undervalue your adversary, Graham--even if it is merely your sister!”

  Lifting a tawny brow, Graham inquired, “Speaking of adversaries, Elspeth. For years, a score of the most eligible men in the realm have sought your hand. Why, then, have ye refused them with so little consideration? Even today, on the very cusp of your wedding to Sir Thayer, ye continue to defy Father with your insolence. Is it your intent to bedevil him to his death?”

  “Brother, like the others, Sir Thayer is naught more than a knave with a title,” Elspeth insisted. “As ye know, I avowed I would never marry unless, of course, I was squired by a man as honorable as Father.” Lifting her chin defiantly, she added, “Verily, I dinna believe there is such a man in the entire realm.”

  “Hmmmm. I could swear that I recall one lad that made ye swoon many years ago,” Graham retorted dryly.

  Awaiting her response, Graham gazed upon his sister’s face. He was sure he spied a faint smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

  “Ah hah!” he exclaimed triumphantly. “’Twas Thayer MacCourt! Was it not?”

  “God’s wounds, Graham! Ye dinna ken what the devil ye are talking about!” Elspeth protested, her eyes piercing her brother’s with brilliant shafts of green.

  “’Twas indeed Thayer!” Graham said, biting back a snicker. “I remember it clearly now! Ye c
ame home that night with your hair--and your mettle--askew! Ye were rambling about arms of steel and impossibly blue eyes. Then, ye changed tacks. Ye swore Thayer would be the last man ye would ever consider for a match. But as I recall, ye mentioned it nigh every day after that for weeks. Aye, ye were smitten, all right!”

  “Smitten? I think not!” Elspeth barked. “That knave nearly purloined me maidenhood that night! Why in the devil would I be besotted with the likes of him?”

  “Nigh stole your maidenhood? I dinna ken about that, dear sister,” Graham replied in a cynical tone. “I thought ‘twas merely a kiss.”

  “’Twas merely a kiss because I kicked with all of my might before he had a chance to try anything further!” Elspeth proclaimed hotly. “The cad never saw it coming.”

  “Mayhap ye regret not kissing him back,” Graham suggested playfully as he patted the top of Asilin’s head.

  Asilin objected fiercely. Hissing, he swatted Graham soundly, scratching his finger. Wincing, Graham popped his finger into his mouth to lap up the trickle of blood.

  “See what happens when ye vex me, or my cat, brother?” Elspeth said, grinning at him.

  Before Graham could offer a retort, the heavy oaken door to Elspeth’s chambers flew open with a crash, prompting Elspeth and Graham to spring from their respective perches.

  “Elspeth! Graham! Ye two march yourselves downstairs this moment afore I tan your arses!” Muirne bellowed.

  “Aye, Muirne!” Graham cried, as Elspeth hastened to smooth out the wrinkles from her rumpled gown.

  Muirne stood watch at the entry to the room, her arms tightly folded and her face contorted into a frightful frown.

  “I will not move from this doorway until both of your arses are downstairs!” she hissed, her jaw clenched in anger.

  Elspeth deftly sidestepped Muirne and scrambled to the staircase. Dallying for a mere moment, Graham was on the receiving end of a sharp thwack across his backside.

  “Muirne!” Graham shrieked in protest, rubbing his tender rump. “When will ye stop treating me as a child!”

  “I will desist the very day ye and your headstrong sister cease giving your mum such trouble, eh?” she snarled.

  Hastily descending the stairs two at a time, Elspeth and Graham espied Lady Fiona standing at the foot of the stairway, a chilling scowl etched upon her face.

  Moments before they reached the bottom, a shout was heard from the gate sentry, Sir Shamus Maguire. Sir Shamus, a highly regarded knight of Dirleton, was nearly two score but appeared far younger. With youthful green eyes and ruddy cheeks, he was oft underestimated by the English. That was, until they met him on the battlefield. Unfortunately, his last adversary had seriously wounded him, preventing him from returning to the rebellion.

  “M’lady, the MacCourt clan approaches,” he announced.

  Elspeth’s heart sank. Her world was crumbling around her. Wringing hands which glistened with perspiration, she fought the urge to flee. Slowly regaining her composure, she searched about the room. She was hopeful of spying a ewer of water to moisten her lips, grown parched from her quickened breath.

  This is truly happening! How I wish this was a nightmare from which I would awaken!

  A series of thumps from the heavy iron ring affixed to the outside of the door hailed the MacCourts’ arrival. As Elspeth gazed with apprehension upon the great oak entranceway, the rapping on the door was drowned out by the pounding of her heart.

  Shamus slid the great hasp aside and grasped the two heavy iron handles, giving the door a mighty pull. The doors creaked in displeasure as they parted, streaming brilliant shafts of sunlight streaming into the spacious foyer.

  Elspeth winced, shielding her eyes to get a better glimpse of the arriving party. Several MacCourt footmen and a smattering of servants busied themselves gathering the clan’s trunks from the elegant horse-drawn carriages while Thayer, Lady Katherine, and a smattering of cousins neared, surrounded in a halo of sunlight.

  “It’s him! Dear Lord, it’s truly him! I’d know those blue eyes anywhere!”

  Lady Katherine smiled warmly. “Afore I present my sons, please permit me to say what a truly elegant home ye have.”

  “Ye are too generous, Katherine,” Lady Fiona responded warmly.

  “It is ye who are generous, Fiona. Despite the limited time we have been afforded, ye have opened your home in a most gracious way. We are most appreciative.”

  Watching the exchange with keen interest, Elspeth was instantly taken with how truly resplendent Lady Katherine appeared. Clad in a stunningly elegant gown of amber that matched the subtle gilded hues of her hair, she emanated an aura of class and elegance.

  More than that, she utterly lit up the room.

  Studying the woman’s patrician features, Elspeth was immediately drawn by the brilliant sapphire hue of her eyes. She smiled inwardly, reflecting upon their striking similarity to her son’s. They were the identical shade of the very eyes that had transfixed her that autumn day all those years ago, even if those eyes of blue were full of devilment and longing.

  No matter. That day has long passed, and I am determined to honor Father’s wishes and heed Mother’s advice and leave it there. Besides, ‘twould surely do no good to dwell upon it. I have accepted my lot and will do my utmost to make the best of it.

  “Fiona, please allow me to formally present my sons, Thayer and Faolin.”

  Thayer stood, slightly crouched, behind his brother, barely suppressing a triumphant grin. With immense satisfaction, he reflected up on the events of the past day. They had truly done it! Just before the clan departed their fiefdom of Leith, which lay west of the Firth of Forth, Thayer and Faolin had exchanged their apparel. With that exchange, they exchanged their identities. Thayer had always been partial to blue--Faolin to black. With a short heel affixed to Faolin’s shoes, no one was the wiser for their substitution. Though they hadn’t attempted a switch since they were much younger lads, the brothers laughed heartily upon the realization that they had pulled it off this one last time.

  When the other introductions had at last concluded, Thayer watched as Elspeth straightened her back and tilted her chin elegantly. She stepped forward as her mother gestured for her.

  “Elspeth,” Lady Katherine said, “though I believe your first meeting was a trite less than cordial, please allow me to properly introduce my eldest son, Thayer.”

  In Thayer’s stead, Faolin took a stride forward, met Elspeth’s gaze and swept down to plant a gentle kiss upon her hand.

  “Dearest Elspeth, ‘tis my honor,” he bid gallantly.

  “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance again, Thayer,” Elspeth answered graciously, bowing her head slightly.

  Thayer stepped forward next. As his lips brushed the back of Elspeth’s hand, his eyes never left hers. Though his lips had scarcely touched her flesh, he felt the warmth quickly effuse the hand he held. He felt her beginning to swoon.

  Thayer reluctantly withdrew his lips from her hand. They clung warmly, loath to part.

  Elspeth jerked her hand back as the surge of heat reddened her cheeks. Fitfully, she began to tug at the fine lace about her collar as if to find some relief.

  Thayer was blindsided by the utter intensity of the visceral attraction he felt upon laying eyes upon Elspeth again. Just the slightest touch of her skin sent his heart hammering away in his chest. He was entirely powerless to pry his gaze from her. Though he had reflected upon her exquisite beauty too many times to recall, her actual presence stole his breath.

  Elspeth is so real, so earthy, so sweet, and so pure, Thayer pondered, a heat rising within him and tightening his loins. He began to envision sweeping Elspeth into his arms and devouring those sweet ruby red lips.

  Sweet Jesu’, am I to covet me own brother’s wife? He quickly rebuked himself. She is to marry Faolin! I will not dishonor that match with my longing. Surely, I will regain my wits in due time.

  “M’lady, it affords me great pleasure to make your acquaintan
ce,” Thayer began in a husky whisper. “I fear I must apologize for my brother’s prior behavior, even if he does not feel so inclined to make it his own priority. From what I can surmise, he acted quite the cad when ye first met. Do ye remain aggrieved by his actions or has time lessened the blow?”

  “One usually forgets one pleasure long ere one forgets one’s suffering,” Elspeth replied.

  “Then it is your assertion that ye suffered that day?” Thayer queried, lifting an inquisitive brow. “Was it merely suffering ye had to bear?”

  Gazing upon the subtle ascension of her soft lips, he told himself that he was probably reading too much into it. But they did seem to say, Wouldn’t you like to know?

  Her suspicion pricked, Elspeth’s brows instinctively knit. There was something vaguely familiar in the rich baritone and inflection of her future brother-in-law’s voice. And, though both men sported the bluest eyes she had ever laid her own eyes upon, it was Faolin’s which held her fast. It was a sensation she had felt but once before.

  Never mind that, ye fool, she scolded herself. Forsooth, it is merely that so much time has passed and they look so much alike. Now, stop acting like some smitten milksop and redirect your attention to your future husband.

  Engrossed in their exchange and oblivious to all that was around them, neither Elspeth nor Thayer happened to spy the ever darkening scowl etched upon Faolin’s face. Laying witness to the banter, he shot his brother a piercing glower while musing that if he stood any closer, he would surely deliver a swift kick to Thayer’s shins much as Elspeth did so many years ago. A wry smile twisted his lips as he reflected upon that vision.

  “Thayer,” Elspeth offered, warmly returning her regard to her betrothed, “may I persuade ye to take a stroll about the grounds? ‘Tis a fine day and the heather and twayblades are in full bloom in the garden.”

  “’Twould be my pleasure,” Faolin replied with a gracious bow. Proffering his arm to Elspeth, Faolin escorted her into the brilliant light of the day.

  Working the muscles along his jaw, Thayer stood regaring his brother with contempt. He watched as the forms of Elspeth and Faolin melted into the garden. It took all of his composure to not chase after them and break up their little get together.