The Memory of Her Kiss

by Rebecca Ruger

  With a bit of a grimace, she told him, “They know you are not my husband and that you have abducted me. And they are going to escort me now, and I believe they mean you severe bodily harm if you should resist. I would not, were I you.”

  The giant and the blond man burst out laughing, drawing their swords as they did so as they turned to face the Duncans. The scraping of metal, being pulled from its sheath, roused their friends, who came forth from under the yew tree, loosening their own swords from their scabbards.

  Bean backed away, merging with the rest of the Duncans, though not one of them had taken sword in hand.

  “If I could have a knife, I could be useful,” Anice said, emboldened by the fear that clearly engulfed the Duncan squad.

  The blond looked sideways at her. “Aye, lass,” he said, “I imagine that you could.”

  Chapter 17

  When Anice and her small party reached the ridge which overlooked Stoney, she felt her heart quicken, knowing Stonehaven was just there, at the other side of the far hills. Gregor might be there.

  “He’ll no be there yet, lass,” said the blond man, with whom she shared a horse since they’d parted ways with the Duncans more than an hour ago. Not an ounce of blood had been shed at that separation as the Duncans had chosen instead to gain their seats and ride away rather than face the giant and his massive two handled sword with the four foot blade.

  Anice nodded sadly.

  Instead of directing their mounts straight down the hill and into the village, they moved off the well-trod roads and took to the trees outside of Stoney.

  “Why do we ride out of sight?” She asked. “Are you afraid the Duncans might be watching?”

  “Aye, they might be, but we’re no concerned with that, lass.”

  Anice was quiet for a minute. “My name is Anice.”

  There was a long pause before he answered. “Jamie MacKenna, lass, of Aviemore. And that’s William. And the lads be Walter and Hamish and Bertie.”

  Pieces of rumor and innuendo and description came together in her mind. Anice turned her head to the side and lifted her eyes to Jamie. “He is William Wallace,” she guessed.

  The big blond man dipped his head, his eyes steadying on her even as he continued to move the horse so carefully through the trees. “Dinna say that too loud, lass.”

  She shook her head. “I would not.” She turned and gave her gaze and thoughts to the giant who lead the way. William Wallace, true patriot and defender of Scotland, had saved her. All those nights staring out the windows of Jardine, wishing only a glimpse of Scotland’s brave heroes, and never once had she ever imagined that she’d one day set her eyes upon the greatest of them all. As thrilled as she had been to learn that the man who’d freed her from the stocks had been the Fist of Scotland, she now was overcome with solemn wonder, being in the presence of its greatest defender.

  “But is it safe for him to be seen at Stonehaven?” She’d heard it said that he’d lived mostly in forests and safehouses.

  “We’ll ask him, lass.” And Jamie reined in and called to Wallace. When Wallace turned his mount and came aside Jamie and Anice, facing the opposite direction, Jamie said, from behind Anice and with a hint of amusement in his tone, “The lass—who is Anice, you should ken—is wondering if it’s safe to be seen at Stonehaven.”

  William Wallace fixed a thoughtful eye upon Anice. Anice practiced her own perusal, looking deep into his eyes. He was weary, she could see, and wise and possessed of a strength within that most men would only dream to know.

  “Do you think I might ken quiet respite at Stonehaven, lass?”

  Anice considered this and shook her head. “Inside the keep or castle, you will not, sir. There are just too many people to take the chance.” Even at Jardine, the legend of William Wallace had been well documented. And so, too, Edward of England’s attempts to oust or capture or find peace with him.

  “Aye, a smaller keep, with fewer people, we’d take space inside. But Stonehaven is a large house and her village well populated. That’s too many chances to take on any person not claiming the three hundred marks for my head.”

  Anice thought for a moment. “There were a few occasions, over the years, while I lived at Jardine, when the entire abbey was locked down because of sickness inside. All the sick were quarantined, and no one save the residents were allowed in or out of the abbey. Sometimes, this lasted for weeks.”

  Wallace narrowed his eyes on her. “How many inside Stonehaven, lass?”

  “Inside the keep itself, maybe only twenty,” she estimated. “The castle, though, with the soldiers garrisoned, another fifty, maybe. And...there is...I might foresee a problem with the Kincaid’s mother.”

  Jamie grunted. “Aye, I’ve met the dragon,” he said to Wallace. “The lass is right.”

  “Yet we are not barbarians to put a mistress out of her home,” said Wallace. “Indeed, I believe that one man, no matter his devoted pursuits, should not cast from their home so many.”

  “Then I know the perfect place,” Anice said, with some excitement and explained the ideal seclusion of the Left Beach.

  Wallace and Jamie considered this. Jamie asked, “Do you ken those inside well enough to enlist aid from within?”

  “I know many whom I would trust implicitly. I should consult Fibh at first, as Gregor is not in residence, to confirm my choices.”

  Wallace nodded. “Can you bring him down, lass?”

  WHILE WALLACE AND JAMIE and the others waited in the wood at the bottom of the hill, Anice rode the big black up toward the gate. She’d balked at driving the large beast herself, telling Wallace and Jamie that her skills were new, and adequate upon small palfreys at best.

  “Less initial questions, lass,” Jamie had countered. “Should you walk into Stonehaven, will they no wonder how you traveled so far?”

  She managed the task, though, despite her original misgivings, and soon was close enough to recognize Arik and Fibh himself upon the wall. When they realized it was Anice, they waved wildly, Fibh’s smile a warm welcome indeed. She passed through the tunnel and met Fibh and Arik and now Tamsin as they came from the door which led from the battlements.

  “But aren’t you a sight for these tired eyes!” Fibh exclaimed.

  Arik pulled her off the tall horse. While he appeared happy to see her, this was tempered by concern. “But where do you come from, lass? And to whom does the beast belong?”

  “I shall tell all and soon, I promise,” she said, when she’d hugged each one of them.

  “You’ve grown some hair,” Tamsin marveled.

  “I’m so happy to be here,” she said, having replaced her want of the word home with here.

  “Did you see the Kincaid at Inesfree?” Fibh asked, his eyes lifting from the strip of tartan at her side, the one that had saved her.

  “I did. And...he should arrive soon, I believe,” she said evasively, hoping her words were true. “But Fibh, I need you to come with me.” To Arik and Tamsin, “We will not be long, and all shall be explained.”

  Fibh frowned but nodded.

  “Do I need a horse, lass?”

  “Yes,” she answered and Fibh took off for the stables. “And you’ll have to seat me again, Arik. This one is too large for me to mount myself.” When he did, and she’d arranged her skirts and held the reins, she said to Arik and Tamsin, “I mean no discourtesy by singling out Fibh and you will understand when all is told.”

  Some pride filled her that they nodded, asking for no more explanation but what little she had given. She gave a pretty smile to her friends for their trust.

  Fibh reappeared only a minute later, and Anice led the way out of the bailey, through the tunnel, and down the hill.

  When they met the party in the trees, some distance from but still in sight of the keep, Fibh’s mouth fell open and his eyes danced back and forth between Anice, so small upon the MacKenna’s great destrier, and the near seven foot man upon an even larger beast.

  “Lass, you ken
who this be, aye?”

  Anice grinned at Wallace and then at Fibh. She nodded. “Hence, the secrecy.”

  Fibh nodded. To Wallace, he dipped his head, and intoned, “I mean to be of service to you, sir, as my chief would have me do.” He looked at Anice again and said with a chuckle, “You continue to astonish me, lass, but I ken you’re a right true Scotsman!”

  No greater praise could he give her.

  “She is at that, Fibh of Lewinton,” Wallace acknowledged. “Have you still a Hugh Duncan in your keeping?”

  Fibh’s brows drew down over his blue eyes. “Aye, we do. But you ken, the little Duncan tried to free him. We had ourselves a wee skirmish here, but we held them off.”

  Jamie and Wallace shared a look. “And when that failed and while Kincaid was gone, they then proceeded to Inesfree and nicked the lass.”

  Now Fibh’s eyes widened with alarm and his gaze swung to Anice. “But here you are, by the saints, and no worse for the taking, I hope.”

  “But only by the grace of God and these kind sirs,” she insisted. “But Fibh, we need to secret these fine men at Stonehaven, but think the keep too dangerous. But there is the beach—not the one directly behind the keep, but the next one north—where they can be put up.”

  Between Anice and Wallace, they spelled out the plan and expectations of what would need to happen to shelter Wallace safely.

  Fibh nodded, listening with intent, at no point decrying such an idea or giving any hint that Stonehaven’s involvement was in question. “Aye, and I can bring down old Figby’s boat, tell any who care that the lass now wants to learn to sail—that’ll no come as any surprise—and you’ll have an escape should you need it.”

  “What should I do?” Anice wanted to know.

  The men all stared at her until Wallace asked, “Can you resume your position here, lass?”

  Anice’s brow crinkled. “I did not truly have a position.”

  Wallace looked to Fibh. He shrugged. “She was just sister, come and go as she please, taking on what she might—” he sent a grin to Anice “—finding her way, aye, lass?”

  “You best stay with us then, lass, until Kincaid returns,” said Jamie, and Fibh and Wallace concurred.

  EXHAUSTED, HUNGRY, and burning still with uncontrollable anger, Gregor and Torren returned to Stonehaven after two days, their search fruitless. Conall, John, and the MacGregors, at Gregor’s insistence, had returned to Inesfree.

  Conall had balked of course, asserting that they remain a party to the search.

  “I need to get to Stonehaven, be sure Hugh is still held,” Gregor had answered. “That’s all I have now to regain her.” He’d sighed wearily, fright still weighty upon him. “And you’ve a bride to get home to.”

  “Tess would not—”

  “But I would. I’ll no rest until she’s safe, you ken.”

  “And you’ll return her to Inesfree when she’d found?” Conall asked.

  “Nae.” Gregor shook his head. “She’ll be with me now.”

  Conall had nodded. He understood, more than most, the fear with which Gregor contended.

  “Go on. I’ll send word when I have her.”

  Gregor’s apprehension grew even as he neared the hill and the tunnel of Stonehaven. Hugh needed still to be in the below, or Gregor’s chances of recovering Anice decreased dramatically. He knew he must be still imprisoned, or Duncan would not have risked stealing Anice, but some unhealthy and irrational fear threatened this reasonable expectation.

  Arik and Kinnon were the first people he saw, their eyes widening with excitement as they raced across the bailey.

  Gregor dismissed their enthusiasm as he dismounted, and Torren did the same next to him. “Hugh remains below?” He needed to know this first.

  Kinnon and Arik nodded, their faces equally showing concern and confusion with the chief’s brusque and detached manner.

  Gregor strode quickly across the bailey, with Torren, Arik, and Kinnon on his heels, taking in his orders, thrown over his shoulder. “I want Fibh, Tamsin, and Sim rounded up. Only those, brought here now. We’ve got a matter to address.”

  When neither Arik nor Kinnon scrambled to be away, but only stared at the chief, Torren barked out, “You heard the laird, now get to it!”

  “But the lass—”

  Gregor whirled on Kinnon. “I will find her!”

  Arik and Kinnon appeared even more confused. Kinnon lifted a hand and pointed vaguely in the direction of the sea.

  “But she’s here.”

  Gregor and Torren both whipped their heads around.

  Lowering his voice, Arik glanced around the hall. “Came in with Wallace himself, and Jamie MacKenna yesterday.”

  Torren recovered first. “She is unharmed?”

  The lads nodded. “You didn’t ken?” Kinnon asked, and then answered his own question, “But aye, how could you? Been out searching. Laird, the sister is here. She’s safe.” His smile then, though pale as Kinnon ever was, was wondrous.

  “Where?” Gregor’s voice cracked.

  “To the beach, go left, past the rocks,” Arik said and watched his chief sprint from the hall.

  “Who else knows?” Torren stayed to ask.

  Shaking his head, Arik, divulged, “Us here, and Fibh, Tamsin, and Sim. No one else.”

  Kinnon supplied, “Little encampment down there, tucked into the trees just at the edge of the sand. We got ‘em all set up proper, like. Take ‘em food and the lass has furs for cold.”

  Torren nodded and followed Gregor from the keep, though running was still beyond him.

  GREGOR STORMED OUT of the hall and the castle, down and around the hill, to the beach. It was empty, no movement at all save the furious sea’s waves crashing in and rolling out while a lone gray gull cawed and glided over the surf. He sped around the rocks to the left, his heart pounding in his chest. Water slapped against his shins as he waded out into it and strode around the rocks to the beach on the other side. As he went deeper, the sea beat at him, rebounding from the rocks it hit, spraying his thighs, hips, and chest. As soon as his boots hit the dry sand again, he saw her. She was standing just where the trees and tall marsh grass met the rolling sand, her back to him. She wore still the blue kirtle he’d last seen at the wedding, in conversation with Wallace and MacKenna, who lounged under a wide limbed and low growing tree. Several tents wafted and leaned as the wind battered them but held to their stakes. One tent was only a small fisherman’s vessel, turned on its side and supported by cut timber so that it provided a solid wall from the wind while tent canvas flapped at its front. A fire pit spewed dying clouds of white-gray smoke, the wind taking these tendrils and dashing them to non-existence. Gregor’s hands fisted at his side, his jaw still clenched even as he saw that she was safe. Relief offered no lessening of the tension, it seemed. Not until he saw her face.

  Wallace tipped his head, alerting Anice of his presence. She turned and saw him, her fingers covering her mouth. He couldn’t read her face, couldn’t say if she were happy or not to see him. Her skirts were blown against her legs and billowed out to one side. Her short hair danced atop her head, her eyes so much brighter than the dark sea.

  He was nearly upon her. And he was done with the pretense. That he didn’t want her, that he didn’t need her. That she wasn’t his.

  Gregor enveloped her in a mighty embrace, lifting her off the ground. She clung to him, he felt her tremors against him. He didn’t want to let her go. He pulled back, but only to take her face in his hands. He didn’t care who stood near, he needed to taste her.

  But she stopped him, lifting her hand to hold it between them, having read his intent, warding him off as it were. She took one step backwards and he dropped his hands, befuddled. She shook her head, her beautiful eyes welled with tears, while her lips trembled.

  “Do not kiss me.”

  Gregor could barely hear her above the furious roar of the sea. She stared warily at him as Wallace rose and stood on one side of them, MacKenna o
n the other. For the life of him, Gregor didn’t know what to make of her cautious posture and gaze. Their last meeting, however, had been much as this, he supposed. He sighed and felt a heaviness crash into him. A sorrow.

  Gregor lifted one hand and traced a red mark on her cheek with his thumb, from her lips to her ear. “Whom shall I see about this?” She’d closed her eyes.

  Jamie answered, “The lass’d no let us see about that.”

  Gregor kept his eyes on her face, but said to MacKenna, “You let a wee lass dictate you?”

  “As you do,” Jamie countered.

  “Torren?” Anice asked, bracing herself, it seemed, for dreadful news.

  “Fine, and home as well.” The anxiousness left her gaze.

  Anice gasped then and dashed toward the water. Gregor saw Torren, as if on cue, coming through the surf, from around the rocky formation. His captain had barely reached the sand when she flung herself at him, her skirts dipping into the sea. Torren lifted her up, her slight weight apparently no hindrance, even as Gregor guessed he was sore still from the beating he’d taken. Gregor watched Torren give her a big bear hug and set her down, his arms on hers. He couldn’t hear the words, but he saw clearly the man’s relief, indeed his happiness. When Anice turned, she was smiling that beautiful dimpled smile of hers, hugging Torren’s arm as they stayed at the water’s edge and talked. Gregor frowned.

  Gregor turned to Wallace and struck out his hand. “How do I repay you?”

  Wallace’s eyes flicked over Anice as he clasped forearms with Gregor. “You put a price on that?”

  Gregor shook his head. “I cannot.”

  “And so, neither would I, my friend.”

  He addressed MacKenna, taking his arm as well. “Thank you.”

  “So now Duncan has lost his pawn,” Wallace was saying, “what then?”

  “He’ll come hard, I imagine,” Gregor guessed with a shrug.

  “Let him bring it,” Jamie said, his bravado well-founded.

  “You cannot be involved,” Gregor said to Wallace. “You ken Stonehaven is good people, but even good people can dream on hundreds of marks. Our little drama is no to be yours. You have greater battles than this.”