Rubina frowned. “Mama! You're so young! You're two years past forty.”
Her mother smiled sadly. “It isn't young, dear. I do worry about leaving you all alone in the world.”
“Mama!” Rubina took her hand, feeling a sense of shock. “Don't even say it. Not for a moment. You'll live to be an old, old lady and see lots of grandchildren.”
Her mother chuckled. “I'll try, dearest. I want to. Believe me, I do. But if the worst happened, I do wish I knew you'd be safe. Provided for by a strong provider.”
Rubina sighed. “Mother, we do have a large family. I am sure one of your cousins would step in to help me.”
Her mother nodded. “You are right, of course, my wise daughter. But I do sometimes wish I could see you happily wed to someone who could provide for you. Someone worthy.”
Rubina nodded. Oddly, that statement made her feel a little sad. Though her mother had said that she would not mind whom Rubina chose, she knew that there would be at very least some disappointment were she to choose a mere knight.
Now I have found someone who makes me feel the way that, well, a man should. But I know he is not that provider you would wish for me.
“I trust that I will find someone one day,” Rubina said. “Now, have you seen those new sleeves that everyone's wearing? They are rather pretty. I think they would suit me – Marguerite said they compliment long fingers.”
Her mother smiled fondly. “These ones that overlap the hand a little? Yes. I'm sure they would suit you well.”
Rubina nodded, glad her mother had shifted to another topic, a happy one. She didn't want to dwell on war and gloom!
“For my new gown, I was thinking the ocher velvet?”
“Mm. That will be beautiful,” her mother agreed. “And if Mrs. McInroy starts sewing now, it will be ready for the ball in a fortnight's time.”
Rubina smiled, trying to engender some enthusiasm in her own heart. “I hope so,” she said softly.
Her mother chuckled. “You're so lovely, my dear. I am sure everyone will be staring.”
“Mother...” Rubina said reproachfully, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks. Her mother always made her feel shy.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
They both laughed. Rubina tried to look forward to the ball. Whenever she thought of it, all that came to her mind was how much fun it would be if she could show her new dress to Camden, could wear it to dance with him. She imagined how it would feel, his hand on hers, as they went through the tricky intricate steps of a roundelay together. By then, however, he would likely be gone from court.
“I think mayhap the gold braid would finish it perfectly. If you have a round neckline and we edge it in gold? It would bring out the fire in your hair.”
Rubina giggled as her mother stroked her sleek locks. “Mayhap, Mama.”
When they had finished planning her new ball gown, her mother stood, dusting off the skirts of her own blue velvet dress.
“I should go and find your father. He will wake soon.”
Rufus Invermore, duke of Buccleigh, had taken to sleeping for an hour after luncheon. Along with the threading of white strands through his hair, it made him at once more distinguished and touchingly vulnerable. The pathos of his wanting to ride to war struck Rubina afresh.
“Yes, Mama,” Rubina nodded. “Don't let him sleep through a meeting again.”
Her mother giggled. “Indeed.”
She kissed her mother's fragrant cheek and then, when she had gone, leaned back with a big sigh.
Around her, the courtyard was silent, drowsing in the late afternoon sunshine. A dove called, slow, sweet and melodious. The place was so peaceful. It was impossible to believe that they might hover on the brink of full-scale war. Yet, if even her mama believed it to be true, it must be so.
What of Father? What of Sir Camden?
The thought of either of them riding off to face down death was terrifying. Rubina found herself clasping her hands, whole body tense with worry. Sir Camden was already wounded! He couldn't ride off now, whatever his father bid him to do. He was her patient, and quite aside from her feelings for him, the thought of cruel, rough soldiering undoing all the good work of the infirmary was an added source of distress.
“And I won't have them letting him...oh.”
She stared. Someone had come into the deserted courtyard.
The man had dark hair and was deathly pale, and walked with a familiar gait. The paleness, she noticed as he approached, was not so much natural as due to the extremes of exertion and pain. He had his teeth clamped through his lip and he looked at her through eyes slitted with torment.
“Camden!” She was on her feet in an instant. “What are you doing out of bed? Get back to the infirmary this instant.”
He stared at her, and then gave a happy laugh. “My lady! I must confess that's the best greeting I ever had.”
She covered flaming cheeks with her hands. She couldn't quite believe herself. Had she really just scolded the poor man so soundly? “I didn't mean to be rude,” she began. She trailed off as he started to laugh again.
“You weren't rude. Not even a little. I really am delighted.”
She sighed. Sat down on the bench again, feeling a bit dazed. Why had she done that; betrayed her feelings so completely? Not that he probably hadn't guessed that the moment she visited the infirmary, or even before, when she helped with his treatment. She had been stupid. What other lady would betray a thing like that?
“Well, I suppose it's amusing,” she said tightly.
“Amusing?” he looked worried now. “Why would it be?”
She sighed. “Well, it's amusing to see a lady fuss about you.”
To her surprise, he looked hurt.
“I suppose I don't merit it, do I?” he said. His voice was so cold that she shivered.
“No! Camden, you know that isn't what I meant,” she protested. Why was he so hurt? She hadn't meant anything by what she said! All she meant was that she was worried.
He raised a brow, green eyes wintry. “Oh. I supposed you meant that a lady like yourself disgraces herself by fussing, as you said, over my sort.”
Rubina was horrified. “No! Sir Camden! How could you...” she trailed off when he interrupted her.
“Well, it makes sense, does it not? I am a mere knight. You're a high born woman, destined for great things. Why would you spend your time on me?”
Rubina sighed. “Good, Sir Knight. I spend my time as I choose to.”
He blinked with surprise. “You are unusual.”
“You know that,” she said with a wry smile. He laughed.
“I do. And I have benefited from it. The physician himself said my ribs would not have made the progress that they have without your care.”
“The abbot is too kind,” Rubina said tiredly. “I am sure you would have healed just as well without my aid.”
I was stupid to get involved. I should have just stayed distant. Mama is right. I should be thinking more seriously about my future.
He looked at her, astonished.
“Milady?”
“I should go now, sir,” she said. Whist! Why did it hurt so much to speak to him like this? Why did it feel worse than her own pain?
He didn't say anything, just looked at her with hurt, confused eyes.
She stood.
“Sir, I trust you will take care of yourself,” she managed to say. Her voice stuck in her throat and it was hard to get the words out beyond a whisper.
“My lady, I...”
“Goodbye,” she said. She turned away, hands tense at her sides. She made herself walk toward the great doors of the palace and not look back.
When she was inside, she walked swiftly through the hallways, eyes blurred with crying. She went up the stairs, along the hallway and then to the hallway where the guests were accommodated. She found her own bed and lay face down on it, sobbing.
“How can I?” she whispered into the pillow. “How c
an I turn away like that?”
She felt as if her own heart was bruised. Which was ridiculous, she told herself: she had hardly known the man! She had met him months ago, it was true. Since then they had spoken on so few occasions, it hardly seemed as if she could be so deeply wounded.
But I am! It's ridiculous, I know. However, it pains me cruelly to think I'll never see him more.
She sniffed, rolling over to look up at the ceiling. White with an arched pattern, it had that same vast, indifferent coldness that felt as if it had come to live in her chest. She sat up and reached for a handkerchief.
Well, I shouldn't be so sad. I should be pleased. I put an end to something that could only hurt me and him.
He was not the same rank. Not that she could care, but he seemed to. His pride would not have let him wed her – being outranked would have been hard. Her family would have hated it.
Silly, since Father is a knight – or was before he became baron – but I know they wish better for me.
Freedom or no freedom to choose, she could see in her mother's tight, worried gaze that she wished her daughter would choose a substantial landowner. Someone like their own family. Who would not seek to wed her for her inheritance but for herself.
“My lady?” a voice called. Rubina sat up quickly.
“Yes?” she called to the maidservant. “You can enter.” She rearranged her hair quickly, noticing how disheveled it looked in a mirror on the wall.
“You have a visitor.”
“Oh?” she frowned. Who could it be?
“Rubina?”
“Marguerite!” she smiled as her friend came in. She looked worried. “Is aught amiss?”
Her friend shook her head sadly. “I just...Oh, Rubina. It seems it will be war. And what of Sir Sean?”
Rubina stared at her in surprise. “Sean? Sir Camden's companion?”
She nodded wordlessly. “I...oh! Rubina! I don't want anything to happen to him.”
Rubina was surprised. She had no idea that the initial attraction between them had progressed so rapidly. Yet Marguerite seemed in very real distress. She put an arm round her shoulders, comforting her.
“There, there,” she said. “Mayhap this is rumors. All just rumors.”
All the same, as she held her friend close and let her cry, she had to admit that she didn't think it was just tales told round the fire. Edward of England meant to bring war here. It seemed quite likely he would do so as well.
Please let them be safe, she thought.
She closed her eyes, not wanting to let her own grief overwhelm her.
All the same, she thought as her friend cried and she held her, seeing Marguerite give such freedom to her own distress made her realize that perhaps she was not foolish. It was, after all, not impossible to care so intensely in so little time, and it was not foolish to feel pain at the thought of never again seeing the person for whom one cared so much. It was a comforting thought amidst all the concerns and fear.
CHAPTER TEN
A FRANK CONVERSATION
A FRANK CONVERSATION
“I sometimes think I'm going barmy.”
Sean, hearing the comment, frowned.
“Why, Camden?”
Camden sighed. They were sitting in the armory, alone in the late afternoon. The place was warm, the light dark orange, barred with shadow where it shone through the high windows. It smelled dusty, drowsy, and peaceful.
“I can't bear it anymore. I want her so much it hurts. And she changes every day. First she likes me, and then she doesn't. I will go mad if I don't understand soon!”
Camden felt restless, like his entire body had been rubbed with sand and vinegar, as one did to armor. His friend frowned at him.
“Camden, have you asked her what she feels?”
Camden stared at him. “Of course not,” he said. “How could I? The lass is so far above me – it would feel wrong to ask.”
Sean snorted. “Fine, then.”
“What?” Camden asked, feeling hurt.
“If you don't ask, how are you supposed to find out? And if you think it's not worth the risk of asking, why are you worried?”
Camden sighed. All the energy seemed to drain from him and he sat down heavily on some boxes in the corner, closing his eyes. His ribs still hurt, though the pain was masked by the restless torment of his heart.
“I agree,” he said.
Sean said nothing. When Camden opened his eyes again, it was to see his friend smiling at him.
“What?”
“I was just thinking about a lady,” Sean murmured.
“Not you as well,” Camden said. Sean chuckled.
“Indeed yes. It seems we're both suffering the same torment right now.”
“Oh?” Camden frowned.
“Mm. I wish I knew any better than you did.”
Camden chuckled. “Well, I can only say your advice makes sense.”
“It does?”
“Yes. Tell her what you feel. If you don't, how must she know?”
Sir Sean nodded slowly. “It's not that we don't know how each other feels,” he said quietly. “It's that...well...what if this war isn't just a figment of your father's mind?”
Camden nodded slowly. “Mm. I am starting to wonder also.”
“Yes. I don't want to...How can I plight my troth, if all I'm going to do is disappear?”
Camden was surprised to see the stricken expression on his cheery friend's face.
“Good point.”
“Mm.”
The thought was sobering. Camden sat and looked into the shadows, watching the dust motes dance there. He couldn't bear the thought of walking away from Rubina. Not without saying goodbye. He nodded.
“You know, Sean, you're right.”
“I am?”
“Mm. It's not worth risking. What if we die? What then? My pride will go to the grave with me. What good will it do? No, the truth is worth far more. I need to tell her.”
“Well spoken,” Sean nodded slowly.
“In fact,” Camden said, raising himself to his feet, wincing as his ribs started to throb acutely, “I'm going to do it now.”
Sean stared. “You're sure?”
“I only hope I can find her again,” Camden said.
“Good luck, friend,” Sean called, but Camden was already through the door.
Out in the courtyard, the dusk had descended, making the place a shifting scene of delicate blues and gray. He breathed in, smelling the scent of summer roses. He breathed in, pausing to focus on the task at hand. Rubina. She had been in the colonnade, sewing.
Some chance of her being here now...it's too dark to see out here.
He went to the colonnade, but, sure enough, it was empty. The only sound was the distant tinkle of the fountains in the courtyard beyond – sweet, sorrowful music.
“Whist.”
He looked about, searching the place. If she wasn't here, she was probably in her chambers by now, and he had no idea where they were. It was too early yet for her to be at dinner. How about the solar? Or the turret?
Camden directed his steps towards the door. A motion in the garden caught his eye. Someone was out there, walking across the lawn near the kitchen garden, heading to the long beds where roses grew.
Instinct drew him to investigate. The person was a shifting shadow in gray dark, and they walked slowly through the dew-soaked grounds. He saw them stop at a bench. Then, indistinct but recognizably, he heard the sound of tears.
He went over and stopped a few paces away.
With her face buried in her hands, her long auburn hair the color of rust in the shadow, the slender form was instantly recognizable. Camden tensed, feeling his whole body resonate with the silent, exquisite beauty he was seeing.
The long dark fall of her hair covered her shoulders, her pale arms bare in the warm evening. Her hands hid her face and her sweet, soft body was encased in deep brown velvet. His whole body responded, every fiber of him tingling as he stared and sta
red.
She had stopped crying, but now she began anew. He couldn't bear the sound of so much pain.
“My lady?”
She gasped in surprise, and then stood.
“Who...oh! Sir!” Her sweet face crumpled in acute distress. She tried to flee the garden, pushing past him onto the pathway.
He gently took her hand. She looked up into his eyes.
“Please, sir,” she said softly. “I must go...” she trailed off as he lifted her hand to his mouth. He gently kissed the back, his whole body tingling as his lips contacted the soft, fragrant warmth of skin.
“My lady,” he murmured again. “I had to see you.”
“See me?” She blinked. Tears matted her lashes, sparkling in the fitful dusk-light. He reached into his pocket and drew out a linen square.
“Why such tears, milady?” he asked softly.
“Oh, sir. I...forgive me, but I wept for you.”
“For me?” He was astonished, touched and moved.
“I...yes. I heard there might be war and, oh, Sir Camden. If you fell I do not think I could bear it.”
He smiled into her eyes. His heart melted inside him. He said nothing for a minute, his throat working as he took her hand, looking into her face.
“Thank you,” he said simply.
They looked at each other.
Neither of them spoke or gestured but it seemed as if they shared one mind, for he leaned forward even as she did. He smelled the sweet scent of her skin and then his lips met hers.
He closed his eyes, marveling as he gently probed his tongue into the sweet, clinging warmth. He felt his body dissolve as her softness enveloped him. It felt so good. He wrapped his arms around her, gathering all her sweet warmth to him as their lips clung, met, and parted. He explored her with his tongue, shivering as her long, smooth arms enfolded him. He felt as if he might die of so much happiness.
“My lady,” he gasped as their lips parted. He looked into her eyes, which were soft with sweetness.
“Sir Camden.”
He leaned forward and buried his face in her soft locks. She leaned against his chest and he thought his heart might actually melt with the tenderness he felt.
Courage Of A Highlander (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Page 7