“Oh, I’m not worried. I’m only wondering why Fagan found it necessary to lie to me, and now I can’t help but ask why you do the same. I thought you were done spinning tales, Sister. You’d led me to believe there were no more secrets between us.”
“Grace…”
“Don’t attempt to patronize me like that. The next words that come from your mouth had better be the truth because those are the only words I will accept.”
Ravenna let out a heavy sigh, then her voice went up a notch. “You want the truth? I’ll give it to you. No one has any idea who that man was in the woods. Ruairi went through this before with Laird Gordon. I’ve learned nothing good ever comes from such things—slaughtered cattle, stolen coin, clan battles. Who’s to say what comes next? I’m the one who told Fagan and Ruairi not to tell you.”
“Why?”
There was a heavy silence.
“You have no idea what you’re doing, what you’re asking, and no matter what you say, you are still young and innocent in the ways of the world.”
Grace started to walk away from her sister’s rant, but Ravenna held her firmly in place.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me. You’re the one who demanded the truth. Well, the truth is that you have no inkling what it’s like to be a spy. It’s certainly not the glorious work you make it out to be.” Ravenna paused a moment and smiled in exasperation. “And you need to realize there is absolutely no celebrity to be had in this. I barely see the king, because the assignments from the Privy Council are given to me by Uncle Walter. I give all my findings to him, and he tells me if the king is pleased or not.”
“I never know where I’m going to end up next. Everything is unpredictable, and failure is not an option. I must do whatever is needed to obtain the information I was sent to retrieve. No matter what the cost. Did you hear me? I almost lost the love of my life because I had to betray him. Wake up, Grace! I’ve been in the Devil’s Tavern as a serving girl, walked along the London docks as a prostitute in the darkened hours of the night, and been a mistress to many men.”
Ravenna continued. “I placed myself in harm’s way more times than I can count, and frankly, I’m lucky to still be alive. You don’t know what you’re asking me to teach you. I became a spy because I never thought I’d have a husband or a family of my own. I was trained for years by Father, Uncle Walter, and their men. You cannot expect to claim that you’re suddenly going to be a spy and that is that.” Ravenna closed her eyes and threw her hands in the air. “It’s all fun and games until you get hurt, and it’s inevitable. You. Will. Be. Hurt.”
“But isn’t that my decision to make?”
Ravenna scowled. “Did you hear nothing I’ve said? You have people that love you. You’re betrothed to Daniel. Ask yourself if you’re willing to give all that up, because that’s what you’ll have to do. You will be expected to lie with other men when you have no choice, and then you will be returning home to share the same bed as your husband. Is that what you want? Is that fair to Daniel? Are you willing to throw away the love of your life and lay down your life for king and country?”
Grace looked down and ran her fingers along the edge of her blade. She lowered her voice, speaking softly. “Many of the married ladies we know are not a love match.”
Her sister studied her intently. “I thought I would’ve changed your mind when I mentioned that you could lose your life, but I never thought…er, I didn’t realize… You don’t love Daniel.”
Grace could neither confirm nor deny it because for the first time in her life, she had no idea how she felt about anything.
* * *
Fagan rode back from the border with five of his men. They’d found no further signs of anyone trying to encroach on Sutherland lands. Of course he and his men could do nothing but keep a sharp eye and continue to stand guard. As he made his way across the open field to the castle, he spotted swishing skirts. The lass who wore the blue day dress made his heart skip a beat.
He gestured for his men to ride ahead as he slowed his mount. For a foolish moment, he forgot where he was and time stood still. He gazed in awe at a flawless painting of a bonny lass in a mossy-green field on a midsummer day. When he heard a curse fall from said temptress’s mouth, his woolgathering abruptly came to an end.
Grace’s hands were clenched stiffly at her sides. He didn’t think she even noticed him as she stormed toward him across the field. But then she glowered at him and turned in the opposite direction. He supposed she definitely saw him now.
Fagan called after her, but she paid him no heed, as he knew she would. When he said her name once more and she didn’t stop, he reined in his horse in front of her and blocked her path. She had nowhere to go. Instead of looking up at him or cursing him, she only lowered her head. Following Ravenna and Ruairi’s advice, he kept his mouth shut and waited for Grace to say something.
While his horse pawed at the ground, unhappy under restraint, the lass still didn’t move. When he refused to budge, Grace finally glanced up at him and her eyes welled with tears. Suddenly, he felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. Without saying a word, he bent slightly forward and held out his hand.
She paused, looked at his extended arm, and then took it. Placing her foot on top of his in the stirrup, she swung up behind him. When he kicked his mount and took off at a gallop, she wrapped her arms around his waist. The faster he rode, the tighter she squeezed. At first, he wasn’t sure where he was headed, but then he made up his mind to take her to the beach. He slowed his horse when they reached the sandy path. He didn’t think it was his imagination, but as they descended the hill, he felt her head lie gently on his back.
Fagan stopped his mount and swung his leg over the front of the saddle. He grabbed Grace’s waist and lowered her to the ground. She immediately averted her eyes from him. While he tethered his horse, she moved to the edge of the water. Wanting to give her a moment alone, he fumbled through his sack, pulled out a blanket, and took his time spreading it out on the sand.
When he’d finished with his task and had held back for as long as he could, he approached her, his steps slowing as he wondered what was wrong. He never saw this side of her and wasn’t sure what to do or say. She was always fiery and ready to give her opinion, not restrained. Her azure skirts billowed in the wind, and her brown hair was tousled. The sound of the rolling waves always soothed his soul, and he hoped they would do the same for Grace.
He stood beside her and took a deep breath. “Beautiful, is it nae?”
Tears still trembled on her eyelashes. “Yes.” She gazed out at the sea and spoke in a solemn tone. “You don’t have to stand here with me.”
“’Tis my pleasure, lass.”
“I’m afraid I’m not very good company at the moment.”
“Ye told me before. Ye’re nae here for my amusement.” When she let out a gentle laugh, he placed his arm around her shoulders. “Ye donna have to speak if ye donna want to, but let me offer ye comfort. Let me hold ye.”
She nestled her head against his chest. “We both know this is wrong. I don’t know why I should let you.”
God help him because neither did he.
* * *
Ravenna’s words played over in Grace’s mind like a pecking bird that refused to cease. Furthermore, from what her sister had just told her, Ravenna should be the last person giving advice. For God’s sake, the woman had pretended to be a prostitute and was a mistress. Grace wondered what Ruairi thought of that particular declaration, and then she realized it didn’t matter because the man loved her sister for the person she was. Maybe that’s what love was all about.
As Grace stood on the beach with Fagan’s arm wrapped around her, she felt even worse than before. She pulled away from him, and he lowered his arm.
“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” she said, wiping her fallen tears.
He turn
ed, pulling her along behind him and leading her over to a blanket that he had spread out on the sand. “Sit down, Grace.”
She was so tired of arguing with everyone that she granted him this one small boon. She lowered herself to the ground and straightened her skirts as he sat on the blanket beside her. When there was a moment of awkward silence, she asked, “Aren’t you going to say something?”
He gave her a gentle smile. “When ye’re ready, ye will talk to me.”
And that was all he said. No more, no less.
She looked out at the rolling waves and spoke in a solemn tone. “Ravenna and I had words.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him look at her. “Ruairi and I have words all the time. ’Tis what family does. Do ye want to tell me about it? I cannae say that I can give ye any words of wisdom, but I know what ’tis like to have an annoying brother.”
“I know this may not make any sense to you.” She gave him a sheepish smile, and he gestured for her to continue. “My father always favored Ravenna. I thought it was because she was the eldest, but now I realize he was readying her for something more, something greater. When our parents died, Ravenna would disappear for hours on end. Hours turned into nights, nights into days. I even caught her one night dressed as a harlot.”
“Of course I questioned her, thinking she was somebody’s secret mistress or was selling herself. I might’ve even believed Uncle Walter was stealing our coin and Ravenna was only trying to replenish the coffers. Frankly, I don’t really know what I thought, but my sister was always there for us. I wanted to be there for her.”
“I’m sorry, lass. I donna understand.”
“I always thought my sister would remain unwed. If my father were still alive, I knew he would’ve been disappointed that his favorite daughter had never married. So I went to court and did my part. I wanted to marry a man of title and make my family, my father, finally proud. But things have changed.”
“Why? There’s still plenty of time to do those things.”
“Ironically, now that I know my sister was a spy for the Crown, I find myself willing to do anything to be her.” Fagan was about to speak when she held up her hand to silence him. “Ravenna has sacrificed so much for our family, and now she is truly happy with Ruairi. She has found her peace. I want to follow in her footsteps as a spy, but she says I’m still young and innocent in the ways of the world.”
“Ye are.”
“Pardon me?” She was about to stand when Fagan grasped her wrist to stay her.
“The farthest ye’ve ever traveled was from Edinburgh to the Highlands. At nay fault of your own, ye donna know much about people or politics, lass, and both can be verra dangerous.”
“Fagan, I’m eighteen years old and suddenly find myself questioning my path. I thought I needed to marry someone like Daniel to make me whole, if that makes any sense. Now I’m not sure if I want to spend the rest of my days in ballrooms talking to the ladies about the latest fashions. I want my life to have meaning. I want to have a purpose, and I find it very difficult to believe that God placed me here only to be a dutiful wife. I should’ve known you wouldn’t understand.”
“Och, I understand better than ye think I do. I am nae titled. I have nay lands, nay wife—then again, what could I possibly even have to offer her? I am the captain of the Sutherland guard. I am responsible for the protection of the castle, Ruairi, and our clan. I would give my life for my duty. So aye, I understand. Ye are a bonny lass, a lady. Marry your English lord and have a family. I am certain that was what your father intended for ye.”
When she dismissed his words, he added, “Grace, the life ye think ye want to live is verra dangerous. Ye have everything any woman would want or desire to have. The path ye choose to take is your own, but I think ye should take time to think this through.” He tapped her on the shoulder in a playful gesture. “When ye think about my words, I know ye will see reason.”
“Are you patronizing me, Mister Murray?”
“Nay, bhana-phrionnsa. I say the same to ye as I would say to Ruairi. Ye need to think. Donna rush into something because ye believe ye can or should. Ye donna want to find yourself in a situation ye cannae walk away from. Ye’re a smart lass. Ye know I speak the truth.”
Maybe Fagan did have a point. All she’d ever really desired was adventure and excitement. Until she was certain what she wanted her life to entail, she shouldn’t make any rash decisions. That’s when she reached the conclusion that she’d lost her mind because she was about to do something she’d never thought she’d do.
She nodded in agreement with Fagan. When a glint of humor finally returned in her expression, he saw it too.
“And donna be so angry with Ravenna. She’s your sister. She’s only looking out for ye. I often tell Ruairi that sometimes I am the only one who knows what’s best for him. He doesnae like it, but he listens. Ye donna want to be your own enemy, if that makes any sense to ye.”
Grace gazed out at the ocean. For a moment, the sound of the waves could have lulled her to sleep. She felt as if the weight on her shoulders wasn’t as heavy as it had been before. She stuck her fingers into the sand and pulled out a shell to study it. “You do realize that I am an English lady who has taken the advice of a Scottish captain. Whatever is this world coming to?”
“Gach aon`s le chèile an aghaidh an domhain.”
“Pardon?”
“Everyone together against the world.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. His thumb gently caressed her cheek. “Are ye all right now?”
“Yes, thank you. I really do feel better.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Pounding hooves sounded from the top of the hill. They spotted two riders as they galloped their horses close to the path to the beach. The men did not wear the Sutherland tartan, nor did they see that Fagan and Grace stood on the sand below. At least Grace was able to notice that much. When everything fell silent, Fagan placed a firm hand on her arm.
“I want ye to stay here. Do ye understand?”
She nodded.
Grace watched him charge toward his mount. He quickly released the tethered reins and swung his leg over his horse. The man didn’t even use the stirrups. Within seconds, he was over the hill and gone. She wasn’t sure who those men were and realized that she shouldn’t be standing here in open view. She bent to gather the blanket when she heard the whinny of a horse. When she stood, she held the blanket in front of her in a protective embrace.
The man’s chestnut-colored horse pawed the sand. He sat atop his mount, wearing the same black tunic and dark-colored kilt that he had worn before. And of course that same bloody sword was still sheathed at his waist. She noted his long, black hair, set face, clamped mouth, and dark eyes—which were fixed on her.
“What do you want?” she asked him, not expecting an answer.
“Ye.” His voice was emotionless and it chilled her.
Her pulse began to beat erratically at the threatening tone in his deep voice. She felt as if a hand had closed around her throat. She needed to do something fast, but if she tried to escape up the sandy path, she might lose her footing. She struggled to accept the fact that there was no other alternative but the beach. So be it. She wouldn’t give in without a fight. She was a Walsingham.
Grace dropped the blanket and dashed along the shore. As the sound of clomping hooves came close behind, she realized she wasn’t putting up much of a fight. The man was on horseback, and she was on foot. Instinctively, she did the only other thing she could think of that might aid her. She turned into the water.
As she swam out into the cool depths of the ocean, she tried not to think about her skirts weighing her down or how her breath hitched at the sudden change in temperature. When her arms grew tired, only then did she turn around and realize the man was gone. She looked to her left and then to the right.
“Grace!�
� Fagan galloped down the beach and called to her.
She clumsily paddled back to shore, and when she could finally touch the bottom, she waved her arms over her head. “Fagan!”
He arrived by her side at the same moment she came out of the water. She was so exhausted that she dropped to her knees on the sand, gasping for breath. Fagan knelt in front of her. He brushed the hair away from her face, and her eyes met his. The strange surge of affection she felt coming from him frightened her.
“Are ye all right?”
She nodded, and his expression changed to one of relief.
“I told ye to wait for me on the beach. Ye picked one hell of a time to go for a swim, bhana-phrionnsa.” He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet.
She knew he was making light of the situation and not teasing her maliciously. “Who were those men?”
“The only matter of importance is your safety. Let me get ye back to the castle.”
“Fagan…” Her feet were firmly planted and she refused to budge.
He stretched his neck from side to side, and then his eyes darkened. “They were damn mercenaries.”
Nine
When Fagan and Grace entered the great hall, Kat’s eyes widened. “Grace, why are you all wet?”
Torquil stood by the girl’s side, studying Fagan from head to toe. “Dé do naidheachd?” What’s your news? “Ye’re nae wet. Did ye throw Grace into the sea? I donna think Da would approve of that.”
“Did I… What? Nay, I didnae throw Grace into the water. Where is your father?”
Torquil shrugged.
Fagan placed his arm around Grace’s waist in an instinctive gesture of comfort and led her to the stairs. “Why donna ye change your wet clothes? I’ll find Ruairi and Ravenna, and then I’ll meet ye in Ruairi’s study.”
She nodded and lifted her wet skirts as she climbed the steps. The idea had crossed his mind to shield her from the truth, but Grace needed to stop living in a fantasy world. Ravenna was right. Her sister was young and innocent to the ways of the world. He also couldn’t deny that he’d decided to be honest about the men at the beach in the hope that he’d curtail any more of Grace’s asinine ideas about working for the Crown.
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