“What’s wrong with Grace? Why is she all wet?” asked Kat.
To Fagan’s surprise, Torquil took the girl by the hand. “Come, Kat. Let’s go to the kitchens.” The boy started to walk away and then looked back. “Do ye want me to find Da and Ravenna for ye?”
“If ye see them, send them to your father’s study.”
As Fagan entered the bailey, a familiar curse cut through the air. Ravenna walked toward him hurriedly, glancing uneasily over her shoulder. The reason for her distress was clear—again.
Angus followed her.
No wonder Ruairi had a strong urge to throttle his wife on occasion. Fagan also had a difficult time understanding why the lass had such a foolish fear of the wolf. Angus never hurt anyone. More to the point, Ravenna was more dangerous than the animal. When her eyes met Fagan’s, her voice was both soft and alarmed.
“Help…”
He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Angus! ‘Se peasan a th’annad. Dèan às!” You’re a pest. Be gone!
“Thank you for that.”
“Where is Ruairi?”
“I haven’t seen him since I returned from shooting targets with Grace.”
“Can ye find him and bring him to his study? We need to talk.”
“Of course. Is everything all right? Oh, please don’t tell me my sister did something. She was rather angry at me.”
He found himself quickly coming to Grace’s defense. “Nay, ’tis naught like that.” He looked around the bailey and hesitated. “I saw Kat and Torquil in the great hall. Have ye seen Elizabeth?”
“I wasn’t looking for her, but she’s usually in the library. I’ll go and find Ruairi for you.”
“And I’ll make certain Elizabeth is in the library.” As he turned to walk away, Ravenna reached out a hand to stay him.
“Should I be concerned?”
He smiled. “Nay, ’tis but another day in the Highlands.”
She lifted a brow and spoke dryly. “You always have a way of making me feel so much better, Fagan.”
* * *
Grace changed her wet clothes and tried to comb the sand out of her gritty hair. Ravenna was right. The only world Grace knew was her simple life of having dinner with Uncle Walter and his family, living in the manor house, and now and then being able to attend court, which was only recently. And to think the man with the scarred face was a bloody mercenary. Heaven help her. She’d been careless in assuming the man was one of Ruairi’s guards when she’d seen him in the trees. She didn’t want to dwell on the fact that she and Ravenna could’ve been hurt by her own foolhardy behavior.
After Grace was presentable, she made her way to Ruairi’s study. She didn’t need to knock because the door was open, and Ravenna, Ruairi, and Fagan were already seated. When she entered, Fagan immediately rose and approached her.
“Are ye all right?”
She nodded in response and turned with a start when Ravenna touched her arm. The troubled look on her sister’s face told her that Ravenna was aware of the encounter on the beach—well, that and the fact that Ravenna embraced her.
“I’m so relieved you’re all right. Come and sit, and tell us what happened.”
Grace sat in the chair with her fingers tensed on her lap. Ravenna and Fagan took their seats flanking her, while Ruairi sat in the chair behind his large wooden desk. Grace couldn’t help but feel like she was in the middle of an inquisition.
“Start at the beginning. Why were ye at the beach?” asked Ruairi.
She became increasingly uneasy under her brother-in-law’s scrutiny and awkwardly cleared her throat. She was caught by surprise when Fagan spoke for her.
“Lady Grace wanted to see the beach again and I escorted her.”
She’d have to remember to thank him later for not mentioning the little quarrel she’d had with Ravenna that had made her weepy and irrational. “Yes, I had asked Fagan to take me.”
“Tell us what happened, Grace,” said Ruairi.
She stole a quick glance at Fagan, and he gave her an encouraging nod. “As Fagan and I stood on the beach, we saw two riders galloping on the path above us. Fagan rode after them, and I stayed where I was on the beach.”
Ravenna’s voice went up a notch. “You left her?”
Grace turned to Ravenna. “It wasn’t like that. There were only two men, and we didn’t think they took notice of us standing on the beach below. I knew Fagan needed to find out who they were. I urged him to go while I waited for his return.”
“But there were more than two men,” Ravenna clarified.
Grace detected an odd tone in her sister’s voice. She turned to face Ravenna. “You can’t place blame on Fagan since neither one of us knew of the other man.”
“Please continue,” Ruairi cut in.
“There isn’t much else to say. The same man that I saw in the woods found me on the beach. He sat on his mount and stared at me. He didn’t move. I thought about running up the path, but then I figured my skirts and the sand would weigh me down. Deciding my only option was the beach, I ran along the edge of the water. I heard hoofbeats behind me and decided that I had no choice but to try to flee into the water.”
“That was quick thinking,” said Ravenna.
Grace nodded. “I swam out into the sea as far as I could, and only when my arms and legs were tired did I dare turn around. When I finally had the courage to look, the man was gone, and Fagan was calling me from the shore. Why would mercenaries be on your lands, Ruairi?”
“I donna know, lass. That’s what I intend to find out.”
* * *
Fagan’s mind raced. Ever since he and Grace had left the beach, the scene played in his mind over and over again, refusing to cease. He tried to remember all the details, but it was difficult to remove his emotions from his recounting. How could he? He’d left Grace. She could’ve been hurt. He didn’t need Ravenna to remind him of his poor judgment.
When Ravenna and Grace left the study, Ruairi placed two tankards on the desk and filled them with ale.
“’Tisnae your fault. Grace wasnae harmed.”
Fagan rolled his neck from side to side. “I should’ve been more cautious. She was all right, aye, but I shouldnae have taken the chance. She could’ve been hurt or worse.”
“But she wasnae. Ye know as well as I do that ye cannae think that way. If ye start to question your actions every time something is afoot—”
“I know, but somehow that revelation doesnae make me feel any better.” Fagan grabbed a tankard and was taking a drink of ale when the door opened.
Ravenna closed the latch behind her. “Grace will be all right. She’s going to rest for a bit.” She walked across the room and sat in the chair beside Fagan. Lifting a brow, she leaned her arm on the desk, tapping her fingernails in an annoying gesture.
“I see the look in your eyes, Wife. I told ye that I donna want ye involved.”
“And I heard you the first three times, Husband. You are aware the man tried to harm my sister. You should be thankful I’m not out there hunting him myself. Instead, I’m sitting here talking to you like a good wife. Now…do you think the mercenaries have anything to do with Laird Gordon or the Earl of Orkney’s son, Robert Stewart?”
Fagan chuckled when Ruairi sighed, and in return, his liege gave him a hostile glare. Fagan was always amused when his friend realized his wife wasn’t going to relent on something.
“I donna know. Redshanks,” said Ruairi.
“Pardon?”
“Is that nae what the English call mercenaries from the Western Isles? They wear their kilts and wade bare-legged through the rivers in the coldest weather. The men are often MacLeods or Campbells, among others, and armed with bows and two-handed claymores. These men are dangerous, offering their services and providing loyalty to only those who pay the highest amount. In the p
ast, they’ve kept to the borderlands or traveled to Ireland, but something has drawn them here to the Highlands. I donna know why they’re on my lands or what the hell they want. Until I know what that reason is”—Ruairi continued to speak calmly—“nay one is to leave the gates without an armed escort. Do ye understand, Ravenna? There is nay room for debate on this.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’ll increase the men at the border and make certain nay one comes in or out without us knowing it,” said Fagan.
“Aye. I’m also going to send another missive to the Munro to keep him alert. If this is some type of revenge for Gordon or Stewart, Ian should be aware. My dungeon is ready and waiting for one of those bastards to set foot on my lands again.”
* * *
Grace awoke with a start. She sat up on the bed and the room was dark. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep so early, but after all the excitement she’d had, she shouldn’t have been too surprised by her weariness.
She lit the bedside candle and illuminated her bedchamber. As she brushed back the fallen hair from her eyes, she realized she still wore her day dress. She rose from the bed and looked out the small window. Blackness greeted her, and she knew it was the dead of night. Her stomach promptly reminded her that the last time she’d eaten something was in the morning to break her fast.
Grace donned her silk slippers and walked out into the hall. Everything was silent, and only one torch lit the wall. She managed to find her way down the stairs and into the great hall where a dark shadow greeted her with a wagging tail.
“I see it’s only the two of us, Angus. Do you want to walk with me to the kitchens?”
The wolf followed her, and she made her way into another shadowy room. She reached to her left and hit her hand on the wall.
“Of course this couldn’t be easy.” She lifted her other arm to the right, and something dropped to the floor. “Just my luck.” She felt Angus brush her leg as the wolf sniffed around whatever it was she’d dropped to the ground. She bent over and placed her hand on the back of the animal.
“Angus, why can’t you be a good boy and pick up whatever fell? I can’t see a darned thing.”
The only response was a wagging tail that thumped hard against the wall. Grace tapped her fingers around the cool stone floor until she felt the candle that had fallen and brushed a boot. She jumped and fell backward on her rump.
And then she froze.
That’s when a warm chuckle greeted her. The man lit the candle and the flame flickered in his eyes, which were amused but beautiful nonetheless.
“Fagan…”
He placed the candle down on a nearby table. “And just what are ye doing wandering around the castle in the middle of the night, lass? Out of the way, Angus.”
“I’d slept much longer than I had intended. I’m famished.”
Fagan lowered his hand and pulled her to her feet. “Sit down at the table, and we’ll get ye something to eat then.”
Grace pulled out the wooden bench and sat at the kitchen table. “What are you doing up so late? Or perhaps I should ask why so early.”
Fagan walked over to the pantry and lifted the curtain. “I couldnae sleep and I heard ye talking to Angus.” For a moment, he disappeared into the room, and then he reemerged with a loaf of bread in hand. “This was all I could find.”
“Bless you, Fagan.”
He placed the bread on the table, and Grace tore a piece off the end. She was so hungry that she didn’t even notice he had poured her a cup of mulled wine. He pulled out the bench and sat across from her.
As she looked up, she noticed the cup and took a drink. “Thank you.” Briefly, she closed her eyes as she satisfied her thirst, but then she opened them when she felt a nudge under her arm. Angus looked at her imploringly.
“Angus, ye’re badly behaved.”
“It’s all right.” She took a piece of bread and tossed it to the wolf. The animal devoured the food with his massive jaws in seconds. When Angus gave her another pitiful look, she shooed him away. “Now that’s enough. Off with you.”
Fagan chuckled. “Ye know? I could tell him the same, and he only stares at me like I’m daft.” He hesitated, and a worried expression crossed his brow. “I should have ne’er left ye alone. It was my duty to protect ye.”
She waved him off. “Fagan, I spoke the truth in Ruairi’s study. You couldn’t have known about the man. It’s not your fault.” When he glanced away from her, she reached out and touched his hand. “It’s not your fault,” she repeated.
“Are ye all right?”
She rolled her eyes and took another bite of bread. Wiping the crumbs away from her lips, she smiled. “You shouldn’t feel any guilt over this. I wasn’t harmed. Besides, I’m a Walsingham. Of course I’m all right.”
“Aye. How could I forget?”
She took another sip of wine and studied him over the rim. She never thought the two of them would be sitting here now, peaceful, talking over candlelight. Grace had to admit that she found some comfort in being open with Fagan. Not only that, but she found the steely captain was becoming much more…tolerable. Frankly, he wasn’t nearly as exhausting as he had been before. Perhaps her feelings had changed for him because they no longer sparred with each other, at least not in a hateful way.
She tried to remember the last time she’d truly enjoyed herself with a man, realizing she’d never talked to Daniel this way. She didn’t believe in tales of chivalric love, but she briefly wondered if the kisses she’d shared with Fagan were some of those stolen moments that the bards often talked about.
* * *
“Ye look like ye’re deep in thought.”
Grace blinked, and Fagan didn’t miss the slight shake of her head. “Pardon? Oh yes. I suppose my mind was elsewhere.”
He gave her a roguish grin. “I certainly hope ’tisnae my company that ye wish to avoid.”
“No. I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day, and I’m weary.”
He lifted a brow. “Weary? Ye slept most of the day away.” She opened her mouth to say something, but when she realized he was only jesting with her, she graced him with a smile.
“Do you think my sisters are safe here?”
Fagan hesitated. The woman didn’t ask about her own safety, only that of her sisters. He paused a moment longer because he didn’t understand where the conversation was heading. He needed to weigh his answer before he responded.
“Are you going to answer me or sit there like a dolt?”
He leaned his arm on the table. “I heard ye. And aye, I know your sisters will be safe here. The castle is impenetrable.” Fagan wouldn’t mention the fact that the Sutherland guards had managed to hold the Gordons at bay at the border. She might think they warred with the neighboring clans all the time—well, not too often.
“Grace, ye donna need to worry. We will protect ye and your sisters. Why do ye think Ruairi entrusted me with your escort back to England? I’ll have ye know…they say my prowess on the battlefield is feared by many.”
“And who says that?” she asked dryly.
“Men.”
She laughed and folded her arms over her chest. “What men?”
“Careful, bhana-phrionnsa,” he warned. “We’ve been getting along so well.”
“How many of these mercenaries do you think there are?”
“’Tis hard to say, but we’ve only seen three of them. Perhaps they have a few more, but I donna know.”
“What do they usually want, or what could they possibly want?”
Fagan suddenly had a sense that Grace was more concerned about her little adventure than she was letting on. “The men serve whoever pays the highest coin. They’ll do whatever they’re told and swear nay fealty to any liege. Many of them have traveled to Ireland to fight with the Irish, but some have remained in Scotland.”
>
“You’re saying these men do as they’re instructed for coin?”
“Aye.”
“Then why would someone pay them to take me?”
* * *
Fagan waited for Ruairi and Ravenna next to the tree line in the field. The grass was wet with the early-morning dew, and the orange and yellow hues of the sun rose just over the horizon. That little voice inside Fagan’s head had a hard time understanding something. Why didn’t Grace tell anyone that the scarred bastard had actually spoken to her? God, he knew why. She didn’t think it was important enough to mention. Yes, she’d make one hell of a spy for the Crown for sure.
He thought it best to meet outside the castle walls because he didn’t want Grace stumbling on them by mistake, and he wasn’t in the mood to tell her what they were doing gathered without her. Fagan leaned against the tree, watching Angus as the wolf stalked some small animal out in the field. Without warning, Angus turned and made a mad dash into the tree line, sticks and branches snapping under the wolf’s massive paws. At least the wolf disappeared before Ravenna spotted him, because she and Ruairi had just come through the gates.
As they walked side by side, Ruairi reached out and took Ravenna’s hand in a gentle gesture. Fagan still had some difficulty watching the man he had known for years, the strong Highland laird and warrior, showing a moment of vulnerability with a woman. Ruairi was undoubtedly besotted with his wife.
“Madainn mhath,” said Ruairi. Good morning.
“Aye. I hope so.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Ravenna. “We received word that you wanted to meet us here this morn.”
“My path crossed Grace’s last eve in the kitchens. I found out that she neglected to mention a wee detail about the man on the beach.”
“And what’s that?” asked Ravenna.
“She had words with him. She asked him what he wanted, and he said ‘ye.’ That’s when she decided to run.”
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