The Draig's Choice

by Lisa Dawn Wadler

  “All the above,” Peter answered with no humor, which was never a good sign.

  Facing her doom and gloom companion, she asked, “Why?”

  Peter focused on the carriage and the Bruce speaking with Conall. “The Bruce looks pissed. He should be somewhat pleased to have a dry and warm place to sleep given the foul weather they’ve traveled in.”

  What Peter said made sense, but people reacted differently based on personality, experience and general temperament. “Maybe he’s just exhausted from the travel. He’s not young. Given his appearance, I’d say he’s in his early forties.”

  Finally, Peter chuckled. “Yeah, he’s an old fart just like me. I’d be pretty irritated after riding in this crap. But to be safe, I’ll listen.”

  “Of course, you will.” Sarah readily agreed and then turned back to the courtyard and the harsh voice that she hadn’t expected. That’s a woman. “Robert’s wife?”

  Peter scrunched his forehead. “Magic eight ball says I doubt it.”

  The woman rattled complaints about the weather, the non-stop travel and the lack of comfort in the carriage. Sarah only saw a hooded figure emerging from the carriage, and then another who kept silent.

  Peter sucked in a breath and turned her to face him. “Did you catch it?”

  “The diatribe of bitching about what cannot be controlled? I did. She should be delightful company tonight.” When Sarah tried to look away, Peter held tight to her shoulders.

  “Did you hear the change in language? In my head, there’s almost a delay when the language changes.”

  Sarah blinked and listened to the litany of complaints still being muttered, currently about the ice-covered courtyard and how dangerous the walk would be for her daughter. Okay, so we have a mother and daughter team.

  Peter turned her to the courtyard. “Listen.”

  The cloaked woman muttered again about dangerous footing, a warning for the figure behind her. Then she spoke with more volume. “I hope you are pleased, Bruce. We are bruised and frozen, all for your kingdom. Not to mention you have dragged us the end of the Earth.”

  “Whoa,” Sarah whispered. She’d heard it, the language change as the woman had addressed the Bruce. At her legs, Bella cocked her head and she wondered if the dog noticed too.

  “Pay attention every single time that woman opens her mouth. Given the accent, she’s speaking some form of French to her daughter. That’s when we ‘ll learn the most. Do you hear me?”

  Sarah nodded. This is messed up. I’m planning on eavesdropping on two women who have been dragged around during the worst weather.

  Conall’s voice filled her ears and she grinned at the deep baritone that had her belly fluttering in excitement. “Welcome to Draig lands.” Even if his welcome carried no real enthusiasm, just hearing his voice soothed her soul.

  Sarah and Peter stepped to the side to allow the feisty-cloaked woman and her daughter entry to the keep, each kept on their feet by one of the Bruce’s men. Unlike the practical fabrics used for protection in the keep, the woman before her wore a cloak that appeared to be deep blue velvet with edging done in matching lace and lined with furs. Her daughter’s cloak was its twin, except in a forest green. Their shoes clicked on the stone floors and Sarah caught a peek at shoes with thick heels covered in lace. Gazing down at her doeskin boots and simple wool gown, she felt underdressed for the first time. Then they removed their cloaks.

  Oh, my goodness. Her eyes stuck on the clothing, not who wore it. Rich brocades covered fitted bodices that flared at the waist into full skirts worthy of a high-budget movie or television show. They look like something out of The Tudors or Game of Thrones. Fabulous skirts rustled with hidden layers as they moved gracefully into the hall.

  The Bruce followed and caught Sarah’s stare. His eyes trailed over her basic attire with a nasty smirk. His voice rose to address the crowd gathered in the hall, though she suspected he spoke for effect. “I present the Lady Jacqueline and her daughter, Colette.”

  The elder, Jacqueline, frowned as she took in the hall. But the expression didn’t diminish her beauty. Dark hair coiled into a phenomenal up-do gleamed in the torch-lit hall. Deep brown, almond-shaped eyes disapproved of her location. Faint lines around her eyes and lips gave away the only hints of her age.

  The daughter, Colette, stood as a younger imprint of her mother; same dark hair and exotic eyes with porcelain skin free of freckles or any imperfection. She’s young, maybe late teens. Both petite women were stunning and an example of beauty for any age.

  Then they failed to matter as Conall positioned his large frame behind her. His face buried in her out of control locks and his arms wrapped around her above the pregnancy. A hug meant for me. Without thought, she leaned back against him and turned her head to bury against his neck, lost in his arms, even with the beard tickling her nose.

  After a kiss to her head, Conall cleared his throat. “I present Sarah, my wife and Lady of the Draig.” His statement was a hard fact that didn’t seek permission as his hands again tightened the fabric of her gown to reveal her pregnancy.

  Instead of acknowledging the introduction, Jacqueline whirled to stare at Robert with a clenched jaw. “Truly?”

  Robert’s hands made quick pacifying gestures toward the agitated woman as he faced Conall. “‘Tis much to be discussed.”

  “‘Tis naught to continue arguing.” Women bustled into the hall loaded with what she assumed were pitchers and cups of heated wine to warm those chilled from riding in the storm. “Come and heat your bones. After our journey, a rest by the fire is deserved.”

  Jacqueline muttered about the servants having poor training, since no one had taken her damp cloak, but then addressed the room in general. “Who will show us to our chambers? My daughter is exhausted from travel and requires a hot bath brought, along with a decent meal.”

  Well, that’s rude, given you were just introduced to the queen of the castle.

  Ignoring the pompous attitude, Sarah motioned for Lena. “Please show our guests to a chamber and make them comfortable.” Casting her gaze on the nasty woman, Sarah offered, “The keep boasts the finest bathing chamber. Lena will escort you when you are ready.” She intentionally ignored the damp cloaks.

  “You expect us to bathe among you?” Jacqueline stepped in front of her mute daughter, clearly offering protection.

  Geez, I offered a bath not a floorshow.

  “Each tub is contained in a private chamber with a door that locks,” Conall explained. “You have been offered a bathing chamber unlike any you have ever seen. ‘Tis worthy of kings.”

  The woman huffed but remained blessedly silent. Lena came to her side and asked with a whisper, “In which chamber should I place them?” Robert stepped closer to eavesdrop.

  The question could only be called outstanding. The keep boasted one extraordinary guest chamber. While the rest were lovely, only Elspeth’s room featured luxury. Turning in Conall’s embrace, she asked, “Who should have Elspeth’s chamber, the ladies or the Bruce?” The question of ranks had never been an issue in her time there.

  Conall chuckled down at her. “You speak of the Lady’s chamber belonging to a lass long gone.”

  Sarah shrugged. “No one else has ever occupied it.”

  Conall nodded and kissed her forehead, leaving her to not care who slept where. With a glance at the Bruce, he said, “My keep holds but one guest chamber worthy of you. Our guests will find great comfort in other chambers. Whether separate or shared, ‘tis their choice.”

  The Bruce shook his head and his lips curled into a vicious grin. “By all means, place the ladies in the Lady’s chamber.”

  Jacqueline sighed. “I would have the chamber cleaned and refreshed after her departure.” The implication of her, smacked Sarah upside the head. I am the Lady, so it should be a reasonable assumption. But could she possibly manage to be more insulting? And if that’s my room, where does she expect me to go with no warning? And do I look filthy?

 
; Before she could reply with something likely snarky, Conall spoke. “You will find life on Draig lands unique. The laird’s wife has always shared the laird’s chamber. Such is our way. Such is my blessing in life to return to a wife who shares all with me.”

  Sarah grinned as Jacqueline blanched and her daughter swayed on her feet. She knew a bully when she saw one, but she would never relinquish control. “Lena, please show our guests to their chamber. Inform them what the kitchens have to offer at this late hour. I believe the third bathing chamber should meet with their approval.” The keep boasted five chambers worthy of Roman engineering, but the third happened to be the smallest. Suck it, bitch.

  Lena inclined her head and then walked past the newcomers to offer her a deep courtesy, a feat never before performed, expected, or imagined. “As you command, Lady Sarah.”

  Sarah caught the approval in Peter’s gaze and Evan’s wide grin, along with the Bruce’s scowl. Conall buried his face in her hair to hide his chuckle. Continuing her command, she offered, “Please sit down to enjoy your wine. The kitchens will send out food shortly. My apologies for what is likely to be a simple meal. We weren’t expecting you.” As the nearly two dozen men took places at the tables, Conall took her arm and led her to the one closest to the fire, brushing by and ignoring the women Lena escorted to the stairs.

  “Dinna you receive my message?” Conall whispered in her ear as they strode to their seats.

  Her steps faltered. “I haven’t heard one word from you since you left.” There was no hiding the hurt with his long silence.

  “As I heard naught from you,” he answered with a choked voice, his ache matching hers.

  Sarah stopped at the bench and faced him. “Evan told us. We sent you dozens and dozens of letters even after Evan returned.”

  Conall’s brow furrowed. “As I sent you. I swear it.” She nodded acceptance, but Conall narrowed his eyes at Robert taking a seat across from them. “He seeks to control all.”

  “Why?” Sarah asked, not understanding how letters from home mattered to a king, especially since he depended on the clan’s silver.

  Cupping her cheeks, he shook away the question. “Naught matters but you and I.”

  Around them benches scraped against the floor and the welcome clatter of cups being filled and platters being passed filled the night. Peter stood at her side and Evan sat next to Robert.

  “You need to help her over the bench,” Peter told Conall. “Her balance is a bit shaky.”

  Sarah would have argued if Peter had been exaggerating. Truth was she needed help finding the floor in the morning, getting up out of chairs and a strong hand to climb over the bench to sit at the table. “He’s right,” she admitted.

  Conall surprised her by escorting her to the end of the bench and then pulling it far enough from the table to allow her to walk the center before pushing in the bench.

  “Huh?” Peter’s shock had her facing him. “I never thought of that. Sorry for making you climb.”

  “Whatever,” she mumbled as Conall sat at her side, his arm wrapped around her while he pressed more soft kisses to her temple. I can’t believe he’s finally here.

  Robert’s voice interrupted the peace. “The men will be grateful to sleep under a fine roof.” He gestured to the hall.

  “No one sleeps in the hall,” Peter corrected. “Our warriors have all been moved into one of the barracks to conserve firewood, leaving one empty. There’s plenty of space for your men.”

  For the first time since he arrived, the Bruce smiled. To Sarah, it made him seem more human; that look of pleasure morphing him into an amiable man. “Conall had spoken of such and ‘tis even more grand.”

  The Bruce asked for information on the harvest, and Peter and Evan’s replies had Conall’s attention but still his arm held her close. Women scurried from the kitchens depositing cheese, the remnants of the day’s bread, and oatcakes that would serve as filler for hungry men. Bowls of dried fruit came next and then Sarah groaned when platters of pickled fish hit the table. The smell threatened to knock her from her seat.

  So much for the rules. No one is supposed to put that anywhere near me. The only time she’d been sick during her pregnancy had been the first time over the winter when the delicacy had been dinner. Gross and unbelievably stinky.

  “Apologies, Sarah,” Robena whispered in her ear. “‘Tis all we had on hand.”

  Sarah nodded. “I know. But could you please have someone send word to the men with the herds that we need fresh meat for tomorrow?” Swallowing hard, she forced the nausea to quell.

  “Word has been sent. My husband will see it done,” Robena offered, “If it pleases you, I will stay here and aid in the kitchens. Given my husband is in the far fields, I would rather nay go home to an empty cottage.”

  Facing the woman, Sarah grinned. “You are always welcome and thank you for the help when we need it most.” Robena offered a curtsy and left to deliver more of the food to the other tables.

  Conall scooped several hunks of the fish onto a plate and set it before her, only to have her push it back in her direction. “No, thank you.”

  Before Conall could question her, Robert laughed. “My late wife also had the issue with strong scents.”

  Conall’s apologetic voice filled her ears. “Forgive me for nay kenning.”

  “How could you?” she asked, not letting any disappointment fill her tone. He sat right next to her, safe at home and that was enough. But she took the opportunity to have a civil conversation started with the Bruce. “How many children do you have?”

  He laughed as he filled his plate with the noxious meal. “Which ones would you count? Those who would be named or those whom I support?” If she wasn’t mistaken, a shadow crossed over his face, perhaps signaling grief for his late wife.

  So much for pleasantries. The man prefers to joke about illegitimate kids. Charming.

  “Robert has one claimed daughter from his first marriage and has had the great fortune of recently securing his wife’s release from the English,” Conall explained. “Mayhap he will return home to find another heir growing.” All eyes turned to Conall and the near-gauntlet just thrown. Would Robert accept what he challenged for Conall?

  After a sip of his wine, Robert chuckled. “Mayhap, a fine son would be verra pleasing.”

  Evan picked at the dried apples. “You should spend more time in the Highlands. All ken the value of a strong lass. Our clan tells of a few who have held the laird’s seat.”

  Instead of laughing with the men, Sarah studied Robert and caught his gaze locked on her. But he didn’t speak as Evan shared the tale of her taking down Gordain in the hall just days after her arrival. Evan continued, “She saved Conall and Tearlach from harm, mayhap even death.” His tale went on to include the clan’s joke that Sarah must be carrying a girl given the strength of the kicks.

  Robert nodded and ran his hand over his beard, studying and thinking. Abruptly, he pushed away from the table. “For ages I have heard of the wonders of your bathing chamber. Conall, lead the way and tend me. We have much to discuss in private.” The Bruce’s eyes never left hers as he spoke.

  “I would be pleased to aid you,” Evan offered as he rose.

  “My thanks, but I would speak with Conall.”

  Conall growled low in his throat but rose and then pushed the bench back as he helped Sarah to her feet. “Will you be in our chamber?”

  She nodded and she cupped his bearded cheeks. “Do you remember the way?”

  “Aye, sweet Sarah. I shall join you as soon as I am able,” Conall promised. Then once again, he was gone from her sight.

  But I can still feel him.

  Chapter 36

  “Why would you speak such before Robert?” Conall demanded. He knew his fury glowed in his eyes when Evan flinched before him.

  Evan blew out an exasperated breath. “Hold still before I cut you.” Using the sewing shears, his brother cut pieces of the beard to let them fall on the floor of th
e bathing chamber. For the first time, the warmth of the chamber failed to ease the chill from Conall’s skin. “I only told him truth. The Draig value all bairns, lass and lad. You ken the tale of a strong lass leading the clan with her younger brother guarding her back.”

  “You spent enough time south to ken our values are different. Dinna speak of my bairn being a lass to the Bruce,” Conall ordered.

  “Why?” Evan asked as he stepped back. “Do you want to scrape the remnants away or shall I?”

  “I have it,” Conall answered with a dagger already in his hands after rubbing soapy water over his skin. The sounds of metal scraping his face filled the quiet air.

  Do I tell him the whole of it or should I keep to myself? I fear Evan will run at the mouth when silence is essential.

  Conall shook his head and lowered the blade that had only removed part of the remaining whiskers. “Forgive me, brother. I have spent too long with men I dinna trust. For a heartbeat, I questioned your loyalty. Forgive me for being a fool.”

  “I ken the way of it,” Evan replied with a grin. “What have you nay shared with us?”

  Then Conall smiled despite the news he had kept to himself. “It shall wait until the morrow. Sarah comes.” His skin prickled with her approach seconds before Bella could be heard sniffing outside the bathing chamber door, followed by a soft knock.

  “Come,” Conall called as he stood from the bench. Evan opened the door to Bella’s rushed arrival and Sarah’s waddling steps. His gaze raked her from crazed curls to her fleece-lined slippers. Her hand carried the weight of her belly, and still he marveled to find his wife with bairn. Taking in her dress, the robe that belonged to him and the soft woolen shift beneath, he said, “You should be in bed. The hour grows late.”

  Her finger wagged at him. “No way am I going to bed without you again. But so you know, Lena tried to put me to bed with her usual overbearing and smothering approach.”

  Evan placed a chaste kiss to her cheek, the offering warming Conall’s heart, given her lack of surprise. She has been well cared for and loved in my absence. His brother gave him a solemn smile. “On the morrow then.”