by Kara Griffin
“It’s time to accept the fact that you hurt your arm and have a wee limp. So what? Many men lose limbs or are unable to use their arms or legs after a war. Many cannot walk from the damned battlefield. You walked away with your life and still have your brains, unless of course, they shifted to your arse, because that’s what you’re being…an arse―”
“Cease trying to rile me. I won’t argue with you. I will not leave my chamber for the festivity or any other reason. Unless the castle is on fire, I will exist here. Before you consider to set fire to the castle, I wouldn’t recommend it. I need not leave when I have you, now do I?”
Clive shook his head in defeat. “Not even to see your wee lass?”
Callum’s chest tightened. He wanted to visit with Dela, to hold her again, to kiss her wee head, to touch her soft locks, but he needed to accept all before he would go forth and rejoin the living. The few times he’d seen her since he returned from the war, he’d thought how much she resembled her mother−her deceiving, unfaithful, mother. “I won’t have her fearful of me. She should stay away.”
“Our uncles do their best to give her affection, but none can take your place. She cares not that you were injured, and you’re―”
“Not whole?” He turned back to face the water, his voice retreated to a sorrowful tone. “I don’t want her here.”
Clive rounded him and leaned on the wall. “Laird, why can you not grasp how blessed you are? Instead of finding the good in your life, you prefer to hide and dwell on the bad.”
“I do not dwell.”
“Nay? What would you call it then?”
“Ponder. Is there anything else? I would like to get back to my pondering.”
Clive growled his frustration, shifted his stance, and continued to lean on the wall. “There are many things we need to discuss. Some matters cannot be put off, Callum. I do my best to handle problems when they arise, but I am not the laird and don’t aspire to be. You must accept what’s to be.”
Callum turned to face him, and his agitation forced him to fist his hand. His cousin never berated him beyond a comment or two for his choices, until this day. Since he returned from Durham in the battle of Otterburn, his cousin sympathized with him. That sympathy now bolstered on criticism. Clive was the only person alive who could talk to him in such a way and live to speak of it. His cousin would, without a doubt, win a brawl being he was larger than him. Since his infirm, Clive was stronger and could wield a sword, unlike him.
When he’d agreed to join Earl of Douglas and his followers in the incursion by the English border, he’d never expected it to end the way it had. Callum couldn’t think of a reason why his clansmen tried to assassinate him. He was gravely wounded, and even though he’d survived, he didn’t come away unscathed. Many died in the battle as he should have, as well as James Douglas. The Scots prevailed in the course of that battle, but many, including him, paid dearly for the victory.
Callum never wanted his life to turn out as it had. Before he left on the incursion, his life beckoned with happiness, at least, he’d come to an acceptance. He’d taken over the training of the Sinclair soldiers, would make amends with Lydia, and he wanted to enjoy watching his lass grow through her childhood.
Short of a few minor squabbles within the clan, his leadership was coveted amongst the soldiers and he was respected. His future seemed bright until that fateful day on the battlefield. He shook the image away, not wanting to remember the torment of his clan’s betrayal and the agony of his wounds.
Clive continued to ramble on about the Imbolc festival and had changed the topic once again. “You’re not listening to a damned word I’m saying. I don’t know why I bother,” he said and bellowed.
“Aye, I heard you. You want to invite Sutherland and Mackay to the festival.” He shrugged his shoulders in an indifferent manner. “It’s been a while since they’ve come. I would rather not see them though.”
“They’re our only allies and we haven’t been hospitable lately. It’s time to remind our neighbors we exist and reaffirm our alliances.” Clive leaned forward. “Even if you don’t want to.”
One thing Callum appreciated about his cousin was his abrupt truthfulness, make that two reasons, he was also relentless. He never held back and always said what he believed. Clive awaited his decision. Callum recalled Keith Sutherland’s words to him when he’d delivered him home after his recovery by the English border. If you hadn’t taken my place you wouldn’t be wounded. Your place on the battlefield won’t be forgotten, Sinclair. I will repay you one day.
“If you wish to invite the Sutherlands then it matters not to me. But I caution you, the Sutherlands are not to be trusted, especially Keith, since he’s soon to be chieftain. It might be in our interest to reaffirm our alliances though before the Mackenzies get wind of our discord.”
Clive grinned as if he won the round. “You were once good friends with Keith. Why the turn-about? Do you not consider him a comrade?”
“When I met him at Jumpin’ Joe’s on my return, he acted strangely. I thought he might be against me or our clan. Until I figure out why his manner was brisk, I deem we should be wary of him, and Grady Mackay too, since he is Keith’s closest ally. They both would side with Mackenzie if forced to.” Callum recalled their awkward encounter at their friend’s tavern.
“Surely you mistook Keith’s manner. He was as concerned for you as I was, as were we all. You should speak to him. I’ll make the arrangement and invite him. You’ll meet with him then?”
“I will consider it. If I decide not to meet him, you have my permission to reaffirm the treaty between our clans, unless you sense his manner against us.”
“And your daughter, Laird? Will you not allow her to visit?”
Callum drew in a deep breath. The man was persistent regarding the matter of his daughter. “She’s young, Clive, too delicate a child to understand what happened to her mother or me. Dela prospers?” He rarely asked after her, but it wasn’t because he didn’t care. He trusted his clan to see to her welfare.
“Prospers? Aye, but a more willful lass has never existed. She won’t obey Hawisa and runs her in circles. The lass refuses to do her chores or even to bathe. She does naught but screeches and carries on. If you grant her a visit, I’m sure she’ll settle down.”
“I doubt her behavior is due to my absence. Give Hawisa extra recompense for her trouble of watching after the lass.” His cousin Hawisa looked after his daughter since his wife passed. At least, that was what he was told upon his return. Callum’s heart tensed at the thought of his daughter being a hellion. But he’d rather her be willful than fearful.
“Before I leave, Laird, you received a missive from Henry Bolingbroke. He needs your aid.”
Callum raised his eyes to search Clive for understanding. “I haven’t heard from Lord Henry since I left him by the border.” He thought back to the skirmish, and to that fateful day after the battle, when the dying and dead lay and awaited either their demise or last rites. He’d laid there amid his brethren and stared at the sky, certain his death would soon come. But Lord Henry found him and had him carried to his tent. Henry was an honorable sort and had his men search among the bloodied men for any alive regardless of which side they fought on. Callum owed the man his life, even though there were days when he wished the man hadn’t bothered to save him.
During his infirm, Henry took him to Thomas Umfraville’s estate in Northumberland to convalesce for months, until he had enough fortitude to travel home. The Umfravilles proclaimed allegiance to both England and Scotland, and many times fought on both sides of the battles. He and Thomas became friends, and Callum had won an impressive warhorse from him in a game of cards. Thomas’s family was renowned for their horse breeding and many sought to purchase their steeds. It was on that fine steed which brought him home, to the despair and treachery.
“Shall I read the missive?”
He nodded and leaned back, tense in anticipation of Henry’s news.
; Sinclair, many a month has passed, but I trust our friendship still stands. I am in a situation and have need of your aid. My good friend needs a place of sanctuary, for the king and his followers seek to do harm. More than harm and life is in peril. I beseech you to help and give refuge to my friend. The reward for your service will be quite considerable. Ever your faithful comrade, HB.
Callum tensed and clenched his hand. The last thing he needed was an unexpected visitor. But he owed Henry, and if protecting his comrade was necessary, he could do naught but agree.
“Ensure Henry’s friend is settled and received when he arrives.”
“Do you wish to respond?” Clive handed the missive to him.
“Nay, there’s no need. Henry would expect my agreement regardless of my wishes. We agreed to keep a pact of friendship between us. Now leave me.”
Clive dipped his head and turned hastily to leave.
Callum waited until the rampart door banged closed before he turned and took up the day’s visage. He’d lost count of the number of days and months he’d stood there in reflection of his injuries, his wife’s passing and deceit, his brother’s death, and the clan’s neediness.
He pressed his eyes with a pinch of his fingers and sighed. The day he returned from war had injured him far more than the wounds that restricted him. Callum took the punishment for surely that’s what God intended. Was he being punished for all those he killed in battle and the misdeeds of his youth? His penance placed him in a purgatory-like existence.
It was best that his daughter and his clan be kept from him. As long as he stayed within his chamber or the rampart, no misfortune would come to those he cared about.
The storm grew fiercer as the sky lit, and the ground rumbled. Maybe Mor was right, and the sky awakened. He wished he might awaken too, but it would take something drastic to shake him from his woe.
Chapter Four
Violet was gripped by the view along the journey to Scotland. Late winter’s elements slowed their progress, and it took longer to arrive. Still, the spectacular scenery held her enthralled. Once they reached the mountainous areas, their progress was hindered further. The land beyond was stark and foreboding, yet it captivated her with its boggy fields, meadows which would liven when spring showed itself, and copses of dense woodland. Near Sinclair land, she leaned on the open window of the carriage and grew concerned at the billowed dark gray clouds. A storm would soon show its wrath, given the bluster of the air, and she hoped to reach Caithness before travel became impossible.
“It’s bloody chilly.”
She glanced at Gussy, her dear friend and maid, who refused to leave her when she had learned of Charles’s death. “I hope we arrive soon. Henry said the Sinclair lands were located in the most northern part of the Highlands, but I didn’t know it was this desolate. It’s always chillier in the north.”
Gussy’s teeth chattered, and she wrapped herself in a heavy cover. Her blue eyes scrunched with skepticism. “If we don’t arrive soon, I shall freeze to death for my breath is even chilled.” A cloud of mist formed in the air when she blew a breath.
Violet chuckled. “Come, it’s not that cold. Sit next to me and we’ll share our covers and body warmth.”
Gussy left the bench across from her and settled the covers over their laps. “You’re warm. How is it I’m cold and you’re as heated as if you sit near a fire?”
“I am cold, but can bear it. The land is beautiful here, is it not? I worry about this man Henry sends me to.” Violet fiddled with the covers and smoothed the wrinkles with her gloved hands.
“Remember what I told you.”
Violet settled her eyes on her hands which clasped on her lap. “I will try. Will you not go over it again? I want to make certain I remember every detail.”
Gussy grinned. “Very well, My Lady, the first thing you must do to find out if this man is worthy of pursuit is… You must kiss him and don’t be coy about it.”
Violet raised her eyes to her friend’s. “I hope to win his affection, and I shan’t expect more than that. But I’ve never had to seduce anyone, and the thought of it makes me… How have I ended in this deplorable situation?
“Oh, you blush, but I tell you, if the kiss is passionate and you feel it to your toes, he’ll be worth the effort of seducing.”
She couldn’t fathom to do something so forward, but she’d agreed to do what Gussy told her. “How is it you’re learned about this? You are not a common woman.”
Gussy peered ahead at the carriage wall in front of them. She seemed long away as she spoke, “I suppose I should tell you. My mother was a common woman. She used her body to earn coins and had many lovers. We lived in a privy place behind a tavern in the ward of Queenhithe. It was a seedy place, where many knaves, thieves, and bawdy women hid and lived. One night, my mother didn’t return. I searched for her the next day, and the king’s men were clearing the streets because a malady had ramped and many sickened. One man caught me and he threatened to beat me.”
Her friend’s eyes stared as if she was far away, but she returned her gaze to her and continued, “Lord Charles stopped him. He took pity on me and asked me if I had a home. I thought he wanted to use me as a man sometimes does. And I was but twelve in years, but wise to the ways since my mother often told me things. Yet I was afraid and unsure of what would happen to me. But alas, Lord Charles didn’t touch me. He bade me to be his maidservant in his grand home in Cheshire. How fortunate was I? I never saw my mother again, but I remembered everything she told me about seduction.”
Violet pulled her into an embrace. “I’m sorry you had to live that horror. But yes, you’re right, you are fortunate Charles saved you. He saved me too. Are we not a pair?”
Gussy chuckled. “Aye, we certainly are. Now after you determine if the kiss is passionate enough and you want to proceed, you must use these five rules of enticement to win him.”
“Very well, tell me again, and leave nothing out. If I will do this, I want as much knowledge as I can get. Start at the beginning.”
Her friend chuckled. “The first rule is to use your body to tell him you want him. Lean close to him, relax your shoulders but keep them back. That’ll accentuate your bosom. And try to appear you know what you’re about. Touch your hair or lips to draw his eyes. The second is to use your eyes. Look at him alluringly and don’t glance away. Stare at his mouth. Keep your eyes on his even if he’s across the room. If he’s close, give him a side glance and keep it on him for a few seconds before you look away. Your eyes will make the suggestion and you need not even speak a word.”
Violet’s cheeks heated as her friend continued to explain what she needed to do.
“Third, smile. A man does not appreciate a woman who smirks or has pinched lips like a shrew’s. Lick your lips or touch them to see if he watches. Smile prettily at him and add your eyes to the mix, and he’ll be sand in your hands.” Gussy patted her knee and giggled. “Now the last two are quite simple. The fourth is to use your touch. Touch him whenever you can, but not in a sensual way. Put your hand on his arm, shoulder, or chest. A man likes it when a woman sometimes touches his face. You’ll have to use your judgment on that matter. Some men find it alluring when you touch his hair. But leave him wanting. And last, you must be confident. You can still be coy, but confident in your sensuality. Men cannot resist a demure woman who is confident in bed.”
“I don’t even know if we’ll make it that far.”
“If you do as I’ve told you, you’ll end there. Trust me. I just hope he’s handsome, and he evokes passion in you. There is one more thing I failed to mention, and that is using your wit. Some men like a witty woman, one who makes him laugh.”
“I’m certain to make him laugh, but not by using my wit. Still, I cannot even consider him arousing passion in me.” Violet peered out the window and muttered, “I wish I’d never had to leave. None of this is pleasant.”
“At least, My Lady, you escaped Sir Nicholas, that knave.” Gussy pulled the len
gth of her light, almost blondish, locks of hair over her shoulders.
“I am relieved, but my heart aches for Cora.”
Gussy took her hand and squeezed it sympathetically. “We must hold hope Cora is well until Lord Henry finds her. He will, for he vowed he wouldn’t cease his search.”
“I cannot fathom how I’m to win Sinclair’s empathy, even if I’m able to follow these rules of yours. Henry told me to do whatever it takes to remain, and I promised. At least, I have some wealth from Charles to keep me should Sinclair not offer our welcome.” The hefty pouch of coins she’d recouped from selling off her husband’s armor and sword would keep her for a time.
Gussy entwined her fingers with hers and tightened her hold. “The man will be besotted by you, just as Charles and Henry were.”
Violet groaned. “Don’t remind me. But you speak falsely. They were not besotted.”
“They were, My Lady, for you are beautiful, and any man would be pleased to call you wife. Most men want a woman with pretty brown hair and eyes. And if you follow my advice, you won’t have any difficulty in gaining his affection.”
“Please, Gussy, don’t say such things. I’m not out to have him call me wife. Can you believe Henry told me to take a lover? If I do, it’s only so this man, Sinclair, will let me stay.” Her cheeks flushed with the embarrassment of what she thought to do.
“You will need to meet him, and decide if he’s a man who likes a forthright woman or one who is coy. Then you’ll know how to proceed. You mourn your husband, and rightly so, My Lady. Now is the time to consider your wellbeing. Many widowers take lovers. Lord Charles wouldn’t hold it against you.”
“I was blessed by my marriage. And I loved Charles, but I was never in love with him. He was good to me, and I was grateful he took me as his wife. Yet there was always something lacking. I hurt him by keeping myself from him, and that troubles me.”