Clara’s Vow

by Madeline Martin

  The woman blinked in surprise. “Fia?” she gasped. “Fia!” The repeat of her child’s name was said with a cry of joy. Her eyes filled with tears as she embraced her daughter fiercely.

  “Mum.” Ian released Reid’s other hand and followed his sister, practically knocking his mother and sister down with the force of his affection.

  Little Mairi wriggled from Clara’s hold, the carved fox still in her fist, and toddled to her family, joining the happy reunion.

  Their mother looked up with tears streaming down her face. “How?”

  “We happened upon them,” Clara said. “Then escaped to the forest to wait out the rest of battle.”

  It was a simple explanation for the horrendous events that had transpired, ones Reid was certain would be recounted to their mother over the next few days in greater detail.

  “I dinna know it would be so awful.” The woman shook her head in shocked awe. “I wouldna ever have left them alone if I’d known. Were it no’ for a man helping me to safety, I’d be dead myself.” She made the sign of the cross. “Thanks be to God for Finlay.”

  Only then did Reid recognize the warrior standing at her side as Finlay. His copper-red hair was so covered in soot that it appeared black at first glance. He flashed a smile from behind his thick beard. “I was glad to ensure yer safety. And yer bairns were in excellent care.”

  The woman smiled up at him with adoration.

  Clara lifted her brows and grinned up at Reid, no doubt having seen the same connection between the two as he did.

  “Clara.” A boisterous voice rose above all the others, making them both turn.

  Ross strode toward them, the handle of his battle-axe visible on his back where it angled over his left shoulder. Dirt and mud were spattered on his face and clothes, but he paid it no mind. “And here ye tried to keep her tucked safely in the keep,” he said to Reid, then laughed and shook his head. “’Tis that Ross blood in her veins. She couldna help it.”

  Several people around them joined in the laughter, and Clara flushed.

  He reached out and clasped her shoulder. “Ye fought for what ye believe in, and ye did it with skill. Ye even convinced this stubborn old warrior to join ye in helping defeat the English and saving all these damn fine people.” He leaned closer to her, but not so far that Reid couldn’t hear what he said. “I’m proud of ye, lass.”

  She smiled up at her grandfather.

  “Ye dinna fight so bad yerself.” He winked at Reid. “Thank ye for keeping her safe.”

  “I would die for her if need be,” Reid said.

  “And thank ye for no’ doing that either,” Ross replied. “It wouldna have done any of us any good. Off with ye two now. Ye look like ye’re about to fall asleep where ye stand.”

  In truth, Reid did feel as though he might fall asleep where he stood. By some miracle, he managed to make it up the stairs to the chamber they shared. But as soon as the door behind them closed, he turned to Clara, and any thoughts of sleep fled his mind.

  All the horrible moments of war they had shared in those few hours rushed back at him, those fears at what might have been lost and the elation of finding one another. They were both safe.

  Clara approached him. “Let me see to yer back.”

  He stared down at her, his blood hot with the lust of war and survival and the taste of victory. “’Tis no’ my back that needs tending first.”

  “Reid…” She bit her lip.

  He put his thumb to her chin and applied a little pressure, so her lower lip was released from the pinch of her teeth. “I love ye.” His voice caught with the power of his emotion.

  Clara blinked slowly, and a tear ran down her cheek. “And I love ye.”

  He went to her then. He needed her. More than sleep. More than this damn back being seen to. More than breathing.

  He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms, desire and affection pounding in his veins. She met him halfway as he lowered his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss that said everything at once.

  The longing Clara had for Reid before was nothing compared to what burned in her core after the battle, once they were both safely in the confines of their chamber. Mayhap it was the overwhelming relief that he had survived, or seeing his power on the battlefield, or even the danger they had both faced and how it charged them with the sensation of truly living. Regardless, their coupling was fast and desperate, with a wall at Clara’s back to hold them both upright, their skin pale beneath soot-stained clothing.

  Their joining was a celebration of being alive and being in love—as beautiful as it was frenzied.

  When they were done, they slid to the ground where they lay against one another panting, legs entwined. A deep calm settled over Clara as her heartbeat evened out, and her mind began to sift through the events that had transpired in those terrifying hours.

  “I thought I lost ye when we were in the cottage before they set it ablaze,” she admitted aloud. It had been too difficult to speak so candidly when the children were within earshot. Now they had the luxury of privacy to discuss such matters.

  “I looked outside and didn’t see ye.” She pressed her lips together and wondered for the countless time if the act of opening the door had brought the Englishmen’s attention to her. Not that the act could be taken back, however, she could not help but assess every action she had taken in hindsight.

  A muscle worked in Reid’s jaw and something twisted in Clara’s stomach.

  “What is it?” She sat up on her elbow to see him better. Soot still smudged his face and coated his auburn hair. “What happened?”

  His gaze went distant, seeing something she could not. “I encountered Lord Rottry.”

  Clara sucked in a breath. “He was in the village?”

  Reid’s stare drifted toward the floor. “I left to go after him. It was why I wasna there when they set fire to the cottage ye were in.” He clenched his fist. “Ye and the bairns almost died in there because of my need for vengeance.” His voice caught.

  She put her hand on his forearm and detected a tremble. “We didn’t die.” Her fingers left a black smudge on his skin. She pushed up to her feet and went to the ewer and basin, bringing both back with several lengths of linen. “What happened?”

  Reid sat up and accepted the damp linen from her, scrubbing it over his hands first and then his face and hair. “I killed him.”

  Clara knew what this man had meant to Reid and what his death would signify. However, Reid’s blank expression did not reflect what should have been an enormous triumph.

  She lowered the now dirty linen in her hands to her lap and regarded him. “It didn’t make ye feel better, did it?”

  He shook his head. “I think ye were right when ye said holding onto hate and anger only makes it burn brighter, and for no reason.”

  “At least now ye know he won’t do the same to anyone else. Ye’ve helped save others from the fate ye suffered.” She put her hand over his. “And ye had made the decision to be happy and live yer life before ye killed him.”

  He looked down at where their hands were clasped and smiled. “I’m a lucky man to have such a knowing wife.”

  “And as yer knowing wife,” she said gently. “I need to see to yer back. And whatever other injuries ye may have.”

  He pushed up to his feet, his slow movements indicative of his wounds. “I dinna think I will miss battle once we’ve settled somewhere quiet,” he admitted.

  “I will not, for certes.” But even as she said it, she couldn’t help the smile stretching over her lips. He didn’t intend to go to battle anymore. That meant he truly did mean to ease into a peaceful, happy life with her.

  “Where do ye think ye’d like to live?” She kept her question casual as she dumped the dirty water through the window and refilled the basin with a fresh pour.

  Reid lay on his stomach with his back facing her. The injuries had opened once more and appeared to have been bleeding for some time. The pain was likel
y considerable, and yet not once had he complained.

  “We could go to Castleton if ye like, near yer mum,” he said. “Or to Skye near Dunscaith Castle where William and Kinsey live.” He shrugged. “Or we can go elsewhere.”

  Clara’s stomach tightened at the idea of being torn once more between Castleton or Dunscaith. The argument between Drake and her mother surfaced in her mind, the one that had pushed her to leave Castleton for Paisley Abbey in the first place.

  Reid turned his head to regard her from where he rested. “Ye need no’ choose for anyone but yerself.”

  “Nay.” She tilted her face toward his. “We have to choose for ourselves.”

  He grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

  “As do I.”

  She returned her attention to her task as she applied poultices to his wounds. “I believe Castleton to be too dangerous,” she admitted. “For a family.”

  He smiled at the last words she said, and she found her lips lifting with joy as well.

  Unfortunately, what she’d said was true. Castleton was too near to the border, where reivers from both sides regularly stole and retaliated against the other, setting their vengeance on villages. And though Drake had built them a stone manor on the village's outskirts, the location was still risky.

  As strong a man as her husband was, Clara knew the power of his fear that all might once more be lost to the English. He had taken a chance on allowing their lives to entwine forever. She would not put their future in such a precarious position as Castleton warranted.

  Clara carefully ran her hand down the unmarred side of Reid’s powerful back, enjoying the warm feel of his skin before wrapping the linen around his torso to protect his injuries. “I’ve heard Skye is very lovely.”

  “Aye, verra much so. And I would be able to find employment as a guard with William.”

  Clara nodded. “I believe we know where we’re going.”

  “To Dunscaith.” He grimaced. “After I see the king.”

  Clara matched his expression. “And after I speak with my mum.”

  “And then a life together.” He rolled onto his side and pulled her to lay beside him.

  She sighed and relaxed against him, relishing the wall of his body behind her. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she could be so at peace, so blissfully happy.

  Soon, they would have a home together. She put a hand to her lower stomach. They would have children together.

  An ache of longing settled in her chest at the thought of feeling a babe move in her womb, at holding it later in her arms and staring down at the sweet perfection of its small face. She would be a mother. After all these years of empty arms and a hollow heart, she would have her true desire, the one that took a wonderful man to bring to the surface and see it done.

  Soon.

  23

  The nuns were overjoyed to see Reid arrive at the convent the next day with Clara on his arm. They’d planned to remain in Dumbarton until Reid was properly healed but wanted to ensure the nuns had remained safe in light of the attack.

  The nuns waved off his and Clara’s concern and instead focused all their attention on the newlywed couple.

  “Ye married yer sister?” Sister Agnes asked incredulously before loosing a cackling laugh. “Ach, I jest, lad. No’ a one of us ever believed that falsehood ye tried to pass off.” Her mirth smoothed with sincerity. “We’re verra happy for ye.”

  “I’m sorry I am unable to assist yer abbey,” Clara said to Sister Seraphina.

  No one knew the depth of authenticity in Clara’s apology as well as Reid. She’d paced the floor that morning before their departure, uncertain how to tell the older nun that she would not be returning to the abbey.

  Seraphina smiled and took one of Clara’s hands in hers. “My child, not all of us have a calling for this life. Seeing how ye look at yer husband and how he gazes at ye tells me well enough ye made the correct decision.” She turned her attention to Reid. “And how have ye been healing?”

  He shrugged rather than lie to a nun.

  Sister Agnes wasn’t fooled. “I bet he tore himself open again.” She tsked with chastisement.

  He smirked.

  “I imagine the lives of three bairns are worth more than another injury.” The older nun winked at him.

  Reid lifted a brow, uncertain how Sister Agnes could possibly know about the little ones Clara had saved.

  “Finlay was here earlier,” Sister Seraphina explained. “Like ye, he wanted to ensure we were safe. We are so fortunate to have so many caring souls.”

  “He told us how ye saved those bairns,” Sister Agnes added. “And apparently, he saved their mother.” She clasped her hands to her chest. “Ach, and when he spoke of her, he had quite a blush under all those whiskers.”

  “Mayhap, ’twill no’ be the only marriage we are congratulating soon.” Sister Seraphina’s sparkling brown eyes said everything about how she felt about the idea of another happy union.

  After the pleasant visit with the nuns had reassured them, Clara and Reid returned to the castle and remained there for a sennight until Reid’s back was healed enough for travel. It was perhaps the greatest sennight of his life. There was no mission to accomplish, no battle to fight, no urgent location to which he must travel.

  Nay, he spent those glorious days at Clara’s side, sharing stories of their lives, building plans for a future together and exploring all the ways he could make her blush. It was too easy to forget in such bliss how ephemeral their tranquility might be. After all, he still needed the king’s permission to be removed from the crown’s service.

  After several inquiries, they learned that the king was at the monastery of Kinross. A necessary journey for Reid to free himself from his duties to the king.

  Ross came to see them prior to their departure, the chieftain’s hard eyes going soft when they settled on Clara. She had a way of melting even the coldest of hearts.

  “I know ye said ye dinna want a dowry,” Ross said. “But I canna have ye go without something. No’ when yer sisters both had small fortunes to help them into their marriage, aye?”

  “Grandda.” Clara shook her head.

  In truth, any coin they could acquire would be of help. Reid had nothing for them to use in funding the creation of their new life.

  Ross put his hand up. “I’ll no’ take nay for an answer, and only want the best for ye both.”

  Clara rushed to him and wrapped him in a warm embrace that made the old man’s face glow.

  “And dinna forget to speak with yer mum for me, aye?” He winked at Clara as he let her go.

  She nodded, chuckling. “Aye, of course.”

  After that, Ross clasped Reid’s forearms. “And ye stay out of battle until that back of yers is healed.”

  “I’ve no’ plans to fight for a good long time,” Reid replied earnestly. “No’ with such a better option.”

  Ross nodded with approval. “If the king gives ye any trouble, ye come to see me.”

  Clara’s eyes widened briefly, but Reid discreetly shook his head at her. The last person they would seek help from with matters of the king would be the Chieftain of the Ross clan, whose methods could be questionable.

  Travel to Kinross took two days, and Clara was to remain at the inn while Reid went alone to meet with the king. When Reid arrived, King David II was in the grand chapel, the monarch’s gaze lost in thought, hands clasped behind his back.

  He turned upon Reid’s approach. “Ye did well, MacLeod,” the king said in his smooth voice. “Ye saved many innocent lives by getting the message to the people in time. We only regret we couldna travel there in time to help.”

  Reid inclined his head gratefully at the king’s praise.

  “How did ye secure the Ross Chieftain’s aid?” the king asked. “The man’s as stubborn as they come.”

  Reid hid his smile. “My wife is his granddaughter and can be verra convincing.”

  “She must be quite the lass.” The ki
ng nodded. “We assume that is why ye wished to speak with us, as we understand it. Ye wish to leave our service?”

  Reid’s heartbeat kicked up in his chest. The king could deny him this request, and he would have no choice but to stay at his side. “I’ve spent my whole life fighting and have no’ had a home since the English burned it down. Now that I’m wed, I’d like to have a peaceful life. With my lass.”

  The king gave a sad smile. “We know well how hard it is to spend so much time away and never to have any true semblance of a home.” He nodded to himself. “We give ye permission to return to yer wife and reside wherever ye like. But know that we will always be honored to have ye at our side should ye change yer mind and may have cause to call on ye in the future.”

  Reid discreetly exhaled a breath he’d been holding. It was as close to an opportunity to be free as was possible. “Thank ye, sire.”

  “Take this.” The king reached into his pocket and withdrew a leather purse that clinked with coin. He settled it into Reid’s hand, its heft considerable. “For the start of yer future.”

  Reid bowed low, humbled by the gift. “Thank ye, my liege.”

  After years of being an orphan and struggling each day to eat, to live, finally, all the pieces were starting to fall into place to build a real life.

  And all it had taken was trusting himself to love.

  He only hoped the meeting with Clara’s mother would go as well for her sake.

  Clara had not even made it up the walkway to the manor house on the outskirts of Castleton when the door flew open, and her mother ran out, her skirts flying around her ankles, white hair streaming behind her.

  “Clara! Clara! Is that ye, my lass?” Her mother met her halfway and caught her in an embrace where she held her for a long while, soft whimpers indicative of her tears. “I was so worried about ye, my sweet lass. We searched all the abbeys and convents, but no’ a soul had seen ye.”