by Alisa Adams
His handsome face was downcast, and Ella stroked his hand and laid her head on his shoulder to comfort him. “You will see her in heaven,” she said, with utter certainty. “Did you have children?”
“No, mistress,” he replied. “We only had a year together, and we werenae blessed, but I am sure I will see her again.”
“Maybe you will get married again,” Ella said innocently, sneaking a glance at Vanora.
“We shall see,” he replied, smiling.
Vanora had been looking on and a warm feeling spread inside her. Her sisters liked this man, and that was enough to reassure her that she was doing the right thing.
Rory spent the next few days preparing to move into the castle, carrying his few possessions down to the castle keep, where he would sleep with the other soldiers. He had engaged a strong young nephew of Brian’s to take over for him and give him a commission for all the wood he sold, and to look after his dog Jamie, so his mind was at rest on that score.
However, he had been out of action with his sword, claymore, and bow for a while, so he would have to refresh his skills, and this meant at least half a morning’s training every day. This did not worry him. He had no fear of things he could see, hear, and touch. It was the tiny unseen killers he feared, like the measles and smallpox which stalked someone for days before moving in for the kill.
He had seen the other guards training in the courtyard, and although none of them could match him for size, he knew that defeating an enemy was about more than that, so he decided to devote as much time to his practice as he could.
He stripped off his shirt the first morning as he went out, and immediately a few housemaids paused in their duties to watch him, goggle-eyed. He had expected a good-humored bout or two between a pair of men who meant no harm to each other, but he could see in the eyes of these fellows that it was not to be the case now.
He had no sooner stepped onto the courtyard than the first challenger came towards him, holding his sword up above his head as though to swipe it down on Rory. Rory deflected the blow in an almost lazy manner, raising his own weapon and deflecting the other blade by twisting it out of the way.
“I thought we were only practicing?” he asked, puzzled.
“Aye, we are big man!” replied one of the others. “This is how we dae it here. Are ye scared?”
Rory shrugged, stood up to his full height, and flexed his shoulders. Then he reached down, apparently to touch his toes. He did not stop there, however. Without flexing his legs, he ran his hands down from his thighs to his ankles, over his feet, then kept on going till he touched his elbows on the ground. It was pure showmanship, and he could have shown them more, but he stood up, crossed his arms over his chest, and said, “Who is next?”
His next opponent was a tall, brawny man, who was only about six inches shorter than Rory. He acquitted himself well, and the bout lasted for a full five minutes before Rory grew bored and backslashed the broadsword out of the man’s hand to send it flying into the crowd of onlookers, almost causing a few injuries. They all scattered in fear and his opponents were a bit warier after that. Nevertheless, every one of them ended up on the ground with Rory’s sword at his throat. Many of them had skidded on their chests and backs and had scratches and grazes. Still more had cuts on their arms where they had held them up to defend themselves. When he took out his claymore, which was five feet long and weighed seven pounds, he stood with his hands resting on the hilt and the point of the scabbard on the floor.
He looked around the circle of spectators silently, but they dispersed in a few moments. Calum Patterson was the last one to leave, but now he thought he knew who had killed his men. He needed a bit more evidence to confirm it, of course, but he was almost sure. He had never before seen such strength. After he had proof, he could go to Daniel McKay and claim the rest of his money.
7
Vanora always made sure to be within sight of Rory when he was practicing his swordsmanship because his body was like a piece of sculpture created for her enjoyment. He was beautiful in the way a man is beautiful, not soft, fleshy, and curved like herself—but tough and strong with hard muscles and bony joints.
The funeral had been arranged for the next day, but Vanora wanted to get out of the castle for a while. She was finding the constant presence of her uncle annoying and oppressive, and she knew that the staff was complaining about him, for he seemed to find fault with everything, and see the worst in people. She was beginning to dislike him very much but kept her opinions to herself so that her sisters could enjoy a quiet life, for they were too young for such cares.
Accordingly, she sent for Rory early in the morning of a freezing but bright day when frost sparkled on the ground and their breaths misted in the cold air. As ever, she was overwhelmed by his sheer size when he walked up to her. She could see that he had not yet had a chance to shave, and he apologized as he bowed to her.
“Forgive my appearance, milady,” he said awkwardly. “I have not yet had time tae shave.”
She looked at the shadow of thick dark hair on his jaw and laughed. “I am not afraid of a few bristles, Rory.”
“Thank you, milady,” he replied.
“I am going out riding today, Rory. I am sick of the sight of these walls, but I would feel safer knowing you are with me.”
“Of course, milady,” he said gently, and bowed. He then went out to get their horses. Her eyes followed him all the way.
“Where are we goin’ milady?” he asked as they arrived at the other side of the moat.
“Why do we not go past your cottage?” she asked. Her voice was light, but her look was grim.
“Is that no’ the place ye were attacked?” he asked. “Are ye no’ scared?”
She nodded, then took a deep breath. “It is, and I am. But I must face my fear sometime, Rory, and you are with me this time.”
“I am no’ immortal, milady,” he replied. “And I cannae save ye from everything.”
She nodded. “I know, but unless I do this I will live in fear forever. It is better to confront it then put it behind me. So let us go.”
“Indeed, milady. You are right.”
They traveled for a mile or so before Rory led them up the slight hill and they got to the place where he had taken the soldiers’ bodies, but there was nothing there but a huge charred circle.
“I burned them,” he said, in response to her unanswered question. “But there was no’ much' left anyway. The animals had had a right royal feast on them, an’ there was little left but bones.”
Vanora gave a cynical laugh. “Forgive me, Rory, but I am finding it hard to feel much pity.”
“I do not blame ye at all.” His voice was full of sympathy.
They went to check on his cottage, but it was locked and empty. A good sign, Rory said, because it meant that young Iain, his temporary employee, was working.
They went on up to the hilltop, where they could see all the way out to the distant bluish-gray horizon, knowing that out there lay the Hebrides—Skye, Harris and Lewis, Barra, Mull, Islay, and a host of smaller islands which she had never visited. Vanora caught Rory looking out at the sea and smiling.
“Why are you looking like that?” she asked.
He laughed softly. “Is it no’ astonishing?” he asked in wonder. “It is so big. We are like ants compared tae it—even me! Look at the waves rushin’ into the shore, and the wee clouds up there that look like woolen balls. The sky today, look at the color!”
She gazed at the wonder on his face and felt a slight sense of sadness in her heart. He was like a child with his innocent admiration of nature, and she wished that she still had that feeling herself.
“Hmmm,” she murmured. “I wonder if the sky on Skye is the same color.”
He gave his great rumbling laugh. “Very clever, milady.”
She took in a great lungful of clean fresh air. “I wish I could stay here forever, Rory. I could move into your house and my sisters could come with me.”
“I know,” she replied, sighing. “I am just daydreaming.”
“You wouldnae want tae live wi’ me anyway,” he said in a slightly embarrassed voice. “I snore.”
“How do you know?” Vanora asked.
“Elisaid told me.” He smiled. “She said that she could feel the walls shakin.’”
Suddenly she changed the subject. “Would you teach me how to use a sword?”
He frowned. “I hope ye are never going tae have tae use such a weapon, milady!”
“So do I, but if I do I want to be prepared.” She was sad but resolute. “I never want to be in a position where I am helpless again. I know four armed men would have been too much for me, but I do not want to be completely defenseless. You will be with me, but if I have to be alone, I want to have the skills to defend myself. Please, Rory.” She looked up at him pleadingly.
His heart melted as he gazed at the beautiful face. This woman had every material possession money could buy, but she did not have happiness, freedom, or security, and those were things that could never be bought. “Of course I will,” he replied, and his brown eyes were smiling as he looked at her. “I will dae anythin’ you ask.”
She smiled. “Thank you. I knew you would help me.”
The funeral was as Vanora had expected it to be, attended by a crowd of distant friends who were not usually seen from one year’s end to the next, all pretending to be heartbroken. She could practically taste the hypocrisy in the air. Vanora felt nothing but the need to get things over with until she saw her father’s coffin disappearing into the grave, which was when the finality of his passing really hit her. Vanora needed to get away from David McKay, who was hovering over her sisters as if he was their nursemaid
She did not allow herself to cry although she held Marion and Ella while they did, and as soon as they decently could they went to Vanora’s bedroom and locked the door. Vanora’s tears were completely used up now. It was time to move on. She had a capable housekeeper, husband, and bodyguard, and now it was time to devote herself to her sisters while they still needed her.
The next morning, Vanora and Rory began her training. She had no armor, so she wore her riding clothes, which consisted of a tunic and leggings, and used wooden swords. Vanora was nervous, but Rory was a good teacher, and she was a good student with a quick mind who picked things up easily. After a few lessons, she had learned how to stand properly and how to block, thrust, and parry.
She was enjoying the lessons not only because of the challenge of learning a new skill, but because it brought her close to Rory. They had become friends as far as a relationship between mistress and servant would allow, and although she knew that he was illiterate, she was surprised at the depth of his knowledge of some things, like the names of parts of the architecture of the castle. When he used words like balustrade, architrave, keystone, and Gothic arch, they tripped off his tongue easily.
“How do you know such things if you cannot read?” she asked, puzzled.
He looked at her as if she were a little strange. “I ask people,” he replied. “An’ I am teaching myself to read.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head in amazement. “How are you doing that?”
“Father Grant offered tae teach me but I have no’ got the time durin’ the day,” he replied. “I asked him for a prayer book an’ I asked if he would write the alphabet inside it an’ he did. He gave me some parchment an’ now I am teaching myself for a wee while every night before I go tae sleep. Mind you,” he laughed ruefully, “I have tae be very quiet or the lads will find out. I do not mind bein’ laughed at, but if they take away my book, parchment, an’ pen, I will no’ be able tae go on.”
She gazed at him in wonder. “My God, what an astonishing man you are! I have never heard of such determination.”
He smiled at her, looking slightly abashed, and she began to say something, but she never finished it, because his lips had come down on hers in a tender but passionate kiss. He put his arms around her and drew her against the hard warmth of his chest and the safety of his body.
She had never been kissed by a man before, but even her most romantic fantasies had not prepared her for this. His mouth caressed hers and the tip of his tongue teased her lips for a little while before gently easing inside her mouth, exploring it a little before withdrawing. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the glorious sensation, but all too soon it was over as he drew away from her.
“I am sorry, milady.” He shook his head in confusion. “I didnae mean that tae happen. Please forgive me.”
He looked so contrite that she laughed. “I am glad it happened, Rory.”
He had pushed her away a little and now she tried to move closer to him again, but he gripped her upper arms to keep a distance between them. “No, milady,” he said, gently but firmly. “You will marry a gentleman o’ your ain station. I am a woodcutter who can hardly write his ain name. It will no’ dae us any good tae fall in love or carry on a...a...ye know what I mean—when ye become betrothed. I should never have touched ye an’ I am sorry.”
Vanora watched him as he walked away, feeling bereft. They carried on as usual with their sword practice and went riding often, but nothing was ever the same between them again. Their warm companionship had gone and had been replaced by a cold awkwardness, and Vanora had no idea how to get it back.
8
One day when Vanora and Rory had cantered over the drawbridge after a ride, Calum Patterson approached Rory by the stables ostensibly to admire his horse, Davie.
“Fine beast,” he said appreciatively. “How did ye come by him?”
“I brought him back fae the war,” Rory answered. “He belonged tae one o’ the Sassenachs I killed. He’s no’ a youngster, but he’s a good lad, are ye no’, Davie?”
The stallion whickered softly as if in answer.
“You must hae been young tae go fightin’,” Calum said in admiration. “How old were ye?”
“Sixteen.” Rory laughed ruefully, shaking his head. “An’ daft as a brush. I ran away fae home thinkin’ I was dead clever. When I saw my first battle I realized I wisnae as clever as I thought.”
“Aye,” Calum agreed. “Same.” They laughed at their shared experience, then, in a conversational tone, Calum said, “How did you meet milady?”
“I suppose ye could say I saved her life,” Rory replied, obviously uncomfortable with the subject. “She was ambushed by a crowd o’ bandits. I killed them.”
“How many?” he asked.
“Four,” Rory replied curtly.
Calum’s face was a study in amazement. “On yer ain?” His jaw dropped in disbelief.
Rory nodded. He was uneasy with the topic through a mixture of shyness and contrition. He was sorry for the outlaws’ deaths, even though there had been no choice.
“Aye,” he said, hoping that Calum would shut up.
“But how?” the other man went on. “One against four?”
Rory frowned and glared at Calum. “Wi’ an ax,” he replied. “An’ these.” He held up his huge hands. “They didnae expect a fight. An’ now, if ye dinnae mind Calum, it is no’ somethin’ I want tae talk about anymore.”
“Ye’re some fellow,” Calum marveled. Despite the fact that Rory had done him a great disservice, he had to admire his strength, courage, and resourcefulness. “Milady is lucky tae have ye.”
Rory smiled his thanks and went to stable his horse.
Calum went inside the castle entrance but watched him from the shadows, assessing just what it would take to bring down and kill such a huge man. It would be akin to killing a bear, a creature he had once seen at a traveling fair in Oban. When threatened or wounded, the huge creature would become highly aggressive and attack anything or anyone that came near, and he could only imagine that Rory Murdoch would be the same. He knew that Rory was normally a very easygoing man, indeed he was known to be withdrawn and shy most of the time. Howev
er, with his immense stature, it would not be hard to imagine him doing an enormous amount of damage when roused to fury. Calum had to tell Daniel McKay of his findings.
Daniel did much of the running of the estate from his bedroom, so Calum had to have him summoned especially to see him. Calum dreaded the meeting, but he thought that his master would want to be apprised of his findings as soon as possible, and he knew that there would be a little something added to his wages this week.
Daniel came stamping grumpily into the courtyard and confronted Calum. “Well?” he demanded. “What is so important that you had to drag me out of bed?”
It was mid-morning, a time when everyone else had been awake for hours, and McKay’s clothing was extremely disheveled as if he had thrown it on in a hurry. He had a sheen of sweat across his face, and Calum did not have to rack his brains much to guess what he had been doing.
“Pardon me, sir,” he said humbly, bowing low. “I jist found out a wee thing I thought ye would want to know.”
“Spit it out then!” McKay said irritably, glaring at Calum.
“It was as I thought,” he answered. “The man who killed your riders wis Rory Murdoch.”
“And who else?” Daniel asked.
“Naebody else,” Calum replied. “He killed a’ four o’ them by himself. That is why milady wanted him as a bodyguard.”
“That is not possible!” the other man spluttered. “One man against four armed horsemen!” He was shaking his head frantically and crossed his arms over his body as if for protection.
“Ask milady. I am sure she can tell ye the truth,” Calum said, enjoying McKay’s discomfiture. He waited, and finally, Daniel reached into his money pouch and counted out some coins, dropped them into the other man’s hands, then turned away.
He was astonished by the news, but happy that he had found out the truth at last.