Chapter Twenty-Seven

Brisidh an teanga bhog an cneath .

(A smooth tongue will blunt wrath.)

— Auld Scots Adage

"Bespell down the eye of swift, voracious females,

Bespell down the eye of rapacious women...."

— Outer Hebrides Incantation

Nine sennights after the nightmare of Berwick and the attack on the return, Tamlyn stood, watching the sparks of the Samhaine balefire shoot high into the autumn night. In that solemn mood, she reflected back on all that had happened, how different her world was, in just the passing of six months.

She had hoped once they quit that hellhole, and put the ugly images behind them, that life would come around. Everyday patterns of daily routines of work and preparing for the coming harvest and the winter ahead would see life calm once more.

Peace remained elusive. Rumors were carried through the Highlands about troubles along the Marches, sparks of rebellion that could see the country aflame come spring. The drought of summer was making the land hard pressed. The harvest would yield less this year, which had her worried, how her people would make it through the coming winter months.

Also, not far from her thoughts was the fate of her father. She had hoped to learn something more of his fate while they were before the king, but Challon had refused to address the situation. She understood his caution, but still she fretted and missed Hadrian. Her eyes followed their twinkling lights as they were carried aloft by the warmed air. They danced on a path in the inky sky, faeries spinning and flying high on the wings of this magical night.

Tamlyn whispered a spell to be carried along with the winking sparks. "Let Hadrian be safe. May he soon return to those who love him."

Silly, but she hoped the enchantment of this hallowed night would burn away the lingering horrors of Berwick's sickness from her mind.

In odd moments, she still feared Challon harbored secret fears over her babe. She had tried to assure him the child she carried was conceived on Beltaine , warned him that he would feel the fool when she proved such by giving birth by Candlemas . He smiled, hugged her and said to ignore him, it was only the foulness of Berwick rotting his mind, now that he was away from there he knew all was right. Most of the time she believed him. It was when she caught him watching her, when he was unaware, that caused her to wonder. His doubt was a knife to her heart.

Challon, rested his hand on her shoulder, gave it a small squeeze. He drew her back from the reflective thoughts. "Are you sorry you are not out there dancing?"

"No, that is the last thing I wish right now." Tamlyn laughed and rested her hand on her rounded belly. Nearing six months into carrying her babe, she was more than content to watch the dancers capering around the Samhaine balefire. These days, she felt awkward at best and her back ached continuously.

Raven had sewn several new kirtles for her in hunter green, dark blue and burgundy. They hung loosely on her body from the small pleats at her breasts, trying to give the illusion she was not shaped like a cow. The heaviness of the child was cumbersome and often made her tired.

As if sensing her nagging pain, Challon's hand slid from her shoulder, down the curve of her spine and began rubbing. Her husband had magic fingers―his touch firm, yet gentle.

She leaned into him, rubbing her face against his upper arm, relishing the scent of the man, and feeling that now familiar security of being his lady. Despite what shadows lingered in his eyes, she never doubted his commitment to her, to this glen. She had come to love her Dragon. She only wished he felt the same toward her. He never spoke of love, though she knew he needed her. She was satisfied to wrap him up in that desire for her and the need for the world they were creating together in this peaceful valley.

Someday mayhap, he would speak the words…

As her eyes followed the circles of dancers, weaving around the great balefire, Tamlyn blinked. Her heart jumped erratically as her stare frantically searched the crowd, trying to spot what had caught her attention. Only by focusing beyond the dancers, to the people standing at the edge of the firelight on the other side, did she locate what caused her senses to flutter.

A man stood, wearing a faded plaide, the length of fabric pulled up over his head into a hood. His auburn hair was long, with plaits of a chief at his temples. He wore a beard, but neat. The face was so familiar. He stared at Tamlyn, the pale ice green eyes unblinking, almost willing her to look at him.

As Tamlyn locked eyes with the man, she felt the world shift under her feet.

Challon's arm wrapped around her back and held her upright. His right hand grasped her arm. "What is it, Tamlyn?"

She fluttered her eyelashes against the spinning flashes, as she once more sought the man on the other side of the balefire. He was gone. Had she imagined him? Sensing Challon's alarm, she smiled faintly. He had been so caring, so solicitous since their return from Berwick.

"Just a twinge. The babe moved. So strong, it startled me."

Julian herded her toward a bench. "I warned you that standing too much this night would be a strain for you. You rest here a bit, then I shall take you back to Glenrogha. I will not hear your naysay, Tamlyn, or I shall carry you the whole way."

"Aye, Challon." She nodded absently, still searching the gathering.

"Tamlyn, when I hear, aye, Challon, I always feel you ignore me and plan on doing precisely what you want." Julian frowned his exasperation.

She suddenly spotted the man again. He was thinner than when she had last seen him months ago. Tears sprang up in her eyes. It was all she could do not to rush to him, hug him. With his index finger, he made a small circle in the air and then pointed straight down to the ground.

She counted to ten, trying to keep her emotions under control, then she gave a faint nod.

**

Tamlyn's steps silently carried her to the old Pict broch. No longer used for living quarters, it was still good for storage. The Picts built things to last, she thought. She entered, having to bend over. The door had been designed so anyone coming in was stooped over and vulnerable, which gave people inside the advantage of first strike. She rubbed her belly and gave a small moan because the stooping set her back to hurting again.

"Mercy," she whispered to shadows, fighting a wave of dizziness. "I have three more months of this."

She allowed her eyes to adjust, then reached for the torch in the holder and struck a flint to light it. The walls were clammy, sweating, so the torch hissed as it burned off droplets of moisture. For an instant she froze, thinking she heard a noise outside, footsteps, but then they moved on.

Naught more than a guard making his rounds.

The stone steps were worn, uneven and damp. She moved down them carefully, a step at a time, getting both feet on one before she moved to the next. Keeping her hand on the outer wall, she was not risking a fall in her condition. She followed the spiraling staircase downward to the lower level. She always hated going down here, the darkness, the silence―outside of the occasional drip of water―always closed in upon her and made her feel suffocated.

This was taking too long. Challon still slept when she had slipped out, but she feared that would only last so long. He was always exhausted after they made love, but he would soon awaken. When he found her gone, he would come searching for her.

Reaching up to the torch holder, she tugged with all her strength and a section of the wall moved back slowly.

Bright torchlight greeted her from the other side.

There were several men there, but she had eyes for only one.

He turned and smiled. "Hello, Tamlyn. "

She rushed into the arms of her father, hugging him tightly. He set her back a space, and then looked down at her belly, pressing to the fabric of her mantle.

She laughed through the tears. "Seems I be a bit different than when you last saw me." Tamlyn wiped the droplets from her eyes.

"A wee bit. You seem more mature in some ways. You seem happy."

"I am, now I see you are safe." A self-depreciating smile crossed her lips. "Apologies for the waterfalls. I tend to get very emotional these days."

Hadrian nodded. "It comes with carrying the bairn. Small price, eh?"

"The emotions, I can handle. The back pain, I can live without."

Her father put a hand on her stomach. "How far along, Tamlyn?"

" May Day ." She blushed. "Carrying on a family tradition. The bairn should come on Candlemas ."

"Auld Bessa says all be fine?"

Tamlyn nodded. "She says I must be breeding a braw babe."

"The English Dragon pleases you?" He smiled when she nodded. "I thought he might be the one."

"Aye, Challon be the one."

He nodded, mixed emotions flooding his eyes. Pride, worry, love. "Come, greet the others. We await the arrival of another. Hopefully, he shall arrive soon. Tamlyn, I believe you recall Andrew de Moray and his uncle―a priest―David de Moray. Men, my youngest daughter, Tamlyn, Countess Glenrogha, now Lady Challon."

They all murmured their greetings. Tamlyn looked from her father to Andrew. "But how? We heard you both were in the Tower."

"We were, my lady. My father still remains there, along with many other nobles. For some reason, Edward ordered your lord father and me moved to Chester. We escaped with help from Grant Drummond. From there, we headed north on swift horses," Andrew replied with a devilish grin. "Like you, I am recently wed, and eager to be home with my bride."

Hadrian patted Tamlyn's shoulder. "Your husband's doing, Tamlyn. The Dragon gave a plea to Edward when you were at Berwick, asking for more fitting lodging. It caused Edward to have us moved to better conditions at Chester."

Tamlyn felt a flush of warmth flood her cheeks. Despite his continued refusal, Julian had kept his promise. It only made her feel guiltier for slipping away from him.

"Tamlyn, we need to hold up here for a few days and rest. While word goes out to Andrew's people, we shall stay in the caves. There be plenty of food and water. At night, we can have a fire. Once David gets word to Petty, Avoch and Boharm, then Andrew and I will head northward to the Black Isle."

"I appreciate the shelter, Lady Tamlyn. Reginald de Chen controls my holding at Avoch. I plan to move there straight away, as soon as I have enough men of Moray rallying to my standard," Andrew explained.

Torches flickered through the cave's passageway, then several men emerged. Though they were strangers, Tamlyn had a fair idea who one was. As introductions were made, she barely heard them, so transfixed by the tall man with the blue-green eyes. "William, may I present my youngest daughter, Tamlyn, Lady Glenrogha," her father finally said.

"A true daughter of Auld Alba." William took her hand and brought it to his mouth.

Tamlyn's eyes stared unblinking at the Scotsman before her. Rumors had been flowing through the Highlands all summer and fall. The English called him an outlaw, a brigand. The Scots whispered rebel, patriot. William Wallace of Ellerslie. Ever since Edward had crossed back over the Tweed and onto English soil, tales of Wallace's flummoxing the English soldiery had been reaching Glenrogha regularly.

Only, 'twas not his exploits, which filled her with awe. When he had touched her hand, a jolt of lightning raced up her arm, nearly numbing her joints. At first glance, little save the man's height would distinguish this Lowlander from others. He wore the dirty, ragged plaide with the bearing of a king, yet there was nothing pretentious about him. Though nearly a head taller than Hadrian and Challon, his power―as with them―was not from his physical stature. Raw force came from within. A fire burned bright in this man. It was terrifying. The vivid blue-green eyes stared at her, steeled with determination. The pain behind them nearly caused her to reel from the force .

"Glenrogha has heard of William Wallace, son of Alan Wallace. Scots speak of little else these days. I bid you cèud fàilte ―a hundred welcomes ," Tamlyn greeted.

He smiled, yet it failed to touch his ambient eyes, as if some inner spark in his heart had died. This man had lost much, enough to cripple others. Fires of revenge now drove him. This, and the lack of fear for his own life, made him a formidable opponent.

"Aye, likely you have heard I am a giant, wear laurel leaves around my head, and sacrifice the English in blood ritual." He laughed.

"Glenrogha be a wee humble fief, but I offer whatever aid you and your followers may require―provided it causes no harm to the people of this glen or my lord husband." Her soft warning did not fail to reach all ears.

"You have our deepest gratitude, Lady Tamlyn. 'Tis vital Sir Andrew and I meet and come to a single mind. He plans on raising hell with the English in Moray. I in the south. With the backing of the Bishop of Glasgow, between the two of us we might just be able to push the English to the other side of the Tweed when they come with the spring."

Tamlyn feared this talk. She had seen Edward Longshanks. Just forcing the English out of Scotland would not last. It would only provoke Edward's wrath. She thought of the sickening images of Berwick. Did this man not understand how many would die? Men talked of freedom. It was women, who suffered for those high dreams.

Tamlyn drew a breath and closed her mind to the horrible images. "Sir Andrew and you are welcome to use the caves of Glenrogha as sanctuary anytime you need. Food be stored here. You may help yourself. I will see clothing and blankets fetched for you before you depart. Howbeit, leave Glen Shane out of the troubles. I wish you well, and ken my lord father shall ride with you. Only, I do not want Glenrogha, Kinloch, Lochshane or Lyonglen drawn into this struggle. My lord husband provides protection for this glen and is overlord for Lyonglen. He may be Norman, but he is now lord here. He is a good man. No matter who rules Scotland I will have your word neither he nor his men shall be harried or harmed." She glared at her father, William and Andrew in determination. "Your word on this."

All three nodded .

Tamlyn felt a small measure of relief at their assent. "I thank you each. Now, I must return before I am missed."

As she turned to leave the storage room, William caught her arm. "May I speak frankly, my lady?"

She nodded. "Please feel free, William Wallace."

"Longshanks forced you to wed Earl Challon. You had no choice. So easily, you could be made a widow." From the hard look in his eyes, she kenned he fully meant the offer.

Tamlyn trembled. "Aye, I had no choice. Howbeit, my lord father had already thought to wed me to the man, believing he would make me a fine lord and husband. In these times of the troubles, Glenrogha is well served with the Dragon of Challon as our earl. My Norman husband proves a great shield against Longshanks. Challon be very rich. I doubt even Edward kens how rich. Glen Shane has the lord it needs. I have the husband I want. I have bound him to this valley and our ways."

"Does he treat you well?" For once, a soft emotion touched the glowing eyes. "His repute as Longshanks' hellhound leads me to fear for your safety. Hence my offer. I wouldst not wish you to end up like the Countess of Dunbar and March."

"Have they heard of Countess Marjorie's fate?"

He shook his head. "We can only speculate. Edward says she returned north to Clan Comyn. None has seen her after Dunbar was taken in the spring. Some say she was at Berwick for the signing of the roll."

Tamlyn shook her head. "I think that was her daughter by law, also a Marjorie."

She paused, so many conflicting emotions within her. "Once, he was Longshanks' champion, but no more. Something happened to him—the death of his younger brother Christian in Wales. Berwick, I suppose, was the final straw. He only wants to build a life here. I heard my lord husband comment to his cousin, his lands in Normandy and England were taken by Edward before he was sent here. I ken not the whole story. He shall not rush to aid the English, nor will he fight Scots―unless either threaten this glen. Glen Shane only matters to him. He will protect me, our people from anyone―be they English or Scot. I could never want or trust another to do that job so well. "

William nodded. "Interesting. Still, you have not answered my question. How does he treat you, lass?"

"I admire him. He treats me very well. I love him. I thank you for the offer, William Wallace. If things were different, I think you would like him—and he you." She qualified her stance. "I support my lord father and respect his right to fight for what he believes. Glen Shane is what I believe in. Same as my lord husband. He will fight to shield us, so I will do naught to hamper his efforts. I would kill anyone who tried to raise a hand to Challon."

"I so hope you and your lord husband keep this valley safe, Lady Challon."

"Come, daughter, I shall see you to the bailey," Hadrian interrupted.

"Fare thee well, William Wallace. Go with our blessings and hopes of peace." She watched the man move back to the small fire and warm his hands.

Her father took her and drew her into the passageway. "Thank you for the food and the shelter. We will rest here a few days, then slowly move on, heading north. Wallace will leave before dawn. You care for your Dragon, daughter?"

She nodded. "You heard me. I love Challon. It has not been an easy choice, knowing he was the man who took you prisoner and destroyed Kinmarch."

"He did what Edward commanded. Had it not been him, things might have gone worse for Kinmarch's people, for me. He treated us fairly, honorably." He laughed, squeezing her to him. "My babe carries a bairn. Do you have any idea how old that makes me feel? You shall see me a grandfather."

Tamlyn reached up, stroked the handsome face, and smiled into the pale green eyes. "You are not old. Must you go with Andrew? Why can you not stay here with us? This valley can be protected against all. You would be safe here. 'Tis a mistake to fight this English king. He is shrewd, but madness is a maggot rotting in his brain. He will not accept defeat. You ken this. Why fight?"

Tamlyn broke down and sobbed against his chest, unable to stop the fear from seeping into her heart. Fear for her father. Fear for Challon. She loved them both and wished they wouldst stay within this valley. Let the rest of the world have their politics and strife. She wanted the people she loved far away from the coming war and devastation.

Hadrian held her, rocking her. "Hush, mo chridhe , you will make the bairn sick." He lifted her chin and kissed her nose. "I did well in my choosing a warrior for you. Challon will protect you, Tamlyn."

She sniffed. "You might have told me."

"But you are happy with my choice?" He laughed softly.

"Aye, I would have no other."

"Come, I shall see you to the entrance of the broch." He linked arms with hers and helped her carefully climb the spiraling stone steps. Pushing open the door, Hadrian checked to see if the path to the lord's tower was clear. "Come, you must go."

Tamlyn hugged her father, the tears coming again. "Do no' go, please―"

Suddenly, she was yanked away from Hadrian, and a sword tip was placed at her father's throat. She stared into the hard eyes of her husband. "No, Challon!" she gasped.

"Tamlyn, step back," Julian commanded, his voice as cold as winter. "No man touches my lady."

"Challon, stop this! 'Tis my father!" she pleaded.

Tamlyn saw her husband blink, and push past his fury to really look at the man. Finally, recognition hit. "Earl Shane, last we heard of you, you were still a guest of Edward in the Tower."

"Good morrow, Lord Challon. Thanks be to you, Edward had Andrew de Moray and I moved to Chester. Whilst a definite improvement over the Tower, we still had little liking for the English clime." Hadrian flashed his white teeth in a wicked grin. He reached up and gingerly removed the blade from his throat. "Let us dispense with this. You are no' going to run me through before Tamlyn's eyes, Julian Challon. I know it. You know it. Tamlyn does no'. Since she carries your child, let us see she does not suffer undue stress, eh?"

Julian took hold of Tamlyn's arm and motioned with the sword for Hadrian to precede them. "Move, Laird."

Hadrian looked to Tamlyn, then to Julian. He shrugged and then turned to go as instructed.

Tamlyn jerked against the hold Challon had on her upper arm, and whipped around to face her husband. "You are no' going to take him prisoner again?"

"Tamlyn, stop fighting me. You only make this harder. Trust me to do what is right—for all of us." His grip was not painful, but insistent.

Challon marched Hadrian up the steps, and the paused to point with the sword for the Earl to continue to the upper staircase. At the lord's chambers, he nodded for Hadrian to enter, then pushed Tamlyn in while he paused to speak to Moffet. Tamlyn saw the young man dash off as his lord closed the door.

"Laird, you will remain here for now. You will excuse Tamlyn? I have need to speak to my wife in private." Challon gave a nod to Hadrian. He handed Tamlyn a lit candle and pulled her out the door. He closed it firmly.

She turned and opened her mouth, but he held up his finger and fixed her with an arched eyebrow. "Challon―"

"Close your mouth, Tamlyn, and keep it closed." Julian marched her back down the stairs, taking the turn for the second floor and heading to the small room that used to be hers. He opened the door, and with an upturned palm signaled, she should enter. Tamlyn did so, then watched as he closed the door. He leaned against it with his shoulder, propping his sword against the wall.

"Get in bed, Tamlyn." His words were uttered softly, though Tamlyn did not mistake the steel of the command.

"What do you plan to do with my father?" She set the candle on the table by the bed.

He exhaled. Shaking his head to the side, he moved to the small fireplace and set about lighting the peat in the hearth with his flint. "I have not decided. For the remainder of this night, he shall sleep in the lord's chambers. I sent Moffet to fetch Rowanne and Raven. I assumed they wouldst like to see Earl Hadrian, to see him, to know he is well."

"I give thanks for these kindnesses, Julian. But what will you do on the morrow? Will you send him back to Edward?" Tamlyn pressed. "I fear what your king will do."

"He is your king, too, Tamlyn."

"He shall no' be please that Hadrian escaped." She prodded, knowing even so that she spoke the truth. "He and Andrew de Moray could not have gotten away had someone not decided to move them."

Challon cocked an eyebrow and looked up at her. "You, lady wife, would do well to worry more about pleasing me than fretting about Edward."

"You be angry with me?"

He pursed his mouth and nodded. "That would be one way to put it."

"Challon, he be my father―"

"I am no longer Julian, eh?" His green eyes narrowed. "And I am your husband, Tamlyn. Your first allegiance is to me now."

"Aye, Challon."

"Another aye, Challon? Why does that herald a meaning of just the opposite? I see your father moved, which enables Drummond to help Andrew and he be set free. And all I get is aye, Challon?" As the fire began to catch, he stood and pulled off his unbelted surcoat. Sitting on the bench, he unlaced his boots and dropped them. "Take your clothes off, Tamlyn."

"Challon, what are you going to do?" She backed up, unnerved by the curious mix of anger and playfulness he was displaying.

"That depends. Since you are concerned about your father's fate—and how I will punish you for slipping around behind my back—I shouldst think you would be a little more anxious about appeasing me."

His words might make someone else fearful, and in truth, Tamlyn was not entirely confident of his mood. She knew he was irate. "Challon, what are you—"

Julian nearly sprang at her like a big cat, intent on bringing down prey. He backed her to the bed's edge. "Take your clothes off, Tamlyn. Now. Do not push me to repeat the order."

She undid her mantle. He took it from her and tossed it to the floor. With trembling fingers, she worked at the lacings at one elbow, then the other. Tamlyn paused, looking up into his stormy eyes.

His handsome face was dark with fury, but his eyes were alive with fire. "Why do you hesitate to obey, wife?"

"I cannot reach the lacing up the back."

"I have played lady's maid for you before. Turn around," he voiced lowly.

Tamlyn showed him her back. Lifting her hair, he dropped it over her right shoulder. His hand paused, then finally descended to smooth it. She glanced over her shoulder at him, trying to read his peculiar mood.

He slowly undid the laces up the back, then pushed the sides away and off her shoulders. The kirtle started to fall, but Tamlyn clutched it to her breasts.

"Tamlyn, are you trying to contrary me?" His question held a trace of a warning.

She shook her head. "I am fat."

He laughed, then kissed her bare shoulder. "You are not fat. We made love earlier, so I know how you feel. You thicken from carrying my son within your body. I have wanted a son, Tamlyn. Since Christian's death the yearning has increased. You have no idea how much."

A shiver spread over her. "Challon, what if I carry a daughter?"

"'Tis doubtful. Dragons of Challon breed sons with black hair and green eyes." He sat on the edge of the bed and unlaced his leather hose. "Get into bed. You have been up too long this day. You need your rest. Your father may make use of the lord's chamber, since it was once his own. We will pass the night here."

Tamlyn dropped the kirtle and scooted under the covers, shivering from the chill of the bed. She was tired, fretful of what he would do about her father. Julian lifted the blanket and slid under. Leaning over, he blew out the candle. He stretched, then rolled over on top of her, keeping his weight off her body and on his elbows.

"I thought I needed my rest," Tamlyn said, staring up into his beautiful face.

"You shall find it...presently. First, you need to ease my mind, Tamlyn. I saw you embracing another man―"

"I embraced my father―"

"Aye, you did. But I did not know that when I caught you. I misliked the feelings that evoked before my thoughts told me otherwise, Tamlyn. Make me forget."

She wiggled under him until her hand could close around the rigid length of hot male flesh.

"Owww…God's teeth, you and your icy hands." He laughed, then nipped her ear.

"I do not think my hand will be cold for long." She skimmed the velvet skin over steel down his erection, and then brought it snaking back to the tip. His body throbbed to his pulse within her grasp. "Is this helping you forget?"

She leaned up and brushed a kiss over his soft lips.

"It makes me remember how cold your hands get when you are scared." He cradled his arms around her hips, then he shifted so he was sitting in the bed. His hands positioned her knees to either side of his thighs. With a sure flex of his hips, he slid into her. "Ah, warmth again." His white teeth flashed in the shadows. With a strong thrust, he moved within her tight body. "Here is where you say, aye, Challon ."

She used her internal muscles to squeeze hard his hot length. "Aye, Challon. Oh, aye, Challon."

"Oh, aye, Tamlyn!"