Four

First light showed her more evidence of the MacPherson’s superiority.

From the windows in her room, Ailis could see the outer buildings that supported the castle. The kitchens were huge. She counted at least seven chimneys, all of them in use. There was a well-worn road that led up to those kitchens. Even so early in the morning, there were wagons arriving. Beside the kitchen were henhouses and a byre with cows. Young boys were moving around, sitting down on short stools to milk those cows.

Her belly rumbled, low and long.

Farther down the road were more buildings, likely belonging to the butcher. In the distance, she could see the stables. It was a misty morning, and chilly. Ailis pulled up her arisaid to fend off the chill, since she didn’t have a wrap to fill in the neckline of her dress.

More than one person turned to stare at the Robertson colors when she passed by the passageways. She hurried by, not giving them time to start an argument with her. This early, the hall was still full of retainers sleeping on its floor. The men were rolled in their plaids, slumbering side by side, the tables and benches pushed to one end.

Being in the employ of the laird was a good life for many. The keep kept the snow out better than a rough hut, and men who served as retainers might enjoy three meals a day. They would all be fiercely loyal to Shamus and Bhaic. She stepped lightly as she went through the passageway toward the kitchens.

The hearths were fired up, the ovens hot as more than two dozen women worked lumps of bread dough on long tables. Flour floated in the air, tickling her nose. Ailis let her arisaid down, grateful to be able to blend in.

She stopped and selected a small round of bread resting on a cooling rack. After her meager supper, it smelled delightful. Her belly rumbled, and she walked through to a storage room where she selected a small chunk of cheese. The storeroom smelled delicious and slightly of wax, but inviting. There were pottery bowls with wide leather caps that held softer cheeses and perhaps fruit preserves from the last spring. Maybe honey too.

Had she really been gone from Robertson land for only one day?

Was it only yesterday that she’d been greeted as a member of the household?

“Here now, can ye nae wait for the laird to bless the bread?”

Ailis turned to find a woman standing in the doorway to the storeroom. She had her sleeves pushed all the way up her arms and a huge apron that was covered in flour. Her hair was tied up behind a length of fabric, with just a few wisps having worked their way free.

“Oh…well now, ye are nae who I expected to see in the storeroom, mistress.”

Ailis was holding the bread and cheese to her body. The woman pulled off a length of toweling hanging from her belt and gave it a snap. Flour flew off it.

“Here, tie it up in this.” She handed over the toweling and disappeared into the main kitchens. But she returned, offering a small knife and pottery jug. “I suppose I can nae blame ye for wanting a bit of peace while ye eat. I do nae know how ye managed to swallow anything last eve. The last time I felt that much tension in the hall was during the monthly court.”

“Helen? What’s keeping ye?”

Helen smiled before she turned and went back to the kitchen. There was good-natured conversation at the worktable. Someone broke out in song, and others joined in. It was tempting to stay, but when she appeared in the door frame, half the women snapped their mouths closed.

Ailis turned and walked through the back doorway. She pulled her arisaid up again, grateful for the length of Robertson wool that she’d worn tucked into her belt to show her clan affiliation. It was a good length, wide enough for her to wrap around her shoulders without pulling it from her belt. If it rained, she might make a hood of it to shelter under.

Today, it granted her privacy from the MacPhersons peering at her as she passed. She climbed up to the stables before sitting on a stump. The sun was in sight now, stretching out its golden rays. The mist was rolling in wisps, retreating to the valleys where the streams ran full of melting spring snow.

The length of toweling proved useful, covering her dress as she pulled the bread apart. Since she didn’t have anything else to wear, keeping the front of it from stains would be best. She pulled the cork from the pottery jug and sniffed at the contents. It was water.

She could hear the horses as they woke and greeted the day. Wagons were making their way along the road, and in the distance, she could hear the church bell calling everyone to worship.

She muttered a quick prayer, asking for forgiveness, because going anywhere near stone walls chafed at the moment. Her breakfast finished, she shook out the toweling and tucked the knife into her belt before walking into the stables.

Her mare was at the end of one long row of stalls. She tossed her head when Ailis greeted her.

Tugging her skirt up, Ailis climbed up onto the crossbeams of the stall and sat on the top rail. Her mare was chewing her breakfast but nuzzled against her, looking for affection.

Ailis gave it freely, needing someone, or something, to help drive the loneliness from her heart.

“See? I told ye!”

Ailis jumped in surprise and slipped off the rail. Four burly retainers were coming down the row of stalls, their strides long and purposeful. They had doublets on with their kilts, and sword belts. Each man kept a sure hand on the hilt of his weapon as they moved to control the swing of the weapon behind him.

“No Robertson lass is going to be too hard to find.”

“What are ye doing?” Ailis demanded. The retainer who appeared to be in command inclined his head toward her, but reached out and clamped his hand around her upper arm.

“Taking ye back to the castle.”

She pulled against his hold, but only succeeded in wrenching her shoulder. “Do ye suppose ye might just ask me to accompany ye?” The urge to panic was hard to resist, but she fought to maintain control over her emotions.

His companions lost their scowls for a moment, one of them fingering his beard. “Would ye, then? Just come along quiet like?”

“Ye’ll no’ know unless ye try,” she snapped, jerking on her arm again.

The leader released her and fixed her with a skeptical glare. “I am Lyel. Would ye be so kind as to return to the castle with me and the lads?”

Her arm smarted. She resisted the urge to rub it and let him see that he’d pained her. “May I ask why?”

One of the others spoke up. “That’s what ye get for asking. Now she’s going to pester ye to death with questions.”

“Shut yer jaw, Finley,” Lyel said. “Well, mistress? Are ye coming, or are we hauling ye between us?”

“Hauling?” She stepped back, and they all followed her. “Why ever would ye haul me?”

Was she a prisoner then?

“Marcus set us to looking after ye.” Lyel indicated his comrades. “Finley there, Skene, and Kam. Since ye were no’ at table to break yer fast, there was a bit of a concern for where ye might have slipped off to. A Robertson unaccounted for, well now, there’s the reason for concern.”

“I was just here…seeing me mare.”

Lyel’s lips curved in a smug grin. “Aye. I thought to myself, where would she go but up to where she might get herself a horse, to be quicker away to her father’s lands?”

“That is an unfounded charge.”

“It is.” Bhaic suddenly appeared. The four retainers all reached up and tugged on the corners of their bonnets. “The lady would be long away if that were her intention. According to the kitchens, she was gone just after first light. Helen will nae give her food again.”

She’d just been enjoying a moment of relief when his second comment stole it away. “Good Christ,” she swore. “What does it matter?”

Bhaic gave the retainers a gesture. They nodded and headed back down the aisle toward the doors of the stable, but they didn’t leave. He’d started to turn back toward her but looked back at the retainers.

“Can I no’ be alone with me wife?”

Lyel cleared his throat and looked down.

“Be gone,” Bhaic ordered them.

“The thing is”—Lyel cleared his throat again—“we can nae do that.”

“And why no’?” Bhaic demanded.

“Well, ye see, Marcus gave very clear instructions.”

“Aye, clear they were.” Finley came to his comrade’s aid. “Ye two need…witnesses.” He gestured to himself and his friends.

Bhaic’s face darkened with understanding. “Would it suit ye if I just toss her skirts right here?”

Ailis felt as if she’d been punched in the belly as the retainers all started nodding.

“That would do it sure enough.”

“Right well.”

“Better done quickly, I always say. Settles the lassies down when they’re skittish.”

“With a fair lass like that? I’d be in favor of tossing her skirts,” Kam finished up.

“Ye will no’!” She lifted her foot and kicked Bhaic straight in the backside. He hadn’t been watching her, and stumbled when her blow landed. The retainers hooted with amusement.

“Skittish and spirited!”

“Better get a bridle on her!”

Bhaic flipped around. “I did nae mean it like that, Ailis.” He’d landed in a fighting crouch but recovered quickly. She’d be wise to recognize just how deadly the man might be, but all she could hear was the choking sounds his father’s retainers were making.

“I am no’ a strumpet to be spoken of so freely for sport.”

He held his hands up. “I know ye are nae. Men talk…more crudely.”

She’d made it away from the stall. He started to follow her and she just couldn’t control the urge to edge away from him.

He didn’t care for the way she was backing away from him. His eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a hard line. “If I was going to handle ye roughly, I’d have insisted on sharing yer bed last night.”

She stopped moving, realizing she was far more trapped by the union she was in with him than anything else. There was nowhere she might go, no place on earth that wouldn’t recognize the rights of a husband to his wife.

It left her feeling hopeless. Trapped.

But he had shown her kindness. She tried to hold onto that fact.

“I simply woke early,” she said. “I was nae leaving.”

“But ye are here…in the stables.”

She felt him closing the distance. It was the oddest sensation. A tightening of her insides and a ripple of awareness across her skin.

“Me mare is the only creature I was certain would welcome me.”

His lips twitched, curving into a confident grin that sent her blood racing. “Ye may depend on a warm welcome when ye come to me, lass.”

“Come to ye?”

He nodded.

Wouldn’t that be too bold?

He’d made it close enough to clasp her wrist. She jerked when he closed his fingers around her limb. His expression was harsh.

“I know me strength,” he muttered softly. He stood a full head taller than she. He might have tucked her head beneath his chin. “Ye needn’t flinch.”

“Yer touch is…unsettling.”

He lifted her chin with two fingers, making her look into his eyes. She’d been avoiding it. Because she knew she’d get lost again.

She was right. There was something about the way he looked into her eyes that made her feel as though he could see her most intimate thoughts.

“Aye.” His tone had deepened, clearly pleased, but in some dark, wicked way. “Since we’re wed, it’s as it should be, lass. I plan to teach ye how to enjoy it.”

She liked the sound of that.

Her mouth went dry, and her lips felt as if they were recalling exactly what it felt like to be kissed.

Oh, it was a terrible, craven thing to like, but she couldn’t very well lie to herself.

He was leaning toward her, making ready to kiss her.

“Why…why didn’t ye…insist last eve? If ye are so convinced I am no’ trustworthy, why leave the matter unsettled?”

He made a soft sound under his breath. “Because I do nae wish to be the brute ye accused me of being.”

“I called ye that justly.”

“Aye.” His tone had become a husky whisper. “So grant me some notice for the fact that I am trying to please ye.”

She nodded. But with nothing to quibble over, all she was left with was the knowledge that he was stirring up her senses.

His breath teased the surface of her lips, sending a ripple of awareness over the delicate skin. He eased closer, his scent filling her senses. Her heart accelerated, beating with hard, deep, pounding motions. She wanted his kiss, and he leaned down, his blue eyes focused on her mouth. She started to rise onto her toes, intending to meet him.

Something snapped beneath a boot at the other end of the stable. She stiffened, landing back on her heels with a jolt.

“I told ye to stay still! We’re going to be stuck trailing the pair of them until they get this finished,” Finley barked. “Don’t mind us…”

Bhaic cursed in Gaelic. “I needs speak with me brother. They will nae leave us in peace, since his word holds the same weight as mine.”

Ailis withdrew, but he pulled her to a stop with the hold on her wrist. She lifted her arm and started to pull against his grip. Their gazes locked as she increased her resistance. He didn’t want to let her go. She witnessed the flash of rejection in his eyes before he relented and opened his fingers.

“I’ll take ye back up to the castle, lass. I do nae know what women spend their days doing, but I know it is no less demanding than me own responsibilities.”

He offered her his hand.

Time felt as though it froze. He stretched just another inch closer to her.

“Take me hand, lass. Trust that I only mean to put it on me arm.”

Trust. It was an enormous idea, one that felt as if it had the ability to crush her.

Yet part of her wanted to touch him again.

Her heart skipped a beat as she laid hers into his grasp. He settled her hand on his forearm and started off.

Ailis discovered herself lost in the moment. One she’d daydreamed about, because to stroll so intimately on the arm of a man was something the maiden daughter of the laird simply did not do. She’d seen other girls enjoying such, their cheeks pink and their eyes glittering with enjoyment.

Did she like it?

For certain, it was far different than she’d expected. Her breath felt caught and labored. Thinking took massive amounts of concentration, and even then, her thoughts were muddled. Her insides were twisted into a strange concoction of excitement and anticipation. She ended up laughing softly under her breath.

“My escort amuses ye?”

She laughed harder and pulled her hand off his arm as she tried to explain herself. “The situation…being on a man’s arm…well, it is nae…exactly what I thought it might be. When I got the chance to experience it meself.”

He chuckled and caught her hand and returned it to his arm. “Aye.”

They were making it closer to the castle. More people were there. They looked up, pausing as Bhaic brought her past them. She started to pull her hand off his arm, but he covered it with his own, gently rubbing the back of her hand.

“We’re in this together, lass.”

They were kind words, but not entirely true. She looked at MacPherson Castle, noticing all of the things about it that were unfamiliar.

She knew Robertson Castle like the back of her hand. She was the stranger here, not him.

Ahead of them, Marcus was watching a group of youths practicing with wooden swords.

“Excuse me, lass. I needs have words with me brother, and they will likely be too rough for yer ears.”

Bhaic turned to face her, slipping his hand behind her head and cupping it gently. She gasped, but he captured the sound beneath his lips as he pressed a kiss onto her mouth. It wasn’t overly hard or deep, but there was a reaction around it.

He pulled away, the look in his eyes sending a shiver down her spine. She had spent more than a few hours thinking on the day when a man would consider her his, but she wasn’t prepared for it.

The intensity in his eyes curled her toes.

He turned and started across the yard, giving her too much time to admire what a fine figure he made. His shoulders were broad and packed with thick muscle. No hint of a belly, only a trim waist where his kilt was secured.

“Robertson…”

The slur caught her attention.

No, it wasn’t a slur, it was her father’s name, and it was time she did something about making sure the MacPhersons stopping using it as such.

She turned toward the kitchens, her escort falling in behind her.

* * *

“Brother.”

“Do nae brother me, Marcus.” Bhaic braced his feet in a wide stance. “Ye know what I’m here about.”

Marcus had his arms crossed over his chest. It was his favorite pose for keeping his thoughts to himself and driving Bhaic insane.

“Ye are the Tanis.”

“I bloody well know that,” Bhaic said.

“Then why is that lass still yer bride and no’ yer wife?” Marcus turned to face him. “She’s an educated woman, likely reads at least three languages. And she was loose in our halls without a single pair of eyes on her, with the legal right to annul her marriage. I would have posted someone at her door last night if I’d thought for a moment ye’d be so stupid as to leave her alone. If she makes it back to her father, the information about our defenses she might carry with her would be catastrophic.”

Bhaic was fuming, but he couldn’t very well accuse his brother of having no grounds for his concerns. “She’s the one who saw the wisdom in our union before I did, Marcus. Do nae color the lass so guilty. Notice that she is trying to make this work, and no’ many are willing to see it an easy task for her.”

His brother only gave him a half grin. “’Tis my place to be suspicious. Yers to make alliances.”

“Would ye have me be rough with her?” Bhaic demanded. “She’s a delicate lass.”

His brother chuckled ominously. “Aye, I’ve seen her. Her sweet face makes a man forget everything. The perfect makings of a spy.”

“You go too far with that word.”

Bhaic challenged Marcus’s gaze, but his brother didn’t retreat.

“I mean it, Marcus, take it back.”

His brother considered him for a moment and shook his head.

The youths started to notice, halting their practice. Bhaic didn’t back down, and neither did Marcus.

“Alright then…” Bhaic said as he pulled his sword belt off and tossed it to one of the boys behind him.

Marcus’s expression lit with savage enjoyment. They both stripped down to their shirts, the youths clearing out of the training yard as Bhaic and Marcus took up positions.

“Ye’re going to take that word back,” Bhaic promised.

“I would love to see ye try to make me.”

A lot of others wanted to see too. They began spilling out of the buildings as he and Marcus circled each other. People started calling out wagers, but all Bhaic saw was the gleam in his brother’s eye.

One he was going to smash.

They collided with a crunch, the crowd groaning. Marcus’s jaw was as hard as a boulder, but Bhaic smashed his fist into it anyway. His brother didn’t give easily but ended up staggering under the force of the second blow Bhaic landed. He came back with a vicious snarl, ramming himself into Bhaic and lifting him off his feet.

They slammed into the ground, raising a cloud of dust. People surged forward, trying to get a good view. Marcus tried to pin him on his back, and Bhaic strained and tossed him over. He flipped and launched himself at Marcus, the pair of them grabbling, rolling, punching, and doing their best to lock an arm around the other’s neck to choke him into compliance.

There wasn’t going to be any quarter.