Chapter 18

18

R oselyn was gone when Braden rolled over and opened his eyes, but the memory of the previous night now returned. He smiled to himself, his thoughts lingering over the intimacies of their encounter, and he sat up, glancing across the room to where the leftovers from the meal and empty wine cups provided a tangible reminder of what had passed between them. Apollo barked.

"Aye, and ye can keep yer thoughts to yerself, too," he said, grinning, as Apollo leaped onto the bed, barking, as he sniffed at Braden's face, licking him.

Braden pushed him away, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed. He had enjoyed his evening with Roselyn, even as the inevitability of the dream had soured the night. But she had been entirely understanding, and Braden had felt no sense of judgement on her part, or fear as to what the dream could mean.

But the face remains a mystery, he said to himself, sighing, as he went to the window and peered out over the courtyard below.

It was another bright, sunny day, the waters of the loch shimmering in the early morning light. Several of the clansmen were practicing their swordsmanship, whilst a patrol of archers manned the walls. The gates were open, and a market was gradually opening up around the walls of the keep, with several of the villagers plying their wares. It was just another day in the glen. Except for Braden. A great deal had changed – he could speak, and still it surprised him to do so.

"Speak out loud, speak my thoughts, speak when I want to," he said, glancing down at Apollo, who still flinched at the sound of his master's voice.

It seemed Braden was not the only one who would have to get used to this strange new way of being, and he wondered what it would be like when the rest of the clan heard him speak for the first time. Just then, a knock came at the door, and Apollo barked excitedly, rushing to the door, and scratching at it. It was Calder, and as he entered the room, Braden wondered what to do.

"I've just returned from a patrol along the loch – there were reports of bandits on the high pass through the mountains, but I found nothin' untoward. Tis' probably someone fearin' the sight of riders after what happened with the prisoner in the forest. Is Roselyn all right? I'm surprised she didnae demand to be escorted south immediately," he said.

Braden signed to him, nodding, as Calder sat down on a chair next to the hearth, glancing towards the empty cups and half eaten meal. He looked up at Braden inquisitively.

"Were ye entertainin' last night?" he asked, and Braden blushed, shaking his head.

But Calder raised his eyebrows, evidently not believing him.

"Ye were, were ye nae? And who might it be? Come now, let me think, the same lass who found herself in yer company under the moonlight? Yer tutor, aye…" he said, grinning, as Braden shook his head.

"Aye, well, so what if tis' her?" he exclaimed, forgetting himself for a moment, even as Calder stared at him in astonishment.

He rose from his chair, his eyes wide, and he pointed at Braden, who now realized what he had done. "Ye spoke, Braden… ye spoke," he exclaimed, and Braden sighed.

"Aye, I spoke. I know I spoke," he said, as Calder continued to star at hm in disbelief.

"But tis' remarkable. How can ye… what happened? What changed? Did she teach ye?" he asked, and Braden sighed.

He had not meant to speak in Calder's presence. He had not wanted anyone else to know the truth. Braden did not know why he had begun to speak. It had not been a conscious choice, even as he knew something had changed. Roselyn had not taught him to speak, but she had given him the ability to do so. He had wanted to speak to her, to make himself and his feelings understood. But as for speaking to Calder and the rest of the clan…

"She didnae teach me, no, but I wanted to speak to her. I wanted… I daenae know, Calder, I daenae know what's happened. But I warn ye, daenae mention a word of this to anyone," he said.

Calder smiled. "Tis' ye who need to hold back the words, Braden – tis' ye who spoke," he said, and Braden smiled.

"Only ye, Roselyn, and Apollo know the truth. I daenae want my mother or Kenna to know. Nae yet, at least. Promise me, Calder," he said, and Calder promised.

"But I still daenae understand how it happened. Did ye just start to speak in her presence? Was it something she said? Or something she did?" he asked, raising his eyebrows and grinning.

"I daenae know, Calder. I was just so worried about her. Afraid that bastard had hurt her... I needed to make sure she was all right. I just spoke," he said.

It was the same as asking how he breathed or moved. It just happened, and there was no real explanation behind it. One moment, Braden had found himself unable to speak, and the next, he had done so. He had never lost the ability to speak, but had chosen not to, and now, albeit to his own surprise, he had chosen to do so.

"But tis' a miracle. I never thought ye'd speak again. None of us did. We thought Roselyn's arrival meant nothin' to ye, that Kenna was foolish for bringin' her here. But it seems she had quite the effect on ye," he said, smiling again.

Braden shook his head. He knew what Calder was thinking, as his friend glanced again at the empty cups and half eaten meal. He thought back to the night before, to the ease of the conversation, despite it having been so many years since he had last spoken.

Roselyn had drawn it out of him. She had given him back the power of speech, and the desire for it, too. He enjoyed talking to her, the intimacy of their conversation and the deepening of their relationship.

"Aye, I think she did, and I'm grateful to her for that, though I suppose she'll leave now," Braden replied.

This was his fear, despite all they had shared. Roselyn had come to Scotland to teach him to speak, and now he had spoken, her job was done. She would return to England, forgetting all about him, and continue her life as it had been. But Braden knew he could not continue his own life in the same spirit, forgetting the things they had shared.

His feelings for her were growing stronger by the day, and the more time he spent with her, the more he desired her. She was the first person he had spoken to since the events of that awful night, and in Roselyn, Braden had found someone who understood the pain he had carried ever since.

"Do ye want her to leave?" Calder asked.

Braden shook his head. He did not want Roselyn to leave. Quite the opposite – he wanted her to stay. How it would work and what would happen were questions he was yet to answer, but Braden's mind was made up. He wanted her to stay, and he wanted to discover what might be between them – if she was willing.

"Nay, I daenae want her to leave. But I cannae force her to stay. She has to make the decision for herself. We'll see, I suppose. Do ye think she would?" Braden asked, but Calder only shrugged.

"I daenae know. Tis' a long way back to England. She's nae of our way of life. She's nae a highland lass, is she?" he asked.

Braden shook his head. He did not know why that should matter, even as he knew he would be asking Roselyn to give up a great deal if she were to stay, and to accept a way of life very different from her own.

He sighed, crossing to the window, and looked down at the courtyard below. More traders had arrived, and the market was busy. Roselyn herself was there, talking to Kenna, and Braden watched her, smiling at the sight of her, his thoughts returning to the intimacies they had shared.

"Nay, she's nae a highland lass, but that doesnae mean she couldnae embrace our ways. She seems… at ease here, as though she belongs," he said, still watching his sister and Roselyn together.

They had become firm friends, and Braden was only too happy to think of Kenna helping persuade Roselyn to stay. But if she chose to leave, there was nothing he could do to prevent it, as Roselyn looked up and caught his eye. He smiled at her, holding her gaze, as Kenna continued talking.

"Then ask her to stay. Ye can do so, now ye've found yer voice," Calder said, and Braden smiled, still holding Roselyn's gaze and imagining what she would say if he did so.

"And the things they sell – tis' a disgrace, some of it. I wouldn't feed it to the dogs," Kenna said, shaking her head.

Roselyn turned to her, having been distracted by the sight of Braden watching her from high up in the keep. "Oh… yes, I'm sure," she said, though she had not really been listening.

Kenna turned and asked her, "What do ye think? Should Braden stop the market or nae?" she asked.

"I… well, it provides a livelihood for many, doesn't it? They're only trying to make a living," she said, and Kenna sighed.

"Aye, I suppose so. But when ye see some of the stalls. Look at that one – entrails and carcasses – it turns my stomach," Kenna said, and Roselyn smiled.

There was still a great deal to get used to. Things were different in Scotland, not just the accent, but the way things were done, and the way lives were lived. A stall selling entrails and carcasses – the word they used was "Haggis" – was not something she had come across before, even as the stallholder had assured her the dish, a delicacy, no less, had originated in England.

"Tis' a mixture of offal and spices, my lady," he had said, offering Roselyn some to try.

She had been pleasantly surprised at the taste, even as Kenna had been swift in her condemnation.

"Tis' disgustin' – I gained a taste for English food when I was with ye, and tis' English food I prefer," she said, shaking her head and holding her nose, as they moved on from the stall, the stallholder giving them a cheerful wave.

Roselyn glanced up at the laird's window, but Braden was gone, and she wondered when she would see him next. Part of her felt guilty for keeping the secret of Braden's speech from his sister, but she had made a promise, and it pleased her to think she was the one to whom Braden had uttered his first words. She had done nothing to help him do so – not practically or through her lessons, at least – even as she hoped their deepening relationship might have been reason enough.

He spoke because he wanted to speak to me, she told herself, as she and Kenna toured the rest of the market.

There were other stalls selling food – roasted chestnuts, raised meat pies, heather honey, and sweet cakes made with dried fruit and berries – along with those selling leather goods, pottery, and other crafts. The villagers were plying their wares, trying to make a living as best they could.

"Would you return to England?" Roselyn asked, and Kenna nodded.

"I'd go tomorrow, aye. I miss it. Tis' such a barbaric place, this one," she said, and Roselyn smiled.

She had seen nothing to make her think Braden's realm was a barbarous place. Peoples abided by the law, and despite her ordeal in the forest, Roselyn felt entirely safe and at ease there. They were gentle people, not given over to violence or degenerate ways, and Roselyn could happily have remained there, even as she knew her job was done.

"And I'd stay here if I could," Roselyn replied.

Kenna looked at her in surprise.

"Ye'd stay here? But why? I was worried ye wouldnae even come, and now ye speak of stayin' here," she said, and Roselyn nodded.

"It's the romance of the place – the soaring mountains, the crystal-clear loch, the deep forest, and… the people," she replied, for the landscape was secondary to the contentment she had found in Braden's company.

He was the reason she would stay – the reason she wanted to stay.

"I'm glad ye feel that way, Roselyn. We feel the same about ye. But could ye really stay here? What about yer parents? They'd never allow it, would they?" she asked, and Roselyn sighed.

It was a dream, of course, one she could only linger over in her thoughts, even as she knew Kenna was right. Her parents would not allow it. They would speak of their responsibility towards her, their intention of finding her a husband and making certain she was provided for.

To remain in Scotland would elicit an envoy north summoning her home by way of threat or promise. Her father had made clear his intentions for her, and it would not be long before the One month he had given her to find a suitor would pass. On returning to England, Roselyn knew she would find arrangements had been made, and suitors suitably entertained. Her parents would make introductions, and Roselyn would be expected to show swift and decisive action in securing a match. Her Scottish romance would soon be forgotten, as would her feelings for Braden. But it was a dream she clung to, a pleasant thought, amidst the worries of future sorrow.

"They wouldn't allow it. They'd tell me I was being ridiculous. My parents want a future for me. They want certainty, but I can't give them that. They want me to marry, but I don't want to marry anyone they've chosen for me. If there was certainty here, perhaps… but their opinions are the same as yours, Kenna. They think everything north of the border is barbarous and, given that opinion, I hardly think they'll allow me to stay," Roselyn said, shaking her head sadly at the thought of having to leave what she now held dear behind her.

They walked together across the courtyard, making their way up a set of steps onto the battlements, from which they could look out over the loch, towards the mountains beyond. It amused Roselyn to think Kenna would gladly swap all this for her own life back in England, whilst Roselyn felt just the opposite.

"And could ye find certainty here?" she asked.

Roselyn glanced back towards the keep, looking up at the window of the laird's chambers, a smile coming over her face. "I could, yes. Though I'm not yet certain of it," she said, knowing she sounded somewhat mysterious.

Elena's words had given her hope. She was not just one of many women to have beaten a path to the laird's bed. What had passed between them had meant something, and in his actions and in his words Braden had revealed his feelings for her. But the possibility of a future with him was not enough to make such a radical change. She had to be certain, even as she felt unsure of Braden's position.

He was the laird, and the expectation was surely for him to marry a member of the clan. He was not free to make his own choices, and Roselyn knew there would be many obstacles to overcome if she was to be accepted as mistress of the clan. She felt torn between two worlds – that of parental expectation and hopeful longing.

Oh, but it's impossible, she told herself, even as Kenna smiled.

"I think I know what's in yer heart, Roselyn. Ye want to stay, and yet ye daenae know if tis' possible with Braden," she said.

Roselyn blushed. She had not realized her feelings for the laird were so obvious, even as there was no point in denying them. She did want to stay, but she had to be sure Braden wanted her to.

"It's not easy," she said, and Kenna put her hand on Roselyn's arm, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Ye'd have my support, Roselyn. Both of ye. My brother – well, he cannae say what he wants, but I can see he wants ye to stay," she said.

Roselyn returned Kenna's smile. She was grateful to her for her support, even as she felt guilty for keeping back Braden's secret. He could say what he wanted, and that was part of the reason for her confusion. Braden had not said what he wanted, not in so many words, and Roselyn still felt confused as to his true feelings towards her.

"That's kind of you to say, Kenna. You've been a dear friend to me since I arrived here," Roselyn said, and Kenna embraced her.

"And ye've been the same to me. I only pray that ye comin' here hasnae been in vain – that he'll talk. Tis' a dream, I know, and perhaps I'm foolish to hope for it. But tis' what I long for," she said, and Roselyn smiled, taking Kenna's hand in hers, and returning her reassuring smile.

"I know it's not been easy for you. Nor for Braden, either. Losing your father came as a terrible blow, but the words are there, I promise you," she said, not wanting Kenna to give up hope on that she knew to be true.

Kenna nodded. "Aye, and if anyone can bring out his speech, tis' ye. But I should return inside. I havenae seen my mother today. She's been terribly quiet recently. I'm worried about her. I'll see ye later," she said, and she hurried off, leaving Roselyn standing alone on the battlements.

She looked up again at the laird's window, thinking back to the night they had shared together. She could only imagine what her mother and sisters would say if they knew what had happened – an unmarried Englishwoman sharing the bed of a Scottish laird…

They'd be horrified, she said to herself, even as she knew she felt no shame in what she had done.

If she and Braden were to be together, nothing else mattered, and as she returned inside, Roselyn's mind was made up.