Chapter 4

4

B raden suppressed a smile. Roselyn kept stealing glances at him, no doubt impressed by what had happened with the bandits. Braden had seen such deceptions before – the crying child, used to lure an unsuspecting traveler to its aid, only for them to be set upon.

The two men lurking in the trees must have been watching them for some time, but they had underestimated Braden's skill with the sword. His youth had been spent practicing swordsmanship and archery in far more dangerous situations than this one, and he was skilled in both – two bandits presented little by way of a challenge.

Well, you don't need words to woo a lass after all. He smirked as they made their way north.

The return journey was longer with Roselyn in his company. Traveling south, Braden had pushed Zeus, urging the horse on, and covering many miles in a day. But Roselyn wasn't a skilled rider, and that slowed down their progress. Not that he minded. Her company was…pleasant, to say the least.

They overnighted at inns along the way, and they talked while they rode – or, rather, Roselyn talked, and Braden listened.

"I would like to help you find your voice, and not just teach the laird the things he needs to know," she had told him, and Braden had pressed his lips into a thin line, shaking his head. There was little chance she could do either.

Speech was in his power, and yet there was something that stopped him from using his words. Something that has stopped him from speaking for many years now…

"Daenae say anythin' of what ye saw, Braden. No one can know."

Tis' a sorry thing, he thought to himself, as they rode onwards across the moorland.

The mountains loomed tall ahead of them, and despite it being spring, their tops were still covered with snow.

"I've never seen anything like it," Roselyn exclaimed, as they came to the top of a ridge marking the border of the McGraham clan's territory.

From the ridge, the vista opened up to reveal a loch stretching for many miles along a wooded glen, with mountains rising to great heights, their craggy peaks looming high above. Braden was relieved to be home. He had spent his childhood away from this place, but had always prayed it would be his, and having taken his rightful place as laird, he guarded his inheritance with a sense of pride.

"Are we nearly there?" she asked, and Braden nodded, pointing towards the far end of the loch, where the ancestral home of the McGraham clan stood on a rocky outcrop.

In the sunshine, it did not appear as the grim fortress it seemed in winter. Flags fluttered on the turrets, and the keep rose tall and strong, protruding from the mountain behind, as though forged alongside it in the creation of the world. He smiled to himself at the thought of Roselyn discovering the truth about her escort – would she be angry?

"It's a remarkable place – look at the water, so clear and blue, and the mountains, standing out so vividly against the sky."

Braden suppressed a smile, pointing up to the sky, showing her a few dark clouds in the horizon. He beckoned Roselyn to follow, and together they rode down the hill from the ridge, taking a path through the woods leading to the castle.

What does she think of me? Of course, she's grateful I saved her. Perhaps she also feels sympathy for me, her mute guard.

He was looking forward to seeing his sister, even as he wondered what Roselyn's attempts to teach him would be like. She had done what she could on the journey, coaxing him to speak, and trying to teach him to move his lips. But the matter was not as straightforward as that…

He had dreamed the dream the night before. It was not a nightmare, because it was always the same. During it, Braden knew he was dreaming, and yet there was nothing he could do to prevent the events unfolding as they did. Try as he might, the identity of the stranger eluded him, and Braden knew it always would.

I'll never know the truth, he thought, as he turned to Roselyn, who had stopped to admire the view across the loch.

"I wonder how cold the water is. Do people swim there?" she asked.

Braden suppressed another smile – this was the most he had felt like smiling in many years - and with a swift movement, he leaped down from his saddle, pulled off his shirt and breeches and leaped into the water with a splash.

He was wearing only his undergarments, and Roselyn looked at him in astonishment as he waved to her from the water, beckoning her to follow.

A proper English lady would never follow.

The journey north had been a chance for Braden to observe Roselyn. She was a serious young woman and rarely made jokes. There were times when she smiled and almost clapped excitedly when she learned something new, but any humor she might have was hidden behind a veil of formality.

He wondered if her attitude would remain the same during their lessons.

"What are you doing? You're quite mad," she exclaimed, as he waded out of the water.

She blushed as Braden stood before her, even as he knew she was looking at the scars covering his body. Braden had suffered many injuries in his youth – fighting with other boys and warding off marauding bandits who would attack the village at night. His torso was covered in scars, and he stepped forward, holding out his arms and arching his back to dry himself in the sunshine.

Come on, lass – come down from the horse, ye're nae in England now, he beckoned her again to join him.

For a moment he saw a glint in her eye, she seemed uncertain to make the decision. Could a part of her want to join him in the water? Of course, propriety won as she closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head.

"What a spectacle. I'm not coming anywhere near the water," Roselyn said, shaking her head, even though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than him.

When she opened her eyes again, they immediately landed on him, and he could see them following a few droplets down his chest, causing her to blush again.

Braden shrugged, and now he dived beneath the surface of the water, holding his breath as he swam back towards the bank. There was an overhang there, and he emerged beneath it, keeping out of sight of Roselyn, who now called out to him with alarm in her voice.

"Where are you? Are you all right down there?" she cried.

Braden shook his head mentally. He heard her dismount, her footsteps on the stones, and again she called out to him.

She'll be wadin' into the water before long.

Braden took a deep breath, and swam out again, staying below the surface for as long as he could.

With a great splash he emerged, and Roselyn gave a cry. She had taken off her shoes, and was holding up her dress, stepping into the water, as though about to attempt a rescue.

"You devil, where were you? I was worried about you," she exclaimed, and Braden tried to hide a smirk.

If he had to be honest, a part of him enjoyed Roselyn calling him devil . Maybe their lessons wouldn't be so boring after all.

He leisurely pointed towards the overhang of the bank, as Roselyn scowled at him and returned to the loch side, the hem of her dress wet.

She's very bonnie when she's angry.

Now completely out of the water, Braden pulled on his breeches and wrapped his shirt around his shoulders. The sun was warm on his back, and they continued their ride along the loch, meeting no one until they came in sight of the castle.

Roselyn was not speaking, and Braden cast the occasional glance towards her, suppressing a smile at the thought of the indignant look on her face as he had emerged from the water.

It felt good to be home, and Braden looked up with pride at the castle over which he was laird. Up close, it was even more impressive, built on a rocky outcrop, with battlements stretching out from the mountain side, and the keep rising high above them.

A small village had grown up around the castle walls, and it was market day, with many of the villagers selling their wares. Several of them bowed as he and Roselyn passed, and she looked at him suspiciously as they approached the castle gates.

"You're very well liked for a guard," she said, and Braden shrugged his shoulders, pointing up ahead.

Their presence had been sighted, the gates were opened, and several clansmen hurried to provide an escort.

"Hail our noble laird, and our honored guest," one of them said, bowing to Braden, who slipped down from his horse and held out his hand to Roselyn.

"You!" she exclaimed, and Braden smirked.