Chapter 5

5

T he rest of the day proved to be very busy for Gemma. When there was not mending, there was washing. When there was not washing, there was preparation of meals. Although the Gordon family was not poor by any means, Gemma’s mother believed that her daughter should be capable of hard work should she ever find herself in a situation that required it. They had servants at their own home, but not many. There was a cook, a coachman, two lady’s maids and a butler. Often when her chores at home were finished, Mrs. Gordon sent her daughter out to the castle to be of assistance. The reason for this was twofold; first, she thought it would teach Gemma the skills she needed to run a large house if she married above her station. Second, and perhaps the more nefarious reason, Gemma’s visibility at the palace was sure to catch the eye of a nobleman. Mr. Gordon felt the same of his four sons as far as hard work was concerned, and so had them apprenticed to a trade as soon as they were old enough.

This was why Gemma found herself at the castle so often. Not that she minded — especially now that it meant she could see Colin even more. But she could not let her excitement cloud her judgment, or allow her to act foolishly. Until her father returned from his journey and gave his blessing, their betrothal would not be made public. It slightly annoyed her that all the other women could talk openly about the lads with whom they shared connections, as she wished she could join in, but her mother always told her to maintain an air of mystery, and to not reveal her accomplishments until they were set in stone. It made her all the more impressive to others.

The giggling of the other girls interrupted her train of thought.

“I ken the way tae a man’s heart is through his stomach. ‘Tis why I’ve been bakin’ so much shortbread lately. I will win him yet!” Hannah, the washerwoman’s daughter, declared.

“Aye, I’d marry ye right soon if ye made me all that shortbread, too,” Violet said, standing on her tiptoes to hang a rather large quilt on the clothesline. It was laundry day at the castle, which meant that clothes, bedding and linens of all kinds needed washing and all the capable young ladies it could find.

This sent the other girls into peals of laughter. Violet had a raucous and brazen way about her humor, but she always got away with it because she was pretty. Gemma thought it was funny, but Mrs. Gordon did not. Many times, at feasts and dances, she’d pulled her daughter aside to warn her that Violet’s behavior was unbecoming and she should not emulate it.

“Och, dinnae speak tae me of shortbread,” said Jenny, who was heavily pregnant with her second child. The first baby lay fast asleep in a plush basket nearby. “‘Tis all I wanted tae eat with the first one, an’ now I’m right sick of it.”

“What d’ye want for now?” Asked another young lady whom Gemma did not know.

“Meat,” Jenny said quickly. “A nice roast lamb always sounds braw tae me. ‘Tis right strange though, since I never liked it before.”

“Heavens. Children destroy you, don’t they?” Said Orla, who was known to be vocal about her discomfort around the topic. She did not hate children themselves — she was actually quite good with them. But her mother had died during childbirth with one of her younger siblings, and she’d never quite recovered from it. Gemma felt sorry for her indeed, but could understand why Jenny wrinkled her nose.

“Nay. They are a blessing. And soon, when this one grows up,” she said, pointing to the basket, “we’ll have even more help here!”

They all shared a good laugh at that, until the noise of a clearing throat interrupted them.

The ladies all fell silent and stilled their activity, except for Gemma, who pulled a dry quilt off the clothesline with a flourish. She was surprised to see Bryce there, hands folded behind his back.

“I’m sorry tae interrupt,” he said sheepishly, his face a little pink. Gemma wondered if he’d ever been the odd one out before; the only thorn among all the roses. It was endearing to see him like this.

“‘Tis fine, Master MacNeill,” Jenny said gently. “What can we do for ye?”

“I was hopin’ tae speak tae Miss Gemma. May I steal her away a moment?”

Gemma heard hushed whispers among the women. Bryce MacNeill had never singled out a lass like this before, and she wondered what he could possibly want. Her heart was beating a little too quickly for her comfort. She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped forward.

“I’m here. How can I help?”

“Let’s take a walk, aye?”

He gallantly offered her his arm and she took it, feeling her cheeks burning as the women watched them go. When they were out of earshot and a little closer to the seaside, Bryce began to speak.

“‘Tis good of ye to help at the castle so much,” he said.

She shrugged. “I’m nothin’ if not industrious. My mother dislikes idleness. Says idle hands make the devil’s work.”

“‘Tis nae bad philosophy tae have. Especially as a wife,” he said bluntly.

Gemma let the words hang awkwardly between them, taken aback by his suddenness of manner. It was a true statement to be sure, but such an awkward thing to say.

“Indeed,” she mumbled. She really wasn’t sure what else to say, but her body was alight with apprehension. He’d specifically sought her out and taken her away to have a private conversation with her. There were only a few ways this could go, and she wondered if he would have the intestinal fortitude to ask.

Despite the awkwardness of the conversation, it was actually quite lovely outside. It had not rained for a week or so, so the earth was wet and moist like it usually was, which made for nice walking. It was also not unbearably cold, as Scottish summers often were, and she did not feel the need to wrap her shawl tight around her. The breeze had a little bit of warmth to it, as well. With the soft crash of the waves on the shore, it was very pleasant indeed.

Bryce cleared his throat again.

“Have ye thought about…yer future?”

She resisted the urge to laugh. In all the years she’d known Bryce, he’d never come across quite so unconfident. He was always so sure of himself and the path to take, so to hear him so subdued and anxious was quite amusing to her indeed.

“My future?” She asked. She still had an idea of what he was trying to say, but she wanted to see how he would say it.

“Aye. I mean…now that yer of age, there is talk that…ye might want tae find a husband.” Bryce’s cheeks were nearly as red as his hair at the admission.

“Who? Who is saying such things?” Gemma asked, surprised indeed to hear that she was at the center of such gossip.

He shrugged. “The men, mostly. We dinnae speak of ye in ungentlemanly ways, if ye were thinkin’ we did. ‘Tis just that…ye are a bonny lass, an’ we see how hard ye work. Ye would make a fine wife indeed.”

Gemma highly doubted that all their talk was gentlemanly. She had four brothers; she was not completely unwise to the ways of men. In fact, she rather thought her life situation was such that she understood the world of men better than they proclaimed to. Which was why she did not want to tell him about her betrothal just yet.

“I have set my cap at someone,” she said.

Bryce stopped the both of them in their tracks, and looked down at Gemma in surprise.

“Ye have?”

There was an incredulous look in his green eyes. Christ, he and Colin really did look alike. They had the same sharp jawline, same shaped eyes with similar hues, and deep red hair.

“I have, an’ I have very strong reason tae believe there will be a proposal soon.”

“Och, so ‘tis serious then,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Who is it?”

“I’d not like tae say, as it isnae yet set in stone, if ye please.”

Bryce chewed the inside of his mouth for a moment as he took in her words. She thought he looked upset, but he did not say anything about it to her.

“When does yer father come home? I ken he left in the wee hours of this morning,” he asked. The conversation shift was abrupt, but at least it steered them away from having to endure more awkwardness.

“In a month, hopefully. It is an easy journey, only tae Norway this time.”

“Oh, not far. Well, time will fly an’ he’ll be home in the snap of a haggis’s tail,” he said with a smile.

Gemma said nothing, but nodded and smiled, feeling a little ill at ease about this entire conversation.

“Shall I walk ye back tae the ladies? It seemed I interrupted ye,” he asked.

Gemma wrinkled her nose. She did not like being stolen away and then dropped like a dog bone when she was no longer interesting or useful, but such was the way of women in a world of men.

“Nay, I can walk back on me own. Thank ye, though.”

“Aye. ‘Tis always braw tae see ye about, Gemma,” he said, grasping her hand and bringing it to his lips for the briefest of kisses. He’d done that before in a joking manner, but he was quite serious today. The look that flashed in his eyes was not something she recognized. It was like a mixture of angry and amorous, but the words did not fit quite right together.

“Aye,” she said, but did not return the compliment. He turned around and headed back to the castle, walking more briskly than before.

As she walked along the seaside, back to the clearing where the ladies had set up the laundry, she realized what Bryce’s look had been as he kissed her hand.

It was lust.

Bryce did not let others see him display emotion or any other sort of vulnerability. As the son of the laird, he would take over one day, and he did not want to be seen as a weak leader. When he arrived back at the castle, he was pleasant enough, extending greetings toward those who greeted him, stopping for casual chit chat and other miscellaneous business that required his attention.

But as soon as he was behind the heavy wooden door of his bedchamber, he let out his anger. With a roar, he flipped over his desk. It felt good to use his strength like that, so he grabbed a bottle of wine and smashed it on the stone floor, watching the little glass pieces shatter and scatter, and the wine slowly trickle in different directions. Then he punched the door of the armoire, which proved to be a bad idea — it hurt, and now his knuckles were bleeding. Shaking from his rage, he sat down on the edge of his bed, gazing down at his bloody hands.

Why was everyone he loved lying to him and keeping secrets from him? First his own mother and Captain Frazier, then Colin, who clearly had feelings for Gemma, and then even Gemma herself. He had seen Colin kiss her in the corridors that morning when he thought no one was looking. There was obviously something between them, and he would bet good money on the thought that Colin was the one from whom Gemma expected a proposal. It all made sense.

“That bastard!” Bryce exclaimed. Colin was trying to steal Gemma from him, wasn’t he? That conversation on the hunt — that wasn’t just time passed between friends on a long ride. It had been reconnaissance, Bryce realized. Colin had asked such things to gauge whether or not he could have Gemma. And now he had stolen her, right out from under his nose. It was… unacceptable. Betrayal, even. Why would his best friend do such a thing?

He flopped onto his back and stared at the canopy overhead, formulating a plan in his mind. There had to be a way he could fix all this. He was the son of the laird; he could turn the world right side up again.

After a while, he became restless, and decided that some exercise on the training grounds might help.

Training did not help. Bryce had never felt angrier in his life. He could feel the heat of his fury rising from his belly, up through his chest and into his throat. Uncharacteristically, he could not seem to get the upper hand with his opponents. It was as if they were taunting him, holding back just enough to keep him on edge. He was distracted, and from his view, it was all Colin’s fault. Bryce's blood boiled at the thought of his rival. That was new — he’d not thought of Colin as a rival before, but now it made sense. He pieced together all sorts of happenings in his mind. Wherever Bryce had gone, Colin was one step behind him. He wondered if that had been the plan all along — keep close to him and one day strike so he could have his moment in the sun.

As far as Bryce as concerned, Colin had already struck, with this whole business about Gemma. It was just the icing on top of the cake.

Bryce tried to push the thought out of his mind as he sparred with his opponent. But every time he looked up, he saw Colin watching from the sidelines, a smirk on his lips. It was like he knew what was going on in Bryce's head and was reveling in it. So, his anger grew with each passing moment. He could feel his muscles tensing up, ready to lash out. He wanted nothing more than to charge over to Colin and give him a piece of his mind.

But he knew he couldn't do that. He was a warrior, and he had a duty to uphold. He couldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of his duty to his clan. He already hated being vulnerable in front of people. So instead, he channeled his anger into his training. He swung his sword with more force than usual, determined to show Colin and the rest of the clan that he was still the best. Unfortunately, his anger was clouding his judgment. He was making mistakes, leaving himself open to attack. That's when it happened. His opponent saw an opening and lunged forward, his sword aimed straight at Bryce's heart.

Bryce barely had time to react. He tried to raise his sword in defense, but it was too late. He felt the sharp sting of the blade as it pierced his skin. He stumbled backwards, his hand instinctively going to his chest. He could feel the warm blood seeping through his shirt, staining it red. It was not a deep wound, but enough that he would need to visit the healer yet again. He looked up to see Colin laughing, clapping his hands in mock applause.

That was it. Bryce had had enough. He charged forward, his sword raised high. He could feel his anger taking over, fueling his every move. He swung his sword with all his might, determined to take Colin down.

But Colin was quick. He dodged Bryce's swing and stepped to the side, leaving Bryce off balance. Apparently, Captain Frazier had seen enough, and stepped in, his stern face and gruff manner sizzling with annoyance.

He grabbed Bryce by the arm, holding him back.

"That’s enough, Master MacNeill. Ye ought tae be done for the day.”

Bryce struggled against the captain's grip, but he knew he was no match for the older warrior. He lowered his sword and stepped back.

“I want tae spar again. Wi’ Colin.”

“Nay,” the captain insisted. “Ye’ve had enough. I cannae have ye killin’ my warriors in training. Take a walk, aye? Clear that head o’ yers.”

Bryce didn’t want to take the Captain’s orders — not after what he knew about his sinful activities that dishonored the clan. However, everyone was looking at the two of them. Bryce did not come off as the sympathetic party in that moment. If he made this any more difficult than it already was, then he could not go through with the plans that had been brewing in his head.

He dropped his sword, letting it hit the earth with a soft thud.

“Aye. Sorry, Captain.”

“‘Tis a’right, son. Sometimes we have bad days.”

Bryce nodded at Colin in acknowledgement before he turned and left the training ground, feeling utterly powerless. Something was going to have to change.

It had been a long, strenuous day. Training had been difficult. His father worked him harder than anyone in an effort to not show favor to one particular guard. Captain Frazier did not want to be accused of coddling his son, either. So, Colin received the most difficult and physically demanding tasks, and often acted as an example or sparring partner when his father was teaching new defense methods. It did make him terribly sore, but of course, he was by far the strongest fighter and best guard. Should he ever need to, he felt as though he could easily take on three redcoats. Aberdeen was at a strategic point in Scotland; surely the time would come one day.

Yet, the training grounds had been interesting today. Bryce had clearly been distracted, and had targeted him for one reason or another. Colin tried to let it go, but it was such odd behavior. Clearly Bryce had been fueled by some latent anger. He tried to let it go; like his father had said, everyone had bad days every now and then.

For now, it was nice to rest in front of the fire with a tankard of ale. Some of the off-duty guards often did this in the evenings. There was a small area beyond the castle, close to the edge of the forest, where they often lit a fire and relaxed. In the winter, they would do this in Bryce’s chamber or in the great hall, but when the weather was so lovely, they liked to be outside as much as possible. That was where Colin found himself at the present moment — on a tree stump, next to Bryce, who perched himself on a rock. Some of the other men had disappeared into the woods to relieve themselves after having too much ale, while a couple others sat huddled around the fire. There was a slight breeze in the air, but not enough that it was a concern for the fire they’d made. It made the temperature rather perfect — just cold enough to warrant a fire but just warm enough by the fire to feel comfortable without burning. The scent of the fresh grass and the burning wood was lovely to Colin’s nose. All day, he’d smelled nothing but sweat and steel, so to have something so fresh was a relief indeed. The booze also helped him feel a little more relaxed, like his limbs were loosening up.

However nice the evening was, Colin still felt apprehensive. He needed to have the conversation with Bryce, and he was absolutely dreading it. The ale was good, but he needed something stronger in order to calm himself. One of the other men had brought a good bottle of whiskey , so Colin downed the last of his ale, then reached for the bottle and poured a good helping into his cup.

Bryce raised an eyebrow at his friend’s eagerness to drink.

“Hard day, then?” He asked.

“Isnae it always?” Colin said with just a hint of bitterness.

“Och, it cannae be that bad, can it? I’d do anything tae be out on the field again, away from lookin’ at papers and talkin’ tae people.”

“Are ye not always the one harpin’ on about responsibility?” Colin asked teasingly, although there was a hefty grain of truth to his words.

Bryce sighed deeply and muttered an “aye.”

This was a good opening, Colin realized. It was now or never.

“Bryce, we’re close. Close as brothers,” he said.

The laird’s son raised a questioning eyebrow but nodded anyway.

“We’ve grown up taegether an’ shared much — work, play, battle, whiskey, even…lasses.”

“Colin, I dinnae like where this is goin’,” Bryce warned.

“Aye, I ken. But it needs tae be said. I think those days are comin’ to a close.”

Bryce’s expression was utterly unreadable. Colin could swear he saw his jaw clench in the light of the fire, but there was no other indication of his mood. That was never a good thing.

“I am to be married,” Colin finally said.

Instead of being upset, Bryce’s face cracked into a smile.

“Why would ye say it that way? I thought ye were tellin’ me somethin’ much worse!” Bryce said, clapping Colin on the back.

“Well, I havenae told ye everythin’ yet,” he said, nervous about Bryce’s reaction yet again. He took another sip of whiskey in preparation.

“Ye really are draggin’ this out,” Bryce commented.

“Aye, well. ‘Tis Gemma. She will be my wife.”

That was more along the lines of the reaction he’d expected. Now he could see that Bryce’s jaw did clench in anger. His face was almost a snarl, but he kept his voice low and even.

“I see. An’ have ye made this known tae her?”

Colin gulped nervously. He wasn’t going to lie to his friend, especially not when asked so directly.

“Aye. We are…close. And we have been for some time now. I wanted tae speak tae ye about this earlier, but at the hunt, after yer fall, I thought…it wasnae a good time.”

Bryce shook his head, then buried his face in his hands. Colin’s entire body was alight with nervous energy. There was no telling how Bryce would truly react. He’d always hidden his true feelings from everyone else in an effort to appear strong; he’d really only broken down once or twice in front of Colin, and it had been heart-wrenching. Now that Colin was the source of possible anger, he waited with bated breath to see what would happen next.

“Ye mean tae steal her away from me,” Bryce accused. His tone was low and menacing.

“Steal? Nay, nay, I…I wouldnae do such a thing.”

“But ye kent I had feelings for her.”

“I didnae realize ye spoke so true. I thought ye just thought her bonny. Ye are quite popular wi’ the lassies.”

“What’re ye tryin’ tae say, Colin?” he asked, raising his voice and standing up. This caught the attention of some of the other guards, but they side-eyed the duo and continued with their conversation. “That I am…flighty? Cannae commit tae anythin’?”

“Nay, Bryce,” Colin said, standing up as well, “I said nothin’ of the sort. ‘Tis just that ye have a history wi’ lasses. I thought Gemma might just be yer latest infatuation.”

“So ye do think that way,” Bryce said hotly.

“Nay. Please calm yerself. Ye’re not in yer right mind,” Colin said as gently as he could manage.

“Calm myself?!” Bryce shouted.

The other guards now gave them their full attention. Instead of side-eyeing them, they looked on with large eyes, expecting a fight.

“Let us speak reasonably about this,” Colin said.

Bryce snapped his head at the other guards who watched their argument eagerly.

“What’re you lot lookin’ at? Scram, ‘afore I skin ye for leather!”

The other guards didn’t have to be told twice. When Bryce was upset or in the heat of battle, he could be fearsome indeed. After seeing him on the training grounds, they were smart enough not to cross him.

“I dinnae think that was reasonable,” Colin counseled. He did not say it to be a little shite; he meant it in a helpful way, but Bryce did not see it in that manner.

“I am bein’ as reasonable as I can, given the circumstances! Everyone I ken is keepin’ secrets from me!” he shouted.

“The circumstances? Look, I am sorry about ye an’ Gemma, but we are close. I cannae give her up so easily!” He held up his hands in surrender and gingerly backed away. Still, Bryce advanced.

“That’s not all there is, though, is it?” Bryce asked. The fire only cast light on half of his face, and it made him look quite spooky indeed.

“Wha…what else is there?” Colin asked, utterly confused.

“Dinnae pretend like ye dinnae ken, ye son of a traitor!”

Well, that was new. Bryce had never insulted Captain Frazier before, so to hear him go after his father with such anger completely switched Colin’s mood. It was enough to fight over a woman, but to insult a man’s father, and one so close, who’d taught him everything he knew about battle? Well, that was another thing entirely.

“Traitor?! What can ye mean?”

“Dinnae act so innocent!” Bryce snarled.

Colin was completely taken aback by his best friend’s sudden threatening behavior and accusatory words.

“Bryce, I cannae help ye if I dinnae ken of what ye speak. Truly, I have no earthly idea of what ye speak.”

Apparently that was enough to convince Bryce of his own innocence. The man’s shoulders relaxed, and he took a step back.

“So ye really dinnae ken.”

“Nay. Why would ye speak of my family like that?”

“Yer father dishonors the clan, by lying with my mother, in the bed that she is supposed tae share with my father, and my father only.”

If Bryce had punched him in the gut, it would have felt the same as hearing those words. It might have even hurt less.

“Ye…my father…what?” Colin could barely form the words in his head, let alone his mouth.

“I caught them. After the hunt. I was walkin’ back tae my chambers for a rest, an’ I heard laughter from my parents’ bedchamber. I went tae see what my mother could be laughin’ about, an’ caught yer father in bed wi’ her, in the most intimate of ways.”

Colin’s heart thudded heavily in his chest, and blood rushed to his ears and cheeks. It was indeed a dishonor to the clan; that he could not deny, but…Colin also had other thoughts on his mind. Everyone always commented on how alike he and Bryce looked; how if they did not know better, they would swear they were brothers. Perhaps this affair had gone on longer than any of them could know…which would mean…a catastrophe. If Colin’s running mind was correct, then…Bryce may not be the laird’s son after all. And this behavior…it could be…him trying to secure his future and place in the castle. Colin wondered if Bryce shared these thoughts, but it was impossible to read anything other than anger in his expression at that moment.

“Bryce, truly…I am sorry. I had no idea.”

“I believe ye,” he said softly.

Colin thought that may be the end of it. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Bryce spoke again.

“That is why I will give ye a chance tae disappear, ye an’ yer father.”

“What?!” Colin balked. It felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of him.

“Aye. If I banish just yer father, people will be suspicious. Ye cannot bear the scrutiny alone, and Gemma cannae marry intae a disgraced family.”

Unfortunately all of that was true. Still, Colin was stunned — both by the situation, and by Bryce’s plans. He had never been diplomatic or thought ahead, but clearly he’d done a lot of thinking in order to concoct this plan. It was smart of him. It secured his place in the clan, got rid of opposition in more ways than one, and made him look righteous and noble. That only made it sting all the worse.

“Bryce, I’m sorry. Truly, I am,” he said, hating how desperate and raw his voice sounded, but it was a desperate and unfortunate situation all around.

“I ken. But ‘tis too late. I will communicate this tae our fathers. Be gone by dawn in five days’ time, or we’ll have tae drum ye out of the castle. ‘Tis yer choice.”

Bryce did not stay after that. Instead, he snatched his tankard and stalked away into the night. Colin stayed behind and sat by the fire, looking into the intense flames, his mind complete mush, save for one thought:

How was he going to tell Gemma?