Chapter 8

It was his fate to be alone, but there was something about this fair maiden with the glossy brown hair and mesmerizing amber eyes that made him wish with all his heart that it was not so. That is what Arran was thinking as he sat waiting for Colleen at the tavern. When the sunset forced the villagers to abandon the harvesting and gather at the tavern tap room to drink, minds tended to turn from work to other things. With sun-kissed faces and sweat-caked skin, the air was thick with longings and promises. Arran had a lot of experience recognizing these atmospheres. He was usually able to shrug it off with a jaded smile, but tonight, tonight Colleen would be joining him. For once, his future was wide open.

The tavern keeper was also the local brewmaster and he allowed anyone who brought him a bushel of barley to drink for free. Everyone was welcome to wassail that evening, with even the local priest being kind enough to stay away, knowing that the harvest moon and free drink would cause more than a few couples to head back out to the fields that night to make love under the summer stars.

The hay wains were trundling back to the barns laden high with dry mown grass and wheat. Some of the men had gathered around the tanner to chat about the best leather for harvesting gloves. After all, a weaver or spinner could not afford to have the skin on their hands abraded by barley stalks if they had to be at their spinning wheels the next day. This is where Arran gravitated to, thinking that he better find out the best leather for gloves in case Collen took him at his word.

The last three months had been torment for him as he was forced to watch lads like David MacMillan and Rory Burnside buzzing around the beautiful brunette like a couple of mayflies. The only thing that held him back was this: he had watched courtships happen in front of him many times before and he made sure to never get in the way of it. Because when he moved on down the road, as he was doomed to do, the young lass who had thrown over everything in the hope that he would love her back and stay with her always would have her heart broken, and no chance of getting back with her beau once Arran left town.

No. Seducing innocent village maidens was not something Arran Sterling ever wanted to do. Over the years, he had adopted an acerbic, truculent nature to make sure no young lasses fell in love with him. They could whisper and giggle about what it might be like to lie in bed with his taut body covering them and his warm kisses pressing down on their most intimate parts, but he would never do or say anything to encourage them to think he wanted the same thing.

That was until now. It seemed like a mystery to him how it happened, but Colleen Cunningham had inserted her face into his dreams with vigorous insistence.

It made him smile. Which he continued to do when he saw her walking towards him. Glancing over at the tanner, she returned Arran's smile. "Are ye here to learn aboot leather cuirasses? Oor tanner has no expertise in making them, ye ken. We've never had much use in the village for armory and weapons."

He drew up a stool for her to sit next to him. He had chosen a quiet corner for them both to be in - under the staircase leading upstairs, and the buzz of conversation only dipped momentarily as the villagers observed whom Colleen had chosen to drink with, before the sound of merry voices started up again.

"They will think we are lovers," Colleen's eyes challenged him as she sat down. "Is that not what ye are afraid of?" He took a long sip of his ale with his eyes locked on hers before answering. "I am afraid of nothing. But yer advice aboot leather cuirasses for armor interests me. Hamish was telling me just the other day that armor will be a problem come springtime. I have asked the weavers to concentrate on making more linen. I want each man to be wearing a gambeson when we fight MacKenzie."

The serving wench brought Colleen a small mug of beer and stopped long enough to whisper something in her ear. Colleen's face did not change as she thanked the woman for the beer and then whispered something back to her. The wench turned away and was immediately lost in the press of bodies mingling around the serving counter.

"What did she say to ye?" Arran wanted to know. She gave him a considering look. "I am nae sure if I should tell ye, Master. It would only add to yer already sizable opinion of yer prowess."

That made him laugh. "Och, I ken what she asked ye. What was yer reply?"

Colleen pouted and smiled, but then looked at him from under her lashes in such a captivating way that he almost gave up his promise to be chaste and noble right then and there. "Ye are very shrewd, Master Sterling. Yon serving maid wanted to ken if ye were heading out to the fields after this. I told her she would have to look for ye there, because I did nae ken what yer plans were."

"Ye should have been a diplomat, Maiden," he raised his mug to salute her.

She shrugged. "Tell me more aboot these gambesons." He obliged her, happy to answer a question without deception or guile. "They are quilted doublets. Very effective against deflecting arrow bolts and sword strokes." Using the wall as a parchment, he dipped his finger into the ale and began to trace an outline on the stone wall. "Ye take a length o' linen and use glue to fix another length o' linen on top of it. When ye have built up a thick layer, the seamstress cuts oot the doublet: front, back, and sometimes sleeves. She pads the linen breastplate with horse hair or wool and does the same for the other pieces before sewing them together like a quilt. They are amazingly light and easy to move around in. The lads will love it. Give them a helmet or quilted cap and they should do very well because a gambeson protects the guts and heart."

They chatted about whether it would be better to leave the sleeves off the gambesons so that the protective garments could be made faster. "Aye," Arran replied, "that is called an aketon. Lairds like to wear them under their breastplates for additional protection and to stop chafing."

"But it's like ye said," Colleen reminded him, "ye didnae think that Torquil would wait until spring to attack us. And I think ye're right. Once the harvest is in the barns and his new soldiers have been trained, MacKenzie will come."

Arran felt confident when he replied. "I will have a wee army of one hundred and fifty-three men able to defend or attack before the start of winter. The blacksmith has made swords. The fletcher and Hamish the carpenter have fashioned bows and arrows. The ferrier has crafted frames for the shields and axe heads for the staffs. We will be ready."

"Except ye dinnae need to wear any of that stuff, do ye, Master?" Those amber eyes of Colleen's raked him like molten gold. "Because of that spell ye're under."

All the things he wanted to say to her boiled inside him like a raging fire. Standing up, Arran growled. "Let me leave first. I want ye to follow me after enough time has passed. Come up to me bedchamber the same way ye did last time. If ye dinnae come, Maiden, I will bear ye no grudge. But if I hear ye at the window, it will make me glad."

And with those words, he was gone.

Colleen watched him leave.She did not have time to think about what her response to his proposal should be before a few of the village maidens surrounded her. "Colleen! Ye repelled him! He went upstairs. Why is nae he going doon to the fields?"

Pressing her temples with her fingers and rubbing them in small circles, Colleen closed her eyes as she tried to make sense of it all. Isla recognized the signs of impatience in her sister and advised Margaret to step back. "Dinnae jibber jabber at Colleen, lassies. Ye'll get a buffet in yer ear if ye pester her aboot yon mercenary. Come away."

Giving a light laugh, Colleen managed to control her sweeping emotions. "Tush! Come noo, Isla. I'm nae that bad a sister, am I? The truth is this. ‘Yon mercenary' is nae feeling well. In fact, I might have to come by and bring him a healing cordial in the morning."

Isla eyed her sister shrewdly. "Agnes can do that, Colleen. There's nae need for ye to put yerself oot."

It was a tense moment, with both sisters staring each other down. Isla was challenging Colleen to stand up and admit she was half in love with Arran Sterling, but her elder sister refused to take the bait. "That's a good idea, Isla," Colleen said serenely. "And noo I find meself ready for bed. I bid ye all a good night." The girls fell back and watched her leave in silence.

She was almost out of the door, but David stopped her. "I will escort ye home, Colleen. Arran was saying the other day that he does nae trust the MacKenzie to hold true to his word."

Already on edge, Colleen found it hard to be polite. "Thank ye, David, but I will be fine. It is only a matter of a mile or two, and the night is still young."

David gripped her arm, hissing under his breath. "Ye leave because yon Master Sterling has retired to his bedchamber withoot ye. Ye retire in a fit of the sulks."

Wrenching her arm out of his grasp, Colleen whispered sweetly. "I liked ye better when ye were a rational man, David." Then, softening her tone, Colleen smiled and patted his hand. "David…I bid ye go to the fields with some lucky lassie. Forget me. I am nae the lass for ye."

She left before he could try and dissuade her. Colleen got a fair way down the road before she made up her mind and doubled back. A few moments later, she was tapping on Arran's bedchamber window.

Arran had been waiting next to the window for her, but he lifted her into the room with a neutral expression on his face. "Ye came," was all he ventured to say. There was an awkward moment of silence as they faced each other. It was Arran who spoke first. "It has been three months, Maiden, but I am a patient man. I'm glad ye came."

Finding it difficult to make eye contact with him, Colleen felt her face get hot and hoped the moonlight would hide it. "I dinnae ken why," she whispered. "Ye have done yer best to discourage me."

Taking her hand, he led her to the bed. Colleen swallowed hard. This is what she had wanted when she invited him to enter the cottage, but she had spent so long trying to convince herself that she hated him and he meant nothing to her that now he was close she believed it was all happening too fast. Looking around the room, she thought to change the subject without him thinking she had changed her mind.

"Are there no stools or chairs we can sit on? I would have thought Goodwife MacMillan would have put a wee bit more effort into her hospitality."

He was immediately sensitive to her nerves. "I didnae ask ye to come here for that, Colleen," Arran jerked his head toward the bed. "I want to tell ye aboot…Och, ye ken what I want to talk to ye aboot—the talisman."

Colleen gave a sigh of relief. It was one thing to enter a man's bedchamber and another thing entirely to lie on the bed with him. Smiling prettily, she pointed to the chest in the corner. "Bring that closer so I may sit on it and ye can sit on the bed. Many things are a mystery to me, Master Arran, but how ye recovered from yer fatal injuries is the biggest one on me mind."

He dragged the chest closer to the bed, but then insisted he sit on it while she had the bed. Colleen relaxed under his kind, gentlemanly conduct. Her breathing returned to normal as she kicked off her chopines and tucked her bare feet underneath her.

As he began his story, Arran sat on the chest with his fists propping up his chin and his elbows on his knees, eye to eye with her. After a while, he became more animated and began to pace the room from side to side, gesticulating wildly as his passion increased.

"When I woke to find that thing gone from around me neck, Maiden, it was a relief of sorts. I thought I might have a chance at living a normal life with the talisman gone. But I swore an oath to keep it with me at all times and never betray its secrets. The first promise, I will keep for now. And I am aboot to break the second promise. I will tell ye the secret of the Brethren of the Immortals.

I do not age. I cannae die. And if I linger too long in one place, these things become noticeable. I must always move from one place to the next so that those who were once me friends and neighbors cannae turn against me and denounce me for a daemon—or worse. Not all of the scars ye found on me came from battles, Colleen. Some came from men willing to torture me to gain access to me secrets. Others came from zealots harrying me oot o' their towns. As soon as a battle is over, I must bind me wounds, sheath me sword, and move on. Many a maiden has watched me keenly as I miraculously heal and then gone running to the kirk to denounce me."

Colleen knew he was telling her the truth. His honesty was almost tangible. Tucking her knees up to her chest as if she was cold, all she could think to say was, "Ye help them and then they turn their backs on ye or want to steal yer secrets. Horrible folk. Ye're better off withoot them, Master."

He gave a twisted smile. "It is me fate, Maiden. And once, heaven help me, I was happy for it. Power, attraction, wealth, women. I thought all those things would fill me life. But they did not. I was an empty unbreakable vessel. So I left the pleasurable life behind and sought to do good. It brings me a certain measure of comfort to help those less fortunate than meself."

The healer shook her head. "Nay, Master. It is ye who is the unfortunate one. I pity ye and wish there was something I could do to make ye feel better— even if it is only for a short while…"

He regarded her keenly, leaning against the fireplace with his arms folded. "Ye are the first person to take me talisman from me. I thought I might die if it was stolen or lost, but no. The talisman is locked in tandem with me life forever. That means I cannae stay here and age with ye, Colleen. D'ye understand that?"

She shifted her body, making herself more comfortable on the bed, but Colleen was thinking about what he had just told her. Was he worth it? Sometime in the future, when a woman was at her most vulnerable point in life, when she began to show the first signs of aging, then the agelessly braw and handsome Arran Sterling would have to leave her before the kirk got nervous about her husband's uncanny ability to never age or suffer from an injury…

The mercenary did not rush her. He wanted her to work it out on her own.

Sighing, she accepted her fate. "Ye mentioned something aboot a brethren, Master? Are they men like yerself?" He shook his head. "Nay, lass. I will only tell me own tale. Their story is nae mine to share."

"What aboot yer clan, yer family? Are they also like ye?" Reaching for the long braid running down her back, Colleen began to unknot it almost absent-mindedly, but her movements were assured. Her mind was made up. "It has been many years since I saw them, lass." Arran prowled from one side of the bedchamber to the other like a hungry wolf, but he no longer had the power to repulse her. They had to accept their new destiny together. From his tightly controlled expression to the way his hands kept spasming with frustration, Colleen knew he deeply regretted his initial rejection of her. Not because it had only delayed their inevitable coming together, but because it had hurt her feelings. "I should have stayed," he growled. "I should have explained this to ye many weeks ago, but it has been so long since I found an understanding, loving heart like yers, Colleen, that I had forgotten what it felt like. Ye have awakened that part of me that I long held closed off from others. Years and years and years of loneliness—over in an instant, because of ye."

"That is what love does, Arran."

He stopped in the middle of the room, looking at her intently. "Aye." Moving swiftly towards her, he gently stroked her soft cheek with his fingers. "It is nae only yer bonny face and sweet nature I love, lass. It is everything about ye, everything ye do and say."

Wriggling to the side of the bed and jumping down, Colleen said, "I have never done this before, Master. Will ye guide me?" And she proceeded to untie her kirtle.