Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

E loise sat up in the bed abruptly. All was dark, the fire had burned down to the ashes, yet she was certain she felt something.

Is there someone there? Someone in the shadows?

She could have worn she saw movement. Grappling to the table beside her, she opened a tinder box and with shaking hands lit a rushlight, holding the tapered candle high in the air. The feeble orange flame cast little light across the room, but it was enough to reveal that where she thought she had seen a moving shadow, there was nothing, only the stonework and the tapestries that covered the castle wall.

"Nightmares. I'm seeing things. Aye, that is all." Eloise abruptly remembered where she was and who should have been in bed beside her. Finding the bed was empty, the pillow indented from where Murdoch's head had been, she reached across the covers. The furs were cold, a sure sign that Murdoch hadn't been there for some time. "Murdoch?" she called across the chamber, yet there was no answer.

Now so acutely awake, Eloise knew she would not be able to sleep. She clambered out of the bed and moved toward the side of the room, where her maid had hung up an informal lounge dress. Easy to pull on over her shoulders and hang loose with the glimpse of night rail showing beneath, she dressed. Slipping her feet into small flat shoes, she left the chamber, taking the rushlight with her.

I am nae going tae look fer him. I just need tae distract meself from me nightmares. I need a book.

Hurrying to remember the layout of the rooms she had been shown two days before, she traipsed through the corridors and headed to the library. It was two floors down and tucked into the corner of the castle, through such dark corridors that she repeatedly glanced over her shoulder, startled that the feeling of being watched continued to follow her, even here.

It is my imagination. That is all.

When she reached the library door, she pushed it open and crept inside, hurrying toward the stacked shelves. She moved around a chaise longue before realizing that the room was not empty. There was another candle lit, casting a warm butter-tinged glow across the library. It made the mahogany shelves all the more visible, with their stacks of books, and the settle benches that were laid across the room.

Sitting with his back to her was an all too familiar figure. He bent across a table, with a chess board in front of him.

"Murdoch?"

He lifted his head from where it had been resting in in the palm of one of his hands. His eyes narrowed as he gazed at her.

"What are ye doing out of bed?"

"I'll answer if ye dae." Eloise crossed toward him, placing down her rushlight beside the chessboard. Seeing there was a small stool sat opposite him, where some seemingly imaginary player was taking part, she sat on the stool, taking his place.

"Did ye come looking fer me?"

"Nay, I couldnae sleep." She looked down at his chessboard, not wishing to talk of her nightmares and that feeling of being watched. It sounded mad to her own mind and she did not want to be thought of as hysterical. "I came tae find a book. And ye?"

"Couldnae sleep either. Too many thoughts." He tapped his temple and stared down at the chessboard once more, steepling his hands in front of him. He took a minute or two, staring at the board, before reaching forward and sliding one of the pieces to another square.

"Ye like this game?" she asked, sitting forward on the edge of the stool.

"Nay. I detest it. That is why I am playing it in the middle of the night."

"Yer wryness…"

"Yer inquisitiveness…" He matched her playfully angry tone and they glared at one another. Eloise was the first to crack as she picked up one of the pieces off the chessboard, gazing at it.

"Have ye been playing fer many years?"

"Aye. My father taught me when I was young," he said, steepling his hands once more as he stared at the board. "Nae dissimilar tae battle. It is all about tactics, about drawing the enemy into one way of thinking, when ye are actually doing something else entirely. It is the best way tae win." He moved another piece on the board and removed a piece.

"Well, at least it's less bloody than battle," she said with a wrinkled nose.

"Aye, that I cannae deny." He moved another piece, as if he was now his own opponent.

"Would ye teach me?"

"What? Nay." He shook his head, not even pausing for a moment to consider the answer before he gave it. Disappointed, she stared at him, her body falling still.

"Why nae?" she asked, her voice high pitched.

"It is a complicated thing tae explain. Many who try tae learn soon give up."

"Oh, I see." She sat tall, folding her arms. "Ye think me too much of a fool tae learn this game. I am nae fool, Murdoch."

"I have never called ye a fool," he said rather sharply before his face softened. "But I could argue that the rather feeble dirk ye used tae carry around is a foolish thing tae take with ye tae protect yerself."

"It has saved me. More than once." She glared at the board, not in any humor to tell him of her most recent experience, where she'd had to use it to force Stewart away from her.

"Remind me tae give ye a better weapon some time. At least ye'll be more protected then."

She couldn't settle. His insinuation that she had done something foolish made matters worse.

So much was wrong now with her connection to Murdoch. Their agreement to marry, yet they persistently argued. Her attraction to him, and yet his plain resistance to her. It didn't seem to matter that he had kissed her more than once, could dance with her and cause a thrill, or even carry her as if she weighed no more than a feather, for it was all an act. She knew that.

Reluctant to return to the bedchamber and deciding she could put up with Murdoch's company for a little longer, she gestured to the stack of books beside him on the table.

"Could ye pass me Robinson Crusoe, please?" She waited as he lifted his head from his steepled hands, looking away from the chessboard and toward the books. He halted, not responding to her or moving. "Murdoch?"

"Ye have hands. Ye can reach for it yerself."

"Murdoch!" She sat forward in alarm. It was so much closer to him than to her, it would have been an easy thing to do. "Dae ye dislike me company so much that ye wish tae get rid of me in this manner?"

"I never said I disliked ye."

"Then why are ye so rude? It is a simple favor."

"I…" He looked away from her, down at the books again. "It doesnae matter."

"Clearly, it does." She stood up and rounded the chessboard, picking up the stack of books and choosing the second in the stack. "Och, how difficult that was, aye!" she declared with vigor.

"Ye are truly annoyed."

"Of course I am!" Deciding she'd rather sit alone in the chamber and read, than put up with his company, she flounced toward the door, hurrying back when she realized she had forgotten the rushlight. She reached for the brass holder, but another hand found her wrist.

Murdoch held her hand still, clearly urging her not to rush away just yet.

"Dinnae go like this," he whispered, his eyes on the flames. "I didnae mean tae offend ye, it is just…" He looked away, shaking his head.

"Just what?" They both stayed very still, with her standing beside the table, her hand still on the candle, and his fingers over her wrist.

"I cannae read, Eloise." He shifted back in the chair abruptly. He looked down at the chessboard, his face set like thunder as his hands gripped the arms of his chair tight. A muscle twitched in his cheek, one so subtle that had Eloise not been staring at him so openly, she might have missed it. "Aye, feel free for the jests tae begin."

"I beg yer pardon?"

"I ken it. I ken how ridiculous it is nae tae be able tae read. I am a laird's son, but me education never went that way. I was given me first riding lesson at three and me first sword at four. I was never taught tae read." He shook his head, falling still again. His eyes didn't even blink as he stared at the chess set.

"Murdoch?" She waited, wanting him to look at her, but he refused to.

He is hardly the first man tae walk through a castle who cannae read.

She walked toward him. The proximity must have caught his attention, for he looked up from the chess set. His eyes darted up and down her, not settling on her face but flitting from one part of her to the next. Unable to decipher what that look meant, she leaned against the arm of his chair, just relieved she had his whole attention at last.

"I could teach ye tae read, if ye wished tae learn." Her offer hung in the answer, unanswered for a few seconds. "Ye dinnae have tae learn. There are many who dinnae read, but if ye wished tae, I could teach ye."

"Wait." He cocked his head to the side, his eyes now fixed on her face. In the candlelight, Eloise grew distracted, staring at those handsome features. Whereas she once had thought him arrogant, even proud, she could now see there was a greater vulnerability to Murdoch than she had ever considered before. It endeared her to him, making her fond indeed.

Dinnae think of that. I am already attracted tae him far more than I should be. I dinnae need tae feel anything more fer him.

"Ye would dae that?" He went on. "Ye would teach me tae read?"

"On one condition." She returned to her stool and sat forward, holding up a single finger. "Ye teach me how tae play this game." At her smile, she was relieved to see he smiled too, broadly.

"Aye, as ye wish." He sat forward, rubbing his hands together. "But be warned, the best way tae learn chess is tae play repeatedly. That means ye will have tae be prepared tae lose a lot of games tae begin with."

"I'm sure I can survive." She shrugged. "As long as ye are nae too proud in yer gloating when ye dae win?"

"Ah, and here I thought ye were getting tae ken me."

"Perhaps a little. A very little," she emphasized, holding up her fingers in the air. "Now, ye teach me first. We need more light for reading, so I shall teach ye that some time when the sun is up."

"Ye have yer wish. Now, here is the crux of the game." He reached down to the board and touched with one of the tallest pieces on the board. "This is the queen. The aim of the game is tae capture yer opponent's queen."

"Because the queen is more important than the king?" she asked, teasingly.

"Because she is more treasured." He sat taller with a smile. "But dinnae get any ideas from this." She laughed as he rubbed his hands together. "Now, let's play."

"Murdoch?" A hand waved in front of his face as he stared out the window. Lost in thought, it took Murdoch a moment to realize his brother was the one waving madly at him. "Ye lost yer mind or something? Ye been staring at the glass fer ten minutes." Clyde laughed and sat down in the stone nook in front of the window.

"Deep in thought. That's all." Murdoch had no inclination to talk of what those thoughts were. He could hardly explain the deal that he and Eloise had made the night before, let alone how they had ended up in the library together, playing chess.

They had played two games that Eloise had lost, though she was learning quickly and played with a wrinkled nose for much of the time as she concentrated. In the early hours of the morning, she fell asleep in the chair. Reluctant to let her spend another night in the chair, Murdoch had moved toward her, lifting her in his arms and carrying her out. In her sleep, she'd turned her head toward him, burying her face close to his chest.

The feeling she had stirred still burned deep within now. It was strong desire, a need to place her on the bed and wake her with a kiss, yet he'd restrained himself.

Convenience. Aye, that's what she said. A marriage of convenience.

So, he had placed her down on the bed and pulled the covers over her and returned to the other side of the pillow wall she had created, fighting that attraction all night.

"Where is Father?" Clyde said, sitting back in the nook and looking out of the glass himself.

"Lord kens," Murdoch muttered, leaning against the wall beside Clyde. "He summoned ye as well this morning?"

"Aye." Clyde nodded. With the morning light shining through the window, it was easier for Murdoch to see the scars his brother bore from his battles as a soldier. There was one long scar that stretched up his neck and finished just under his chin.

"Clyde?" Murdoch whispered, waiting until his brother turned to look at him. "How did ye get this one?" He gestured to the scar. The day before, Murdoch had found time to talk to Clyde alone. They'd spent just an hour together, talking, and it had been like old times, but it was not long enough. Murdoch wanted longer to talk to his brother, but it seemed their father's celebrations were getting in the way.

"A blade," Clyde said with a sigh and stared into the distance. It was the first time Murdoch had seen the smile slip from Clyde's face.

"Ye ken it is all right tae remember it, dinnae ye?" Murdoch took his shoulder, seeing a darkness settle on Clyde's face. "Ye dinnae have tae… ye ken, push it away all the time."

"Ye ken me well." Clyde smiled rather sadly. "Yet it's how I deal with it, Murdoch. I choose nae tae think about it." He fidgeted, his hands adjusting the weapon's belt at his hips. Murdoch held his brother's shoulder tight. He was the elder brother and should be there to protect Clyde, but their lives had taken them on different paths the last few years, ever since Lillie had died. Clyde sighed, rather loudly, then that smile appeared again. "I deal with things by finding reasons tae be happy instead."

"And ye have found that reason?"

"Aye, I have. I am tae be married, am I nae? And Harper is a fine woman."

Murdoch tilted his head to the side as he looked at his brother. He'd seen fondness on Clyde's part during the celebrations, and had noted they often held hands, but now Murdoch saw something different in Clyde's face.

It isnae love. Nae yet, at least.

"Is all well with her?" Murdoch asked.

"Aye, aye, how it is with a bride-tae-be, or so I think, anyway." Another booming voice joined them. They both smiled and turned to face the doorway of the study.

At last, their father appeared. Fergus swept away the guard who followed him.

"I hardly need protection in my own study, dae I? Take yer pike and go and guard the keep door, for Lord almighty's sake." Fergus shut the door behind the guard and leaned against the door, huffing. "Dinnae ye two laugh. Someday ye'll see the laird cannae go tae the privy without being followed. Be prepared, Murdoch."

"I dinnae want tae think about it." Murdoch shook his head.

As Fergus dropped down into a vast armchair by the fire, preferring this seat to the desk, he propped his feet up on the stool in front of him, so they were closer to the flames. Murdoch took the opportunity to move toward his father and ask a question that had been bothering him, ever since the feast the night before.

"Father," Murdoch asked, crossing the room with Clyde at his side. "Why is it necessary tae have me wedding afore Clyde's?"

"I'm sorry?" Fergus looked up distractedly, kicking off his boots and stretching out his feet by the flames.

"Clyde's wedding has been planned fer years," Murdoch said simply. Even if he and Eloise were now planning to get married, there was no rush.

I need time tae get control of this attraction first. Or what will happen on the wedding night?

He thought of Eloise and how he'd left her behind in the bed, sleeping peacefully with her hair wild and her night rail slipping down from her shoulder. The image was intoxicating, and he had to hurry to sit in another chair to make sure that if his body rose, no one else would see it.

"Aye, Harper is concerned that we're rushing our wedding plans too," Clyde said, standing behind Murdoch's chair and leaning on the back. "She's been acting strange recently. Spends more time with that maid of hers."

Murdoch thought of the maid, Beatrice. The day before he'd managed to avoid her, though he'd heard from a guard once that she was looking for him. Murdoch resolved to avoid her as much as he possibly could from now on.

"Ah, that is just cold feet before the wedding." Fergus waved a hand in the air in dismissal. "Ye ask me though why there is a need fer the weddings tae happen so fast, and I will tell ye." Fergus leaned forward, looking between the two of them. "I fear war is imminent."