Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The day they were to leave for Ross Castle dawned cold and sullen, with snow flurries blowing through the courtyard in intermittent gusts of wind, and the promise of more and worse to come in the leaden gray clouds above. Thora had to admit, as she helped saddle Steadfast, that she would much rather have remained at Cameron Castle, to enjoy the Yule there. She’d had her fill already of traveling in such foul weather.

Had it not been for her visions, and her nightly dreams of looming catastrophe upon the lands, she might well have suggested they stay. Her premonitions, however, had not left her, and neither had the requirements to alter the future changed.

At least, she mused, she had good, warm garments to travel in, and a thick new cloak to try and remain warm, along with gloves that had been found somewhere, and a set of boots. The last were a bit large, but that was all for the better, as it allowed her to don two or three sets of thick, woolen stockings as added insulation against the chill. Her fingers would likely be frozen stiff by the time they reached shelter - Ross Castle, she hoped - but her feet might be spared the same fate.

She preferred cold hands to cold feet. One could wrap numb fingers around a mug of mulled wine or a bowl of stew, or brace them in front of an open fire. Feet were harder to dispel the chill from, once it got into the bones.

A huff brought her attention around. Beside her, Aedan and Mac were grim, heavily cloaked figures in layers of cloth. Both men wore heavy leather breeches, a kilt, shirt, vest, sash, overcoat, and cloak, and the thick, muffling cloth made them both look several inches broader. So heavily wrapped were they, that their weapons scarcely clinked when they moved.

Thora envied them. She had her stockings, and a set of thick hose under her chemise, two underskirts, shirt and overshirt, along with a sash, scarf, and long cloak, and still she felt chilled.

The last of the packs was lashed into place, and Mac came to offer her his hands. “’Tis best we start now, m’lady. Laird Cameron doesnae like the look o’ the weather, and we must make haste, if we’re tae make any distance at all afore the snow fall forces us tae seek shelter.”

“I ken.” Thora knew she was quite capable of getting into the saddle without aid, but she let Mac help her anyway. It was the sort of thing a lady would do - or a lass trying to mimic a lady. “Dae ye think we’ll reach Ross Castle?”

“Nae if the weather worsens, but there’s good inns with decent food and rooms along the road.”

That was her thought as well, but it was somewhat disheartening to hear from another’s mouth. She’d hoped she might be wrong.

Once she was safe in the saddle, Mac and Aedan mounted their own horses. The rest of the guards were already waiting. One of the kitchen maids came forward and passed around fresh bannocks - deliberately over-baked in the fire, they would offer warmth for some time, and food when they were too cold to offer further warmth. Thora took hers with a sigh of gratitude and tucked them into her shirt.

The warmth was welcome, but even with the bannocks and her layers of warm clothing, the wind was biting, and there was no way to avoid being pelted by the frigid, slushy snow. Try as they might to keep the hoods of their cloaks around their faces, nothing could block the cold and wet. Within a candle-mark, all of them were dripping and shivering.

Thora felt miserable. She’d never been able to remain warm in the winter, and the bite of the wind, along with the cold droplets sneaking down the back of her collar, made it much worse. Even the waxed weight of her cloak and the bannocks in her shirt weren’t enough.

Weight thumped into her shoulders, wrapping around her in an extra layer of warmth that seemed to temporarily drive the cold away. Thora blinked, her gloved hands already tugging the fabric close, even as her cold-numbed thoughts tried to understand what was happening.

“Yer shiverin’ so hard tis painful tae watch. If I’d kent ye were so sensitive tae the cold, I’d have had the guards or Rhiannon make sure ye had an extra wax-wool cloak, and a warm brick in a belt sash for ye.” Aedan said.

Aedan’s coat. Somehow, while she wasn’t looking, he’d managed to shrug it off from underneath his outer cloak. She blinked again, then burrowed as well as she could into the lingering warmth of his body heat. “Thank ye.”

Mac snickered from his horse. “Ye look like a wee nesting kitten, all wrapped up just after birth.”

Thora managed to deliver what she thought was a passable glare over the top of her scarf. “Better a kitten than an block o’ ice, which ‘tis what I feel like. Or a frost fey, which is what the two o’ ye look like.”

“If we were frost fey, we wouldnae feel the cold so deeply.” Mac muttered and shrugged his shoulders up in an effort to protect his face. Thora couldn’t help noticing that his nose and cheeks were bright red from the cold and wind. “And we’d have the ability tae send the weather elsewhere while we traveled, instead o’ enduring this miserable muck.”

“At least there’s nae lightning. Or thunder.” After trying to travel in a storm that was just on the edge of freezing, and yet warm enough for the wild flashes and booming claps of thunder to frighten her horse, Thora was willing to admit this was at least a small improvement.

A very, very small improvement.

The warmth from Aedan’s coat disappeared quickly, but the weight of the extra layer helped. She still felt wretchedly cold, but at least she shivered slightly less, and it no longer felt as if her body were trying to shake itself apart.

Onward they plodded, through a world of endless gray skies, brown mud and white snow. Thora lost track of the time, and concentrated on keeping her horse moving forward. She was so focused on staying in the saddle and keeping Steadfast on course that she didn’t realize they’d stopped until Aedan’s horse stepped in front of hers and forced her to come to a halt.

She blinked, then looked around. They were in a small village, and Mac had guided them to a stop in front of a larger set of buildings that, on closer inspection, was an inn, tavern, and stable. “We’re stopping?”

“Fer a candle-mark or so. ‘Tis early afternoon, by me reckoning, and time for the midday meal. We’ll rest and warm ourselves and the horses for a bit, then press on the rest o’ the way tae Castle Ross. With a bit o’ luck, we’ll make it afore the storm on the horizon blows in and traps us fully.”

Thora nodded. A part of her wished to demand they press on, to avoid any chance that they would be stranded and fail to reach their destination. However, a larger part of her was aware of the cold, and the dull, hazy sleepiness that came in winter, just before one began to truly freeze to death. They needed to get warm, or they would risk falling asleep in their saddles and never waking up. Even if they avoided that fate, they were at risk of losing fingers to the cold.

That last thought was enough to propel her clumsily off the horse, to stagger into the doorway of the tavern while Mac, Aedan and the rest of them handed the horses over to the stable boys. Aedan smirked as he joined her at the door. “Need a hand?”

“Need me own tae nae be freezin’.” Thora scowled at him. “’Tis hard tae grip things.”

“Pity that never slowed ye down afore. But I would have thought a village lass would be used tae the cold.” Despite his teasing, Aedan did hold the door open so she could go inside first.

“Never stay out so long. And livestock pens and cottages arenae exactly open tae the weather.” She’d seen the inside of enough of them, including the healer’s cottage where her sister had done most of her training, to know that much. “’Tisnae exactly me habit tae stay out in the snow fer candle-marks.”

She glared at Aedan and Mac, who were both stripping out of their cloaks and outer garments to hang them by the fire. Neither of them looked anything near as stiff as she felt. “The two o’ ye, ye’re like me braithers - a furnace under yer skin tae keep ye warm.”

Mac grinned, and Aedan raised an eyebrow, before he leaned closer to help her out of her own damp outer gear. “If ye want, I could keep ye warm for the rest o’ the way.”

There was a low rumble in his voice, a seductive purr that went straight to her gut and sent heat blazing to her cheeks, so sharp it almost hurt. “I ken ye’re hot-blooded, me laird, but I hardly think a horse is the place fer that.”

She drawled the last word with an upraised eyebrow of her own, followed by a pointed flick of her gaze downward. “Besides, I’ve heard it said that even the best o’ men cannae perform when the cold shrinks them. I wouldnae want ye tae lose yer warmth and yer dignity.”

She kept her voice low enough to avoid embarrassing him in front of the tavern, which was crowded with folk who’d stopped in. That didn’t stop Mac from hearing her and dissolving into barely smothered laughter. “Och, I fear the lass has the right o’ it. Besides, we’ll never get tae our destination, if ye’re so busy makin’ a point tae yer lady that ye forget where ye’re meant tae be going.”

“Then I suppose we’ll all have tae make dae with warmed bannocks and heavy cloaks - and some good stew and mulled wine inside us.” Aedan lifted his hand to wave the tavern keeper over.

The stew and the wine did help, and one of the serving lasses took their cloaks to dry by the fire. The warmth, after so long in the frigid air was enough to make Thora sleepy, but she forced the impulse to close her eyes away. There would be time enough for that when they arrived at Castle Ross. She didn’t want to cause the group to be delayed any more than they had to be.

They remounted a candle-mark later, warmer and drier, but with a sense of urgency. By the time they’d finished their meal, the weather had worsened. The snow was heavier, the wind sharper. The sky was leaden with the promise of a true blizzard to come.

Aedan rode up beside her as they departed the village. “’Tis two candle-marks tae Castle Ross, and the weather will be poor all the way. The faster we ride, the less chance we have o’ bein’ caught in the worst o’ it. Can ye keep Steadfast on pace and on course, or dae I need tae give ye a lead rein?”

She was tempted to ask for the lead rein, but pride wouldn’t let her. Besides, if the horse did startle or founder, she didn’t want to drag another down with her. “I can manage. But…” She took a breath. “Might be best if I’m nae at lead or the end o’ the party.”

“Aye… Mac will lead. I’ll follow behind ye.” Aedan turned to give orders to his men, then the whole party kicked their horses into a moderately paced trot.

Thora set Steadfast to his paces behind Mac’s horse, and steeled herself for the ride ahead.

By the time Castle Ross appeared out of the late afternoon gloom, Aedan’s hands were frozen, and the snow was coming down thick enough that it was hard to see more than two or three horse-lengths ahead. As glad as he was to reach shelter, the weather had him in a sour mood, and not just because he was chilled to the bone.

A storm like this would make travel impossible for some time. The road would be treacherous at best, impassable at worst, and at this time of year, a storm could blow into a blizzard with barely any warning.

Whether he liked it or not, it was very likely he’d be stuck at Castle Ross for the entirety of the Yule Celebration, and possibly into the turning year. It was a miserable thought.

It also meant he’d be stuck playing his role as Thora’s beloved, and loving, husband. And that role, he feared, was likely to be every bit as treacherous and difficult as travel on the roads beyond the castle walls. Especially since some foolhardy part of him insisted on enjoying their exchanges, even when Thora got the better of him, as she had at the tavern earlier.

Still, being forced into close proximity with several people he hardly knew and didn’t trust, in the castle of a man who was an uncomfortable ally at best - Aedan would far rather be back in Cameron Castle, celebrating with his own folk.

A stable boy came to take their horses, and three servants to take their packs, and Lachlan Ross’s steward came forward to greet them. The man looked somewhat harried, and Aedan couldn’t fault him for that. Hosting any sort of major celebration was a difficult task.

“Laird and Lady Cameron? If ye’ll accompany me, I’ll show ye tae yer room. One o’ the lads will guide yer manservant tae the quarters we’ve set aside fer senior servants o’ visiting lairds and ladies. Yer guards, o’ course, are welcome tae bunk in the guardhouse, the stable, or the village, as they choose.”

Aedan exchanged a quick glance with Mac. Their guards would most certainly not be sleeping in the village, where they’d be unable to act quickly in an emergency. Aedan would see to setting up tents and some sort of temporary bivouac in the gardens before he permitted that.

The rest of the arrangements were fairly standard, however, and Aedan only stooped to grab the last of his satchels - it held his spare daggers - before he and Thora followed the steward.

The man kept speaking as they walked along, conveying information in a calm, unhurried manner, overlaid with the weariness of someone who has spoken the same words several times already, and expects to say them several more.

“The opening feast o’ the Yule will be this evening in four candle-marks. Twill be a long one, with dancing and entertainment, so ye may wish tae rest afore the meal. Ye can order a bath tae be prepared in yer chamber whenever ye wish.”

A hot bath sounded wonderful, but Aedan wasn’t sure he wanted to walk the length of the castle for one. The stone corridors were as well sealed and well-insulated as they could be, but there was still a chill in the air. It was a common enough problem, and one Aedan experienced quite frequently in his own home.

The steward finally stopped in front of a door. “I fear accommodations are a little sparse, me laird, however we’ve done our best tae offer rooms appropriate tae ye and yer lady.” He looked at them with a sense of uncertainty stamped on his rough features. “If we’d kent ye were bringing yer bride, me laird…”

“I ken. ‘Tis nae fault o’ yers. I’m sure the room is fine.” All Aedan wanted was to relax, to stretch out his back and warm his frozen limbs. Perhaps even take a brief sleep before he was forced to don the persona of ‘newly wed Laird Cameron’ at the evening feast.

“As ye will, me laird. Dinnae hesitate tae ask if there’s aught ye need.” The steward bowed them into the room. With a final nod - and a copper to the man for his courtesy - Aedan stepped inside and shut the door.

The room was a large single room, with discrete screens set where they could be used to divide the space into a ‘visiting area’ and a sleeping area. The fire was already roaring in the fireplace, filling the space with welcome warmth. Their bags were also present, and clothing had been put into the wardrobe, or the chest at the foot of the bed.

The bed. It took a moment before his mind wrapped around that, and Thora voiced the thought before he did. “’Tis only one bed.”

Aedan grunted. “Aye. As we’re supposed tae be married - and lovers as well – ‘tis only sensible.”

“But… I…”

“’Tis what it is, lass. We’ll have tae get used tae it while we’re here.” Aedan could sympathize with her clear dismay. However, as Thora was the reason they were in the position they were, he couldn’t find it in himself to be all that sympathetic.

“Ye’re sleeping on the floor. There’s a soft rug that should be comfortable enough.” Thora scowled at him.

Aedan scowled back. “Ye cannae be serious.”

“And why would I nae be?”

“We’re supposed tae be married. Married couples share a bed.”

Thora folded her arms and gazed back at him with what he was coming to recognize as her ‘I’m not giving in, and nothing you say will change my mind’ expression. “Nae always. Nae even among villagers. Me parents didnae share when there was an argument between them, or me maither was on her moon times.”

“Ye cannae expect me tae sleep on the ground every night we’re here.”

“Even so… what sort o’ laird or lover would ye be, tae begrudge yer new spouse the comfort o’ the bed when she’s ailing?”

“If ye’re ailing, then I’m a pup, rather than a man.”

“And who said I would tell ye if I were? Ye saw fer yerself how I was faring with the cold. I could be after tryin’ tae hide some other ailment, and only just informed ye. Or… I have me moon cycle.”

“Och, ye’re prickly enough tae be in the midst o’ one, sure enough.” Aedan fought back the urge to snarl. He wanted to refuse, but he was tired of arguing. Right at the moment, he wanted to rest. If he had to rest on the ground, then so be it.

With a low growl of annoyance, he gave in. “Have it yer way then. But I want at least two o’ the blankets.” He might have to sleep on the hard ground, but he wasn’t going to freeze to death as well.

“O’ course.”

Aedan muttered some words. The narrow look Thora gave him made it quite clear she’d heard him. He grabbed two of the blankets and some of the pillows, pulled them off the bed, then rolled himself into an improvised bedroll on the rug. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than the rocks he’d slept on at times when he was on patrol. “Are ye sleeping?”

“I dinnae ken.”

“If ye dinnae, see I’m awake in two candle-marks. I want tae go down and make sure Mac is settled in well afore the feast taenight.”

“I’ll make sure ye’re awake.” With that soft assurance, Aedan was content.

He made himself as comfortable as possible, then closed his eyes.

He was asleep before he’d counted to twenty in his head.