Chapter Twenty-One

Black Moss Tower

Leana groaned. She had tried to stretch out her hand to pick up a comb, but pain tore through her, leaving her collapsed against a pillow.

"Ye moved," Brody chastised her.

Leana blinked and rubbed her eyes. "What are ye doing here?"

Brody set a bowl and a plate down beside the bed Leana was resting in. "Making sure Shavon understands that ye are me personal friend."

Leana narrowed her eyes. "The mistress says I have a place in the household. I will not be earning my keep on me back."

Brody sent her a hard look. "I did not ask to hire ye, Leana."

Leana let out a little frustrated sound. "I know what a man means when he calls me his friend. Go on with ye. I've seen the way young Erin looks at ye. Be done with women like myself. Court that girl and wed her."

Brody slowly smiled.

The curving of his lips cut Leana deeply. Honestly, she'd thought her heart was dead, but the way Brody's eyes glittered with appreciation gutted her.

"I thought ye just told me that ye are no longer that sort of woman. Daft wench. It's you I plan to take to the church doors." Brody reached over and picked up the bowl, then used a spoon to gently stir the contents. Steam rose up, filling the air with the scent of stew.

"Me—?" Leana opened her mouth and Brody popped the spoon into it.

The stew was delicious. In spite of doing nothing but resting all day, she was ravenous. Spitting the food out was out of the question. She chewed and settled for sending Brody an aggrieved look.

"Erin is a sweet girl," Brody said, stirring the stew again. "But I am not a sweet man." His voice had a hard note in it. Leana recognized that tone, for it came from having experienced the same harsh realities that she'd had.

She opened her mouth, but Brody had the spoon at her lips again. No one had ever fed her. Well, perhaps someone had when she was an infant, but she couldn't ever recall it happening since. Brody, with his scarred forearms and hard features, was the most unlikely candidate for bedside service.

Yet he was there.

Feeding her stew.

Whatever that meant, Leana decided she wasn't about to squander the moment on thinking.

*

Dugan sat down on the step outside his chamber door. A sensation rippled through him—one he was unfamiliar with. What was it? A sense of homecoming? That was indeed a first for him. Suddenly the ache in his lower back was worth suffering, for it had helped him create the place that was far more than just a sturdy roof to cover his head.

Home.

Hearth and family would follow if he was lucky. Many might think it wrong that his misadventures as the Laird of Misrule would offer up such a good ending, but understanding came to him as he sat upon the step. Nothing came from nothing. The life he had with Braylin was the result of him straightening his back and going out to build a better future.

A man lived on his knees or found the courage to stand and face the onslaught of the world. He would have had nothing more than a life of begging at Lady Alice's hem unless he tried to find something better.

And so, he had.

That was true for women too, he decided. Braylin had risen to her position through courage and determination. He was blessed beyond his wildest dreams to have such a partner beside him in life.

It would be warm inside the chamber, but it was near midnight, and he didn't want to wake Braylin. He worked to untie his boots. His fingers were stiff with cold, so he had to rub his hands together several times to accomplish the task.

He eased the door open, creeping into the room, and closed it carefully. Dugan smiled, feeling victorious but when he turned around, he found Braylin looking back at him through the open curtains on the bed.

His smile grew. Dugan reached up, touching the single feather on his cap that was pointed upwards. It was just a small one, but the significance was large.

"Welcome home, Chief," Braylin said, marking his new rank.

The bed ropes creaked when he climbed into the bed alongside her.

"So ye have heard?" Dugan asked.

"A bird was sent to tell us the news," Braylin confirmed. "Are you happy?"

Dugan gathered her close, tipping her chin up so their gazes met.

"I've become my own man, Braylin. We will have a good life here. In the spring, I will begin building ye a fine house."

"I have all I need," Braylin assured him. "We do not need to spend the money on a house."

"Me father insisted," Dugan informed her. "The silver comes from Lady Alice's own coffers. A gift given on the day that I pledged my loyalty to her son."

"That is…um…" Braylin obviously didn't know what to make of that.

Dugan tucked her head beneath his chin. "It is as perfect a solution as we might have ever gained. We'll have a fine house and with God's blessing, a fine large family to fill it."

Dugan heard her mutter a soft agreement against him.

All was well.

His wife was by his side.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing at all.

*

Spring– Black Moss Tower

Erin made a pretty bride.

With her hair brushed out and the May sunshine shimmering off its glossy length, she began her walk toward the church. After a long winter, the inhabitants of Black Moss Tower were eager for entertainment and merriment. Men tucked new spring heather sprigs into their bonnets while the women wore crowns of woven greens.

By the time Erin and her groom made it to the gates, there was a long procession behind them. Everyone was happy, their feet light. Three pipers led the group, playing an old tune on their reed instruments while a young lad helped keep time with a drum.

Leana was nervous.

Even with Brody by her side, she discovered herself looking around, waiting for someone to sneer at her.

No one did.

Instead, they all witnessed the vows of the young couple. Here in the highlands, customs were slow to change, so Erin and her groom stood at the doors of the church for the blessing. Even the priest smiled while he performed the rite.

There were whoops and cheers when it was all over. The music began again and everyone joined hands to begin dancing in a huge ring. Shavon presided over a hogshead of mead, making certain each person received an equal measure of the brew.

"Leana, there you are," Braylin called out.

Leana started to lower herself. Braylin waved her hand.

"How many times must I tell you to stop with that?" Braylin asked.

Leana tilted her head and smiled. "As many times as we must remind ye to sit and rest, Mistress."

Braylin rubbed a hand over her rounded belly. "I feel brimming full of energy."

"Well, ye are full of something, for sure."

They all turned to see a man wearing a different tartan walking up beside Dugan. Off in the distance, his men followed.

"I see the winter wasn't nearly as cold here as it was on Lindsey land," Ruben Lindsey said, sending Dugan a smirk.

Dugan grinned without a hint of shame. "A wife makes for a fine, warm winter indeed my friend. I suggest ye try it." He put his arm around Braylin. "Ruben is on his way to the border. He can deliver letters to yer family."

Braylin gasped. "Truly?"

She didn't wait for an answer but twirled around and headed off toward the towers. Leana and several others rushed after her, all intent on ensuring Braylin didn't tumble due to her advanced pregnancy.

Leana managed to get around in front of her before Braylin made it to the steps leading up to the tower where her bedchamber was. Leana pointed at her.

"I will fetch the letters, mistress," Leana stated.

"There is naught wrong with me," Braylin insisted.

Just then, her baby decided to give a hard kick. Braylin rubbed her distended belly, distracted by the motion. She'd always thought she might become a mother someday, but the reality was so much more vibrant than her daydreams.

There was only one thing lacking in her life. When Leana returned with the bundle of letters, Braylin felt tears stinging her eyes.

Telling her family that she was safe was the last thing to be done. The carefully folded letters were addressed and tied with twine. She turned around, intent on hurrying back to where Dugan and Ruben were but they'd followed her up to the towers.

"I'd be grateful if you would see these to my family," Braylin said.

Ruben reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet before he took them from her hand. "It will be done." He tucked them into his doublet before he went to the tables to join his men in enjoying the meal that was laid out in preparation for the returning wedding party.

"Here now, lass," Dugan said, wiping the tears off her cheeks with gentle motions. "I thought to make ye happy."

"You have." Braylin smiled up at him. "You have made me happier than I ever believed possible."

Their gazes locked and once more, Braylin felt as if the entire world simply disappeared. There was only her and her Laird of Misrule. Both of them had been enchanted the night they'd met by the Midnight Well. And they planned to remain that way for the rest of their days.

*

The Border

Ruben waited for moonrise, enjoying an early season apple he found growing along the way. Because he'd been so close to the border, he hadn't tempted fate by stopping to hunt and cook something to fill his empty belly. The fruit was a gift which he received with a nod of thanks sent upwards toward his guardian angel.

Ruben finished off the apple before he emerged from the forest surrounding the Midnight Well. He slid off the back of his horse and gave the animal a pat on its neck. The horse made a low sound before walking closer to the well.

"Thirsty?" Ruben asked jovially. "I am as well."

He pushed the cover which sat on top of the well halfway across its opening. The scent of fresh water rose up to tease him and his horse. The animal pawed at the ground and snorted some more.

"I'm hurrying," Ruben assured his mount.

He dropped the bucket down, heard it splash when it hit the surface of the water, and then he began pulling on the rope. Getting the water back to the surface was the part which required some strength.

Ruben pulled hard, smiling when the bucket came into view. He leaned over to grab it by the side, hoisting it up by one side. The bucket tipped, allowing some of the water to trickle out over the rim. Ruben saw the water droplets beading up as they fell back into the dark well but there was something else. On the surface of the water, he saw a reflection.

Ruben narrowed his eyes, trying to identify what he was seeing on the surface of the water. The fluid stopped moving while his hand was frozen on the rim of the bucket. The surface of the water went as smooth as a polished glass mirror affording him a reflection of a girl's face.

She was perfect.

There was no single feature which stood out, for she was simply dressed. But Ruben felt as though a beam of light had broken through the veil of night to illuminate the reflection just so that he would always see her face.

Something snapped. Ruben dropped the bucket, breaking free of the strange enchantment which had made him stare at the contents of the bucket instead of realizing there was someone on the other side of the well. He jumped back, landing in a fighting pose.

The girl gasped, shuffling back a few paces. Her eyes were wide, making him instantly feel guilty for frightening her.

"Forgive me, lass," Ruben said, making an effort to soothe her. He'd never been so sincere or worried that his apology wouldn't be trusted.

"I did not see you, sir," she muttered. "Until I was too close."

And he hadn't heard her. Ruben would chastise himself later for failing to hear the lass approaching. For the moment, though, he was captivated.

And tongue-tied.

His horse snorted once again. The girl looked at the animal and smiled.

"Your horse is thirsty," she said, pushing the cover of the well back toward Ruben. She reached for the rope that was tied around a beam above the opening of the well, then began to pull the bucket up.

"Let me do that, lass." Ruben reached for the rope but only managed to grasp her fingers because she didn't release it.

A current of awareness jumped between them.

A sensation that felt too strong to be real.

And yet, Ruben knew she was just a girl, not some mythical creature roaming the forest beneath the moonlight. Nor had he drunk too much cider. Whatever passed between them, she seemed to feel it as well, quickly withdrawing her fingers and clasping them against her chest while she blinked.

"Who are ye, lass?" he asked.

"I am Modesty Hawlyn."

Her name sunk in, helping Ruben to resume thinking. "Yer sister sent me here."

"My sister?" Modesty questioned.

Ruben nodded. The bucket was once more at the top of the well. He lifted it up and placed it on the ground so that his horse might at last have the drink the animal craved.

"Aye." Ruben reached into his jerkin. "Braylin has sent ye a letter. I promised to bring it to ye."

"Braylin," Modesty whispered the name almost reverently.

She hurried around the well, not stopping until she was only a single pace from him. Ruben found himself fascinated by her, to the point that he failed to release the letter when she attempted to tug it from his fingers. A little furrow appeared in the center of her forehead.

"Apologies, lass," Ruben said, regaining his senses. She succeeded in pulling the folded and sealed parchment free, then smiled.

Her smile was more pleasing than anything he'd ever seen.

"Modesty?"

Someone was calling from down the hill.

"You must go." Modesty forgot the letter and looked at him. "My brothers will raise the alarm and you are a Scot."

Whoever was looking for her called again. Ruben reached up and tugged on the corner of his cap.

"My name is Ruben Lindsey, lass."

"Well…yes. But you are a Scot. So hurry on your way please. I do not care to see you dragged into the market square for stopping to water your horse."

Ruben was tempted to stay right where he was. But in her eyes, he saw true concern. If he stayed, he'd be risking more than his own suffering and for once, that mattered to him.

"Until the next time we meet, lass."

"Oh we can never meet again," Modesty scolded him softly. "Please stay well away from here. There is a new garrison of soldiers here to secure the border." She extended her arm, pointing behind him. "Go, sir, and be careful. This is not a safe place."

"Braylin says yer father is devoted to his Puritan faith," Ruben said.

"He is."

"Any garrison sent by the queen would also be intent on enforcing the return to the Catholic Church."

Fear drew her features tight. "My father says we must remain faithful to the Puritan path."

Ruben extended his hand out. "Come with me, lass."

He was mad to make such an offer, and yet, there was no stopping the words. Even knowing how insane he sounded, Ruben didn't regret his invitation.

She started to reach for his hand—Ruben knew he didn't imagine it. But her name came from down the hill again and she turned and started running toward whoever was searching for her.

Ruben had never been so close to tossing a lass over his shoulder in his life.

There was a soft chuckle from behind him.

Ruben turned to see an old woman standing there, watching. She smiled widely, showing off her gap-toothed smile.

"You saw her in the water," the woman declared as she pointed at the moon that was now rising above the treetops. "In the light of the full moon. If you eat the fruit of the forest and look into the water of the Enchanted Well, you will see the face of your soulmate."

It was nonsense, of course.

So why did Ruben look back down the path Modesty had gone, feeling as though he'd just lost a part of himself?