Chapter Seven

S cotland was as horrible as Modesty had heard it was.

It seemed that every step the horse took north carried her further into darkness. The sun disappeared, leaving the sky full of thick black clouds. The air became icy, every gust of wind felt as if it cut deeper until her very bones froze.

Thunder began to rumble above them like the belly of some hungry beast.

When the rain came, it was half frozen, pelting every bit of unprotected skin.

Behind her Ruben remained warm. His body adjusted to the temperature while Modesty shivered.

The forest they rode through became ancient. The trees were huge and thick. Modesty didn’t know how Ruben and his men were finding their way, for the darkness seemed too thick for her to see through.

But they kept going with a confidence that horrified her because it felt as though they were going through a boundary into another world. One she didn’t belong in.

Her first glimpse of the Lindsey stronghold was because of lightning cracking open the darkness. A brilliant flash illuminated three huge stone towers before darkness engulfed her again. Thunder boomed a second later, shaking her all the way to her bones.

“It is only a spring storm, Sabine,” Ruben whispered near her ear. “We’ll soon be home.”

“It is not my home,” she argued.

She felt him stiffen. But he continued forward. She heard the horse’s hooves begin to tap against more than earth. Now there was a tap-tap-tap like there was something solid beneath their iron shoes. Another flash of lightning illuminated a portcullis. Its iron points were almost directly overhead.

Ruben rode through the gate of his stronghold while a boom of thunder welcomed him home.

Fitting…

Modesty struggled to avoid using a word like terrifying.

She had to be strong. Even when her parents had taken them out of London under the cover of darkness she had never felt so alone.

Ruben was a stranger. One she’d made the mistake of trusting.

Well, she’d been shown just how foolish she’d been for now Ruben was doing what he pleased without regard for her wishes.

On the other side of the portcullis someone opened a door. Light shone out from inside, twinkling like a star. And yet she felt guilty, looking at that light with a spark of hope.

Ruben swung off the back of the stallion and reached back up for her. Going inside was the most reasonable course of action, yet every muscle she had was tight with opposition.

Not that it kept Ruben and his men from sweeping her up the steps and inside the stronghold. It was instantly warmer once they crossed threshold, protected from the icy wind outside.

“It’s good that ye are back, Ruben,” a man said gruffly. “The laird is weakening. Ye’d best get to his side.”

The man looked at Modesty. He swept her from head to toe, taking in the cassock binding her. He looked back toward Ruben for an explanation.

“Wake my sister, Allision. Bring her to the laird’s chamber, Arland,” Ruben said.

Arland reached up and pulled on the corner of his bonnet. He wanted to know who she was, but he turned and disappeared into the passageway. So late in the night, there were only a few candle lanterns offering meager flickerings of light.

Ruben pulled on the knot in the sleeves of the cassock until Modesty was free. All around them there was naught but shadows. The light from the lanterns flickered. Modesty shivered and it had nothing to do with the temperature.

“Come.”

Ruben didn’t leave the matter up to her. He captured her wrist and pulled her behind him into the shadows of the passageway.

Into his domain…

It truly was for Ruben strode forward without hesitation. The stone walls were dark and the shadows clinging to them even blacker. He navigated the turns like a wolf who could see in the blackness. He found a staircase and pulled her behind him on his way to the top of it.

She feared if she would ever be able to find her way back to the sunlight.

Maybe that was foolish of her to think but Modesty just couldn’t seem to stop her mind from jumping to dramatic conclusions.

How many steps had they taken? She should be counting them if she ever hoped to find her way out of the stronghold. Ruben led her higher and higher and higher. The wind whistled through the archer crosses built into the walls of the tower. She shivered and her teeth began to chatter.

Ruben suddenly stopped. There was the sound of a door opening. Beyond the door was a chamber. There was a small hearth inside of it with a fire burning. The very sight of that fire and the bed nearby was like gaining a glimpse of paradise. Modesty smiled, more appreciative than she had ever been before for the simple comforts of home.

“Stay here, Sabine.”

Modesty had started walking toward the hearth. Ruben’s grip on her wrist was still firm. He stepped between her and the opening to the stairs they had climbed.

“Stay in this room or I promise ye I will track ye down, storm or no storm. I know my lands.”

His features were tight and cut and there was a glint of warning in his eyes. Unlike her, he didn’t look beaten down by the cold.

He was formidable.

And a match for the elements that had reduced her to a shivering mess. She wanted to gather her resolve and stand up straight, but she sneezed instead.

She sneezed so hard she stumbled. Her vision was full of sparkles too. Ruben closed the door in her face, sealing her inside the chamber. With no one to see her choices, turning around and heading toward the hearth was easy. She was simply too tired and cold to resist the comfort of the chamber.

Tomorrow she’d figure out how to return home.

*

His sister was waiting for him.

Allision smiled, excitement sparkling in her eyes. “Did ye truly find heather?”

Ruben handed over the May Day crown. Something surged through him, a sensation that made his throat tighten because it was so intense.

Everything about Sabine struck him hard. Tomorrow he’d think about it but for the moment, he was satisfied to know that Sabine was beneath the same roof he was.

“It is perfect,” Allision marveled. She yawned.

“I suppose I should have waited until morning.” Ruben felt a twinge of guilt but behind his sister, Arland shook his head. There was a grim look on his retainer’s face. Arland lifted his hand and pointed toward the larid’s chamber.

Ruben opened the door slowly. He didn’t knock in case his father was sleeping. But his father was watching the door, his eyes open.

“Is that ye, Ruben? Come…come…I have been waiting a long time for ye.”

“Ruben found heather for ye, father.” Allision’s voice was soft and full of the hope that lived inside of the young.

His sister went rushed across the chamber floor. She believed in the power of the gift she held in her hands. She did not understand that it was her father’s last request.

Ruben followed. He understood more of what was happening, but he didn’t want to miss the moment. His father made an effort to lift his head. A maid emerged from the shadows to gently lift him up and stuff a pillow beneath his shoulders.

“Heather ye say?”

Ruben’s father smiled. He held his hands open and Allision gently laid the wreath in them.

His father took a long time to study the wreath. He turned it slowly, examining the different blossoms. His eyes opened wider than Ruben had seen in a while.

“I think this is a crown fit for a pretty lass.”

“Ye are sharp as ever, father,” Ruben said. “I claimed it from the May queen.”

“Claimed it?” His father looked at him, the grin on his lips turning into something from his youth. “Was she pretty?”

Ruben nodded. “Aye, that she was.”

“Did ye dance with the May queen, Ruben?” Allision asked.

“I did.” Ruben smiled, caught up in the memory of May Day morning.

“I want to be the May queen next year!” his sister declared.

“Ye will be no such thing, daughter.”

“Why not?” Allision implored her father.

Ruben watched his father reach out to pat Allision’s hand. “The May queen is a symbol of a good harvest. People need their beliefs, Allision. Ye are the laird’s daughter. Yer marriage will be one that gives the Lindseys stability.”

“I still do not understand why—”

“Allision, ye have forgotten that it is late into the night,” Ruben interrupted his sister. “Let us leave questions for the morning.”

Allision’s eyes widened. “Yes, I did forget.” She looked at her father. “Ruben promised to let me help him give the heather to you. I wanted to see ye smile, father.”

“Ye are a fine daughter. On to bed with ye.”

Allision turned and left, her steps light.

“Come and sit with me for a moment, Ruben.”

His father patted the side of the bed. Ruben sat down. His father looked at him for a long moment. He pointed at the heather. “Ye faced the storm to bring this to me.”

“I do nae regret it,” Ruben said.

His father’s lips rose into a grin. There was a glint in his eyes that made Ruben grin. Behind the wrinkles on his face, there was still the young man his father had once been.

“Now tell me about the May queen!”

*

Modesty was soaked clear through to her skin. Water dripped out of her skirts to run across the floor. She was left with the decision to strip off her dress or risk ruining the dry, warm chamber. Modesty started undressing, unable to suffer the rest of the dark hours because she wouldn’t remove her sodden garments.

Even though her smock was wet, stripping down to just her skin was something she couldn’t quite manage. Not in so strange a place. So she moved closer to the hearth. A little sigh escaped her lips when the warmth hit her skin.

What a delight.

She turned slowly, allowing the heat from the fire to smooth the gooseflesh from her legs. As cold as she had been, her body had been drawn tight. A few more slow turns and she felt herself relaxing.

What sweet relief!

The fire was not very large and there was no additional wood to feed it with. But for the moment, it was wonderfully warm. With her soaked stockings draped over a bench, her toes warmed up at long last. She unbraided her hair to help her head warm up.

Had it really only been sunrise that she’d gone out with Temperance to greet May Day morning?

Bitterness filled her mouth. What a cruel trick of fate to see her so enamored with Ruben in the morning and kidnapped by him by the end of the day. She expected to be angry, but instead a strange pang of disappointment hit her.

Modesty snorted at her own feelings. How ridiculous was it to lament the fact that Ruben was someone she needed to loathe? She turned around, needing distraction from her emotions. They were bubbling like hot water, heating up everything inside of her.

A small candle was lit on a table.

It was just a single flame, but it flickered and danced in welcome. Modesty ventured closer to discover a meal waiting on the table. Some cheese and nuts and even two thick cakes of some sort.

Her belly rumbled long and low.

Modesty was reaching for the food before she hesitated. Really, there was nothing to debate. She was famished. With no one about, suffering her hunger for the sake of her pride was intolerable.

The cakes were made of oats. They were dry, so she reached for an earthenware pitcher. It had water in it. Modesty eagerly drank to help wash the cake down her throat and there was no complaining from her stomach over the simple fare. It was wholesome and filled her belly.

A huge yawn caught her off guard. Mere moments after finishing the meal, fatigue hit her hard. Her eyelids felt too heavy to keep up. Especially when there was a bed so close. Someone had closed the bed curtains on the far side of the bed, leaving just the side facing the hearth open to collect the heat from the fire.

Modesty made her way to the bed, sliding under the covers, and pulling them up to her head. The bed ropes creaked in welcome; the sound very pleasing indeed.

At last there was one thing in Scotland that she found to her liking.

*

Ruben was in her dreams.

Modesty let out a little sound of enjoyment, at last she could be free to allow her feelings loose. In her dreams, there was no one to judge her. No, there was only the way Ruben’s scent seemed to draw her toward him.

It was faint at first.

She turned her head, not really sure what it was that she wanted. Her breaths were low and deep, and they drew in the scent of the man she’d ridden with for so many hours. It was more intense now because the rain and wind weren’t tearing at her. Now she could draw in a deep lungful of air.

With nothing to compare with, the scent of his skin was nearly overwhelming. She knew what it was like to have her mouth water over the scent of baking apples and cinnamon, but she’d never thought that another human might affect her as intensely.

A soft tremor started vibrating along her limbs. She muttered softly and felt him reach for her from beyond the shadows, his arm slipping around her body and drawing her against him. A sound of delight escaped lips in response.

Her dream was so much better than riding on horseback with him had been. Now there was nothing between them. Just her smock and the linen of his shirt. Their legs mingled freely, the bare skin offering up another level of unforeseen intensity.

Never had she even guessed that her flesh might be capable of such levels of enjoyment.

But just like a secret garden, once she ventured through the gate there were endless delights awaiting her.

His kiss was one of those things.

Modesty felt his breath against her neck. She started to turn her face toward his, but he pushed his fingers into the unbound strands of her hair to cradle the back of her head and hold her still.

The first kiss was pressed against her neck. She shivered, never realizing how a single touch might thrill her so completely. Pleasure went rippling down her body to collect and pool in her belly. A deeper sensation began to throb there, one that made her reach for him.

His shoulders were hard and wide. Modesty pulled him toward her. She needed him closer, and she tried to meet him halfway, but he pressed her back into the bedding, capturing her gasp with his mouth.

He kissed her harder than he had May Day morning.

This kiss sent her insides twisting. All at once she needed to move, to press herself against him while pulling him harder toward her. It didn’t make sense and thinking seemed impossible. She wanted to move against him, to unleash more of the pleasure that their bodies produced when they touched.

He slid his hand down her body, his fingers cupping one of her hips. He squeezed it sending a jolt of awareness through her lower body. Against her thigh, she felt the hard length of his cock. Her eyes flew open. That was no memory.

And she was not dreaming.

She stiffened. Ruben lifted his mouth from hers, blinking as he tried to decide if she was real.

“This is your bed.” Modesty heard the horror in her tone, the realization hitting her violently.

Ruben cursed. The bed rocked when he rolled over onto his back and then over the edge of the bed. He moved across the floor of the chamber toward the hearth that was now dark and cold. Her dress was still there, draped over the benches. The length of his kilt was there as well, proving without a doubt that it was his chamber.

“Why. Why would you put me in your chamber?” she demanded incredulously.

Modesty fought free from the bedding. The floor was cold, but she hurried away from the bed to where her underskirt was.

Ruben muttered something beneath his breath. He drew in a stiff breath and looked back at her. “I was dreaming, Sabine.”

Modesty tied a quick knot in her under dress and grabbed her over dress. “My name is Modesty.”

She detested the Puritan name. But at that moment, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from arguing. Her emotions were boiling.

Ruben turned to face her. There was a frank look on his face. “Ye kissed me back, Sabine.”

Her cheeks felt as if they caught fire. “Is that why you brought me here? And put me straight away into your private chambers?”

Her tone was insulting, and his jaw tightened.

“Ye are in my chamber because it was the single place where I knew there would be a fire and a warm meal,” Ruben declared. “The English stripped everything away in their efforts to find our baby queen. What they didn’t take, they burned. Look around ye. There is naught here of any value. There is nothing left because it took every last thing we had to make sure there were roofs over the heads of the Lindseys. Thanks to the English, every last Lindsey knows this harvest will stand between them and starvation.”

There was a flare of anger in his eyes that shamed her. Modesty looked around the chamber, taking in the lack of furniture and anything beyond the most basic of necessities.

“The other chambers in these towers are stripped bare,” Ruben continued. “Every last bed and stool have been taken away to replace what the bloody English burned in their quest to sentence us to a slow, bitter death during the winter.”

His expression was hard. In his eyes she saw the horror of what the war of Rough Wooing had inflicted upon his people. The sight gutted her.

“I am English.”

Sabine’s voice was soft. Her insides were twisted with the knowledge that between them lay centuries of hate.

It was insurmountable.

Uncrossable.

And it hurt more than she had ever thought an idea might.