Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A s the party neared Castle Stewart, Ivy’s thoughts shifted from the mysterious stranger to what had happened between her and Liam earlier. Specifically, the kiss. Well, it was a sort of kiss , she thought, shivering at the memory. The host of strange feelings that simply giving him a back rub had stirred in her had been hard enough to cope with. Now, the kiss added a whole new dimension to the situation.
What daes it mean?
Her fingers went to her lips as she relived the thrilling moment when he had stood above her, one strong arm around her waist, and bent his head to press his lips, light as thistledown, against hers. In that split second, tingles had exploded inside her like fireworks, sending her heart racing, and all rational thought flying out the window.
It was the most momentous moment of her life!
As she thought back to it, it occurred to her that Liam had seemed as astonished, even shaken, by his own gesture as her. He had rapidly moved away from her, and she from him, as though by some tacit agreement they had decided to ignore it, absorbing themselves in other things and pretending everything was normal.
How can anythin’ be normal again after that?
Yet not once during the scouting trip had it been referred to in any way, not by word or glance or gesture. When the mighty castle gates rose up with their metallic clanking, and they rode into the courtyard, Ivy was forced to remind herself of her uncertain position at Castle Stewart.
She was essentially a hostage, and to think anything else was sheer folly. It followed that to imagine there could be anything between her and Liam was too.
They got back to the chamber and divested themselves of their weapons and outer clothing and settled opposite each other by the fire with some hot tea. Like an old married couple , came the involuntary thought as she blew on her tea and glanced over at Liam now and then.
While they sat in what seemed on the surface to be a companionable silence, each apparently lost in their own thoughts, it came to her that he was likely of the same mind as her. Maybe he cared for her a little too but also realized nothing could ever come of it, that it was wiser to prevent heartache by maintaining a distance.
Friends and fellow warriors we can be, but naethin’ more.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Liam suddenly suggested that he move into the adjoining room. “So I can sleep in a proper bed without disturbing ye any more. There’s an interconnecting door,” he told her with small smile, gesturing at it with his eyes, “so I’ll still be able tae keep an eye on ye.”
Despite the leaden lump of disappointment that settled in her belly, Ivy knew it was for the best. “Aye, all right,” she replied, nodding in agreement. She was forced to watch in silence while Liam moved his few possessions into the connecting room.
Later, they went down to dinner, sat with each other, ate and drank together, and exchanged cheery, mocking banter, like good friends. But when she settled into bed that night and stared at the closed door between them, she admitted to herself that she missed him and wanted nothing more than to know he was beside her, albeit on the other side of the rolled-up quilt.
The only benefit in the new arrangement she could see was using her chamber pot as freely as she wished without embarrassment. However, that did nothing to ease the longing in her heart.
The following day, after they shared breakfast in her chamber, they hardly saw each other. She spent most of the day helping Effie in the infirmary, and Liam was busy with his training.
Later that evening, Liam called for her, and they went down to dinner together. The talk around the table that evening was of the annual stag hunt, to be held the following day. Ivy listened to the conversation, hearing Knox’s and Magnus’s excitement about the impending event, which she could not share.
The hunt was an ancient ritual she found cruel. To her, the stags were sacred beasts that embodied the regenerative powers of Nature herself in their ability to regrow their antlers each season. They deserved reverence rather than death.
Ivy knew how it would go. At dawn the following morning, the laird’s party would ride deep into the vast Castle forest to the west of the stronghold itself. On horseback, using hunting dogs to guide them, the company would locate and select a specific target, a mature red stag, with no less that sixteen points to his span of his antlers. Then the chase would begin.
It would end with the exhausted stag, after running for hours, cornered and terrified, being cruelly slayed. Although quite often, before then, the unfortunate beast’s heart would explode from a mixture of terror and exhaustion.
The trouble was, she did not want to stay back at the castle on her own tomorrow, not even with Effie. Without Liam nearby, she simply did not feel safe.
Just then, Liam leaned over from the neighboring seat and said quietly. “I’m nae keen on goin’ to the hunt on the morrow, but Knox expects me tae.”
Ivy looked at him, surprised. “What are ye sayin’? That ye dinnae like the hunt?”
“Aye. It’s always seemed a cruel tradition tae me, huntin’ down and killin’ those beautiful beasts fer nay reason but tae bring good luck. ’Tis nae good luck fer the stags fer sure. Nay, I cannae take any pleasure in an animals’ sufferin’. Killin’ fer food is one thing, but fer pleasure… The stags are scared beasts. They should be protected.”
Hearing that, Ivy smiled, finding the attitude both unusual and endearing in such a big, hardened warrior. The bond she felt between them strengthened. “Well, I’m glad tae hear it, fer I feel the same.”
He looked at her sharply, as if he suspected she might be teasing him. “Ye dae?”
“Aye, I think ‘tis cruel as well. I hate the whole idea of it. But I’m still comin with ye. I’m nae staying here alone.”
He groaned and stared at her in obvious dismay. “Nae this again!”
“Dinnae try tae refuse. I’m still yer prisoner arenae I? Ye have a hard time trustin’ me as it is. Ye’d best keep me close, and what better way tae dae that than fer me tae come with ye on the hunt?”
“Ach! ’Tis fer Knox tae decide,” he declared irritably.
“Aye, that’s right,” she said with a triumphant nod. ’Tis up tae Knox.” She was certain the laird would agree with her as he had before. She could see that he had come to trust her over time, and even like her, and that he realized that she was more an asset than a threat to him.
Thus it was that in the freezing, misty dawn of the following day, she found herself in her boy’s garb once more, seated astride a fine mare, her precious sword in its scabbard at her side, riding alongside Liam, to meet the laird’s party in the field outside the castle walls
The large company comprised themselves, Knox, the Master of the Hunt, and at his side Magnus, a curved hunting horn of tin tied to his saddle. They were surrounded by the laird’s closest advisors and friends, all talking loudly, eager for the hunt to begin. The riders bristled with the weapons of death, including short stabbing spears and bows. They were served by squires, grooms, the kennel master, his assistants, and the pack of excited hounds.
A small army of beaters surrounded them, men would run ahead on foot to track the hounds when they got a scent and alert the hunters to follow. Many carried horns, some pots and pans or pieces of metal, which they would crash together to frighten their quarry and, after hours of pursuit, drive it to its death.