by Fiona Faris
“I am stronger than I look,” she tilted her chin high, revealing the first proper smile he had seen from her. The sight took his breath for a moment. Her bold features lightened, betraying her beauty.
“So am I,” he smirked at her and offered his hand again. “Unless ye wish to test our strengths, come.”
She blinked again and held onto the reeds, clearly suffering from the leeches on her legs.
“Perhaps a test of strength is a contest best left for another day.”
“Aye, me thoughts entirely. Come,” he gestured again.
This time, she gave way. She waded slowly through the shallows towards him and took his hand. He assisted her onto the riverbank, noting how she shivered in the rain and river water. He held her hand for a second, too reluctant to let her go, yet she pulled it free quickly and crept back to the bucket, bending down to remove the leeches from her legs with eagerness.
Free of the leeches, she sat down on the bank, leaning against the dark brown bark of the yew tree.
“How are ye feelin’ now?” He crouched beside her, watching as she breathed heavily, her eyelids fluttering for a second as she rested.
“I will be well in a few minutes.”
He tried to restrain his chuckle.
“You are laughing at me. Pray, tell me what is so amusing?”
“It is nae important. I am just growin’ to ken ye better.”
Her eyes shot open at his words.
“You do not know me.”
“Nae yet,” he agreed with a nod, “But I have noticed that ye daenae like to appear weak. Ye will go so far as to tell lies to avoid bein’ seen as somethin’ ye perceive as vulnerable.” She looked away from him.
“I do not like this subject. Let us talk of something else.”
“As ye wish.”
“Tell me more about the soldiers.”
Gavin watched her closely, tilting his head to the side in thought. Her sudden behavior change did not fool him; she could not have lost her animosity overnight. Idunn was up to something.
Idunn was hanging the recently pressed wool onto a cord held up by sticks forced into the ground. She had grown accustomed to not breathing through her nose out of fear of facing the smell of urine that lingered on the wool.
Her gaze drew past the sheets towards the soldiers’ tents on the other side of the yard. She watched the soldiers move back and forth in their drills, taking note of all their movements.
She hoped Gavin was not suspicious of her new behavior. Her questions about the soldiers had certainly surprised him, but she had to hope he thought no more of it. If she was to escape Banff Castle and disguise herself on one of the trading ships bound for the continent, then she needed to learn as much about the castle as possible. The movements of the soldiers that could prevent her escape were secrets she needed to know.
She had taken to wandering the castle grounds in the evening, to discover all of its secret passages, yet, the steward had grown curious, seeing her meanderings, so she had switched to asking such questions of Gavin. She did not understand why she saw him so often or how they appeared to keep seeing each other when performing different duties, yet the man was never far away.
As she considered this, she saw him again, walking between the soldiers’ tents. He was talking with another soldier; they tossed weapons between each other, clearly speaking of strategy. Her eyes lingered on Gavin’s sword, hoping to see the one he had taken from her, but she did not. He turned his gaze away from the soldier he was talking to, and his stare found her. Moments later, he directed his steps towards her. She turned away and continued her duties with the wool.
“Good mornin’,” he appeared at her side, then stepped back when he caught a whiff of the wool.
“And you. You should step back if you do not wish to carry a foul smell all day.” She gestured for him to move further away, but he did not. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Aye?” He folded his arms as he watched her. The action caused the muscle across his arms to stand out. She concentrated on the barrel of wool. No good could come from constantly comparing this man to Einarr, yet she did.
“How old is the castle?”
“Some bits are very new, but me family has been here for three hundred years. They started the masonry work for the castle.” He watched her with a furrowed brow, confused by her questions.
“Such a place must hold many secrets.” She turned to the line to hang a new piece of wool.
“What kind of secrets?”
“Hidden passages, secret rooms. It is a beautiful place.” She looked back at him with a false smile she hoped he would believe.
“Some, I suppose.”
“I would like to hear about them.”
He did not believe her; it was obvious from his countenance.
“Why the sudden change in yer behavior?” he asked suddenly, stepping closer towards her with a wary glance at the wool.
“How do you mean?” She put on an appearance of innocence – well aware that she did not carry it well.
“One day ye are hostile, the next ye are full of pleasant questions. I daenae understand.”
“Were you not the one who said I should resign myself to my situation? To use your words, you said I should make the best of it.”
“Aye, I did.”
“Then perhaps that is what I am doing?” She walked past him with a wide smile.
“Only perhaps?” He flicked his head round to follow her.
“Gavin?” A familiar voice interrupted them. Idunn turned to see Kenna walking towards them. She stopped a little distance away, beckoning her brother forward. “Can I talk to ye if ye have a few minutes?”
“Aye, of course.” He made a move to follow Kenna, but as he passed Idunn, he hesitated beside her and took hold of her elbow. The grip was firm, and his touch warm against her exposed skin. “What are ye plannin’?”
She looked up to him with an innocent smile, trying to ignore the feeling of his hand around her elbow. Her mind considered how it would feel to lean into him. Her stomach coiled with excitement at the thought.
I cannot think such things!
“I am merely trying to learn more about my new home.”
“I daenae believe that.”
“Perhaps you should trust me.” She smiled at him again, holding his gaze for a moment. His green eyes drew hers. There was something truly captivating about them.
“Gavin?” Kenna’s voice impatiently called. Gavin released Idunn and walked away, leaving her reeling from his touch.
She kept her eyes on the ground as she steadied her breathing, trying to ignore the quiver he had caused.
I do not like the man. He is my enemy.
Yet she had to face one truth: she desired him, despite her dislike. It was merely a fascination with his appearance, a lust for his handsome face, no depth of feeling beyond that. Still, it was not something she could persuade herself out of. It was very real.
It was a longing she would have to fight, though she imagined trying to stop such a feeling would be like parrying with someone in the dark—an almost impossible task.
Chapter Eleven
“Kenna, ye are prattlin’ on.” Gavin rubbed his eyes as he listened to his sister. Following their discussion on the castle's administration, Kenna had talked at length about Iomhar. She told grand tales of their jests and discussions, including gifts Iomhar had given her.
“Am I?” She looked up innocently with a wide smile from the papers they had been looking through. “It is difficult nae to.”
“It is good to see ye so happy,” Gavin acknowledged as Kenna bobbed in her seat, too happy to sit still for very long, “I still urge caution in this matter –”
“Oh, I beg ye, bampot, nae to witter on about this again. I have listened to yer concerns, but I am perfectly capable of takin’ care of meself in this matter. I trust Iomhar. I ken we are young –”
“Too young.”
“Bampot! Will ye le
t me finish?”
“If ye agree to stop callin’ me bampot.”
“Never,” she giggled as she folded up the papers, now their conversation on administration had come to a close, “Iomhar truly makes me laugh. He is a good man, generous to a fault.”
“I ken the man a little, Kenna. He is generous, but he is nae a patient man. I have seen him be disrespectful to the staff, which I have nay likin’ for.”
“That means nothin’. He is just a little…”
“Blunt?”
“I was goin’ to say curtly. He is a good man. Faither likes him. After all, Iomhar is related to a Laird himself. Did ye ken he is the nephew of Laird Udair Campbell?”
“I did, but –”
“He is to put on a performance for the Laird Campbell’s birthday. A sort of skit with his friends. How joyful it will be!”
“Sounds amusin’ –”
She interrupted him again, talking at length of all that she and Iomhar had spoken of together and the jests they had shared. Gavin grew tired of listening, eager to be away from someone so obviously in love. He slowly stood and moved from the table, inching towards the open window to look down onto the courtyard. He surveyed the estate as Kenna continued to speak, barely listening as he sought out the one person he could not escape.
Idunn was stood with piles of wool, analyzing them carefully and batting them free of dust before dropping them into baskets.
In the past, Gavin had sought Kenna’s counsel on affairs of the heart, but he was reluctant to do so on this occasion for two reasons. Firstly, he was certain she would not encourage a connection between him and the Viking woman. Secondly, Gavin had never before known quite the extent of his attachment. Any interest he’d ever held for another woman paled in comparison.
From high in the keep, he watched Idunn attend to her duties. Even in the grey cloud of the day, her fair hair shone in its braid.
“Gavin?” Kenna called his attention from across the room.
“Aye?”
“Ye werenae listenin’, are ye quite well?”
“I am well.” He looked back out to the estate, his lackluster response causing her to join him at the window.
“What are ye lookin’ for?”
“It doesnae matter.” He turned his eyes away from Idunn, keen for Kenna not to discover his secret.
“Gavin, are ye sure ye are well?”
“It is just…” He looked to her as a small idea grew in his mind. There was perhaps a way to request Kenna’s advice without mentioning particulars. Without fear of discovery, maybe he could earn some words of wisdom. “I wonder if I could have yer thoughts on somethin’.”
“Do tell more.”
“Ye ken Findlay? Me Captain of the soldiers?”
“Aye.”
“He is havin’ some trouble with a lady he kens.” He scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the words. He was not a fan of lies and hated them so much that the lie came with difficulty. He so rarely lied that he thought for a minute Kenna would see instantly that he was not honest.
“An affair of the heart, indeed? It is difficult to think of that man havin’ such gentleness.”
“Cruel woman,” Gavin shook his head with humor, relieved to see his sister believed him.
“Aye, I suppose so. Do continue.”
“He is somewhat drawn to a woman who shall we say… is out of his reach.”
“Out of his reach, how?” Kenna leaned against the wall, watching him as he peered beyond the window. Idunn was now collecting the wool together and carrying baskets back into the safety of the laundry house.
“A relationship between the two of them would surely be out of bounds, yet Findlay is quite out of sorts.” Gavin turned back into the room now that Idunn had left his sight.
“It sounds almost as though yer friend is under a spell.”
“Nay, he is just…” Gavin wracked his brain for the right words, “Fascinated by her.”
“Well, does the woman in question return Findlay’s affection?”
“I daenae believe she does,” Gavin felt his stomach tighten at the thought. He had never seen anything in Idunn’s behavior to indicate a liking for him. On the contrary, she had only declared a dislike for him.
“I cannae comment on Findlay’s situation specifically, but when I first grew attached to Iomhar, I doubted his affection for me too.”
“Ye did?” Gavin looked back to her, recognizing her temptation to talk of Iomhar again at length.
“Aye. By spendin’ time with him, I soon discovered it wasnae a one-way affection.” She giggled with warmth, hugging her arms around herself. “Oh, I must tell ye a jest he told me only yesterday…” She launched into a new tale of Iomhar, leaving Gavin somewhat more saddened than before.
She had really not offered any advice at all; she was too consumed by her own attachment. Gavin could not resent her for that and smiled as she leapt into a new tale, gushing with happiness.
Aye, she is smitten. I daenae like it. Iomhar spells trouble to me.
Idunn was carrying a heavy bucket full of leeches across the estate when she saw Gavin again. She cursed as she found him making his way towards her.
Her legs were stinging from the leech bites. More and more, her skin was growing scarred, small ‘y’ shaped bites from where the leeches latched onto her. The residual sting from her morning’s work made her stumble slightly up the hill as she carried the bucket. Fearful of being seen to struggle, she hoped to deliver the leeches without discovery. Yet Gavin had seen her, just as he always seemed to.
No matter where she was ordered to go on the estate, he always seemed to be nearby no matter what foul job she was ordered to do. She rarely saw any of the other members of the Laird’s family. It was Kenna she saw the most as it was her responsibility as the Lady of the castle to assist in running the household. Yet Tadhg and the Laird himself she barely saw - merely fleeting glimpses as they wandered through the estate into town, or to the stables on the odd occasion.
The whole situation made it all the more peculiar that Gavin kept appearing. As though they were being forced into each other’s company.
He was growing nearer to her now. There was a pep in his step though his face appeared to be watching her closely. She turned her eyes away from him, down to her bucket. Those green eyes kept revisiting her in her dreams so frequently that she knew what it was like to have those eyes above her.
It was a thought she should not be having of someone she wished to escape, so she focused on the leeches instead. They were trying to climb out of the wooden bucket, heading for the skin of her hands again with hunger. She adjusted her hold on the bucket, her eyes darting between them and the approaching Gavin with trepidation.
“More leeches?” Gavin asked good-naturedly, as he took the bucket from her hands. She was too stunned by his buoyant tone to reply straight away. He walked on, urging her to follow behind him.
“I do not need help. I am quite capable.”
“I ken ye are. Doesnae mean offerin’ ye help is a bad thing.”
She watched him with a furrowed brow, struggling to understand his meaning. She had gained much knowledge from Gavin through their past conversations. Unbeknown to him, he had revealed secrets about the castle – the soldiers' movements, the times the guards on the gates were changed, secret places within the castle walls, and more. Yet there was still something she was determined to know, and she knew there was no tactful way to approach the question. With every strategy available to her, tact was not an option.
Instead, she opted to be bold.
“You took my sword.”
“I beg yer pardon?” He looked at her as the two of them walked across the open yard, passing other workers, his joyful tone disappearing.
“On the beach. When you found me, you took my sword from me.” The sight of the sword leaving her side had found its way into her dreams.
It was my mother’s sword. It belongs to me, not you.
&
nbsp; “That I did. Ye dinnae imagine we would allow a slave to keep a sword? I’m sure Vikin’s daenae allow their own slaves to keep weapons.”
“Nei, I was just wondering what had happened to it.” Her curiosity forced him to stop walking. She fell still, too, looking up at him with firmness. “It meant a great deal to me, that weapon. I would like to know what happened to it.”
“What concern of ye is it?” The happy tone with which he had approached her disappeared completely, replaced instead by anxiousness.
