Rubina closed her eyes, seeking out calm. The day was going slowly darker, the breeze drawing clouds in from the coastline. She shivered.
“No reason to worry,” she said mildly. “I can just go back the way I came. I wonder where those guards are.”
Frowning, wondering what use it was to take an escort when they lost themselves the moment she got lost, she headed off.
Something slithered past a tree trunk. She was riding slowly now, heading back down the path at a walk, hoping she would spot the turnoff she had taken. The noise was loud in the silence, though in truth it must have been a gentle whisper; the sound of mail, perhaps, rasping against bark.
“Whist,” she said under her breath. “Who goes there?”
Nothing. No reply. She laughed, nervous.
“Of course no one replied,” she said ironically. If it was no one, just twigs rattling, no one would of course. If it was an outlaw, why would they?
Rubina realized she had halted Merryweather. They went on ahead.
Crack. Rustle.
She drew in a long, shaky breath. Strove for calm.
“Who is there?” she called, seeking an authoritative note and finding it. She was the daughter of the duke of Buccleigh. Whoever was trespassing had best explain it.
Nothing. No sound.
She breathed out. I must be going mad.
Maybe there was no one in the woods. Maybe it was just some innocent woodland creature. Only her imagination.
They set off again, more slowly. Where was the turning? It was somewhere close...
Crack.
This time, Rubina jumped, spinning round. That was a twig cracking. Not imagination.
She found herself staring into a pair of dark eyes.
She wanted to scream. She found she couldn't make a noise. Her eyes locked with the man's. He was tall, with chin-length hair and a long face. He was dressed in mail. Armed with a long-sword. He held a helm cradled at his elbow. He also had a red cross sewn onto his tunic.
Rubina's heart stopped. The emblem of England. The man was not Scots, that much was clear just from his appearance. The armaments too were wrong – she had seen enough Scotsmen dressed for warfare to know they would not have a long, square shield with them.
She drew in a breath to scream.
The man's eyes darkened. Cold, slate-dark and implacable, at the distance between them – perhaps six paces – Rubina could read the expression in them. They were flat with indifference but, as they focused on her face, they gleamed with an interest she understood altogether too well.
“No!” she screamed.
She moved her knees, squeezing her horse's flanks. Her horse shot forward. She turned her head abruptly and regretted how hard she had to turn her mount to move them out of the clearing which was suddenly full of men.
“No,” she whispered. “No.”
Merryweather seemed to feel the urgency for she snorted and tore off down the path. Rubina clung to the reins, heart thumping as they streamed back down the path. She still didn't know for sure if they were heading back toward the castle. There was only one thought in her mind and that was to flee.
As they rode, the forest path widened. Rubina gently moved back, encouraging her horse to slow her pace. She breathed deeply, striving for calm.
“The castle is in the west. Look for the angle of the shade and sunlight. Go that way.”
Rubina let herself think back to the training in woodcraft she'd received as a small girl. Her cousins at Dunkeld – sons of Brodgar, her uncle – had been taught and she'd learned with them on her many visits there.
Look for landmarks. Find a clearing. Find high ground.
“The castle is on a hillside. If we find a flat space, mayhap we can see it. Think, Rubina.”
She breathed out slowly. Her hands shook where she held the reins. Her heart thumped.
She had to get back to the castle soon. To warn them.
The woodlands thinned out and she found a clearing. Looked to the west. Saw, faint and indistinct through the high branches, the outline of what could be a hill.
“There!” her heart soared. “Let's go left. And straight.”
She directed her horse with her knees, heading into the shadowed woods.
As they rode, her mind grappled with what she had seen. They were English soldiers. She couldn't deny that essential fact. No matter how fondly she wished to. They were here.
They saw me.
She shivered. That man, with those dark, cold eyes. The way he had looked at her made her skin crawl. Indifference would have been one thing. However, that was not indifferent. It wasn't quite, what she would call desire. It was far more sinister. She felt her throat tighten and tasted sour bile.
“Come on,” she whispered to her horse. “Let's go home.”
They headed left and up.
When the ground started to slope up, Rubina felt her spirits soar. They were headed in the right direction. She still had no clue where she was, and there had been, as yet, no sight of her escorts. All the same, they were headed in the right direction. Headed home.
The sun came out as they climbed the hill. Rubina clamped her lip between her teeth and tried not to feel sick. She headed on and up.
“Who goes there?”
When the guard at the gate challenged her, she felt her heart jolt. Her first response was to run and then she smiled.
“Me!” she called. “It's Rubina Invermore.”
The man's eyes went huge. He hastily drew up the rope that would lift the gate away from the entrance corridor.
“My lady!” he shouted, confounded. “Where are Rodney and Shaun?”
Rubina shook her head, feeling her patience fray. “I don't know!” she yelled up. “But I have urgent news.”
“Of course, my lady. Come inside.”
She rode along the stone passageway into the castle, breathing in the scent of limestone and wishing she could feel safe.
When she reached the courtyard, she stopped and slid out of the saddle. Her legs gave way from under her and the guard, exclaiming in sudden alarm, caught her.
“Get the physician!” he yelled insistently. “The lady is unwell.”
Rubina blinked, trying to clear the darkness that was descending over her vision. She had to focus. She had a message to bring them.
“The English,” she managed to say. Her voice was a thread. “They are here.”
Then silence.
SURPRISING NEWS
The castle was quiet. Camden, walking to the practice ground, felt a strange discomfort. He rolled his shoulders restlessly, heading out.
He knew he should rest – he would be leaving in four days' time, taking the monk's offer of a ride in the cart as far as Almsford. Yet he couldn't be at rest.
Where is Rubina now?
It was strange. He knew he couldn't rightfully expect to see her every day, but, even since he had moved to the hostel where the knights spent their time, she had managed to contrive a means to see him. Walking in the courtyard, sitting in the arbor, a turn up past the stables and back. She had spent a moment with him. However, not for the last two days.
I can't shake the feeling that there's aught wrong with her.
Camden huffed a sigh. He knew he was probably being unnecessarily worried. Just because he was fond of someone didn't automatically mean aught awful need befall them – but still. It was unlike her. If she'd had to leave suddenly, she would have left a word.
In the practice ground, he found a bench and sat down. There were two knights wrestling. He watched them a moment or two, silently critiquing their style. He sighed. He might as well do something. Standing, he began practicing his own footwork. It was only hefting a sword that really hurt.
While he worked, he kept an eye out on the castle. If he saw anyone who might have word of Rubina he'd be sure to descend on them with questions. He had just been through enough lunges to make his legs shiver with over-exertion when he saw someone appear.
&nb
sp; Father Murdoch.
He walked briskly across the flagstones toward the tall imposing priest.
“Ah!” the man's gaunt, serious face lit up. “How's my latest patient?”
“Fine, Father,” Camden said, then winced as he rolled his shoulders back, making the old holy man laugh.
“Doesn't look fine to me. You should be resting more.”
“Yes, Father, I will,” Camden promised distractedly. “Father?”
“Mm?” the priest had resumed walking and together they headed in the direction of the gate.
“Have you...I know it's an impropriety for me to ask this but...have you any news of our mutual acquaintance? Lady Rubina?”
At the mention of her name, the physician's face clouded over. “Lady Rubina? Ah, yes. She's sickly.”
“Sickly?” Camden's heart jolted painfully and the blood drained from his face. “What...it is not serious, is it? Where? Can I visit her?”
The priest smiled. “Well, on your own, it would be a terrible impropriety. But, well...I suppose I shouldn't but...oh, whist! Come with me.” He sighed.
Camden felt his heart glow with gratitude to the tall, spare man.
“Thank you! Thank you, Father.”
The priest smiled dryly, though his eyes remained serious. “Don't mention it.”
Camden nodded. Together they headed back into the castle.
Upstairs, there was a small room in a turret, brightly lit and scented with herbs. The priest led him in and then paused in the doorway. Camden swallowed hard. His heart thumped as he walked across the wooden, creaking floor.
He stood in the doorway and just looked at her. The last sunshine shone down on her long red hair. She was deathly pale. Her eyes were closed, long dark lashes resting on her cheeks.
He cleared his throat. “Rubina?”
She stirred. Those red lips parted a little and, rolling over, she gave a little sigh. Her eyelids fluttered. Camden stayed where he was, just looked at her. She was so beautiful. He hadn't asked the physician what ailed her. His heart almost stopped, considering her hurt, ill, wounded.
“Rubina?” His throat was dry.
She gave another big sigh. Her eyelids fluttered and she opened her eyes. Closed them. Stretched and sat up. Then she saw him.
Her face grew taut with alarm and her mouth fell into a small “o”.
“Shhh,” Camden whispered. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle ye.”
She stared at him and then she lifted the bedclothes, covering the fact that she wore only a shift. She leaned back on the pillow. She smiled.
Camden felt his heart thump in his chest. His loins ached.
“Rubina?” he said in a small voice. “What happened?”
She frowned. Her expression hardened into one of fear. He felt his heart stop.
“What?” he asked.
To his horror, she buried her face in her hands and started crying. She still said nothing, only sobbed.
“Rubina...” he whispered. “No. No.”
He came to sit down on the bed beside her and, without thinking about what he did, wrapped his arms around her and held her close against his chest.
He rocked her as she sobbed and breathed in the fragrance of her hair and felt the softness of her mold against him. It was only when she stopped crying with a little sigh that he realized that he was sitting on her bed with only the soft linen of her bed-shift and his tunic between them.
She seemed to realize it at round about the same time as he did, for she shifted in his arms and looked up into his face with her brown eyes huge. He tensed, but he didn't stand up. Neither of them moved.
“Rubina,” he murmured, loving the way her name felt on his lips.
She gave a little sigh and leaned against him.
His lips found hers and they kissed. He closed his eyes as he felt his tongue slip into her damp, warm lips, exploring the warm cave of her mouth. She wrapped her arms around him and suddenly they were leaning back against the pillow, her warm breast pressed against him, his tongue buried in her sweet warmth. He felt himself surrounded by her sweetness and closed his eyes.
“No,” he murmured. He sat up, teeth clenched, hands at his sides. “No. I can't.”
She looked at him, her big brown eyes trusting. Her red curls were in charming disarray around her face and shoulders. She looked so beautiful, with those big eyes and their long lashes, her cheeks flushed with color.
She frowned and her lips parted. He saw the moment when she understood what he meant. She leaned back against the pillows.
“I know,” she whispered. “You shouldn't be here. Go.”
“I...Rubina, please. I would stay here if I could. You know that. It's not that I don't want you. I do. I...” He gave a little helpless sigh. “I want you too much.”
She smiled shyly. He felt his heart expand.
“Oh,” she said.
He wanted to laugh. He would have sat back down again, taken one of those sweet, tapered hands in his own. However, he couldn't risk contact with her.
I will lose myself in her if I do. I do not want to do her harm, to compromise her position.
He walked a pace back, a small smile pulling the corner of his mouth. “Forgive me, milady,” he murmured.
She nodded. “I...I forgive you.” She blushed. “I...were you to stay, I would also...I would forget myself.”
He smiled at how she blushed, her lips lifting in a grin so sweet that it twisted his heart.
“Well, milady,” he said. “There is enough space between us now, I think, to make us both be chaste.”
She blushed and grinned. “Camden!”
“What?” he asked, though he was laughing too.
She flipped a hand at him, playfully urging him to silence. “Whist.”
He blushed too. “My lady,” he said, suddenly growing serious again. “I should ask you what it is that ails you. What happened?”
She went pale again, her smile fading suddenly.
“I...Camden, I saw men in the woods. English men.”
He stared at her. As abruptly as his world had warmed, it cooled again. “They...they were truly English?”
She nodded. “They...they were wearing the red cross of St. George. And they were armed.”
Camden sat down. He felt like his energy had suddenly all disappeared. He felt ancient.
“No,” he whispered. “No.”
“Camden...”
He nodded. They both knew what it meant.
There would be war.
They stared at each other wordlessly and then, tentatively, Rubina reached out to touch Camden's hand.
“Camden?”
“Mm?” His fingers moved gently over hers. The proprieties had been forgotten, or changed: it did not seem wrong, this intimacy between them.
“Camden, they were scouts, were they not?”
He nodded. He looked resigned and grave. “I think so.”
“They...they were scouting, weren't they?”
“Yes.”
What else would they have been doing there? He ran a hand down his long, lean face and let himself sigh aloud. This was what they had all feared most. That all of this talk of agreements and treaties was never meant to be honored. That they would face the kind of horror that people whispered about: the horror perpetrated by Edward, king of England, in his conquest of the Welsh. They had dreaded it. Now it was inevitable.
It was war.
Rubina reached out and held Camden's hand and he gripped hers in his own. He wished he could make this moment, this sweetness, last forever. That he could horde it up inside him and take it into the dark ahead. If she was safe, if she was unharmed, then his world had not yet fallen.
“Rubina?”
“Yes?” her voice was a whisper, the merest thread of sound.
“They saw you?”
Rubina went pale. “I think they did, Camden. I saw...them. They saw me.”
Camden gripped her hand. “They did not harm you? No o
ne attempted to detain you?”
She shook her head. Her cheeks were white against her hair, her eyes huge. He saw her swallow and realized, suddenly, abruptly, how terrifying it must have been for her.
“My poor Rubina,” he murmured. “My poor, dear Rubina. You have been so brave.”
She closed her eyes. A slow tear, single and silent, ran down her cheek. “Camden? I...I cannot let you go.”
He felt his heart stop. “My sweetling. I wish that I could stay with you forever. But I cannot turn my back on my oath.”
She nodded. “I know.” Her voice was a whisper. “But...but in my heart, I wish the world elsewhere and us alone. War would wash away under the tide of love inside me.”
He cleared his throat, feeling it close up. She meant it? She meant she loved him? His eyes stung and he noticed hers swam with tears.
“I love you too, Rubina,” he whispered. Because it was too late for secrets. He had to tell her now. “I love you, too.”
He kissed her fragrant palm and lay down, head pillowed in her lap. She stroked his hair and, in that instant, in that small turret room above the distant forest, there was perfect peace.
SOMETHING UTTERLY UNEXPECTED
“I am well, Mother – truly I am.”
Rubina smiled into her mother's concerned face. She had as yet told no one what she'd seen. Camden, she trusted, would know best how to handle information of such an important strategic nature. She didn't wish to burden anyone else with it, or to let panic sear through those she loved. Her mother was concerned enough without adding to her concern.
“I know, my dear,” Lady Amabel said. “But you must be careful – you have a delicate constitution. I don't want you over-exerting yourself.”
Rubina bit her lip and nodded. “Yes, Mama.”
At that moment, someone appeared in the door of the bedchamber. They both looked up.
“Hello? Oh! Marguerite!” Rubina smiled at her friend enthusiastically. “What brings you here?”
“Well, Jessamine and the other ladies were playing at quoits in the arbor. We wished to know if you'll join us?” Marguerite said hopefully. “You know you have the best aim among us – it makes for more enjoyable competition.”
Adventures of a Highlander Page 68
