by Emma Prince
“It was foolish of me,” she said at last.
“Foolish to run from yer guards? Aye. Ye are a bonny lass. I can see why yer brother-in-law wants ye protected.”
In the dim light, he was gratified to see her blush. They parted, each turning before coming together once more, their palms raised and pressing together. Her hands looked so small and white compared to his. Aye, if he were Finn, he’d have Elaine’s guard doubled—nay, tripled—so that no rogue or brigand could ever steal her away.
Either that, or he’d stay by her side himself to ensure her protection.
“Nay. Or rather, aye, that was foolish of me, but I don’t just mean that,” she said softly.
“What, then?” The desire to know more about the lass, to understand the soul behind those bright, beguiling eyes gnawed at him.
She let a breath go. “It only confirmed what my family already thinks—that I am a silly girl in need of constant watching.”
Jerome felt his brows rise. “And ye arenae?”
Elaine lifted her chin. “I’ll be nineteen in a month’s time.”
He had nearly ten years on her, but damn if he didn’t feel older after sleeping on the ground for the last three sennights. At least tonight he’d be indoors, mayhap even on a pallet, for he’d decided from the moment Elaine had taken his arm that he would stay the night if it meant another chance to see her tomorrow morn before he departed.
“I’m sure they only act out of love for ye.”
Now it was Elaine’s turn to circle him. “That’s just it,” she murmured as she stepped behind him. Jerome felt the hairs on his nape stir but held still, willing himself to follow the rules of the dance. “They love me, aye, but in protecting me, they’ve left me overly sheltered.”
She rounded his shoulder and looked up at him in the flickering light. Slowly, Jerome circled her. Based on what he’d seen this afternoon in the great hall, her words made sense. Her father, though disapproving of her antics, clearly doted on her, as did her sister. Even gruff, severe Finn had only given her a few stern words.
“And riding off like a madwoman is—what? Yer attempt to live a less sheltered life?” He softened the words by keeping his voice low as he came to face her once more.
To his surprise, her face was tight with pain. But before he could apologize for speaking bluntly, she cut in.
“You are right,” she whispered, dropping her gaze to the center of his chest. “Riding Gertie, slipping away from the guards—it is all a game. That little bit of excitement—it isn’t real. There are no stakes. As I said, it was foolish of me.”
Jerome groped for soothing words, but the truth was, he wasn’t much for flowery language, nor did he know how to ease the hurt shining in her eyes.
Elaine suddenly scrubbed her palms over her damp eyelashes with a frustrated breath. “This is why they treat me like a child—because I am quick to tears. They call me a sensitive soul, as if I couldn’t handle aught that exists in the wider world beyond Trellham.”
Jerome closed the narrow distance between them and looped an arm around Elaine’s slim waist. He lifted her off her feet and turned a slow circle. Thank God for this portion of the dance giving him an excuse to touch her, to hold her close, for he might have simply pulled her to him in that moment anyway, propriety be damned.
He continued to turn them, gradually lowering her to her feet. He relished the feel of her lithe, supple body sliding against his, her breasts drawing down his chest, her soft hands coming to his shoulders.
“I saw ye in the great hall earlier,” he said, at last setting her on her feet. Her hands curled into his shirt as if they were still spinning. “The emotion in yer eyes as I read the Bruce’s words was no’ merely that of a sensitive soul. Ye were deeply moved. Why?”
Her lips parted, seemingly in surprise that he had noticed, and he knew he’d touched some part of that burning spirit behind her wide, innocent eyes.
“As I said before, so much of my life is naught more that games. What to wear. Which direction to ride Gertie.” She met his gaze. “But not this—not the Bruce’s cause. He fights for freedom, for justice, for right.” A breath escaped her. “How I long to know what it feels like to be a part of something so important, so bold—something that matters.”
Just as quickly as she’d revealed the fire behind her eyes, she shuttered it. She glanced over his shoulder. “No doubt that sounds foolish to the likes of you, the silly musings of a naïve girl. But I envy the sense of purpose you must have, the mantle of honor you wear in serving King, country, and cause.”
Suddenly Jerome’s throat tightened with a knot of shame. Of course Lady Elaine Beaumore, a sheltered English lass, didn’t know of the shadow blackening his past, the shadow that still hounded him like a bedeviled wolf, ever nipping at his heels.
He jerked himself away from his dark thoughts. It was better if she didn’t know. Selfishly, he longed for her to continue to think of him as a man of honor.
Yet what he wanted to do in that moment was far from honorable.
Mayhap it was weariness that made him do it. Mayhap it was the way the fire danced across Elaine’s copper locks and illuminated those sky-blue eyes. Or mayhap it was the glimpse of that kindling soul she’d given him, her words about the Bruce’s cause as stirring as aught in the Declaration of Arbroath.
Whatever the case, Jerome stopped thinking in that moment. Instead, he acted.
Gripping her narrow waist, he took two large steps forward, driving her out of the circle of firelight and into the shadows. Her hands tightened on his shoulders in surprise, but she let him guide her deeper into the darkness.
“Nay, that doesnae sound foolish to me. Yer family is mistaken,” he said, his voice coming out low and rough. “Ye arenae a sensitive soul—ye’ve got fire in yer veins.”
Just as she sucked in a breath, he lowered his head and met her lips with his.
Chapter Six
Elaine clung to Jerome as if he were her anchor in a storm.
And in truth, a storm was breaking within her at the feel of his lips against hers, his hands warm and heavy around her waist.
When he’d pulled her onto his lap earlier that afternoon, she’d been so stunned that she had hardly noticed more than his large, hard frame, like a living stone wall.
Now her senses flooded with every detail. The scents of wood smoke and sweet spring air clung to him. He was tall enough that he’d had to stoop his head low to join their lips. And he was warm—so warm that the air seemed to heat between them despite the cool night.
Beneath her hands, he felt solid yet rangy, the lean strength of him coiled tight.
And his lips… Though he’d kept them in a neutral, firm line throughout the events of the day, they were wondrously soft now.
His fingers sank into her waist, yet he kept his mouth gentle on hers, exploring slowly. With each press of his lips, each subtle angling of his head to find yet another corner of her mouth to attend to, she felt herself begin to melt against him.
When she sighed, his tongue flicked out and touched hers. A jolt of heat and awareness shot through her at the feel of the velvety contact. He did it again, this time lingering, caressing her until her slippered toes curled against the grass.
One of his hands rose from her waist to delve into her hair. Prickles of pleasure shot through her as his fingers tightened slightly. He tipped back her head, giving himself greater access to her mouth.
So awash was she in sensation that she gladly let him take control of the kiss. She surrendered to his lips, his tongue, the firm hand in her hair even as her body rioted inside. Her heartbeat hammered wildly in her ears, her breath coming short. Liquid longing began pooling in the pit of her stomach, hot and achy. Aye, she was indeed sensitive—sensitive to Jerome’s every touch.
“Lainey!”
Her sister’s distant call roughly yanked Elaine from her rapidly spiraling desire. Jerome jerked back, his hands falling away and his body turning rigidly dista
nt. Yet his dark eyes scorched her, his breath ragged.
“Lainey,” Rosamond called again, nearer now. Her rounded form was silhouetted by the bonfire as she approached. “I wondered if you might help me fetch more honey for the oatcakes. Maggie has her hands full with keeping them from burning, and…”
Elaine’s face blazed hot as she felt Rosamond’s gaze land on them in the shadows. Though a good two feet now separated them, it must have been obvious what they’d been about.
Desperate to escape further embarrassment, Elaine bolted forward, taking Rosamond’s arm. “Aye, of course.”
Elaine knew she was imagining it, but she swore she could feel Jerome’s gaze following her as she walked with Rosamond back to the keep. Rosamond remained silent, but when they slipped inside, instead of heading for the kitchens, she pulled Elaine into the west tower stairwell.
“What was that?”
“It was nau—”
“Don’t lie, Lainey.” Rosamond’s voice took on the stern edge of an older sister, yet a smile danced in her violet eyes. “I know an interlude when I see one. I told you he’s taken with you!”
Earlier that afternoon, Elaine had told Rosamond about slipping away from her guards, encountering Jerome, and the misunderstanding that had landed her in his arms. Rosamond had insisted that Jerome was undoubtedly enamored of Elaine.
Elaine had firmly told Rosamond that her romantic side was carrying her away—or that being so round with child had somehow muddled her sight, and her wits as well. But some girlish longing within her chest had fluttered at the thought of Jerome’s attention.
“H-he is returning to Scone soon,” she forced herself to say. “I’ll likely never see him again.”
She cursed the hitch in her voice as she spoke, sure it would only prove how addlebrained and naïve she was to Rosamond. But to her surprise, her sister lifted her shoulders in a shrug.
“Then there is no harm in one stolen kiss,” she said. Her eyes softened. “I know you long for excitement beyond our quiet life here at Trellham. Mayhap you can consider this an adventure.”
An adventure that was over before it had begun. Elaine bit her lip to force down the emotion that rose in her throat at the thought. She felt all the more ridiculous because Rosamond, ever the warm-hearted sister, was trying to be kind. Yet Rosamond’s nurturing sweetness made her feel like the family’s coddled babe all over again.
“You know it’s not just stolen kisses with a handsome warrior I long for,” she murmured. “I want to be like Niall, and Father, and you and Finn. I want to have a purpose. I want to serve a cause that matters.”
Rosamond’s features grew somber. “Aye, I know,” she replied quietly. “You have a big heart, Lainey, and spirit to match. We only worry that you will come to harm because of it. The world can be a cruel, dangerous place.”
Elaine swallowed, dropping her gaze. She knew her family loved her, but the only thing that had ever hurt her was the knowledge that they thought her so frail.
Rosamond’s mouth lifted in a sad smile. “Tonight might not have been the grand adventure you dream of. But you cannot deny that kissing a…what did you call him? A handsome warrior? You can’t deny that it is nice.”
Despite herself, Elaine puffed out a breath that was half-snort, half-giggle. “I beg you not to start in with your tales of stolen kisses with Finn, dear sister.”
Pretending not to hear her, Rosamond took Elaine’s arm once more and began strolling—waddling, more like—toward the kitchens. “Oh, aye, a particular tryst comes to mind, now that I think on the topic of handsome warriors. It was the night you and Judith and Julia had decided to wash your faces with the May Day dew to ensure everlasting beauty. Finn and I were supposed to be watching over you, but of course we were not, for we were ki—”
“Rosamond!”
Despite a sad heart, a spinning head, and lips that ached for another of Jerome’s kisses, Elaine let herself laugh with her sister as they set off in search of honey.
Chapter Seven
Jerome muttered a curse as a soft rain began to fall. But it wasn’t the turning weather that had him in such a foul mood this morn.
He quickened his pace as he scaled Trellham’s hill, his horse in tow. Having slept on a pallet in one of the guards’ quarters in the west tower last night, he’d risen at dawn and gone to the village stables to prepare Duff to depart.
He’d woken with a headache, likely from grinding his teeth all last eve. After Rosamond’s interruption, he’d only seen Elaine from afar before she’d retired for the evening.
He could have saddled Duff then and ridden a few hours into the night. There was no reason to stay. But damn it all, he’d wanted the chance to see Elaine one last time before he departed.
And good thing he had, because it wasn’t until this morn, when he’d awoken with a throbbing head, aching bollocks, and a sour temper, that he remembered the missive the Bruce had given him, to be delivered to Lord Beaumore.
It was an excuse to stay another moment, to enter the great hall and mayhap spot Elaine again. He should have been grateful, but instead, all he felt was foul.
Never before had he forgotten himself so completely that he might have neglected the Bruce’s instructions to deliver the missive. And never before had he dragged his feet when it came to his mission. He should have been eager to return to Scone, the first half of his task complete. Instead here he was lingering in the damn Borderlands.
All because of that spirited, soulful lass that had filled his dreams and left him as achy as a green lad.
He needed to leash this cursed longing—now. No more of this moon-eyed foolishness. He was a Highlander, a Munro, and one of the King’s most trusted warriors. It was time to start acting like it.
Handing Duff’s reins to one of the guards standing before Trellham’s double doors, he pushed his way inside. The keep had been stirring when he’d headed to the village, but now it bustled with the day’s activities. Servants moved around the trestle tables and benches that had been pulled out for the morning meal.
Lord Beaumore, Lady Rosamond, Finn, and a wee lad of mayhap three summers were already seated at one of the tables. And—aye, there she was. Elaine’s back was turned, but that burnished hair was unmistakable.
Jerome nodded to Lord Beaumore as he approached. “Many thanks for the hospitality last night, milord.”
“Must you leave so soon?” Lady Rosamond asked kindly, her violet eyes flicking to Elaine. “Surely you can stay and break your fast, or mayhap join Lainey on another ride.”
“Rosamond,” Elaine hissed softly. Jerome could feel her gaze dart to him, but he willed himself not to meet it.
“Thank ye, milady, but the Bruce awaits me in Scone, and I am already later than he would like. There is just one more matter of business before I go.”
He reached into the pouch on his belt, his fingers sifting through the seals he’d collected for the King’s declaration. When he brushed folded parchment, he pulled out the missive and handed it to Lord Beaumore.
“The King wished for me to deliver this to ye, milord.”
Lord Beaumore’s bushy gray eyebrows drew together as he broke the wax seal and unfolded the parchment. He squinted at the document, but his eyesight must have been failing, for he handed it to Finn, who scanned it quickly.
When Finn lifted his head, he wore a thoughtful frown.
“We’d best go to the solar,” he said, casting his gaze around the table. “This concerns all of us.”
* * * *
Reluctantly, Jerome followed the family up the west tower stairs to the solar. Rand had been sent to Maggie, the cook, but Rosamond and Elaine had both fallen in behind Lord Beaumore and Finn. Jerome wasn’t sure what he had to do with whatever the missive contained, but he held his tongue as the ladies and their father lowered themselves into upholstered chairs and Finn planted his feet.
“The Bruce wishes to honor the Beaumores with an extensive grant of lands,” Finn said without
preamble.
Lord Beaumore made a noise of surprise, which turned into a coughing fit. As he slowly regained his composure, Finn went on.
“Now that King Edward has agreed to a truce, the Bruce believes he can safely redistribute much of the lands along the border he reclaimed from the English. He wishes to reward those who have been loyal to him—including ye, Henry. Trellham’s lands would more than double.”
That sent Lord Beaumore into another coughing fit. Both Elaine and Rosamond gasped.
“That is…quite the honor indeed,” Rosamond murmured.
“The Bruce intends for the bestowal of these lands to be a grand affair,” Finn continued, glancing at the missive. “After the Declaration of Arbroath is sent on its way to the Pope, the King wishes to host a ceremony, followed by a sennight-long feast, to honor those most loyal noblemen. He means to show all of Scotland—and England and the Pope as well—that just as his people are behind him, so too does he look after them.”
“And why does this involve all of us?” Elaine asked cautiously.
“The Bruce has invited the entire family to his grand fete,” Finn replied. “As this is Jerome’s final stop before returning to Scone, the Bruce suggests that we travel with him.”
Finn’s gaze shifted to Jerome, who stiffened. Damn it all. When the Bruce had given Jerome that missive three sennights past, he hadn’t mentioned anything about Jerome serving as an escort to the Beaumores.
Would this mean—nay, he wouldn’t let himself think of it. Spending more time with Elaine would only cloud his thoughts and distract him from his mission. And given his past, he had no room for error when it came to proving himself to the Bruce.
“We would leave…today?” Rosamond’s voice was dubious as she glanced down at her rounded belly. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to move very fast. In fact, I doubt traveling would be comfortable—or wise—for me.”
“I’ll stay with ye,” Finn said immediately.
