by Jackie Ivie
The knot of emotion spread, going to a stone in her belly and pounding a reminder with every beat of her heart. She had to look aside and away from Aidan and swallow ceaselessly while her hands went to fists on the horse’s mane. She was afraid . . . so afraid, especially of the sensation reaching her heart.
And she’d been wrong. It was better to look at his castle.
Juliana moved her vision from their laird and tipped her head back to fully see Castle Ketryck as an Englishman might . . . who’d just come to besiege it. She smirked, but it was a shaky expression. King Edward hadn’t come this far north, or he’d have brought more men.
The gatehouse looked closer to seven stories in height. Juliana would never believe Arran’s descriptions again. Since it was early afternoon and the sun was partial with its light, there wasn’t a sign of shadow being thrown by the gatehouse. There was a huge sound of grinding and creaking and whining and a trembling sound coming from the mass of rock, which must have heralded a drawbridge getting lowered . . . a large drawbridge, capable of spanning a moat this size. Juliana eyed it again. The moat was a large span of water, glistening with a blue-green color when the sun speckled it, showing the depth of it as well. It must have been fed from the loch behind Castle Ketryck.
Her father, Giles D’Aubenville, had been a wealthy English baron, but he’d never seen anything like this. Castle Ketryck looked to match or exceed anything the king had built in Wales, too, but Juliana had only rumor and drawings for those. Here she was faced with solid stone.
They lowered the drawbridge in chunks of space at Aidan’s approach. He was in place, patiently waiting on the rock ledge of this side when the bridge slammed the final span of space to the ground. Juliana covered her mouth and nose at the air that puffed up from the ground at the impact. Aidan’s horse reared back, but he had it controlled instantly and completely, and perfectly. Then he was leading them onto a span of wood that echoed and thumped with each hoof being marched across it, Juliana’s mount included.
She’d been right. The width of stone was more than three of Aidan. It was a solid matching of blocks that fitted without leaving enough space between the stones for a sword blade. Her shoulders drooped slightly and she moved one hand to put it atop the sensation at the pit of her belly before they’d cleared the dark tunnel beneath the gatehouse and appeared on the other side.
Aidan didn’t stop. He proceeded across a span of grass that looked to house an entire village of structures as well as the populace of one, and then he neared another curtain wall, this one without a gatehouse. Arran hadn’t said a word about baileys, nor how many Castle Ketryck had. Not a word. Juliana nearly twisted around to give him a glare that would leave no misunderstanding over how much his lack had affected her, but settled with frowning at the hand she had wrapped about horse hair.
This wall had another archway they passed beneath. It didn’t look to be three of Aidan either, although it was a closer match to that description. It was crafted from the same gray rock. It was as if the builders had leveled a mountain and then used the rock to construct another mountain of castle in its place. But that was impossible. Unbelievable. It would have taken an army of men and centuries of time. But what did she know of it anyway? Juliana knew life only as the protected and pampered daughter of an English baron. What Juliana experienced now was fit for a king.
They reached the inner bailey. This one had another courtyard of sod, peopled with more clan. Aidan’s progress was slowing as they neared a stone building that appeared to interconnect with more of them before joining another wall. It might have been the outer curtain wall, overlooking the loch . . . or it might have led to yet another bailey. Juliana couldn’t tell, and she wasn’t asking.
If this was a keep, it was impressive as well. It looked four stories in height, although the two structures abutting it were taller. There were towers at the far ends, with the same battlement running all about the top, although it dropped at the keep rooftop before slanting back up for either taller building. Crenellations were only allowed for a king or with the permission of a king. Juliana was beginning to think Highland lairds might be in the same category as kings . . . or fancied themselves as such.
Having crenellation on a building this far inside its walls seemed overstated and boastful and of little use. It was useful only in the event a rival clan managed the impossible and broke through both walls. Juliana narrowed her eyes in thought. She decided these three buildings must have been part of the original structure, constructed centuries earlier by the Vikings. That could explain the defensive fixtures.
Aidan stopped and raised his hand, halting the line. The sounds of drums and pipes ceased as well as the crowd noise. A shiver went along Juliana’s arms and across her back at how eerie and odd it seemed. None of the sun percolated into the area they’d stopped in. It would need to be late morning for that to happen, she surmised.
Aidan dismounted and everyone watched as he patted his horse and gave the rein to a squire. Then he turned about and walked the one horse length back to her and stopped. Just . . . stopped.
“Come, Juliana.”
He held both hands out for her, as if he knew the correct way to assist a lady in dismounting. Swallowing every bit of unease, Juliana complied. It was a mistake. The moment they touched, her palms sparked, and she jerked them back.
Juliana’s eyes flew to his before dropping. The lump shifted and she tightened her belly on it, trembled in place, and there was nothing she could do. No one she could turn to. No way to run. No place to hide. No one she could trust. She had too many secrets. Love for him was just one of them. And if she had to fail at hiding it, why did it have to be in front of God, and Aidan, and the amount of MacKetryck clan gathered all about her in a hushed silence that made everything so much worse?
“You will na’ appreciate it if I pull you off the horse, Juliana.”
He hadn’t moved. Not a muscle. She had to do it. Or . . . try. Juliana commanded her own hands to reconnect to where he was standing and starting to look annoyed. The hands she held out shook visibly. She didn’t know what expression might be on his face. She didn’t dare look.
Aidan MacKetryck had been trained in the art of romance and chivalry after all. Not only did he know how to assist her, but he was well versed in supporting her weight as she slipped to the ground, and once there, on how to provide an escort. He released her to stand on legs that wobbled beneath her shift where no one else knew anything of it, but he didn’t allow her to stay that way. He had his shoulder tipped down just slightly and his arm crooked and held out for her to hold on to. And he just stood there, with one eyebrow raised quizzically while a slight smile played about on his lips.
“Welcome to Castle Ketryck,” he said, and gestured with his head to the mass of stone all about them.
She opened her mouth to say something amusing and biting at the same time, and had to close it again as nothing came out.
“What? You thought I’d ride through a broken door? With you across my shoulders? Screaming and kicking?”
Unbidden tears pricked at her eyes, blurring the ground beneath her since her gaze flew there. Juliana cursed the fates and a deaf God for making her face this, and having it happen now, when everyone and their mother could tell his captive hadn’t had the sense to keep from falling in love with him. Just like any number of other women before her.
Aidan’s men had also dismounted, although there wasn’t much noise to accompany the act. She could sense their presence all about and behind her, settling in as though to create a shield about her and Aidan. Guarding. Protecting. It was a ridiculous notion.
“Juliana?” Aidan whispered from somewhere above her.
Juliana nodded slightly, not enough to upset the tears hovering at her lashes, but enough he’d know she heard.
“You need to place your hand atop my arm. For an escort. You ken?”
He was counseling her on etiquette. Juliana would’ve laughed, except it might break throug
h everything and she’d end up sobbing. Or throwing her body against him, which would have been immeasurably worse. She settled on another nod.
She put her hand out without looking. She couldn’t control how it shook visibly, or how cold it was. The next moment, he had her hand in his and guided it to his arm, forcing her to accept a contact that tingled more, heated worse, and reverberated with an emotion difficult to contain. It was too beautiful. Tears slipped onto her cheeks and she licked at them before they reached her chin.
“Doona’ fret so, Juliana. I’ve claimed you. You’re safe.”
He thought her frightened? The instant reaction cleared her nose, making a sound that was loud, uncouth, and crude. The only good thing was that it didn’t sound like a sob. Aidan turned from her, placing her at his right side for the escort, and acted like he hadn’t heard it as he started walking. The movement pulled her with it, whether she wanted to go or not. Juliana walked slowly through a narrow corridor of bodies she could sense, since she wasn’t chancing a glance at anything. Not until she had this weakness under control and covered over and hidden. Juliana could think of more august ways to enter the MacKetryck chieftain’s lair than walking at his side, sniffing back tears, while swathed in a plaid that was still rain damp and beneath that a shift that needed washing, but she didn’t have another choice.
Aidan moved suddenly, putting his free hand atop hers to pull her close and move slightly in front of her, bringing them to a halt in the same moment. Such a position made a barrier of his body, shielding her. It felt protective. It probably looked it. Juliana caught a breath and held it, ignored the skip of a heartbeat, as she waited for what further torment he could possibly devise. Then she saw them. Fancy, embroidered, pointed-toed slippers were in front of them, blocking the way, and if those slippers belonged to a woman, she had the biggest feet of any female Juliana had ever seen.
“My laird,” a melodic masculine voice said.
“Lachlan,” Aidan replied from beside her.
Juliana stole a glance at the slip of a fellow and then back to the ground. The man standing there didn’t look like he could stop much, especially Aidan. He looked small and frail in comparison to Aidan, as if the slightest whisk of Aidan’s hand would send the man flying. His attire didn’t help with the impression. His cassock was of heavily embroidered satin in a dark blue shade. It made his skin sallow and gaunt. He’d had his head bowed, but it wasn’t deferential to Juliana’s practiced eye.
“Your presence is required.” He hissed the words at Aidan.
“I’ll see him at the return feast,” Aidan replied.
“Return feast?”
“Aye.”
“We’d nae warning.”
“Now you do. Go, Lachlan. I’ve returned. I require a feast. Order it. And order the Lady Reina to report to my chambers.”
“My laird!”
“What?”
“But . . . your chambers?”
“You hear well,” Aidan replied. “As always.”
“’Tis most . . . unwise, my laird.”
Aidan grunted. “She’s na’ attending me, Lachlan, but Juliana.”
Oh . . . dearest God!
He’d clarified her position in his household, sent lightning flashing through her body with the surge of her heart, and released the weight that was cursing her belly. And he’d done it with one sentence. Juliana was quivering at the mix of emotions. Elation. Horror. Giddiness. Fear. Shock.
“Juliana?”
Aidan swiveled without warning, pulling her in front of him and right beneath the gaunt fellow’s nose. She did a perfect half bow for him, which would have been deeper and more respectful if he’d deserved it, and watched the cloak scrape the dirt beneath them. She should have been prepared for the man’s insulting tone, if not his words.
“You wish Lady Reina to attend—”
“My orders are na’ questioned, Lachlan. Recollect that. Apprise my uncle, too. Or he can wait until my banquet and hear of it.”
Aidan shoved past the man and within moments they’d reached three lengthy stone ledges that served as entry steps. The Lachlan fellow had trailed behind Aidan, or he was on his other side. Juliana didn’t check. She had enough to handle stifling and hiding the stunned feeling while still touching and experiencing Aidan. She hadn’t known love was such a potent thing. And if this Lachlan fellow guessed at it, Juliana wasn’t sure what he’d do about it, or with it.
Or why that frightened her.
They’d constructed the steps for giants. Or for standing atop while issuing edicts and commands. Or to keep visitors from riding into the hall without dismounting from their horses first. Juliana stopped at the base of the step ledges beside Aidan and considered immaterial things that spared her from pondering the real ones.
Clan MacKetryck may not seem barbaric, but these steps showed different. Juliana could see improvement would be needed here. No lady should be forced to make a climb in order to walk steps. It couldn’t be accomplished with modesty and grace, especially if holding a gown at the same time. They’d also need an assist from a strong male such as Aidan MacKetryck at their side. Or use their hands on the steps.
Juliana negotiated the steps without too much difficulty, although Lachlan looked for it. She had Aidan to thank. He tightened the arm she pulled at to climb the first step, lifting her at the same time. And then he repeated it. All she had to do was hold on while he lifted. All about her, Aidan’s men flanked her, ready to step in if needed. She knew Lachlan noted it as well. Her fingers were tingling when they arrived, and her back had an icy sensation crawling along it to center at the base of her neck.
She’d been raised in such an environment. She recognized intrigue and power struggles, as well as spies with vindictive tendencies. It appeared Aidan had enemies in his castle. Juliana didn’t know who, or why, or how many, but she had no doubt she would.
They’d stopped and were standing in a great hall lit only by a banked fire at one end and a smattering of torches about the walls. It took a moment to accustom her eyes to the lack of light, making it possible to pick out long tables, benches, and screens, arranged about the massive space without much symmetry.
“Your uncle will be displeased. He has an answer from Campbell clan!” Lachlan hissed the words.
Aidan stiffened beside her, and a moment later had the reflex covered over. If she hadn’t been attached to him, she wouldn’t have felt it. “You have your orders, Lachlan,” Aidan replied.
Juliana recognized the metal behind his voice. Lachlan must not have been as sure, for he argued it. Again.
“But your uncle—”
“Uncle Dugald can meet me now if he likes. On the list. Go. Speak of that to him. But until such time . . . I’m laird. By birthright and victory . . . and you have your orders.”
Aidan was moving across the room before he’d finished speaking, pulling her toward where a change in available daylight showed a hallway to be. The scraping of boots and clanking of weaponry established that his men were accompanying them as well.
“As you wish, my . . . laird.”
It was softly spoken and the last was a slur. They all heard it. Juliana could tell by how the body of men tensed as if holding a collective indrawn breath. Then, it dissipated and they went back to following Aidan. He hadn’t reacted visibly. Apparently, he was used to pretending a complacency that the taut condition of his arm didn’t match. Juliana’s quick glance showed the fisted hand before he opened and twisted it, making the sinew beneath her hand roll and vibrate. That was too much sensation beneath her finger pads. Her knees wavered and her breath caught, which was too much to show when surrounded by so many. She had no choice but to terminate the contact. Immediately.
Aidan reached out and across his chest with his other arm and had her held in place before she’d finished the thought. He did it without looking and without breaking stride, sending a jittery weakness throughout her legs she had no choice but to endure. She only hoped her legs supp
orted her for the climb. His pace slowed, making it a bit easier. The slight incline of the stone steps, worn a bit in the middle, was also helpful as they spiraled up the dimly lit tower they’d entered.
She was still reeling from what he’d done, and tempering the absolute rush of emotion with the realization of what had just happened to her. She had an unspoken status now . . . as the woman settled into his chamber. If they were in an English household, she would. She would be in a status just below that of wife. The Lady Juliana D’Aubenville was now a Highland laird’s mistress.
Chapter 17
The chieftain chambers opened off a landing of the stairs, directly above the great hall. It appeared to be bisected by a floor-to-ceiling partition of wood. The area gave the same impression of dim, dark, and massive space as the great hall below. The effect was not as severe, however, owing to a light source from somewhere behind the wooden wall outlining width and height, and because of the dimness of their tower stairwell. The darkness wasn’t a poor design. The stairwell had sconces positioned in the outer wall for torches, but none were lit at present, making the slits at the very top of the stairwell tower the primary light source, and forcing her to hold to Aidan tightly since he wasn’t unsure of any step.
Juliana waited for her eyes to adjust before she could make out the arrangement and furnishings in the room, but he had control of their progress and was already near the center of the room and swiveling to face his men before that happened.
There were a lot more clansmen at their heels than the nine he’d had with him, Juliana noted, looking back to the floor.
“You heard?” Aidan asked.
“Aye.” Someone spoke and more chorused it.
“Then go. Prepare. Arran and Alpin. Follow me.”
Aidan swung about again, and took her with him to the wooden wall that contained a door and several empty niches. Juliana pondered that for a moment before he pulled the door handle down and shoved the structure open, and walked in, keeping her with him for every step.
