by Wylie, Diane
“Your day will come before ye ken it, and you will be getting wed.” Catriona whispered into her ear as they embraced.
All Isobel could do was to smile and nod. Maybe I will never wed. Maybe I will become a lady Grand Falconer and travel the world.
Lifting her chin, she took William by the hand to lead him through the throngs of Kinneff wedding guests. “Come with me, William, we shall visit the sweets table before supper.”
William let out a whoop and happily skipped along beside her.
The good ladies of Kinneff kirk had done themselves proud for this rarest of events. Wooden tables were arranged in a circle and completely covered with food of all types.
In short order, someone began to play the bagpipes and someone else started to sing a lovely ballad. His voice reached into Isobel’s soul, and tears sprang to her eyes unbidden.
“What’s this I see? Going for dessert first? Smart thing to do.” Fin’s mouth may have smiled at William, but his eyes frowned at his sister. He lifted one red brow.
She blinked away the wetness and ignored his unspoken question.
“Aye, William and I decided ’twas the right thing to sample them first.”
The little boy scooped up some honey candies and thrust them in his pockets before turning his attention to pastries drizzled with honey.
“Slow down, laddie, and leave some for the others.” Fin grinned at the boy who slowly put back one of the three pastries he had grabbed.
Then William swiveled to Isobel and held out one of the sweets. “This one is for Belle.”
“Thank you, William. Come let us see what else we can eat. You are welcome to join us, Fin.”
She accepted the sticky pastry and took his equally sticky hand so they could look over the other fine wedding foods.
Drinking, eating, dancing, and singing lasted all day. Isobel took part in it all, danced with her father and both brothers, along with a few single men from the church.
William, having eaten enough to satisfy a grown man, had crawled into the Graham’s little cart and fallen asleep under the shade of a large, leafy tree.
Isobel sat on a nearby rock to make sure no harm came to the lad; William was Dunnottar royalty to her and her family.
Growing bored with watching the wedding guests drink themselves silly, she decided to put her falcon through some practice. All of the birds were tied on the wooden perches that the Grahams carried with them. Most birds appeared to be sleeping when Isobel approached.
Latharna was the first falcon in the lineup and she bobbed her head as if to greet her handler.
“Hello there, pretty lassie.” Isobel gently stroked the feathered chest. “Would ye like to spread your wings a bit?”
Before untying the jesses from the perch, Isobel put the tooled leather hood over Latharna’s head to keep her calm. Then, after donning thick gloves, Isobel untied the jesses and smoothly transferred the falcon to her wrist.
Isobel carried the lightweight bird a small distance away from the festivities, but within sight of the slumbering William. Then she stopped, pulled the hood off Latharna’s head, and jerked her arm upward to release the hawk to the sky.
Tilting her head back to watch, Isobel sighed with envy. How wonderful to soar far above the ground and leave your earthly woes behind. Latharna was free to go anywhere she wished and never come back. Many Graham-trained falcons had done just that; they’d taken to the sky and disappeared. A small part of Isobel feared her beloved Latharna would leave as well, but she had faithfully returned each time Isobel called for her.
The bird’s dark wings were a magnificent silhouette against the pale blue sky as the falcon effortlessly rose and dipped, flying in circles above the kirk grounds.
With a grimace of disgust, Isobel reached into a pail of dead mice, provided by the Grainger cat, and drew one out by the tail. Transferring the mouse to her gloved hand, she held her arm straight out to one side of her body and whistled three times, stopped, and whistled again.
Latharna came down and flew straight at Isobel, so close that the bird’s black beady eyes met hers. Unflinching, Isobel held her ground, and with a single flap, Latharna landed on the glove. Immediately, her sharp curved beak tore into the mouse. In seconds, the whole mouse was gone.
“Good girl, Latharna,” Isobel cooed.
I could be a Grand Falconer, my falcon always comes back to me. It’s the men that I lose.
Chapter 14
A cool spring breeze whispered through the trees surrounding Kinneff kirk. The wedding guests, Rabbie and Catriona, and the rest of the Graham family had long since sought their bed for the night. Even little William had gone to sleep without a fuss, despite his long afternoon nap. But Isobel was restless and vaguely uneasy as she wandered through the small cemetery. The scant moonlight showed her the stones, but the names on them were unreadable in this light.
She pulled her shawl closer around her when the wind sent shivers down her spine. Something had drawn her out here tonight. But what?
The borrowed dress wrapped around her legs then blew free again. Tomorrow they would be leaving Reverend Grainger and his wife to safeguard The Honours of Scotland on their own. Da, Finn, and Rabbie all agreed that they would go to the castle of the Graham clan, Main Castle in lowlands Dundee. They had relatives there, albeit distant cousins. But they could stay within the walls until such time as Dunnottar was liberated from the English or a new, permanent residence could be found.
Isobel did not want to travel so far, only to end up in yet another unfamiliar place. She wanted to go home to Dunnottar, even if their own house no longer existed. But what about the English soldiers who still occupied the castle? She had no answer for that problem.
With all of these thoughts tumbling through her head as she walked aimlessly, she didn’t hear him until she had nearly walked right into him.
“Belle. Did ye not hear me calling your name?”
“Derek!”
This filthy, bearded creature, reeking of musky, swampy odors, was indeed Derek Sinclair.
“Hush, speak softly, my love. I wouldna wish yer Da nor your brothers to see me just yet.” He held his hands out beseechingly, but did not touch her. Despite his ragged, dirty appearance, she wanted him to touch her very much.
“What are you doing here? What happened to you? You look half starved.”
“Aye, I’m actually fully starved.” He attempted a smile, but failed. “Have ye any food out here?” Then he dropped his hands and staggered a few steps to sit on a tombstone.
“I can go back to the house and get you something. First, tell me how you found me … uh … us and why you’ve come.”
“The falcons led me to you. When I saw the birds circling high in the sky, I followed them. It took several tries before I found the right hawks to lead me to you.” He grinned, a flash of white in his mud-smeared face. “I wasna sure ’twas you in that dress. Ye look verra pretty.”
Isobel laughed at that. “Ye are a charmer, Derek Sinclair, but you can drop the accent now, we ken that you are English.”
At that, he clapped a hand to his mouth and then dropped it. “I dinna mean to mock ye, lass, ’tis just that weariness has always made the accent of my childhood appear. And I am verra weary.”
She looked him up and down. Even in the dimness, she could see that he wore the same shirt and breeches he’d had on when he left. He had mud clear over his boots and up to his thighs, and he had lost weight.
Despite all of this, and his offensive smell, she leaned down and kissed him on the lips, the one clean part of him.
Although he didn’t put a hand on her, she knew he had roused to the kiss. Little sounds of passion rolled up from inside him. Derek’s hot tongue gently danced into her mouth and caressed every single inch inside. Isobel felt that he would eat her, if he could. Not only was he physically starved, Derek was sexually starved, and she was his meal.
When she finally pulled away, it was as if she were ripping her soul
out of her body to leave off their contact.
“W-why? I ask again, why did ye come here, Derek? To tear me apart anew?” Isobel was dangerously close to tears and bit her lip to control its trembling.
“I know.” He rubbed a hand over his whiskered face. “I knew this would be hard … to see ye again and ken I couldna have ye, Belle. Did I not have knowledge about where Sir George and Lady Ogilvie are to be found, I would not have made such an arduous trek. But the little laddie deserves to be with his family, and his mamm deserves to have her son with her.”
This time it was Isobel who put a hand over her mouth to prevent shouting aloud. “Where? Where are his parents?”
“Back at Dunnottar castle. The English army decided it was the best place to house them.”
“But how can we get William to them, and should we put the lad in a prison cell with them?”
“Shh, Belle. Be easy now. The Ogilvies are not in prison cells, they are under house arrest.” He wiped a dirty hand on his filthy shirt and looked at his palm. Apparently deciding it was clean enough, he hesitantly took hold of Isobel’s hand.
Warmth and peace spread instantly from her hand, up her arm, into her body, and serenity filled her heart.
Derek was her home! But how could she have him forever? Was there a way?
“What does ‘house arrest’ mean?” She rapidly ran through possible scenarios in her head whereby her father would allow Derek to stay with them. None of these seemed to have a chance of working.
“They are free to move about inside the walls of the castle only … they cannae leave Dunnottar.”
“Then they would be able to care for William as before the siege.” But Isobel worried, “How will we get him back to his da and mamm without becoming prisoners ourselves?”
Derek’s stomach chose this moment to growl loudly.
“I’ve an idea,” he said.
Isobel studied him closer. The man was far too pale, even in this light. She squeezed his hand gently. “I ken ye for a verra smart man, Derek. But let it wait. Ye need food, drink, a bath, and sleep before you fall over.”
“I will not fight you on that, Belle.”
* * *
Derek watched her walk away and briefly admired the feminine lines of her body, which were clearly visible in that dress. Darkness swallowed her too quickly.
God, I’m tired.
Sliding off the tombstone, he sank down on the grass at the base. He meant to sit and wait for her, but exhaustion took over. He lay down and closed his eyes. Finding the Grahams had taken everything he had, particularly when he misstepped and became trapped in the peat bog for hours. Stuck in the muck up to his thighs, Derek had finally figured out that leaning backwards on top of the wet peat allowed him to distribute his weight over the surface and slowly, slowly pull his legs out.
The whole thing had been a nightmare come true.
It seemed only seconds had passed and Isobel was shaking him awake.
“Derek, Derek, I’ve food for ye.”
He had never appreciated being awakened so much. His red-haired angel stood over him with a plateful of food in hand, and a lantern in the other. Her natural beauty seemed all the more magical by the soft light of the oil lamp.
Jerking to a sitting position again, he accepted the plate. Thick slabs of pork, roasted carrots with honey, two chicken legs, and crusty slices of bread were piled high on the plate. She pulled three red apples out of her pockets and placed them on his lap.
His mouth watered at the sight and smells. “Thank you, Belle. This is a lot of food. Are you sure I should have it?”
“Oh, aye,” she said and sat beside him on the grass. “The good Scots of Kinneff were verra generous for a wedding feast. There is plenty more.”
Derek dove into the bounty without further delay.
“Rabbie and Catriona were officially married today.”
He glanced up, chicken leg to his mouth and eyebrows raised. “I thought—”
“Oh, they were already married. Da did a handfasting ceremony at Catriona’s cottage. Rabbie was still verra sick from the flogging by the … uh … English.”
Derek waved a dismissive hand. “Go on.”
“He was too ill to travel, so Cat was going to stay with him. They couldna be alone together without handfasting.”
Swallowing the chicken in his mouth, Derek grinned. “I feel better already, Belle. But why did you all need to leave them? You were safe there, closer to Dunnottar.”
She hesitated before answering, so he bit into the fresh bread and moaned blissfully.
Finally, she answered. “There were too many soldiers around. We were right to leave. Only two weeks later, Catriona’s home was burned to the ground.”
“Aye, I remember that was mentioned. I am so sorry, we aren’t all animals, ye ken.”
“Och, I know that, Derek. I wouldna be attracted to you, if I thought you were violent.”
She fell silent, and Derek wondered if he needed or dared respond to her statement. He forked some sweet carrots into his mouth and considered the issue while he chewed. Swallowing the tasty vegetables, he decided to dare. “The feeling is mutual, Belle. I want to be with you every moment of every day, forever and ever. I love you.”
Because they were sitting side by side in the dark, almost touching shoulders, he felt her startle briefly when he said the final three words. Then her body relaxed, but she said nothing.
Finishing the last bite, Derek leaned back against the headstone and sighed. “That was wonderful, Belle. Now, if only I could get a bath and some clean clothes, I might feel human again.”
Isobel took the plate from him and smoothly dropped an object in his palm. “Soap. You need it. You stink.”
“I agree. Where can I wash?”
She stood up, placed the plate on the stone, picked up the lantern and urged him up. “Come, there is a small stream ye can use. ’Twill be cold this time of year.”
True to her word, she led him to a stream burbling through the woods.
“Listen, Belle, you should go inside and sleep. It is verra late, and I dinna want your father to worry about you. Your family doesna think much of me; I would hate to make it worse. I can handle it from here.”
He leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek before sitting down to pull off his mud-caked boots, carefully keeping his gaze off her so he wouldn’t be tempted to take matters further.
“I think Fin left some of his clothing in the cart. I’ll bring back something clean for ye to wear, then I’ll go inside.”
“Thank you for everything, Belle. I pray your family will not kill me on sight before I can help reunite William with his mother and father.”
As he spoke, he began to peel off his filthy shirt without thinking. Then he saw the expression on her face. Could his eyes be deceiving him? Was it truly passion?
“Uh, let me get those clothes.” Isobel abruptly wheeled around and bustled away into the night. Soon, her presence was merely a bobbing dot of lantern light.
Would she be safe alone? Should he go with her? Likely, she would not appreciate being coddled or thought of as helpless. With a mental shrug, Derek continued to strip naked.
Chapter 15
Moonlight sparkled on the tumbling, burbling water meandering between the rocks. The air smelled of damp earth. But in this serene setting was one thing that brought every part of Isobel’s body to heat-induced attention—the slick, gloriously naked, thoroughly masculine figure of Derek Sinclair.
Frozen to the spot, Isobel watched his hands distributing soap over his well-defined chest. Muscular buttocks gleamed in the dim light. She was mesmerized.
Then he half-turned away and bent over to soap up his legs. An irrational urge to squeeze that firm backside seized her, but she didn’t move lest she miss the show unfolding in front of her.
Her heart raced and her breathing quickened. When an insect nearly flew in her mouth, she realized it was hanging open. Isobel closed her mouth.
Next she’d be drooling and that would be very unladylike.
She must have made some kind of sound for he turned and met her gaze. Derek smiled; a slow lazy smile that spread from ear to ear.
Then Isobel realized she was not the only one aroused by the situation. When he saw her looking further south, his grin grew even wider.
Derek beckoned.
Isobel shook her head. No, I canna go.
Derek beckoned again.
Still holding the lantern, Isobel laid the clean garments at her feet and stepped closer. She stopped.
Derek turned his magnificent body to face her straight on. Bending over, he splashed water on his face then submerged his whole head in the water. Straightening up again, he lathered his thick dark hair with soap then dunked his head again.
As he rose from the water, silvery streams flowed down his arms with their sprinkling of hair and down his muscled chest to disappear in the thatch of dark hair further down.
Isobel swallowed. The cold water had not diminished his oblivious need.
He waved her forward again, without saying a word.
Having made no conscious decision, Isobel kicked off her shoes and pulled the dress off over her head, leaving her clad in just a shift. She took a step toward the stream, toward him.
Derek nodded, and his grin returned.
Isobel wiggled out of her shift. She knew the night air had to be cool, but her skin was on fire, yearning for his touch.
“Come, sweetheart, I willna hurt you.” Derek had come to the stream’s bank to take her hand.
“But, Derek, I’ve never—”
“And you won’t this time either. There are ways to leave your virginity intact.”
She heard his words, but did not know what he meant.
“Do ye trust me, love?”
“Aye, I do,” she said.
“I lied to you once, I’ll not lie again.”
With that, he led her deeper into the water until they reached a still pool in the center. The water rose to her waist, but it wasn’t cold; it refreshed her over-heated body.
