by Katy Baker
Ewan digested this in silence. What on Earth had he come home to? Had he walked into the middle of a clan war? And had he brought Gretchen right into the middle of it too?
"Richard de Clare's been increasing the size of his warband and Merith's been letting him. Now there are as many de Clare men as Murrays. That's nay doubt why they look at ye the way they do—they'll see ye as a threat."
"And why would they do that," Ewan growled. "Unless they've been doing things they shouldnae? I've nay come back to cause trouble, brother, but I'll nay stand by and watch this clan descend into disaster either."
Connail looked at him long and hard for a moment. Then he clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm mighty glad to hear ye say that, brother. Mayhap now yer back we'll be able to talk some sense into the lot of them, eh?"
"With the two of us together?" Ewan said with a smile. "They dinna stand a chance!"
Chapter 7
GRETCHEN OPENED HER eyes to find herself staring at a wood-paneled ceiling. She'd had the strangest dream. In it, she'd gone back in time to the sixteenth century, and was rescued by a handsome stranger. Her stomach fluttered as his face hovered in her memory.
Ewan.
She blinked. She felt weak and a raging hunger churned in her belly. Slowly, she looked around. She was lying in an opulent bed chamber. Two windows on one side gave a view of the valley. A fireplace filled the opposite wall and she was tucked up in a huge bed with gold-brocaded covers. The curtains were done in the same style.
Gretchen gaped. Lord help her, she hadn’t been dreaming after all!
"I hope the room is to yer liking," a voice said. "It hasnae been used in a while. We dinna get many visitors these days."
Gretchen turned her head to see a middle-aged woman with raven-dark hair seated by the bed. She had the same striking green eyes as Ewan.
"I...um...I..." Gretchen stammered.
She tried to remember what had happened. She had hazy memories of riding with Ewan and then a group of people and a castle then someone—Ewan she guessed—carrying her somewhere. She peered at the woman, trying to dredge up a name.
"I'm Jenna Murray," the woman supplied, smiling. "Ewan's aunt. He brought ye in earlier today. Ye've been abed since but yer fever has broken at last. How do ye feel?"
"Better," Gretchen murmured, realizing it was true. Last night she'd felt like death warmed up but now, other than a little dizziness, she felt almost normal. "Although I think I could eat a horse."
Jenna smiled. "That's a sure sign yer on the mend. I'll have cook send up a thin broth. That's all ye should have for now, until ye are stronger." Then she went to the door, stuck her head out and shouted. "Bring water for Lady Gretchen's bath. Oh, and bring some bandages as well."
She turned back to Gretchen. "If yer feeling up to it, let's take a look at that ankle of yers. I didnae want to disturb yer sleep to examine it earlier.”
Jenna helped Gretchen into a sitting position and pulled back the covers. She sat on the bed and gently untied the strips of cloth holding the splints in place then leaned down, examining the ankle.
"It appears my nephew has done a good job," she pronounced. "The swelling seems to be going down and there's no sign of anything broken. I dinna think there's any more need for the splint. Ye might walk with a limp for a few days but it should heal on its own soon."
Gretchen smiled. "Thank you, Jenna." She glanced around the room. "Where is Ewan? I've not had the chance to thank him for bringing me here. If he hadn't, I don't know what I would have done. You've all been amazing."
Jenna waved a hand. "Dinna think nay more on it, lass. Tis no trouble at all. Ye are welcome here until ye are feeling better. And as for my nephew, he's been to yer door three times already this afternoon, asking how ye are. Ye'll see him at dinner tonight, if yer feeling strong enough to come down to the great hall."
There was a knock on the door and two maids bustled in carrying a large metal bathtub and several buckets of hot water. Jenna instructed them to put it by the fireplace. Once it was filled she ushered them out and took a pouch from her waist and dropped a pinch of something into the water. Soon the smell of lavender filled the room.
"I'm guessing ye wouldnae say nay to a nice hot bath?" Jenna asked. "The heat should clear the last of yer fever and the lavender will help take care of any problems with yer lungs. Are ye strong enough or would ye like me to send one of the girls up to help ye bathe?"
"Um...no...that's fine," Gretchen answered. She swung her legs around and sat on the edge of the bed. A slight wave of dizziness came over her but it quickly passed. "I think I'll be okay. Thanks."
Jenna nodded at the wardrobe. "Ye'll find plenty of clothes here when yer ready." She crossed to the bed and took Gretchen's hands. "There are a few hours until dinner. Rest. Get yer strength back. I'll send someone to fetch ye when it's time to eat."
She kissed Gretchen on the cheek and turned to leave.
"Jenna?" Gretchen called.
Jenna paused in the doorway and glanced over her shoulder. "Aye, dear?"
"I’m grateful. For everything."
Jenna smiled. "As I've already said, think nothing of it. I'll see ye later."
She left the room, closing the door behind her.
Gretchen sighed and swung her legs off the bed. Experimentally she put her foot on the floor and slowly pressed her weight down on it. She was relieved when there was only a dull ache. She stood and shakily crossed over to the bathtub. Several thick fluffy towels had been placed next to the tub.
Gretchen breathed in the scent of lavender, letting it fill her lungs. Then she quickly undressed and stepped into the bath, sinking into the water with a contented sigh. She laid her head back and closed her eyes, allowing her thoughts to wander.
It had been a crazy few days. Gretchen couldn't even begin to process everything that had happened.
She lost track of time, luxuriating in the bath, letting the water work out the aches and pains in her muscles. It was only when the water was starting to turn tepid that she forced herself from the tub, wrapped a towel around herself and made her way to the wardrobe.
Inside she found all manner of gowns. She settled on a deep red one with gold scroll work along the bodice. Getting into it wasn't easy with all the hooks and laces and Gretchen found herself regretting turning down Jenna's offer of a servant to help her. Nevertheless, she managed to do up the red gown and brushed her hair with the brush on the dresser then flopped onto the bed.
Her efforts had tired her. She felt her eyes sliding closed again and fell into a deep slumber.
Later, a knock on her door woke her. She jerked upright and looked around wildly before she remembered where she was. Through the window she saw that it was getting dark. How long had she been asleep?
The knock came again.
She climbed off the bed and hurried to the door. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw who was standing outside.
Ewan.
His black hair curled around his face and he was wearing tight-fitting pants beneath his Murray plaid. He stood with one hand resting on the door-jamb, looking down at Gretchen.
She swallowed. She hadn't realized how tall he was. Or how imposing. Or how God-damned utterly gorgeous.
Ewan didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at her with those intense eyes of his. Gretchen felt herself coloring. What must she look like, half asleep and with her hair tousled from her nap? She probably looked like she'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, as her mother would say.
She ran a hand through her hair self-consciously. "Um, hello, Ewan."
"Gretchen," Ewan breathed. He stared at her a moment longer, then seemed to remember himself. He pulled in a breath and straightened. "I'm mighty glad to see ye on yer feet, lass. I have to admit, ye had me worried a little last night."
"Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve no idea what came over me. Must have been the cold. Guess I'm not as tough as I thought."
"Nonsense! Ye are one of the tou
ghest lasses I've ever met! I dinna know many other lasses who'd have fared as well after being robbed and injured the way ye were."
A twinge of guilt went through her at the lie she'd told Ewan. But what else was she to say? Actually, I've come back in time to find my friend and avert a disaster. Is that okay with you?
"Well, I'm glad you brought me here. Your aunt and cousin are lovely. They’ve been very kind.”
"I'm pleased to hear ye say it, lass. And the bath? Was it as good as I promised?"
"Every bit!" Gretchen laughed. "It's just a pity you have to get out eventually, isn't it?"
"Aye, lass," he replied. "Well, if ye are ready I've come to escort ye to dinner. The clan is gathering in the hall below to greet our arrival."
"Your arrival you mean," Gretchen said. "They might be a little put out to find me with you."
"Nonsense. Ye are my guest. That's enough for the Murray clan. We take hospitality very seriously."
"Oh, I've noticed. My room is like something from a swanky hotel!"
"By that, I ken ye mean ye like it?"
"You ken right."
She pulled the door shut behind her and stepped into the corridor. Nerves wriggled in her belly. How would the clan receive her? Would they be as welcoming as Jenna and Amy?
"All will be well, lass," Ewan said, as though sensing her nerves. "There's nay need to worry. I'll be by yer side the whole time and I'll nay let any harm come to ye."
Gretchen nodded. Ewan held out his arm and she took it. It felt strong and reassuring. Yet Ewan's words had unsettled her. They were in the heart of his clan, his family. So why might she need his protection?
EWAN HAD TO FORCE HIMSELF to keep his eyes fixed straight ahead. He wanted to turn his head to look at Gretchen. When she'd opened the door earlier the sight of her had all but taken his breath away. The red gown she was wearing set off her beauty like nothing he'd ever seen. The slight pink blush to her cheeks, the way her hair lay in a tangle round her face, all conspired to make Ewan's pulse race.
She's yer guest, he told himself. As soon as she's found her feet she'll be off to find her friend. She's grateful for yer help but that's as far as it goes.
Her grip on his arm tightened the closer they got to the main hall. She was obviously nervous about meeting the clan. Ewan ground his teeth. It was a ridiculous situation that a guest of his might be unsafe within his clan. But truth be told, he wasn't sure of the reception he'd receive from his cousin Merith and her stepson, Richard de Clare.
I dinna care, he growled. They can treat me how they like but if anyone tries to hurt Gretchen, they'll have to get through me first.
A wall of noise rolled over Ewan as they reached the steps that led down into the great hall: talking, singing, laughter. Ewan led Gretchen down, supporting her weight on the side with her injured ankle.
As they emerged at the bottom, the sound got quieter and quieter, until, as they finally stepped into the hall, it was to utter silence.
"Oh my God," Gretchen whispered. "They're all staring at us."
The great hall was packed with people. Most were faces he recognized from his youth but a good many were not—de Clare's people at a guess. He glanced at the head table. His family sat there, Connail, Jenna, and Amy all smiling warmly. But his cousin Merith, laird of the clan since the death of her husband, sat in the middle with her young son sitting on her lap. She was watching him. And she was not smiling.
Ewan lifted his chin and strode purposefully through the room, Gretchen at his side. He nodded greetings to those he knew and received warm smiles in return. Then someone at the back—Angus, a veteran warrior from his uncle's retinue—stood and raised his tankard.
"Ewan Murray, ye young whipper-snapper! Welcome home!"
The tension broke. Tankards were banged on the table and a chorus of greetings rumbled round the hall.
"Angus, ye wily old bastard!" Ewan called in return. "Tis good to be home!"
Angus sat down, laughing, and conversation returned to the hall. Ewan guided Gretchen over to the head table where Connail, Jenna and Amy greeted them warmly. Merith did not rise. She watched Ewan with a stern look on her face.
"Cousin," Ewan said, nodding to her. "It's been a long time. Are ye well?"
Merith cocked her head to the side. "That depends on yer definition of well, dinna ye reckon? No doubt ye heard about the deaths of my husband and father?"
"I did and I'm mighty sorry," Ewan said. "From what I hear, yer husband died an honorable death."
"Honorable?" said the man seated on Merith's right. "He was murdered! Ambushed and slain like some dog!"
"Hush, Richard," Merith said, laying a hand on his arm. She turned back to Ewan. "My stepson is overwrought at his father's death, as I'm sure ye can appreciate."
Stepson? That would mean this was Richard de Clare, John de Clare's bastard son.
"I am sorry to hear it," Ewan said. "Have the culprits been brought to justice?"
Richard de Clare snorted and leaned back in his chair, gesturing with one hand. "Hardly. The culprit was Quinn MacFarlane and we all know that smug bastard gets away with anything. But the MacFarlanes will pay for it, you mark my words."
Ewan frowned. It seemed Connail hadn't been exaggerating about Richard's vendetta against the MacFarlanes. He didn't respond to de Clare. Instead, he turned to Gretchen.
"I'd like to introduce Gretchen Matthews. She's visiting from the Americas. I've offered hospitality whilst she recovers from an injury sustained on the road."
Merith glanced at Gretchen then waved her hand dismissively. "Aye. My mother has told me all about ye. Welcome to Dun Carrick."
Gretchen nodded and smiled. "I’m honored, Lady Merith."
Richard rose to his feet, pushed back his chair and stepped round the table. He took Gretchen's hand in his and kissed it.
"Delighted to meet you, my lady," he said, his voice smooth. "Tell me, are all women from the Americas as beautiful as you?"
Gretchen blushed and Ewan felt a stab of jealousy. Surely she wasn't impressed by such shallow flattery? His hands balled into fists and he forced himself to relax.
"Thank you for the compliment," Gretchen replied.
"I look forward to learning more about this 'America'" Richard said. "I'll be sure to catch up with you so we can talk some more."
"Okay. Sure."
Ewan took her arm and guided her to a place between Jenna and Amy. He pulled out Gretchen's chair to allow her to sit and then took a seat next to her.
Amy, who was seated to Ewan's right leaned close and whispered, "Ye see? What were ye concerned about? My sister is obviously delighted ye are home!"
Ewan raised an eyebrow at his cousin's sarcasm. "Obviously. I could tell by that warm look in her eyes. And here's me worrying, eh?"
Amy's expression turned serious. Her eyes flicked to Richard de Clare. "She'll come around eventually. She's a good person really, it's just that she takes advice from the wrong people." Her scowl deepened as Richard de Clare leaned over and whispered something in Merith's ear. "Have a care with that one.”
Richard de Clare, Ewan noticed, kept glancing in Gretchen’s direction, a predatory look in his eyes. Ewan's stomach tightened with anger, his fingers tightening around his cup.
"Easy, brother," Connail said in a low voice. "I'm sure Lady Gretchen willnae be swayed by a snake like him."
Ewan nodded, forcing himself to relax.
The meal arrived in short order. There was a thick venison stew served with chunks of soft bread and ale to wash it down with. As he ate Ewan found himself beginning to relax. The hum of conversation surrounded him.
This was what he'd missed. Being part of something. Belonging. He listened to the chatter around him, Gretchen and Jenna gossiping like they'd known each other for years, Amy making jokes at the expense of her mother, Connail shoveling food down his throat as though he hadn't eaten in a week. He smiled to himself.
Despite Merith's coldness, despite the presence of R
ichard de Clare, despite the obvious problems within Clan Murray, it was good to be home.
GRETCHEN FINISHED THE last of her stew and pushed away the bowl. The meal had been delicious and Gretchen wondered where they'd gotten the spices that she tasted in the food. The venison had been cooked to perfection and came apart beautifully on the tongue. Whoever the chef was, they were clearly very skilled.
"Did ye enjoy yer meal?" Ewan asked, eyeing Gretchen's bowl which had been scraped clean.
"I did," she replied. "Please send my compliments to the chef."
"Chef?" Jenna asked. "What's a chef? That sounds like a French word to me."
"It is," Gretchen replied. "It means cook. Please send my compliments to the cook."
Jenna smiled. "I will. Isabelle will be most pleased to hear ye enjoyed it. She takes her duty to our guests very seriously indeed."
All through the meal Gretchen, Jenna and Amy had chatted, whilst Ewan and Connail had caught up on the years they'd missed. She quickly discovered that the Murray women—except for Merith—were friendly, easy-going and inquisitive.
She'd fended off a barrage of questions from Amy. The girl wanted to know everything about Gretchen's homeland. She was the only woman in the hall dressed in men's clothing and it soon became clear that Amy was something of a tomboy.
"So women really do travel where they like, without their menfolk in America?" Amy asked. "And women really do run their own businesses and choose their own husbands?"
"That's right," Gretchen said. "In fact, I'm here in Scotland because one of my friends decided to go traveling on her own. I've heard that she's here in the Highlands so I came looking for her." She glanced at Jenna and then Amy. "I don't suppose any of you have heard of an American girl coming to the Highlands? Her name is Darcy Greenway."
Jenna shook her head. "Nay. Yet that doesnae mean she's not here. There are a lot of foreigners that come to the Highlands, mostly to trade."
