by Katy Baker
GRETCHEN KNEW SHE WOULDN’T sleep. How on Earth was she supposed to after what had happened tonight? She sat on her bed, hugging her knees. Her thoughts spun in endless circles. Ewan. Darcy. Irene MacAskill. The coming battle.
It was all connected somehow. She just didn’t know how.
She had to find a way to stop this battle. She had to. She would not let Ewan ride into danger. She couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to him. She doubted she could survive losing him.
Ewan. Her Ewan. Her lips still tingled from where he’d kissed her.
There was a knock on her door and Gretchen jumped. She clambered off the bed and opened the door to find Amy and Isabelle outside.
“Quick!” Amy hissed. “Let us in before anyone sees us.”
Gretchen pulled the door wide and ushered her two friends inside, shutting the door behind them. They both looked worried. Amy was biting her nails and Isabelle had gone pale. She began pacing back and forth in front of the window.
“What is it?” Gretchen asked, a spike of alarm going through her. “Have you heard from your contacts?”
Amy glanced at Isabelle who nodded. “Aye,” Amy said. “Andrew MacGregor’s message wasnae the only one that came in tonight. Another message arrived for Isabelle and me. It came from the MacFarlanes.” She drew in a deep breath and looked Gretchen in the eyes. “There’s someone called Darcy living amongst the MacFarlanes. She’s married to Quinn MacFarlane, the laird’s brother. It canna be a coincidence.”
Gretchen stared at Amy, stunned. Darcy was living amongst the MacFarlanes? And she was married?
“I must meet her,” she murmured.
“It willnae be easy,” Isabelle said. “If anyone here should get wind yer meeting with the enemy...”
“They’d think I was a traitor,” Gretchen finished for her.
Ye might find yer heart’s desire and avert a disaster in the process.
“No. I must do this, regardless. This is why I was sent here,” she whispered to herself. “The battle is the disaster I’m supposed to avert, and Darcy is how I’m supposed to do it.” With a growing sense of excitement she looked at her two friends. “Get word to your contacts in the MacFarlane clan. Arrange for me to meet Darcy. It might be our last chance to stop this war.”
Chapter 12
“MOVE YER FEET!” EWAN bellowed at the man he was fighting.
Stephen, the man in question, grunted and jabbed his practise blade towards Ewan’s face. Ewan deftly stepped out of the way and spun around, whacking Stephen across the shoulders.
“If this was a real fight ye’d be dead by now,” Ewan growled. “Never let yerself get off balance like that.”
Stephen leaned over, resting his hands on his knees and sucking great breaths through his nose. Ewan knew he was pushing the men hard but what choice did he have? They’d be riding to war on the morrow where the quickness of someone’s feet might mean the difference between living and dying.
“Aye,” Stephen panted. “Just give me a minute will ye?”
Ewan had ordered the clan warriors to gather at first light and they’d been training all morning. In one part of the field his warriors were practicing mounted charges, in another, close quarter combat.
Over by the gate a group of Richard de Clare’s men were leaning against the fence, watching proceedings. Ewan scowled. They should be training, not lounging around. Didn’t they realize they’d soon be fighting for their clan? But it wasn’t their clan, Ewan reminded himself. And nor were they under clan command. They were loyal to Richard de Clare, not to Merith as laird or himself as captain.
He’d never been comfortable with that. It was one of the many things he’d argued with his uncle about. How could you rely on a man’s loyalty if he had no ties to you? If the only reason he was here was because of the money he was paid?
“Take guard!” he barked at Stephen. “And this time, try to move like yer not swimming in treacle.”
With a groan Stephen lifted his practise sword and they set to it once more. Ewan swung and jabbed, calling out instructions, offering praise where warranted, until they were both sweaty and panting. When he was satisfied Stephen had mastered the moves, he called a halt and sent him off to find a drink of water and something to eat.
Ewan surveyed the practise field. He was wound up as tight as a bow string. Since he’d woken this morning he’d felt a simmering rage bubbling in his stomach. Rage at the MacFarlanes for forcing them into war and taking him away from Gretchen.
Rage at himself for so desperately wanting to avoid it.
Does that make me a coward? he wondered. Should I not be aching for battle? Longing to face my enemies?
That’s what his uncle would have said. For Malcolm Murray a man’s worth had been in his ability to fight, to protect his family. But Ewan’s father, Aiden Murray, had taught his son differently. He had been a strong man, a gentle man, and he’d taught Ewan that violence was only ever a last resort.
So yes, he’d fight on the morrow. He’d fight with all his strength for his clan, his family. For Gretchen.
Ah, Gretchen.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her image seemed to fill his every waking moment, making it difficult to think about anything else. It was no good. He had to see her.
He raised a hand and waved at Connail, indicating for him to take over the session. Satisfied that everything was under control, Ewan turned away from the training field and made his way to the castle.
He approached Gretchen’s room and knocked lightly. Gretchen pulled the door open, breaking into a wide smile when she saw him.
Ewan tried to speak but found no words would come out. How was he supposed to think straight when she stood there smiling at him like that? Didn’t she realize that she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen? Didn’t she realize that her presence sent his head spinning and his heart thumping?
“I...um...I came...to....” he mumbled.
She lifted an eyebrow. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Well, are you going to stand there all day? Come inside!”
She pulled the door wide and Ewan followed her into the chamber, pushing the door closed behind him. Gretchen sat on the bed and looked up at him.
“That’s a very serious look, Ewan Murray,” she said playfully. “You’d better hope the wind doesn’t change or you’ll stay like that.”
He smiled. “My mother used to say the same thing.”
“Ah, a very wise woman, obviously.”
Ewan nodded. Then he moved to the bed and sat down beside her. “I wanted to see ye before I go.”
The smile slid off her face. “Do you have to go?”
“Ye know I do. If all goes well I’ll be back before ye know it.”
“And if all doesn’t go well?”
He didn’t answer. What could he say to that? He took hold of one of her hands, curling his fingers around hers. It felt as light and delicate as a bird’s wing in his big paw. “If it goes badly I want ye to know that the clan will take care of ye. I’ve spoken to Merith. She’ll see yer provided for or aided to return home if that’s what ye desire.”
“Don’t talk like that!” Gretchen said. She gripped his hand fiercely. “You are coming back, Ewan Murray. Do you hear? You will return to me!” Her voice was filled with fear.
“I’ll do my best, lass,” he said, smiling wryly.
“Not good enough!” she snapped. “I want your word! I want your word you’ll come back alive and well!”
“I canna make that promise,” he said gently. He reached out and laid his palm flat against her cheek. “Ye know that.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and tears leaked out of the corners. “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”
“Just as I couldnae bear it if anything happened to ye. How could I live with myself if I didnae fight? If I didnae defend Dun Carrick? If I didnae defend ye, Gretchen? I must. I must fight with everything
I have to protect ye, lass.” He looked at her and suddenly all his emotion came bubbling to the surface. “Because I love ye, lass.”
Gretchen stared at him. She blinked once, twice. “Say that again, will you? I think I may have misheard.”
Ewan laughed. “Ye heard me! Havenae ye figured that out by now? Isnae it obvious that I’m head-over-heels for ye?”
“It seems like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you say those words,” she breathed. “And I love ye too, Ewan. More than you could ever know.”
Something snapped inside him. It was as if a damn burst and a huge flood of emotion crashed through him. He felt an enormous swell of love and pride and hope. This woman, this beautiful, clever, amazing woman loved him.
Cupping her face in one hand, he leaned forward and kissed her. Her eyes slid closed and she scooted closer, her arms going around his neck. Her lips were soft and warm. Her scent was exotic and intoxicating, her nearness was enough to send his thoughts spinning.
Their kiss deepened and Ewan pushed her lips apart with his tongue, gently caressing. His arms encircled her, pulling her close so she was pressed against him. A hot spike of arousal shot through him and a deep ache lit in his groin. Lord, but he wanted her. He wanted to take her right here, right now. He wanted to claim her, make her his.
With a low growl he rolled them both onto the bed, pinning her beneath him. They kissed deeply, passionately, little gasps and moans escaping Gretchen and sending Ewan’s pulse hammering. He laid delicate kisses along her jawline then down the soft skin of her neck and to the exposed flesh of her upper chest.
Gretchen gasped and writhed as Ewan’s hand slipped under her dress and traced a line with his fingertips up her inner thigh. Her hands swept across his back and down to his buttocks, exploring every inch of him. His arousal deepened and he knew he was hard and ready, desperate to take her.
With one hand he pulled down the bodice of her dress, exposing her breasts. He took one dusky pink nipple in his mouth and gently sucked and caressed until it became hard.
“Ewan,” Gretchen moaned. “Oh God, Ewan. Do that, keep doing that.”
Ewan obliged, his mouth caressing her breasts whilst his fingers trailed higher up the inside of her thigh.
Then suddenly there was a knock on the door and a woman’s voice said. “Lady Gretchen? I’ve got those towels ye asked for.” The door handle started to turn.
Ewan and Gretchen jumped up as if they’d been burned. Ewan scrambled off Gretchen who sprung off the bed, hastily pulled up her dress and hurried to the door, catching it before it had opened more than an arms’ length.
“Thanks, Rose. I’ll take them.”
“But don’t ye want me to put them away for ye?” Rose’s muffled response came through the half-open doorway.
“No, I’ll do it. Thanks again.” Gretchen turned back into the room carrying a pile of towels, kicking the door firmly shut behind her.
Ewan sank onto the bed and blew out a long breath. Gretchen put the towels down on her dresser and sat beside him.
“That was close,” she breathed. “Can you imagine if Rose had caught us?”
“Too close,” Ewan agreed. “But good that she stopped us, I think.”
Gretchen raised an eyebrow at him. “You reckon?”
“Aye, I do,” he took her hands in his. Arousal stirred in him again but he pushed it aside. “It would do nay good for us to give into our passions now, love. I wouldnae risk yer reputation in that way.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Gretchen said. She grinned. “But boy, do I wish Rose hadn’t come along right then.”
Ewan grinned back. “Me too.” He raised her hands to his lips and kissed them. “We’ll have our moment, love. When it’s right. Not all rushed and confused like this.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. Cupping a cheek in one hand he stared down into her eyes. “When I return we’ll have all the time in the world, I promise.”
She nodded. “I’ll hold you to that.”
He kissed her, slow and lingering. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to push her back onto the bed and finish what they’d started. But he had to go. His family, his clan, was depending on him. So he reluctantly broke the kiss, strode to the door and pulled it open.
He paused in the doorway and looked back at her. There were so many things he wanted to say. So many things he wanted to show her. So many moments he wanted to share with her. But there was no time. It all came down to this moment, maybe their only moment.
No, he told himself. I will come back. And then we’ll be together.
He opened his mouth to speak but there seemed no need for words. Their locked gazes said it all. So he just nodded once to Gretchen and then strode out.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.
Chapter 13
GRETCHEN WATCHED EWAN go with an ache in her heart. She longed to call him back, to beg him to stay with her and not ride out with the army tomorrow. But she couldn’t. He had obligations. So she bit her lip and fought back tears as the door closed softly behind him.
Don’t cry, she told herself savagely. He’ll be okay. If everything goes to plan there won’t even be a battle.
She crossed to the dresser and pulled out the hastily scribbled note that Isabelle had given her that morning. She read the words on it again, even though she’d read them at least twenty times already. Glancing out the window she realized the sun was approaching its midday zenith. It would soon be time. She ought to get going.
She crumpled the note in her fist and then threw a cloak around her shoulders. She stepped out of her room and pulled the door closed behind her. She hated sneaking around like this. She hated lying to Ewan. But there was no choice. Amy and Isabelle were right: if the clan knew what they were up to they’d stop them. Or worse, brand them as traitors and throw them in jail.
Gretchen walked purposefully down the corridor and then through the great hall. It was virtually empty, thankfully, with only a few servants busy cleaning. Gretchen pulled up her hood anyway to make sure none of them recognized her.
The castle and village beyond were a hive of activity. People bustled everywhere. Good. That’s what she, Isabelle and Amy had been banking on.
Gretchen joined the flow of people and made her way to the gates, passing through without incident. She hurried through the village streets until she reached a small copse on the edge. She glanced back to make sure she hadn’t been followed and was relieved to see the path behind her empty. She ducked into the copse and looked around.
Sure enough, a saddled horse was tied to a tree, just like Amy and Isabelle had promised. Gretchen mouthed a silent thank-you to her co-conspirators, and her mom for all the riding lessons she sent her to, and then put her foot into the stirrup and swung into the saddle. Clucking to the horse, she set her heel to his flanks and sent him trotting through the copse and out the other side, onto a narrow, little-used path that followed the river through the valley and out into the hills beyond.
Dun Carrick was soon out of sight and she risked nudging the horse into a canter. Her stomach churned with a mixture of fear and excitement.
She knew what she was doing was dangerous. Idiotic, some might say. But something deep inside was telling her that this was the right thing to do.
The path veered to the left, away from the river and she found herself climbing steeply onto the uplands. Reaching the top, she saw a landscape of wind-blasted moorland stretching out ahead of her. She pulled the horse to a halt and checked the map Amy had drawn for her. The last thing Gretchen wanted to do was get lost out here.
Satisfied she was on the right path, she set out once more, her hair streaming behind her and the wind squeezing tears from her eyes. She gave a wide berth to the few crofts that dotted the landscape. She wasn’t sure how far she’d traveled but she guessed she must be close to the border of Murray lands. Ewan had drilled into her how dangerous the border country could be and Gretchen fingered the hilt of the dagger he’d giv
en her, hoping she’d not have to use it.
In the distance something sparkled. Getting closer, she realized it was a small pond reflecting the fading light. Beside the pond was a ruined mill, the water-wheel long gone and the empty windows staring like eyes.
This was it. She slowed the horse as she approached and looked around. The place appeared deserted. Gretchen pulled to a halt a good distance away and slid from the saddle. Her heart was hammering now.
“Hello?” she called. “Is there anyone here?” Her voice was snatched by the wind and carried away.
Gretchen waited, her pulse roaring in her ears. Then she spied movement inside the ruined mill and a woman suddenly appeared at the door. She had long dark hair that spilled over her shoulders and was wearing a cloak made of MacFarlane plaid.
“Gretchen?” the woman said. “Is that really you?”
Gretchen’s knees turned to jelly and she staggered, unable to believe what she was seeing. “Darcy?” she whispered. “Oh my God, Darcy?”
Then suddenly her friend was running towards her across the open ground. She smacked into Gretchen with the force of a punch and threw her arms around her, holding her so close Gretchen could barely breathe. Gretchen returned the hug, burying her face in Darcy’s shoulder, struggling to believe that this was real, that she wasn’t dreaming.
Gretchen had no idea how long they stood like that but eventually Darcy let her go and stepped back. There were tears streaming down Darcy’s face but she looked no different to the last time Gretchen saw her.
“My God,” Darcy whispered. “I can’t believe it’s you. I thought I’d never see you again. How can you be here?”
“I might say the same of you,” Gretchen replied, her words rushed and breathless. “I thought you were dead! I thought you’d gone forever! Jesus, Darcy, what the hell happened to you?”
Darcy nodded, taking Gretchen’s hand. “There’s so much to tell you. Come inside. I’ve got a fire going and some wine for the two of us. Then we can talk and I’ll answer all your questions.”
