by Katy Baker
“I love ye, Gretchen,” he whispered.
“I love you too, Ewan,” she whispered back.
A shudder went through him and he slowly began to move, thrusting into her with strong, powerful strokes. Gretchen gasped and shifted in time with him, lifting her hips to meet him. She ran her hands down his back to his buns, exploring the way his muscles bunched and relaxed with his movements.
This felt so good. It felt right. For the first time in her life Gretchen felt whole, complete. This was her man, her love, making her his.
Their tempo increased. Tiny gasps of pleasure began to escape Gretchen’s mouth. The heat began to spread up through her belly, along her limbs. Her grip on Ewan tightened, her nails pressing into his flesh. Ewan growled with pleasure and his thrusts became harder, faster, deeper, his breath hot against her cheek.
Gretchen wrapped her legs around his waist as the pressure began to build. Up, up, up, she was carried on a wave of pure sensation. She teetered for a moment on the edge and then she crashed down the other side, into an explosion of bliss.
“Ewan!” she cried as her climax took her.
He growled, a low, animal-like sound in the back of his throat and his body jerked as he reached his own peak, thrusting deep and holding himself inside her. Gretchen screwed her eyes tight shut as the waves crashed through her, unable to think, unable to do anything but let herself be swept away by this man, and the things his body could do to her.
Eventually, after what might have been eternity or only a single second, she opened her eyes. Ewan smiled at her. She smiled back, joy filling her. Ewan pressed his forehead to hers.
“Now that,” he said, “was worth waiting for.”
Her smile widened. She pulled him closer and kissed him. “Sure was.”
With a laugh he rolled off her and lay on his back, pulling her into the crook of his arm. Gretchen nestled against him, head resting against his hard chest. Gretchen said not a word. She was content to lie there, listening to the beat of Ewan’s heart, feeling safer, happier, than she ever had.
But she knew it wouldn’t last.
With a sigh, Ewan gently eased out from under her and stood up. He began putting on his plaid. Gretchen rolled over and propped her head on her hand, watching him.
“And just where do you think you’re going?”
He looked at her. “As much as I’d like to stay here with ye, love, ye know I canna. We’re still at war and I still have to do my duty to my clan. Ye said the MacFarlanes offered safe passage? I intend to take it. I’ll go speak with this Robert MacFarlane, get the measure of the man, see if he can be trusted. Mayhap he’ll let me speak to this prisoner of his and get the full story of de Clare’s treachery. Then maybe, just maybe I can get Merith to listen to reason.”
Gretchen breathed deeply, suddenly nervous. “Okay.” She climbed off the bed and began pulling on her clothes.
Ewan raised an eyebrow at her. “What are ye doing?”
“What’s it look like?” Gretchen rolled her eyes at him. “I can hardly go riding with no clothes on can I?”
Ewan’s expression hardened. “Ye aren’t coming with me, lass. It’s too dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Gretchen asked incredulously. “Any more dangerous than escaping from prison and riding into an army camp? Any more dangerous than riding out alone to meet a MacFarlane ‘spy’?” She held up her hand. “Don’t give me that look, Ewan. I’m coming, end of discussion.”
Ewan opened his mouth to speak but Gretchen made a chopping motion with her hand.
“I said end of discussion!”
He shook his head in exasperation. “Why couldn’t the good Lord have sent me an obedient woman?”
“Where would be the fun in that?”
Ewan shook his head. They quickly dressed and then snuck out of the tent, making sure none of Merith or Richard de Clare’s men spotted them. They hurried to the nearest corral, commandeered two horses from the stable boys on duty and swung into the saddle.
“Ready?” Ewan asked Gretchen.
“Ready,” she nodded.
They set their heels to the horses’ flanks and galloped off into the night.
Chapter 16
IT WAS FULLY DARK BY the time they left the camp although the moon sitting high in the night sky lit their way. Ewan knew where to go. He’d had many reports come in during the day telling him where the MacFarlane army were camped. He’d used that knowledge to plan a march for the army tomorrow, a march that would end with them meeting the MacFarlanes in battle. Now though, he was traveling that same route, but this time in hope of stopping that battle.
He glanced at Gretchen riding by his side. Her hair was billowing out behind her, her eyes set resolutely ahead. A wave of love washed over him. Lord, she was beautiful. And strong. And resourceful and amazing.
And she was his. His betrothed. Soon she’d be his wife and they’d spend the rest of their lives side by side.
If he could avert this battle, of course.
They rode at a trot, not daring to move faster in case unseen obstacles caught the horses’ hooves. Nevertheless, the miles sped by. It felt good to be riding the Highlands at night, his woman by his side. The air that filled his lungs was clean and fresh. Yes, tonight it felt good to be alive.
Eventually the path turned left around the lee of a hill and lights twinkled ahead, a sea of them covering the landscape. The MacFarlane army.
“Who goes there?” a voice called from the darkness.
A shape materialized, a mounted guard then another and another. Ewan said nothing but he pulled his horse in front of Gretchen’s, forcing her to stay behind him and rested his hand lightly on his weapon.
The guards walked slowly closer and Ewan spotted the glint of blades in the moonlight.
“I’ll ask one more time,” the voice said. “Who are ye and what is yer business here?”
“My name is Ewan Murray,” he answered. “I’ve come under promise of safe passage to speak with Laird Robert MacFarlane. Ye will take us to him. Now.”
The guards shared a look. Then the one who’d spoken rode forward until the moonlight illuminated his face. He appeared to be around Ewan’s age and wore the MacFarlane plaid. His dark hair was tied back into a warrior’s braid. The warrior looked at Ewan then at Gretchen.
“I’m Fraser MacFarlane,” the man said. “Ye both fit the descriptions Lady Darcy gave me. Ye’ll need to give up yer weapons if ye want to go any further.”
Ewan scowled at him and his grip tightened on his sword hilt.
“Do it, Ewan,” Gretchen said. “Would you let their people meet Merith whilst carrying weapons?”
She was right. Reluctantly he drew his sword, reversed it and handed it to Fraser hilt-first. “Take good care of that,” he said. “I’ll be wanting it back soon.”
“Aye. No doubt. Follow me,” Fraser replied.
He turned his horse and began walking away. The other two guards waited for him and Gretchen to follow then fell into step behind. He felt their eyes on his back, distrustful and wary, and their hands stayed close to their weapons. Like this, they were herded into the MacFarlane camp.
Ewan looked around with approval as he rode. The camp was orderly and calm. Whilst there was a little raucous singing coming from some campfires, most were quiet, with men already abed or else sitting in small groups, talking quietly. It seemed Robert and Quinn MacFarlane kept a tight rein on their men. The Murray host could learn a thing or two here.
They were led straight into the heart of the camp to a large tent with light shining within. They were told to wait with their two guards whilst Fraser dismounted and ducked into the tent. He emerged a moment later.
“Come with me.”
Ewan swung out of the saddle and then helped Gretchen to dismount.
“Stay close to me,” he murmured. “If aught goes wrong, I’ll get us out of this.”
She nodded, squeezing his hand, and then the two of them followed Fraser into the ten
t.
Warmth rolled over Ewan as he stepped inside, along with the scent of burning herbs. The tent was more opulent than his own, with rugs scattered across the floor and several chairs set up in a circle around a central table. A pregnant, dark-haired woman sat in one of the chairs, a blonde woman in another. Two men, so alike they must be brothers, stood at the far end of the tent, arms crossed, watching as Ewan and Gretchen entered.
The dark-haired woman sprang to her feet and flung herself at Gretchen, wrapping her arms around her.
“You came!” she cried. “I knew you would! I knew you could do it!”
Gretchen laughed with delight, hugging the woman fiercely. After a moment she stepped back and looked at Ewan.
“Ewan, this is Darcy, my friend.”
Darcy looked up at Ewan with large, dark eyes. “Welcome to Clan MacFarlane, Ewan Murray. It’s nice to finally meet the man who’s tamed Gretchen.”
Darcy spoke with the same lilting accent as Gretchen and seemed to have the same open and easy attitude.
Ewan inclined his head. “An honor to meet ye, my lady.”
“He’s a polite one, isn’t he?” Darcy said, raising an eyebrow at Gretchen. “I can see why you like him.” She turned to indicate the other three people in the room. “Gretchen, Ewan, I’d like to introduce you to Laird Robert MacFarlane and his wife, Rebecca.” One of the men gave a nod of greeting and the blonde woman smiled. Darcy walked over to the second man and laid a hand on his arm. “And this is Quinn MacFarlane, my husband.”
Quinn nodded at Ewan but his expression remained wary. “Ye are a brave man walking in here. Brave or stupid.”
Ewan bristled and opened his mouth to speak but the blonde woman, Rebecca, leapt to her feet.
“Let’s not be getting unfriendly, Quinn! This is a meeting about peace, remember? Now behave or we’ll send ye all out whilst us women sort what needs sorting.”
Laird Robert snorted a laugh and stepped forward. “My wife is as subtle as ever,” he said. He looked to be a few years older than Quinn and carried himself with easy authority. “I thank ye for coming, Ewan Murray. It must have been a difficult decision to trust us.”
“Aye, well, Gretchen was quite persuasive,” he muttered.
“She showed ye the parchment?”
“She did but I’d hear it from yer own lips, Laird Robert. And then maybe I’ll decide if I can trust ye or not.”
Quinn’s expression hardened and he took a pace forward. Robert held out a hand to stop him.
“I dinna blame ye for being suspicious. There hasnae been much trust between our clans of late, has there? But I hope we can change all that. Will ye not sit?”
He indicated the chairs set around the table. Rebecca, Darcy and Gretchen slid into their seats and watched the men expectantly. After a moment Laird Robert took a seat, leaving only Ewan and Quinn standing, staring at each other.
Rebecca slapped the table. “Will ye sit down, the both of ye or do I have to knock yer heads together?”
“It seems yer sister-in-law means to have her way,” Ewan muttered.
That brought a small smile to Quinn’s face. “Ye dinna know the half of it.”
The tension in the tent eased a little and Ewan took a seat between Gretchen and Quinn, opposite Laird Robert who leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table.
“I’ve been told ye’ve been away for a few years so ye weren’t here during the latest trouble between our clans. Trouble caused by Richard de Clare’s father, John.”
“Careful,” Ewan warned. “He was my cousin’s husband. I willnae hear ye say bad things about her.”
“Nor will I,” Robert replied. “I have no quarrel with Merith Murray—or Merith de Clare as she is now. I never have. Nor did I have a quarrel with her husband but he chose to pick one with me the day he murdered my eldest brother, Duncan. Not content with that, he attacked my castle and abducted my sister-in-law.”
Ewan glanced at Darcy. “I heard what John de Clare did to ye,” he said to her. “I’m sorry for it. He didnae act for Clan Murray.”
“I know that,” Darcy replied. “Don’t worry, I’ve come across plenty of assholes like him before. Like his son for example. He sounds just as bad.” She leaned forward. “How close are you to Richard de Clare, Ewan? Do you call him a friend?”
Ewan looked at the faces around him. They were all waiting for his answer. He got the feeling that much would depend on what he said. He glanced at Gretchen. He remembered suddenly the state she’d been in when he’d found her by the river that day, the day de Clare had attacked her. His jaw tightened, his fists clenching.
“Nay,” he said. “Richard de Clare is not my friend. Nor is he the friend of the Murray clan, no matter how much he might pretend otherwise. My cousin fell under his influence after the death of her husband but he does not speak for my family.”
Robert nodded. “I’m glad to hear ye say that for he has done wrongs to the MacFarlane clan that I canna forgive.”
“Aye, Gretchen has told me of the trouble he’s been stirring. I wouldnae put it past that man to orchestrate false attacks and lay them at yer door. He’s ambitious and thinks he can do whatever he likes if it will further those ambitions.”
“Just so,” Robert replied. “Which is exactly what he’s done here.” He lifted his hands to indicate the camp around them. “All of this, our armies being here, the battle to come, has all been orchestrated by this man. The question is, will we let him succeed?”
Ewan leaned forward, placing his palms on the table. They were all watching him intently. He found himself believing Robert MacFarlane. There was something in the way he held himself, something in the openness of his gaze. There was an honesty about him that Ewan couldn’t deny.
“Ye said ye’d captured one of de Clare’s conspirators.”
Robert nodded at Quinn who got up and left the tent. He returned a moment later escorting a man whose wrists were bound with thick coils of rope. Quinn marched the man to stand by the table where they could all see him. He was a middle-aged man, once muscular but now turning to fat.
“Thomas. Tell our Murray guest what ye told me.”
The man ground his teeth, looking like he was chewing over the words. “I’ve told ye everything, MacFarlane,” he growled. “Would ye disgrace me further by getting me to tell the tale to all and sundry?”
“Ye’ll tell it to whoever I ask ye to,” Robert grated. “Ye are a traitor whose life hangs in the balance. Do not force me to end it.”
The man licked his lips and looked at Ewan. “Yer a Murray are ye? Well, ye have my sympathy then. If Richard de Clare gets his way there will soon be nothing left of yer clan. My name is Thomas Morton. Until recently I was a guard captain in Martin Drummond’s merchant caravan. I was present when my master made the deal with Richard de Clare to stage an attack. My master was to be paid handsomely for it. It was de Clare’s men, not the MacFarlanes, who attacked the caravan. And I—” He passed a hand over his face. “I just stood there and let it happen.”
Ewan sucked in a breath. Hearing of de Clare’s treachery first hand made his blood boil. How could they have been so foolish to fall for his tricks? He realized his hand had tightened around his wine cup and forced himself to relax.
He looked at Robert. “I’ll talk to Merith, make her agree to parley with ye. I’m sure she’ll be convinced if she’s presented with the evidence the way ye have with me.”
“That’s all we can ask,” Robert said. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a rolled scroll. “Present yer cousin with this. It’s the terms of a parley, detailing the time and place and guaranteeing safe passage.”
Ewan reached out and took it then stood. The others did the same. Ewan looked around at them all.
“I thank ye for yer hospitality,” he said. “I give ye my word that I’ll do everything within my power to avert this battle. For the sake of both our clans.”
Robert MacFarlane stepped forward and held out his hand. Ewan gripp
ed it, forearm to forearm in the warrior’s grip. “I’m glad I met ye this night, Ewan Murray. It gladdens my heart to know there is still honor amongst the Murray clan. God speed to ye.”
Ewan nodded. Gretchen gave Darcy a quick hug and then they strode away together, Fraser leading them from the tent and back to their horses. They didn’t speak until they were mounted and riding away from the MacFarlane camp.
Nervous energy filled Ewan. There was hope. Hope of ending this debacle before any blood was spilled but he knew their window of opportunity was small and timing would be everything. He had to speak to Merith before Richard de Clare got wind of any of this. If he should discover they’d been to speak with the MacFarlanes...
“We’ll have to be careful,” Gretchen said, echoing Ewan’s thoughts. “Amy says de Clare has men scattered all through the camp. If he sees us ride in and becomes suspicious he might reach Merith before we can.”
“Aye, we canna let that happen.” He glanced at the dark sky. “Let’s hope the good Lord is smiling on us and will lend us a little luck.”
They rode as fast as the terrain would allow and it wasn’t long before the MacFarlane camp was out of sight in the distance behind them. Eventually the twinkling lights of the Murray camp came into view and they slowed their horses to a walk as they passed the first of the tents. They headed straight to Merith’s tent.
Suddenly, out of the darkness a shape materialized. “Stop right there. Show yourselves.”
Ewan ground his teeth, biting back a curse. From the English accent he knew this was one of de Clare’s men, not one of his own. Just his rotten luck.
He pulled his horse to a halt and waited. The man approached, his eyes widening as he saw Ewan and Gretchen. He gripped his spear and called over his shoulder, three more men approaching from the darkness.
“Lord Richard said to watch for Lady Gretchen,” the man said. “Word reached us that she’d escaped her imprisonment and might come here with treachery on her mind. Ye’ll have to come with us, my lady. Ye are under arrest.”
“Now, wait a minute,” Ewan growled.
