Fagan shook off Grace’s arm and advanced another step. That’s when Ravenna should’ve known her sister would do something stupid. Grace moved between them and hastily reached down, pulling her dagger from under her skirts.
“I warned you, Highlander.”
Ravenna grabbed Grace’s arm. “Put down your blade. He will not harm me.”
“Ye should listen to your sister before I reach out and strangle ye with my bare hands,” Fagan growled through clenched teeth.
To Ravenna’s dismay, her sister only renewed the grip on the dagger. “Now there you go again making threats, Mister Murray. How can I ever trust your word?”
Fagan’s eyes darkened.
“Grace, this is not a game. You are only making matters worse. Listen to me. Put down the dagger!”
Fagan struck Grace’s arm and the blade dropped to the floor. Without warning, Grace pulled back her arm and rammed her fisted hand into his face.
They all froze in stunned silence.
If Fagan’s looks could kill, her sister would already be dead. A soft gasp escaped Grace, and Ravenna took a quick breath in utter astonishment. At first, she was too startled by her sister’s actions to offer any words. When she was finally able to find her voice and lift her fallen jaw, she mumbled hastily, “Grace, give us a few moments alone, and if I were you, I’d move fast.”
Grace bristled. “I’m not leaving you alone with him. He was ready to kill you only a moment ago.”
Fagan’s breathing was labored, and he raised his hand to touch his eye. “Lass, if I wanted to kill either of ye, ye’d already be dead. At this moment, I think ye have more to worry about than your sister. I’d heed your sister’s advice before ’tis too late.”
Grace placed her hand to her throat. “Don’t be cross with me. You’re the one who refused to listen.”
“Grace! Get out!” Ravenna gestured toward the door.
“All right, all right, but I’m not leaving you alone with him. I’ll be standing outside the door.”
Ravenna shook her head, and Fagan’s eyes narrowed.
“What should I call ye? Mistress Denny or Lady Walsingham?”
“Why don’t we start by you calling me Ravenna.”
Twenty-one
Grace had insisted they take their leave, but Ravenna was no coward. She refused to take the easy way out. She owed Ruairi the truth and didn’t want him to hear it from the captain of his guard. She could at least give him that much. Fagan had placed Grace in Ravenna’s chamber so that her sister could pack Ravenna’s trunk. She also thought Fagan’s actions were to keep from him throttling Grace, something Ravenna had no trouble understanding.
Ravenna opened the door to Torquil’s chamber. The boy slept, and Ruairi looked up from the chair. “May I speak with you a moment?” When he hesitated, Fagan stepped around her and walked into the room.
“I’ll stay with him.”
“What happened to your eye?”
Fagan shrugged, and Ravenna didn’t miss the look he shot her before he quickly turned back to Ruairi. She was surprised the man didn’t run her through where she stood.
As Ravenna led Ruairi to his study, she gazed at his face slowly, feature by feature. She wanted to remember him like he was now, at this very moment, before he despised her. When she saw the heart-rending tenderness of his gaze, an inner torment began to gnaw at her and a suffocating feeling tightened her throat.
When the door closed, the pit of her stomach churned. Her voice broke miserably. “I know you’re weary.”
“Is everything all right? What is amiss?”
She was filled with a sense of foreboding, but she knew this needed to be done. She straightened her spine and gestured him to a chair.
“Lass, the last thing I want to do is sit right now.”
“My apologies, I wasn’t thinking.”
“Why donna ye tell me what this is about?”
Ravenna wished the man would’ve sat or at least put his rump on the edge of the desk. When he stood, he was so tall and overpowering. She took a deep breath and forced herself to look him in the eye.
“Ruairi, there’s something I need to tell you, but first, I have to say something more than likely I shouldn’t.” He was about to speak, but she held up her hand to stay him. “Please, you must let me finish or I won’t have the courage.”
“I will admit ye have my curiosity.”
“I know I do not give you any reason to believe me or my words, but before I say what I must, you will have the truth.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders in a possessive gesture, and she wished he wouldn’t hold her so close. “Ravenna, ye know ye can tell me anything. What troubles ye?”
“I never wanted to come here. Like everyone else in England, I’ve heard tales of the wild Highland lairds. I knew you did things differently here, but you, my laird, were definitely not what I’d expected to encounter. I’ve been in this position many times before, and I’ve never allowed myself to get too close to those I’ve been sent to…er, assist. Torquil is such a delightful young man and it was never my intention to hurt him.”
He lifted a brow. “I’m nae sure what ye’re trying to say.”
She briefly turned away from him to gather her thoughts. She continued to speak in a solemn tone. “I know it’s not possible for us to be together, but you must believe me. I love you, Ruairi. I’m not exactly sure how and when it happened, but I love you with all my heart. The last thing I ever wanted to do wa—”
He spun her around and pressed her open lips to his. Ravenna’s thoughts spun, her emotions whirled and plunged, as blood pounded in her brain, leaped from her heart, and made her knees tremble. It was divine ecstasy when he kissed her. She reached up to feel the muscles of his chest beneath her fingertips. When something clicked in her mind, she pulled back, lowering her head to his chest.
Ruairi held her.
“Ye have just made me the happiest man in the world, lass.”
She lifted her head and gazed at him with despair. The pain in her heart had become a sick and fiery gnawing. She couldn’t do this any longer. Tears blinded her eyes and choked her voice. “I’m a spy for the Crown.”
For a moment, he merely stood there and looked at her. When she heard his quick intake of breath, she actually trembled. To her surprise, he showed no other reaction, and then there was a slight hesitation in his hawk-like eyes. A war of emotions raged through her and she could see the torment that raged within him, too. The news of her blunt confession was met with an expression of incredulity. Ruairi turned and stepped away from her.
She reached out to touch him and then decided against it. “Please say something.”
When he finally faced her, he was not the same man she had known. She felt an acute sense of loss, and her throat ached with defeat. His expression was grim as he watched her. She did not miss his flare of temper and sudden curses, and then he shook her into gasping silence.
“Why? Why in the hell would ye do this to me and to Torquil? All because I didnae pay homage to my liege at the English court?” His voice was heavy with sarcasm. “Ye came into my home, lectured my son…shared my bed. Everything ye’ve done and said is a lie.”
“It’s not all a lie,” she said with a hint of desperation. “Please understand. I have to do what I’m told. I don’t have a choice. I didn’t even know you.” She paused. “I didn’t… I won’t tell the king anything as I’d promised.”
He smirked. “I know naught about lasses, but there is one thing of which I am certain. Ye are made from the same cloth as my wife and her sister.”
Ravenna’s sense of loss was beyond tears. “I cannot apologize for who I am. I meant my words, although I can see there is no use repeating them. My family was all that ever mattered to me, and whether you believe me or not, that was true until I met you and yours.”
“Why do ye tell me this now?”
She looked him in the eye. “I was so worried about Torquil that I forgot to send
another letter home and did not meet my sister in Edinburgh as we’d planned. My sister traveled here because she was concerned about me. Fagan found out, and I insisted on being the one to tell you.”
“How verra convenient and kind of ye, Mistress Denny. Is that even your name?”
She bit her lip. “My name is Ravenna.”
He shook his head in disgust. “I assume ye know how to find your way back to England.”
She closed the distance between them. When she lifted her hand to his cheek, he did not move. “There will not be a day that goes by that I don’t think of you. I wished, prayed, that things could end differently between us. I will always remember our time together, and you and Torquil will always hold a special place in my heart. I give you no reason to believe me, but I speak the truth. I do love you, Laird Ruairi Sutherland.”
“Leig cead dhìot, a ghràidh,” he spat. Enough of you, my love.
Ravenna was about to ask him the meaning of his words, but then she lowered her hand, deciding against it. By the tone of his voice, she knew the answer would not be a pleasant one. “I think it best if I take my leave now. May I say a proper farewell to Torquil?”
“Only for the sake of my son. Nae for ye. Do ye understand? Nae for ye.”
Ravenna nodded and closed the door, leaving behind the only man she’d ever truly loved.
***
Ruairi escaped to the parapet. He needed air because he found that he couldn’t be within arm’s reach of that English spy any longer. He’d had more than enough. He was furious. He felt murderous, and if he was being truthful with himself, he was heartbroken.
Although the woman was nothing but a conniving English wench sent to spy on him in his home, he’d openly expressed his love for her. He smirked at the thought. Love was an emotion that meant nothing to her. The way he felt at the moment, she might as well have ripped his beating heart from his chest and fed it to Angus on a platter.
Ravenna, if that was even her real name, had played him for a fool. Who was he kidding? He was a fool, and that’s what disturbed him the most. He could now admit that he knew absolutely nothing about women, for they were as merciless as any army he’d ever faced on the battlefield, even worse because they left no prisoners in their wake.
Ruairi leaned back against the cool stone wall. Anna, Cotrìona, and Ravenna—how he wished he’d never known of their existence. Three women in his life with whom he’d felt the bitter sting of betrayal. At least the first two were Scots, but the last woman was Ruairi’s own mistake, an Englishwoman.
He’d let the enemy get too close.
When he heard a loud commotion in the bailey, he looked over the wall. Ravenna’s trunk was secured and he saw a flash of a skirt climb into the carriage. Let them leave and report back to the king how uncivilized he was. He didn’t see any of the Highland lairds sending their women to spy on the English—although perhaps they should. And the English had the audacity to say Highlanders were barbarians!
Ruairi watched the carriage as it traveled through the gates, taking with it another woman who had trampled his heart.
***
Ruairi hadn’t slept at all. His last memory of Ravenna was from two days earlier, when she had walked out of his study, rode through the gates, and left his life without as much as a backward glance. Praise the saints for small favors. By now, she was traveling back to her beloved country, proud that she had played him for a fool. He rose from bed and hastily dressed, knowing that he needed to occupy his thoughts with something other than the woman who had betrayed him. He opened the door to Torquil’s chamber as his son rolled over on the bed.
“Da, ye leave?”
“Aye. The healer will be coming shortly. I take my leave to make rounds with Fagan. Go back to sleep.”
Ruairi quietly closed the door behind him. He walked out into the bailey and the sun had already started to rise. The crisp morning air was just what he needed. A few men readied the horses, and Fagan shook his head when he spotted Ruairi.
“Ye’re riding along again, my laird? I assure ye the men know what to do.”
“Good. Then they will nae mind if I come. I want to see the look on the Gordon’s face when he decides to raise arms against us, only to find our men ready and waiting. He thinks he’s clever, but he isnae. It has taken some time to learn, but I know how the arse thinks.”
For a moment, Ruairi was silent.
“Ye look troubled. Is something else on your mind?” asked Fagan.
“I’ve been remiss not to mention… Ye should know something I didnae tell ye before. I made a grave error in judgment. Ravenna knew of the Gordon’s plans on Orkney.”
Fagan shifted from foot to foot. “Damn, Ruairi.”
“Aye.”
“Do ye think she’ll send word to the Crown?”
“It doesnae matter. My bollocks are nay longer my own. The lass knew I purposefully disobeyed an order from the king, and she knows perfectly well how I feel about the bastard.”
Once again, Fagan held an inscrutable expression on his face. “Mmm…be that as it may, I saw the way Ravenna looked at ye. I would be surprised if the lass said as much to the king. She’s a smart woman. She’d know her words would seal your fate.”
Ruairi gave Fagan a subtle warning glance.
“Och, Ruairi. If it makes ye feel any better, ye can tell me all ye want that her English blood doesnae fire yours. But I saw the way ye looked at her as well. Ye ne’er looked at your wife that way, even when ye were wed and she was alive.” His friend shook his head as if he’d realized what he’d said.
“Mount up and cease your tongue.”
“Why? Because I speak the truth?”
Ruairi paid no heed to Fagan and his prodding as they rode in glorious silence. Until of course Fagan found it necessary to broach the subject again. “I must know… What do you think of her? I will have the truth.”
“Donna be daft. Ye know what I think of her. ’Tis why she took her leave.” Ruairi wasn’t about to point out that he’d been deceived again by yet another woman. He’d never hear the end of it.
“Ye must admit, ye donna make the best decisions when it comes to the lasses, Ruairi.”
“Thalla gu taigh na galla.” Go to hell. “Hand me a drink and shut your mouth.”
As Ruairi stood at the border with a handful of his men, the sound of leaves rustled in the wind. His land was beautiful with its lush foliage, rock cliffs, and mossy green grass. For a brief moment, he thought about never being able to share this view again with Ravenna, and then he turned and looked at Fagan for a much-needed distraction.
“Ye’re supposed to be a strong warrior. I cannae believe ye were bested by a lass, an English lass nonetheless.” Ruairi shook his head in disgust. “The captain of my own guard. I must say that your eye is verra colorful and quite becoming on ye.”
Fagan’s eyes narrowed. “Just because ye’re angry at Ravenna doesnae give ye leave to jest at my expense.” He paused. “I told ye before. Ravenna’s sister caught me unaware.”
“I should say.”
“Àrdanach, aineolach, mòr-bhriathrach, beag-chiallach, gann-rianach…” Arrogant, ignorant, big of speech, small of sense, scant of reason.
Ruairi lifted a brow. “Are ye through?”
Fagan looked up at the sky and let out a heavy sigh. “I suppose, but I donna want to hear another damn word about the color of my eye or how I was bested by a lass. How long do ye think the Gordon will wait until—”
His captain didn’t need to finish his words because the sound of thundering hoofbeats came over the mountain pass as riders charged toward them at breakneck speed. Swords were drawn at the ready, while battle cries were carried by the wind. Ruairi spotted a flag with a lone stag head and knew the moment was upon them. The forthcoming battle was long past due.
There would be no more mercy. The time had come to stand and fight. Ruairi loved his country and would do anything to keep tyranny out, even if that meant cleaning up Scotland
from within its own ranks. He shouted orders at one of his men to summon the waiting guard, and the man whipped his mount around and rode like the hounds of hell nipped at his heels. From the looks of things, there were at least a hundred Gordon men.
After a brief moment, eighty of Ruairi’s finest men emerged on horseback from the forest behind him, ready for their laird’s command. Ruairi and Fagan unsheathed their swords, their mounts prancing beneath them. Fagan lifted his blade to his forehead and gave Ruairi a mock salute.
“Always by your side, my laird. ’Tis my great pleasure to send Gordon men to their maker. The helmet of health about your head. The corslet of the covenant about your shoulders. The breastplate of the priest about your breast to protect ye in battle and the combat with your enemies.”
“Neart teine dhut. Gliocas fithich dhut.” The might of fire to you. Wisdom of raven be yours.
As a sea of men flowed toward them, Ruairi and Fagan held back their mounts. Ruairi would give the command when he was ready. He wasn’t about to rush into battle foolishly, especially with the Gordon. The man had no honor and could not be trusted. Ruairi wouldn’t put it past the bastard to do something completely shifty and deceitful.
When the Gordon’s men were within range, Ruairi waved his archers forward and they showered the heads of his enemy with arrows. A few Gordons fell from their mounts and others continued to ride with arrows lodged in their bodies. The Gordon’s army was then greeted by a wall of well-armed Sutherland men who were able to barricade the border. No man who wished to live would ever make it to the castle alive. Ruairi’s instincts were usually right, and he was glad he had trusted them this time. He had kept his men on alert, only waiting for the time when their enemy would arrive.
The sound of metal against metal rang through the air. Men fell and blood was drawn, cries of death and despair spreading in the wind. Ruairi and Fagan dismounted and stood shoulder to shoulder with their men in battle, quickly removing a few choice Gordon men from the battlefield. Two men charged Ruairi, and Fagan brought one to his knees with a slice to the gut. Ruairi deflected a blow and, with a twist of his wrist, disarmed the man. Within seconds, the man was no longer of this world.
My Highland Spy Page 21
