They all laughed then, knowing that Julian would never be satisfied with such a life.
And then as white clouds passed lazily over the sun, they saddled their horses and headed once again toward Stirling.
Less than an hour later, they’d arrived at the crossroads only to hear the sound of jingling bits and the snorts of many approaching horses.
“’Tis Archibald,” Julian announced with a grin and waved his hand.
He’d scarcely spoken before a horseback party of men with upright spears rode around the bend in the road. They were led by the sturdy built red-haired, broad-faced Archibald Douglas, the Earl of Angus and Lord of the East March.
Archibald drew his mount up before them. “Well met, MacLean,” he greeted him with a broad grin. “Last I heard ye were in Carlisle, in a bit of trouble with that Montgomery.”
Ewan drew back as if he’d been slapped. “Alec’s dead,” he answered curtly.
Archibald blinked in surprise. “Then they hung him that quickly, aye? I thought we had more time.”
Ewan clenched his jaw. The man had let them rot in a dungeon for over a month. How much time had he wanted? But he knew there was little to be gained by mentioning it now. Instead, he answered, “Nay, Alec died not even two days ago by the hand of the Cunninghams. ‘Twas a cowardly ambush.”
“Ach, the Cunninghams?” the earl dismissed with a grunt and tapped his finger impatiently on his saddle horn. “’Tis no small surprise, aye? That feud will never end.”
It was a callous reply, but Ewan had really expected nothing more from the man.
“And who’s this?” Archibald turned his gaze on Merry. “Your squire?”
Ewan glanced over at Merry. Soon it would be time to put an end to the charade, but not yet. Not when the eyes of many men were upon her. “Aye,” he nodded once.
Julian’s lips twitched into a smile, but he remained silent.
And then Archibald was inviting them to share a meal, and as his men set up a trestle table of fish, cheese, and good wine, they dismounted.
“We’re en route to join Lords Hailes and Hume,” the earl said, rubbing his hands together as if in anticipation. He then gave a little cackle. “They’ve men from Annandale with them, and ye know how those lads are. They could swing a sword afore they could walk, aye? They’re only happy if they’re on a battlefield.”
Talk turned to war for a time, a subject Ewan was strangely adverse to. Instead, he focused his attention upon Merry sitting cross-legged by his side, and soon he’d lost track of the earl’s conversation entirely until the red-haired man reached over and slapped his knee.
“And ye?” the earl asked. “Will we see ye wed to Iona afore summer’s end, lad?”
At that, Merry’s lip curved into an impish smile, and Ewan merely lifted his brow in response before turning to the earl.
“Nay, I’ll not be wedding Iona,” he replied calmly. “I’ve been bewitched by a bonny high-spirited lass from the Isles whom I’ll be taking to wife as soon as I may.” He caught Merry’s gaze then and held it.
Her large brown eyes twinkled in response.
“I canna believe what my ears have just heard,” Julian said then, bursting into laughter. “Ach, I was suspicious, but I canna believe it. Ewan MacLean in love? I didna know there was a lass to walk the Earth who could melt his heart of stone.” Turning to Merry, his grin broadened as he teased, “Aye, I would fain meet this wondrous woman.”
“Ye will, right soon enough,” Ewan murmured with a cautioning frown. “But I would speak to her brother first.”
“And if he deems ye unsuitable?” Julian chuckled with a curious brow. “Ye know how some Isle men can be when it comes to their wee sisters, lad.”
“Aye,” Merry bantered in a teasing tone. “What would ye do then?”
Ewan met her eyes. Aye, a man could get lost in her mischievous brown eyes. “Mayhap I’d just abduct her,” he said as his lips tugged into a smile.
“I’d advise against that, lad,” Archibald said loudly, draining the contents of his goblet, completely unaware of the undercurrent of their conversation. “There was a time that was a perfectly suitable means, but times are changing a wee bit now. You’ll soon be an earl in your own right, aye? ‘Tis best if there’s no doubt of the sanctity of your marriage.”
Irritated, Ewan rose to his feet. His father was not dead yet.
Growing all at once weary of Archibald’s brash ways, he bowed and announced they must continue their journey. Farewells were said all around, and soon enough, both he and Merry once again took to the road at a fast gallop.
They rode hard the entire day, and when the sun set, they were still two hours away from Stirling.
Pausing on the outskirts of a village, Ewan nodded at an inn. “Would ye care to sleep, lass, or ride on?”
“Nay, I’ve no desire to sleep in a flea-infested bed with three other men,” Merry answered with a wry grin.
Ewan lifted a brow, and his gaze fell to her full lips. “Aye, and I wouldna allow such a thing,” he said and then frowned. Nay, the only man’s bed she’d be sleeping in was his own.
But he’d scarcely thought the words before she’d already urged Diabhul forward.
And then with a gleeful laugh, she called a challenge over her shoulder. “The night is still young, and the moon is bright. I’ll see Stirling long afore ye, Ewan!”
He watched as she raced ahead, shaking his head a little and admiring her spirit. He doubted any horse could match stride with Diabhul. He knew for certain that the horse he rode couldn’t. But clucking at the beast all the same, he set off after her.
The next few hours were uneventful, and soon enough, the ancient fortress of Stirling Castle appeared before them with the majestic highlands rising behind it. Perched on the rocky outcrop overlooking the town like a hawk, the castle glinted in a moonlight so bright that even at a distance, they could see the blue-shadowed roofs of the town below. The River Forth flowed around the base of the hill, glistening like a silver snake.
Ewan was relieved to see no sign yet of the king’s army, and he fervently wished it would stay that way. He had no desire to lift a sword again.
Riding through the belt of trees clustered at the base of the cliffs, they turned their horses’ heads to gallop up Castle Hill. The sound of their hooves rang unnaturally loud as they wound their way through Stirling’s narrow, cobblestoned streets.
And then they arrived at the castle gate and were admitted at once.
The hour was late, but the governor of the castle, Shaw of Sauchie, was still awake. With a gruff voice, he informed Ewan that Ruan and Cameron were still in Linlithgow but were expected back soon.
Then Ewan made certain Merry was assigned a comfortable chamber before retiring to a room of his own.
It was an inviting place, airy and with white-washed walls and a fine feather mattress. And leaning back upon the bed, he folded an arm over his face, willing himself to fall instantly to sleep. But this night, his sleep was a fitful one. But it wasn’t because of the vague nightmares still rippling through his mind.
Nay, it was because he sorely missed Merry by his side.
Dawn came, and he greeted it with his usual sense of relief.
Stepping into the outer chamber, he was pleased to find a hot bath and a fresh saffron-colored shirt with a crisp MacLean plaid draped over a nearby chair, and sinking into the hot refreshing water, he began to scrub the weeks of dirt and grime away.
* * *
Merry rose at the crack of dawn.
She’d learned from a maid that Kate, the Countess of Lennox, currently resided in the castle. It had been awhile since she’d last seen Kate, but the two had shared a warm friendship over the years since they’d screamed together on Skye’s shell-covered beaches in the days before Kate had wed Cameron.
Slipping down the stairwell and out into the courtyard, she made her way to the royal apartments.
She was stopped at once by the guards. Finally reso
rting to bribery, she scribbled a message on a scrap of parchment and slouched against the building’s cold stones to wait as one of them delivered it to the countess. Ach, she couldn’t really blame the men. She supposed she did look the part of a young rascal, but it was irritating all the same.
Fortunately, she did not have to wait long.
She could hear Kate’s brusque tone taking the guards to task long before the wee countess herself appeared to envelop Merry in a warm, welcoming hug.
Kate was a dark-haired, lovely woman with sparkling brown eyes and a way of setting all at ease with her quick sense of humor.
“Ye make a right winsome lad, Merry,” she said, wrinkling her nose into a laugh as she pulled Merry into the royal apartments. “Ruan’s been in a fair dither over where ye were, though he had his suspicions. He sent three men after ye.”
“They didna find me,” Merry replied. She sighed. There would be no avoiding Ruan’s anger when he returned. And then noticing the countess’ expanded girth, she gasped. “And are ye with child, Kate?”
Kate laughed again. “Aye, after bearing six wee lassies, I do so want a lad,” she answered, patting her protruding belly.
“And what if ‘tis another wee lass?” Merry asked in amusement as they headed down the narrow corridor lined with tapestries.
“Then Cameron would be pleased,” Kate answered. Her smile was wry as she rolled her eyes. “He frets so. With a lad, he’d carry the name of Stewart, and as such, Cameron fears there might one day be those who would seek to use him for political gain. Ach, the Stewarts! Always fighting amongst themselves over the throne, aye?”
“Aye,” Merry agreed soberly. “’Tis fortunate that Cameron is there to help lessen the fighting, aye?”
Kate nodded. Opening the door to her apartments, she stood aside to let Merry enter. “Cameron’s done a fine job of influencing the prince,” she said with a hint of pride in her tone. “James will make a fine king, when it comes to that, but now that we’re in private, tell me your story, lass! Why are ye parading about as a lad?”
What followed was a lively conversation, one in which Merry recounted her tale, trying at first to share only the happy details.
But when she came to Alec’s death, the news subdued the mood at once.
“Hugh Cunningham,” Kate repeated the name in a deceptively neutral tone and her sharp brown eyes took on a shrewd cast. “Dinna fear, lass. Justice will find him, of that I have no doubt.”
There was something in the way she said it that made Merry pause. Kate was described oft throughout the kingdom as being Scotland’s most powerful woman, and in that moment, Merry knew she truly deserved her reputation.
They discussed other things then, mostly relating to Ewan. It was hard to keep from gushing about him, and Kate didn’t miss her change of tone whenever she mentioned the man.
The woman was far too perceptive.
“Ach, ye love him!” she said with an infectious laugh. “’Tis in your eyes, Merry, and in your voice.”
Laughter escaped Merry’s lips. “Aye, I do,” she admitted candidly. “And I must confess, I dinna care to be clothed as a lad any longer. I would have him see me in a proper dress and with hair not caked in mud, even though my hair is shorn as if I’ve had a fever.” She pointed to her head with a wry expression.
“Nonsense, ye look exquisitely fetching,” Kate insisted brightly before lifting her lip in a suggestive tilt. “And I daresay he must already think so, aye? Ye’ve travelled quite a ways with each other, haven’t ye now? Just the two of ye under the stars at night?”
To her surprise, Merry felt the tips of her ears turn pink. “Nay,” she quickly disagreed.
But Kate only laughed. “Aye, I can see Ewan wanting to do things in the proper way, though ‘tis abundantly clear the man is a passionate one. I’ve oft wondered what lass would unlock his heart. Heaven knows, I’ve tried to send many his way, but he wouldna open his eyes to even see them. I should have thought of ye sooner, Merry. Now that I think on it, ye are the perfect match for each other.”
It took some doing to find a dress to be modified for Merry’s height and build. But in the end, they found a soft orange brocade with brown braid. And as three of Kate’s best seamstresses busied themselves with the alterations, Merry soaked in lavender-scented water, and for a time, simply enjoyed the sensation of finally being clean.
But she’d no sooner slipped the brocade dress over her shoulders than she began to fret.
Ach, she possessed nothing like Iona’s delicate beauty.
“Ye look so bonny,” Kate said, clapping her hands in delight. And then she added with a sly grin, “He’ll be sweeping ye off your feet and into his bed, Merry, with Ruan’s permission or no.”
Merry sent her a dry glance and then straightened. “Mayhap I should have stayed dressed as a lad,” she said then. “I fear such fine dresses dinna fit me, Kate. But ‘tis too late now, I suppose.”
“Nonsense,” Kate replied briskly, and looping her arms through Merry’s, she drew her to the door. “We’ve missed the midday feast, but I’ve asked for a meal to be sent to Cameron’s privy chamber. Wait for me there, will ye?”
“Aye,” Merry agreed easily enough as she stepped through the door.
Moving down the narrow corridor in a soft whisper of silks, she smoothed her hands over the voluminous skirt. After living in breeches and binding her breasts for such a long time, wearing a dress felt a wee bit odd.
Almost too revealing.
The gown was a fine one, not the kind she usually wore. And though a properly modest one, the cut was different, accentuating her breasts more than she was accustomed to.
Mayhap after she’d eaten, she’d find some breeches to borrow before she saw Ewan. Aye, her hair was still far too short for a lass, it might just be wiser to stay a lad until she’d reached home and could grow it out.
Lifting the latch, she stepped inside Cameron’s privy chamber.
The place was airy and spacious. Two Spanish leather chairs sat before a fireplace, and a tapestry depicting a unicorn graced the opposite wall. A large wooden table stood in front of the open window, and upon its surface stood two silver candlesticks holding beeswax candles and between them, a bottle of Rhennish wine.
Moving to the window, she placed her palms flat on the table and leaned forward to take a deep breath of fresh pine-scented air. In the distance, she could see the highlands spreading across the horizon and a wave of homesickness washed over her.
The ache of grief over Alec’s death had finally begun to dull, at least enough to be manageable. Aye, her heart would always be sad when she thought of him, but it was time to go home. To laugh. And to think of other things, such as tall, brawny warriors with flaxen hair.
Absently rubbing her shoulder, she enjoyed the soft early summer breeze blowing against her face, and then the latch of the door clicked.
“Have ye heard from Ewan, Kate?” Merry asked.
“Aye,” a man’s soft voice replied.
Summoning her self-composure, she slowly turned upon her heel to see the man himself.
Ewan stood tall and broad-shouldered, and he cut an impressively imposing figure in his crisp clean shirt and magnificent MacLean plaid. With his aristocratic bearing and fine sword buckled at his side, he was every inch the formidable warrior.
Merry swallowed, feeling all at once like a brown hen fluffed up in fine feathers belonging to a fancier bird.
He didn’t move. He stayed rooted upon the threshold.
Uncertain of his response, Merry cleared her voice and with an awkward wave at her gown began in a hurried explanation, “’Twas Kate’s idea that it be a fine gown. I dinna care for such clothes …”
He approached then, in slow measured steps and didn’t stop until he stood inches away. Reaching to smooth back a stray tendril of her hair, he whispered, “Aye. I’d rather see ye not wearing it myself.”
Her cheeks warming, she drew back sharply but then saw the look in
his eyes.
There was no mistaking the desire in them.
His hands slid down to slowly envelop hers and then cradling her fingers in his, he brought them up to his lips. He kissed each fingertip before moving to kiss the insides of her wrists. And then dropping her hands, he ran his fingers up her arms, leaving a trail of blazing fire so hot that she nearly choked.
Cradling her head between his hands, he kissed the top of her head and then ever so slowly, he allowed his thumb to trace her lower lip, making it tingle with pleasure.
She parted her mouth in silent invitation then and their lips met in a kiss, at first spell-bindingly gentle but growing in urgency with each passing moment.
And then he pulled her close into his arms with a satisfied growl. Coaxing her teeth open with the tip of his tongue, he took her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss, one charged with intense emotion. It was a kiss full of need, possession, a kiss that left her wanting more, and a kiss she returned with abandon as she curved closer into his embrace.
His drew back a little then, and his chest heaved as his eyes’ passionate gaze burned every inch of her body.
“Ye look unbelievingly ravishing, lass,” he said in a ragged voice. “Your beauty fair steals my breath away! And ‘tis a struggle to keep my eyes from straying shamelessly over ye.”
She didn’t want to hear more. She had no patience. With a low moan, she pulled his head back down to hers and covered his lips with a feverish kiss. He let his hands rove over her then, accidentally knocking the bottle of wine upon its side.
As the wine pooled on the flagstones, he tore his lips away and groaned. “I missed ye by my side last night. I canna sleep without ye—”
“Is this some kind of jest?” Ruan’s deep voice hailed.
Moving a little as if intoxicated, Ewan lifted his eyes to the door as Merry drew in a steadying breath.
Her brother, Ruan MacLeod, stood framed in the door, lean and muscular with his shoulder-length brown hair bound by his usual strip of leather. His dark brown eyes took in the scene before him as a touch of amusement warred with outright dismay upon his face.
The Bold Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) Page 20
