With that all settled, they’d set out. The boat journey had been rather long and boring. Most of it had been made during night, but when the sun rose, Tearlach had taken cover under an old sail Arthur and William had arranged for just that use.
Lucy had spent some time under the sail with him, but it had been hot and Tearlach had mostly been sleeping, so she had left him and gone to chat with Arthur for the rest of the trip. It was full daylight when they’d arrived at the docks in London. Lucy had been prepared to head out on her own so the men could start their return journey, but Tearlach had refused to let her. Afraid Wymon may have some men in town watching the palace for her approach, he’d insisted they wait until night fell and he could see her safely to the gates and into the care of the palace guards.
Arthur hadn’t seemed to mind the idea of waiting, claiming there were some shops he’d like to visit while he was there anyway. Left with little choice, Lucy had paced the boat as she waited for late afternoon to turn into night. It had been a relief when the sun had set and Tearlach had come out from under his shelter to escort her ashore.
Without horses, they’d traveled on foot. Worried as he was about a possible last minute attack, Tearlach had set a swift pace that made it impossible to talk. He hadn’t slowed until they were at the palace and were greeted by the guards at the gate. Then there simply hadn’t been a chance to talk in private. Tearlach had ensured the guards would see her safely inside and to the king’s waiting room, and then had taken her hand, only to pause and glance toward the guards and back. Finally, he’d merely said, “I need to get back to me clan and make sure all is well with Heming, but...” His gaze had slid to the guards once more before he’d finished, “We’ll meet again.”
Lucy had nodded, relieved that he wasn’t just dumping her there and happy to be rid of her, then he’d nodded, glanced toward the watching guards again, and turned away to head back to the docks and Arthur’s waiting boat.
Everything after that had been a bit of a rush. Lucy had been hurried inside the palace, where she’d expected to have a long wait for an audience with the king. Fortunately, she’d run into Lord Oswald on the way. Their neighbor to the north had been a friend of her father’s while he still lived and the man had stopped her, full of concern and worry.
As promised, Carbonnel had spread the tale of her brother’s murder with the claim that Tearlach had done the deed and then kidnapped her. Lucy had quickly explained the truth, leaving out the fact that Tearlach was a vampire and simply saying Carbonnel had planned to blame the murder on him as well as her own should she refuse to marry him.
Oswald was a powerful ally of the king’s. The moment he understood what was happening, he’d made sure she was taken directly to their king, accompanying her there to insist something be done about Wymon. The very next morning, Lucy was riding for Blytheswood with Oswald at her side and a good-sized army carrying the king’s standard at her back. That had been enough. There had been no battle, no need really for the army. Carbonnel had taken to his heels the moment he heard they were on the way.
They’d arrived at Blytheswood to find he’d fled and was on the run. Oswald had stayed the night before traveling on home, taking his men with him. The king’s men had split into two groups, the majority of them turning to head back to court while a much smaller group headed out to chase after Carbonnel, following him to the coast where he’d barely managed to escape on a boat headed for France.
Lucy had spent the nearly two months since then learning all she needed to take over her brother’s position in running Blytheswood, but it was difficult with her mind distracted by thoughts of Tearlach. He’d said they’d meet again, and she knew he was probably being kept busy with clan matters, but it had been so long and...
She frowned, her eyes dropping to her stomach as she raised a hand to cover it.
“Oh, there you are.”
Lucy turned away from the window to force a smile for Betty, but the maid merely pursed her lips with exasperation.
“You are mooning again.”
“Nay. I am not,” Lucy denied at once.
“Aye, you are,” the woman insisted, then sighed and walked to her side. Once there she slid an arm around her waist to urge her away from the window. “Do not deny it, I know you miss him.”
Now it was Lucy’s turn to sigh. Nodding an admission, she said quietly, “I do, but he said we’d meet again.”
“Well, it better be soon,” Betty muttered.
“What?” Lucy asked.
Rather than repeat what she’d said, Betty blew a breath out and settled on the bed next to her and then said, “I am not sure if you are aware of it, but you are with child.”
Lucy bit her lip. She hadn’t had a woman’s time since that evening in the loft. “Aye. I know.”
“Well?” the woman prompted.
“Well what?” Lucy asked helplessly, tears pooling in her eyes.
“Well, what are you going to do about it?”
“Son?”
Tearlach glanced up idly from the ale he’d been contemplating and managed a smile of greeting for his mother as she settled on the bench next to him.
When that was his only greeting before turning his attention back to his untouched ale, she frowned with concern. “You have been distracted since you and Heming were taken at Carbonnel.”
Tearlach shrugged unhappily, not bothering to deny it. His mind hadn’t been on matters they should be since leaving Lucy in London. He’d left her alive and well, and from the news he’d received since then, continued to be...But Tearlach wouldn’t have been surprised had he been told that Lucy had dropped dead the moment he’d left her side. The woman was haunting him.
“Your father says that is why he insisted you return here to MacAdie, that you were distracted and he feared your coming to harm.”
Tearlach grimaced. On arriving back in Skegness, he’d collected his borrowed mount and ridden straight home to MacAdie to assure his parents that he was well. He’d then arranged to have Harold’s horse returned, sending a bag of coins along with it to thank him for his help. After that, he’d traveled with his father to gather with the clans to decide what their next move would be. It was there he’d learned of the king’s men marching on Blytheswood and sending Carbonnel running. The man was now of great interest to his people as was Rosscurrach, and they had people watching the situation closely and keeping them updated.
Unfortunately, while Tearlach had soaked up every bit of news they had on Lucy, he hadn’t seemed to be able to concentrate on anything else very well, and his father had finally suggested he return home to rest a bit after his recent trials. That was his diplomatic way of telling him that he was useless to them as he was. Tearlach had returned home, feeling weary and beaten.
While his last words to Lucy had been that they would meet again, Tearlach had forced himself to stay away. It was for her own good, but was doing little for his well-being. His dreams were consumed with the woman; her sweet voice whispering his name, her lips soft beneath his, her passionate moans ringing in his ears. He always woke up hard and hot, yearning to return to the dreams, but forced himself from his bed to face the night.
Tearlach found little respite in being awake, however. Lucy’s smiling face kept popping into his head. Her tinkling laughter constantly rang in his ears as if carried on the wind, and he found himself smiling as he recalled the tales she’d shared about her youth...
Aye, she haunted him, and Tearlach was hard pressed not to give up his good intentions, mount his horse, ride straight to Blytheswood, and claim her as his own. Only the peril his people faced kept him from doing so. He would not drag her into that.
“You haven’t spoken of what they did to you, son,” Eva MacAdie murmured. “I know they tortured Heming. Were you tortured too?”
“They whipped me one day,” he said, waving the matter away as unimportant and it truly was in his mind. With everything else that had happened since then, he hardly recalled that day o
f blood and pain as more than an unpleasant memory. There was no room in his mind for the experience to trouble him much, with Lucy filling his thoughts as she was.
“Your father told me that Lady Blytheswood helped you escape ere they could harm you much,” Eva said tentatively.
“Aye.” Tearlach smiled faintly. “Lucy got us both unchained and oot o’ the dungeon.”
Eva considered him silently, her eyes narrowing as she took in his smile.
Made uncomfortable by her examination, he turned his face forward and peered down into his untouched ale again, stiffening when she breathed, “You care for her.”
A denial rose to his lips at once, but then he decided not to bother, his mother would see through the lie and he didn’t have the heart to deny his feelings anyway. Sagging wearily, Tearlach nodded and offered her a wry smile.
“‘Tis odd. When I first woke in that dungeon across from her, I thought her pleasant enough to look on. No great beauty, but passably pretty.”
“And now?” Eva asked, urging him on.
He shook his head with bewilderment. “Now, no woman can compare to the beauty I found in her.”
“You love her,” Eva breathed with happy realization.
Tearlach glanced toward her, scowling. “Do no’ say it as if ‘tis such a wondrous thing, Mother. ‘Tis a curse.”
Eva’s eyebrows drew together in concern at his words. “Did she not love you too, son? Surely she did. How could she help herself?”
An affectionate smile curved his lips at her staunch words. Of course, she could not imagine a woman not returning her son’s love.
“As it happens, I think she does love me too,” Tearlach admitted miserably and his mother almost bounced on the bench seat beside him in her happy excitement.
“But this is wonderful,” she exclaimed, clasping her hands around his upper arm and squeezing affectionately.
Tearlach had no doubt she was envisioning the grandbabies he and Lucy could produce for her. His mother had longed to have more than one child, but it had not been meant to be. She would definitely spoil rotten any child he produced for her. The idea of the offspring he and Lucy might have produced made him less happy. It caused an ache in his chest, because he knew it could never be.
“Why are you still here?” she suddenly asked with a frown and he glanced at her with confusion.
“What do ye mean?”
“I mean, why are you not on your way to England to collect your love?” she said impatiently, and then smiled and said, “we can have the wedding here. A proper wedding, with a feast and all our people in attendance. We can—”
“Mother,” he interrupted before she got too carried away. “There’ll be no wedding.”
She deflated as if he’d slapped her. “Why not?”
Tearlach looked away and sighed. “Weel, first off, now that her brother is dead, she is the Lady o’ Blytheswood.”
“But that is perfect,” she assured him. “Blytheswood is not so far away, we could visit often. Besides, ‘tis not like your father will give up the reins to MacAdie any time soon. This would give you a home of your own to run.”
“Aye,” Tearlach acknowledged slowly, not having considered that himself, then shook the thought away and pointed out, “but her king’ll have plans fer her. He’d no’ be pleased to let her marry a Scot.”
Eva snorted slightly at that and said, “Trust me, my boy. I am English born and raised and from what I know of the King of England, with enough coin he’ll forgive anything.”
Tearlach felt a moment’s hope at this news, then recalled his main worry and shook his head. “I’ll no’ drag her into our battles.”
Eva blinked in apparent surprise at his words and then shook her head slightly and asked, “And she would have no battles at Blytheswood? It seems to me she already has. Did Carbonnel not kill her brother and kidnap her to try to gain Blytheswood?”
When Tearlach frowned, she added, “At least we know who our enemies are. With us, she would know she has enemies, and friends, and she would be prepared for what was coming rather than taken by surprise as she was by Wymon.”
She gave Tearlach a moment to consider that and then added, “Tearlach, life is full of battles; some large, some small. Every life. We just must do the best we can to get through them. And,” she continued firmly when he opened his mouth to speak, “we are all stronger together than apart.”
“But what if I claim her and something happens to harm her?”
“What if you do not and something happens to her at Blytheswood and you were not there to help her?” Eva countered with a shrug. “We can not foresee the future, son. We can only see the present and what I am seeing is that you are pining after the woman and useless without her.”
Tearlach stiffened with affront. “I am no’ pining.”
“Aye,” she countered. “You are.”
“Our son doesnae pine,” Connall MacAdie said grimly, drawing their attention to the fact that he now stood in the open keep doors. Once he had their attention, he announced, “We ha’e a guest. Several o’ them actually.”
“Who?” Tearlach and Eva asked together.
Connall MacAdie smiled faintly, but shook his head. “Come see.”
Eleven
Tearlach and his mother exchanged a glance, then both stood and moved to join Connall MacAdie in the open door. He moved aside at once, leaving Tearlach a clear view.
He peered out at the large traveling party standing in a circle of torch light in the dark bailey and felt something like shock. Tearlach had been told on rising and coming below that a party had been spotted approaching the castle just as the sun set. He’d also been told his father had preceded him below and was already riding out to see to the matter, so he’d sat himself at the trestle table where his mother had found him.
Tearlach had assumed the party would be from MacNachton, but these people were English without a plaid among them, he noted with amazement.
“Who?” he began, but then several of the soldiers at the front of the group shifted their horses aside and his eyes fell on the woman they’d revealed.
“Lucy,” he whispered, his eyes consuming her where she sat on Trinket’s back. Her gown was a periwinkle blue, and her blond hair was unbound and waving around her face in the evening breeze. She was even more beautiful to him than the visions of her that had haunted his nights and disturbed his sleep.
“Lucy?” Eva MacAdie echoed with a slow smile.
“Ye’d best go talk to her, son,” his father murmured and then glanced at his wife to add, “I have...and I like her.”
Eva beamed at her husband as if he had done something quite clever, and then gave her son a gentle push. “Go. Tell her you love her. Fix this now. The girl has ridden all the way here to see you, do not keep her waiting.”
Nodding, Tearlach started down the stairs with steps that started out slow, but sped up until he was nearly running when he reached the bottom. He was brought to an abrupt halt when a horse suddenly stepped in his path.
Scowling, Tearlach glared up at the rider who had dared to come between him and the woman he wanted, but then blinked in surprise as he recognized the rider.
“William,” he said, a smile of greeting replacing his scowl. “‘Tis guid tae see ye.”
The man grinned back. “I am happy to say the same.”
“And me,” Betty announced, leaning to the side to peer around her husband’s shoulder from where she sat behind him. “We insisted on accompanying her ladyship when she set out on this journey to collect you.”
“Collect me?” he echoed with a grin.
“Aye, well, someone had to. You didn’t appear to be tending the task yourself,” Betty said with a reprimanding look and then added with some asperity, “and we would know why.”
Tearlach’s eyebrows rose at the demand, but before he could speak, William cleared his throat and said, “‘Twas obvious to us at the inn that you love our lady, and yet you did not stay to claim h
er. Why?”
“I—She—My people—” Tearlach struggled, his thoughts in an uproar. He liked this couple and was trying desperately not to be offended at their behavior, but hadn’t expected the question. Hell, he hadn’t expected to find them all on his doorstep either. Finally, he simply said, “The MacAdies have enemies.”
William relaxed at these words and nodded slowly. “I suspected that might be the case.”
“Aye,” Betty nodded. “He said as much to Lady Lucy. William told her he feared you may be trying to keep her safe from your enemies. ‘Tis why she decided to come.”
“That and she is with—Ouch! Wife!” William glared back at the pretty redhead who had silenced him with a pinch in the side.
“William, do you think I might talk to him now?” Lucy’s dry voice reached Tearlach and he shifted, trying to see around the horse between them.
“She’s a little annoyed at our insisting on talking to you first,” William admitted, not sounding terribly concerned by her annoyance.
“But we had to,” Betty said reasonably. “Other than her cousin Margaret, we are the closest thing she has to family now, and as such could hardly let her charge up here on her own and throw herself at you. She’s a lady. She has to have some pride, I say.”
“And you are absolutely right,” Eva agreed, drawing his notice to the fact that his mother and father had now descended the stairs to join them. “I hope it will ease your mind to know that Tearlach has been pining for her.”
“Tearlach doesnae pine,” Connall said with exasperation.
Eva ignored him and continued, “And I think had you not shown up here, he would have headed to England, if not today then on the morrow.”
Betty beamed at this news and twisted on the horse to peer over her shoulder. “Did you hear, my lady? He was pining. Your pride is intact.”
An exasperated little sigh reached his ears, then his father claimed his attention with a touch on the arm and muttered, “Mayhap ye should show the lass a bit o’ MacAdie and have a talk with her, son, else yer mother and her people’ll do it all fer ye.”
Highland Thirst Page 27
