That first day Lyall shot out of the keep like the devil himself was chasing her. The pace was maintained until they passed the line of trees outside the Sinclair walls; then she slowed her horse considerably. After they caught up, she informed them of their place. “Ye must slow down and stay behind me. I canna stand the dust.”
Grant, Bryce, and the others did as requested. Grant couldn’t help the random thoughts that entered his mind. Like the fact that he could walk faster than the pace she set. But still they did as commanded.
They rode for about an hour before Lyall pulled up short and demanded they stop for the evening. The morning sun was bright. Hours and hours of good travel remained. Grant couldn’t help but argue. “Mistress Lyall, there is daylight left and some to spare. We canna possibly make camp now.”
Heat from her intense gaze fell on him. Her eyes appeared black. Wind lifted wayward hairs off her neck and shoulders, sending it flying in wild abandon around her head.
“I said, I’m tired, and it is time to rest. Tell yer men to dismount, erect my shelter, and start a fire. I’m hungry.”
Grant’s body felt heavy. Blood pumped slowly, every beat reverberating through his ears. It was as if Lyall held him under a spell. In a lifeless manner, he did as Lyall requested. The men under his command sent ridiculous and snide looks as they followed her orders.
After dinner, Lyall retired to the shelter and fell asleep. Grant sat around the fire consumed by loathing. Why had he followed Lyall’s orders without question?
Bryce twirled a stick in his hands, shooting awkward glances Grant’s way. A sigh parted his lips as he asked, “Cousin, forgive me, for I do not wish to question, but why did ye listen to Lyall?”
Grant scratched the shadow of a beard gracing his face and shrugged his shoulder as he replied, “I’m not sure. I just felt like I couldn’t resist.”
Bryce leaned forward, his eyes shifting from side to side. “Ye mean like ye was bewitched?”
“I don’t know. I felt compelled to do everything she told me.” Pausing, he added, “Bryce, promise me something.”
“Aye?”
“Promise me ye will never look her in the eye.”
Bryce nodded.
****
Lyall listened to Grant and Bryce conversing. “Sori, they must believe I’m deaf.”
“Nay, they believe ye are dumb.”
“Humph,” she said, before rolling over and going back to sleep.
During the night, Lyall woke with a full bladder. She struggled out of the tent and went to relieve herself in the surrounding wood. On the way back she spotted a patch of wisteria, jasmine, foxglove, and lily-of-the-valley. She picked a few sprigs of each and placed them in a fold of her dress. These might be of some help later.
Thick foliage and undergrowth grabbed at her skirt. The wind whistled between the leaves and caused the limbs to shift. Stars winked in and out, lighting her path back to the tent. Shuffling her feet to keep from stubbing her toe, she was startled by a rustling sound. Turning on her heel she noticed Grant Cameron propped against a tree watching her under veiled eyes.
A piece of grass dangled from his mouth. His arched his brow and asked, “Mistress Lyall, did ye need something?”
Gulping, she said, “Nay, just relief.”
Grant nodded. Lyall wondered how much he had seen. Could he have seen her holding her stomach when she bent over to pluck the plants?
Scurrying away like a tiny mouse, Lyall headed back to camp. She settled under the covers.
Sori asked, “Did anyone see ye?”
Lyall was afraid to answer. Sori was adamant the babe remain a secret. The answer came in a worried whisper, “Nay, no one.”
Lyall’s throat constricted. Pressure applied to her throat kept her from breathing.
“Do not lie to me,” came the hoarse tone.
“Grant. He — he saw me.”
“Will he tell?”
Struggling past the constriction, Lyall said, “I don’t see why he would. He knows it canna possibly be Cainneach’s child. Telling would only bring dishonor to his laird.”
The pressure relaxed as Sori added, “Ye will not be seen in public without binding yerself. Do ye understand?”
“Aye,” whimpered Lyall. When normal breathing returned, she snuggled deep beneath the covers. It took time, but finally she was able to settle down and go back to sleep.
****
The morning dawned early, but it was hardly bright and clear. The fog was so thick Grant could barely see but a few feet in front of his horse. Against Lyall’s wishes, he took the lead and had the other men surround her.
They traveled all day in silence, only stopping to eat or relieve themselves. The mist and fog followed them throughout the day, lending an eerie feel to the already unusual journey. Bryce fidgeted, and Grant threatened to whip him if he didn’t straighten up. Grant was frightened enough without Bryce adding to it.
Lyall rode in sullen silence. Grant rehashed her strange behavior from the night before. As the lady plucked plants from the ground, she held a hand under her rounded belly as if cradling something precious. Later when she entered the shelter, he was certain he’d heard voices. Knowing such wasn’t possible had kept him from wasting time investigating.
But what about the way she’d held her stomach? Lyall was probably pregnant. If this was the case, it didn’t belong to the old laird, Cainneach. Therefore he didn’t care. If this was the case, then going home to her family was the best for all concerned. If they were lucky when they reached the Burns’s keep, she would stay and allow the Sinclair men to return home without her. Duncan would disapprove, but Grant would respect Lyall’s wishes, especially if they matched his own.
For all Lyall’s pressuring to rest the day before, she remained oddly silent about their fast pace. As they continued to travel, the Sinclair men started to look a little anxious when they passed Aberdeen without stopping. Most of them hoped to take an extended rest at the local pub before getting stuck at the Burns’s keep, but Grant pushed on.
Some of the men sent sneers his way. Whispered jeers were heard. “The little Cameron lad must be afraid we Sinclairs might get more attention than he. So instead of being shown up, he is going to take all our merriment away.”
Bryce was angry on Grant’s behalf. He leaned over in the saddle and whispered, “Aren’t ye going to say anything to defend yerself?”
“Nay, I’m not.”
Unsatisfied with Grant’s answer, he said, “But, they shouldna be allowed to speak to ye that way! One day ye will be the Cameron!”
Between clenched teeth, Grant said, “Bryce, hold yer tongue. Ye must learn not to be so concerned about what others think of ye, if ye are to be a decent warrior.”
Bryce shook his head. “Grant, I don’t understand ye. Ye will be the laird of the Cameron clan. Ye will have lands and power, and yet ye let these men treat ye like a child.”
Grant snickered. “Sometimes I don’t understand meself.”
The silence resumed. The horses rode on. Days and days of travel were catching up to them. Then like a boat on the ocean in search of land, a keep was spotted in the distance. Lyall’s self-imposed silence ended. “Home,” she moaned.
Men rode ahead to warn the keep of their coming arrival. After Lyall’s one word exclamation, she became quiet again. When the group arrived inside the gates, Lyall slid to the ground unassisted. Running in a staggered zigzagged motion to the doors, she yelled frantically at one of the servants and disappeared inside.
Bryce looked at Grant. “What now?”
“Now, we wait.”
****
Lyall ran to her old rooms. Fortune shone on her as they were empty. With one motion the coverlet was ripped back, and the bed was stripped bare. Stripping herself of all clothing, she had just laid out on the bed when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” she said, between clenched teeth.
A woman walked into the room. “One of the gi
rls said ye had need of a midwife.” The aged lady glanced down at Lyall’s spread legs. “I see she was correct.”
Lyall ignored the midwife. “Oh, thank Sori. Did she send for ye?”
“Sori?”
“Aye, she always knows what I need before I ask for it.”
“Well, lass, I don’t know any servant in the keep named Sori, but it seems correct that ye have need of my services. And I am here.”
The midwife ambled to the bedside. Stooped in stature, she just made it into the correct position to check on Lyall’s progress when Lyall gave one final grunt, and the babe was pushed out, landing on the bed.
The midwife picked up and examined the little baby girl. She watched the wrinkled hands of the woman as she rubbed the babe’s chest. Lyall took a deep breath. Pleasure filled her now that the pressure was gone from her lungs.
“I thought that thing was never going to come out of me,” she said, readjusting herself on the bed. Lyall frowned. The blue lumpy mass didn’t seem to be making any noise. “What’s wrong with it?”
The midwife cleaned the child’s mouth and nose, briskly rubbing its soft, blue skin. “It doesna seem to be breathin’, miss.”
“Well, whyever not?” asked Lyall, in an insufferable tone.
“I don’t know.”
Lyall jerked the babe from the midwife’s hands, causing the midwife to cringe.
“What’s wrong with ye?” Lyall said, staring at the babe and shaking it. “Wake up, I say. I didn’t carry ye all this time just for ye not to even breathe.”
The midwife’s hands were out reaching for the babe when the child let out a piercing wail.
“Good. That is much better,” said Lyall, thrusting the babe toward the stunned midwife. “Find someone to nurse the child for me. I will see ye later.”
Without a backward glance, Lyall rose from the bed, dressed, and went in search of her father.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Arbella woke as the sun peeped through the window. She stretched, rose, and dressed. Breakfast was consumed hastily; then she waited, unsure what to expect. They had agreed to take the two remaining days before the wedding and get to know one another. This would be day one.
Just as preparations were finished, a soft knock was heard at the bedroom door.
“Who is it?” Arbella asked. Duncan had commanded the door never be opened unless she recognized the voice on the other side.
“It is I. Are ye ready?”
It was Duncan’s clear, resonant voice. Her heart skipped a beat. Instantly breathing became harder, and coherent thought became impossible. Their last encounter kept running through her mind. Her breathing calmed, she leaned her head against the door. “Who is ‘I’?”
Duncan muttered curses through the barrier. “Arbella, I’m here to fulfill yer wishes.”
Arbella jerked the door open. “And what wish is that, my laird?”
Duncan bowed low. Confused she asked, “Duncan, what are you doing?”
“I’m left breathless and humbled by yer radiant beauty. I feel unworthy to look upon ye.”
Arbella laughed. Soon the laugh was replaced by a serious expression. “Again I ask you for an answer. What wish are you going to fulfill this day?”
Duncan lifted his arm. On his arm rested a large basket. “I thought we might go for a nice ride in the country and perhaps enjoy a bite together.”
“A ride?”
“Aye.”
“On horses? Just you and I?”
“Aye, you and I. Unless ye are concerned with my ability or willingness to protect ye?”
Arbella lowered her gaze and stared at his feet. Slowly her eyes inched up his body, noticing how with every movement Duncan’s muscles flexed. Legs appeared as solid as a tree trunk, offering any woman a firm foundation. Hands looked rough, calloused, and work-worn, but yet she knew they were capable of great gentleness. Shoulders were broad, the type a woman could lean upon in times of great distress. At long last she reached his brown eyes. A glimmer of mirth rested there.
With resolve, she had avoided glancing at his lips. Per her request, they were to avoid certain types of physical contact until the wedding. This wasn’t because she didn’t want to kiss Duncan; nor was it because she didn’t want him kissing her. It was precisely the opposite. She was having significant issues keeping her hands off him, and erecting this barrier was meant to protect them both from temptation.
“Nay, I have no worries you can and will protect me.”
“With my life,” he whispered. Clearing his throat, he added, “Are ye ready to go now, or do ye need more time?”
“If I suit, then I am ready.”
****
Duncan was never happier to make certain someone was appropriately attired. His eyes lowered to her covered feet. The lass was wearing a type of boot. The toes a tad too pointed for his taste, but he was certain they would do. The dress she wore was a deep blue. Moving inch by inch up her clothed body, he imagined the shapely legs hidden beneath. When his eyes reached her chest, he went ahead and moved his gaze to her lips. Unconsciously, his tongue darted out. He gulped. His eyes found hers. “Aye, ye will suit.”
“Just let me inform Tamara and grab my cloak.”
“Aye, I will wait on ye.”
Today one of the Sinclair men stood guard. While waiting on Arbella, he gave him instructions. “If Tamara requests to leave her rooms, then ye may escort the maid where she wishes.”
“Aye, my laird,” the guard responded. In a relaxed fashion, the man leaned against the wall, lazily doing his duty. Duncan was set to chasten him when he jumped to an erect position and puffed out his massive chest.
“My lady,” said the Sinclair guard, with a perceptible nod in Arbella’s direction.
“Good morning to you, Blaan. Did you sleep well?”
“Aye, my lady. And thank ye for the use of the covering.”
Arbella nodded. “You’re welcome to its use any time.” Duncan displayed a disapproving stare as she added, “Take excellent care of Tamara, and we will see you soon.”
“Aye, my lady. It would be my pleasure.”
Once they were out of earshot, Duncan said, “Blaan? Since when are ye so friendly with my men? And what, pray tell, did he mean when he thanked ye for the use of yer coverlet?”
Arbella kept moving toward the stables. She spoke not at all as they walked. Duncan worried perhaps she was trying to find a way to release him from marriage so she would be free to marry another. Maybe even Blaan.
As they approached the open stable doors, she leaned into his side and whispered, “Jealous?”
Without waiting for an answer, she entered the open doors. “Good morning, Filib.”
Filib jumped a foot off the ground at the mention of his name. “My lady,” he said startled.
A hand was placed on his arm to steady him. The touch caused Duncan to see red. What was it with all his men and his soon-to-be bride? Anger assailed him at Arbella’s friendliness.
Arbella said, “Filib, I am sorry I startled you.”
“Aye, it is all right, my lady. When Duncan said he was taking ye ridin’, I saddled yer usual mare. She is waitin’ on ye.”
Arbella bounded away to the waiting horse, stroking its nose and whispering endearing words.
Duncan spoke in hushed tones to Filib while Arbella was occupied. “Since when does she have a regular mare?”
“Aye, Duncan. I did some inquiring about the horse she rode in the tournament, that’s all.”
“What did ye do that for?”
“Duncan, don’t go gettin’ yerself all twisted into a knot. The Kincade lass has been so nice to Tamara, I thought this might be a small way to repay her for her kindness.”
Some of the tension left Duncan’s frame. “At this point, yer sister and Arbella are best friends.”
“Aye, Tamara seems to feel the same way.”
Arbella grasped the bridle and led the horse to the door, bringing the men’s conversatio
n to a sudden close. “Are you ready to depart?”
“Are ye in a hurry to leave?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Well not leave, but I am excited to see a bit more of the land that is to become my home.”
Duncan swelled with pride. “Aye, then we shall be off. Filib, is Damon saddled?”
“Aye, my laird, he is ready and waiting.”
Duncan led his own horse outside and secured the food basket to the back of the animal. The couple mounted and set out. They rode in relative silence for some time. Arbella no doubt was having trouble taking it all in. The land was dotted with large stones that they had to ride around. Once around those obstacles, they rode through a huge, open field filled with tall grass. Finally, they arrived at the edge of the woods, and Duncan dismounted. The horses were secured to a tree; the basket was untied and sat on the ground away from the horse’s shuffling hooves. When all this was finished, Duncan came and stood at Arbella’s side, hands lifted upward to help her dismount.
“From here we walk.”
Arbella allowed him to grasp her waist and lift her from the saddle. When her feet touched the ground, she was sandwiched between him and the horse. She cleared her throat, pushed him away, and stepped out of the tempting situation. Reaching the edge of the woods, she glanced back over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”
Duncan raised his eyes to the sky in frustration. He’d been sure Arbella was about to break the no kissing rule, but then she pushed past him. But he wasn’t giving up. He’d said she would beg for kisses before the two days were up, and he fully intended to be correct.
With long strides he came up from behind and slipped in front, taking the lead. He led her through a forest of knotted and twisted trees. The trees they passed had wrapped themselves in special ways to gather enough light to survive. Duncan understood how they felt. At times he felt as if he’d moved to reach the sun, changing things about his existence, whether he wished to do so or not, just to survive.
The floor of the forest was dotted with thick ferns. Duncan went ahead, making sure to hold back limbs, allowing Arbella to pass safely through. No words escaped from the lass’s mouth until they came to a clearing. In front of them was a small pond. It was fed by a beautiful sparkling waterfall.
By God's Grace Page 12
