“Marriage suits you.”
Ravenna’s smile broadened further. “I’d like to think so.”
“I never thought I’d say this, but I believe this is where you’re meant to be. You’ve spent far too much time being concerned about us, trying to care for everyone around you but yourself. This is your time to enjoy your life. You deserve happiness, and I’m glad you’ve found it with Ruairi, even if your life is now here in the Highlands.” She made every effort not to crinkle her nose.
“Thank you for your kind words. You know how much I love you and the girls with all my heart, but being with Ruairi… I never realized there was something missing until I found it.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Here I am prattling on like some silly chit, and I’m sure you know exactly what I mean because you feel the same way about Daniel.”
“I was hoping to steal you away for a moment to talk to you about something.”
“Of course. What do you want to talk about?”
Grace stopped and smoothed her hair as it whipped in her face. “I’m concerned for Elizabeth.”
Ravenna sighed. “You don’t think Elizabeth and Kat will like it here. I thought we talked about this. They only need time.”
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. Our sister told me that since you’re wed and I’m soon to be, she knows she’s next.”
“Elizabeth shouldn’t be worried over such things. Ruairi and I aren’t going to make marriage arrangements for her anytime soon. She’s fifteen. She has plenty of time.”
“And I told her the same, but it seems our dear sister has come to fancy one of these Highland men.”
Ravenna stared at Grace with astonishment. “What? Who? Please don’t tell me she favors Fagan. That would be awkward.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that. It’s not your husband’s captain she favors.” Grace lifted a brow.
“If not Fagan, then who?”
“Laird Munro.”
Ravenna’s voice rose in surprise. “Ian?”
As her sister spotted Elizabeth walking alone on the beach, Grace watched the play of emotions on Ravenna’s face. Grace was relieved to see that her sister suffered from the same distress she did.
“What are we going to do?” asked Grace.
“I need a moment to think about your words because I still can’t believe them. Ian. I don’t know if they’ve ever said two words to each other.” Ravenna pulled back the hair that blew across her lips. “She’s only fifteen, and Ian is around Ruairi’s age.”
“Yes, I know. He’s old.”
“My husband is only thirty, and I suppose you’ve forgotten that I’m twenty-six. You must think me old as well.”
Grace shrugged. “You did wait until you were twenty-six to wed. I thought perhaps you were going to die an old spinster.”
“How refreshing,” Ravenna said dryly.
“What are we going to do?”
“Nothing. I’m sure whatever Elizabeth is feeling will pass. Furthermore, I don’t think Ian has any intention of paying Ruairi another visit anytime soon, especially with all of us women under one roof. I tend to think we frighten the men.”
“With good reason, but Elizabeth was not my only concern. We need to talk about Kat. She’s been following around that poor boy relentlessly. Between you and Ruairi, Elizabeth and Laird Munro, Kat and the laird’s son, I don’t know what’s wrong with all of you. It’s as if you all suffer from the same Scottish ailment. I seem to be the only Walsingham sister left with any sense,” Grace scoffed. “Don’t you think that our mother and father raised us with higher standards than what these men have to offer?”
“Grace…”
She held up her hands in mock defense. “I know. I’ll try to hold my tongue. I just do not understand why you would choose these Highlanders over a peer of the realm.”
“That’s not how love works.”
Grace didn’t feel like being the recipient of another of Ravenna’s haughty lectures so she quickly changed the subject. “What are we going to do about Kat?”
“She’s young and close to Torquil’s age. This is all new to her, and I’m certain once she becomes more content here, she’ll leave him alone. I’m sure she only wants a friend since she’s left hers behind.”
“I suppose you’re right. I told Ruairi’s captain the same.”
“Good. Everything is settled then.”
Grace folded her arms over her chest. “Not quite. I want to know when you’re going to teach me more because I have every intention of speaking to Uncle Walter when I return home. I want to do this. I want to be a spy for the Crown.”
* * *
While the masses were gathered to return to the castle, Fagan grabbed the mounts and led them over. Ruairi assisted Ravenna, and then he lifted Kat and Torquil onto their horses. Fagan helped Elizabeth, but when he turned to aid Grace, she held up her hand to stay him.
“I don’t need your assistance. I can do it myself.”
He backed away from her with raised hands. “Ye donna need to tell me twice.”
Fagan swung his leg over his mount and waited for the Sutherland-Walsingham brood to depart. He trailed behind, following everyone up the sandy trail. When Angus darted onto the path from the field, Ravenna promptly removed both feet from the stirrups, lifting her legs onto her horse’s neck.
“Ravenna, what are you doing?” asked Grace.
Ruairi looked over his shoulder and groaned. “Donna ask.”
“I’m not giving Angus a chance to bite my feet.”
“I thought the two of ye were now friends,” said Fagan.
“And I believed you would’ve been over this foolish fear by now,” said Grace. “It’s been years since that dog bit you.”
“I’m not afraid of dogs,” said Kat.
“Angus isnae a dog. He’s a wolf,” said Torquil.
Ruairi raised his voice. “I’ve already learned that nay matter what ye say to my wife, words donna make any difference. She will do and believe what she wants.”
“Of course she will. She is a Walsingham,” said Grace, her voice laced with pride.
“So that explains everything,” said Fagan under his breath.
Grace turned in the saddle and glared at him. “You do realize that I heard you, Mister Murray.”
“And I heard ye, bhana-phrionnsa.” He lowered his voice and gave her a roguish grin. “Fagan.”
She whipped around in the saddle and tossed her locks over her shoulder in a defiant gesture. He suddenly had the impression this was going to be the longest month of his life.
They entered the bailey, not soon enough for Fagan, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to eat in the great hall or seek solace behind the closed doors in Ruairi’s study with a tankard of ale in one hand. The latter would provide better company, but he knew Ruairi would chide him if he started making sudden disappearances from the clan.
As the lasses and Torquil went to their chambers to change their wet clothes, Fagan sat with Ruairi on the dais in the great hall. The tables below were filled with a score of Sutherland men and women, and for a blessed moment, the clan was back to the way it had been before the Walsingham sisters arrived and everything went awry.
“I think I’m going to ride out to the border after we sup,” said Fagan.
Ruairi nodded. “To escape or truly check on the border?”
“Both.”
“At least we nay longer have to fear the Gordon will be raising havoc, and Stewart and the Seton clan will nae be paying us a visit anytime soon, thanks to my wife.”
“Aye, now if only we can keep the English at bay.”
“Fagan, will you please stop with your references to the English?” Ravenna kissed Ruairi on the cheek, and Fagan stood. “There is no rule that you can’t sit by my husband for the meal. Sit. I am
perfectly capable of sitting by my English sisters, the enemy.”
As she stepped around Fagan, Ruairi smacked his arm, gesturing for him to say something.
“Ravenna, ye know my words werenae meant for ye or your sisters—well, one sister mayhap, but nae ye.”
She sighed. “That makes me feel so much better, Fagan. Thank you.”
While Ravenna dismissed him, Kat, Elizabeth, Grace, and Torquil came into the great hall and sat down at the table. Fagan once again took his seat and cast Ruairi a helpless look. “I nay longer think I’m safe within my home.”
“Arse.”
Fagan shrugged.
“Ye already had one of them blacken your eye. Have ye nae learned a lesson? My wife even warned ye this morn. Learn to keep your mouth shut.”
“As I said, my laird, after the meal I will ride out to the border.”
“Will you take me along with you?”
Fagan’s eyes widened as everyone looked at Grace.
When no one responded, she added, “I’d love to see your lands, Ruairi. If they’re anything like the view from the garden wall or from the beach, I’m sure they’re magnificent. Would you mind if I came along?”
Fagan received a swift kick to the shin from Ruairi under the table. “Umm…nay, I wouldnae mind if ye came along, but I will nae be gone for long. Are ye sure ye want to—” When his shin ached from another hearty blow from his laird’s foot, he quickly said, “We’ll leave right after we sup.”
* * *
Grace wasn’t sure why she asked what she did, but she wanted to see more of Ruairi’s lands. She knew she could’ve asked her brother-in-law or Ravenna to escort her. But the arrogant captain was going to be her escort the whole way to England so she figured they both could survive the short jaunt to the border. When the meal was finished, Ravenna leaned in close.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing? You said you didn’t want anything to do with Fagan, and with the way you’ve been speaking to him, I don’t think he wants anything to do with you.”
“Don’t worry. Blood will not be shed. Although if there was, I’m sure your husband would have another fine tapestry made.” When her sister’s mouth clenched tighter, Grace said, “I wanted to see more of Ruairi’s lands, and his captain was already riding out to the border. There is nothing more than that.”
“Are ye ready?”
When Grace stood and brushed down her skirts, she didn’t miss it when Ravenna lowered her voice to speak to Ruairi. “Do you think this is a good idea?”
Rather than wait for her brother-in-law’s response, Grace walked with Fagan out into the courtyard. Neither one of them spoke, not that she was surprised. The air was cooler than it had been that afternoon, but she had spent the day in a damp dress. He opened the door to the stable and she followed him.
At least twenty-five horses lined the stalls, their heads all turned toward her. Some of the animals pawed at the ground while others whinnied. There were huge wooden beams overhead and the smell of hay engulfed her senses. When she let out a loud sneeze, some of the horses shied, banging the wooden planks of their enclosures in response.
Fagan came out of a room with a saddle in hand.
“Should we call for a stable hand?” she asked.
“Nay. I can saddle our mounts. ’Tis time for the stable hands to sup. We will nae take them away from their meal.”
She approached him as he opened one of the stall doors and walked in. “Thank you for taking me with you. The beach was lovely.” She was unable to see him past the massive brown horse he saddled, but she heard him grunt in response. “I talked to Ravenna about Kat and Torquil. I think it helped that Torquil came with us to the beach today.”
“I said the same to Ruairi.”
“Yes, well, we seem to have fixed the problem with my sister and the laird’s son, Mister Murray.”
He stepped out of the stall and patted the horse on the neck. He didn’t look at her, didn’t say anything in response, and she watched his broad back as it disappeared into the room again. While Grace stood in silence, she wrung her hands in front of her. After a few moments, he emerged with another saddle in hand and she quickly moved to get out of his way. The way he was behaving, she didn’t think he would’ve waited for her to step aside.
While Fagan saddled the second mount, Grace ambled down the center aisle, studying the horses that lined the stalls. They stood tall and sturdy. She didn’t know much about animals, but to her, they all looked like prize horseflesh. When she turned and made her way back to the stalls, the saddled mounts were no longer there. The beastly man couldn’t even tell her that he was ready to depart.
She walked out and closed the stable door behind her. Fagan stood by the mounting block. “You could’ve told me you were waiting. I was only looking at the horses.” She took a deep breath and knew she shouldn’t have been so hostile toward him, but the man drove her completely mad. When she approached him, his steely gaze met hers.
“Earlier on the beach, ye didnae want my help. Do ye need my Scottish hands to assist ye, bhana-phrionnsa, or are ye capable of placing your English arse in the saddle yourself?”
Five
Leaves rustled in the wind. The Sutherland lands were beautiful with lush foliage, rocky cliffs, and mossy-green grass. The sky above had hues of purple and orange, and there was no other place Fagan would rather be. He never minded riding out to the border for that reason alone. For a slight moment, he had even forgotten Grace was with him because she’d been silent ever since they’d departed from the gates.
She sat on her mount, and her head whipped from left to right. “I find myself rendered speechless.”
He had a quip ready on the tip of his tongue, but after his last remark about Grace’s English behind, he decided he’d better heed Ruairi and Ravenna’s advice and keep his mouth shut if he didn’t want more trouble.
“How long have these lands been in the Sutherland clan?”
Fagan had heard Ruairi spin the tale of Sutherland clan history more times than he could count, and the lass had an eager look on her face. Perhaps she was interested in hearing a bit of history. When he hesitated and met her gaze, she nodded for him to talk.
“By the early tenth century, Norsemen had conquered the islands of Shetland and Orkney, as well as Caithness and Sutherland on the mainland. The Norse had control over Scotland beyond Moray Firth. The lower portion of the lands was called ‘Suderland’ because it was south of the Norse islands and Caithness. Ruairi and I share a common ancestor.” When he noticed her eyes glazing over, he asked, “Do ye want me to continue?”
“Yes, please. I’m interested to hear about Ravenna’s new family.”
“A Flemish nobleman named Freskin de Moravia was commissioned by the king—David the First—to clear the Norse from the lands. De Moravia was a legend in his time, having killed the last breathing Norseman in Scotland. Some years later, the Sinclairs rebelled against the Bishop of Caithness over tithes he imposed, and once again, the Sutherland clan was charged with restoring law and order. These lands have been in the hands of the Sutherland clan for centuries. Ruairi’s clan descends from Freskin de Moravia’s eldest grandson, Hugh de Moravia, whereas the Murrays descend from the youngest grandson, William de Moravia.”
“You must be very proud. Do you ride out here often?”
“My men make their rounds along the border.”
“What’s over that mountain pass? Can we go up there?”
“Nay. This is far enough. The lands beyond that field arenae our own.”
She nodded. “Are they Laird Gordon’s?”
“Gordon?”
“I thought I heard Laird Munro mention something about him. Perhaps I was mistaken. I had assumed the Gordons were a neighboring clan. Was Laird Gordon at the wedding? I don’t remember meeting him.”
“Nay. The
Gordon is dead.” Fagan wasn’t going to tell her about the father of Ruairi’s first wife. He also believed it unwise to mention that the land where Grace’s mount now stood had been the site of a bloody battle between the Sutherlands and the Gordons not all that long ago.
“So who owns the lands beyond the mountain pass, Laird Munro?”
“Nay. They belong to the Gunns. Ian’s lands are farther south.”
Grace mumbled under her breath, but loud enough for Fagan to hear. “Let’s hope they’re far enough south that a certain someone won’t decide to cross them.”
“Lady Elizabeth mayhap?”
Grace glanced down at her reins, twirling the leather straps between her fingers. “Elizabeth? Why would you say that?”
“I think ye already know the answer to that question.” He didn’t miss it when Grace suddenly turned her head and promptly changed the subject.
“Do you mind if we stay here for a moment? There’s so much heather in the field. I’d like to walk around.”
“Nay, I donna mind.” He dismounted, and by the time he moved in front of his horse, Grace’s feet were already planted on the ground. “If ye want to walk, give me your horse. I’ll hold him for ye.”
“Thank you.” She handed Fagan the reins, spun on her heel, and was gone before he could say another word.
* * *
Grace stood in the middle of the field of heather, the skies lovely shades of purple, orange, and yellow. She needed a moment away from Fagan. How could the man know Elizabeth pined after Laird Munro? Was it that apparent? She caught herself glancing uneasily over her shoulder. Fagan had tied off the mounts and was walking toward her. She had a sneaking suspicion he was going to question her further and was uncomfortable with his ability to uncover her thoughts.
“For someone who hates the Highlands as much as ye do, ye seem to enjoy yourself.”
“Oh, I do not hate the Highlands, Mister Murray. The people are rather questionable, but the lands are very beautiful.”
“Is it true then? Is Lady Elizabeth trying to shackle Ian?”
Kilts and Daggers Page 5
