by Eliza Knight
“And not that I’ve a right to say it, but I will besides, your father should nae have aligned himself with the man.”
“He had no choice.” She left it at that.
Perhaps sensing she no longer wanted to speak on the topic, Strath asked, “Have ye never seen a village larger than Northwyck?”
Eva shook her head. “My sister lives near London, but I’ve never visited her.”
“Is she happy there?”
Eva cocked her head, thinking it an odd question. Men did not often ask if a woman was happy. “She wasn’t at first, but she and her husband have…found a pattern.”
They rode on a few more moments in silence, and then he asked, “Have they any children?”
“Not yet. There was one, but she lost him mid-way.” Eva’s heart broke for her sister and what she’d had to go through. There were plenty of parents who lost children, and plenty of them who expected it, but it was still a heavy blow to one’s soul.
“Ah. I’m sorry for that.” He tightened his arm around her as though he would protect her from the pain.
“So was I. My sister came home to grieve. I think the stress of being so far away from everything she knew had something to do with it.”
“Perhaps. Sometimes things happen for reasons beyond our control. She was lucky to have ye there to help her.”
“I am lucky to have her. And you’re right, I suppose. Although sometimes I cannot help but wonder what those reasons are.”
“We are all often left with questions in life, aye?”
“Aye.”
A sound up ahead had them all pausing. But the noise turned out to be a herd of deer crossing over their path. They continued riding on in silence, and Eva wondered if Strath’s mission to fight Belfinch could be put under that same adage of everything happening for a reason? Things did happen for a reason sometimes. And the Laird of Dornoch traveling weeks from the north of Scotland all the way to Northwyck was starting to feel like the best thing that had happened to her since before her mother passed.
A fierce gust of wind blew chilly air down the front of her gown, cooling the necklace that was still buried in her bodice. A sign from her mother perhaps? Eva smiled into the dark. They soon came to the village edge and were greeted by the night watchman who recognized Strath and opened the gates for them.
The roads to the castle were empty of people, and many of the lights in the village houses, taverns, and shops were extinguished, though the torches on the wall were well lit, allowing them to see the path as they went. A dog barked from somewhere, answered by another hound a short distance away, and the warhorse’s ears flicked back and forth.
A tingle of nerves slid along Eva’s skin. Being in the woods with a dozen Scots was quite a bit different than being inside a fortress with hundreds of them. What would happen if one of them turned on her? What would happen if Strath couldn’t protect her? She tried to calm these thoughts, to push them aside. But it was a hard thing to do when she knew she had no control over her own situation, other than how she reacted, which she vowed would be peaceful and also true to herself.
“Are ye all right?” Strath asked softly.
Eva let out a long breath, trying to understand how he knew her so well, even guessing how she felt by her body language. “Just a bit nervous.”
“Dinna fash, Princess. All will be well.”
She prayed he was right.
They crossed through a stone arch with its portcullis raised and doors open, and entered a bailey. Tomaidh leapt from his horse to rouse the stable master, who came out with several lads to take their tired mounts. The poor beasts deserved a rest. Strath swung down from the horse behind her, then reached up and grasped her around the waist. Just the touch of his fingers around her middle had her body humming in pleasure. As he pulled her down, their bodies slid momentarily together, torso to torso. He held her aloft a moment longer than necessary before setting her feet on the ground, and she didn’t mind. In fact, she wouldn’t have minded if he kept her like that a little longer. Their eyes locked, and her heart skipped a beat. Did he have any idea how being so close to him affected her?
For the briefest of moments, she thought he might kiss her. His gaze slid to her mouth, and her heart pounded so loud in her ears she felt like the world around them disappeared. Nervously, she licked her lip, flicking her own gaze from his mouth to his eyes, silently begging for him to please, kiss her.
Strath tilted forward, dipping his head a fraction of an inch, and she clutched to his shirt, sucking in a heady breath.
“How long will ye be staying, my laird? Want to make sure I put the horses in the right places.” The interruption by the stable master had them pulling apart, suddenly aware of where they were.
Strath cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. Eva kept her gaze on his boots, counting the speckles of mud on the leather. Heat flushed her cheeks and laid a path down her neck to her chest. Goodness, had she really been about to kiss him in front of all these people?
Indeed she was. And the way her skin tingled, she suspected if he turned back to her and grasped her around the waist again, she still would.
“A few days,” Strath answered, his voice more gravelly than normal. The very sound of it stroked the wanton part of her that still wanted to be kissed.
“Right, then. We’ll take good care of the beasts.” The stable master took hold of the reins of Strath’s warhorse and led him away.
A few days… That sounded like a true respite to Eva. Almost too good to be true. Stopping for only a few hours at a time over the last week had left her quite weary, and clearly addle-headed with all these thoughts of kissing. But staying so long, wouldn’t that allow time for Belfinch to catch up? As smart and prepared as Strath was, she had to trust that he knew best.
Strath took her elbow gently, and she suppressed a shudder of pleasure at his touch. He slid his hand down her forearm, grazing his palm along and wrapping his fingers around hers. They were holding hands. A move that was both intimate and natural. Oh, saints above, save her…
“Let us go in. My uncle should still be awake, as he normally doesna sleep until the wee hours.”
Before they even reached the stairs to the keep, the doors were thrown open and a man perhaps twice Strath’s age came out with a large smile on his face. Dark hair streaked with gray hung around his shoulders. He was about the same height as Strath, with a shadow of a beard on his jaw.
“Uncle Jamie.” Strath marched toward the man, tugging Eva with him.
Her knees trembled, knocking together as they went. Was this the point at which she’d turn from whatever she was to Strath into a prisoner? Her palms grew slick, and thankfully, Strath let her go before he could feel the moisture.
He embraced his uncle, and they patted each other on the back, talking at the same time and over each other. If she weren’t so nervous, she might have actually smiled at their warmth and obvious pleasure at seeing one another. Instead, she wiped her sweaty palms against her gown and told herself to get a handle on her nerves.
“What brings ye to Glasgow?” Uncle Jamie eyed Eva over Strath’s shoulder with open curiosity. “And with a lovely guest, no less. Ye didna get married without telling me, did ye?”
Eva was thankful for the dark, because her face flamed red at the suggestion. Married? Was that what he truly thought? Perhaps he’d spied them out the window about to kiss. The idea of marrying Strath…of being bound to his side for the rest of her life… Her mouth went dry, and this time when her heart skipped a beat, she felt it all the way to her toes. Marry Strath… Saints, but it would be heaven compared to being married to Belfinch. She stared at his profile, the long line of his nose, the strength of his jaw, and the high arch of his cheek. He was without a doubt the most handsome of men. Strong and kind and caring. She would be proud to call him her husband.
Strath let out a short laugh and then cleared his throat, breaking whatever spell she’d just been under and popping the bubb
le of her unrealistic dream. Why would she ever think he could marry her? She was a lowly English traitor in his eyes, no matter how much he flirted with her.
“Nay, not married,” Strath sad. “’Tis a bit complicated.”
“Well, she looks sweeter than that last wench ye were betrothed to.”
He was betrothed before? Eva shot Strath a glance. He’d not mentioned it when she’d asked before if he was married. What had happened? Was it painful? At the shadows that crossed his eyes and the way his jaw tightened, she supposed it was. But that momentary reaction was quickly replaced with something she’d seen often in him—humor. He made jests of things that he found too serious or disconcerting.
“Aye. A goat would be better,” Strath answered with a chuckle.
Eva tried not to be offended at that, muttering, “I’m better than a goat.”
The men must have heard her, because Uncle Jamie stopped in his tracks, turned around, and held out his hand. “Apologies, my lady, I did not mean to offend. Ye are without a doubt much better than a goat.”
Eva’s lip quivered as she tried to hold in a laugh. “But am I better than a horse?” she teased, gifting him her hand.
“Och! Ye brought us a Sassenach with a sense of humor.” Jamie burst out laughing, kissed the back of her hand, and tugged her into his side, all but knocking Strath out of the way. A flash of what could only be jealousy crossed her companion’s face. “Come inside, and I’ll get ye a bite to eat. My lady wife will be pleased to meet ye. She only has one daughter and the rest sons. The more women on her side to boss us men about the better.”
Eva’s eyes widened, and she stopped short. She had to explain her situation. That she wasn’t a guest, else he become angry when he found out the truth. “I do not think you understand. I’m—”
Strath was there then, taking her elbow and giving a subtle shake of his head. “Lass, ye dinna want to deny my aunt the pleasure of your company do ye?”
Eva took a step back. Did he not want his uncle to know what her role was? Why she was here… Confusion warred inside her, along with it a deep longing to go along with his plan.
Eva licked her lips nervously. “It seems only fair to share—”
Again, Strath cut her off. “Aye, share her company. Let us go inside. Your hands are freezing, and the temperature is only dropping.”
Unsure of why he was hiding her situation, and taking note that Jamie was now eyeing them with suspicion, Eva flashed the older man a brilliant smile. If she could simply be herself and not be the labeled prisoner of war she was, she would gladly do so. “I am getting a bit chilled.”
Uncle Jamie laughed at that. “Ye Sassenachs may not all be alike, but the lot of ye canna handle Scottish weather.”
If only he knew she was part Scots, he might be interested to know that not all of their breeding were immune to the cold.
He led the way inside. While the houses they’d passed in the village were dark, the castle was lit up as though they were expecting a caravan of guests for a feast. Candles dripped from iron chandeliers and carefully placed candelabras, and torches were mounted on the stone walls.
A fire blazed in a massive hearth. The scent of herb-strewn rushes and flowers filled the great hall of Glasgow Castle, and indeed there were filled vases lining two tables and propped on the mantle—a feminine touch to the starkly masculine room. Tapestries of great battles covered the walls, along with mounted heads of massive bucks, a bear, and a few wolves. Weapons were anchored in the stone as decorations, but also as a reminder that war was never far off.
“Frances,” Jamie called. “Bring food and drink for my guests.”
A harried-looking older woman appeared in the doorway from the kitchens. She emerged as though she’d been roused from her bed, and Eva felt immediately guilty.
Without thinking, she rushed forward. “Allow me to help you.”
Frances gaped at her, and Eva wasn’t certain if it was because she was English or because she’d offered to help. The woman didn’t respond and looked to Jamie for an answer. Jamie, in turn, looked to Strath, who nodded. Eva followed the woman to the kitchens, glad to be found useful—and glad to be away from Strath and the strong pull to touch him, to admire him. She needed space to breathe, to think.
In the kitchen, sleepy scullions and spit-boys had risen and were in the process of preparing what looked to be a feast. Eva’s guilt grew ten-fold.
“Oh, I do hope you don’t mind me saying so, but the men would be happy with something simple. No need to go to too much trouble. Some bread, cheese, cold meat if you have it.”
“Aye. Are ye certain?”
Eva nodded confidently. “I’ve been cooking them stew on the road with game and wild vegetables, and before that they were existing on dried venison and bannocks. They’ll be very happy indeed. Besides, it will be quicker, and then you all can go back to sleep. I must extend my apologies for waking you.”
The cook eyed her as though she’d grown two heads. Indeed, it was her position to prepare meals and serve her laird, but Eva had always found that common courtesy went a long way with those at her father’s household.
Finally, Frances agreed. She waved to two young women, who quickly put some rising dough into an oven to bake.
“What can I do to help?” Eva asked.
“Nothing, my lady.”
“Please, I want to be of use.”
Again, Frances eyed her as though it were a test, but then her shoulders seemed to relax, “If ye want to gather the cheese and make a platter, I’ll prepare a trencher of cold meats.”
Eva went to work, cutting slices of cheese and arranging them on a large trencher, her mouth watering. It had only been a week or so since they’d left Northwyck, and before now, she’d never realized how much she actually liked cheese. She took a tiny nibble, savoring the creamy, sharp flavor. Saints, but the taste left her weak with pleasure.
Lads were already funneling out of the kitchen with empty trenchers, cutlery, mugs, and ale for the men. When she finished the cheese platter, Frances wouldn’t allow her to do anything else but sit by the hearth and drink a cup of wine while breathing in the heady scent of the baking bread. By the time the bread was finished baking, Frances had assembled several platters of cold mutton, cold chicken, strips of venison, stewed fruit, and cold peas covered in melted butter. The wine had warmed her insides and made her feel more…alive somehow. Excited. And the scent of the food made her heady with hunger.
Eva liked that Strath had not told them she was essentially his captive, because it felt like she belonged here. Or that she was playing a part she was comfortable with. Home had been so cold over the last two years since her mother died and her sister moved away. Many of the servants who had a choice had left in the recent year because of her father’s new taxing laws and treatment. And those that remained were standoffish with Eva for the same reasons. The offenses of her father had indeed trickled down to her, however unfair that was. To make matters worse, her father had been so distant with her too, that Eva hadn’t realized until now how very lonely she’d been.
“Are ye nae hungry?”
Eva snapped up her gaze to see Frances staring at her expectantly, waving toward the door leading toward the great hall.
“Oh, aye, I am.”
“Let us go. The lads have already taken everything out.”
Frances waved Eva out of the kitchen before her, and the first thing she saw was Strath standing before the hearth as though he’d been waiting for her to come back. His gaze raked hungrily over her and heightened the tingles she’d been able to bank while away from him. She swallowed, fearing that her own desire was reflected back at him. If there were no one else in the room, would she walk right up to him and run her hands through his hair, tugging him down for a kiss?
Oh my…where did that idea come from?
Mild embarrassment washed over her at how closely he watched, and then more when she caught sight of his uncle elbowing him in the ribs an
d muttering some jest that made Strath laugh. Heat covered her cheeks, and she tried to hide a smile.
The next thing she knew, two women were rushing toward her, arms outstretched. It wasn’t hard to guess that one was Jamie’s wife and the other their daughter, for they looked very much alike and dressed as she’d expected ladies would. They both had silky blond hair fashioned into long plaits down their backs, and eyes the same blue-green she imagined the sea to be.
“Welcome to Glasgow,” the older woman said. “I’m Lady Montgomery, but ye must simply call me Lorna.”
“Thank you for the warm welcome. Please, call me Eva.”
“This is my daughter, Isobel, and we welcome ye to the castle. I didna realize ye were in the kitchens.”
“I didn’t mean to step on your toes, but I really wanted to help.”
Lorna laughed. “I’m surprised Frances allowed it. She is constantly shooing me out of her kitchen.”
“She tried,” Eva said with a smile.
“Eva,” Isobel gushed. “’Tis not often we have lady guests being so far from our family, ye must sit by me.”
“I am happy to join your ranks, but I must apologize if we woke you.”
“Och, nay, we love a surprise.”
The ladies each took one of her hands and led her to the table where they quickly surrounded her. Eva glanced over her shoulder to see that Strath was following her with his gaze.
“So tell us, how did ye meet my cousin,” Isobel said.
“’Tis a rather interesting story, really. Long and complicated.” Eva stared toward Strath, who was walking across the great hall with his uncle and some other men closer to his age she’d not seen before, who must be his cousins.
He sat across from her at the table, his foot nudging hers underneath. “What is long and complicated?”
Eva bit the inside of her cheek. She was unable to pull her foot away and wanted to nudge him back but didn’t dare in case it had been an accident. Warmth flowed from that spot, all the way up to her core, and she fidgeted with her cuff to distract herself.
