by Jamie Carie
“Come,” Iain demanded, grasping her hand. They hurried to the middle, where the men were dismounting.
Juliet’s heart sank when they grew close enough to see the young men’s faces. Something must be terribly wrong…one of the men was her brother.
“It’s father,” Ruck, a nickname for Robert that her brother had inherited as a boy, said as soon as he reached Juliet. “There’s been an attack. Father was wounded by an arrow. You must come home at once.”
Her aunt gasped, Fiona paled and Juliet’s heart lurched in her chest. “Who has done this?”
Her brother looked around at the people crowding to hear and lowered his voice. “They came to collect a debt, threatened to kill us all if they don’t have their money by Christmas Day.”
“A debt? Is it a mortal wound? How could you leave him?”
Ruck frowned. “It’s hard to say. He has a fever but the doctor is seeing to him. I wouldn’t have come myself but he insisted. He is asking for you.” He lowered his voice further. “Something about a demand for your hand in marriage.”
Her hand? In marriage? Her stomach dropped. She had to get home, and as quickly as possible.
“You must go immediately,” her Uncle Clyde said by her side. He nodded toward Fiona. “Hurry and pack her things. Becca, some water and food for the journey.” He looked over at the tired, heavily breathing horses. “You’ll take our horses.” He scowled. “I would go with you myself but haven’t the stamina to ride as fast as you’ll be needin’ to go. But I hate to send her off with just the two of you young lads.”
“We met with no trouble on our journey here,” Ruck assured him. “The fresh horses are much appreciated.”
“Yes, but still…” He looked over at the smallish servant who had accompanied Ruck. “I’d feel better if I could see her safely home myself.” His frown deepened.
“I’ll accompany them.”
All eyes swung toward Iain. Juliet’s eyes widened in shock.
“I have business in Edinburgh and was planning to travel to the south after the festival. It will only be a little out of the way to accompany them to Northumberland first and see to Edinburgh on my way back home.”
Uncle Clyde’s face lit up. “MacLeon, you are too generous, but I gladly accept your offer. I will sleep well knowing my niece is in safe hands with you escorting her.”
Ruck made a noise in his throat but didn’t say anything, just stared at the tall MacLeon chief.
Juliet found herself relieved. Ruck was three years younger than she at seventeen, and the servant he’d brought along looked to be about his same age and dropping off to sleep. To have a man, a man skilled at battle and knowledgeable of the land and any dangers therein, would be fortunate indeed.
She looked over at him and saw determination in his eyes, determination and something else—protectiveness? She took a deep breath, not breaking contact with his eyes. It was a new feeling to realize that she had such strength, a fierce loyalty, at her side. How could it be? They’d only known of each other for three days. She didn’t understand it, but whether they liked it or not, there was something between them that would not be denied.
Within the hour, the four of them were riding out of the glade into the night.
Chapter Four
A chill wind blew Juliet’s hair out of its knot at the back of her head, leaving it to flail about her shoulders and across her face as they trotted through the tall, black iron gates and into the city of Edinburgh. The town had an ancient, haunted feel to it, the smokestacks on every building bellowing smoke so much so that the stone had turned black in places on the buildings. But it was as if an artist’s brush had directed the smoke—the patterns in the stone added depth and character to the otherwise white sandstone. Rows upon rows of connected houses and shops and pubs with spectacular, gothic cathedrals taking up huge corners of the streets. She must have stepped back in time it seemed, to the ancient days of knights and dragons and folklore of days long past.
Her horse, Lisbeth, trotted with eagerness up the cobblestone street, sensing food and rest was soon to come. To their left stood the mighty fortress that was Edinburgh Castle, a formidable military stronghold that had been there for centuries. Built on the top of an ancient volcano, its stones jutted from the land as if it had sprouted up out of it. Juliet shielded her eyes, her gaze wandering over to its many buildings and walls. There was a military force there now, Iain had told them. A militia that had supported Queen Anne and now George I. Her father, if his Jacobean leanings were discovered, would be considered a threat and an enemy. Iain had assured them that they would stay clear of the castle and Holyrood Palace, another colossal—though more modernized and lived-in—castle on the eastern end of the Royal Mile, where nobles held residences in the Queen’s Apartments. But this was not a time to see such things. They were in Edinburgh for a brief rest after three days of hard traveling and to stock up on badly needed supplies.
The deeper they rode into the city the more Juliet was fascinated by it, even though the smoke from the many chimneys, filling the air with a sharp peat smell, burned her nose. It was ghastly and haunting and stunning all at once.
“Will you arrange for your sheep while we are here?” Juliet asked Iain when their horses slowed to a side-by-side walk.
“Nay, we shan’t tarry, lass. I will have time for that on my return.”
He hadn’t said much to her over the past days. None of them had talked about much of anything except at the necessary stops. Twice they slept for a few hours, out in the open and in a circle around a small fire. The only other times they stopped were if they came upon a stream or loch, to replenish their water and stretch their legs. Every muscle in Juliet’s body screamed at her when she dismounted and tried to walk. She was more than thankful she and Fiona had taken daily rides, or she never would have kept up on such a lengthy journey.
“Here.” Ian motioned them to turn down a narrow lane that soon became steep. A little ways down he led them to the back of a coaching house where they could pay to have their horses fed and tended to.
Next to the carriage house was a lodging house with a long common room. They found a table with four chairs, Juliet twisting up her hair into a semblance of a knot while they walked inside and sat down. The landlord came over with four tankards and quickly filled them.
“Meat pie today.” He bowed toward Iain. “You can have bread trenchers if you like.”
“Aye, four of them, if you please. And are their beds available? We aim to catch a few winks before continuing our journey.”
The man looked around the table at the four of them. “One bed, but I might be able to arrange somethin’ for the lady. Where are you heading?”
“The lady has been visiting cousins in Scotland. We’ve been assigned with her safe passage back to Northumberland.”
“Oh, Northumberland, is it now? There’s been some trouble there, I heard. Some of that Jacobean business.” He turned and spat on the floor. Juliet turned her head away.
“Yes, we’ve heard. We’ll not be traveling there. A hunk of cheese will do us well, if you have it.” He changed the subject and the man rushed off to do his bidding.
Juliet breathed a sigh of relief as Iain reached beneath the table and squeezed her hand.
Several moments later, as they were deep into their meat pies, a dozen or so soldiers entered the inn. Juliet could feel Iain’s body tense beside her. His gaze took in the soldiers and then he turned his back on them and murmured, “Finish up, lads, ’tis time to find our beds.” He leaned toward her brother and said in a quiet voice, “You lads take the bed here. Three hours’ rest and then I will come and fetch you. I’ll be finding yer sister a place to rest nearby.”
They hurriedly finished their meal, Ruck and his servant, Joseph, heading up the stairs to the room they were given. Iain kept Juliet next to him for several more minutes, their backs to the soldiers with a hand over hers under the table. They listened to the talk and heard the words “J
acobite scum” more than once. “Keep your head down and follow me,” he whispered.
She nodded, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head.
Instead of going toward the main door, which would put them near the soldiers, Iain led her by the hand to the back of the common room towards the kitchen. Without a word to anyone, he pulled her through the busy kitchen and out a back door, and then drew her close to his side. They were in a tight little alleyway with many-storied buildings crowding them on either side.
“Where are we going?” Juliet whispered, looking around at the poor, crowded lodgings and dimly lit street, a stream of sewage running next to the road.
“I know of a safe place where we can get some rest. It’s just down this way.” He kept her hand and guided her over the uneven cobblestones to a building with a blue door. He went in without knocking and Juliet quickly followed, blinking in the sudden darkness to adjust her eyes.
A happy shriek and then a woman propelled herself into them, stepping on Juliet’s foot.
“Ouch,” Juliet squeaked.
The woman barely noticed her. “Iain, my darlin’ Iain. Why have you been so long from us?” She kissed him square on the mouth and then let out a low laugh.
Iain set her away from him with that disarming smile. “Molly, good to see you, lass. This is Lady Lindsay. I’ve volunteered to see her safely home and we could use a bed for a few hours of rest before we take ourselves back to the road. Might you have something?”
Molly looked at Juliet as if she were a vile insect.
“Where is Daniel? Is he at home?”
Molly waved that away. “’E’s never home this time of day, that husband of mine. You know how ’e is.” She looked back at Juliet. “If you’ll stay while she sleeps and keep me company, I’ll see what I can do.” She lifted her brows at Iain.
Who was this woman? A dalliance? A past lover? She was a married woman. Juliet couldn’t fathom what their relationship could be.
“I was thinking of sleeping on the floor next to her, truth be told.” Juliet heard the weariness of the journey in his voice. “We’ve been traveling nigh on three days and I wouldn’t mind a few winks before we continue.”
“Och, you poor dear. All right, then, follow me.”
She lead them up a narrow stone staircase to a third floor, down a short hall and into a tiny room with a bed, a table with a candle and some hooks on the wall, with a cloudy mirror beside them. “Just hang your things there. You know where to find me if you change your mind.” She sing-songed the last toward Iain.
Iain shut the door, his face a telling shade of red.
“Who was that?”
“Her husband is an old friend, from childhood. He claims she married him to get close to me, which I dinnae believe.”
“You don’t? She practically threw herself at you just now.”
“It’s just her way.”
Juliet let out a “humph” but was too exhausted to argue. It wasn’t her business anyway.
She hung her fur cloak on the hook and sat on the bed. Mmmm, a real feather bed with down pillows and clean sheets—heaven. While taking off her shoes she saw Iain shrug out of his outer coat and hang it next to hers. He leaned back his head, closed his eyes and stretched. His eyes looked tired, and Juliet was filled with remorse for thinking ill of him. She should be more thankful, especially after hearing those men in the coaching house. Her brother and their servant wouldn’t have known what to do if things had turned ugly there. She hated the thought of their faithful guide sleeping on the hard floor.
“If you’d like to sleep on the bed we can roll up that blanket on the end there and place it between us.”
His eyes held hers, weighing the idea, then his mouth curved into a half-grin. “So, ’tis a temptress you are, then?”
Juliet let out a laugh. “Not to be compared to the likes of Molly, but…” She grinned back and mimicked Molly’s Scottish brogue, “It may be that I’m takin’ notes, Iain.”
It was the first time she had called him by his given name, and it somehow hadn’t come out like Molly said his name at all. It had come out like she usually talked, only even huskier, her feelings for him lacing the words, making them low and raspy, rich and wanting. Her face grew warm.
Iain groaned, took one pillow from the bed and the extra blanket from the foot of the bed and lay down on the floor. Juliana leaned over the side of the bed and peered at him, seeing him straighten the kilt that had risen to mid-thigh and stretch out the blanket. He turned away from her and she lay back down, sighing and closing her eyes.
“Ye are far more potent than she, lass.” His voice grew even fainter, as if he would drop off into sleep at any moment. Then he murmured, “Much too potent for the likes of me.”
She smiled and dozed off, as happy and exhausted as she’d ever been.
It was nearing nightfall as the foursome trotted into the small village of Ennis, just outside the Lindsay lands and Eden Place. Juliet scanned the village, noting the poor condition of the houses and strained faces of the villagers who were coming out of their homes and shops. Their foursome was greeted with dour faces and shouts: “What’s to become of us, milady?” And, “Yer father, milady, is he yet alive? We hear he’s gravely ill.”
Juliet shot a look over at her brother. Ruck’s eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “He was healing from the arrow wound when I left for you. Perhaps it has taken infection. We must hurry.”
They raced down the narrow lane and came to the iron gates of the Lindsay estate. Joseph dismounted to open them.
Iain came alongside her and said in a low voice, “Milady, we should pray. We know not what we are about to encounter, but God knows all and is with us.”
Juliet felt her pulse quicken. “I fear I should warn you…my parents, they aren’t the sort to gain God’s favor. They aren’t anything like Uncle Clyde and Aunt Becca.”
Iain smiled a kind smile at her, his eyes full of warmth. “We none of us deserve God’s favor—’tis a gift he chooses to bestow on whomever He wishes.”
“It matters not if you are good or bad?”
“It matters to those who are good and bad, to this realm, yes. But God sees into the hearts of men and judges with a wisdom we cannot fathom. That is why we must trust in His ways.”
Juliet let that thought sink in while the servant remounted his horse. When Ruck started to proceed through the gates, Juliet stopped him. “A moment, Ruck. The MacLeon wishes to pray.”
Her brother looked startled but reigned in his horse. They all bowed their heads.
“Dear Father.” Iain’s deep voice said the words as to a dearly loved parent. “We come before Thee not leaning on our own understanding but asking You for Your wisdom and guidance in this matter with Lord Lindsay and these challenges before us. We pray that if it be Your will you will strengthen and heal Lord Lindsay from his wounding and that You will guide and protect him from his enemies. Pray, give us the strength to endure all that is to come. Amen.”
“Amen,” they all echoed.
Juliet felt an odd calm come over her and looked over at Iain with an ever-deepening respect. She had never heard a man—especially such a strong and powerful man of the nobility—humble himself like that before, admitting in front of others that he didn’t know what to do and needed help. Instead of taking anything away from him, it made him seem even more a leader, strong and desirable.
They rode down the long stone path to the palatial home where Juliet had grown up. Made of pink granite, the three-story edifice had seven large windows across every floor, two on either side of the front columned façade and three in the middle above the double doors. A servant came out and took their horses, his face down as if he couldn’t look them in the eye. Joseph disappeared with the horses toward the stables.
Juliet ran up the wide stone steps to the front door and hurried inside, the men just behind her.
“Thank heaven, you’re here.” Nettie, their long-time housekeeper complet
ed a perfunctory curtsey towards the three of them and hurried on. “Yer father, he be on ’is last breath. Hurry, my lords, my lady.” She gazed at Iain with widening eyes, taking in his tartan and large frame.
“Nettie, this is the chief of the Clan MacLeon, from Scotland. He has been so kind as to guide us home. Would you see to his comfort while Ruck and I see Father?”
The maid nodded.
“Where’s Mother?” Ruck asked, heading for the winding staircase on the left side of the large entry hall.
“Heaven only knows. She’s not gone near your father since the putrid smell began. The wound seeps horribly.”
“Lady Lindsay.” Iain’s voice stopped her. “I would accompany you to see your father if you wish. I have some knowledge of battle wounds and would like to see what the physician is doing for him.”
Juliet waved him to follow them. “Of course. Follow me.”
She led the way up three flights of stairs and down a long, shadowed hall. Juliet saw the place as Iain must see it—shabby and ill kept, the carpets old and worn, bare walls where paintings used to hang, the sconces on the walls rusted and sooty—but it did little good to be embarrassed about it. Her father wasn’t a good estate manager, had led them into ruin if the truth be known, and there was nothing she could do to hide the plain facts around them.
They could smell her father’s illness before opening the door. Juliet held her sleeve over her nose and opened it. Her father lay in the large four-poster bed, the bed hangings drawn on the side of the widows. Ruck made a sound from his throat but took Juliet’s hand and walked with her toward him.
Her father turned his head at the sounds of their approach. Juliet faltered, a cry coming from her throat. He looked so thin, so pale, with a greenish tinge. Her gaze traveled to his shoulder, where an angry red swelling of putrid flesh oozed around a gaping hole covered in a mash of some sort of poultice. Her stomach rolled as she took shallow breaths and came to his side.
