’Twas a point she could not argue against, for she felt the same way.
“We will stop soon,” Traigh said reassuringly. “We’ll rest, but no’ fer long.”
“How long will it take to get to Lewis?” she asked.
“We will reach the coast by nightfall on the morrow. I doubt we’ll make it in time for the last boat, so we will camp and wait for dawn. All in all, I’d say another three days at most.”
His honesty did nothing to help lift her spirits. Three days. It seemed like a lifetime away. She could only pray that she wouldn’t fall from her horse from sheer exhaustion.
As Traigh had promised, they soon stopped, deep inside a dark forest. The crescent moon, which had offered some light while they were out in the open, seemed to have disappeared. Under the thick canopy of trees, Josephine could barely see her hand in front of her face. Traigh reached out and took her reins in his own hands. She only knew it was Traigh because he told her not to worry, he’d not let her fall.
Although she took some measure of comfort in his reassurances, she wondered why it wasn’t Graeme riding beside her. He hadn’t said two words to her since they left her home that morn. Never one to worry herself into a frenzy or fits of hysterics, she was beginning to have doubts about her betrothed. His lack of communication over the years was all the proof she needed that he was against their betrothal.
She had hoped, however, that once they saw each other again, he might change his mind. His parents and brothers had reassured her countless times over the years that once he set eyes upon her, he’d kick his own arse for being so cruel by not responding to her letters. Once he got to know her as they had, well, everything would improve and they would live happily ever after.
Now, she wondered if it was just their way of attempting to make her feel better about the situation. Mayhap Graeme was just as unhappy as she had imagined him to be. His silence was his way of protesting without saying a word.
Of course, he could simply be the strong silent type of man. A man of action, not of words. Mayhap he hadn’t possessed the same bluntness the rest of his family possessed. There was a distinct possibility that he was quite shy and reserved.
Oh, how she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and not judge until she had a chance to know him better. With all her heart, she wanted him to be the one — the man who would break the curse of the Gladius.
Soon, the horses were drawn to a halt. Surrounded by darkness, Josephine could barely make out the shapes of the men as they dismounted and moved about. Discombobulated whispers floated through the cold night air. The scent of damp earth, horses, and vegetation tickled her nose.
Soon, large hands grabbed her at the waist to help her down from her horse. When her feet touched the ground, ’twas like stepping on a thousand tiny bone needles. She held on to his arms with her hands until the sensation subsided. “Thank ye, Traigh,” she whispered.
Her thanks were met with a long stretch of silence. Finally, the figure spoke. She was surprised to hear Graeme’s voice as he led her away from the horses. “We will rest here for a while,” he said before he stopped and helped her to sit on a blanket someone had spread out. Josephine was glad for the cloak of darkness, for she could move the Gladius out of her way without anyone’s notice. Once she was settled in, he stepped away without uttering another word.
“Do ye suppose they always travel this way?” Laurin whispered as she reached out a hand to find Josephine’s.
When Josephine felt Laurin’s hand on hers, she took it and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I pray not.”
Laurin had been covered in a fur and asked Josephine to climb under it with her while they rested their backs against a felled tree. The fur was warm and comforting and Josephine was quite glad for it. They huddled together in silence, listening to the sound of the night creatures that inhabited the forest, as well as the sound of the men speaking in low tones.
“I do no’ think I have ever been so sore and tired,” Laurin whispered before a yawn escaped.
“I would have to agree,” Josephine said as exhaustion settled in.
That was the last thing she remembered before sleep claimed her.
Thankfully, the men had allowed the two women a few hours to sleep, but they were on their way again before dawn. Josephine believed that if she were never forced to ride a horse again, ’twould be too soon. Her legs and back ached and Laurin complained of the same discomfort, but in a hushed whisper so as not to appear ungrateful.
Laurin was once again seated on Albert’s horse with his arms wrapped around her. Josephine noticed that Laurin didn’t look quite as terrified as she had yesterday, signified by how quickly she was able to fall back to sleep with her head resting against Albert’s broad chest.
As he had done yesterday, Graeme rode at the front of the line with that odd Remi fellow beside him. Traigh rode to her left, placing her between himself and Albert. The rest of the men rode behind or around them.
They rode for a few hours before stopping again. That break allowed Josephine and Laurin to finally hide the Gladius inside the tapestry. With Laurin’s help back at their keep, they had made a temporary sheath out of the linen, and strapped the Gladius around Josephine’s waist. Since no one had said a word, she assumed her heavy cloak had done well to hide it.
Still, she worried that someone would notice it, and she didn’t particularly want to have to explain. Neither did she have any wish to lie about it. With great care, they wrapped the linen around the Gladius and rolled it up inside the heavy tapestry. They made certain the leather straps at each end of the roll were tight so the Gladius could not fall out.
It had to remain hidden, at least for now. Though with the way Graeme was behaving toward her, she doubted she would ever have to explain it to him. He was ignoring her as if she were infested with lice.
After that first stop, their pace slowed, but not by much. Either because of the rocky terrain or because the men finally saw how exhausted Josephine and Laurin were, it mattered not. Both women were glad for the reprieve.
For the most part, they rode in silence, their sole focus on getting to the little village of Talamh Creagach, that sat along the banks of Loch Bhraoin, before nightfall. As Traigh explained, they would take longboats from Talamh Creagach to Stornaway, and from there it was only a few hours ride to the MacAulay keep.
’Twas nightfall when they finally arrived at the small sea village. The moon shone brilliantly on the loch, casting the water and land in brilliant shades of silver. Josephine and Laurin eagerly awaited the morrow, when they would each see the ocean for the first time. For years, Josephine had dreamt of seeing it, of hearing the crash of waves against the shore, of feeling the sea spray against her skin.
They set up camp near the rocky beach. Traigh and Bruce built a grand fire while Graeme and Remi erected a makeshift tent for the women. Josephine was too exhausted to notice much else. The cold, damp wind made its way into her cloak, chilling her to the bone. The weather here was significantly colder than she and Laurin were used to. The men, having grown up near the ocean, were unbothered by the winds or chilly air.
The women retrieved their bundles as well as the tapestry and stored them inside their tent. They washed as best they could in the loch and returned to their tent quickly.
“What I would no’ give fer a hot bath,” Laurin remarked as they changed their clothes inside the small tent.
“And warm cider,” Josephine said with a smile. “A hot bath, a mug of warm cider and a roaring fire.”
“Do ye think we’ll ever grow accustomed to this freezin’ weather?” Laurin asked with a shiver. “I swear our winters are no’ this cold!”
Josephine giggled. “I believe I will have to wear two pairs of woolens to keep my feet warm.”
Laurin nodded in agreement. “I be lookin’ forward to seein’ the ocean, Joie. The cold will be worth that, aye?”
“Aye, the cold will be worth that.”
Once they wer
e dressed, Josephine tucked the tapestry under the fur and they went to join the men.
They dined on freshly caught fish, bread, and cheese as they sat around a roaring fire. The men shared stories that were probably best left for taverns and bar wenches.
Graeme and Remi sat next to one another, to Josephine’s immediate right. They were speaking in French, apparently believing she couldn’t understand what they were saying.
“You need to speak to your fiancée,” Remi told him.
Graeme was absentmindedly poking a stick at the ground. “And what would I say? What would we speak about? Sewing? Tapestry? Perhaps we could exchange recipes for sweet cakes.” He sounded perturbed and frustrated.
Josephine stared at the two men, quite confused. Did Graeme think she was too ignorant to hold an intelligent conversation on any topic other than those he mentioned? Her own frustration began to burn. She was about to tell Graeme MacAulay that she understood every word, when he caught her staring at him.
“We be speakin’ in French,” he explained.
Josephine quirked a brow at him. Did he truly think her daft?
“I speak many languages, ye ken. French, Italian, Spanish, Gaelic, English, and even a bit of Prussian,” he told her before turning his attention back to his conversation with Remi.
Just then, Traigh tapped her on one shoulder. Leaning in closely, he whispered, “Let him think ye dunnae understand.”
Josephine turned to face him, confused by the suggestion.
Traigh smiled warmly at her. “Just think of the look on his face when he learns he be no’ as smart as he likes to believe he is.”
’Twas rather devious, to be certain, but she found she rather liked the idea. Returning Traigh’s smile with one of her own, she gave a quick nod of understanding.
“We’ll give him just enough rope with which to hang himself,” Traigh said with a wink.
Mayhap had Graeme not spoken to her with such a condescending tone or had he taken any amount of time to get to know her better, she might not have been so willing to deceive him. In all their letters over the years, the MacAulays had always spoken of Graeme’s kindness and generosity. Having witnessed those qualities herself on three occasions, she found no difficulty in believing them. And he had come to her rescue in the stables just days ago.
But something had changed since that moment. Graeme had protected her, had even threatened to kill Helmert. Why had he done those things only to ignore her now? Had she done something or said something to upset him?
Exhaustion began to settle in. The more she tried to make some sense out of Graeme’s behavior, the more tired she became. Mayhap, once they reached Lewis, his behavior and mood would improve.
Laurin had been sitting quietly beside her, staring into the fire, lost in her own concerns. Soon, they were both yawning. Laurin did not argue when Josephine suggested they retire for the night. Bidding the men good sleep, they went to the small tent. A few moments after they crawled under the warm furs, they were fast asleep.
Josephine slept so soundly that if she dreamt at all, she could not recollect it. She awoke to Albert talking to them through the closed flap. “Ye need to wake, Joie, Laurin. We leave in half an hour’s time.”
Grudgingly, Josephine rubbed the sleep from her eyes and nudged Laurin to wake. ’Twas still dark inside the tent, leaving Josephine to wonder if all the MacAulays were such early risers. ’Twasn’t as if she were one of those women who stayed abed all day, but for heaven’s sake, to rise before dawn each morn? Mayhap that was why her betrothed rarely spoke; he was too tired.
As soon as she poked her head out of the tent, she wished she hadn’t. The wind was just as biting as it had been the night before. She muttered a curse before crawling through the flap with Laurin following behind.
Save for the tent and its contents, everything had been packed away. The fire had gone out hours ago, not even one small burning ember left to offer any kind of warmth. She and Laurin headed for a small grouping of trees before returning to the loch to wash up.
By the time they returned, the tent had been dismantled and their belongings packed on the horses. Panic rose as Josephine searched for the tapestry. Thankfully, someone had placed it on her mount. She could not wait to be inside the MacAulay keep and find a safe place to hide the Gladius.
Graeme and Albert came to escort them to the boat. Josephine was glad to see that Graeme was his usual bright and cheerful self. There was something to be said for routine. She wondered if he would ever look at her without a scowl on his face.
Albert was far friendlier, especially when it came to Laurin. “Good morn to ye, Laurin,” he said with a smile. “We be leavin’ shortly.”
Laurin simply nodded. ’Twas unlike her to be so quiet, Josephine thought. She supposed it had much to do with Albert. Laurin was unaccustomed to men treating her with care or thoughtfulness.
“We must no’ tarry,” Graeme said.
Josephine sighed inwardly. No “good morn”. No “how did ye sleep?” No smile, no tenderness. Just that scowl that seemed permanently painted on his face. She could only pray it was exhaustion that kept him from showing any kind of tender regard toward her. Mayhap once they were on Lewis his mood would brighten.
Somehow, she doubted it.
She followed him toward the longboat. Albert helped Laurin across the plank first, whilst Graeme stood with his arms crossed over his chest and watched. He was standing not more than two feet from her, yet he couldn’t manage to utter a single word. His silence was growing irksome.
’Twas then that she noticed the other men were loading the horses onto a different boat. Panic, as it pertained to the Gladius, was becoming all too familiar. “Wait!” Josephine exclaimed as she started toward the other boat.
Graeme placed a hand on her arm. “What be the problem?”
“I need my tapestry!” she told him.
Graeme looked puzzled. “Yer tapestry will be fine. We need to board now.”
Josephine shook her arm free of his grasp. “I need my tapestry. I can ride with the horses.”
“Nay, ye can no’ ride with the horses,” Graeme told her, his voice firm and unyielding.
She doubted that giving him a piece of her mind at this moment would do any amount of good. She decided to appeal to his goodwill, that was, if he had any. “Please, Graeme? I will never ask you for another boon again.”
The woman confounded him.
Mayhap not so much by what she said or did, but how he felt when he was around her: confused, uncertain, lustful, and at times dazed. He hated those feelings, did not want them, for they made him feel foolish. He supposed she was not intentionally making him feel this way. He wanted to continue to dislike her and to be angry over the betrothal, but those feelings were shrinking as rapidly as a man’s bollocks when submerged in a frozen loch.
Those bright green eyes of hers were sparkling in the dawn’s early light. Sparkling with hope and promise.
Bloody hell.
“Fine,” he said. “I will get it fer ye.”
He did not wait for a response. He dashed across the beach in search of her horse. Luckily, her mount had not been loaded onto the boat yet. He retrieved the tapestry, taking note that it weighed significantly more than he had anticipated. ’Twasn’t the tapestry she wanted, but whatever she had hidden inside it. Deciding good manners precluded him from looking inside, he slung it over one shoulder and headed back to the other boat.
Graeme watched as Traigh helped Josephine onto the boat and he felt a pang of jealousy. Another sensation he was unaccustomed to. It made no sense. Traigh was a happily married man, at least that is what Graeme had been led to believe. He gave an inward shake of his head. Nay, Traigh, no matter if he was unhappy in his marriage to Irline, would never stray. He was far too honorable to break any vow.
Graeme knew it should have been he who rode beside Josephine these past days. It should have been he who had seen to her comfort, made certain she had eaten some
thing, for he was her betrothed. But whenever he was in close proximity to her, all common sense and decency flew away.
Although she was smiling at him, he could sense her anxiety as he crossed the plank. Whatever was inside the tapestry must be of some significant value, either real or intrinsic. At the moment, he cared not to know which. He handed her the tapestry and made his way to the other side of the boat before he said or did something that would make him appear foolish.
Graeme pretended not to watch Josephine as she sat next to Albert and Laurin. He knew his brother would protect her, as any good brother would. Remi, ever astute and keenly aware of Graeme’s moods, chuckled before saying, “She is a beautiful woman, no?”
Graeme ignored his friend’s taunt and remained mute, turning his attention to the horizon.
Traigh came to sit beside him, and hearing Remi’s comment, openly agreed. “Aye, me brother be a verra lucky man.”
Graeme was not certain he agreed, but remained quiet.
“What does she have in the tapestry?” Traigh asked.
Graeme cast him a look as he shrugged his shoulders. “’Twas no’ coin, for it did no’ jingle. I have no idea what it be.”
“Ye did no’ ask?” Traigh said with a hint of surprise.
“Nay, I did no’ ask.”
“Graeme, she be a fine woman. I do no’ ken why ye be so set in yer anger, why ye refuse to take this time to know her better,” Traigh said.
Graeme scowled and remained mute. He didn’t truly care what his brother’s opinions of the young woman were. He wasn’t being forced to marry her.
They sat silent for a time before Traigh spoke again. “I do no’ ken why ye look at her as a punishment. If ye were half as smart as ye claim to be, ye’d see her as a blessin’.”
Graeme scoffed before turning away. Blessing? Nay, he could not do that. She was simply a young woman who he was being forced to marry, and for reasons his father had refused to share. And he was growing to like her, and that angered him no end.
With Love from the Highlands : A Highlander Love Story Duet, One Page 6
