Faye's Sacrifice (Borderland Rebels Book 1)

by Madeline Martin

  “I see ye’re also awake, my bonny lass.” He grinned at her.

  Faye gave a little moan and eased a naked leg from the sheets. “Return to bed with me.”

  He dropped the linen into the basin and approached the bed. But he didn’t climb in. Instead, he braced his arms on the mattress and pressed a kiss to her brow. “If I do, I dinna think I’ll be able to leave for several hours.”

  “Do ye promise?” Faye sat up, baring her breasts for his perusal.

  And peruse he did, in an appreciative stare. Like a moth lured to a flame, he reached out and slowly cupped her breast as his thumb swept over her nipple.

  Before Faye could moan her approval, he pulled his hand away and clenched it into a fist. “Nay, we’ve plans this morn.”

  Faye leaned forward, going onto her hands and knees as she looked up at him. She’d seen a farmer’s wife being taken thus in the stables once and knew the position to be erotic. “Have we?”

  He hesitated as he took her in, his expression sharpening with interest. “Aye.” He turned from her and pulled on a fresh pair of trews from the chest at the foot of his bed. “A ride.”

  “A ride,” she echoed.

  “Through the Sutherland lands.” He threaded his arms into his leine as he drew it on. “I thought ye’d want to see where ye live, meet the tenants. Ye’re their mistress now as well.”

  A horse ride over the lands. Faye slid from the bed to hide her frown. She didn’t want to spend the day with him or see how good he was to his people. She wanted, needed, their lives to be separate.

  She searched her mind for an excuse. Something. Anything.

  “I haven’t a proper kirtle,” she protested.

  “Gavina said she’d have it for ye by now, and it will be done.” He winked. “Gavina always does as she says.”

  Faye smiled pleasantly and nodded even as she steeled herself for exploring the lands with her husband. Surely this had to happen at some point. She’d only hoped she might find something displeasing about him to focus on before it did.

  As of now, there was nothing to disparage him. In fact, everything recommended him, laid out to pry open her chest and bear her heart.

  Except she was not ready to trust and knew she might never be.

  Even with a man like Ewan Sutherland.

  Ewan worried Faye might decline to accompany him on the inspection of their lands after voicing concerns over her garment, but she offered no more protests.

  She rode at his side now, the deep red kirtle cleaned and repaired and buried under a thick cloak to ensure her warmth.

  “These are the lands we’ve had for years,” Ewan indicated the expanse of the Sutherland territory. Grass-covered hills rolled in the distance beneath an endless blue sky. In the distance, a loch lay nestled like a mirror between two swells of earth. It extended far beyond what they could see, but it would still give her an idea.

  She lifted her face into the wind and gazed out at the land with reverence. “It feels like we’re the only two people in Scotland.”

  It was more than she’d said thus far, apparently content to mainly listen.

  But then, that seemed to be the way of it with her. She did not offer opinions or share stories of her childhood or family. It did not escape his notice that she often turned toward sexual distraction when he tried to learn more about her. And he’d been too easily led astray by her temptation to stop her.

  This journey through the country would give them an opportunity to know one another better. He cared about her already. How could he not when he spent so much time thinking of her?

  But he had to let her know he cared for her. An ache squeezed in his chest. She would not end up like Lara, whom he had so egregiously failed.

  They slowed their horses to a stop so Faye could take her time studying Sutherland’s beauty.

  Pride swelled in his chest at the look of awe on her face as she scanned the vast horizon. “Aye, it can feel like that at times. I imagine it seems especially so for ye as ye’ve lived in villages for most of yer life.” He pointed to the west. “Torish is that way.”

  “Torish?”

  “Aye, the lands of yer dowry. Have ye been to them before?”

  “Nay,” Faye replied.

  “Did ye know ye had land as part of yer dowry?” he asked.

  She looked in the distance as though she could see it all laid out. “I never even considered that I might have a dowry, though it does make sense…” She spoke so softly that the wind nearly snatched her words.

  “’Tis a handsome dowry that came with considerable wealth and fertile land.”

  “Now yer wealth and yer land.” She said the statement in a flat voice.

  He edged his horse closer to her and settled a gloved hand over hers. “Our land. And I’ve had Monroe ensure in the event of my death ye receive Torish for yer own keeping.”

  She started at that. “It would not go back to my grandfather?”

  Ewan chuckled. “Only if ye promise no’ to kill me.”

  To his surprise, tears welled in her eyes.

  “I dinna intend to die any time soon.” He smiled at her by way of reassurance. “But if I do, I want to ensure ye’re well cared for.”

  She nodded, and a tear slid down her cheek. She hastily wiped it away and turned her face from him, as though ashamed of her emotion.

  “What is it, lass?” Ewan asked.

  She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

  Her refusal to share what troubled her did not vex Ewan. The lass had been kidnapped by her own grandfather and forced into a new, strange world. Doubtless, her life had its share of difficulties and such struggles often curled one’s true thoughts into a protective shell. Getting her to open up to him would be a slow process, but he was a man of great patience.

  Especially when faced with a task so worthy.

  “Would ye like to see yer land?” he asked.

  She turned her attention back to him and readjusted the reins in her gloved hands. “I’d like that very much.”

  “As ye wish, my lady.” He directed his horse toward Torish and all its surrounding land.

  Ewan intentionally kept his pace slow to allow them to speak. When Faye did not offer conversation, he filled the silence with stories of his youth and the many times he’d gone to visit their clan tenants.

  “I wasna always my da’s choice to accompany him when he saw to his people,” he confessed.

  “Because of yer older brother?” she surmised.

  “Aye, ’twas he who was to be the chieftain and he who received the training for the task.” Ewan kept his tone neutral, ensuring the wisp of self-doubt at his role was not discernible. The same as he always did when speaking of his unexpected chieftainship. He’d lacked the formal training other chieftains had benefitted from.

  She nodded, more to herself than to him. “Mayhap it was for the best,” she replied.

  “Why do ye say that?” he asked.

  She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Ye’re a strong chieftain who genuinely cares for his people. Mayhap if ye’d trained for it yer whole life, yer thoughts would be tailored toward a different way of ruling.”

  He contemplated her statement. He’d never once considered he’d been at an advantage for having not learned the way of a chieftain his entire life.

  “My brother wishes to be a knight,” she said. “He’s far more chivalrous than any English knight I’ve ever known. He hasna been able to become a knight due to being English and Scottish. I believe because he was not able to attend such formal education, he’s remained uncorrupted.”

  “Drake,” Ewan recalled.

  She nodded, and her silence resumed. But what she’d told him said more about her than if she’d chatted on extensively. She was an astute woman who was keenly aware of what transpired around her. What was more, her brother’s restrictions with the English no doubt were a shared burden.

  Ewan didn’t remark further on what she’d said. Rather, he po
inted out the village of Torish as they approached. The land appeared much the same as his own, save that it was dotted with sheep who milled about with their thick, billowing coats. As they neared, he could make out the shoddy thatching in the roofs and the general disrepair of the huts.

  He’d anticipated Ross had not properly cared for the people in some time, especially in light of having it soon belong to someone else. But it was far worse than Ewan had expected.

  “Is something amiss?” Faye asked.

  “The homes need mending.” He directed them toward the edge of the village and dismounted. “We’ve wedding gifts for the people.” He offered her hand to her to assist her from her horse.

  She put her fingers to his palm and slid from her steed. “For the people?”

  “I thought they’d have need of it.” Sutherland untied a purse from his saddle. The coins within clinked.

  Several villagers nearby glanced toward them, their faces guarded, but curious. Doubtless, it had been some time since they’d seen a chieftain. A considerable time if the state of their homes was any indication.

  “Ye’re giving the people money?” she whispered incredulously at his side.

  “They have need of it,” he responded again, quietly.

  She stared at him for a long moment, her expression one he could not quite make out.

  He handed the purse to her. “I’ll announce who we are. Would ye like to distribute the coins?”

  She accepted the bag and nodded.

  “Good morrow,” Ewan said to those who had gathered. “I’m Ewan Sutherland, Chieftain of the Sutherland clan and yer new chieftain as well. This bonny lass is the granddaughter of the Chieftain of the Ross clan and saw fit to wed a man like me, thanks be to God.”

  Several people chuckled.

  “And though I dinna deserve her or any of ye, I promise to care for ye to the best of my ability.” He looked about at the upturned faces as he spoke, conveying the earnestness of his words. “I’ll see to coordinating the repair of yer homes upon my return to Dunrobin Castle. Until then, my bonny wife has offered to share part of her dowry with all of ye to welcome ye to the Sutherland clan.”

  Faye opened the purse and took out a coin. The villagers stepped forward but held a respectful distance. First, she approached a little boy whose grubby hand was extended with anticipation. Her hand trembled slightly as she settled the bit of metal into the boy’s palm. The coin disappeared in his fist, and he ran off as she approached the second villager.

  On and on she went through the people of the village, smiling shyly at their gratitude, stopping only when the bag was empty.

  She handed the empty purse to Ewan and accepted his proffered arm. She remained quiet as he led her back to their horses, and they left the village of Torish behind them.

  “I hope ye are no’ displeased with me,” he said. “Mayhap, I ought to have told ye my intentions for Torish.”

  “’Tis fine,” she replied.

  A catch to her voice pulled his attention back to her, where he found her eyes swimming with tears. She looked away, but not swiftly enough to hide the fact that she was crying.

  9

  Faye tried to restrain her tears. Even now, she swallowed hard at the ache in her throat, but still, the knot did not abate.

  Never in her life had she seen as much coin as was nestled inside the fine leather purse. To think that all this time, all these years, she had wealth at her fingertips. Land!

  So many times, she’d flirted to get an extra bit of grain for her family, or a lower price on meat. Or how they’d worn clothes that pinched at their elbows and squeezed at their waists when there’d been no money for new clothes. Or how Drake had to sacrifice his attempts to become a knight in order to help them survive.

  Never had she dreamed there had been any other way. Never had she suspected that in the Highlands of Scotland, they could be wealthy, that there was a life available to them where every day was not a struggle.

  Why had her mother not told them? How had she let them all suffer when they could have lived in comfort?

  A sob choked from Faye’s throat.

  “Faye.” Ewan drew his horse to a stop. “What is it? Are ye hurt?”

  She shook her head again, not even certain where to start. “I had no idea…” Her voice trembled, but she cleared her throat and tried again. “I had no idea we had such wealth. And I’ve never seen a lord give his tenants coin.”

  She remembered meeting the lord of the village once when they lived in England, back when her da had still been alive. Lord and Lady Astair. They’d come to the village in matching yellow silk so fine that it reflected the sun like gilt. Or at least, what Faye assumed gilt looked like.

  She’d looked up to them as if they were gods emerged from the heavens above. Indeed, they might as well have been, with their fine clothes and clean, friendly faces. She’d been awed into silence by them. As some had been with her in the village of Torish.

  But though the experience had been memorable enough to settle into Faye’s memory, Lord and Lady Astair never gave out coin, with the exception of the final pay they offered when Da died. But nothing after that small stipend, when they were in such sore need, when everyone else had turned cold with hate.

  Ewan watched her with a sympathetic gaze. She didn’t want his sympathy or his kindness. She didn’t want to see how easily and confidently he spoke to his people or how affectionately they responded to him.

  Oh, how she longed to be back in Castleton with people she knew she could trust, where she didn’t have to be so guarded.

  “Faye,” Ewan said in a gentle voice. “Ye can tell me.”

  She looked away, ashamed of her outburst. If they were at Dunrobin Castle, she might have given him a coy look, or suggestively trailed her fingers over the neckline of her kirtle. But they were on horseback in the middle of a land she didn’t know. She couldn’t spare herself by turning her emotions to passion or swaying the conversation toward sexual teasing.

  And yet, part of her felt ridiculous for staying so quiet when he was so willing to listen. He had vowed to protect her.

  Tell him.

  She rubbed the thick leather rein between her thumb and forefinger, giving it her focus as she spoke. “We grew up with very little. There were so many times we went to bed with our stomachs so empty that our navels felt as though they were grinding against our spines. There was never enough. Not food or wood to burn or cloth for kirtles.”

  Tears clogged her throat, and she stopped her horse, unable to focus. “When I think of what we’ve had to do to survive…and when all this time, we had wealth. I had this dowry…” She covered her face with her palms to keep him from seeing her cry. “We never had a lord give us coin in celebration as ye just gave those people.”

  “I wish I’d known,” he said in a gruff voice. She uncovered her face to find he’d dismounted and was standing beside her horse. He held his palm up to her to assist her down. She accepted his offer and slid off her steed and into his arms.

  He was strong and warm, exquisite comfort. He enveloped her in all those wonderful sensations and held her to him as he stroked her back, which only made her sobs come harder.

  When the better part of her sorrow had quelled, she swiped at her tears and pushed back to gaze up at him. “Forgive me. I should not have reacted so.”

  “Ye dinna need to apologize.” He stroked her cheek, his expression pained. “’Tis I who owe the apology. I should have pressed to know more about ye when ye dinna return to Scotland. I should have known this was what ye’d endured. I would have done everything in my power to see ye and yer family safe.”

  Though she was hesitant to trust him, the truth of his words lodged in her chest. He would have done everything in his power to ensure she and her family had remained safe.

  “We managed,” she replied.

  “Ye shouldna have had to.” He swept her hair back from her face. “I vow to ye, ye’ll no’ ever suffer again in yer life.�
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  She stared up into his hazel eyes, mesmerized by the flecks of green and amber and black within. “Ye needn’t do that,” she protested.

  He drew off his gloves and tenderly put his hands on either side of her face. “Let me care for ye, Faye.” He smoothed his hands downward in a caress that stopped under her chin. “Open yer heart to me.”

  Her heart?

  How could she possibly open her heart to anyone when it was bound with iron and locked with a key that went missing long ago?

  She stared up into his beautiful eyes and felt the stirrings of lust pulse to life. Though she knew her attraction to him to be strong, she understood her desire for what it was: a distraction.

  One she would not indulge.

  She opened her mouth, uncertain what to say when the thundering of approaching horse hooves rumbled in the distance. Together, she and Ewan turned toward the sound as riders crested a nearby hill.

  “Get on yer horse and head back to Dunrobin,” Ewan said in a low voice. “I’ll handle this.”

  Even if Faye had known the way back to the castle, she wouldn’t leave his side. Not when there were so many warriors, and only one of him.

  “I can fight.” She pulled her eating dagger from her belt. It was nowhere near as fine as the sharpened weapon Drake had given her when she’d turned fourteen, the one her grandfather had confiscated. But it would do.

  Ewan gave her a hard look. “Go now, lass. I dinna want ye to be injured.”

  She tightened her grip on her weapon. “I won’t be.”

  He eyed the blade. “Is that an eating dagger?”

  “Who are they and what do they want?”

  Ewan squared his shoulders, shielding her from the onslaught of men approaching. “They’re from the Gordon clan. And they’re here because I was in negotiations to wed their Chieftain’s daughter before I was approached by Ross.”

  Faye’s stomach clenched as the mass of stony-faced riders approached. “Do ye mean…?”

  “Aye,” Ewan said. “I married ye instead of Mistress Blair. And they’re no’ pleased.”