Moiré had used him not only to turn men against Ewan but to encourage an alliance with the Gordons, who had agreed to support Cruim in taking the chieftainship, which would have left it open for Moiré upon his impending death. Her depravity knew no depths. Several herbs were found in her room that Sorcha confessed were used to aid in getting rid of pregnancies…and for conceiving. It appeared that while Moiré tried to kill Faye’s child, she was also trying to get with child from her time with Finn. No doubt to force him into a marriage.
Ewan smoothed a lock of hair away from Faye’s brow. “Have I told ye how much it pleases me to see ye so healthy?”
“Every morning.” She kissed him and turned to the ewer to pour fresh water into the bowl. The sickness and exhaustion from the early stages of her pregnancy had dissipated, leaving her practically glowing with energy.
She lifted a fresh square of linen and nudged aside the letter next to it to ensure it didn’t get wet.
Ewan’s eyes caught the movement, and he lifted his brows. “Have ye answered yer grandda yet?”
Faye shook her head and lifted the linen to her face. The cool water swept over her warm cheeks, waking her up fully.
Her grandfather had wanted to come visit as soon as he found she was expecting a child with Ewan. He’d claimed it was to restore their good faith, especially after she had nearly been killed. But while Faye had learned to open her heart to the idea of trust, she was no fool.
After all these years, she finally understood her mother’s decision to keep them from their grandfather. Starving and fighting for life was better than being puppets to a man like him.
A spike of protection for her unborn child jabbed her back straight.
“I don’t want him here,” she replied. “Or near the babe.”
Ewan pulled on his trews and gave a supportive nod. “I think it’s for the best to keep him from our daughter…or son.”
“Any wagers?” Faye asked with an intentional coquettish slide of her eyes to her husband.
His gaze swept down her body. “What will I win if I guess true?”
She loved that he looked at her like that still, hot with attraction and love. “Anything ye like, husband.”
He lifted his brows. “I think ’tis a bonny wee lass like her mum.”
“And I suspect he’s a brawny warrior, like his da.” She ran her fingers down Ewan’s powerful chest.
A quiet knock came at the door connecting their rooms.
Faye bid her maid enter, and Gavina came in with a letter held high in the air. “Yer family has written to ye.”
Faye crowed with excitement and readily took the letter from Gavina with a word of thanks. She cracked open the seal and read through the contents.
But as she read, the smile slipped from her face.
“What is it,” Ewan asked.
Faye shook her head and read through it again. Ewan’s strong arm came around her shoulder. “Faye?”
“’Tis Kinsey,” Faye replied. “She’s left home.”
“Left home?” Ewan frowned. “Where did she go?”
Faye lowered the missive, frightened by the frantic scrawl of her mother’s normally neat script. Her fear and panic were evident in the way she’d written, as she begged Faye to help out in any way possible.
“Kinsey has always been of the mindset that the English deserved to be punished for everything they’ve done to us and Scotland.” Faye put a hand to her chest, but her heart still pounded beneath the letter in her fist. “She’s left to join the fight against England, to reclaim Scottish land.”
“Drake,” Ewan said softly.
Faye nodded as tears brimmed in her eyes. “Drake is employed by Lord Werrick, an English earl, and an English March Warden. If Kinsey is fighting against the English, she’s fighting against my brother. They’re enemies.”
Ewan hugged her to him. “Kinsey wouldna compromise Drake.”
Faye tucked her head against him. “I hope ye’re right.”
“I can send some of my men to yer mum to help,” Ewan said. “But ’tis too long a journey for ye.”
Faye pressed her lips together to ward off the protest that immediately rose up. He was right, of course. Going to Castleton and coming back would take a month and a half, at least, mayhap more with the colder weather that would sweep in soon. And that was assuming Kinsey could be found quickly.
Faye knew her sister too well to think she might be easy to locate. After all, Kinsey never did anything without fully committing herself. If she’d joined the war, she would be in deep.
Instead, Faye nodded. “Aye, please do send some men. My mum will need help. As will Clara.”
“I’ll do it straight away,” Ewan promised. “She’ll be safe. Both she and Drake.”
Faye embraced her husband, grateful for his support and his readiness to aid her family. But even as he offered reassurance, she was plagued by doubt. For in the end, what would win out? Kinsey’s love for their brother, or her hatred for the English?
Faye only wished that her sister might settle down with a good man as she had and allow herself to be truly happy. It was times like this, Faye was grateful she had opened up to her husband so that he might know the truth in her heart.
“I promised to protect ye,” Ewan said. “And that extends to yer family as well.”
She closed her eyes as a tear eased down her cheek, for she knew his words to be true. For Ewan Sutherland, the man that she’d married, father to their unborn child, was indeed a man worthy of her trust. And now she had a life where love was not a vulnerability, but a strength, and worth every risk she’d taken.
Thank you for reading FAYE’S SACRIFICE! I read all of my reviews and would love to know that you enjoyed it, so please do leave a review.
Faye’s siblings all have their own stories too:
Kinsey in Kinsey’s Defiance
Clara in Clara’s Vow (info coming soon!)
Drake in Drake’s Honor (info coming soon!)
If you want more stories that take place on the border between England and Scotland, check out my Borderland Ladies series and meet Drake, starting with Marin’s Promise
Check out Kinsey’s story next in KINSEY’S DEFIANCE where Kinsey leaves home to help with the Scottish rebellion against England, an archer for a laird’s son too handsome and charming for his own good.
ONE-CLICK Kinsey’s Defiance Now
***Keep reading for a first chapter preview of KINSEY’S DEFIANCE**
KINSEY’S DEFIANCE
Kinsey Fletcher is a woman who stands up for others who can’t fight, so it’s no wonder she jumps at the chance to be an archer in the war to reclaim Scottish lands alongside the handsome laird’s son.
William MacLeod is a man all women love, one out to prove his worth while also catching the eye of the feisty and fiery Kinsey who pretends to want nothing to do with him.
With tremendous odds against them, can a love blossom and make them stronger together, or will their conflicting goals tear them apart?
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KINSEY’S DEFIANCE
Chapter 1 Preview
July 1341
Castleton, Scotland
Kinsey Fletcher never cared much for market days. They were loud, crowded and filled with Englishmen trying to stir up trouble.
Like the two bleary-eyed sods pointing at them as Kinsey and her older sister, Clara, walked by.
“Ignore them,” Clara said gently. “They mean us no harm.”
“They would if given a chance.” Kinsey narrowed her eyes at the men, who grinned salaciously in return. The arrogant fops.
“Ye can’t go around picking a fight with every man who looks at ye.” Clara led them away from the carpenter’s stall they’d been perusing, and through the crowded streets. “Ye’d never get any rest
.”
Kinsey scoffed. “I’m not the only one they’re looking at.” Though sisters, their vastly different appearances went beyond the blue shade of their eyes to their hair, with Clara’s being dark and silky straight while Kinsey’s curls were bright red. Regardless, they both seemed to draw a significant amount of notice.
Not that it was anything Kinsey couldn’t handle. Indeed, it was the exact reason she insisted on wearing her bow and a quiver of arrows to the market.
“Come, we’re nearly done.” Clara took the basket from Kinsey and examined the contents. They needed only a few nails and a bit of wool, and then they could finally return to their stone manor on the outskirts of the village.
Some English lived in the village as well, given that they lived so close to the English-Scottish border, where the two nationalities had a tendency to blend. How could they not when the lands were stolen by either country, then taken back, only to be stolen again?
But reivers often spilled over from England in greater numbers on market days. Some seeking items from the traveling merchants; others in retaliation for some raid against them, which had been a retaliation for another prior raid. On and on it went.
One day, someone would need to put a stop to it. And Kinsey wouldn’t mind taking a stab at trying.
Regardless, they all somehow wound up at the tavern with too much ale sloshing about in their heads and a keen determination to woo whatever lass they came upon.
Kinsey and her sister stopped at the blacksmith’s booth, where Clara bent to inspect a small bin of nails.
“They’re all straight, miss.” The blacksmith folded his arms over his broad chest. His gaze wandered appreciatively over Clara’s slender pale hand, then up her arm to her face.
“Ye always do fine workmanship, I know,” Clara offered by way of reassurance. She lifted her focus to him, then her cheeks colored with a blush as she apparently noted his attention.
Kinsey shifted from one foot to the other in agitation. This was why they were always getting into trouble during market days. Clara was the type who wouldn’t ignore anyone speaking to her. Not the vendors, who she politely declined when she passed, nor the men who approached her to compliment her. Clara would blush prettily, a genuine response she could never stifle, while offering a “Nay, thank ye” that was far too sweet to be taken as an actual no.
This only made the men press harder, then Kinsey would have to step in to demonstrate the might of true discouragement. Usually with her bow and arrow.
It wasn’t Clara’s fault, of course. She was a beauty, though she never believed it no matter how many men tripped over their hanging tongues as she passed. It was more than her wide, pale blue eyes and the full mouth they’d all inherited from their mum.
There was an innocence to Clara, a demeanor of genuine kindness. Mayhap that was why her good sister drew the worst men.
Kinsey wasn’t as oblivious when it came to men’s notice. She knew they watched her as much as they did her sister. But she didn’t blush at their flattery. She sliced them with the blade of her tongue and set them back a few paces.
The two Englishmen were still there, pointing at them now. One caught her notice and gave a cheeky wave with the tips of his plump fingers. Kinsey practically growled her irritation.
“Do ye think these will be enough?” Clara asked.
Kinsey grudgingly examined the twenty or so pointed nails in Clara’s cupped hand.
Kinsey nodded, though she had no idea how many were needed. Their eldest sister, Faye, had always been the one to attend the village on market days. Not only did she enjoy the task of shopping, but she also managed to procure the best deals. Except now, Faye was married, living in the Highlands with a bairn on the way. And there was nothing for it but to attend the market in her stead.
Clara paid for the nails and thanked the blacksmith, who gave a slow, besotted smile as he took the coins.
They had only a length of wool to purchase, and then they could leave. Kinsey’s shoulders didn’t relax though, not with those men nearby. She glanced about and realized she’d lost them. Mayhap that meant they’d given up and—
“You’re absolutely lovely.” One of the two Englishmen stepped from the surrounding crowd and approached Clara.
A flush of color blossomed over her cheeks, damn her.
“Thank you,” Clara replied with a shy duck of her head.
Kinsey didn’t bother to hide her huff of aggravation. Clara would eventually get them both killed.
“I bet you’re far sweeter than any honey I could buy here.” The man stepped closer, swaying a bit. His friend stood behind him, saying nothing as he offered them a smile that looked like it was going to slide off his homely face.
Clara shook her head, her smile wavering with uncertainty. “Nay, I—”
Kinsey stood before her. “She’s not interested.”
The man didn’t bother to hide his lust as his gaze slithered down Kinsey’s body. “And I bet you’ve got the right amount of spice to offset that sweet, eh, Red?”
She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest to shield herself from his foul stare. Not only would she not give him the satisfaction of knowing he unsettled her, but she also wanted to ensure she could draw her bow quickly.
“I’m also not interested.” She notched her chin a little higher. “We’d like ye to leave.”
“What if I want to stay?” He licked his lips.
She slung her bow off her back, drew an arrow and sent one into the dirt just before his feet where he stood several paces away. He stepped back, and a second arrow landed where his foot had been.
“The next one goes a little higher.” She nocked another arrow, aimed it at his groin and smiled. “Is that enough spice for ye?”
“Kinsey.” Clara’s voice held a note of warning.
Kinsey could already hear the admonishment. Though, with Clara, it was more a careful reminder than a chastising. “Remember what the constable said—the next time you bring out your bows, you’ll be fined.”
But Kinsey wouldn’t be fined. The constable made the threat often enough for her to know it held no weight. Then again, she’d only ever shot the ground. Would he continue to be as forgiving if she actually shot someone?
Eventually, she just might find out.
Today would not be that day, for the Englishman and his friend scowled and staggered away.
The cloth merchant was at the end of a line of booths, beside a cart touting jars of honey.
“Do ye need any assistance?” A voice asked from behind Kinsey.
From an Englishman to a Scotsman. If only the taverns would close on market days. Surely, the lack of alcohol would set some minds toward their proper function.
God, how she hated market days.
“Fine timing.” She glanced over her shoulder.
The man was lean and tall, his brown hair neatly styled to the side, his high cheekbones evident with the hint of a smile on his lips. He was the most handsome man Kinsey had ever laid eyes on. And he knew it.
What was worse, he was undoubtedly a nobleman. His clothes were too fine to be a reiver. Too fine to be even a merchant from the border.
Before she could open her mouth to offer a smart retort to send him off, Clara spoke up. “Nay, but thank ye for offering to help.”
Kinsey gave her sister a long-suffering look, which Clara met with a patient tilt of her head. How was it she never got riled?
“Then mayhap ye can help me,” the man said.
But Kinsey was already turning away, pulling Clara to the cloth merchant who would undoubtedly take far too much of their time.
“Can we get the wool next week?” Kinsey asked under her breath.
“I’m almost finished with the new dress I’m making for Mum.” Clara navigated the crowd of people as they walked. “I need only this last piece of wool for it to be complete.”
Her older sister slowed just before they reached the cart laden with bolts of colorfu
l fabrics. “I know ye don’t like market days, and aye, the people can be…coarse, but Kinsey, I worry about ye. The constable said—”
“Excuse me, miss.” The handsome stranger appeared at Kinsey’s side once more. He smiled at her in a way she was sure other women found charming.
To her, it made him look like a false apothecary, selling off a bottle of common loch water as a cure-all potion.
Still, whatever he had to say would at least be more interesting than yet another discussion about the constable and his flimsy threats. She nodded to Clara to go on without her. After all, the vendor was only a few paces away. She would be able to keep watch on her sister.
Clara hesitated, but Kinsey waved her on, and she finally made her way to the cart. The man was still smiling when Kinsey returned her gaze to him.
“I’m William MacLeod,” he said as if he thought the familiarity of his name would warm her to him.
It didn’t.
“Ye caught my eye,” he continued. “I had to come to talk to ye.”
And here it went.
“Ye’re an exceptional archer.”
His compliment took her aback.
“I beg yer pardon?” A quick glance confirmed Clara was at the cloth merchant and being left alone.
“I saw how confidently you fired those shots.” He nodded the way men do when they’re impressed. “Ye’re damn good.”
Heat touched her face. “Thank ye,” she replied.
Was she really blushing and thanking him? She was getting as bad as Clara. But then, no man had complimented her skills with a bow before.
“I have need of a good archer,” he replied. “How would ye like to join my men and me in the fight against England?” He looked over his shoulder to indicate a group of men outside the inn before returning his attention to her. “To rise with the return of King David and reclaim the land that the English have stolen?”
Faye's Sacrifice (Borderland Rebels Book 1) Page 21
