by Alisa Adams
It had shaken him when he had found what appeared to be the perfect clearing for a protected night in nature and then had helped Merith down from the coach. Her hand, soft and gentle in his, the silk of her dress catching the moonlight...the entire image of her, a fine lady, standing amongst the wooded wasteland of what he knew to be his average life was unsettling. If ever he had been more aware of their difference in stature, he could not recall it. He was a man of grit and dirt; Lady Merith shone, even in the barest of moonlights.
Finn took out his hunting knife and marked a nearby trunk so he would not lose his way in the darkness. The trees were thinly spaced and allowed the dim starlight to shine through. It was unlikely that he wouldn’t be able to recognize his return path, but he would not risk failing to find his way back to the women.
Focusing on the hunt, Finn stopped and listened, searching for the scuffle of a rabbit in its burrow or a pheasant pawing at the ground with its skeletal little feet. Regardless of how fancy the lady and her maid were, they had to eat. They were limited in their choice of whatever Finn could acquire that skulked about in the woods.
If it hadn't been yet another piece of evidence of their differences, Finn might have been amused at Lady Merith's horror at the idea of common hunting. He wasn't surprised at her disgust.
Since their arrival in Mackay lands, however, Finn could not help but feel glad for his so-called savagery. The provinces in this area were rife with unruliness. With the buildings they had seen burnt and ransacked, the felling of homes of note, it was clear there was much distress among the Mackay people, or that they had a serious bandit and brigand problem. Either way, Finn was glad that he had come with the women on this journey. They would need protection should such crowds turn on them and their fine gowns. While the guards that accompanied them were frightful in appearance and would stand a man down at a hundred paces, none of them had actually seen war or conflict. They had lived their lives as guards around the Mackenzie estate, following the rich to and fro in their business. How they would handle being outnumbered by hungry, angry rabble was not to be considered.
As the tension in his gut fueled him onwards, Finn continued his hunt. The sooner he could acquire a few hares or fowl, he would be able to return and keep watch over the camp. He didn't need much sleep and could doze in the saddle tomorrow should he need to. Better to risk his focus when the open road gave them notice of approaching danger. At night, here in the woods, the trees gave them protection but also limited their sight. He would not see the women attacked in the darkness.
In truth, Finn's instincts were to turn back, to take Merith and Ilya back to her family home. Or at least to the household of Braith, where they might send a messenger ahead to the Mackay castle to ensure that all was well before they journeyed onwards. Perhaps Merith's intended would even send a larger band of soldiers to accompany them on the last day of the journey.
But such a plan would delay them, and Laird Mackenzie had made it perfectly clear that Merith was to arrive on the afore-planned day, else there would be hell to pay. Finn was already risking much just to accompany them on this venture. Taking longer would only serve him all the worse.
Again, Finn heard his brother's voice in his head as he navigated a tricky path between two pines.
"You, Brother, have an unhealthy need to play the hero."
Lachlan had always accused him of this, but Finn had never been able to see the words as criticism. What was so wrong about fighting to help your fellow man? Finn was no good at numbers, but he could do basic calculations. If everyone only worried about their own skin, they had a single set of eyes taking care of them. If everyone looked out for everyone else instead, when one returned, they had thousands of hearts hoping for their wellness. That seemed like a better bargain, all things considered.
Besides, Finn had always argued back against his stoic, older brother. The man was so duty-bound, he had gone to war at fourteen, determined to earn coin enough to pay Aggie a fair sum for keeping Finn fed. Such a kind and honorable older brother was a tough act to follow, but Finn had done his best.
At a movement in the nearby bracken, Finn stilled. His fingers held the end of his arrow, keeping it cushioned against the string of his bow. His eyes, adjusted now to the darkness, narrowed to find the source of the sound.
In a flying hurry, a rabbit darted out amongst the bushes. Finn shot and then darted after it. His arrow had missed but sent the creature into a panic, enough to have it bounding in circles for a moment, lost in the flora. His second arrow put the little creature out of its misery and drew its fear, and its life, to an end.
After checking to ensure that it was dead and felt no pain, Finn laced its front paws together and fastened the animal to his belt.
It was not his place to be Merith's hero, he tried to remind himself. This was his duty. Fetching her dinner. The honor of being her defender would fall to her husband-to-be. For now, he was her temporary guardian. And, if he could scavenge a few more pieces of game, he could at least make good on that duty in the short time he had left with her.
8
As he had already resigned himself to, Finn managed little sleep that night. While he had assigned periods of time for which each guard was to take their turn watching and listening to the woodlands around them, Finn had found himself unable to sleep through the meager hours of rest he had prescribed to himself.
Laying beside the carriage so the body of the cart provided some protection from the wind, Finn had taken his saddle from Ajax's back and used it as a rest for his head.
With warm rabbit sitting in his belly and a roaring fire to keep the chill of the night at bay, he should have been asleep in moments. Yet, even with his eyes closed and his muscles still, he had failed almost entirely to drift off.
It was his ears that were the traitors.
As his eyes worked to send him to sleep, blotting out all but the soft glow of the firepit shining through his lids, his ears would not rest and rescind their duties. They listened. Every sound in the woods, every crackle of the fire, every shifting of the guards. Each noise was something that Finn's ears seemed determined to note and register. More distracting still were the noises from inside the carriage. With each shift or wriggle of the women, the axis of the cart squeaked a little and the wheels shifted against their block moorings; they held his attention like a marching band.
With each one, he tried to work out if the noise was made by Merith. With every sigh or shift, he wondered whether it was in rest or resignation; if the young lady's dreams were sad or content.
By the time dawn arrived, Finn was being near fanciful with his musings and had thoroughly annoyed himself for his impractical distractions.
Such frustrations only rose further when the ladies awoke.
For Finn had never seen a woman appear so lovely as Merith after so terrible a night. Even unkempt, with her eyes darkened by shadow and her hair mussed from sleep, she was exceedingly pretty. The fact that his anger over her continued beauty was irrational did nothing to quell it.
Only distraction served such a purpose.
After the camp was packed down, the embers in the firepit stomped into ash, and the horses re-tacked and saddled, Finn was glad to be back on the road. Out in front of the little traveling party, he felt as if he could breathe once more. The fresh countryside stretched out before him and his attentions were diverted by his duties as a protective scout. The burden of emotions that he would do well to ignore was kept at the back of his mind, completely behind him. More specifically, in the carriage that rode behind him.
For most of the day, Finn was able to keep his thoughts focused and turned ahead, not back. But, come the afternoon, his heart was once more entangled.
With her future set upon a new husband, Merith held no need for her lady’s maid, and with her sisters and mother already employing their own, Ilya was left without purpose or profession in the Mackenzie family. As such, Ilya had promised to journey with Merith as far as her
family home, just ten miles south of the Mackay stronghold, before she was forced to abandon her young charge and return to her own kin.
The entire plan was beyond Finn's comprehension, for it was clear from the way that Merith cried at their parting that she did not wish it to be so.
As Ilya reached to wrap her arms around the girl, Merith's shoulders shook with a silent bout of sobs. Finn suspected that her keeping them quiet meant that he wasn't supposed to notice how she shook, her face buried against Ilya's neck.
When he first met them, Finn had assumed that Ilya was Merith's servant, a simple being of the lower class employed to care for her. Simple as that. Yet, after only a few days in their company, it was clear to even him that such caring was about compassion, not compensation. Ilya cared deeply for the young girl that she tended to. Her hand on Merith's blonde hair was soft and gentle, and her lips pursed in a cooing sound of comfort.
Only when the tears had been spent and Ilya's bags had been given to the postal coach that she was joining, did Merith break free. She huddled into the older woman's frame, clearly swiping at her eyes before she allowed herself to step back and stand once more erect.
As far as Finn was concerned, all of Merith's efforts to hide her tears were for naught.
Her eyes held such pain and her lower lip and little chin still trembled with the efforts of holding back her sorrow. It was clear to him that her heart was breaking and his own squeezed painfully at the display. His mouth dried and he was forced to swallow, watching events unfold like he might a horrifying spectacle that he could not stop.
The desire to argue, to fight, to insist that Ilya should accompany her mistress and remain with her even after her marriage was on the tip of his tongue, but, in a moment of rare self-control, Finn was able to quash it.
This is not my world, he reminded himself. The rules were different for them.
This was an odd realization, given that Finn had never supposed that the people with the highest position in society had any rules. He had always thought their wealth and status was enough to ensure that they could do whatever they wanted.
Finn watched from the back of his horse as Merith refused to return to her carriage until Ilya's coach had surpassed a rise in the land and rode out of sight. Even then, she hovered, as if hoping the vehicle might reappear, returning to correct the separation.
"My lady..." Finn ventured. When she didn't reply, Finn dismounted and moved to her side. He repeated the words, his hand briefly touching her elbow.
"My lady, we should continue on."
It took the young girl a full minute to hear Finn and finally accept that it was her past that was trundling away, as her future waited on the road ahead.
Wishing he could accept the impotence of his feelings in the same way that she did, Finn shook himself of his lingering compassion and tried to focus on what the next few hours would bring.
By the time the sun was drifting down towards the horizon, they would be arriving at the castle of Alastair Mackay. Merith would be handed over to her future husband and the guards would return to their home in the south. And Finn would be dismissed to return to his militia. The world would continue as it had before.
Suddenly, the idea of returning to normalcy made Finn’s chest hurt. The carriage’s wheels’ continuous cycle, repeating their normal, cyclical path, only served to anger him.
He spent the rest of the journey taking deep breaths and reminding himself of all that he had in his life so as not to fear the loss of something he had barely touched and would never come to possess.
The Mackay castle was monstrous in size. Unlike the Mackenzie estate, which spread its majesty across wings and external buildings, the Mackay homestead took up less land but ascended higher than any structure Finn had before seen. A single, looming tower of immense size and shape, the castle was beyond anything he could have imagined. Even at a distance, down the road with a patch of woodland still barring their path, Finn felt the power of such a building. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to stand at its base. It was the sort of marker that would make men feel inferior.
Finn wondered if Laird Mackay was the sort of man who enjoyed towering over others, if he had built the castle as a symbol of his own might.
The idea did not sit well with him.
His mind could think of nothing for a moment but how small and delicate Lady Merith was.
As Ajax stepped beneath him, irritated by the pause they had taken atop the last rise they were to pass on their journey, Finn glanced back at the carriage that sat behind him. He looked to the men that hovered on either side.
Despite saying little and barely interacting with them beyond orders and duty, Finn knew each of the guardsmen by name and had a general idea of their countenance and lives back home. Such basic information, something personal that he had been able to subscribe to them, had allowed him to trust in their abilities over the last few days of travel. He knew they were loyal to the Mackenzie bloodline with ties that were worth more than the coin they were given in each pay. Perhaps he would have felt better if they were due to stay with the lady after she arrived in the home of her betrothed.
Yet, they were all to return to the Mackenzie lands. Supposedly, Merith's guards were intended to be more than enough to see to her safety.
All night, Finn had attempted to convince himself that it was this safety that had his chest tightening the more they journeyed across Mackay lands. A man of honor and justice, Finn had always served his masters and commanders with integrity he was proud of. He wasn't a particularly bloodthirsty man and didn't enjoy violence for the sake of it, but he could appreciate the pride that came with serving one's betters; of ensuring that your duties were completed to the best of your abilities without compromise or disregard.
Finn took a sense of self-assurance in that he was just such a man. He had tried to convince himself that it was this level of dedication to his profession that had his gut twisted into knots; that he did not trust others to complete a job he had begun himself.
He had had little success.
Not an egotistical man by nature, the longer they had journeyed, the less he had been able to convince himself that this growing dread came from a sense of professional pride. That he was simply concerned for the future because of his duties to protect the woman in the carriage behind him. That he would have felt the same darkness claim hold over his belly if the woman had been a chest of gold or a fine piece of artwork.
None of that was true.
And yet, whatever Finn was secretly feeling or able to realize within himself, it was all for naught. He was a soldier—a common individual without prospect, home, or even security of his very life. The woman in the carriage behind him, sitting demurely and frightened all alone, was a creature of beauty and substance and value. Her worth was a thousand times that of his. For all the chances he had of holding her, she might as well have been the angel that he had originally thought her to be on that very first fateful encounter.
And the sooner Finn was able to convince himself of that, the sooner the feelings that swam in his chest could be settled.
Nevertheless, by the time the little entourage passed beyond the last few trees that blocked the castle gates from view, Finn had still failed to accept the realities of the situation.
Merith had grown within him, her delicate little roots laying siege to his heart, mind, and soul. Worriedly, Finn concluded that such emotions would not leave him until they were ripped out, physically removed by the separation that would occur the moment they passed through the gates up ahead.
Finn considered diving for the reins of the carriage and snapping the horses into a wild bolt. He thought of stealing the carriage into his own possession, of taking Merith somewhere private and quiet.
There, he would talk to her. Nothing more. He would breach that gap of social rank and force her to answer the questions that perpetually hovered around his heart. Questions that sparked optimism and hope with every glanc
e she sent his way and every word she offered to his skills or efforts. Her eyes were so crystal clear, the color of cool waters on the clearest of summer days, that he did not believe her capable of ever lying. If she spoke of affection for him, perhaps they could—
That was where Finn's chaotic chain of thought was cut short. Just what did he have to offer a woman of Merith's position and standard?
Could he give her a castle?
His thoughts were so distracted, playing with the concepts of fantasy and reality and trying to remind himself of the difference that Finn barely noticed that the gates to the Mackay estate had been left open instead of being pulled wide for their entry. He rode the group into a courtyard three times the size of the one at Merith's home, built around a central well. Walls the height of two men atop each other’s shoulders surrounded the open space. Finn spotted the occasional staircase that allowed soldiers to reach the top of the wall and play sentry against attack. No men were scouting the perimeter that he could see, but perhaps there were scouts in the windows of the castle instead.
No servants ran out to greet the carriage, despite any watchers surely spotting their approach along the main road. There were no faces at the windows to spy their entry to the grounds and no stable boys in the nearby structure full of straw. No horses either.
Finn's brow lowered, and his hand fell to the hilt of his sword.
Something wasn't right.
9
Pushing aside the idea that the laird was simply too lazy and disrespectful to come and greet the delicate creature that would become his wife, Finn sniffed the air. Like a hunting hound, he tried to sense the feel of the place, to notice if fires had recently been set or blood recently spilled. There was an odd, metallic tang to the air, but that could be anything. The clearest indication that something was wrong was the lack of equine smell. The lack of any smell. As if the castle had not been lived in for several days.
