Yesterday's Promise

by Michele Paige Holmes

  “Are you ill?”

  I shook my head and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, though nothing had come up. With a resolute sigh I straightened and turned to look at my husband. He was the only one close to me, the other men having placed themselves a ways off— even Alistair had moved back with them. I felt grateful. I was going to have to explain my behavior to Collin, and that would be bad enough.

  “I’m not ill—” Not physically, anyway. I offered a trembling smile, which Collin did not return.

  “It’s just that—” I broke off. How was I supposed to explain my irrationalities? He’d realize he married a madwoman, and he’d probably drive off without me.

  Even that would be better than riding in a carriage.

  Collin said nothing, but one eyebrow rose expectantly.

  “I cannot ride in the carriage,” I said, as matter-of-factly as I could. Perhaps he would think this a malady of all Englishwomen, and I might be forgiven.

  “It is not good enough for you?” His lips puckered with disdain.

  “That’s not it at all.” I shook my head. “It is perfectly fine. But it’s a carriage. I cannot ride in them.”

  “Why?” His brows drew together as if he was perplexed. “Explain yourself.”

  If only I could. “They frighten me.” I sounded like the biggest ninny.

  “The horses pulling it frighten you? Or the speed at which it travels?”

  I shook my head again. “I have no fear of horses. Nor is it the speed. It is the confines of the space and— and the locked door that frighten me. I know it sounds absurd—”

  “It is absurd,” Collin said, turning from me. “I would much prefer to hear the truth. Is it being so near to me? Are you upset at leaving your home? Those circumstances I might understand. But to place the blame on traveling—”

  “I am speaking the truth,” I said, angered that he’d not believed me. “It has been this way since I was very young. I don’t understand it, and I certainly do not enjoy it, but every time I have ever tried to ride in any type of closed vehicle, I have been overcome with panic, to the point that I become unable to breathe and my stomach acts ill. It feels— I feel as if I am being taken against my will, and it is frightening. I don’t even understand it,” I admitted, throwing my hands up in the air.

  Collin turned toward me once more. His eyes darkened, and he looked past me, as if he was in some other time and place. When he spoke again, it was without the anger or annoyance of a moment before.

  “You’ve your father to thank for your fear of carriages.”

  “My fath—”

  “How well can you ride a horse?” He took my arm, steering me toward the men, most still mounted, waiting on the road. “Alistair, you’ll be giving Katie your horse today.”

  If this took Alistair by surprise, or if he was opposed to it, he hid it well, simply walking toward me and handing over the reins.

  “She’s a mite bit feisty, this ‘un. Best tell her up front who’s boss, or she’s like to bolt on you now and then.” As if to prove his point, the mare reared her head and began pulling away from Collin the moment he tried to move her closer.

  He frowned as he looked from the spirited horse to me. “Ian,” Collin barked. “Get over here.”

  Ian was slower to respond, plodding along methodically as the others parted to let him through.

  “What?” He peered down at us from atop a fine, black stallion. Ian’s shirt billowed, and his long hair blew backward with the breeze. But it was the steel in his eyes and the sneer on his lips that most reminded me of a pirate. I suppressed a shudder and looked elsewhere.

  “Give me your horse. You and Alistair will ride in the carriage today.”

  Ian smirked. “Tired of your wife’s company already? Or that unsure of yourself?”

  “I’m sure enough that I don’t trust you on your own,” Collin said. “And it would be a bad omen to spill my brother’s blood on my wedding day.”

  “There’s always tomorrow,” Ian said, swinging down from his perch. His arm brushed mine roughly as he pushed past us to climb into the carriage. “Wedding day or no, you oughtn’t press your luck.”

  * * *

  My too-short grey silk ended up being a good choice for more than one reason. The full skirt allowed me to sit astride a horse— something Collin insisted I must do if I was to be allowed to ride on my own. The grey was also not a color easily soiled during the rigors of our ride over England’s dusty roads. As we dismounted near the day’s end, I found that a few swift shakes of my skirts left them looking not much worse than they had that morning. Unfortunately, I feared that was the only part of me not in worse condition. Everything— from my sunburnt forehead down to my aching back and legs— hurt, with my backside feeling particularly sore and stiff. Shaking out my gown had been but an excuse to linger a moment while I attempted to regain control of my trembling legs.

  Clothing accounted for, I took to running fingers through my wind-blown hair. Black Lion Inn, I read, glancing at the sign swinging overhead. It appeared a respectable enough place, with ivy growing up the sides, covering much of the two-story building. Weathered stone peeked out beneath this, and wooden shutters framed the windows on both floors. A few souls wandered in and out as I stood there, waiting for Collin to finish speaking to the Campbells and MacDonalds assembled around him.

  “We’ll stay here tonight,” Collin said to me when the others had dispersed. He’d not had two words for me since we began our ride, hours earlier. Relieved though I was to be done riding for the day, I sagged as he confirmed my fears that we had reached our destination.

  Now what? For the first hour or two of our journey, I’d been far too busy enjoying the new landscape and the thrill of being on a horse again to worry much over the coming evening. As the day had worn on that worry had crept closer, as had my misery and discomfort. The latter being the more immediate of concerns, I had been focused on that— on how to remain on Ian’s horse as long as required.

  Both the pains and pleasures of the day came to an abrupt end when I thought on what pleasures my husband might expect to receive tonight. Along with the knowledge about the wedding band being worn over the vein that led directly to one’s heart, Anna had also acquired information about the marriage bed and what occurred in it. At the time, her revelations had been enough to fill me with deepest gratitude that I’d not been granted a season or any hope of marriage.

  And now— I wished she’d never told me. This evening was perhaps one situation where stumbling blindly into the future might have been best.

  Our carriage rolled to a stop behind us, and I stepped aside, wanting to be well away before its occupants exited. I was too late. The door banged open, and Ian jumped down, a scowl on his face that made Collin’s frown appear almost cheerful. Ian glanced my way and began marching toward me, his hand outstretched. Instead of fleeing, I stood my ground and held out the reins to his horse. Though I’d have much preferred to have been in Alistair’s debt, Collin had not allowed me to even attempt to seat the mare. Feeling particularly grateful that I was to ride instead of somehow enduring the carriage, I’d not felt it prudent to argue the matter. But now...

  “Thank you for allowing me to ride your—”

  Ian snatched the reins from me. “You’d best find some other way to transport your Campbell bride before tomorrow,” he snapped at Collin, then pulled the stallion along with him toward the stables near the back of the inn.

  Avoiding Collin’s gaze, I turned toward the carriage in time to watch Alistair descend the steps, somewhat stiffly. That both he and Ian made it all the way here without any harm coming to at least one of them seemed something of a miracle, given Ian’s outburst this morning and what else I’d seen of his disposition.

  Thinking of poor Alistair, who’d been nothing but kind and pleasant to me since our first meeting, I sought him out, intending both thanks and an apology for my part in his unfortunate circumstance today.

  “I
must thank Alistair,” I said, by way of explanation to Collin then ran— or rather hobbled along— to catch the group of Campbells heading off down the road. When it became apparent I was not going to catch up, I called out to him.

  Alistair stopped and the rest of the Campbells with him. As one they turned back to look at me.

  “What are you needing, lass?” Alistair asked kindly. His eyes were tired, and he did not seem nearly as jovial as he’d been this morning.

  “I’m so sorry about taking your horse and you having to ride with Ian,” I said. “Perhaps we can trade the carriage for another horse, so you won’t have to ride with Ian tomorrow.”

  “I won’t ride with Ian tomorrow,” Alistair said, his voice shaking with anger. “Won’t make any other Campbell do it neither. Ian can ride by himself, and if the MacDonalds set a toe out of line they can be hanged.” He removed a flask from the pouch at his hip, opened it, and took a long drink.

  None of what he’d said made any sense, and I wondered if rattling around in the carriage over rough roads all day had addled his mind a bit, or if he’d earlier had to indulge in drinking whatever it was in his flask to endure Ian’s company. “I’m so sorry,” I said once more, feeling surprisingly upset that I’d let my newfound relatives down so quickly, and when they’d come so far to see me wed. “Nothing in my trunk is that important.” I pushed the thought of my paints and canvas to the back of my mind. “We can go on without it, and then we won’t even need the carriage.” Maybe I could find a way to transport a few of my supplies on the back of a horse.

  Alistair’s eyes softened, and he beckoned me closer. The other Campbells, Quinn, Finlay and Donaid, as well as those I hadn’t figured out how to keep straight yet, gathered around us.

  “The carriage isn’t really for you,” Alistair confided.

  “No matter what the MacDonald told you,” Donaid added.

  “He did think you’d be riding in it,” Alistair continued. “But it’s really a way for us to have our weapons nearby without displaying them to the world.”

  My gaze moved to his waist, and I realized his broadsword was missing, as was his pistol, though I supposed that might be hidden elsewhere. I glanced at the other Campbells and realized that they, too, had removed the weapons they’d been wearing this morning. Have the MacDonalds taken theirs off as well?

  Alistair was watching me closely. “You’ll not be knowing this, I’m guessing, but the Scots aren’t allowed arms. If we’re found with ‘em, it’s treason, and enough to land us in prison— or worse.”

  “But to travel unarmed is asking for trouble as well,” Finlay said. “Especially in England. Bloody Dragoons don’t need a reason to bring us in.”

  “Alistair’s beard here is reason enough.” Donaid tugged at a red, springy lock.

  “So we’ve got to have the means to defend ourselves— without parading it afore the world,” Alistair finished. “The carriage works nicely for that.”

  “The weapons are inside?” I wondered where exactly. Had I been sitting on a pile of loaded pistols? I hadn’t seen any this morning, but then I had been trying to see as little of the inside of the carriage as possible.

  He nodded. “Beneath the floor, behind the cushions and such.”

  “But if you were attacked, what good would that do? You’d not be able to reach them quick enough.”

  “A few of us have our pistols.” After a quick glance over the heads of the others, Alistair peeled his vest back to reveal his. “And with Collin in the carriage, we knew we’d a pretty good chance for a fair fight.”

  Fair? Against whom or what? “Why is that?”

  “He’s the best aim,” Donaid said.

  “Now I don’t know about that.” Alistair looked slightly offended. “I’ve a fair hand, too— as does Ian, I hear.”

  “That’s why you two were chosen.” Now it made sense. And here I’d feared that Collin had made Ian give me his horse because he’d been so surly toward me this morning. It was a relief to know I wasn’t any part of the reason at all.

  Except that I was. An enormous part of it.

  “You can see what a risk this was, us coming here to get you.” One of the younger, quieter Campbells spoke up.

  “That’s enough, Malcom,” Alistair scolded him. To me he said, “‘Course we’d come. Couldn’t have you stuck in England forever. It’s high time you were with your people again. We might not have much these days— but each other. We’ve got family, and so do you.”

  Such an eloquent speech from a tired, old man who’d had a difficult day brought tears to my eyes, and I only just checked the impulse to hug him. I’d needed my father so much these past months and still needed him now, but in Alistair I sensed a relative who might fill in nicely.

  “You’d best get back now, lass,” he said. “We’re bedding down nearby, but Collin’ll be waiting for you at the tavern. Don’t want him thinking you’ve left him already, do you?”

  Already? Did they think I’d ever leave him? I’d given my word. First silently, to Father to honor the promise he’d made, and then out loud to Collin— before God and witnesses. I did not imagine that I had Anna’s situation and was in for a lifetime of bliss. Collin and I were strangers to one another, and I’d no doubt the days and weeks and months ahead of us were going to be difficult. But I’d made a commitment, and I’d keep it.

  “I don’t want him thinking anything of the sort,” I said, standing up for— my husband? Our marriage? I wasn’t sure what exactly, but I wanted the Campbells to know that though they were family, Collin was now, too— as much or more than they, as far as I was concerned.

  “Go on with you, then,” Alistair said, a hint of a smile in his voice that made me think he’d read and understood my thoughts. “Collin’s a good man, to be sure. A MacDonald, but a good man. You’ve your grandfather to thank for that, I reckon.”

  This bit of information brought a dozen other questions to mind, but with a wave of my hand I bid the Campbells farewell, telling myself there would be time enough for answers later. For now... it was my wedding night, and my husband was waiting for me.

  “Mercy would have been to help my father instead of turning him in, to show some respect for your fellow countrymen. Instead of working against them with the English.” My heart brimmed with hatred for the man before me.

  Laird Campbell’s hand came down on mine forcefully, pinning me in place. “We’ve things to discuss; you’d best learn your place and to control your temper, or it will lead to great trouble.”

  “Perhaps you should gain a temper,” I shouted. “You should feel something for your people, for Scotland, instead of allowing one of those English dogs to lie with your own daughter.”

  The bitter taste of blood filled my mouth before I even realized I’d been struck. Laird Campbell towered over me.

  “You will learn to control your tongue. You will learn patience. And most importantly, you will, from this moment forward, never speak ill of any Campbell.”

  Chapter Five

  Unfortunately it was not Collin I first encountered upon my return to the Black Lion Inn. Ian stood beneath the sign, a blade of straw clenched between his teeth, his dark eyes upon me, following my every move. I was going to have to walk past him to enter the building, and it was all I could do not to slow my steps.

  As I approached, I spoke with what I hoped was a pleasant, confident voice. “I have just been thanking Alistair for taking my place in the carriage today. I extend that same gratitude to you.” I reached for the handle and started to pull the heavy door open.

  Ian’s hand above mine pushed it shut. “You’ll never be a MacDonald.”

  “I am Collin’s wife,” I said, my voice sounding less certain.

  “Not for long,” Ian hissed in my ear. His breath was hot and foul, and I couldn’t help but grimace.

  “Collin didn’t want you.” Ian’s hand touched mine on the handle, and I jerked away, frightened and repulsed by everything about him.

>   He pulled the door open, a wicked smile curving his lips. “Didn’t want you at all. Not likely he’ll be keeping you, either.” He held his other hand out, in mockery of gentlemanly behavior. I ducked beneath his arm and hurried inside without a backward glance, though the sounds of his quiet laughter followed me, as did the words he’d spoken.

  My eyes blinked, attempting to adjust to the dark. Collin didn’t want you.

  “Over here, Katie.”

  The sound of his voice, and the name that sounded almost endearing or at the least friendly, felt like a spark of hope over Ian’s declaration that I was unwanted. But I feared Ian was right. Beyond the awkward and falsely sentimental vows he had spoken, Collin had shown no inclination toward friendship with me. At best I felt I annoyed him. And at worst...

  I am a Campbell and English. Doomed before we even met. No doubt my ridiculous behavior over the carriage had confirmed whatever suspicions he may have had about my character.

  For my part, Collin and I were simply strangers. I had no ill feelings toward him, and I hoped that with time we might at least be friends, that our situation would be tolerable for us both.

  The evening looming before us promised to be anything but tolerable.

  Yet tolerate it I must.

  With a smile of false courage, I turned in the direction of Collin’s voice as he called to me again. The low light of dusk filtered through the tavern windows, casting an eerie glow over the cramped room. Collin sat alone at a table in the far corner. Between us stood a dozen other tables, all crammed with men engaged in the various stages of eating and drinking. It seemed at least half had turned to look at me.

  Collin rose to greet me, and I felt a surge of gratitude at the small gesture as I walked toward him, taking care to pass between the tables that allowed the widest berth. Still, I felt eyes following my every move.

  Have they never seen a woman before?