Fraser 01 - Highland Legacy (11 page)

“Are you ready to leave?”

Lost in thought, she didn’t hear Bryce approach. She dragged the heel of her hand across her tear-stained cheeks in an attempt to hide the fact that she’d been crying and coughed to clear her throat. “Aye, I’m ready."

Bryce grasped her hand, helping her to her feet. “My brother is a hard-headed fool. He would not know a good thing if it jumped up and bit him in the arse. Be patient, lass. I’m certain that by the time we reach Kildrummy castle, he’ll be begging you to stay.”

“Connor is a good man and will do what he thinks is best.” Feeling another bout of tears coming on, she turned and headed toward the horses.

As she approached, Connor moved to her side. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Aye, I’m fine.” In truth, she was devastated.

“You haven’t eaten,” Bryce pointed out as he reached into the haversack and pulled out a meat-filled pastry.

“He’s right,” Connor whispered in her ear. “You need to eat something and keep up your strength.” He placed his hand against the small of her back and steered her toward Bryce. His touch sent a shockwave of desire up her spine, but she refused to believe it meant anything more than a gesture of kindness.

“Cora is an excellent cook.” Bryce held out the pastry in her direction.

“I’ll say. They’re delicious.” Alasdair picked up the haversack, reached inside, and grabbed another.

“You should know. You’ve already eaten three.” Bryce snatched the sack from his brother’s hand. “Not to mention the fact that you’ve also eaten several oatcakes, half a loaf of bannock, some venison, and cheese. You had best eat something, lass, before it is all gone.”

“A piece of fruit would be fine. I’m really not very hungry.” Bryce handed her an apple. She could feel Connor’s eyes upon her as she took the first succulent bite. When she glanced in his direction, he licked his lower lip—his dark eyes fixed on a trickle of juice running down her chin. Using a small square of linen, she wiped it away.

Connor cursed and turned on his heels. “Once you’ve finished, we’ll leave. We’ve already tarried long enough.”

Connor cupped his hand over his eyes and peered up at a cloudless azure sky. Judging by the position of the sun, it was near noon, and if they continued at their current pace, they’d reach Kildrummy Castle in time for the evening meal.

Bone weary from travel and lack of sleep, he shifted in the saddle and brought his hand up to stifle a groan. Telling Cailin that their lovemaking had been a mistake was the right thing to do, but banishing her from his thoughts and dreams was not an easy task. He’d tossed and turned all night—tormented by the look of disappointment on her face and haunted by the knowledge that once they reached their destination, he’d have to let her go. In time she would get over it and move on with her life, but could he?

He muttered a curse under his breath. He’d begun to question his priorities again and had to stop yearning for things he could never possess. Despite the memories of their night of unbridled passion, stolen moments, and what might have been, he’d made his decision, and meant to stick by it. He vowed to be strong and to resist temptation.

A tree branch snapped on the trail ahead of them. Connor held his hand in the air, signaling to the others to stop. As he quickly surveyed the area, he reached over his shoulder and slid the claymore from the baldric on his back—the scrape of steel against leather the only sound breaking the eerie silence. “Hold fast, and make ready.”

“What is it?” Bryce rode up beside his brother.

Connor narrowed his eyes and scanned the surrounding area again. “I heard something up ahead. Wait here while I check it out. Keep your head on a swivel, and dinna leave Cailin unattended. Guard her with your life if necessary.”

“You know I will. Be careful.” Bryce moved to her side and grabbed the reins of the palfrey.

“Why are we stopping?”

Bryce brought his finger to his lips to silence her.

Before Connor could spur Thor into action, a man bellowed from behind a large oak tree only a few feet away. “Halt, and state your business.”

Connor slid from the saddle, tossed Thor’s reins to Bryce, and then took up a fighting stance in the middle of the trail. “Come out and face me like a man, you cowardly buffoon.” He stood his ground when two huge men dressed in Highland plaid and sporting two-handed claymores, stepped into the clearing.

“Who do you think you’re calling a buffoon?” The older of the two men swung his claymore in a circle above his head.

“There are only two of you guarding the trail? I expected more of a challenge.” He glanced at Bryce, shrugged, and smiled.

“Connor, behind you!” Cailin shrieked when the older man lunged forward. As the attacker’s blade arced through the air, he turned and lifted his claymore in time to deflect the blow.

“You’re getting old, Cameron.” Connor laughed, and lowered his weapon. “There was a time when I would have never heard you coming. Nor would I have bested you in a fight.”

Cameron scowled. “I’m as spry as ever and will challenge any man who tries to prove differently. Especially a cocky young pup, who is still wet behind the ears.” He lowered his blade and took a step in Connor’s direction with his arm outstretched.

Cailin leaned toward Bryce. “You know these men?”

“They are two of Robert’s most trusted guardsmen. We’ve known Cameron since we were lads.” Bryce dismounted and joined his brother in greeting their comrades.

“Best we make haste.” Alasdair joined them. “We can catch up on old times once we’re inside the castle walls and have spoken with Robert.”

“He’s right. The Bruce has been anxiously awaiting your return, and it’s not wise to tarry here any longer.” Cameron’s eyes shifted from Cailin to Connor. “Where did you pick up the lad?”

“It is a long story, my friend.” Connor swung his leg over Thor’s back and pulled himself into the saddle with ease. “A story best told over a tankard of ale, mayhap two or three.” He kicked his horse, urging him forward.

Elaborate earthen works, a high stone curtain wall, a twin-towered gatehouse, and dry moat protected Kildrummy Castle from attack on three sides. Of French design, the back of the D-shaped structure bordered on a deep ravine, making it virtually impossible to breach the walls from behind. Four separate towers of equal height rose like giants above the parapets, but it was a single stone tower—at least seven stories tall—that she found most impressive. If an enemy managed to get into the bailey, the laird and his family could take refuge at the top, while his men rallied at the base to protect them.

“It is magnificent,” Cailin said as they approached a massive drawbridge.

Iron groaned, and chains rattled as the portcullis rose, granting them entrance to the castle bailey. Atop the parapets a crowd waved and cheered as they passed beneath the gate. However all grew quiet and heads turned when the daunting figure of a man stepped out of the center tower and descended the stone staircase.

The man strode across the bailey with an air of authority, and purpose. With his tall burly stature, broad shoulders, red hair, and piercing blue eyes, he could have been an older version of Alasdair. The family resemblance was unmistakable.

“Welcome home lads. We are glad you made it back safely.”

While introductions were forthcoming, Cailin already concluded that this strapping man in his mid forties must be Connor’s cousin, the famous Scottish patriot, Sir Simon Fraser. She watched the older man approach. Nibbling nervously on her lower lip, she couldn’t help but wonder what the future held. Now that they had reached Kildrummy Castle, would she be safe? Would Connor acknowledge her as his bride, or go ahead with his plan to have their union dissolved? He’d made his feelings about marriage clear, but she hoped he would change his mind. She had fallen in love with the man, but refused to be a millstone around his neck. Should he decide to go through with the annulment, she would not protest.

Cailin glanced down at her soiled clothing. Suddenly self-conscious of her disheveled appearance, she released a soft sigh. She was about to meet Connor’s revered cousin and eventually the newly crowned king and queen of Scotland. What would they think of her?

Connor climbed from his horse and handed Thor’s reins to a young squire. “See that he has a good rubdown and plenty of oats, Blair.”

“Aye, m’lord, I’ll take good care of him. I’ll fetch Taren, and have him come for the other horses.” The boy led Thor toward the stable.

“We were expecting you two days ago. Robert was starting to worry that something was amiss.” Simon frowned. His eyes narrowed and he pointed at the blood on Connor’s shirt. “From the look of things, he was right.”

“It is a scratch, and already forgotten.”

“I am sure Marion will have something to say about that. Once you’ve spoken to Robert, she’ll want to see that your wound is properly cleaned and dressed.”

Bryce and Alasdair dismounted and together they approached Simon. “It is good to see you, cousin, and I’ve certainly missed Marion’s cooking,” Alasdair remarked, and rubbed his belly. “Bryce could use a few lessons.”

Bryce scowled at his brother. “Marion has you spoiled, and you dinna complain about my cooking until now.”

“Can I help if she knows how much I appreciate the fact that despite her title of chatelaine, she likes to venture into the kitchen from time to time and cook my favorite meals? Besides, a man can only eat so many oatcakes and so much dried venison.”

Simon laughed. “Things never change.” After greeting his cousins, he moved toward the palfrey. “And who might this laddie be?”

Cailin’s heart rate kicked up a notch as she awaited her husband’s reply.

Connor moved to the left side of the horse and lifted her from the saddle. He placed his hand in the small of her back, and urged her toward his cousin. “This is Lady Cailin, of Clan Macmillan.”

“Lady?” Simon’s mouth gaped open.

Connor nodded. “She was forced to don a disguise to hide from the English.”

Her heart sank. She had her answer.

Simon arched a brow. “Macmillan? Are you a kin to Laird Duncan Macmillan of Dunkeld?”

She smoothed her hands down her trews and brushed the dust from her tunic. “Aye, he’s my father.”

“And Connor’s father-by-marriage,” Alasdair blurted, before his brother had a chance to explain.

Simon’s head snapped in Alasdair’s direction. “Did I hear you correctly when you said the lass is Connor’s wife?”

“Aye. They declared themselves married in a tavern two days ago. When he bedded the lass, he made it official.” Alasdair covered his mouth and snickered.

Connor moved in his older brother’s direction with his fist balled. The glower of deadly intent on his face was unmistakable. “Will you ever learn to hold your tongue?”

Bryce quickly stepped between them and placed his hands on Connor’s shoulders, halting him in his tracks. “Dinna do anything to embarrass the lass. You can get even with Alasdair later. In fact, I’d be more than happy to help.”

Cailin was grateful for Bryce’s timely intervention, but it didn’t change the fact that Connor had no intention of letting their marriage stand. Tears burned her eyes, and while she held them at bay, she could not hide the heated humiliation that rose in her cheeks. If the events of the last few days weren’t enough, she now found herself in the midst of strangers, each one ready to pass judgment, despite the fact that they didn’t even know her.

“Is this true?” Simon returned his full attention to Connor. “What in name of Saint Stephen would possess you to marry? You were on a mission for the Bruce, not off on a lark. Do you care to explain?”

Connor stepped forward. “English soldiers accosted Lady Cailin, and I was able to intervene before they raped her. Unfortunately, one of her assailants wasn’t pleased about surrendering his quarry and left me no choice but—”

“To kill him.” Simon finished the sentence for him. “The news of his death spread across Scotland like a wildfire, but according to the rumors, he died at the hand of a woman. And you saw fit to bring her here?”

Connor squared his shoulders and faced his cousin. “We could not leave her to face punishment for treason and a murder she dinna commit, so we brought her with us. I’m sure Robert can find her a place of sanctuary.”

“Sir Simon!” Blair shouted as he raced down the castle steps and across the bailey to where the men stood talking.

“Slow down and tell me what all this
haivering
is about.” Simon rested his hand on the lad’s shoulder and waited for him to catch his breath.

“King Robert heard of your cousins’ return and wishes to see them right away. He bid me tell them to make haste.”

“Thank you, lad. Tell Robert we come anon.” Simon patted the boy on the back and sent him on his way. He turned to address his cousins. “Come, we will meet with Robert and discuss this later.” He called out to a young woman standing near the foot of the stairs. “Maggie, take Lady Cailin into the castle and have Hugh find her a chamber in which she can rest and freshen up. Also, see if you can find her something decent to wear.”

“Aye, m’lord.” The young woman bobbed a curtsey. “I’d be happy to see to the lady’s needs.”

Cailin ran a shaky hand through her tangle of curls, but it did little to tame the windblown mess. Her eyes flashed in Connor’s direction. “M’lord?”

“Maggie will see to your needs, and I’ll join you once I have spoken to Robert.”

“If you’d come with me, m’lady, I’ll see you settled.” Maggie moved toward Cailin and curtsied.

Given no choice in the matter, Cailin nodded and watched as the men headed up the stone steps. As they were about to enter the castle, an elegantly dressed woman appeared at the door. With her titian hair piled high upon her head and her lovely violet gown, she appeared quite regal.
Is she the queen?

The woman crossed herself and hugged each brother before taking a step back. “Thank the Lord you have returned. Other than being a little bedraggled from the trip, I must say you all appear to be hale and hardy.”

“Alasdair was just telling everyone how much he has missed your cooking.” Bryce glanced at his brother and flashed him a cynical grin.

“Was he now? Well, I’ll just have to make him some of my meat pasties and ask cook to dress a fine fat hen for the evening meal.” She narrowed her eyes. “He does look as if he’s dropped a stone, and we cannot have the lad wasting away.”

Marion’s attention shifted to Cailin. “Who is this lad?” Her voice trailed off, and she narrowed her eyes. “Saints alive, the lad is a lass.” She gasped and quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

“She’s Connor’s wife,” Alasdair said, his bold announcement gaining him an elbow in the side from Bryce.

Simon trotted down the stairs, took Cailin by the arm, and escorted her to where Marion waited. “Lady Cailin, may I present my wife, Lady Fraser.” He slid his arm around the woman’s waist, and pulled her against his side.

“She doesn’t look like a lady. She looks more like a homeless beggar. Wait until Lady Jenna hears about this.” The rancorous whispers came from somewhere in the crowd, but Cailin had no idea who had uttered the cruel remarks. The urge to search for the culprits was overwhelming, but she refused to let it rattle her. Staring straight ahead, she raised her chin and bobbed a curtsy. “It is an honor to meet you, Lady Fraser.”

Marion stepped forward. She tucked two fingers under Cailin’s chin and lifted until their eyes met. “Come, my dear, you must be exhausted from your journey. Once you’ve had a chance to rest and freshen up, we’ll sit down and try to sort through this—” She hesitated.

Mess
...
mistake
...
disaster.
Cailin mentally finished her thoughts
.
Tears sprang to her eyes, but she managed to blink them away. “Thank you, Lady Fraser. I’d very much like a chance to freshen up.”

“Please call me Marion, my dear. We are family now. The men must attend to matters of great importance. In the meantime, we shall see about getting you settled.”