Highland Burn (9 page)

Alice dismissed his greeting with a swish of her hand. “My Laird, ye know how to make a lady blush.”

For a moment Abigail envied Alice, for she wished James would look at her the way he looked at the older woman.

James glanced at Abigail and greeted Effie with a nod.

“I’ll be in my bedchamber.” James headed for the stone and iron staircase.

Alice scolded James like a child, “Nay so fast… aren’t ye going to introduce yer men to yer lady?”

James rubbed the back of his neck and turned back to his men, who now stood in perfect line formation in front of Abigale like proper Highland soldiers. James shook his head.

“My apologies. This is Rory Cameron, my cousin Marcus Stewart, Conall Hamilton, and the handsome man in red is Magnus.”

Magnus grunted and rolled his eyes in response to James’s jest. “It be me pleasure to meet ye, my lady.”

Abigale remembered Magnus from the campsite, but was never introduced properly. Magnus had long, unruly red hair, which was a shade lighter than his full beard that hung past his chin. Though they all seemed to look about the same age, Magnus seemed to have an authoritative demeanor.

Rory smoothed his hand through his shoulder-length blonde hair trying to tame the waves. As he approached Abigale, his eyes shimmered a bright blue when he smiled at her. “My lady.” He knelt down without losing eye contact with her.
What a charmer, with a gaze like Rory’s the lasses must swoon over him,
Abigale thought.

A deep rich voice broke her trance as Conall approached her. “Lady Abigale. ‘Tis nice to be formally introduced.” A scattered mess of chocolate curls, wet with sweat, hung just below his ears. He bent down and reached for her hand and kissed it. He was pure dominance in the same way James was, but seemed approachable.

“Aye, I do remember ye. Ye were my escort to the kirk?”

“Aye.” He winked.

The noises in the hall must have obscured her hearing because she could have sworn she heard a growl coming from James.

After Conall finished his greeting with Abigale he set his blue-gray stare on Effie, and with a sly, sexy smile he turned Effie’s freckled cheeks three shades of red. The lass quickly looked down at the leather boot she was re-lacing.

Marcus stood where he was and gave a nod.

A chill raced down Abigale’s spine as Marcus glared skeptically at her. She hadn’t noticed him on her travels to Black Stone, but the others she remembered. Abigale turned her attention back to James who was watching her intently with that piercingly protective stare.

“I’ll be in my bedchamber.” And with no other words James turned on his heels and ascended the stairs two at a time until he reached the loft that circled the great hall. Abigale watched him until he disappeared down a long corridor leading to their… his bedchamber.

Chapter 7

There is no room for two dragons in one pond. ~ Chinese Proverb

Softly stroked notes from a golden harp gracefully filled the great hall. A few hundred members of Clan Douglas were scattered around long wooden tables as they ate the night’s feast. Chatter amongst them started up again as they finished the last of the wide variety of roasted game and vegetables.

James sat with his men and pondered how much his life was going to change now that he was home and had a wife. After an impressive victory at Bannockburn, James and his soldiers had sent King Edward the Second fleeing back to England, leaving behind a routed English army, and now he was home. It had been a while since James and his Dragonkine warriors had been back to Black Stone on the Hill. The battlefield had been the bane of their existence for God knew how long. Accepting his immortality was going to be a challenge; knowing that time was nonexistent in his world he was going to have a hard time adjusting to the solitude of a mundane life. At least if he was on the field time didn’t seem to matter and his dragon’s bloodlust was appeased. Furthermore, clan life was uninteresting to him. Surely, he should be securing the borders south of Stirling, but instead he was home and having a hard time adapting to the idea of solitude and a wife.

There was no more fighting for him, at least not on the battlefield. The king had made it clear that he was to protect his daughter and if that meant accepting clan life, James would do it.

James sat across from Conall and Magnus at the tables. Rory sat next to him working on his third trencher of food. Rory’s body leaned forward over his treasure, his strong arms caging the dish like a dog guarding a bone.

Magnus and Conall sat with creased brows as they witnessed Rory’s attack on a leg of mangled meat.

Magnus shook his red head in wonderment. “That laddie has one hell of a long stomach.”

Conall took a long vigorous chug of mead then set the empty tankard on the table. “Aye, ‘tis like watching a wild beast devour its prey. Repulsive.”

Juices from the mangled leg dripped from the corners of Rory’s mouth as he looked up from his trencher. His mouth full of food, he mumbled, “Ye can talk rubbish all ye want but I need my strength if I intend to be betwixt a lass's legs all night.” He winked.

“Poor lass,” Conall snickered.

James was oblivious to the nonsense chatter. A stunning woman in a royal blue dress had caught his attention the moment she came into view. As soon as he spotted Abigale he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. A tight bodice enhanced her breasts just enough to tease his eyes. Long waves of auburn hair danced across her shoulders as she sat and told a story to a group of twelve children. Like a warm ray of sunshine, her face lit up with a smile as she engaged the group of wee bairns. She was born to be a mother, he thought.

It had been too long since the last time he’d seen Abigale. On their way back to the campsite, James had used his magic to put her under a healing sleep that lasted for two days. It was the least he could do, for he was the cause of her discomfort. While on horseback, Abigale had rode draped across his lap as he held her tightly. Tiny as she was, she had fit perfectly tucked up next to him, soft curves snuggled against vigorous strength. For a moment he had wished he could hold her like that forever, but reality was bloody cruel.

“Ye have yerself one bonny wife.” Conall nodded his head toward Abigale and brought James’s attention to him.

James cleared his throat. “Aye.” He picked up his tankard and drank heavily.

“So, when are ye going to have wee bairns of yer own running round the castle?” Conall jested.

Amber liquid shot from James’s mouth and splattered all over Conall. “Bloody hell, Conall!”

“What?” Conall wiped the mead from his face and tunic, “Lady Abigale is a beauty, why no?”

“Look at her one more time and I’ll rip yer eyes right out of their sockets.” James didn’t know why he threatened his brother at arms like that. The more he thought about Abigale, the more his world spun out of control.

“Nay, don’t fash yerself, my friend.” A luscious redhead playing the harp came into Conall’s view.

~~~~~

Twelve children, between three and twelve years of age, bright-eyed, and curiously enthralled listened closely to Abigale as she told a tale about a brave knight who fought for Scotland’s freedom. Leaning forward toward the children, she made sure the cherub-faced bairns paid close attention.

“And as the brave knight returned home from battle, he crept up the stairs to his daughter’s bedchamber to bid her a good night. When he entered the room his daughter jumped out of bed and ran to her da. He pulled his little princess close and hugged her firmly. He made a vow that night as he said, ‘do no fret my pet for ye shall be free. No longer shall ye be caged like a bird. Be free and fly, songbird.’”

Abigale paused for a moment. Remembering this story brought up the past. It was the same tale she told herself every night while living at Dunfermline Abbey.

Wee children rushed her as their lean arms hugged her neck. Wet kisses pecked her face, and Abigale returned their love with hugs of her own. “Now go play, and Niven, stay oot of Alice’s special oatcakes.” She waved an authoritative finger at him. “She’ll have yer backside.”

“Aye, my lady.” Niven bowed.

Abigale sat there for a while as she watched the children scamper off. Niven was always getting into some kind of mischief. At least two times this morn he had snuck two oatcakes, and had been chased out of the kitchen by Alice several times by midday. That one there was a handful, his mother must be at her wit’s end with him, she thought.

“It seems ye have a way with the wee bairns, Lady Abigale.” Marcus stood next to her leaning a shoulder against the stone wall.

“Aye.” She smiled and stood up. “They are precious, a true gift from God.” Her eyes followed Niven as he took off towards the kitchen. Abigale shook her head and laughed. “That lad has a head full of rocks.”

Marcus smirked. “Highlanders tend to have a stubborn streak.”

Abigale was beginning to find his statement true.

“Seeing yer mother murdered right before yer eyes will scar ye for life.”

Stunned, Abigale turned and faced Marcus. “He saw his mother die?”

“Aye. We believe he was only five summers old when it happened. ‘Tis a shame. James allowed the boy to stay here. In fact, the lad has grown quite fond of yer husband and has become one of the stable grooms. Clumsy, but he cares for the horses quite well.”

“How old is he?”

“Ten-and-two, we believe.”

“Thank God James had given the lad a home. I can’t imagine what he has been through.” Abigale searched the hall until James came into view. He was with his men, talking. As she watched him from across the room, it warmed her heart knowing what James had done. He’d saved Niven’s life. The Bogeyman didn’t seem so evil after all, she pondered.

The tempo of the music picked up to a jig as a tin whistle joined the harp. A few ladies danced to the music while the men drank their mead and recalled a time in their younger years when they could keep up with the lassies.

Abigale noticed Magnus as he stood and readjusted his tunic over his plump belly. He searched through the great hall as if looking for someone. “Och Alice, you bonny lass, come dance with me!” he yelled out over the crowded tables.

Alice stood with her hands on her hips and said, “I thought ye’d never ask.”

As they joined in with the other dancers in front of the great hall, Abigale watched them as Magnus twirled Alice to the music. She sighed. She wished that that was her and James dancing to the music. Holding her close, feeling his strong body next to hers, all the while making her feel as if she was the only lass in the room. She sighed again.
Oh, what a wonderful feeling that must be,
she thought.
Abigale Bruce, even if he asked ye to dance there’s one small problem. Ye don’t know how to dance.

Looking away from the dancing couples in disappointment, she began to leave the sitting area when Marcus grabbed her arm. “Lady Abigale, would ye care to dance?”

Oh no! Was she that readable… was she that pathetic that he was going to show her mercy by asking her to dance? Quickly Abigale thought of an excuse. “Thank ye kindly, but I dinnae think my husband would take kindly to me dancing with another man."

Marcus pulled her closer to him. “James is my cousin. ‘Tis fine.”

“Aye, how silly of me to have forgotten.” How was she going to get out of this situation? For certain she would look like a fool stumbling and stomping all over his feet. A princess was expected to be a graceful dancer, for that's how you caught the eye of an admirer. At least that was what she was told; there was no dancing allowed at the nunnery. Oh, she could just hear the laughter now throughout the hall as their graceless princess fell straight on her arse.

“Come.” Marcus nodded to the couples dancing and started to guide her toward them.

Abigale planted her feet on the ground and tried to pull away from his grip. “Nay. I cannae.”

Confusion swept Marcus’s face. “Why not? I told ye, James won’t mind,” he reassured her.

There was no telling this man no. True to his word, Highlanders were stubborn men. In order to save herself from the humiliation, she had to tell him the truth. Taking in a deep breath and then slowly letting it go, she dropped her gaze to the floor. “I dinnae know how to dance,” Abigale closed her eyes, anticipating his laughter.

Marcus placed his finger under her chin tipping her head up. “Och Lady Abigale, ye’re in good hands I can assure ye. I’d be honored to teach ye."

Abigale shyly smiled. “Are ye sure?”

He placed his hand over his chest. “On my honor.”

Marcus took her by the arm and led her in front of the great hall where they joined the other dancers. Placing her right hand into his, he spun Abigale around as if he was showing off a prized possession. Pulling her close, he smiled. “Relax, follow my lead."

Marcus was quite a gentleman, he never once complained when Abigale stepped on his foot or tripped over her own. They just laughed about it and continued their dance. He spun her with grace and she truly felt beautiful. Abigale was surprised how quickly she caught on and by the third dance she was the one who led.

When the dance ended, she was winded and her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Marcus was indeed a skillful dancer and an excellent instructor. Leading them over to a table so Abigale could sit and regain her breath, Marcus poured her a drink, and sat across the table from her. He leaned over it as if he had a secret to tell. “May I speak openly, my lady?"