His Bonnie Bride (34 page)

"Aye," he growled, feeling she had tricked him in a way. "How go ye, Matilda?"

"With Storm."

"And ye, Phelan?"

"With Storm."

"I guessed it so. 'Twas a waste of breath to ask." He sighed and prayed that his father would understand as he said, "I am with ye, Storm, curse ye and myself for a fool. When and how do we go?"

"I feel ridiculous," Andrew hissed as they crept into the stables the next night at an hour close to dawn.

Glancing at Andrew, Storm had to stifle a giggle. The monks' robes had been difficult to gain, and there was one very nervous young man praying fervently that they would be returned before the monks discovered they were gone. They all looked a bit silly, but it would not be wise to let a bad-tempered Andrew know that.

"Hush, Drew. I do not wish to chance discovery when we are so close to victory."

It was relatively easy for them to creep away from Hagaleah, horses and all. The watch was for an enemy trying to creep in, not for anyone leaving. They also knew their home as few others did and could find the best way out unseen and unheard. If the need arose, they could find their way back inside with as little notice being taken.

Progress was slow until dawn's light was strong enough for them to ride safely. Looking at the small group as they mounted, Storm had to smile. It would not only be Tavis who was surprised.

The thought of Tavis made her heart contract. She did not know what she would face when she confronted him. She was almost afraid to do so. He could be wed. He most certainly had not remained celibate. Would she have to face his new lover or wife? Would it be, God forbid, Katerine MacBroth? Would he deny their child? Would he refuse to wed her and mayhaps need to be prodded to the altar at sword-point, if his kin and clan would ever allow such a thing? Just how much pain was she riding to collect?

Seeing the confusion upon his sister's face, Andrew asked, "Do ye change your mind, Storm?"

"Nay," she answered softly. "I suddenly feared at what cost I would gain what I seek."

"Cousin," Phelan ventured, "what if he not only agrees to wed ye but asks that it be a real marriage?"

"I have tried not to think on that. I have had enough of shattered hopes."

"Would ye not e'en consider it?"

"Aye. I do not want to think upon it now when 'tis naught but a chance, a small chance."

Phelan said no more. He did not understand why the pair was separated at all. Those at Caraidland had accepted Storm. There would have been no trouble within the clan if the future laird had taken her as his wife. Phelan had felt sure that there had been a lot of them who wished that Tavis would marry Storm. He also felt certain that Tavis had deeper feelings for Storm than the lust of a man for a pretty girl. He shrugged to himself. It was a mystery to him, but adults held a lot of mystery about them. They did seem to make the simplest things complicated.

The ride to Caraidland went slowly. Several times they had to stop so that Storm could walk off her discomfort or relieve herself, her body seeming to have lost all ability to hold water. She held no joy in riding at the moment, the heavy weight of pregnancy making it difficult and uncomfortable. Her companions began to eye her swollen belly, not completely hidden by the flowing monk's robe, with easily read wariness. She did little to try and ease that, for she was not all that free of worry herself. Babies had been known to arrive early, and her calculations could be wrong. What arguments and soothing words she had were needed to still her own fears. Nevertheless, she began to feel an urge to reach Caraidland for more than a name for her child. At least there she would have a soft bed and a midwife if the need arose.

"There squats our destination," said Andrew quietly.

Feeling almost homesick, and quelling a sudden urge to bolt back to Hagaleah as she viewed Caraidland, Storm nodded. Despite all that had happened to her while she had been there, the tower house held a lot of sweet memories. For a brief moment those memories overwhelmed her, and she desperately fought the need to weep. Caraidland and Tavis had dealt her the bitter as well as the sweet. She should not allow herself to forget that.

Fighting an increasing tension and trying to look casual, they rode to the gates of Caraidland. She knew they would be safe, but also knew that nothing she said would stop her brother, cousins and Robin from growing more tense, their hands hovering near their swords, concealed by their robes. They had been well trained to fight Scots, not to ride into their hold as if they were trusted friends.

She was dismayed when Sholto and Angus arrived just as they were dismounting within the bailey. As she tried to keep her voice low and disguised, she watched recognition flicker uncertainly in their eyes. It did not really surprise her when Sholto finally bent slightly to stare full into her hood-shaded face, and she smiled slightly as she saw full recognition widen his eyes.

"God's tears, 'tis really ye, Storm."

"Aye, 'tis really me."

"Lass, what brings ye here?"

"I plan a surprise for Tavis," she answered with a crooked smile.

"Are ye armed?" Sholto asked as he eyed the others warily.

"Of course we are. Only a fool would ride from Hagaleah to Caraidland unarmed. Thieves and rogues abound. I mean no harm to any person here."

"Do ye swear that, lassie?"

"Aye, Sholto, I swear it, and they would, too, if ye but ask."

"Nay, I will take your word for it, little one. 'Tis enough for me."

"Thank ye. Is Tavis here?"

"Aye, lassie," answered Angus, wondering if he should tell her who else was here, only to decide that he really did not want to be the one to be the bearer of such news. "Do ye wish me tae take ye tae him?"

"Aye, my surprise will be short and direct. I mean to take as little time as possible here. I must needs return to Hagaleah ere my father does. Or before Elaine discovers what I have done," Storm added silently, then squared her shoulders, braced as if for battle, and started into the keep.

Elaine stared at the nervous young maid before her. She knew her mouth was hanging open but could not seem to get it to close. The news the girl had given her was a complete surprise. As if to compound her difficulties, Eldon's page had arrived but moments before to say that her husband would arrive in a few hours. Her initial joy had been turned into total dismay by but a few words.

"Are you very certain?"

"Very, m'lady. The pack of seven's gone."

"The pack of seven?"

"Aye. 'Tis what they be called for they always, well, most always, act together. They used to be called the pack of six, but then that Irish lad came."

"Of course. Gone?"

"Aye, m'lady. 'Tis felt they left near or just afore dawn. Old Matthew did not track them down, but he did say that their trail wended to the north, m'lady."

"To Caraidland," she groaned.

Her mind whirled as she tried to decide what to do. The only clear thought she had for a long while was that Eldon would be furious. She then decided to take the coward's way out. Hastily, she penned a note to her husband, then sent his page off to deliver it. Eldon would head straight for the MacLagans. She would be left out of what she had begun to term the great battle. Part of her hoped that matters would work out to her husband's satisfaction, but another part of her hoped Storm was successful. She also hoped that, whatever happened, the great battle would finally come to an end.

When the page from Hagaleah arrived at the Eldon camp and handed Lord Eldon a message from Lady Elaine, the first reaction of the men was one of worry. A moment later Foster's eyes widened as he listened to Eldon rage. The man possessed a hair-raising turn of phrase. Instinct told him that the note from Elaine concerned Storm. He was very curious but waited patiently to be informed. Mayhaps, he mused, the girl was already wed. He shook away his musings, feeling that they might muddle the facts he would soon be given. It was clear from Eldon's manner that the news was not of a tragic nature, and that was enough for the moment.

Clenching the missive in his hand, Eldon turned blazing eyes upon Lord Foster. "We do not ride for home just yet."

"Ah. Where do we ride to?"

"Caraidland."

"God's teeth, ne'er say the lad has come and stolen Storm away again?"

"Nay. She rides to him to get his cursed name for her child."

"Mayhaps I had best withdraw. 'Tis a private matter."

"Not so private. The pack of seven went. Your two eldest. I suppose I should be grateful she did not tow the wee ones along."

Sighing, Lord Foster prepared himself for the long, hard and undoubtedly fast ride ahead.

The great hall of Caraidland was not wholly winning its battle against the encroaching winter's damp. The man seated at the table, a constantly full tankard making numerous trips to his mouth, took little notice. In fact, the gray dismal weather blended nicely with the mood Tavis had been in for far too long. That he was more than halfway drunk had become far too common an occurrence as well.

Katerine hid her annoyance as she sat at his side. For two long weeks she had forced herself to be the most amiable of companions. Although when she had arrived she had felt enough time had passed both for him to forget their differences and work up a sizable appetite for a woman, she had not yet found her way into his bed. She decided it was time to grow a little bolder.

Ever since Storm had left, Tavis had wavered from loving her and wanting her back to hating her and thinking himself well rid of her. Neither attitude helped to ease the hollow ache that seemed to be a permanent part of him. Even when he was hating her he was missing her.

Unthinkingly, his hand went to the amulet he wore constantly beneath his tunic. The moment he felt it, he could recall all too clearly how Storm had looked when he had let her leave with her father with no word. In that one moment of silence he had belittled everything that had gone between them. The hurt he had inflicted had been plain to read on her face even though she had quickly subdued it.

That thought started him growing angry again. If she had been hurt, if she had loved him as the leaving of her amulet suggested and she had claimed, then where was she? She should realize that a man had his pride to consider, that he could not go chasing after her. It was not too much to ask that she understand that it had been an inopportune time for him to consider her and him together. They had just fought a battle, her father had saved Caraidland even if it was mostly because Storm was inside its walls, and they were not allies. He could hardly have told the man then that he had been bedding his daughter and was rather loathe to see her leave. She should have explained matters to the man and then returned.

A saner part of him told him that he was being ridiculous, but Tavis was in no mood to listen to reason. To listen to reason meant that he had to admit that he had made a mistake, had been fool enough to let go of something he could never replace. No man could comfortably admit such uncomfortable things. It was easier to blame Storm for his pain, for his unending ache, his sense of being adrift and his long, far too empty nights.

It was time he started to do something about the nights. Celibacy was not healthy for a man, he assured himself as Katerine pressed against him, her fingers caressing his neck. Katerine was plainly willing, and she would ease some of his torment.

"Ye look troubled, Tavis," purred Katerine, recognizing the considering light in his eyes.

"Aye, and I ken ye have a cure," he murmured, sliding an arm around her shoulders.

Katerine smiled, seeing success coming closer. "Aye, one that's worked oft in the past."

Tavis waited for his senses to stir when Katerine's capable hand slid over his thigh. He decided the ale had dulled his passions. Katerine would have her work cut out for her. Sprawling back in his seat, he pulled her toward him and kissed her. With determination, he forced away the image that came to mind, forced his mouth to accept the taste of Katerine instead of the one he craved. When they finally parted for air he was beginning to foresee success. Anticipation was cut short when a knife skewered the chair between their faces. Katerine screamed, fainted and slid ungracefully to the floor.

"I think 'tis time ye got a new mistress, Tavis MacLagan. That one is a bit cow-hearted."

The voice was painfully familiar and, in confusion Tavis looked at the small knot of monks near the door of the hall, thinking that his liquor-soddened mind was playing tricks on him. "Storm?" he whispered.

"Shocking behavior before men of the cloth," drawled one of the tall monks as the group moved to the table, nearly double their number in Tavis's men hovering behind them.

"Is no one going to pick up the lady?" asked a high, girlish voice.

"What lady?" drawled the monk that Tavis was sure was Storm. "I see none."

Just when Tavis felt inclined to succinctly demand who his visitors were they pushed their hoods back. There was no mistaking Storm and Phelan. Tavis knew the ale had fogged his mind when he realized that he had not noticed the distinct lack of height of several of the monks.

"What? No greeting? All wenched out, are ye?" Storm gave into impulse and kicked at the unconscious Katerine.

Storm was in an icy fury. She had not really expected him to have remained celibate. Nevertheless, it was not a theory she had wanted to see verified before her eyes. She reached forward and yanked her knife out of the chair. The look in her eyes as well as the way she held that knife told Tavis how tempted she was to use it on him.

"I believe ye know my companions, though the years may have changed them a bit and ye took little note of some of them the day they helped rout Hugh."

Keeping an eye on the knife she held on him with a false air of casualness, Tavis looked at the others. It was a moment before he could see past the seven years of growing to the children once held for ransom by the MacLagans. The boys were all growing into very fine young men, strong, tall and handsome. Little Matilda could be only about eleven, yet she showed promise of being a very attractive woman. Storm evidently still led the group of friends and kin.