Kilts and Daggers (11 page)

The flickering torchlight cast the Sutherland guard in shadows as the men walked along the wall. There was no light of the moon or any stars lighting the night sky. Other than the dim light of the torch behind her, darkness enveloped her, and Grace was content being alone. When a scraping noise came from behind her, she turned.

Fagan closed the parapet door and was adjusting the hilt of his sword in his scabbard. He grinned. “I thought I'd find ye here.”

“Why? Miss me, Fagan?”

“Did Ravenna talk to ye?”

“About what?” As he stood beside her on the parapet, she found herself inching away from him. His nearness made her senses spin.

“Ian's visit.”

“No, she didn't. Was everything all right?”

He looked out into the darkness. “Ruairi had sent Ian a missive about the mercenaries, and just to be cautious, Ian had increased his guard. Munro men followed the vagrants as they made their way across the English border.”

Grace released the breath she didn't know she was holding. “They're gone.”

“Aye.”

“That's a relief. That man with the scarred face was a little frightening.”

“Aye, well, Munro looks just as fierce. 'Tis too bad Elizabeth doesnae feel that way. Did ye see her fawning all over the man during the meal?”

“Yes, please don't remind me. I don't know what she sees in him.”

“Well, I donna think ye need to worry about Ian returning her…whatever this is.” Fagan gestured with his hand, and then Grace looked back out over the darkened bailey. He elbowed her in the arm in a playful manner. “Truth be told, I think ye lasses frighten him.”

“We should. All you men should remember that it doesn't take that much strength to blacken a man's eye.”

“Careful,
bhana-phrionnsa
.”

With an odd twinge of disappointment, she spoke quietly. “I suppose since the mercenaries have left Scotland, you'll now be able to escort me home.”

“Aye. We leave within a sennight.”

Grace nodded, and there was a heavy silence between them.

“To be truthful, I donna quite know what to say.”

She flattened her hands against the stone wall for support because no words came to her mind either. Fagan placed his hand under her chin, turning her to face him. He touched her jaw with a gentle, caring gesture, and for a moment, time stood still. She lifted her hand and clutched his against her cheek.

“My words fail me as well.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “They say there is a first time for everything.” Hastily, she pulled her hand away. “I'm only jesting with ye, Grace.”

“I know. I've really loved the time that I've spent with my sisters, and I think they'll be fine here in the Highlands. But please promise me that you'll look after them. You know they mean everything to me.”

“Ye have my word. I'll watch after them as if they were my own.”

“Thank you.”

“Ye donna need to thank me, lass.” He lowered his gaze as if he was collecting his thoughts.

“What is it?”

His eyes met hers. “I was going to apologize to ye for stealing a wee kiss or two, but if I speak the truth, I'm truly nae sorry. Och, aye, I know it was wrong, but I tend to lose all sense of reason around ye. I cannae offer up one single excuse for my actions.”

“I can't say that I'm any better, you know. I'll be returning to England and marrying Daniel. Yet as I stand here before you, I cannot get you out of my mind, Fagan Murray. What I feel is not fair to Daniel—not to mention that Ravenna and Ruairi would kill us both if they knew what we've done.” She shook her head. “I don't know what else to say on the matter other than I'm so confused.”

“Mayhap there is naught else to say between us.” He pulled her into the circle of his arms, and she rested her head on his muscled chest. She breathed in his spicy scent as he smoothed her hair, placing his chin on the top of her head. “Your confusion is matched, lass. My mind tells me one thing, but my heart says another.
Chan
eil
mi
riamh
cho
toilichte
‘s a tha mi an diugh.
” He thought briefly about not translating his words, but he was no coward. He whispered, “I was never so happy as I am this day.”

Grace took one last look at her bedchamber and closed the door. In that moment, she knew her life would never be the same; the next time she visited her sisters, she would no longer be a Walsingham. She stood in the hall with her hand on the latch of the door and her head bowed. For a moment, she was afraid to let go.

“Do you have everything? If you forget something, I can always bring it to you when I see you,” said Ravenna.

Grace dropped her arm and pasted a bright smile on her face. “I don't think I've left anything behind.” A certain Highland captain came to mind, but she quickly banished the thought.

“I'm going to miss you. We're all going to miss you. Are you certain you're going to be all right at the manor house alone? Perhaps I could ask Uncle Walter to have someone else look in on you as well.”

Grace waved her sister off. “There's no need for that. I'm not the family spy for the Crown.”

“I'm sorry that your time here was more eventful than expected.”

Grace offered her sister a forgiving smile. “You couldn't have known about those men. I'm fine. Truly.”

“I've been thinking a lot lately about the conversation we had in the field.”

“Don't worry. I'll keep practicing my aim. I remember your instructions.”

“Not about that. I want to share something with you that Uncle Walter once told me: You don't choose who to love. Love finds you. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that you cannot, and most certainly should not, force your feelings for Daniel. I only want you to be happy, and you don't have to marry him if you don't want to. The banns haven't even been posted yet.”

Grace spoke in a solemn tone. “I know our father wanted the best for us. He groomed you, Ravenna, to take his place as one of the realm's most valuable spies. To be honest, I still haven't decided what to do with the knowledge you've given me about spy craft, nor is my mind made up as to whether or not I'll be having
that
particular conversation with Uncle Walter when I return. But I do know that our mother and father wanted Elizabeth, Katherine, and me to wed well. You've already chosen your path, and I'm trying to stay on mine.”

When a concerned look crossed Ravenna's face, Grace added, “I see the love you share with Ruairi, Sister. Perhaps one day I will be blessed with the same. Daniel and I could grow to love each other.”

There was a heavy silence.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Ravenna said. “You're troubled, and you without a doubt have something on your mind. Is it Daniel? Are you confused about whether or not you should say your vows?”

“May I ask something of you?”

“You may ask me anything, as long as your question doesn't have anything to do with working for the Crown.”

Grace puckered her lips with annoyance. “I assure you my question has nothing to do with king and country.” She met her sister's eyes. “How did you know that you were in love with Ruairi?”

Ravenna's mouth dropped open. “Umm…”

“Since I've never been in love, I'm just curious how you knew Ruairi was the man that you were destined to share your life with. How did you
know
? You don't have to answer if you don't want to.”

“It's not that I don't want to answer you. I'm only surprised by your question. Let me see. When did I know that I loved Ruairi?” Ravenna bit her lower lip. “I guess when I realized that I cared for the man more than I wanted to spy on him. Once I allowed the barriers to fall between us, I no longer saw him as a Scottish laird, the enemy. Being English or Scottish didn't matter. I cared for a man, and he cared for a woman. I saw the goodness in him. He was kind to his people and to his son. I suppose I always knew.”

Ravenna's eyes glazed over as if she were in a trance, and she continued. “I've learned that the heart does not lie. The thought of never being with him or having him in my life again shattered me. Not a day went by that I didn't think of his smile or remember his laugh, his touch, and how that alluring Scottish accent always made my knees tremble.” She shook her head. “I'm sorry. Did that answer your question?”

Grace cleared her throat. “Yes, that was more than enough.”

They walked to the bailey where the waiting horses and the carriage were ready to depart. As Elizabeth and Kat stood in the courtyard, Grace felt a sharp stab in her heart. She needed to be strong, to keep her chin up for her sisters. But when Kat ran toward her and threw her arms around Grace's midriff, that little gesture was almost Grace's undoing. She choked back a sob.

“I'll miss you! Who's going to keep Torquil and me out of trouble? Are you sure you can't stay? Ruairi has room for us all.” Kat pulled back and glanced at Ravenna's husband. “Isn't that right, Ruairi? Tell Grace there's enough room for us all. Tell her she can stay.”

When the man's eyes widened in panic, Grace tried to stay the giggle that wanted to escape her.

“Aye, Lady Grace is welcome to stay.”

Grace approached him and patted him on the arm. “That must have hurt quite a bit, Laird Sutherland, but rest assured, I'll be taking my leave to England and leave you all in peace.” As a look of relief passed over his face, Grace leaned in close. “But I will say this… I am leaving Elizabeth and Kat in your care and under your protection. If you do
anything
to place them in harm's way, I will kill you. And just so we're clear, you've wed my sister. If you do
anything
to hurt Ravenna…”

“Come now,
bhana-phrionnsa.
Ye didnae just threaten my laird, did ye?” asked Fagan.

Ruairi gave Grace a slight pat on her shoulder. “Ye will be sorely missed, Grace, but ye best be on your way. Be safe, lass.” He turned, and Grace didn't see him roll his eyes at Ravenna.

“I'll miss you, but we'll see you again for your wedding. You're going to be the most beautiful bride. Daniel will not be able to take his eyes from you.” Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Grace.

When Grace lifted her eyes, Fagan lowered his to the ground. They both knew the day of reckoning could not be postponed forever. There was no sense in denying the inevitable. The man she'd sparred with and at first despised was her escort back to England. In a strange twist of fate, the Highland captain she had grown to care for was returning her home, delivering her straight into the waiting arms of her betrothed.

Grace bid her final farewell, and Ravenna accompanied her to the waiting carriage. The driver stepped down and opened the door, but before Grace took his hand, she turned and embraced her sister again.

“I wish you the very best,” said Grace.

Ravenna pulled back and placed her hand on Grace's shoulder. “I know you're not fond of the Highlands, but thank you for coming here and sharing my wedding day. And don't worry about the girls. I'll take good care of them. We'll see you in the spring for your wedding.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “But I will support whatever decision you make. You're my sister.” When Grace didn't respond, Ravenna smiled. “Do tell Uncle Walter and Daniel that I wish them well. Safe travels to you all.”

Grace nodded and stepped up into the carriage. The driver closed the door, and she settled back against the seat. As she rode out the gates accompanied by ten Highland warriors on horseback, she turned and waved, leaving billowing trails of dust in her wake and the only family she knew behind.

* * *

Fagan rode in silence. He wasn't in the mood to talk to his men, and he sure as hell didn't want to think about escorting Grace back to England. At times, the lass drove him completely mad—she had blackened his eye after all. But when she lowered her defenses and he caught a glimmer of what lay beneath the surface, Grace was the kind of woman who comforted his tired soul…and challenged him at every turn.

The sound of clomping hoofbeats brought him back from his woolgathering. Fagan and four of his men led while five guarded the rear. Not long after they left the gates, Fagan realized that he didn't want to be the one trailing behind Grace's carriage. He knew his logic made no sense, but he didn't want to watch her leave. He couldn't. As long as she remained behind him, he wouldn't have to erase the memory of seeing her go.

Only when the threat of darkness fell upon them did Fagan gesture the party from the dirt path and into a clearing. They'd stopped twice along the way, and Fagan had managed to avoid the lass because his words failed him. He tethered his horse to a tree and approached the carriage as Grace stepped down.

“I hope your ride isnae too uncomfortable. We'll stop here for the eve and give the horses a chance to rest.”

“I'm all right, but I do need to take a walk. Pray excuse me.” Grace stepped around him, and he grabbed her elbow.

“I'll accompany ye.”

She lifted a brow. “I assure you this is one task that I'm perfectly capable of performing on my own, Mister Murray.”

“Aye, donna wander too far into the trees.” Fagan watched her walk away, and a hand came down on his shoulder.

“Do ye think the mercenaries will return?”

Calum, Fagan's second in command, gazed around the clearing, his hand on the hilt of his sword. His red hair was almost the same color as Ian's, but the man wasn't as fierce looking as the Munro. Then again, Fagan didn't meet many men who mirrored Ian's wild appearance. His friend gave new meaning to the term “wild Scots” for sure.

“I donna believe so, but we cannae be certain. Make sure the men stay on alert. We will make camp here for the eve.”

“Aye, captain.”

Fagan rarely had to tell his men what to do because each of them knew his purpose well. The horses had already been unfastened from the carriage and the animals were grazing. One of his men started a fire as some of the others scouted the perimeter, making certain their camp was a safe place to bed down for the eve.

The heavy thicket surrounding the clearing would provide enough of a blanket to shield them from any possible attack. If any threat did come upon them, Fagan and his men would have enough time to draw their swords to fend off the enemy. A familiar voice cursing through the trees only further confirmed Fagan's thoughts.

He walked through the tall, green grass and came to a dead halt when he reached the edge of the clearing. “Problem,
bhana-phrionnsa
?”

Grace's voice was hoarse with frustration. “My dress is tangled. Every time I move forward, my skirts pull out behind me. I don't want to rip them.”

He unsheathed his sword. “Donna move.”

She gasped. “What are you doing? You're not going to cut my dress, are you?”

“Trust me.”

Fagan swung at the nettles, thistles, and branches, clearing a path so that he could get to her. As he cut his way toward her, she leaned her head back, as if to prevent him from removing it.

“I certainly hope you know what you're doing.”

“I know how to wield my own sword, lass.” When he finally stood within a hairbreadth from her lips, he gave her a roguish grin. “And ye'll have to take my word that I wield it verra well.”

* * *

Grace couldn't move. Not only was her dress tangled in the brush, but Fagan's body was so close that if she moved even an inch forward her lips would be locked with his. She knew she was in trouble when she couldn't think of a cold retort, and then she silently cursed her body when she took a sharp intake of breath.

His eyes froze on her lips. “'Tisnae verra often I find ye at a loss for words.” He rested one of his hands at her waist and leaned around behind her. Any words that came to mind were long gone. “Now hold still.” He gave her skirts a firm tug.

“Be careful.”

He spoke through clenched teeth. “If ye feel ye can do any better, I'll let ye have at it.” He gave her dress another pull, and curse words were thrown like stones. “'Tis really stuck in the brush.”

“Well, try not to tear it.”

“There.” He stood, and his eyes met hers. He brought his hand to his lips and sucked the blood from the small scratch on his thumb. “Ye are finally free.”

Grace had a sudden feeling that the man meant in a literal sense, especially when he abruptly turned on his heel and walked back into the clearing without her. She lifted her skirts, managing to walk out of the brush relatively unscathed. Fagan was carrying a bundle from the carriage and placed it down on the other side of the fire.

“What are you doing?”

He knelt on the ground and pulled out a blanket. “I'm making a tent for ye. Ye will sleep on this side of the fire. If anyone stumbles upon us, they will have to go through me and my men first. As ye know, they cannae escape through the brush behind ye.”

“I don't think the weather is going to turn. I can sleep on a blanket near the fire.” Fagan continued with his purpose. “If anyone does come, I don't want to be trapped in a tent. I can reach my dagger much faster if I'm not climbing out of there.”

“Aye, well, donna forget I've seen ye wield that blade. Furthermore, if ye decided to use your dagger as a weapon, I wouldnae only be concerned for your safety, but I would also fear for the safety of my men.” When he looked up and gave her a boyish grin, she couldn't help but smile.

She shrugged with indifference and then mirrored his tone, mocking his accent. “Aye, well, donna forget that I've bested ye before. I know how to defend myself.” When he didn't respond, Grace knelt on the ground. “May I help you with that?”

“Aye.” He held out his hand. “Let me see your dagger, and be sure nae to cut yourself,
bhana-phrionnsa
.”

“Oh, you do make me laugh, Mister Murray.” She pulled out her blade from under her skirts and handed it to him.

“Thank ye.” He drove a stake into the ground with the hilt of her dagger, and then he handed it back to her with a smile. “That is the closest I ever want to get to that blade.”