Amanda Forester (6 page)

Elyne awoke warm and comfortable. She relaxed and breathed deep. She never wanted to move.

“Good morn to ye,” rumbled her pillow.

Elyne’s head shot up, off of Tavish’s chest. “Oh!” She was tangled, arms and legs, with Tavish Grant. Not only that, but she was sprawled over him like a harlot.

“Terribly sorry.” Heat burned her cheeks and she tried to detach herself without touching him more.

“Are ye?” His green eyes were wide and flecked with silver and blue.

The only thing she was sorry about was having to move, but that was not what she was supposed to say. “I should’na be so close.”

“Probably not. Though since we are still both fully clothed, I doubt any lasting harm was done in the night.” He gave her a tentative smile.

“Still, I suppose we should get up.” Never had she been less enthusiastic about any words she had spoken.

“Dinna want to. Rather stay here wi’ ye.” His eyes were open and honest.

Elyne looked away. “But yer cousin, my future husband?”

The room was silent except for the occasional drop of water from the ceiling to a pail of water below.

“Aye,” muttered Tavish and got out of the bed, leaving her to the cold morning air.

Elyne watched him go, wanting to call him back, knowing she should not. Eventually, she dragged herself out of the bed and attended to her morning routine. It would have been nice to change clothes, but she was going to have to make do.

Outside, the rain had stopped and the air was fresh and crisp. Tavish fired up the forge again and Elyne went back to the overgrowth that was once a kitchen garden. She scrounged with vengeance, putting her frustration at her situation into tearing out weeds and hacking through the overgrowth. She found more kale and hazelnuts. The elderberries were picked clean, and her attempt to find early cherries was unsuccessful.

She examined her collection and recognized the bounty of the old garden was growing thin. The garden backed up against the castle wall, and from her perch in the tree, she could see there were more cherry trees on the other side of the wall, beautifully covered with puffy white blooms.

Walking along the back wall, she found a small wooden door, almost completely covered in vines and moss. With some effort, she pushed the gate open wide enough for her to squeeze through, the ancient hinges complaining loudly at being so abused.

The area was so overgrown with bushes and branches, it was difficult to push through. She struggled past, trying to reach one of the cherry trees. She managed to get to the first cherry tree and climbed up, knowing the chances of finding fruit was low, yet still drawn to the lovely blooms.

After a while of fruitless searching, she took a rest in the tree. Walls of rock and granite were so close to the back wall side of the castle, and quarters were so cramped, it would be impossible to attack from this angle. Any assault on the castle would need to come through the front.

Gazing across the overgrowth, she noted a strange thing. The cherry trees appeared to be planted in two straight lines. She had imagined the birds had carried the cherry seeds over the wall of the castle. Birds were a clever bunch, but planting trees in parallel lines was unlikely. It must have been a lane that had now almost completely overgrown. Excited at what she had found, she climbed down to follow the path between the trees.

“Ye ought not be out here alone.” Tavish stood before her, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. His characteristic smile vanished from his face.

“Aye, but we needed more food and I dinna think anyone could hack his way with all this overgrowth.”

“Still, we canna be too careful.” He sounded a good deal like her elder brother.

“Besides, I found that there are two rows of cherry trees leading somewhere. Do ye wish to see where the trail leads?” asked Elyne.

“Ye are trying to lure me into dropping the topic at hand.”

Having many older brothers, Elyne was accustomed to overprotective men and found the best way to deal with them was to direct their thoughts to another topic. “The trail leads this way.” She pointed out the trees and proceeded to walk in the general direction, pushing past the dense foliage. She struggled through, until Tavish took the lead and barreled through like a bull ram. The movement disturbed the trees, causing a cascade of cherry blossom petals to shower them.

They walked for a short distance to the cliffs behind the castle, where the dense foliage cleared out and a tiny clearing opened to a small hut. It was almost entirely overgrown with bushes, vines, and wildflowers. Elyne stepped closer and realized the small cottage was actually made of granite and was partially carved into the sheer cliff face. The roof above had once been thatch, but now was growing wildflowers. Everything about the cottage was green and lush and inviting.

“What is this place?” murmured Elyne.

“’Tis beautiful.”

“Aye, shall we explore inside?”

The wooden door had been sealed shut with the overgrowth, but with some persistence and a bit of muscle, Tavish managed to wrench open the door. Inside was cool and still.

“I doubt anyone has been in here for a long time,” whispered Elyne. The place had a reverent feel, making her put on her church manners.

“I am sure ye are right,” Tavish whispered back. “Look, it seems part of the cottage was carved into the granite cliffs.” The far side of the cottage had a stone roof as opposed to overgrown thatch and benches carved into the rock.

“It looks like this was used as a bench or table of some sort.”

“Look, writing.” Tavish crouched down before the stone bench to examine further, rubbing off dust to see more clearly the words carved into the stone. “It is in Latin.”

“What does it say?” asked Elyne, crouching down with him.

“Faith.”

“Faith?” Elyne began to clear the carved alcove of dirt, leaves, and debris. “See here, there is more writing.”

“There is scripture carved into the stone.” Tavish cleared away the dirt from the walls to reveal more Latin on the stone walls on the back of the cave hut. “These verses all speak to faith.”

“What was this place? It is too small to be a church or chapel. ’Tis naught bigger than a crofter’s hut.”

Tavish trailed his finger along the carved words. “A hermit I warrant. He must have lived outside the castle wall, yet close enough to have daily influence on the faith of the inhabitants.”

“I like it here. It has a goodly feel.”

“Aye.”

“What do the verses say?” asked Elyne.

Tavish brushed off the stone wall, tracing the carving with his fingers. He worked out the translation like a puzzle, whispering to himself. “’Tis from the Book of Hebrews.
Faith
is
the
assurance
of
things
hoped
for, the conviction of things not seen.
”

Elyne shook her head. “’Tis a hard thing to have faith when the future is unknown. I am worrit for my family surrounded by the English.”

“Faith is to believe even when the outcome is uncertain,” Tavish said in a low tone, feeling the wall for more verses.

“I never quite understood what I am to have faith in. I canna pretend that if I only had faith, no ill thing would e’er befall me or my kin.”

“
Be
always
of
good
courage!
” Tavish read more from the wall with a smile. “
For
we
walk
by
faith, not by sight
. ’Tis from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians.”

“What does that mean? How do I walk by faith? Should I ignore what is happening around me?” Elyne truly wanted to know.

Tavish leaned against the wall, thinking on her questions. Tiny bits of dust danced in a shaft of sunlight beaming through the open door. “I believe faith is to trust that our Creator will be wi’ us, no matter the circumstances. And even in death, we are promised to be snatched from the grave and given life eternal.”

“I’ve been told heaven is a nice place, but I’m in no rush to see it for myself,” muttered Elyne.

Tavish laughed. “Nor I! But it is a comfort to know the Lord has overcome even the worst outcome. No matter what happens, we know we will be saved and death cannot separate us from our loved ones forever.”

“I suppose it is a comfort.” Elyne did not look too pleased with the concession. “Trouble is, I am living here in this world. I can have faith, but bad things may still happen. What I want is the assurance that no ill will come to us.”

“We are not given that promise, I fear, though I wish faith meant I could get what I want.” Tavish stared at his boots. “We may no’ get what we will, but we are assured that whatever happens, the Lord will use it for our benefit.”

“I’d rather faith meant I could be assured o’ the outcome.”

Tavish stepped closer, his eyes wide and serious in the dim light of the hut. “Sometimes the Lord does no’ give us what we expect or even what we want, but something wholly different. Mayhap the Lord has different plans for us than what we expect.”

“Who kens the future but the Lord?”

“Elyne.” Tavish paused for a moment as if searching for the right words. “Would ye be willing to change yer plans? Would ye be open to seeing a different path?”

Tingles shot up her spine. What plans did he mean? Was he possibly speaking of her engagement to Grigor? “I… I am not sure.” Elyne wished she knew which path he spoke of.

A loud blast of a horn got their attention.

Tavish’s eyes shuttered. “Someone is at our front door.”

Tavish reached out and took her hand. The openness in his eyes was gone, replaced with the dancing merriment of one who relishes a challenge. They both ran from the hermit’s hut back into the castle through the back gate toward the front of the castle.

“I’ve been thinking, how are ye going to fool them into thinking ye are not a Scot?” asked Elyne through ragged breaths as she ran. “Surely yer accent alone canna fool them.”

“Aye, I’ve been thinking on that. I thought to speak French and thus to be English nobility.”

“But yer plaid.”

Tavish stopped short, looking down at his bright garment. “Och. Aye.”

“Here, take my cloak.” Elyne stripped it off in an instant. “It should cover ye.”

“Thank ye.” Tavish wrapped the cloak around him. It was woefully too short but hopefully no one would notice with him standing on the ramparts.

Elyne followed Tavish up the stone steps to the walk on top of the castle wall. “Do ye speak French?”

“
Un
peu
.” He gave her a wink.

She hoped he spoke more than a little if they were to succeed in this farce. A quelling sight awaited her from atop the castle walk. Several mounted English lords stood before the gate, draped in rich, colorful fabrics, their horses pawing the ground, swirling the morning mist. Behind them stood a garrison of soldiers in rough formation, their ranks disappearing into the fog, so it appeared their number went on forever.

“Faith not by sight,” she whispered to herself. “Faith not by sight.”

“Hail to the castle!” shouted the English herald. “Open the gates that my lords may enter!”

“No, my lords,” shouted down Tavish in broken French that made Elyne cringe. “We are sickness.”

“We have sickness in the castle,” hissed Elyne in his ear.

“We have sickness in the castle,” shouted Tavish down to the men then turned to Elyne. “Do ye speak French?” he asked Elyne in a whisper.

“Aye.”

“Good, because mine is rather poor,” he admitted in an undertone.

“I hear that,” replied Elyne in kind. She glanced nervously at the stuffed soldiers Tavish had placed along the wall walk, hoping they would be convincing to the English. If their ruse were discovered, it would not go well for them. The wind picked up and the fake soldiers began to rattle and shake. Elyne hoped it would not be noticed.

“What sickness? Where is the lord of this castle?” The English lord switched easily to speaking French.

Tavish glanced at Elyne and she translated quickly for him alone to hear, standing at his side.

“He is gone,” called down Tavish. “Dead.”

“We will enter and remove the sick,” called the English lord. “We have need of this fortified position, such as it is.”

“No, no!” shouted down Tavish. He glanced at Elyne and she helped supply the words. “We fear the Great Plague is upon us. All who enter are doomed. We have locked ourselves away to protect everyone.”

“The Great Plague?” The English lords gathered together and conferred with each other.

“Do ye think we fooled them?” whispered Tavish.

“I dinna ken what they have to talk about,” whispered Elyne in return.

The wind gusted and one of the fake soldiers fell down with a clank, drawing the notice of the English lords.

“Oh no, not another one!” Elyne shouted in French and ran to the fake soldier who had fallen inside the wall. “Bring help for this poor man.” She bent down beside the fake solider, out of sight of the English.

“James, Henry, quick—bring your brother sick to the room,” called Tavish in his poor French.

“No! Wait, my lord.” Elyne stood in view of the English soldiers and paused for dramatic effect. “I am sorry, but young John is dead.”

The soldiers before them muttered in their ranks.

“Dead? Not another.” Tavish shook his head.

The English soldiers grumbled again, their voices growing louder.

“We wish you health but demand you stay behind these gates so you do not spread this sickness.” The English lord backed farther away from the castle.

“Yes, we will,” called down Tavish.

The English lord turned to leave, but Elyne called after him.

“Wait! We have not heard anything of the outside world for so long. Can you tell us why you are here and what goes on in the world?”

“We are under Lord Lockton’s command. He comes to restore castle Alnsworth to the rightful ownership of the English.”

“Is it a siege then?”

“It was, but now they are in negotiations. I trust the Highland usurper will relinquish his claim on the castle soon. Good day to you. I wish you health!” The English lords did not tarry at the gates, but spurred their mounts and left with speed, their foot soldiers racing after them with alacrity.

A wave of relief washed through Elyne. They had done it. Tavish looked at her with a wide grin and took her hand to lead her down from the castle walls, out of sight of the retreating English.

“We did it!” Tavish jumped down the remaining steps to the ground then turned and encircled her waist to lift her to the ground. “Thanks to ye, we did it!” He spun her around in a circle, before allowing her feet to touch the earth once more, though she still felt to be floating.

“Ye devised the plan.” She smiled back at him.

“But it was ye who scared the English out o’ their britches wi’ yer mourning our poor John. How is the patient?”

“Dead and gone, never to recover, I fear.”

“Ye are one smart Highland lass, m’lady!” He twirled her around once more then slowed, his hands never leaving her waist. “Smart and clever and lovely. Aye, ye are a bonnie lass.”

He leaned forward and she went up on her toes to meet him. He kissed her tentatively at first, then with more passion, his arms wrapping around her waist, her arms around his neck. Lightning flashed through her at his kiss, so that had she not been held up by Tavish’s strong arms, she probably would have fallen over.

This was what her sister had wanted. Love. With sudden clarity she realized she had fallen in love with a Grant, but unfortunately, it was the wrong Grant. As suddenly as the lightning had shot through her, thunder landed on her, heavy and ponderous. She was not to marry Tavish Grant, but his cousin. It was arranged. The engagement papers had been signed.

She broke the kiss and pushed away slightly. Immediately, Tavish released her and stepped back.

“Ought not to have done that,” he mumbled to the ground. “Ne’er will regret it though.” He turned and was gone.

***

Elyne prepared supper utterly without thought, her mind consumed with one thing. A kiss.

The
kiss
.

He had kissed her. And she liked it. A lot.

Trouble was, she was not at liberty to accept anything that kiss promised. She was not her own. She had signed a contract. It was done.

Tavish had disappeared into the forge after the English had left and there had been some furious banging for several hours. It had quieted down, and for the past few hours, Elyne had heard nothing at all. She pondered whether she should tell him their supper, such as it was, was ready. It was not much of a meal. There were a few berries left, some scraps of bread, and cooked kale. Poor fare, but Elyne was not particularly hungry and decided she would gladly give up her food to him.

She walked out of the tower to the courtyard and stared at the door to the smithy. All was silent. Should she enter? What would she say? They had shared something, something important, something she was not likely to ever experience again in her life. The thought brought tears to her eyes. To touch something so exquisite only to have it ripped from her was beyond cruel.

She had never been a believer in romantic love between a man and a woman, thinking it an unnecessary emotion, one that should be replaced with more practical concerns. The matters of the heart, once seen as trivial and unimportant, now loomed large. What irony in finding what she was not looking for, only to lose it once more. Better to be as she was, but now her eyes were opened and she would never be the same.

“Are ye well?” asked Tavish.

Elyne whirled around to face him and self-consciously wiped away her tears. “Where were ye? I though ye were in the smithy.”

“I was for a while; then I went to the chapel.”

“Whatever for?”

“To pray. And to be reminded to have faith. I had a decision to make.”

“And did ye make yer decision?” pressed Elyne.

“Aye.” Tavish smiled, the familiar twinkle of mischief in his eye.

“Will ye share it wi’ me?”

“I will, but no’ yet. It would’na be proper. And I ken how important it is for ye to have things done proper.” The smile never dimmed.

Elyne, however, was not seeing anything of amusement. “I think I should be told.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Have ye made me any supper, m’lady? I’m famished!”

Elyne followed Tavish into the tower, grumbling as she went. How dare he look happy when she felt her life was ending? A life she wanted to live with him, but she couldn’t, and now he had the audacity to look happy about it. Men!

Tavish dove into his boiled kale like it was a delicious offering, smiling at her between each bite. He ate with his knife and she noticed the handle appeared as though part of it had been cut off. Elyne nibbled on dry bread and glared at him.

“Could ye tell me what the English lord said about the siege?” asked Tavish. “I lost him somewhere around usurper.”

“Yer French is not what it could be,” remarked Elyne.

“True.” Tavish popped berries into his mouth and made an
mmmmm
sound that rattled Elyne’s nerves.

“Ye would ne’er been able to defend the castle wi’out my help.” Elyne had no idea why she wanted to have this point belabored, but she was nettled and was not thinking through her words.

“Verra true. ’Tis one o’ the many things I admire about ye. And before ye mention it, let me say once again how clever ye were when poor John died.” He grinned.

Elyne focused on the ties of her sleeves, trying unsuccessfully to keep the heat from her cheeks. She remembered all too well how he had rewarded her cleverness before. And she wished he would do it again.

Elyne cleaned her throat and wished it were just as easy to clear her mind. “The English said Lord Lockton, who came to claim the castle, was in negotiations with my brother over the castle. What do ye think it means?” It was time to get back to important matters. She realized she had been so turned around by the kiss that she had not thought twice about the news the soldiers gave them.

“Sounds like your brother is wise and has decided to negotiate a way out of the situation.” Tavish took another bite of stale bread like it was fresh from the oven.

“So we can return?” Elyne was not sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

“Aye. We shall leave in the morn.” Both Tavish and Elyne eyed the large bed, glanced at each other, and looked away.

One bed. One night.

Tavish stood up and rubbed his stomach. “Delicious meal. Well, I shall go sleep on the parapets tonight.”

Elyne stood as well. “The parapets? Ye will be terrible cold. Ye canna sleep there.”

Tavish stepped closer, the good-natured smile fading into something far more intense. “Where would ye have me sleep, m’lady?”

Elyne swallowed hard and her breath caught in her throat. Where did she want him to sleep? She knew the answer to that question was not what it should be. “I canna in good conscience let ye freeze.”

Tavish stepped closer so that he stood before her, almost touching. “I canna sleep here wi’ ye, m’lady.”

“Why ever not?” Elyne’s voice was hardly above a whisper. “We slept here last night.” She looked up into his inviting eyes and fell in.

In an instant she was in his arms, his lips on her lips. She felt weightless and opened her arms and herself to him. He deepened the kiss and Elyne pressed herself closer. His hand rubbed her back then crept down and cupped her backside. She should stop this now, but all she wanted was to be closer. No clothes. No rules. No…

“That’s why.” Tavish broke the kiss and stepped back. He took a ragged breath and she could hardly fail to notice his hands were shaking. Her whole body was shaking.

“Why what?” She was lost. He needed to come back and find her.

“Why I canna sleep wi’ ye. I canna be trusted, and I guarantee neither of us would get any sleep all night.”

“All night?” Her body screamed with need. Yes, she wanted to stay up all night with this man. This night and the next, and the next…

“Aye.” He stepped backward. “Ye are too… I canna resist ye, Elyne Campbell. I canna be in the same room as ye and no’ touch ye.” He continued to back away from her, as if she was a wild animal about to eat him. Which, actually, might not have been too far from the truth.

“Dinna go,” she whispered, as if she could utter the things that should be left unsaid if only spoken in a whisper.

He stepped backward again, stumbled, and put his hand on the wall to right himself. “Must go. Must go now!” He turned and fled out the door.

Elyne returned to the bed alone. It was, of course, the right thing to do, but at that moment, she did not want to be right. Despite being left alone to sleep, she lay awake thinking of the man she loved. And then, when the tears came, the man she would marry.