Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) (10 page)

Stephen didn’t either, but he couldn’t give up Jillian. Not
after she risked all to save his life. Not after finding love in her arms. Such
love too precious to throw away. Life too precarious. He would figure out a way
to convince Calyn to release him from the commitment.

Munn whirled in a circle and disappeared without comment.
Unusual for the wee man not to voice an opinion. Just as well. Stephen didn’t
want to hear a litany of his failings.

The two MacLachlan guards rode to the front. Stephen
signaled for Jillian and the children to follow, and he fell back to ride at
Duncan’s side. The big man brooded but held his own counsel, which gave Stephen
ample time to brood himself, to remember the misery of the battlefield and
recall Jamie’s death.

Finally, he felt the need to break the silence. “I have much
sorrow for your loss.”

Duncan’s watery gaze snapped to him. Grief lined the man’s
features. “Ach, well, you look fit and hearty.”

Stephen stiffened, but understood the man’s rage. Duncan had
lost his twin while Stephen lived. Sometimes the same anger plagued him—the
injustice.

“He fought valiantly for Scotland and king. The end came
quickly. He dinnae suffer long.” Little consolation for Duncan’s loss.

The big man gave a curt nod, and they continued along in
silence. After a time, his speculative gaze fell on Jillian and lingered.
Stephen couldn’t blame the man his interest, but still—

Duncan jerked a glance his way. “How did you come to be here
with her?”

Stephen shrugged. “Dinnae ken the all of it. I was badly
injured.”

The man’s brows scrunched tight, forehead wrinkled, lips
curled downward. His reluctance to believe was understandable. Stephen could
hardly believe all that occurred since the battle.

“I was saying my final prayers when darkness stole over me.
I woke in the Caves of the Gray Women with cuts and bruises and a worthless
crushed leg. Dinnae ken how Munn got me there to safety, but am thankful for
his resourcefulness.” He ran fingers through his overlong hair. “Spent several
days soaking in the fae pool, healing and regaining strength. Then the lass
arrived and…”

Surprise transformed the big man’s face, and he visibly
shivered. Poor Duncan had spent several days a few years back in the caves
being tortured by Maclay’s band of renegades.

“You ken she is like Lady Laurie, aye?” Duncan’s gaze jumped
to Jillian and back to Stephen.

“Aye.” That knowledge was the gist of the problem.
Handfasted to a woman he disliked and in love with a woman from the future. A
woman he shouldn’t want, but needed for his heart and soul to mend.

Duncan snorted. “She will take you on a wild romp as Lady
Laurie did with Patrick. Do you plan to go to the future too?”

Stephen cut off the intended retort. Jillian and the
children had slowed and were within hearing.

“The children and I need a respite,” Jillian said, as he and
Duncan approached.

“A wild romp,” Duncan repeated in a whisper as they halted,
the man’s wolfish chuckle raising Jillian’s brows.

Stephen shrugged, masking his features, then whistled for
the forward guards to return to them. They dismounted and Jillian and Keita
headed for some privacy in a nearby grove of trees.

A chill breeze blew across the moor, a beckoning of colder
weather to come.

They didn’t remain in the unprotected spot for long. Huddled
in their outer garments, they set a faster pace. Several hours later, a cold
wind buffeted them as they galloped along the Firth of Clyde, closing in on
their destination, the stronghold seated on a hillside position with its three
circular towers in a triangular formation—Dunoon Castle.

Near gloaming, with long shadows trailing, the small party
of weary travelers passed through the castle gate without challenge. Muscles
clenched, Stephen remained wary. A sentry posted in one of the towers must have
reported their approach for Sir Robert Campbell and his personal guard awaited
them on the stair to the keep. The sound of hooves against stone grated the
edge of Stephen’s already fraught nerves as his party crossed the courtyard to
meet with the keeper of the castle.

“
Fàilte gu
Dunoon.” Sir Robert descended the stone
steps to greet them.

Stephen dismounted and shook the man’s forearm. “I was not
sure of our welcome after the disagreement between Alexander and Archibald over
the betrothal to Elspeth, but we are in need of lodging this night.”

“Ach, nae worries, lad. We are pleased to accommodate you
and your people. ’Twas my granddaughter’s choice to make. Neither man should
have tried forcing her into an unwanted marriage. MacLachlans are always
welcome here. And you should ken, Alexander is a changed man. As a matter of
fact, he was expected to arrive today, but the snowy weather to the north has
detained him and his entourage.”

Of that, Stephen was glad. He’d not been fond of Alexander
even before the dispute. Although bad weather didn’t fit with his plan to
escort Jillian to the faerie knoll.

Sir Robert’s gaze slid over Duncan, the guards, the
bairns
,
landing on Jillian. “And who have you brought with you?”

Stephen hoped Jillian didn’t say or do anything too
future-like. “May I present Lady Jillian O'Donnell. She has recently travelled
from France and is en route to Castle Lachlan for a wee visit with Lady Isobell
MacLachlan before proceeding home to Ireland.”

“
Fàilte
, my lady.” The man grasped Jillian’s extended
hand and kissed the air above her fingers.

“Thank you.” Jillian lowered her gaze demurely, praise the
saints.

“May I assist you from your mount?” She nodded, and the
gallant Sir Robert placed large work-hardened hands on her hips, lifted her
from the roan, and placed her gently on the ground.

A pang of unexpected jealousy sliced through Stephen. He
cursed under his breath. He was young and virile and should not be envious of a
weathered, gray-haired man.

Sir Robert grinned as if reading his mind. “Let us get Lady
Jillian and the
bairns
out of the cold, shall we?” He clasped Jillian’s
elbow and guided her up the steps, leaving Stephen to give orders to the
MacLachlan guards and herd the
bairns
into the keep.

Duncan laughed. “You will need to keep a keen eye on that
squirrely old man or lose your lady-love.”

Stephen snorted. By the time he entered the great hall,
Duncan and
bairns
in tow, Jillian was out of sight. Sir Robert signaled
to him from across the hall.

“Let Duncan tend the
bairns
. Come. Sit by the fire,
Stephen, and tell me of the devastating events at Branxton.” As they took seats
before the hearth, Sir Robert waved over a young
ghillie
. “Bring
whisky.”

Stephen scanned the great hall. There was no sign of
Jillian, but the appearance of a familiar man tipping ale, seated at one of the
tables below the dais nearly made his heart still. He stiffened. Ciaran, one of
Calyn’s brothers, shot him an angry glare.

“I requested a maid take the lass to a guest chamber to rest
before the eve’n meal,” Sir Robert said.

Stephen jerked his gaze back to the older man.

Sir Robert raised an eyebrow and continued. “You will bed
down with Duncan and the
bairns
?”

“I thank you, though I believe Lady Jillian will want the
wee lass with her.” Stephen said naught more, unwilling to feed the man’s
speculation.

Both Sir Robert’s brows rose. “I imagine there is a story
there, but for now, tell me of the battle.”

The serving lad arrived with the whisky and poured. Stephen
accepted the drink and sank into the chair’s velvet cushion, the warmth of the
fire relaxing tired muscles.

Sir Robert lifted his cup. “
Slàinte mhòr
.”

“
Do dheagh slàinte
.” Stephen raised his. He swirled
the amber liquid, inhaled its unique aroma, and took a sip.
Uisge-beatha
—water
of life—splashed over his tongue, its flavor rich. Damn, it tasted good. With
the salutation to good health completed and the brace of good whisky in his
gut, he described the events leading up to the fateful day at Branxton. “Mayhap
if James hadn’t wasted time at Ford, enjoying the favors of Lady Heron. Ach,
well, who kens what might have taken place instead of what did happen.”

Stephen furtively glanced at Ciaran. The lad garnered
attention, glaring in Stephen’s direction. Even a village idiot could sense the
coming confrontation. Resigning to the inevitable, Stephen returned full
attention to Sir Robert and the telling of the tale.

“The battle turned brutal, nary a
Sassenach
spared a
Scot, nor we, them. James fought valiantly, but should not have been at the
front. We lost Duncan’s brother Jamie, too.” Stephen swallowed hard, the loss
overwhelming.

Another glance at Ciaran’s clenched jaw and dagger glare
proved the man had a bone to pick. Stephen would need keep the lad and his
damning tales away from Jillian.

The castle steward approached, leaned forward, and whispered
in Sir Robert’s ear. The man stood. “Please excuse me. I must confer with my
man.”

Sir Robert and the steward left the hall and Stephen looked
to Ciaran, but the lad no longer sat with the other men. There was no sign of
him anywhere in the hall.

Stephen rose and headed toward the circular stair to the
upper level. He would search out Jillian and confide the sordid details of his
life to her before she learned of them from someone else. On the first landing,
Ciaran stepped from a tapestry-draped alcove.

“You dare travel with a mistress? Flaunt her, here at
Dunoon, for all to see? When your wife, my sweet sister, pines for you in
Dunadd, believing you dead?”

“I near lost my life during the battle.” Stephen didn’t
believe for a moment Calyn yearned for him. He still didn’t understand why
she’d pushed for a handfasting.

“Ha! Where are your battle scars, warrior? Perhaps you are
naught but a coward. Did you flee the battlefield before our king was slain?”

“Careful, lad. Dinnae disparage my character with
accusations of things of which you dinnae ken.” Stephen swallowed rising anger,
not wanting to appear guilty. “Lady Jillian O’Donnell is not my mistress but a
gentle woman. A noble woman from Ireland. She is a friend of Patrick MacLachlan
and his lady-wife. Lady Jillian’s escort took ill on the crossing. ’Tis my
duty, as sworn to the MacLachlan, to see her safely to Castle Lachlan.” Stephen
kenned how to stretch the truth.

Ciaran’s hands fisted. Stephen rolled onto the balls of his
feet, flexed his knees, ready for an attack.

“I thought you were leaving, Ciaran.” Sir Robert joined
them. “Make haste. Your captain plans to sail with the tide, hoping to beat the
storm.”

The lad’s jaw clenched. He pushed past Stephen and descended
the stairs, the angry pounding of boots rapidly fading.

“Where is Ciaran headed?” Stephen asked.

“Glasgow.”

Great
. Stephen should have time to escort Jillian to
the
Sithichean Sluaigh
without the need to burden her with his problems,
and then ride like the devil to Dunadd to resolve the matter of his unwanted
wife.

“The cook will serve the eve’n meal shortly. Retrieve your
lass and dine with me at the head table. Perhaps she could share word of Elspeth
and her rascal of a husband.” Sir Robert continued down the stair, and Stephen
ascended to the upper level, where a maid directed him to the bedchamber
assigned to Jillian.

Jillian brushed fingers over the furs covering the bed,
taking pleasure in the luxurious feel. She wouldn’t believe she was in a
medieval castle if it wasn’t for the fact there wasn’t a single modern
convenience. No central heat. No electricity. No running water. The maid had
lit a fire in the hearth along with lighting two braces of candles. One sat on
the hearth’s mantel, the other on a large chest next to the enormous
four-poster bed, luxuriously curtained in red velvet. As to the water, the maid
had left an urn for washing and directed Jillian to a garderobe.

The privy smelled awful.

If
they
couldn’t travel through the time gate and she
remained in the past with Stephen, could she handle the lack of everyday modern
things previously taken for granted? The thought that scared her most—the lack
of advanced medicines and medical care.

She scanned the room, doubting Stephen possessed this kind
of wealth. After all, Dunoon was a royal stronghold. Though he did have a large
emerald in his sword, so he mustn’t be too poor.

Jillian frowned. She didn’t really know all that much about
him. He was a good man, of that she was sure. He could have left her wandering
aimlessly.

She cringed. She wouldn’t think of what could have happened
if she’d not met the children and Stephen.

Seated in one of two velvet-cushioned chairs placed before
the hearth, she took off her boots, and warmed her stocking feet by the fire.
Leaning her head back, she slipped into a doze. A rapping on the door jerked
her awake.

“Jillian, are you there?” She jumped up at the sound of
Stephen’s voice and ran to the door. Throwing it wide, she leapt into opened
arms.

Stephen lifted her off her feet, carried her into the room,
and kicked shut the heavy oak door. His lips crashed against hers in a sinfully
delicious kiss that sent a thrill down her body to curl her toes.

“I missed you,” he said.

Her thought exactly
. She’d hated even the very short
separation. How would she be able to leave him for the rest of their lives?

“Sir Robert has invited us to dine with him.”

“What if I trip up? Make a mistake?”

“Dinnae fear, but keep in mind, the castle walls have ears,
so check your tongue.”

Jillian’s spine stiffened even though his meaning was clear
and she shouldn’t take offence. He softened the blow by kissing her again, and
she forgot the misplaced indignation.

Stephen descended the awkward circular stair in front of
her. Still, she feared tripping and falling in the long gown. She raised the
hem with her right hand while leaning into the wall to her left with a palm
against the gray stone, keeping as far from the drop on the right as possible.
She understood the rationale from a security perspective. Patrick and his
father Iain had once explained that since most men were righties and you wanted
enemies to be at a disadvantage if they breeched the castle walls and ascended
the stairs, with the wall to the right, the attackers would be forced to wield
a sword with their less dominant hand. But it made the steps precarious for
woman expected to wear long gowns. Perhaps she could find a lad to lend her
some clothes. Wouldn’t that shock the castle inhabitants?

She released a sharp breath when her booted foot took the
last step, and they entered the noisy great hall. Young lads carried trenchers
heaped with bread to the many tables.

Stephen guided her to the head table where he seated her two
chairs away from Sir Robert, and then sat between them to the older man’s right
in the seat of honor. Once they sat, the room became silent, the servers
stilled, and everyone stared. Jillian worried her bottom lip, wishing they
hadn’t drawn so much attention.

Sir Robert clapped his hands and activity resumed. She
supposed
they
were the topic of discussion among many of the castle
folk. She was glad when the meal arrived shortly thereafter consisting of a
heavily seasoned roast—which Jillian overheard was deer meat—and vegetables.
She’d tried venison before and liked it very much. This roast tasted of
rosemary and garlic and perhaps some spices or herbs of which she was unaware.
Delicious.

After making a report on the health of Elspeth and her
family, the conversation turned to a discussion of the weather and an
anticipated storm expected from the north. That didn’t bode well for the
continuation of their travels. Jillian shifted her weight on the hard chair.
She hoped they wouldn’t be stranded here.

After the meal finished, Sir Robert rose. “Stephen, I would
like a word in private. Lady Jillian, please excuse us, a maid will provide
escort above stairs. I am afraid the men are not used to having a highborn
woman at the castle. They can be rather rowdy. I am sure you will be more
comfortable in your chamber.”

“No need to bother a maid, I can find my way.” She curtsied
as Stephen had instructed and left the hall.

Jillian made her way along a passageway in search of the
chamber she was given, looking forward to spending the evening with Stephen in
a real, authentic castle. How cool was that? But she’d gotten twisted around
and wasn’t sure which way to turn. Taking a right around a corner, she stopped
short. A blond man blocked the way. She moved to the left. He moved with her.
She stepped to the right, as did he. “Excuse me.”

“Nae.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why should I let the whore who sleeps with my sister’s
husband pass?”

“What?” She leaned forward. She must have heard wrong.

“Ignore him.” Keita popped out from behind a tapestry and
clasped Jillian’s hand, tugging her in the opposite direction. “He is a drunk.
Hurry. We need to stay away from him.”

They hustled along another passageway. Jillian glanced back.
They were alone in the corridor. The man hadn’t followed. Perhaps he was too
drunk. Maybe that’s the kind of behavior to which Sir Robert alluded.