Romancing the Rogue (189 page)

~~~~

Outside the inn, the Engel Captain motioned to his men. “Check every door. We must find them.”

“Captain, perhaps we are just chasing ghosts? All Archaeans look the same, how are we to know these sightings are even them?”

The captain glared at his men. “Our orders are to follow all leads. I don’t want to be the one to tell him we lost her — do you want to?”

“No, sir.”

“Then start looking before the rain washes away all traces of them!”

~~~~

“Just one more time, love.”

“I cannot!” Brynn cried out. “I cannot do this anymore!”

“You have to, Brynn. Now, the next time the pain comes, I want you to push with all your might. The end is near.”

Brynn nodded and laid her head back on the pillow, seeking some shred of relief while Abby wiped her forehead with a damp cloth. Tears clung to her flushed cheeks. “I wish he was here,” she muttered, choking back a sob.

“Who?” The innkeeper’s wife questioned Abby.

“Oh… her husband. They are very much in love. ’Tis a shame he cannot be here for the arrival of his first born.” Brynn’s grip on Abby’s hand tightened, signaling the rise of another impending labor pain.

There was a knock on the door, and the innkeeper’s wife left Brynn’s side to answer it. “Just the maid,” she stated, but behind the door stood not the maid, but her husband with two Engel soldiers.

“I’m sorry, my wife, but they insisted on seeing the travelers.”

His wife placed both hands on her hips and frowned at them. “What ails you men? Can you not see that a child is being born here? By all means, come and look,” she clucked, “but let me do my work!” She rushed back to Brynn as she let out a gut-wrenching moan that would scare even the brawniest of men away.

One man edged forward, glanced back at his partner, then took a step backward.

“
Get out
!” Brynn screeched at him as she wrapped her arms around her knees, hunching over her belly.

“It couldn’t possibly be them,” the soldier muttered to the other. “We must have followed the wrong trail.” The Engels disappeared, shutting the door behind them.

“Just one more push!” The midwife urged Brynn, a wide grin gracing her aging face. “The babe is almost out!”

Brynn pushed once more, and the tiny being slid into the midwife’s arms.

Brynn slumped backward with relief. She had done it.

“A boy!” The nursemaid laughed. “And a right strapping lad he is, too!”

Brynn pushed herself up. “What?” She had prayed to the gods the babe would be a girl.

“Ohh,” cooed Abby, helping the innkeeper’s wife clean off the newborn. “He looks just like his da.”

Brynn groaned, returning to the bed.

All fears, regrets, and resentments were thrown aside when the tiny little boy was placed in her arms. She held a precious miracle, a piece of the greatest love she had ever known. How he had grabbed her heart in just a few short moments. With eyes the bluest of blue and soft fuzzy curls, he was a perfect sculpture of his father. Her life would never be the same.

~~~~

“Oh, ’tis perfect, Abby! I love it already.” Brynn stood at the top of a winding willow-lined entranceway to the most beautiful home she could ever have imagined. It overlooked the pebbled ocean shore on one side and was flanked by rolling fields of heathery pastures on the other for as far as the eye could see. A sturdy stable rested quietly in a nook of the glen by a slow-moving river with a bubbling spring near the tree line. The entire property was hidden in a secluded valley — the perfect spot to live out the rest of her days and watch her son grow. “You were right, Abby. Dunlogh must be in the heavens, for this is the most wonderful place we could be.”

They hugged each other and wept tears of joy. They had done it. They had escaped their prison. No longer were they held captive. Just like the babe she held in her arms, Brynn had been given a new life. All that was left to do was secure it.

The women headed in the village of Dunlogh to secure their future.

“Hello?” A bell above the door jingled as they entered the tiny, dark shop on the main thoroughfare of Dunlogh.

“Hello,” a man called from the corner. “Yes, can I help you?” The man limped from the darkness toward the counter of the shop. His clothes were worn and damp; a musty odor permeated the air as he shuffled by.

“I was told you’re the man I must speak with in order to inquire about a piece of property.” Brynn bounced the babe in one arm as she dug through her satchel for the piece of parchment detailing the property.

“Yes, yes…” he grumbled, muttering indistinct words.

“Well, I wish to inquire about this one.” Brynn placed the description of the glen on the counter in front of him.

He took it in his crooked fingers, placed it close to his face, and slowly withdrew it, trying to focus his failing vision on the words. When he recognized the property, he looked at the two women, back at the parchment, and then back at the women. A confused look washed over his face. “You wish to rent a piece of this croft? Is there a man present? Edenshire is quite expensive, my dear.”

“Rent it?” For a brief moment, Brynn didn’t understand. Then a soft laugh echoed through the room. “No, good sir, I wish to
buy
it!”

Abby clunked a heavy purse onto the wooden counter. “That should cover it.”

“Eh, which part of it?” the clerk inquired.

“The whole lot of it!” Abby burst out in a hearty laugh.

“We will also be needing a list of local merchants that may be interested in helping us furnish it as well. The best woodworkers, blacksmiths… and I shall need to find someone I can purchase a few horses from. Good breeding stock, you see,” Added Brynn.

“I will get right on that, madam — err, I shall need to know what name to put on the deed.”

Abby and Brynn quickly exchanged glances before Brynn replied with, “Brynn — Coinnich
of
Cinn Tàile
.” She gave the name of her babe’s father.

“Well, Mistress Coinnich, welcome to Dunlogh.” The old man smiled a toothless grin and handed Brynn the deed to her new home.

Part Three

I Have Missed You

We ask the gods be kind and watch us from above. We pray each soul finds love. Bless those we love and keep watch over those that lose their way.

Let this be our prayer.

Dunlogh, Archaean Highlands

Summer

“Stupid, stupid hare! If I ever get my hands on you I… I will turn you into stew!” Brynn grumbled, trying to salvage what was left of the new herbs she’d planted. All attempts thus far to keep the wildlife out of her garden had failed miserably. Inspecting the half-eaten shoots of bannowick only left her more frustrated and defeated. The seeds had cost her a small fortune to have them sent from Engel, and now the pesky hare was liberally enjoying its many healing properties.

She stood, stretching her arms toward the bright summer sun, taking in its rare beauty and warmth. It rained far too often in the Archaean highlands for her taste. A bug flew past her cheek, and she swatted it with the back of her hand.

Warm breezes ruffled her hair, and she pushed the annoyance from her face. A hound’s excited bark mingled with a child’s laughter and floated along contentedly with the summer air. She paused from her gardening to watch her son, Talon, play with the large wolfhound he called Rufus. The two were inseparable.

The boy mock-attacked the hound with a wooden sword, pretending to slay the evil monster invading his castle. Rufus would rise up on his hind legs, towering well above his playmate to “attack” back. She sighed and smiled when the boy pushed unruly golden curls from his forehead and beamed a beautiful wide grin at her. It was remarkable how much he reminded her of his father; his smile, his deep azure eyes, his brazen boyish mannerisms, and especially his unyielding spirit for all things warrior. He wanted nothing more in life than to grow up and be a fierce warrior like his da.

Rufus caught the scent of an animal, distracted from his mock battle. The boy lowered his sword and wiped his sweaty brow on the sleeve of his little brown tunic. “May I see if Deven can come and practice with me, Mum? I promise I shall rush right home!”

“All right,” she replied as he bolted for the drive. “Talon!” she called out after him. “Stay away from the river, and I expect you washed up and on time for supper! And take Rufus with you!”

“Aye, Mum!” he answered, trotting down the rocky drive. Talon let out a shrill whistle for his companion to follow, and the giant beast closed the gap between the house and his master in just a few long leaps.

“Oh, that boy.” She sighed, returning to her herb salvaging. Brynn hummed a pleasant tune while she worked, thankful the end of day was near. Soon the sun would set — only then could she relax. Between the horses, the bit of healing she dabbled in for the local villagers, and raising her spirited son, she was lucky if she had enough energy left to crawl into bed.

She shouldn’t complain, though — her life was brilliant. She was blessed with a wonderful son, her closest friend, and the home of her dreams where she ran a rather successful horse breeding business, and she had accomplished it all by herself without the presence of a man in the home. The villagers were apprehensive of her at first, but Brynn tempted them with paid work, mostly to the men seeking extra coin — they helped her till the fields or complete any job that might have required the finishing touches of a stronger, more agile man, and she paid them well. When questioned about a husband, she simply stated she was a widow and left it at that. With the many wars raging across the country, no one seemed to question her starting over.

“
Mum
!” The frightened scream broke her scattered thoughts.

“Talon?” Frantic, she called out to the breezes surrounding her.

“
Mother
!”

A gasp caught in her throat. Brynn picked up her skirts and moved further from the cottage, searching the valley for her son. “Talon?” she yelled, almost commanding him to show himself over the indentation of the drive.

“Mum! Hide! A rider approaches!”

She saw him then, pale as snow and bolting toward the shelter of her arms with his hound at his heels. She knelt and reached out for him. The boy crashed into her at full speed. Brynn scanned the horizon for a rider, elbowing Rufus from her visual path. She saw no one.

“I ran as fast as I could, Mum, to tell you. He looked mean, with all sorts of weapons and a horse that looked like hell itself spat it out. I have never seen him before, Mum.” Talon was terrified. It reverberated from his entire body like a strong river current.

“Get inside and tell Aunt Abby,” she told him in a hushed tone, placing her palms on his cheeks and kissing the top of his head. “And stay there.” As the boy nodded and rushed through the open door and disappeared inside, Brynn took another quick glance behind her and hurried to the threshold.

In the corner sat a bow and quiver of arrows at the ready. She had no need of weapons while living in Dunlogh, but there was always that resonating feeling deep in her chest telling her she could never be too careful. That gut feeling was why she had one of her farmhands teach her how to use them.

She slung the quiver over her shoulder and drew an arrow. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady her trembling hand. Hooves pounded up the dirt drive. She counted the paces — a steady canter. Raising the bow, she nocked the arrow and pulled the bowstring taught… and waited. She would put as many arrows as possible into her target before he had the time to reach her family. Brynn had to remind herself to breathe as the pounding of hooves grew closer.

Thump thump thump.

Thump thump thump.

Soon the horse would show its head above the rise, and show, it did. A larger than life black charger with a brilliant white blaze reared to a halt mere feet from her.

Brynn held her ground for what seemed like an eternity until the face staring back at her spoke.

His voice cracked. “Brynn?” It rolled off the warrior’s tongue like a foreign word.

She lowered the bow, although still wary of the stranger. Could it be?
No
. She forced such foolishness from her thoughts.

His eyes scanned over her, the bow, the cottage, and the two heads peeking from the entrance. Only when Brynn fully lowered her bow and allowed the bowstring to slack did he attempt to dismount. He dropped to the ground, never taking his eyes from her.

“Hello…” The word was forced out of her on a breath she’d been holding, barely audible to even her own ears. Something crashed into her back and grabbed her about the waist. Talon had left the shelter of the cottage and now hid behind her, eager as always to be near.

Her eyes flickered to the man standing before her and then to her son. The man was flustered, confused, and certainly not prepared to be staring back into his own eyes.

“Who’s boy is this?” Marek questioned, his voice gruff and raspy as if trying very hard to make the words come out at all. He stood as still as stone except for the constant tightening and loosening of his fists at his sides.

Brynn was at a loss for words. Never had she thought this situation would arise — not in a thousand years. She glanced back at Abby, who cautiously watched from inside the door. Abby only shrugged.

Brynn’s lips drew together in a thin tight line. Taking her son by the arm, she moved the boy to stand in front of her and placed her hands on both of his shoulders. The boy protectively curled his palms around the leather cuffs she wore around her wrists.

“Talon,” she muttered low and soft into the boy’s ear, “Say hello to your da.”

The boy’s eyes grew wild with wonder. Brynn managed a weak smile. Long ago she’d told her son that his father had perished in one of the highland wars, as he was a great warrior hellbent on giving the Archaean people back their freedom from the Engel Lord who sought to conquer and enslave them. Now here he was standing before them, very much alive.

Talon rushed forward and grabbed Marek about the thighs, tightly ensnaring his father in a crooked twist of limbs.

Marek stood there, awestruck with his arms slightly splayed to the sides.

Once again Brynn turned toward Abby, wide-eyed, looking for some sort of reassurance.

Abby could only wring her hands. “I will go put on some tea,” she mouthed. Abby disappeared from the doorway, leaving Brynn stranded with her love-struck son and a man who awkwardly seemed like a stranger to her — or perhaps a walking, breathing ghost.

Brynn found herself watching her son, who would not remove his arms from the stranger, and the father who would not touch his son. Realizing his mind couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of the shocking information, Brynn removed Talon’s arms from Marek’s legs. “Talon.” She faked a smile. “Please go wash up for supper.”

The boy slung his arm around her neck in a swift hug and laughed his way behind the house to wash, his unruly curls bouncing in stride with his steps.

Brynn toed the dirt. The silence was unnerving. Something had changed between them, and it twisted her insides. She had changed him, forever scarred him; their last words hadn’t been on the best of terms. At last she spoke. Her lips quivered. “Hello, Marek.” She glanced up at him, not knowing what else to say.

“Hello, Brynn.”

She searched his eyes, looking for some sort of answer as to what he was thinking, what he thought of her and of his new-found son, but she couldn’t get past the pain residing there. His face was rigid — tired. A scruffy yellow beard lined the chiseled jaw she had admired so long ago. A thin strip of yellow lined his upper lip as well, almost hiding that remarkable mouth she had dreamed of countless times over. His hair was cropped shorter — his youthful curls had fallen into flowing waves but still hinted at the playfulness lurking beneath them. He was a man now. Time and battle had transformed him. “Will you be joining us for dinner, then?”

He hesitated but nodded his acceptance to the wary invite.

“Very well. Come in.”

Marek tied his horse to a nearby hitching post and followed her inside. He ducked through the door and entered the spacious cottage.

Perfectly placed windows let in the sun’s rays during all times of daylight so that the rooms would stay bright. Freshly polished wood lined the floors. A remarkably made table and chairs set was tucked into a corner opposite the open kitchen. A large stone hearth sat on the opposing side of the cottage, surrounded by tapestries, two rocking chairs, and a child-size bench. A large wolfhound dozed on a rug near the fireplace with one watchful eye still open. A ladder to the loft was securely tied to a post near the center of the cottage. The spacious ceilings rose high, keeping the lower level cool.

“Please come in.” Abby fussed with her apron. “The stew is nearly ready.” Behind her, the back door burst open, nearly knocking the tea pot from Abby’s hands.

Talon squirmed by her only to rush to his mother and father, who sat at the table across from one another, not speaking.

“By the gods, child, you gave me a fright!” Abby huffed, recovering her steps and moving to the table to pour the tea.

Brynn took a sip and returned the cup to the table, content to listen to Talon talk faster than the wind could blow. He could barely contain the exciting stories and details about everything and anything he could think of, and many of his words were jumbled and indistinct. The stew arrived shortly after, and the four of them ate in silence with the exception of Talon, who continued with his bombardment of talk in between slurps and bites.

When he finished, Abby herded the boy out-of-doors to play. “I can see you two have much to say,” she quipped, following the boy. “I will be in the back if you need me.” She eyed Marek with guarded suspicion but nodded and disappeared.

Brynn sighed and rose from the table with her dishes. She set them aside, not wanting to deal with them. She had too many other more important thoughts running full speed through her mind. “There are pastures in the back you may turn your mount out in if you like,” she told Marek, keeping the talk light. She pressed her palm to her forehead, rubbing away the pain gathering there.

“That would be helpful, thank you.”

“And there is grain in the eastern barn if you need feed.”

“Again, my thanks.”

Neither continued the conversation, just awkwardly stood in the kitchen staring at everything else except each other.

After a painful silence, Marek spoke. “Brynn, I-I…”

“The stable is this way.”

They both spoke at once.

With purpose, Brynn turned and exited through the back door, too nervous to have
that
conversation with Marek. She had hurt him terribly, she knew that. She regretted it every moment she breathed and wished things could have been different, but the past could not be changed. What was done was done.

Marek followed. A smile broke through his placid demeanor. He stopped mid-step, taking in the vast array of barns, fences, and the greenest of pastures littered with some of the most amazing mounts in the highlands. “Is this all yours?”

“Aye,” she replied, walking toward his horse.

“Is this how you pay the rent on the croft?”

Brynn turned to him and smiled, the pride radiating from her chest. “I do not rent it, I
own
it. All of it.”

Marek raised an eyebrow. “Do ye now?”

“Aye.” She stopped beside his mount and gathered up the reigns.

“Marry a rich man, did ye?” he pressed.

“
No
.” The word was cutting and short.