The Imposter (20 page)

“Devon hasna told ye?”
Leti also stopped her knitting, and her eyes met mine, searching.

I shook my head
nervously in silent response to her questions.  I guess that not all women know
when their man is about to leave.

“They’re leaving
tomorrow at first light.  Rabbie McClain’s daughter was raped yesterday on
McClain land by a Campbell hunting party.  Doing harm to a McClain on our own
land is a slap in the face, an outright provocation of war.  We’ve had a long
unsettled feud with the Campbells, and this was the final straw. The men spent
today gathering supplies and readying the men and beasts.  Oh Kate, I thought
ye knew.”

“No, he didn’t tell
me,” my voice came as a whisper, and my blood was already beginning to boil. 
This is what Devon had been fighting with Collin about in the hall last night.

            “Kate, I’m sorry.  I’d
not intended to be the one to tell ye. Sometimes Devon’s like that, I mean, he
gets so busy with his duties tae the clan that he just forgets.  I’m sure that
he was planning to tell ye.”

“Tell me when?”
Now my voice was angry.  “Like it or not, I am his wife!  I should have been
the first person that he told!” My voice was heavy riddled with the hurt of
being left out of such a clearly important event.  “My husband is leaving to
war and he wasn’t going to tell me?” I demanded.

“Well, I’m
certainly not defending him, Kate.  Of course, he should have told ye, but I
can’t read his mind nor his reasons for not speaking to ye about it.”

“Excuse me, Leti,
but I need to go find my husband,” I said, hastily tossing my knitting into the
basket at the foot of the chair and standing to smooth my skirt. “I think that
we are about to have our first real fight.”

And with that, I
strode from the room, headed on my own version of a warpath.

***

The sun glinted
off Brennan’s sword as he stood poised for attack, legs crouching and active,
anticipating the next move of his assailant.  He shifted his weight from side
to side, testing the strength of his wounded leg.  There was pain, tightness
about his quadriceps where the injury was still healing.  Mentally, he was
ready, even if he wasn’t quite there yet physically.  He pushed his body to
fight off the pain.  This wasn’t more than he could handle. 

The sword was
heavy in his hand, his body had grown weaker from disuse, yet the weapon felt
as though it was it was an extension of his right arm.  He circled his
opponent, daring him to make the first move.  He was poised and ready.

Devon met his
challenge and landed a blow with his sword that was easily blocked.  The
reverberations of the blow traveled up through the sword, testing Brennan’s
fledgling strength.  Devon’s first blow was a question.  Just how much could
Brennan handle?  Was he well enough to fight?  Brennan answered the exploratory
blow will all of the strength that he could muster, landing a crashing at Devon,
which he deftly blocked in one fluid motion.  Devon had always made sword fighting
look easy.  He moved with the grace of a cat, charging, retreating and
analyzing his opponent, waiting for the right moment to strike his deadly
blow.  Devon spun and returned the challenge, sword meeting Brennan’s in a
deadening clatter.  The twang of metal striking metal filled the air as the men
sparred.  They exchanged blows for a few minutes until Devon was satisfied with
what he had seen, and gave the order for Brennan to cease.

“Not bad, man!” Devon
complimented his friend, driving his claymore into the ground and clapping
Brennan roughly on the shoulder.

“Not good,
either,”  replied Brennan, clearly dissatisfied with the weakness of his
muscles, a side affect of his lengthy break from training due to his  injury. 
“I’ve a long way to go, Dev, but it’s a start, no?”

“Yer stronger each
day, man.  Even in yer weakened state, yer a damn sight better than most
swordsmen.”  Devon said, seeking to bolster Brennan’s spirits, as he wiped the
sweat from his brow.

“I thank ye for
that,” Brennan said, leaning on the hilt of his claymore, more exhausted by the
swordplay than he wanted to let on.

“I’ve a favor tae
ask ye,” Devon paused, brushing his disheveled hair back from his face and
waiting for Brennan to regain his breath.  “I brought ye here for a reason, tae
test yer strength,” he admitted, watching his friend recover from the exertion
of their sparring. 

“Oh?”  Brennan
questioned, now curious, breath still ragged.

“I need ye tae
look after Kate,” Devon said, speaking directly to Brennan. “Collin’s having me
lead the band of men to the Cameron lands.  I needed to see that ye were able
before asking this of ye.”

“I’ll look after
her.  Protect her with my life.” Brennan meant what he said, feeling honored
that Devon would entrust him with such a mighty job.

“I don’t expect
Collin tae trouble her, being that he hasna yet received her dowry, but
nonetheless, I don’t trust him.  I don’t like the way that he has been looking
at
my
wife,”          Devon said, eyebrows knit together angrily as he
thought of his brother.

“So, ye’ve taken
to the lass?” Brennan questioned, struck by the possessive manner in which Devon
had claimed “his wife.”

“Verra much,”
Devon smiled, slightly embarrassed.  “Ye ken how it is.  I’ve seen ye with Leti,”
he chided.

“Women have a way
of doing that to ye,” Brennan smiled back.

“If ye sense
danger, or any situation arises while I’m away, take her from the keep.  I
think that Lochaven is the safest bet, well protected as it is.  Kate could
hide there in safety while ye get word to me in the field,” Devon said, jaw set
sternly, voice serious.  “I’ll not have the lass harmed by my brother,” he said
voice ringing with threat.

“She will be safe
in my care,” Brennan promised as he cuffed Devon heartily on the back, seeking
to assure his friend. 

“I trust ye,
brother.  I ken that ye’ll keep her safe.”  Devon nodded, securing the deal.

“I think that it
might be you that needs my protection,” Brennan said, looking over Devon’s
shoulder towards the keep.  “Because here comes yer precious wife, and she
looks like she’s about to kill ye,” Brennan warned as he watched Kate approach,
the anger evident on her face.

***

I was mad as hell
as I stomped towards to two warriors.  Good thing they had their weapons,
because they might need them shortly. I walked directly up to my husband, stood
to my full height and placed my hands on my hips.  “When were you going to tell
me?” I demanded surprised by the intensity of the anger in my voice.

“Tonight.  I didna
want ye fretting,” Devon said matter-of-factly, meeting my glare with one of
his own.

“You asshole!” I
stomped my foot violently on top of his, grinding my heel into his toes.

He didn’t even
flinch.  “Are ye done?” he asked.

“Done with what?” 
I asked, fuming with emotion.  I wanted to kill him.

“With yer
tantrum.”

  “Devon McClain,
I am your wife!  How could you possibly not tell me that you are leaving for
war tomorrow?” I shouted surprised by the emotion that rang from my voice. 

How could he
leave me here?  Leave me here alone?

“I said that I didna
want ye worrit.  Ye’ll be safe, I’ve taken care of everything.  I wouldna leave
ye without protection,” he said firmly as he motioned for Brennan to leave us
alone to hash this situation out privately.

“Protection isn’t
what I’m worried about, you oaf!  I’m worried about my husband leaving for
war!  You could be killed, and then what would I do?” I sniffled, and wiped my
now running nose on the sleeve of my dress in a most unladylike fashion.

“Is all of this
about me?  Yer worrit about me returning to ye in one piece?” He asked,
chuckling slightly.

“Ummhmm,” I
mumbled, sniffling again.  “And I’m mad as hell that you didn’t tell me as soon
as you knew that you were leaving.”

“Oh, Kate,” he
said, as he reached forward and crushed me against his chest.  “I’m sorry that
I didna tell ye,” he whispered against my hair as he stroked my neck and held
me close.  “I promise ye that I’ll be fine.  I’m not used to answering to
anyone besides myself. I’m sorry for my oversight.  Ye must ken that this is
what I do, battle is what I’ve done my whole life.  Rest assured that I ken how
to return in one piece.”

“Promise?”  I
whispered against his chest.

“Promise.” He said
as he raised my chin up so that I could look at him.  “I’ll be fine,” he
smiled.  “It’s nice to know that someone cares, though.”

“More than you can
imagine,” I said, looking up at him.  “I need you to tell me things like this. 
I don’t like being the last to know.”

He bent down and
settled his lips on mine, an act of apology that needed no words.  I knew that
he felt bad about not telling me and I felt the anger that I had held towards
him dissipate from my body with the touch of his lips.  He broke away from me
slowly, hovering so that our lips nearly touched as he looked into my eyes,
searching to ensure that he had in fact been forgiven. 

“I’m sorry,” he
whispered as he nuzzled my nose with his.  He could read me like an open book
and I knew that my eyes no longer harbored any anger or resentment.  Content
that he had been thoroughly forgiven, he pecked me again on the lips and
grabbed my hand.

“Let’s go then
lass.  I leave at first light and I want tae spend the rest of my time before I
go with my beautiful wife,” he said as he gathered me up against him and
started to walk towards the stables, shoving his sword into his belt with his
free hand.  “I had planned to take ye out for a riding lesson this afternoon. 
Are ye game?”

“No,” I said
honestly, enjoying the warmth of his body as we walked together.  I had
divulged that I was terrified of horses, having been thrown from one and
injured badly at a young age.  Devon being a confident horseman and a self
professed lover of horses had taken my fear of them on as a challenge, vowing
to teach me to ride, whether I wanted to learn or not.

“Let me rephrase
that,” he chuckled, knowing now that I was not a lover of horseback riding. 
“Will ye partake in a lesson if I keep it short?  Ye ken that I’ll feel better
when ye can at least sit a horse without fallin’ off.”

“Only if I get to
choose what we do later,” I smiled seductively up at him.

“How could I say
no tae that?” he kissed the top of my head and ushered me through the doors of
the great stable.

Jaime the stable
man saddled Stanley and a much smaller mare and tied them to a post in the
stable.  Stanley whickered softly and raised his head at the sight of his
master.  He nuzzled Devon in the chest and stomped his foot, ready to go out
for a ride.  Devon patted the stallion’s strong neck, and scratched him behind
the ears.  He loved his horse and it was clear even to the casual observer that
the horse returned his affections. 

I surveyed the
small mare that I would be riding.  She didn’t look threatening at all, in
fact, she looked like she was about to take a nap.  Her head hung down low and
she swayed slightly from side to side as her eyes melted closed.  I hated to
disturb her.

“This is Biscuit,”
Devon said, untying the mare’s reins and looping them over her head.  “Let me
help ye up, lass,” he said, holding out a hand towards me.

I walked toward
him and took his hand.  He offered his other hand as a footstool.  I put my
foot into his hand and he hefted me up and into the saddle.  I took the reins
and held onto the pommel so hard that my knuckles turned white.  I could feel
my blood pressure rising and the horse hadn’t taken a step.

Devon swiftly
mounted Stanley and kicked him into motion, clicking his tongue so that Biscuit
reluctantly spurred into slow motion and followed along. 

“Ye can make the
clicking sound with yer tongue or kick her slightly to get her going.  She’ll not
go tae fast mind,” he instructed over his shoulder.

My blood pressure
began to rise as she lurched into motion.  I was terrified of horses, except
when I was riding with Devon.  Longingly, I wished that I was on his lap now. 
I bit my lip, noticing how handsome he looked seated confidently upon Stanley.

How does he do
this to me?

Biscuit ambled
after Stanley, looking pathetic next to his massive form.  Devon gave me
instruction as we rode side by side, telling me how to steer left or right or
bring the horse to a stop by pulling the reins toward myself.  I began to feel
a bit more comfortable now that I knew how to steer and I was pleasantly
surprised to find that Biscuit indeed would oblige me and heed my
instructions.  Devon led me through a trot and a slow gallop and again I felt
my blood pressure rising, but I was proud that I remained atop the horse. 

I wanted to please
Devon by being a good student.  Only for him and the reward of his encouraging
smile would I subject myself to learning to ride a horse.  I would face my
fears for him.

“McClain!” we
heard yelled from behind us in greeting, and we simultaneously turned to see
Jaime approaching astride a large gray horse.  He pulled up along side Devon,
horse lathered from exertion from chasing after us. 

“What’s amiss?” Devon
questioned, sensing that something was wrong.

“Information from
our spotters, the Camerons have moved their camp.   Thought ye would want tae
ken right away, might help ye with preparations for tomorrow.” Jaime said,
breath spilling forth as a white cloud in the chilly early winter air. 

“What details have
ye?” Devon asked, glancing from Jaime to me and then back to Jaime. 

“They’ve moved
tae….”

“Lass, why don’t
ye ride on up ahead, yer doing just fine.  I’ll catch up with ye when we’re
done here,” he said, cutting Jaime off mid sentence.