Chapter 13
13
T homas sat in the chair by the fireplace, his eyes fixed on the door connecting his room to Astrid’s. A smirk played at the corners of his lips as the flames cast long shadows over the stone walls of his chamber. The warmth of the dying embers was a stark contrast to the tumult in his heart.
He had spent the night staring at that door. It was the one place he was certain he’d spot Astrid if she decided to barge into his room once again.
He stared at the door in anticipation, waiting for her to burst through it once again. His mind was a turbulent whirlpool of desire and confusion. The memory of her bold entrance lingered and ignited a thrill he had not felt in years.
But the question was, would she dare to do it again? Would she come rushing through that door once again like the temptress that she was?
That tantalizing thought haunted him for hours, stirring a restlessness in his soul.
Just as the quiet of the night settled around him like a heavy cloak, the creak of a door interrupted his reverie.
His heart rate quickened as hope spurted out of him like a geyser. For one brief moment, the world stopped, and he felt a precious sliver of hope. Yet, as quickly as that hope rose within him, it vanished as he recognized the familiar figures of his servants. They entered the bedchambers as quietly as phantoms.
Had Thomas not known any better, he would have thought the castle was haunted.
“Och, ye’re awake. We had thought…” one of the servants said as he noticed that Thomas was not in his bed but in the chair near the fireplace. “to find ye still indecent.”
“Laird McFair,” his man-at-arms’ gravelly voice broke through the peacefulness of the dawn.
Thomas rolled his eyes the moment he heard Duncan behind him.
“Duncan, what unpleasant news have ye brought me today?” he asked, slipping into his familiar role.
Duncan rolled his shoulders back and stood like the sentinel he was. “Ye make it sound as if it’s me fault that these things happen while we are sleepin’.”
“And sometimes I often wonder if ye dinnae go out of yer way to make things happen just so ye dinnae lose yer position.”
“Me Laird, I served yer faither, and I have served ye faithfully, have I nae? Then why threaten me?”
“I dinnae think anything threatens ye, Duncan. But since God never gave ye a sense of humor, why do ye nae just tell me what we’re doin’ today?”
“Archery,” Duncan answered. “We’ll be bringin’ the troops to work on their archery skills. We’ve got a good wind comin’ from the south that should give us a decent challenge. Trainin’ begins in a few minutes. In fact, I’m certain the lads will get a kick out of ye showin’ up before them. But we cannae do that unless ye get a move on.”
Thomas nodded as he forced a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “Aye, Duncan. ‘Tis a fine idea. I could use the fresh air.”
He rose from his chair, and the cold seeped into his bones the moment he stepped away from the warmth of the fire. Perhaps the open skies and the call of the bowstring would clear the fog of thoughts that clung to him like a shadow.
As he donned his cloak, the weight of his responsibilities settled back on his shoulders. He was a laird, a leader of men and protector of his clan. He could not afford to be distracted by the enchanting Astrid, despite the way her laughter echoed in his mind and the fact that her fiery spirit ignited something deep within him.
“Are the lads ready?” Thomas asked, his voice firm, banishing any lingering thoughts of the woman who had breached the sanctity of his solitude.
“Aye, they await yer command,” Duncan replied, a knowing glint in his eyes. Perhaps he sensed Thomas’s inner turmoil, the push and pull of duty against desire.
With a determined nod, Thomas strode out of his chamber. The cool air of the early morning kissed his skin as he strolled through the quiet corridors of the castle. His footsteps echoed off the stone walls, reminding him of his position as Laird.
As he descended the staircase leading to the foyer, his chest tightened as he caught a glimpse of Astrid. It was a vision that both haunted and teased him.
She stood with her hair flowing in a braid down her back. She turned to face him. The expression on her face was one of confusion mingled with ire. He hadn’t expected that she’d be up so early, yet seeing her thrilled him.
“Astrid,” he said as he moved toward her.
Her name lingered on the tip of his tongue as if it were a treat. She glared at him before turning on her heels and marching down the hall without a word.
Confused by her silent rebuke, Thomas glanced to Duncan for an explanation.
Duncan arched an eyebrow as his attention shifted to the servants who had witnessed their Laird’s humiliation. Thomas did not doubt that rumors about what just transpired would spread.
Rumors in a castle were like kindle to fire. One couldn’t go anywhere without catching someone whispering or chatting about something. Only now, Thomas would know what the chatter was about, and he didn’t like it.
“Ye dinnae have the time to be chasin’ her,” Duncan reminded him as he was about to turn on his heel and follow Astrid into the drawing room.
“And what news do ye bring? Has me faither made it through the night?”
“Aye,” Duncan answered. “There’s been nay news about him. I’m sure he’s fine. Right now, though, we’ve got to get to the courtyard. Priorities, Me Laird. Ye cannae be everywhere at once.”
“Nay, ye’re right. Can never be distracted from the task at hand,” Thomas mumbled as he watched Astrid go up the stairs.
He wondered if she was going back to their room or the bathing chambers to soak. He struggled against his desire to follow her.
“Me Laird,” Duncan called, his voice rattling him to the core.
Reluctantly, Thomas turned to him. He felt torn between his duties and the woman who had captivated his thoughts. “Aye, I’m comin’.”
With a heavy heart, he strolled away, reminded once again of the weight of his responsibilities.
As he reached the training grounds, the sun had already risen over the canopy of the forest. The earth had been warmed enough to leave a blanket of fog lingering over the ground.
It was such a lovely sight that he found himself wishing he could share it with Astrid. He pulled in a deep breath, wishing he understood why she was avoiding him as the laughter and shouts filled the air. Thomas exhaled as his ear caught the whistles of arrows as they flew through the crisp morning air.
Yet, despite the excitement, Thomas couldn’t help but feel a hollowness within him. Sure enough, in the depths of his being, he felt it, the chasm where his hope and confusion intertwined.
As the sun drifted higher in the sky and bathed the training pitch in a warm glow, Thomas found himself unable to focus. He stood shoulder to shoulder with his men and drew back his bow. Yet, despite his focus, his arrows flew crooked and missed their target entirely.
“I have to say, ye havenae shot this poorly since ye were a lad,” Duncan teased. “Could it be that ye’ve got something foggin’ yer head?”
“Nay,” Thomas answered, too ashamed to admit that maybe his thoughts weren’t on firing arrows but rather on his wife.
“What have I told ye before? Distractions are like the smoke of a fire. Ye cannae ken what ye’re fightin’ against until ye can name it. What is controllin’ yer mind right now?”
“Nothing,” Thomas answered defiantly.
The last thing he wanted was to draw his men’s attention to Astrid. They didn’t need to know that his wife had him tied up in knots of confusion and want.
“Ye’re lyin’. Think I just started trainin’ ye, lad? I’ve been at yer side since ye were knee-high to a grasshopper. Now, try again. What’s got ye bothered?”
“Nothing,” Thomas insisted as he drew an arrow from his quiver and tried again.
He knew if he missed the shot, there’d be hell to pay. Duncan wasn’t one to let things go so easily.
“Aye, ye say that, but a good laird may have a few distractions here and there. He might even fold his hands and rest a few days here and there. But what happens to him?” Duncan asked as Thomas remained focused on the target at the end of the green pitch.
“He dies,” Thomas answered as he loosed the arrow.
Holding his breath, he waited for his arrow to strike its target. Instead of hearing the familiar whack of the arrow ramming into the barrel of hay, he was greeted with silence. His arrow had soared above the target and landed close to the tree line.
“Aye, and so will ye apparently,” Duncan said, his voice laced with disappointment. “I dinnae think ye’ve ever shot this poorly.”
“Is that supposed to encourage me to do better?” Thomas grunted.
“Well, yer poor aim is certainly doin’ nothing to motivate ye,” Duncan shot back.
If there was one thing Thomas admired about Duncan, it was his ability to cut straight to the heart of the matter.
“I dinnae need ye beratin’ me.”
“Well, someone should. Look at ye. It’s been what? Two months since the Lady came to the castle? She was caught stealin’, mind ye. And yet here she is, no longer a thief but the lady of the castle, wit’ the whole clan to protect her.”
Thomas shot his man-at-arms a warning look. How had Duncan discovered his ruse with Astrid?
“Choose yer next words carefully,” he warned, his grip tightening on the hilt of his dirk.
“Ye mistake me, Me Laird,” Duncan said, his voice softening. “I never said that her distractin’ ye was a bad thing. That is something that can be easily remedied.”
“Ye’re sayin’ that because I’ve nae bedded me wife—as it is me duty as Laird and husband—she’s got me distracted?” Thomas asked, picking his words carefully and deliberately.
After all, Duncan had trained him to be the warrior he was. The last thing he wanted was to show just how much Astrid affected him.
“Well, see now, ye havenae lost all yer wits,” Duncan drawled.
“If ye hadnae already noticed, the lady isnae very receptive to such gestures,” Thomas shot back, dropping his voice to a low whisper.
“Now there’s a riddle for ye,” Duncan said as he folded his arms across his chest and flashed him a knowing smirk.
“I’m nae in the mood for one of yer lessons. If ye have an answer for me, then just say it outright,” Thomas grumbled as he reached for another arrow.
“Perhaps nae. Instead, what ye’ll get is rumors,” Duncan cautioned. “And ye can already hear what will be said. The Laird cannae produce an heir, the council will decide that Astrid must be disposed of, and then where will ye be?”
Thomas clenched his hands into tight fists. The future Duncan painted was not the same one that he had imagined. In fact, it was the complete opposite.
“Well, if what ye say comes to pass, then I will die defendin’ me wife.”
“So, ye’d chose yer heart over yer duty to yer clan?” Duncan challenged as Thomas prepared to loose another arrow.
He narrowed his focus, not on the target at the end of the field but on Astrid’s face. She smiled at him as she batted her long lashes. The arrow sprang from his bow and flew across the field with perfect accuracy.
“Ha, there, see? Just needed to redirect yer attention,” Duncan said, taking credit for the first shot Thomas landed all morning.
“I need to have a chat wit’ Astrid,” Thomas muttered as his thoughts merged until they were a single point focused on Astrid.
“Aye,” Duncan agreed with a smirk. “And if I were ye, I’d do it before the council convenes later today. Ye dinnae want them thinkin’ that ye cannae produce an heir or that yer marriage to Astrid is a ruse. Because if they find out, they will annul it, and she’ll go to prison while ye hang.”
“Ye dinnae have to tell me what is at stake here. I understand completely,” Thomas answered as he rolled his eyes at Reid. Where his brother got his imagination, Thomas didn’t know. Everyday his brother managed to survive astonished him. “But I doubt the council will go so far as to kill me. I think yer imagination might be runnin’ off wit’ ye a bit, daenae ye think? Although I do think it’ll be entertainin’ to see them try.”
“Aye, ye ken they’ll force me to do it. But why test fate? Ye ken all too well how dangerous rumors can be. They have the power to tear down mighty dynasties. They’ll fester and grow until they become a beast of their own. I’d suggest ye go and address the issue before it spirals out of control.”
Thomas couldn’t help but feel the urgency of Duncan’s words settle over him like a heavy cloak. There was no way he was going to allow his clan to be torn apart.
“I need to speak wit’ me wife.”
Thomas strolled around the garden, his ears perking up at the sound of Melody’s laughter. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to say, but he was confident that by the time the sun rose the next day, he’d have sorted things out with Astrid.
As he rounded the corner, he spotted Astrid with Eileen and Melody. The cool evening breeze played with Astrid’s hair, enchanting him far more than it should have.
“Evening,” he greeted as he strolled over to them.
His chest tightened as he reconsidered how he was going to approach his wife.
“Oh my, we’ve let the time slip away from us,” Astrid gasped, her tone urgent. “Come, Melody. Let’s go see what they’re makin’ for dinner.”
“Astrid,” Thomas called, his voice stern, leaving no room for interpretation. She paused with her back to him. “Eileen, please take Melody to the drawing room. I need to have a word wit’ me wife.”