Chapter 13 #2
He accepted it, popped off the lid and sniffed. With a shrug, he smeared a bit on his hands. He offered it back to her.
“Ye can keep it,” she said. “’Tis easy to make more.”
He nodded again, this time in appreciation, and folded it into the leather satchel at his side.
They departed for the Paisley Abbey once they snuffed out the small fire, but while Clara tried to maintain a pleasant conversation with the warrior on the way to the abbey, her pulse beat wild and erratic.
She would see Reid. Most likely for the last time in her life.
Her emotions tangled into something bittersweet. There was the joy at being reunited with him, of course. But also the trepidation of facing what stood between them.
And what could never be.
For as much as she cared for Reid, and mayhap despite the regard he harbored for her, theirs was an affection that would never bloom into love. Not when there could be no future.
It was that thought which held fast in Clara’s mind as if a burr was stuck in the back of her skull. However, once the spires of the abbey came into view, her poor, foolish heart slammed its ecstatic beats in her chest, and she could think of nothing more than seeing his handsome face once more.
For the better part of the day, Reid had been out of bed and moving about. After nearly a week of confinement, which had felt like a year, the ability to stretch his muscles was glorious.
Sister Agnes entered the infirmary with a tray of herbs. “Ye look hearty, my lad.”
“I wish to leave for Dumbarton,” he said without preamble.
Concern crinkled the skin around her eyes. “I’ll allow it so long as ye dinna do anything foolish,” she said at last and set the tray down. “I’ve a list of rules for ye to follow. Ye’re the type who needs to be told what ye canna do.”
“Even though I’ll likely do it regardless?” he grinned.
She gave a good-natured chuckle and wagged a finger at him. “No riding longer than two hours.” She lifted her brows. “No fighting.”
He looked away.
“There ye go already—” The whinny of a horse outside interrupted Sister Agnes’s chastisement.
Reid’s heart leapt into his throat, the same as it did every time a horse sounded in the courtyard. Though he always hoped it would be Clara, she had yet to return.
The need to leave the abbey, to get to Dumbarton, pressed on him until he felt as though he was suffocating. She had been away too damn long. The worry of it had gone from an occasional thought in the back of his mind to a constant gnawing.
He strode from the infirmary and to the doorway to see who had arrived. Once it had been the butcher; another time, it had been a traveler seeking shelter for the night.
His pulse kicked up into a frenzy. A woman with a long, dark braid dismounted from her horse.
Clara.
Sunlight shone off her shimmering black hair, and she moved with grace as she stroked the steed’s powerful neck with gentle affection.
He approached her and was struck anew with the force of her beauty. The five days of her absence had somehow become a lifetime, and he wondered how he had even breathed without her.
Her eyes were paler than a winter sky, yet as warm as summer.
Her generous mouth turned up in a shy smile that recalled everything that existed between them.
He longed to draw her into his arms, for their bodies to fit together perfectly once more, for the opportunity to press his mouth to hers and taste her sweetness.
His hand curled into a fist to ward off such temptations, especially when there were important matters at play. “What happened?” he asked. “Did the English come already?”
Clara shook her head. “Nay. Lord Tavish didn’t believe me. I tried to enlist the aid of the surrounding clans, but they wouldn’t hear of it from me either.”
He frowned. “Because ye’re English?”
“And a woman.” She notched her chin just a little higher, an indication their disparaging treatment had left her wounded.
“The fools,” Reid growled. “’Twill be their people who pay the price for their lack of trust.”
“Women are no’ often sent.” A man appeared beside Clara, the first Reid had seen of him. He appeared to be a guard from his chainmail and the red-and-white tunic he wore over his armor. His stature was stout, and he had more red hair sprouting from his helm than visible skin.
“This is Finlay,” Clara introduced. “He was sent to ensure I wasn’t an English spy.”
The man pulled off his helm and smoothed a hand down his thick beard. “I dinna know she was such a goodly soul. I was merely doing as I was told.”
A goodly soul? How much did he know of Clara?
An unfamiliar and unwelcome spike of discomfort lodged itself in Reid’s gut at the thought of the two spending time alone together. She reached for her bag, but Finlay was there before her fingertips could even brush over the leather.
“I’ll get that for ye.” A flash of teeth appeared in the middle of his bright-red beard.
“I was just now preparing to depart to Dumbarton.” Reid slid a glare toward the other man.
Clara hesitated. “I see.”
Only then did Reid realize that if she did not return to Dumbarton with him, this would likely be the last time he saw her. There hadn’t been an opportunity to talk to her, to tell her about his parents and brother, to explain.
She looked up at him, regret heavy in her wide gaze. “I…” she bit her lip.
“Come with us,” Reid said. “So they will see ye were no’ lying.”
It was a ridiculous suggestion. She would be safe in the abbey with the nuns. Returning to Dumbarton would put her in the path of danger.
“Nay—wait.” He shook his head. “I shouldna have asked—”
“Aye,” she answered swiftly. “I’ll come.” Her breathing quickened and her stare became almost desperate.
“It isna safe,” he protested.
“I can take care of myself.”
The wind stirred and blew wisps of hair across her face. He couldn’t stop himself as he reached out and swept it behind her ear. She was warm against his fingertips, her hair even silkier than he remembered.
“I’ll protect her as well,” the Dumbarton guard said.
Reid shot him a hard look, but Clara smiled at him. “Thank ye, Finlay.”
The bit of skin visible against all that hair flushed to a deep red.
“I’ll take my horse, though.” Clara patted her horse’s long, dark mane. “’Twas kind of Sister Seraphina to allow me to use this horse, but I’d much prefer to be back on my own mare.”
“I’ll see it done,” Reid said. “Go refresh yerself while I make the necessary preparations.”
Clara offered him a grateful smile and disappeared into the abbey with the Dumbarton guard trotting at her heels like a besotted whelp.
Heaven help the man if he so much as laid a finger on Clara.
Within the hour, and following a stern lecture from Sister Agnes, Reid and Clara were ready to travel once more. Unfortunately, so too was Fintan. Or was it Finsby?
Regardless, the Dumbarton guard sat atop his horse with his chest puffed out, ready to lead them to the castle where they would finally ensure Lord Tavish took the threat against his people seriously. They were near the castle when a distant humming vibrated in the air.
Clara turned a confused glance toward Reid. “Do ye hear that?”
Reid turned in his saddle and froze.
In the distance, moving like a hoard of locusts over the swells of hills, there was an army of Englishmen. Their number was so great that no beginning nor an end could be seen; a sea of men moving with their flags cast into the whipping wind as though they were the sails of attacking ships.
Finlay uttered a low curse.
“We must hurry before we’re too late,” Clara said at Reid’s side.
He narrowed his eyes in contemplation. “They will doubtless need to make camp before the attack.”
“Or will do so in the middle of the night,” the Dumbarton guard agreed. “Regardless, we should make haste to Lord Tavish.”
As they rode on, however, Reid couldn’t get the number of soldiers from his thoughts. The size was far, far greater than he had assumed. Enough to overrun the fortitude of Dumbarton Castle.
The understanding of their predicament hit him like a gut punch. He should not have suggested Clara come. She should be back at the convent where she would be safe. Asking her to come had not only been selfish, but it had also been dangerous—and might well be the cause of her death.