Chapter 14
The approaching army's noise continued until Clara, Reid and Finlay were swallowed up by the forest. None of them spoke as they neared the castle nestled protectively between the two massive hills.
If Lord Tavish had listened to Clara, he could have moved the villagers to the safety of those high, stone walls. There would have been time to gather his allies to help fight off the English.
As it was, the army would result in a slaughter if the villagers could not be relocated into the castle in time to ensure their safety.
Though she knew the danger she had placed herself in, Clara was grateful to be going with Reid and Finlay, to know that she would be of help where she was needed.
And to be at Reid’s side.
She had only her daggers, aye, but they were better than nothing, and it would offer her the opportunity to save his life possibly. If any of them could be saved.
A shiver of apprehension rippled down her spine.
The guards at the gate offered no resistance when Finlay demanded entry, though they did eye her with suspicion. The three of them were immediately shown to the great hall, which went silent upon their entrance.
Despite the room's size and the number of people within, their footfalls on the rushes were audible, the soft thuds echoing down from the impossibly high rafters.
Lord Tavish narrowed his pale eyes as they approached. “I knew she was a traitor.”
Finlay stepped ahead of Clara and Reid and pulled off his helm, revealing a tangle of bright red hair. “She was telling the truth, my lord.”
Lord Tavish’s expression changed to one of surprise and then horror. “Everyone out,” he said in a low, flat voice.
People scrambled in all directions to obey his orders with a frenzy that made Clara recall the chaos of ants whose hill had been kicked. The door thundered shut behind the last person to leave, its boom reverberating in an echo from the tall ceilings.
“How do ye know this?” Lord Tavish demanded. “What proof do ye have?”
“This is Reid MacLeod, the original messenger who acts on behalf of the king,” Finlay replied. “He was going to deliver the message, so ye’d believe it. And then we saw the army marching here on our way back to the castle.”
The earl sat forward in his high-backed seat. “Ye saw them?”
Finlay nodded. “They’ll be here within the hour but may no’ attack until nightfall. Mayhap tomorrow. ’Tis a large army. Well over a thousand men.”
Lord Tavish uttered a quiet curse. “Why did it take ye so long to return to me? Where were ye?”
Finlay looked back at Clara with a sad frown that indicated his feelings of betrayal. But she did not fault him. It was the job he’d been sent to do.
“She was going to the surrounding clans,” Finlay said. “To gain their support to assist Dumbarton.”
The earl’s sharp stare fixed on Clara. “Were ye successful?”
She stepped forward, but before she could speak, Reid did so for her.
“She is but a woman, my lord,” he said sarcastically. “And one presumed to be English at that. She was met with the same reception ye afforded her.”
Clara shook her head at him. She did not need him to fight her battles.
Lord Tavish’s face deepened with his irritation at Reid’s reply, but then he refocused his attention on Clara once more. “Thank ye for all ye’ve done. Despite how ye were treated.”
“Women aren’t helpless creatures,” she said with a tilt to her chin.
Lord Tavish took a drink from the chalice in his hand. “Because of ye, the surrounding clans will no’ be ignorant of this impending attack. Finlay, see to it that they are given rooms for their stay, however long that might be, and leave me to meet with my advisors.”
Finlay nodded and did as was bid exactly, locating two rooms for them within the castle. While the private accommodations were luxurious, Clara couldn’t stand the idea of being far from Reid’s side. They had already spent enough time apart from one another.
Their time together would be ephemeral. She wanted to make the most out of every moment she could.
As they were shown to their rooms in a corridor with a long row of doors, her hand moved behind the cover of her skirt and found his. His grip squeezed back at once in understanding.
“I’ll come to ye,” he said under his breath as she was left in a solitary chamber, and he was shown to his accommodations.
Her room was simple but elegant, with a four-poster bed surrounded by thick crimson curtains. The room had a number of fine furnishings, a chest at the foot of the bed, two chairs near the hearth and several small tables. A fire crackled in the fireplace and kept the room at a pleasant temperature.
Clara stood at the center of it all, too eager for Reid’s return to relax.
At long last, a knock sounded. She rushed to the door so quickly that her skirt swung around her legs. Reid was on the other side, his shoulders broad and powerful, his face set with a look of determination that made her heart flip.
She stepped back to allow him to enter, then closed the door behind him.
A single moment hovered between them, and in that brief spell, Clara relived everything they’d shared.
The journey they’d done together, the admissions they’d both confided in one another, the attack when Reid had been knocked senseless, and the intimate moment of passion.
To be so close to him and not touch him, hold him, kiss him—it was almost too painful. And yet, she did not know if she could stand going to him, giving in to the longing within her that someday promised to break her heart.
If they even survived this night.
In the end, she did not have to decide on how she would react to being alone with him for the first time since the attack. It was Reid who closed the distance between them and drew her into the security of his arms.
Clara breathed him in as she melted against his body, savoring the safety of his embrace, his masculine strength and the alluring connection that hummed between them.
His hand tenderly touched her jaw, tilting her face up to look at him as he searched her eyes. “I shouldna have asked ye to come here, Clara. ’Tis no’ safe.”
“I would not have stayed away,” she said firmly. “Not when I might do something to help. Not when I know ye’re here.”
His brows furrowed with apparent anguish, and he rested his forehead on hers. “I couldna bear the thought of leaving ye. Of knowing it might be the last time I ever saw ye.”
“Nor could I,” Clara whispered.
She leaned into him until the spice of his breath teased her with memories of everything they had shared the afternoon they lay together in the forest. Desire pulsed anew through the place he had touched so thoroughly, where they had once been joined.
Without considering what she was doing, Clara brushed her mouth against his. He gave a low groan and tightened his hold on her as his lips captured hers in a passionate kiss. His tongue grazed hers, an intimacy she welcomed and returned with fervor.
Longing simmered through her, heating her blood, and made her body thrum with need. Their kisses and panted breaths were overloud in the quiet room, but Clara didn’t care.
She didn’t care about anything but Reid and the passion between them. Even if it was fleeting, she wanted to hold tight to it with a white-knuckled grip.
Reid broke off the kiss and stared down at her, his eyes bright. “Ye canna stay here.”
“I cannot go without ye.”
“Ye saw the soldiers coming here…”
Clara swallowed and nodded. There had been far more than Dumbarton could have withstood, even with prior warning.
“Ye must return to Paisley Abbey,” he said.
“Once I go there, I will never come back,” she replied solemnly.
Her mind had been made up. She could not stand the idea of going back to the manor in Castleton, of being a burden to her family.
And though it broke a piece off her heart to admit it, she could not allow herself to be a warrior’s lover.
She would not travel from battle to battle with no purpose but to warm his bed.
“Clara.” His voice caught.
“I know ye don’t want a family.” Clara shook her head. “I’ll not force ye to try to be who ye aren’t.”
“There’s a reason…”
She gazed up at him. “What do ye mean?”
“There’s a reason I’ve no’ had a desire to start a family.” He hissed a sigh and strode away, running a hand through his hair.
She let him have his space and leaned against one of the thick posts of the bed. Its polished, carved surface dug into her hip. “And what reason is that?”
He dragged his stare from the floor up to her. “Because I’m scared that I’ll lose ye.”
An ache lodged itself in Reid’s throat. He’d never spoken to anyone of his family before. Even as a lad when he’d wandered the streets, utterly lost, he had not told anyone what had happened.
The tale was far too painful.
Not that it would have had an effect anyway. It was a time of great violence. One couldn’t walk down the street without seeing an orphan or a family who had lost their home in an English raid. He was simply one more person seeking aid in a sea of many.
“What do ye mean, ye’re afraid ye’ll lose me?” Clara pushed off the bedpost and approached him.
She was so lovely that gazing at her actually hurt. It tugged at a place inside his chest and made it throb with agony. She was far too good for the likes of him.
He did not deserve her.
“I’m afraid to have anything the English can take from me,” he admitted. “The way they did my home. My family.”
“Reid.” She reached for him.
He didn’t pull away from her touch and instead allowed her to guide him with her toward the edge of the mattress, where they both sat on its soft, pillowy edge.
Her fingers entwined with his. “How old were ye when this happened?”
“I’d seen seven summers at that time,” he replied in a voice that did not sound like his own. It was too wooden, too flat.
Too devoid of the pain that still plagued him, thinking back on the moment his life had been so terribly altered.
She gave a pained exhale and rested her head on his shoulder.