Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
She looked around, her eyes now adjusted to the gloom, staring into the shadows, frozen, fearful of moving and possibly drawing attention to herself.
Was it Harris? Had he somehow found her and managed to infiltrate the castle?
Straining her eyes she heard nothing save the faint rustling of a breeze among the plants. Yet, she felt a presence there. Ghostly fingers crawled up her spine causing her to shiver and catch her breath. Her chest ached as the icy-cold slowly seeped into her bones.
Slowly, inch-by-inch she gathered her skirts, and took a few tentative steps along the path. If she could just pass the cottage, then someone from the keep would see her. She could call for help, make a dash for it across the courtyard.
It was then she heard the footsteps behind her. Forsaking all caution, she darted along the path, desperate to escape.
She had almost made it to the corner when a hand seized her arm in a grip of iron, wrenching her against the wall.
The same terror she’d experienced only a few nights earlier washed over her, and she sucked in a breath, readying herself to scream while there was still time.
“‘Let go!’ she shouted, hoping someone would hear, and she slapped at the figure’s hand to free herself.”
“Lady Tyra. ‘Tis Ewan.”
She looked up, unable to fully make out his features, but there was something in his stance she recognized at once. The scream died on her lips.
He released her arm and she leaned heavily against the wall, fearing her legs had turned to water. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath.
“What dae ye mean by following me here and terrifying the life out of me?” she said crossly.
His voice in response was something between a grumble and a growl.
“I dinnae wish ye harm, Lady Tyra,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I dinnae take kindly tae the accusations ye made of me, impugning me word, without granting me the courtesy of being able tae defend what ye’re holding me tae.”
She huffed. “Oh? Then pray say yer piece now and explain how ye came tae be dallying wi’ the bonnie maid in the passageway.”
He snorted. “Ye’re mistaken. I wasnae dallying. I dinnae ken the wee lass. I was passing her and she slipped. I had simply taken her elbow and helped keep her upright wi’ me other hand tae prevent her falling headlong when ye appeared at the end of the passageway. Naught else passed between us.”
Tyra’s indignation left her like the air rushing from an emptying bladder of ale. She bit her lip. Apologies never came easily to her.
“If what ye say is the truth, then I admit I may have been hasty in me assumption.”
He growled an acknowledgment. “Aye. Hasty it was.” His tone was sharp.
He raised his head and she shuffled away from the wall, her ruffled feathers smoothing into place at the realization that she had badly misjudged him.
“I’ll thank ye tae mind yer assumptions in future.” Dinnae mistake me fer someone ye once kent. A lad with few morals and little care fer others.”
“I understand,” she said quietly, taking his sharp admonishment to heart. It was a mistake to judge him by Harris’s standards.
While they’d been talking an icy wind sprang into life, swirling the smirr that had enveloped the courtyard into icy sleet.
A cold, wet, splodge landed on her cheek, and then another.
Suddenly deluged, they both turned, their conversation forgotten, and made a mad dash along the path. Within only a few steps Tyra’s hair was soaking and plastered to her face.
In a heartbeat, Ewan had raised his cloak and flung it around over both of them.
“I can manage,” she snapped, jolting away.
He snorted. “Nonsense. Yer teeth are chattering already. Dinnae be so headstrong.” He reached an arm around her waist, pulling her close so that she was protected by his cloak as they forged their way through the sudden blizzard-like conditions, across the cobbled courtyard toward the keep.
His proximity made her uncomfortably aware of his physical presence – the strength of the arm holding her, the warmth of his body against the freezing sleet, his breath in her hair. The sudden temptation to lean into him took her by surprise.
Once they were inside the shelter of the keep, she wheeled away from him, her cheeks burning.
He laughed softly at her discomfort. “Were ye always such a headstrong lass?”
She huffed. “Headstrong? Nay. ‘Tis ye who are willful in brushing aside me wishes.”
He chuckled again. “So ye’d rather let the sleet freeze ye than accept a courtesy?”
She lifted her chin. “If it’s ye placing yer hands on me wi’out me say-so, then freezing would be a pleasant choice.”
“In that case, lass, I shall remember yer words next time I catch ye soaked and shivering like a wet kitten, and I’ll leave ye be.”
At that moment Joseph, the seneschal appeared beside them.
“Me goodness,” he fussed. “Milady, ye are right soaked through.” He glanced at Ewan accusingly, as if to ask where his manners were when he should have sheltered the lady. “I shall see tae some hot water fer ye tae bathe and warm yerself at once, before ye catch yer death of cold.”
He hastened off, leaving Ewan looking at her nonplussed.
He mimicked Joseph’s voice. “Ye poor wee lass, being with that big beast, the laird, who should have sheltered ye properly under his cloak. Tsk. Tsk.” His generous mouth quirked in a grin.
She found it impossible not to laugh. “Touché,” she said lightly, before turning away and heading up the stairs to her chamber.
Tyra allowed herself to drift in the luxurious waters of the bath, filling her nostrils with the rose scented steam rising as she soaped herself.
The aches in her shoulders slowly gave way, and she leaned back, for just a few moments in time allowing all the cares and worries she’d been harboring for so long simply slip away.
Closing her eyes, she rested her head on the rim of the copper tub, refusing to allow any of the bedeviling thoughts of her marriage to Ewan Mackenzie and the possible pursuit of her by Harris MacDonald, to spoil the moment of pleasure.
There was a creak as the door opened and quiet footsteps crossed the room. She barely registered the thought that someone had entered the room.
The maid had said she’d return for the wet clothing Tyra had strewn before the fire after she’d tugged them off, leaving her divinely naked.
The person who entered cleared their throat.
It was a man!
Her back was turned to the door so she could not see who it was and she dared not look, lest whoever it was could see her in her state of undress.
All the tension she’d so recently shed, soared back with full force into her tired muscles. She sat up, wishing she could reach the curtain that hid the tub and herself from view from the rest of the chamber.
“Who goes?” she said. Her voice came out more shrill than she intended, betraying the fright she was experiencing.
“’Tis Ewan Mackenzie, milady.”
She swiveled, seeking the linen towel waiting for her on the nearby stool. It too, was out of reach.
Sinking her now tingling nakedness beneath the water, she asked, shakily. “What in the name of all the saints are ye daeing in me chamber, Laird Ewan?”
“I beg yer pardon, Lady Tyra. I had nay intention of intruding. I knocked and when ye didnae answer I tiptoed in tae give ye the warm posset I’ve had the kitchen prepare fer ye.”
Hearing this, she was a tiny bit mollified. It seemed he had her comfort in mind and was not, entirely imposing his presence on her for no good reason.
“I am bathing, Laird Ewan. It is nae seemly fer ye tae be here.” Heat moved along her limbs, climbing to her cheeks.
Why was he still in the room?
He inhaled loudly, and she heard him bumping the little table. Goosebumps prickled her skin at his closeness and the thought he might gaze upon her unclad form.
Were his eyes closed?
“Please. Leave the posset on the table and quit the chamber. The water in me bath is cooling and I wish tae step out of the tub.”
There was that infuriating chuckle of his again.
“Dinnae fash, milady. I’m aware of yer… er… state of undress, and I’ve turned me back.”
“That’s all very well, Laird Ewan, but I’ve nay intention of leaving me bath until ye depart the room.”
He coughed and she had the distinct impression he was trying not to laugh.
Once she heard his steps retreating and heard the door creak open, she peeked around at his departing form.
“Enjoy yer posset, lass. I’ll see ye in the banqueting hall fer supper. I’ll leave ye now fer me own tub.”
As soon as he was gone, she eased herself out of the tub and dried off on the linen towels, her body still thrumming. She made a mental note to keep the towels close to the tub in the future. Just in case.
She sipped the delicious posset, grudgingly acknowledging the thoughtfulness of his gesture.
Once she was dressed again in her drab woolen clothing, she fixed her hair in a circlet of braids around her head, adorned herself with earbobs, bracelet and necklace, and, feeling less than satisfied with her appearance headed for the banqueting hall.
Save for the figure of Duncan, lazing by the fire, the hall was deserted when she arrived.
There was no one present at the high table, yet the servants were hurrying to and from filling ewers with wine and ale.
One maid was decorating the table with a winding of holly berries and ivy.
The room was welcoming in the candlelight and the warm glow from the fire in the enormous hearth.
Duncan waved a tankard and beckoned here over. “Come, Lady Tyra, join me by the hearth.”
She made her way through the vast hall, catching her breath against the chill, until she approached the blaze.
Duncan got to her feet and helped her into a comfortable chair.
“Would ye care fer a serving of ale, Lady Tyra?”
She nodded and he filled a tankard with the brew and passed it to her.
“Thank ye, Duncan.” She sipped, grateful for the distraction from her previous thoughts. She was still trying to make sense of the strange combination of embarrassment and feverish excitement she’d experienced when Ewan had intruded into her chamber.
“I daresay ye are greatly relieved ye are nae riding toward Moray in this fierce weather.”
She gave a soft laugh. “’Tis a thought that frequently crosses me mind, Duncan.
Nay doubt I would have been frozen into a block of ice by now if I had continued on me way.
” Making light of her situation took her mind away from the very real horrors she’d experienced and her grief at the loss of her two stout men-at-arms.
Duncan poured another splash of ale into his cup.
“And here ye are, about to become me braither’s bride and me sister-in-law.”
She grinned, liking the warm tone in his voice. “I look forward tae acquiring another braither. As a wee girl, I wished fer a braither, and this marriage will mean I have two. That is, if me brother, Edmund, and yer Council are in full agreement.”
He took a long draft of the liquor and slanted her a mischievous grin. “Indeed, the Council will be so grateful me braither is tae marry once more, I am certain they’ll be happy with whatever is proposed.”
“Once more?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “The Laird Ewan has been previously married?”
Duncan nodded. “Has he nae told ye?”
“He hasnae.” Tyra shook her head. She found this sudden discovery more than disconcerting but also a tad upsetting, which she found strange.
After all, what difference could it make that he was married once before?
He’d been determined theirs would be a loveless match.
Did that mean he was unable to love again because he had loved and lost a dear wife?
Was that a lurking sense of jealousy roiling in her belly at Duncan’s news?
“Is he… still attached tae his first wife’s memory.” she asked hesitantly.
Duncan gazed into the fire. “It’s nae me place tae say what is in me braither’s heart. Yet I ken he is loyal and that his commitment, once given, is unbreakable. When he cares fer someone, he gives his whole heart.”
Tyra took a gulp of the ale, directing her gaze to the flames in the hearth, thinking over what she’d just learned.