Chapter Seven
Breckin was gladdened to finally leave Edinburgh.
The journey to Eva’s home took three long days of riding toward the border, which would usually take him a day or even two at the most. Eva had demanded that the horsemen ride slowly because of her father’s ailment.
He wanted to turn his horse and head in the opposite direction but alas, he’d agreed to escort her father home.
Yet the closer he got to the border, the more he regretted his promise.
Eva barely spoke two words to him during the trek.
Of course, she had opted to ride with her da in their carriage.
He rode his horse ahead of Lord Scott’s men-at-arms. To keep himself from thinking about their disastrous first night together, Breckin focused on the lane, sounds, and for possible foes.
Even though he tried not to consider the ramifications of their first coupling, his mind relived the night over repeatedly.
He flinched and was thoroughly disappointed in himself.
Breckin had never left a woman dissatisfied before but his body had a mind of its own.
He disbelieved he’d lost control and gave way to his need before he brought his bonny wife to pleasure.
Not that he professed to be a great lover, but he was adept at bringing a woman to completeness.
What was wrong with him? Had he gone addled? It sure seemed so.
Since their departure from Edinburgh, there had been no time to discuss with Eva what had happened between them.
He wanted to apologize, not that he was versed in making such amends.
Breckin seldom apologized to anyone, but he owed her that.
She’d sworn that he hadn’t hurt her, but he knew that he had acted without care of her tender feelings.
She was a lass, young, and unknowing in the ways of sex and men.
He should have taken more time to woo her.
Breckin regretted it now and vowed to make amends for his boorish behavior at the soonest.
The lane rounded a grouping of trees ahead and the area was sparse in its woodland.
He concentrated on his surroundings and listened to the tromping of the horses’ hooves.
Being near the border kept him on alert but the Scott men-at-arms appeared lax in their courtesy.
One of the lord’s men-at-arms whistled lightly and he stopped to find out what was happening.
Breckin spotted no one ahead and heard no sounds from the meagerly wooded area around them.
“Laird Buchanan,” a man unknown to him, almost completely covered with chainmail and a helmet, said, “Let us go ahead. Our watchmen shall see us and have the gate opened before our approach. They might be guarded if they spot you.”
He wasn’t the least bit insulted by the man’s request. Those by the border were usually standoffish when a Highlander was in their midst—a Buchanan even more so.
Their reputation for brutal force preceded them and that suited him well.
He’d rather have men-at-arms fear him than welcome him with open arms.
Breckin signaled to his horse to move to the side to await Eva’s carriage to pass.
As he rode next to it, he tried to see her face.
She looked pleased and wore a smile on her bonny face.
Breckin wished she’d smile at him that way.
The carriage rolled forward, past the extravagant golden gates, and continued until it reached a row of steps that led to the lord’s home.
Breckin sat on his mount and tilted his head back. His eyes widened at the expanse of the heavily bricked manor home. He had never seen so many windows on an abode, and covered in glass, no less. The expense to build such a home must have cost a fortune.
Then his shoulders tensed when he realized that he could offer no such dwelling to Eva. Maybe the inside wasn’t as grand and lacked the extravagance of the outside.
He dismounted and waited for Eva and her father to retreat from the carriage. She walked past without a word to him and held on to her da’s arm.
“Let us get you settled, Da. You must be weary from the journey. Shall I have Luella fetch the healer for you?” Eva purposely ignored him as she assisted her father inside their home.
Breckin walked behind them and followed.
He sighed heavily when he eyed the entry of the manor.
Beyond the access, a hallway led to overlarge doors to which he suspected the great hall sat.
On the walls were tapestries, and beneath were placed tables of wooden elegance.
On the gleaming tops of the tables sat ceramic bowls, statuettes, and vases.
Torchlights were set in golden holders along the wall and brightened the expansive hallway.
Breckin continued onward, impressed by their wealth and home.
Even though he suspected he would never be able to furnish Eva with such luxury, he hoped she understood that they lived a simpler life in the Highlands.
They didn’t need shiny floorboards, expertly done tapestries, or artful bowls, statues, and vases.
In the great hall, she removed her cloak and set it over the top of an ornate chair. She helped her father settle in another chair and called forth a maid. “Luella, it is so good to see you. Can you bring a drink and some light fare?”
“Aye, Mistress.” The maid bowed to them, eyed him curiously, and hastened away.
Breckin stood by the roaring fire in the hearth and waited for his wife to approach. But he suspected he’d wait until Hell froze over because she made no move to join him. She retrieved her trunk which he’d only just noticed inside the doorway of the hall.
“I will give you a dram of the tincture, Da. It shall help ease you and then we will put you to bed.” Eva took care of her father and he found himself a wee bit envious of her care.
Finally, she glanced at him and he raised a brow. Breckin approached and stood next to her. Being close to her allowed him to take in her flowery scent, her beauty, and all that was Eva. He sighed and searched for the right words.
“We will not stay the night and must be on the road to the Highlands.”
Her brown brows furrowed. “Now? You want to leave now? But it is too soon.”
“Aye, what better time, lass? Ye know that I need to get home. We cannot afford to waste more time. Your da is home and settled now. We must go.”
“Daughter,” her father called. “You should not keep your husband waiting. Your new life awaits and I bid you to be a dutiful wife.”
“But I wanted to collect my belongings. Surely, Laird Buchanan, you would allow me to bring my possessions.”
“You may bring whatever fits in a small satchel.” He nodded to her and tried to be amiable. Surely his acquiescence would please her.
She had the gall to test him further and make more demands. “But I…I can fit a good amount in the carriage.”
Breckin chortled a laugh. “Lass, where we are going, no carriage can cross. Unless we take the long way around the hills and mountains, which will put me at least a fortnight behind. I will not be delayed further. Nay, ye can bring whatever fits in your satchel.”
Eva flopped down into the chair adjacent to her father’s. “Surely we can rest and leave on the morrow. And my belongings will not fit in a satchel, Breckin.”
Her da chuckled. “I vow there are probably four or more carts already loaded with her goods. There will be plenty of items to keep you in comfort as you begin your life together.”
“Four or more carts…” he said, aghast. “Ye must be jesting with me, Lord Scott. Eva, I have no time or patience for this. I care not about your possessions. Ye will not need such items where we are going. Bring some garments and something to keep ye warm. That is all ye need.”
“I will not leave a single item behind.” She folded her arms over her chest and her brows pulled together as she inserted her claim. “Why the haste? What lures you home so quickly?”
“War.”
“War? You mean to go to war when we reach your home?” She seemed astounded by his simple explanation.
Breckin made no qualms about it. “Aye, war.”
“Then perhaps you might consider leaving me here. Later, when the weather warms and you finish your war, you can return to retrieve me. By then, I can have my belongings packed tightly in the carts and ready to be transported.” She appeared confident in her demand but he scoffed with a grunt at her forceful speech.
Breckin maintained a serious expression. “Where I go, ye shall go as ordered by the king himself. Nay, we will leave shortly with a small satchel of your possessions.”
“Daughter,” her father called. “You should concede to your husband’s will. I shall see to it that your beloved possessions are packed in the carts and transported to you in the Highlands. My men will bear arms and protect it on the journey. Will that suffice, Laird Buchanan?”
“The carts will take an extra fortnight or longer to reach my holding, but aye, I suppose I can live with that. Presently, I cannot be delayed in my return.”
“We understand,” Lord Scott said. “Sprig, you need to go. Laird Buchanan will take good care of you. I promise to send a missive and you must write back to me to tell me how you fare.”
She nodded but remained silent.
“Then I shall await ye outside, lass. Do not keep me waiting.” Breckin bowed his head to Lord Scott and turned on his heel. He left the beautiful manor home and stood by his horse.
“Milord,” a lad said as he rounded his horse. “I gave him a little bit of hay and water.”
“My thanks, lad. Where is the stable?”
“’Tis behind the manor, Milord.”
“Fetch a horse for Lady Eva.”
The lad’s mouth hung open. “Milady never rides horses. Are ye sure, Milord?”
“Aye, I am. Make sure the horse is sound. We have a good distance to ride.” Breckin grabbed the reins of his warhorse and followed the lad to the side of the manor to ensure that Eva was given a proper mount, one sturdy enough to make it up the incline and hillier mounds.