Chapter Seven
It was a lie.
Errol kenned exactly where they needed to go next.
And what was there.
He hadn’t been there in years, but the last time he had been, he remembered it clear as day.
A time when there was no truce between the MacLeods and the Harts. Though it was deep in MacLeod lands, the enemy was there. Watching through the trees.
Waiting.
Quietly.
Patiently.
When Errol’s brother, Gavin, and the small party he was traveling with, stopped at the old graveyard to pay their respects to those long gone, they were ambushed.
Taken by surprise. All four men were cut down.
For no reason. They’d done naught wrong. Hadn’t led any attacks. Hadn’t hurt anyone.
When Gavin and his men hadn’t returned, Laird MacLeod, he and Gavin’s da, sent out a search party.
It was Errol who found his slain brother.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The gruesome scene was forever emblazoned in his memory.
“Is something amiss?” Moira asked, placing a small hand on his forearm. “Suddenly ye look unwell. Are ye suffering from the same affliction as Seema and the others?” Her voice was laced with concern.
But he paid no attention to that. Instead, he pulled his arm away, recoiling from her touch. The thought of his brother reminded him that Moira couldn’t be trusted. That there was an underlying reason for this chase they were on.
He’d never been able to prove it, but he had always believed that the Harts were behind his brother’s assassination.
“Did I do something wrong?” She asked when he didn’t answer.
“Nay. Finish yer meal so we can return to the room. Ye need yer rest.” He couldn’t keep the gruffness out of his voice.
For a moment, Moira looked like she was going to put up a fight, but she snapped her mouth shut and after a moment, took a bite of stew.
They ate in silence and as they were finishing, she called over the serving wench to request a bowl of stew to bring with them.
“Seema’s belly must be empty. She’ll need sustenance.”
Errol gave her a curt nod.
“Are ye for certs there is naught amiss?”
“E’erything is fine, Moira.”
She sighed in resignation. “If ye insist.” She popped the last bit of bread into her mouth and chewed. When she was done, she asked, “It will take us a day to get to the next location?”
“Aye.”
“What do you think is there? Something of worth?”
Naught but bad memories. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t, tell her that. “I dinna ken. I suppose we’ll find out on the morrow.”
The serving wench arrived with their extra bowl of stew covered with a square of cloth.
Standing, Errol dropped enough coins on the table to cover the cost of their meals and escorted Moira to the door.
She walked slowly, taking care not to spill any of the stew as they made their way back to the inn and their room.
Seema sat at the window and smiled when they entered.
“We thought ye may be hungry, so we brought stew.” Moira held up the bowl in her hand and approached Seema.
The maid put her hands up and shook her head. “I thank ye for the kind gesture, but I cannae accept.”
Moira’s face softened. She set the dish on the table and nodded. “I was hoping that ye would feel well enough to eat, but I see ’tis too early.”
“Aye. My belly has settled some, but I dare no’ eat just yet. Mayhap in the morn.”
“We will head north in the morn, but if ye are still no’ well, we will delay.”
Seema shook her head. “Please, doonae stay for my sake. Ye need to continue on.”
“And leave ye here alone? I think no’.”
Errol watched the exchange betwixt the two women. Moira was genuinely concerned for the well-being of her maid. She sat near the woman, rubbing her hand along the maid’s back in a comforting manner.
The journey ahead of them would not be an easy one. As he’d mentioned, it was a day’s ride from their current location, however, it would take them much longer with Seema’s current condition.
He remained silent. He would not be the one to tell Moira that he thought Seema should stay behind.
Moira patted Seema’s hand. “We shall see how ye fare in the morn and decide then, aye?” She stood and looked at the bed and then to Errol, and then back to the bed. “Where are ye planning to sleep?”
“Dinnae fash, lass. The bed is ye and yer maid’s. I will sleep on the floor.”
She nodded her head in agreement. “That does appear to be our only option, doesnae it?”
He left the room to give the women their privacy as they readied themselves for bed.
When Moira called out to him to let him ken it was safe to enter, he looked to the bed and fought back a wave of disappointment in seeing that she was settled under the blankets already.
The thought was foreign to him. Why should he care that he didn’t get a glimpse of her creamy skin? Her long hair cascading over her bare shoulders. The swell of her breasts. The roundness of her bottom.
Christ. He shook his head to clear it as he grabbed the extra blankets from the chair and laid them out on the floor. Then he snuffed out the candle, bathing them all in darkness.
He settled in for an uncomfortable night, but at least he wasn’t sleeping outdoors on the cold ground. But then he would be able to look up at the night sky. See the stars shining above him. One of his favorite things to do.
Moira wasn’t aught more than a mission. He didn’t need to think about her in any way other than that. As a matter of fact, he would be smart not to do so. Especially if she was deceiving him.
“Sleep well, Errol.” Moira said into the darkness and guilt overwhelmed him.
His thoughts were a mess. One minute he was certain she was leading him into a trap. The next he was thinking what it would feel like to taste her lips.
“Good night.” He answered gruffly and closed his eyes, willing his mind to think of aught else other than the bonny lass lying in the bed just a few feet away from him.
*
Errol was wide awake the next morn when he heard the women start to stir.
He’d spent a restless night tossing and turning.
The floor was hard under his back, but that wasn’t what bothered him.
He’d slept on much worse. Minus the beauty of being under the stars, the floor still beat sleeping on the ground.
But he couldn’t get Moira out of his mind. All night long her visage was there every time he closed his eyes.
Moira’s head popped over the side of the bed. “Good morn,” she said in a sleepy voice as she rubbed her eyes.
Even with her messy hair and puffy eyes from sleep, she was still beautiful.
He nodded his head and stood. “I shall leave ye be so that ye can dress for the day. When ye are ready we can go break our fast.”
He exited the room and waited in the hall while the women tended to their needs and dressed.
It shouldn’t take long. They hadn’t packed much as they wanted to be light for the journey.
Seema hadn’t awakened during the night, and he took that as a good sign that whatever affliction she’d had hopefully passed.
“Errol, son of the MacLeod.”
At his name, Errol turned. The man walking toward him looked familiar, but he couldn’t put a name to the face. He appeared to be close to his father’s age, and similar in stature.
“Richard Carlyle.” The man introduced himself once he was near. “My wife and I are on our way to visit yer father at MacLeod Keep.”
Errol recognized the name. Richard and his family were part of one of the unaffiliated clans that were scattered about the highlands.
“I am for certs my father will be happy to see ye both. How are yer sons?” If Errol recalled correctly, Richard had twin boys a few years younger than him.
Richard’s eyes lit up at the mention of his children. “They are verra well, thank ye fer asking. They keep busy tending the cattle.”
His wife joined him, and Richard draped an arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer. “Ye remember my wife, Caroline?”
Errol bowed to the woman. “’Tis lovely to see ye again, Lady Carlyle.” The woman blushed and dipped her head.
The door opened and Moira stepped out into the hall, Seema right behind her. “We are ready if ye are.” She paused when she saw the Carlyles.
Errol cleared his throat. No doubt this run-in would be mentioned to his father when Richard arrived at MacLeod Keep. He would worry about dealing with his father later when he returned home. Hopefully with an arm full of riches.
“Richard, Caroline, may I introduce Moira and her maid, Seema.”
Caroline stepped forward. “Good morn. Were ye on yer way to break yer fast? We are doing the same and would love for ye to join us.” She turned to her husband. “Wouldnae we, Richard?”
“Och, aye,” Richard said. He didn’t appear to care one way or another.
Moira’s gaze slid to Errol, her eyes round in question.
He shrugged. It didn’t matter to him. Just as long as they finished quickly. They needed to get on the road.
Moira smiled. “We would love to.”
The group made their way downstairs and into the dining hall where they were seated at a large table. Mugs of heather ale were served, followed by plates of smoked salmon, bannocks and porridge.
Moira ate heartily, but Errol noticed that Seema hadn’t taken a single bite. Instead, her pallor was still off, as if she were ready to toss whatever contents were left in her belly. That didn’t bode well for their travel plans.
“Are ye weel, Seema?” Moira asked, concern knitting her brows.
“Aye. Weel enough, I’d say. Though no’ weel enough to eats still.” She placed her hands on her stomach. “I fear ’tis still unsettled.”
Caroline reached over and patted her hand. “Ye poor dear. Have ye been unweel?”
“Poor Seema has been dealing with a stomach affliction,” Moira piped in. “We had hoped that she would feel better this morn.” She smiled at Seema, patting her hand.
“I am sorry, Miss. I dinnae think I can continue on our journey. Mayhap I should stay here and await ye on yer return to MacLeod Keep?”
Moira shook her head. “I cannae leave ye here. We will stay until ye have recovered.” She said matter-of-factly and pierced Errol with a fierce look. “Right?”