Chapter 2
Chapter two
EWEN
Ewen’s armour was heavy and he couldn’t wait for Robbie, his squire, to remove it. He circled his aching neck and rubbed at his gritty eyes. There was blood ingrained into the pores of his skin. It had been a hard battle but he had won it.
Castle Tighe was his.
He staggered a little, suddenly light headed.
It wasn’t just weariness. This victory was one he had lived waking and sleeping for ten long years and now it was over.
It was as if he had lost a part of his life and for a moment he felt adrift.
But then he reminded himself it wasn’t entirely over. The best part was yet to come.
Elspit.
Since her father had driven him away like a scabby sheep with its tail between its legs—at least that was how it had felt to him—Ewen had been in the household of his kinsman the Duke of Arran.
It had taken time for his family to gain the duke’s trust and support—Tighe had tainted them with his dishonest ways and they had had to prove themselves.
As the days and months turned into years, Ewen had wondered whether he would ever achieve his heart’s desire.
He had sworn he would return for Elspit and instead he was kicking his heels and dreading what was happening to her.
His father, knowing how Ewen felt, had reminded him that Elspit had married elsewhere.
He thought his son should set aside the past and look to the future.
There were advantageous marriages to be made, and willing women to bed.
Although Ewen had resisted marrying, he was a young and healthy male, and he had been tempted by the women.
During their years apart he had never wavered in his vow to return to Elspit. He just hadn’t realised it would take so long.
One year ago the kingdoms of Scotland and England had united, and although some of the clans refused to acknowledge the new state of affairs, the Duke of Arran had been at the forefront of the negotiations. He did well from being on the winning side and so did his friends, among them the Campbells.
Ewen was finally able to fulfil his vow, and when that day came he had ridden forth with vigour.
He was determined to free the girl he loved and make her his at last. Remembering their last meeting in the dungeon was painful—he had left her to be forced into marriage with an old man, and his heart had been broken and his pride tarnished because he could not be her champion.
Ten years was a long time and perhaps they would no longer feel the same way about each other, but even so, he could fulfil his vow at last. He could redeem himself in her eyes and his own.
At least he hoped so.
He had come face to face with Elspit’s father when Castle Tighe surrendered to him and his men.
The laird had not changed except to grow fatter.
Ewen had learned that Elspit’s husband, Donald Grant, was dead—he had collapsed not long after their wedding.
Elspit had not remarried because her father was satisfied with his son-in-law’s lands and wealth, and a new husband for Elspit would mean sharing.
But it was a dangerous windfall. The Laird of Tighe had grown so bloated with land and wealth that there were many others who now wanted what he had.
Ironic, thought Ewen, that if he and his brothers had still been in the employ of the laird, they would have helped him to hold on to his ill-gotten gains.
Instead the man was now a prisoner, on his way to the duke’s dungeons, which were much bigger than those at Castle Tighe.
It was doubtful he would ever leave them.
“You think you can win my daughter back?” the laird had sneered, when Ewen stood victorious before him. “She can have any man she wants, why would she want someone who ran away to save himself?”
It wasn’t true. He hadn’t run away, he’d left at Elspit’s request to save his father and brothers, but still it stung to hear it. Tighe could see it too, and his smile grew broader.
“Besides my daughter has a real man now. Lord Cameron has asked for her hand and she has consented. You are too late, Ewen. She will not be satisfied with second best.”
Ewen had resisted the impulse to strike the bound man and walked away, but heard him laughing as he was bundled into the prisoners’ wagon.
He told himself this talk of the Cameron was nothing but her father’s lies.
Elspit had known he would return and take her as his wife.
She trusted him. And yet suddenly this did not feel like the happy ending he had envisaged.
Any joy he might have felt had been soured by Tighe, and he wondered again whether he had waited too long.
Finally freed of his armour Ewen stood, stretching the hard muscles of his back and arms. He had always been strong but these were muscles he had built up over the years of fighting, in play with his brothers, and in earnest with the duke’s enemies.
There had been many battles to win before he was able to finally set out for Castle Tighe, and every one of them had meant another step on his way to fulfil his promise to Elspit.
But would she understand that? Or would she see only that he had taken a very long time to come to her?
Or had she not even noticed his absence? Maybe she had been too busy planning a new wedding to the Cameron?
Robbie had set out a bowl of water and towels, and Ewen washed quickly, changing into a fine woollen kilt and linen shirt with lace at the throat and the wrists. He donned a blue velvet jacket—one of those willing women had told him once that it matched his eyes—and strapped his sword to his hips.
“What have you heard of the ladies of the castle, laddie?”
His squire was busy cleaning the armour, but looked up at the sound of his lord’s voice.
He smirked. Ewen had heard Robbie boasting of his master’s prowess with women on more than one occasion, and right now he could see he believed his master was in need of a woman for the night.
Ewen did not correct him. The lad would not believe him if he did.
“There are many pretty ladies, my lord. The Laird’s daughter is very beautiful, they say, although her heart is given elsewhere. But I’m sure if she set eyes on you she would forget all about other men,” he added enthusiastically.
Ewen snorted a laugh to hide his disquiet. If his thoughts had been uneasy after Elspit’s father’s gloating speech they were more so now.
“Tis said that tomorrow the Stewart lady will arrive with your father,” his squire added. “I can be discreet, my lord, if you do not wish her to know you have taken a woman to your bed tonight.”
“You are anything but discreet,” Ewen retorted, his thoughts too full of Elspit to take note of the boy’s choice of words.
For ten years Ewen had had a vision of how his meeting with his lady love would proceed. He would go to the great hall and there, before all his men and those of hers who had surrendered, he would take her hand and humbly beg for her to accept his proposal of marriage.
But matters had changed. There would be no begging.
He would not give her a chance to run away to this new man. He would strike quickly and without warning. Ewen the boy might have had some foolish antiquated notion of chivalry but Ewen the man had learned to make haste when it came to taking what was his.