Chapter 3
Chapter three
ELSPIT
Her Ewen had changed. Although she had to remind herself that he was not hers anymore.
The handsome boy with a devilish grin and brilliant eyes she remembered had turned into an experienced soldier with cold, piercing eyes and thoughts he kept to himself.
There were parts of him she recognised, of course.
His hair was still fair, though cut close to his head, and the way he ran his hand down over his face when he was deep in thought was familiar.
But he was more warrior now, and inside that war hardened facade was a stranger who had lived a life Elspit had had no part of.
She had seen him from her window, down below in the bailey, giving orders in a voice too low to be heard above the noise. She could see his men listening carefully, faces bright with hero worship, before hurrying to do his bidding.
Elspit had been locked in her rooms in the tower since the fighting began, barricaded inside with her ladies. Around them the battle waxed and waned, but they knew nothing of her father’s fortunes. It was only when a victor was finally announced that she realised just who it was.
Ewen had come for her!
Or had he? Rumours were already flying that he had laid claim to Castle Tighe because the Duke of Arran ordered him to, and now he had been given it as a prize of war.
That, and the extensive lands belonging to her father and her husband.
For a man who began his campaign with nothing Ewen had risen high.
The shining hope that he had done this for her began to be eaten away with each new rumour, and her doubts grew.
Over the years Elspit had heard news of her Ewen, from time to time.
Whenever conversations contained his name her hearing grew sharper.
His victories, his rise in the duke’s affection, and the important women he was paired with in possible future marriages.
Why would he come for her when he had so much now? Did he even think of her?
“I know you and he were close once.”
The soft voice brought her from her thoughts.
Rosina, her chief lady in waiting, was a woman wise beyond her years.
Elspit trusted her to speak sense. Rosina had once been a great lady in her own right, before Elspit’s father stole what was hers and brought her as a captive to Castle Tighe. She had remained ever since.
“Men such as Ewen Campbell learn to harden their hearts, and he has had enough years of fighting and bloodshed to grow iron clad. You should not expect him to be the boy you loved, lady,” she added softly, grey eyes gazing deep into Elspit’s dark ones. “How can he be?”
“Of course not,” Elspit said, even while her heart was floundering in her chest, because she had indeed hoped he would be the same.
Foolish as it was, she had thought she would see that golden hero staring up at her.
All this time she had been dreaming of the Ewen she remembered coming to her as he’d promised, and the years passed and passed, and now he was here.
But he was not the Ewen she remembered, and with a sad sigh she admitted to herself that neither was she the Elspit he had left behind.
A loud pounding on their door made them all jump.
“Ladies!” it was a stranger’s voice. “I come from Ewen Campbell.”
Rosina met her eyes and the warning was there.
“What do you want?” One of the older ladies had risen creakily to her feet.
“My master has requested that Lady Elspit join him for supper in the great hall.”
Elspit went still, although inside she was filled with a cacophony of emotions, all clamouring to be heard.
“You have no choice but to do as you are bid,” Rosina reminded her.
“Be distant and chilly, as befits a lady in her own castle. Polite enough so he will not take offence. That way you can persuade him to let you go to your friend to the north. If he will agree to give you safe passage then you will be free of Castle Tighe forever. Isn’t that what you have wanted? ”
It was a wish she had often expressed. To be free of her father and his violent, greedy ways. But that was before Ewen came back to her.
Ten year old Mary, one of her younger ladies and Rosina’s daughter, leaned forward. Like her mother, she was old beyond her years. She had been out and about until just before the knock on the door, sent by the others to reconnoitre since she was quick and light on her feet.
“My lady, I spoke with Ewen Campbell’s squire, Robbie.
He could not stop boasting about his master.
It seems that my lord has a reputation among the ladies, and his squire is already seeking someone to pay a visit to his room tonight.
But there is more.” She swallowed. “The Duke of Arran has drawn up a marriage contract between Ewen Campbell and one of the Stewart ladies. Robbie said it would be most beneficial for them both, and she is arriving tomorrow. They will wed here, in the chapel.”
Elspit knew then that she truly was still the same romantic fool. Had she really believed that their love could burn so strong that it would last for ten years? Had she really thought that Ewen would come for her and not the lure of land and wealth and an advantageous marriage?
“Thank you, Mary,” she said, aware that the others all looked away from the pain that must be etched on her beautiful face.
Despite her true feelings being obvious to those in this room, Elspit knew she must keep them from Ewen at all costs if she was to retain her pride. Rosina was right. She must be polite and chilly, the lady of the castle, and he must never, never know how much her heart was breaking.
She leaned closer to Rosina and spoke softly. “I must leave Castle Tighe as soon as possible, and certainly before this Stewart bride arrives.”
“Do not order him to release you. Powerful men do not like to be told what to do. Instead, ask him for his permission.” Her fingers closed on Elspit’s, her eyes reflecting her friend’s pain. “I would go with you but there is Mary and my mother … I cannot leave them.”
Rosina had her own pain to bear. Once, Ewen’s brother, young Dugald Campbell had hand fasted with her, only to have the promise of marriage overturned by Elspit’s father.
He had made fun of the age difference between the two of them, asking why a young buck like Dugald would want to marry a spinster past her prime.
Rosina had loved the boy, Elspit had no doubt, but she never spoke of it.
Over the years the two women had drawn comfort from their friendship.
Elspit nodded shakily. “I will ask,” she agreed. “And when I am settled I promise I will send for you and Mary and your mother.” Then, raising her voice to the man still waiting beyond the door, “Tell Ewen Campbell I accept his request to join him for supper!”
Footsteps as the man returned the way he had come.
The ladies were silent but Elspit knew as soon as she was gone the whispered gossip would begin.
Many of them may not have been here ten years ago but they had all heard the story of Ewen and Elspit.
Their great love broken apart by her father and the sacrifice she had made.
Perhaps they too had been longing for a happy ending.
Rosina’s warm hand on hers brought her thoughts back to the present. “You should wear the rose pink gown, Elspit. Nothing else sets off your beauty quite like it.”
Elspit wanted to ask her why it mattered whether she was beautiful of not. Would Ewen even notice? Would he care? Surely it would only make her seem more desperate for his attention.
“A lovely woman can soften a man’s heart,” Rosina explained. “And you do want him to grant you safe passage, do you not?”
The days when she may have fought for Ewen were gone. She was no longer in a position to order him to obey her wishes. She was a defeated and landless lady who must now rely upon the kindness and generosity of the victor.
“Yes,” she said, and her voice sounded strained, “that is exactly what I want. I cannot be here when the Stewart woman arrives. It would be too awkward.”
But the truth was her broken heart could not bear it.
***
Elspit knew she was looking her best, and Rosina was right, these finer details did help.
Ewen watched her as she walked the length of the great hall toward the raised dais and the chair that had once belonged to her father.
Her back was straight and her chin up, her rose pink hem swishing about her velvet slippers.
She was even wearing her ruby necklace, because she wanted to remind him that she was the daughter of the Laird of Castle Tighe and must be treated with respect.
At least, that was what she hoped to convey.
But from the clench of his jaw and the cold stare of his eyes, she had to wonder just how much respect he had left for her.
He did not take his gaze from her for a single moment, and she stared back, seeking some remnant of the boy Ewen, who had once loved her and wanted to marry her.
The Ewen who, despite his lust for her, had vowed they would both remain pure until they lay together in their marriage bed.
Those vows had long ago turned to ashes.
She had married old Donald Grant and suffered the indignity of his bed, and Ewen must have bedded many beautiful women.
The past ten years were heavy with memories and not the ones she had dreamed they would share.
Things between them could never be the same again.