Chapter 11
Erica lay awake longer than sense allowed, eyes fixed on the low ceiling, counting blemishes to keep her mind from circling back.
It circled anyway.
Every night since her kiss with Alex, she could not go to bed without thinking about it. She couldn’t stop feeling his hand on her jaw or the breath between them. She had pulled back first and had managed to tell herself over and over since that night that it meant control.
But if that was control, it was very weak.
She pressed her fingers to her mouth and let them fall. If she closed her eyes, the picture would sharpen instead of fading.
His lips close to hers.
The warmth of his skin against hers.
Now it was a bright morning, and the only thing on her mind was still that kiss. The weight of being wanted and the risk were sewn in the same thread, and she hated that one needed to bow for the other.
Before she could go even further down that road, her door clicked open. Leah came in with a basket and the brisk step of a woman who was excited about what the day would bring. She set towels on the chest and a small jar beside the basin.
“Good morning, me Lady,” she said. “Shall I run ye a bath?”
“Aye,” Erica said. “Thank ye.”
Leah moved through the room with quiet care. She checked the coals, added a small stick, and went to the door that led to the little fireplace in the antechamber. While water hissed into the copper tub, Erica sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Another day. A few more to go.
Her shift fell to her calves. She pushed her hair from her face and looked out the window. The sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon. Soon, the sky will be flooded with light.
Leah came back, tested the water with two fingers, and added a splash from a kettle.
“I brought rosemary,” she said, tapping the jar. “Plain is there if ye prefer.”
“I hope ye didnae go to the market to find it? I would hate to have been the one to put ye through the trouble,” Erica said.
Leah laughed. “Nae at all, me Lady. As I said, some are still available in the stillroom.”
Erica nodded. “Good.”
Leah set a fresh cloth by the tub and folded the old one for the laundry. “Would ye like to have breakfast in here or downstairs?”
“In here,” Erica said. “There’s nay problem with that, is there?”
“Nae at all,” Leah said. No comment, no look. She curtsied and slipped out.
Erica took a quick bath. The heat steadied her, while the scent of rosemary cut through the muddle and gave her hands something clean to smell. Something present.
She dried herself off, put on a simple gown, and braided her hair. Then she ate the bread and eggs Leah brought, barely tasting either. After, she went to the window because standing still made her think too hard. The yard lay square below, bordered by stone and the line of the well path.
Alex was there. He stood at the center with his men in a loose ring. Sword in hand, movements spare. He worked through drills with a focus that made the rest of the yard fade away.
She recognized some of the moves, as she had seen her father and brother practice them back in Bryden. She could almost hear her father shouting out orders to her brother on how and when to move when under attack.
Turn. Parry. Cut. Nay waste.
She swallowed and pushed the thoughts down as fast as she could and kept her focus on Alex.
The sun caught his blade, then his shoulder, then the point as it fell and rose.
He moved as if the missing eye had never existed.
He never lost measure. The men matched him as they could, chins tucked, feet where he probably taught them to plant them.
Her breath caught before she could stop it. She did not think of the other night. She thought of the man he was when he did not speak. His grace looked like certainty, not show. He shifted to a left-hand guard and drove a thrust that would have ended any man slow to read it.
For a beat, she wondered what he would be if he had both eyes. Then she wondered why she had wondered it.
The thought came quick, sharp. She stepped back from the window and pressed her hand flat against the sill as if she needed the stone to cool her palm.
At that moment, she heard the door open again. Her mother slipped inside without knocking, the way mothers do when worry outpaces manners.
“Maither, ye have to knock properly when entering me room. ‘Tis the normal thing to do.”
Her mother laughed and closed the door behind her. “Ye will find, lass, that motherhood comes with being able to escape a lot of normalcy.”
“Right,” Erica murmured, her voice low.
“Are ye all right?” her mother asked, voice gentle, eyes not missing much.
“Aye,” Erica said. “Just thinking.”
Her mother glanced around the tidy room as if it might give her a clue. “Ye missed Sheena’s story at breakfast today,” she said. “She was speaking of the festival and the history behind it. I suppose she attended the first one.”
Erica pressed her lips together. “I am fine, Maither. Just thinking.”
Her mother moved closer. The lines at the corners of her eyes had deepened since Bryden, but her gaze remained steady.
“Ye are safe here,” she said.
“Aye.” Erica nodded.
“For now,” her mother added. It was not meant to scare. It was a truth they both lived with. “We will do our part. Keep the shape. Let the house learn ye.”
“I am trying,” Erica said.
“I can see that,” her mother allowed. “But ye have been inside all morning. Come along. The garden will do ye good.”
“I daenae feel like walking,” Erica said. Her voice was not sharp, only tired.
Her mother did not bend. “Ye have always felt better after ye moved yer legs. Come on.”
Erica looked toward the window and resisted the urge to look down at the yard again. “If we go out, we will have to stop and greet people. I daenae think I am in the mood.”
“Ye also need to breathe,” her mother said. “Best to breathe where the air is clean.”
Erica breathed out through her nose, half a laugh, half surrender. She rose and smoothed the front of her gown. “Fine,” she relented. “But I am nae in the mood to talk.”
“Then I will talk for ye,” her mother said, with a small smile meant to lighten the mood. “I can fill an hour if pressed.”
Erica shook her head despite herself. “Tell me something I daenae ken.”
She picked up the shawl from the chest and draped it over her mother’s shoulders.
The simple act steadied her more than she had expected.
Doing something for someone else always had.
She checked the pins in her braid with a touch out of habit and found one loose.
Then she fixed it and turned toward the door.
“Leah brought a note,” her mother said, as if remembering a small thing. “Fergus wants the count for candles by evening if ye have the breath.”
“I will give it to him,” Erica said. “After the walk.”
Her mother nodded. “Good.”
Erica put her hand on the doorknob. She almost said something that would have unleashed a torrent of memories again. There was nothing to ask that would not leave a hole.
She opened the door, feeling the coolness of the passageway settle on her shoulders.
Her mother took her arm. “The girls were asking for ye,” she said as they started down the passage. “They want a story for after their numbers.”
“I will think of one,” Erica said. “Something with a good end.”
“Aye,” her mother said. “I daenae doubt that.”
At the next corner, her mother squeezed her arm.
“Come,” she said softly. “Feel the fresh air.”
Erica nodded and followed her toward the door.
The garden opened ahead in soft light. The sun was out, bright on stone and leaf, but it was not too warm yet. Erica walked beside her mother along the gravel path. A maid by the herb plot paused to curtsy, a shy smile quick across her face.
“Good morning, me Lady,” she greeted.
“Good morning,” Erica answered.
She tried to make it easy, but it felt like an effort.
The next pair of girls at the rose hoops dipped their heads the same way. Erica returned each greeting in turn. The words sat right, but the weight of them did not.
Her mind flashed back to the passageway, no matter where she looked. The kiss. The way the air between them had turned heavy. She kept her shoulders squared and counted her steps. It helped for a while, and then it did not.
Her mother watched her, but did not push. They passed the giant oak tree and the kitchen door. A boy with a broom drew his strokes short when they approached, then went back to full length when they passed. They turned toward the inner path that faced the yard.
“Do ye wish to leave, lass?” her mother asked at last, voice low. “Is that the problem?”
Erica stopped and turned to look at her. “Leave?” she echoed. “What would I leave for?”
“Ye have nay trouble here, do ye?” her mother said. “Why would ye give this all up?”
Erica looked down at the smooth stone under her boots. “I am staying because I promised,” she said. “Alex saved me, and I have to return the favor.”
She kept her voice calm. She was only here because of duty, nothing else.
Absolutely nothing else.
Her mother nodded. “Aye, that is a fine reason,” she said. “But if ye daenae feel comfortable, ye will tell me, aye?”
“Aye, Maither,” Erica said. She forced a smile. It did not reach her eyes. “I will tell ye.”
They walked on. The path bent toward the low wall that edged the yard.
The sun sat higher now, still kind. In the open square, men turned in a loose wheel around Alex.
The sword in his hand flashed once, then steadied.
He stepped from one guard to the next without hesitation.
The clash of steel against steel came quick and clean.
How long does he train them for anyway?
For some reason, it felt like she had seen him do this for hours already.
She looked ahead and continued walking. She hadn’t gone far when the sound of her name carried across the training yard.
“Erica.”
She stopped and looked up.
Alex had lowered his blade. He said something to the man nearest him, then crossed the yard with an easy stride. The others turned back to drill as he reached the gate and turned down the path. He greeted her mother first with a small bow of his head.
“Good day to ye,” her mother said, eyes bright. “Ye are strong, me Laird. Managing all these men, despite yer…”
Alex’s brow furrowed. “Despite me what?”
Erica nudged her mother’s arm. “Maither.”
Her mother shrugged with a small, wry look. “I will talk to the nurses up ahead,” she said. “Erica, ye can join me when ye are done.”
She moved toward the far bench, where two older women sat with work in their laps.
Erica stayed. She did not quite know where to put her hands. Alex’s mouth curved.
“I must apologize for me maither. She means well. Her tongue, on the other hand—”
“If ye think that is the worst of what I have heard about me missing eye,” he said, “ye have another thing coming.”
“So ye hear people talking about yer missing eye every day?”
“Aye. I’ve even heard people give me nicknames. Captain One-Eyed Sparrow, the Warlord on One, Laird Missing-Eye.”
Erica frowned. “These names are terrible.”
The grin on his face sat easy for a breath. “Aye, but they are quite hilarious.”
Erica meant to match him, but her own smile came slow and thin. Her mind was somewhere else and would not come back at once.
“Are ye all right?” he asked. He looked past her for a moment, then back. “Ye werenae at the table.”
“I needed some peace and quiet,” she said. She kept her gaze near his shoulder. “I broke me fast in me room.”
He studied her face long enough to make her want to look away. She held still.
He nodded. “If ye begin to feel uncomfortable, ye can tell me,” he said. “This is still an arrangement. I am nae going to force ye to do something ye daenae want to do.”
“Aye,” she said. “Thank ye.”
He stood there for another beat. The noise grew around them. A man shouted a count, then fell quiet when he saw how close they were standing. The sun caught a path in the wall, and the light from it made a small square on the path by Alex’s boots. Erica focused on it to slow her thoughts.
“How does yer maither find her rooms?” Alex asked.
“She is content,” she replied. “The maids check on her, and the windows open easily. That is all that matters to her.”
“Good,” he said. “If she needs anything, ye tell Fergus, and then tell me if he drags.”
“He willnae drag,” Erica said. “Between ye and me, I think he likes managing the castle a little too much.”
“Aye,” Alex said, a short sound that almost counted as a laugh. “He does.”
Silence sat for a line. For some reason, it was the kind of silence she enjoyed. The look in his eye made her heart thump a bit harder than usual.
It was quite funny that she found a way to avoid the tension with everyone else, but not with him. He seemed to know how to push her, and she did not seem to know how to deal with him.
“Will ye come to the solar at noon?” he asked. “I have to sit through an hour with Grandmamma and the children. If ye are there, I may decide nae to gouge me other eye out.”
“Aye,” she said, a smile crossing her lips. “I will be there.”
“Good,” he said.
He stepped back a half pace. The ease he wore when he trained his men settled over him again, but the line of his mouth held tight.
“Enjoy the sun while it is kind,” he said. “It will turn mean later in the day.”
“Oh, I ken,” she said.
He nodded to her mother across the way and to the nurses, then turned back toward the yard. He crossed the path with the same long stride he had brought with him. The muscles in his back rippled under his shirt when he lifted his sword again.
Erica watched him go. The way he held the hilt. The way the blade stayed where he wanted it. The sun cast a dull sheen along his shoulder before a cloud passed thin across it.
The sun was beginning to warm the yard. That was the only reason she felt heat spread across her skin.
Without wasting another minute, she turned toward the bench where her mother waited.