Chapter Eighteen
The Scot’s Spy
I loved the section in this story of the spy, something I took from the history books. But our female spy is Joya, and this is where we first meet young John.
Chapter One
Els runs into Joya one day while he’s patrolling. Confused, he takes her to the keep and,
as always, Grandfather knows best…
Els glanced back, pleased to see her mare was following them. He hadn’t worried, knowing Thunder would be able to find her if she strayed, but he didn’t wish to leave Joya’s side.
She sighed and clung to him, something he quite liked.
Els and his cousins Alasdair, Alick, and Dyna had gone on a mission to Berwick three years ago to help free Emmalin, now Alasdair’s wife, and Joya had helped them. The gorgeous spy had made a mark on him, and he’d attempted to find her before leaving the city. She’d disappeared.
How odd that she should show up here alone.
He headed toward the gates, not surprised to see Alick and Dyna riding toward him. They’d given him a moment alone, but they’d pursued him as dusk approached. Once they were close enough to be heard, Alick said, “What the hell? Where’d you find a lass?”
“’Tis Joya from Berwick. I found her out riding.”
Dyna took one look at her, then turned her horse around. “She needs a healer. We must get her back to the keep.”
Els snorted. “She’s not doing that poorly. She was quite alert when I pulled her off her horse.” And had kissed him like he’d never been kissed before.
Alick rode ahead and ordered the gates to be opened. He led the way to the stables, but Dyna shook her head. “Straight to the keep,” she shouted. “Els, we’ll see to Thunder while you take her inside.”
They followed her unquestioningly—Dyna had a sometimes infuriating habit of being right—and when they arrived, Els handed her down to Dyna. Joya was alert, but only just so, and when he took her from Dyna, she had trouble staying on her feet. He scooped her into his arms and carried her inside.
Dyna hurried to open the door to the great hall, and Els carried Joya over to the fire, sitting down and settling her on his lap. “Joya,” he said softly, knowing she likely couldn’t hear him, “what happened to you? Why were you traveling alone?”
She sat up straight, as if she’d been sleeping and he’d thrown a bucketful of cold water on her, and slugged him in the cheek with her fist. “Leave me be, you churlish bastard.”
She pulled back to hit him again, but Els grabbed her wrists. “Stop hitting me. It’s Els. I just told you. You’re safe here on Grant land.”
A look of guilt appeared in her eyes. Guilt and terrible sadness. He’d always known Joya to be confident and cheerful. What had happened to her?
A booming voice carried to him from the nearest trestle table. “Els. Don’t say another word.”
Joya jerked her head up at the sound of his grandfather’s voice. Alexander Grant used his cane to stand and made his way over to the hearth, his pace slow but his gray eyes as keen as ever. Aunt Kyla walked beside him, as if ready to rush forward should he need her.
As Grandsire approached the hearth, he tilted his head to address Joya, his tone gentler than Els had ever heard it. “Lass, whoever hurt you is gone.”
“They didn’t hurt me. I’m stronger than they are,” she said, lifting her chin toward him.
“Then what bothers you? I see something has upset you terribly,” Grandsire said.
Everyone in the great hall stopped what they were doing to watch what was unraveling in front of them. Aunt Kyla pointed to a group of bairns nearby and said, “Elizabeth, get the wee ones away.” Her sister rushed to do her bidding.
Els’s mother and father came down from the tower room, probably concerned by the change in noise. But when they caught sight of Alex, they stood back. Everyone trusted the wisdom of the eldest member of the clan.
Once he was close enough, Grandsire positioned a chair next to Els so he could look Joya in the eye as he spoke to her. “Lass, no one will hurt you here, nor will we judge you. You’re in the Grant keep, and the English will not…”
Joya cut him off. “You think I fear the English?” she asked, her tone dark. “I care naught about the hedgeborn lymmers.” Els was surprised to see tears on her lashes. “The other one. He’s the one who hurt me without touching me, and I hate him for it.”
Els took her hand. “Joya, who do you hate?”
But she didn’t answer. She just sat there, staring at the flames, her gaze far off.
“Are you hungry?” Grandsire asked softly. “We’ll find you some bread.”
She nodded, and tears slid down her cheeks as she said, “Please. And something to drink.”
Grandsire turned to Aunt Kyla, who was still hovering close to him as one of the sisters oft did. “Bread, warm goat’s milk, a tub bath, then find her a strong dose of our water of life. She needs sleep.” Aunt Kyla nodded, her mouth pressed into a concerned line, and then headed to the kitchens.
“Joya, what happened?” Els pressed.
“For now, we must let her rest,” Grandsire said. “We have no idea what she’s been through, and there’s no need for us to know at the moment.”
Els’s mother, Gracie, approached them. “Joya, I’m going to fix a warm bath for you. I’ll help you. Kyla is fetching you some food, so you have some bread and ale while we ready it. Does that please you?”
Joya nodded. Els felt a surge of gratitude for his mother and her soothing ways. “Els, carry her abovestairs, and Kyla and I will help her.”
But when he stood up to do her bidding, Joya fell against him, grabbing his forearm and saying, “Do no’ leave me, Els. Please do no’ leave me. You must help me go back. I’ll sleep for one night, but then I must find him.”
Him. Him, who? Was she speaking of the person who’d hurt her? The sudden need to hurt any bastard who’d hurt Joya consumed him. He’d find out who it was.
“Joya, Grandsire’s right. You can tell me what happened later. Now you must rest. You’ll not be left alone. This is my mother, Gracie, and my aunt Kyla just slipped away to the kitchen. They’ll help you in the bath. Won’t the warm water feel nice?”
Her grip eased and she nodded, a whimper escaping her lips. Hell, but he’d like to find the man who’d hurt her and make him pay.
Chapter Sixteen
Alex rides to Ayr to save wee John, his first great-grandbairn, kidnapped by an evil sheriff…
The wait was intolerable.
It was the end of the second day and they’d still heard nothing from Els or from Grant Castle. Alasdair was going to lose his mind if something didn’t happen soon. His wound was healing, and he seemed to have escaped the fever, but the pain in his leg continued.
But that leg pain was inconsequential compared to the pain in his heart whenever he thought about his son. Even worse was the suffering of his sweet Emmalin, who’d taken to cuddling Ailith constantly, and he couldn’t fault her. He wished to do the same with both of them.
The door flew open, and Gaufried raced over to where they sat by the hearth. “Visitors from Grant land. About one hundred if I were to guess.”
Dyna came in from outside and said, “Alasdair, you need to come outside to witness this.”
Emmalin gave Ailith a squeeze before handing her to Bessie with a reluctant sigh. Alasdair grabbed a shawl for her, arranged it over her shoulders, and they stepped outside together, hand in hand. Gaufried had already assigned ten guards to protect the entrance to the keep.
On their way across the courtyard, Alasdair squeezed Emmalin’s hand, hoping they would finally get some good news.
When they arrived at the curtain wall, he moved his hand to her back and ushered her up the staircase so they could see what the guards saw.
Dyna followed them. Together, the three of them peered out over MacLintock land on the other side of the moat, the scene such that Alasdair wrapped his arms around Emmalin.
In the front of the Grant warriors, resplendent in their red plaids, rode Alick, holding the Grant banner high as he approached.
But next to him?
Nothing could have prepared Alasdair for the vision of his grandfather riding his own horse again. He hadn’t done it in a while, though he’d attempted many times. He sat tall, his pride in his Grant warriors evident in his posture as he came across the bridge behind Alick.
“Oh, Alasdair,” Emmalin said, giving him her first real smile in days. “Your grandsire looks wonderful. They must have an idea on how to do this exchange.”
He turned to Dyna and said, “He’s not going. We have a plan. I’ll pretend I’m Grandpapa and get my own son back.”
Dyna smirked at him. “I’ll let you argue that with him. See how it goes. Have you noticed who else is along? It took me a moment because my gaze was fixed on Grandsire.”
Alasdair turned around and stared, unable to believe his eyes. “God’s teeth. I’d never have believed it. ’Tis Uncle Jamie and Aunt Gracie, and Aunt Kyla and Uncle Finlay.”
“Aye,” Dyna said, “which means Papa must be in charge of Grant Castle.”
“Are you sad he did not come?”
Dyna shook her head. “Nay, Els has had a rough time of it. ’Twill be good for him to have his parents nearby. And I know Aunt Kyla. Think you she wouldn’t come if Grandsire is planning on going after John?”
The three headed down the steps and waited for the horses to enter once the portcullis was raised. “I’ll be right back, Em,” Alasdair said, squeezing her hand. “I’ll help Grandsire down.” He hurried over to his side and said, “Grandpapa, I’ll help you.”
“Stand back. I can get down on my own.” His bark came out so loud, Alasdair nearly jumped.
He stood back, but not too far, waiting to see if he could indeed make it.
To his surprise, he did, looking much more agile than he had in a long time.
When he stood on his feet, he grinned at Alasdair and said, “All my practicing has paid off.”
“But why, Grandpapa? How long have you been practicing?”