Chapter 12 Mist And Rain
Mist And Rain
The mist clung to Senga’s hair, dappling it with minute raindrops.
Her cloak kept off the worst of the moisture, but the exposed skin of her face and hands soon felt wet and clammy.
She did not ride Bluebell far into the woods, only about a quarter mile from the Keep.
She knew what she was looking at, and there was no sense in going too far.
Besides, Bluebell must be tired from her long journey, and frankly, so was Senga.
It would have been sensible to have stayed in the Keep, but Senga was no good at making sensible choices.
She dismounted in a little green glade, knelt down in the wet grass, and began plucking individual clover weeds.
The stems and leaves would be crushed up separately and used in different pastes.
Her hood, dampened by the rain, hung heavily over her forehead, almost hanging in her eyes, and she eventually pushed it impatiently back.
It was much colder without her hood, especially while scrabbling on the cold earth, but there was nothing to be done about that. Senga was used to cold.
Her mind whirled as she worked.
He said he would not humiliate Brendan by correcting him in public, but he’s so loyal to the man. What if he won’t correct him in private, either? What if Brendan wants him to marry this woman?
That thought sent a rush of nausea through her. From what Senga knew of Brendan, he would never make anybody enter into a marriage that they did not want. But then what if Noah didn’t express how unhappy he was with the marriage?
What if he isn’t unhappy?
That was a thought she could not bear. Not now.
Not after all they’d been through. It was possible that Brendan could assume that he knew Noah well enough to know what he’d want, and once the marriage was organized, it would be dangerous to call it off.
There was no sense in offending a clan. And the clan would be offended if Clan Grahame agreed to a marriage alliance then backed out again so quickly.
Noah might not risk backing out. He might feel as though he has to go through with the marriage. And then what? Where would that leave me? What would I do next?
Biting her lower lip hard, Senga rested her hands on her knees, breathing in deeply through her mouth. She should have eaten before leaving. She briefly considered searching for some mushrooms and berries to eat. There’d be something, enough to stave off the gnawing in her stomach.
As she looked around, she heard something rustling in the bushes behind her. Senga froze, ice sweeping through her veins. The ridiculousness of her situation—the situation she had put herself in, of course—hit her like a fall from a horse, knocking the wind out of her.
What have I done? If my father had the Keep watched before, of course he has men all around watching it now.
She rose slowly to her feet, reaching for her herb knife.
It wasn’t much, but it was sharp, and the well-worn bone handle felt right in her palm.
At a pinch, it would slash and stab, although the blade was so short she would have to get right up against her opponent.
That thought made her feel sicker than before, although of course that could be her hunger and lack of food.
I’m a fool, but I hope not to be a dead fool any time soon.
A twig cracked in the undergrowth, making her flinch.
“Who’s there?” she called, her voice cracking. “What do ye want?”
Bluebell briefly lifted her head, momentarily distracted from eating grass, as the bushes rustled behind her. It occurred to her that this was the time of day that bears and wolves might be out hunting.
Well, this is how I die, Senga thought miserably. Not in battle, not at the hands of Laird Dickson or my own father. No, I will die because of my own stupidity.
Wonderful…
A man stepped out of the dripping undergrowth, shaking raindrops from his cloak, and Senga let out a gasping breath, nearly dropping her knife.
“Noah,” she breathed. “It’s ye.”
“Of course it is me,” he responded tightly.
She blinked rain out of her eyes, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead. “Ye followed me. Why did ye follow me?”
He held his arms out to the sides. “Because somebody had to, Senga! What were ye thinking, coming out here alone?”
“We need herbs.”
“Aye, then come with soldiers! Look, enough talk. Let’s just get back inside, aye?”
She swallowed, biting the inside of her cheek. The stubborn part of her wanted to insist upon finishing her task of gathering the necessary herbs, but she could see how that would be foolish.
“I would have thought it would be easier for ye if ye lost me in the woods,” she responded at last. “Ye could be married off without guilt.”
He blanched. “How dare ye say that to me, Senga? How could ye? Ye truly believe I wanted to marry that woman? I do not even know what she looks like.”
“I bet she is beautiful,” Senga muttered, folding her arms. She could hear the petulance in her own voice and knew, in her heart, that she was being foolish. Foolish and unkind.
Noah took a step towards her, his hands inching out as though he wanted to lay them on her shoulders. He stopped himself, however, and his arms fell down by his sides.
“It would not matter if she was a goddess walking on earth,” Noah said quietly, his voice catching a little. “She is not ye, Senga. I’ve not loved a woman since I lost ye, and I do not believe I could ever love one again.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, passing a hand over her face.
“Ye are a dutiful man,” she whispered. “And ye care so much for Brendan. If ye asked ye to marry that woman, ye would do it, wouldn’t ye?”
“Brendan would never ask that of me.”
“That is not my question.”
There was a silence after that. The rain began to fall, just gently at first, but Senga knew from experience that it would fall more heavily soon.
The sound of pattering raindrops on foliage echoed all around them, and Senga found herself wearily assuming that she was going to get soaking wet once more.
Dry clothes really are a luxury for me right now.
“I would obey my Laird,” Noah said slowly, frowning down at her. “I can offer my loyalty freely because I know that Brendan would never force me to marry a woman I did not want. I don’t know how to convince ye of that. What do ye want from me?”
She placed her hands over her eyes, groaning aloud. “I don’t know, I don’t know. I just… I feel as though I am losing ye again. I feel as though ye are abandoning me.”
“Senga, I would never…”
He broke off the end of that sentence, probably because they both knew very well that he had abandoned her. Oh, he hadn’t meant it, she knew that, but still, the reality of it hung between them, heavy in the air like a bad smell.
“It’s as though I am constantly losing ye to some laird or another,” Senga whispered.
It felt as though the trees around her were growing taller, the foliage deeper. The world was growing, and she was shrinking. The world was changing, and she simply could not change with it. She’d tried, but no matter how hard she worked, the world moved on and left her behind.
Or so it felt.
She removed her hands, glancing listlessly up at the man she loved. He stared down at her, a frown between his brows. She could almost feel him straining at the bit to understand her, longing for her to explain. She wished she could find the words.
At that moment, a thought occurred to her.
“Where is yer horse?”
“Oh, my horse? I didn’t bring one.”
“Ye didn’t bring a horse?”
He shrugged. “I came out of the castle in time to see ye riding off through the gate on Bluebell here. I panicked and set off after ye at a run. I thought I had better see which way ye went. I watched ye crest the hill and slow down and guessed that ye planned to collect herbs or something equally silly. So, I ran. I ran, and here I am.”
She stared up at him, a lump forming in her throat.
“I want ye to tell me, here and now,” she murmured, her voice seeming to stick around her teeth. “What is it that ye want?”
Noah gave a harsh laugh. “What is it that ye think I want? Do I look like a man who has moved on from loving ye, Senga? No! I told myself for years that I did not care for ye. I made myself believe it, ye know. Then the moment I saw ye again, it all came crashing down. Ye know, I think that even if ye had betrayed me, as I once believed, I would have still forgiven ye. Can ye believe it? I would have forgiven ye anything.”
A warm raindrop rolled down Senga’s cheek, and it took her a minute to realize that it was a tear.
“Ye mean it?” she whispered.
He nodded. “My heart is yers, lass. Always has been, always will be.”
She dove forward, fisting her hands in the damp material of his cloak, and pulled him towards her. She kissed him, their lips slick with rainwater and mist, tasting fresh and green.
“Don’t marry anyone else,” she breathed, pulling apart. “Marry me, Noah. I want yer past, yer future, yer now, everything.”
He closed his eyes, a faint smile sliding across his lips. “Then let’s have a handfasting ceremony.”
She nodded eagerly. “Aye, I’d like that.”
He kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
“Now,” Noah said, breathing raggedly, “for heaven’s sake, can we please get out of this rain?”
The Keep guards shot Noah and Senga odd looks as they stumbled through the hallways, giddy with laughter, arms tangled up together. Pools of rainwater glistened on the stone flags behind them, leaving a trail.
“Where are ye taking me?” she giggled, flicking her wet hair over her shoulder.
“To my chambers,” Noah murmured, pulling her close with his arms around her waist. “If ye want to come along, that is.”
She giggled, reaching up to loop her arms around his neck. “I could be persuaded.”
He grinned, a wide, lopsided smile that made Senga’s heart flutter. Abruptly, he reached down, scooping her up in his arms. She gave a squeal, clinging onto his shoulders, and they set off at a trot.
Moments later, Noah manhandled her through a narrow doorway into his room, the same room she’d found him in before, when she’d tended his injury and tried to understand why the man she had loved for nearly a decade was so cold with her.
The room was just as spartan as before, but somebody had lit a fire in the hearth, sending warmth and buttery light spilling throughout the room. He set her down gently on her feet, and Senga turned her face up to look at him.
She lifted a hand gingerly, tracing the curved scar on his cheek.
“Where did ye get this?” she whispered.
A muscle in his jaw flexed, making the scar ripple.
“When yer father found out that ye and I were in love. He was so angry. He struck me—nothing new—but this time his ring caught my skin. It tore open my cheek. There was blood everywhere. He was so angry, I thought he would kill me. He threatened to do it again to my other cheek if I didn’t say that I no longer loved ye.
Of course, he did not stop there. I stood my ground, and I think perhaps that gave him a fright. He didn’t expect that of me.”
Senga’s chest constricted. “I hate him.”
“Ach, lass, save yer hate for those who deserve it.”
She stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him, cupping his face with her hands. The kiss ended gently, and she let out a shaky exhale.
“What about that wound on yer arm? It’s healed, I take it?”
“Aye, but it’ll leave another scar. Do ye want to see?”
She nodded wordlessly, and he took a step back, effortlessly lifting his shirt up and over his head. The firelight glinted over the swell of his bare chest, almost making it seem as if he were glowing from within.
Senga took a tentative step forward, letting her fingers drift over the curve of his shoulder.
Last night, in his tent, it had seemed as though there wasn’t time for anything slow and soft.
Everything pressed in around them—time, the cold, the noise, even the sides of the tent.
Of course, Senga knew that they were still in danger, that the battle was far from won, that her father was coming for her and that war was looming.
But for now, we have time. Just a little.
She traced the knotted line on his forearm where he’d broken his arm and briefly remembered how he’d plummeted from a tree.
She let her fingertips dance over the bubbled skin almost covering that scar.
Slowly, almost tentatively, she skipped from scar to scar across his chest and firm stomach, counting them as she went.
“Do… Do ye still have that scar on yer calf?” she whispered.
“Aye, of course.”
“Do ye remember how ye got it? That chicken?”
Noah’s face twitched. “I will never forget that chicken, Senga. I think perhaps it was the only time I was ever truly frightened.”
Senga let out a burble of laughter, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his bare chest. His arms closed around her, holding her close.
“I have nightmares about that bloody bird,” he muttered fervently, and she laughed louder.
She was still laughing when he curled his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to kiss her.