Chapter 6
Duncan escorted her to her room and stood with her while she opened the door. Eliza ducked her head and said, “Goodnight, and thank you for a lovely dinner.”
Duncan smiled at her and kissed her hand. “Sleep well, Eliza,” he said warmly. “And thank you for being so brave.”
He gave her a stiff bow and watched Eliza enter her room then, with a great sigh of relief, he strode down the corridor to his own chamber.
It had been an exhausting, traumatic day and all he wanted was to sink into oblivion, but he knew that thoughts of Eliza would keep him awake, since she did things to him that no other woman had done before.
Granted, he was not a virgin—he had lain with many a willing maid in his time and enjoyed the experiences immensely—he was a red-blooded male, after all, with the same sexual appetites as any other.
However, there was something different about Eliza, something that set her apart from any other woman he had ever met.
She was fearsomely intelligent, for a start, and that was a quality he had never really sought for or appreciated in a woman before.
She could hold her own in an argument or discussion, and in the very short time he had known her, he realised that she was extremely well-read.
She could quote from ancient Roman and Greek philosophers, Shakespeare and biblical texts as well as many others.
Moreover, she had a wicked sense of humour that lifted his spirits and dispelled his anxiety for a while, since he could not be laughing and worrying at the same time.
Duncan fell into bed fully clothed and closed his eyes determinedly.
He would love to have his arms wrapped around Eliza as he had the night before, but this time she had a choice of where to sleep, whereas the night before she had not.
He was certain that she would have fought him, pushed him out of bed and screamed to the high heavens. He smiled at the thought of it.
“Eliza,” he murmured, seeing her face in front of him and smiling as he closed his eyes.
Eliza tried to empty her mind of all thought when she went into her bedroom.
Somewhere in her small valise there was a nightgown, but she was too exhausted to sort through it and put it on, so she stripped off her dress and tumbled into bed in her chemise.
No doubt her maid would come in the morning and be shocked at her laziness and impropriety, but it had been a very long time since Eliza had cared about anyone’s opinions.
She had thought that she would fall asleep straight away, but Duncan’s face and his deep, thrilling voice kept intruding into her thoughts. What fascinated and attracted her most, however, were his eyes, which were a striking shade of amber that almost looked like gold in some lights.
She had never seen anything like them before, and they made her wish she was an artist so that she could capture them in paint or pastel crayons. New bright colours of those mediums had just been invented, and Eliza would love to have painted the vivid rust-red colours of Duncan’s hair.
Dream on, Eliza, she thought. You might be able to sound clever, but you can barely draw a stroke!
Eliza thought about the night before when she had shared her bed with Duncan. How she wished he were with her now to wrap his arms around her and make her feel safe. No matter how much she tried not to think of it, the sound of the arrow whistling past her ear would not leave her alone.
It had been a very near miss, and Eliza was still trembling at the thought of it. She should have been unable to sleep, but sheer exhaustion forced her to, even though she was plagued by vague but unpleasant dreams all night.
When she woke the next morning, Eliza felt surprisingly refreshed.
A maid had come to open her curtains and there was a hot cup of tea beside her bed, which she drank with relish, since she was absolutely parched.
She flipped back the blankets and was about to rise from bed when there was a soft knock on the door.
“Come in,” she answered, tensing slightly in case it was Duncan.
The door opened and the two maids she had met the previous day entered.
Maisie gave her a timid smile and a polite curtsy, and the other woman, whose name Eliza had not bothered to find out, did likewise, but without the smile.
Indeed, her face bore such a sullen expression that Eliza would have put her in her place if Maisie had not been there.
She looked at the older woman for a moment, then said, “You may go. Maisie can attend to me from now on.”
The maid raised her eyebrows in surprise, then nodded and fled, no doubt as glad to see the last of Eliza as Eliza was to see the back of her.
She turned to Maisie, who held out another dress. It looked much the same as the one she had been wearing, but in a shade of deep red. It was functional rather than fashionable, and that suited Eliza, since she had never liked fussy clothing.
“I am sorry these are sae plain, Milady,” Maisie apologised. “They belonged tae a governess, no’ a lady.”
Eliza smiled and patted Maisie’s shoulder. “I am not a lady either,” she said. “Please don’t worry, Maisie. The dress is fine.”
Maisie looked immensely relieved and while she was helping her mistress to dress, Eliza asked her all about life in the castle. She was a mine of information, and Eliza learned much about who did what in the household and whom to ask for help if she needed it.
Eliza knew she had a lot to learn, but she had made a start. The biggest obstacle she would have to face, she realised, was the fact that she was English. However, her biggest weapon was sheer determination, and she was not short of that!
Eliza went down to the dining room to eat breakfast with Duncan, but was disappointed to find that the room was empty except for a single manservant who was waiting for them to arrive.
“Is the Laird late?” she asked.
“No, Milady,” he replied. “Laird Sinclair always eats breakfast in his study. He only comes tae the dinin’ room in the evenin’.”
Eliza practically growled. She always ate with her sisters, and it was the most enjoyable time of their day.
She had been looking forward to talking with Duncan, finding out more about what would be expected of her, and what her duties would be.
Now she was alone with no one to talk to, and she was furious that he had not even had the courtesy to tell her about his morning routine.
She ate a little of the rich and delicious food that had been laid out on the sideboard for her, but she was too angry to have much of an appetite. Eventually, she went back to her room to find Maisie, who was making her bed.
“Can you take me to the garden, please, Maisie?” she asked.
Maisie smiled and nodded, and a few moments later they were outside among the flowerbeds and trees, with the scent of herbs and flowers of all kinds wafting around them.
Eliza took a deep breath and smiled as she looked around and saw a stone bench under an apple tree, which she thought would be a perfect place for her to sit and sew when the weather was fine.
Already her fingers were itching to be active again, since she could not abide having idle hands, and she was already looking around for flowers which would inspire a tapestry.
Suddenly, her head whipped around as she heard the sound of metal on metal and the loud, aggressive shouts of fighting men. She walked through the gate in a high stone wall and stopped dead, astonished at the sight that met her eyes.
Dozens of men, most of them half-clothed, were battling each other with swords, fists, and clubs; some were even wrestling on the stone-flagged floor.
The air was foul with swear words and the stench of sweat, but Eliza was transfixed, awed by the animal-like violence and the air of raw masculinity.
It was brutal but beautiful, and her feminine instincts were deeply aroused by the sight of powerful muscles flexing and deep voices roaring threats and insults.
She knew that she could not compete with them, but Eliza wanted to learn how to defend herself.
She had never wanted to be the kind of feeble creature who waited for a man to rescue her from danger, and the thought of the arrow flying past her the day before emphasised just how vulnerable she was.
She was never going to be able to wrestle, but she was sure she could learn to use a sword.
She saw the Captain of the Guard, the man Duncan had called Jerry, and approached him. He looked surprised to see her, but gave a stiff bow and a salute.
“Can I help ye, Milady?” he asked.
“Yes,” Eliza replied. “I would like to be trained in sword fighting, sir.”
Eliza heard some derisive laughter from the men behind her, but she looked back with a glance that could have split rocks. The men knew who she was, and fell silent. The Captain’s expression was one of utter incredulity as he stared at her, but after a few moments he shook his head.
“I cannae give ye permission without the Laird’s approval, Milady,” he replied. “It is his decision, no’ mine, but I can tell ye he willnae like it!”
Eliza turned around and began to walk towards Duncan’s study, but Maisie ran up to her, her voice desperate.
“Milady, he is in a council meeting, an’ he willnae be pleased tae be disturbed, please—”
However, Eliza was not to be swayed. The guard tried to block her path, but she pushed in front of him then opened the doors to the council chambers, and twenty pairs of astonished eyes swivelled around to look at her.
Duncan jumped out of his seat and marched towards her, his eyes blazing with anger. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “This is no place for you.”
Again there was the hard Laird in front of her, instead of the man who would have loved to see her beg. No matter, she refused to cower.
“I would like your permission to train for combat,” Eliza said firmly, tilting her chin and folding her arms.
Duncan looked down at her in disbelief, while a ripple of laughter spread amongst the assembled men behind him.
“A woman with a sword?” someone shouted derisively. “Might as well give it to a wee boy!”
This time the laughter was even louder. “Come on, Duncan, tell her to go and do her sewing!” one man said.
“Aye, she will be too busy having babies tae learn tae fight!” another one piped up, causing the mirth to become almost deafening.
“Dinnae gie a sword tae a Sassenach!” someone else shouted angrily. “She will stab ye in the back while ye’re sleepin’!”
Duncan held up his hand for silence. “I do not wish my wife to be a warrior,” he said firmly. “She is to be a lady, not a soldier, that is a man’s work.”
“I might become your wife,” Eliza acknowledged, “but I am still a person in my own right, free to make decisions for myself.”
“When we are married, you will submit to me.” Duncan’s voice was decisive, and his amber eyes were dark with displeasure.
Eliza gave him a poisonous glare and turned away. “We shall see about that,” she growled.
However, she did not expect what happened next.
“Guards!” Duncan pointed to two of the big armed men standing by the door. “Take Lady Eliza to her room and make sure she does not leave.”
Eliza’s eyes widened, then took on an expression of pure scorn. “So this is how a mighty Laird wins his battles?” she sneered. “I wonder if he would be so brave against someone his own size?”
Then she was led away by the two guards, leaving Duncan to stare after her, embarrassed, but at the same time furious.
Eliza glanced over her shoulder.
She was not finished.