Chapter 6
Once Darina had departed, Fergus finished brushing the horse, then snuffed the lantern and went for a walk around the perimeter of the castle. He knew that it would be daylight in a few hours, but he also knew that sleep would not come to him for quite some time that night.
If at all.
Fergus busied himself with skulking near the outer walls, allowing the heavy shadows of the ramparts to shroud him so the guardsmen would take no note of his presence, and searching for entries and exits which might be exploited when the time came to abscond with the lass.
Nae that ye would have any need of them at all, a nagging voice inside him insisted, if ye had simply done the expedient thing and whisked her away from the stables when ye had the chance!
In truth, he could make no reasonable argument against that.
He’d been granted the perfect opportunity.
Even if Old Lennox had awakened and sounded the alarm—which would have been extremely unlikely, given the fact that the man seemed to be deaf as a post—Fergus would have had his pick of horses to flee upon.
He’d have had a prodigious head start before word of the kidnapping would even have had a chance to reach the castle itself.
What if such a chance didn’t present itself again? Why the hell had he squandered it?
Because he had been surprised by the sudden appearance of the girl; that was what he told himself, at any rate. He’d been lost in thought as he went about his duties…
No, not “lost in thought”. That was an utter lie.
He’d been indulging in idle fantasies about her, and when she’d shown up for real, it had thrown him entirely off guard.
Not only that but the things she had said to him about how she sought the solace of the stables when she was upset and how she was faced with a terrible choice between her dignity and her clan. It had touched him profoundly.
It had been as though she’d somehow managed to peer directly into the most private chamber of his soul and speak aloud what was etched upon its walls.
They had been raised in clans that had been taught to feel nothing but murderous hatred for each other. Yet somehow, they had grown to be so similar to each other that after spending just a few minutes with her, she felt so familiar to him.
Once he’d gotten over the initial shock of her unexpected arrival, he had found her presence oddly comforting. Or rather, he might have if she hadn’t run off so swiftly. Had she somehow sensed that in closing the distance between them, he might have meant to abduct her?
Had that been his intention in drawing nearer to her? Or had it simply been that in the flickering light of the lantern, with the gentle musk of the horses around them, he’d been caught up in the moment and meant to kiss her?
If he had given in to that impulse, he would have been ejected from the Wallace lands for certain since stablehands were not allowed to go around kissing noblewomen on a whim.
Unless she had wanted it as well, he thought. Enough tae keep it a secret. From the look in her eyes, I believe she just might have, at that.
Well, there was no sense in overthinking it now.
All he could do was keep searching for potential passageways to aid his future endeavors and promise himself that if he was confronted by a similar opportunity later on, he would not foolishly hesitate or let himself be bewitched by her beauty and charm.
He heard movement nearby and immediately flattened his back against the wall of the castle, hoping the shadows would be enough to conceal him. Within moments, a guardsman sauntered toward him, whistling softly to himself.
Fergus held his breath. The man was about to pass just a few feet away. If his eyes adjusted enough to detect Fergus; if the guard even happened to hear him…
Would Fergus be able to somehow make him believe that he had no ill intention, stalking around in the darkness at such an hour?
And if not, would he be forced to kill the guard and abort his mission entirely?
The idea that it could all come to naught in the next blink of an eye was almost beyond his comprehension, and his hands curled into fists at his sides, preparing for the worst.
But the guard continued jauntily along his merry way, his whistling growing fainter as he got farther away.
Fergus caught his breath and scurried out of the shadows, heading back toward the stables. He’d had enough close calls for one night, and besides, he’d found a couple of passageways that he thought might help him spirit the lass away when the time came.
If the time came.
He gathered a pile of straw and reclined on it, closing his eyes.
It had been a long time since he’d slept in a stable, but the experience was far from unknown to him.
There had been times during his youth when he’d disappeared for hours, dozing in the stables to hide from his family and steal a few moments of peace for himself.
Doing so again brought back bittersweet memories for him.
In some ways, he hadn’t had the easiest childhood.
His father had been a stern man who’d heaped a great deal of responsibility on the young boy’s narrow shoulders.
He had often tormented himself with worries about whether he would be equal to the task of being laird when the time came.
But in some ways, those had been easier days too.
They were the times before the war, before Fergus had seen so many friends and comrades cut down in the prime of their lives.
The long-ago times when he would have never been expected to sacrifice his honor for the survival of his clan by terrorizing an innocent woman.
With these thoughts, he slipped into a fretful sleep, which he was awakened from a few scant hours later when the sun came up.
Since Fergus had already seen to so many of his duties during his wakefulness the previous night, there was little left for him to do except feed the horses apples and carrots and stroke their muzzles.
Old Lennox looked on, nodding appreciatively.
“When I saw what a ghastly mess ye made of pitchin’ the hay and shoein’ the horses yesterday, I’ll admit, I was a mite skeptical of whether you were up tae the task,” the craggy man cackled.
“Dinnae ken what kind of farm ye were runnin’ before, but them beasts must have had ye confounded, ha!
Even so, the care and affection ye show fer them is genuine enough, and ye’re nae afraid of hard work, that’s certain. I’m glad tae have ye, lad!”
“I am most relieved tae hear it,” Fergus answered gratefully.
Yes, he had blundered his way through the tasks Lennox had mentioned.
He was used to having servants perform such tasks for him, and he’d come close to being kicked in the head by the creatures more than once.
Still, he had remained determined to prove himself, and he was glad he had.
“I’m quite happy tae hear it myself,” Cameron said jovially, standing just outside the stables and grinning. “After all, it would be a poor showin’ indeed if ye disappointed this old fellow after I took the trouble tae recommend ye!”
“Ye have been most kind tae a stranger,” Fergus replied with a smile, “and I certainly would nae wish tae repay such kindness with anythin’ less than my very best efforts.”
“Good!” Cameron clapped his hands, rubbing them together briskly. “In that case, ye will give us yer best efforts at the Beltane festivities tonight.”
Fergus could scarcely believe his ears. “I beg yer pardon?”
“There shall be feastin’, drinkin’, and dancin’ aplenty,” Cameron told him. “I expect ye tae engage in all of these, but as I said, most especially the dancin’.”
“Truly, Sir, ye are most generous tae extend the offer. But surely strangers—and, more tae the point, commoners—would nae be welcome at such an event?”
“They shall welcome whoever I bloody well tell them tae welcome,” Cameron laughed.
“But I have nae proper clothes fer it, Sir. I cannae attend in these rags I’ve worn while muckin’ out the stalls!”
“Think nothin’ of it, lad! Yer dimensions appear tae roughly match my own, so ye may borrow somethin’ suitable from me. Only if ye agree tae bathe thoroughly first, though… As ye said, ye have been doin’ some rather grubby work.”
Fergus opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to respond. He had been struck by the strangest series of surprises during this mission, and the whole thing was enough to make him positively dizzy with confusion.
Cameron could clearly sense his bewilderment because he put a reassuring hand on Fergus’s shoulder.
“See here, Finn. The sad truth of it is, my brother and I dinnae have many lads our age around. Too many of them have perished in the war, and the ones who remain…” A shadow passed over his face, and he sighed heavily.
“Well, they may yet suffer the same fate, so it is better to enjoy every moment we have now, is it not? Also we should use all the fine men we can get, especially if we mean tae rebuild when this conflict has ended.”
“And when do ye think that might be?” The words were out of Fergus’s mouth before he realized he had spoken them. Why had he asked such a question?
Because he genuinely wanted to hear Cameron’s answer. Or, more accurately, because he hoped Cameron had any answer at all.
Instead, though, Cameron shook his head sadly. “I wish I knew. But fer now, come. Tell me ye will celebrate with us, eh?”
“Well, when ye state it so plainly,” Fergus replied, “then I suppose it would be terrible of me tae refuse, wouldn’t it?”
“There, that’s the spirit!” Cameron clapped him on the back happily. “Come tae the castle when ye are ready tae be dressed. I shan’t be difficult tae find, I assure ye!”
And with that, Cameron was gone as quickly as he’d appeared.
“Well, it’s a good thing ye saw tae yer duties last night, eh?” Lennox wheezed with laughter. “Looks like ye’ll be occupied the remainder of the day, makin’ yourself pretty fer the nobles!”
“Aye,” Fergus murmured, bemused. “I imagine I shall, at that.”
He found he was growing to like this family, and he hated himself for how hard it would make things for him when he did what had to be done.