Chapter 5
Erik escorted Fiona to their chamber. He’d said all he dared say to her already. Any more and he would not be able to resist taking her with him. Her silence told him she, too, was beyond words.
At the door, she paused and looked up to him, sorrow in her gaze, her brow furrowed and her eyes glassy with tears.
He opened the door, then cupped her cheek and kissed her.
Her lips were warm and seasoned with her tears, salty and yet, still flavored with her sweetness.
If he never saw her again, he would never forget the taste of her on this night.
The pain and yes, fear, of their leave-taking.
Her breath hitched as he stepped away and she reached for him.
He shook his head, but gazed at her, trying to let her see all that he could not say. Then he turned and walked away.
Leaving her there was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
Though he knew it was foolishly dangerous, he wanted her to travel with him.
But he would not give in to that wish. Instead, he focused on his duty, found his men and after telling them what had been decided, put three of them to gathering their belongings and readying their mounts.
The other two he took with him to the dungeon, hoping the Rose had sent word to release the Ross in their custody.
He had. “Stay with him while he gets his gear,” he ordered one of the pair, “then take him to the stable, mount up and wait for me outside Rose’s gates.
I dinna want any more trouble with the Rose.
Better we leave quietly, starting with him. ”
Both men nodded, subdued by the import of the fight and its aftermath, or by the weight of disappointment and grief that bowed their laird’s shoulders.
They had come here to become allies and were leaving, if not as enemies, certainly in some disgrace.
The idea of it infuriated Erik once again, and he decided that the best thing he could do, despite Mary’s words, was to go to the herbal to speak to the healer about the injured man.
Earlier, when he saw the damage done, his heart sank.
No wonder the Rose had been so infuriated.
Now, the healer continued to work on the man’s injury, but Erik could see he might lose his arm.
Or, given the amount of blood on the floor around the table where he lay, his life.
The man was in no condition to speak to him, or to hear his apology.
He left the healer’s doorway without saying a word, and headed to the stable.
After what he’d just seen, Erik was glad he’d sent Kester away because he’d likely kill him.
Pished and belligerent, he’d risked everything they’d come here to do, the agreement between clans, Erik and Fiona’s wedding, everything, in a drunken brawl over a serving wench.
When he saw that Kester was still there, still drunk and lounging on a hay bale while Donnan tried to argue him into mounting and leaving, Erik had enough.
Furious, he picked Kester up by the front of his jerkin.
“Damned fool, ye are lucky to be alive. Rose was within his rights to take yer cods, no’ just throw ye in his dungeon. And here ye sit after I ordered ye removed from this keep.”
Eyes wide, the man opened his mouth to protest.
Erik slammed his fist into his jaw, silencing him.
As Kester staggered back, Erik warned, “Ye will never—never—disobey my orders again. No’ if ye want to remain at Ross.
” Fury mounting to a boil in his blood, Erik dragged Kester to the Rose gate, picked him up, and tossed him outside, where he lay, stunned.
Not satisfied, but aware he needed to get the rest of his men to their ship and leave before Rose decided to hold them all in the dungeon he’d saved Kester from, he left the man on the ground.
Donnan met Erik outside the stable, mounted, and leading Erik’s and Kester’s horses.
Erik fought for calm, aware that, in addition to the guards up on the walls, several Rose men had gathered to watch them leave.
The last thing he wanted to do was encourage another brawl.
He mounted and rode to the gate, satisfied to see Kester staggering down the hill toward the beach and their birlinn.
Erik rode past him, leaving Donnan to herd him along.
Erik’s fury was settling, and despair was replacing it over sailing into what would be a long, cold night on the firth, when he could have been warm and well-loved in Fiona’s arms.
When Fiona arrived to break her fast in the great hall the next morning, the rumble of voices stilled as soon as she appeared.
So, they had heard about the sudden departure in the night of all the Rosses.
Including her husband. All save her, she supposed, since she was now Lady Ross, no longer a Rose.
She nearly turned around to go back to her chamber, but saw Mary and Cat beckoning her, so she stiffened her spine and walked to their table.
Mary and Cat waved their companions to silence as Fiona approached to take a seat.
“Good morning,” Mary greeted her. “Did ye sleep well?”
Fiona shook her head, unable to talk about Erik’s departure and how she’d paced for hours in her, and for a few precious minutes, their chamber, before exhaustion had her tumbling onto the bed. Even then, sleep eluded her. How had everything gone so wrong?
“No’ the wedding night ye expected, aye?” One of the other lasses, a friend of Cat’s, she thought, whose name she’d yet to learn, chimed in and was rewarded with snickers from her other friends.
Mary frowned. “There is nay need for that, Donella. ’Tis a tragedy, what happened last eve. No’ fit for one of yer jests.”
Tragedy? Fiona grasped Mary’s arm. “Who died?”
“Ach, nay,” Mary said and put her hand over Fiona’s.
“I’m sorry to frighten ye. No one died. I meant ’twas a tragedy that Murchan was hurt, and that because of a few drunken fools, yer new husband and his men had to leave so suddenly.
I’m sorry I couldna talk Da out of that.
But dinna fash. The healer finished stitching Murchan’s arm.
He has nay fever yet. So he is better this morning, and Erik will be back for ye before ye ken the time has passed. ”
If only Mary spoke truth, but Fiona couldn’t accept that what had started so badly could ever come to a better end.
The arrival of their breakfast distracted her and she began to eat, discovering to her surprise that she was hungry.
Until she overheard the conversation between two of the lasses at the other end of the table.
It stole her appetite. Apparently, Erik had dealt harshly with his man who’d been involved in the fight.
Had Erik really hit him hard enough to break his jaw, and then tossed the man out the gate like a sack of grain?
That was not like the Erik she knew. But it did sound like the reputation the Ross clan was burdened with.
Only she’d thought that ended with Erik’s predecessor’s death.
If Erik had a temper like his predecessor, and if his idea of dealing with clan problems was to beat his people into submission, how would she survive when he became angry with her?
He hadn’t seemed prone to violence when he left her last night.
Resigned, sad…aye, both of those things.
What had prompted him to punish his own man so harshly?
“My man told me his other men seemed tense, on eggshells around him before they left last night.” The lass tittered, then continued, “If his own warriors fear him, I certainly wouldna want to cross him.”
It didn’t make sense to Fiona. The way these women talked made Erik seem like two men, one tender with her, another brutally fierce as a laird. If he continued to deal harshly with people she came to see as hers, too, how would she cope with him once they were at Ross and she was the clan’s lady?
She didn’t have any answers yet, but set the questions aside when she spotted Lia enter the great hall from the direction of the healer’s herbal. “I’ll talk to ye later,” she told Mary, stood and went to Lia.
“I heard ye were still here,” the lass said.
“Sit with me and I’ll explain,” Fiona offered and gestured her to an empty table. “Have ye broken yer fast?”
“Nay.”
“Then that is what we will do,” Fiona told her and signaled to the nearest serving lass, who quickly brought them porridge, bread, and honey.
After Lia took a few bites, she set her spoon aside. “Why did ye marry that man? Everyone is saying he’s dangerous.”
Fiona sighed and then smiled. “He’s been naught but kind to me.
As for the wedding, I had nay choice.” She shrugged, then added, “Nay, ’tis no’ true.
I did, but there would have been consequences for four clans.
Anyway, I’m sorry I didna talk to ye before ye found out the wedding was happening.
There was nay time to do aught save go to the kirk. ”
“Who is he? The man ye had to marry.”
“Laird Ross. Erik.” Saying his name caused her heart to twist. He’d been gone only hours, but she missed him already. If the night crossing had gone safely, he should be home at Ross by now.
“So ye are Lady Ross?” Lia paled at that.
“I am, though I dinna feel like it yet.” Fiona nodded, and told her what happened that sent her new husband and his men back to Ross without her.
“I’m glad. Maybe now ye will stay at Rose, with me. I dinna ken anyone here.”
Fiona should have expected this, especially after what happened yesterday. Lia must be feeling abandoned. Betrayed. “Ye do, and ye will make more friends. Ye are a Rose now, do ye ken that? Because Arabella took ye in, and so did I. Rose is yer clan, if ye wish it to be.”
“Truly?”
“Aye. But tell me something. I saw ye coming from the healer. Are ye well?”
“I am. I thought I might be useful to her since I spent so many years caring for Arabella. The healer was actually quite pleased to hear of my experience, so I will be her apprentice.”