Chapter 11
The ride back to Castle Buchlann went by as if time had become honey, moving so slowly, his stallion plodding and pausing to snatch up tufts of sweet grass whenever he pleased. Gordon didn’t even attempt to stop him.
“Ye used to be a prime war horse,” he chided. “Ye’re goin’ to get fat and lazy, and when the next battle comes along, ye’ll have yerself a shock.”
The stallion, Ares, snorted his opinion and kept right on chewing.
What should have been a productive excursion to the borders had proved rather useless. Whoever had sent the complaint to Keith had claimed they had no knowledge of it upon the laird’s arrival, though Gordon knew the truth of it: the people simply didn’t want to talk to him.
Why would they, when they didn’t trust him?
They’d rather protect Englishmen than say a word to me.
Gordon shook his head.
Had he not made sure that they had enough to eat, that their farms didn’t fail, that there was trade aplenty, that the borders and the villages were safe? What else did they want from him? What else did he need to prove?
The clan had not been half of what it was now under his father’s reign, and yet they continued to pledge their fealty to a dead man. A man who had not cared for them at all.
How short their memory is.
He could still remember when a sickness spread through the entirety of Buchlann territory, claiming lives through a bitter winter. What had his father done? He had locked the gates of the castle to protect himself and had sent no aid.
Had it not been for the defiance of the castle’s healer, slipping out into the night to tend to the sick, the losses would have been far worse. And who had escorted the healer to those villages, traversing the roads in the pitch dark to help deliver medicine and herbs? Gordon, not his father.
Instead, his father had feasted in comfort while the clan starved and suffered. And when it was all over, the clan just… forgot, all because he threw a gathering in their honor.
“Come on.” Gordon flicked the reins lightly. “We’re almost back, where ye can eat as much hay as ye please and get even fatter.”
Ares tossed his head in a nod of approval and walked on toward the towers that were just peeking through the ancient oaks of the forest road.
Some twenty minutes later, Gordon stalked across the main courtyard in a grim temper, eager to get to the eastern tower so he might brush off the frustrations of the day.
He entered the castle and began to make his way through the labyrinth of hallways to the door of his tower, when he paused. Something was wrong here.
Very wrong.
At first, he couldn’t figure it out, turning this way and that to see if clarity came to him. Nothing looked right; the castle oddly unfamiliar, as if he had somehow wandered into a different one that just happened to have the same exact design.
Realization hit him like a rock to the head: it was the sun.
The castle looked different because he could see every detail, the sunshine streaming in through the tall, narrow windows, catching the sheen of the grey walls, gleaming off the flagstone floor that had been polished by centuries of feet walking back and forth.
Tapestries that had been dull and drab now revealed their colors, golden thread glinting, while timeworn portraits seemed a little brighter. And there on a side table was a spray of wildflowers. Their subtle scent infiltrated his nose.
What has she done?
If he had wanted the curtains open, did she not think he would have opened them himself?
Bristling with a new burst of irritation, he clenched his hands into tight fists and marched back the way he had come. As if his day had not been infuriating enough, she had to go and change everything so that his own castle no longer felt like a sanctuary.
He took the steps two at a time, anger overcoming his weariness, cursing at every shaft of light that assaulted his senses. He could have gone around closing all the curtains, but Agnes was the one who had done this, and she would be the one to put everything right again.
I never agreed to yer rules, lass.
Tension gripped his stomach, remembering how she had moaned softly at dinner, thanks to her brazen ‘rules.’ Had she mistaken his actions that night for his acceptance of her demands?
Well, he was about to set things straight, in more ways than one.
Reaching the door to her bedchamber, he didn’t bother to knock. He walked right in, fully expecting to find her playing with that annoyingly cute baby, whose ears would undoubtedly need to be covered for the tirade he was about to launch into.
But she was not there.
Of course she’s nae. She’s probably wanderin’ somewhere else in the castle, openin’ windows and puttin’ out flowers and changin’ everythin’ that doesnae need changin’.
He turned to leave when a sound stopped him in his tracks.
A soft tune drifted into the bedchamber, a melodic voice singing a lullaby that he knew so well. The song of his childhood, interwoven with the rosy memories he had of his mother.
Turning back, his gaze settled on the window that Agnes still hadn’t closed. With a frown creasing his brow, he edged toward the sound and peered out.
Agnes was not down below, where he had leaned to listen to her laughter last night, but past the broken border of a wooden fence, in the gardens that had once been magnificent. They were overgrown now, unkempt and tangled up with weeds and briars, a mossy fountain no longer spouting any water.
In the center, standing on a scrubby patch of grass, Agnes sang sweetly and rocked Lizzy as if they were dancing. The baby wasn’t giggling, just staring into her aunt’s eyes as if she was the most wonderful thing in all the world, a bright smile on her chubby-cheeked face.
Where did ye learn that song?
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if that might be enough to keep the all-too-familiar ache at bay.
It started like a thorn scratch to the heart, then burned like a nettle sting, and if he did not push the feeling down in time, it would become a pain so intense that he would not be able to bear it, as if someone had wrapped their hands around his heart and squeezed with all their might.
Nay, I’m nae lettin’ it take hold of me again. I’m nae dwellin’ on the past. I’m nae wishin’ to turn back time, to have what I’ll never have again.
Fury flared in the spot where his sadness clawed.
“Ye should never have come here, ruinin’ everythin’,” he snarled. “What right do ye have?”
He had spent too many years carefully constructing impenetrable walls around himself, drawing the curtains on anything that could remind him of the past, and this woman had just let the sunshine in, threatening everything he had built.
Jaw set in a hard line, teeth gritted, he stormed out of the airy bedchamber, away from the lullaby that buzzed in his head and the sweet sight that burned in his chest.
This was not her domain to do as she pleased. It seemed she needed a reminder that she remained here at his discretion, and there were clearly a few rules that he had forgotten to mention the other night.
“Did you like that?” Agnes chuckled as she spun around in a circle.
Lizzy squealed in delight.
“Shall I sing that song again?” Agnes asked, dancing a little jig.
The baby babbled in a language all her own, though Agnes liked to imagine that she was saying, “Yes, Auntie Agnes. Sing to me again!”
It was hard to believe that one day, this little girl would be able to walk and talk all by herself. And one day, even later than that, she would be fully grown, with a life of her own, maybe children of her own, and all of this would seem so long ago.
“Don’t grow up too fast, do you hear me?” she whispered, kissing the baby’s head. “You take your time.”
Smiling, she began singing the first notes of the lullaby that Iona had taught her, but the softly sung words soon turned into a cautious hum.
Someone was watching her. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel his presence behind her, igniting a familiar shiver—that tremor of fear and anticipation she had felt in her dream.
He sought me out.
After all he had said at dinner about her staying out of his way, and his abrupt departure, she had assumed it would be some time before she saw him again. If ever. Yet there he was, breaking his own rule. Abiding by hers, that they should be seen together.
Her heart beat faster, her mind filling up with all of the sultry things he had whispered in her ear, his hand around her throat, making her look at him… as if she needed an excuse. Her skin tingled, a warm rush flowing in her veins.
It was like she had no control over her own body, that power firmly in his hands.
Taking a steadying breath, she turned around.
There he was, just as she had known he would be. Not that he looked pleased to have found her, what with his eyes narrowed.
“Welcome home,” she said. “I trust you had an interesting day?”
He had discovered the open curtains; I would wager everything I have on it.
Why else would he have sought her out like this? She would have been a fool to believe there was another reason, a more exciting reason. Yet, for just a second, she had been a fool, swept away in her wild imagination.
“Doesnae feel much like home,” Gordon replied coolly. “What did ye do, Sunshine?”
Sunshine?
She supposed there were worse things to be called, even if he was saying it in a frosty tone.
A flush heated her face, adding to the warmth of thinking about those stirring remarks last night: “Will ye be caught in the shadows with me, lass? Will ye press yerself against me by the trainin’ yard, for all the men to see?
Will ye gasp as I lean in and whisper things in yer ear to make ye blush?
Will ye sit in me lap when I invite a gatherin’ of people here?
Will ye wriggle against me, so all who see ye ken that ye’re desperate to be alone with me? ”
Had he known what those words would do to her? Had he known that she would not be able to forget or shake them from her mind?
I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm.
She tilted her chin up. “There was no rule about opening the curtains, my Laird. It is no good to always be in the dark.” She hardened her tone. “Indeed, my eyes have been hurting. I have had to strain them so much to see where I’m going.”
“Eyes adjust,” he argued.
“And you don’t?” she challenged.
There might have been a momentary smirk there, beneath his beard, but his grumbling voice made her doubt herself as he replied, “Careful, Sunshine. Ye’re forgettin’ that ye’re a guest here, and I didnae agree to ye makin’ changes.”
“You didn’t say no when I mentioned my rule to help run the castle.”
“We both ken that this isnae what ye meant.” He took a step closer. “Daenae take liberties, lass. Daenae overstep. If somethin’ is a certain way, it’s that way for a reason.”
All of her boldness faltered. She had not considered that. She had seen a problem and fixed it, not pausing to think why the curtains might be drawn in the first place.
“Of course, my Laird,” she mumbled. “I just thought… Never mind what I thought. But Lizzy has enjoyed being able to see everything. She just loves staring, taking in everything around her.”
“Is that so?”
Gordon leaned in as if he meant to kiss the top of the baby’s head, but Lizzy turned away from him, pulling a face. She might have been just six months old, but she certainly had some strong opinions.
“I would not take it personally,” Agnes said with a laugh. “I fear she has decided that a beard is not for her. I cannot blame her; I have always believed that you cannot trust a man with a beard, for you will forever wonder what he is hiding. Usually, it is just a weak jaw, but you never know.”
Gordon stepped back, frowning. “She didnae hate it when she tried to pull it from me face.”
“Perhaps she was trying to get rid of it,” Agnes teased.
Gordon grunted. “Aye, well, from now on, daenae change anythin’.”
“I shall do my best.” Agnes put on her brightest smile.
“See that ye do,” he muttered, walking off.
As far as reprimands went, that had not been nearly as bad as she had anticipated.
But as she watched him go, admiring the ripple of muscles across his back and the way the sunlight added warmth to his dark hair, she half-wished that he would stay a little longer, even if it was just to shout at her.
For who knew when he might seek her out again?
Or would she see him only in her dreams from now on, and hear his stirring whispers only in her memory?