Emelie inhaled deeply as she rose. She patted her pocket, checking that the missive hadn’t somehow disappeared. She shook out her skirts, smoothed back her hair, and squared her shoulders. She moved toward the path, expecting to find Dominic where she suspected he hid. She experienced a pang of disappointment when he wasn’t there. But she spied him standing off to the side with his back to her as she entered the bailey. A slight twist at the waist and a turn of his head allowed one eye to glance at her. He made no other gesture to acknowledge her, but she read something in that mere single-eyed stare. She wasn’t certain what it was, but she felt safe once more. It disconcerted her how much she appreciated knowing someone was looking out for her, looking after her. She tilted her head an inch as she continued walking. She steered herself across the bailey, forcing herself not to look back.
Dominic stared across the bailey to the left of where Emelie walked, but he was aware of every step she took until she entered the keep. She was something of an enigma, but more than that, she seemed so vulnerable while she sat beside him. But it was a resolute and self-assured woman who left the gardens and made her way into the castle. The contradiction was staggering. Had he not just felt her trembling against his side, he would never guess she’d been sobbing not twenty minutes earlier.
Dominic had barely dismounted his horse when he saw Emelie entering the gardens. He’d dismissed his guards, telling them to find their bunks in the barracks. He wouldn’t need them again that day. He’d intended to seek the Campbell suites that were always at the ready, but he’d followed the mysterious Emelie instead. Now he ambled across the bailey until he reached the same door Emelie passed through. He wound his way through the castle until he came to his chamber. He dropped his saddlebags beside the bed and toed off his boots. He’d relinquished his sword at the gates as a formality.
As the brother of Laird Brodie Campbell, one of the most powerful lairds in the country, Dominic knew he could have demanded to keep his sword, and the guards would have obliged. But with dominance and influence came great resentment. The Campbells had been ever loyal to the Bruce’s cause, and the king had rewarded them generously. Not everyone in the realm appreciated the clan’s wealth and power.
It was the ongoing conflict with the MacArthurs that brought Dominic to court. Their rivals continued to encroach upon Campbell territory, attempting to reclaim land that hadn’t been theirs in generations. Once the more powerful lineage with a shared progenitor, the MacArthurs had yet to accept the rise and supremacy of Clan Campbell. With delegates from Clan MacArthur also at court, more than one threat lurked within Stirling Castle. If Dominic sensed even a hint of trouble, he would claim his sword from the armory. But for now, the empty scabbard stood beside the foot of his bed.
Dominic poked his nose into the passageway and called to a page standing at the ready. He requested a bath, wanting to rid himself of the dirt from days on the road. He hadn’t considered how filthy he must be while he was comforting Emelie. However, as he waited for the tub and steaming water, he sniffed. He didn’t smell as foul as he expected. He’d felt Emelie smell him as she leaned against him, and she hadn’t recoiled in disgust. But he was hardly as clean as he preferred. His eagerness grew when servants arrived.
“Would you like help, my lord?” A saucy brunette maid offered, leaning forward and offering a view of her cleavage. “Your back is so broad. It must be hard to reach.” The woman’s cooing grated on Dominic’s suddenly exhausted nerves.
“With a broad back comes long arms. I can reach by myself, lass. But I thank you.” Dominic offered a coin to each of the servants who hauled the tub and buckets to his chamber. His encounter with Emelie unsettled him more than he realized, and he wanted privacy and a long soak to consider what happened.
As Dominic lowered himself into the wood and copper tub, regret that he didn’t read the missive nipped at him. He chided himself for even considering violating a stranger’s privacy. He felt worse still once he reminded himself that he’d spoken to Emelie and held her against his side. But he wondered what could cause her such distress. He could only imagine that someone’s death would cause her to be so bereft, but she likely would have volunteered that as an explanation. She’d offered none, and he hadn’t pressed her. However, curiosity ignited his thoughts as he tried to reason out what led Emelie to seek solace in the garden, and what could have caused gut-wrenching sobs.
The more Dominic attempted to figure out the cause of her pain, the more wild and unlikely his guesses became. Eventually, he shook his head and chuckled. He abandoned his guessing game, dunked his head beneath the water, then scrubbed himself clean. As he dried himself, he eyed the bed, considering whether he could catch a nap before the midday meal. He was certain King Robert would already know of his arrival, but the monarch hadn’t summoned Dominic to the Privy Council chamber. Dominic assumed that meant the Bruce was in no rush to see him. Rather than wait in the sultry passageway with every other petitioner just to have the chamberlain send him away, Dominic gave into his wish. He climbed into bed and was soon slumbering. A blonde garden nymph tiptoed through his dreams, one after another. When Dominic awoke, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well.
* * *
Do I tell Henry? Don’t I owe it to him to tell him he’ll be a father? If he would claim the bairn, is that what I want? He or she will be a bastard, regardless. Would it be better or worse for Henry to acknowledge them? What have I done?
Emelie sat at the table in her chamber. It was still predawn, and Blythe had yet to stir. A tallow candle sat on the table beside Emelie’s left arm, a sheaf of parchment before her. Her right hand grasped a quill, but she had yet to dip it into the ink. She was torn yet again.
Emelie had made discreet inquiries over the past few days, trying to learn when Henry would return. But no one she asked had an answer. She’d vaguely hinted about it to Queen Elizabeth, but she was cautious, since she was certain the queen knew Henry was now married. The pitying expression she received told Emelie definitively that not only did the queen know about Henry’s marriage, she knew that he wouldn’t return to court soon. Emelie had no choice but to nod and excuse herself.
Now Emelie sat in her dimly lit chamber, trying to decide what to do. Henry had abandoned her. She didn’t know whether he would even care that she was pregnant. The glimpse of a temper she’d witnessed the last time they were together made her fear his reaction, but she felt obligated to tell him. Her morals may have flown away twice already, but they demanded that she be honest. She dipped her quill and considered her wording.
H,
Circumstances have changed for us both. I am aware of yours, but I thought you should know of mine. Fear not that I’ll be alone. You’ve ensured that I won’t be. I’ll likely travel to Druchtag Motte within the next two moons. I won’t be able to wait much longer.
E
* * *
“I wonder when Henry will be back,” Blythe teased Emelie at the evening meal, pressing her shoulder against her sister. Blythe worried about Emelie, watching her retreat further each day. She didn’t want Emelie to pine for a man who wouldn’t follow through on his flirtations. She hoped that lightening the mood would help Emelie relax, but her comment had the opposite effect. Emelie flinched and looked around.
“I don’t know. He was supposed to be back already, but as he told me, he is his father’s tánaiste. He has duties at home.”And a wife he’s likely bedding every night and promising the world to now that he isn’t doing that with me. At least the promising part. I will cut off his cock if he ever brings it near me again.
“I know how you must miss him. Surely he will return as soon as he has Father’s blessing.”
Emelie looked at her sister and debated confessing everything to her. She’d never kept secrets from Blythe until she met Henry Pringle. Now everything about her life felt like a secret. Her eyes traveled from table to table as diners finished their evening meal. It had been three days since she received her father’s message and embarrassed herself in front of Dominic Campbell. She’d caught sight of him several times since their chance meeting. He’d smiled and nodded, always polite, but they hadn’t spoken except for the mildest banalities when they partnered during dances.
“Come outside with me,” Emelie whispered. The pair eased away from their table, appearing to mingle until they could wander out to the terrace. Emelie drew Blythe into the shadows and kept her voice low. “I doubt Henry is coming back. Blythe, he’s married.”
“What?” Blythe hissed.
“Shh.” Emelie’s eyes darted around, but they were alone on the terrace and too far from anyone inside to overhear. “I grew impatient and sent a missive to Father. I heard back. Henry married Alice Elliot a moon ago.”
“A moon ago? Alice? Alice, as in Allyson’s sister?” Blythe watched as Emelie nodded. Neither woman had ever met the former Alice Elliot, but they knew from their friend and former lady-in-waiting, Allyson, that her next-oldest sister was hardly a woman of high moral standards. Allyson hadn’t said as much, but the Dunbar sisters easily deduced Alice was loose. They learned how Alice and Allyson’s other sisters attempted to seduce Ewan Gordon while he and Allyson were only betrothed. Anyone who met the couple would see how ridiculous the notion was that Ewan would ever choose someone over Allyson. They’d been married a few years and had children, but the man was still as besotted as a new bridegroom. “Wait. He was married the last time he was here.”
“I know that now.”
“But you sneaked out to see him.”
Emelie gasped. “You knew aboot that?”
