“From what I learned, they already intended to hire you, even before I had to defend myself.”
“The Scott had no faith in them. He was right not to.”
“Yet you keep me alive when they tried to kill me.”
“He doesn’t trust us.” Henry shrugged. “He wants to enjoy you dying at their hands.”
“Wonderful.” Alex scowled as he led his horse to the stream for his turn to drink. Henry followed him, someone else tending to his horse. Alex cupped water in his hand and drank from it before rinsing his face.
“You threw down your sword, and we’ve stripped you of your knives. I will not tie your hand.”
Alex regarded Henry in confusion. The mercenary fought and killed as an occupation. The man had to realize Alex had other knives hidden that they hadn’t found in his boot and at his waist. Henry stared pointedly at Alex’s arm.
“Even if you killed one, maybe two, of my men, we would easily overpower you before you could get away. You don’t strike me as the type ready to die now that I no longer have hold of your wife.” Henry leaned back as Alex bared his teeth like a rabid dog at the reminder that Henry held a sword to Caitlyn’s throat. “I also don’t need you to pass out and your horse drag you. Do what you must with your arm to make it bearable.”
“Why the mercy?”
“Like I said, the Scotts want you alive, and I don’t need your arse dragged behind your mount.”
Alex doubted the explanation’s simplicity. He had nearly a sennight’s ride ahead of him, so he held little confidence about remaining unscathed until he reached the Scotts. While Henry might afford him some decency, he held little hope for the other men. Henry wouldn’t be his nursemaid. If the men beat and battered him a bit, Alex didn’t expect Henry to speak up. The mercenary leader would only speak up if the damage done threatened their payment. But Alex wouldn’t turn down the reprieve offered. When he mounted Strong again, he wrapped his left hand around the reins and wrapped his right hand over that. It kept his lame arm from jostling with each step. Night couldn’t come soon enough as they trudged along.
Twenty-One
“Lady Caitlyn, we cannot keep pushing the horses as we are. We will run them into the ground.” Devlin stood beside Caitlyn as their horses drank from a loch. They faced south, and Caitlyn wished she could see all the way to the Hermitage. She wished once more that there was a way to soar through the air and travel faster than their mounts could carry them. They’d traveled past sunset for three days, and Caitlyn wanted to insist they ride through the night, but her common sense told her she would only endanger man and beast.
“I know, Devlin. But what would you have me do? Take a leisurely ride? They have my husband, Clan Armstrong’s heir. This is no minor event. God willing, and not soon, I will one day be Lady Armstrong. My duty is to my husband and my new clan. We shall ease the pace for the horses’ sake, but not by much.”
“Thank you, my lady. If they can have another quarter hour, we can safely be off.”
Caitlyn nodded, but her focus remained looking toward their southern route. She had slept only when her body could no longer fight its need for rest. She woke before everyone else, nightmares filling the few hours of rest she found. She wondered if she would experience an overwhelming sense of grief if the gallowglasses killed Alex. As the thought tried to take root, she threw it aside, adopting an abiding optimism that he would survive.
Mounted once more, Caitlyn and the four guards carried on. The day felt much like the last ones: interminable. Caitlyn was sore and weary, unused to riding so hard and for so long. But she reminded herself that her discomfort could only be a small measure compared to Alex’s. His stoicism fortified her, doing what she could to make him proud. The long hours gave her time to ruminate about their life once reunited. Tavin and Coira were still in fine health, so Caitlyn doubted she would be inheriting the title of lady of the keep soon. Nor did she put much store in Alex becoming laird within the next few years. She prayed Alex’s parents, and hers, lived long enough to enjoy grandchildren. That thought made her wonder if that time might be approaching.
Caitlyn had wondered over the years if wishing to marry and have children was selfish of her. No one could anticipate whether they might take after their father, or if they might have darker skin like Caitlyn’s. She feared the ostracism they might face. When she imagined marrying Alex, she hadn’t feared for her children among the Armstrongs. It was when they inevitably faced the rest of the world, when a son one day became laird, that she feared her heritage sentencing them to emotional and physical hardship.
Caitlyn’s clan had been hesitant to welcome Collette when Innes returned from being a hired sword in France and had a foreign wife on his arm. He wasn’t high in line to inherit the lairdship and had planned to make his life in the south of France. But when his father and brothers died, it forced him to return to Scotland. While Collette never faced the extreme bigotry Cairren had, mostly because Innes had been supportive and protective from the start, it hadn’t been easy.
However, by the time Collette gave birth to both daughters, Clan Kennedy thought of her as much a part of the kinship as they would have had she been born there. Few took interest in Caitlyn and Cairren appearing different from the other children and young adults. There were other children close in age to the laird’s daughters. But none were nobility, none were being trained for a life of leadership and service. Except for Alex. From the moment he arrived at Dunure to foster, Alex gravitated toward the Kennedy sisters. Never once had Alex a cruel word to say about the girls looking different. Caitlyn understood, even before Cairren went to court, that others didn’t share the sentiments the Kennedys felt toward the laird’s family.
As she and her guards charged toward the Hermitage, she once more wondered if she would cause Alex and their unborn children undue hardship by wanting a family of her own. She didn’t regret marrying Alex for her own sake of happiness, but she had pangs of regret for marrying at all when she couldn’t ensure a safe and welcoming world for her future children. As deep despondency threatened to take hold, Alex’s voice rang in her mind.
Caity, you think such nonsense. Should I not have children because I have a lame arm? I thought I shouldn’t, but you would never agree. Why should I agree that we shouldn’t have children because they might resemble you? Can’t you imagine how handsome our sons will be, and how beautiful our daughters will be? I pray our children resemble their mama exactly.
Alex and Caitlyn discussed their future family while they’d been tucked away in their chambers. They’d shared their fears for the future as well as their hopes. Alex had been adamant that their future held children and happiness. After he’d nearly denied them both that opportunity, he welcomed the thought of creating life with Caitlyn. He swore to arrange no marriages for their daughters, promising the freedom for them to choose their mates to ensure their safety and happiness. He was certain their sons would be braw warriors who men would fear for their sword wielding prowess not any difference in skin. Caitlyn hadn’t been so certain, but Alex’s conviction eased her fears.
As a fourth and fifth day passed in the saddle, at a pace much slower than she wanted, Caitlyn resolved to face whatever the future held, be it children who resembled her, neighbors who underestimated Alex, or widowhood. She didn’t wish for any of those, but she steeled herself for them. When the Hermitage finally came into view, and they decided to stop there rather than push on to Redheugh Tower, her fears and anger had settled into a low simmer. She felt composed now when she’d come close to falling apart several times during the journey. David called out their arrival to the castle’s guards, and they clattered into the bailey. She dismounted before the others drew to a stop.
“Where’s Laird Bruce?” Caitlyn demanded of the first person she encountered. “It’s urgent.”
“Who rides into my home and demands to see me?” Robert Bruce, illegitimate son to the king, appearing remarkably like his father, tall and ruddy with russet hair. There was no denying his paternity.
“Laird Bruce, I’m Lady Caitlyn Armstrong. I’ve come seeking shelter and help.” Caitlyn dipped into a curtsy as Robert bent over her hand.
“What help do you request?” Robert’s wariness rang in the quiet bailey, nearly everyone staring at the newcomers.
“The Scotts have Alex.” Caitlyn kept her voice for Robert’s ears only. “They hired gallowglasses, who took him while we rode to Dunure. They injured one of my guards only a day from my parents’ home. He rode on to summon my father and my clan of birth. One of Alex’s guards rides for Mangerton. I didn’t trust the road was safe for all of us to travel to Dunure, and I came to seek your and the Elliots’ support.”
“You want four clans to ride on the Scotts?”
