“Shouldna he be here with his wife as she births their bairn?”
“’Tis as the king himself orders. Tis no’ my place to refuse a request of David the Bruce.” There was not a hint of submission in Struan’s voice. This was more than a request of the king.
“Secrets, Struan? More secrets?”
Robert saw the flash of anger in Struan’s eyes at his accusation, then it was gone.
“Nay, no’ secret at all. The king gave leave for Sandy’s wedding but recalled him immediately to his side in London. And remember, Robert, everyone haes secrets, even the MacKillops who ye think so highly of.”
“Well, ye keep all of yer secrets then and be glad of them.” Robert turned and walked away, down the steps and through the hall.
Damn Struan, and damn his secrets to hell.
7
The next day dawned cold and clear, and Robert took advantage of the unusually fair day to visit the village. Childhood friends and happy memories beckoned him, without Anice’s guidance, to the still snow-covered cottages outside the keep. He stood, his breath making clouds in the frigid air around him, looking down the narrow pathways between the crofts.
It looked so much smaller to him now than it did all those years ago. His feet moved him without thought to the gated fence in front of one of the houses. Robert swung open the gate and walked up the well-trodden path to the door.
“Och, laddie, ’tis about time ye visited yer old friends.” The feminine voice had not changed in eight years. The body making that voice certainly had.
“Robena, did ye really think I could forget ye?”
A woman with wild brown hair and an ample bosom pulled him into an embrace. The breasts were new since last he’d seen her, and so were the hips and shapely legs he observed as she pulled him inside the house.
“Ye’ve grown into a fine-looking man, Robert Mathieson. Yer no’ the skin-and-bones lad who left here too many years ago. Ye have filled out nicely.” Robena’s eyes roamed his body and he grew hot under her appreciative gaze.
“And ye were more lad than lass and stuck up a tree when I saw ye last. And look, now ye have hubbies and hurdies that any man would love to touch.”
Her hands went to her breasts and hips and then covered her mouth as she laughed. Robena had been his friend many years ago—a gilpie, a lass acting more like a lad. She had keptup with him and his other friends as they fought and swam and explored their world of Dunnedin.
Robena had also been his first woman. They had kissed and touched each other, imitating what they’d seen in her mother’s cottage—just to see what was what. Their innocent gropings and feelings had turned to inexperienced passion and exploration. That had ended when Robert discovered the truth and left the clan.
“Can ye stay, Robbie?” She took his hand and pulled him closer to the fire.
“Aye, I can.”
At his nod, she helped him remove the cloak around his shoulders and hung it by the door. He watched her thin skirt sway over her hips and around her legs as she walked to the hearth and added more peat to the fire.
“Yer maither?” Robert looked around the room and saw three other doorways leading off to other places.
“She passed on near to five years ago.” The smell of apples wafted through the small room as Robena poured cider from a stone jug into two battered cups and heated them with a poker from the fire. Handing him one, she continued, “She caught a fever and there was nothing to be done.”
“So, ye took over her place in the clan?”
“Aye. It seemed the right thing to do. ’Tis for certain no’ a hardship for me. I ken most of the men and they treat me well enough.” She made no apology for what she did; he could hear that in her voice.
“Ye have enough to eat and enough clothes to keep ye warm?” He looked at her bare feet. Robert did not want to think of his friend as deprived; he would help her now that he was steward here.
“Och, Robbie, I dinna wear clothes most of the time. Or have ye forgotten what I taught ye those years ago?”
They shared a laugh and Robert lost the last remaining bit of tension about meeting her again. They were still friends. Robena sat down on the stool next to his and took his hand, entwining their fingers.
“Struan provides for the clan in good times and bad. I have enough, we all do.”
“Tell me about Brodie—is he still here?”
“Aye, he’s here and married Rachelle MacMunn. Do ye ken her?” Robena took a drink of her cider without releasing him.
