“How long since yer parents departed this life?” Laura wanted to know. He sighed heavily, leaving a large cloud of vapor in the cold air. “I’ve been soldiering for thirteen years, lass. Perhaps that’s why ye found me so reluctant to go see yer apothecary. I’ve had wounds much worse, y’see.”
Suddenly, she felt cold. Laura could not imagine a world without Bruce Duncan in it. He might claim to be the furthest thing from a gentleman, but he was wrong. There was something about the tall man that reminded her of noble kings from ages past. That was the problem with labels and titles: they never described the essence of the person. And Bruce was the quintessential warrior gentleman. Lethal in battle but kind outside of it.
“Do ye see yer sister, Alice, often?” He shrugged and grunted in a manner that she had come to associate as Bruce’s own, so she continued. “It’s only that I wish to tell ye that there are days when living with me brethren really gets me fair riled! I yearn for the chance to wake up one morning and not have to greet me brither an’ his wife. They are so happy together, so in love. It serves to remind me of what I don’ have.”
She had said too much! But that was the most interesting thing about this man: she could act as if they had known one another for years. Laura opened her mouth to amend her statement but closed it again when he spoke.
“When we met for the first time, lass, ye were sore in yer heart about something.”
Laura never wanted to mention the name of John ever again in her life. The very thought of him made her sick to her stomach, but she would not lie. “I am healed now, thank goodness. I feel I am ready to fall in love…to marry. Come, let’s dismount and tie our horses to these branches. I want to walk a little way into the woods to see if there is any sign of snowdrops.”
The snow had begun to melt under the tree branches, but the terrain was still rough going over those parts still under snow—it was there the roots and rocks were harder to see—up to the point until one tripped over them. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, Bruce put one arm around her and tucked his other hand under her armpit, and lifted her over the snow. When they were deeper in the wood where the tree canopy was too thick for the snow to penetrate, he placed her back down gently. Laura was breathless and swayed a little bit. He steadied her with one hand, and it seemed normal that they would continue to hold hands as they walked deeper into the forest.
“Laird Roy will be happy to hear ye’re ready for love an’ marriage, lass,” Bruce said. “I hear he’s champing at the bit for ye to say aye an’ amen to the wedding settlements.” For some strange reason, she did not respond to this statement. He gave her hand a small squeeze, and she seemed to snap out of her reverie.
“Oh, aye, the settlements. The thing is, Bruce, I have loved before, and it was a confusing mixture of pain and ecstasy. I thought it would be a good thing to avoid a similar kind of love again, and believed I would find it with yer laird. But Halkerston stirs no affection inside my breast. Maybe I need more spice for an intensity of emotion to rise inside me?”
He laughed. “Och lass, ye’re askin’ the wrong fellow! I have never loved anyone outside of me own family. By the time me blood was well developed enough to fan any flames, I had too many worries and no’ enough money to do anything about it!”
That made her laugh, and he was pleased to see the little crease between her eyebrows had disappeared. Tongues were already wagging, and if Lady Laura returned from going out riding with him with a reluctance to marry Laird Halkerston, it could go bad for him. It was all very well for castle ladies—sisters, wives, and daughters—to ogle the soldiers and loiter around the barracks hoping to catch their favorite in the washroom in summer without a plaid around his waist, but no laird would hire such a soldier if he made merry with those ladies.
It had happened to Bruce many times. His accommodation would be comfortable and the pay good, and then one of the castle ladies would become obsessed with him. He would always leave before the woman compromised herself to the point when it would be his word against hers. But he had to eject over a dozen women from his bed in the past. He would wake in the middle of the night and find a warm body spooned up against his back. They would come in summer as if the heat had the power to make a woman’s blood rise to a fever pitch. Sometimes he would wake up from a kiss, but if he were really tired, he would wake to find his manhood being sweetly compromised.
“Why are ye so quiet?” Laura wanted to know.
He grinned but shook his head, saying, “Ye wouldnae understand, my lady. I am recollecting a few times when I had to leave my employment in the past. Maybe we should go riding when the rest of the castle is awake? I wouldnae want rough words to be said in yer direction. I am unmarried and a man…an’ ye are unmarried and a…very beautiful woman.”
She stopped and turned toward him. “If it keeps ye from being put under suspicion, Bruce, of course we can ride out during the day. I would never want to put yer employment in danger. Truth to tell, I bring us out early because it is so cold. No one can say we are out here lying down on the grass together…”
A thousand images flashed through their minds at those words: riding hard to a crossroads inn, throwing enough gold coins at the innkeeper to keep his mouth closed, running upstairs to the bedchamber, and falling onto the bed wrapped in each other’s arms. No… There would definitely be a fire burning in the hearth, so they would lie on the woolen rug in front of the fire instead…
“Look!” Laura was the first to tear her eyes away from looking at him. “Snowdrops.” She pointed to a tree trunk where slim green stalks were pushing up out of the ground.
He bent down and picked one small, white bud and stem and gave it to her. She tucked it behind her ear, where it sat trapped by her bonnet. She smiled up at him. They were so close, only inches apart. All they had to do was for him to lower his mouth and—
“We should be getting back to the castle, Lady Laura.”
They walked back to the horses in silence, and this time there was no holding hands.
* * *
Laird Halkerston was waiting in the stables for them. He did not exactly give Bruce a darkling look, but the tall soldier could sense there was a sort of calculating expression on the laird’s face as if he were gauging the mood between the lady and his best warrior. Bruce could only thank his lucky stars that he had not given in to his impulses in the woods and kissed Laura. He had a feeling that one kiss would be all that was needed to send the two of them posthaste to the nearest inn.
Bruce Duncan had thought Laura looked like an angel when he saw her ride into the courtyard a few days before, but the more time he spent with her, the more he was convinced she was more an enchantress; she certainly seemed to have woven some sort of spell over him!
As she rode out of the stables with Laird Halkerston, this time on a different horse, she looked back over her shoulder at him. It was all he needed to know that she felt the same way he did. His heartbeat quickened as if he were involved in a complicated campaign of war. Bruce had not survived being a battle-hardened warrior for nearly fourteen years without having the ability to see the best way to approach a difficult engagement. And when Laura and Roy announced their betrothal, Bruce had a feeling that was what it might turn out to be.
“Penny for yer thoughts, Duncan?” It was Davey Torrens standing next to him.
“None that are any of yer business, Davey,” was all he said in reply.
This did not seem to put the man off. He just grinned and held out a sealed parchment toward him. “Messenger brought this around for ye, Duncan.”
Agatha from his village must have found a new scribe to write her messages for her. It was about time: the old scribe they used at the advocate’s chambers was so old he could hardly hold a quill anymore.
Dearest Brother of Mine,
Agatha is carrying my words directly from my mouth to the scribe’s pen and I beseech you not to ignore me. Elias Kinney has developed a concoction that will allow me to regain my health and strength! The thought of being able to walk and jump and dance again brings me such joy, brother! There is one rub against me fulfilling the promise of my stolen youth. The ingredients are very dear. So costly are they in fact, that Master Kinney begs me not to tell you of this hope, for we know there is no chance of us ever collecting such monies together, not even if we were to sell our father’s sword. But I cannot stop hoping and praying for this, dearest brother Bruce: would you consider traveling to the lands of sand to the south to fetch back the ingredients in person? It would be a dangerous and arduous task, but most worth it if you were to bring back surplus, fore then we can sell it and even make a profit? What say you to this plan? Before you decide, I must tell you this: without this cordial, Elias Kinney pronounces that I will be dead within the year.
