It was a reply that took the wind out of Henry’s sails. Where had this man learned his cool and canny behavior? He did not act like some common soldier.
“Right then. I suggest ye hie to yer barracks. Yer laird is aware of where ye have been these many hours past. I leave yer punishment in his capable hands,” was all Henry could think to say.
Laura objected to this swift dismissal. “Henry! Everyone kens Bruce and I go riding every morn. But since me accident, I was a-feared to ride, so Bruce was helping me.”
Henry said nothing but glared at Bruce Duncan as if the tall warrior were a red rag and Henry was a bull. Duncan bowed again, this time to Laura, and then ambled back toward the barracks. It might have been his imagination, but Henry could have sworn he saw a lover-like exchange of looks happen between them.
Henry grabbed his sister’s arm, dragging her toward the gardens, hissing, “Yer only excuse must be that fallin’ from yer horsedidaddle yer brains, Sister!”
She wrenched her elbow out of his grasp and stepped back from him. “I’m seeing things more clearly than I ever have in me life before, Henry!”
These words did not cool her brother’s temper. Trying to lower his voice, although it was hard to do he was so angry, Henry stepped closer. “Are ye quite satisfied with yer outrageous behavior, Laura? I had to clap a man in irons today because of all yer secret trysts. Would ye like to ken what he said?”
“Nay! An’ I don’ care!” she said, flouncing her skirts to sit down on one of the stone benches in the garden.
Henry went to stand over her. “The man was overheard to say that it was a relief that ye had given up yer maidenhead to the giant because now the servants did not have to address ye as ‘lady’ anymore!”
Laura gasped. It was an insult beyond comprehension.
Henry had vented his spleen and felt sorry for his sister. He understood the madness of her obsession only too well. He felt the same way about Arabella, after all. He sat down beside her, talking in a normal voice. “Whythisman, Laura? Why now? It makes no sense. Bruce Duncan has no gold, no land, and no clan who calls him their own. From all the accounts brought to me, folks think of him as rough and unrefined, solitary and gruff. Arabella told me the man has taken over yer dreams, so there’s no use denying how ye feel about him. The image of him consumed yer thoughts when ye lay abed.”
She bent her head and began pleating her arisaid. “Henry…it is me destiny to be with him. I can feel it pulsing in every part o’ me. He heals me, invigorates me, makes me feel hot when he’s near and cold when he’s not. Please believe me when I say we never planned this.”
Henry rubbed two fingers on either side of the bridge of his nose as if he had a pounding headache. “Ye are promised to Laird Roy, Sister. If we pull out of this arrangement now, it means war. No man would put up with such an insult, let alone an important laird. We need Halkerston defending our borders to the east.”
A stubborn look appeared on Laura’s face. “We are nae without swords ourselves, Brither. Halkerston would be insane to attack us.”
It seemed as if Henry wanted to pull out his hair with frustration. “Please leave the awkward diplomacy of the situation to the men, Laura! And afore ye run off to have a wee paleerie in yer chambers, ye should ken that Faither promotes the match.”
Laura could not speak. Her voice was strangled by the howls of misery, and she held back tears she wanted to vent. Henry could see her wavering. “Listen, I should nae be saying this to a maiden, but how about this… Tell yon giant to cool his heels a while. Remain aloof from him. Dinnae fash, this will give him a distaste for ye; men love that kind o’ stuff. It never hurts to make them beg, ye see. This will make Halkerston believe the affair is finished. And once the ring is on yer finger, ye can see Duncan in private. Plenty of ladies have similar arrangements.”
“But me love for Bruce is pure,” Laura whispered in a hopeless voice. “What ye’re suggesting makes it seem dirty and furtive, something to be ashamed of. And what happens when Halkerston finds out or if Bruce wants to bond himself to a laird who pays better?”
“Faither an’ I were talkin’ about that, Laura,” was her brother’s rejoinder, “and we could nae help remarking on Halkerston’s extreme forbearance regarding yer decided preference for his soldier’s company. Ye are fortunate. Other men would have gone mad with jealousy to see his betrothed with such a magnificent specimen of manhood. It’s obvious that Halkerston wants peace and prosperity as much as I do, Laura. Please dinnae change that, I’m beggin’ ye.”
Laura knew her brother was trying to meet her halfway. Maybe it would be for the best that she keep a little distance between Bruce and her for a few days. She was unsure about the balance of power between them. Was she his slave or was he her servant? It was very confusing.
Bruce kissing her in the woods had not brought Laura the satisfaction she thought it would. When he had lifted his mouth from her lips, it made her want to cry out with unfulfilled desire. She had tried to pull his head closer, forcing him to kiss her harder, deeper, longer, but he had been too strong.
“Nay, lass.” His deep voice had held an adamantine level of control. “I’ll no’ go beyond a sweet buss on yer pretty lips, tempting as it is to go further. Ye’re a lady, an’ I’m a common soldier. Men have hanged for less.”
So they had sat together under the trees, sharing the bannocks she had brought with her. He noticed her hands were cold and covered both of them with the long part of his great plaid he always had hanging down over the back of his belt or draped over his shoulders when it rained. She snuggled beside him, asking him to tell her stories of his lands up north. He explained the different colors of the wool his sister had used to weave his plaid, how there were no lochs near his village, only high crags from which rivulets plunged down toward the sea, the sound the water made as it churned into the coastal waters.
“Why has yer sword hilt only got one jewel left in it, Bruce?” she said, then clamped her mouth shut, realizing it was a stupid question. He gave her shoulder a squeeze to let her know she must not worry about stepping on eggshells when it came to talking about money. “Och lass, I had to keep at least one o’ me faither’s jewels. He was the youngest of Laird Duncan’s sons, ye ken. But he went an’ disobeyed the auld laird’s orders and married a seamstress instead of the fine lady the laird had planned to be his wife. He was cast out from his clan and made his living as a soldier for hire, just like I do today.”
“How horrid it must have been for yer faither, having to choose between love or clan.”
Bruce shrugged his broad shoulders. “Folks make those choices every day, lass. We never bother our heads about it ’til someone tells their sad stories.”
They had sat in comfortable silence until the sun was high in the sky. It had broken her heart when he bent to pick the last of the snowdrops for her and placed it behind her ear, saying, “I wish this was a large, sparkling gemstone I could give ye, Laura. I have the chance to earn the money to buy one for ye, but—”
She had hushed him. “Nay, Bruce. Keep all the money ye earn for yer sister. I insist.”
* * *
The Scottish Highlands in spring were challenging days. The ground was soft from the incessant dreich, but the landscape was incredibly beautiful, spring flowers and wild green shoots spreading out as far as the eye could see. The sound and smell of castle servants and villagers setting about a vigorous spring cleaning permeated the air. Not all of the rooms in the chambers had rugs; cartloads of old thresh from the floors—reeds, straw, and herbs—trundled out of the gates to be strewn over the fields.
Bruce was restless. He so badly wanted to tell Laura about the wager. God knew he had tried when they were in the woods together, but she had cut him off, telling him to send as much money as he could make to Alice in the north. It was as if she was giving him her blessing to go through with it.
