Authors: Kara Griffin
Grey frowned, hearing those words.
“Learned what, lass?”
She closed her mouth and folded her
arms, and began shaking her head.
“He hasn’t the right to direct you.
Ye should tell your da. Will you tell him this day? Promise me.” Grey waited
for her answer, and instead of appeasing him, she lay on the soft grass,
sucking her thumb as though she hadn’t a care in the world.
Albrey took the opportunity to bend
an arm beneath her head and close her eyes. She ignored him altogether. Grey
didn’t like what their conversation alluded to, but it could just be the
imaginings of a little lass. Surely her father’s ally would not want to harm
her. She was just a little snip of a girl, unable to hurt a fly.
Finally, he’d been given a reprieve
when she drifted off to sleep. Now with her parents close by, he could enjoy
himself for a few minutes. As the sun began to set, the revelry intensified.
This was Grey’s favorite time of day. The heat eased and the men set about
their arms and tested their strength while there was still enough light to see.
He was always awed watching the men
throw the cabers, go at each other with axes, and fight hand-to-hand combat.
One day, he promised himself, he would be one of those men—a powerful force to
be reckoned with as his father proclaimed. Until then, Grey studied their
movements, noting each flick of the wrist, each tumble in the dirt, the
effectiveness of using the body. War was part of their existence and the only
way to protect what was theirs. Grey wished he was old enough to fight beside a
warrior, though he needed more training before he’d be allowed to war.
Duff, Kenneth, Colm, Sean, and James
joined him on the rise of the hill above the soldiers on the training field.
Each had been friends since their swaddling years. Grey would one day give them
each a place of honor within the clan. For he swore they would be his guard.
Being laird, they would protect him and all or any that he commanded.
“Where’s the wee sultag?” his friend
Duff asked.
“Did ye tie her to a tree, Grey?
Hope ye tied the rope nice and tight, for that lass can escape all,” Greer
said, laughing.
The lads joined Greer in laughter,
knowing that was exactly what Grey wanted to do all day. But Grey didn’t
appreciate the jest or the insult, and frowned at his friends.
“Nay, she’s resting. And don’t ye be
calling her a beast, Duff. She will one day be your clan’s lady. Dare you
affront me by insulting her?” He shoved Duff in the chest and knocked him
backward on to his arse. Grey wouldn’t let any of them insult Albrey, even in
jest. His duty insisted her protect her honor even if he agreed with his friend’s
remark.
Duff took offense to his action and
jumped on him, making him fall to the ground. He rolled over Duff and punched
him square in the nose. Grey tried to bloody him, but the lad was far too
thickheaded to damage. The only way to rile him was to … Collecting a good bit
of saliva in his mouth, Grey started to let it slide from his lips. A stream of
spit wadded downward toward Duff’s face.
“Get off me, Grey! I swear if you
spit on me, I’ll knock ye senseless.” Duff squirmed beneath him and tried to
buck him off.
Grey sucked up the stream of saliva
and spit it far off. He shook his head and swept the hair away that had fallen
in his eyes. “Aye, Duff? Get off your arse and don’t be offending Albrey. She’s
just a wee lass and can’t help being a pest.”
The lads continued to watch the
soldiers, their earlier fracas forgotten. After the late-afternoon sparring
ended, his da and his closest ally Donal Ross found him. Laird Ross and his
father had been friends for many years, and great allies of King William.
“Lad, I’ve been looking for ye. Have
you learned anything this day?” His da tilted his head in the direction of the
soldiers.
“Aye, Da, I’ve learned never to take
your eyes off your opponent,” he said, eyeing Duff.
Laird Ross chuckled low. “Good
lesson, lad. Never underestimate him neither. Always be ready for anything and
ye shall never be defeated.”
His da said, “That goes for all of
ye. Be off, Grey has duties to attend.”
His friends left and Grey stepped
between his father and Laird Ross. He’d grown tall enough to look at their
faces without raising his face much. His head nearly reached his father’s
shoulder.
“I best get back to watching Albrey.
She’s probably awakened by now.”
Laird Gunn patted his son’s
shoulder. “Aye, ye do your duty well watching the lass. It was honorable of ye
to do so all day, lad. We should get to the betrothal ceremony; all are likely
in their cups by now and won’t get to enjoy the announcement.”
Laird Ross stopped him with a hand
to his shoulder. “Before we do, I want to give ye this.” He pulled out a steel
dagger from a leather sheath. The dagger was well made, encrusted with a row of
red jewels on the handle. “I give ye this gift, Grey, on this your betrothal
day. As your champion, I bid you to always protect what is yours.”
“I will, Laird Ross.” Grey was
pleased by the gift and admired the sharp blade. The jewels gleamed and gave a
sparkle to the handle. He slid it back in the sheath and tucked it inside his
tunic. “Thank ye for giving it to me.”
“Come, we shall find the lass and
shout the news afar. She’ll be a bonny lass, Grey, when she’s older. Albrey
will give you fine sons with strength enough to lead our soldiers. You will be
an honorable man and she deserving such.” Laird Ross clapped his shoulder.
Grey walked beside his da, stepping
lively. He wanted to hear the grand gesture of what the betrothal meant, once
again. When his da and Albrey’s father was given the order by King William to
betroth Albrey to him, Grey had been awakened in the middle of the night. They
related the dictate with elation. The betrothal would allow them to ally their
clans, and put aside the wars and scuffles.
The only promise Albrey’s father
asked of him was that their families be at peace and that Albrey be safe from
harm be it from he or his enemies. When asked if he could handle the task, Grey
nodded and assured them he was capable, for which he received a few punches to
his arms and grunts of approval.
Grey would always protect her and
keep her in comforts, safe from his enemies, and he’d do his best to adore her.
It’s what his da had done for his ma. His father had placed his mother in high
esteem, always telling anyone who would listen that if it were not for her, he
would be a lesser man. Laird Gunn taught his men to follow his lead and revere
the women in their clan with the greatest respect. Grey had received those
lessons since he’d been able to walk. Without women, men would suffer so. They
would not have such tasty meals, clean tartans, tidy homes, or children to
strengthen the clan.
As Grey reached the table where his
ma had sat, he frowned. Neither Lady Mackay nor his ma was there. The spot
where Albrey had lain was unattended, the grass undisturbed. She hadn’t lain
very long. He should have known she would flee as soon as everyone’s backs
turned. Then a twinge of guilt came upon him and he scolded himself for not
checking on her sooner.
Both the Mackay and Gunn clans, as
well of those attending the celebration, searched for hours. All looked for the
missing lass, well into the morning light. Grey wouldn’t return to his family’s
holding no matter how much his ma pleaded. He kept the search going, lighting a
torch and checking most of her hiding spots.
The lass disappeared altogether.
Grey grew dejected and could only blame himself. Their earlier conversation
came back to him and he relayed what she’d told him to his da. He envisioned
her face when she’d told him of her fear. But his da didn’t put much weight in
Albrey’s concern about Kenneth MacHeth.
After nearly three days of looking
for her, Grey finally conceded defeat. As he stood before his family’s home
crestfallen, his da came outside.
“Come inside, Grey. Your ma is
worried sick.”
Grey pulled the dagger from within
his tunic, given to him by Donal Ross. Fitting it symbolized his betrothal, a
union that would never be. Taking hold of his plaid, he tore it off, and then
ripped his tunic until he felt the breeze on his uncovered chest. The air was
crisp enough to bring a speckle of goose bumps to his flesh. Grey paid no
attention to the effect of the night wind and looked up at his father.
“I didn’t keep my promise to Albrey.
I swore to protect her. She’s lost to me forever, Da. This will always remind
me of my failure.” Grey drew the pointed end of the sharp dagger over his
heart, making a decent sized slash, one that would certainly need stitching.
Blood began pouring out of him and
all he felt was the warmth of the liquid flowing over his skin and the sting of
his failure. He looked up at his da and his vision blurred.
“Grey! God Almighty! Grey!” His da
roared an anguished cry as he caught Grey’s body before it fell to the ground.
CHAPTER tWO
Summer, 1215
Falstone, Kingdom of England
Bree turned at the sound of her
friend’s voice. “You’re going to fall.”
Perched on a high rock, she intended to jump, not fall.
Even if she did fall, the distance to the water wasn’t so great. The water
reflected a mass of shiny waves from the bright sun as if jewels floated on the
surface. She held her nose, scrunched her eyes closed, and plunged forth,
landing with a large splash in the cool water. Her feet touched the silky
bottom of the lake, where colder water chilled her toes. The lake was welcome
relief from the heat of the day.
“Rhys, come in. The water is
refreshing. I feel better now that I’ve cooled. ‘Tis too hot a day to stay in
your leggings.” Bree splashed and frolicked, hoping he would join her.
Rhyland, the current stable
apprentice, had been with the Champlains since he was born. They’d grown up
together and often Bree encouraged him to join her in the pursuit to escape her
chores. Their manor was located in a desolate part of the country, where many
did not pass or visit. They seldom received visitors and aside from the
household staff and those in the small village nearby; there weren’t many
friends to be had.
“But Bree, we’re going to get in
trouble if we get caught. I should be about my work.” He turned and peered
toward the copse of trees which led back to the manor.
She never thought he was brave. But
Bree had enough courage for them both and often forced Rhys to do things we
wasn’t wont to do. All he ever thought of was work. She swam to where he’d sat
high upon the rock from where she’d jumped.
“Be not a babe. How shall we get in
trouble? My lord and lady are away and shan’t return for days. I’m free, Rhys.
Come, pray come in all ready. Besides, work will be there when ye return.” She
sent a splash at him and laughed when he tried to avoid the drops of water.
Rhys didn’t like being called a
babe. Though he was a handful of years older than she was, he’d reached the age
beyond boyhood. Bree didn’t take notice of his attraction until he began
removing his attire. Not that she wanted to take notice, but his chest started
to form muscles where there had been none. The braies he wore barely concealed
his midsection, provoking her imagination to singe her cheeks. Hair covered
parts of his body which had been bare. His legs now thick from work in the
stables braced before he jumped into the water, sending a cascade at her. Bree
sunk in the water and floated just below the surface. Strong arms propelled him
toward her and she realized in that moment her childhood friend had become a
man.
“Feels good,” he said, and then
splashed her with a mighty blow to the water.
The wall of water hit her face,
stinging her eyes and nose, and caused her to cough.
“You devil!” Bree swam after him and
dunked his head beneath the water, using both hands to hold him under. When his
dark head came up from the water, she looked into his rich-brown eyes and kissed
him. It was a simple kiss, a girl’s kiss, but there it was. She had always
wanted to do it and with his eyes glaring at her and his lips pursed, she
didn’t think about it. His lips were hard and unyielding.
“Why did ye go and do that?”
“You didn’t like my kiss?” Bree
laughed and splashed him back before swimming to the bank. Once there, she
crawled upon a flat rock and awaited him.
“Bree, you’re like a sister. A
sister shouldn’t kiss her brother so.” His face scrunched in dislike, sending a
dismissive look her way.
“Fie, I am not your sister, Rhys.
You kiss like a wet frog anyway.” Bree laughed at her jest, knowing her insult
would gain another look of disdain.
Rhys joined her on the rock and
stretched his muscular legs in front of him. “I could teach ye a thing or two
about kissing, but you be a bit young.”
“I am not too young to kiss. Why I
would be married by now if my father did not love me so. My lord will soon pick
a husband for me, Rhys. I know he will.” Affronted by his rejection, Bree made
sure he was aware of her intent to marry one day.