CHAPTER FIVE
T he pre-dawn mist was still heavy on the ground as the sun began to rise over the hills to the east. Ruben was ready and impatient to get on with the journey ahead.
He pressed a hand to his warhorse’s neck. “Calm, Goliath.” Turning to the broad set of doors behind him, Ruben scowled, “God almighty, how long does it take one lass to rise and dress?”
Coming to his side, Galan shook his head. “I’d advise ye nae to ask her that question when she arrives.”
It was shortly after dawn. While the sun began to peak through the clouds, parts of the mountain beyond still lay in shadow. The storm had spent itself overnight and moved on, leaving the air fresh and crisp.
With how unpredictable the weather was in early spring, he was eager to get on the road. Ruben was not fond of getting doused in a deluge. He’d had enough of that during his training and hunting days.
“God’s blood,” he swore. “Why won’t she hurry?”
As he made to head to the steps, the doors opened and Paige stepped onto the top step with her father beside her. Her petite, voluptuous figure was covered in a plain travelling gown and a thick wrap around her shoulders.
Her hair was pinned away from her face and braided in two thick ropes that dangled to her rounded backside. She lifted the finely woven shawl and wrapped it around her head. Footmen were coming out with her trunks and parcels and hefting them to the wagon waiting for them.
“T’is about time,” he muttered.
She looked around the courtyard, while he strode to MacPherson. “We should be getting’ on, MacPherson; I’ll be sendin’ the marriage license to the church as soon as I get to me home. The bishop will send ye yer copy at their discretion.”
When the laird did not reply, Paige quietly asked, “Faither?”
“Ye do so, McKinnon,” he said stiffly. The words sounded as if he’d scarped them from the bottom of his throat. “If ye daenae protect me daughter, I will call for yer head.”
Ruben’s expression was flat. “I daenae respond to threats, MacPherson.”
“T’is nae a threat,” her father said. “It’s a warnin’.”
Dismissing her father with a cutting glance, Ruben looked to Paige. “We must leave, now,” he said. “Our horse is waitin’.”
She stared at him. “ Our horse?”
“Yes, lass,” he said, striding to where Goliath was impatiently pawing the ground.
Paige gazed at the horse with widened eyes. “This is yer horse?”
“Aye,” he said while crouching to check the girth. “What do ye expect a murderer to ride to war upon? A pony? A mule perhaps?” Getting to his feet, he fixed the saddle. “Could it be that I rode into war on a chariot? A horse with wings, perhaps?”
Her cheeks burned. “Ye can stop mockin’ me now.”
“We’re losin’ time,” he said. “I can lift ye onto the horse if ye’d like” he said.
“Surely ye have a carriage,” she said. “I can get one of me faither’s?—”
“Nay,” Ruben stopped her. “T’is either ye ride with me or ye walk fourteen miles through forestland and marshes. Now, should I lift ye or will ye walk the way?”
“I—” she paused.
His left brow ticked up. “Can ye ride? Ye seem like one of those dainty English lasses who rely on a carriage to take them everywhere.”
Her lips were tightened. “I’ve known how to ride a horse since I was seven.”
“Good enough, then ye’ll ride,” he patted the horse’s neck. “I will ask for a third and a last time. Do ye need me help to get into the saddle?”
“Ye daenae need to do so.” Paige said, turning to the impatient horse. “I am nae crippled.”
Ruben stiffened; a flare of heat ran up his chest. The offhanded words she had just said were like a double-edged sword to his gut.
Did she know about his father? Did she know about the cruel sickness that had taken him out of his prime long before he was due to leave? Was that a barbed taunt to get under his skin?
She did not look back at him before she put her foot in the stirrup and hauled herself onto the horse. Ruben waited until she was settled down then and climbed up behind her.
Turning the warhorse, he urged it into a brisk walk down the hill and on the flat urged into a trot. She sat side-saddle and he had his arms around her as they rode.
Her defiance maddened him just as much as her clean, feminine scent. But he could not lose his head. This arrangement was one forced upon him, not one he wanted. Moreover, the lass was an innocent; virginity held no special appeal for him, he preferred bed partners who knew what they were doing.
“How did ye get that scar?”
Silence greeted her question.
“Did it come from the war ye waged against the people in me home?” she asked. “Innocent people who ye slaughtered like sacrificial lambs?”
Ruben clenched his jaw tight. “Ye ken nothin’ about that war.”
“Don’t I?” she challenged. “I can give ye the names of the women ye left as widows, and the children ye left fatherless. Ye caused a lot of misery in these lands, and to date, ye have never given anyone an answer for yer crimes.”
“Ye ken nothin’ of which ye speak,” Ruben growled.
“Then tell me,” Paige demanded. “Tell me what happened.”
“I owe ye and yer faither nothin’,” Ruben snarled. “Listen and listen closely, me only duty here is to marry ye on behest of the King. That is as far as I am obligated to do when it comes to ye. I owe ye nay answers or explanation aside from what is necessary. Do ye understand?”
“I want ye to tell me why ye killed forty-two men and fifteen boys nae even ready to be men.” Paige’s tone told him she was not letting up on the issue.
Ruben wanted to curse, what sort of stubborn temperament was he saddled with?
“If ye daenae cease with these questions I am tempted to let ye down so ye can walk the way,” he said. “These woods have wild boars, wild dogs, ravenous wolves and adders. T’is rare to come across those serpents but ye just might. Let us see if ye can survive the night alone.”
“A decent man would tell me what I want to ken,” she said.
“A charitable man would leave ye with a dagger in the woodland,” Ruben rerouted the conversation. “Ye have two choices, ye can either go to yer new home in peace or ye can stay in the woods. T’is yer choice. This is the last time I will offer. God’s blood ye are a stubborn one.”
She did not speak for at least two more miles and when she did, her words were cold, laced with dislike. “I wish to be away from ye,” she said.
“I saw the paupers’ graves we had to bury our men and boys in.” Paige continued. “I sat with women who were heartbroken and lost, killed with grief and laid low because of what ye did. Ye are cruel and inhuman, without a shred of decency.”
“Ye are half-right,” he said. “I am cruel but I am human. If and when I choose to be beastly, there are many reasons why, but ye may nae understand any of them. Now, be quiet.”
Paige exhaled and faced forward; she felt the tears springing to her eyes but forced them back. She could not dare cry, she could not dare let one tear slip. She had to be strong and not let this shark smell the blood in the water.
Any ounce of frailty would cost her more than it would gain her with this man— not man, this brute. She did know self-preservation though and clamped her lips shut.
She did not know this side of the country and with the large swathe of woodland, she could not dare the chance of getting left.
He would nae dare. Faither already warned him and I trust he will be true to his words.
One thing she knew for sure, though: he might not see her as his wife or the true lady of the clan, but Paige vowed to herself that she would not be treated poorly. She promised herself not to be controlled or disrespected by him or any of the other clanspeople.
Even if she was only there by demand of the King, she would never let them rule over her. Even if Ruben and his men only saw her as a pawn, she would demand her basic human decency.
She had not chosen this, and she would keep fighting for her freedom. Paige had to trust that her spirit would never break, not with this. Surely one day the king would be persuaded by her plea and order an annulment as soon as possible.
I willnae be kept as a prisoner in a marriage that will give me more misery than happiness. I will speak to the King.
While she mulled over these thoughts, she lost track of time. As the sun reached its midday height through patchy clouds, they began climbing a slope.
Sitting side-saddle for such a long distance—she assumed they’d been traveling for at least two hours now—was straining. Paige would rather suffer the pain than let him know she was as he assumed her to be—frail, weak and a burden.
Keeping her back straight was getting to be tiring too and little but little, her rigid posture began to slacken. After a while, she felt her eyelids grow heavy, and she succumbed to the weariness clinging to her.
The last thing she remembered before slipping off to sleep was the feel of him letting go of the reins with his left hand and wrapping his arm around her middle, pulling her back into his chest. She sank into the warm hardness of his chest, her head lolling to his shoulder.
When she came to, she felt the fast canter of the horse’s motion slowing. Half-awake she was very conscious of the warmth and hardness of a body behind her.
She could feel the strength of the arms that passed around her to hold the reins, touching her upper arms. That dastardly scent of his skin unnerved her—but there was something else too.
Is that…salt I smell?
She blinked a few times in the calm, evening sun. There were still a few white and gray clouds lingering, but much of the sky was blue.
They were on a flat above a gentle hill carpeted with bright green grass. The expanse flowed down the hill and around a glen, then up to a point where an imposing castle sat.
From their vantage, she could see at least four towers within an enormous stone curtain wall. The castle was perched on what seemed to be on a cliff, as it could be approached by land on its front side a forest to the east, but the other sides were hemmed in by cliffs and ocean.
A breeze was whipping up the whitecaps on the sea, and occasionally, she saw a blast of mist shot up where the waves crashed against the rocky outcroppings and clumps of heather.
“The sea…”
She had never been so close to the sea in her life. The roll and crash of the waves, the splash of white at the cliff and the brisk, salty air made her feel suddenly invigorated.
Lifting her head, Paige felt Ruben dismounting behind her, then he reached up to pull her down. His hair was disheveled, it looked like he had been dragging his hand through his black hair because it was disheveled.
The hard clench of his jaw threw his face in sharp lines as he clasped her around the waist and brought her off his horse, and she noticed that the other men were dismounting also.
“We’re here,” he said, turning. “McKinnon Castle, me home.”
She froze as a pair of intense dark eyes gazed down at her. Every part of his body radiated sheer power and shrewd intelligence. But how could that be? He was a brute, a savage, a warmonger who only heralded death and suffering.
Something shifted between them and her heart softened a little. Was it fair to keep thinking of the man as a brute when he was so kind and generous to children cast off from society?
They began walking through the small vale, the mist-laden grass wet the tails of her dress as they headed up to the gate. Before they got closer, the great gates began to slowly crank open.
The courtyard was large enough to hold a troupe of soldiers, wagons and even ten large carriages. She looked around, amazed at how well-kept this bastion was; as ancient as it felt, it was cared for. This was nothing like her old home which had been constructed fifty odd years before.
She turned to Ruben to remark on it, only to flinch away when two large bloodhounds leaped to Ruben. One of them was black and tan, the other dark brown and tan. She almost crashed into one of the men she’d seen with Ruben but she did not get his name.
“Steady there, lass,” the man said, his green eyes dancing.
Paige turned to see Ruben crouching to rub both dogs’ ears with the hints of a smile on his face. It was the first time she had seen any emotion on his face.
Something cold nudged her hand and Paige leaped away, only to trip and end on her backside. A large, russet red bloodhound loomed over her, its dark eyes and twitching nose commanded her vision.
Fear settled in her chest as the dog sniffed her face. His cold nose brushed her cheek and ear while she shivered in fear. The dog dropped to its haunches and laid its head in her lap, staring at up her with large, soulful eyes.
“W-w-what—” she spluttered. “What do I do?”
The man from before shooed the dog off her and helped her up. Brushing her skirts off, Paige tried to calm her hammering heart.
The man laughed, “Ye’re going to get used to the hounds, lass. Ruben has had those dog since they were whelps.”
She looked over to Ruben as he was still occupied with the dogs. Turning back, she asked. “Thank ye. May I have yer name?”
“Galan,” he said. “Galan Howe. His lairdship’s man-at-arms.”
A whistle behind her had the last dog over to Ruben who then sent them off with a squire. Galan stepped aside as Ruben came to her side, all hints of the previous happiness seeing his hounds were gone. He had gone back to the stoic, stern face she was familiar with.
“Are ye all right?” he asked brusquely, his gaze running over in a swift check that held no emotion than to make sure she was not injured.
“Aye,” she nodded. “Nothin’ was hurt.”
“Come then,” he inclined his head to the grand doors behind them. “It’s time ye see yer new home.”