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In an effort to distract all the women from the anxiety of MacTavish’s looming choice.

Jessamyn spent the next few weeks riding the hills and glens of the MacKai holding with one or more of Raeb’s sisters.

With midsummer little more than a month off, she came to know the sisters and their individual strengths.

Seona would make the best bride for an unpredictable and arrogant man.

Brighde would be happier as a nun, and MacTavish would probably agree.

If he chose the strenuously devout woman, he might just send her back before he ever got her to Argyll.

Then there was Keeva.

Quiet, shy, and self-effacing, she would never survive marriage to a man of MacTavish’s reputation.

The other sisters worried as well and pestered Artis to try to see the future and determine who the chosen bride would be.

Artis had glowered at them all and reminded them that her “gift” did not work that way.

She would say only that she was certain MacTavish would end up with the right wife.

Thinking Artis wise beyond her years, Jessamyn threw herself into a frenzy of activity with the excuse of distracting the sisters.

She did not wish to admit that she, too, needed distraction.

For since the day Margery and Brighde had interrupted that passionate embrace, Raeb had reverted to avoiding her, even to the point of rudeness.

Worse, it seemed she cared, when it was the last thing she wanted.

She would let nothing stand in the way of her dreams and could only pray for a ship to arrive soon, allowing her to escape from the man and the feelings he roused.

A day came when the sisters were all occupied, and Jessamyn found herself at loose ends.

She’d ridden so much in the past few weeks that she knew Persia would be grateful for a rest.

Nor did she think the mare would tolerate her rider’s peculiar mood.

She’d found herself wool-gathering all morning.

She wandered away from the stable, watching the activity around her.

A child in tattered clothing kept watch over a small flock of chickens near where the smokehouse belched gray clouds into the sky.

Nearby a blacksmith labored over his forge, but careful observation showed he re-worked old metal and had no new supply to shape.

Even the brewery had few kegs in view, empty or full, and no visible stores of barley or hops.

She saw some small sacks of oats and a scattering of beehives for the harvest of honey, but nothing like what she knew a keep with this size population would need to survive long term.

Maybe they had stores located elsewhere, but from conversation with the sisters, Jessamyn felt certain poverty was the most likely cause.

She had the means to relieve Dungarob’s destitution.

Because she would not, perhaps a place in Purgatory waited for her.

The decision cost her more than a few hours of sleep.

But no man—or woman—could serve two masters, and the nuns of St.

Bartholomew’s had needs as great as Clan MacKai.

As she approached the great gate and the portcullis, she noted shocking signs of disrepair—rusted iron and rotted wood.

They would not serve to protect the keep.

Should an enemy conquer the difficult approach, they would find little to bar the way into the bailey.

Even worse, the curtain wall foundation crumbled in a number of places.

Only laziness or poverty could account for such neglect to maintain necessary defenses.

She did not believe the cause was laziness.

No one she saw was idle.

Even the smallest child worked at some task.

Nor was the baron an exception.

On the rare occasions when she spotted him, he was training with the other knights or laboring over some task with the common folk.

Today she discovered him shirtless and using his body to brace up the rotting post that did little to support one half of the main gate.

His arm and shoulder muscles bunched when he grasped the post on both sides.

As he lifted, his lower back and buttocks tensed.

Dizzy, she found herself leaning against the nearest wall.

Trained to recognize good muscle when she saw it, a man’s naked torso should not have affected her so.

It must be the intensity of the sun.

Since the post still carried the weight of the gate as well, he shook with the strain of holding it upright.

Sunlight gleamed on the sheen of sweat that covered his back.

A droplet or two slipped down the slick surface to disappear beneath the waist of his breeches.

Jessamyn licked her lips and swallowed. Anyone would, she assured herself, watching such thirsty work.

On the ground to his near side lay a set of newly made iron hinges and a freshly hewn post.

Clearly the intent was to remove the old post and frayed leather hinges then replace them.

On his far side, a group of men and women dug at the soggy ground that mired the majority of the gate.

“’Tis hard work, my lord,”

remarked an old woman who observed the activities. Her gnarled hands gripped a worn wooden cane that she used to push aside dirt from around the post. “But ’twould be impossible w’out yer help. I thankee for lending us yer strength this day.”

“’Tis I who must thank you, Mistress Foster. Your example has made it much easier getting others to leave their usual tasks to aid in this one.”

The baron grunted and nodded in the direction of the young men and women making inroads on the muddy obstacle.

“Och,”

the woman scoffed. “’Tis ye they follow. Ye provided a puir widda wi’ a home and food when me own clan turned me out because I’d no gold t’ offer for th’ shack my man could only afford to rent. Worked himself t’ th’ bone t’ keep a roof over us.”

She shook her head. “We should have left. He might still be alive, if we had.”

“We can never know.”

A great shout from the other workers interrupted the conversation. Raeb looked up.

“’Tis done, my lord MacKai,”

one of the workers called. “Th’ gate is free of the mire.”

“Excellent,”

he acknowledged. “All of you put your strength into lifting the gate upward, while I remove this old post. Mistress Foster, cut loose the leather hinges. Then move back while the rest of your fellows shift the gate away.”

“Aye.”

She did as he asked then scuttled to a safe distance several paces nearer to Jessamyn as the gate was moved and laid carefully on dryer ground.

Jessamyn watched in fascination as the baron shifted his grip and adjusted his stance. Then he embraced the post and, using the force of his entire body, twisted the post upward. Sweat streamed from the straining tendons in his neck and arms.

The post crept slowly upward until suddenly it broke free of the ground. The huge piece of wood tilted, bending Raeb at an awkward angle.

Jessamyn gasped in unison with the watching crowd of workers. Pray heaven, do not let him be crushed.

If asked she could not have described the agile move that shifted the balance of weight and ended with the tree trunk-sized post held aloft in the baron’s rugged grip.

“Watch out,”

he yelled.

The observing crowd ran for cover. Jessamyn ran with them, turning to watch just as the baron heaved the gatepost halfway across the bailey.

Another cheer went up from the crowd. Then several men ran to the old post, attacking it with axes.

“Firewood for all who share in this labor, as soon as we set the new post and attach the new hinges and gate,”

Raeb announced.

Jessamyn remained where she was, watching the group reverse the process they’d just completed, planting the new post, securing hinges to the post then gate to hinges.

She might not like the baron, but she had to respect a man who used his strength for the common good.

A man who gave badly needed firewood to common folk while smoky peat burned within the keep proper.

A man as passionate in defense of his land, people, and family as he was skilled in kissing.

She knew he was generous with his time, strength, and material goods.

He cared deeply about his sisters and did not shrink from facing them with difficult decisions.

Yet he ran from her, who had less power over him than the humblest crofter.

If he feared the incendiary lust that burned between them, he was right to do so. But she did not think him a coward, so something more must cause him to avoid her. Since she preferred to confront problems, it was past time to force the issue.

Raeb, with the help of two other men, was checking the movement of the new gate. His back to her, he bent to adjust the fit of the lower hinge. Jessamyn moved to a position that prevented the gate from closing.

The clansmen halted when they saw her. Knowing grins stared at her from a dozen faces. Had rumors of that kiss spread? Only Brigdhe could have spoken of it. Margery never would. Or perhaps Raeb MacKai boasted of how she’d not resisted him? The knave. She’d give him something more important to worry about.

Raeb continued fussing with the fit of the hinge until he became aware of the silence.

“What ails all of you?”

He turned as he spoke and spotted her.

A light of welcome flashed in his storm dark eyes and dimmed almost before she saw it. A glare and clenched fists replaced the flash of light. Did she imagine it? So what if he is glad to see me and does not wish to be? He needs a lesson on what it means to be on the receiving end of such confusing expressions. She put on her sweetest smile and curtsied.

“Good day to you, Baron MacKai.”

Pausing long enough for his speaking silence to grow awkward, she turned on her heel and left, but not before she saw his mouth drop open. A whisper of amused titters accompanied her.

That night, after another supper spent listening to the chatter of his sisters, she contemplated how many other ways she might school Raeb MacKai before she left Scotland for good.

***

Raeb cursed the slowness with which the evening meal passed. Every moment spent near Jessamyn Du Grace was a moment in Hades. She was thoughtful, kind, generous, and challenging, to say naught of her beauty and modesty. Oh, and deceitful. He must not forget the performance she gave the day she arrived or that devilish performance this afternoon. She was dangerous, and to keep safe his plans he’d stay as far from his betrothed as possible. Jessamyn’s dowry may be the saving of Clan MacKai, but the woman herself could cause a man to lay heart, secrets, and all at her feet. She’d stomp on the heart and spread the secrets far and wide just because she could, especially if she’d no love for her victim. Good thing he didn’t love her either.

He envied Artis, who left the great hall early for some reason known only to her. His youngest sister needed the guidance of an older woman, and she dealt well with Jessamyn—better than with her siblings. ’Twas a shame Jessamyn could not be that woman.

The sweets were being served when a squire came with a request from Artis that Lady Jessamyn was needed in the stables immediately.

“Persia?”

Without waiting for a reply from the squire, Jessamyn rose and hurried from the keep.

Raeb breathed a short sigh of relief as temptation left the hall. But why had Artis asked for Jess, not him? A call to the stables from his youngest sibling usually meant an injury to an animal that required his strength. Jessamyn had greater strength in body and mind than he’d ever imagined, but surely the type of problem Artis dealt with needed more muscle than Jessamyn could offer.

A few moments later, he rose to follow his betrothed.

The stable door was ajar and he slipped through, pausing to let his sight adjust to the lantern light. He saw the two women kneeling in the straw together over something that lay on the ground.

“Will he be all right?”

Artis asked.

“Aye,”

Jessamyn said. “See, he’s coming around now.”

“Arrggh, me head.”

The moaning voice sounded like Angus. What was wrong with his master of horse?

“Do you think you can sit?”

Jessamyn asked.

“Aye. I’ll no let that randy stallion get the best of me.”

Between them, Jessamyn and Artis helped the old man to a bench. He groaned again and leaned back against the wooden wall.

“Rest for a while. Artis and I will manage the stallion and Persia.”

Angus began to speak while Raeb halted in the shadows. Jessamyn had spent much time in the stables, but there had been no time to question Angus about what she did or what the master of horse thought of her. Hearing what his horse master had to say without knowing his baron was present was among the best ways to learn the answers.

“I know ye can do it, my ladies, but wait a bit and let the steed calm some.”

“That’s a good idea,”

Artis said.

“’Tis sorry I am, Lady Jessamyn,”

Angus apologized. “I dinna ken how Aingeal-ceo and yer sweet Persia both got out of their stalls. From the look and smell of things, he’d covered her at least once before I got here and was setting up for another go. I used a whip to frighten him off long enough to get hold of th’ mare’s bridle then lead her out to one of the enclosures. I banged the doors shut on that beast’s nose the moment her tail cleared the entry.”

“She did not object?”

Artis asked.

“She wasna happy wi’ me, but that mare’s well mannered and verra well trained. ’Tis a credit to th’ Du Grace master of horse.”

“I’m sure he’d be flattered at the compliment, but he had no hand in Persia’s training.”

“Whoever trained her, he’s almost as guid as I am.”

“Why, thank you, Angus. I’m honored.”

“Ye’re the one who trained that wee beastie?”

“Aye, and a number of my father’s other horses. Be quiet now and hold that compress on your head. Artis and I have work to do.”

Jessamyn trained horses? ’Twas one more unexpected virtue Raeb could lay at her door. Kindness to animals, servants, and his sisters. A determined manner that bespoke an inner strength he had to admire. She had her flaws but was as close to a perfect wife as he ever thought to get. Perhaps he should marry her. ’Twould make keeping her dowry all the sweeter. But how would the woman feel when her husband of less than a month attacked her godfather’s ships? Marriage to Edward’s goddaughter was marriage to a threat. Even if he loved her, which he didn’t, he couldn’t bring such a hazard into his home and family. ’Twas a shame.

He waited, watching as his tall betrothed and tiny Artis cajoled Aingeal-ceo back into his stall. By the time they finished, they discovered Angus had fallen asleep.

“Let him rest,”

Jessamyn said. “We can have Maeve check on him tomorrow.”

“Do you think we should bring Persia back in?”

his sister asked.

“No. That stallion’s had a taste of her and could well kick out the stall door trying to get at her. He might hurt himself. Is there somewhere else we could put her for a few days, until she is no longer in season?”

“Oh yes, the foaling barn. ’Tis small and needs cleaning, but she should be fine tonight. The stable lads can clean it tomorrow when you take Persia for your daily ride.”

“Excellent. I’ll go get her.”

“The barn is on the other side of the enclosure where she is now.”

Artis eyed the stallion. “’Twould be best if you led her there by the outdoor path.”

“Good idea.”

Jessamyn nodded and took one of the lanterns.

“I’ll wake Angus and help him to his rooms then return to the keep.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Aye, tomorrow.”

Soon only Angus’s snores and the shifting of horses filled the silence. But Artis stood still in the middle of the area between stalls.

“You can come out now, Raeb.”

“How did you ken I was here?”

She shrugged. “How do I ken any of the things a body wouldna normally ken? It just comes to me.”

“Does it come to you what kind of marriage I’ll have with Jess?”

he teased.

“I dinna need any special knowledge to ken that. But since the woman doesna want to marry, ’tis unlikely you’ll have any kind of marriage at all with her.”

“She doesna wish to marry at all, or just me?”

Artis shrugged. “I only ken what Maeve repeated to me. She said Lady Jessamyn refused to be sold like cattle, and marriage would destroy her lifelong wish to breed horses for the good sisters of St. Bartholomew’s convent in York.”

“’Tis useful to know her thoughts.”

“Aye, though what kind of use you’ll make of it remains to be seen. Now let us wake Angus and get him settled for the night.”

Later, after Artis had bid him goodnight, Raeb stood outside the stables, staring at the stars. What would the next few weeks bring? With luck and careful preparation, Dungarob and the MacKai fortunes would be mended before autumn. Lady Jessamyn Du Grace would be a distant memory. He could set about seeing his sisters wed and mayhap even seek a bride himself. The prospect should have brought him contentment, if not joy.

Instead, he felt a looming sense of disaster.

***

Jessamyn returned to her room to find Margery all aflutter.

“Such good news, my lady. A ship is at anchor in the harbor and will dock tomorrow morning. One of the watchers from the keep’s tower came into the kitchens as we servants finished our meal. He sent a housemaid to bring word to Baron MacKai. Much excitement and talk ensued of what the ship might bring.”

“That is good news indeed.”

Confused by the dart of dismay she felt, Jessamyn turned to the window. “We’ll be leaving here within days. Mayhap as soon as tomorrow.”

The maid’s excitement was infectious, but a tiny part of Jessamyn wished she had more time. Wished she could say farewell and not have to sneak away in the dark. “While the keep is busy welcoming the vessel is the perfect time to complete our preparations.”

She faced Margery. “Pack as quickly and lightly as you can. Then you must discover how long the ship will be in the harbor. We will make our escape the night before it departs.”

The maid still smiled but her lips trembled. “’Tis glad I will be to return home, but I am still fearful something will interfere with this plan.”

Jessamyn laid her arm around the woman’s shoulders. “Have faith, Margery. We have considered every eventuality. If we behave as we usually do, none can suspect.”

Margery gulped and nodded. “Aye, then I’d best prepare you for bed as usual.”

“First return to the kitchens and find some food for me. I had to leave my dinner early to help with a problem in the stables.”

“Hmph. Were we staying, I would have words with the baron about his care of you. He should tend his stables himself.”

Margery flounced to the door and left.

Jessamyn smiled. Who would come out the worse in that encounter? Margery had not forgiven Raeb MacKai’s callous treatment on the day they arrived here. The maid might be full of fears, but she never let them stop her from speaking her mind.

Later, Jessamyn sat picking at her cold meal, and stared into the shadows cast by the fire. Like Margery, she would be pleased to give the man a healthy piece of her mind, but his physical presence distracted her too easily. She must be stronger and resist Raeb MacKai’s dangerous allure until she made good her escape. Weary, she finished the food and went to bed.

Every time her eyes drifted shut she felt the press of Raeb MacKai’s lips on hers. The bedclothes transformed into the tunic that covered his hard torso. Her fingertips burned with the remembered heat of his skin, and every breath filled her mind and body with his scent.

Impatient with herself, she tossed and turned. How could she be so susceptible to the man? Yes, he cared for his sisters and his people. He even respected his siblings enough to ask their help. However, he rarely hesitated to order everyone about to suit his least whim. The woman who was foolish enough to wed Baron Raeb MacKai would find herself bound to a beguiling autocrat whose devious tactics could sap a woman’s dreams. That was not what Jessamyn wanted for herself. Or was it? If Raeb crept into her room, her bed, would she cry for help or would she welcome him with open arms?

Toward dawn, Jessamyn finally gave up her fight against wakefulness and rose to dress for riding. She would leave a note for Margery then visit the kitchen for bread and cheese to take with her. After last night’s adventures, she hoped the mare would be as glad as her rider for a spirit-lifting run.

Taking the long way around, Jessamyn found herself halting at the point where the path split down to the Selkie’s Grave or up toward the forest. She and Persia were both pleasantly tired. The mare munched on a bag of oats Jessamyn had brought while she nibbled on the food from the kitchens.

With the tide out, she considered exploring the cave below, but she’d brought no torch with her and the idea of wandering in the dark did not appeal. She could easily become lost and perhaps drown if the cave did not go far enough back for one to avoid the rising waters of a new tide.

The morning was well advanced; she could return to the keep. However, she did not wish to go back yet. Out here she felt free from all demands. Her confusion over Raeb was a distant matter, as was her ambition to join the convent. If she lingered, she would be missed at the keep. She had food enough for herself and Persia to avoid hunger until well into the afternoon. She would take what time she needed to secure contentment, so she could return prepared to do what she must to be aboard that ship when it left.

Hoofbeats approaching from behind drew her attention. She turned in the saddle, and her breath stopped. Raeb, mounted on the dappled courser, rode toward her. How could a man be so beautiful when he wasn’t even truly handsome? He was the most male animal she’d ever encountered, and to her regret she could not be indifferent to him. From the first, his presence caused her heart to race. She would not have to endure this much longer she told herself, as he came to a stop beside her and Persia.

“You left the keep very early this morning. I came to be sure of your safety and to tell you that a ship docked in Dungarob harbor on the morning tide.”

“I saw the ship as I left.”

“Why did you leave?”

His voice was low and dark. His gaze captured her.

“I was restless,”

she said, unable to look away. “I thought to spend the day exploring.”

“I understand the wish to see the MacKai holding, but you shouldna have ridden out alone. This close to the keep you need no fear raiders, but wolves and other creatures are no so discreet.”

Was he a predator she should fear? She knew him to be a dangerous man, but one who did not attack rashly unless angered beyond reason. She nodded. “You are right, but the day is so fine, I could not persuade myself to return to walls and people.”

He held out his hand. “Come, I will show you some of my favorite places.”

Though the gesture surprised her, she took his hand and they walked their mounts in tandem toward the forest. He led her toward the stream where they’d found Maeve and Dougal, and the terrain forced her to drop his hand.

Incredibly, her attitude toward Raeb MacKai was changing. Had she seen him as crude on their first meeting because she’d wanted to? To be honest, he could be mule-headed. But had he truly been the jackass, or had it all been pretense, just as she had intended false distain? No. One could not discount the neglect and ill manners he’d used toward his betrothed on her arrival, but that behavior did not match the man she’d seen over the last few days. Which was the true man, and how did she feel about him?

She tried and failed to find calm in the storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Neither Raeb’s true character nor her feelings mattered. She knew what she wanted—a peaceful life of charity breeding and training horses for the nuns. To get that, she would leave Dungarob keep and Raeb MacKai very soon. Once she arrived in St. Bartholomew’s and started her new life, the irritating, confusing Scot would be forgotten and no longer hers to worry about. She would not miss him when she left or wish for more than a future of good works.

As they rode upstream the forest thinned and the ground sloped. At the bottom of a low slope, they found themselves at one end of a broad glen bisected by the stream. Fortunately, the stallion was being well behaved—either that or Persia was no longer in season—so the ride was easy and relaxing.

“At the other end of this glen the ground falls away sharply, and beyond that a waterfall feeds a small pool. I would go there to swim when I was a boy. There is a shallow cave behind the fall, deep enough to offer shelter at night or in a storm. A pleasant place to rest after a swim as well. Perhaps you would like a dip in the pool?”

The idea was all too tempting. Her gurgling stomach saved her. “Mayhap we should eat before I decide. I don’t suppose you brought a midday repast with you? I have bread, cheese, and water but find myself wanting more that that.”

He grinned. “I always travel well supplied for any eventuality. Choose your spot, and I will feed you with fruit and wine.”

“Mmmm.”

She licked her lips and temptation threatened when she saw him watching her mouth. “Ah, let us feast by the pool you mentioned. I’ll race you there. The last one to arrive prepares the meal.”