Highland Thirst (38 page)

They’d
arrived at Blytheswood to find he’d fled and was on the run. Oswald had stayed
the night before traveling on home, taking his men with him. The king’s men had
split into two groups, the majority of them turning to head back to court while
a much smaller group headed out to chase after Carbonnel, following him to the
coast where he’d barely managed to escape on a boat headed for France.

Lucy
had spent the nearly two months since then learning all she needed to take over
her brother’s position in running Blytheswood, but it was difficult with her
mind distracted by thoughts of Tearlach. He’d said they’d meet again, and she
knew he was probably being kept busy with clan matters, but it had been so long
and...

She
frowned, her eyes dropping to her stomach as she raised a hand to cover it.

“Oh,
there you are.”

Lucy
turned away from the window to force a smile for Betty, but the maid merely
pursed her lips with exasperation.

“You
are mooning again.”

“Nay.
I am not,” Lucy denied at once.

“Aye,
you are,” the woman insisted, then sighed and walked to her side. Once there
she slid an arm around her waist to urge her away from the window. “Do not deny
it, I know you miss him.”

Now
it was Lucy’s turn to sigh. Nodding an admission, she said quietly, “I do, but
he said we’d meet again.”

“Well,
it better be soon,” Betty muttered.

“What?”
Lucy asked.

Rather
than repeat what she’d said, Betty blew a breath out and settled on the bed
next to her and then said, “I am not sure if you are aware of it, but you are
with child.”

Lucy
bit her lip. She hadn’t had a woman’s time since that evening in the loft. “Aye.
I know.”

“Well?”
the woman prompted.

“Well
what?” Lucy asked helplessly, tears pooling in her eyes.

“Well,
what are you going to do about it?”

“Son?”

Tearlach
glanced up idly from the ale he’d been contemplating and managed a smile of
greeting for his mother as she settled on the bench next to him.

When
that was his only greeting before turning his attention back to his untouched
ale, she frowned with concern. “You have been distracted since you and Heming
were taken at Carbonnel.”

Tearlach
shrugged unhappily, not bothering to deny it. His mind hadn’t been on matters
they should be since leaving Lucy in London. He’d left her alive and well, and
from the news he’d received since then, continued to be...But Tearlach wouldn’t
have been surprised had he been told that Lucy had dropped dead the moment he’d
left her side. The woman was haunting him.

“Your
father says that is why he insisted you return here to MacAdie, that you were
distracted and he feared your coming to harm.”

Tearlach
grimaced. On arriving back in Skegness, he’d collected his borrowed mount and
ridden straight home to MacAdie to assure his parents that he was well. He’d
then arranged to have Harold’s horse returned, sending a bag of coins along
with it to thank him for his help. After that, he’d traveled with his father to
gather with the clans to decide what their next move would be. It was there he’d
learned of the king’s men marching on Blytheswood and sending Carbonnel
running. The man was now of great interest to his people as was Rosscurrach,
and they had people watching the situation closely and keeping them updated.

Unfortunately,
while Tearlach had soaked up every bit of news they had on Lucy, he hadn’t seemed
to be able to concentrate on anything else very well, and his father had
finally suggested he return home to rest a bit after his recent trials. That
was his diplomatic way of telling him that he was useless to them as he was.
Tearlach had returned home, feeling weary and beaten.

While
his last words to Lucy had been that they would meet again, Tearlach had forced
himself to stay away. It was for her own good, but was doing little for his
well-being. His dreams were consumed with the woman; her sweet voice whispering
his name, her lips soft beneath his, her passionate moans ringing in his ears.
He always woke up hard and hot, yearning to return to the dreams, but forced
himself from his bed to face the night.

Tearlach
found little respite in being awake, however. Lucy’s smiling face kept popping
into his head. Her tinkling laughter constantly rang in his ears as if carried
on the wind, and he found himself smiling as he recalled the tales she’d shared
about her youth...

Aye,
she haunted him, and Tearlach was hard pressed not to give up his good
intentions, mount his horse, ride straight to Blytheswood, and claim her as his
own. Only the peril his people faced kept him from doing so. He would not drag
her into that.

“You
haven’t spoken of what they did to you, son,” Eva MacAdie murmured. “I know
they tortured Heming. Were you tortured too?”

“They
whipped me one day,” he said, waving the matter away as unimportant and it
truly was in his mind. With everything else that had happened since then, he
hardly recalled that day of blood and pain as more than an unpleasant memory.
There was no room in his mind for the experience to trouble him much, with Lucy
filling his thoughts as she was.

“Your
father told me that Lady Blytheswood helped you escape ere they could harm you
much,” Eva said tentatively.

“Aye.”
Tearlach smiled faintly. “Lucy got us both unchained and oot o’ the dungeon.”

Eva
considered him silently, her eyes narrowing as she took in his smile.

Made
uncomfortable by her examination, he turned his face forward and peered down
into his untouched ale again, stiffening when she breathed, “You care for her.”

A
denial rose to his lips at once, but then he decided not to bother, his mother
would see through the lie and he didn’t have the heart to deny his feelings
anyway. Sagging wearily, Tearlach nodded and offered her a wry smile.

“‘Tis
odd. When I first woke in that dungeon across from her, I thought her pleasant
enough to look on. No great beauty, but passably pretty.”

“And
now?” Eva asked, urging him on.

He
shook his head with bewilderment. “Now, no woman can compare to the beauty I
found in her.”

“You
love her,” Eva breathed with happy realization.

Tearlach
glanced toward her, scowling. “Do no’ say it as if ‘tis such a wondrous thing,
Mother. ‘Tis a curse.”

Eva’s
eyebrows drew together in concern at his words. “Did she not love you too, son?
Surely she did. How could she help herself?”

An
affectionate smile curved his lips at her staunch words. Of course, she could
not imagine a woman not returning her son’s love.

“As
it happens, I think she does love me too,” Tearlach admitted miserably and his
mother almost bounced on the bench seat beside him in her happy excitement.

“But
this is wonderful,” she exclaimed, clasping her hands around his upper arm and
squeezing affectionately.

Tearlach
had no doubt she was envisioning the grandbabies he and Lucy could produce for
her. His mother had longed to have more than one child, but it had not been
meant to be. She would definitely spoil rotten any child he produced for her.
The idea of the offspring he and Lucy might have produced made
him
less
happy. It caused an ache in his chest, because he knew it could never be.

“Why
are you still here?” she suddenly asked with a frown and he glanced at her with
confusion.

“What
do ye mean?”

“I
mean, why are you not on your way to England to collect your love?” she said
impatiently, and then smiled and said, “we can have the wedding here. A proper
wedding, with a feast and all our people in attendance. We can—”

“Mother,”
he interrupted before she got too carried away. “There’ll be no wedding.”

She
deflated as if he’d slapped her. “Why not?”

Tearlach
looked away and sighed. “Weel, first off, now that her brother is dead, she is
the Lady o’ Blytheswood.”

“But
that is perfect,” she assured him. “Blytheswood is not so far away, we could
visit often. Besides, ‘tis not like your father will give up the reins to
MacAdie any time soon. This would give you a home of your own to run.”

“Aye,”
Tearlach acknowledged slowly, not having considered that himself, then shook
the thought away and pointed out, “but her king’ll have plans fer her. He’d no’
be pleased to let her marry a Scot.”

Eva
snorted slightly at that and said, “Trust me, my boy. I am English born and
raised and from what I know of the King of England, with enough coin he’ll
forgive anything.”

Tearlach
felt a moment’s hope at this news, then recalled his main worry and shook his
head. “I’ll no’ drag her into our battles.”

Eva
blinked in apparent surprise at his words and then shook her head slightly and
asked, “And she would have no battles at Blytheswood? It seems to me she
already has. Did Carbonnel not kill her brother and kidnap her to try to gain
Blytheswood?”

When
Tearlach frowned, she added, “At least we know who our enemies are. With us,
she would know she has enemies, and friends, and she would be prepared for what
was coming rather than taken by surprise as she was by Wymon.”

She
gave Tearlach a moment to consider that and then added, “Tearlach, life is full
of battles; some large, some small. Every life. We just must do the best we can
to get through them. And,” she continued firmly when he opened his mouth to
speak, “we are all stronger together than apart.”

“But
what if I claim her and something happens to harm her?”

“What
if you do not and something happens to her at Blytheswood and you were not
there to help her?” Eva countered with a shrug. “We can not foresee the future,
son. We can only see the present and what I am seeing is that you are pining
after the woman and useless without her.”

Tearlach
stiffened with affront. “I am no’ pining.”

“Aye,”
she countered. “You are.”

“Our
son doesnae pine,” Connall MacAdie said grimly, drawing their attention to the
fact that he now stood in the open keep doors. Once he had their attention, he
announced, “We ha’e a guest. Several o’ them actually.”

“Who?”
Tearlach and Eva asked together.

Connall
MacAdie smiled faintly, but shook his head. “Come see.”

Eleven

Tearlach
and his mother exchanged a glance, then both stood and moved to join Connall
MacAdie in the open door. He moved aside at once, leaving Tearlach a clear
view.

He
peered out at the large traveling party standing in a circle of torch light in
the dark bailey and felt something like shock. Tearlach had been told on rising
and coming below that a party had been spotted approaching the castle just as
the sun set. He’d also been told his father had preceded him below and was
already riding out to see to the matter, so he’d sat himself at the trestle
table where his mother had found him.

Tearlach
had assumed the party would be from MacNachton, but these people were English
without a plaid among them, he noted with amazement.

“Who?”
he began, but then several of the soldiers at the front of the group shifted
their horses aside and his eyes fell on the woman they’d revealed.

“Lucy,”
he whispered, his eyes consuming her where she sat on Trinket’s back. Her gown
was a periwinkle blue, and her blond hair was unbound and waving around her
face in the evening breeze. She was even more beautiful to him than the visions
of her that had haunted his nights and disturbed his sleep.

“Lucy?”
Eva MacAdie echoed with a slow smile.

“Ye’d
best go talk to her, son,” his father murmured and then glanced at his wife to
add, “I have...and I like her.”

Eva
beamed at her husband as if he had done something quite clever, and then gave
her son a gentle push. “Go. Tell her you love her. Fix this now. The girl has
ridden all the way here to see you, do not keep her waiting.”

Nodding,
Tearlach started down the stairs with steps that started out slow, but sped up
until he was nearly running when he reached the bottom. He was brought to an
abrupt halt when a horse suddenly stepped in his path.

Scowling,
Tearlach glared up at the rider who had dared to come between him and the woman
he wanted, but then blinked in surprise as he recognized the rider.

“William,”
he said, a smile of greeting replacing his scowl. “‘Tis guid tae see ye.”

The
man grinned back. “I am happy to say the same.”

“And
me,” Betty announced, leaning to the side to peer around her husband’s shoulder
from where she sat behind him. “We insisted on accompanying her ladyship when
she set out on this journey to collect you.”

“Collect
me?” he echoed with a grin.

“Aye,
well, someone had to. You didn’t appear to be tending the task yourself,” Betty
said with a reprimanding look and then added with some asperity, “and we would
know why.”