At a loss for any logical reason, Merritt said nothing.
“And how do you explain why the first has not yet given up his life? Do ye not deny that we expected this to be the day we put him in the ground?”
The two sisters stared at each other as the old woman continued, “Could it be that the one called Shaw, whose name means ‘to share,’ came here to lend his strength to his wounded brother?” She pointed a bony finger. “See how he fights for the life of the one called Sutton? I tell ye, these two are not like other mortals.”
“I will listen to no more,” Merritt said, flouncing away. “Next you will have them some heavenly messengers, sent on a mysterious mission from the Almighty.”
But as she made her way across the room, she paused in the doorway and watched. Shaw murmured words of encouragement to his brother, before continuing to bathe his fevered flesh. He seemed aware of nothing and no one, except the one who shared his face. Often, she noted, the whispered words seemed more like a prayer.
She turned away, deep in thought. A heavenly messenger? Such nonsense. The touch of him had been real enough. And she had the bruises to prove it. Still, she thought as she made her way along the dim hallway, he had shown unusual restraint when he had kissed her. Despite the obvious heat, which he could not hide, he had resisted the temptation to take what other invaders would have considered their right. If truth be told, his resistance had been greater than her own. At the first touch of him, she had felt lost, unable to do more than endure—and enjoy.
With gritted teeth she pushed aside such an embarrassing admission. Next she would be prattling on like old Astra, bowing and scraping to the laird Campbell as though he were God’s right hand. Still, as she went about her daily routine, she couldn’t seem to rid herself of the nagging little thought. Shaw, of the Clan Campbell, was truly unlike any man she had ever met.
“I believe the fever has abated a little.” Sabina knelt and touched a hand to Sutton’s forehead.
“Aye. Your potion helped, as did the cool water. Now we will let him rest,” Shaw whispered. “But as often as possible, you must force more of the willow bark tea down his throat.”
“Have no fear. I will see to it.” Sabina settled herself beside Sutton’s pallet and took up needle and thread.
Shaw stood a moment, staring down at the scene. His brother slept as peacefully as a bairn, looking for all the world as though he would awaken at any moment and begin laughing and teasing. The woman beside him, head bent to her mending, sleek black hair shining in the firelight, resembled a portrait of the Madonna that he had long admired at the monastery. There was a sense of serenity about this woman who had assumed the care of his brother. A serenity that filled Shaw with a feeling of peace. She would not neglect Sutton. Nor would she mistreat him, even though he was her enemy. And though she appeared every bit the docile lady of the manor, there was also an air of strength and determination about her. He had the feeling that whatever task Sabina was given, it would be done.
Needing to be busy, he picked up Sutton’s longbow and made his way down the stairs. Outside a misty rain fell. He studied the ashes and rubble from the stable. Already the tracks of the horses had been obliterated by the elements.
Turning away from the fortress, he entered the woods. It wasn’t long until he found the tracks he’d been searching for. Moving cautiously, he soon came upon a herd of deer, sheltered deep in the forest. Fitting an arrow into the bow, he waited patiently until one of the deer separated itself from the others. But as he drew the bow, releasing the arrow, a second arrow sang through the air, landing alongside his, piercing the buck’s heart. The herd scattered.
He was astonished to see Merritt step from her place of concealment and race toward the fallen animal. When she spotted the second arrow, she whirled to face him.
“What are doing here, Campbell?” she demanded.
“Apparently the same as you. I thought I would provide your father with the meat he craves.”
Though she was surprised by his admission, she carefully hid her feelings behind a frown of disapproval. “There was no need. I am quite capable of seeing to my father’s needs.”
“I can see that. Your aim is straight and true.” She cast him a knowing glance. “See that you do not forget that, Campbell. Now begone.”
“As you wish,” he said, giving her a slight bow. He turned and began to walk away.
“Wait.” She watched as he paused and turned. Shrugging uncomfortably, she said, “As long as you are here, mayhap you could help me carry it home.”
He closed the distance between them, all the while holding back the smile that hovered at the edges of his lips. “Are you asking for a Campbell’s help?”
She gritted her teeth, and foolish pride won out over common sense. “Nay. I do not seek the help of a Campbell.”
“Very well.” With a smile he turned away. “I will leave you to your trophy.”
She bit her lip, studying the deer. Even if she fashioned a sling, there was no way she could haul an animal twice her size all the way back to the fortress. How she missed having a horse.
Though the words stuck in her throat, she managed to call to Shaw’s retreating back, “I... have changed my mind.”
“’Tis a woman’s right, I am told.” Shaw paused, but did not turn around. He couldn’t. He was laughing too hard.
“I would... be grateful for your help,” she managed to say through gritted teeth.
When he could compose his features, he returned to her side. “How can I refuse such a... gracious request?”
Draping the deer over his shoulders, he easily carried it back to Inverene House. Merritt trailed behind him, fuming in impotent rage.
If only she were a man, she thought for perhaps the hundredth time in her young life. She would be strong enough, and fierce enough, to restore her father’s life to its former glory. No man would dare challenge her. For she knew, though she did not possess the physical attributes, that she had the heart of a warrior.
Their evening meal took on a festive air. Astra served a clear broth, skimmed from the bone and marrow. After that, they feasted on roasted venison and early spring vegetables, followed by freshly baked biscuits and fruit conserve. Each course was washed down by generous amounts of ale.
“Which of my men presented us with the deer?” Upton asked.
“Our guest provided it,” Merritt said quickly.
“Nay, your daughter is too generous with her praise,” Shaw protested. “It was her arrow that found its mark. The kill was hers. Merritt is an excellent marksman.”
At the unexpected praise, Upton glanced from the Campbell to his daughter, noting the flush on her cheeks. After a lengthy pause he said, “Even the fire seems warmer this even. Is my mind addled, or are those fresh logs?”
“’Twas our guest,” Astra said as she poured more ale into the laird’s goblet. “His ax rang all the afternoon.”
Merritt held her silence and sipped her ale, feeling her cheeks grow warmer at the thought of what she had witnessed. When Shaw had removed his tunic and shirt to chop wood, she had stared transfixed at the width of his shoulders, the rippling muscles of his back. Though she had often seen her father’s men in various stages of undress while they worked around Inverene House, she had never before been so affected by the sight of a man’s naked flesh.
“I needed something to do.” Shaw lifted his goblet and drained it. “Besides, it was my way of thanking you for your hospitality.” He silently blessed a childhood spent with the monks, who had insisted that study be mixed with a healthy dose of hard, physical labor in the fields. Though he knew his muscles would protest the hours of chopping, at least his body would not feel too assaulted.
“Perhaps tonight we will not be so eager to hurry off to our pallets,” Upton said with a laugh. Of his guest he inquired, “You have no doubt heard about the fire that swept through the forest?”
Before Shaw could respond, Upton continued, “The forest blaze is
the reason why my men have been unable to supply us with firewood, and we have been forced to burn much of our furniture to chase away the chill.”
Shaw glanced around the table and saw that both Merritt and Sabina sat with heads bowed, unable to meet his eyes. How many lies had they been forced to tell, in order to spare their father’s feelings?
“With logs so scarce,” Upton continued, “we have been forced to retire to our beds as soon as we finish supping. But I think tonight, to celebrate our good fortune, we will remain by the fire and be entertained. Astra, fetch the minstrel.’’
“He... returned to his cottage by the loch, Father,” Merritt said quickly, “until he recovers from the fever.”
“Ah. What then shall we do to entertain ourselves?”
“I will play the harp,” Sabina offered.
“Aye,” Upton muttered as, leaning heavily upon a thick walking stick, he made his way to a seat by the fire. “Music from heaven.”
Shaw carried Edan to a chair beside his father’s.
As Sabina plucked the strings, Shaw found himself mentally transported to the great abbey at Edinburgh, where he had once heard a choir of novices sing like angels, accompanied by the strings of a harp. The music was indeed heavenly.
“I have missed this,” Upton sighed, leaning his head back.
For long minutes they sat around the fire, allowing the strain of the day to dissolve under the gentle melodies played by the beautiful Sabina.
At last, Merritt, unable to stand so much inactivity, got to her feet. “I will fetch the board and pieces.”
Edan clapped his hands in delight. “May I stay and watch, Father?”
“Of course, lad.” Upton turned to Shaw. “Do you play, Campbell?”
“A little.” Shaw smiled. Chess was his favorite pastime. He took great pride in his ability to outmaneuver his opponents. In fact, his family and most of his friends would no longer challenge him, because he had managed to beat them all so soundly.
When the board was in place and the carved wooden chess pieces arranged, Upton turned to his guest. “Will you play?”
“Aye. ‘Twould be my pleasure.”
“Good.” Upton smiled as his younger daughter took her place at the other side of the board. “Merritt will play in the name of the Lamonts.”
“The female?” Arching a brow, Shaw looked from his host to the fiery-haired daughter, who was watching him without expression. “I thought... I had hoped for a bit of a challenge.”
Upton couldn’t help laughing at the look of defiance that crept into his daughter’s eyes. “Be warned, Campbell. I would be willing to wager that your words have just assured you of more challenge than you could ever dream.”
Shaw turned to the lad. “Would you like to sit beside me, Edan, and learn the intricacies of the game?”
“Aye.” The boy was delighted when Shaw placed him on a settle beside him.
Bowing grandly before Merritt, Shaw took his seat. “I will allow my opponent the advantage of the first move, since it may be the only one she will get.”
With a look of pure venom, Merritt moved her rook.
Shaw moved his.
Their first few moves were swift, certain, each one quickly following the other. But after only half a dozen moves, both players became more cautious, as they began to acknowledge the skill of the other.
At last, after a calculated move, Merritt made a great pretense of yawning, before she called, “Astra, mayhap you could fetch a sweet tray, since this match will soon be over.”
“Aye.” Shaw moved his pawn to her queen. “And I shall prove that females have no understanding of the strategy necessary to win this game.”
For nearly an hour more they labored over the board. The sweet tray was brought and soon emptied. Goblets were drained and refilled. Another log was added to the fire, and after a while Upton dozed in his chair, while beside him, Sabina continued to pluck the harp.
Merritt studied the board, then moved again. “The lout is determined to prove his mouth larger than his brain,” she said to her little brother, who giggled.
“Now, Edan,” Shaw said with obvious relish, “I will show you how to quickly surmise your opponent’s strategy and take control of the game.” He moved his knight.
Edan, far from tired, clapped his hands in delight, waking Upton, whose head came up sharply.
Merritt countered with her own knight.
Shaw’s smile faded. Studying the board, he realized he’d made an error in judgment. When he tried to correct his mistake, Merritt winked at her little brother.
“I hope you are paying attention, Edan.” Laughter warmed her words. “These same errors are made by arrogant leaders on the field of battle. They think they can confound the enemy by concentrating strength where he is weakest. A wise warrior will only show weakness in order to entice his opponent into attacking. Then, when it is too late, the opponent realizes that his enemy’s weakness is really his strength.” She moved her last pieces into position and looked up, meeting Shaw’s eyes. “I believe you will find that you have no moves left, Campbell. I hold you prisoner.”
Upton, leaning heavily on Sabina’s arm, walked across the room and stared down at the chess pieces. Edan glanced from his sister to the man who sat studying each piece on the board.
“Will you yield?” she demanded.
Shaw drained his goblet, then nodded. “I confess, I am defeated.” But though his words were spoken softly enough, there was a murderous look in his eyes. He was unaccustomed to being beaten, especially by a woman.
Everyone laughed and clapped and congratulated Merritt on her skills.
Shaw, in a burst of goodwill, extended his hand. “You play with great skill, my lady. I hope you will allow me to challenge you another time.”
“Aye.” Merritt’s eyes danced with unconcealed pleasure. “Whenever you desire another lesson, I would be happy to impart some of my skill, Campbell.”
“Well done, daughter. You have done your clan proud,” Upton said, stifling a yawn. “And now I must bid you all good-even.”
“If you will carry Edan,” Merritt said softly, “Sabina and I will assist Father to his bed.”
“Aye.” Shaw scooped the boy into his arms and carried him up the stairs to his room. Down the hall he could hear the two young women in their father’s room as they made him comfortable for the night.
“Tell me true,” Edan whispered. “Did you let my sister beat you at chess?”
“Let her?” Shaw roared with laughter. “Nay, lad. I wanted badly to win. But the woman is damnably skilled. Though I would be grateful if you did not tell her I said that.”
“Said what?” Merritt’s voice sounded directly behind Shaw.
He whirled. For a moment their eyes met. Then his gaze was drawn to her mouth, pursed in a little pout. He had the strangest desire to reach out and stroke a finger across her lips. The mere thought caused a rush of heat that stunned him. For a moment he could think of nothing to say. Then, forcing himself to turn away, he met Edan’s questioning look. The two shared a secret smile.
“I said you showed promise. I might be willing to challenge you to another game of chess.”
Behind him he could hear her little gasp of anger. Before she could say a word he called, “Good even, lad.” He brushed the copper curls from the boy’s forehead, then bowed in Merritt’s direction.
“Good even, my lady.”
“Good even, Shaw Campbell.”
Biting back a grin, Shaw took his leave and made his way to Sabina’s room to check on Sutton. Though his brother was still feverish, Sutton’s sleep was not as deep as it had been. He tossed fitfully, occasionally moaning and mouthing words that made no sense. As much as Shaw hated seeing Sutton in such a state of pain, he realized it was a sign of healing. Until now, he had been too near death to be aware of the pain.
Outside the door, Shaw heard Sabina loudly calling good-night to her family. When she entered her chambers, Shaw said, “I
leave my brother to your care, my lady.”
“Aye. If he needs anything, I will minister to him through the night.”
“I am grateful for your kindness.”
Taking his leave, Shaw made his way along the hallway. When he entered the chambers that had been prepared for him, he undressed and sank gratefully onto his pallet. In the soft glow of the fire, he studied his surroundings. Except for the bed and a chaise pulled in front of the fireplace, there was little to distinguish it from the other sparsely furnished rooms of Inverene House. On a table were a basin and pitcher of water, along with a decanter of wine and a single crystal goblet.
Hearing movement in the room next door, he realized it was Merritt preparing for bed. The soft rustling sounds lulled him and he closed his eyes to welcome sleep. But as he began to drift, he became aware of sounds of unusual activity, after which the door to Merritt’s chambers opened, then closed. Curious, he sat up and listened. Muffled footsteps hurried past his room. At once he sprang from his bed and raced to the door. Peering out, he saw a cloaked, hooded figure disappearing down the stairs.
Now what was the female up to?
Hurriedly dressing, he strapped his scabbard to his waist and grabbed up his cloak, determined to follow Merritt Lamont and learn the latest of her many secrets.
Chapter Eight
The rain had stopped, but dark clouds still obscured the moon and stars. The soaked earth was spongy beneath Shaw’s feet as he followed the shadowy figure to the edge of the forest.
Once they entered the maze of trees, he could barely make out the figure in front of him. He was forced to rely on the sound of snapping twigs and crunching pine needles in order to follow.
He cursed the female’s fleetness of foot. At times, he had to run to keep up with her. At other times he just barely managed to duck behind a tree before she spun around, as though sensing the presence of someone trailing her.
They walked for what seemed an hour or more, without once pausing to rest. With each step they were climbing the steep, forested cliffs that guarded the north entrance to Inverene House. Often the terrain was treacherous, with rocky outcroppings and deep gorges through which icy water tumbled. Ahead of him, the girl moved with the agility of a mountain cat, often leaping from stone to stone without regard to the dangers.