Kilts and Daggers (8 page)

Even though Fagan said he knew the mute guard, Grace had a strong yearning to perfect her spying skills. What better opportunity than now? More to the point, since Ravenna was hesitant to assist her in this endeavor, always being the protective sister and all, Grace would make certain her sister guided her—willingly or not.

She stepped away from the wall and made her way across the bailey to where Ruairi and Fagan had practiced swordplay earlier in the day. She glanced up and watched the men walk along the walls. None of their faces looked even vaguely familiar. Maybe she wasn't handling this the right way either. To see the men, she had to stretch her neck to look up high on the walls. That had to be more difficult than being able to look down at them. She smiled when another idea struck her.

Grace reached the parapet door and closed it behind her. She climbed the steps and lifted the latch on the door at the top of the stairs. The cool breeze greeted her, and she walked to the edge of the wall. This looked like the perfect spot. From here, she could see the men walking along the walls much more clearly than if she was standing on the ground below. She didn't feel like she was breaking her neck to do it either.

When Fagan approached a group of his men, she faltered in her purpose. Although these Highland men looked the same with their kilts and long broadswords, somehow she always knew when Ruairi's captain was among them. She placed her hand on the cool stone and watched the way Fagan tilted his head. She noted his daunting stance and how he folded his arms over his broad chest. She remembered being held in those same arms yesterday.

“Stop it, Grace,” she said aloud. “Daniel. You must think of Daniel.”

Needing to suppress her sinful thoughts, she looked out at the vast ocean, stretching as far as her eyes could see. The amber hues of the sun reflected off the water. She turned to her left, appreciating the trees that were different shades of green, and of course, the beautiful mossy field that lay ahead. Before she knew it, her eyes betrayed her again by returning to Fagan. He turned and lifted his face into the sun, or perhaps he looked directly at her. She wasn't sure. She stepped away from the wall and paused. After a brief moment, she moved back into place and stole a quick glance.

He was gone.

That suited her mood fine. If she was to be a spy for the king, she couldn't very well be distracted by a certain someone or dwell upon something that could never be. For heaven's sake, they'd only shared one kiss. She needed to stay true to her purpose.

Grace's eyes darted back and forth between the men. Maybe the guard she sought was making sure Ruairi's lands were safe because she didn't see him anywhere. She supposed she'd have to try something else. As soon as she turned on her heel, she was greeted by a wall of a man.

“What are ye doing?” Fagan looked suspicious about her motives.

“I came up here for a breath of fresh air. What are you doing here?” She returned the same look he had given her.

“I saw ye watching me.” He folded his arms over his chest and gave her a roguish grin.

“Don't be ridiculous. I wasn't watching you. I was…”

“Ye were what?”

When she hesitated and couldn't look him in the eye, he lifted her chin with his fingers. The touch of his hand was almost unbearable in its tenderness, and her body tingled from the contact. He stared back, waiting in silence as she blinked, feeling light-headed. His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. Near-kisses wouldn't cause her to swoon. She refused.

“Mister Mur—” Her voice softened. “Fagan…”

When she said his name, some kind of unidentifiable emotion crossed his face. His lips slowly descended to meet hers. Heaven help her. She felt her knees weaken. There was a dreamy familiarity to his kiss, something she couldn't quite explain. They were from two different worlds, but she couldn't deny the emotions he stirred within her. It was as if Fagan had a key and had found a way to unlock her heart. It felt as if their souls had known each other in some past life, but she knew that was impossible.

Carried away by her own response, Grace failed to notice that he had wound a hand into her hair to deepen the kiss. He pressed her up against the wall and his heavy body covered hers. He molded her to himself, his arms wrapping around her like a vise. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and she shuddered with desire. When he wedged his thigh between her legs, she gently leaned back and placed her head on the cool stone wall, breathless.

“Fagan, please stop.” She placed her hands on his chest, and he leaned his forehead against hers.

“I donna know why ye make me lose all sense of reason.” His breath fanned her face. “I had absolutely nay intention of kissing ye again.”

“And I could say the same to you. I don't understand. Why does this keep happening to us?”

He let out a low, hearty chuckle. “I donna know, lass.”

“I know you don't like me very much.”

He pulled back, and his smile turned into another chuckle. “Now I wouldnae say that. Donna get me wrong. Ye have a way about ye that drives me completely mad, and your sharp tongue grates on my nerves, but…'tis apparent that I hold something for ye because I havenae yet run my sword through ye.”

She huffed and pushed him away from her, not that she could move him more than an inch. “How very kind of you, Mister Murray.”

He moved closer, holding her in place, and his eyes became softer as he brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. “Donna start, Grace. Ye called me Fagan. I heard it from your lips. I will hear it from now on. I know this is foolish. Ruairi and Ravenna would have my head, but I can't seem to stop myself. At least all I have stolen is a wee kiss or two from ye.”

For some ridiculous reason “heart” came to her mind, but all she allowed to surface was the one thought that mattered most. “I'm betrothed to Daniel.”

* * *

Fagan knew he had lost all sense of reason some time ago. How could one woman—an English woman moreover—make all his chivalrous behavior fly out the window and not look back? He wasn't thinking clearly, but when Grace kindly reminded him that she was betrothed, reality crept back in—not necessarily sanity, but the truth penetrated him like a steely blade. Yet he couldn't dismiss that little voice inside his head and had to ask the question that weighed on his mind.

“Do ye love him?”

He wasn't sure why that inner voice prodded him to ask, but for some reason he wanted to hear her answer. He needed to know the truth. Perhaps if he did, he'd stop acting like a besotted fool.

Grace stepped around him. “You have no right to ask me that.”

“Why?”

“Why does it matter? Whether yes or no, it doesn't change the fact that there is nothing—nor will there ever be something—between us. I'll be taking my leave in a few weeks, returning to England, and you said so yourself…it's more than likely best if we don't speak of this again.”

When she threw his own words back at him, he felt guilty. The kiss meant something. He just wasn't sure what. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I donna know—”

“I see you have men on the walls. Are there also guards who ride around Ruairi's lands to make certain they're safe?”

Fagan was taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. “Aye, why?” When she looked like she was deep in thought, he added, “Ye donna have to worry about the guard in the forest. I talked to him.”

She looked at him in surprise. “You did? When?”

“Only a moment ago, on the wall.”

“The man in the forest was there on the wall?” When she gestured with her hand to his men below, he shifted his weight and glanced down.

“Aye.”

For a long moment, Grace looked back at him.

For the past two days, Fagan had managed to avoid her completely. Not that Grace blamed him. She knew he wasn't trying to be hurtful, and it was best that he kept his distance for both their sakes. Maybe they wouldn't be tempted to do something else they shouldn't be doing. Of course, that didn't stop her from reliving private memories of the man. What irritated her even more was that Daniel had never come to mind, again. Even throwing her dagger at the target in the field didn't help to clear her head.

Grace released the blade, and it whipped through the air, landing at the base of the tree with a thump. “Damn.”

“You need to keep trying,” said Ravenna.

“I know, but I have yet to even hit the target. It's been two days.”

Ravenna pulled Grace's dagger from the ground and wiped the dirt from the blade. “I didn't master this overnight either. It takes a lot of practice.”

When her sister handed her back her weapon, Grace nodded. “May I ask you something?” She didn't miss the uncomfortable look that crossed Ravenna's face. “Don't worry. I wasn't going to ask you anything else about mastering spy craft.”

“I'm relieved to hear it.”

Grace looked down at her dagger, carefully guarding her expression. “Why did your husband increase the guard?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come now, Ravenna. You can't tell me you haven't noticed Ruairi's men lingering around us, even more so when we leave the gates. They weren't this close to us before.”

“Ruairi doesn't consult with me on these matters. My husband is laird and I trust that he handles his duties the way he sees fit. Who am I to question his—”

“Do you take me for that much of a fool? Fagan told me he spoke to his man about being in the forest.”

Ravenna smiled easily. “Yes, he told me the same. You shouldn't be worried because—”

“Oh, I'm not worried. I'm only wondering why Fagan found it necessary to lie to me, and now I can't help but ask why you do the same. I thought you were done spinning tales, Sister. You'd led me to believe there were no more secrets between us.”

“Grace…”

“Don't attempt to patronize me like that. The next words that come from your mouth had better be the truth because those are the only words I will accept.”

Ravenna let out a heavy sigh, then her voice went up a notch. “You want the truth? I'll give it to you. No one has any idea who that man was in the woods. Ruairi went through this before with Laird Gordon. I've learned nothing good ever comes from such things—slaughtered cattle, stolen coin, clan battles. Who's to say what comes next? I'm the one who told Fagan and Ruairi not to tell you.”

“Why?”

There was a heavy silence.

“You have no idea what you're doing, what you're asking, and no matter what you say, you are still young and innocent in the ways of the world.”

Grace started to walk away from her sister's rant, but Ravenna held her firmly in place.

“Don't you dare walk away from me. You're the one who demanded the truth. Well, the
truth
is that you have no inkling what it's like to be a spy. It's certainly not the glorious work you make it out to be.” Ravenna paused a moment and smiled in exasperation. “And you need to realize there is absolutely no celebrity to be had in this. I barely see the king, because the assignments from the Privy Council are given to me by Uncle Walter. I give all my findings to him, and he tells me if the king is pleased or not.”

“I never know where I'm going to end up next. Everything is unpredictable, and failure is not an option. I must do whatever is needed to obtain the information I was sent to retrieve. No matter what the cost. Did you hear me? I almost lost the love of my life because I had to betray him. Wake up, Grace! I've been in the Devil's Tavern as a serving girl, walked along the London docks as a prostitute in the darkened hours of the night, and been a mistress to many men.”

Ravenna continued. “I placed myself in harm's way more times than I can count, and frankly, I'm lucky to still be alive. You don't know what you're asking me to teach you. I became a spy because I never thought I'd have a husband or a family of my own. I was trained for years by Father, Uncle Walter, and their men. You cannot expect to claim that you're suddenly going to be a spy and that is that.” Ravenna closed her eyes and threw her hands in the air. “It's all fun and games until you get hurt, and it's inevitable. You. Will. Be. Hurt.”

“But isn't that my decision to make?”

Ravenna scowled. “Did you hear nothing I've said? You have people that love you. You're betrothed to Daniel. Ask yourself if you're willing to give all that up, because that's what you'll have to do. You will be expected to lie with other men when you have no choice, and then you will be returning home to share the same bed as your husband. Is that what you want? Is that fair to Daniel? Are you willing to throw away the love of your life and lay down your life for king and country?”

Grace looked down and ran her fingers along the edge of her blade. She lowered her voice, speaking softly. “Many of the married ladies we know are not a love match.”

Her sister studied her intently. “I thought I would've changed your mind when I mentioned that you could lose your life, but I never thought…er, I didn't realize… You don't love Daniel.”

Grace could neither confirm nor deny it because for the first time in her life, she had no idea how she felt about anything.

* * *

Fagan rode back from the border with five of his men. They'd found no further signs of anyone trying to encroach on Sutherland lands. Of course he and his men could do nothing but keep a sharp eye and continue to stand guard. As he made his way across the open field to the castle, he spotted swishing skirts. The lass who wore the blue day dress made his heart skip a beat.

He gestured for his men to ride ahead as he slowed his mount. For a foolish moment, he forgot where he was and time stood still. He gazed in awe at a flawless painting of a bonny lass in a mossy-green field on a midsummer day. When he heard a curse fall from said temptress's mouth, his woolgathering abruptly came to an end.

Grace's hands were clenched stiffly at her sides. He didn't think she even noticed him as she stormed toward him across the field. But then she glowered at him and turned in the opposite direction. He supposed she definitely saw him now.

Fagan called after her, but she paid him no heed, as he knew she would. When he said her name once more and she didn't stop, he reined in his horse in front of her and blocked her path. She had nowhere to go. Instead of looking up at him or cursing him, she only lowered her head. Following Ravenna and Ruairi's advice, he kept his mouth shut and waited for Grace to say something.

While his horse pawed at the ground, unhappy under restraint, the lass still didn't move. When he refused to budge, Grace finally glanced up at him and her eyes welled with tears. Suddenly, he felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. Without saying a word, he bent slightly forward and held out his hand.

She paused, looked at his extended arm, and then took it. Placing her foot on top of his in the stirrup, she swung up behind him. When he kicked his mount and took off at a gallop, she wrapped her arms around his waist. The faster he rode, the tighter she squeezed. At first, he wasn't sure where he was headed, but then he made up his mind to take her to the beach. He slowed his horse when they reached the sandy path. He didn't think it was his imagination, but as they descended the hill, he felt her head lie gently on his back.

Fagan stopped his mount and swung his leg over the front of the saddle. He grabbed Grace's waist and lowered her to the ground. She immediately averted her eyes from him. While he tethered his horse, she moved to the edge of the water. Wanting to give her a moment alone, he fumbled through his sack, pulled out a blanket, and took his time spreading it out on the sand.

When he'd finished with his task and had held back for as long as he could, he approached her, his steps slowing as he wondered what was wrong. He never saw this side of her and wasn't sure what to do or say. She was always fiery and ready to give her opinion, not restrained. Her azure skirts billowed in the wind, and her brown hair was tousled. The sound of the rolling waves always soothed his soul, and he hoped they would do the same for Grace.

He stood beside her and took a deep breath. “Beautiful, is it nae?”

Tears still trembled on her eyelashes. “Yes.” She gazed out at the sea and spoke in a solemn tone. “You don't have to stand here with me.”

“'Tis my pleasure, lass.”

“I'm afraid I'm not very good company at the moment.”

“Ye told me before. Ye're nae here for my amusement.” When she let out a gentle laugh, he placed his arm around her shoulders. “Ye donna have to speak if ye donna want to, but let me offer ye comfort. Let me hold ye.”

She nestled her head against his chest. “We both know this is wrong. I don't know why I should let you.”

God help him because neither did he.

* * *

Ravenna's words played over in Grace's mind like a pecking bird that refused to cease. Furthermore, from what her sister had just told her, Ravenna should be the last person giving advice. For God's sake, the woman had pretended to be a prostitute and was a mistress. Grace wondered what Ruairi thought of that particular declaration, and then she realized it didn't matter because the man loved her sister for the person she was. Maybe that's what love was all about.

As Grace stood on the beach with Fagan's arm wrapped around her, she felt even worse than before. She pulled away from him, and he lowered his arm.

“I don't know what the hell I'm doing,” she said, wiping her fallen tears.

He turned, pulling her along behind him and leading her over to a blanket that he had spread out on the sand. “Sit down, Grace.”

She was so tired of arguing with everyone that she granted him this one small boon. She lowered herself to the ground and straightened her skirts as he sat on the blanket beside her. When there was a moment of awkward silence, she asked, “Aren't you going to say something?”

He gave her a gentle smile. “When ye're ready, ye will talk to me.”

And that was all he said. No more, no less.

She looked out at the rolling waves and spoke in a solemn tone. “Ravenna and I had words.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him look at her. “Ruairi and I have words all the time. 'Tis what family does. Do ye want to tell me about it? I cannae say that I can give ye any words of wisdom, but I know what 'tis like to have an annoying brother.”

“I know this may not make any sense to you.” She gave him a sheepish smile, and he gestured for her to continue. “My father always favored Ravenna. I thought it was because she was the eldest, but now I realize he was readying her for something more, something greater. When our parents died, Ravenna would disappear for hours on end. Hours turned into nights, nights into days. I even caught her one night dressed as a harlot.”

“Of course I questioned her, thinking she was somebody's secret mistress or was selling herself. I might've even believed Uncle Walter was stealing our coin and Ravenna was only trying to replenish the coffers. Frankly, I don't really know what I thought, but my sister was always there for us. I wanted to be there for her.”

“I'm sorry, lass. I donna understand.”

“I always thought my sister would remain unwed. If my father were still alive, I knew he would've been disappointed that his favorite daughter had never married. So I went to court and did my part. I wanted to marry a man of title and make my family, my father, finally proud. But things have changed.”

“Why? There's still plenty of time to do those things.”

“Ironically, now that I know my sister was a spy for the Crown, I find myself willing to do anything to be her.” Fagan was about to speak when she held up her hand to silence him. “Ravenna has sacrificed so much for our family, and now she is truly happy with Ruairi. She has found her peace. I want to follow in her footsteps as a spy, but she says I'm still young and innocent in the ways of the world.”

“Ye are.”

“Pardon me?” She was about to stand when Fagan grasped her wrist to stay her.

“The farthest ye've ever traveled was from Edinburgh to the Highlands. At nay fault of your own, ye donna know much about people or politics, lass, and both can be verra dangerous.”

“Fagan, I'm eighteen years old and suddenly find myself questioning my path. I thought I needed to marry someone like Daniel to make me whole, if that makes any sense. Now I'm not sure if I want to spend the rest of my days in ballrooms talking to the ladies about the latest fashions. I want my life to have meaning. I want to have a purpose, and I find it very difficult to believe that God placed me here only to be a dutiful wife. I should've known you wouldn't understand.”

“Och, I understand better than ye think I do. I am nae titled. I have nay lands, nay wife—then again, what could I possibly even have to offer her? I am the captain of the Sutherland guard. I am responsible for the protection of the castle, Ruairi, and our clan. I would give my life for my duty. So aye, I understand. Ye are a bonny lass, a lady. Marry your English lord and have a family. I am certain that was what your father intended for ye.”

When she dismissed his words, he added, “Grace, the life ye think ye want to live is verra dangerous. Ye have everything any woman would want or desire to have. The path ye choose to take is your own, but I think ye should take time to think this through.” He tapped her on the shoulder in a playful gesture. “When ye think about my words, I know ye will see reason.”

“Are you patronizing me, Mister Murray?”

“Nay,
bhana-phrionnsa.
I say the same to ye as I would say to Ruairi. Ye need to think. Donna rush into something because ye believe ye can or should. Ye donna want to find yourself in a situation ye cannae walk away from. Ye're a smart lass. Ye know I speak the truth.”