A Spy at the Highland Court: A Secret Identity Highlander Romance

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance; Historical Romance; Ancient World Romance; Scottish & Highlander; Tudor Romance; Royalty Romance

Synopsis

An English knight with a Scottish heart...

Dedric Hartley wants to make a new life in Scotland after years of service to King Edward I, but the English king insists on one last mission. When Dedric is sent to spy on his mother's clan, the MacLellans, the knight is forced to choose between the oath he swore to the man who stole him from his clan and the country that calls him home but where he knows no one.

A Scottish lass in love with an English knight...

Isabella Dunbar has served Robert the Bruce's court for eight years as a lady-in-waiting and a peace offering from her border laird father to a king he once challenged. When Isabella has two chance meetings with Dedric, they recognize an undeniable attraction that could place them both in danger. Questionable allegiances threaten to drive a wedge between the young couple as their lives take them back to the Scottish-English border and into the heart of a war for Scottish independence.

Will either side accept their union, or will a battle between two kings tear them apart?

Dedric Hartley and Isabella Dunbar must trust one another enough not only to make their relationship last but to stay alive when two kings try to tear them apart. 
Welcome to Robert the Bruce's Highland Court, where the ladies in waiting are a mixture of fire and ice. The Highland Ladies, the STEAMY spinoff series from Celeste Barclay's The Clan Sinclair series, returns to the Medieval royal court for love and intrigue.

Release date: December 30, 2020

Publisher: Oliver Heber Books

Print pages: 302

Sample

Chapter One

 

Dedric Hartley watched as the English king continued his royal rage as courtiers and advisors eased away from their irate sovereign. His Majesty’s face was mottled with red splotches that only accentuated his fair complexion, and spittle formed at the corners of his mouth as his rant amplified. King Edward stalked about the chamber on the long legs that earned him the moniker “Longshanks.”

“I don’t give a bloody damn who oversaw the attack. It failed!” He railed against the last advisor who tried to reassure him that the recent loss was not the end of his campaign against the Scots. “Failure is failure. That usurper believes he’s gotten the upper hand, and he will continue worming his way further into England now that he thinks he has outsmarted me. I should have killed him when I had the chance.” 

King Edward muttered his final comments as he sank back into the engraved and carved chair that sat on a dais. His bile spewed, the king retreated into his own thoughts as the rest of the chamber was left wondering what to do next.

Dedric had seen this pattern countless times over the course of his life. He was all too familiar with the king’s mercurial temper and unpredictable outbursts, but he also knew Edward was one of the best strategists and logisticians to have ever lived. While he might not like the man, he respected him. At times. Ric watched as the king scanned the crowd, assessing each knight present until his eyes settled on Ric, who wished he could melt into the curtains and watch the people in the gardens below.

“Sir Dedric, approach.”

Ric stifled his groan, knowing from experience that the king would construe even the slightest hesitation as a personal, punishable offense. Ric approached the dais and bent into a low bow, awaiting the slight flick of Edward’s fingers that would indicate he could rise. He knew it was the king’s intention to make him wait.

When the signal finally came, Ric stood to his full height with his shoulders back and spine straight, just as had been hammered into him since the days when he was a page in the royal household.

“You were there.” It was more an accusation than an observation. “What the hell went wrong?”

Dedric did not shift or squirm like he wanted, and he did not avert his gaze. Instead he weighed his words and chose them judiciously.

“There were simply more of them than us.”

Ric did not miss the collective gasp that his curt answer elicited. He waited for the king to explode again, but this time Edward laughed. It was a hearty laugh, but Ric did not miss the lack of mirth in the king’s eyes. “So, it was as simple as that? How did I not realize?” Edward stood once more and left the dais, this time placing himself directly in front of Ric.

“Sir Dedric, since I’d already deduced the insufficient numbers on our side, I had hoped you might have more insight than to state the obvious!” What started as a reasonable tone ended in a bellow.

“Your Majesty, the clans put aside their enmity toward one another, not just neighbors but Highlanders and Lowlanders, and showed up in great force. There was a great conviction to defeat us and not just for their land.”

“Ah, yes. The great Scottish pride. The same pride I have spent a lifetime hammering out of them.” Edward sized up Ric, and Ric knew whatever came next would be something he would dread. “You’re a Scot.”

The king paused, purposely though silently encouraging the whispers that spread through the chamber, grimacing when Ric did not blink. Edward had hoped to garner some reaction from the knight standing before him, but he had underestimated what Dedric Hartley had learned over a lifetime of serving the English king.

“Half, Your Majesty. I’m a Hartley.” The name of the well-respected English family made many in the chamber take notice, but the king’s mention of his Scottish heritage was a stigma Ric could never get past.

“Yes, and like your father Hallam, you are one of my best knights. You have been part of my household since I took you in as a page. I just hope you don’t make the same mistake as your father and go falling in love with a Scot, then getting yourself killed. I’m not raising any more half-Hartleys.”

The alliteration garnered the snickers Edward wanted. Dedric had heard the phrase countless times over the twenty-plus years he had been in the king’s service. His father had been the illustrious Hallam Hartley, a knight in the king’s service sent to the border to wage war against the MacLellan and Maxwell clans. Hallam ended up falling in love with Emelote MacLellan. They married and were content to make a life for themselves with her people, but a former friend who never accepted Hallam’s decision to side with the Scots was his betrayer. Hallam and Emelote’s marriage only lasted six years, ending abruptly when the English killed Hallam in a border skirmish. Dedric had few memories of his father, but he clung tightly to them. They had driven him his entire life, earning him the title of a knight.

When Dedric was seven, the English—led by his father’s former friend—raided and burned their home. The man assaulted Emelote before murdering her and dragging Ric to King Edward. They forced him to become a page, and by the time he became a squire at age fourteen, he was sure Edward ordered the attack to ensure they took him from his mother. He was payment for the wrong Edward believed his father committed. His mother was retribution. The king had not taken him in but rather stolen him, and he had not raised him but intimidated him.

Ric remained silent, not having missed the real meaning of the king’s words. He was being sent back to Scotland when he had only just returned a week earlier. He was still tired, not to mention battered and bruised, from the last campaign. He had hoped for a longer reprieve, mostly so he could soak in countless hot baths before riding his horse again.

“Which men would you have me lead, Sire?”

“Not men. Just you. And I suppose your squire. You shall make use of that MacLellan blood and be of greater use to me.”

Ric’s stomach dropped to his boots. He had seen none of his mother’s people since he was a child. He knew next to nothing about them other than they lived along the border. His missions had been to the eastern border while the MacLellans’ land laid to the west near the Stewarts, Maxwells, and Dunbars.

He knew marginally more about his father, but his life and death were stories best kept far from King Edward’s ears. As a nine-year-old, he had once gone nearly a week on bread and water for asking one too many questions about his parents. The king had banished Ric to a storage room, where he sat in the dark and feared they would never release him. He learned then that Longshanks had a sadistic and vengeful streak. It had been at the queen’s mercy that the king forgave and reinstated Ric as a page.

Queen Eleanor had taken pity on the orphan, having lost several of her own children. She used her influence on her husband to ensure Dedric received the tutelage he needed to become first a squire, then a knight. Dedric appreciated that Eleanor had the ability to tame her belligerent husband from a roaring bear to a docile lapdog, so great was their love.

The king’s ongoing monologue brought Ric back to the present, and he caught the last of the king’s orders. “You leave in the morning for the Bruce’s court. You had better not fail me. I will rely upon the information you send back to destroy these heathenous Scots.”

The king clapped his hand on Ric’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. There was an element of pride in the king’s eyes that made Ric wonder if Edward saw more to him than he revealed in public.

“Aye, Sire. I will not fail you.”

*   *   *

Ric wound his way through the corridors and passageways until he came to the knights’ quarters. He had no intention of being seen again before morning. He would summon his squire, order a bath, and soak until goosebumps drove him from the tub into bed. He also intended to have his squire pack their belongings and squirrel away any food the kitchens could spare. Ric was not as tall as the king, but he stood over six feet and was a large man. His squire was a youth of seventeen who still seemed to be made up of hollow arms and legs. They both ate a significant amount, and the supplies given to a traveling knight would barely last them the first two days.

“The king seems to favor you after all.” The honeyed voice made the hairs on the back of Ric’s neck stand up. He knew who it belonged to, and he longed to bolt in the opposite direction from its owner.

“Good eve, Lady Bella.” Ric dipped his head but continued on.

“We have much to plan for. We should refresh our memories on how well we suit one another.”

Ric came to a halt as he looked down at the stunning woman he had made the mistake of bedding several times shortly after receiving his spurs. He had not even turned twenty-one and was still in awe that he had earned the title of a knight. The woman had appeared out of nowhere and filled his head with compliments and flirtation. As a landless orphan, he was unprepared for such an enticing woman to take an interest in him. Lady Bella had flattered him all the way into her bed.

It was only after a month of sneaking off with her that he learned she was sneaking off with several other men and did not share his feelings. Feelings he understood now had been puppy love and infatuation, but realizing she would never marry him was enough to teach him to keep all women at arm’s length. He also knew that Lady Arabella Fitz-Bigod answered to Bella because she believed her looks warranted her being called beautiful as her name, not just as a descriptor. Lady Bella was the illegitimate daughter of a courtier, and King Edward often used her to seduce men into telling their secrets. Ric was not interested, and he had no secrets to tell.

“I see the king didn’t inform you that I will be your go-between. You will give your messages to me, and I will ensure they make it to the king.”

“Thank you for bringing that to my attention.” Ric tried to step past her, but Bella pressed her body against his. He leaned away, refusing the temptation after being celibate for the past several months while entrenched in battles against the Scots. He did not trust his body to cooperate with his mind. Bella knew that and pressed more firmly against him, her hand trailing over his chest to his waist then reaching even further down. His body reacted just as she wanted, and she purred as she stroked his arousal.

“I can tell you remember. Traveling together will be entertaining.” Bella pressed harder against Ric, and she tempted him to give in to her clear invitation. However, her words that they would travel together was the final bucket of cold water he needed. It irritated him to learn that he would have to rely on her for this mission, but to travel with her was unacceptable. He knew he would make a swift change in plans.

“If memory serves me as well as you believe, I recall you are currently tied to both the Earl of Salisbury and the Earl of Essex, not to mention the Earls of Hertford and Lancaster. I’m sure you haven’t time.” He grasped her wrist and pulled it from his hardened cock, stifling the groan as his body rejected his sense of honor, preferring the release he knew she offered.

Bella was not easily deterred and once again leaned forward, offering him a view of the top of her nipples and the supple flesh of her breasts. Ric looked over her head and spotted his squire, Robbie, standing in front of his chamber. 

“You would do well to remember those names since your future rests in the messages the king receives and who delivers them,” Bella warned.

Ric did not look at her as he nodded once more and stepped around her at last. He made his way to his chamber without looking back. He opened the door and pushed his squire inside. “Begin packing. We leave during the evening meal. I intend to be far from this country by the time the sun rises.”

“Lady Bella seemed pleased to see you,” Robbie mused.

“You shouldn’t have been looking,” Ric chastised his squire, but there was no bite to his words.

“She’s rather hard to miss.”

Ric thought of something else that was hard. “Precisely. That is why we are riding out tonight rather than in the morning. If we wait, we won’t be able to miss her.”

“Where to, my lord?”

“Scotland.”

Robbie’s unimpressed smirk ended abruptly when Ric clarified. “Robert the Bruce’s court.”

 

Chapter Two

 

It took three days for Dedric and Robbie to reach the Scottish border, but rather than cross into Kerr territory, they kept off the main roads and paths while they traveled another day and a half to MacLellan lands. The rolling hills and vistas of Cumberland and Northumberland impressed Ric, and the landscape continued into the Southern Uplands across the border. Ric considered the north a wild and beautiful place, and as a young knight, he had hoped to one day earn a piece of land in the northern counties. He had survived more than one frigid and blustery winter there, but the other seasons made up for it. 

As they traveled further west, approaching his mother’s clan territory, his heart felt at home. It was an inexplicable and irrational emotion, but a peace of mind and body settled over him. He had never felt it to this extent along other parts of the border or even in the heart of the English north. The land was not drastically different from one side of the border to the other, but he realized that he was returning to the place of his birth and his family. That created this longing.

Robbie rode in silence, and Ric was grateful that the squire had learned early in his service to curb his natural penchant for chatter. Ric appreciated the young man’s company, and Robbie impressed him with his innate abilities with horses in and near battle. The more agitated other horses became before battle, the calmer those Robbie managed remained. He possessed insight into the people they traveled and camped with, and Ric knew he had remained alive more than once due to the information Robbie squirreled away to him.

“I believe we are near to Kirkcudbright, where the laird’s family lives. We should come to it before the River Dee.”

“Have you decided what you shall say when we arrive?” Robbie asked. “You don’t sound very Scottish, and I certainly don’t.”

“I have. Anyone who knows my story will know the English took me as a child. I was angry for most of my childhood and most of the time I spent as a squire. Becoming a knight forced me to let it go or I wouldn’t have survived the first fight along the border. But that anger is still within me. I’ll tell them King Edward released me from his service once my tenure came to an end, and I’ve come home. I’ll tell them the truth: I never wanted to be there. I’ll let a little of that anger show, and it shouldn’t take much to convince them I’m telling the truth.”

“And you brought an English squire?”

“You’re in my service until I deem you ready to earn your spurs, at which time you must return to serve the king if you don’t wish to remain with me. That’s true enough.”

What the two men would leave out was that Robbie was the son of the Earl of Northumberland and second in line to inherit the title. There was little chance that Robbie would remain with Ric once he was knighted.

Another hour passed as they plodded along, in no hurry to reach their destination. Ric knew that for his squire, the willingness to trot rather than canter or gallop was apprehension, but Ric wanted to enjoy this sense of peace before diving into the lies that would consume him for the foreseeable future.

*   *   *

The sun was inching toward the western horizon when they reined in and looked at the MacLellan keep. The stone structure was impressive and sat on a rise near the shore of the River Dee. The well-fortified bailey wall stood higher than any needed in England. It was proof that the ongoing strife required a castle built for battle. The village that lay beyond the keep was larger than most, and there was activity as people moved about and smoke rose from rooftops.

“I’m sure they’ve seen us, so we would do well to arrive on our own, rather than with an escort,” Ric nodded toward the men that were small blurs along the battlements. They spurred their horses and approached the village, then the keep.

“Who goes?” came the demand once they were within earshot.

“Dedric Hartley, son of Hallam Hartley and Emelote MacLellan Hartley, second cousin to the laird.”

Ric sat as he heard voices, but the words were unintelligible. He tried to keep his nervousness from transferring to his horse. He would not give away his mood with a horse that danced about. It was not long before the portcullis opened wide enough for five men to stand beneath it. The man in the center was the laird, and his guard did not look welcoming.

“There is no Dedric Hartley in the MacLellan clan,” the laird announced.

Dedric heard the man speak, but he was struck with a vivid memory as he peered into the bailey. He raised his arm and pointed just to the right of the laird.

“There. To your left once stood the armory. It was too close to the gate, and when the English raided, they stormed the armory and gathered the weapons before the laird’s men could arm themselves. It was the reason they were able to kill so many, including my mother.” Ric looked up and remembered a woman who stood in the window of a third-story chamber, waving at him as he played. “The second window from the far end was my mother’s chamber growing up, and it became my parents’ until my father died. I had a trundle bed with a horse carved into the head.”

Memories flooded back as Ric swept his eyes over the castle and the surrounding buildings. He had not seen the place since he was seven, but it was as though he was a little boy again, playing in the corner near the kitchens.

“Aline was the cook, and she would slip me apricot tarts while I played with the other children. She made me share with my cousin.” Ric looked at the man more closely. “You.”

The final word came out closer to a whisper. Both men sized one another up before the laird nodded. “Some of that you could have learned from anyone who heard of the raid twenty years ago, but you couldn’t have known aboot the trundle bed my own son sleeps in, nor would you have known aboot the pies.” Even with the acknowledgment that they were family, there was no invitation to enter the castle. “Why are you here? It’s been a long time, and we heard that you served the English bastard.”

“I did.” Ric would get that admission out of the way from the beginning. “He had me stolen. He believed my father owed him my service after choosing my mother over him. They raised me at court before I earned my way to being a knight. My service is now through, and I do not wish to remain fighting for the man who killed both of my parents.”

Ric knew there would never be a confession from the king that he arranged the two battles that killed first his father, then his mother. But he was certain Edward knew and condoned it; after all, it was the Longshanks’ order to fight along the border.

The laird continued to assess Ric before he stepped aside and turned his back to Ric and Robbie, but not before he gave the signal for the guards to raise the portcullis all the way. Ric nudged his horse, and Robbie followed. They entered the bailey, and Ric felt awash with more memories. Memories raced before his eyes, memories of his early childhood that he had not thought about since he became a squire and forced himself to only look forward. Ric and Robbie handed their reins over to a stable boy and dismounted. As they did, a woman came to stand at the top of the steps, and it was clear she was the laird’s mother. The sun shone in Ric’s eyes, but as he approached the laird who now stood below his mother, Ric’s step faltered. He felt the blood leach from his face, and he was sure he was looking at a ghost. He shook his head before taking a step back.

“We could have been twins,” came the woman’s soft voice. She moved down the steps until she could pass her son, who put his arm up to block her advance. She gently pushed it away. “As much as I looked like your mother, you are the image of your father.”

The woman stopped in front of Ric and took his large, rough hands in her tiny smooth ones. “I’m your mother’s cousin, Emelyn.”

Emelyn and Emelote.

“I still have the scar on my knee you stitched when Malcolm and I jumped from the rocks into the river. You promised to fix it before we showed my mother.”

Ric swallowed several times as he watched his aunt’s smile broaden, and she pulled him into her embrace. It had been years since the queen had embraced him, and the motherly comfort was too much for him. When Emelyn pulled away, she cupped his cheek with one hand and placed the other over his heart.

“You will not have a warm welcome here, but anyone who is auld enough to remember my son as a child will know who you are on sight,” she murmured for only Ric to hear. 

She wound her arm through his and turned back to her son. When she stepped forward, Ric had no choice but to follow. Emelyn reached her other hand to her son. The three walked into the Great Hall and toward the dais. Ric felt the eyes staring at him, judging him, and finding him wanting. He swept his eyes around the large chamber, taking in the swords above the fireplace and the heraldic shield that sat over them. The tapestries swayed from the breeze of the main door opening and closing. Ric paused before one depicting a knight on horseback leaning over to grasp a woman’s arm in preparation to pull her onto the horse. They were in a meadow filled with bright flowers and a beaming sun. Ric looked closer and saw that a child rode in front of the man.

“Your mother made that in honor of your father’s life. She hadn’t finished before the raid, so my mother finished it and hung it in a place of honor.” Those were the first words the laird spoke to Ric after admitting that they were indeed family. “I was raised on stories of your parents’ great love. It rivaled that of my own parents.”

Ric could only nod as he took in the scene of his family memorialized upon the wall. He had never seen an image of his father before, and he understood why Emelyn said he resembled his father. It was like looking at himself on the wall. He knew he could not remain gawking at the tapestry now that Emelyn and Malcolm sat at the dais, along with a woman noticeably with child. Malcolm rested a protective arm around her shoulders as she leaned into him. Ric approached the dais and bowed to the woman, who was clearly the lady of the keep and Malcolm’s wife. He stepped onto the dais and took the seat to the laird’s right, between Malcolm and Emelyn. It surprised him that was the seat they showed him, but he supposed it was so Malcolm could drill him with questions. 

“You must have traveled a long way to reach us. Unless you already had business along the border.” Malcolm’s tone did not hide his distaste, and his implication that Ric had been fighting along the border was near to the truth.

“I was with the royal court in Yorkshire when the day of my tenure ended. I departed that evening and rode here.”

“You are familiar with this land, but we have never seen you before.” Malcolm referred to the other English troops that had harried the MacLellan clan along with their other western border neighbors.

“I haven’t been this far west since I was seven.”

“So, you have been to the east,” Malcolm continued to press.

“Yes.” Ric offered nothing more. He looked Malcolm squarely in the eye before taking a long draw from the chalice placed before him. Even over the rim, Ric continued to meet his cousin’s gaze.

“Malcolm,” the woman who still went without a name whispered. The laird looked down at his wife’s pleading face. “Not in front of your mother.”

Malcolm nodded but looked back at Ric, and it was clear the conversation had only been paused. However, Emelyn was not so willing to wait.

“You fought along the eastern border. I take it you fought the Kerrs and Elliots.” Emelyn’s words were plain and without rancor, even though they made Ric uncomfortable.

“When the king ordered me there.”

Malcolm could not hold back. “Ordered to fight your own people?”

“I was sworn in fealty to the king. He may be the reason my parents are dead, but like it or not, he housed me, fed me, and clothed me, not to mention educated me, when I became an orphan. I had a duty to repay that and so I swore my oath. If I hadn’t followed the orders, what type of honor would I have had?” Ric’s voice was soft, but the iron was there. He would not have his cousin intimidate him or mock him. If his time among his mother’s people was short, then Ric would move on to Robert the Bruce’s court. But the mention of oaths given and honor placated Malcolm. It was something the man could understand.

The two warriors came to a truce of sorts and Emelyn drove the rest of the conversation, finally introducing Malcolm’s wife as Lady Rosalind. That afternoon, Emelyn took Ric on a tour of the castle and its grounds while Rosalind rested, and Malcolm handled clan affairs in his solar. Ric was only too glad to escape to his chamber before the evening meal for a bath and fresh clothing.

*   *   *

“It seems your family welcomes you, if not with open arms, then at least not with a sword in your belly,” Robbie mused as he laid out Ric’s fresh surcoat and leggings. Once Ric shed his travel-stained clothes and stepped into the tub, Robbie sat with his back turned as he polished the knight’s boots.

“It was odd, to say the least, to walk about the place. I hadn’t thought of it in years. More faded memories came back to me. I could remember doing things better than I could people’s names and faces. There were many in the bailey who remembered my parents, and my resemblance to my father is uncanny, or so it seems. A few welcomed me in his memory, but most were standoffish knowing that I served their enemy and fought their people.”

Ric submerged his entire body and held his breath as the hot water washed over him. For a moment he felt like he would float away, but the tub was far too small for that. When he surfaced, he drew a bar of soap over a linen cloth and scrubbed his body before attending to his hair. He signaled for Robbie to pour the pitcher of clean water over his head and wiped the suds from his eyes. He was in his parents’ chamber, and little had changed in the years that passed since he was last there. The only thing missing was the trundle bed he slept in, now in use by the laird’s children. When he could no longer stand sitting in the filthy water, he rose and dried off. A knock on the door startled both Robbie and Ric. Robbie drew a knife as Ric wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed his sword. Most attackers would not knock before entering, but they were not precisely honored guests. Ric gestured for Robbie to open the door; both were unprepared for Bella to waltz in.

“My timing is impeccable,” she purred. She waved her hand in Robbie’s direction as if to shoo him from the chamber. 

“What’re you doing here? And how did you make your way above stairs?” Ric demanded.

“Why wouldn’t they allow your companion to join you?” Bella’s skirts swished around her as she walked about the room.

“You told them you’re my mistress?” While it was a question, it was more of a hissed recrimination. “No. Absolutely not. You will leave here, and you will not make a peep about it, Bella. I am not having my family believe I brought my English mistress to live amongst them.”

Ric did not realize he was pointing his sword toward her until she brushed it aside and came to stand in front of him. She reached out her hand just as she had done in the passageway before Ric departed the royal household, but this time, Ric was faster.

“It’s too late. They already believe I’m your lover.”

“Then they will un-believe it.”

“And just how will you do that?”

“Do you intend to test me? I think you would rather depart on your own terms with dignity.”

“But I’m not going anywhere. The king expects me to serve as a liaison of sorts between you and his messengers, so you have no choice but to allow me to stay.”

“If the king wanted you to be present for whatever I see and hear, then he would have made you the spy and not the liaison.”

“As I said, I’m here now. Where would I go as an unaccompanied English woman in Scotland?”

“You should have thought of that before you crossed the border, Bella. I am not having my family believe I am romantically engaged with you. Do you believe they will think me aught but a spy with an English mistress and an English squire? Why would I bring half my life with me from England if that’s what I’m trying to leave behind to become a Scot? You have overstepped, and you will bring this whole mission down about our ears because you are far too entitled for one of your station.”

Ric bit his tongue before he said anything else. He was a landless orphan. He was in no place to put the illegitimate daughter of a favorite courtier in her place, even if what he said was true. He knew he would regret his words, but he would not regret his decision. When Bella swung at him, he grabbed her wrist and marched to the door. He swung it open so hard and so wide that it slammed against the wall, and they were barely through it before it bounced back closed. 

“You are in a drying linen and naught else,” Bella hissed. “You will humiliate us both.”

“I have naught to hide that others haven’t seen before.” Ric dragged her to the stairs and only slowed to keep her from falling. He wanted her away from him, not dead. They reached the Great Hall to gasps as people sprang out of their way. They watched in a mixture of horror and curiosity as Ric continued to lead Bella through the large double doors, down the steps, and across the bailey. One hand clung to her as the other held the linen in place. He did not notice the rocks and pebbles that bit into his feet or the chill air that whispered about his legs. He continued their march to the gate.

“Open it,” he demanded as they approached. The men in the gatehouse stared at him, but the air of fury that radiated from him told the guardsmen to comply. Once the gate was open, he swung Bella around and pushed her through. “Close it.”

“You bastard.”

“That’s where you are wrong. My father made his home here with his wife, my mother. You will not disgrace me or their memory with your lies. Find somewhere else, anywhere else, beyond this village. I will not see you again until I arrive at court, and even there, you do not know me. You would do well to find somewhere in Stirling to stay. Do not approach the castle,” he spat.

The gate slammed shut before Bella could squeeze in another word. Ric spun on his heels and faced most of the clan staring at him. He stomped back to the steps, throwing over his shoulder, “I left England for a reason. You just saw it.”

He would allow the people who stood agog to interpret the scene however they wanted.

 

Chapter Three

 

The evening progressed without incident. No one asked about Bella’s abrupt arrival or departure, but Ric could tell he had done the right thing by making her leave. He was under scrutiny by most of the clan. Emelyn kept a steady stream of conversation going, and it was clear that at his wife’s behest, Malcolm was making more of an effort.

“How long have you been a knight?” Rosalind looked past her husband and smiled shyly at Ric.

“Eight years, my lady.” Ric answered around a mouth full of lamb stew.

“What do you think you’ll do now that you don’t have to fight?” Rosalind’s questions sounded innocent, but Ric was sure Malcolm had prompted her to ask, as it would seem unassuming from her.

“Find a parcel of land and live on it, if possible.”

“You don’t intend to stay with us?” Emelyn’s question conveyed her shock and hurt. “You’ve only just arrived.”

“I cannot impose, Cousin.” The word felt strange on his tongue, but he was willing to try it.

“It’s not an imposition when it is family.”

Ric smiled and nodded, but he did not back down. “I think it might be the worst imposition when it’s family. I’ve shown up on your doorstep, and I can see many of the clan are not as quick to have me here as you are. I won’t be the source of trouble for Malcolm or your family.”

“And just who do you think will grant you this land?” Malcolm demanded.

Ric shrugged. “I imagine somewhere there is land I can buy where no one will care where I grew up.”

“And how do you plan to survive in the middle of nowhere?” Malcolm scoffed.

“I can hunt as well as any man, and I can tend a garden. That’s all I need.”

Malcolm narrowed his eyes as he considered his next words. “Why come all the way here to avoid being around people?”

“Kirkcudbright was but a stopping point. I have spent every day of the past twenty years being around other people. I’m looking forward to some solitude.”

“Then why bring a squire?” Malcolm would not relent.

“He is bound to me until he earns his spurs, at which time he can remain with me or enter the service of the king.”

“How can he become a knight with nowhere to train?”

“I haven’t forgotten a lifetime of training just because I don’t wear the king’s insignia. If need be, we will travel to tournaments. I am looking for a life with less bloodshed and death.”

“Then you have come to the wrong place. The borderlands are naught but bloodshed and death,” Malcolm grumbled.

“Perhaps King Robert would accept your service for a short time in exchange for land,” Emelyn offered.

“Mother! That’s outrageous. The king would never accept an English knight in his midst.”

“He would if one of his lairds vouched for the mon.”

Mother and son stared off at one another. While Emelyn had a soft voice and seemed to glide everywhere she went, she had an iron will to match her son’s. It had been necessary to survive along the ever-shifting landscape and to serve as the laird’s wife. Eventually, Malcolm relented.

“You may stay here as long as you like, and when you are ready to travel to court, I will send a missive with you, vouching that you are my cousin.”

“Thank you,” Ric’s gratitude was sincere. He had not imagined it would be so easy to gain entry to the royal court, and he did want to spend time with his family.

*   *   *

The next fortnight was spent learning more about his parents and the history of Clan MacLellan. During the day, he trained in the lists and taught the warriors maneuvers and tricks that the English used in battle. He felt sharing what he knew was not a betrayal to Edward, but a small token for the hospitality his clan offered. No one was overtly rude to him, and many began to smile and acknowledge him as they watched him train their laird’s guardsmen. The evenings were spent discussing the current state of affairs along the border. Ric shared with Malcolm what he knew of the fight further east. When they did not discuss politics, they played chess and games of chance.

Once Malcolm was willing to lower his guard, they fell into a rhythm that reminded both men of their childhoods. Malcolm was a year older than Ric, but they had been close playmates before Ric left the clan. It was only at night, when Dedric lay in bed, that guilt niggled at his mind. He knew he would betray the MacLellans with the information he sent back to the king. Bella would be expecting a report as soon as he arrived in Stirling. He did not doubt that she had already beguiled a man with her charms and made herself comfortable while she waited. She would appear before he could find her.

I don’t have to tell the truth. Bella isn’t here to see whether what I say is real or something I’ve made up. I have the chance to help my people if I give Bella falsehoods.

It surprised Ric how attached he felt to other people for the first time in years. Before arriving, he had not considered whether he would feel such strong loyalty to the MacLellans. He had assumed he would have the same sense of obligation that he felt for the king. He had anticipated feeling torn, but he did not expect to be compelled to protect the MacLellans. 

I can tell her that they believe the fight won’t come back to them since so much of it has been to the east. I can tell her that they have grown complacent since there has been peace in the area for more than a year. Longshanks will jump at the opportunity to attempt a siege, but he will be surprised to find such a fortified and well-provisioned keep. Malcolm could lay waste to the king’s men.

Or do I just tell the truth? Do I tell Bella that they are more than adequately prepared for an attack that could come at any time? Perhaps that would deter Edward from thinking he would prevail. Perhaps it would keep him away.

Ric knew the latter was the wrong choice. Edward would want to prove that he could defeat them as violently as possible. Defeating a strong clan would only make him appear more powerful. Ric prayed that telling the king that the MacLellans were an easy target would fool the king into sending a smaller force that the clan could easily overcome. He could not risk another raid like the one that had killed his mother and changed his life forever. He wrestled with the dilemma night after night until he decided he would only know what to do when the moment came, and the words tumbled from his mouth.

When dawn broke on the morning that he was to depart, Ric found he was in no hurry. He wished he could stay longer, and he wanted to visit more with his mother’s cousin. She had shared stories about his mother that he had never imagined. Emelyn and Emelote were only a month apart in age, and they were inseparable. They grew up in a lesser house of the MacLellan clan, but it was in a strategic location. Emelyn’s father arranged a marriage with the previous laird, William, and Emelote came with Emelyn. Hallam Hartley was wounded during a battle not far from Kirkcudbright. He was taken prisoner by the laird, and Emelote was charged with healing him enough for William to learn the English’s battle plans. Emelote was a skilled healer, and Hallam was soon well enough to move about.

During his recovery, he and Emelote spent a great deal of time talking, and it was not long before they realized they were in love. Hallam renounced his fealty and sent his ring and his surcoat back to King Edward. He swore never to lift a sword against the English, but neither would he fight for them. He spent his time much as Ric had, training the Scots to anticipate and counter the English tactics. Hallam died in a skirmish against another clan that sided with the English. He had not killed any Englishmen, but he had still killed Scots.

Ric and Robbie stood in the bailey as Rosalind ensured enough food was given to them, and Emelyn embraced Ric.

“Your squire is not half bad. If he decides he’d like to remain in Scotland, then he can make his home here if he likes. He will be a fine addition.” Malcolm cracked one of his rare smiles as he looked past Ric to a beaming Robbie. He clasped forearms with Ric, and they shared a hearty shake before both relented and embraced.

“You are welcome here, Cousin,” Malcolm whispered.

“Thank you, Cousin. Until we meet again.”

Emelyn stepped forward for one more quick embrace and a peck on Ric’s cheek before he and Robbie mounted and rode out of the bailey.

“Do you think we will receive such a warm welcome in the Bruce’s home?” Robbie’s dry humor made Ric grin.

“I doubt it. I would be sure to have your doublet on. It’ll keep the pinpricks from the swords pointed at us from breaking the skin.”

“And how soon do you believe Lady Bella will find you?”

“Before I reach the castle, I would guess. She’ll already have a network of spies in place for her. Mostly lads your age who are too taken with her and will do her bidding.”

“You needn’t worry about me falling in that category. The woman makes my skin crawl.”

“I wish I had been as wise as you all those years ago.”

*   *   *

They chatted off and on throughout the four days it took them to ride from Kirkcudbright to Stirling. They took turns at watch during the night and were back on the road as the first pinks and purples touched the horizon. They arrived only half as tired and dirty as they had at Kirkcudbright. Robbie remained silent, and Ric spoke in low tones as he acquired a room along with two meals and baths at the inn just within the city walls. This time when a knock came at the door, Ric was prepared to see Bella.

“Took you long enough,” Bella’s tone was decidedly frostier than it had been during their last two encounters. The woman had not forgiven him for manhandling and humiliating her. He knew there would be a pound of flesh to pay before she warmed to him again. As long as she did nothing to sabotage him, Ric preferred the distance.

“I had plenty to observe and learn. Besides, I needed them to warm to me enough to receive a missive to the king vouching for me. It’s not as though they will open their arms to an English knight.”

“And just what did you learn?”

“They were not what I expected,” Ric tested. He had no idea how soon after her removal from the keep she made her way to Stirling. He would approach his lies slowly, so he could retract them if it seemed she knew more than he presumed.

“And how is that? Not the heathens you thought.”

“Most assuredly not. They were very welcoming to me.”

“That’s nice. Now to the point, please.”

“That is part of the point. They welcomed me and after being shown about, I was given free roam.” Bella’s ears perked up as she leaned toward him, but this time it was to listen rather than seduce. “I watched them train and saw their armory.”

Bella nodded as she waited for him to continue.

“As I said, it was not what I expected. Their level of training and preparedness came as a surprise.”

“To the point, Ric.”

“I thought you would see my point already. They aren’t like the Kerrs and Elliots.”

“That’s fortunate since they trounced Edward’s last campaign. Your last campaign.”

Ric nodded as he took in Bella’s comment. She assumed he meant they were less prepared. She had jumped to that conclusion with little pressure from him, and he was relieved. Perhaps he could mislead her without actually speaking any lies.

“They definitely wouldn’t conduct a fight like their eastern neighbors.” Because their eastern neighbors didn’t have an English knight to share all the battle strategies and formations that the mounted knights and foot soldiers used.

“Edward will be happy to receive this news. Surely, he will want a win, and if the western clans are the ones to allow him further inroads into Scotland, then your time with your family will be a success.” Bella turned back to the door but paused before opening it. “However, I’m sure it will be your head if you’re mistaken.”

She slipped through the doorway before Ric could say anything, and he realized he had nothing more to say. She had made her own assumptions, and he was content to let her share them with her band of messengers. A perverse part of him hoped that Edward marched his troops to Malcolm’s door. It would shock them to encounter a well-trained force that had strategies to counter each of the English moves. Dedric did not want any of his family harmed, but he was finding he understood how his father switched allegiances.