Suzanne Barclay - Lion's Lady

“How kind you are.”

Eneas glared at her, his eyes lethal weapons. “The journey will be hard and dangerous.”

“I look to you to see us safely to Blantyre.”

Eneas cursed under his breath, then motioned the steward over to him. “Wat, pass the word, ’tis time for the lifting.” Spearing her with another scathing look, he shoved back his chair and stomped away toward his underlings.

Finlay stood also. “That was well done Rowena, but I will go with you to make certain Eneas minds his manners.”

“I can look out for myself, Finlay. I need you to remain here to make certain Paddy is safe.”

“For all he’s a hard man, Eneas loved Padruig. He’ll not harm his brother’s son,” Finlay repeated.

The icy fist around Rowena’s heart tightened. If Eneas learned that Paddy was not Padruig’s son, he’d have no compunction about killing him.

Paddy’s giggle cut across her dark thoughts. “I dinna think most of the men will get themselves up the hill, much less lift Father,” he said lightly.

Squinting against the smoky pall, she watched the Gunns attempt to rally themselves for the trip to the kirkyard. Drunk as they were, most of the men and some of the women were literally falling down. “Not surprising. Ten kegs of ale emptied since dawn.”

“Aye. But ye did him proud.” Finlay grinned as he helped her to her feet. “For all he was spare with his words and not one to share his feelings, Padruig respected ye lass.”

Rowena nodded glumly, looking back on her cold, loveless marriage and ahead to her bleak, dangerous future. “That is something, I suppose.”

“Make way,” Wat the Steward cried, elbowing people aside as he cleared a path for the fallen laird’s nearest and dearest.

Jennie met Rowena at the outer door. “I’ve brought your fur-lined cloak and the young laird’s, too.” She handed Finlay Paddy’s cape, then drew Rowena aside to assist her in dressing. Three years Rowena’s senior, the maid was plump and pretty, with red hair and freckles as numerous as her suitors. A capable maid and trustworthy friend, she had left Tarbert to live among the Gunns with her mistress. If not for her support, Rowena wouldn’t have lasted a fortnight as Padruig’s bride. “You’re pale as new snow,” Jennie scolded.

“Small wonder.” Rowena pressed a hand to her head, hoping to still the grinding ache.

“What has Eneas done to hurt you now?”

“Jennie...”

“Eneas knows I hate him.”

“Aye, but that was before.” Rowena glanced ahead.

Someone had opened the door, letting in a swirl of blessedly fresh spring air. Eneas stood in the entryway, his big body blocking the light. A symbol, surely, for he’d like to blot her and Paddy out...permanently.

“From now on, I want you to keep that sharp tongue between your teeth, Jennie MacBean,” Rowena said in a rush. “With Padruig gone, we must all watch our step.”

“And our backs.”

“Aye.” Rowena shivered and turned, her heart quieting when she saw Finlay kneeling to fasten Paddy’s cloak with the heavy broach, the symbol of his lairdship. God keep him safe.

“Mama?” Paddy tugged on her hand. “If I build Father’s cairn very high, do you think he’ll like me better?”

“Your father loved you,” Rowena said.

Paddy looked down and traced a circle on the stone floor with the toe of his boot. “He never said so. Sometimes he looked at me...” his thin shoulders moved restlessly beneath the heavy cloak “...as though I’d turned into a bowl of boiled kale.” Paddy’s least favorite food.

Rowena sighed, aching for her small son but knowing no words to explain. “He had much on his mind, love. If he grimaced and glowered, ’twas not at you. You were very, very important to him. Come, the others will be waiting. Let us walk up together and bid your father farewell.”

His hand, though small, was reassuringly warm in hers. She wondered who was helping whom as they began the long trek up the slope to the kirk. It had rained last night, and the ground steamed mist into the chilly air, giving the scene an otherworldly quality. If only this was a dream and she’d awaken to find Padruig alive, her life unchanged. While she was about it, why not wish she could awaken and find these past six years had been a nightmare and she was still Rowena MacBean, young, carefree and in love with Lion Sutherland?

Nay, for then she’d not have Paddy.

As they followed the line of mourners up the hill, Rowena vowed on Padruig’s soul that she’d find a way to keep Paddy safe, no matter what she had to do.

Chapter Two

The journey to Blantyre was every bit as horrible as Finlay had warned her it would be. Rain turned the roads into mud-clogged trails, slowing their progress through the mountain passes. A two-day journey dragged into five interminable ones, riding at the mercy of the wind-driven rain and Eneas’s equally foul temper. Each night, he’d insisted on camping in the woods, with only their plaids and the oiled cloth Wat had sent along for protection from the elements.

Just to spite her, Rowena was certain. Wet, exhausted and miserable as she was, she refused to give Eneas the satisfaction of showing it. She rode behind him, shoulders square, with only the heat of her determination to keep the cold at bay.

“When do you think we’ll reach Blantyre?” grumbled Harry Gunn, the young soldier Finlay had sent along as her squire.

“Ye’ve got to have someone to do yer bidding and watch out for ye,” Finlay had muttered. “Seeing as how ye’ve refused to take along one of the maids.”

“I must leave Jennie here to care for Paddy. Bad enough he’s lost his father. Now his mother is riding away. He needs someone to cosset him and reassure him. And the other maids are either too old to withstand the ride or too flighty.”

“The earl’s court is likely to be a rough place.”

“I’ve lived among rough men all my life,” she’d said with a toss of her head, rather enjoying the freedom to decide things for herself after so many years under Padruig’s thumb.

“I heard Eneas tell Clem we should reach Blantyre sometime today,” Rowena said now to her freckle-faced escort.

“Not a moment too soon.” Harry grimaced as he shifted. “Me bum’s permanently flattened, I’ll wager.”

Rowena smiled and blew a drop of rain off the end of her nose. “I know just what you mean.”

“Will it be a grand place, do ye think?”

“I shouldn’t wonder, for Finlay tells me it is the ancient seat of Clan Shaw, and they a wealthy house.” Oh, she did so want to make a good impression on the mighty earl who’d taken up residence there. She had a moment’s qualm, thinking of the woolen gown carefully folded into her saddle pouch. It was the finest thing she’d ever owned, and Jennie had assured her that the deep blue color was vastly becoming. Yet Rowena feared the noble courtiers would see through the bright plumage to her drab MacBean roots.

“Do ye think there’ll be lassies there, and all?”

“For shame, Harry,” she said. “You are supposed to be guarding me, not chasing after a flock of light skirts.”

“My lady! I—I assure ye I didn’t mean it, I—”

“I was teasing, Harry.”

He glanced sidelong at her, dark eyes wide under a tangle of dripping red hair. “I’ve never heard ye jest before, my lady. Ye were always a most serious and proper sort.”

“I suppose that’s true.” But there had been a time, a brief time, during that wild, glorious summer with Lion, when she’d been gay and happy and loved. The memory brought with it a pang of longing so sharp she could smell the heather that had grown in the fields. Six years it had been since she’d been held or kissed. Six long, lonely years.