Текст книги "In Love with a Warrior"

Автор книги: Kara Griffin

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James rose from his chair. “I deem I’m going to need it too, my lord.”

“Protect her, love her, and bring her joy. And when ye can, forgive her for that eye you’re sporting.” The chieftain chuckled with a raised brow.

“I will do my best to do so, my lord.”

The chieftain slapped him on the back and strolled from the chamber.

James stood there for a few minutes in shock and dismay, for he wasn’t sure he could achieve all that the lord asked of him.

When James vacated the hall, he found Grey awaiting him on the steps of the keep. His laird casually leaned against the stone as if he had nothing better to occupy his time.

“What did he want?”

James imparted the request of the lord and by the time he finished, Grey was laughing his arse off.

“You find humor in this?” he asked irritably. “Here, you have more need of this than I.” He handed the sack of coin over and his laird whistled when his hand waned with the weight.

“It appears we will have a wedding celebration when we return home.” Grey slapped his back and ambled next to him, as they continued back to camp.

James mumbled a blasphemy. “Hell, what have I gotten myself into?”

Chapter Thirteen

“They’re waiting for you.”

Emlyn set the jeweled headpiece in place and turned at her sister’s call. She had never been in her sister’s good graces and she regretted not befriending her more often. Although her sister was only two years younger, they’d never had anything in common with which to discuss. Her sister was more the princess her mother wished for than she. Emlyn approached Suzanna and hugged her close. Already she dreaded the loss of her family and she hadn’t even left yet.

“What are you doing?” Suzanna asked, trying to pull from her embrace.

Emlyn continued to hold her. She petted her sister’s pretty blonde hair and looked into her clear blue yes. Her sister appeared as a princess should—lighthearted, beautiful, and nary any interest in pointy objects.

“I shall miss you, that’s all. I will likely never see you again and I want you to know how much I envy you.”

Suzanna scoffed. “You envy me? Why would you? You always have everyone’s attention. No one pays me any mind. I wish I had your brazenness.”

Emlyn resisted the tears gathering in her eyes. “Suzanna, you are everything a man wants in a wife. I shall never be coveted so.”

She pulled from her hold. “I wish I was as brave as you. You’re going off to wed our enemy and you aren’t even afraid are you?”

“I am. I can hide it better than others.” Emlyn grew somber knowing she was lying to her sister, but such fabrication needed to be done.

“Come. If we don’t join the festivities soon, Mother will send her guard. I heard what she did. Father was wrath when he learned of it. You should’ve seen his face. I don’t deem I’d ever seen him so ireful. If I had found out sooner, I would’ve come to help you.”

“See, you’re much braver than you think.” Emlyn pressed her hands over the green-blue silk of her gown. The garment was bejeweled at the elbows where the fabric slit, and at the bodice, where the golden overly of floral lace lay. Emlyn felt ridiculous wearing it, but she would go through with her plan to shock her mother. The gown widened at the sleeves and the material fanned out as it distended.  She was more comfortable wearing armor.

“You look beautiful. Where did you get that gown?” Suzanna clasped her hand and pulled her from the chamber.

“Branwyn gave it to me, but I never wore it.” She pressed her lips together in remembrance of the day her friend swore she would never have a need for such a gown. Mayhap she would bring joy to Bran for wearing it.

Emlyn reached the bottom of the steps where her parents awaited. They stared at her and appeared to be in a stupor. She hoped they hadn’t already dipped their cups in the wine barrels as they had a habit of doing. It was going to be a long night.

No one spoke.

“Have I a tear?” She glanced down to make certain, but her gown was intact.

“Nay, you look beautiful, sweet, Emlyn.” Her father touched a curl that hung over her shoulder.

“I knew she could look thusly, like a princess should,” her mother remarked.

Inside the hall, many had assembled and when she entered, a cheer arose. Emlyn didn’t like having everyone’s attention solely on her and she kept her gaze averted. All stopped their speech, and the moment was filled with awkwardness. Her father stepped next to her, as did her mother.

She gazed around at those in the hall and saw James and his comrades on the far side. They stood with some of her father’s soldiers. She tried not to smile.

“My daughter, who would save us from our enemy.” Her mother waved a hand at her. “We celebrate her courage and wish her well on her journey to her betrothed.”

Her mother raised her arm and Emlyn pulled away. She disliked the fact that she was being dishonest with her mother and if she ever found out, she would never forgive her. As much as her mother frustrated her, she didn’t want her hatred.

Branwyn stepped forward and drew her away from her mother’s side, saving her from bearing such guilt. “You are beautiful. I cannot believe you wore the gown. I vow I would never appear as fetching as you in it.”

“I’m gladdened you gave it to me.” They moved farther into the great hall and Emlyn gave a scathing glare to Delyth. “Look, there’s Delyth. She told my mother where I hid. I shan’t speak to her for her treachery. It will take a long time for Delyth to gain my forgiveness.”

“You shouldn’t hold it against her, Em, for your mother can be daunting and we both know Delyth doesn’t have the wherewithal to speak false to your mother.”

“Nay, I suppose you are right.” Emlyn kept her gaze from her friend, wishing she could forgive her.

As the night continued, Emlyn tried not to appear happy, but knowing she would soon be in James’ company again—where she’d actually speak with him, brought her a sense of pleasure.

The feast was served and entertainments began. Candlelight glowed in every corner. The center table laden with foodstuffs, covered every inch, and greenery and floral drastically changed the hall from its usual foreboding mien. Her mother went to great lengths to make the feast rival any they’d ever had. In a way, Emlyn was honored by her mother’s gesture, but then again, she only did so for appearance’s sake.

How could they celebrate, believing she was going to her demise? Had they no empathy at all? She kept her expression solemn for she didn’t want her mother to suspect anything. Still, the way her clan acted caused her abhorrence of their indifference.

Gifts were placed in front of her, but Emlyn wasn’t one for material possessions. She cared not for the furs, the ornate jewelry, and trinkets given to her by the closest clan members. Still, she thanked them for their supposed kindness. She compared their gifts to payment for her life, because if she were really going to Marshall—that’s what she’d be giving in return—her life.

As much as she tried to avoid James’ gaze, she couldn’t, and found herself following him with her eyes. Each time she looked at him, she caught him watching her in return. His beautiful eyes bore into hers, as if silently telling her all would be well. If only she could be alone with him and hear that from his lips, but soon enough.

“You’re a fortunate woman, Emlyn.”

She apprehensively dragged her eyes from James and peered at Branwyn. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m being forced to leave my home. All believe I’m sacrificing myself to save our people when I’m being deceitful. They deem I have honor when I have not.”

“Honor does not serve when you are dead.”

“Nay, it doesn’t indeed.” Emlyn sighed.

“Keep yourself safe. Promise me, for I shall worry and pray for you each day.”

“Use your prayers for something more significant, Bran.”

Branwyn wept and Emlyn flinched at the sorrowful sound, knowing she caused her friend’s dismay.

“Come now. As you said I am a fortunate woman. Look at him, Bran. He’s likely what every woman wants in a protector. He is honorable, strong, appealing in face and body. And until I figure out what’s to become of me … mine.”

Branwyn wiped her tears away and gave a small laugh at her jest. “I vow I have never heard you speak so of a man, not even of Bevan.”

Emlyn grew melancholy then for she hadn’t thought of her betrothed in many a day. How her life would differ if she’d married him. She would be allowed to remain on the land that had been home all of her life. She would be able to practice at using her weapons, and left alone by her mother. Emlyn wanted to cry herself as all the weight of what she was about to do suddenly bore down on her.

“I wish you could be here for my wedding, but alas I know we shall part. I will always hold our friendship with fondness.”

She gazed at her friend, and her words brought forth such melancholy. “I know Cranog will make you happy and that brings me contentment, for that’s all I want for you.”

“At first I was unsure, but now … I deem he will do for a husband. I’m gladdened he’s a farmer and not one of your father’s soldiers. I would not have accepted him if he were, because I would worry that he would … end as Bevan.”

She hugged Branwyn and knew she spoke from the heart. If any man was made for her friend, it was Cranog.

The rest of the night passed quickly and before she knew it, many had left. The Gunn guardsmen, along with her father’s favored soldiers caroused their way from the keep on to their tents and garrison. Their boisterous exit was amusing. That is until she saw James. He didn’t appear as jovial as his comrades. Emlyn turned her attention to her mother who stood by her side flapping in her ear about some such nonsense. When she turned back, he was gone.

Her brothers avoided her all evening and kept giving her looks. Emlyn decided to confront them now and get it over with. Her brothers, both born from different mothers, looked nothing alike. David resembled their father more than any of her siblings. Griffen, whose mother was mistress to her father, had his mother’s looks.

Emlyn’s mother didn’t berate her father for his mistress, and oftentimes, her mother remarked that she was grateful she’d been given a reprieve. She couldn’t understand how her mother could be so tolerate when she tended to be ardent on all other matters.

David and Griffen stood by the hearth, and now was the chance to speak with them alone. She slunk forward and cornered them, not giving them the opportunity to flee.

“You will not speak with me? You two have avoided me all night.”

David grimaced. “Our apologies, Emlyn. ‘Tis just … I’m not in agreement with Father. You know that. You shouldn’t be sacrificed. We should confront Marshall and defend our land. We’ve enough arms to take to war with him and I pledge my sword will meet his one day soon.”

How passionate her brother was when it came to war. She touched his arm in a soothing gesture. “Worry not, David, for you may get your wish.”

“I have something for you,” Griffen said, as he pulled a leather sheath from his tunic, and handed it to her. “Here.”

She held it and admired the workmanship of the leather. “What is it?” Emlyn pulled the item from inside. “I cannot accept it. It’s your favorite dagger.” She tried to hand it back to him, but he wouldn’t take it.

“Nay, I want you to have it. You may need it. If ye get the chance, you can put it where it belongs. In that braggart’s heart.”

“You mean Marshall.” Emlyn sheathed the dagger and her heart swelled for at least her brothers cared for her.

Griffen laughed. “Who else would I mean?”

“David’s?” She let forth a merry laugh. “Don’t look at me like that. I jest. Oh, I shall use it and am honored by your gesture. That reminds me, I will need someone to see to Aled. Will you?”

“That hound would rather be free. Why don’t you release him?”

“Nay, I cannot do that. He is not a wild dog. Please, promise you’ll see to his care?”

David laughed and shoved Griffen. “Better you than me. That hound always growls at me. He growls at all but you and Emlyn.”

Emlyn nodded. “I don’t deem he likes you much, David. I must to bed and shall see you in the morn?” She yawned and headed for the stairs at their nod.

Awaiting at the bottom steps stood Delyth. She walked toward her and her friend looked contrite with tears gathering in her eyes.

“Oh, Delyth.” She hugged her close.

“I am sorry, Emlyn. Please forgive me. Your mother forced me to tell her where you were. I tried not to, but you know how persuasive she can be.”

“That I do. Do not fret. I understand. And I cannot stay angry with you.”

To which Delyth cried harder and Emlyn did her best to console her.

In between sobs, she said, “You’re leaving and I shall miss you. Who will get Branwyn and I into trouble? We shall have no fun.”

“I shall miss you too. I must go. Come in the morn, before I leave and say farewell.” Emlyn had to get away before emotions got the better of her.

“I will.”

She waved and took the stairs. The entire farewell feast was emotional and exhausting. She wanted and needed her bed. Her sisters were already fast asleep when she entered. Anhard mumbled in her sleep as was her habit and it brought a smile to her. She’d miss her younger sister too, for she was much like her than Suzanna.

As much as she tried to be quiet, she banged the table and dropped the dagger Griffen had given her. She folded her gown and decided to take it with her, and placed it in the satchel that held her possessions.

Emlyn climbed into bed and closed her eyes. She’d get very little rest while traveling and needed to get as much sleep as she could. But she was too excited. Throughout the rest of the night she lay in a semi-conscious state, dreaming of what was to come.

Emlyn was awakened by Suzanna, who continuously shook her.

“They await you. ‘Tis well past morn. Father said to let you sleep. Your escort has readied all morn and disbanded their camp.” Suzanna stood by the window casement.

Emlyn stretched. “I am glad, for I didn’t think I’d sleep at all.”

“I can see soldiers. Mother is speaking with them, probably berating them for hefting your trunks without care onto the carts. She insists you ride in a carriage, the one she came to Father in. Oh, and you should see the amount of trunks she is sending with you.”

“Does she not realize the terrain we’ll travel?” Emlyn grumbled under her breath. “I shall hurry before she drives them all daft. Please tell Father that I will be down presently.”

Suzanna nodded and left.

Emlyn pulled on her breeches, then a white tunic. She yanked her satchel from beneath the bedding and added her cloak. After tugging on her boots, she looked around the bedchamber and made sure she hadn’t left anything behind.

In a hastened step, she carried her satchel and ran down the stairs. Everyone waited for her outside. She exited the keep and approach her father.

He said nothing but gave a firm nod. When tears gathered in her eyes, he set a hand on her shoulder. “Warriors do not weep.”

“Thank you, Father, for reminding me. I shall try to send a missive …”

“Worry not, sweet Emlyn, you’re in good hands. Go with Gwydyon.”

Emlyn wrinkled her nose and scrunched her eyes, for her father would send her off with prayers of the warrior God of their ancestors. How like him. She clasped his hand, curtseyed, and started off to the stable.

Aled whined to be released. She could’ve wept with sorrow, for she loved her pet. “Go, my friend.” She watched him from the stable door, and smiled to herself when Iona came. The feathered beast’s wings spread wide as she soared above. The two went off toward the path that they usually took. “I wish ye a good life.”

Emlyn hurried and found the satchel her father had gifted her. Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened it to see what was inside. She gasped. A small bow stuck out from the end, and she pulled a bundle of arrows out. They were tied together. There was also a short sword and an ornate body of mail.

It was heavy when she lifted it, but she’d carry it, knowing she may have need of the items. Much more so than the trunks of possessions her mother had packed for her. When she returned to the keep, Laird Gunn approached and took her satchel. His eyes widened, but he didn’t remark at how heavy her satchel was. He handed it to James who sat upon the most beautiful horse she’d ever seen.

It was an enormous beast and as pristine as snow. The horse whinnied when he dismounted and followed him as he stepped forward. James shoved at the horse’s snout and pushed him back.

“I deem that horse is in love with you, James,” his comrade said in a quip.

James scowled at his friend. “Now is not the time to jest, Colm.” He raised a brow at her and opened the satchel. “Emlyn, what have you in here?” A grin came to his beautiful lips. “Colm, you have room upon your horse. Hold this.” He tossed it up to him and Colm grunted from the force and weight of it.

“A gift from my father.”

“You won’t need such items, for we Gunns know how to protect. You should leave it behind. I insist.”

Emlyn shook her head. “I will do no such thing. And just so you Gunns know, I can protect myself. I do not need a band of overzealous warriors to keep me safe.”

James grinned and shook his head. “Is that not what you have asked of me?”

“I asked you to take me with you. I did not ask for your protection. Did I not beat you on the field? Did you not submit?” Emlyn loved how his expression darkened at her teasing.

Her question brought forth his comrades chortle and James frowned in obvious discomfort at being reminded of that day.

“It was she? She was the lad that won against you?” A large man whom she had not met laughed boisterously.

James stepped away and mounted his horse. “Aye, Duff, the same.”

He didn’t appear pleased by that admission. The Gunns waited quietly while she said goodbye to Branwyn and Delyth. Her friends’ despair was enough to make her bawl, but she withheld the urge to do so. Tears sprang to her eyes when her sisters stepped forward to offer their goodbyes. She hugged Suzanna and Anhard.

She stood leery to move, unsure what to do. Her mother stepped forward and smirked, her beautiful brows furrowed with disgruntlement. Emlyn would have dressed as she was wont, but she’d done so last night to please her, and she decided against riding in a gown. Without a word, her mother scoffed and walked away. Emlyn would’ve been hurt by her aloof manner, but she was used to it.

“Come, we need to be on our way.” James motioned her toward his horse with a wave of his hand.

“I must ride in the carriage. We’ll rid of it as soon as we can. But we should proceed with the plan.”

“Then come, for your carriage awaits, milady.” James spoke loud enough for all to hear.

How she wished she could ride with him or he with her, but her mother wouldn’t allow it. Emlyn stepped into the carriage and sat back against the cushion. She could see out the window and all those who assembled. With a wave, she resisted the urge to weep. For she’d likely never see her friends and family again.

James rode next to her on his magnificent horse. The carriage began moving and Emlyn looked ahead, refusing to gaze back forlornly at her home.

Chapter Fourteen

By nightfall, Emlyn was tired of riding in the carriage. Not only was she lonely, but her arse hurt from the many bumps along the way. When they slowed, she threw open the curtain and stepped off the plank before the carriage came to a complete stop. Her legs shook from inactivity, but she was able to stand. The army halted, and many dismounted their steeds. James walked toward her and she stared at the way he moved stealthily. His limbs were muscular and long. Her breath caught at the sight, for he appeared as a great warrior should. She realized at that moment she would never be as foreboding as he.

“We’re to camp here for a few hours.”

She nodded and stepped near him. James plucked her from the ground and brought her against him with a hard jolt. Emlyn barely had time to gasp when he kissed her ardently. How she liked the way he possessed her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on as his mouth covered hers with passion.

“James, we’ve tasks to see to. Cease kissing your lass and get to it.”

When James pulled away, his eyes born into hers. She could’ve sworn he was as displeased by the interruption as she was. He let her body slid over his until her feet reached the ground.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that all day.”

“You have?” She couldn’t hold back her smile.

“Aye that and what it will be like when you’re beneath me again.”

Emlyn scrunched her eyes and teased, “Oh? You deem that I’ll give over to your desires? Just like that?” She snapped her fingers.

A scowl crossed his beautiful face. “Now that you’ve gotten your desire, I take it ye have no further need of me?”

Before she retorted, he stepped away from her. Emlyn realized he wasn’t one for jests or such playfulness, and was too literal. She was wont to call him back to tell him so, but he fiddled with his satchel and petted his horse, whose whinny sounded. He kept his back to her and removed a pouch which he tossed to one of his comrades.

“My thanks,” the man said. “I’ll give it to Sean so he can cook it.”

Around them, hundreds of soldiers made fires and seemed jovial. When she caught up to James, she asked, “Why are they pleased?”

She followed him through the throng of mini-camps set about. James turned and took her hand, saying nothing. He gave a menacing stare at the men they passed. It was as if he was telling them that she was his. None of the men looked at her and avoided her gaze, but nodded at James.

They reached the campfire that his comrades sat around. He set a tartan on the ground for her and she promptly sat upon it. Emlyn stretched her legs out, happy to be free of the carriage. She rubbed the aches from her muscles and relaxed back. James gave her a hunk of bread, which was a bit hard, and she’d likely break a tooth trying to eat it. Another handed her a cup of mead, and she thanked him.

Their leader sat across from her, and she watched him. He was a handsome man, much like the others that sat around them. They seemed close and she sensed their comradery.

“Lady Emlyn, I’m Laird Gunn, but I would that you call me Grey. These are my guardsmen: Duff, second in command, Sean, Colm, and Kenneth McInnish, a neighboring clan chieftain.” He indicated who was who, and she bowed her head at them. “You know James, intimately, of course.”

She scrunched her eyes at his choice of the word intimately and she wondered how much James had told them. “I would that you call me Emlyn, and I’m pleased to meet you.”

“We cannot, milady, for you’re a princess. We shall call you Lady Emlyn.” This came from Colm, the man that had jested with James about his horse.

“I may be a princess on my father’s land, but here, I am just a …” She was going to say woman, but didn’t want them to think of her as such. Emlyn was a warrior and if it was the last thing she’d do, she’d make them understand that. “… warrior.”

None of the men remarked or indicated their displeasure hearing her say such. Emlyn gnawed at the hunk of bread and then dipped it in the mead. It made it softer and she could at least eat it.

Grey leaned forward and handed her a softer piece. “James explained the plan?”

“Aye, he did. I thank you, Laird Gunn, for your aid. My father does not wish me given over to Marshall.”

“I’m aware of his wishes. My men have given their oath to protect you and we mean to honor our pledge to thwart Marshall. As much as you have skill with weapons,” he said, and looked pointedly at James. “We are passionate about our duty and I insist you allow us to see to your protection while you’re in our care.”

Emlyn sighed. They took their duty to heart that was certain. “Very well, my lord.”

“Grey, call me Grey. We’ll reach the border of your father’s land soon. When we get there, we’ll part with our army and journey toward our land. The carts and such will slow us and I don’t want to dally in getting you to safety. Several men will take them now and continue the journey without us.”

She nodded. “Will Marshall be waiting by the border?”

“He may be. Och we will be prepared to meet him if he is.”

James handed her a bowl of stew. It smelled delicious and her stomach rumbled. It tasted nothing akin to anything she’d ever eaten. “This is tasty.”

Colm guffawed and leaned toward her. “’Tis Sean’s skill. Aye, he cooks as well as he rules his lands. I deem he should give up his lairdship and take to the kitchens when he returns home.”

Sean must not have liked Colm’s jest, for he tossed a rock at him.

Emlyn returned her attention to their laird. “I will not ride further in that carriage.”

“I agree. We’ve a horse for you. You do know how to ride?”

She raised her brows at his question. “Of course.” Emlyn hadn’t meant to sound offended, but her outrage came out before she stopped herself. They knew not her skill or the fact that she’d been training at arms since she could walk.

James remained silent and seemed to be brooding. Emlyn refrained from speaking to him, because she didn’t want to incite his ire, as much as she’d already had.

“Best get anything you want from the trunks. You shan’t have access to them until you reach Gunn land.”

“I want nothing from them. Burn the trunks for all I care. I only have need of my two satchels.” She looked at Colm. “The one you have and the one that is still inside the carriage. Please be sure to get it.”

Kenneth stood. “I’ll retrieve it for you. Why do you not wish for your belongings?”

Emlyn pressed her lips together before answering. It was a simple question with a complicated answer. Instead of explaining, she said, “I have no need of such objects.”

“James, come with me.” Kenneth waited for him to stand and they set off.

She finished eating her fare and kept quiet. But with the stares from Grey, Sean, Colm, and Duff, an unsettling aura came over her.

Duff, the burly guardsman, crawled to sit next to her. Emlyn thought to move to give him room on her tartan, but he sat on the prickly needles from the pines above.

“You bested our James. I am astounded.”

The man’s voice was as gruff as he was, and his tone heavy with a burr. Emlyn had to save face for James with his comrades. Obviously he’d taken a bit of grief from them about her victory on the field.

“I vow he let me win. He realized I was a woman and that was the only reason he submitted.”

Sean laughed. “Aye, that’s the only reason any of us would submit.”

“James was much more prolific than I with the sword. I hope to learn some skill from you and hope that you allow me to train with you.” Emlyn could’ve snickered under her breath, but she resisted. Men were so easy to thwart. She verily gave James his balls back.

“I would be honored to test the sword with you, milady,” Duff said.

“I too,” Sean said.

“Not I,” Colm said. “I will never take a sword against a woman.”

Emlyn glowered, for he was one that she would not so easily win to her favor.

*****

James wasn’t sure if he was beguiled or bewildered by her. He walked next to Kenneth, unsure why he wanted him along. They reached the cart that held the four trunks Emlyn’s mother had boasted held treasure. The only treasure James considered they had on this journey was Emlyn herself. Nothing in the trunks was as worthy, but his curiosity was piqued, as was Kenneth’s.

“What do you deem is inside? Surely she wouldn’t have sent a fortune with the lass. I don’t think the queen held regard for her daughter.”

“Let us see, shall we?” James pulled the trunk from the top and set it upon the ground. He opened it and rummaged through it. “There is only garments, gowns, and womanly things.” He pulled an ornate comb from within and looked at it. The comb was an utterly feminine object.

Kenneth tugged on the next trunk and brought it down. “All there is, is fabrics, furs, and trinkets in this one. There’s a few jewels, but not worth a fortune.”

James peered inside. “They’re the gifts she received at her farewell feast.” The next two trunks held more garments, the gowns more elaborate. The fabric appeared lavish, for the gowns were made for a princess.

He chuckled to himself and found humor in her mother’s belief at what she considered a fortune. “Her daughter considers the items worthless. And yet, her satchel holds weapons and mail. Emlyn has an odd sense at what is valuable for a woman.”

Kenneth scratched the whiskers on the side of his face. “Och it makes me like the lass more.” He reached inside the carriage and pulled out the other satchel.

James reached for it and was hesitant to look inside. “I feel badly for prying through her things.”

“Best we know what we’re dealing with. Give it to me and ally yourself of the guilt.” Kenneth laughed when he tossed it to him. He opened it and whistled.

James’ eyebrows rose. “What? I can only image what she has in there.”

“I jest. There’s nothing but a pair of breeches and a few tunics. Ah, och what is this?” He removed a leather sheath. “A dagger, a well-made one at that, and long enough to cause a grievous wound.”

James snatched it from his hand and tossed it back inside. “She values her weapons more than what most ladies covet. Come, you carry the heavy one.” He handed him the satchel with the weapons. But before he closed the last trunk, he grabbed one of the gowns and a few pieces of jewelry from it, and added it to the satchel he held. He didn’t know why he did so, but there came a time when every woman needed to dress accordingly, even if she had no other interest beyond weapons.

“Angus, lad, ensure all these trunks are taken to our keep when you arrive.”

The lad bobbed his head. “Aye, James. What of the carriage?”

James looked at Kenneth before answering. “Do as she said, burn it. Use the wood to keep yourself warm on the journey home, lad.”

Angus grinned and thanked him.

He and Kenneth returned to their camp. Beneath the high pines, little light shown from the moon. Only the dimness of the fire’s embers afforded their way.

James saw that Emlyn had lain upon his tartan. He set  her satchel on the ground, next to the one that Kenneth carried. He went to his horse and pulled another tartan from his bag, along with the arrow he hadn’t finished whittling. Once he settled, he continued to pry the bark away and used the dagger Sean had given him to slice small slivers of wood from it, smoothing it as he went.