Duchess of Mine (16 page)

“Ow.” Then he quietly laughed. “I suppose I
deserved that.”

She pursed her lips, but liked that he had
called her not manly, and liked even more his focus on her breasts.
Any other man, she would have thought indecent. But she wanted him
to notice her, especially the fact that she was a woman. Because
she felt so, well, feminine to his masculinity. So then she turned
her head and reached up, kissing him on the cheek quickly.

Settling back against him, she felt him
chuckling more than heard anything, and decided to keep the
conversation going. “I like Galileo. In my time, he’s called the
father of science. He charted the stars better than any other
astrologer before him.”

“I wouldn’ say that.”

She turned again, their faces so close. “You
wouldn’t?”

“Nay, before Christianity took hold of
Scotland the religions here were based on the stars and their
movements. There’s still much of the old ways about us, the way we
do things.” She settled against him again, one of his arms reaching
around her, twining their fingers together on her lap. “The elders
told of how difficult it was to convert to Catholicism. Perhaps
that is why so many Highlanders chose Protestantism. Mayhap they
thought it more akin to our old ways. Who kens.”

“What do you think? Are you Protestant?”

He didn’t answer for a beat, but when he
finally did, his voice was lower and bounced through her ribs. “I
suppose I lost faith in anything a long time ago. I wouldn’t call
myself a man who believed in much.”

She turned once more to face him. “Faithless?
I wouldn’t describe you like that.”

He swallowed and looked deeply into her eyes.
“Perhaps I’m changin’.” He shrugged against her. “Mayhap I have a
wee bit more faith than I once did.”

The day after that conversation Fleur was
with Helen as they sat in surprisingly comfortable chairs at a
corner of Durness’s Greens, which she had discovered was the name
of the center of town, where communal sheep and cattle sometimes
grazed, but in the past week and a-half had been converted into
Duncan and Rory’s training ground. The sun shone brightly in
dandelion yellow, making everything around them seem colorful,
cheerful, as if the white washed taverns and small houses that
surrounded them were about to become animated and dance like in a
Disney movie.

Helen and Fleur sat in the shade of the
nearby Green Cat tavern. Fleur couldn’t seem to stop herself from
remembering the way Duncan had looked at her last night. The coals
from the fire were a bright orange, and his eyes, although a dark
forest green, also radiated with sparks of orange that made her
heart thud against her ribs. She wasn’t too sure how they could
part so amiably when their fire would burn out, the chill from the
air settled in, yet their words—no, it was the unspoken
ones—stretched inside her, making her desire Duncan in a way she’d
never felt before.

She looked over at Duncan’s mother, worrying,
like so many times previously, why she was here. The muses had said
something about this
glimpse
not being just for her. Helen’s
lids slipped closed as her head leaned over to a pillow Fleur had
propped for her on the back of the chair. The fact was other than
Helen being a bit pale, maybe a bit thinner than she might have
been otherwise, Duncan’s mother did not appear very sick. Granted,
Fleur could smell the cancer, which was never a good sign, but she
seemed to have boundless energy. Well, except for now.

Watching Helen doze off, Fleur remembered Na
doing the same in the hospital and the sense of impending doom.
Maybe that was because Na had been in a hospital, and already her
feet had been removed as well as two fingers. Her vision had hardly
been beyond a few feet, and Fleur felt like such a failure for not
knowing how bad it had gotten before she’d come to the Pine Ridge
Hospital. Na had been so little and her hair had grown so white,
but she had smiled and hugged Fleur as if her weakened muscles
didn’t restrain her.

It had felt so good to be held like that, and
as Fleur studied Helen’s sleeping form, she wished she could hold
her. In the last few days, she’d grown to love Helen. She and Helen
spent hours together, watching Duncan train his troops. Helen had a
special tea that she’d taught Fleur to make for her. It smelled a
bit too much like a rancid tree, so she’d declined when Helen had
offered her sips.

While helping bake bread on an open fire,
Helen had told her of Duncan’s father, her first and only love.
They’d met when they were both sixteen, and had waited until she
was nineteen before they’d wed. Then Helen had laughed and admitted
it was because she was pregnant with Duncan.

“Oh, we’d had quite a time trying to make
that lad, we did.” Helen had leaned in close, conspiratorially.
“We’d practiced tryin’ to make him for more than a year before we
had to wed.”

Fleur had blushed and shook her head. “Am I
really supposed to know this?”

Helen held her hand. “’Tis so nice to share.
‘Tis like ye are my daughter. Nay, ‘tis like ye are my friend. I
suppose that’s what a daughter in-law is like, hmm?”

The flames in Fleur’s cheeks intensified
while thinking of her secretive meetings with Helen’s son.

Later, Helen had spoken softly about her time
married with Albert.

“First, I married the man, thinkin’ him a
fine provider. That he’d give Duncan and me a fine home, and we’d
never worry about food ever again.” Helen had sipped her tea, which
usually seemed to give her more energy, but had made her seem
glassy-eyed and nostalgic that day. Her face had dropped into
despair when she’d turned to Fleur. “He wasn’ neither. The home ye
see now, Fleur, is all Duncan’s doing. He bought every single
stone, even the ground the house sits upon. For Albert only rented
it. Duncan paid for men to build me this huge house. I think to
tell me once and for all, he was done with Albert. Done with that
man. Made it so nothing resembled him, ye ken? Duncan
single-handedly made it so none of us remembered that I was married
to that mean man, or that he’d fathered Duncan’s half-brothers. But
even with all the finery Duncan gave to me, we all remember.” She
took a small sip of her tea, wincing upon tasting it, but gulped
down more within a few seconds’ time. “Albert never hit us. But he
did with words. He said the most unkind things anyone could ever
say. At first, because Albert was so pleasant in public, I thought
I was imaginin’ the harshness. But those words, the hits those
words made, they festered. Unlike a bruise or a cut, the injuries
Albert made seemed to last an eternity. And I was too weak to stop
any of it.”

Fleur held Helen’s hand, trying to shake her
head. But Helen would have none of it.

“’Tis true, beautiful Lady Fleur. I can’ lie
to you. I ken I should have left that man, but I—I didn’. I was too
scared by then. Albert had told me what a common wench I was, how
no man would ever want me and all my sons. I ken he was a liar. I
ken he was wrong. But I was too weak to prove it to him.”

Fleur clutched at Helen’s hand then. “I
understand that. I do. I understand that kind of fear. How it’s
paralyzing. You can’t move.”

“Aye,” Helen said breathlessly. Then she
shuddered. “But for the sake of my lads, I should have done
something.”

Fleur shrugged. “Maybe, Helen, you did the
best you could.”

Tears formed in Helen’s eyes. “The Lord does
have mercy, for I’ve longed to hear that. Still, I’ll never forgive
myself for not doing better for my lads, especially my Duncan.”
Then Helen had clutched at Fleur fiercely. “My dear, Fleur, I don’
ken how to stop that kind of fear, but if it ever happens to you,
then shake it off, lass. Do whatever ye can to get rid of it. I
don’ regret anything but havin’ that fear and not doin’ what I
needed to do for myself and my sons. So shake off that fear, hear
me?”

Fleur had nodded.

Back in the Commons, Fleur shuddered as she
remembered Helen’s urgency.

Fleur glanced again at Duncan, showing a few
of the lads how to punch. Something about the man made her heart
lurch to a painful stop, then beat furiously fast a second later.
Her body smoldered when thinking of him and wishing each night he’d
lean in and kiss her. Maybe when Duncan started to teach the boys
wrestling, then she could teach the big guy a few moves of her
own.

She skimmed her hand over her cheek, trying
to calm her thoughts in front of Duncan’s sleeping mother. But it
was difficult. She was crushing on the man in a way she’d never
felt before. There was nothing linear about the process between her
and Duncan. It just was. And it scared the crap out of her.

But something else nagged at her currently.
Something was amiss. What it was, she had no clue.

She noticed Rory who was smiling at her.
Waving at him, his grin grew and he returned her wave, then turned
to explain how to use a sword. He seemed like such a nice guy, and,
boy, she hated to admit how his attention was flattering. But that
was merely her hungry ego liking his responsiveness. She knew it
and felt she should say something to him. But what? Then again,
maybe she was reading him wrong. Maybe he was just polite to what
he thought was a Native America ambassador. It was strange, but
while glancing at him, something seemed not right. No, it wasn’t
Rory who was wrong it was...what was it?

Something shifted. Now it felt as if she were
in the Willy Wonka movie. God, the community center in Porcupine
had played that over and over again, so Fleur had watched it, each
time a bit disgusted and yet fascinated. That’s what everything
felt like right now. The colors seemed to come out of an old
television—too bright and brassy. The sense of looming trouble
almost suffocated her.

Fleur glanced again at her sleeping
companion, then made sure she was breathing. After watching a loved
one die, it was hard to watch another’s chest and wonder the same
thoughts. “Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t
die.”

Helen’s chest moved easily up and down in a
peaceful sway, making Fleur take a deep, relaxing breath of her
own.

She looked out to the boys, specifically to
Duncan and Rory. They had their backs to her and were now close
enough their elbows almost touched.

Before she could let herself think any
further, something pressed hard against her mouth, then something
else had her under her armpits and lifted her up and over the chair
she sat in. Hands. It was hands all over her. Big, too rough hands,
lugged her through an alley.

When she realized it was hands carrying her
away from Helen, her first thought had been how ridiculous it was
to be abducted.

To be abducted. To be abducted.

Her brain had snapped and tried everything it
could to turn from reality, but after the third time thinking it to
herself, she finally realized she was truly being kidnapped.

She thrashed and tried to scream. But the
hand over her mouth was too firm, and the hands holding her body
held her tighter, hurting her.

About seven men held her, transporting her
hurriedly through Durness. They were tight enough together that
they blocked the sun. Then they began to run. They had scarves
covering their noses and mouths. Their shirts were yellowed from
grime and dirt, and their kilts were worn and filthy. As much as
she saw stains, she was surprised they didn’t carry a strong odor.
In fact, almost all of them smelled of the outdoors, of heather,
and of smoke. She struggled again, especially as they jogged even
faster and the landscape changed from the small homes of Durness to
something greener and wild. God, they were taking her away from
Duncan!

Chapter 13

D
uncan had noticed when his mother
had fallen asleep. He’d noticed when Fleur’s chair was vacant but
had thought with his ma in dreamland, she had gone into a tavern to
get some water, for the day was a hot one. He’d been drinking water
from a leather pouch and flung it at Rory, noticing the man licking
his lips for the thousandth time.

Rory nodded his appreciation, and then called
the troops for a break to drink water from the Green Cat Tavern. He
gave Ewan a few coins to pay for the drinks, and Duncan appreciated
that Rory hadn’t expected the tavern owners to compensate for the
beverages, even if it was merely water. Feeling a sense of pride
come over him, he couldn’t help but smile at Rory as the troops
slowly trudged off the Greens.

“What?” Rory asked, almost defensively as he
finished gulping down the rest of Duncan’s water.

That made Duncan smile even broader. “Ye’re a
good leader, Captain. Good to the men. Good to the people here at
Durness.”

Rory squinted his eyes, but slowly smiled
himself. “Ye better stop with the compliments. If I didn’t know any
better, I’d think ye were almost too fond of me.”

Duncan found himself chuckling, utterly
surprising the both of them. “Well, ye are a bonny lad, that’s for
sure, but I’m not
that
fond of ye.”

Rory smiled, but then tried to quell his
grin. “I’m holdin’ ye to that, Duncan. For I’ve well heard how men,
when alone on a long military mission, get a wee bit too fond of
each other.”

“Ah, sir, I hate to break this to ye, but ye
wouldn’t be my first choice ifn we were alone for a long time. Ewan
bakes a hell of a bread.”

“I’m heart broken. I am,” Rory said, then
smiled brightly at Duncan. “So then we’ll probably have to fight
over Ewan.”

As much as Duncan was beginning to enjoy the
humor of the conversation, something about Rory’s last sentence
sucked away all the frivolity. Still, he plastered a grin into
place and chuckled as good naturedly as he could. Rory’s own smile
had dimmed, but then vanished as he peered over to Duncan’s ma.