Susan King - [Celtic Nights 01] (23 page)

"I must get help for you," she said urgently, seeing fresh blood on his arm. "Stay here, Ruari, please. I will be back."

"Alainna, wait. You may be safe with king's men, but I am not. I am a broken man, hunted and outlawed. If they learn that I am alive and here in Scotland, I will be hanged by my feet without mercy."

"The king's knights look for the rebels, but I told them you were dead. There is no reason to tell them who you are if you come to Kinlochan."

"I cannot take that risk for you, or myself, or my own kin. If they discover me, they will kill me, and bring harm to any who are close to me."

"Ruari, what is it? What are you doing here so secretly?"

He shook his head. "I am a MacWilliam, and that is enough. We claim the throne through a closer blood tie to King Duncan and the ancient Pictish kings of Scotland than King William boasts. We believe that my young cousin Guthred is in direct line for the throne. He is in Ireland now, but will never give up his quest for the crown. I came here to help him. I cannot reveal myself, or my kinsmen's cause, to Normans. But I need your help, girl. I must have food, and a place to hide until I heal."

Alainna nodded and turned anxiously, wondering what to do. "Ah! The island out on the loch! There is an old stone ruin where you can hide, and evergreen trees to keep you sheltered. I will take you there in the boat, and bring you food. You can have a good hearthfire there. My kinsmen will help, too, once they learn—"

"No one must know. Your kinsmen do not favor my cause."

"They do not, and never have. But they favor you for a great warrior. And Esa is their kinswoman. They will not betray her husband, no matter what he has done."

"No one must know," he repeated sternly.

"Giric MacGregor knows. He saw you in the forest too. Let me tell him. He will help." She saw Ruari sigh and relent. "And I must tell Esa. Her heart is breaking for love of you."

"Tell them," he said, his voice gruff. "No one else."

"I will bring Esa to you."

He looked away, nodded. "I do want to see her."

Alainna shifted her shoulder under his arm to offer her support as they walked out of the woods and made their way slowly toward the loch, Finan beside them. As they passed the great stone, Ruari urged her toward it.

"Swear by the Maiden," Ruari said. "Swear to me that no one else but Esa and Giric will learn that I am here."

"Will you not trust me?" she asked.

"I trust you," he said. "But I know you care so much for an old kinsman that you might try to help him too eagerly. Swear by the Maiden that you will keep my secret."

Alainna hesitated, unsure how she could hide this from her kinsfolk—or from the knight who would soon be her husband.

"Swear it, dear girl," he said kindly. "Or I will go back into the forest, and you will not see me again."

She sighed and placed her hand on the cold granite. "I will guard your secret, Ruari
Mor,
and do my best to keep you safe. By earth and sky, by stone and water, by the Maiden herself, I swear it."

"Done," Ruari said. They moved toward the shore, where a small boat rocked in the long reeds. "We shall make Giric and Esa swear the same. Though Esa will not like that at all, if I know my wife," he added wryly.

"Worry more about her temper after she learns you are alive and have not sent her word," she said. Ruari chuckled.

Once Ruari and Finan were crouched in the bottom of the round, hide-covered boat, Alainna took up the triangular oar and rowed cautiously toward the island, a dark, misted mass at the center of the loch.

While she rowed, and when they landed on the stony shore, she was grateful that they stayed hidden from view in the deep white folds of the fog.

Chapter 14

"Bastien, there you are," Hugo said as Sebastien entered the hall. "The Scots want us to hunt with them today. But they want us to wear blankets like they do," he added disdainfully. He pointed to the folded plaids that Una and Morag held in their arms. Una smiled, her small head trembling, and offered one of the plaids to Hugo, who shook his head.

"I will not go bare-assed and bare-legged like these savages," said Etienne de Barre, standing beside Hugo.

Sebastien frowned, looking around him as he removed his sword belt and sheathed weapon, which he had used during his dawn exercise, and laid them aside. He had expected to find his men just rising from their pallets and Una stirring a kettle of porridge over the fire.

Instead, he had entered a place filled with commotion. His men stood about with several elderly Highland men and women. Some of them, having no language in common, argued loudly, with wide gestures. Bright plaids were strewn across the floor. Niall and Lulach, along with their wives, Mairi and Beitris, tried to coax some of the knights, who shook their heads in refusal.

Sebastien looked at Robert, who stood nearby. "What is going on here?"

"Giric came in while you were gone and said the hunt would be today," Robert answered. "Then the elders came in, carrying these tartaned garments that the Scots wear."

"Those are blankets," Hugo said. "I will not dress like a barbarian. I am a Norman knight."

"Why should we give up good serge and fine linen for burlap and horse blankets?" Etienne grumbled beside him.

"Highlanders wear neither burlap nor horse blankets."

A smooth feminine voice spoke in English behind them. Sebastien turned to see Alainna approach. "My kinfolk wish your knights to wear our Highland dress," she told Sebastien. "It is Highland tradition for guests to wear the
breacan an fheilidh,
the belted plaid, on a hunt."

"It is not a Norman tradition," Etienne said stubbornly.

"The plaid is an ancient and honorable garment among the Highland people," Alainna said. "Our men are proud to wear it."

"If it is the custom of our hosts," Sebastien said, "we do not wish to insult them."

"Then you put it on," Hugo said. He folded his arms.

"Oui,"
Etienne said. "You show us how the blanket is worn. You are soon to be one of them, after all, when this marriage is done." He grinned and elbowed Walter of Coldstream, the knight beside him.

"Ho, Bastien will wear it!" Walter hooted.

"Better him than us," William, another knight, remarked.

"The king's own honor guard will not go naked as a savage," Richard de Wicke said. "I wager he will not."

"I will wager against you," Eitenne said.

"I will, too. We back a brave man," Hugo boasted.

Sebastien glanced at his grinning men. He saw Alainna's eyes sparkle, too.

"We will be glad to show Sir Sebastien how the
breacan
is worn," she said. "You must remove your tunic, sirrah." Someone guffawed. Alainna's cheeks bloomed pink.

Sebastien slid them all a sour glance. He sat on a bench and pulled off his boots and hose while his men murmured and chuckled. Then he stood.

With a decisive motion, he stripped off his long brown tunic and shirt, pulling them over his head and dropping them on the floor. His linen
braies,
rolled at the waist over a drawstring and slung low on his flat abdomen, left most of his long legs bare. He felt a chill on his skin, still coated with sweat from his sword practice.

Some of his men hooted, and others grinned or laughed outright at the bold manner in which he approached their dare. Sebastien offered them all a little mocking bow, and his own grin grew wide. Next, he bowed to Alainna and her kinswomen. Una grinned, while Morag and Beitris giggled.

Alainna, he saw, no longer smiled, her eyes wide, her cheeks pink.

Sebastien turned to Niall and Lulach. "I would be proud to wear the plaid," he said in Gaelic, "if you will show me the proper way to put it on."

Niall gestured with his single hand toward a plaid spread on the floor. "The
breacan
is folded again and again," he explained, "and a belt is under it, see. Lie down on the floor, and we will show you what to do."

"Lie on the floor?" Sebastien repeated incredulously.

Lulach nodded and Sebastien settled into position. Niall crouched beside him.

"The
breacan
serves as a garment as well as a sleeping blanket when we are out in the hills," he said. "It is why we lay it out like this, to dress quickly if we are caught by an ambush, or need to leap up to chase after a herd of deer, or stolen cattle, eh? Here, wrap this side over the front of you, so. Now grab the ends of the belt, and fasten it around your waist. Like that, good."

Within moments, Sebastien stood, the plaid securely draped and belted around his waist, the excess billowed behind him. His legs were bare from the knees down. Lulach tucked some excess into the leather belt, then pulled the pouched section up the back to cross one part over the left shoulder and another part beneath his right arm, joining them at the left shoulder with a straight iron pin. He showed Sebastien the large, useful pocket formed by the drape, and stood back.

Sebastien strode in a slow circle, testing the fit. The knights grinned and applauded, some of them still hooting and laughing.

"'Tis quite comfortable," he announced to his men. "And the wool is warm and lightweight. It is a good garment." He took a long step, then another, appreciating the freedom the shorter length and generous folds gave his legs. He was used to a long tunic that, unless split, could hinder a fast stride.

"It is more suited to climbing hills than our own tunics are," he said, circling. "And 'tis practical, for it can be used for a pallet and blanket, and yet one can be dressed within moments. I like it."

He inclined his head to Niall and Lulach, then to Alainna. "I like it well," he announced in Gaelic.

"You will be cold with no breeches!" Hugo said.

"So will you," Sebastien answered. "We will all wear the
breacan
for the hunt to honor our hosts' customs."

The knights, with some muttering, began to take off their tunics and surcoats, although each one retained shirt, boots, hose, and
braies.
The elderly men and women came forward to help them put on the plaids.

As Sebastien walked the length of the room, he saw Alainna walk toward him, carrying a garment over her arm. He waited for her in the shadows of a raftered side aisle.

"Sebastien
Ban,"
she said. He liked the mellifluent sound of the affectionate name Una already used for him. "Thank you for your courtesy. My kin are well pleased."

"'Twas naught, my lady," he murmured. He glanced at the Highlanders, who laughed, chatted, and gesticulated merrily when language failed while they helped the knights. "And you? Are you pleased?" he asked.

"I am." Her gaze strayed to his bare chest, and rose to his face. Her skin was so translucent that Sebastien could see the heat in her rise in a pink blush. "Here," she said, thrusting out her arm, draped with a garment. "I want to give you this. It is the
leine,
the linen shirt that our men wear with the belted plaid." She held it up.

Sebastien fingered the long, generously cut buff-colored shirt, its cloth sturdy but soft. "My thanks," he said. "I confess I was wary of hunting without a shirt in cold weather," he added wryly.

She chuckled, her fingers deft as she unpinned the upper part of his plaid and freed the billow. As she swept it behind him, her hands smoothed over his bare shoulder.

Sebastien pulled on the shirt, and Alainna leaned close to tuck it in at his waist. Her hair softly brushed his chest, wafting a trace of lavender scent. Her hands were warm and he closed his eyes briefly to savor the intimacy that enveloped them.

Alainna looked up, her cheeks blushed. "You must pull the shirt down," she said, pointing to the skirt of the plaid.

"Ah." He reached underneath to tug it into place.

She adjusted the neck of the shirt and repinned the plaid.

Her hands gentled over his shoulders and flattened on his chest. Sebastien watched her, entranced, feeling a languid tingle wherever she touched him. His heart pounded and his body deepened the innocent contact into desire.

The urge to touch her, to pull her close was strong. He wanted to kiss her deep and full, and wanted far more than that to satisfy the hard drumming of his heart and the warm, heavy surge in his groin.