“It sounds as if you would like Janice to be the laird,” he observed.
“I would,” Bernard answered, nodding. “She would make a much better one than either of those two wastrels.”
“She sounds like quite a woman,” Bernard remarked, sipping his ale. “But even if she could be a laird, we would not want her to be managing the estate because such a strong personality would not be easily influenced.”
“True,” William sighed. “What we need is a weak-natured simpleton.”
“Which, according to your description, is exactly what we are going to get.” Bernard grinned. “No matter which of them is chosen.”
* * *
Now, as he looked into the darkening sky, Bernard found himself fidgeting with impatience. It had been a long time since his last conquest, a young chambermaid who worked in the castle. They had been watching each other for months, but when their opportunity finally came, it had not met his expectations, and he had spurned her other advances, much to his shame. It had caused such bad feelings between them that she had found employment elsewhere, making him feel wretched and guilty.
However, if he were going to be in Howdenbrae Castle for no more than a week, Bernard hoped that he could pursue a dalliance with a like-minded young lady with no commitment on either side. The very thought of it made him throb and caused his shaft to stiffen.
He looked across at William, who was also lying down, looking up at the sky with a slight smile on his face. In appearance, he and his friend were like night and day. William and his father were typically Scottish in height and build.
Bernard, in contrast, was exceptionally tall. In a country where most people were short, he stood at two inches above six feet, a height which made most people stare at him in amazement. Also, with his dark wavy hair and hazel eyes, he did not resemble the rest of his fellow Scots, making him a real object of curiosity.
William turned sideways and met Bernard’s gaze. “Why are you looking so thoughtful?” he asked. “What evil notions are going through your head?”
Bernard sat up and put his head on his knees. “I was just thinking about Agnes Boyle,” he replied sadly. “I did not treat her well.”
William grimaced and shook his head. “Bad business, my friend,” he remarked. “Put it out of your mind and resolve not to let it happen again.”
“Do you think there will be any willing young ladies there?” Bernard asked thoughtfully.
William grinned. “I was just wondering the same thing,” he mused. Then he grinned. “We can only wait and hope, my friend. Go to sleep.”
* * *
The next day was damp and misty—not a day conducive to riding and certainly not for long distances. The little party still had a number of miles to go, and although the day was still dry, the mud from the rain of a few days before still clung to the earth. Although it had crusted over, looking deceptively dry, it was as slippery as oil underneath. The pack horses’ hooves slid from underneath them, and they had to stop many times to pick up baggage that had fallen from their backs.
“This is a nightmare,” William said, massaging his forehead. A headache was beginning just behind his eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep.
His father looked at him, concerned. Laird Malcolm Ballantine had only one son, and he was glad of it at this moment. He would not have wanted to be in the same quandary as Laird Stewart, not being able to choose between two of them.
Now he looked at William in concern. “All right, Son?” he asked, frowning.
“I am fine, Father,” William replied with a strained smile. “I have been in the saddle for too long, that is all. Are we close now?”
“Let me go ahead and see if I can find anything that might help us,” Bernard offered. “We cannot be too far away now.” With that, he urged his mount into a canter and rode on ahead, soon climbing to the top of a small hill in front of them.
From there, he looked over a shallow valley dotted with grazing sheep and the occasional clump of gorse bushes, over which the road curved into the distance until it reached a building on the horizon. He could not see it in detail yet, but it was clearly a massive structure, with many pointed towers reaching into the sky. Even though the mist hid its full imposing height, it was impressive. This, it seemed, was Howdenbrae Castle.
Bernard was about to turn his horse away and ride back the way he had come to break the good news, but presently he saw a rider coming toward him, moving at great speed. They were still at some distance, but he could tell that it was a woman by the fact that she was riding sidesaddle. He reflected that she must be an expert horsewoman to be able to ride at such speed with such a cumbersome and unwieldy seat.
After a few moments, Bernard realized that she was making straight for him, and he waited until she was a few hundred yards away before advancing to meet her.
My God, she’s beautiful,he thought, as she drew up beside him and a pair of large, silver-grey eyes looked into his. Her hair, wavy and dark, was tangled about her wind-flushed face, but he could see that it fell all the way down her back to an extremely slender waist. His body stirred at once.
“Who are you?” she demanded, frowning.
It was not a polite request, but he bowed in the saddle nevertheless. “Bernard Taggart of Clan Ballantine, mistress,” he replied. “Might I ask your name?”
“I am Janice Stewart,” she replied proudly. “Mistress of Howdenbrae Castle.”
“Ah!” Bernard smiled. “Are you the sister of Andrew and Alasdair Stewart?”