‘Because in these last months of idleness here, I have grown bored with my lot. I have no purpose Will and for a man like me, that will not do. So I will soon be gone and so my friend, we must say goodbye.’
‘If you have to go then God’s speed to you but I will miss you. We have been comrades in arms these many years and I owe you my life many times over.’
‘Then when I am gone have a care for it and stay out of trouble.’ Murray took hold of him around the back of his head and pulled him into his chest in a rough bear hug. Then he strode away, wiping the blood from his nose, in the absolute certainty that Will would do no such thing.
Chapter Two
He was coming. Ilene could scarce believe it after all this time. She fussed with her dress before the hearth, her pacing and fidgeting driving Ailsa to distraction.
‘He’ll be here not quicker for you willing it my dear,’ said her mother in a soothing voice. ‘Sit down and do your needlework and the time will pass more quickly.’
Ilene threw herself petulantly into a chair by the fire and tried, but her mind was so distracted she stuck the needle clumsily into the pad of her finger, cursing loudly before she could stop herself. ‘Gods blood! Why must we wait here? Why can I not go out and meet him on the road like father?’
‘It is not the proper thing for a young lady to do, and mind your cursing Ilene. Best to bide your time here and greet him properly then you may engage him in tales of your exploits for as long as you like, when he is well rested,’ said Ailsa smiling at her daughter. She had so much of Duncan in her, patience had never been his strong suit either. The light in her eyes, the constant movement and lively demeanour were his too. ‘Now sit still Ilene you are driving me to distraction.’
‘Very well mother, I will be good and do my embroidery,’ retorted Ilene not meaning a word and glancing slyly out of the windows, squinting at the bright sun as it streamed in and turned her face pink.
A clatter of hooves outside had Ilene bristling with excitement and she sped off, leaving her mother behind. When she got below to the courtyard, there was a large party of men dismounting and she scanned their faces, smoothing down the front of her dress and tucking back a loose strand of her jet black hair which had escaped her bun. ‘Where is he?’ she thought, as disappointment overwhelmed her. ‘Why is he not here?’
And then she spotted her father riding in, and alongside him was a striking looking man, tall, broad-shouldered and muscular. He reminded her of one of the Viking marauders of long ago, who had once been the scourge of the Scottish coastline, murderous and merciless.
Dark blonde hair was tied back from a tanned and grubby face. Running down one side of it was a vicious scar, marring his otherwise fine features. Ilene could not tear her gaze away from it and frowned in distaste, as some long-buried memory stirred. The stranger must have seen her looking at him for he pulled up his horse right in front of her and stared boldly back, fixing her with a piercing look. How dare he stare so? What on earth was wrong with him? Tearing her eyes away, she looked past him and then rushed to her father’s horse. Stumbling a little in her haste, she grabbed her father’s bridle.
‘We had word that the Grants were coming? Is Aidan not with you?’
‘No, the Grants were delayed but I expect them by the end of the week.’
‘Why did they not come sooner,’ she wailed, as her heart sank and she struggled to hide her disappointment from her father’s keen eye.
‘Never mind that Ilene, we have an old friend back amongst us. Do you not recognise this fine young fellow beside me?’ said Duncan, pointing to the stranger at his side.
Ilene gave the man a quick glance. Yes, there was something familiar about him and she was struck by his eyes, a deep grey-blue, like the sky when a storm is coming. They did not waiver from her face nor did he turn away when she glared back. Why that hard frown? What fault was this man finding, to look at her like that? There was something disapproving, invasive, about his gaze, so she had to look away.
‘No father,’ she said in confusion.
‘Well, it has been a long time, and you were a wee bairn when he went away. Why ‘tis Murray, of course, returned to us, after all these years,’ he said gleefully. ‘Don’t you remember, Ilene, how you used to follow him around everywhere when you were a bairn?’
‘Oh…Murray…oh,’ she stammered, like a fool. Forcing herself to turn back to him, Ilene tried to gather her wits. ‘Forgive me, I did not know you, it was so long ago.’
The brief smile he gave her instantly changed a harsh face to an almost handsome one. Just for a second, though her memory was hazy, she could see in that smile the shadow of the Murray known long ago.
‘It is a great joy to see you again Ilene,’ he said, in a voice deep and rough, which made Ilene think of cold, dark places. ‘I always thought of you all these years as a child and now, what a shock it is to see you grown into a woman…and into such a beauty at that.’
Ilene turned away from his compliment, her cheeks burning. ‘I must go and tell mother you are here,’ she said to her father in a rush and sped off, mind tumbling in confusion and embarrassment.
‘Well, this is a bad start,’ said Duncan laughing.
‘No matter, it’s been a long time,’ replied Murray casually, shrugging his shoulders, as if Ilene’s snub was nothing to him. He put a hand to his face, feeling the texture of his skin turn from smooth to rough where the scar ran down it, like a red river, from temple to jawline, narrowly missing his eye. He was self-conscious about it, and today, more than ever, he wished it was not there. ‘I am much changed and I did not expect her to recognise me, and it must be a shock for her to see me again.’
‘She has grown into a fine looking lass has she not,’ beamed Duncan.
‘Aye, she has that.’ Murray’s head was still reeling at Ilene’s dark beauty, which was completely at odds with his memory of her as a fat little girl. In some ways he resented this miraculous change, preferring that she remain as he remembered, still the child he had been so fond of. Instead, he had been confronted with a captivating young woman, the sight of whom made his heart beat faster within his breast and the pull of desire to stir in his guts.
It cut him that she hadn’t remembered him, but then why should she? Ilene was a Laird’s daughter, and him a common sell-sword, a thug, a brute and a disfigured one at that. It seemed that in his long absence things had changed a great deal at Cailleach, how foolish of him to have thought they wouldn’t.
‘Who is Aidan?’ he asked casually.
‘That would be Aidan Grant, son of Laird Lachlan Grant, who is a sometimes ally of ours, a good family. The son is pretty enough, so Ilene has a childish fondness for him I think, and you know how girls are,’ said Duncan, with the nonchalance of a father who has no idea his daughter has grown into a woman. ‘Now come, I promised to feed you when we arrived and I have a raging hunger.’