CHAPTERTWELVE
“Duncan. Duncan.”
Duncan woke with a start. Cora’s voice still echoed in his head, and in the strange place between slumber and waking, he imagined for a second, that it was she who lay wrapped in his arms beside him. She had been with him in his dream again, always a little way ahead of him and slightly out of reach. Across a dark glen with mist at their feet, he had chased her, calling after her, but never catching her. Her soft laugh had trickled to him as she had glanced back. Her long, wavy blond hair bouncing down her back as she went.
He remembered the first time he had seen those beautiful locks of hair. It was at a fair held in Ganavan, an area northwest of Oban. Invited by a local laird, Duncan wasaccompanied byKeir,their mother and many from the castle. Cora had been part of a troupe performing a Ceilidh dance on a specially erected wooden platform. Her bright smile stood out from the crowd. Duncan knew in his heart at that moment that woman would be his wife. He was never able to explain how he knew. It was just a gut feeling that it would be so.
When he had found her later, she had no notion of who he was. Instead of telling her, he remained anonymous for a while, allowing her to believe he was one of the castle servants.
“Ye dance very well,” Duncan said, catching her a little off guard.
She had her back to him, hanging up her shoes near a tent where the other women of the group had gathered. Spinning around in surprise, he apologized. “Och, I’m sorry. I didnae mean tae scare ye.”
“It’d take more than the likes o’ ye to scare me,” she had bantered, a slight smile at the corner of her full lips.
“The likes o’ me?” he said overdramatically and pretending to look offended. “For all ye know, I might be the most important man around here.”
“Aye, and I’m Joan of Arc,” she smirked.
“Well, I must admit, ye’re looking brave and well for yer age,” he said without missing a beat. “Though I would’ve expected yer clothes tae be a little more singed.”
She threw her head back and laughed, a delightful musical sound that nearly tickled his ears. “Now I ken who ye are,” she said confidently.
“Dae ye indeed?”
‘Aye,” she continued, “ye must be the court jester in wherever it is ye come from.”
“Then let me spend the rest of this evening entertaining ye,” he replied smoothly.
With her giddiness waning, she looked at him with a more serious expression. After another long moment, she finally agreed to his request. They spent the rest of the evening enjoying all the entertainment the fair had to offer. They watched men shooting arrows, danced around a fire, and sang along with folk songs until the night was nearly over. It was only as they were saying their farewells, that Duncan’s real identity was discovered, and it was not he who disclosed it.
“My Laird,” one of the servants of the castle called out as he approached him. “Yer mother, Lady MacDougall, has been looking tae speak with ye.”
“Thank ye, Fergal. Tell her I will be along shortly,” Duncan replied.
Turning back to Cora, he witnessed a stunned expression on her face. And as the realization of who he really was grew, she suddenly took a step back. “My God,” she breathed. “Ye were nae teasing me.”
Duncan shrugged coyly. “I wasnae,” he nodded. “And yet, I’m glad ye didnae ken, for now as I look upon ye, looking at me with that expression of fear, I dinnae think ye would’ve accepted my offer.”
She still looked wary and from what she had told him of her life, he knew why. She was the daughter of a simple baker in Ganavan. And though she worked from dawn ‘til dusk, she loved her life and everyone in it. Discovering Duncan was a laird and not a simple man from Oban, the illusion of his life that she likely had imagined, suddenly vanished before her very eyes.
“We are staying here in Ganavan for another week,” Duncan said. “Perhaps I ought tae have told ye who I was, Cora, but I didnae want tae ruin the moment. If ye’ll let me, maybe I can see ye again tomorrow.”
Cora neither answered nor agreed, and afraid he may never see her again, Duncan did not want to push her. “I’ll be at the bridge near the waterfall at noon. If ye decide ye’d like tae see me again, perhaps I’ll see ye there.”
Of course, she had met him. They had spent the next week seeing each other every day. By the end, they both knew they belonged together. With a tearful goodbye to her mother and father, she had traveled back to Oban with him and two months after that, they had been wed. Their lives had been like some kind of fairy story that one told children to get them to sleep. And, for a while, Cora and Duncan had lived that fairytale, until it had come to an abrupt and dreadful end.
Duncan was fully awake now and lay there listening to Elaine's peaceful breathing. Only this time, the rhythmic sound lulled him into reminiscing. His thoughts returned to last night and how everything had come to pass. When he first considered inviting ladies of pleasure to visit him at the castle, it was only to relieve the council's pressure. He didn't want to bed another woman while Cora and Eoin were still fresh in his mind. And yet, Elaine was different somehow. He had felt a connection and attraction to her since her arrival, though he had tried to fight it at first.
Last night, however, after all the excitement of the invasion, he had been unable to hold back any longer. Showing her his scars had not been a ploy. He had simply wanted her to see how truly scarred he was, though in truth, his deepest scars could not be seen by the naked eye. Nonetheless, her touch had sparked something. And, despite being only a small spark, a great fire had formed within him as a result. He'd wanted her, and with her obvious agreement, nothing could have stopped him.
There had only been one surprise, and even that had not held him back. When he had realized she was a virgin, he had tried to be more tender with her. Yet, how could that be? She lived in a brothel. She pleased men for a living. Had there been some trick she had used that only women of pleasure knew about? He physically shook his head, even though his thoughts had not been spoken.
She had been so exhausted after it all. A combination of what had occurred between them, coupled with the aftershock of the invasion, he had been unable to ask her about it. For she had fallen asleep nearly immediately after they had made love. The right time would come though.
Silently pushing himself from the bed, he gathered his clothes and dressed. The council would assemble that morning and a strategy would need to be put in place. Such an invasion could not go unanswered, for Duncan could not appear weak before the surrounding clans.
At that thought, he looked back at the sleeping woman in his bed, her hair a tangled mess, falling about her on the furs beneath. The concept of weakness brought him back to Elaine, as he was beginning to develop feelings for her. However, feelings for another person would only make him weaker. He didn't need another person in his life, someone who could be used against him, as his enemies had clearly done to his late wife and son.