The Draig's Wife Read online

  The old man on horseback coughed and stared at her. “One simply has to look upon her to see she is your daughter. The same tall, lean build and those pale blue eyes I have never seen on another living soul. Add the same dark hair, and I would ken her as yours anywhere. My heart is glad for you, Cortland.”

  Though she didn’t like Glenda, Malcolm was a different story. His eyes were kind and reminded Emma of her grandfather.

  “Leave the bodies, Cortland,” Declan began. “I will send some men to see to them.”

  “Out of respect for my daughter, I would see her companion buried myself.” Cortland denied what had sounded like an order.

  Declan moved to stand in front of Cortland. “As you wish, old man.” His gaze again swept over her, and again he looked at her like she was beneath him, which bothered her more than she would ever admit. What’s wrong with me that he would loathe me on sight . . . better yet, what’s wrong with him? There was no trace of warmth in his voice. “Welcome back to Draig lands, Esmeralda. For your father’s sake, I will welcome you in the hall.”

  “Hopefully she will dress better than a stable lad when in your fine hall, Laird Declan.” Glenda mocked, and only Flora giggled at the rude statement.

  Emma brushed imaginary dirt from her black belt. While not necessarily appropriate wear for anywhere but the dojo, the black wrap jacket and loose-fitting pants were hardly scandalous, unlike the plunging neckline of Glenda’s dress that left little to the imagination. If it were a dream, Emma wished her subconscious had given her a gown too. Scrap that idea. She wanted the cool leather pants Cortland and Declan wore—clothing made for a battle.

  “We will ride in shortly. There is no need to wait.” Cortland addressed the man who had remained silent. The word guard tickled her thoughts. The man offered a quick nod to Cortland, one to her, and stayed at the rear of the party.

  As quickly as they had come, they were gone. Emma studied Cortland and the figures riding away down a dirt path. The air was still and quiet. Battered swords littered the ground. While she was no expert, the weapons looked poorly made.

  The wind that struck her face seemed too cold and damp for the deluded fantasy of a hallucination. Emma had never run from a challenge before and quickly decided she wasn’t about to start. Reality has taken a left turn at insanity, and I have to find out what that means even if I won’t like the answer. Emma heard her voice tremble with her question. “Tell me what I need to know.”

  “My people have many tales of those who traveled from your mythical land. All have come from times yet to happen.” Cortland paused and added more detail to his impossible explanation. “You are in the highlands in the year 1420.”

  Emma felt her legs wobble just before her body fell to the ground, her behind stinging from the impact. “If this is some sick joke—”

  “I speak only the truth and always will where you and I are concerned.”

  “Yet you lied to your friends. You said I was your daughter,” Emma challenged.

  Crouching beside her, Cortland’s voice sounded warm and reassuring. “All ken I ride in with my daughter. A few of my men rode in ahead of me to spread the news.” He looked at the ground. “I had no wish for the men I train to see me buy my daughter from an alehouse.”

  Emma cringed at the story he told her—how his wife and daughter had left a decade earlier. Her cheeks burned with the notion of what Esmeralda did to earn a living and that she had no wish for a better life.

  “I have been a poor excuse for a father.” Cortland made it seem as if that were the only fact that mattered.

  “If you were so terrible, you wouldn’t have tried to find her for so long.” His story of searching for his child touched her greatly. If only my father had ever attempted to find me.

  “I had hoped to make peace with her and failed. But now I can give you a name and a home, which you have earned in battle. It has always been the duty of the clan to offer such to those who became trapped in our time. It would give me great pleasure to claim you as my own.” Cortland’s offer came complete with a hopeful smile.

  “But it would be a lie,” Emma countered.

  “One necessary to keep you safe. While our clan accepts these tales as tales, a living traveler may be met with less-than-welcoming arms.” Cortland held out his hand and helped Emma again to her feet. “We look enough alike, and none will question when we have much to learn of the other. From what I knew of the woman my daughter became, I prefer you already.”

  Back in her kitchen, Emma had made a plan for her future; though it was a soft plan. “But what will I do here? Is there a way for me to go back?” The fact that she had asked for a way home as a secondary choice did not escape her notice. My favorite fantasy has just come to life. Someone wants to be my dad.

  “No tales speak of going back. I’m sorry you lost your lands. For your peace of mind, I hold lands of my own. You will stand as my heir. Though while I draw breath, I will stand as your father in all ways. Dinna fash, we will find tasks suited for you to fill your days.”

  “I train people to fight.” Emma hoped that was something he understood.

  “As the one who trains the warriors, I respect your life’s calling. While I doubt I can set you loose on the training fields, we can train and learn from each other. Never have I seen any defeat an armed man with a stick.”

  Beaming at the praise, Emma thought over her situation that defied explanation. I trampled my grandmother’s favorite heirloom tomatoes, stumbled through a door that led to 1420’s Scotland, fought in a life or death battle, and my only option is to trust the man before me, a man with gentle eyes and a warm smile. How quickly I’ve tossed aside the fact he killed four men.

  “Is this a dream, Cortland? Things like this don’t happen to people.” Emma hoped she would wake in her bed even if she knew deep inside she wouldn’t.

  Soft but sad laughter answered her first. “‘Tis the truth, Emma. I never thought myself to find my daughter and then lose her to common thieves. Add that I now stand on the path with a traveler from legend rattles my thoughts.”

  Emma frowned at his reply. I am hardly legendary. “Do you make a habit of killing people?” While he seemed to be on the right side of the whole battle, a vigilante was the last person with whom she needed to ally herself.

  Cortland glanced down at his bloodied sword. “I can see your mistrust. Do your people nay defend those they hold dear?”

  “We call the police.” When he questioned her word, she clarified. “Those who are supposed to deal with this kind of thing.” Even that made little sense to her. She doubted that Phoenix’s finest would know what to do with horse thieves who carried swords.

  “On Draig lands, I serve Declan, who is the law of which you speak. He had no issue with my methods. I ken he would have done exactly the same.” Cortland held her gaze. “To leave you alone would be a foul deed. Come to the keep with me. Let me see you to safety. Despite the actions you have witnessed, I am a decent man. My intent is honest.”

  “I’ll go with you because I don’t see another option.” Emma reluctantly agreed, wondering again about fantasy versus reality.

  “You honor me with your trust, Emma. Come, let us leave this place of death with our eyes forward.”

  Emma stood still as Cortland gently lifted the body of his daughter and placed her over one of the horses. He held out his hand to Emma to lift her onto the saddle of the other beast. “I don’t know how to ride a horse.”

  Hopping up behind her, Cortland placed one arm around her waist. “Then I will teach you myself. ‘Tis a skill you should have.” With the reins of the other animal tied to the saddle, they rode toward the Draig keep.

  On the brief journey, Cortland spoke of the details she should know. Declan was the laird, or ruler, of the people. While he was born the second son, his parents and ol
der brother died eight years earlier when a fever swept the lands. She heard of his first marriage, young daughter, and the threat facing the clan. What Emma heard most was Cortland’s determination to protect the people he swore to defend. He told her of a greedy uncle who had somehow managed to have himself written into heir status before Declan and his brother were born. Some things never change. Greed rules far too many.

  Emma shared the basics of her life, beginning with her going to live with her grandparents before she turned eleven. She left out the years of neglect and abandonment by her mother, though they were implied in the tale. Fresh pain filled her heart as she told of her grandfather’s death and then, recently, her grandmother’s passing. She spoke of her good life with them, the love in their home, and the best times she could remember.

  Her stories faded into silence when the keep came into view. Before her, on a hillside, stood massive stone walls and what seemed to be a castle inside, though Cortland repeatedly used the word keep. Tucked in the valley below was a village, complete with stone cottages, workshops, and all the people who depended on the laird. In the distance, she could smell the salty air of the sea. Cortland told her the hill ended in cliffs that fell to the sea and provided a natural defense on the far side of the keep.

  Once they had ridden through the wooden gates, a boy ran out into the courtyard to take the reins of the horse from Cortland. “Leave the body alone. I will see to it myself.” Cortland’s instructions weren’t a question, and Emma wondered if dead bodies on horses were normal. The stable boy had no issue.

  Cortland answered her unasked question. “None would dare to question me. Such is my position as Declan’s advisor.” He turned away from her and led the horse from the front entryway.

  Suddenly afraid Cortland would leave her alone, Emma ran to catch up with him. “I’ll help you.”

  “Nay, Emma.” Cortland refused her with kindness. “‘Tis my duty to perform. Have no fear, I will see you inside and settled before I leave you.”

  Taking her hand in his, he stopped his steps before they entered the large wooden front door. “Do you leave any behind in your time, Emma? I heard of those who have passed but nay of any remaining. ‘Tis there a man or child you leave?”

  Her heart thumped in appreciation of his concern. “No one.” The words rang with the hollowness felt in her heart. How upset can I truly be about losing my home when there is no one there to share it? I have never been so alone, and I have loathed every second of it. She still wanted to believe she would wake up at home or in the yard with a raging headache. But again, “real” seemed to be the operative word. Everything feels so real. As if on cue, the horse dropped a steaming pile onto the stone courtyard. That certainly smells real.

  His head nodded. “As I thought from your tale. I will say it now and mean my vow. You will spend this life with a father by your side. My pledge to you comes first in my heart.”

  His statement bewildered her. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I ken enough. You and I have been alone for far too long. We now have each other. I have never been a fine father, so bear with me as I learn how to do so.”

  “I’ve never had a father, so my expectations are pretty low,” Emma admitted. A sliver of promise brightened her heart that had been empty for days. I shouldn’t want Cortland in my life so quickly and with so much hope.

  Cortland laughed and nodded his head. “We are well-suited, you and I.”

  “I should hope so,” a woman said as she ran out into the courtyard and wrapped Emma in a massive hug. “You have done it, Cortland. You have brought our Esmeralda home. I never thought to see such a fine day. My goodness, child, you have grown to be such a lovely woman. My heart may burst from the joy in it.”

  Not quite sure what to do with the woman clinging to her, Emma mouthed at Cortland, “Who is this?” All she knew was that the woman was more than a head shorter, was a little chubby based on the hug she returned, and had gray mixed in with her light brown hair.

  “Emma, ‘tis Meggie who squeezes the air from your body. Let the lass be, Meggie.” When Meggie stepped back, Cortland filled Emma in on the details. “Meggie was a fine friend to your mother, and it was her hands that delivered you into the world. And she has never drawn a full breath because she prattles too much.”

  The comment earned Cortland a smack on his arm. “As if the sweet lass could ever forget me? Did you forget me? Oh dear, has it been that long that you would forget those who loved you most in this life?” Meggie asked as moisture gathered in her eyes.

  Emma laughed at the enthusiasm and then frowned when she should have lied. She settled for answering sincerely. “This is like a whole new world to me.”

  Meggie seemed to like the answer and held Emma’s face in her hands. “How like your father you have grown to be. Come inside, lass. Come inside.” Taking Emma by the hand, Meggie led her into the great stone building. Before Emma could thoroughly inspect her surroundings, she was led up a stone staircase to stand in front of a wooden door at the end of the main corridor. All the while, Meggie explained how a chamber had been readied for her, next to her father’s.

  Cortland spoke from behind her. “Meggie, please help Emma to the baths and find her something decent to wear. I have a few matters to attend. And where is Declan, he and I need to speak.”

  Meggie looked over Emma and frowned. Apparently, she doesn’t approve of the uniform and flip-flops either. “Who is Emma? And why are you so filthy?”

  “I prefer to be called Emma and have for quite some time.” Emma had no issue with the statement because it was the truth.

  “We were attacked on the way here. My daughter and I fought for our lives.” Meggie gasped at Cortland’s details. “There is a small cut on her right arm. Please see it cleaned.”

  Emma glanced at her shoulder and noticed the rip in her jacket. Meggie claimed the cut on her skin was merely a scratch. That it itched made her again debate real over dream.

  “And find her some decent boots. Her sandals make a horrid noise.” Cortland cringed as he stared at her dirty feet. “No offense, Emma, but it threatens my sanity.” So, my uniform and my flip-flops are offensive to everyone.

  “Have no worries, Cortland. I will see her bathed and dressed myself.”

  “You failed to answer my question. Where is Declan?” Cortland asked with less humor in his voice.

  Meggie squirmed under Cortland’s gaze. “You noticed that, did you? Let me see . . . He went riding earlier, but then you ken that because he saw you and your sweet lass.”

  “Meggie,” Cortland interrupted. “Tell what I dinna want to hear.”

  “Your daughter should nay hear such things,” Meggie mumbled while she brushed dirt from Emma’s pants.

  “She is a grown lass, and we will keep no secrets from the other.” Cortland’s hands bunched at his hips. It was clear he was losing his patience.

  “Well, then, how fine. Let me see. Declan rode in, and old Malcolm went to lie down, as did his sweet daughter. I believe Lady Glenda mentioned something about retiring to her room for a rest before the evening meal. Declan may have been kind enough to escort her.”

  “What chamber was she given?” Cortland demanded with all traces of humor and patience gone from his voice.

  “Well, now, that one demanded the best, she did. She is in the lady’s chamber,” Meggie answered as she tried to keep a hold on Emma and prevent her from following Cortland, who strode down the corridor. The woman didn’t stand a chance at keeping her in place.

  Something was clearly going on, and curiosity had the better of her. The kind, patient man had been driven to aggravation and anger with whatever he assumed was going on. Her flip-flops smacked the stone flooring as she chased Cortland down the hall.

  “Get her the boots, Meggie,” Cortland grumbled as he increased hi
s pace.

  Cortland stopped in front of a closed door and stood with his hands clenched at his side. Meggie muttered under her breath, and Emma tried to make sense of what she heard from behind the door. The door rattled as if pushed upon, followed by light feminine laughter. Heat spread from her forehead down to her toes as grunts and moans sounded in time with the shaking door.

  She glanced up at Cortland who shook his head in disgust. “Has it been going on since they arrived?”

  “Aye, Cortland. For the last several days.” It was the first simple sentence the woman had said.

  “Does Malcolm ken?” Cortland asked.

  “Nay. The old Laird’s room is several doors down.”

  Cortland stared at the door and muttered under his breath. “Take Emma and tend her as you promised. I will wait to speak with Declan.”

  “Cortland, I mean, Father, I mean . . . Can I stay with you?” Emma asked, not because she was afraid of Meggie, but because something was going on. On the ride to the keep, Cortland had spoken of Declan with pride and respect. None of that was present anymore. Following the conversation around her, Emma surmised that Glenda was married to the old man, Malcolm, which she couldn’t even fathom. She was standing outside a door listening to Declan and Glenda having sex. The weirdest day of my life has just entered even stranger territory. She ignored the thoughts that the beautiful man who had stolen her breath was the one having sex. It doesn’t matter. So why does it bother me?

  “Go with Meggie. When I have buried . . . when I have bathed, I will join you. We will have a quiet meal together and finish our conversation. Any question you ask will be answered. Let that be enough for now.” Cortland’s gaze remained locked on the door while he spoke.