Jerome stalked around the perimeter of light cast by the large bonfire blazing merrily before Trellham Keep. To accommodate all the villagers and to savor the mild spring night, they’d moved the celebration outdoors.
The village boasted reasonable musical talent. Several men had taken up pipes and drums to fill the cool air with jaunty music. Trenchers piled with roasted meats and vegetables were being passed around, and frothy mugs of ale filled many a hand.
He’d visited more than two dozen Lairds and noblemen on this mission. At every grand castle and modest keep, every tower house and defensive stronghold, he’d been met with unfettered excitement and eager celebration.
In truth, he’d grown weary of all the fanfare surrounding his assignment. People were largely the same everywhere he went—including England. Though he shared their joy for the advancement of the Bruce’s cause, he couldn’t help feeling rather world-weary at this final stop on his grand journey. In fact, the only thing that had stirred a deeper curiosity, a spark of life in him in the last several sennights was—
Damn it all, he was thinking of Elaine again, involuntarily scanning the crowd for her. Lady Rosamond sat with her father before the fire, Finn ever at her side, but Elaine was nowhere to be seen. She’d been wearing a becoming lavender gown in the great hall earlier. Her russet hair had been loose, adorned only by a matching lavender ribbon woven through the strands around the crown of her head.
He had so many things to ask her, to learn about her, and so little time left. Why had her eyes brimmed with tears as he’d read the declaration? What had sent her galloping like a wild banshee across the green hills that afternoon? And why—
An eruption of giggles cut into his thoughts. Through the crowd, two lasses wearing elaborately stitched gowns plowed toward him—dragging a reluctant Elaine behind them.
“It’s true,” one of the lasses said, halting before him and pinning him with brown eyes. “He is just as fearsome as your brother-in-law, Lainey.”
A matching set of eyes joined the first to coyly assess him. “But I dare say more handsome. You didn’t mention that!”
The lasses tipped their heads together and giggled again. Jerome’s gaze skipped to Elaine, who was an unnatural shade of red in the flickering firelight. From what little he knew of the lass, he doubted she would speak so brazenly, even if these silly geese were her friends.
“Judith! Julia!” she hissed, averting her eyes. “How could you speak so to our guest?”
“Highlanders are a plain-talking sort, aren’t they, sir?” one of the lasses, whom Jerome realized now were twins, said, taking a step closer.
The other nearly butted her sister out of the way as she, too, moved in. “Mayhap you could tell me all about the Highlands—over a dance.”
Jerome noticed that the grass before the musicians had been cleared and couples were beginning to gather.
“I dinnae dance,” he said bluntly.
The twins turned crestfallen gazes on him, but before they could beg him to relent, Elaine spoke. “Rosamond wished to discuss cloth for the new babe’s clothes,” she blurted. “If it is a girl, she won’t be able to use Rand’s old things.”
Judith and Julia—Jerome wasn’t sure which was which—brightened substantially. Clutching hands, they made their way toward Rosamond, whom Jerome suspected was unaware she was about to be set upon.
“Forgive them,” Elaine breathed, her gaze fixed on the ground and the blush stubbornly lingering in her cheeks. “They are far too bold, but they mean no har—”
He caught her hand to halt her. Her head snapped up, surprise widening her eyes.
“No need,” he said simply. “I should be thanking them, for they brought ye to me.”
Elaine’s rosy, lush lips parted on a quick exhale. The dancing light of the fire made her hair look like burnished copper and gilded her pale skin with gold.
Her pulse beat visibly at the base of her creamy throat, which was exposed by the scooping neckline of the lavender gown. Jerome had never paid much attention to women’s fashion, but he liked that she wore no adornment or frippery, unlike Judith and Julia, whose gowns had been trimmed and edged with every scrap of fabric imaginable. Elaine’s plain ensemble, on the other hand, allowed for her natural beauty to shine through.
“Dance with me,” he murmured.
She blinked. “I thought you said you don’t dance.”
“Aye, well.” He lifted a brow. “I lied.”
He extended his arm to Elaine, and when she accepted it, her hand coming to rest on his forearm, a strange thrill ran through him. He felt as though he’d drank one cup too many of the Munros’ powerful whisky, yet he’d had not a drop this eve. Still, he certainly wasn’t acting himself.
He normally preferred to keep to the outskirts of these celebrations. The anonymity of being ever the stranger at a new castle or keep these last few sennights had been welcome, yet as the bearer of good news, he was often thrust into the middle of far too much attention.
It wasn’t his way to stand out in a crowd—ironic, since the Bruce had tasked him with a very public assignment. Yet when all the speeches and ceremonies were over, he preferred to watch from the shadows, to keep his head down and his hands busy with ensuring his clan’s—or his country’s—safety.
The last thing he’d normally do was take a bonny lass on his arm and dance in a crowd. Yet Trellham—and Elaine—were doing strange things to him.
Mayhap it was the knowledge that he would likely never see her again. Mayhap after three long weeks of travel, he longed for the simple yet powerful pleasure of Elaine’s brilliant smile and soulful eyes on him.
Whatever the case, he could think on it more tomorrow when he set out for Scone—alone. Tonight, he would give over to the pull he felt toward Elaine.
He halted them next to the rows of dancers, who wove together in a pattern he was familiar with. Yet he kept Elaine at the edge where firelight melted into shadow, selfishly not wanting to share her with the other merrymakers.
With only a foot between them, they acknowledged each other, he bowing and she curtsying. Then Jerome stepped forward and linked their elbows, turning in a slow circle.
“I’ve been wondering something since the moment I first laid eyes on ye,” he murmured, dipping his head to her ear.
“Oh?” Her voice was thin and breathy.
“Why were ye riding like the Devil himself was on yer heels earlier today?”
She was silent for a moment as they switched elbows and rotated in the other direction.
“It was foolish of me,” she said at last.
“Foolish to run from yer guards? Aye. Ye are a bonny lass. I can see why yer brother-in-law wants ye protected.”
In the dim light, he was gratified to see her blush. They parted, each turning before coming together once more, their palms raised and pressing together. Her hands looked so small and white compared to his. Aye, if he were Finn, he’d have Elaine’s guard doubled—nay, tripled—so that no rogue or brigand could ever steal her away.
Either that, or he’d stay by her side himself to ensure her protection.
“Nay. Or rather, aye, that was foolish of me, but I don’t just mean that,” she said softly.
“What, then?” The desire to know more about the lass, to understand the soul behind those bright, beguiling eyes gnawed at him.
She let a breath go. “It only confirmed what my family already thinks—that I am a silly girl in need of constant watching.”
Jerome felt his brows rise. “And ye arenae?”
Elaine lifted her chin. “I’ll be nineteen in a month’s time.”
He had nearly ten years on her, but damn if he didn’t feel older after sleeping on the ground for the last three sennights. At least tonight he’d be indoors, mayhap even on a pallet, for he’d decided from the moment Elaine had taken his arm that he would stay the night if it meant another chance to see her tomorrow morn before he departed.
“I’m sure they only act out of love for ye.”
Now it was Elaine’s turn to circle him. “That’s just it,” she murmured as she stepped behind him. Jerome felt the hairs on his nape stir but held still, willing himself to follow the rules of the dance. “They love me, aye, but in protecting me, they’ve left me overly sheltered.”
She rounded his shoulder and looked up at him in the flickering light. Slowly, Jerome circled her. Based on what he’d seen this afternoon in the great hall, her words made sense. Her father, though disapproving of her antics, clearly doted on her, as did her sister. Even gruff, severe Finn had only given her a few stern words.
“And riding off like a madwoman is—what? Yer attempt to live a less sheltered life?” He softened the words by keeping his voice low as he came to face her once more.
To his surprise, her face was tight with pain. But before he could apologize for speaking bluntly, she cut in.
“You are right,” she whispered, dropping her gaze to the center of his chest. “Riding Gertie, slipping away from the guards—it is all a game. That little bit of excitement—it isn’t real. There are no stakes. As I said, it was foolish of me.”
Jerome groped for soothing words, but the truth was, he wasn’t much for flowery language, nor did he know how to ease the hurt shining in her eyes.
Elaine suddenly scrubbed her palms over her damp eyelashes with a frustrated breath. “This is why they treat me like a child—because I am quick to tears. They call me a sensitive soul, as if I couldn’t handle aught that exists in the wider world beyond Trellham.”
Jerome closed the narrow distance between them and looped an arm around Elaine’s slim waist. He lifted her off her feet and turned a slow circle. Thank God for this portion of the dance giving him an excuse to touch her, to hold her close, for he might have simply pulled her to him in that moment anyway, propriety be damned.
He continued to turn them, gradually lowering her to her feet. He relished the feel of her lithe, supple body sliding against his, her breasts drawing down his chest, her soft hands coming to his shoulders.
“I saw ye in the great hall earlier,” he said, at last setting her on her feet. Her hands curled into his shirt as if they were still spinning. “The emotion in yer eyes as I read the Bruce’s words was no’ merely that of a sensitive soul. Ye were deeply moved. Why?”
Her lips parted, seemingly in surprise that he had noticed, and he knew he’d touched some part of that burning spirit behind her wide, innocent eyes.
“As I said before, so much of my life is naught more that games. What to wear. Which direction to ride Gertie.” She met his gaze. “But not this—not the Bruce’s cause. He fights for freedom, for justice, for right.” A breath escaped her. “How I long to know what it feels like to be a part of something so important, so bold—something that matters.”
Just as quickly as she’d revealed the fire behind her eyes, she shuttered it. She glanced over his shoulder. “No doubt that sounds foolish to the likes of you, the silly musings of a naïve girl. But I envy the sense of purpose you must have, the mantle of honor you wear in serving King, country, and cause.”
Suddenly Jerome’s throat tightened with a knot of shame. Of course Lady Elaine Beaumore, a sheltered English lass, didn’t know of the shadow blackening his past, the shadow that still hounded him like a bedeviled wolf, ever nipping at his heels.
He jerked himself away from his dark thoughts. It was better if she didn’t know. Selfishly, he longed for her to continue to think of him as a man of honor.
Yet what he wanted to do in that moment was far from honorable.
Mayhap it was weariness that made him do it. Mayhap it was the way the fire danced across Elaine’s copper locks and illuminated those sky-blue eyes. Or mayhap it was the glimpse of that kindling soul she’d given him, her words about the Bruce’s cause as stirring as aught in the Declaration of Arbroath.
Whatever the case, Jerome stopped thinking in that moment. Instead, he acted.
Gripping her narrow waist, he took two large steps forward, driving her out of the circle of firelight and into the shadows. Her hands tightened on his shoulders in surprise, but she let him guide her deeper into the darkness.
“Nay, that doesnae sound foolish to me. Yer family is mistaken,” he said, his voice coming out low and rough. “Ye arenae a sensitive soul—ye’ve got fire in yer veins.”
Just as she sucked in a breath, he lowered his head and met her lips with his.