Page 40 of The Guardian's Bride
Rubbing a hand over his face, he knew he could not let Rowena Keith out of his sight. Not yet. He had to know the truth about that stone—both stones. And he needed to remember what he had told her about the treasure of Scotland. Did she know its location? And if so, had she told anyone else?
Chapter Eleven
Before light, theyleft the inn and ducked into the forest when Aedan reminded Rowena that the boatman would expect to see a king’s knight and his wee wife, so they must change. She was just as glad to be free of the helmet wrapped under her clothing, and draped his plaid over her drab reversed clothing against the cool air of the summer morning.
“Are you ready, Dame Grizel, my bluebell?” he asked as he adjusted the helmet and smoothed the snug fit of the red surcoat.
“A bluebell is still a poisonous flower, Hamish,” she said with a soft laugh.
“Just so,ma belle.”
Dawn bloomed pink and silver over the river as MacDuff paid the boatman, then guided Rowena to step down to the barge. As the platform wobbled under her feet, she gripped his arm for a moment, then let go, embarrassed to show uncertainty.
She sat on a bale of hay while Aedan spoke with the boatman. Mist clouded the calm river, birds sang and flitted above the trees, and all seemed peaceful. Though she felt anxious about traveling over water, she was glad that she had shared with Aedan some part of why she was so hesitant.
As the boatman and his son poled the barge eastward along the river, Rowena leaned away as several goats came close, nuzzling and chewing at the hay where she sat. They belonged to a surly farmer in a sagging hat who sat near her. At the front ofthe barge, Aedan MacDuff conversed with the boatman and his sturdy son as they poled along, the flat vessel moving along on a swift current.
Sensing the motion of the barge beneath her, Rowena felt a lurch in her stomach, and with it, a familiar dread. She was never fond of being on the water, ever since the childhood misadventure when she had tumbled out of a boat crossing a loch, and had sunk, flailing and fearful, hampered by a heavy cloak. She surely would have drowned that day, but her father had jumped in to bring her to the surface just in time.
Here, MacDuff had assured her that the river ride would not be long, and she clung to that. Aware of the urgency driving him toward Fife and sensing tension in him that morning, she would not add her troubles to his.
She glanced at him now as he raised a foot to a wooden crate and rested an arm on his knee, watching the river flow past, talking quietly with the boatman. In the red surcoat and helmet, with his height and natural confident demeanor, he had a determined authority. The wind blew through his rich walnut-brown hair and billowed the hems of the surcoat and the brown tunic beneath it. Rowena studied his handsome profile, once again glad of his company. But she wondered how long he planned to stay once they reached Fife. Surely, he would need to be there, and so she would have to find her way back to Kincraig.
A deep need to go home pulled at her, sucked her under at times as she worried about her sisters, her brother, her friends there, and the king’s looming demand. Her family knew she had gone to Soutra, certainly—but they might not know that she had been taken to Yester, much less had escaped with MacDuff. She did not want them to fear for her. The sooner she reached Kincraig, the sooner they would know she was safe—and the sooner they could decide together how to respond to Edward’s unreasonable demand.
The barge moved past a shoreline thick with trees as the sun rose higher, bursting through the leafy cover and glittering over the water. Looking at the rippling water proved too much for her stomach, so she watched the goats instead as they roamed and bustled and knocked into her knees. The farmer grinned at her.
“’Tis a good river for trout. I was fishing this morning. Do you fish? My wife likes it. Jumps in the water and grabs ’em. She is a Highland girl, my wifey.”
“I have never fished, sir,” she replied.
“Fishing early in the morning makes for a fine supper. See!” He reached down, grabbed a basket, and opened it to show her his glinting catch, some still flapping about. “Want a few for your supper? I have more than enough.”
“Uhh—nay, thank you.” She turned away, hand over her mouth. The sight, the smell, the thought of a fish supper only worsened her private struggle.
The girl hadbeen glowing and content last night, Aedan thought, glancing at her. Now she looked deathly pale and oddly skittish. Neither of them had slept enough, and he knew how much she wanted to return to Kincraig, but was willing to delay that, knowing his need to reach Fife. What troubled her now must be her fear of water travel. Something was obviously affecting her.
Perhaps it was best to get her off the water. While the barge plowed through a river flux with last night’s rain, he decided to disembark before reaching the coast and take an unexpected route that could throw the English further off their tracks.
He turned to the boatman. “Tyningham is not far. My wife and I will stop there.”
“Not going all the way to Belhaven, then? There is a good tavern there. My brother owns it. I could get you a good price if you wish to stay there.”
“Tyningham,” he said. “We will hire horses and head to Edinburgh from there.” Might as well throw the fellow off the scent should soldiers question him later.
“Right, then,” the boatman grunted, and poled along.
Wading through a sea of bleating goats toward Rowena, Aedan reached out a hand. She stood slowly.
“Grizel, dear,” he said, making sure the others heard, “we will disembark soon and head north to Edinburgh.”
“Edinburgh?” She sounded wooden. “How much longer on the river, then?”
“An hour or so.”
“Oh.” She set a hand to her mouth.
He gave her a keen look. “All is well?”
