This is an alternate universe historical romance. I think I said it was set in medieval Scotland, but it’s more like Renaissance, heh — early 1500s, just before the Reformation (I KNOW I KNOW I’M VERY OCD ABOUT HISTORICAL TERMS).

ANYWAY.

Very few of the names on GH are historical accurate to the time period or place, but I promise not to let it hurt my head if you promise to whistle past a Scottish laird named Jason. K? K. Cool.

Written in 52 minutes. Time for basic spell check.

Edinburgh, Scotland – 1514

The Royal Mile

Jason Morgan had only been invited twice to the royal capital since taking over the leadership of his clan — and neither invitation had been welcomed. Like any respecting Highland warrior, he preferred the hills and forests of his own land, not the pomp and circumstance of the monarchy.

But this was no longer the times of his grandfather or great-grandfather before him, when Highland chieftains could reign autonomously, and ignore anything outside their borders. Not with England encroaching every day — with an English princess marrying their Scottish king —

“Married the Angus,” his second, Francis, snorted at his side. He reigned in the horse as they turned down a street with market stalls and more people. “What a bloody stupid thing to do. Women—”

“At least he isn’t the regent,” Johnny O’Brien, the third of their trio said. “That must have stunned the Angus — married to the queen and none of the power.” He shook his head. “Poor bastard.”

Jason turned, cast a dark eye at both his clansmen. “Careful what you say and where,” he said flatly. “We haven’t had trouble with the Angus or the Douglases in a generation. I don’t care for them to remember the past.”

“Aye, well, if he’d been named regent instead of Albany,” Francis said with a sneer, “we’d have trouble right quick—”

They rode to the livery and turned over their horses, then went to seek rooms at the Red Lion just off the Royal Mile.

While Jason might not say it out loud, Francis was right to suspect that matters for the Morgans might have gone badly if Archibald Douglas, the sixth earl of Angus, had found himself with the powers of the regency upon marriage to Margaret Tudor, the widowed Scottish queen. Instead, control of the young James V had gone to John Stewart, Duke of Albany.

Jason’s father had courted woman that a Douglas had wanted — and while Alan Morgan had ultimately married another, Douglas men didn’t like to lose, and blamed the Morgan for the lass in question leaving Scotland for the royal court in London.

Archibald and his brothers didn’t seem to remember that, and Jason had every hope that the rivalry had died with their fathers.

All the same — best that the Angus wasn’t the regent with the powers of the king.

A few streets from the Red Lion, another Scottish family was checking into a larger, more stately set of lodgings. These were not a Highland clan, but a minor gentry from the Lowlands — might as well as be Sassanachs, some people sneered of the Lowland Webbers — indeed, their name was English as Jeffrey Webber’s forefathers had settled in Dumfries during a period when the county had been in English control.

A long ago Scottish king had ousted the invaders, and Dumfries had returned to the Scottish crown — but the Webbers had stayed.

Elizabeth Webber, the youngest of the baron’s three children, rode down the street with wide eyes — she had never traveled to the court before, but this time, her father hadn’t a choice. The new regent wanted to take stock of all the noble daughters and form alliances through marriage.

Elizabeth didn’t have much hope of being chosen for such an alliance—not while her elder sister, Sarah, was still unmarried. Classically beautiful with her blonde hair and blue eyes, tall and slender—Sarah was the perfect child.

And Elizabeth was the short, brunette freak that few people had even met.

“When we meet with the regent tomorrow,” Jeffrey snapped as he herded Elizabeth into the smallest of the rooms he’d rented, “you will not speak. You will stand behind your brother, and God willing, the regent will forget I have two daughters.”

Elizabeth dipped her chin, looking at the wooden floor. “Yes, Father.”

“If we are fortunate—no one will ever know what you are. And we will go home, and you will return to your life there.” His voice gentled slightly. “You will be protected there.”

Protected. Such a strange way to describe the life Elizabeth lived in Annan, her family’s estate. Locked in her room.

“You mean you will be protected,” Elizabeth said in a low voice. She raised her eyes to met her father’s. “No one will know your shame.”

Jeffrey’s mouth was tight. “We both have the same goal, Daughter. If you were discovered—”

“Aye, Father. I know.” Elizabeth folded her arms. “I will not speak unless the regent speaks directly to me.”

“Good. Stay here until we leave for the court in the morning,” Jeffrey told her. “I will bring your meals. The fewer people see you, the better we will be.”

He left the room, slamming it behind her. Elizabeth took in her surroundings, sighed at the lack of a window, but at least there was a cot and a table where she could sit. It could have been worse.

It often had been.

—

The next afternoon, Jason and his men were on the grounds of Holyrod Palace, awaiting their turn to speak and swear oaths of loyalty under the new regency — a useless exercise and one of the reasons Jason avoided the royal court like the plague.

He was grimacing at two idiots attempting to spar without an ounce of skill or training when a royal messenger appeared at his side. “Laird, His Grace, the Duke of Albany, wishes to speak with you. Now. Privately.”

Jason frowned, turned to the man with a suspicious glare. “Privately?” he repeated. “Why?”

“I cannot say, Laird. Only that he asks for your patience, discretion, and speed.” The messenger eyed Johnny and Francis ranging behind Jason. “Your men should remain here.”

“I don’t like it,” Francis hissed to Jason. “You’re unprotected—”

“And Albany has no quarrel with me.” Jason nodded at the messenger. “Lead the way.”

He followed the other man through a byzantine set of hallways, towards the interior of the palace and what Jason suspected to be the royal family’s private apartments.

“My Laid, the regent awaits you.” The messenger bowed, pushing open the door. Jason shook his head at the strangeness of the encounter, then focused on the room itself — a standard, nondescript meeting room.

John Stewart, the Duke of Albany was standing in the center, a tall, thin man who had seen only three and thirty years — and two strangers to Jason — a man and a woman — He instinctively narrowed his eyes, spying the tight hold the man had on the woman’s upper arm.

She was tiny, no higher than the man’s shoulder—brown curls peeked out of the headdress she wore, and her eyes were trained on the man holding —

She was frightened.

Jason scowled. “What is this, Your Grace?” he demanded. If this girl was attempting to entrap him into a marriage through some lie—

“Morgan.” Albany swept him forward. “Allow me to present one of my fiercest warriors,” he said to the pair across the room.

“I beg you, Your Grace, allow me to take my daughter away. I will take her home and you will never—”

“Hush, Baron,” Albany snapped. “The die has been cast. Jason Morgan is a Highland chieftain with a large holding in the north. And loyal to me. Am I wrong?” he turned to Jason.

“Nay,” Jason said, warily. “But I don’t—”

“This Baron Jeffrey Webber, and his youngest child, Elizabeth. How many summers have you, dear?” Albany asked the girl with a silky smile.

She swallowed hard. “Nineteen, Your Grace,” she said in a soft voice. “But my sister—”

“I have no need to worry about your sister,” Albany said with a shake of his hand. “And Baron, release her—”

“I—” The baron looked down at his hand where it was digging into the girl—Elizabeth’s—upper arm. He released her with almost a thrust and she stumbled away from him. She rubbed her upper arm, and now she was close enough that Jason could see tracks of tears on her cheeks.

“Your Grace—”

“Elizabeth has done a service to crown here today,” Albany told Jason. “And in return, I would like to see her rewarded with an alliance to a man worthy of that service.”

“What?”

They spoke at the same time — Jason with a roar of surprise, and Elizabeth with a shaken gasp. But it was the baron who was shaking his head.

“I cannot allow this, Your Grace. My elder daughter is much more suited—”

“Your eldest daughter is of no use to me,” Albany retorted. Jason narrowed his eyes at that, and Elizabeth just closed her eyes, folded her arms, and looked at the stone floor. “You will have to find another alliance for her.”

“Your Grace,” Jason began again, concerned that he was about to get in the middle of royal intrigue — a state of affairs he most certainly did not want to be involved in.

“‘Tis unnecessary, Your Grace,” Elizabeth said, her voice a bit stronger. She looked up now, her chin lifted. “I thank you for the honor—” She chanced a glance at him—then her eyes stayed on locked on his for a long moment before she looked back at the regent. “But I promise you, my father has—he has protected me all these years. I will be safe in Annan.”

There was something in the way she’d said those words—something that twisted Jason’s stomach — what did she mean that her father had protected her? What service?

“Do you not want a family, dear?” Albany asked, stalking towards her. “Are you uninterested in children?”

“I—” Elizabeth swallowed hard. “No. I should like a family. B-But—”

“Then we are well met. Jason has need of a wife—”

Jason frowned, but the regent ignored him. “And you are well above the age of marriage. Indeed, it is strange that none of your children have wed, Baron.” Albany arched a brow at him. “Have you been keeping them under lock and key in Annan?”

Elizabeth started at that, then quickly looked away as her father looked her furiously — and there it was — that strange feeling that something was not right. Is that what she’d meant about being protected? Had her father locked her up? Why?

“Of course not. I am merely careful with my children,” the baron said stiffly.

“Then allow me to reduce your problems. The ceremony will take place in St. Giles on the morn.” Albany turned away from them, sweeping his hand. “And that is the end of it.”

“Your Grace,” Jason began again, but then subsided when Albany merely arched a brow at him. He looked at Elizabeth, then at her father, and nodded. “I will be at the chapel,” he said tightly. “Am I dismissed, Your Grace?”

“Yes. Thank you, Morgan. You will see in time. I’ve done you a great favor.”

Jason didn’t look at his bride-to-be or her father as he left the room. Whatever secrets this girl was keeping — he could only pray that would not lead his clan into danger.

+2

A few notes —

Dukes get called Your Grace instead of My Lord when you’re addressing them because…well, nobility.

Regents take over for a kingwho is a minor. It is sometimes the mother, but usually another powerful guy. James V is a real Scottish king who was born in 1512/1513, the son of Margaret Tudor and James IV. Margaret is Henry VIII’s sister. James IV died, and Margaret was the regent for a brief time until she married the Earl of Angus, Archie Douglas. Margaret Mallory is writing a great series set in this time period about the Douglas sisters, so that’s historically accurate.

I am not super well-versed on this period of Scottish history outside of some research and reading a lot of romance novels, LOL. I’m much better with later British history.

Written in 48 minutes. Time for a basic spell check.

When they returned to the inn, Elizabeth expected her father to throw her into the small rented room —

She should have known better.

Jeffrey hurled her into the larger room that he shared with Steven, and Elizabeth wasn’t able to stop herself from falling into a high chest of drawers.

“Father!” Steven surged to his feet, his eyes wide. His sister, Sarah, warily stood and edged behind her brother. “What—”

“What did I tell you?” Jeffrey demanded, stepping towards Elizabeth, his eyes bulging, his nostrils flared. “What did I tell you to do when we arrived at court?”

“What did Lizzie do?” Sarah complained, feeling more comfortable now that she knew it was her sister in trouble. “Is that we had to leave? I wanted—”

Jeffrey silenced her with one look before focusing on his youngest daughter again. Elizabeth pulled herself to her feet, cradling her sore elbow which had taken the brunt of the damage. She backed away slowly.

“You told me to be silent,” Elizabeth said in a small voice. “I tried—but I—”

“But what?”

“Father—”

“Have you thought about what will happen to you in the Highlands?” Jeffrey demanded. “Married to some primitive barbarian? When he discovers your curse?”

Elizabeth hadn’t thought that the laird of the Morgans had seemed all that primitive or barbarous. He had almost seemed kind, if irritated by the situation. But her father’s point remained.

“He—he won’t—”

“Lizzie is getting married? That’s not fair!”

“Father—”

Jeffrey stalked forward, grabbed Elizabeth’s sore arm and dragged her forward, towards him. “Why did you speak? Why did you reveal yourself?”

Sarah gasped and Steven swallowed hard. “Elizabeth,” her brother said, anguished. “How could—”

“I didn’t mean to. I just—I was very quiet,” Elizabeth said, her tone pleading as she tried to pull her arm away from her father’s painful grasp. “No one but the regent heard me—”

Jeffrey slapped her, the back of his hand whipping across her cheek, her skin flaming where the signet ring on his smallest finger ripped at her. “You have caused me shame for the last time!” he snarled, shoving her away from him.

Elizabeth stumbled and fell to the floor in a heap. She pressed a hand to her cheek, the warm blood dripping down her fingers.

“Father—” Steven said with a scowl. He pushed past Jeffrey and knelt in front of his sister. He tipped her head back, swearing. “Sarah, fetch some rags. And water.”

“I am not a servant—”

“Sarah,” Steven retorted. “Go.” He grimaced, looking at Jeffrey. “You should not leave marks. Not where they can be seen. If the regent has commanded her marriage—”

Jeffrey growled. “I am her father—she is mine to do with as I please—”

“Has Albany commanded a marriage for her?” Steven cut in. When Jeffrey remained silent, Steven looked at his sister. “Elizabeth?” he said kindly. “What happened?”

“I—I didn’t mean it,” she said, tears sliding down her cheek, mingling with the blood. Steven took the bowl of water and rag from Sarah who flounced away and sat back at the table, sullenly.

Steven gently cleaned her cheek. “That doesn’t answer my question, Bits—”

“Always you coddle her—” Jeffrey threw up his hands. “Keep her away from me until morning,” he said. “Sarah, come.”

When their father and sister had left, Steven just sighed, moved onto wiping Elizabeth’s hand. “Bits?” he asked again.

“It was just Father and I at the front,” Elizabeth said softly. “And I—I saw a flash. I didn’t mean it. You know I can’t—I can’t stop it.”

“What did you see?”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “The Duke of Albany sipping his wine at luncheon. The wine at his side. I saw him falling. I—I told him very softly he should not sip the wine.”

Steven closed his eyes. “OF course you did.”

“I had to—I had to stop him, Steven. He would have died. He was—he was angry at first, and Father started dragging me away, but the regent forced us to stay. He took us to another room. He had someone bring him a rat who licked the wine. He…the rat became ill.”

“He could have had you executed,” Steven told her. “You took a terrible risk—”

“I know,” Elizabeth said dully. “But I didn’t know how else to stop it. I didn’t say anything, and Mother—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Not again.”

“And what of this marriage?”

“The regent sent for Jason Morgan. A laird in the Highlands—” At Steven’s wince, Elizabeth stomach rolled. “What?”

“Mother,” Steven said painfully, “was from the Highlands. She met Alan Morgan at court. And the Angus’s father, George Douglas. Both of them wanted to marry her, but she spurned them both and met Father in London.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth sighed. “Well, that’s…that’s not too terrible, is it? It’s not a blood feud?”

“You don’t know the Douglases,” Steven muttered. “But perhaps they’ve forgotten. I’ve heard nothing of the son. I can’t—this can’t be allowed to happen. I can’t protect you if you’re in the Highlands, and I can’t leave Annan—”

Elizabeth smiled tremulously. “But it might be okay. If I can just keep my secret, maybe—maybe I could have a chance. I’d like a family. Children. He’s a laird. He’ll want children. Sons.”

“That’s true enough.” Steven pulled her up from the ground, steadying her. He shook his head at her cheek. “‘Tis a shame you only have the visions, sister. If you could heal this before tomorrow, we’d be safer. If you’re under the Morgan’s protection—under the king’s protection—”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said. “I really did try—”

“I know you did.” Steven put an arm around her shoulder to lead her from the room. “You’ll have to try harder in the Highlands.”

—

Johnny scowled, slamming his mug of whiskey down hard on the plank table in the tavern. “Some Lowland wench? That is who you’ll have to breed with?”

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the way Johnny had phrased the insult, but unable to deny the truth of it. The Highlands were not for the weak or timid and he could not imagine a lass from Dumfries could deliver strong sons — she might not even last her first winter.

“And a service to the crown?” Francis said with a sneer. “Mark my words, Albany will have you taking sides yet—”

“I have no desire for court intrigue,” Jason snapped, “and Albany knows this. I’ll marry the girl, we’ll go home, and that will be the end of it.”

“I can’t decide if he really believes that,” Johnny said to Francis thoughtfully, “or if he’s lost his mind.”

“A service to the crown,” Francis repeated. “Details of which you are not allowed to inquire about. Will your new wife tell you?”

“Albany might not want to say so, but I cannot see how I could trust any wife of mine to be loyal if she keeps a secret that might put my clan in danger,” Jason said slowly. “I will make this clear to her. It is possible that the service is done, and she’s simply being rewarded—”

“Listen to himself with the high opinion—”

“She’s the youngest daughter with an unmarried elder sister,” Jason retorted, cutting off Johnny taunt. “Any marriage before the sister marries is a reward. Particularly with a father such as hers.”

And he worried slightly over his future wife being sent home with a father who thought nothing of mistreating his child in the presence of the others. Unsettled, Jason picked up his whiskey and drank.

—

When Elizabeth had pictured the day she married, she had thought it be in her own village kirk at Annan even if the priest stationed there had always looked at her with suspicion and dismay.

She had never thought to wed in the chapel of St. Giles—kings and queens were crowned in these walls, royalty and nobility were christened, married, and consecrated—

“Ah, my dear Elizabeth—” The Duke of Albany swept inside the small chamber where Elizabeth and her family were awaiting the start of the ceremony. He stopped, stared at her face.

“You have been injured,” he said softly. He looked at Elizabeth’s father. “How tragic to have your beauty marred on this day.”

“I was very clumsy, Your Grace,” Elizabeth said quickly. “I tripped as we returned to the inn last eve.”

“Yes.” Albany pursed his lips, looked at Sarah and Steven. “Leave,” he said to them, sharply. Steven hesitated, but Sarah grabbed his sleeve and dragged him out.

“Your Grace,” Jeffrey began.

“Tell me, Baron,” Albany said, “did you know of your daughter’s gift?”

Jeffrey lifted his chin. “Nay, Your Grace. Perhaps my late wife did, but I—”

“Is this true, Elizabeth?” Albany looked at her. “Did your father have no previous knowledge of your abilities?”

“I—” Elizabeth cleared her throat, prepared to lie and protect her father, but the regent was staring at her, and she had the curious thought that he had known.

He hadn’t questioned her harshly yesterday—had never suspected her of treason or poisoning the cup herself—

And if he knew—if she lied—would he punish her? Would he take away this chance to leave her father? To have a new life?

“Yes,” Elizabeth confessed.

“You ungrateful—” Jeffrey hissed, nearly stepping forward.

“I thought as much.” Albany turned to her father. “I surmised that you might not have come to court prepared for a wedding in St. Giles, so I have brought the bride a gift. As another token of my gratitude.” He stepped aside, opened the door, and swept a few women, one of whom came with an elaborate court gown of blue velvet.

“Baron, let us leave the women to their preparations.” Albany clamped a hand on Jeffrey’s shoulder as he pushed him out of the room.

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, and with wide eyes, turned to the women who were to dress her for her wedding.

—

Jason tugged at the collar of shirt, disliking intensely every item of clothing he was wearing and longing to shed it in favor of the kilts and looser knits of home.

“Why does everything have lace?” Francis muttered to Johnny.

“‘Tis the French,” Johnny said with a sober nod. “They’re born wearing it.”

“I thought the Dutch were known for their lace—”

“Will the two of you—” Jason turned to snarl at him just as the doors at back of the chapel opened and the baron stepped into view. He held out a hand—

And the girl from yesterday—the woman—took his hand and Jason saw his future wife dressed in an elaborate gown of blue that nearly swamped her petite form. As she drew closer to the altar, Jason’s blood began to boil.

Her skin had been pale and unmarked the day before, but today—today there was a hideous bruise climbing up her cheek, with a red, angry cut just beneath her eye.

Jason stared at her for a long time before looking down at her father’s hands. At the ring he wore on his finger.

He stepped forward to take Elizabeth’s hand from the baron, met her father’s eyes. “If you ever touch her again,” he said in a low, dangerous tone, “I will disembowel you.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she looked at her father who swallowed hard and stepped back from the taller, broader, and younger man.

“My lord—”

“Jason,” he told her in a soft tone that no one but she could hear. “Are you all right?”

Her dark blue eyes fastened on his, and he felt a strange tingling down the base of his spine as she searched his eyes for a long moment. Then she nodded.

“Yes, I believe I will be,” she murmured. He turned and they looked to the priest who stepped down to begin the ceremony.

+2

Written in 50 minutes. I did a basic spell check, but as I was finishing up, I got the news about Ruth Bader Ginsburg, so my brain is just — I’m sure I missed stuff. I’m sorry guys.

After the priest blessed their marriage, and they had signed the registry to formalize it, Jason did not linger in the chapel. Elizabeth scarcely had a moment to look at the countenances of her father and siblings before he took her hand and led her out of the church.

Elizabeth blinked at the sunlight in the street of the Royal Mile—the sun had climbed higher in the sky.

“My laird,” a man called, following Jason and Elizabeth. “A moment—”

The men with her new husband—her mind nearly skittered over those words—turned, their faces fierce and ready to do battle.

“His Grace, the Duke of Albany has offered chambers at Holyrod for your wedding night,” the man said, flinching as the rough scowls of three Highlanders were leveled at him.

Jason tensed. “I have rooms at the Red Lion,” he said, “that will do just fine.”

“The Red Lion—” the man sputtered.

“Have her father send her things there. We leave in the morning.” Jason turned, his hand still grasping Elizabeth’s, and started down the stone streets.

Unused to the heavy velvet skirts or the weight of them draped around her, Elizabeth stumbled and nearly fell to the ground.

“Jason, she’s not dressed for a trek through the streets,” one of the men—a dark-haired man with suspicious eyes—said to him a low tone as her husband hauled her back to her feet.

“I just need to walk a bit more slowly,” Elizabeth said quickly. “I—’tis not my gown. I—” She fell silent as Jason’s eyes fell on her.

“Would it be better to take the rooms at the place?” the other man, with fair hair, suggested. “She might be more comfortable—”

“Oh, no—” Elizabeth shook her head, wincing as her husband’s face tightened. “Please. I do not wish to be any trouble.

“Are you not a Lowlander?” the fair-haired man asked, spitting out the term as if it were akin to Hell. “Silk sheets and goose feathers?”

“No,” Elizabeth said quietly. She drew her hand out of Jason’s grasp, her chest tightening. “I am from the Lowlands, but that is not my experience. A cot or even some padding on the floor will do fine. I ask for nothing special. You did—” She chanced a look at Jason’s blue eyes, finding them as frustratingly closed to her as she had the day before, as she had in the chapel.

It was not until she had taken his hand, until their skin had touched, that she’d been able to glimpse anything. He was a kind man, frustrated at the turn of events. He had not come to Edinburgh to wed and did not want this. He was prepared to do his duty, and she knew he would not hurt her.

“You did not expect to be looking after a female, I imagine,” she finished in a small voice. “I will endeavor not to be a burden.”

“Difficult,” the dark-haired man said. “You’re a female. It’s in the description.”

“Johnny—” Jason snapped. He took a deep breath. “Forgive me,” he said shortly. “These are my men. Johnny O’Brien and Francis Corelli.”

Elizabeth drew her brows together at the strange last names—Irish and Italian. Unusual to find in a Highland clan. “Hello,” she said uncertainly. She smoothed her hand down the skirts of her velvet gown, a bit dismayed to find the bottom of the skirts had been splashed with mud.

“We’ll go to the Red Lion,” Jason said finally. “I arranged another room last night,” he told her. “You will be comfortable.”

She blinked at that, but before she could discover more, he turned back to Johnny and Francis. “And have a care with how you speak to her. She’s your lady and deserves the respect you show my aunt.”

“Right,” Johnny said slowly, squinting at Jason. “Will she be dunking me in the loch like Lady Tracy? Because I can only take so much—”

Jason scowled, took Elizabeth’s hand, and the four of them continued down the Royal Mile again. This time, Jason tried harder to match the stride of her shorter legs and was more careful avoid the mud.

—

He did not know what to think of his new wife.

When the regent’s man had offered the comfort and luxury of the palace, Jason had been irritated. He could take care of his clan, and it was better for Elizabeth to learn now what kind of life she could expect as his wife. He expected her to pout and complain when he’d turnd down the offer—

Only for her to support him, back him up, even when Johnny had suggested Jason change his mind. And she’d barely flinched when Francis and Johnny had all but insulted her as a weak Lowlander.

When he’d seen her in that velvet gown, he’d been irritated. She was beautiful of course but it was completely unsuitable for a Highland woman. If her entire wardrobe was made up of garments like that —

But then he’d learned it was not her gown, but a gift given to her Albany—

His teeth clenched as he showed her inside the dark and dim entryway of the Red Lion. He did not care to be reminded that his new wife had done some service to the Crown that he had not been told.

She would tell him the truth, Jason decided. She would decide today where her loyalty was to lie — with him or with the Crown.

Elizabeth looked around the room, her eyes wide and Jason felt as though he was looking at the interior for the first time. It was dark, with low ceilings—he could smell something unpleasant from the public rooms.

He waited for her to complain, but she did not. Instead, she smiled at him, a slight curve of her lips as she looked at him expectantly, folding her hands in front of her. “Are we taking a meal down here?” she asked softly. “Is that why we’re waiting?”

“No,” Jason muttered, wishing she would just do what he expected her to. He did not care for surprises. He looked to Johnny and Francis. “You are both to go to her family’s inn. Get her things. If you need to arrange a pack horse—”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Elizabeth flinched when Jason turned, scowling at the interruption. “My apologies, sir. I only have a few things. They’re—they’re in the vestibule at the church. I—I did not bring much to Edinburgh.”

“What is much?” Johnny asked suspiciously. “Jason’s sister told me that once, and she had an entire trunk—”

“There should be a sack in the room where I met with His Grace,” Elizabeth said. “That is all I had with me.”

“A sack.” Francis cleared her throat. “Well, then, Johnny, we ought to track it down for milady, and take our leave.”

“You’ll have to send for your things from—” Jason hesitated. “Where are you from?”

“Annan, in Dumfrieshire,” Elizabeth said, “but ‘tis not necessary—”

“Why?”

“Well, ‘tis just clothing,” Elizabeth said lightly. “And I’m told the weather is harsher in the North, is it not? It won’t be appropriate. Why go to the trouble if most of it will not be wearable?”

He had no answer to that perfectly logical statement. Instead, he took her hand and led her up the cramped staircase. The Red Lion had perhaps not been the best choice for his wife, he realized, as her skirts brushed the sides of the narrow hallway. He pushed open the second room he had arranged for her and allowed her to walk in ahead of him.

Elizabeth walked into the center of the room, and he studied her reaction to the small room, with its double bed, thin mattress, and night table. Near the window, there was another stand with a bowl for washing up, but the room was spare and not nearly as comfortable as rooms in the palace would have been.

She stared at the bed for a long moment, then swallowed hard, looking at him. “I understand that this was not your choice,” she said softly. “And I meant what I said earlier. I will try very hard not to be a burden. I cannot say you will not even notice me, but—”

Jason closed the door behind him, then faced her, crossing his arms. He waited for her to meet his eyes, her own shadowed in the dim light of the room. Little sunlight reached this area of the building and he hadn’t lit any of the candles.

“What service did you do for the Crown?”

—

It had been too much to hope, Elizabeth thought with a sinking sigh, that her new husband would be impressed with her lack of complaints thus far and not inquire about the reasons the regent had wanted to arrange a marriage for her.

In truth, she was bewildered by the turn of events as well — why had the regent not simply thanked her and sent her home with a caution to her father to keep her hidden?

Why arrange a marriage to a man that Albany respected and, she sensed, feared, if he did not have some sort of reason? And what excuse could she given her new husband if it could not be truth?

It could never be the truth. Jason Morgan was not a man to countenance such a curse, she surmised. He might not cast her out or beat her for what she could do, what she could see—

But neither would she ever be a true wife. He would never allow her to be a part of his family. There might never be children.

“His Grace told me I was not to speak of it,” Elizabeth said. Her throat tightened as his jaw clenched. “He swore me to secrecy.”

“Secrecy,” Jason repeated. “And you would keep this oath?”

“I—I would,” she said in a halting voice even as she broke their eye contact, cast her eyes as the uneven wooden planks beneath their feat. “All I have is my word,” she continued. “Where I come from, a man lives and dies by the strength of his word. If he says something will be done, it must be done. Is it not the same in the Highlands?”

“Aye, keeping your word is an important thing,” Jason said slowly. He walked towards her, stopping just short. “But it is not as important as loyalty.”

“I—I am loyal—I will be loyal—” Elizabeth promised. She raised her eyes. “I promise you, Laird, I will try very hard—”

“You cannot be loyal to me and hold a secret that endangers my clan,” Jason told her, bluntly.

“It doesn’t—” But tears stung her eyes. It could, and she knew that. She would never mean it, but it always brought her misfortune.

“This service you’ve done to the Crown—the Duke has not discharged is debt by marrying you to me,” Jason said. “This was not repayment. I am not important enough for that—”

“I—”

“This was protection,” he continued. “You have been placed under my protection. And you will not tell me why.”

“I—I—” Elizabeth pressed her lips together, nodded. “Yes. I believe that must explain it. But I gave my word to His Grace. You cannot ask me to break my word.”

“No, I cannot ask it. Nor can I command it.” Jason returned to the door, opened it slightly, then looked back at her. “But if you will not tell me, then I cannot trust that you are loyal. And I will not have a wife who is not loyal.”

“I—” All her hopes and dreams extinguished in an instant. Elizabeth stared at him. “You will set me aside already?” she asked, shaking. Her father would be furious—

“I have been asked to give you the protect of my name and my clan,” Jason said. He opened the door fully, then stood on the threshold. “I swore to the duke that I would see you safe. I never promised anything else.”

“B-But—”

“It will be up to you,” Jason told her. “What life we are to live. I will send your things to you when they arrive. Good day, Elizabeth.”

Then he closed the door.

Elizabeth stared blindly at it long after he left. If she told him the truth, he would never take her to his bed. Never give her his children.

But neither would he do those things if she held her tongue.

What was she supposed to do?

+2

Written in 50 minutes. Spellchecked, but not reread for typos.

Jason was already experiencing misgivings about his dealings with his new wife as he went downstairs to the public rooms and ordered a draught of ale, awaiting the return of Johnny and Francis with her belongings.

The sooner he could pack up his unexpected bride and return home to Braegarie where he was in control and no one could command him to do anything he did not wish to do.

When his men did finally return, Jason frowned at them, glancing out the window at the setting sun. “Did you have to go to Stirling for her things?”

“No,” Francis said shortly. He sat on the bench across from Jason and set a dingy, gray sack on the table. “This was right where milady said it would be.”

Jason stared at the sack which might have stored several pounds of grain at home, then raised his eyes to the man who had brought it. “That’s it?”

“There is something very strange afoot,” Johnny declared as he handed Francis an ale and sat next to him. “I thought your wife must have brought the wrong bag from her lodgings or perhaps she didn’t want to make a fuss after you dragged her down the Mile—”

Jason scowled. “I did not—”

“So we went to find out for sure,” Francis said. “Her father was unhappy to see us, but her brother assured us that—” He nodded at the sack. “That is the sum total of what the baron allowed his youngest daughter to pack for her presentation at the royal court.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “There could not be more than a few articles of clothing,” he muttered. He knew the weight and shape of women’s garments — “The sister was well dressed?”

“At the wedding, yes. Her brother confirmed that Sarah,” Johnny said, biting out the name, “brought several trunks.”

“I would say it makes sense to outfit the elder daughter more than the younger,” Francis said slowly, “but the brother gives me pause. I think that the baron never intended to present the other girl. Her brother was not present when Elizabeth made her bow to the regent.”

Jason stared at the sack for another moment, before getting to his feet and picking up the sack. “I need to speak with my wife.” He tossed a few coins onto the table. “She’ll need warmer clothes for the journey north tomorrow. See to it. Get another mount.”

“Aye, we’ll see to it.”

——

Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, sliding her fingers over the velvet of her dress. It was such a nice color, and there was so much more materials. Perhaps the dress could be cut down and reshaped

She jumped when the door opened again. Her husband stood there, grasping her sack. Relief slid through her veins. “Oh, I was hoping they could find my garments—”

She was already reaching for the clothes, then blinked, pulling her hands back when Jason Morgan did not set the bag down.

“It seems to me,” he said slowly, as he closed the door, then walked across the room the table beneath the window. He set the sack down, and pulled out a chair. “That there are many things I could ask you that have nothing to do with your service to the regent.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, rose to her feet. “Like what?” she asked cautiously. She sat in the other empty chair. “Will you—” She tried to look into his eyes, but her husband’s expression was still closed to her. “Will you keep my belongings if I do not answers?”

“Belongings,” Jason repeated. He gestured at the sack. “There cannot be more than two dresses.”

There were three, but she bristled, unsure of what specific insult he was inflicting on her. Elizabeth lifted her chin. “There are three. You did not answer my question.”

Jason pushed the sack towards her. “Your belongings are your own,” he said gruffly. “You tell me you cannot tell me why the regent has decided to favor you with a marriage.”

“Nay, but—” Elizabeth set the sack in her lap, focused on Jason’s light blue eyes. “But if you are willing to trust me—”

“Trust is earned, Elizabeth. Not given freely.”

“How may I earn your trust, then?”

“Your father did not intend to present you to the regent, did he?”

Elizabeth stiffened, her shoulders squared back, prepared to defend her father’s honor, but then— “No, he did not.”

“Why?”

“I cannot say—” When Jason scowled, she hurried to add, “I mean that I do not know. The call to court was specific that my father was to bring all three of his children, but he had hoped to make excuses. To say that I had fallen ill. He brought me to Edinburgh, but he only intended to bring Sarah and Steven when the time came.”

She looked away, but her eyes were dry. “But the regent specifically sent for me. For my father to bring me. Only me.” Elizabeth paused, then turned her gaze back to Jason. “How did you know that?”

“My men went to your family’s lodgings to be sure you hadn’t left anything behind. It was clear that your sister came with trunks of clothing meant for court.”

They both looked down at the sack in her lip. Elizabeth’s lip trembled slightly, so she bit down on it.

“My sister is the elder. Unmarried—”

“No father overlooks a chance to rid himself of unmarried daughters,” Jason said, flatly. “Not even Lowlanders.”

Rid himself— Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “And is that how you would approach the marriage of your daughters?” she demanded. “As baggage to be tossed aside?”

Jason tipped his head slightly to the side, and now there was a hint of a smile at the corners of his lips. Or perhaps she had mistaken a twitch of his muscles. “No. But I know enough men who see daughters as burdens. Your father strikes me as one of their number.”

She could not find fault with that reasoning, so Elizabeth just looked at her hands.

“Was it this way at home?”

Elizabeth drew her brows together, met his eyes with a slight shake of her head. “My Lord—”

“Jason,” he corrected, his voice quiet. “I am your husband.”

“You did not seem eager to claim that title earlier,” she muttered, tightening her fingers around the cord tying her sack closed.

“I was…” He looked away, his profile falling into a slash of fading sunlight. Surely she was mistaking the flush in his cheeks for something else. He leaned forward, then lit the lantern between, giving the room a soft glow. “I apologize.”

Apologize. She’d never known anyone to apologize to her and was not sure she liked knowing the reason he felt remorse.

“If you think to feel pity for me,” Elizabeth said slowly, “because my sister is richly clothed and my father struck me yesterday, then I must ask you to keep it. I will not accept your apology under such circumstances.”

“You will not—” Jason repeated, his eyes widening. “You will not accept—? Do you know how many apologies I have given in my life?”

Elizabeth winced. She ought to close her mouth and have done with it. This was how she ended up in trouble so often. If she could just control yourself? “I beg your pardon,” she muttered. “The day has been long.”

“No, I find myself curious as to why my apology is lacking.” He raised his brows. “Go on.”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose, but then nodded. “All right then. Where shall I begin? Perhaps with the reminder that I made it quite plain to you and the regent—as well as my father—that I did not ask for this, yet you and my father have both treated me as if I am to blame. I did not want to come to Edinburgh. I did not want to meet the regent—I asked for none of this, my lord,”

“Jason—”

“I will call you by your Christian name when I please,” Elizabeth snapped. “I was not finished. You dragged me out of the chapel without my things, scarcely paid attention to me until I fell into the mud and then you put me in this room, demanded that I break my oath of secrecy to the regent—and now you think to apologize because you realize that my father does not love me.”

She set the sack on the table and rose to her feet. “If you wish to apologize for your ill manner and rude behavior because you realize you were unfair to me, I will accept your apology. But I will not accept an apology because you feel sorry for me.”

——

Jason stared at his wife for a long moment, unsure how to respond to that diatribe delivered in the biting tone with flashing eyes. Slowly, he stood, knowing that he loomed over her by nearly a foot.

Her chin lifted even higher to meet his eyes. He might have thought she was unafraid—that this was evidence of a spoiled Lowland miss that was accustomed to doing what she wanted and saying what she pleased—

But he could see her hands clenched at her sides were trembling slightly. There was a quiver to her lip—

His new wife was terrified, and likely expected that he would give her a matching bruise on the other side of her face.

“I apologize,” he repeated. “For my rudeness. You are right. Outside of whatever secret you are keeping to the regent, you have done me no wrong and did not deserve such treatment.”

Elizabeth’s chest heaved slightly as she let out a shaking breath. “I did not ask for any of this,” she repeated.

“I know.” Jason stepped closer to her. “Neither did I.” He reached out, took out of her fists in his, and gently straightened out her clenched fingers. “And let me make something clear, Elizabeth—” He waited for her eyes to meet his—startled to find they were damp with tears. Her breathing hitched. “A man who uses his strength against a woman is no man at all. I will never put my hands on you.” He paused. “In anger,” he added.”

She closed her eyes, the tension bleeding out of her shoulders. Something in her voice had changed—the wintry chill had melted. “I know.”

“You do? How—”

“I—” Elizabeth’s eyes flew open, then she blinked rapidly, her fingers tightening against into a fist. “I—you told my father that—”

“Oh.” Jason nodded. “Right. Well, I—” He cleared his throat, looked down at her hand, the softness of her skin sliding against his rougher fingers. Suddenly he was conscious of the closed door and the bed in the center of the room. “I’ve sent my men for warmer clothing. Can you ride?”

“A little,” Elizabeth said. She licked her lips, nervously, her eyes on their joined hands. “Not well.”

“We’ll go slowly,” he promised. “You’ll ride with me if the terrain is rough. I—” He stepped back, let her hand fall away. “I think it best if we—” He looked at the bed. “If we wait for any—”

“I—” Her cheeks flushed. Elizabeth laced her fingers together. “Of course. I—”

“I’ll leave you to check on supper,” he muttered, then left the room as quickly as he could. He’d intended to get answers from his wife—

And now all he had were more questions.

+3

Written in 53 minutes. Did a basic spell check, but did not read for typos.

Jason passed a long, sleepless night in the room next door to the room where his new wife slept. After a few hours of listening to Johnny and Francis snore — something Jason was usually able to block out — he gave up and went to sit in front of Elizabeth’s closed door.

During supper in the public rooms, he’d become too aware of the type of men who used the lodgings — and had realized his wife was the only woman on the premises. A woman sleeping alone. He had the Highlander’s natural distrust of people, and there was none he distrusted as much as other men when a beautiful woman was left defenseless.

He passed what was left the night sitting in front of her door, dozing from time to time. He rarely needed much sleep and could go several days without a full night’s rest. He’d be able to relax once they’d left Edinburgh in the morning and were traveling north.

When the clock at St. Giles Cathedral rang the hour, Jason scrubbed his hands over his face, rose to his feet, and returned to his room to rouse his men and send one of them to resume guarding. He wish he had more men for the trip to Braegarie—it would be nearly a month before they could reach the walls of his keep and he knew there much could happen on the road between the capital and the hills of his family’s land.

Francis grumbled when Jason kicked his shoulder, but got to his feet and went to the hallway while Jason went downstairs. He was surprised when the inn keeper was already at his desk. “Laird Morgan,” the man said with a falsely cheerful voice. “A messenger came in the night for you.” He slid a slip of paper across the desk. “Will you be leaving us this morn?”

Jason scowled at the contents of the note. Albany requested they come to the palace later that day so Jason could complete his oath of loyalty. He crumpled it with a clench of his fist. He’d signed his oath in the parish register when he’d married on Albany’s order the day before. “Yes,” he told the innkeeper.

“Will you be needing any food for the road?” the man called as Jason turned away. A refusal was on the tip of his tongue, but then he sighed, remembering it wasn’t just he and his men foraging for themselves.

They had Elizabeth to look after now.

“Yes,” he muttered. “I’ll settle the bill when we leave.”

Upstairs, Elizabeth was surprised when the blond man from the day before knocked on her door and gruffly asked if he should find some water for her to wash with.

“Only if it isn’t any trouble,” Elizabeth said, folding her hands together. “I know it might be my last chance for some time. The road from Annan was quite long, and Father wasn’t able to stop near water often.”

Francis narrowed his eyes at something she’d said—perhaps her father. “The road from the Lowlands is hardly the same as the one to the Highlands,” he said, as if insulted by the comparison.

“So there are more sources of water?” she asked dubiously. “Or perhaps you know the terrain well enough to find them better?”

“I—” Francis shook his head. “I’ll get the water,” he muttered. “Don’t leave the room—”

She drew back as if slapped. “Don’t leave the—” she repeated, but the man had already pulled the door closed in her face. Was she a prisoner? Did her new husband trust her so little? She’d thought—she’d hoped they understood one another better after their conversation the night before, but maybe it had just been her wistful longing. He’d seemed so angry at how her father had treated her —

But he still didn’t know why the regent had forced the marriage, and she could not speak to the reasons either. Beyond the incident with the poison, giving her hand in marriage to the leader of a strong Highland clan made little sense to her, and Elizabeth truly hoped Jason was wrong — that she wasn’t somehow a pawn in some court intrigue she did not understand.

When the door opened again, it wasn’t Francis who came in with a pitcher of water, but her husband. In his other hand, he carried a sack. He tossed it on the bed. “There are warmer clothes,” he told her. “A cloak and some dresses. If they don’t fit—”

“I can make do,” Elizabeth promised, her eyes widening as Jason set the pitcher next to the bowl on the table. “Thank you—”

“No point in having you freeze to death,” he muttered. He paused at the door, then met her eyes. “I’d like you to stay in here until one of us comes to get you,” Jason told her. “There’s—” He paused, looked at the ground for a long moment, as if irritated with himself. “I should have let you spend the night at the palace,” he muttered. “This—this inn isn’t safe.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth rubbed her hand up her arm, some of her unease and disappointment sliding away. He wanted her to be safe. That was all right. “I won’t move from here without you or your men.”

“Thank you. We’ll—we’ll be leaving as soon as possible. Don’t take too long.”

Elizabeth nearly stopped him—nearly asked if she might be able to send word to her brother—she wouldn’t miss her father or her sister much, but, oh, Steven — would she ever see him again?

But Jason had already been kind enough this morning and she was wary of testing him further.

—

He should have ignored the summons from the king and never come to Edinburgh. If he’d stayed at home, he might not now be married to a woman who knew how to cut him to his knees with a single look in her eye.

Jason had simply told her to stay in the room, and she’d flinched. Not visibly—but he’d seen a shift in the shadows of her eyes and he’d understood it — so he’d explained himself so she’d feel better.

He never explained himself. This husband business was not comfortable, and he was more annoyed with himself as he went to the innkeeper and asked the man to send a note to his wife’s family at their lodgings so that they might say goodbye to her. And he’d sent Johnny out this morning to get more supplies for the trip home, including a tent so that Elizabeth could have some comfort and privacy on the trip home.

Jason wasn’t entirely sure why he’d thought of it, but from Johnny’s expression, he knew he would be taunted about it for years to come. Highland women traveled light like their men, Johnny would tell him, but that was because the man only knew camp followers, not wives.

Jason didn’t know a lot about wives either, but he was sure he knew more than Johnny did.

“I got the tent,” Johnny said as Jason joined him in the street. He patted the pack horse with their supplies. “And I found a mount for milady,” he drawled. “Shall I get some cushions for her saddle?”

Jason just stared at him, then turned away to find Francis tying his saddle bag closed. “Go and get Elizabeth.”

“You don’t want to do that yourself?” Francis asked. “She’s your wife—”

And he thought if she looked at him one more time, he might do something else he didn’t understand, so — “No, I need to settle with the innkeeper.”

Francis coughed as he passed Jason and Johnny, and Jason glared at him because that cough sounded a lot like “Coward.”

A few minutes later, Elizabeth emerged from the inn, her new blue wool cloak fastened around her neck, the hood drawn down so that her curly brown hair spilled over shoulders. Jason stared at him, realizing now he hadn’t seen her hair unbound until now—it had been hidden beneath court hoods and tied back —

Elizabeth’s smile dimmed slightly as she met Jason’s eyes. She turned to look behind her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, drawing her brows together. “Did I forget something?”

“I have your bags,” Francis said as he went to Elizabeth’s horse and put the two sacks of clothing into the saddlebags.

“You’ll ride this,” Jason told Elizabeth, shaking his head slightly. It was just hair, he told himself sternly. He took her elbow and walked her over to the horse. “Let me know when you tire. You’ll not be used to the pace we set—”

“I will, I don’t want to slow you down by not being honest about that,” Elizabeth promised. She looked around, then sighed. “Are we leaving now?”

“We are,” Jason told her. “I’m sorry. I sent word to your family, but—”

Her eyes flew to his, startled. “You did?” she asked, breathlessly. “But you don’t like them—”

Behind her, Johnny whacked Francis in the shoulder, and gestured at Jason with a smirk. Jason narrowed his eyes at the two of them. Idiots.

“It’s all right,” she said. She took a deep breath, and forced a smile. “Thank you. I’ll write them when we get…” Elizabeth chewed her bottom lip. “When we get where we’re going,” she finished, nervously.

“Braegarie,” Jason muttered as he turned away from Elizabeth, irritated with himself and the world. He wished now he hadn’t turned around because maybe he could have tossed her on the horse and been away before the man hurrying towards them reached the inn.

But Elizabeth saw him before Jason could say anything and her eyes lit up. “Steven!” She waved a hand. “You came!”

Steven Webber strode towards them, his own face splitting into a grin. “Bits! I worried that I would miss you.” He took her hands, squeezed them. “I thought you were staying in Edinburgh a few more days. Albany said you might be removing to the palace today—” He cast a suspicious look at Jason who just bared his teeth. This man who had let their father mark his wife’s face would not judge Jason for dragging his sister away from the luxury of court.

“Jason has responsibilities at home,” Elizabeth said, “and I—I would like to see Braegarie,” she finished. “It will be my home, too—”

“Of course.” Steven frowned again at Jason. “I need to speak to my sister alone for a moment.”

“Steven—”

“Five minutes,” Jason snapped. “I want to be gone so we can reach Linlithgow by nightfall.”

Steven bristled, but took his sister’s hand and walked out of earshot with her, turning away so that Jason couldn’t see his face, only his wife’s.

“It’s very nice that you made sure she could say goodbye to her brother,” Francis said soberly. “Almost as nice as the clothes you sent me out to buy.”

“Or the tent and horse I bought,” Johnny added. “Why, it’s almost sweet—”

Jason was only half-listening to them—was focusing on Elizabeth’s face as he saw the happiness and sparkle in her eyes slowly fade as Steven continued to speak to her. Whatever he was saying — it was making her sad. She dipped her head, looking at the stone streets. Her brother tipped her head up, putting a finger under her chin. Elizabeth looked away, and Jason could see the shine of a tear on her cheek.

Jason clenched his fists at his side, but Johnny grabbed Jason’s elbow before he could stride forward. “I wonder,” Johnny murmured, “if Webber has spoken to the regent — if perhaps he’s giving Elizabeth orders.”

“Orders—” Jason exhaled slowly. Steven had mentioned speaking to Albany after the wedding, and the regent had hoped to keep Jason and Elizabeth in the palace for several days and weeks. He’d not wanted to be dragged in court politics, but his marriage might have landed him right in the middle of it.

“You think Albany is sending a spy into our clan?” Francis asked. “For what purpose?”

“To ensure Jason’s loyalty. Or to be ready if he’s not. Regents don’t stay in power long,” Johnny said with a shrug. “And I can’t think of a better spy than a slip of a woman that screams victim.”

Jason growled, fisted a hand in Johnny’s white knit shirt, and dragged him close. “Whatever you think of her, you keep it to yourself—”

“You see?” Johnny said with a smirk. “You’ve known her two days, and you’re ready to battle one of your loyal men for speaking against her—”

Jason released Johnny with nearly a shove. “She’s not a spy. Not a willing one,” he amended as he turned his attention back to his wife and her brother. No, he could not bring himself to see Elizabeth as that kind of woman — but neither could he deny that whatever her brother had said to Elizabeth had upset her and it would be foolish to deny that Johnny could be right.

Finally, Steven and Elizabeth returned to the trio and the group of horses clustered around the inn’s entrance. “Write often, Bits,” he told her with a swift hug. “And if you need me—”

“She won’t,” Jason said, flatly, taking Elizabeth by the elbow and drawing her away from him. “We don’t beat our women, Webber, which is more than I can saw for you Lowlanders.”

Steven winced, then nodded. “My sister is precious to me,” he told Jason, his face serious and sober. “And I hope that she will be precious to you—”

“Steven,” Elizabeth hissed.

“I love you,” Steven told her. He kissed her forehead. “Remember what I said.”

“I—” Her expression faltered again, and Jason tensed. “I will.”

Finally, Steven Webber walked away, and Jason held out a hand to help his wife mount the horse. “What did your brother say to you?”

“He said to remember my mother,” Elizabeth said softly. “And to never forget what she taught me.”

Jason frowned. It seemed strange that such a remark could inspire the change he’d seen in her, but it wasn’t impossible, so he let it go and settled her on the horse and in the sidesaddle.

A few moments later, Johnny led the way to the road that would take them out of Edinburgh and home, as Jason kept a careful on his wife and wondered what secrets she kept from him.

+2

Written in 55 minutes. Did a basic spell check but did not reread for typos.

Jason had hoped to make it to Linlithgow before the sun had started to dip in the horizon so that they could set up camp before complete darkness descended. He hadn’t planned to make any changes in their usual route home from Edinburgh — he and his men knew the terrain between the capital and Braegarie like the back of their hand and were able of making the trip in a week.

With the addition of delicate woman from the Lowlands who could barely seat a horse, Jason had steeled himself for the week’s trip to take more than double that. Elizabeth would never manage to seat a horse from sun rise to sun set, even if he set her before him and did the work.

By the time they reached loch, the waters were nearly black and the moon was high in the sky. Jason glanced over at his new wife, and even in the moonlight, he could see the way her shoulders were trembling with fatigue. The terrain had been relatively flat so far — if she was flagging after the easiest leg of the trip—

He swung down from his horse and caught Elizabeth’s mare by the bridle. The brunette blinked blearily at him. “We’re stopping?” she asked, her voice low and rusty from disuse.

“Aye,” he confirmed, furrowing his brow as she winced, rubbing her hands. “Can you dismount?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, then made a face as she attempted to move her leg from the pommel of her side saddle. With a bite of her lip, she sighed. “I might need a little help,” she admitted finally.

“Set up camp,” he told Johnny and Francis, who had tied their horses to a near branch and were coming over to take the other horses. “I’ll take care of the horses. I want the tent up first.”

“Tent?” Elizabeth repeated.

“Aye,” Johnny said caustically, as he yanked the material in question from the pack horse. “Only the best for milady—”

“Johnny,” Jason said quietly. He met the other man’s stare head on, but Johnny’s eyes were shadowed in the darkness. “No.”

Francis quietly came up behind Johnny and removed the other supplies they needed to make camp. “I’ll get a fire going,” he said.

When Jason was satisfied that both of his men were occupied, he returned his attention to Elizabeth. He started her when he swung up behind her, mounting the horse. “What—” she began.

“It’ll be easier,” he said, reaching around her to gently wrap a hand around her calf and lift it over the pommel. Elizabeth hissed as her leg moved for the first time in hours. Her body was trembling against his, and Jason felt a now familiar shame spreading through his body. She’d told him she had little experience riding, and he’d pushed her too far, too fast on the first day.

He’d be lucky if she could even walk in the morning.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice tight with pain. “I didn’t—I said I would tell you if I was tired, but I didn’t—until we stopped and I tried—”

“Your muscles locked in this position,” he said, keeping his arms around her, steadying her. He was afraid that in her exhaustion, she might tumble right from the back of the mare. “And your mind adjusted. ‘Tis my fault for not stopping for lunch and letting you walk around.”

“I don’t want to delay your return home,” Elizabeth said fretfully. “I can do this—”

“We’ll see.” He took her hands in his and set them on the pommel. “I’m going to get down now. Hold on, and I’ll have you on the ground before you know it.”

Elizabeth did as he asked, and when Jason reached up to pull her down to the soft earth, she nearly stumbled and fell against him, her legs protesting the movement. “It—” She squeezed her eyes closed, pressing her forehead against his chest. He felt tears soak into his shirt. “It hurts,” she admitted.

“You need to walk,” he advised. He put an arm around her shoulders. “Or it will only feel worse.” Her arm snaked around his waist as they inched closer to the clearing where Francis had lift the fire and Johnny was cursing with the unfamiliar tent.

It was a small pavilion tent, patterned after what aristocrats brought to fairs and on their own sojourns. None of them had ever traveled more than a night with a woman, much less a laird’s wife, and Jason knew that Johnny was going to sulk for the entire journey.

“Is that for me?” Elizabeth said, staring at the white linen as Francis shook his head and joined the other man. He shoved Johnny aside, then patiently assembled the wooden frame work before attempting to stretch the linen over it.

“I thought it would be comfortable than a pallet on the ground,” Jason said. He frowned at her. “Did you not have one on the journey to Edinburgh?”

“Oh.” She dipped her head. “I suppose I did, I just—” She looked at him, her eyes little more than shadows in the flames. “I didn’t think of it as mine. I shared it with Sarah but—” She shook her head. “It wasn’t necessary, but thank you.” This she directed at the men. “For going out of your way. Please don’t think I need special treatment.”

“Says the lass who can barely move,” Johnny grunted, but some of his hostility had faded. “It’s fine,” he muttered. “You’re—” He wiggled his hands. “Small. Soft. You’d never sleep on the ground.”

“I—”

“Don’t argue,” Jason muttered. “This is as nice as he gets.” He jerked his head. “Let’s walk more to get your body loosened.” And if he let himself enjoy the way she felt, snuggled next to him, fitting perfectly into the crook of his shoulder — well that was his own personal secret.

—

Francis managed dinner while Johnny took care of the horses. By the time Jason was satisfied that she’d walked off the worse of her cramps, Elizabeth was convinced she’d crumble from exhaustion. She really hadn’t meant to make things more difficult for her new husband and his men—had been trying so hard to convince them she could hold her own —

But Jason was right — not moving for so long had tricked her brain into thinking she was fine. When he set her down on the small wooden stool that had also magically appeared from the pack horse, Elizabeth only felt marginally better than she had when he’d pulled her off the horse.

He’d been surprisingly kind in assisting her—she might even go so far as describing his demeanor as sweet if she had any way to determine what that might actually look like. She nearly preferred the open hostility of the suspicious dark-haired warrior—she was more familiar with aggressive behavior.

No one had ever put her needs and comfort first, and Elizabeth wasn’t really sure what to say or how to handle it. Could it be possible that she would really be able to start a new life in her new home? Could her new husband come to value and trust her?

She glanced at him as he sat on the ground, reaching for the jug of whiskey that had been hanging on the horse. He took a long pull, then glanced at her. “You should eat before you sleep.”

“Oh—” Elizabeth was about to protest that she wasn’t very hungry. The meat and cheese Francis had tossed at her on horseback at mid day had been twice as much as she was used to, and she’d saved a portion of it to eat later. But Johnny didn’t wait for her answer, just shoved a bowl of some sort of mashed something at her with a badly carved spoon.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. She gingerly pushed the spoon around the mash, then touched it to her lips, trying very hard not to recoil. It was dreadful and tasted not much better than dirt. But it was food, and she wanted them to trust her. To like her, if such a thing was even possible.

Johnny narrowed his eyes at her, sitting across the fire from her. “Not fancy enough for you?”

“It’s fine,” Elizabeth said hastily. She spooned up another bite and forced herself to eat it. “Thank you,” she repeated.

Johnny grunted, and looked away from Jason’s glare. Francis quietly ate his own meal. Elizabeth finished her food, but before she say anything, Johnny yanked the bowl from her hand. “You should go to sleep,” he told her.

Elizabeth rose to her feet, and Jason swiftly stood as well, throwing Johnny another scowl. “I’m fine,” she told Jason. “I’m quite tired, and I want to be ready to leave in the morning when it’s time. Thank you for…for taking care of me,” she told all three of them. I will see you in the morning.”

Jason took her arm, and helped her over the uneven terrain, pulling back the flap of the tent. “If you need anything—”

“Good night,” Elizabeth said to him. She managed a smile. “I promise. I’ll do better tomorrow.” She ducked inside the tent, and Jason let the flap close.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then turned back to his men. “The horses. Now,” he snapped in a low voice, wanting to be out of earshot of his new wife.

“I know that you don’t trust her,” Jason began, but Johnny shook his head.

“You are letting that woman trick you with her sweet smiles and fluttering eyes,” he snapped, keeping his voice low. “She’s not nearly as helpless as she pretends to be—”

“Didn’t see her acting helpless much,” Francis said idly, and Johnny turned to look at him, dumbfounded. “Put her on a strange horse. Clear she’s barely able to sit one, and then we dragged her along for nearly ten hours at a brisk pace. No stopping for breaks or meals.” He shrugged. “She can fake not expecting fancy food or sleeping arrangements, but not the riding.”

Johnny scowled. “Don’t tell me—”

“I don’t trust her either,” Francis said, patiently. “She won’t tell you why the regent wanted you to marry her, and she knows what service she was supposed to have done,” he added to Jason. “And her brother came to see her off. Made sure to see her off. She’s keeping secrets.”

“I know that,” Jason bit out. “But she’s still—” He glanced at the tent, isolated and lonely in the middle of the clearing. A pavilion tent alone was a strange sight. He was used to seeing them in larger numbers. “We still exchanged vows in the church,” he muttered. “She’s still my wife.”

Johnny’s scowl deepened. “And you’re my laird, which means I’d lay my life down for her if you ask it. But that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it—”

“She could also just be an unwilling part of this,” Jason retorted. “And making her mistrust any of this doesn’t do anything to get her to tell me what she knows. Francis is right—she could have been pretending everything else, but she didn’t complain even once today. She pushed herself because she wanted to prove herself to me. And she’s done that. I don’t think she holds any secrets that put my life in danger. For now, that’s enough for me.”

“You’re a fool,” Johnny told him caustically. “Taken in by pretty eyes and soft skin—”

Francis stepped between the two of them as Jason nearly growled. “Jason is right,” he told the other man. “Like it or not, she’s married to our laird. She’s his lady. She deserves the same respect you manage to give his aunt. You don’t like her either—”

“Aye, well, Tracy would flay me if—” Johnny muttered, then looked away. “All right. I’ll try harder,” he admitted.

“We’re changing the route home,” Jason said, deciding that he might as well get it over with. “We can make Stirling tomorrow, and Perth the day after—”

“That’s nearly a third of what we’d do in one day! And we never stay in towns—”

“We’re setting a slower pace now and let Elizabeth get used to sitting a horse. Once we leave Perth, there’s barely any civilization,” Jason reminded him. “I won’t have her falling ill and—” He broke off. “There’s no hurry to get home. It’s not worth it to me to work her to the bone.” And he was worried that a lifetime of living with a man like Baron Webber would cause Elizabeth to hold back any complaints about illness or her true condition. “You’re welcome to ride ahead. I can bring Elizabeth home on my own.”

Johnny hissed and dragged a hand through his hair. “No,” he said in a low voice. “You’re right. The girl could barely walk when you pulled her off the mare. She didn’t fake that. And one night on the pallet in a tent won’t fix it. Better to lose the time in a town than in the hills where we can’t easily resupply.”

He fixed his eyes on Jason’s. “Don’t forget that all of this could be a plot against you. It’s taken you less than two days to let down your guard—”

“And it could also be nothing more than we were told,” Jason said, slicing his hand in the air between. “Which means that she is an innocent young woman being dragged into the Highlands with no riding experience and three men she barely knows. She’s trusting us not to kill her in her sleep and pretend none of this ever happened. The very least I can do is make the journey as comfortable as I can.”

Johnny threw up his hands and stalked away. Jason looked at Francis. “You agree with him.”

“I think there are secrets that you don’t know,” Francis said, after a measured silence. “But I also think she might not know them either. And there’s no point in terrorizing the lass if she’s just a pawn. She’s not any trouble to me, Jason, and remember that Johnny hates everyone. He’ll respect her because you ordered it, but he won’t do more than that.”

Jason just shook his head and walked away from Francis, irritated with both of his men. He trusted them more than his own family, and they were both suspicious of his new wife, even if Francis was being quieter about it. Jason couldn’t quite bring himself to share those worries. Not after spending time with her, seeing her family —

But was Johnny right? Was he being played for a fool?

+2

Written in 67 minutes. Sorry I went a bit over and got interrupted in the middle, too. But I’m pretty happy with this. No time for typos or spellcheck.

Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open the next morning when the sunlight slid through the opening in her tent. As her mind became alert, she also realized that everything hurt. She squeezed her eyes closed again, then slowly, pushed herself to a seated position, inhaling sharply as the muscles in her lower back and shoulders protested. Then she twisted, sliding her legs from the cot she slept in to the ground.

She sucked in another breath, almost on a sob as she realized she couldn’t quite bring herself to stand up. Every single piece of her body was frozen. She didn’t know what would happen if she told Jason she wasn’t sure she could stand much less travel on the horse again, and she expected to ride all the way to Braegarie? Would his patience with her disappear? Would he leave her here?

No. She rubbed her wrist. No. She couldn’t read her new husband very well unless she was touching him, and even then it was difficult to get a sense of him. But she’d felt genuine worry and concern. Some suspicion, some worry that she was keeping secrets, but she’d known that already.

“Elizabeth?”

His voice from outside the tent jarred her and she looked towards the entrance. “I—I’m awake,” she managed. “I’ll be out in a moment—” Elizabeth took a deep breath, then forced herself to stand, the muscles in her thighs protesting from the pressure, but she stood, wobbling slightly.

Now to take a step.

She stared blankly at the matted grass and dirt beneath her feet, her brain sending signals to move, but her body simply refused.

“Elizabeth?” Jason said again. “Are you all right?”

“I—” She bit her lip. “No,” Elizabeth confessed in a small voice. “I’m not. I’m—” She stopped as the flap to the tent swept aside and Jason strode in, ducking his head slightly. She smiled at him tightly. “I stood up. And that was all I could do.”

Jason nodded, his mouth tightening. “I’m sorry. We should have set an easier pace yesterday. We—we always camp here when we return from the town,” he said. “How did you travel from Annan?”

“Oh. My father hired a cart for my sister and I.” Elizabeth stared at her hands. “We were never instructed in riding, and—” A tear slid down her cheek. How useless she was. How little she knew about what would be expected of her. A Highland wife who couldn’t ride? Or care for herself?

She glanced at Jason, who was squinting at her, his brows furrowed in thought, as if trying to process how to go forward from here. Would he just take her back to the regent, tell him she was defective? It wasn’t too late to set aside the vows — she knew it was done often, particularly in the Highlands.

Expecting Jason to declare this a disaster, she was surprised instead when he came forward and lifted her, sliding one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders. She gasped slightly, wrapping her own arms around his neck to brace herself.

“You’ll ride with me today,” Jason told her. “And we will stop in Stirling for the night. You’ll be able to rest there.”

“I—” She blinked at the sun as he walked out of the tent and set her down on the little stool by the remains of the fire. He jerked his chin at Johnny who scowled and started to pack up. “I could have—”

“Don’t worry about him,” Jason said. He pushed something into her hands, an oatcake. “Eat. You need your strength.”

She chewed her bottom lip, contemplating the grubby little oat cake, but when she raised her eyes to say something, her husband had already walked away, joining Johnny and Francis in packing up the campsite.

—

He’d meant what he’d told Elizabeth that morning by the loch—he should have stopped earlier that night. There had been other villages between Edinburgh and Linlithglow where he could have taken rooms, eased her into the brutal pace that they’d need in the hills later in the trip.

Instead, he’d let his irritation at Johnny and Francis’s suspicions, her refusal to trust him with the truth, and his own worry about what trouble he was bringing home to his clan — he’d let all of that cloud his vision, and he’d treated his new wife worse than he had the day of their wedding—which he hadn’t thought would be possible.

After they’d packed the tent, Jason took Elizabeth to the loch so that she could wash, and then carried to her horse where he set her in front of him—having her pressed against him all day would be his punishment, he decided.

But the universe had devised an even harsher penalty for his actions. When they reached Stirling, Jason was chagrined to learn that there was a festival in town which meant many had flocked in from the surrounding countryside and many of the inns were full.

“We’ll camp outside of town,” Johnny said when Francis had trudged out of the last place with a shake of his head. Johnny glanced at Elizabeth, pale and worn, leaning back against Jason, her eyes closed.

“They have one room,” Francis said before Jason could consider Johnny’s suggestion. He nodded at Elizabeth. “The lass needs to sleep, and another night on the cot won’t do her any good. I told them you’ll take the room, Jason. Johnny and I will make do and we’ll see you in the morning.”

Jason hesitated. They should keep trying. There were at least two or three more inns, one of which had to have at least two rooms. He’d never leave Elizabeth alone in one of these places, but—

“We can’t leave them alone,” Johnny bit out. He swept his eyes over Elizabeth again, but she was awake now, blinking at them blearily. Jason hoped Elizabeth thought Johnny was worried for their safety, but he knew what the other man was thinking. He didn’t trust Jason around her without Johnny to remind him that she hadn’t earned their trust yet.

His jaw clenched. He wasn’t going to make Elizabeth suffer another night because she hadn’t earned Johnny’s respect. It wasn’t him that she needed to satisfy. He looked at Francis. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Francis—” Johnny began but the blond sent his friend a sharp look. “Fine,” he muttered.

“We’ll take your horses to the livery,” Francis told Jason as he held the stallion’s reins. Jason dismounted and reached for Elizabeth. He’d stopped several times that day so that she could walk off the worst of her cramps and rest her muscles so she was able to stand on her own while he grabbed what they’d need for the night.

He put a hand at her elbow and guided her towards the low doorway of the inn. A few minutes later, the innkeeper had taken them to their room and Jason had arranged for supper and a hot bath to be brough up. Elizabeth had sighed, a soft sound that sounded almost happy.

“Thank you,” she said, twisting her fingers together. “It wasn’t necessary, but—”

“You’ll feel better when you’ve soaked,” he muttered, looking away from her, not wanting to think about her bathing. He did not need that image in his mind before they shared a room together for the entire night.

They ate first—a hot stew that tasted much better than the oat cakest they’d had for breakfast and around noon. Elizabeth’s color had already returned by the time the bath was brought in, two serving women bringing steaming pitchers with which to fill it.

“I’ll—” Jason got to his feet hastily. “I’ll go downstairs,” he muttered, then fled like a coward as Elizabeth stared at him then turned her flushed cheeks to the serving women, feeling a bit embarassed how quickly he’d left the room to avoid being near her while she bathed.

She tried very hard not to linger in the bath, but it had been several day since she’d been able to wash properly, and Jason had been right—the hot water really did make her feel so much better. She wasn’t sure how she’d make it all the way to his home since she knew it wasn’t possible to take rooms every night.

But he’d done this for her this once, and Elizabeth decided to see that as a good sign.

By the time Jason returned, she had finished her bath and was drying her hair by the fire. He stepped aside so that the maids could take the tub to another guest, then closed the door, clearing his throat. “Your father.”

Elizabeth stared at the flames, her comb clutched in her fingers. “Yes?”

“Even for a Lowlander,” Jason said slowly, “it seems strange that neither of his daughters were not taught to ride.” He sat at the table where they’d eaten their supper, watching her. “I assume your brother was?”

“Of course.” Elizabeth sighed and rose to her feet. She sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers across the teeth of her comb. “My father does not think women should do many things,” she said after a long moment. “And riding was one of them. My mother—” She closed her eyes. “Her horse threw her.”

Jason frowned. “That could have happened to anyone—”

“Her mare was spooked by something,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head. “And my mother couldn’t stop her—couldn’t jump to safety. Her skirt was tangled in the sidesaddle. My father…is not always rational.” She paused. “He never expected me to marry,” she admitted which was not quite the truth. He’d never wanted her to find a husband. Had never wanted her to leave Annan and risk their secret—her secret—to be known. “I fear that there are many things you would expect your wife to be capable of doing that I cannot.”

She looked up to find him staring her with a calm expression as if she hadn’t admitted what a failure she was—or would be. “I should have said something sooner—”

“Why?” Jason asked. He sat next to her on the bed, keeping at least a foot between them. “What reason could he have?”

“I—” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose, looked down at her hands. She couldn’t tell him the truth, but— “My father has never cared for me,” she said instead. “From my earliest memories. He’s always favored Sarah, but—he never intended her to marry either. Steven—he’s different,” she said softly. “He’s the heir. But neither Sarah nor I—after our mother died—received any instruction that would make us particularly fit for being a wife.” She looked at him. “He changed his mind about Sarah when we were invited to the court. He thought she might make a brilliant match.”

“But not you.”

“Not me,” Elizabeth confirmed. She thought that he would press on the matter, and she worried how she would deflect the questions—she didn’t want to lie to him, but she couldn’t imagine telling him the truth. That her father had feared that women carried the curse of her vision, and that Sarah might shame him and have a daughter just like Elizabeth. That his family would be dishonored and disgraced.

“What did your brother mean about your mother?” Jason asked, surprising her by the change in conversation. “That you should remember what she taught you?”

“I—” Her eyes widened and she looked straight ahead, at the dingy walls of the room. Could she tell him? Could she open up about this? Would he trust her if she showed a little of herself? She looked at him, met his eyes. “She taught me to be quiet,” Elizabeth admitted in a soft voice. “Not to speak. To be invisible.”

“To be—” Jason frowned, shook his head. “Why? Why would she teach such a lesson to a child—” The scowl deepened. “Why would your brother remind you of it.”

“Oh. Well—” Elizabeth’s stomach pitched strangely and she dipped her gaze down at his hands. They were so large. Larger than her fathers. He wore no ring that would cut her, but she suspected if Jason hit her with a closed fist, she might not wake up again. “Quiet children are safe,” she said finally. She touched the side of her cheek, absently where the cut her father had given her had only begun to scab over, the bruise fading into sickening streaks of yellow and green.

“Elizabeth—”

“Steven’s just worried,” Elizabeth said in a rush. “He—he doesn’t know you, and he can’t protect me. He tries, but sometimes my father—” She shrugged a shoulder. “He knows we might not see each other again, and he worries for me.”

“You don’t need to be quiet or invisible,” Jason told her. She glanced up to find him closer to her, his eyes intent on hers. “You will be safe with me.”

“Will I?” she asked, her voice scarcely above a whisper. “You don’t trust me. I know your men don’t trust me.”

“Whatever those secrets are,” Jason responded, his voice hushed but fervent—his hand reached out to cup her cheek. A shiver slid through her body as the sense of comfort, of security—of being safe sank into her body. He wasn’t lying to her. “Whatever they are,” he repeated, “I promise you that I will never hurt you.”

His thumb brushed away a tear as it escaped her lashes. Then he leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against hers. Startled, Elizabeth parted her mouth, and he deepend the caress. She closed her eyes and sank into him—he was open to her for the first time—the guards she’d been fighting for days disappeared—and she reached her hand up to touch his jaw, then slid into his hair, the dark blonde strands falling just below his chin.

And just as she believed she was truly safe, that this time it would be different—she had a flash. A flash of Johnny and Francis standing in front of him, with the horses. At the inn in Edinburgh.

And I can’t think of a better spy than a slip of a woman that screams victim.

Elizabeth couldn’t sense who had said the harsh words, but she could feel the venom, the hatred, the distrust down to her bones—she jerked away from him, jumping off the bed.

“Elizabeth—”

Shaking slightly, confused and bewildered—how could he be so true in one moment and feel so right—when she knew—she knew he didn’t trust her. And if he hadn’t said it, one of his own men thought she was a spy.

“You think if you are kind to me and promise me things,” she said, her voice shaking, “that I will break my word? Do you think that I am so weak? So soft? I made a vow—”

“You made vows to me,” Jason said tightly. “Are they not more important?” He rose to his feet, his face tightening with irritation. “Elizabeth—”

“I’d like to go to bed,” she said, trembling. “I—I am very tired. And I would like try riding again tomorrow.”

Jason pressed his lips together, then nodded. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” He jerked a pallet out of one of the bags he’d brought up and laid it on the floor. He laid down, his back to her.

She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around herself, and reminded herself that her mother had been right. Quiet. Invisible. It was the only way to protect herself.

+2

Written in 52 minutes. Basic spell check.

“At least I know you didn’t nothing stupid last night,” Johnny muttered as he helped Jason to see to the horses while Francis took Elizabeth down to the stream to wash and stretch her legs.

Jason glared at him. “What does that mean?”

“She can barely meet your eyes,” Johnny said, with a shrug, “and you don’t look like a man who’s enjoyed the marital bed—”

Jason grabbed Johnny by the fabric of his tunic, shoved him against the tree. “You think because we grew up together that you can talk about my wife that way?” he growled.

Johnny shoved him back, and Jason lost his balance, hitting the ground. He scrambled back up and launched himself at Johnny. The two of them grunted and rolled—Jason wincing when Johnny landed a shot to his jaw, but Johnny’s nose spurted blood when Jason’s fist connected to it—

“Oh hell,” Francis muttered as he and Elizabeth returned from their short trip to find her husband rolling around on the ground with hostile Highlander. “I was hoping this would hold a few more days—”

“Aren’t you going to stop them?” Elizabeth asked, blinking up at the taciturn blond man. “Shouldn’t—”

“Johnny’s been asking for it,” Francis admitted. “He likes to needle Jason more than he should, and—” he glanced at her. “Well—”

“He doesn’t like me,” Elizabeth murmured. She wrapped her arms around her torso, staring at the men, wondering if they would truly kill one another.. She’d only really known her father and brother who were nothing like these brawny Highlanders.

“It’s not that—”

“He doesn’t trust me.” Elizabeth lifted his chin. “Neither do you. Or my husband.”

Francis nodded slowly. “It’s not personal, lass,” he said with a bit of color in his cheeks. “Just—”

“I’ve kept secrets,” Elizabeth finished. “And you three think that ‘tis so easily to transfer loyalty.” Tears stung her vision as Jason shoved Johnny again, and the other man hit the tree, grunting before he hurled himself at her husband again. “Would you think better of me if I had immediately told Jason everything that I had only just sworn to keep quiet? Why would you trust me if I broke my word? You’d only wait for the day that I did it to you.”

Francis pressed his lips together, accepted the truth of that. “Aye, well, you should know that Jason barely believes you capable of any real treachery,” he admitted. “Johnny barely trusts his own mother—” He winced as Jason punched Johnny again. “I should stop it,” he muttered. He strode forward, grabbed Johnny by the arm and shoved him back.

“Feel better?” Francis asked Jason dryly as he held Johnny back easily. “You’ve broken his pretty face more than his brother did last Michaelmas.”

Jason wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I won’t warn you again,” he told Johnny. “You’ll hold your tongue—”

“Someone has to watch your back!” Johnny exploded, “or you’ll let your—” Francis growled and the other man broke off his words, looking at Elizabeth, whose pale face suddenly colored and she stared at the ground. Johnny’s meaning was clear.

“You may not like it,” Francis told him in a low voice, “but she’s done naught to deserve the way you speak of her. You’d blacken the eye of any man who did so at home.”

“Please,” Elizabeth said softly. “I think there’s been a terrible—” Her voice faltered as she met Jason’s eyes. “This was a terrible mistake,” she finally said, but her voice was so low it barely carried on the wind. She turn and fled back into the woods.

Jason shot Johnny a scathing glare before taking off after her.

“He doesn’t even see that she’s wrapped him around her little finger,” Johnny muttered. “I’m his first, Francis. I’m supposed to challenge him—”

“Like it or not,” Francis said slowly, “she’s his wife. They took a vow in the church before God and king. She’s Lady Morgan now, and you’ve treated her worse than you’ve treated a tavern maid. It doesn’t matter what secrets or danger she’s carrying. Jason swore an oath to honor her. No one is asking you to trust her,” he said when the other man just rolled his eyes. “But show some damned respect until you know differently.”

—

Elizabeth didn’t even know where she was she was running, but the choice was made for her when she stumbled into the clearing she’d only just left with Francis, where the woods opened into a small stream.

Her chest heaving, her face flushed with shame and misery, Elizabeth stood at the water’s edge and contemplated the depth of the water. Could she go across? Simply disappear into the woods? Vanish from the world and all the people in it?

“Elizabeth.”

She closed her eyes. She’d heard his heavy footsteps behind her and hoped that he wouldn’t be able to follow—how silly was she to think she’d be able to hide from a man who likely knew these woods better than she knew the four walls of her bedroom at home.

“When we reach Perth,” Elizabeth said, relieved to find her voice steady, “you should leave me there.”

“To do what?” Jason asked, stepping up to her side, his broad shoulders brushing her arm. Elizabeth refused to look at him.

“It matters not,” she said, wishing she could dip inside his mind without having to touch him. She knew now the voice she’d heard the night before — not Jason’s, but Johnny’s, the angry man who had resented her every step of the way.

He was Jason’s first, the leader of his men, one of Jason’s most trusted warriors. And now he was quarreling with Jason, violently clashing over Elizabeth, over the secrets she kept.

How could she continue this way? She couldn’t tell any of them the truth. They’d never believe her, and she half thought Johnny would have burnt as a witch if she told them she had visions of thoughts and could hear snippets of conversations for which she hadn’t been present.

And Jason would never trust her enough to let her stay his wife. He wouldn’t chance breeding her madness and curse into his sons. Her father, in all his cruelty and anger, had been right. Elizabeth should have stayed behind.

Should have stayed quiet and invisible.

“It matters,” Jason said, “as you are my wife, and the regent has charged me with your protection.”

“It would be a mistake,” she said, “if we pretended that you could bring me to your home and others would not share Johnny’s distrust. I am not of your clan, I am from the Lowlands, and the regent forced us into this match. And—” Elizabeth looked at him, raising her chin to him defiantly. “You do not trust me.”

“Johnny disagrees with you,” Jason said slowly, “which was the source of our disagreement. I might find it difficult to accept that you keep secrets from me, but that is not the same as distrusting you.”

Elizabeth frowned, shaking her head slightly. “But—”

“And I’m sorry if you think that any of the kindness or care I’ve given to you was out of pity or a hope that I could trick you into telling me what you keep to yourself,” Jason continued. He reached for her hand, and she watched as he traced the lines of her palm, his larger, darker fingers dwarfing her own.

“I cannot tell you,” Elizabeth said softly, her breath nearly a sob. “I can never tell you.”

“I know you think that’s true,” Jason said, their eyes meeting. Not letting go of her hand, he used his other to touch her jaw. The way he had the night before. “Because your father convinced you not to. And your mother thought you should stay quiet.”

“I—”

“I am asking you to trust me,” Jason told her. “Not with your secret,” he added when she closed her eyes. “But with the rest of you. If you can promise me that your secret will bring me or my clan no harm, than I will take you at your word and not press you.”

Her eyes flew open, and Elizabeth blinked in confusion. “But Johnny and Francis—”

“Will do what I tell them,” Jason finished. “I won’t leave you in Perth, Elizabeth. Even in the Highlands, arranged marriages are common. We don’t have to be any different. I have a need of a wife. My aunt is getting older and will need more help running the keep. I want children. Sons to continue my line,” he added as her heart began to pound so fast she could hear it in her eyes. “And daughters.”

“Daughters,” she repeated, remembering their conversation the day they had wed. “Daughters would not be a burden?”

“I have a sister,” Jason reminded her. “And she was never a burden to me or my father. She’s married now, living on the Isles,” he said with a trace of wistfulness. “I haven’t seen her in more than a year. I understand the worry your brother had for you that day—it was the same I had the day Nikolas took Emily away, and I couldn’t protect her.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, tears sliding down her cheeks. It couldn’t be real. Couldn’t be possible that he was really handing her the life she’d wanted so desperately deep down inside without demanding everything in return. There was a trick somewhere—there must be—

“Elizabeth? Will you come with me?”

“I—” She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t force the words out of her throat, afraid that if she spoke them out loud, this moment would vanish and she would wake up back in the inn with an angry husband or worse — back in Annan, and this entire adventure nothing more than the dream of a silly girl.

Jason bent down to her, his lips brushing against her so softly they felt more like a caress than a kiss. And she saw it — saw what their future might be—seated beside a hearth, Elizabeth smiling at him, her body round with child—oh, and Jason holding another child in his arms, a smiling, laughing, beautiful little boy—her chest nearly ached from the vision—or was it just a dream—

“Yes,” she whispered against his mouth. She threw her arms around his neck, clumsily kissing him back with all the love she wanted to feel for him, for the dream he’d laid in front of her, and the desperate hope that he was everything he was promising to be.

+3

Written in 63 minutes. Had to take a minute to double check some garment situations and the existence of something in Perth in 1514.

Johnny was wise enough to say very little to Jason or his wife when they returned to the clearing and mounted their horses to complete the journey to Perth. T

hough he knew it would grate at Johnny and Francis to stop in one of the largest towns in the Highlands for several days, Jason knew that they’d be able to find rooms and resupply themselves for the final ten days of the trip, though he planned to supply themselves for at least two weeks. He hoped Elizabeth would be able to pick up the pace once they had rested, but Jason wanted to be ready for anything.

He also had other plans for their stay in Perth.

They reached the boundaries of the city just an hour or so before dusk fell, but the inn Jason and his family had usually favored was close and they were able to stable their horses and arrange rooms before complete darkness fell.

“This is the last inn before Braegarie,” Jason reminded Elizabeth as they left Johnny and Francis in the common room and climbed the steps to their room. Inside, he lit the lamps and turned to her. “We’ll stay two, maybe three days, but after this—”

“It’s back to the tent,” Elizabeth said with a nod. “I understand. And I thank you for taking this journey so slowly. I—” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know you’d make the trip in half the time—”

Less than that, but Jason just nodded and kissed her forehead gently. “I’ve arranged for a bath after supper,” he told her. “Enjoy the comforts while you can.”

“That sounds ominous,” Elizabeth replied, but she was smiling and her eyes were lit with a spark he’d not seen before. “Thank you.” She paused. “Today, you made it clear that you would…”

“Elizabeth?” he said when she trailed off.

“That you would like us to…make a true marriage of this,” she managed, her voice fading slightly. He tipped her chin up, intrigued by the flush that had spread across her cheeks. “If we are to stay a few days here, then maybe—” She cleared her throat. “M-Maybe we should start tonight.”

He stilled, furrowing his brows slightly as he took in her words, scouring for any other meaning than the one he wanted. “Start,” he repeated. “Do you mean—”

“Well,” Elizabeth said, “I’m not entirely sure I understand everything, mind you,” she continued, “but I don’t imagine sons or daughters appear under a bush.” She glanced at the bed, then at him, before dropping her gaze again. “Unless you wish to wait—”

“I don’t,” he assured her, speaking so abruptly that she had barely completed half of her statement before he blurted his answer. “I just want you to be ready.”

“I don’t know if one is ever ready,” she replied, “but I think we’d both do better if we…” Elizabeth made a face. “I’m sorry. I’m making a mess of this.”

“You’re not.” Jason cupped her face in his hands, kissing her swiftly and fiercely, drawing out the embrace until she was clinging to him, her breath shallow and her eyes dazed. “You couldn’t.”

“So tonight,” Elizabeth said.

“Tonight,” Jason agreed, even though waiting another minute might likely kill him. “I’ll go tell the innkeeper we’re ready for our supper.”

——

Downstairs in the common room, Johnny sulked over an ale, glaring at the frothy liquid. “M’face feels like I ran into a tree,” he muttered.

“Looks like it, too,” Francis agreed, cheerfully as he ate his stew. He watched as the innkeeper’s wife, a maid, and another man dragged a tub up the stairs. “Will you leave off making the lass feel like a bad penny?”

“I know I punched him at least three times,” Johnny continued, “but his face has not a mark on it. Unfair.”

“You made a crude statement about his wife,” Francis reminded him. “You’re lucky that Jason didn’t leave you in pieces for the crows. Will you stop?” he repeated.

“It’s my job to challenge Jason,” Johnny reminded Francis. “But I’ve told him that he’s a fool and that he’s putting his trust in the wrong person. He has—” He rubbed his jaw. “He has, uh, rejected that advice.”

“That’s one way to say it.”

“He’ll regret not getting to the bottom of her secrets,” Johnny predicted, “but I’ve given up making all of us miserable. I will, however, be first in line to remind him of this day when I’m proven right.”

“Cynical bastard,” Francis retorted, lifting his ale and taking a long swig.

——

Elizabeth hung back by the hearth, her wrapper tied tightly around her body as Jason held the door open and the tub was removed. She’d decided to throw all her caution and good sense to the wind inviting her new husband to bed her—she thought maybe his kisses might make the rest of it worth it. She’d heard maids complain about the act over the years, though one or two had seemed to like it.

But she’d never thought marriage for her. She’d never dreamed she might have a husband of her own, but now she was married to…a man much larger than her, she realized with a start as Jason walked towards her, still wearing the knit shirt and kilt.

“Are you all right?” he asked, taking a hand in his. “You can change your mind—”

“No,” Elizabeth said quickly with a fervent shake of her head. “No,” she repeated. “It’s just—” She licked her lips, looked up at him. “I’m a bit nervous is all,” she admitted. “I’ve—well, obviously I’ve never—” She huffed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jason told her. With his other hand, he traced the line of his jaw and her eyes fluttered closed. “It’s important that you speak the truth to me,” he continued, and her heart skipped a beat — because that was never going to happen — but when she opened her eyes and met his again, he continued speaking. “If something hurts you,” he said, “or you wish to stop, you’ll tell me?”

“Aye,” she managed though she thought maybe if he just kept touching her, all would be well because sparks and shivers were sliding through her and surely, even if parts weren’t that nice, this would be. And they’d be close. She’d like to be close to him, to feel him become part of her.

If the world was kind to her, this would be the man she’d live with for all the rest of her days and maybe, just maybe, there would be babies. Oh, she would really like babies—

“You’re thinking too much,” Jason told her, with a wicked grin. “I can see the thoughts and worries in your eyes—”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said blankly, even though she wasn’t really sure why she was apologizing. “It’s difficult to stop—”

“I’ll do my best to help, ” he said. He kissed her and made the world disappear, at least for a little while.

——

The next morning, Elizabeth was sure that her face was bright red with embarassment as Jason walked her down the stairs to the common room where they were meeting Johnny and Francis to break their fast.

“Are you sure you don’t want to rest longer?” Jason asked as they came to the bottom of the steps. “You didn’t sleep much.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks heated as she ducked away, looking at the floor. She heard him laugh lightly and when she looked at him again, he was smiling. He did have such a lovely smile—so much better than the scowl he’d worn so much of the time she’d known him. Maybe things really were better now.

“That’s not what I meant, wife,” he teased.

“I really am okay,” Elizabeth assured him. She turned to look at the common room, a bit worried about facing Johnny and Francis. Especially Johnny. Wouldn’t they know? Would Johnny be more angry?

But she was Jason’s wife now—truly—so she lifted her chin, and she and Jason went towards the room and the low table where his men were seated.

“Good morning,” she said politely as she sat on the empty bench across from them. “Did you sleep well?”

“Aye,” Francis said. He flicked his eyes to Jason. “We’re staying another night?”

“Maybe two,” Jason said as he handed Elizabeth a bowl of porridge. “Is that a problem?”

“No, I didn’t realize how close we were to Beltane,” Francis said. “The festival begins tonight with a bonfire in the townsquare—”

“Beltane?” Elizabeth repeated. She pushed her porridge around her bowl. “I wouldn’t have thought such a large town would celebrate something like this.” Her heart was racing but she endeavored to keep her breathing even, her voice calm.

Beltane. The harvest festival that sometimes drew the witch hunters, looking for old pagan believers who worshipped the old gods and gave blessings to them.

“You don’t care for Beltane?” Johnny said with a furrowed look. “What do they do in the Lowlands?” he sneered. Jason glared at him.

“We have Beltane in Annan,” Elizabeth said faintly, the flashes of fire in her mind. She took a deep breath. “I simply didn’t realize how close it was to May. The days have…” Her hand shook slightly so she put her spoon down, and put her hands in her lap. She looked at Jason. “Will you want to go to the bonfire?”

“If you’d like,” Jason said slowly. “There’s a large market in the square. We’re going to resupply there.”

A large crowd preparing a bonfire. Elizabeth forced a smile, then looked across the table, startled to find Johnny staring at her.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of the old faery and witch legends,” Johnny said. “My sister used to hide beneath the bed on Beltane, sure that the faeries were coming to get her.”

“H-hardly,” Elizabeth said. “There’s no such thing as faeries. Or witches,” she added.

“No,” Jason agreed, “but witch hunters are common enough, and they’ll be out tonight. Especially in Perth,” he added. Elizabeth stared at him. “They burned a woman two years past on Beltane. She had a fit,” he continued, “and they suspected witchcraft.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “I—I didn’t know.”

“Not a safe place to be,” Johnny added, and she looked at him, her eyes wide. “A woman alone is suspicious enough, but on Beltane night? You might be taken up for a witch.”

+2

Written in 20 minutes. No time for spellcheck.

Jason scowled at the man sitting across from and kicked him under the table before looking at his pale wife, the flushed cheeks and shy smile he’d enjoyed waking up vanished. “Don’t listen to him,” he cautioned her. “You won’t be alone.”

“No.” Elizabeth took a deep breath and her lips curved, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes. “No, I won’t be alone. But someone will.”

Francis pressed his lips together to stare at the other man. “We’re going,” he said, in a clipped tone to Johnny, “to check on the horses.”

“But—”

“Now.” The blond got to his feet and snagged the corner of Johnny’s kilt fastened over his shoulder. The two of them disappeared out of the common room.

“You must think I’m silly,” Elizabeth said, nervously reaching for her spoon and pushing the porridge around in the wooden bowl.

“No,” Jason said with a shake of his head. “I’ve seen a witch burning,” he admitted. “When I was younger,” he added, seeing her eyes rounded. “I was passing through a smaller village and an older woman was put to the stake. Their healer. They burned their healer because a sickness had swept through the village, and they thought more should have died.”

“They burned her for not letting them die,” Elizabeth said flatly. She stared at the porridge. “At home, in Annan, when the plague came through the shire, they burned three witches. My father was the magistrate who sentenced them.”

Jason tilted his head, wondering why the subject troubled her so. It wasn’t a happy topic, but there was something in the tenseness of her shoulders, the way she avoided his gaze. “Elizabeth?”

“My father,” Elizabeth continued softly, “took me to see the burnings. My sister and I. To warn us that women had a place in the world and that we ought to be careful.” She looked at him. “I had only seen eight summers.”

She’d been a child. Jason swore under his breath and reached over to squeeze the hand resting on the table. “We’ll leave tonight—”

“No. No—” she added when he shook his head. “And we should go to the bonfire in the town square. You said that Perth is the closest town to Braegarie,” Elizabeth said. “You trade here, don’t you?”

“Aye,” Jason said uneasily.

“People know you,” she continued. “Your family. If we left on the eve of Beltane when we were supposed to stay—” She sighed. “It will be easier to go and pretend. I’m all right,” she said.

“If you change your mind—”

She smiled faintly, pushed her bowl back. “You said we might go to the market? That would be nice.”

—

The days were long at this time of the year, and dusk did not fall for many hours. If she ignored the preparations for the Beltane feast and bonfire around the market, Elizabeth thought that this was one of the happiest days of her life. She was walking side by side with her husband, a man who had decided to look past the way their marriage had begun and accept her and their future together. In fact—

Elizabeth glanced up at her husband as he negotiated with a fruitseller in the square. She was quite fortunate that the regent had chosen such a good man. And a handsome one, not that such things should matter, she told herself. And they didn’t. Except—

“What?” Jason asked as he passed her one of the apples he’d just purchased. “You look flushed,” he continued. “Are you feeling well?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth muttered, then bit into the apple and looked away. He wanted children, he’d told her. And she knew enough that the more frequently they shared a bed, the more quickly she would conceive. Would he want to be with her again tonight? Would he wait until Braegarie—

A few paces in front of them, Elizabeth saw an older woman standing by a table, arranging some clothing and fabrics. She started to tug on Jason’s hand, wanting to look more closely at them — but then she saw a group of men coming up behind the other woman, towards she and Jason. She could see the word forming on his lips even before his voice rang out over the crowd, extending one finger in their direction.

“Witch!”

+2