The Highlander's Touch
Page 92

“Sounds like the Picts were more civilized than the Scots,” Lisa said dryly.
“‘This legion which curbs the savage Scots’ is how Emperor Claudius referred to my people, and for a time we did. Until Kenneth McAlpin murdered most of the members of our royal house in an attempt to erase us from Scotland forever.”
“But you still live, so apparently he wasn’t too successful.”
Ah, yes. I do still live.
“So why were you frustrated today?” she asked, circling back to her initial observation. “I can feel you all the time, you know. I could feel impatience and anger.”
Circenn stood and scooped her from the chair. He dropped into it and reseated her across his lap. “That’s better. I like being beneath you.”
“I like you being beneath me. But don’t try to distract me. Why?”
Circenn sighed, gathering her close. He was afraid. He, the fearless warrior, feared her reaction to what he was about to tell her.
As he drew a breath to begin, he heard the door to the Greathall crash open, as guards all over the castle sent up a resounding cry.
They both tensed instantly.
“Is someone attacking?” Lisa worried.
Circenn rose swiftly, depositing her on the floor with a kiss. “I doona know,” he said, taking off for the Greathall at a run. Lisa raced after him, as the noise outside grew to an immense roar.
As she entered the Greathall, she saw dozens of knights clamoring excitedly, gathered around a lone stranger.
Duncan glanced up as they entered, and his smile was blinding. “To Stirling, Circenn! The Bruce’s messenger has arrived. We finally go to war!”
“WHAT SAY YOU?” CIRCENN DEMANDED, HIS EYES GLITTERING with anticipation.
The messenger spoke quickly. “The Bruce’s brother has made a wager, and we must prevent the English from reaching Stirling Castle by Midsummer’s Day. The Bruce has ordered you to present your troops with all weapons at St. Ninian’s by the Roman road—”
Circenn cut him off with a deafening bellow of joy that was echoed by all the men in the hall. Lisa moved closer to his side and he caught her in his arms, swinging her high in the air. “We go to war!” he shouted, elated.
Men, she thought, amazed. I will never understand them. Then a worse thought followed: What if I lose him?
“But you must hurry,” the messenger yelled into the din. “If we ride without pause we will scarce arrive in time. Every moment is critical.”
Circenn hugged her close. “I will not die. I promise,” he said fervently. He kissed her deeply, then slipped from her arms. There was no time to tell her more. He would go to war, and upon his return they would have their long-overdue talk. In the meantime, he would send constant reassurance to her via their bond.
War! It’s about damned time! he thought, elated.
“I must gather my weapons,” he muttered, racing from the hall.
* * *
Drawn to spend every possible moment with him before he left, Lisa left the hall shortly after he had. The estate was a riot of activity as the men prepared to ride out immediately. She should have remembered that Circenn would have to leave soon. She’d known that the battle at Bannockburn occurred on June 24; history records had placed the thane of Brodie and his Templars in the midst of the legendary battle. But in the pleasure of their newfound love, and then in the fright of Armand’s abduction attempt, she’d given little thought to the date or the impending war.
She headed for Circenn’s chambers and slipped quietly into his room, wondering if there was enough time to steal a moment of passion. She doubted it; she sensed that his mind was already far away. He was all masculine warrior right now, consumed with the looming battle. As she moved deeper into his room, she was shocked to see a great gaping maw in the wall where the hearth normally was.
A hidden room. How fantastic, she thought, and how appropriate for a medieval castle. Curious to see what he kept in there, she slipped past the hearth and entered. The fabric of her gown caught on the rough stones of the rotated hearth and ripped audibly. Busy trying to disengage the fabric from the sharp edge of the stone, she didn’t see Circenn look up. Nor did she see his expression.
“Get out, lass,” he thundered, leaping to his feet.
As Lisa glanced up, Circenn froze in mid-leap, his plan to thrust her from the room aborted. He watched with dawning horror as her gaze skimmed the interior of his hidden room. He stood motionless, surrounded by incriminating evidence. Standing amid items from her time, he knew that she would never believe him, and worse, that he must leave immediately if they were to prevent the English troops from reaching Stirling by Midsummer’s Day.