They rode across an arched bridge atop a sparkling clear stream, then started up the steep climb. The air was thick with the scent of summer. The aroma of the flowers mingled with that of the clean earth.
Scots, both men and women, came outside their cottages to watch the procession pass by. The clan members all wore the same colors, their plaids identical to Iain's, and for that reason she knew they'd finally reached his home.
She was suddenly so excited to see Frances Catherine, she could barely sit still. She turned to smile at Iain. He stared straight ahead, ignoring her.
'Are we going directly to Frances Catherine's home?'
'They'll be waiting in the courtyard at the top of the crest,' Iain answered.
He hadn't even spared her a glance when he'd explained. She turned around again. She wasn't going to let his sour mood ruin her excitement. She was enchanted with the rugged beauty around her and couldn't wait to tell Frances Catherine.
Then she got a good look at Iain's keep. Lord, it was ugly. The huge stone structure was on the very top of the crest. There wasn't a wall surrounding the building, either. Iain must not have been worried about the enemy breaching his home. She guessed he'd have plenty of time to become alerted, as an outsider would have quite a climb to reach the top.
A gray mist hung down over the roof of the mammoth structure. The main building was square in shape, and as gray and dreary as the skies above.
The courtyard wasn't any better. It was more dirt than grass, and as worn-out as the scarred double doors leading into the keep.
Judith turned her attention to the crowd gathered before her. The men nodded to Iain, but the women didn't show any outward reaction to their arrival. Most stayed behind the men, silent, watching, waiting.
Judith looked for Frances Catherine. She really wasn't at all apprehensive until she spotted her friend and got a good look at her face.
Frances Catherine looked close to tears. Her face was deathly pale. She was obviously frightened. Judith didn't understand the reason for that reaction, but her friend's worry immediately became her own.
Iain forced his mount to a stop. Gowrie, Alex, and Brodick immediately did the same. Frances Catherine took a step forward. The man standing next to her grabbed hold of her arm and forced her to stay where she was.
She turned her attention to Patrick Maitland. She had little doubt he was Frances Catherine's husband. He looked very like Iain, and though he was slighter in build, his frown was every bit as fierce as Iain's was.
He looked worried too. When he glanced down at his wife, Judith realized his concern was for Frances Catherine.
Her friend was wringing her hands together. She stared up at Judith for a long minute, then took another hesitant step forward. Patrick didn't stop her this time.
It was an incredibly awkward moment because of the large crowd watching so intently. 'Why is Frances Catherine frightened?'
She'd whispered that question to Iain. He leaned down close to her ear and answered her question with one of his own. 'Why are you?'
She was about to deny that accusation, but Iain drew her attention by gently prying her hands away from his arm. Lord, she'd had a death grip on him.
He gave her a little squeeze before dismounting. He nodded his greeting to Patrick, turned and assisted Judith to the ground.
She didn't spare him a glance now. She turned and slowly walked over to her friend. She stopped when she was a few feet away.
She didn't know what to say to make Frances Catherine's fear go away. Or her own. She remembered that when they were little, when one cried, the other immediately joined in. That memory led to another, and she suddenly knew exactly what she wanted to say in greeting to her dear friend.
Her gaze was centered on Frances Catherine's swollen stomach. She took another step forward and looked up into her eyes. In a low whisper she was certain only her friend could hear, she said, 'I specifically remember we both promised never to drink from any man's goblet of wine. From the looks of you, Frances Catherine, I'm thinking you broke your word.'
Chapter 6
Frances Catherine let out a low gasp. Her eyes widened in surprise. Then she burst into laughter and threw herself into Judith's arms. She remembered how she had been so certain and so full of authority when she'd told Judith a woman could only get pregnant if she drank out of a man's goblet.
She all but swallowed Judith up when she hugged her. The two women were laughing and crying at the same time, and to the crowd gathered around them, they appeared to have lost their senses.
The tension and the worry eased out of Patrick's shoulders. He turned to look at Iain and slowly nodded. His brother nodded back.
The journey had been well worth the trouble, Patrick decided. He clasped his hands behind his back and waited for his wife to remember her manners. The joy in her expression more than made up for her inattention. And Lord, how he had missed the sound of her laughter. A part of him wanted to take this Englishwoman into his own arms and hug her just as fiercely as his wife was doing, to let her know how much he appreciated her loyalty.
He had to wait another five minutes or so before his wife remembered he was there. The two women were talking at the same time, asking and answering their own questions. They created a whirlwind of happy chaos.
Iain was just as pleased as Patrick with the reunion. He was a bit surprised, too, for until this very minute he hadn't realized that women could actually be trusted friends with each other. The strength of the bond between Judith and Frances Catherine was unique. It intrigued him. He remembered Judith had told him they'd become friends before they were old enough to understand they were supposed to be enemies, and he found he admired the two of them all the more for continuing to give each other loyalty even after they had learned the lessons of distrust… and hate.
Judith remembered her audience before Frances Catherine did. 'We have so much to catch up on,' she said. 'But now I must thank Iain and the others for bringing me to you.'
Frances Catherine grabbed hold of her hand. 'First, I must introduce you to my husband,' she said. She turned to smile up at Patrick. 'This is Judith.'
Patrick's smile was a replica of Iain's. 'I gathered as much,' he told his wife. 'I'm pleased to meet you, Judith.'
She would have made a nice curtsy if Frances Catherine had let go of her hand. She smiled instead. 'And I'm pleased to be here, Patrick. Thank you for inviting me.'
Her attention turned to Iain. He'd taken the reins of his mount and started toward the stables. She tugged her hand away from Frances Catherine, promised to come right back, and then hurried after her escort. 'Iain, please wait,' she called out. 'I wanted to say thank-you.'
He didn't stop, but he did look back over his shoulder. He gave her an abrupt nod and continued on. She said thank-you to Alex, Gowrie, and Brodick as they filed past her. They reacted in the very same manner. They were abrupt, distant.
Judith told herself she shouldn't have expected anything more. They'd done their duty and were finally rid of her. She held on to her smile and turned around. As she was passing a group of women, she heard one whisper, 'Dear God, I'm thinking she's English, but that can't be, can it?' If Judith's clothing hadn't given her away, she knew her accent certainly had.
She continued to walk toward Frances Catherine, but smiled at the women gawking at her. 'Aye, I am English.'
One woman's mouth actually dropped open. Judith suppressed the urge to laugh, because she felt it would be terribly rude to show amusement over someone else's obvious distress.
