Page 1 of Bride Takes a Warrior

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Chapter One

Dryhope Tower, Selkirk

Border of Scotland

Early February, 1260

Arustling soundalerted Eva that someone was inside her bed chamber. She kept her eyes closed, knowing who had entered. Surely, morning hadn’t come already. She only wanted a moment more of rest before her maidservant rousted her from the warmth of her bed. The creak of the floorboards and hearth gate came with noises from Luella as she moved about the chamber. Crackling in the hearth signaled that soon Eva would have to leave her bed.

“Good morn, Mistress. You must awaken. Your father has returned and has bid that you attend him in all possible haste in the great hall,” Luella said as she stood by the bedside. “Come, now, arise. You must roust yourself. ’Tis time to begin your day.”

“Must I?” Eva fisted her eyes to remove sleep from them and then peered above at the crimson velvet canopy that covered the wooden poster bed. She threw her legs over the edge of the bedside and sat up. Grateful for the warmth of the hearth, she didn’t bother to pull on a wrap. Then she remembered this was the day that she was supposed to meet Brother Abram at the village church for her lessons.

With a gasp of excitement, she hurried to the basin, washed, and by the time she’d finished her morning ablutions, Luella had an underdress ready. Eva stripped out of her nightdress, stepped close toher, and allowed Luella to garb her. The soft, warm material of the underdress was set over her and instantly chased away the slight chill.

“Choose a simple gown for this day, Luella. I am off to church this morn.”

“Very well, Mistress.” Luella left her and approached the wardrobe. She returned holding a beige, long-sleeved linen dress with a rounded neckline.

It was one of Eva’s favorite gowns because it was warm enough without being cumbersome or heavy. She slipped it over her head and Luella tugged it into place, pulled the twisted fabric belt around her waist, and tied it.

“There, Mistress, you are ready for the day. I must say how fetching you look.”

Eva smiled at her maidservant because she always complimented her appearance. Not that it turned Eva’s head or induced her vanity. “My thanks, Luella. Did I hear you say that Da is home?”

“He is, and he told me to hasten you. There must be some urgent news, for he seemed intent on seeing you immediately. He said to send you to the hall right away and not let you fob me off.”

Eva chuckled lightly at her maid’s jest. “Then let us not delay and take overlong with my hair. A simple tie at the nape will do,” she suggested.

Luella agreed and combed her hair, which took a long moment but finally the strands were tied in place.

As the maid arranged her hair, Eva wondered why her father had returned earlier than expected. He’d visited Edinburgh to meet with other border lords and she thought that he’d take a least a fortnight or more to return. She couldn’t reason it.

Now, she slipped on her warm boots and snatched her cloak from the peg inside the door for her planned walk to the church, after she met with her da.

“My thanks, Luella, for your aid. I shall see you later.”

“I will come with you, Mistress.”

Eva snickered with a soft breath. “You just want to know the news. Well, come along then and we shall find out together.” She left the chamber and didn’t wait for Luella as she trailed her.

On her walk through the manor, Eva eyed the opulent décor and furnishings of her home, much of which she had purchased with her household allowance. Her dear da always noticed when she’d purchased something new and it always pleased him. Fortunately, her da’s wealth enabled her to spend to her heart’s content. If she found something she wanted, she bought it—from elaborate candleholders to rich fabrics and expensive carpets from abroad—nothing was too costly to acquire.

She passed the long stretch of hallway that led to the stairs. How she loved her home, especially this ornate railing, carved from the wood of the oldest tree on her father’s land. The poor tree had been felled during a storm, but its beautiful wood lived on. Her hand glided over the smooth, polished railing as she descended the stairs. She’d paid the carpenter a fortune to have it made, but it was well worth the cost.

At the landing, she turned and headed for the hall where her father often held audiences. She rarely ate there and preferred to eat in the cozy solar adjacent to the overlarge room. The hall’s starkness seemed to match her father’s mood.

He usually greeted her with a smile but as she took him in, she noticed how the hair on his head and in his trimmed beard had begun to hold more gray streaks than dark brown. He wasn’t a large man, but not lanky either. Still, he took up most of the space in the seat that he occupied. Strangely enough, he hadn’t bothered to remove the cloak that he’d worn during his travel and sat at the table as if he was about to leave. More intriguing was that his breath was raspy and instead of looking up to greet her, his eyes remained on the parchment he held.

She glided across the gleaming floorboards and stood next to a broad, ornately carved wooden chair she’d recently acquired. After setting her cloak over the back of the chair, she clutched the top of it.

“Da, you are home. I did not expect you so soon. I am gladdened to see you but I have not much time. Father Abrams is awaiting me for my lesson.” She rounded the chair and stood beside him and placed a light kiss on his whiskered cheek. He hadn’t glanced up at her yet and kept his gaze on the parchment in front of him.

He acknowledged her with a grunt. Lord Michael Scott, her dear da, finally set aside the parchment and his face was most staid when he lifted his chin to look at her. “I am afraid that your singing lesson has been canceled.”

“Canceled? But Brother Abrams told me that we would start a new song today. I looked forward to it,” she said with a small pout to her lips. Singing was perhaps the only thing in recent days that brought her joy, well, besides visiting the merchants. After all, she had a propensity to spend her da’s coins. “Did he say why?”

“It was not he that canceled it, but me, lass. Your lessons have come to an end, sprig.”