Time and tide for nae man bide (Tune Mizu and Lineralus)

Thankfully Caitlyn would not have to be a martyr that night. Sir Stanley, though he looked as if he really wanted to, did not kiss her again and pulled away when his man came up. She did her best to hide her relief. The knight was handsome, yes, but was she willing to risk her immortal soul just to keep him off the Scot’s trail? She glanced at the bed as she left the room, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, looking very much like a proper gentlewoman should.

“I would never allow you to stay in the stables my Lord… The guest quarters will be prepared immediately. Come.” She led him and his man back into the main hall, then called for some food to be brought while fresh linens were put on the beds. Some of the servants looked disappointed but Milly’s threat had clearly stopped them from outright blurting out about the Scot hiding in their lady’s room. She would just have to make sure Sir Stanley and his men got an early start in the morning.

Four rooms were prepared, the largest reserved for Sir Stanley, and Caitlyn saw him to the door. “Thank you, again… For searching and staying.” She bowed her head, which could have been considered a shy woman’s move but the redhead was blushing from head to toe from sheer embarrassment. She’d kissed another man… Heaven help her.

“I shall leave you. Good night Sir Stanley…” She curtsied and then quickly sped down the halls back to her room, flinging her door open quickly and then shutting and locking it behind her. Caitlyn leaned against it and sighed heavily, then rushed to the bed, dropping to her knees and lifting up the blankets that hid Donnach.

“I told you to get under the bed,” she growled. “Why didn’t you listen?!”

Sir Stanley murmured out his thanks and gave Caitlyn a proper bow. What a relief it was. She seemed a good woman, just out of sorts, naturally. After stripping off his gear and clothing he threw himself onto the bed and lay there for a few moments, staring at the ceiling.

But sleep wouldn't come. He couldn't get the kiss out of his memory, or her red hair, or her soft eyes. After a few moments he took ahold of his steadily rising member, and began stroking. At least he could dream of her, even if his vows prevented him from having her.

* * *

She was obviously angry at him, but Donnach felt a wave of relief when he saw the English noblewoman again. So relieved he came close to laughing. Instead he growled right back at her, but without any real heat. He had this vague urge to kiss her himself.

"I had a wee amount of difficulty getting under the bed, woman," he snapped back. "You try it with a sword wound sometime." Then he finally let his relief show through. He had narrowly escaped death thanks to her quick wits, her daring, and a fancy English bed. It was all too much and he gave in to laughter. Not too loud, for the knight and his soldiers might be nearby. Also it hurt a bit to laugh hard.

"I did not ken English lassies were such good kissers," he grinned at her. "I trust that was not too uncomfortable? He seemed a handsome lad. And, Caitlyn, once more, thank you."

Caitlyn’s lips were pressed into a tight line and she rolled her eyes. It might have been too much for her to expect him to move so quickly. She’d tried to give him time but with his wounds… It was a miracle he made it to the floor. His laughter was infectious and she cracked a grin, though she did try to hide it. “Uncomfortable? …No… But I’m not inclined to go around kissing every man who walks through my door.” She reached under the bed and started to help him out. “I haven’t even kissed you yet and you got here first.”

Somehow, through sheer will and a bit of luck, they worked together to get him back on the bed. Caitlyn reminded after a brief glance to keep her eyes up because the Scot was still naked as a bitty babe. She tucked him back underneath the furs and then leaned his sword back against the wall, sitting on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t believe it… She’d saved a Scot and fooled a knight in less than a night.

“I think I deserve a good cup of wine,” she murmured, then looked down at the Scot. “Shall I get you one as well? After that, we’ve both earned at least one.”

Donnach grimaced and grunted in pain, but they managed to get him back into the bed. "Och, that's a pity about the kissing," he said in his bantering tone. But in truth he meant it, although he certainly wasn't expecting one. She was a true beauty-- made even more attractive by her dash, her kindliness and quick wits. He noticed how she did her best to keep her eyes averted from his nakedness. And wondered briefly how she might look naked.

But soon she had him warmly tucked in. The perfect hostess in a very strange situation. The absurdity of it all made him grin again. Sharing wine with an English lady. He hadn't imagined he would be doing that anytime soon.

"I would not object to that," he said. "Wine would go well after the last few days." His eyes strayed to the sword that she laid carefully against the wall, impressed with the respect that she showed the weapon.

Then a thought occurred to him. "Am I going to make you vacate your chambers?" he asked. What would the whole lodge say if they shared a room? Even if nothing happened? He also wasn't sure if the English soldiers had left or were staying nearby.

Caitlyn poured the wine from a small jug on top of a dresser into two cups, simple but made from pewter and large enough that Caitlyn would not need to drink much from it to feel the effects of the wine. Donnach on the other hand… She was sure he could hold his drink much better than she but this was a well earned reward after a very, very tricky night.

“No…” She handed him his cup and then sat back on the edge of the bed. The mattress bent under her weight and her back brushed up against the side of Donnach’s thigh. “I’ll… I’ll be staying here.”

Would her servants talk? More than likely. Rumors were their favorite topic of discussion. But she couldn’t leave her own chambers with an English knight in the lodge with no explanation as to why. That would cast suspicion on her. “Sir Stanley and his men are staying here for the night… They’ll notice if I don’t sleep in my own bed.”

With a sigh she looked over at the chair by the fireplace. “A blanket and the fire are all I’ll need. Sir Stanley will be gone tomorrow and then I can rest elsewhere. Tonight you must have me, unfortunately.” She turned to him with a smile. “Doesn’t seem so bad, does it?”

Donnach took a sip of the wine gratefully, feeling it warm him. He felt slightly conscious of her back against her thigh-- he had never been this close to an English noblewoman before--- but he was a hardened campaigner and quickly got over this. When he realized she would have to spend a night in a chair he immediately rolled to one side of the bed. It did cause some pain, but he would not have this gentle lady in discomfort.

"I guess I will have to have you," he said, in his bantering tone. "But sleeping in chair would not be that comfortable. Surely this bed has more than enough room."

Maybe it was wine mixed with the fever that caused him to be so forward. And again there was the campaigner in him. He had often shared cramped sleeping quarters, sometimes with highland lasses who supplied food and drink to the raiding parties. But he suddenly realized what he had just offered and chuckled apologetically.

"I did not mean any offense, Caitlyn," he said, setting aside the pewter cup and holding up his hands. "I just thought you would need proper rest, too. In truth, I am too weak to try anything untoward." He had little doubt exhaustion and the wine would cause him to sleep soundly tonight.

One soft, red brow rose up questioningly, calculated and precise as Caitlyn processed what the Scot had just proposed. Sleep in the bed… with him? Well, not with him… Gah, it was simple. He just didn’t want to put the lady of the house out of her own bed. She’d been kind enough to bring him in, stitch him up, and even put him in her bed; it was the least that he could do to offer to share. That was right… wasn’t it?

“There’s no offense,” she started setting her own cup aside. She glanced down at his covered body. He was still naked under there. She could have gone to fetch something for him to wear but then what? He might need help putting it on and she just couldn’t possibly…

“Alright.” The redhead stood up, hands clasped in front of her. “You’re still feverish… You need all the warmth you can get.” There. That was the justification she needed. She took a few steps from the bed and her hands came up to the laces of her bodice, then she looked sharply at Donnach. “Close your eyes and swear to God you will not look while I change.” On second thought… “Out loud. I want to hear you say it.”

When she spoke about keeping him warm, Donnach actually blushed. That was not what he had meant. There was enough space--just-- to keep themselves to themselves. "But Caitlyn," he began to protest, then gulped as he realized she was beginning to undress.

The Scot very quickly closed his eyes. "I swear by Almighty God, and the Holy Trinity, and all the saints, I will not open his eyes until you say I may," he said audibly but not too loudly, for fear the English soldiers might hear. He hoped they weren't billeted too far from this room.

Donnach wondered vaguely what English ladies wore to bed. In the summer Morven had gone to bed wearing nothing...But he quickly dismissed these thoughts. He was wounded, feverish and in danger of his life. And why would he take advantage of a woman who had shown him such kindness? He was a sworn soldier, not a brigand.

"No need to snuggle tight," he said to fill the silence as she undressed with his eyes closed. "I'm right warm enough." Although some long buried part of him did miss a woman's touch. It was not something he admitted in his conscious mind.

Caitlyn was blushing from head to toe, as red as her hair. She only turned her back to him because he swore not to look and even though she had little reason to trust him… she did. He made her chest warm and there was a look in his eye, a far off look from far off lands she’d never seen that seemed wild and untamable. Was it wrong of her to admire that wildness inside him?

She stripped herself of her gown and slippers, going right down to her shift and only then did her hands stop. For a moment. Then the fabric was pulled up over her head and she pulled a fresh nightgown out of the dresser and put it on. It was thinner and meant for summer, but Caitlyn had always found she was more comfortable wearing it when there was another person sleeping beside her so that she did not suffer from their heat.

Her red curls fell around her shoulders as she undid her hair and slowly, she approached the bed. Silently she pulled the covers down and then sat on the mattress beside Donnach, swinging her legs up underneath the blankets. Then she laid down, her head mere inches from his. And she breathed.

“So…” Her voice was small but gentle, searching for the words she wanted to say. “Are you sure you’re warm enough?”

He sensed her movements and despite his tiredness felt a mounting excitement. Feelings that he quickly dampened down. You have been too long without a woman, he told himself. And no doubt the fact that she was English made it doubly exciting. Besides, he was truly exhausted.

But he when felt her breath close on him he could not help a little shiver. He then chuckled to himself. Here he was, a sworn man of the Black Douglas, in bed with an English noblewoman! If the lads could see him now they would scarcely believe it. Of course he couldn't see himself, because of his promise.

"Sure, lass, I've just gotten a bit warmer," he replied in his bantering tone. He wrinkled his face at her. "All right if I open my eyes now?" he asked. "I assume you are decently dressed for bed."

His head was beginning to swim a bit. He really would need sleep sooner rather than later. But he also had to admit this was enjoyable in a very strange, exciting way.

She nearly reached over and smacked him she did. Caitlyn blushed a little harder, then softly mumbled, “Aye, you can open them,” before pulling the blankets up to her chin. Again she stared at the rafters in the ceiling. She was hot and cold, feverish and nearly shaking but for the love of all that was holy she dared not move an inch.

Then all of a sudden, she rolled onto her side, facing him. Caitlyn looked up at Donnach through her loose curls and the blankets partially obstructing her vision. A part of her wanted to reach out and touch him… It had been a long, long time… But she didn’t. She just looked. And a small part of her wondered what the rest of him looked like, the parts that were hidden underneath the blanket. She’d only gotten a glance earlier but her curiosity was piqued.

“Good night, Donnach… Pleasant dreams and may the Lord watch over you while you sleep.” Just as she would.

Donnach opened his eyes slowly, cautiously. And there she was, next to bed in him, hair tousled and red. He didn't know what quite to say. And she was giving him the strangest look that he could not but help return.

Under any other circumstances, in another time, he would have touched her. Put his hand up to her cheek and touched her. Just to feel the warmth of a woman again. A beautiful, sweet woman.

Her words broke into his thoughts. He smiled at them, suddenly realizing how exhausted he was. His wounds, the trials he had been through, the wine, were calling him to a deep, deep sleep.

"And a good night to you, Caitlyn," he replied softly. He smiled at her and closed his eyes. And the peace of sleep followed shortly.

Dawn came too quickly for the redhead. It seemed like she had just laid down her head on the pillow when suddenly she heard the servants moving about the lodge. Milly entered the room, paying no mind to the two in the bed, and stoked the fire in the hearth after adding a log to bring it back to life. Caitlyn groaned after she left, rolling over and burying her face into the pillow. She was sore but so warm… The idea of leaving the bed sounded like the ravings of a lunatic and she curled up into a tight ball, but that was when the bottom of her foot brushed against her bedmate’s calf.

Caitlyn’s eyes snapped open and she quickly pulled her foot away. Slowly, she sat up and looked at him. Still asleep. She sighed and chewed on her bottom lip. It would be best to get up first and get dressed…

Softly and quietly, she slid out from underneath the blankets and tucked Donnach back in, a little smile tugging on the corners of her mouth when she realized how tired he must have been; he was a trained warrior, after all, and Milly had come and gone without incident and now there she was, looking over him and no reaction… At least he would be well rested.

The redhead quickly dressed and then dampened another cloth to lay over the Scot’s forehead, her hair pinned back up into a tight bun on the back of her head and her gown a conservative mauve with a high neck and long fitted sleeves.

Sir Stanley awoke at dawn, as was his habit. He dressed quickly, then made sure the rest of his men-at-arms were also up and making ready to depart. He was quietly courteous to the lodge's servants, although he did notice a tension that he could not quite explain. He shrugged it off. They were a band of armed men and could potentially be dangerous, although they of course meant no one any harm.

He stopped one of the servingwomen. "Could we have the honor of Lady Bankfoot's company at breakfast?" he asked. "We would like to say good-bye properly."

* * * *

Donnach awoke to find his fever broken, although his wounds still pained him greatly, and his body was stiff all over. He suddenly remembered where he was. He was being nursed by an English noblewoman after having come within an inch of death. A remarkable adventure in of itself.

He brushed the cloth off his forehead and turned to see her dressed for the day. She somehow managed to look respectable and very attractive, something Donnach knew was not always easy to accomplish. He gave her a warm smile despite his continuing weakness.

"Good morning, Caitlyn," he said. He was suddenly conscious that he remained naked. And the clothes he had been wearing were likely not in a fit state.

"I'll have to trouble you again," he continued with a wry smile. "This time for some clothing."

Upon hearing Donnach’s voice, Caitlyn turned around to look at him properly, though she found herself blushing when he so politely asked her for one more tiny favor. “Oh, of course…” Without any hesitation, she approached a chest in the far corner of her room and rifled through what was inside, pulling out a few things before taking them to the Scot.

What she laid out for Donnach was likely to be some of the finest clothing he had ever seen. Thick, comfortable trousers and a shirt with an equally comfortable jerkin. It was far more English than he might feel comfortable wearing but the clothes looked like they would fit him well enough.

“They… They were my late husband’s things.” She went back for a pair of boots. “You’re about the right size. Should fit alright… And there’s no one else wearing them so I’d rather that they get put to good use than stay locked up in that trunk.” The redhead laughed, nervous and embarrassed and she felt so foolish for having brought up her husband but the smile she had on her face was genuine; it would be nice to see those clothes on a man again…

A knock at her door caught her attention. She gave Donnach a stern look and whispered for him to be quiet while she went to the door. Thankfully, it was not Sir Stanley but a maid servant. She did, however, well her that the English knight wanted to know if she would be joining them for the morning meal before they left. Caitlyn murmured a soft ‘yes’, then shut the door.

“I won’t be long,” she said, turning back to Donnach. “After they leave, I’ll bring you something to eat. Just try to rest until then… Then maybe we’ll work out a bath and some new wraps for your wounds.”

Donnach did not have time to reply before the knock on the door came. He did blink at the finery of the clothes laid out. The Scot was not a poor man; as a tenant-under-arms for the Lord of Moray he could afford a horse and weapons and a comfortable roof over his head. But such clothing for everyday use was unheard of. At home he had exactly one fine change of clothing, fussed over by Morven when she was alive, to be worn on feast days and other special occasions.

He grinned wryly at her embarrassment over the clothes. "I'm sure I will be comfortable in these, lassie," he replied. His bandages seemed to be dry-- all to the good. "And I will be as quiet as a mouse while I wait for you."

He did feel strong enough to gingerly ease himself out of bed, managing to pull one of the quilts with him for the sake of modesty. Donnach would have to wait for the lady to leave before dressing; it was only proper. "Get you to breakfast then, Caitlyn," he said, in his bantering tone. "That young English knight will want to see you over his porridge." He chuckled over the memory of her kissing him, and wondered briefly what may have happened if he had kissed her last night. But then the soldier in him turned his mind to more practical matters. Such as putting on clothes he had no experience with.

Sir Stanley and his men were already at the table when Caitlyn strode into the main hall. Milly had kept the rest of the servants in line. The fires were stoked, porridge and bacon ready to be served. What little they could give to the knight to take with him was likely already being packed and the redhead put a smile on her face when she greeted the Englishmen.

“Good morning… I trust that you slept well?” She walked up to Ser Stanley and gave him a tiny curtsey. “I… I wanted to thank you again, for last night.” The ambiguous gratitude ought to keep his mind busy throughout the meal. Caitlyn was not sure why, but her biggest concern was bringing some of the thick slices of bacon and rich porridge back to Donnach. “And for bringing me my first night of rest in days. Ever since this ugly war began and my lord husband… It has been hard, as you can imagine.” She smiled weakly, hands clasped in front of her. “I owe you a great debt, Sir Stanley.”

The young English knight tried to put thoughts of last night's kiss out of his mind, also the thoughts of the stains that he had made on his underclothing. He hadn't been able to help himself, and this made him blush as he rose from his seat and gave the Lady Bankfoot a courteous bow.

"It was nothing, my lady," he said. His men kept their faces so thoroughly impassive that he wondered what they had heard. "We will continuing patrolling today and then return to Calmarr Castle. Please send word for us there if you have need of anything."

The rest of the breakfast passed swiftly as Sir Stanley ate in a brisk, businesslike fashion. As they mounted their horses to leave, the knight called out to Caitlyn.

"By the way, the rebel we hunt bears the name Donnach of Moray," he said. "Scottish gentry, of sorts. Farewell!" And with that the party sped on its way.

Back in Caitlyn's room, the man in question had succeeded in donning the garments she left for him. They seemed to suit well enough, although he was afraid his wound might open again and ruin them.

"By the Holy Mother," he chuckled to himself as he looked at his form in the mirror. "If the Black Douglas could see me now!"

Caitlyn managed the Englishmen and saw them off with a smile on her face, though it faded as soon as they were out of sight. Scottish gentry? Donnach hadn’t mentioned anything of coming from noble blood… Even if he was well removed from the family, shouldn’t that have been a point of pride for a man? For now she managed to shrug it off and went back to the hall where Milly had a tray of breakfast ready for their unusual guest.

“You look very handsome…” She gave him a kind smile and set the tray down on the bed before she went back to shut the door to her chambers. Now that Sir Stanley and his men were gone, Caitlyn felt as though she could breathe a little easier. It was silly to think she really could but she forgot all about Sir Stanley as soon as her eyes landed on the Scot.

“My, my… With a bath and perhaps a small haircut you could pass for nobility, dear Donnach.”

Donnach turned his face away when she called him handsome, to prevent her from seeing him blush. What on earth had gotten over him? These were simply compliments from a pretty highborn lady. A sweet, generous one, to be sure, but nevertheless...

He recovered quickly when she mentioned nobility. "No southron haircuts for me, thank you very much," he said in light tone. "And you are in the presence of a sworn sword of the Lord of Moray," he added, bowing with a slight flourish. "A bit of land, a bit of wealth, enough to secure a gentle-born maiden for a wife."

He paused as sad memories suddenly clouded his thoughts. Then Donnach smiled ruefully at his hostess. "She died before the war began in earnest," he said. He couldn't quite put a finger on why he said that. But somehow he felt it important she know that her people, the English, had nothing to do with Morven's death. In this cauldron of hatred, warfare and punitive killings, it seemed important to note.

"And truly these are fine clothes," he added. "I did not have many like these." He paused, before asking gently, "Did your husband wear these often?"

“Oh… I had no idea I was speaking with Sir Donnach.” Caitlyn curtsied like a proper lady, though she giggled like a maid. Then the smile was momentarily wiped off her face. A wife? He was married…? She could not say why the thought of the man in front of her having a wife back home hurt but it did. Her jaw tightened and she glanced at the ground. He threw her for another loop when he said that his wife was dead.

“Donnach…” She felt horrible. One moment she was disappointed that he was married and now she knew he wasn’t and… and a small part of her was happy for it. “I am so sorry for your loss…” Caitlyn bit her lip and brushed a strand lock of hair behind her ear. “She… She was lucky to have a kind man like you.”

Once again on the subject of her husband, Caitlyn tried to distance herself from the strange emotions. “Aye, he did. He didn’t like overly complicated clothing…” She snorted, her eyes clouding over with a far off memory. “He thought my gowns were meant to torture him. He could never undo the laces right and I was always stuck straightening them…” Realizing what she was revealing, Caitlyn shook her head and waved him to the bed. “Come on… Eat. You need your strength.”

"Well, I'm no 'sir'," said Donnach, grinning back at her. "Never took vows. I am.." What was the English translation? "..A tenant-under-arms."

He then saw her troubled by his wife's death, but how exactly was lost on him. He took a tentative step towards her, wanting to touch her, but something stopped him. Despite their easy banter he remained reticent. She was still a southron, he a rebel Scot.

"Your husband was lucky to have you," he said gravely, looking down at the floor at first, then raising his head to meet her gaze. She began to reminisce as well, and when she got to her dead husband he couldn't help but grin a little.

"I can understand why he might be nervous about the laces," he chuckled. Strange, how the flirtatious banter didn't trouble him but more heartfelt expressions did. Now he sat back on the bed and realized how hungry he was. "Porridge smells good," he added appreciatively.

He was feeling more comfortable with his surroundings. But the soldier in him deliberately kept a nagging thought alive. He must leave as soon he was able. To save her the trouble, if nothing else.

Only he wasn’t trouble. How strange it was for her to feel so at ease around him, but she did, and Caitlyn didn’t want to think about how the banter would stop once he was up on a horse and riding away… Going back to that awful war. Men and wars.

“Eat as much as you like. I’ll get you more.” Caitlyn smiled and went around the room, straightening things that were already tidy and put up neatly; anything to keep herself busy. “I think it will be sunny today. The birds are in the trees singing.” It was awful smalltalk but it filled the room with sound and… and she wanted to talk to him. About anything.

“I am going to insist on that bath though. You need it. Get you a good scrub and some new bandages and you’ll be on your way to recovery.” The redhead looked up at him as she refolded a quilt. “By the way, I’m having your other clothes stitched up and washed as well. I’m not going to send you back to your lord looking like you got dragged through Hell.”