Betrayed (31 page)

He stayed inside her, propped on his elbows, his chest grazing her breasts, his lips a breath from her.

Amber opened her eyes to meet his pewter gaze.

“I love you, Krayne,” she whispered from her heart as his lips claimed hers once more, swallowing her declaration.

If he heard, he made no sign of it.

She kissed him back, wondering if he wanted her love, or if he’d find it an encumbrance and unnecessary in marriage. She wondered if he could ever find it within him to return a mere pittance of the love that filled her heart and leaked into her soul to carry through eternity. And then his kiss deepened, and his shaft stirred inside her once more, lengthening, filling, throbbing, and she gave up all wonderings as she put her arms around him, her fingers trailing lightly down his back.

Krayne could scarce believe he was hard with lust again after emptying himself so completely. He’d felt depleted, like the grain store come winter’s end. He’d felt as if he’d need a summer before he could harvest again. He grinned at his wife’s flushed cheeks, swollen lips and closed eyes. Nay, all he’d needed was Amber. ’Twas all he’d ever need. He moved inside her, long, slow, sensual thrusts, watching her neck arch in pleasure and basking in her admission.

She loved him. His little wildcat loved him. He’d done naught to deserve her love.

He’d accused her falsely, believed the worst and, for the most part, behaved like a true bastard. And yet, she loved him. Something in the region of his heart sparked and caught afire.
Did this mean he loved her too?

His thrusts deepened with more urgency as she pulsed around him. Love seemed like such a docile word for the feelings she invoked. Since the first, he’d wanted her. Needed to possess her. Once he’d had her body, he’d discovered that wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted her all.

The thought of Amber in another man’s arms heated his blood in rage. Each time he’d lost her, anger and fear had gripped his guts. When she’d put her life in jeopardy, he’d known panic for the first time in his life; and a blind fury that made him want to throttle her and disembowel all those responsible.

Was that love?
Krayne knew little of that strange word, but ’twould seem that what he felt was far too selfish, violent and unworthy of that emotion and at the same time so much more.

Auchencass Convent was a square fortress built of grey stone on high ground, making for a steep approach through a densely wooded glade that added to its defences. They’d left well after sun up, both having fallen asleep after their lovemaking, and as a result nightfall was almost upon them as the weary band of riders dismounted at the massive wooden doors. There was no portcullis to be raised, just this reinforced door with a square trapdoor cut out at eye level for peeping through.

Krayne yanked on the bell rope and metallic clanging filled the air.

After a short wait, the trapdoor opened. “Who be it?”

“Krayne Johnstone. I’ve come with my wife and three of my men-at-arms to visit with my mother, Joanna Johnstone of Wamphray.”

“This door is never to be opened after Vespers, my lord. You must return at daylight.”

Krayne pulled his wife into his arms, scolding in a low chuckle, “Now see what ye’ve done, wench, keeping me abed until the sun was high.”

Amber was less amused. She didn’t relish a night spent in the woods they’d just ridden through. “What will we do?”

In response, he turned back to the trapdoor. “Afore ye turn us away, I pray ye seek council with the mother superior. She’ll not refuse us entry, I vow.” He dipped his head close to Amber’s ear as the trapdoor closed. “And if she does, an evening spent beneath the stars with ye holds more promise than threat. I’ve a mind ta take ye up against yon tree, and then roll ye in the long grass.”

“You are insatiable,” she snapped, furious that he would not be serious. As to the thought of Krayne taking her out here in the open, with his men within easy sight and hearing, that was simply appalling. And, in truth, just a little bit exciting.

“As will ye be,” he said silkily, “when ye feel the fresh air between yer thighs and scream inta the black night.” He squeezed her bottom and she yelped. “I’ll make ye scream louder,” he promised.

“You are a blackguard and a bastard and—” The sound of heavy bolts sliding free interrupted her. The wooden door groaned on its hinges as it slowly swung outward. “They’re opening for us.”

“Of course they are. My yearly stipend goes a long way ta the upkeep of this convent. The mother superior is too astute ta antagonise me. Besides, I think she has a particular fondness fer me.”

“That’s blasphemy,” Amber protested, then realised he was teasing her again. “You knew all along that we wouldn’t be forced to sleep in the forest.”

His hand found her bottom again, cupping a lower cheek. “I’ll have ye under the stars yet, sweeting. But not on foreign ground with unwanted eyes and ears near.”

A delicious thrill went down her spine at the prospect. Aye, scoundrel that he was, she loved him and already regretted that their bodies would not be joined tonight. The door opened and they were ushered inside by a nun in black cloth that covered her hair and all the way down to her leather shoes.

“Come in peace,” the nun greeted demurely with downcast eyes. “There’s feed and water for your horses in the stables and I’ll show you to where you may rest the night. Our evening meal is over, but I can offer some bread, cheese and ale. The mother superior will receive you in the morning.”

“So much for that particular fondness,” Amber murmured.

“I got us a bed fer the night, didna I?” Krayne chuckled, then turned to his men. “Take the horses. I’ll return ta fetch ye in a while. Allow me,” he added to the nun, taking over from her to close and bolt the outer door.

Amber awoke alone in the small chamber she’d been given to the loud toll of bells. Krayne had slept in a dormitory behind the chapel with his men, and she’d half expected him to disobey the convent’s rules and seek her out during the night. To her disappointment, he hadn’t. She rose from the pallet and washed in a bowl of cold water. She’d slept in her gown, although she’d brought a night shift along, so she only had to smooth the wrinkles and slip on her leather boots. She unfolded the length of plaid holding her personal belongings, including a pearl comb and the small jar of mint to freshen her teeth, and completed her ablutions.

She left her chamber, making her way down the long passage lit intermittently with rush torches as there were no windows cut into the stone for light or air. Thankfully the building’s design was plain, and she had only to descend the stairs at the end of the passage to the refectory where they’d eaten their simple meal before retiring the night before.

The hall was empty, and she supposed the nuns were at their prayers. The smell of oat porridge assailed her nostrils and rumbled her stomach, and she was thankful when a row of nuns filed into the hall and took their seats, paying her scant attention.

The porridge was served in silence, and Amber quickly took her place at the end of a trestle, thanking the woman who set the bowl before her and receiving a quiet smile. As she ate, her eyes scanned the hall, looking for a familiar face, wondering where Krayne was. If she hoped to recognise her new mother-in-law, ’twas an impossible task as the nuns kept their faces turned down at all times.

No sooner had she pushed her bowl aside, than a soft voice came at her side. “Please follow me, my lady.”

To her surprise, she was led outside. The morning was yet young, the sky a hazy blue and the air brisk. The courtyard was not deserted, but the two sisters strolling along one of the cloistered walkways and the elderly man with bent shoulders leading a mule through the outer door in the fortress walls did little to disturb the serenity.

Amber followed the nun’s leisurely pace, enjoying the scent of jasmine that mingled with creeping ivy that grew up the buildings that housed the infirmary, the chapter house and such. They passed through a bower of rambling roses and into a fragrant garden alive with summer blossoms. She caught sight of Krayne standing beneath a rowan tree and slowed her step when she observed the woman seated on a bench to his side.

Not a nun, for she wore a dove-grey gown that shimmered as only silk could in the early sunlight. As Amber came closer, she saw that the woman was not young, yet time had done naught to fade her beauty. Her hair was black and glossy, her skin unlined, and when she turned to look on Amber’s approach, her blue eyes were brilliant and sharp.

“My dear child,” the woman exclaimed, rising to take her hands as she dropped a kiss on each cheek. “Please, sit.”

Amber gave Krayne a quick smile as she settled down beside his mother.

“I trust ye slept well, wife, and didna lie awake half the night, cold and restless.” His grey eyes twinkled amusement.

Amber narrowed her eyes at him, but kept her voice light. “Nay, husband. My pallet was soft and the good sisters spared me more blankets than I had use of.”

“My son has told me a little of the circumstances surrounding his hasty marriage,” Joanna said, then chuckled softly. “Though not all, I’ll wager.”

Amber sincerely hoped not and found herself blushing as she turned her attention to the elder woman.

“Our families share a cursed history,” Joanna continued, her gaze penetrating, though not unkind, “yet I hold no ill feelings for the daughter of John. I welcome you, Amber…if I may call you that?”

“Of course.”

“And you must call me Joanna.”

Amber smiled uncertainly. “I feel as if I should apologise on behalf of my father,” Amber said, her voice a little brittle in defence, “although I know him to be a good, honourable man.”

Joanna’s gaze flickered to her son. “You have not told her?”

His grin was hard. “And deprive ye of the pleasure?”

Amber was confused at his sardonic tone and the flash of pain she was sure she saw it wrought in his mother’s eyes. “Told me what?”

“Your father did not break the betrothal,” Joanna told her. “The decision was mine, although John did not argue when he heard my reason.”

“I do not understand.” Amber frowned, first at Krayne, whose gaze remained cold and empty on his mother, then at Joanna. “Why then did my uncle banish him from Spedlin? Why did you leave your home? There must be some mistake.”

“No mistake, child.”

“Then a misunderstanding.”

“Your father did naught wrong, Amber, and well William Jardin knew it.”

Amber bit her lower lip, knowing it to be true in her heart. Her precious, kind, gentle father would never hurt a soul.

“I was carrying another man’s bairn,” Joanna said quietly. “John Jardin bears no fault in this matter. He
was
good and kind, Amber. He might even have wed me in spite of my condition, had I but given him a moment’s chance. I told him the truth, then sent him away, afraid he would sway my integrity and insist we wed.”

“I see.” Amber was a little shocked. And suddenly angry at the father she loved so much. “All this might have been averted, if he’d but explained to my uncle why he’d broken off the betrothal. For all his virtues, my father was not a man of harsh words and battle, and more than anything, he detested confrontation.”

Joanna looked to her son. His righteous anger was once again locked into his hard face. She’d grown accustomed to the sight, knew he loved her, knew he’d never forgive her. As always, her heart squeezed so tight, it ached. Twenty years. Was that long enough to avert bloodshed? He was no longer a lad, but a man well able to defend Wamphray and its people. To keep her baby, Duncan, safe. To think before he acted.

“William Jardin knew all,” she said at last, keeping her eyes on the son she loved more than life itself.

“You cannot know that,” Amber protested.

Joanna swallowed past her trepidation. In spite of all she’d given up, William Jardin had finally got what he’d wanted all those years ago. Her eyes scoured Krayne’s young wife, but she saw only innocence and beauty. Still, the fear that Jardin blood was now entrenched at Wamphray, and the firsthand knowledge of how far William would go to claim the Johnstone power, made it imperative that she speak out after all this time.

At all costs, Krayne must be forewarned.

“William Jardin knew,” said Joanna softly. “He knew, for he was the one who raped me, over and over for a period of three months. He threatened to kill my Duncan if I spoke out or did not heed his summons. He warned that Krayne would stand up against him in battle. Krayne was barely fourteen years of age and I would not risk him challenging William. Adam was away at the time, guarding the marshes and I knew not when he would return.”

Her fingers trembled as the memories came back, pictures she’d banished as surely as she’d been banished from her home and family. Her voice shook, her throat so dry, she wondered that she could still speak. “Once he knew I was carrying his bairn, William betrothed me to his brother. He knew Adam wouldn’t challenge my affections for the gentle John. I went along with it at first, for I did hold great affection for John, and I thought that would be enough for William. I was a fool. William planned to murder his brother, then claim a right to me and my bairn, being his nephew, and so ingratiate himself at Wamphray. No doubt he had many more murders planned, until there was just him and his unborn bastard left to reign.”

She turned misted eyes on Amber. “You are not of his ilk, child. I see only John in you. But, ’ware, if your uncle agreed to this marriage, then it’s treachery he has planned.”

“Why?” roared Krayne at his mother, the truth finally clawing through the blind fog of pain and rage. “Why did ye never tell me?”

Joanna stared up at him. “What could I have said that wouldn’t send you rushing in defence of my honour? You were but a boy, Krayne. I had to protect Duncan. I had to protect you. I fled. I could only pray that with me gone, William Jardin would give up his scheming and let Wamphray alone.”

“Christ,” he swore raggedly, pulling at his hair with both hands. “Ye have no idea what ye’ve done.”

Amber’s gaze froze on her husband. A wealth of pain, fury and hate filled his silver eyes, the glint as hard and cold as the grimace on his jaw.

What was he thinking? That she’d been privy to William’s scheming? Even now, even after all they’d been through…?

Those eyes left his mother to turn on her, wild and unseeing.

Amber’s heart cracked, splintering into a hundred pieces. He’d always believed the worst, he’d always refused to listen.

How could she possibly prove her innocence this time? For all she knew, this
had
been her uncle’s final motive.

“Ex-excuse me,” Amber choked, rising on trembling legs. She had to get away from here. Away from her husband’s rage-blind stare.

“Calm yourself, son,” Joanna chided. “I know exactly what I did. You were too young to be Wamphray’s laird as it was. I could not allow you to be thrown into the middle of a blood-feud as well.”

Krayne watched his wife leave. She was as pale as death and obviously distraught. He was momentarily distracted, thinking to go after her. But he was in no state to comfort anyone, not while his head was filled with murderous rage.

“I’ll skewer the pig and roast him alive on an open flame,” Krayne swore.

“Mayhap the time has come to rid this world of that vile man,” Joanna agreed. “I fear for you, Krayne. I fear what he is capable of. I’ve upset your wife with my forthrightness, and for that I am sorry. But once Amber has borne your heir, I wouldn’t put it past William Jardin to make an attempt on your life so that he can marry her off to a weak man of his choosing and gain control of Wamphray.”

“He’ll die trying.” Krayne balled a fist and slammed it into his palm.

“I but caution you to take care, my dearest.”

“I’ve been far too cautious already,” Krayne fumed. He should have ended that bastard’s miserable life twenty years ago. He should have waged war until all Jardin blood had been scorched from Scottish soil. The time he’d spent regretting starting that feud should have been spent cleaving Jardin limbs. “He not only took you from our lives, Mother, he took Stivin as well.”

The blood drained from his mother’s face.

Krayne dropped to his knees, placing an awkward arm about her shoulder. She turned into him at once, wrapping a hug around him. The red cloud inside his head gave way to iron control.