The Maid of Lorne (7 page)

A
lthough she knew she had not slept, Lara somehow woke up in the bed again. She’d paced for hours after her return from the chapel, the tension inside her gripping her stomach. Refusing the meal sent up for her and the children, she chose to go back over everything her cousin had said during their encounter. Then she’d wrapped herself in her cloak once more and propped herself in her father’s chair and tried unsuccessfully to sleep.

Now here she was, under the thick covers on one side of an obviously used bed. Pushing her hair back, she peered around the room, looking for telltale signs that Sebastien had indeed shared the bed through the night. The trunk where he kept his clothing was open. The other pillow bore his imprint. Indeed, the other side of the bed still bore his warmth as well. Sliding her hand over it, she thought on how he continued to move her each night without her waking.

As soon as she climbed off the bed, Margaret entered with water for washing. Another servant followed with a covered tray.

“I know you did not eat last even, or much of anything of substance for the whole of the day, milady,” Margaret said as Lara directed the kitchen maid to the table. “But on such days as these, everyone is off their usual customs.”

“I fear it will continue for some time, Margaret,” she answered, sharing only a small measure of her unease with the woman who’d grown up at her side.

Lara’s stomach now reminded her of its emptiness. She completed her ablutions and then, sitting in her chair with the tray on her lap, tore the loaf of steaming bread apart and ate one piece after another until it was gone.

“My lady,” Margaret said. “Has he said what is to become of us? I was terrified when I heard that the bairns might be taken from us.”

“As was I, Margaret. Apparently, keeping them here fits into the Bruce’s plans more than taking them with him. For now, they would seem safe.”

“And you? Now that you are married to the Bruce’s man? What’s to become of you?” Margaret’s fingers twisted together even as her brow knitted in a frown of worry. “And of me?”

“The knight assured me that we are safe. Prisoners, although not called that, but safe in our tower. More than that, I know not.

“Margaret, I have a boon to ask of you,” Lara added, broaching a subject that she had lost sleep over since Eachann’s demands. “You make your way through the castle and keep. Tell me who remains here from our clan. I worry that some have not escaped to safety.”

“Milady,” Margaret began, “I fear I have not taken
notice of much other than you or the children in these last days.”

Lara reached over and patted the maid’s hand, trying to ease her worry. “There will, I think, be time to sort these things out. For now, are the children below?”

“Yes, milady.” The young girl who had brought the tray answered from across the chamber. She was one of those who’d remained behind, who were now pressed into services they did not usually provide. With so many gone from Dunstaffnage, fewer hands carried out many tasks.

“Milady?” Margaret cleared her throat and glanced to the other side of the room, nodding slightly at the young girl waiting to take the tray back to the kitchens. Realizing the message to caution, Lara nodded and drank deeply from the cup of ale. She needed to have a care to be discreet in her attempts to gather information. There would be time.

“Milady?” Margaret asked again, gaining her attention once more.

Looking up, Lara discovered Sebastien watching her. As was his usual custom, he stood dressed in his mail and parts of his armor, but no helmet on his head. That meant he was staying close to the castle. She smiled as she realized this pattern of behavior in the man now her husband.

She held the tray out to the girl and stood in greeting. His gaze was intent and it made her nervous. Through the last two weeks, although married, they’d had very little contact at all. He’d taken over her home and her people, and she’d been banished as effectively
as her father had been. Etienne now ran the keep, and Lara’s opinions were not sought by anyone.

She smoothed her gown with nervous palms and waited for him to speak first.

“Good morrow, lady.” His lips curved at the corners, not quite a smile.

“Sir,” she replied, nodding.

“I did not intend to disturb your meal. Pray thee, sit and eat.” He motioned toward the tray now held by Margaret, but Lara shook her head.

“I have broken my fast already, sir. My appetite is less than my maid hopes, and for far less than she brings me each morn,” she said.

“I have come to ask you to sup with me this evening.” He paused and his expression was one of puzzlement. “If your appetite returns, of course.”

Lara looked at him and tried to discern a reason for this invitation. “Where do you wish to eat? In the solar below?”

“I would wish to eat here for some measure of privacy, but I am certain that you would wish a measure of freedom.” He turned and, in a quiet voice, told both Margaret and the kitchen maid to leave. He waited for the door to close and then faced Lara once more.

Here was her chance. The one that she’d missed because of his absences or other duties that kept him so busy.

“What would you like to discuss that requires privacy, sir? We could accomplish it now, if it pleases you?”

He frowned at her; his eyes narrowed and he squared his shoulders. “I have no specific topic, lady.

I just had hoped for…” He stopped. “We have much…” Another start and stop. “We are married and…” His frown deepened and he shook his head.

Now it was his turn to look lost and confused, as confused as she usually felt around him. He walked to the window and peered out onto the dreary day. Lara waited, fear filling her heart, since she knew his words would be about their marriage, and therefore something she did not want to hear.

“Our marriage was precipitous and unexpected,” he said finally, still staring out into the rain. “I would like to discuss with you the expectations I do have for our union.”

She swallowed and then swallowed again, her mouth suddenly dry and unable to form words. This was exactly her concern, too, but she had not anticipated his raising the topic. He had not turned to face her yet, so she took a deeper breath and tried to stay calm. She had few rights and little recourse against him as her husband, so she prepared herself for the worst.

“Too many things are uncertain at this time,” he said as he finally did face her. “There are too many arrangements that cannot be confirmed yet to make any bold declarations to you about our future. But, there is time to become accustomed to each other before any decisions are made.”

“Decisions, sir? What kind of decisions are being made about me?” Would she ever be able to face life as a pawn of her enemy? She placed her fisted hands on her hips. “I thought everything was settled. You took my virtue. You took my family. You stole my future.”

She tried so very hard to use anger as her shield against this uncertainty. However, the naked longing she spied in his gaze, longing for she knew not what, was so strong that it nonetheless unnerved her. He could not simply want her in a carnal sense—a man as handsome as he could surely have any woman he wooed to his bed, so there was no need to take an unwilling one.

“What more do you want from me?”

Oh, God help her. She should never have asked the question, for she did not want to hear the answer. Truly, it was one of the stupidest things she’d ever done, and now there was nothing for her to do but await his answer.

He cleared his throat and smiled, a smile tinged with sadness. “I simply want to share a meal with you. No more, no less than that.”

When put so plainly, how could she refuse? But something deep within told her she must. “And whom do you threaten if I refuse this
request?”

He let out an exasperated breath and muttered something too low for her to hear. Lara took a step back, afraid she’d pushed him too far with her obstinacy.

“Since that is how I have sought to control your behavior these last weeks, I can understand how you would expect that to be the course for every action I take. Your pardon, lady, for asking you to do something so distasteful.”

Surprising her completely, he bowed and turned away without another word, opening the door and leaving before she could comprehend his intentions. Blinking and expecting to see him still there, Lara shook her
head and tried to clear her thoughts. Staring at the closed door, she searched for an explanation of how she felt.

He had just held out some offer to her, one made from a man to a woman, not enemy to enemy. He had attempted to ease her fears, and she had rejected whatever he made an effort to do. Tempted to follow him and accept his invitation, Lara heard her cousin’s words come back to her, and the accusation he’d made stopped her from any foolish softness.

Sebastien was the enemy. His words and other ploys to soften her were meant to remove her as a threat to his assuming the role that belonged to her father and to Malcolm after him—Laird of Dunstaffnage. Lara wrapped her arms around her waist and shuddered at how close she’d come to betraying them all again, for the hope of some kind words and treatment.

But wait. She stared at the door again. He was not the only one who could gain knowledge through such an exchange. Had not Eachann ordered her to gather such information about their enemy and share it with him? She could ask her own questions of this knight in the service of the Bruce, and help her clan’s allies in their continuing battles against them.

Examining it in that perspective, she realized she must accept this invitation. Pulling open the door and hastening past both her maid and his astonished squire, who stood holding Sebastien’s helmet and sword, she ran down the steps after him. She stopped at each floor to see if he were there, but she did not find him in the solar nor on the first level. Reaching the entrance to the hall, she stumbled to a stop as two guards blocked her path.

Lara struggled to catch her breath as she called out to him. “Sir?” He was at the far end of the hall and walking briskly away. With the noise of dozens of soldiers and servants in the hall, there was no way for her voice to reach him. Instead, his second-in-command stepped in front of her.

“My lady? Is there something you need?” he asked her in a formal tone that served to remind her of her position and her heritage. Standing back, she waited a moment until she could speak without effort.

“Sir Hugh.” With his nod, she continued, “I had thought to speak to your commander, but he left.”

“Aye, my lady. He has many duties to be about here.” There was some measure of sanction in his voice, as though she somehow took Sebastien from such tasks. Lara looked at Hugh to see if his eyes betrayed him, showing the disdain she heard in his voice, but there was none. Still, she could not resist the urge to remind him of his place, as well.

“Then you must also have some that you should be about. You are dismissed.” She began to turn away when she noticed the glances of the guards. ‘Twas almost as though they waited for him to reprimand her in some way. No hand gripped her to stop her, so she climbed the first step.

“As you wish, my lady,” Sir Hugh said.

Lara did not dare to stop and look back. She continued her ascent until she’d reached the solar, and called for Margaret. Would Sir Hugh tell Sebastien that she had dismissed him, and done it disrespectfully in front of their guards? What would his reaction be?

She decided that she needed to prepare for their next encounter, so she called for her needles and thread and went to the solar to join Malcolm and Catriona there. Embroidery always soothed her nerves. She would work on the tapestry for a bit and sort her thoughts as she moved the threads, connecting and weaving colors and patterns into shapes and designs.

As it had been since the knight’s arrival, her brother’s subject of discussion was Sebastien of Cleish and everything about him. After Malcolm praised the new conqueror of Dunstaffnage for too many minutes, Lara cut off further gushing with a warning for the boy to consider his own clan and his own allegiances. Malcolm’s scowl matched her own as the solar finally grew silent. Catriona climbed off Lara’s lap and onto Margaret’s, reacting to the tension.

Lara took a deep breath, trying to sort out her own thoughts and feelings.

Two hours and many skeins of jumbled thread later, her thoughts were as muddled as ever.

He cursed himself for the fool he was a thousand times as he circled the perimeter of Dunstaffnage for the fifth time. The rain had lessened, but not the winds, which tore at him. He was alone now that he had ordered the guards to remain at the gate, near the stone wall that led away from the castle and into the woods where the chapel stood.

The castle was an imposing sight, especially when viewed from this close. Its sheer rock walls and base would convince attackers of the futility of such action. With rain and wind bashing against it from the firth, it
stood as a testament to the wisdom of those who’d planned its design and its location.

Those damn MacDougalls, he thought as he stared through the rain at the two towers facing him now.

He should be grateful that they saved Robert the time, efforts and expense of building such a guard tower for Loch Etive and farther upriver at the narrow pass of Brander, Loch Awe and its rich, fertile lands and castles. For now, Sebastien felt like a target, his men assigned to guard this castle as the main forces of the king moved north.

Slowed by their lack of provisions, Robert had decided to stock this place and use it during the next months to shore up his hold over these lands controlled, for now, by allies of the powerful Comyns. Not many were privy to his plans, but Robert had shared them with Sebastien, and intended to announce them to his noble supporters at the gathering in Kilcrenan.

Sebastien could only imagine the resistance that would explode there at the news that he, an illegitimate soldier from largely unknown origins, would receive the wardenship of the captured MacDougall lands and titles permanently. Sebastien of Cleish would stand as guardian to the MacDougall’s heir and control this crucial part of the coastline of western Scotland in reward for his service to the Bruce and his promise of allegiance for the future.