Border Bride (39 page)

Reaching into the wardrobe, she grabbed the bottle and threw it at his feet. Glass shattered, and rose water perfumed the air. The sponge skidded to a halt at the edge of the carpet. "I cannot explain why your other women never conceived, but there's the reason your Rosina didn't. I've had no man but you. For pity's sake, Malcolm, I'd never even been kissed before."

Her piece said, her heart a shambles, Alpin collected her cloak and marched out of the room.

Malcolm heard her leave, but couldn't take his eyes off the contraceptive device. Impossible, his pride said. Consider it, his mind countered.

There were no milkmaids in his past; he had not been the sort of son to dishonor a servant in his father's house. There were no shopgirls; he had not been the kind of youth to take advantage of an innocent. He had always chosen experienced women, women who'd already borne children. He'd even gone so far as to scorn the notion of conception.

Experienced women. Women who had earned their keep pleasing him. Had he, by hedging his bet that they would not conceive, given them license to prevent it?

Like the broken bottle, a lifetime of conviction shattered. A vision of Alpin rose before him, tears streaming down her face, her lovely eyes filled with pain.

And the truth, for he believed her.

Damning himself, he got to his feet and kicked the sponge across the room. God, how he'd hurt her. He had flung accusations as if they were weapons. He'd been a fool, but no more. He'd go to her, make her listen. She still cared for him, of that he was certain.

Sweet Saint Ninian, she would blossom with their child. Joy tightened his chest and brought tears to his eyes. She would give him a bairn of his own, a bonny lass he could swing into the air and spoil to his heart's content, or a laddie he could teach and mold into a fine man. Whatever the sex, the child would be a product of the love he and Alpin had shared.

The love they would share again.

He would woo her. If it took the rest of his life, he'd win back her affection. Starting now.

His course set, his heart buoyed by love and hope for the future, he dashed from the room and ran down the stairs. Hearing voices in the lesser hall, he followed the sound. In the doorway he stopped, stunned, at the sight of his handfast bride in laughing conversation with Saladin's twin brother.

Saladin had been blessed with the features of their Moorish father, but Sir Salvador Cortez had inherited the straight black hair and olive skin of their Spanish mother. Even their choice of clothing reflected their differences. Salvador preferred modern dress; he wore a fashionable jacket and breeches of green velvet, a stark white shirt, and knee boots.

But the greatest contrast between the brothers Cortez was evidenced in their views of and practices toward the fairer sex. Where Saladin had taken a vow of chastity until marriage, Salvador practiced the popular art of seduction.

To Malcolm's way of thinking, he was practicing his art now. Why else would he be holding both of Alpin's hands and making her blush?

Possessiveness gripped Malcolm. He stepped into the room. "Am I interrupting something?"

Alpin's breath caught, and she jumped back as if burned.

The ever-affable Sir Salvador turned smoothly toward Malcolm. "Only a happy reunion, my lord." He bowed from the waist.

"If you'll excuse me." Her head down, Alpin took the longest route to the door.

Malcolm blocked her path. To Salvador he said, "Is the family with you?"

"No." His dashing countenance vanished. "I've come with a message for Lady Miriam, but Alpin tells me she's not here."

Hope of a speedy reconciliation with Alpin faded, for if Salvador had come alone and looking for Malcolm's stepmother, trouble was afoot.

"Wait for me in my study, Salvador."

His brows raised in casual query, Salvador nodded and left the room.

Malcolm closed the door.

Alpin gave him her back. "I have nothing to say to you."

Braced for the difficult task of earning her forgiveness, Malcolm said, "I know. But I have much to say to you."

She stiffened, as if shoring up her defenses.

Malcolm wanted to hold her, but he knew it was too soon.

He found himself staring at the wisps of curling hair at the nape of her neck and thinking how delicate she was. Because of her size, he'd underestimated her. She might be small, but his wife possessed the strength and courage of a gladiator.

Daunted at the prospect of conquering her, Malcolm spoke from the heart. "I'm sorry for the hurtful things I said to you."

"I'm sure you are. Hadn't you better see what Salvador wants?"

He had to break through the shell of her indifference. "I'd rather hear what you want."

Her hand touched the arm of the family throne. "I want to go home to Barbados."

Kildalton Castle was her home; he would make it so. "You would take my child?"

She turned toward him then, righteous anger blazing in her eyes. "It's
my
child. Before I let you use it as a political pawn or wreck its life, I'll raise it in a ditch."

She looked so defiant and so proud, and Malcolm had never loved her more. He had to ball his fists to keep from reaching for her. "As I wrecked yours?"

"You flatter yourself. I can make my own way and provide for my child."

Given time, he would rekindle her affection. But with Salvador here and half the crops still in the fields, Malcolm wondered when he could begin his quest for her heart. "We will provide for our child together, and we'll do it here, Alpin."

Alarm smoothed out her features. "You would force me to stay even though I loathe you?"

"You loved me once. If you give us a chance we could have a good marriage."

"I want no part of your Scottish dynasty. Now let me pass. I have work to do."

Unfortunately, so did he, and the responsibility weighed heavy on his soul. "What work?"

"The soldiers will be hungry, and I'm sure Salvador would prefer linens on his bed."

Malcolm felt a glimmer of hope. She must care for him. Why else would she be so eager to resume her duties? "Until later, then."

Before he joined Salvador, Malcolm sought out Alexander. "Take all of the men you can spare from the haying crews and put them on the watch. Station guards at all the exits. Have them inspect every conveyance before it leaves the grounds."

"Aye, my lord, but what excuse shall I give for the search?"

"Tell them that Alpin's pet rabbit has gone missing."

"The lass'll not get away again, my lord."

Standing at the windows in the upstairs solar, Alpin had an unobstructed view of her husband.
Husband
. The word stirred her ire anew. She'd handfasted herself to a stubborn, selfish man who would say or do anything to salve his great Scottish pride.

What was he saying to Alexander? She opened the window, but they were too far away and there was too much noise in the yard.

As if he hadn't a care in the world, Malcolm returned to the keep. With sinking dread, she saw Alexander go into the barracks. When he emerged, he was followed by a dozen clansmen. He barked orders, and in pairs, eight of the men scattered. The remaining four marched to the main gates.

She stood there a moment longer. To her dismay, the soldiers began searching every wagon and cart leaving Kildalton. She pictured guards at every exit.

Since escape seemed impossible, she needed leverage. Hoping to gain it, she entered the tunnel through the wardrobe in her bedchamber and made her way down the dark stairs to the corridor near Malcolm's study. Approaching from a different direction, she didn't have to worry about the alarm bell.

Leaning close to the door, she heard Salvador say, "What do you think?"

Paper rattled. "I think Father has been married to a diplomat for too long. 'Tis rubbing off on him, for he pens rhetoric as well as she does."

"Where is Lady Miriam?" Salvador asked.

"Trying to dissuade John Gordon from going abroad."

Alpin shivered, remembering the coarse Highlander and the way he'd stared at her and proclaimed her the granddaughter of Comyn MacKay.

"Then she's made a useless trip," Salvador said.

"What do you mean?"

"Read on, my friend. It's all in your father's letter."

After a brief silence, Malcolm said, "Sweet Saint Ninian. He actually wants to come to Scotland?"

John Gordon lived in Scotland, so they couldn't be speaking of him. Who was this "he"? Alpin wondered.

"He wanted to, but your father talked to his father, who changed the lad's mind. At present he wants to go to Aix-la-Chapelle."

Why wouldn't they say the man's name?

"Why does he want to go there?" Malcolm asked.

"Who knows how his mind works? That's why Lady Miriam must come back with me. Lord Duncan thinks she'll have better luck dissuading him."

Alpin had no idea of whom they spoke, but obviously the man and his travels were a source of great concern.

"Now that I've delivered my merry message…"

Malcolm laughed, but the sound held more pain than humor.

"Will you tell me," Salvador continued, "why your old nemesis Alpin MacKay is back in Scotland."

"
My
nemesis? Have you forgotten the time she broke your ribs?"

Salvador groaned. "No, but I deserved it. I told the baron about the wounded vixen Alpin had found. He made her watch while he killed it and hung the hide on the stable door."

Alpin remembered, too. She had vomited for days. But at least she had saved the fox's kits.

"The bastard," Malcolm spat.

"At least he's changed," said Salvador. "He loves children now."

"Aye. He's still in Ireland with his newest grandson. God, he was wretched to Alpin."

"Speaking of her, what's she doing here with you?"

"We're handfasted, and she carries our first child."

"What?"

Alpin couldn't listen to any more. She made her way to the kitchen, where she found Dora churning butter.

After instructing the maid to add another chicken to the pot and prepare a chamber for Salvador, Alpin said, "Where's Elanna?"

"She went to Sweeper's Heath to take Saladin his lunch."

Poor Saladin, thought Alpin. His romantic straits were as dire as hers.

The horn sounded again, warning of another visitor. Surely this time it would be Lady Miriam.

The need for solitude drove Alpin to the mews, where she fed and watered the birds, then sat on the three-legged stool and berated herself for telling Malcolm that she carried his child. But as always, where men and the important matters in life were concerned, she'd had little choice.

"If you give us a chance," he'd said, "we could have a good marriage." But that was an impossible dream, for she was already committed to Paradise and the uphill battle that awaited her there.

The owlet peeped. Alpin fed it a strip of meat. She pictured Malcolm escaping the responsibilities of his kingdom to care for these birds. The image seemed wrong. How would a selfish, scheming man find sanctuary in this dark and peaceful place? How could she want him so?

Damn Malcolm Kerr for keeping her here so long and tearing her life apart. Damn her for not wanting to leave him.

A commotion outside sent the kestrels to pacing. Reluctantly Alpin left the mews. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she started back toward the keep. Two dozen soldiers had gathered at the gate. The men on the battlements all faced toward the north road. A sense of anticipation filled the air.

Would Lady Miriam's arrival cause such a stir? If not, then who? Alpin thought about the evening meal and wondered if there would be enough food to go around.

She stopped herself. This was not her castle to worry about, and she would not go out of her way. To keep Malcolm off guard, she would perform her duties. She would deal with the household problems as they arose. No more, no less.

Just as she reached the steps, the door opened. First Rabby, then a frowning Malcolm stepped outside. He had donned his bonnet and his broadsword.

When he saw her, he hurried down the steps. "I was just coming to find you."

Something was wrong. Craning her neck, she looked up at him. "Why are you wearing a weapon?"

He turned to Rabby. "Go to Sweeper's Heath. Bring Saladin back with you."

When the soldier walked away, Malcolm took her arm. "I'm wearing this sword because I may need it. Come with me. We have guests."

She dug in her heels. "
You
have guests, not I. I only work for you."

"Alpin," he growled, his hand tightening on her elbow, "this visitor very much concerns you."

Behind her she heard the rumble of approaching horses. "Nothing and no one in Scotland concerns me."

He stared past her. "Not even Comyn MacKay?"

Chapter Twenty