Authors: Mary Wine
She hurried into the room while Deirdre turned to hide the letter from her. “It is no difficulty, Amber. I simply longed for a bath, and I’m no’ yet accustomed to having anyone tending to me.”
Deirdre looked about for a place to conceal the letter from Amber’s attentive eyes.
“Who brought ye food?” Amber sounded suspicious, and she looked at the plate with a frown on her lips.
“I do nae know the girl’s name. I’ve seen her at least once before.”
Amber scoffed before realizing she had allowed the sound past her lips. “Forgive me, mistress, but I’d prefer ye only partake of what I bring ye.” Amber picked up the tray and walked toward the door with it.
Deirdre might have argued with her for being so protective, but she took the opportunity to slip the letter beneath the cushion of the window seat.
“I’ll be back with supper for ye, mistress; the cook won’t begrudge ye eating a bit early since the laird is nae here.” There was a knowing gleam in her eye that sent Deirdre toward the window seat the moment the door shut. She pulled out the letter and read it once more.
Her heart suddenly protested, but she ignored it. Hadn’t she sworn to keep her heart as cold as stone? Well, she had, and even if there was much to like about her life at Drumdeer, there was still her father’s honor to consider. She looked at the bed she’d shared with Quinton, and felt tears sting her eyes.
She went across the chamber to the opposite window to check for any sign of Quinton’s return.
She had to remain firm in her choice. It was the only honorable one. The last time she’d taken a lover, it had been because he’d promised her marriage. A bride didn’t always have to be a maiden, so long as there were wedding vows later. Quinton had not promised her a wedding, nor was the man willing to listen to what she wanted from their relationship.
She felt the sting of that shame keenly. Maybe if she could shoulder the weight of that burden alone, she might follow her heart and stay. But to become his mistress would shame her father and her clan. She refused to do it, even if her father had always pronounced her guilty of that crime. Melor Douglas had deceived her into yielding her innocence to him.
But Quinton had not, and unless he was prepared to offer her more, she would leave him now that she knew where the queen was.
Amber returned with a cheerful smile. “The cook outdid herself tonight. You’ll enjoy supper.”
Deirdre hurried to conceal her troubled emotions, but not before the girl noticed the gloom darkening her features.
“Do nae fret, lady. The laird will return; he always does.” Amber hurried to lay out the supper.
“Thank you, Amber. I am well for the night, simply tired.”
The girl smiled with relief. A flicker of wicked understanding flashed in the girl’s eyes. “Ye have been keep up late quite often, mistress.”
Deirdre felt her cheeks heat, but she nodded. “Aye, so I am going to seek my bed early. Good night.”
Amber left the chamber, and the moment door closed, Deirdre hurried to the table where a small writing desk sat. She opened it and pulled a clean sheet of parchment from it. Quinton deserved an explanation, and she penned him a few lines.
Quinton,
I’ve gone to take my place with the queen. Remaining with ye is something I’d like, but it will no’ bring honor to my name. I must think of my father.
Deirdre Chattan
She looked about the chamber but settled on leaving the letter on the chair that he used when eating at the table. A quick glance toward the window sent her heartbeat accelerating. She went to the bed and began to rearrange it. She pulled the seat cushions off the chairs and pushed them beneath the coverlet to make it look as though she were in the bed. The sun was beginning to set, and she felt her chance for escape sinking with it. Once the gates were closed for the night, she would be imprisoned. The castle was large, but not large enough to hide in if it was discovered that she was missing.
The clothing she’d taken from the solar storerooms was still sitting in the bedchamber. Deirdre had carefully pushed it behind the silk clothing Coalan had given to Amber from the queen’s horse. She picked up the ankle-high boots and pushed her feet into them. She fought back frustration as she laced them closed, but smiled with satisfaction to at last be wearing proper footwear. If she never wore another pair of silk slippers, she would be content.
She returned to the door and pulled it open in nothing but the common underrobe and boots.
“I need Amber. Go and fetch her, please.” One of the lads pulled on the corner of his cap before starting down the stairs. Deirdre closed the door and forced herself to count to one hundred so the first retainer might reach the bottom of the tower.
She opened the door again and looked into the startled face of the remaining retainer. “I cannae wait for Amber. My leg pains me too much. Fetch Tully quickly.”
“But, lady… I cannae leave my post.”
“Do nae be ridiculous… ye are here for me. Fetch me what I need, and quickly. I’ll bar the door if that puts yer worries to rest. Now go.”
The youth opened his mouth to argue once more, but Deirdre lifted her hand and pointed him down the stairs. He shut his mouth with a snap and took the stairs at a run. Deirdre had to control the urge to run across the chamber. She couldn’t risk having her steps heard by the youth. Such would certainly betray the fact that her leg injury had healed very nicely, but it was the only excuse she could think of to get both men away from her door.
She counted as she shrugged into the wool overrobe and covered her hair with the plain veil that matched the serving attire. She grabbed the bread and cheese from her supper and tied it up in a linen napkin.
She turned her back on the warm stew in spite of the rumble of protest from her belly. She reached out and pinched out the candles before hurrying out of the chamber and pulling the door closed behind her. She ran down the steps, her lungs threatening to burst before she made it to the bottom of the eagle tower. Time seemed to slow down, each step taking three times as long to pass over as it normally did. At the bottom floor, she turned and forced her pace to become even as she moved toward the long stone hallway that connected the tower to the rest of the castle. She looked down, trying to appear haggard and worn by the day.
Most of the inhabitants were in the great hall, enjoying the last meal of the day and conversation with their friends now that their duties were finished. Retainers remained on watched on the walls, but they faced outward, scanning the darkening hills for signal fires.
Inside the stable, only a few young boys remained. They were the newest members of the staff and therefore had to sit watch while the older boys and men got the chance to enjoy supper in the hall. The boys were gathered around the remains of the blacksmith’s fire. They broke bread with one another while one of them tossed a set of dice.
She passed them and took a mare that was in a stall at the far end of the stables. There was no time to saddle her, only to slip the bit into her mouth and toss a blanket over her back. With a soft pat to gentle her, Deirdre pulled her gently from the stables and toward the main gate. A few people were still passing through it, on their way down to the village for the night. She muttered a prayer before leading the mare forward toward the open gate.
***
Tully arrived first. She frowned when her soft rap failed to gain any answer from within the chamber. A moment passed as the young retainer became increasingly nervous.
“She’s waiting on ye to tend her leg,” he insisted, gesturing for her to enter the chamber.
Tully opened the chamber door a mere two inches and saw that the candles were no longer burning. Amber froze behind her, and the two retainers followed them.
“My lady?” she whispered. “Do ye need me yet tonight?”
There was no answer, but the small lantern that hung outside the chamber door for the retainers to see by cast its yellow light over the bed. The lump beneath the coverlet was plain.
“She’s sleeping,” Tully whispered.
“But the lady insisted that she needed ye.”
Tully lifted one weathered hand to silence the lad. She looked into the dark chamber, staring at the bed for a long moment.
“I hear that noble ladies change their minds quickly. She’s gone to her bed, and that will heal her leg better than anything I have to offer.” Tully firmly closed the door and nodded.
“Let her be, and do nae fret. Ye did as she asked.” Tully looked at Amber. “Find yer bed, child. Ye look as though our fine lady works ye hard.”
“It will be worth it if she names me her chief lady’s maid. Such would make me family proud.”
The two lads set to guard the door both stared at one another as Tully and Amber descended the stairs.
“I do nae understand ladies,” one announced.
“Nor do I. Do ye want to play cards?”
One began to deal out cards on a tiny table that sat near the door. It was a good way to pass the time as well as keep their wits keen throughout the long hours of the night. Their duty was to guard the door, so they would.
***
Deirdre had to suppress the urge to move to fast. She trembled like an autumn leaf ready to fall. Retainers watched those crossing out of the castle, but only with mild interest. In the servant robes, she passed through easily. It seemed too simple, but her muscles ached from the tension. She waited until she was several hundred feet from the gate before mounting the mare. The animal might look old, but it still had strength and took to the road in a graceful canter. Deirdre leaned low over the neck of the mare, tucking her veil close to her face as she headed away from Drumdeer.
It was a bittersweet moment, filled with a sense of accomplishment, but also remorse. She refused to turn her head and look back over her shoulder. Honor was not about making the easy choice.
She rode through the night, using the moon to keep her direction true. She avoided the village, the memory of how Coalan had captured her too vivid in her mind for her to risk being seen. By dawn, she could see that she was still on Cameron land, because the men working in their fields wore the same yellow, orange, and black plaid Quinton did. She slid from the back of the mare to give the animal a rest.
She found a small river to allow the animal to drink. She lay down, intending to close her eyes for only a moment while the mare drank its fill. But sleep smothered her intentions, taking control of her the moment her body was at ease. Her will ended up succumbing to the needs of her body and the warm weather. The grass felt perfect against her cheek while the scent of new plants made her sleep deep and restful.
***
Riding all night didn’t normally bother Quinton. The dawn showed him his castle, and it was a fine sight, made even better by the knowledge that Deirdre was inside. He didn’t make the mistake of thinking she was waiting on him. Well, he wouldn’t say she’d admit she was anticipating his return.
But part of him wanted her to.
He paused, holding his stallion back while he contemplated the towers turning gold in the rising sunlight. His stallion snorted, eager to return to his stable.
He was itching to find his bed too—the one he’d shared with Deirdre. He cursed the time it had taken him to return, for it had cost him the dark hours of the night. Those hours when he might have pulled Deirdre close and there wouldn’t have been any fight left between them. Now that the day had begun, she’d be ready to spit at him once more. He’d been ignoring her attempts to talk. Maybe that was cowardice on his part, but avoiding any possibility of her talking her way into leaving him was what he wanted. He didn’t understand his need for her, but he knew that he dreaded seeing her leave.
His cock stirred even as he regretted missing the opportunity to simply savor having her near.
He chuckled softly, amused by his own contrariness. He set his heels into the sides of his stallion, and the animal surged forward toward Drumdeer.
Beware, hellion…
***
Amber struggled to stifle a yawn on her way into her mistress’s chamber. It wouldn’t do for the lady to think she was not up to the challenge of serving her. She opened the shutters and listened carefully for any sounds from the bed, but the chamber remained silent.
Too quiet, really. Tension began to creep through her, and she turned to look at the bed with suspicion. The feeling that something was not right refused to leave her. It twisted in her belly, making her move toward the bed in spite of the fact her mistress had yet to call for her.
A snap made her jump and sent her heart pounding at a frantic pace. She turned to find her laird standing behind her. Amber pressed a hand over her lips to seal her cry of surprise inside. Her laird winked, and she lowered her hand while staring at him in confusion.
Try as she might, she couldn’t recall seeing Quinton Cameron, Earl of Liddell and laird of the Cameron, ever do anything as playful as wink. He grinned at her and chuckled softly while gesturing her toward the door.
“I’ll wake yer mistress up, lass,” he whispered when she passed him.
She had to lift her hand and press it against her lips again to avoid laughing while she was still in the chamber, but once she made it down the first few steps, she giggled. The girls on their way up to help her looked at her with confusion on their faces.
“Let’s go to the hall. The laird just returned.”
Understanding dawned on them all, and knowing gleams entered their eyes. A few more giggles floated up the stairs to amuse the men outside the chamber door.
***
Quinton grinned, anticipating Deirdre’s annoyance with him waking her up. But the idea of what that fiery temper might be used for sent him toward the bed. He needed her before the demands of his station began to nip at him once again. In fact, it was amazing how strong his desire was to seek her out.
“Ye’ll have to admit that I wore ye out or that ye remained awake waiting for me last night, since ye are still in bed,” Quinton muttered softly. He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed his boots aside.