Knight Protector (Knight Chronicles) (10 page)

He turned the ring in the sunlight. One large, dark red stone gleamed in the center circled by three rows of progressively smaller clear red rubies, all of them set in heavy yellow gold. Almost every day of Colin’s young life, he’d seen his father wear this ring. What was it doing inside Sorcha’s mattress?

When Colin had asked her about it that first night, she’d denied knowing anything. Yet here it was, where no one but she would put it. ’Twas unlikely that Brice or another traitor would place it where Sorcha might discover it.

He could imagine a number of reasons why she might have the ring and hide it, not the least was that she might give it to Raeb and, in a twisted sort of vengeance, visit on Clan Marr the same fate that touched Clan MacKai when their horses were stolen. At the same time, she would be able to restore Clan MacKai to far more than its former glory. Aye, no matter how she obtained the ring, she had reason for nae returning it to him.

The questions surrounding her mounted daily, and he was nae closer to getting answers than the night he arrived. That had to change. But how to go about it?

He could take the ring. Wait for her to find it missing then watch what she did, and hope she would confide in him. ’Twas the smart move, for the jewel would be in his possession nae matter what she did. He could confront her, revealing that he’d searched her belongings, but that might destroy the fragile trust they were building. Trust necessary to find the documents and the spies. ’Twas too great a risk. He slipped the ring within his jerkin. He would hide it until Sorcha confided in him or the time came to reveal it with the greatest effect.

Well past nightfall, Sorcha returned to the earl’s chamber, bringing their dinner with her. Colin had grown more restless and frustrated as the days passed. Fortunately, the late night searches left little opportunity for him to tempt her to passion or for her to yield.

Thus far they had found nothing— no letters, no suspicious belongings or items, nothing. She’d used every stratagem she could think of to get Lady Agnes, Henry, and their servants out of the stronghold long enough to search their rooms then have them cleaned. She’d refused to answer questions from anyone about her orders to scour the place, even those long unused rooms in the tower and the dungeons.

She and Colin were exhausted. She wanted them both well rested for the meetings with the senior servants and knights tomorrow, so she’d asked cook for a special dinner tonight including all of Colin’s favorite dishes. She hoped the familiar foods would raise his spirits and invoke thoughts of happier times. Lord knew they needed a break from the tension of sharing a single chamber with little chance to escape each other for long.

 She set the tray on the table across the room from the bed.

As she straightened she heard a noise behind her. Turning to see Colin emerge from behind the tapestry that hid the secret staircase, she put a hand on her chest to still her racing heart. “You startled me.”

“Forgive me. I didna ken how late you planned to return for the night, so I went to confer with Ranulf about when he and the others would show up looking for work.”

“Could that nae have waited? ’Tis still dangerous for you to be about when Brice would be abed.”

He shrugged, doffed the heavy cloak he’d worn, and removed his sword belt and scabbard.

“No one saw anything but a clansman in a warm cloak going about his business. Is that roast pheasant I smell? I must thank cook for remembering how much I love pheasant.”

He advanced toward the table.

Irrational as it was, she resented him giving cook credit for thinking to serve his favorite dishes. Sorcha frowned and suppressed the urge to throw the meal at him. ’Twas nae his fault; he’d nae way of knowing she’d come up with the idea. Nonetheless, she spoke more sharply than she should have. “Don’t change the subject. You have got to be sensible about this business of stepping out of your role as Brice.”

“I’ve been all over this stronghold during the past week, albeit when others are asleep and I am unlikely to encounter anyone. I intend to show myself much recovered to my servants and knights tomorrow then finally emerge from this chamber on the following day. You worry over naught.”

“I have every reason to fear your behavior will destroy our ruse. If you canna act the part of Brice when so few people encounter you, what will keep you from making a serious mistake once you take up the earl’s normal duties?”

Colin drew in a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I dinna wish to argue about this, especially on an empty stomach.” He took her hand and whispered in her ear, his breath tickling the delicate skin below her lobe, “Come sit and let us eat.” He pulled out a bench and handed her onto it then took his own seat. “Mmmm! Pheasant stuffed with fennel and barley, warm bread, stewed leeks and—what’s this?” He lifted a fresh baked pastry and sniffed. “Apple and currant pie.”

He licked his lips.

Heat rose in her face. She had no reason to be jealous of a pie. She dinna want Colin’s touch or his kisses, so what difference if he slaked his appetite with good food? She stroked the braid hanging over her shoulder.

Her fingers burned where his had clasped them, and thrills shivered just under her skin from nape to toes and back. Soothing her fingers over the spot where he’d touched her, Sorcha stared at him in fury mixed with unwanted desire clawing for release.

He addressed his supper as if he’d no eaten in a fortnight. How could he be so dismissive of her concerns?

He knows naught of your concerns, you goose, and ’tis a good thing
. She shook her head and toyed with her trencher.
Men! Always led by their physical desires.
She supposed ’twas easier than wrestling with conflicting wants brought on by conscience and lust. If left to her own wishes, she’d never have wed Brice, nor would she have remained within ten leagues of Colin. He was dangerous, nae simply as a skilled knight and warrior, but also dangerous to her peace of mind, her secrets. Just look how a small touch and the caress of his breath against her ear and neck had distracted her from her frustration with him. Being with him the greater part of each day made resisting him difficult. She must find more reasons to stay away from this chamber.

“I hope you will rest well tonight,” she said, breaking the long silence.

He lifted his gaze from the meal on his trencher then studied her with eyes agleam. “I wish the same for both of us.”

She cast a glance at the large bed, then her pallet. Her sleep on the thin, lumpy mattress was always restless, broken by dreams of waking in the bed pressed to Colin’s body, his arm draped over her. “I might sleep better if I took a different room.”

He choked in mid-swallow. When he recovered, he set the cup carefully on the table. “You accuse me of putting our plans at risk because I stop acting like Brice for a few moments, yet you sit there and casually tell me you intend to cease acting as his wife.”

“Changing the place where I sleep will affect nothing.”

“If you sleep apart from me, every Marr clansmen will hear about it before nightfall, and every one of them will know something is not right with our marriage.”

“Many married couples sleep apart.”

“Aye, but not the earls of Strathnaver. No wedded earl has ever slept apart from his wife.” His hand clenched beside his cup.

She shrugged. “How can you be sure of that? Besides, we are not man and wife.”

“But the clan believes we are, and that belief is necessary for us to continue searching out spies and the letters.”

“If ’tis so important, we can tell them we’ve argued.”

“They will nae believe without good reason.” He shoved his trencher and cup away then placed an elbow on the table, resting his chin in his upturned hand. “What would a newly wedded couple argue about that would be so important a husband with recovered health would allow a wife to deny him his rights?”

Her brow wrinkled. “Perhaps ’tis the husband who refuses his wife’s attentions.”

Colin laughed, tossing his head back and baring the strong column of his throat.

She wanted to lick him slowly, from his chin all the way to the spot behind his earlobe.
Stop it.
I’ve nae desire to fall under his spell
.

“Be serious,
muirnean
.” He captured her gaze in those clear, green eyes. “An argument between us at this point is as likely as onions with the scent of roses.”

“’Tis still possible—we’re having a disagreement now.” She folded her arms across her chest and stopped eating. She’d lost her appetite. “A husband’s attentions, especially after long abstinence, can be too vigorous. Or mayhap he’s simply too stubborn to be borne.”

Colin raised a brow. “This disagreement is naught we can show to the clan, and I’ll admit to being verra stubborn,
muirnean
.”

“Dinna call me that,” she snapped, irritated beyond measure, though with herself or Colin she wasna sure.

He ignored the outburst. “A man’s attention to his wife canna be too vigorous when she, too, has suffered a long abstinence.”

“You’re taunting me.”

“Am I? Or is it yourself who tempts you beyond measure?”

She placed her hands on the table and levered herself to her feet then leaned across the wooden surface to be certain he didna misunderstand. “You have nae idea what I want. Since the clan doesna know we have nae shared—”

His green eyes darkened from that bright grass green to nearly black. She felt the pull of him sitting so casually, so near. Her traitorous heart raced. Her breath stuttered. She had to get away from him.

He smiled.

Her stupid belly fluttered and her stupider knees went weak.

“Pah! This is nonsense. Talking with you is like talking to a goat.” She slammed a fist on the table, making the cups and trenchers clatter. Then turning her back on the wretch, she marched to the window on the other side of the room.

“Goat I may be,
muirnean
, but at least I’m an honest goat and dinna deceive myself. I want you. I believe you desire me as well. You can have me if you truly wish it. All you need do is come with me to bed.”

“Nae, I canna.”

 “Keep to your solitary sleep then. However, that pallet will be removed on the morrow, and you will continue to sleep in this room whether in my bed or nae. I’ll nae allow you to destroy my best chance of saving Scotland.”

She shivered at the ice in his voice, so warm just moments ago. Was he right? Did she deceive herself? Nae, she didna. She recognized her lust for exactly what it was—an excuse to avoid admitting what she truly wanted. God help her, she wanted her life back, and no one could give her that. Certainly yielding to her mad desire for Colin would nae restore her leg or her life.

• • •

After a near sleepless night, Sorcha kept her head bent over her sewing as she listened to Sir MacClaren, the chamberlain, report on his work over the past ten years at Strathnaver Stronghold.

 “You’re certain you’ve told me of every important change?” Colin asked as he brought the interview with the chamberlain to a close.

“Aye.”

“Very well. I’m tiring and need my rest. Go now and send the steward to me at midday. If you recall anything else, be certain to inform me immediately. It would reflect poorly on us both for the earl nae to know what has gone on in his own home.”

“I will, my lord. Rest well.”

The man stood.

Putting her stitchery aside, Sorcha rose. “Husband, I have need of speech with our chamberlain on a minor household matter, and I would no have our chatter keep you from your rest. Sir MacClaren, I will walk with you a few moments.”

“Of course, my lady.” The man swept her a bow.

Only a short while passed before Sorcha returned, locked the door behind her.

Colin patted the bed beside him. “Come sit here so we may talk more quietly. We dinna ken who might listen at doors.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but his expression revealed nothing. “I’m nae certain that is a good idea.”

He blinked innocently, raised his hands, and locked them together behind his head. “You are right to be wary,
muirnean
, but I promise you will be safe from harm.”

Did he think she should consider him safe after last night’s argument? He was up to something, but what?

“Please, we’ll do naught but talk of Sir MacClaren’s report and his explanations about the pilfered supplies and tools.”

Colin’s eyes gleamed, and his smile broadened as he watched her, but he made nae further remark.

Determined to be master of her own desires and nae allow him to influence her choices, she sat gingerly by his side.

“The man claims that the cook is becoming absentminded as she grows old. The missing mortar and pestle were lent to Father Cuthbert, who had need of them to grind incense more finely. Sir MacClaren says our cook was told and agreed to allow the priest to have the tools. I know from personal experience, he is wrong about the cook’s memory. ’Tis clear he’s hiding something.”

Colin nodded. “Nae doubt. I want you to speak with the English priest. If his story matches Sir MacClaren’s, we’ll know Father Cuthbert is part of whatever our chamberlain is up to.”

He shifted in the bed, and she slid closer, their sides touching. Her belly fluttered, panicky anticipation skittered beneath her skin, and her heart raced. His arm settled around her shoulders. Her heartbeat slowed, and her anticipation subsided though it didna dissipate completely. She could do this—be close to him and nae become mindless with lust. She focused on the subject at hand.

“Why do you no wish the priest called here, so you may speak with him?”

“Since Brice opposed our father’s second marriage, ’tis unlikely Father Cuthbert would reveal much. He is, after all, my stepmother’s creature. She could very well be the mastermind behind this.”

Sorcha shook her head. “While she may be guilty of trying to murder Brice and took the herbs, mortar and pestle to do so, she hasna the patience a spy would need. In addition, she has a child who could be used to control her. All we need do is threaten Henry, and if she is any sort of mother, she’ll confess everything.”