Alex scowled and drank from his mug. “I was but a child when
he died. I doubt if his visits to the nursery were frequent.”
“No, they wouldn’t have been. So I cannot convince you with
a word picture of his mien and manner. It seems we have little in common, then.
You will have to accept Farnley’s witness that I am the man who left these
shores twenty years ago. My signature has not changed much, and I should think
old acquaintances might recognize me still, despite the graying hairs. In the
meantime, you will simply have to take my word for it.”
Alex slammed his mug down and rose to glare at Rory. “I don’t
have to take this. I came here because I had some foolish notion that I still
owed Alyson my protection. Now that I can see she has found a home with
villains, I can only assume she can take care of herself. I bid you good day,
then.”
His path was intercepted by a soft round figure in jewel
colors who could have stepped from one of the tapestries adorning the paneled
walls. Rory materialized behind her, making his protection evident.
Alex gave him a scornful glance. “Unlike you, I do not take
advantage of a woman’s weakness. She will come to no harm by me. That was why I
came.”
“I can give evidence otherwise, but that is an old argument.”
Alyson spoke softly but with great emphasis. “You are my cousin and my father’s
heir. I cannot send you out into the storm. Sit, both of you.”
The hostility between Rory and Alex was a tangible thing
that electrified the air. Alyson gazed with curiosity at the monster who had
driven her from her home. No longer alone, but safe in the security of father
and husband, she could see he was naught but a man. True, he was a large man,
one of frighteningly powerful breadth and muscular grace, but she did not find
evil in his dark eyes. Licentiousness, perhaps, overindulgence, certainly, but
not evil.
She frowned at his arrogant amusement. “Your wickedness will
bring you to the same end as your father if you do not change your ways,
cousin,” she said curtly. “You are fearless in the eyes of the world, but
inside, you are alone and terrified of it. Now, tell me your message, and I
will have a room prepared for you. We will be eating shortly. You may join us
or not, as you wish.”
She had once been speechless in Alex’s company and run from him
in terror for months. Rory had given her the confidence she needed to stand up
to him now.
“At least you are listening instead of screaming, for a
change,” Alex said with his usual sarcasm. “I think I’ll take advantage of the
silence to offer the apologies I have tried to give before. There is no excuse
for my behavior. If you will accept that I was a desperate man who acted
ignobly but never meant you any harm, I will beg your forgiveness and ask for a
truce.”
Alyson had taken a chair between her father and Rory. She
contemplated his apology. “I have forgiven worse, I suppose, for what it is
worth. You are the one who must forgive himself. However, the truce will be
temporary unless there is trust. I tell you this is my father, and Drummond is
my enemy. If you cannot believe these things, we will never hear each other.”
Alex sighed, sent her a puzzled look, then turned to Rory for
explanation. Rory merely smirked, forcing him to deal with Alyson.
“I’ll believe Drummond is your enemy,” he said cautiously. “That
is why I’m here. As much as I despise your husband’s tactics, they do not seem
to include harming women and children. Drummond may have a right to protect
what is his, but when he threatens your welfare, I cannot support him.”
He cast Rory a grudging look. “And since you have at least
made an honest woman of her and magnanimously paid my debts, I owe you a debt I
can repay with this warning. Drummond intends to draw you out with an atrocity
that will demand that you and your men revenge it. I cannot know his exact
plans, for he has the cunning of a madman, but it is certain he means to kill
you and take Alyson hostage against any reprisals. You may know more of his
habits than I, but his drinking has pushed him over some edge between
protecting his own and destroying what belongs to others. He has not a gentle
way with women.”
“Alyson is a lady of quality,” her father protested. “No
English gentleman would harm her. I think it is likely that it is your own
drinking that has muddled the problem here.”
Alex lifted his mug in a mocking gesture and drained the
contents. “Care to join me, old man? I take after my father in that. I can
drink you under the table and still remember everything you said and did. It’s
a curse, actually. I would prefer to disclaim many things I have done as the
result of drunkenness or forget that I had done them the next day. You are a
trifle out of touch with the times, sir. English gentlemen hurt ladies all the
time, but so as to offend your sensibilities even more, I will tell you
Drummond does not consider Alyson a lady. She is married to his notorious
cousin, after all.”
Her father glared at his heir. “Then perhaps it is time I
speak with this mad friend of yours. There seems to be some misapprehension
about the circumstances of Alyson’s birth. She is quite legitimate, you know.
Had she been fortunate enough to be male, she would be my heir, not you.”
Alex choked on his smugness.
Rory grinned and took Alyson’s hand. “Personally, I feel fortunate
she was not born male.” He nodded at Alex. “But I thank you for your warning.
It would be better discussed at another time, however. Alyson has enough
strange notions without our playing upon them.”
Alyson sent him an irritated glance. “You cannot keep these
things from me, Rory. You know you can’t. It only scares me more when I don’t
know what to expect, or when to expect it. I’d rather be prepared.”
Rory pulled her from the chair. “You are prepared. You are
safe within a stone fortress that Drummond cannot breach, and you have a
husband who is wise to his ways. He cannot harm us, lass. Now, go lie down
awhile before we eat. There is no sense in upsetting yourself over nothing.”
His hands were warm upon hers, his gaze reassuring, and
Alyson did not fight his judgment. She knew Rory was strong and capable.
Perhaps her vision was meaningless. She had misinterpreted visions before. But
she knew the men of her family did not have her confidence in her husband, and
they would need that confidence were they ever to work together.
She smiled and kissed Rory’s bristly cheek. “Just promise
not to take up sword against my father and cousin while I am gone. Three
generals and no army can cause confusion.”
For her trust he would like to take her in his arms and
cover her with kisses, but in the company of her family, Rory did not feel the
freedom to do so. He still felt the need to prove himself to her father. This
he would do better without Alyson near to reveal his one weakness. He turned to
find his father-in-law regarding him thoughtfully, and Hampton with amusement.
Scowling, he dropped back in the chair. Drawing his eyebrows
down, Rory glared from one English aristocrat to the other. Generals, indeed.
These men knew nothing of the animosity and dangers bred in these hills. Were
it not for Alyson, he would be better off sending them away.
Before either earl or heir could speak, Rory lifted his
glass of whisky and asked, “Can either of you wield a broadsword?”
In the weeks that followed, an uneasy truce developed
among the men in Alyson’s life. All three were men of independence, highly
opinionated, and accustomed to giving orders and not taking them. At times
Alyson thought it might be easier to invite Drummond to join them and just let
them fight it out. The old walls strained under the intensity of escalating
tempers.
Holding her hand to the heavy weight that stretched her
endurance, Alyson eased down the narrow stone stairs. Soon it would be April.
She did not know what the month of spring brought to these cold hills, but she
knew of one burgeoning forth that would come of it.
Passing in the hall below, Dougall frowned and hurried to
help her. “I thought you were told to stay upstairs and out of trouble, my
lady. Myra will have my head if she finds I’ve aided your escape.”
“The sun shines, Dougall. I would feel it for myself. Where
is everyone?”
“The earl and his heir have been persuaded from a target
shoot to join the Maclean in a fishing expedition. I believe the laird thought
the targets might otherwise become each other or himself.”
Alyson laughed. Reaching the windowed hall on Dougall’s arm,
she espied the stiff figure of Rory’s newly arrived bailiff hurrying toward the
back of the house. Montrose had arrived one windy day with his wig askew and
his formal black coat rumpled but his dignity unruffled. He and Rory had
retired to the study, and the man had been busy ever since. Well aware that
this was the man whose tales had sent Rory into a drunken rage, precipitating
his marriage, Alyson regarded him with some awe.
“Someday, someone must tell me what a bailiff does,” she
mused aloud. It wasn’t as if her grandmother’s tower had fields or tenants
requiring managing She feared this bailiff’s tasks might involve Drummond’s
lands.
“The sun is bright, but it is still cold. You will need
something warm on if you mean to go outside.” Dougall halted near the cloakroom
off the hall.
“Will it ever be warm again?” Alyson sighed as he helped her
don her fur-lined cloak.
“Aye, lass, soon enough. This is a bad winter you’re seeing
this year. There should be good weather to follow. It is not always thus.”
“Good. Is there someone hereabouts who can tell me what
flowers we might order for planting? It is all very well to prepare kitchen
gardens and fields, but I should like a little beauty along with the
practicality, if I could.”
“I know naught of such things, my lady, but Mary seems to
know most of your tenants. Shall I send her to you?”
“Would you, Dougall? I would appreciate that. I’ll be just
outside.” Relieved not to have to carry her bulk the length of the keep to the
kitchen and back, Alyson adjusted her hood and stepped out.
It was exceedingly tedious to be confined behind four walls.
She wanted to run and jump and sit in the grass and watch the clouds overhead.
But the child who had once done that was long gone. Briefly, remembering
another sunny day, she wondered how Alan Tremaine fared. How silly she had been
to think what she felt for him was love! It hadn’t even been lust. More likely
boredom, she supposed.
Thank heaven Rory had come along to show her how it could be
between men and women. Gazing down at the awkward stomach preceding her, Alyson
had to laugh at her thoughts. Rory had taught her all manner of wondrous
things. She wouldn’t trade a minute of their nights together for the ability to
run and jump like a child again. She had discovered a woman’s pleasures.
Mary hurried out of the house, her wool cloak flapping in
the wind. Alyson watched her with interest. The distraught woman who had
arrived months ago had not totally lost her haunted look, but her gaunt flesh
was filling out, and although her manner was often harsh and bitter, Alyson
sensed it hid a kind heart. She smiled as the other woman reached her side. “On
days like this, my thoughts turn to flowers. Do yours?”
“My thoughts are of wool bonnets and thick stockings,” Mary
answered pragmatically. “You should be resting before the fire, making those
pretty lace things for the babe.”
‘I’ll do that when the skies grow gray again,” Alice said
with a shrug. “Show me to someone who knows of flowers.”
They walked down the rocky path together, heedless of the
clouds behind the crest of the hill.
***
With the wind changing to a cold one from the mountain,
Rory signaled an end to their fishing. As he flung the day’s catch into a
basket, he could almost taste the delicate flesh seeped in butter and wine. He
could eat half the catch himself, and ought to, for all the others had done to
help him bring it in.
He grinned as his noble guests struggled wearily up the hill
after him. Had Hampton and Cranville spent less of their time arguing and more
mending their nets, they might have caught more. Not until they had reached
some amicable resolution after almost overturning the dinghy had they settled
down to catch anything at all. How Hampton could not see his kinship with the haughty
earl was beyond Rory’s ken. It wasn’t just the structure of their bones, but
the structure of their minds—inflexible to a harrowing degree.
Entering the keep, Rory surrendered his basket and gear to a
waiting servant and glanced around eagerly as his guests discarded their outer
coats. Alyson usually materialized whenever he arrived, and he could not help
but feel disappointment that she did not do so now, when he was feeling so
triumphant. Of course, she was supposed to be resting, and Myra had forbidden
the use of the stairs, but that had not stopped her before.
Rather than embarrass himself by asking after his wife in
front of his guests, Rory made an excuse to go to his study. He bounded up the
stairs two at a time, eager just to have a moment’s word with Alyson before
tackling the challenge of the long evening with his argumentative guests. He
could wish they would go elsewhere to settle their differences, but they didn’t
seem inclined to believe he could adequately protect Alyson. There were times
he felt a prisoner of their scrutiny, but Alyson relieved all that. He smiled
as he threw open the bedchamber door.
The smile disappeared in puzzlement when he found the
chamber empty. If she hadn’t come downstairs to greet him and she wasn’t
sleeping, where the hell was she? Rory caught himself as he was about to rage
down the stairs. He didn’t own Alyson. She had every right to go her own way.
It had been his possessiveness that had caused the first disaster of their
marriage. Alyson was an intelligent, mature woman who had a way of taking care
of things herself.