Seducing the Laird (7 page)

"Gundy’s men still comb this forest and they have probably seen us together. I must take you to Scotland."

"I won’t tell them anything."

"If Gundy wants you to talk, you will talk. What do you think will happen once he knows what you have done? I will not allow you to be captured and I will not risk more men on foolishness."

"My freedom is not foolishness!"

Verena turned to run, but before she could take more than a step Cairn’s heavy arms encircled her, lifting her off her feet. She made a show of struggling against him so he believed she was in earnest. His heavy hand clamped firmly over her mouth so she couldn’t scream. Soon her hands and feet were bound with rope; a rag was stuffed into her mouth.

Andreu appeared and carried her to a small stallion where she was dumped unceremoniously in front of Cairn in the saddle. The animal sidestepped nervously when Verena was placed on his back, uncomfortable with her foreign, struggling weight.

"Easy Drago."

The animal was truly the dragon Cairn named him with a fiery temper to match. It was a beautiful creature—strong, healthy, well cared for and much nicer than anything Verena had ridden. His brown velvet coat was broken by patches of white on his face and forelocks. With one hand Cairn stroked the animal’s neck. The other arm encircled her like a band of iron.

"If you continue to struggle he will throw us both. Someday perhaps you will understand the necessity of my actions."

How could a voice be so gentle and yet so stern? Cairn sounded calm and reasonable. His voice had not changed from the soothing tone he used on the horse, but there was an unmistakable command in his words and she dared not disobey. It was enough that she had suffered a knife wound for this mission, she wouldn’t unnecessarily risk her neck being thrown by a horse. She stopped struggling, but didn’t relax into his embrace.

"We should hurry," Cairn said to his men. "We are not out of danger yet."

"Oui," agreed Andreu. "I feel these trees have eyes."

Was it Owen that unnerved the soldiers? He knew better than to let himself be seen, but there was an unrestrained wildness about him that encouraged Owen to show off. What was the point of their elaborate masquerades if their deeds went unknown?
he
often asked. Once they stole the French Queen Anne’s precious love letters from an admirer and Owen insisted on leaving a bloody dagger where the letters were hidden. He had laughed about the incident for months, certain the gruesome sight must have thrown the Queen into a panic. She could easily imagine him leaving a similar clue to taunt the Scotsmen.

How would Owen watch over her inside Cairn’s castle? Would he seek employment in the village? Or perhaps Owen would camp in the nearby woods. What if something went wrong and he couldn’t reach her? It might be days before it was safe for them to meet again.

She forced herself to relax. Cairn had been remarkably kind during the last few days. She had no reason to believe he would suddenly change in Scotland. Besides, Verena knew she was the greatest threat to her mission.

She remembered their kiss in the woods and waking up to find Cairn intently staring at her. It was strange to realize Verena was attracted to the man she was sent to betray. If Hadran knew Verena was having such feelings he would be understandably worried. He might even pull her from the assignment. No matter what Verena couldn’t allow her attraction to cloud her judgment, nor could she give Owen or Hadran any reason to doubt her.

Chapter 13

Verena blinked tired eyes at the unexpected sunrise. She thought to only close her eyes for a moment and instead found she had slept through most of the journey. They had long ago crossed the border into Scotland and their horses’ slower pace rocked her into an easy sleep. Cairn was exhausted after a sleepless night and their adventure in the woods, yet he held himself proudly erect in the saddle, scanning their surroundings for danger.

The morning sky was multiple shades of grey broken by brief patches where the sun poked through thick clouds. They had left the forest behind and approached a small, rundown village. Beyond that she could see a large, foreboding castle rising from the ground. There was a certain charm to the barren terrain, but the icy wind slicing through her garments was anything but cozy.

She straightened self-consciously, embarrassed to find her arms had crept around Cairn like a vine, unconsciously greedy for his warmth. Sometime during the night Cairn had released her restraints and wrapped his cloak around them both. A strong wind swept over their party and though she shivered, she firmly pushed the cloak away. She must act as one recently kidnapped, with fear, anger and distrust of the big warriors.

"This is your home?" she asked unnecessarily. Her words were harsh and dismissive.

There was an air of poverty and neglect in the village. Across Scotland people were suffering under the inept leadership of their king, famine and plague. Cairn’s father had been ill for many years and the McPhersons had suffered more than most without a strong leader to guide them through the troubled times.

What had driven Cairn away for so many years? Was Cairn disappointed with his new life? The land was so different from Southern France where he spent his youth. Did he look at Scotland’s rugged beauty with scorn?

"Aye, though in truth I have not spent much time here since childhood. I was fostered in France with Andreu. Then we went on campaign together."

"What shall become of me here?"

"Be at ease. No harm shall come to you in Scotland."

"You must release me. I will be with my family by nightfall and no one would know I helped you."

"I fear the worst is yet to come from Langthorne. I cannot allow you to travel the border unescorted and I cannot spare the men to safely see you home. You must be patient."

"My fate is not your concern. I absolve you of all responsibility. Please let me go."

"I told you I cannot," Cairn snapped. The brittle edge of his voice warned her not to test his patience or she might find herself gagged again. He was under tremendous pressure with the sudden death of his father, taking over the clan, Gundy’s betrayal, their desperate flight and a sleepless night.

"Do you think Lord Gundy will attack you?" she asked hesitantly.

"Gundy imprisoned me for a reason. Yet he gained nothing from the endeavor. I fear he will try again for whatever he is after. I must be prepared."

"What do you think he desires from you?"

"I do not know. Perhaps he sought revenge for years of raiding across our border. Mayhap he is merely mad. How well did you know him?"

"Not very well.
I was chambermaid to his late wife. It was not a love match."

"Only a saint could love that jackal," broke in Andreu. "I heard his wife came from France. Is that true?

"Indeed. Milady Fleurie de Moy was arranged to marry Lord Gundy during the signing of the Peace of Etaples ten years ago."

Andreu immediately let out a rapid string of French profanity at how a Norman must suffer unhappy matrimony to an English cur.

"Milady taught me some French before she passed," Verena said innocently. "But I do not understand all of your words."

"Never mind that," said Andreu. "What my brother said is the truth. You have nothing to fear while you are in Scotland."

"Why are those trees so close to the castle?" Verena asked to change the subject. "The forests around Langthorne are cleared for at least a mile in all directions."

"That ancient forest is said to be protected by spirits," Cairn replied. "Despite the cold no one dares cut wood from those trees. My grandfather, the Old Lord, was buried there in a mound in honor of our Norse ancestors. You’ll find my clan is extremely superstitious and most agree that a forest full of vengeful spirits is more fearsome than corporeal enemies."

"A burial mound?
I have never heard of such a thing."

"It is not a Christian practice. The church excommunicated him for his wild, stubborn ways, but instead of repenting my grandfather decided to benefit from his reputation. None dared meet him on a battlefield for fear that their souls as well as their lives would be taken."

In preparing for this assignment she had heard many tales of the Old Lord that were as fantastic as they were improbable. According to legend he murdered his wife for putting too much garlic in his food, could kill a man with a single look and picked his teeth with the bones of children. She didn’t believe most of that foolishness and judging from Cairn’s dismissive tone neither did
he
. Yet there was a wicked pleasure in repeating the frightening tales.

"We also talk of your grandfather in Langthorne. Were the stories true?"

"No one knows. My grandfather didn’t confide in his family or the priest and took his secrets to the grave. The clan was suffering under a terrible famine and he conjured a vast treasure to save us. My clan may be pious, but they know better than to question such good fortune."

"So the treasure does exist!"

Cairn let out a dry laugh.

"I do not know where the Old Lord found the money. He probably sold off some family trinkets. These stories are made up only to frighten children."

"But if it were true …"

"If the McPhersons had a treasure things would be different, but I’ll not sell my soul to obtain it."

According to legend the Old Lord made a pact with the devil and was granted the wealth and power to save his clan, but some people like Lord Gundy suspected a different explanation. Centuries ago the Romans established a silver mine on land now belonging to the McPhersons. The mine had long since yielded its last treasures, but every few years a bit of silver appeared to save the people from disaster. It didn’t take a genius to realize some of the Roman treasure must still remain hidden.

She didn’t know why Cairn was not told its location. Perhaps his father didn’t have a chance to tell him before he died. That was perfect for Lord Gundy. Without that money the McPhersons were easy prey to his plans.

Several villagers appeared to watch their procession through the muddy streets. Fergus and a few soldiers nodded in greeting, but the division between the Scots and Cairn’s French soldiers was glaringly obvious. They were shy around their new lord and unsure how to greet him. The conspicuous absence of his original party spoke volumes about the success of Cairn’s mission in England.

She straightened in the saddle feeling the curious eyes of the villagers fall on her. Before their frank regard Verena felt like a curiosity on display. She would have to be on her best behavior to win their trust.

In order for her plan to succeed she had to carefully question some of the villagers on the whereabouts of the treasure. Though uncomfortable being ogled by so many people, Verena forced herself to think positively. At least the castle folk would have heard of their arrival by now. If she was lucky perhaps an enterprising soul was already heating water for a bath.

They soon left the village and began a steep climb up the side of a mountain toward a large castle. It was bigger than Langthorne, but not as ostentatious, built much earlier when castles were prized more for function than beauty. The stones were darkened with age, but stood proudly against the barren landscape as if daring the world to try and move them. Behind the castle was the so-called magical forest where his grandfather, the Old Lord, was buried. She couldn’t wait to explore it.

"This is it," said Cairn. There was a peculiar tightness in his voice. After his trials in Langthorne Verena thought he would be excited to come home, but Cairn’s home was among the sun-kissed forests of Southern France with his brother Andreu. This place meant only responsibility.

"It is … big," Verena hedged, not knowing how else to describe the massive stone structure.

"Aye.
I hope in time you will come to like it. My stepmother, Ivone, is the lady of the castle. You will meet her soon."

Their horses increased their tired gait as they approached the castle, eager to be inside their warm stables. She caught their excitement. She was also looking forward to a comfortable bed and hot meal.

As they entered the castle she appreciatively took note of its defenses. The thick curtain wall was footed at an angle to counter undermining and deflect battering rams. Not a single window graced the outer wall, but the top of the battlements were dotted with evenly spaced embrasures or open spaces for archers to fire and then retreat behind stone merlons. Soldiers stood at stiff attention atop the allure, the walking space along the top of the curtain wall.

Past the gates their party had to go through a stone passage known as a barbican, designed to narrow an invading army into its tiny confines. Small openings were cut into the stone around them where archers waited with deadly bows. The most inept archer couldn’t miss at such range and yet was protected by the thick walls of stone surrounding him. Above their heads a long slit was cut into the stone through which boiling water or oil could be poured.

It was hard to repress the shiver of fear that slid up her spine seeing that. She suddenly understood why Gundy was hesitant to launch a full invasion. Even undermanned and underfunded the McPherson castle would be nearly impossible to take. Gundy’s only chance would be a long siege, but a foreign army in Scotland was a less than ideal situation.

Verena breathed a sigh of relief as they passed through the barbican and into a large courtyard. A group awaited them at the entrance to the keep, including a lady unlike any she had seen before. She was tall for a woman and strikingly beautiful, but what stood out the most was the quiet dignity with which she held herself. She was regal and stood aloof from those around her. Her clothing and manner suggested she was a lady of substance and she surmised this was Ivone, Cairn’s stepmother and lady of the castle.

Cairn dismounted and helped Verena out of the saddle. Stable boys instantly appeared to lead their weary horses away.

"Lady Ivone," said Cairn as he bowed before her. He bent to kiss the lady’s proffered hand.

"My son," replied the woman in a voice both sweet and commanding.

Cairn rose stiffly and then stepped aside so his brother could greet the lady. Andreu was also strangely formal and Verena wondered at their sincerity. They greeted each other more like strangers than family. Verena recalled that Cairn rarely visited Scotland after he was squired. Was this woman the reason for his estrangement?

"Mother," said Andreu. "It is good to see you."

"And you, my son," replied Lady Ivone. "I hope you will be staying longer this time."

"I will stay as long as possible," said Andreu. "You are looking well, mother. The Scottish air agrees with you."

Ivone waved dismissively at her son’s praise.

"You know I cannot abide this frigid country," she replied, turning her piercing gaze on Verena. "Who is this?"

Cairn cleared his throat and gestured for Verena to approach.

"Lady Ivone," he replied. "It is my honor to present Verena of Langthorne. Verena, this is Ivone de la Marche, my stepmother."