The Firebrand (19 page)

She swallowed hard and then glanced nervously at the bed and then back up at his face. “You are jesting.”

“I never jest.”

“But--” She rubbed her hands again on the wool of her skirts and tried to think of something to say.

“Knowing Mara--” Wyntoun crossed his arms over his chest and leaned casually against one of the tall bedposts, “she will be sending one of her women in here at the crack of dawn to check on something trivial like the food...or the fire.”

Adrianne bit her lip trying to imagine a solution to this problem. Getting into that bed with Wyntoun MacLean right now seemed totally inappropriate. Nay! Such a thing was out of question!

“Of course, a woman who has seen as much as you have would surely have no silly qualms involving modesty, now!”

Adrianne continued to gnaw at her lip, staring past his wide shoulders at the bed. The memory of his kiss at the chapel was suddenly the only thing that she could think of. She could still feel the heat of his lips on hers. And there was an unmistakable note of suggestiveness in his tone just now.

“And ‘tis not as if I haven’t seen you naked already.”

She closed her eyes, feeling herself wither with humiliation. She took a deep breath. “I was told that you...you only undressed me...but did not look.”

“Nay, of course not. What man would look at a bonny lass who lies in all her unadorned splendor in his caring arms?” He straightened up, and she noted a huskiness that had crept into his last words, overshadowing the note of irony in his voice. He continued to stare at her, a fire lighting his green eyes, and her heart stopped as she felt him seeing her now, stripped of her clothing. “What’s wrong, Adrianne? You do not trust yourself in the same bed with me?”

Nay, I do not, she wanted to say. Instead, though, she clutched a fistful of the fabric of her skirt with trembling hands.

“‘Tis just that there are so many hours left ‘til the morning. Lying there...waiting…” She shook her head. She wanted to be utterly exhausted, unconscious when she lay down on that bed.

His voice was matter-of-fact when he continued. “We could do something wildly unexpected, Adrianne--like sleep.”

His commonsense attitude sent a shock of embarrassment through her. Perhaps, she thought suddenly, all of this was only her imagination. He was not affected at all. She felt herself sinking again. She was such a mess.

“Are you tired?” she managed to get out.

His eyes again swept suggestively over her body. This was definitely not her imagination, though the thought did little to buoy her spirits.

“Not very.”

“Then lying abed with you will not do.” She started pacing the room, trying to come up with some solution. Any solution. She stopped abruptly a moment later. “If we are not here, then there will be nothing more for them to see. I mean, there certainly is enough proof here--”

“Where do you suggest that we go?”

She looked hopefully toward the closed shutters. “For a ride. I haven’t been on a horse in months.”

“‘Tis after midnight!” He looked at her incredulously. “Not to mention that ‘tis the middle of winter. A wee English thing like you would freeze to death in a trice.”

“The moon is full, and the night clear.” She moved about the room looking for her boots. “And I am only half English. I will not freeze. Please, I love the feel of a bracing wind in my face. I promise that you’ll not hear a word of complaint.”

“But there is nothing to see, nowhere to go. ‘Tis dark...in spite of the moon.”

“Humor me,” she said softly from the other side of the room. “I believe we both need some fresh air.”

He paused, considering.

Adrianne crossed the room and took hold of his arm. “Come, Wyntoun. We can always come back and get into the bed if the weather outside becomes unbearable.”

Wyntoun reluctantly let her draw him toward the door. “If you think I plan to forfeit all sleep for the next month or so, while we push forward with your plan, then you are absolutely wrong.”

“Have no fear.” She patted him on the arm and tried to sound more convinced than she felt. “After this night, I will gladly let you sleep with me. I know I can count on your honor. I just cannot wait here tonight knowing someone is ready to barge in and find us in...in a compromising position.”

As she dragged him into the antechamber, Adrianne did not dare look into his face, into those green eyes that were surely fixed on her.
Gladly let you sleep with me? Compromising positions?

By the Virgin, she chided herself silently. Why couldn’t she think before speaking?

The dead monk’s face was twisted with a look of fear. The rope burn around his scrawny neck was raw looking, but had begun to turn dark.

“Aye,” she whispered. “He is the same monk who came after us last fall at the convent on Loch Fleet!”

Laura Percy Ross, clutching tightly to her husband’s arm, tore her misty blue eyes away from the dead cleric.

“‘Tis the same man.” William Ross agreed. He turned Laura in his arms until she was facing away from the dead body. The thin scar that ran along the left outline of his lower jaw showed white in the torchlight. “Did the knave hang himself here in the crypt?”

“Aye, from there,” John Stewart, the earl of Athol replied, pointing. “One of the serving lasses came looking for him.”

“What was his name?” Laura asked.

“Jacob. Or at least, that’s what we were told.” Athol nodded to those who would see to the body, and the three started out of the crypt. “He arrived here with the monk Benedict a fortnight ago. Benedict apparently guessed at this one’s treachery, though, and even at a connection that Jacob might have had with the attempt to abduct Laura from Loch Fleet.”

“I know Benedict,” Laura said as they walked out of the chapel. The sharp Highland wind pulled at her long black hair. “He was a friend to my father and a tutor to us for all the years we were in Yorkshire. We were only separated from him when Catherine, Adrianne, and I left Jervaulx Abbey before being sent into the Highlands.”

“Benedict told us that he met the other monk while he was on the way to Ironcross Castle. That’s a holding to the south of here. It belongs to our friends and allies, Gavin Kerr and his wife, Joanna MacInnes.” Athol walked beside the two as they made their way across the cobbled courtyard. “Benedict suspects that Jacob tried to get close to him, knowing of his connection with the Percy family. Later, he used the association he’d made with your old tutor to secure himself a position here at Balvenie Castle.”

“Filthy bastard.”

Athol nodded at William. “From what the monk Benedict says, Jacob became quite agitated upon hearing that the two of you were due to arrive from Blackfearn Castle. It looks like suicide, though for the life of me I do not know why he did not simply run for his life.”

“‘Tis a wee bit difficult to believe that our wives’ enemies will simply kill themselves… saving us the trouble.”

“True,” Athol agreed, adding, “especially considering the trouble Catherine had with two other priests who arrived here earlier. Whoever these monks are—if they are monks—they seem intent on bringing this danger to our very doors.”

“Has Benedict said anything else about why he didn’t voice his suspicions sooner?” Laura asked, shivering. She continued to keep her death grip on William’s arm. “What about Jacob? Did he mention any other names? Anything that might shed light on who is behind this terrible game? Jacob was not alone when he came after us at that convent.”

Athol shook his head. “We only found the body this morning. Your arrival curtailed any serious questioning of Benedict. That monk is quite willing to talk, and I have a servant watching him. Once you’ve both had a wee rest and something to warm your insides, I’ll see to it that we all have some time with the man.”

The three climbed the steps to the massive doorway leading into Balvenie Castle’s keep and entered the Great Hall. Laura opened her arms as a brown haired, blue eyed, seven-year-old left Catherine’s side and dashed across the Hall to them.

“Was he the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen?” the little girl asked, wrapping herself around Laura’s waist. “Was he hideous and crawling with worms?”

“Miriam!” William gently scolded the child, hoisting her up and slinging her onto his back. “Come, lass. Your faithful steed awaits.”

Miriam’s blue eyes were the perfect match of William’s as she looked over his shoulder. “So was he?”

“Aye, lass…worse even!”

“William Ross!” Laura chided. “You’ll be giving her nightmares.”

“Come on, lassie,” he whispered loudly. “We’ll leave Laura and your Aunt Catherine to their own devices, and I’ll tell you all the gory details.”

As he carried the child across the Hall toward the huge open hearth, Athol fell in step with them.

“You’d best lay the whip on that beast of yours, Miriam,” the earl joked with a wink at the two women. “He looks a wee bit wild to me!”
Laura, misty-eyed, smiled and watched as father and daughter romped across the Hall, John Stewart in pursuit.

“She is the most beautiful child, Laura.”

Laura turned and wrapped her arms around her sister. Tears, instead of words, were all that spilled out. The two women stood wrapped in each other’s embrace for a few moments, until Laura thought about her sister actually carrying a child within her at this very moment!

“How do you feel?” she asked, wiping away a tear from the corner of her eye.

“I’m very well. I can feel him…or her…moving within me sometimes.”

“Well, whatever ‘tis, the babe will surely be a strong wee thing.”

“To be sure! He’s been using my ribs to practice scaling castle walls for the past month!”

“‘Tis a miracle, Catherine.”

The two women fell silent for a moment, and then a tear splashed onto Laura’s cheek.

“Come now,” Catherine said encouragingly. “‘Tis not all as bad as it appears.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Laura replied. “I...I mean, you are right. We’ve had it far worse than this. But for the past few days...anytime I think of Mother...” More tears welled up and spilled down Laura’s cheeks.

Catherine ran a gentle hand over her sister’s silky hair. “We’ll find her and free her. I know deep in my heart that we will, Laura. Everything will be well.”

Laura straightened up and, accepting a laced handkerchief from the older sister, wiped away the tears. “Of course, you’re right. We need to be brave. By the Virgin, I wish Adrianne were here!”

Catherine nodded in agreement, and Laura’s teary gaze lit on her sister’s barely swollen belly.

“You look so wonderful...so beautiful,” she said. As Catherine reached out and took her hand, Laura shook her head, hiccuping now. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I weep so easily these days. I’ve never been so…so weak-spirited.”

“Don’t be silly. We’re all entitled to a good cry now and then.”

Laura let herself be led to the nearest bench. “This morning, just seeing Miriam sitting with William on his horse Dread made me break down. Last night, just feeling my husband wrap his arm around me made me cry. Today...seeing you and your new family...” She wiped away more tears. “I cannot understand this. I am totally muddled with these emotions.”

Laura buried her face in her hands and tried to take a few long breaths—to control her feelings. She couldn’t let William or Miriam see any more of this silliness. She was certain they must already fear some madness had seized hold of her.

A few moments later she finally lifted her face only to find Catherine looking at her with scarcely concealed amusement.

“And what else are you feeling?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Laura responded, casting a quick glance in the direction of her husband and Miriam. Athol was speaking seriously with William as Miriam peered up at them both attentively.

“Anything unusual?” Catherine persisted. “Feelings that are new to you. Anything that you feel now that you didn’t feel...say six months ago?”

“I am extremely happy!”

Catherine’s burst of laughter drew the attention of others in the Hall. She immediately lowered her voice. “You didn’t have to tell me that. I’d already guessed. Now think, Laura, what else?”

As she thought hard, Laura’s hands drifted to her breasts.

“They hurt?”

Dropping her hands immediately to her lap, Laura blushed furiously, and then nodded shyly. “Aye, they’ve been quite tender. Also, I believe they are growing. How could that be possible?”

Catherine’s smile was anything but concealed as she patted Laura’s lap. “What else?”

“I have half the stamina as I had before. Perhaps ‘tis due to our traveling, but I could easily sleep the next fortnight away.”

A frown furrowed Catherine’s brow. “This sounds quite serious!”

“Do you think so?” Laura asked a bit nervously. “‘Tis not like me ever to become ill, though I sometimes cannot hold food down at all. I mean, when my belly started to pain me again a fortnight ago, I thought my old nervous stomach was back, but with these other symptoms--”

“Aye, quite serious!” Catherine repeated, bending over and placing a gentle kiss on her sister’s brow.

“Please tell me,” Laura pleaded, tears again springing to her eyes. “If I have some ghastly ailment that is going to take me away from my new family...I need to plan for it. I need to make some provision--”

Upon seeing Catherine starting to rise to her feet, Laura put a hand on her sister’s arm. “Please tell me. I need to know!”

Catherine shook her head and then glanced mischievously in William Ross’s direction. “Perhaps we should discuss this mystifying ailment with the one who caused it in the first place.”

Laura stared blankly for a moment, and then felt her heart leap as the realization of what Catherine was trying to tell her suddenly dawned on her. Her mouth dropped open, and she rose to her feet as Catherine nodded.

“Better yet,” Catherine whispered conspiratorially, “perhaps you had better wait here. I believe the laird of Blackfearn Castle might just need a place to sit when you tell him of the forthcoming addition to his family.”

***