The Maid of Lorne (6 page)

When words failed her again, Sebastien took a step closer. She was against the wall in the corner now, with no place to move. He shook his head and waved at her. The dagger wobbled in her grasp. Seizing his chance, he quickly grabbed for her hand and twisted her wrist, causing the knife to fall to the floor. He kicked it away and released her hand before he could do any true harm to it.

“Sir,” she began as she met his gaze. Her sleepfilled eyes were now clear, and he saw that she was completely awake.

“Lady, you were startled from sleep and fell off the bed.” He picked up the dagger from the floor and held it out to her. Such a weapon was truly no danger to him.

“I was in the chair,” she said, accepting it and sliding it back into the small leather hilt on her belt. With trembling hands she pushed her hair back from her face and over her shoulders. “What do you want here?”

A myriad of wants passed through his thoughts in that moment, but none were of a nature that he could speak of now. He retrieved his sword and his own deadly dagger, and opened the door, handing them to his squire.

“I but sought a few hours of sleep here. Now I must go.”

“You slept here?” The confusion in her expression was a sort of reward to him. “’Tis morning?” She’d been so deeply asleep that she had not realized he’d shared her bed. What liberties could he have taken before she woke? His body reacted to the possibilities even as he knew his honor would never permit it.

“Aye, lady.” Philippe stood at the door, so Sebastien bowed and turned to leave.

“Sir? Wait, I pray thee,” she said, walking a few steps closer to him. “I have a request of you.”

He stopped and waited for her words. She had not asked much of him yet and he was intrigued.

“May I visit the chapel?” She took another step toward him as she asked. “I would like to pray there.”

The chapel was a few hundred yards away, between the main camp of the Bruce’s forces and the castle itself. As it had been the site of their wedding, he was surprised she wished to return there at all.

“I could send Father Connaughty to you here if you require his counsel.” It was safer for her than leaving the tower right now. Too many soldiers being cared for in the yard had been injured by her family, and the sight of her might give rise to trouble.

“It is the place that gives me comfort, sir. My mother is buried there and I’ve spent hours praying there. But I understand, sir. I would do the same if I were the victor here.”

Sebastien was not certain at first if her understanding amused, comforted or bewildered him. Then the glint in her eyes gave away her actions. Most women he had met would be moaning and crying, crumpled into a heap after the last days that she’d faced. Yet here she stood, offering him a not-so-obvious challenge to his authority that she dressed up prettily as acquiescence to his rule.

“If my duties permit, mayhap I could take you there before the evening meal.”

“As you wish, sir.” She bowed her head this time, but not quickly enough to disguise the satisfied smile that lifted the corners of her mouth.

In spite of knowing she was manipulating him, and in spite of knowing that she did not return his desires, that small needful part of him hidden deep inside reveled at the chance of sparring with her. Of drawing her back from her fear and hurt into the person she must have been when her father still ruled here. Of such…possibilities.

D
espite the heavily armed guards and Sebastien’s second-in-command making the offer in his stead, Lara accepted the gesture and the opportunity it presented. It was the first time in nearly a week that she’d been allowed out of the north tower, or anywhere else in the keep but the two floors she was permitted. There had been a moment when she’d almost decided not to go, but she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders and followed the guard through the courtyard.

From the window in her bedchamber, she could see the yard, but at a distance. Walking among the Bruce’s men, some injured, some not, unnerved her. Disgusting insults were spoken just loud enough for her to hear. They called her names—despicable variations of the honorable one given her as the MacDougall’s eldest daughter, with none of the respect it carried among her own.

One curse threatening her and Catriona was so vulgar that Sebastien’s man, apparently one high in his esteem, kicked the fellow who said it hard enough to
render him unconscious. She stumbled away at the sight, and only the knight’s hand under her elbow kept her from hitting the ground.

He was completely opposite in appearance from his commander, with short-cropped black hair and a dark complexion, but he had the tall, muscular physique of an accomplished warrior. His grim expression warned one and all that further interference would not be tolerated. With a nod, the man led Lara through the gate and down the path, which was lighted by the fires of many small groups huddled around them preparing for the coming night.

Now, the chapel stood a few yards away, and she tried to shake off hatred that was aimed at her. The knight stood silently at her side as his men searched it before they would allow her entrance, and then the commander moved to follow her in. Stopping just inside the door, she faced him.

“Am I permitted privacy at prayer, sir?” she asked the one called Hugh. She needed time alone to think.

“Aye, my lady, if you wish,” he said with a bow. She nodded in pleasure and waited for him to leave before walking toward the front of the chapel.

The place was dark, lit only by candles on the altar and a torch sitting high in a sconce on the wall near the door. She could walk from back to front in only twenty paces, the chapel was so small. Two windows cut into the stone walls opened on each side. Her mother was buried just off to the right of the entrance, and Lara paused to say a prayer for her soul. Then she knelt before the altar and took in a deep breath.

At first, she thought the shadows moved. Lara controlled
her surprise and watched as a form soundlessly detached itself from the farthest corner and moved toward her. Wrapped as it was in a long, dark cloak, she could not see it clearly, but the voice was one she recognized.

“How be ye faring, dear cousin?” it asked in a whisper that made her skin itch. “My da has been fretting night and day about ye being held prisoner here.”

“I am well, Eachann. When did you arrive here?” She peered into the darkness and saw no place of entry. “And how did you get in without being seen?” She stayed on her knees so that, if one of the guards opened the door of the chapel, it would appear that she was praying.

“Never ye mind about the how of it, sweetling. I have been watching for ye for more than four days, Lara. ‘Tis a pity to see ye kept so. Has he beaten ye?”

Lara shivered at the question. Her cousin’s constant fascination with pain terrified her. She shook her head in answer. His dark eyes took on a mean shine, but his voice softened to an ominous whisper. “’Tis a good thing then. I would not have ye mistreated.”

She sensed more to his answer, but resisted the urge to ask about it. Her time here was not unlimited, and she could almost hear the pacing of Sebastien’s man outside the door. “Why are you here?”

“Da wants you to listen to them and report anything that may tell us their plans. The word is that with the fall of Dunstaffnage, the Bruce moves north from here, but we must know before launching our attack.”

“But I am isolated, Eachann. No one speaks to me, not even
him
.” Lara sat back on her heels and thought
of how to accomplish this task. If she could give them some knowledge of the Bruce’s plans, it could gain her forgiveness in her clan’s eyes.

“The servants hear everything. Let them gather what they can, and you bring it to me. Let Da decide if ’tis important or no’.”

Before she could respond, Eachann held up his hand and stepped back into the shadows. Still on her knees, she straightened up and bowed her head, waiting for his word.

“Go say a prayer for your mother’s soul,” he ordered in a low voice.

“I did that, Eachann.”

He shook a fisted hand at her. “Lara, do what I tell ye. Go say a prayer for your ma…and listen well while you pray.”

Shrugging, Lara stood and walked back to the stone that lay over her mother’s grave. In the quiet of the chapel, she could hear voices outside the window. She glanced back at Eachann in the darkness near the altar. How had he known? Now, standing as silently as she could, she listened.

“When do you leave, then?” Hugh asked.

“In three days. I go and Robert will meet all of us in Kilcrenan.” It was Sebastien’s voice. “’Twill be just over a week before I return.”

He was leaving?

“How many go with you? Or should I say, how many do you leave with me?” Hugh laughed lightly.

“I take three score of Robert’s men with me,” Sebastien answered. “My men remain with you for the safety of all we’ve gained.”

Something moved in the woods next to the church, and the men stopped talking abruptly. Lara saw her cousin motioning to her, and she crept back to the altar.

“What did they say?”

“The Bruce goes to Kilcrenan. Sebastien leaves in three days.”

“Good, Lara. We might make a good spy out of you yet,” he whispered.

“Spy?” she asked. The dishonor of it struck her sharply. “I am no spy.”

“Ye have turned whore, why not spy as well?” Eachann laughed bitterly. “Men spill secrets in the heat of passion, and if ye spy as well as we’ve heard ye whore for the Bruce’s man, ye might earn your way back into the clan.”

Lara reeled back at the horrible accusation, but Eachann grabbed her arm and drew her so close that his rancid breath burned her cheek. “I will be visiting this place every five days to meet with ye. If I canna’, I will have someone come in my stead. Be here.”

Then, before she could argue, her cousin released her and stepped back into the shadows with a harsh, whispered curse. Falling to her knees once more, she heard the door pulled open and approaching steps behind her on the stone floor.

She tried to catch her breath, but the dread and the shame of her cousin’s accusations made it difficult. What kind of rumors had gotten back to her uncle?
Whore ?
She had been forced on threat of death to marry the man, and had been taken. And yet they believed the worst.

Lara knew Sebastien stood behind her now, but she
did not dare face him. Would the guilt show on her face? Would he know what she’d just done?

“Lady?” he said. “Are you ready to return?”

He leaned over and held his hand out to her, to help her stand. She did not take it, but rose on her own and then, with a deep breath forced in and out, turned to him.

“I know about what happened in the yard, Lara.” His voice, softer now and filled with concern, poured over her. “As I told you before, they are not my men.”

She sensed that this was as much of an apology as she would receive, and more would make her uncomfortable. She did not know if her cousin stood watching or not; however, she did not want to stay here now.

“I am ready to go back.”

He held out his arm and waited. Finally, she placed her hand on his and walked down the center of the chapel. Just as she reached the door, a wind blew into the church and the candles and torch went out. Sebastien stepped out first and, as Lara followed, a single whispered word echoed through the stone building.

Whore.

Something was wrong. She was stiff as she walked by his side, and he could not discern if it was anger or fear or something else that made her behave so. Sebastien suspected that most of it was due to the coarse names expressed by the soldiers in the yard. Hugh had sent word to him and he’d come directly to the chapel.

He would feel better when these men were gone. He knew the warriors in his command, knew whom he could trust and those he could not. He knew what they
were capable of and what their limitations were. But the bulk of the Bruce’s forces were unknown to him and unpredictable. And, as this evening’s actions had shown, they would turn on anyone weaker in a moment.

In three days, he would lead a force away from Dunstaffnage to the shores of Loch Awe and the meeting of the Bruce’s allies from all over Scotland. Robert had promised to decide Dunstaffnage’s fate at that meeting.

Lara was silent as they walked through the woods, to the drawbridge and over it. He felt her hand trembling on his, though he guided her along a path already cleared of soldiers. The wind whipped around them and he knew it foretold of a change in the weather. Lara did not react when her hair was loosened by the force of it and tore around her madly. She did not slow her steps or pull away.

Soon they reached the hall, and he escorted her in and to the entrance of the tower. He wanted to say something to her, something more, but words failed him. Her maid stood waiting there and he relinquished his hold on her. As Lara climbed the steps to her chambers, he turned back to Hugh.

“She may have the freedom of the keep once I leave.”

“I understand, Sebastien.” His friend of many years nodded. “And the chapel?”

“Only at your command and with your presence.”

Sebastien’s stomach growled and he nodded toward the hall. Joined by Hugh and his other commanders, he sat at the table and ate his meal. But with every bite,
he thought about the distress in Lara’s face as she’d turned to him in the chapel. She had not looked that upset on the day they were married, indeed, not even when her father had repudiated her. And the fair skin around her eyes was still marred with the darkish coloring of sleepless nights.

Was it what Hugh had revealed to him? The threats that could never be carried out as long as he was in charge? Or was there something more at work? After assigning tasks for the morrow and deciding which of his commanders would oversee various duties while he was on the king’s business, Sebastien trudged up the stairs to the chamber.

Before even reaching it, he was stopped by a guard with a message to meet Hugh near the stables. Sebastien dismissed the men that followed him and made his way there. Entering with no torch to light his way, he found the place they’d designated to meet, and was not surprised to see another man present as well. They greeted each other as the kin they were.

“I trailed him here a few days ago and lost him just over a mile away,” Munro reported. “I do not think he entered the castle, but he may still be nearby.”

Sebastien nodded. Munro served in his network of spies and had been following the MacDougall’s nephew, whose father now led the clan. A vicious, unmerciful man, Eachann liked to terrorize and torment his victims before killing them.

“Have there been any signs of him?”

“Nothing reported yet, Sebastien,” Hugh said. “I will send out more soldiers and make our control a bit more visible, to see if that discourages him.”

“Anything else, Munro? Any words in the wind?” His cousin looked as though he would say something and then stopped himself and stared at him intently. “What is it?”

“Tread carefully, Sebastien. If Eachann is here, then he has spies of his own. Guard your back.” Munro looked at Hugh and frowned. “Guard
his
back.”

Hugh nodded in reply.

They clasped arms and parted, with Munro drifting into the darkness to leave the castle in his own way, while Sebastien and Hugh walked back toward the keep.

“So, the game is under way then.” It was a statement, not a question, and Sebastien nodded in agreement.

“’Twas always under way, Hugh. Until the Comyns are destroyed and the throne his, Robert is not safe.”

Sebastien stopped and turned to his friend. Lowering his voice, he shared the plan with Hugh. “Robert thinks to use Dunstaffnage as a launching point for his movements up the coast. We must root out any enemies or spies here.”

Hugh whistled lightly. “He will not raze the castle then?”

“Nay, this one will stand, but it must be held. That will be your duty while I see to the king.”

Hugh straightened to his full height, towering over him by several inches. “I understand, Sebastien.”

“And keep her safe while I am gone,” Sebastien added. He need mention no name. “She will be her own worst enemy at times.”

They reached the keep and parted in the hall, Hugh
heading for his quarters with the other commanders and Sebastien climbing the steps to the tower rooms.

The game has indeed begun, he thought as he crossed to the door to his chambers. May the best man win.