The Maid of Lorne (8 page)

Robert had revealed that once the war was done, Sebastien was to receive a large grant of land here that he could pass on to any sons of his own. And, so long as Malcolm would swear allegiance and be counseled by Sebastien, the boy would regain Dunstaffnage once
he was old enough to control the men who served the MacDougalls.

Of course, Sebastien knew that through all of this, Lara would be an overwhelming influence on the boy and on the path to peace in this area. Malcolm had revealed some of Lara’s warnings against betraying his clan. Sebastien would need to gain her support and trust in order to gain the boy’s.

For someone who had never truly dreamed of home and hearth, he was surprised how those dreams now invaded his thoughts and, nightly, invaded his sleep. This invitation to sit and sup with him sprang forth from the odd longings he’d developed since marrying the Maid of Lorne and learning of the king’s plans.

Not that she gave Sebastien any encouragement. She fought him with words or with silence at every step. She exerted pressure on her brother to make him resistant to any argument for a true truce, or to any offers to continue his training. She refused to share a meal with Sebastien.

Foolish thoughts again! Here he stood, one of the Bruce’s most able commanders of men, twisted in complete confusion over a mere woman. He turned his face into the rain, allowing its chill to infuse him once more. He’d been so rattled by her accusations that he’d left without his helmet, his sword, or his damn cloak, which would have protected his armor from this onslaught of rain.

Even more frustrating, he found himself standing on the shore of the firth, staring up at the north tower where she was. Not sure of how much time had passed, he wiped his face and decided to go back to his duties.

Since he would be leaving in another two days, there was much to see to, and wasting his time like this was not his usual behavior. Shrugging off this nonsensical worrying over Lara and her part in his future, indeed in Scotland’s future, he turned and nearly walked into Hugh.

“A good fight would rid you of this restlessness,” his friend said. “Or is it a good lay you need?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and a wary expression in his dark eyes.

“Either? Both? Neither?” he answered flatly.

“If ’tis a good fight you want, I can provide that to you,” Hugh replied, smacking him on the back. “It’s been nigh to a month since I faced a real challenge on the field.”

“A month? Have you forgotten Brander Pass?”

“Nay, Sebastien, I have not. But fighting MacDougalls is not really a challenge…not when they run from you.”

Sebastien shook his head over Hugh’s attempt at an insulting jest.

“Speaking of running away, the lady followed you from her tower.” Hugh crossed his arms over his chest. “But you were running from the hall so fast that you did not hear her call.”

“Did she tell you why?” He tried to dampen the interest in his voice, but it was obvious even to his own ears.

“Nay, but she did not delay in reminding me of my proper place.” His friend laughed now as though remembering what had occurred. “She has spirit, that one. But, in spite of her clear intent, I did not accept
her challenge and tell her that the two places I belong are in battle or between the warm and welcoming thighs of a fair wench.” Hugh laughed louder this time, and Sebastien chuckled because he knew that his friend usually would not hesitate to enter a battle of words.

Sebastien sobered then, daring to ask the one person he trusted with his life the question that had been tormenting him for the last hours and days. “Do you ever wish for more than this soldier’s life? Do you ever crave living in one place with one woman?”

“Is that what has you in such a state?” Hugh stepped back and looked him over from head to toe as though he did not know him. “Sebastien, for mercenaries such as us, there is only the battle. I cannot see myself in one place even when the Bruce controls the whole of Scotland. And I cannot think that you would be happy in such a life.”

He shrugged, trying to consider his friend’s words. Hugh did not yet know of the Bruce’s decision, which gave Sebastien an option he’d never had before. The fact that he’d been ordered to marry or kill Lara was the first step, and Sebastien was certain that Robert had never meant for him to kill her. The Bruce was excellent at making people believe they had a choice, when none truly existed.

Robert wanted Sebastien in place and in control when he presented his counselors with his plans. It would be much more difficult for those within Robert’s forces who opposed him to stop him once he actually held Dunstaffnage, the Maid of Lorne and the heir to the clan.

But now what?

The castle, he could hold.

The heir, he could protect and train.

The woman? Wed and consummated. Their marriage was a fact, but Lara refused to accept it. Could he change her mind and exert the same control over her that he did over his other responsibilities? He shook his head.

Hugh misunderstood the gesture. “So, you see the wisdom of my words. Though this marriage accomplishes some feat for the Bruce, he will no doubt assist you in nullifying it when his enemies are no more. Dunstaffnage is simply a stop along our path as soldiers, and she is simply a diversion for you while we are here. Accept her as such and do not allow her this power over you.”

Sebastien’s thoughts warred in his mind. Part of him, the part that had lived the same life as Hugh for years, accepted the truth in his friend’s words. Unfortunately, that other part, the part that knew much more about the Bruce and about his plans and about the truth of Sebastien’s background, did not wish to acknowledge it for the harsh description of his life that it was.

His delay in arguing his friend’s assumption made Hugh believe he agreed. “Come then. Let us find that worthless lad you call squire and give him your mail and armor so that he can clean off the results of this rain.”

Sebastien nodded and walked with Hugh back toward the drawbridge. Philippe could indeed clean his mail and armor and begin teaching Malcolm to, as well. Sebastien’s skin itched for him to remove it, but he hesitated while outside the keep.

“Then I will fight you man-to-man and truly give you something to worry about,” Hugh added the challenge very casually.

Thinking that just might take his mind off these unsettling questions and considerations, Sebastien nodded. As they crossed the yard and he called for Philippe, intending to give him instructions, the rain stopped and the winds died down. Most of the men who’d been staying in the yard had been moved, those still injured into the hall, and the rest to Robert’s camp. Still, a crowd began gathering as word spread of their plan.

Philippe helped him off with his mail and the hauberk beneath it, and then handed him his sword. Asking permission for both him and Malcolm to stay and watch, he yelled happily when Sebastien granted it. Philippe moved off to one side of the yard and pulled Malcolm, who’d just arrived at Sebastien’s orders, along with him. At his nod, the guard he’d assigned stood behind the boys.

“Well, Sebastien, are you feeling confident?” Hugh taunted him, swinging his weapon very close and motioning for him to strike first.

Sebastien laughed out loud and directed an insult at his friend. With that, the fight was on. Though thoroughly soaked by the rain, Sebastien was able to move more easily without the heavy mail encasing him. Hugh met him blow for blow, feint for feint and move for move. Their footwork was not the best or smoothest—the heavy rain had turned the yard into a muddy quagmire and they both slipped and fell several times.

But the fight continued until they were so covered
in mud they could no longer see each other. They tossed their swords down and continued to fight hand to hand until they could no longer take hold of their opponent. Although the onlookers grumbled about the fight being a draw, Sebastien and Hugh promised a better one once the yard dried out. As they strode out to use the water of the firth to remove the mud, Philippe and Malcolm ran after them, talking excitedly about the fight. Sebastien would work against the quiet resistance that Malcolm’s sister offered by including the lad in Phillippe’s assignments and introducing him to knightly training. The boy was quite interested in swordplay.

As though the thought of her had conjured her up, Sebastien glanced up at the tower and spied Lara gazing from a window in their chambers. He raised his sword to her and watched as she stepped back until he could see her no more. Shaking his head, he turned to Hugh and the boys, and went out to clean up before entering the hall.

T
he door opened and he stood before her, looking much the same as he had the night of their wedding. Not the brutish soldier she’d watched fight in the mud earlier this day. Nay, this was a man whose bearing cried out of noble blood coursing through his veins. A man who defined good breeding. Yet, as far as she could discover, he was simply a knight, one of unknown or at least questionable origins, who had risen in favor with his king as a direct result of his skills.

She shuddered as she remembered seeing his strength displayed in the yard. Both men had removed their hauberks and mail and fought in only their trews and boots. That same strength was now hidden beneath his raiment.

“Are you chilled, lady?” he asked as he held out his arm to her. “There is a fire in the solar to take away the coolness.”

“I am not cold, just a bit tired.”

“Then I will not keep you long from your…bed.”

She heard the smile in his voice as he spoke of her
resting place. Lara could still not figure out how he moved her each night to the bed, and not once had she awakened. She walked at his side, down the steps to the solar, and was surprised by what she found there. The room had been transformed, a small table now in the center, covered with linen and plates and goblets for their use, with a chair on each side. Candles were lit and a fire did indeed burn in the hearth, chasing away the dampness of the day.

Her stomach warned her by its tenseness that this would be no simple meal. Why had she thought this a good idea? When Malcolm returned safely to their rooms, she had decided to accept Sebastien’s invitation. After sending word through Philippe, Lara had worried the rest of the day about how to gain the information she needed from this enigmatic man.

They paused for a moment, not entering the room, and then he continued to walk down the steps, guiding her to the entrance to the hall.

“Sir? Do we not eat in the solar?” she asked.

“I thought after being closed up inside these last days, that you might enjoy a walk along the battlements? The sky has cleared and the evening is actually quite pleasant and we have some time before our meal is ready.”

He spoke in a voice that could tempt an angel into sin. Did he know how unsettled she’d been by her walk to the chapel? Both the path there and then meeting her cousin had terrified her. She wanted desperately to walk; truly, she wanted to run to release the tension within her.

“I confess, sir, that you have discovered my weakness.
I detest the uselessness and inactivity of these last days. I would indeed like to take a walk.”

Although she knew the route in the dark with her eyes closed, she allowed him to lead her out of the hall and up the stairs near the south tower, to the battlements. There was a path around the entire perimeter of the castle, and from it, when the weather cooperated, one could see the best views of the firth to the west and south and Loch Linnhe to the north. Reaching the top, Lara let go of his arm and walked to the crenellated edge of one of the stone walls. Leaning forward, she looked out at the woods where the chapel lay, and toward the open expanses of land to the southeast, where the Bruce’s forces camped.

“I have something to discuss with the guards, Lara. Walk ahead if you’d like.” He waited for her answer and when she nodded, he turned and approached the guards patrolling the walls.

A taste of a freedom she no longer had, she thought as she walked away as fast as she could without appearing to be running. Not that she could escape him if she wanted to, but being alone here was a relief. She held the crispinette that covered her braided hair in place as she turned into the wind, but not even that slowed her pace. Breathing deeply, she allowed the winds that swept over these heights to push against her until she turned a corner and the winds were at her back.

Laughing, Lara continued her brisk speed, returning to where she’d left Sebastien much sooner than she wished. He was still speaking with the guards, so she resumed her path, not stopping until she reached the place farthest from him. There she stood and leaned
over, looking at the boats that could be used to cross the firth or the loch. Many more than her father usually had, this was a small fleet at the ready for some use. Guards circled, protecting the boats from any attack—or sabotage?

Soon, as the sun dropped lower to the west, the winds turned colder and she began to shiver. Still, she would rather be cold than inside, so she did not leave the spot. Instead, she sat between two of the crenellations and closed her eyes.

“You are making my men nervous, lady.”

She opened her eyes and found Sebastien standing before her, holding a cloak. “How so, sir?”

“Your hurried pace and the way you dare to hang over the side of the walls.”

“This is my home, sir. I have climbed these walls from the time I was a child.” She realized it sounded as though she could climb down the two-score-and-five-feet-tall walls of stone. Well, she could, but that was not something he needed to know.

“Mayhap that was something better left unsaid?”

“Ah, you mistook my words, sir. I mean that I have walked this path all my life. I am quite comfortable moving around on these battlements.” She stood and stepped away from the edge, an action that placed her nearer to him.

“You are shivering now,” he said, moving closer still. “I brought this for you.”

He did not offer the cloak to her, instead reaching out to drape it around her shoulders. Tugging the ends together, he gathered them under her chin. That pulled her closer to him than she’d expected, but with such a
hold, she could not move away. His nearness overwhelmed her and as he leaned his head down and gazed into her eyes, she knew he would kiss her.

When his lips were a scant inch from hers, he stopped and did not come any closer. She held her breath, knowing from their night together how this would feel, and trying to make her body not react to what it knew could happen. And from the way her heart pounded in her chest and the way her mouth went dry, apparently her body wanted it to happen again. Lara closed her eyes and fought the urge to cross the empty space and press her mouth to his. She remembered the touch of his lips on her…mouth and on other…Her traitorous body tightened in places better not thought about, and she shivered once more.

Then, Sebastien stepped away, allowing the ends of the cloak to dangle loosely. Lara searched his face for some explanation and fought the wayward desire that now spiraled within her. She stumbled a few steps back and turned away from his gaze. Did he know what his nearness did to her? Was seduction his plan all along? And she could not stop the errant and most dangerous thought of all—why had he stopped?

“My pardon, lady,” he said from behind her. “I did not mean to…” His words ceased, as though he did not know what to say. Lara turned back to him and the look of confusion in his expression calmed her somehow.

“I had sought to ease your fears and anxiety about our meal together, and now I can see I have simply made it worse with my lack of control.” He glanced over at the men near the stairway and then at her. “I have not finished my instructions to the guards. If you
would join me in the solar when you are finished walking, I will give you some time here.”

Without waiting for her consent, he did indeed leave her there…alone. Lara pulled the cloak around her more tightly and walked back to the edge. Trying not to think about what had almost happened between them, she allowed the wind to soothe her before facing their next encounter.

Sebastien counted off each step he took away from her, clenching his fists against the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless. Although he could deny the wisdom in doing such a thing, he could not deny how much he wanted to do exactly that…and more. Much, much more.

He truly had nothing else to speak to the guards about, so he left the battlements after indicating that the lady was to be allowed there. He ran down the steps, crossed through the hall and made his way to the solar. Everything was ready now and the servants, and Lara’s maid, met him with expectant gazes when he entered the room.

Sebastien sat down and asked for wine while he waited. Would she drag this out? Would she come back as he’d directed? Taking the first swallow of the wine, he hoped it would settle
his
stomach. Only a few minutes passed before he heard footsteps coming up the stairs toward the solar. Then she was there. He stood as she entered, and watched silently as she handed the cloak to her maid.

“Sir? If you please, I have need to return to my chambers for a brief time before we eat.”

He tried to discern if there was guile in this request,
but could see nothing that indicated more or less than she’d asked for. Nodding his assent, he was curious when she whispered something to her maid before leaving. Whatever words she’d said caused the girl to blush and look away.

True to her words, Lara returned a few minutes later and, after sharing a glance with her maid, walked over and sat next to him at the table. Once she’d been served wine, he gestured to the servants and they began placing platters of roasted meats and fish before them. Sebastien had explained to them the foods he wanted served and how he wanted the meal to be done. As he’d ordered, the table was filled with a selection of her favorites, ones revealed to him by the old cook, whom he had kept on in the kitchens.

If she recognized them, she did not say, but her gaze moved from dish to dish, and every so often he noticed a smile on her lips. Once everything was in place, the servants bowed and left. Lara turned and seemed to stare at the closed door for a minute. He waited for her to turn back and face him.

“I hear that you have not been eating lately,” he began. “Your cook said these were some of your favorite dishes and I thought to entice you with them.”

“Thank you for your thoughtfulness, sir, but there is more than needed for only the two of us. Should we not invite Malcolm and Catriona to sup with us? I am certain Malcolm would be interested in discussing the fight he witnessed earlier.”

Sebastien could not help it—the laugh escaped before he could stop it. “They are eating elsewhere and are well cared for, lady.”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth and gazed at the dishes again. He lifted a platter of thick slices of beef to her. The succulent aroma made his own stomach grumble. He thought she might refuse, but then nodded in agreement. Placing a slice on the plate in front of him, he cut it into smaller pieces and offered them to her.

Sebastien watched as she scooped some onto her own plate and then skewered one with her eating dagger. There was a moment when she bit into the wellcooked and well-spiced meat that a look of satisfaction crossed her face. He wondered what that was about, but did not ask. Instead, he took samples from most of the dishes and placed them on her plate. She began to eat with enthusiasm, so he considered how he could begin their talk.

He waited for her to eat a substantial amount before starting. From watching her these last few weeks and from the questions he asked of those closest to her, he knew that when she was upset, she did not eat. So he knew that her visit to the chapel had not soothed her at all, and he wondered why not. Had it only been the incident in the yard that had distressed her?

Sebastien reached over and refilled the goblet in front of her. “There is ale, if you prefer it.”

“Nay, the wine is quite good.” She sipped it. “Another gift from the Bruce?”

“The same. He gave us a keg of his favorite to…”

“To mark our wedding.” She finished the statement when he paused.

Now it was his turn to swallow deeply from his own
cup. She’d mentioned it in a matter-of-fact manner. “Aye.”

“What else did he give you for marrying me? What honors were heaped on you for taking the enemy’s daughter as your wife? Or should I ask what offense you committed to be sentenced to such an arrangement?” Her blue eyes narrowed as she asked.

The sharp edge of sarcasm filled her voice and he answered in kind. “I gained no rich rewards or honors by our marriage. I but obeyed my king’s orders. We needed to secure the castle and the claim to the MacDougall’s lands and you were the means of that.” If such things were to come from the king, so be it; he need not confirm it to her yet.

She lost all color from her cheeks and he regretted immediately the harshness in his tone. Why did he allow her to goad him into this kind of exchange? He read her pattern of behavior clearly—that was one advantage of his years as a spy. Sebastien could watch individuals over a period of time and learn their secrets by what they did and how they did it.

Lara would be even more upset when she realized this about him. In spite of her efforts not to give away anything about herself, he’d already discovered many things about her.

She had an incredible amount of vigor and needed to have that force of life directed into usefulness or she got herself in trouble. She knew much more about her father and her clan’s battle plans than she wanted Sebastien to realize. And although she put on a brave and confident face, she suffered from an intense insecurity when it came to her own worth. Tales of how she constantly
tried to achieve more than would be expected of a daughter, even the esteemed Maid of Lorne, had been shared with him.

The most important thing he’d discovered about her was something she’d revealed during their last few encounters. Lara used her anger as a shield when her fears were touched. When something or someone threatened to expose that timidity that she kept under tight control, she struck out like an angry bee—stinging the one who came too close. He’d learned that after feeling the stab himself.

“Come now, Lara. If you have questions, simply ask them of me and do not try to bait me to strike out at you in words or with my hands.”

He watched as she cleared her throat and thought on his words. Good, she was thinking before striking out again. He could teach her to trust him—it would just take time.

“What will you do with me now that I am not breeding?”