Authors: Allison Butler
Not this time. Not with her.
She turned from his inspection, as if the wall of uneven stone held more fascination for her than he did. It was one of the most difficult things she’d ever done. Beads of sweat trickled between her breasts as she listened for the sound of the door closing. It seemed she drew a hundred breaths while she waited. The hairs on her nape stood on end a moment before the blessed click of the latch echoed softly around the room.
She was alone. Relief washed over her. Her body sagged and she felt the rough surface of the pallet against her back as she turned over. The coarse fabric of the pallet cushioned her cheek as she blinked hard several times and stared into the flaming hearth.
She had to find a way out of here. She needed to escape before he returned.
***
De Brus broke away from the other horses, galloping over the rolling hills that lay between Castle Redheugh and Irvine Keep. The chill wind whistled in Lachlan’s ears and slipped beneath the fur mantle secured about his neck. He welcomed the icy breeze—the cold prickling his flesh banished the lethargy that lingered from his short and far from peaceful sleep.
How did one find rest when visions of liquid brown eyes haunted your dreams? When images of a shapely feminine form, wrapped tightly within the folds of a woollen blanket, danced behind his closed lids? When a woman’s spirit burned brighter than the fire-lit strands of her silky dark hair?
She was a beauty. She had courage. She was stubborn.
Two traits he welcomed in a wife. The third he’d work on.
Cresting a small rise, he drew his mount to a halt. His destination loomed on the far side of the valley sprawling before him. He studied the fortress while he waited for his companions to reach him.
The curtain wall surrounding Irvine Keep stood as high as Castle Redheugh’s, but the stones were of a darker hue. Numerous figures walked the battlements, shrunken in size by the remaining distance. This wasn’t his first visit with his neighbouring laird, but if things went as planned, this time the outcome would be very different. This time, he’d win.
His five companions arrived and together they travelled across the valley.
Shouting his name to the guards on the wall, Lachlan and his men were granted entry through the massive gates. The bailey was full to bursting with people. Most stopped what they were doing to view the visitors before disappearing into one of the many outbuildings lining the inside wall. Others resumed their tasks. Aware of the many curious eyes upon them, Lachlan turned to Caelan and said, ‘Stay close.’
Dismounting, mud squelching beneath their feet, they handed their reins to the stable lads. ‘Take care with our ponies,’ Lachlan said.
The freckle-faced boy who accepted De Brus’s leathers swallowed and nodded. ‘Aye, sir.’
Lachlan gave the lad a swift smile. With Caelan on his left and Duff, Lundy, Cal and Dair at their backs, he followed the sentry to the two-storey tower, which sat to one side of the bailey, almost hugging the curtain wall. They climbed the stairs and Lachlan paused at the threshold of a large room to stamp the mire from his boots. The delay gave his eyes the chance to adjust to the change in light, for it was like stepping from day into night. Other than the feeble fire in the hearth at the far end of the room, not a single torch or candle lit the vast interior. No groups of men gathered at the tables to dice. No women chatted quietly by the hearth as they sewed. No one shared a cup and a laugh to brighten a dreary autumn afternoon, as they often did at Castle Redheugh once their chores were done.
Granted, the last time Lachlan had visited, he’d been expected. Spring had been only a handful of days away, and an excessive number of lit tapers had glowed upon the rich tapestries and gilt-framed portraits lining the walls. By far the most beautiful sight in the chamber that day had been Irvine’s eldest daughter, Jeanne, from the glittering jewels on her fingers and dangling at her throat and sparkling in her long, golden locks, to the expensive gown hugging her curvaceous form. But the lavish show of wealth hadn’t been for Lachlan alone. Many men had paid court to Jeanne that day.
Despite the warmth of his mantle, Lachlan shivered. Today there was but one reason for the lack of life within and the gloom permeating the Great Hall: Lennox Irvine’s greed.
A tall, wiry fellow entered the chamber through a side arch and hurried toward them, a skinny maid carrying a lit candle following close on his heels. The man approached and waved them inside.
‘I am Parlan, Irvine’s steward. Enter, please. The laird will be with you soon.’ He ushered them to the large wooden table before the hearth. ‘Sit, please.’
‘We will remain standing until your laird arrives,’ Lachlan said.
The man’s eyes widened a fraction. ‘As you wish. Please, warm yourselves by the fire.’
Feeling a twinge of pity for the harried steward, Lachlan nodded and moved closer to the hearth. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll fetch some refreshments,’ Parlan said, and almost ran across the hall.
Keeping his back to the wispy flames, Lachlan watched as the maid rushed from sconce to sconce, setting torches alight. The many riches, previously hidden in shadows, began to appear.
As if summoned to view all that was his, Lennox Irvine chose that moment to waddle into the room. The steward followed, taking a stance at the far end of the table.
Lachlan couldn’t help thinking the Irvine laird had fattened up like a pig before slaughter.
‘Welcome, lad,’ Lennox panted as he neared them, wiping a strand of thin, greying hair from his face. ‘What a surprise.’
‘Aye. It’s been a while. But you appear hale and hearty, Laird Irvine.’
‘We lairds must keep ourselves in good health, else our people would be lost.’
Lachlan ignored the round of throat clearing at his back and stepped forward to grip the sweaty palm Lennox offered. A thin-lipped smile showed through his host’s jowls, and above the bulging cheeks set on each side of his reddened nose, two dark slits glinted up at him. He thought another year of ‘good health’ would leave Lennox Irvine blind and mute.
‘You remember my brother, Caelan?’
‘Hmm! Aye,’ Lennox said, sparing a passing glance at Lachlan’s brother. ‘Come. Sit.’ Lennox found his chair, directly in front of the sparse flames.
Lachlan moved to the opposite side of the trestle, stepped over the long bench and sat. Caelan took his place beside Lachlan, while the other four remained on guard behind them.
‘What brings you here today?’ Lennox said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Jeanne, my beauty, remains wed to the Johnstone laird. But the man is old, so don’t despair, lad. She may be free to wed again soon.’
Lachlan’s gaze narrowed. Had the Johnstone laird won Jeanne’s hand due to his advanced years rather than the number of cattle offered? How many men did Lennox plan to wed her to?
‘Women are expensive creatures,’ Lennox continued. ‘Cost me a fortune to keep her in fancy gowns and jewels, but that’s her husband’s problem now. I gained two score of cattle the day she married. A man can never have too many cattle.’ He sagged back into his chair, looking pleased with his efforts.
Lachlan gritted his teeth. It was clear the man harboured no affections for his offspring.
A maid set a tray bearing a jug and three gleaming goblets on the table. She bobbed a swift curtsey and made to leave.
‘Am I expected to pour my own wine?’ Lennox said.
The young maid’s eyes glistened as she turned back to face her laird. Her trembling hand reached for the jug.
‘I’m certain you have other chores to attend,’ Lachlan said, giving the maid a meaningful look. He grasped the jug’s handle. ‘It would be my honour to pour for you, Lennox,’ Lachlan offered, sounding sincere.
The maid bobbed another curtsey, and scurried back to the kitchens.
Lennox’s scowl followed her retreat, his thin top lip curling up at one corner. ‘Useless creatures. They take everything from you and still want more.’ He regarded Lachlan. ‘Take my advice: ensure the woman you marry gives you many sons and ignore the rest.’ Lennox slumped back in his chair. ‘Else marry another.’
Lachlan had heard of Lennox’s failure in regards to siring a son. Was the man so obsessed with wanting a son that he’d forgotten he had more than one daughter? Despite previous visits to Irvine, he’d had no idea of a second daughter’s existence. Until she’d stolen his horse. Was Lennox aware of his younger daughter’s thieving activities?
Lachlan filled one vessel to the brim and added a splash to the other two. The absence of more goblets for his clansmen raised his level of contempt for the man another notch. But now was not the time to address Lennox Irvine’s faults. He was here to discover if Kenzie was Lennox’s legitimate daughter and if she was unwed.
He pushed the goblets toward Lennox and Caelan, ensuring his brother understood the look delivered along with it. Having no intention of tasting a single drop of his wine either, Lachlan toyed with the goblet, while Lennox slurped from his.
‘I’m not here to discuss Jeanne’s wedded bliss. I’m here to discuss your other daughter.’
Lennox slowly lowered his goblet and wiped his mouth on the tight sleeve of his linen shirt. ‘What do you know of my other daughter?’ Caution thickened his voice.
‘Very little, or I wouldn’t have come.’
His host’s gaze slid toward his steward, then settled back on Lachlan. A gleam of promise had replaced the glint of uncertainty. When it came to adding wealth to his fortune, Lennox Irvine was far from slovenly. ‘What kind of interest do you have in my younger daughter?’
‘So you acknowledge having a second daughter?’
‘I believe I’ve already answered that question.’
‘If you want to know my reasons for coming here then you’ll answer it again.’
Tight-lipped, Lennox responded. ‘I acknowledge I have a legitimate second daughter.’
Lachlan accepted the crucial piece of information with a nod. ‘And is this second daughter unwed?’
Once again, Lennox glanced toward his steward at the end of the table. He looked back. ‘Aye.’
‘You didn’t think to mention her once Jeanne had found a husband? You could have doubled your herd’s numbers again, yet didn’t.’
‘I did mention that daughters are costly.’ He managed to straighten in his chair. ‘And some are worth more than others.’
A feeling akin to pity for Lennox’s younger daughter awoke inside Lachlan’s chest. But the memory of her large brown eyes, glowing with courage a moment before she’d dismissed him, suggested she wouldn’t appreciate such a sentiment. As his wife, Kenzie’s strength of spirit was worth far more than Jeanne’s golden looks.
Lachlan slid his goblet aside. ‘We are neighbours, Lennox. As lairds, it is our duty to secure our clan’s survival, in every way possible.’ Lachlan stared directly at his host, ‘Alliances are made and kept.’ Forcing his shoulders to return to a more comfortable position, he spoke in what he hoped sounded like a nonchalant tone. ‘It’s also time I took a wife.’
A shrewd glint appeared in the Irvine laird’s eyes. ‘You wish to form an alliance by wedding my youngest daughter?’
‘I believe such an alliance will benefit both of our clans.’
Lennox didn’t waste another moment. ‘There may be other lairds keen on forming an alliance with Clan Irvine. Times are harsh. My swordsmen are skilled, a necessary requirement for any clan’s survival.’ He stopped to wheeze before going on. ‘Do you want exclusive rights to my remaining daughter’s hand?’
The man may look like an oversized turnip and sound like a bellows, but he wasn’t a complete fool, thought Lachlan. Not when it came to selling his daughters to increase his herd. He truly was a pig.
Lachlan gave a careless shrug, intent on discovering as much as he could about Kenzie before revealing what he already knew. ‘I don’t see scores of men laying siege to Irvine Keep to wed the lass. Is there something I should know about her before I commit?’
Uncertainty again washed over Lennox’s rounded face. His thin lips disappeared completely.
‘Where is the lass?’ Lachlan asked, enjoying the man’s discomfort. ‘She might have objections to marrying me.’
‘Any objections will be mine, not hers,’ Lennox said. ‘Fetch my daughter,’ he shouted to his steward.
The man hovering at the table’s end rushed off to do his laird’s bidding. A twinge of curiosity awakened in Lachlan’s chest, for it seemed neither her father nor the steward knew of Kenzie’s whereabouts. Lachlan no longer believed Lennox knew of his daughter’s endeavours, least of all her penchant for stealing horses.
‘You want an alliance,’ Lennox said quietly, drawing Lachlan’s regard. ‘How will
I
benefit from a union between our clans?’
Lachlan managed to keep his head from slowly shaking with disgust. Instead of being concerned about his daughter’s welfare, Lennox was already tallying his personal gain.
‘Your daughter will bear my name and will aid in producing many more Elliots to populate the Borders.’ Lachlan offered Lennox a false smile. ‘Like yours, my swordsmen aren’t lax with their skills,’ he acknowledged his four best swordsmen with a glance over his shoulder, ‘and there is the possibility of bettering your herd’s bloodline with a number of my prized cattle.’
Sweat broke out over Lennox’s face. ‘How many beasts do we speak of?’
‘None yet,’ Lachlan replied coolly. He wouldn’t make the mistake of playing by Irvine’s rules again. He’d lost once. This time, he’d play by his rules. ‘You spoke of others—’
‘Forget what I said. How many—’ Irvine was cut off as his steward hurried back to his master’s side and mumbled something into his ear.
‘Find her, or someone who knows where she is,’ Lennox whispered harshly. The steward dashed away again.
Lachlan cocked a brow. ‘Lost something?’
‘Nae. Drink.’ Lennox lifted his goblet and drank, his interest drifting back to the side entrance.
Twirling his goblet, Lachlan said, ‘Before we discuss marriage any further, I have a few questions.’
‘Questions?’ Lennox lowered his cup.
‘Small details. Your daughter’s name? Her age?’
Lennox tilted his goblet higher to drain every drop. Once finished, he set the empty vessel on the table and proceeded to straighten his attire, as if Lachlan hadn’t spoken. Almighty Christ. Did the man not know his daughter’s name? Even Caelan had known.