Herbert leaned against the burnt window frame. Jamie pulled him back. All he needed was the instigator to have words with The Maxwell. “I’ve never seen that man before.”
A breeze barreled down between the buildings and ripped off the man’s hat.
“I have,” Jamie said. “In Cannobie.” Jamie scanned the crowd and located three other men who had been sitting behind him at the coach house.
The men were speaking to the villagers. It was an old tactic, encourage people to be discontent. He had to act with haste to smooth things over before they got out of hand.
“I’ll take care of this. Stay here.” Jamie didn’t give Herbert a chance to answer. He made his way to Oliver.
“Here let me give you a hand.” Jamie picked up a barrel, put it on his shoulder and placed it into the wagon. The rumbling hushed.
“Don’t let me stop you,” Jamie said to the troublemaker, then picked up another barrel. Soldiers followed his lead and continued to load the wagon.
“We will if we need to,” the agitator said. Jamie put a barrel into the wagon, then turned to the man.
“Which Maxwell are you? Because I know everyone in my family and I don’t recognize you.” Jamie tilted his head to the side and stared at the man.
The man swaggered over to him. With a meaty finger, he jabbed Jamie in the chest. “Why do you want to know?”
Tension rose and the buzz of whispers spread through the enlarging crowd. Jamie knew this tactic, too. Pick on the biggest man and beat him. Everyone else will be docile. It would only work if you beat him.
“Friend, we are all Maxwells here. You must be new to Caerlaverock. The planted farm land and woods are not for the taking. This is all Maxwell land. We work alongside Lord Herbert’s men, planting and caring for the land. The family takes care of each other and The Maxwell takes care of his family, protects them, and shares a portion of the grain.” The rumbling crowd agreed.
“You’re taking the food out of our mouths,” one of the agitator’s allies shouted.
“Ah, you brought a friend. Come, where we all can see you.” The crowd parted. The man stood exposed. His gaze shifted from one person to another as he looked for support. Jamie glanced where the other two men had been, finding their backs as they walked toward the tavern.
“Another thought to interfere with The Maxwell. Maybe he’s a friend of yours, too. Holger, he was a tinker. You can find him on our battlements.”
Jamie faced the two men, but spoke to the crowd. He was lucky he was able to contain the men’s attempt to stir up the villagers against The Maxwell.
“The granary has been damaged. The smithy hasn’t room to store the grain. Caerlaverock has a new clean and dry storeroom. Lord Herbert will make sure his family is protected and provided for as he always has.”
Jamie turned to the agitator. “He’ll make sure he takes care of you and your friend.” The smile he forced didn’t reach his eyes. Jamie was sure his meaning was understood.
“Let me help you,” a villager called out. The man grabbed a sack of grain and put it into the wagon.
Jamie watched as the agitator marched toward the tavern, his friend a few steps behind. Jamie went back to the granary.
“Nicely done. I hadn’t anticipated outward unrest.” Herbert’s face grew solemn and thoughtful.
“Fighting the man would get out of hand and bring about more anger. With Holger hanging from the battlements, I hoped the threat of a traitor and the outsiders stirring internal unrest had ended. Everyone is aware of your concern for them and your interest here. Now, you need to return to the safety of the castle,” Jamie said.
“Yes, but before I leave I want to show you something. While you did verbal battle with our friend, I found something very interesting.” Herbert led Jamie to the wooden post where Ned had been pinned. The two men squatted and examined what was left of the damaged beam. Jamie ran his hand over a smooth, even edge.
“The beam’s been cut.” He stared at Herbert.
“My thought as well. I want you to stay here and search what’s left. Report to me when you return. Did you or Laura find anything of interest in the pantry?” Herbert brushed off his hands.
“Yes, Holger was willing to die for the piece.” Jamie removed the jeweled brooch from his pocket and handed it to Herbert. “He told Laura people would kill for it.”
Herbert turned the brooch over in his hand. After several minutes, he gave the jewel back to Jamie.
“The workings of the clasp and the cut of the stone are old. Maybe even ancient. The filigree work around the edges remind me of a clan piece. If you look with care, the stone had a carving. I can’t make it out. Only a part of the marking is visible. If I had to guess, I’d say the stone contained a herald. Keep the brooch safe. If Holger wanted the gem, it must be valuable.”
Jamie pinned the brooch inside his jerkin.
Herbert, with Oliver and his soldiers, returned to the castle. The breeze picked up, and Jamie went back into the granary.
Jamie examined the fallen beams. Each showed signs of being cut. He examined the two beams that remained standing and found deep cuts on them. Someone tried to saw through. He searched what remained of the first floor and found nothing.
The fire had started on the second level. The stairs were gone. Jamie covered his mouth, then pulled down the last standing beams. The platform crashed down.
Once the dust and ash settled, he had a clear view of the roof. Holes. He climbed on top of the wood pile and scaled as far up the wall as he was able. He was close enough to see no charring on the edges of the hole, but rather, clean chop marks. He retraced his steps and jumped down the last few feet.
He walked through the debris. The smell of wood and ash filled his nostrils along with something else. He remembered it now. He picked up a piece of partially burnt wood and took a deep breath. Oil.
This puzzle wasn’t difficult to solve. Ned, an unskilled soldier, guarded a highly strategic building without any support. The beams and roof had been deliberately destroyed. He threw the wood to the ground. Even though he had arrived at the same conclusion earlier, he was angry. The fire had been purposefully set.
“Anyone in here?” a woman’s voice called from the doorway.
He dusted off his hands and walked outside. “Rhona.”
“I thought it was you going into the granary. When I heard the crash... well, I thought you might need help.” She put down her basket, walked up to him, and took a cloth from her bodice, then proceeded to wipe soot off his face. Her eyes followed where she cleaned, his cheek, his hair line, his chin. She hesitated as she wiped his lips.
“Don’t move. There’s definitely something on your lips.” She smirked but didn’t take her eyes off his mouth. “It’s quite expressive, your mouth.”
He stilled. His eyes never left her face. Her intimate touch didn’t interest him, but her actions did. He knew Rhona for years. Their relationship was cordial, certainly not one in which they would blatantly tease. The woman was calculating. What did she want from him?
She worked down his neck. She spied the brooch and her heavy lashes that shadowed her cheek flew up.
His heart raced at her recognition. What was her interest? He quieted his thoughts, and pulled his jerkin closed, covering the brooch.
“I thought you were back at your farm,” she said and stepped back. “I wish I could go back to mine, but mother insisted on coming to the castle. Reivers already raided our stock. Mother insists staying without someone to protect us was too dangerous.”
“Lord Herbert provided room for you and your mother. I would think you’d be comfortable.”
“Take away our home? You don’t believe that, do you? You do understand what The Maxwell is doing. First the grain, then he’ll take our farms.”
“We all have our duties,” he said. He focused on staying relaxed and not making her aware she’d struck a nerve. He should be in Cumgour helping with the fall harvest and hunting instead of leaving i
t to his cousins. His responsibility included making sure the farm was defended and prepared for winter.
Home. Not a grand place, but the stones were strong and the rooms comfortable. The view from his solar window included the entire valley spread out before him. He took a deep breath as if he could inhale the fragrance of Cumgour. Instead, burnt wood and ashes filled his lungs.
“My duty is to my mother and she’s waiting for me at the tavern. I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” She picked up her basket.
“Let me take that for you.” He lifted the basket out of her arms and balanced it on his shoulder.
“That’s really not necessary.” Her coy reaction didn’t fool him. She wanted him to go to the tavern. That was why she had the basket with her. He was more interested in finding out what she knew about the brooch.
“Where is your farm?”
“Cumgour is in the northeast, by the English border.” Where the woods are lush and the streams run cold and fast. A person can walk for miles or sit on the cliff and enjoy the valley. Would he ever see home again?
“Is Cumgour much different than here?”
“My farm is similar to Caerlaverock, but not as vast. I enjoy peace and quiet, as well as working the fields.”
“Peace and quiet. What I wouldn’t give for that. Here, you must watch your back and what you say. I would do anything to make Caerlaverock like your Cumgour.” They walked into the tavern. Jamie put her basket on the floor.
The room was cozy with a warm fire in the grate. Tables were scattered around the room. Most of them empty. Mara sat near the hearth with one of the agitators. Jamie looked around. The other men were not to be found. Interesting.
“Join us for an ale?” Rhona asked.
She looped her arm in his. Her other hand rested on his chest. She gazed at him with adoring eyes, except when he looked deep, he detected cold determination. She was softening him for something.
The man with Mara kept his head down, but Jamie caught him staring at Rhona. The two of them were connected and this man was doing his best to stay still.
Would they lead him to the traitor? It wouldn’t take much for them to believe he was disgruntled and had turned against The Maxwell. He’d be playing a dangerous game, one he would have to keep from Laura and Herbert.
“Sure. I’ll join you for an ale.” Jamie got comfortable at the table. Rhona took a seat next to him, her thigh against his.
Chapter Twelve
“Good morning.” Laura entered the solar, a bright yellow ribbon in her hair. She sniffed the air and followed the delicious aroma to the morning buffet. She filled her plate and took her usual seat next to Jamie.
Herbert, who sat at the head of the table, was well into his meal.
Jamie nodded and launched into a conversation with Herbert. She touched his arm. He gazed at her hand, then at her eyes with a cold expression. Her small touches had always been eagerly received. She pulled away as if burned by a hot ember. Her brow creased, she had no idea what had Jamie so irate.
“Good morning, Laura,” Herbert said, his voice tired but cheery.
Confused, she focused on Herbert. Perhaps he held the answer, but his demeanor gave nothing away.
“Lord Herbert. Mrs. Turner said you wanted to see me.” Oliver entered.
Herbert rose from his seat. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said to her and Jamie. He put down his linen. “Oliver come with me.”
Jamie started to get up.
“No, you stay and finish your meal with Laura. We’ll speak later.” Herbert left.
Jamie relaxed in his seat. He pulled a piece of bread off the loaf.
He refilled his plate from the buffet, then stood by the window and ate. He had a perfectly good seat at the table, next to her. He said nothing, but his demeanor said everything. He had no desire to be with her and didn’t try to hide it.
Now that she thought about it, he had returned from the village yesterday with Mara and Rhona, laughing, his arm draped around Rhona. He never came to the table at the evening meal, nor sought her out. Her heart thudded. He avoided her.
They had a long history. She couldn’t remember a time without Jamie. Before he fostered with her father, the two families enjoyed time together. Afterward, Jamie was one of the family. Their relationship was an easy one.
She never hesitated speaking her mind, until now. One minute, doubt stabbed at her, and the next, her anger raged. Ridiculous. This was Jamie.
“I waited for you to tell me what you found at the granary,” she blurted out, hardly aware of her grudging tone.
“The fire was not an accident.” With his plate half full, he put his plate on the table. “We’ve worked very close the last week. And the situation between us may have gotten a little out of hand. I had no intention of…”
She gasped. “Making me feel foolish?”
His head snapped up and his cheeks reddened. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He didn’t wait for her response. Instead he rushed out of the room as if he couldn’t tolerate her company any longer.
She sat at the table, not understanding what happened. She went to the window. Jamie came out of the gatehouse and crossed the courtyard. She started to turn away until she saw him put his arm around Rhona.
Unable to pull her gaze away, she stared as Rhona cuddled into that warm space next him. Did he hold her tighter? Place a kiss on her head as he did with her?
Short breaths struggled around a hot knot in her throat. Still, she couldn’t turn away.
Jamie and Rhona walked toward the great hall. He turned and glanced at the solar window. Her senses dulled, she couldn’t move away quick enough.
Their eyes locked. Even at this distance, she recognized his disinterest, his silent rebuke. She took in a strangled breath. His indifference stabbed at her heart, but she couldn’t look away. Instead she hoped she misread him.
Rhona followed Jamie’s gaze to Laura. She pulled him away. He crushed her next to him and they walked on.
Laura stared at the space. Tears threatened. She leaned against the window jamb. He kissed her here, slowly and deliberately.
She let out a deep breath and banished the vision of his passionate eyes, his soft lips, his strong arms.
“Enough.” She gathered her wits. What did she expect? She should have listened to the women at Glen Kirk. Ninnies, Ann called them. And she was the biggest ninnie of them all.
But his sincerity. Maybe it was working closely to find the murderer or grieving together for Richard. Who knows what moved him. She left the solar and went to meet Mrs. Turner in the kitchen garden.
Jamie entered the battlements, empty except for Sean, the only person aware he played a double game.
“I didn’t think this deception would be so difficult. But the hurt in Laura’s eyes this morning was almost too much to bear.”
“We discussed the best way to protect Lady Laura was to distance yourself from her.” Sean turned and faced Jamie. “If they had any idea you were close to her, they’d use her against you.”
“I know, but I don’t have to like it. It makes me feel… dirty. You didn’t see the hurt in her eyes, how hard she held back her tears. I’ve given Rhona enough encouragement. I’ll not do that again.” He slammed his hand on the stone.
“Lady Maxwell didn’t want tallow candles in the new castle. Too much smoke. Thank you for your help.” Mrs. Turner sat at a table and cut wool string for wicks.
“My pleasure.” Laura took lengths from Mrs. Turner and tied the wool to a stick. She held the stick at the end so the wicks could hang down while warm beeswax was poured over the wicks.
“Have you seen Lord Jamie and Rhona?” the servant stirring beeswax asked another girl. “They make a nice pair. I always thought she was cold and remote.”
“Not when she’s with him.” The stick and tied string began to waver. “Lady Laura, could you steady the stick, please?”
“Of course,” Laura said. The two servants began to ladle wax over the
string. Laura didn’t want to listen to gossip, but couldn’t move.
“As long as Lord Jamie’s been here, I never seen him with anyone. Not that every woman hasn’t tried to get his attention. I think that’s why The Maxwell keeps him here. To marry a Scots woman.”
“I say good for Rhona,” the other servant said. “With the loss of her husband and three brothers, it’s about time her luck changed. The wax is too thick. I’ll heat it.”
“I’ll shape the candles and put them in the sun to bleach,” Laura said. Anything to get away.
Laura brought the candles to the herb garden. The low gate wall gave her a view of the courtyard. Laura nodded to some passersby as she shaped the candles.
Across the courtyard, she spotted Jamie hand something to Rhona. She didn’t mean to look, but her gaze sought him out. She paid a heavy price. Rhona stepped into his arms and kissed him. The unbearable ache in her chest held her in place.
Mrs. Turner came up beside her. “I... I thought you and Lord Jamie...”
“So did I.” Laura put the candles in the sun and left. She forced herself to walk, although all she wanted to do was run as far away as possible. Anyplace was better than here.
She slipped around the guard at the gate. Lost in the crowd of villagers leaving the castle, she let the flow carry her along. Voices buzzed around her. She didn’t hear anything. As soon as she was able, she left the path and headed for the forest. Alone. She needed to be by herself.
He looked down and caught a glimpse of her yellow shawl. He leaned over the battlement. Where was she going? He searched the crowd. Alone.
“What is it?” Sean came up next to him. “Isn’t that—”
“Laura.” Jamie raced down the tower stairs and into the throng of people. He pushed past everyone and worked past carts and wagons. At the bend he caught a flash of her shawl before she vanished into the forest.
What was she doing? He told her not to leave the castle without an escort.
Jamie found the impressions of her shoes in the soft ground and followed her trail deeper into the forest.
The Highlander’s English Woman (The Stelton Legacy) Page 14
