Sethwick gave one crisp nod. “I do, but can we discuss this,” he made a sweeping gesture that included Roark and Adaira, “later? There’s a much more critical matter at hand.”
He turned his piercing gaze on his sister. “Go to your chamber and stay there.”
She huffed out a breath, tilting her chin defiantly. “But, Ewan, I don’t. . .”
“Cease!” The expression on Sir Hugh’s face was a mixture of anger and worry. “Have ye no idea the seriousness of what ye’ve done?”
He tossed a glance to his wife. Lady Ferguson continued to stare at her daughter in disbelief.
“Yer mother and I will speak with ye later. Go to your bedchamber and stay there. Ye are not to leave it.” Giving his wife a swift hug, he moved toward the exit.
“Yes, Father.” Ducking her head, Adaira made to escape as well. She tugged against Roark’s hand still holding her arm.
He wouldn’t release his grip. “Miss Ferguson?”
She raised her gaze to his, a question in her doe-like eyes.
“This isn’t over,” he murmured for her ears alone.
Her eyes darkened and rounded wide as the center of sunflowers. The green-gold shards glittered. In fear? The color drained from her face, the freckles smattered across her nose and cheeks vivid against her pale skin.
“But . . . but . . . you wouldn’t dare—” She darted a glance at the others and swallowed. Her voice a rasping wisp of a sound she added, “spank me.”
He smiled a wholly self-righteous smile. “Wouldn’t I?”
She shook her head.
He bent his neck a fraction, and his breath caressed her ear. “Who was your accomplice?”
“Miss Adaira,” Maisey huffed as she hurried into Adaira’s chamber carrying a tray. “I rushed here to tell ye the good news. Lady McTavish is safe, praise be! That’s why yer dinner be so late.”
Late? It was half past eleven. Adaira assumed her punishment included going to bed without eating.
Maisey set the tray on the table with a thump. The dishes rattled and clinked together. She grinned sheepishly. “Sorry about that. The laird and clansmen have returned. She’s with them.”
Hearing a commotion in the bailey hours ago, Adaira had looked out a window. Her eyes misted in relief. The torches held by several mounted clansmen revealed Yvette sitting before Ewan on his horse, wrapped safely in his arms.
Adaira closed the book in her lap. Worry kept her from reading a single page. “How is she?”
“She be very shaken but unharmed, except for a wicked knot on her head. The laird found her in the bogs. Praise the saints she didn’t fall in.”
“Did they capture Edgar Marquardt too?” One could count on the servant’s tattle to know what was happening in the keep. Adaira had seen a dark-haired man surrounded by burly Scots being escorted to the gatehouse. She dragged her thumbnail back and forth across the closed pages of the volume.
“Aye, Laird McTavish nabbed him.” Maisey said with satisfaction. “He’s being kept in one of the guest chambers on the third floor. Under guard, too.”
“As he should be. He’s a dangerous man.” Adaira set the book aside.
“Och, that he is. Me heart aches for the earl, it does. He found out tonight his brother poisoned their mother. Poor man.” Maisey turned back Adaira’s bed coverings. After smoothing the counterpane, she toddled to the wardrobe.
Adaira gaped at the maid. The earl hadn’t known?
It made sense. He’d been in England when his mother and stepfather died in America. After a two year absence to expand Gideon Stapleton’s shipping enterprises, Yvette and her parents were preparing to return to England. Lord Clarendon hadn’t seen Yvette since she returned.
Her arrival at Craiglocky had been secretive. After her parents’ sudden death and Edgar had tried to abduct her, she’d fled Boston in the middle of the night. She’d been so terrified of Edgar, no one but her cousins, Lord and Lady Warrick, had known she was coming.
Adaira wished she might see the younger Marquardt in person. Did his wickedness show in his appearance, or was he as handsome as the earl? Her stomach reacted to the notion with a most uncomfortable quivering. She’d felt that way once before, when Mother had insisted she drink whisky-laced hot possets after coming down with a beastly cold.
“Maisey, what of Aubry? Wasn’t she with Yvette?” What would Ewan do with that traitor? Adaira rather hoped Aubry would see the inside of Newgate.
Maisey shook her head and clucked her tongue. “Nae, she wasn’t. I don’t have the whole of it, but there be something about her delivering Lady McTavish to spies, and then the banshee fled the keep with Campbell, the blackguard.”
Her face flushed with agitation, she ducked her head. “I’m sorry, Miss Adaira. I be speaking out of turn.”
Adaira waved away the apology. “Not at all. The circumstances have been distressing for us all.” She wrapped a curl behind her ear. “You said spies. Didn’t they capture the others?”
Maisey paused. Bringing her hand to her chin, she rubbed it, scrunching her eyes in thought. “Nae. I heard Sorcha saying Laird McTavish found two dead, a man and a woman, in one of the cottages.”
She dropped her hand. “It’s queer too. Edgar Marquardt, shot them. He’s the one who saved her ladyship from the spies.”
Adaira tilted her head to the side and drew her brows together. That didn’t make any sense. “Are you sure?”
Drat, she needed to talk to Yvette or Ewan. There must be someone who could tell her the truth of the matter.
“It’s baffling, to be sure, but that’s what Sorcha said, Miss Adaira.”
And Sorcha usually had the right of it.
Maisey bustled around setting the meal on the table. “I fear it’s mutton tonight, and tough from sitting so long.”
She offered an apologetic smile.
Adaira eyed the silver plate topper. She barely tolerated mutton. Blasphemy for a Scot. She sighed. At least it wasn’t trout.
Maisey set the serviette and utensils beside the covered plate. “There are some lovely seasoned tatties. Baby carrots, cheese, and rolls too. Oh, and bread pudding.”
Adaira wandered to the table. She hadn’t much of an appetite. A knotted mass had replaced her belly. Yvette’s return and Marquardt’s capture dispensed a good portion of Adaira’s disquiet. However, his lordship’s question about her accomplice continued to relentlessly churn her innards.
She sank into a chair, then poured herself a cup of tea. Steamy tendrils drifted upward from the hot liquid. Adaira placed a hand on her stomach and released a sigh. A long soak before she retired might be just the thing to ease her taut nerves. “Maisey, will you have a bath prepared for me, please?”
“Aye, miss. I’ll see to it while ye eat. Ye want it brought up straightaway?”
“Yes, please. It’s very late already.” Adaira poured cream into the tea before adding two lumps of sugar. Lifting the silver spoon, she stirred the brew.
Maisey turned to go, then stopped abruptly, slapping a hand to her forehead. “Ach, I almost forgot. Jocky told Niall to tell me to tell ye that Vala be foaling tonight.”
She sucked in a deep breath and rattled on. “He says all the indications be present. Lifting her hand, she ticked them off, finger by finger. “She’s twitching her tail, pacing in her stall, and stamping her feet.”
“Tonight?” Adaira sat bolt upright, dropping the spoon against the fragile china with a loud clink.
Jumping from her chair, she rushed to her desk and quickly penned a note. Folding the paper, she extended it to the maid.
“Please deliver this to Father immediately.”
Excitement in her eyes, Maisey grabbed the note. After tucking it into her apron pocket, she dashed out the door. A smile twitched the
edges of Adaira’s mouth at the unmistakable sound of the maid running pell-mell down the corridor.
Adaira returned to the table and after inspecting the eggshell thin blue rose teacup for cracks, took her seat once again. Sipping the tea and nibbling a roll did seem to help settle her stomach.
Five minutes later, someone knocked at her bedchamber. Opening the door, she gave her father a wary smile. “You received my message?”
“Aye.” He stepped further into her room. She didn’t remember the last time he’d been in her chamber. It seemed to shrink around his great size.
She laid a hand on his arm. “Please let me go to Vala. This is her first foal. She needs me.”
Though Vala was a large horse, Adaira wanted to be present in case there were complications. More than once, she and Niall had needed to assist with one of the mares’ birthings.
Her usually jovial father stood in the center of her room, more somber than she’d ever remembered him. He shook his head, the thick mane of his too long black hair brushing the collar of his shirt. Worry glimmered in his serious gaze.
“Nae, lass. Ye will stay here,” he skimmed the room with his gaze, “until Ewan and I can meet with the earl.”
His broad shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “Clarendon be very angry and rightly so.” Father rubbed his forehead with his great paw of a hand. His troubled cinnamon eyes met hers. “This is serious. Ye are a Scot. Ye imprisoned an English nobleman. He could bring charges against ye, lass.”
“I know,” Adaira whispered. What if he did? She could hang.
Her father shook his head again. “I don’t even want to think about what could happen to ye if the Regent or some other English peer gets wind of it. The English always want to teach us Scots a lesson. We’re hoping, now that Ewan is the earl’s brother-in-law, his lordship will be lenient with you.”
Adaira stretched out her hands, imploring. “It’s not like I tortured him. He was well-cared for.”
Except for that ghastly business with the rats.
“And I was trying to protect Yvette. Surely you. . .” she pulled in a steadying breath, “he understands that.”
“Lord Clarendon’s not a man to be trifled with. He’s a very powerful lord with a strong,” her father paused and shook his head, “nay an unyielding, sense of justice.”
Father moved to the doorway. “Stay in yer chamber, ye hear me?” He pointed a large finger at her. “I don’t want the earl to see ye before we can reason with the man. I’ll lock ye in here if need be, daughter.”
Stepping into the corridor, his serious gaze bored into hers. “Your mother and I be very disappointed with ye.”
A wave of remorse engulfed her. Adaira’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.”
Her voice shook. She wrapped her arms around her middle to still her trembling. Father extended his arms, and she ran into them, desperately needing his reassurance. She was terrified wondering what the earl would do. Her father’s soothing embrace eased her tremors but did nothing to lessen her fears.
Resting her head against his comforting chest she asked, “Can you ask Niall to tend Vala? He’s helped with the last several births.”
Thank God for the blacksmith. Strong as an ox, he was also gentle as a lamb.
“Aye, lass.” Father’s voice was gruff with emotion. He patted her back, then released her. “See that ye remain here.”
“I will, I promise.”
She had fully intended to keep her word, too.
CHAPTER 12
A short while later, Maisey poured a draught of lily scented oil into a copper tub in Adaira’s bedchamber. Maisey swirled the water with her hand.
“Ye’ll be pleased with this foal, miss. Niall says it must be very big. The mare’s having to work to birth her babe.”
Adaira paused in piling her hair atop her head. “Vala’s struggling?”
“Aye, but Niall says yer not to worry. He has help.”
Help? Who?
Adaira secured a couple more pins. She glanced at the window facing the stables. This wasn’t good. She swallowed, forcing herself to remain calm. “How long has she been in labor?”
Births were usually swift. Delays could be deadly.
Maisey shrugged. “Not that long. Niall says she’ll deliver soon.”
Soon? What if a hoof was stuck? What if the foal was breech? What if . . . what if the baby was just too big? Adaira had been so careful to select the largest mares to breed with Fionn. She’d reduced Vala’s feed to make sure the foal would be smaller during the last month. Still. . .
Adaira had to find out what was happening. But she’d sworn she’d not leave her room. Hurrying to the window, she nudged the heavy drapes aside. There was little to see in the deepening night. Thousands of glittering moonbeams glistened on the loch’s surface. Light blazed from the stable’s open doors and windows, beckoning her. Dash it all.
“Maisey, I’ll not need you to stay.” Adaira turned her head and offered the maid a wobbly smile. “This day has been fraught with emotion. I need some time alone.”
The catch in her voice and the moisture pooling in her eyes were real. She’d jailed an earl and created an enormous bumblebroth. Yvette had been abducted. Now, Vala was foaling without her. And the mare obviously needed her.
Adaira was on the verge of caterwauling like a wee bairn.
“Ye’ve had a time of it today, that ye have,” Maisey agreed. She efficiently gathered the remnants of Adaira’s dinner. “Ye didn’t eat much.”
“I know. I’ve much on my mind, and my stomach’s unsettled.”
The maid smiled on her way out the door. “I’ll bring you a hearty meal to break your fast in the morn. Sleep well, Miss Adaira.”
Though she thought she might go mad from the wait, Adaira delayed ten minutes before daring to open her door and peek into the hallway.
Silence.
Boots in hand, she hurried along the corridor, listening for the slightest sound. Muted snores penetrated two doors she slipped by. Tiptoeing down the front staircase, she nibbled her lower lip. She couldn’t take the time to use the back stairs into the kitchen. The stables were much closer if she exited through the gatehouse.
She sent up a silent prayer that she’d not encounter anyone.
The castle was silent as she made her way below. At least five and seven people lived here, but it appeared everyone was nestled in their beds already. An odd sense of loneliness permeated the keep.
The monstrous front entry whisked open and closed with nary a sound as Adaira slipped into the cool night air. She donned her boots, furtively watching the bailey for anybody that might be wandering about. Except for shadows contorted by a soft breeze, nothing moved.
Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, her breath caught. A meager light shone through a crack in the drapes covering the window of Ewan’s study. Raising her gaze, she spied two more lit rooms, one directly above the other. Not family chambers. It seemed neither Marquardt brother could sleep.
A guard on watch lifted his hand in a casual wave. Adaira waved back. No sense raising his suspicion. It wasn’t unusual for her to visit the stables at night. She squinted into the darkness. No light glimmered in the blacksmith’s cottage on the far side of the courtyard, but a dim glow filtered from an open stable door.
She descended the stairs on silent feet. Sticking to the shadows, she dashed to the stables. No one had sent further information about Vala. Most vexing. All Adaira knew was what Maisey had told her over a half an hour ago.
Mares generally delivered in under an hour. Was Niall still with the mare? Adaira prayed Vala wasn’t yet in labor. It didn’t bode well if she was. Adaira slowed her pace just outside the west end of the stables. Apprehension gripped her. What if there’d been no word because something awful had occ
urred?
As she’d ordered for the past several evenings, the twin doors stood open to allow the chill of the night to cool the livestock. The days had been beastly hot, the heat lingering long into the night hours.
Adaira cast a worried glance at the keep. The study light had been extinguished. She’d sworn to stay in her room and couldn’t bear to add to her mother’s and father’s disappointment. Her impulsive actions had brought shame upon the entire family this time. When the earl announced he’d been imprisoned, the matching expressions of hurt disbelief on her parents’ faces had wrenched her heart wide open.
The Earl's Enticement (Castle Bride Series) Page 11
