"If she lied about the rape, mayhap she lies about the true father of her child. Mayhap ye should more closely consider Sir Payton's claim that the child isnae his."
"Mayhap I should,” Cameron agreed softly, “but I cannae. I must accept Katherine's word on this. She is my sister. The bairn already rounds her shape. There is nay time to waste. She points her delicate finger at Sir Payton and I must act upon that claim or condemn my own sister to utter ruin."
"I was rather hoping Lady Katherine was lying about being with child,” Avery said as she sprawled on her back on the huge bed dominating the room she had been given.
"She is lying about everything else, though,” Gillyanne said as she sat down on the foot of the bed.
"I ken it. Payton is firm in denying the child is his, and the only way he could be so sure it isnae is because he ne'er bedded down with her. We ken Payton, so we have kenned that truth from the start. Cameron has ne'er e'en met my brother, doesnae ken him at all, and what he does ken of our family is only what he has learned from us. We cannae exactly be considered unbiased judges of Payton's character."
"But Cameron didnae e'en think it over. He greeted his sister and sent out his demands to Payton."
And that hurt, Avery mused as she struggled to bury her pain. Cameron had done exactly as he always said he would. That he could do it right in front of her was what hurt the most, but a small part of her could even understand that. He had just been presented with the proof that his unwed sister carried a child. It was hardly surprising that protecting the tender feelings of his lover had not been the first thing on his mind.
"Gilly, my love, his only sister grows round with a bastard child."
Gillyanne slumped against the bedpost. “It isnae fair. Payton will be made to accept a child which isnae his and, if Katherine bears a son, make it his heir. And ye and Cameron shall be parted. All because bonny Katherine spread her legs for some poor stable lad or the like, but wants our Payton for her husband."
"Ye could have put that a wee bit less crudely,” Avery murmured, but she completely understood Gillyanne's sense of outrage.
"Nay, I couldnae. Do ye think there is any way Payton could escape this marriage later?"
"There may be some way, but one shouldnae set any hope on that possibility. Katherine isnae a virgin, nor can there be any claim of consanguinity. And instinct tells me bonny Katherine wouldnae hesitate to hold to her lie e'en if made to swear to it upon holy relics."
"I got that feeling, too. She is ruthless."
"Aye, she is.” Avery sighed. “She will make poor Payton's life a complete misery. She might e'en drive him into another woman's arms, and though he may find love there, he will suffer o'er the breaking of his marriage vows. I think I could actually forgive her if she did this because she loved him, but she doesnae. I truly believe she acts out of stung pride and vanity. She just wants a bonny, rich husband, a husband other women will envy her for having."
A knock at the door broke the heavy silence that followed Avery's words. When Anne and Therese entered, Avery was only slightly disappointed that it was not Cameron. Still, it was probably for the best that some time passed before they spoke again. After Therese led Gillyanne away, Avery looked at the lovely gold and green gowns draped over Anne's arms.
"Are those for me?” she asked.
"Aye.” replied Anne as she laid the gowns out on the bed. “The laird thought ye might wish a fine gown for the feasting."
"Oh. There is to be a feast?"
"Aye, to celebrate our safe return. Ye will look so bonny in this gold one. They used to be Katherine's."
"Katherine is a wee bit larger than I am, Anne,” she briefly glanced down at her small breasts, “in many ways."
"Nay when she wore this."
"Please, dinnae tell me just how young she was at the time. I dinnae need my mood made any darker than it is."
Anne sighed, sat down beside Avery, and hugged her. “I heard what happened. The mon is a fool."
"Aye and nay.” Avery stood up and let Anne help her remove her gown. “He is a mon faced with an unwed sister carrying a child. If he doesnae get her a husband, she will be utterly ruined. The men in my family would act much the same. The only problem here is that Katherine is lying. A part of me thinks Cameron a bit of a fool for not being able to see that, but then, she is his sister."
"Ye were hoping he would find a way to solve this without sending ye home."
Avery nodded. “But in truth, I dinnae think I really believed she was with child. If Cameron e'en considered thinking o'er his plans or taking a wee while to be sure Katherine isnae lying, that wee round belly of hers stole all chance of it away."
"I notice he has put ye in the room next to his."
"Aye, with the verra big unlocked door between them. Nay verra subtle of him.” She looked at Anne after the woman finished helping her into the dark-gold gown. “Do ye think I should ... weel, lock that door?"
"I wouldnae. If I loved the mon, I would cling tightly right up until I was set upon my horse. Wheesht, I would love him so hard that, the first night he crawled into his empty bed, he would still be able to smell me there upon his sheets. And upon his skin, nay matter how hard he tried to scrub it away. Aye, I would do my best to make sure he couldnae forget me, nay for one minute of one day, until he came to his senses and brought me back."
Avery smiled. “That was my plan."
"Good. The gown is a near fit. A few stitches at the bosom and waist and ‘twill be perfect.” Anne tugged the gold gown off Avery and helped her into the green one. “'Tis the same with this. Ye shall have this one for the morrow."
When that gown was also removed and Anne sat down on the bed to immediately sew the dark-gold gown, Avery eyed her friend with growing suspicion. “Katherine is being surprisingly generous."
"Aye,” Anne muttered without looking up from her sewing. “I have several others that I will measure against the green. Ye will have some bonny, rich gowns to wear during your stay here."
"Anne, did Katherine truly give these gowns to me, or e'en lend them for my use?"
"Ye ken she didnae. She gave o'er one at her brother's command—a rather ugly brown thing. Weel, her maid showed me where the selfish child had all of the gowns she had outgrown packed away, and Therese and I helped ourselves. Gillyanne will be looking verra fine as weel."
"Which will be nice, but nay necessary."
"Oh, ‘tis necessary.” Anne looked at Avery. “Ye are a lady born as is wee Gilly. Ye will dress as the ladies ye are."
"To impress Katherine?"
"There is that."
"I dinnae think she would be impressed if I was draped head to foot in fine jewels."
"Nay, probably not, but at least her natural scorn will lack some bite if ye ken that ye are looking verra fine indeed."
Avery nodded in understanding. “'Tis armor to give me the strength to ignore any barbs about my appearance."
"And to make our laird remember just who and what ye are,” Anne said firmly. “Ye are a lady, a young lass of good blood whom he has bedded. He talks a fine show about saving his sister's good name. Weel, ‘tis time he recalled that ye have one, too."
"I dinnae want him coming to me out of a sense of honor, either mine or his. I want him to come after me because he cannae abide the aching for me for one more night, because he cannae abide walking through another day without me in it."
"Oh, he will certainly come after ye for that, lass. None of us who have traveled with ye, have watched the two of ye together, doubt that for a moment. But men are odd creatures.” She smiled briefly when Avery laughed. “They may recognize those other feelings, but hesitate to speak openly of them. They would act faster if they could hold up a good, monly sounding reason like doing the honorable thing. Then he can do as he wants to, grab ye back acting bold and daring in the doing of it, and have all the other men slapping him on the back and proclaiming him a fine lad. ‘Tis then up to the lass, when she and her mon
are alone, to get him to speak of more than how he so kindly did right by her."
"And what if that lass doesnae think there is any more than honor behind his actions?"
"Avery, I am sorry ye cannae see it and that, mayhap right now, neither can that fool lad, but, trust me, ‘tis there. If naught else, no mon could act like such a fool around a lass and nay have some deep feelings for her."
"So ye think that, if he comes after me, I shouldnae bristle and balk if all he speaks of is honor and duty? Ye think I should just beat my poor pride into silence and go along with him?” Avery sighed when Anne nodded. “Since I will be doing all the aching and the longing I want him to feel, I suppose I must."
"Aye, and once ye get him alone, take a stout cudgel to his stubborn pride until ye get him to spit out the words ye need to hear."
Avery laughed. “I will heed your advice, Anne. Now, with a plan set firmly in mind, all I need do is pray that despite all that will undoubtedly go wrong in the next few weeks, fate will be kind enough to set it all right again."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Nineteen
"They are alive?"
"Aye, Maman, and unhurt."
Payton smiled faintly as he watched his parents and his aunts and uncles. The women cried and hugged each other, then turned to the men for more hugs. The men fought to control their own emotions even as they dried their ladies’ tears. He was not surprised when everyone took extra time and care with his aunt Bethia. After what had happened to Sorcha, Payton had been astonished at how well Bethia had stood firm during this latest trouble, during weeks of not knowing the fate of yet another one of her daughters. It had to have felt like an unending torture to the woman, yet this was the first time he had seen his aunt Bethia anywhere near collapse. She was a tiny, sweet woman, but she was obviously a lot stronger than he had ever realized. This overabundance of emotion, however, made him glad he had left the two messengers with the soldiers and brought this news to his family himself.
"Where are they?” demanded his father.
"At Cairnmoor, in the care of one Sir Cameron MacAlpin,” replied Payton.
"Why did he not send them home?” asked his mother.
"Because he wants something for them."
"A ransom? How much does he want?” asked Sir Eric. “I dinnae favor giving into ransom demands, but"—he looked at his wife, Bethia's tightly clenched hands, picked them up in his, and brushed a kiss over them—"we will do anything to get our wee Gilly back."
"And your sister,” agreed Sir Nigel as he studied his son closely. “How much?"
"'Tis not a matter of how much, but of who,” Payton replied quietly.
"Who?” After a moment of frowning deeply, his mother's eyes widened. “MacAlpin. Merde, ‘tis that wretched girl, is it not?"
"Gisele, is there something ye have forgotten to tell me?” Nigel spoke calmly, but his anger was clear to see as he stared at his wife.
"Nay, Maman, let me explain,” said Payton. “The last time I was at court, there was a young lass who attempted to work her wiles on me. Since she was a maid of good family, brought there to find a husband, I did my best to avoid her. There were a few times when she forced me to make my reluctance a little clearer than I liked, and it was verra clear that she wasnae a lass used to being denied anything. Still, I returned here and felt that was the end of it. Then I received word from her guardian that she claimed I had raped her.” Payton held up his hand to silence the vociferous protests, although they pleased him. “He also demanded that I come to Cairnmoor immediately to marry the lass I had despoiled—one Lady Katherine MacAlpin."
Nigel cursed. “I begin to see our problem."
"My problem,” Payton said, and he hurried to continue his tale. “I replied that she was lying and dared the mon to bring on his witnesses who could claim otherwise."
"Not verra conciliatory."
"Nay, but I wasnae feeling too kindly toward the lass. Then came the claim that I had left the lass with child. I adamantly denied that, too. Weel, it went on for a while, then it all stopped. I had thought that the truth had finally come out and gave it little thought except to occasionally feel that I was due some apology.” Payton looked down at the letter he held. “It seems the lass's guardian was merely awaiting the arrival of her brother, Sir Cameron."
"And now Sir Cameron accuses ye of rape?"
"Some truth must have come out, for nay, he doesnae. Katherine does, however, still claim me as her lover and the father of her child. If I go to Cairnmoor and accept his sister as my bride, he will give us back Avery and Gillyanne."
"How did he get his hands on our lasses?"
"It seems he was in the service of one Sir Charles DeVeau.” Payton grinned briefly at the imaginative curse his mother spat out. “He refused to join the attack on the Lucettes and was preparing to leave, sick of the DeVeaux and France. Our lasses were handed o'er to him in payment for a gambling debt. He says there is more to the tale, but the lasses can have the telling of it when they return home."
"Confident bastard,” muttered Nigel.
"And why shouldnae he be? He holds the stoutest cudgel."
"Do ye think he would hurt the lasses?” asked Bethia.
"Nay,” replied Payton. “There is something in the way he writes, e'en to calling our Gillyanne ‘wee Gilly', that tells me he willnae hurt them. In truth, there is nary one threat against them here. Howbeit, he willnae return them either."
"Then mayhaps we should just go and take them back,” said Nigel, but there was the hint of a hesitation behind his bold words.
"I think that, it we start spilling the blood of his clan, he just may make those threats and mean them,” said Payton. “Nay, I will go to Cairnmoor."
Giselle reached across the table to grasp her son's hand. “But he will make you wed that woman and you do not love her. Your firstborn will not even be your own blood."
"True, but I cannae leave my sister and Gillyanne trapped there. And who is to say the threats will not come in time? Or that he may e'en take this trouble to the king? I will go. And just because I go, it doesnae mean I will end up marrying the lying wench. I might be able to pull the truth from her, but I cannae e'en do that if I stay here, can I? There is one other thing Sir Cameron mentions.” Payton looked at his uncle Balfour and aunt Maldie. “He says both Avery and Gillyanne have presented him with the verra strong possibility that he is wee Alan's father."
"Oh, dear,” murmured Maldie. “Elspeth will be both pleased and verra hurt."
"If he wants the boy—” Gisele began, but then she nervously bit her lip.
"Nay, Maman,” Payton said. “Sir Cameron asks that we nay make the bairn a part of this and deal with that matter separately and carefully. ‘Tis tempting to think on the possibility, for I dinnae want to marry Katherine. But to use Alan to gain my freedom, we would have to tear him from the arms of the only family he has ever known. I cannae do it. If Sir Cameron is Alan's father, they belong together, but for Alan's sake, it must be something done with the utmost care."
"I know. ‘Tis just, this marriage will be so wrong. It is based upon a lie and this Katherine sounds a most wretched girl."
Payton patted his mother's hand. “She is one of those who is bonny only on the outside, true enough. Dinnae fret. I can be most persuasive. I will get the truth out of her.” He slowly grinned. “And if I ken my sister and wee Gilly, they are already hard at work trying to ferret out that truth."
The moment that Avery and Gillyanne left the great hall, Cameron slumped in his seat and had a large drink of wine. His sister had left but moments before, and although he had the strong suspicion there was going to be a confrontation between the women, he was going to play the coward and stay out of it. Any time spent in the presence of all three women was a test of endurance. He was not about to put himself between them willingly. Let them sort it out, Cameron mused. He would just sit back and pray there was not too much blood spilled.
It had
only been a week since he had made his demand of Sir Payton, but Cameron decided it had been the longest week of his life. He could almost look forward to the man's arrival, which he felt would come in another day or two. Sir Payton's arrival would clear the battlefield the women had made of his home, but it would also mean the loss of Avery.
Who was playing her own games, he suddenly thought, frowning in the direction she had gone. Although he had put her in the room adjoining his, he would not have been surprised to find all the doors tightly barred against him. Instead, Avery welcomed him into her arms with a smile and all the passion any man could wish for. She was always dressed in a way that was a feast for the eyes; she acted as if nothing was wrong between them, as if the end of their affair were not looming on the horizon, and she was delightfully amorous, never refusing him no matter where he sought her out. It had to be some plot. He just could not figure out how it worked or what she could think to gain.
"Are those lasses driving ye to drink, then, lad?"
"'Tis a consideration, Iain,” he muttered, and he smiled faintly at the older man. “Each time we sit down to a meal, I expect them to leap at each other, slashing away viciously at each other with their eating knives."
Iain nodded. “Trying to eat with all that feminine fury in the air does wreak havoc on a mon's digestion."
"'Tis wearying."
"Aye, ye do look tired, lad."
Leargan laughed and shook his head. “'Tis nay just avoiding the raging war between the lasses making our laird tired. If he isnae running away from that, he is rolling about with—"
"Leargan,” Cameron growled, a little surprised that Leargan would say anything that was less than flattering about Avery.
"Ah, cousin, ye ken I would ne'er insult Avery. ‘Tis probably envy ye hear. I would give my fine warhorse for a lass as sweet and warm as she seems to be, one who is both willing and passionate. ‘Tis nay often ye can find a lass who truly enjoys the loving,” Leargan winked, “or so it sounded in the stables this afternoon.” He laughed along with Iain when Cameron blushed faintly.
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