His smile widened, though his gaze remained frigid. “The pleasure is mine, I assure ye.” He flicked his focus from her to Alex. “Ye should guard this one closely.”
Lena frowned at the veiled threat. She stole a look at Alex. His eyes had narrowed, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. “And why is that?” he asked, the calmness of his voice belying the tension radiating from him.
“She’s a beauty, quite obviously. And ye seem rather frosty toward her. She can find one here to provide her warmth,” Thomas finished with a chuckle.
Alex’s jaw twitched, and his hand curled tightly around his sword. Lena feared all was about to be lost. Clearing her throat, she said, “’Tis nae a secret that the MacLean did nae wish me for a wife.” She pouted at Alex, meeting his eye long enough that she hoped she conveyed the reassurance that she could handle herself. “I was beginning to fear I was nae any longer a comely lass, so I thank ye for the praise, my lord.”
Thomas removed his gaze from Alex long enough to wink at her. She clenched her teeth in disgust but forced a smile. Thomas was a very attractive man, but there was something in the depths of his gaze that was disconcerting.
“I’m happy to show ye just how beguiling ye are, my sweet—”
Alex’s sword was drawn and pointed at Thomas’s chest before Lena understood what was happening. And quicker than she could blink, both Alex’s and Thomas’s men had their swords at the ready.
“Alex!” she cried out, forgetting she was supposed to refer to him only as the MacLean to further the pretense that they were not close. Her fear for his life, however, had taken precedence.
Without looking her way, he held up his hand, palm toward her. “Keep silent, woman.”
She knew he was playing his part of the uncaring husband, but he played it so well that a sharp pain stabbed her gut.
“Such poor manners, MacLean,” Thomas said easily enough. To his men, he said, “Stand down. The MacLean would nae draw my blood. We have kenned each other since we were both but lads. Is it nae so, MacLean?”
“I kenned ye as a lad,” Alex agreed, without moving the point of his sword from Thomas’s chest, “but I dunnae ken ye now. While I may nae care for my wife, she is my property, and I’m nae a sharing man. In truth, ye might say I’m rather stingy and would feel inclined to kill anyone who dared touch what I own. And dunnae mistake that I own my wife.”
Alex’s words made her wince and her cheeks heat with embarrassment, even though she knew he did not truly feel them.
Thomas held his palms up to Alex. “Forgive me. She seemed free to comfort, but I see clearly now that nae even for an old friend would ye share yer wife.” Before Alex could respond, Thomas locked his gaze on Lena once more and asked, “Did yer husband nae ever mention my name?”
Wave after wave of uneasiness ripped through Lena, but she forced herself to shake her head. “Nay, my lord,” she lied, her gut telling her this was the Thomas of Alex’s tortured dreams.
Thomas scratched at his beard as he stared thoughtfully at Alex. “So ye dunnae speak of our shared past?”
“Nay.” Alex’s answer was a frigid blast.
Thomas nodded. “I dunnae, either, of course, though my past is unavoidably kenned by some. Yers is shrouded in mystery, even still. But I can guess,” he said, the words almost taunting.
Alex’s face was expressionless. “I tire of yer banter, Thomas. I’m here to see the Steward.”
“Ah, right.” Thomas tapped Alex’s sword with his fingernail. “Might ye move this?”
“I might,” Alex replied, leaving the sword where it was, “as long as ye ken nae to touch my wife.”
“Ye have been quite clear. She is yer property.” Thomas nodded to the sword. “If ye please?”
Slowly, Alex brought his sword down to his side. “Where is the Steward?”
“In the great hall,” Thomas replied. “He’s quite eager to hear what ye have to say, but he sent me to greet ye and warn ye that if ye betray him, he’ll have yer head and those of yer party. Dunnae fash yerself about yer wife’s head, though. If ye betray the Steward, I’ll gladly make yer wife my own. I’m in need of a bonny bride.”
Lena had to clench her jaw to keep from spouting nasty words at Thomas, but when he turned his attention to her again, she forced another smile and prayed it looked enticing and not murderous. “Tell me, Lena—Ah, may I call ye Lena?”
She nodded, praying Alex would not kill Thomas here and now.
“Are ye with bairn?” he asked.
She was too startled by his blunt question to immediately answer. Beside her, she saw Alex’s sword start to rise once more, but Thomas waved a hand at Alex. “Dunnae take offense, MacLean. ’Tis just that Lena did nae provide an heir for her Campbell husband, and I am simply curious if she is able to bear children.”
Her own fears rose up to nearly choke her, but she heard herself say, “Dunnae fash yerself about my ability to bear sons, my lord. ’Tis the cold husbands I have been forced to wed that are the problem, nae me.”
Thomas chuckled at that. “I like yer spirit.”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “And I admire yer lack of concern for yer head. If ye continue this line of questioning, I fear my husband may lop it off yer body. It’s verra braw of ye.”
Thomas smirked. “I do try, Lena. There was a time I did nae feel so braw, but then I took hold of my fate.” His gaze trailed to Alex once more, and Lena got the distinct impression that Thomas was speaking in riddles purposely but that Alex understood the man’s meaning.
“Enough, Thomas. Take me to the Steward and have one of yer women show my wife and my men to their quarters.”
“I suppose I must, as the Steward is waiting. Lena, vow to me ye’ll save me a dance tonight.”
“I will,” she replied quickly before Alex could deny Thomas’s request. She avoided Alex’s gaze, though she could feel the heat of his anger directed at her. When he started away with Thomas, Alex turned to her briefly, his intense look impaling her.
“Remember yer vow, Wife.”
She nodded, as Broch and Donald flanked her, clearly recalling their own.
Sixteen
Lena was going to be the death of him. Alex gripped the reins of his horse, struggling to maintain control over his emotions. His fragile wife had become a bold warrior in her heart, and though her transformation made him happy, in this moment it concerned him more than anything. She was treading in dangerous waters. But he could not linger on the problem Lena presented now. He had to focus on the Steward and his vow to the king.
He turned to look at the man riding beside him, only to find Thomas staring at him. It had been nearly sixteen summers since they had seen each other. “Why are ye here?” Alex asked.
“I serve the Steward,” Thomas said easily.
It occurred to Alex in that moment that if Thomas served the Steward, then his father, Laird Fraser, had to be one of the unknown traitors.
“How did ye come to serve the Steward?” Alex asked.
“After the incident with Gillis, I asked the Steward to allow me to stay. Ye had already left with yer da.”
Alex had a thousand questions, but he kept his silence, allowing Thomas to talk.
Thomas stopped his horse and held Alex’s gaze. This man was not the same boy Alex had once called a friend. He could see it in the remoteness of Thomas’s eyes. It was as if a light had been extinguished. “It seems the Steward had grown tired of the problems Gillis caused him, but he’d nae found a good way to rid himself of his brother without incurring the wrath of his brother’s men. He was well pleased that I’d done him the favor, yet he was nae sure he could permit the young lad who had killed his brother to keep his head and still ensure the men were fearful of him. It did nae take him long to decide he wished to use me, to make me into a weapon. He made sure all kenned what his brother had done to me so they would give me their pity and ken why the Steward had allowed me to live.”
Alex winced at the
shame it had to have caused Thomas. “Thomas—”
“I dunnae need yer sympathy,” he growled, his voice low but intensely harsh. “I lived through Gillis and through the shame. I sculpted myself into a warrior whom others fear. I have been betrayed and abandoned by friends and by family, but everything I endured made me strong. Fear me, MacLean, as ye should, for I have nae forgotten.”
Alex had lived so long with the guilt of not having prevented Gillis from getting his evil hands on Thomas that he took what Thomas said to him as his due punishment. The words the man had spoken to Lena earlier and his antagonistic demeanor had told Alex that Thomas was holding a grudge, and the man was right to do so.
“Thomas,” Alex said, even as he moved his hand to the hilt of his sword, “I should nae have left, but my da—”
“I want vengeance,” Thomas interrupted.
Alex swallowed the apology, sensing it would only anger Thomas in this moment. Alex nodded. “I can see that. I can even ken—”
“I kinnae take yer life presently,” Thomas interrupted again. “The Steward has hope that ye are truly joining his forces, but if ye prove yerself false, then ye have been given fair warning that I will be coming for ye.”
Alex inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I ken, but the Steward is correct that I am here to join his cause.”
“Then by all means,” Thomas said, sweeping his hand forward, “let us nae keep him waiting.”
“Who is this?” a dark-haired woman demanded as she moved to block Lena’s path across the great hall to the stairs that led to the bedchambers. Marsaili stiffened beside Lena, but Lena placed her hand on her half sister’s arm. Behind them, Broch and Donald grunted in unison, but Lena turned and gave them both quick looks that she prayed conveyed her wish to address the problem herself.
The servant who had been sent to see them to their bedchambers bobbed a curtsy. “My lady, Euphemia, this be Lady Lena MacLean.”
The woman’s dark brows drew together, and her jade eyes narrowed. “MacLean? Ye are a member of the MacLean clan, and ye are here?”
Lena narrowed her own eyes. “Aye. I have accompanied my husband.”
“And who might that be?” the woman demanded, raising a heavily bejeweled hand to toss her long, flowing hair over her shoulder while raking her gaze down Lena’s gown, then back to her face with a contemptuous look. Lena was suddenly acutely aware of the state of her appearance. Not only had she purposely chosen an older gown to wear for travel but she had not donned any jewelry. And her hair! She started to raise her hand to set her hair to order, but she noted the woman watching her every move, so instead, she pressed her palm against her leg.
“I asked ye a question, girl,” the woman snarled.
Lena drew back her shoulders. “I’m aware, but I dunnae feel particularly inclined to simper to the demands of a rude stranger. Who might ye be beyond Lady Euphemia?”
“I’m the lady of this castle,” the woman said, her tone frosty. “I am Euphemia de Ross, wife of Robert Stewart, Seventh High Steward of Scotland.”
Behind her, Donald cleared his throat. “Lady Euphemia was wife to the Steward’s brother, Gillis, before she married the Steward.”
Gillis!
Lena tensed at the name. Alex had apprenticed with the Steward’s brother, Gillis, and the man had left such horrible scars on Alex’s back.
Lady Euphemia arched her eyebrows, scowling at Donald while she spoke. “I’m certain ye ken I married Robert after Gillis died.”
“We ken it,” Broch commented. “All of Scotland kens it, and we all kenned that the Pope did nae like ye marrying one brother after the other.”
“Well, we are married, so that shows ye the Pope’s power compared to the Steward’s.” She flashed a barbed smile, then turned her daggered gaze back to Lena. “Now that ye have my marital history, I propose ye start by telling me yer full name and then simpering when I demand why ye are in my home. Unless, of course, ye wish me to remove ye from the castle.”
If the lady didn’t curb her nasty tongue, Lena thought she might slap her. She clenched and unclenched her jaw while taking and holding a deep breath. When a measure of calm returned to her, she said, “I dunnae simper for any man or woman, whether ye are the wife of the Steward or nae. I give my fealty and respect only to those who have earned it, and ye, Lady Euphemia, have a long road to travel before ye could earn either, if ever. Now step aside. My husband is laird of the MacLean clan, and surely, yer husband would nae be pleased to hear ye were so verra inhospitable to me.”
“That kinnae be!” the woman gasped, looking as if she was barely in control of her raw emotions.
Lena frowned. “What kinnae be?”
“Ye—” Euphemia pointed an accusatory finger at Lena “—kinnae be wed to Alex!”
Alex?
Unease rippled through Lena. Why would this nasty woman use Alex’s name so familiarly? It was as if she thought she had a right to, as if they had an intimate connection.
“I assure ye I am,” Lena ground out.
“She is,” Marsaili said.
“Aye,” came a chorus of agreement from Broch and Donald.
“Where is he?” the woman murmured, her gaze leaving Lena to sweep the room. The eager, hopeful light that now shone in the woman’s eyes made Lena’s gut flip. “Where is he?” Euphemia demanded now, desperation dancing on the edge of her tone. She locked her gaze on Lena. “I must see him! I kinnae believe he would marry ye! He did nae—He always said he—Tell me where he is!”
Lena fought the jealousy that had sprung up inside her along with the disquiet. There was no doubt in her mind Alex had once had some sort of relationship with this woman, and based on her frenzied need to see him, Euphemia clearly had not been the one to sever their ties. “I’d love to wash the grime of travel from me before supper.”
When the woman didn’t budge, Broch stepped to Lena’s side. “I can help ye move if ye need aid, Lady Euphemia.”
Her lips pressed together, and then she stepped aside, not speaking as Lena, Marsaili, Broch, and Donald continued on after the servant. No one spoke as they moved up the stairs and to the bedchambers, but Lena’s mind raced through all that had happened since they had arrived. First, she had met the Thomas of Alex’s nightmares. Alex had said previously that he had grievously failed Thomas, and it seemed quite obvious to her that Thomas held the same belief. He seemed to hate Alex. She shivered thinking of the man.
Her mind turned to Euphemia. Who had she been to Alex? And how had she been anyone to him if she had been married to Gillis before marrying the Steward?
The second after the servant had shown them all their bedchambers and departed Lena’s, Lena turned to Donald, who’d insisted on standing guard at her door with Broch. “Tell me what ye ken of Gillis Steward and Alex’s time as his apprentice, and tell me what ye ken of Alex’s relationship with Gillis’s wife.”
Donald gave her a distinctly uneasy look. He scrubbed a hand over his face before answering. “Alex was sent to Gillis as a lad to apprentice, as many future lairds were.”
Lena grunted. “I already ken that.” She also knew that Gillis had thrashed Alex something fierce, but she was missing something more, she was certain. Yet, she had to be careful not to reveal what she did know in case Alex had not shared it with Donald. “What sort of mentor was Gillis to his apprentices?”
“I could nae say,” Donald said, his words stiff.
The man was lying! She crossed her arms over her chest. She wanted to accuse him of it, but she knew by the stubborn tilt of his chin that it would do no good. His fealty was completely to Alex.
“How did Gillis die?” she asked.
“I dunnae rightly ken the particulars,” the man hedged.
“Then give me a general sense of it,” she snapped. “Did a tree fall on him? Was he stabbed, beheaded, strangled?”
“I believe he was stabbed,” Donald murmured.
Now she was making progress! “Do ye ken by whom?”
Donald shifted from foot to foot. “I kinnae say that I do.”
“Ye kinnae say, or ye will nae say?” She scowled at the man until he looked at his feet.
“I will nae,” he finally admitted as he looked up. “These are questions for yer husband.”
She inhaled sharply. “He will nae give me any answers.”
“Certainly ye ken the position ye put me in by asking me to tell ye things my laird dunnae wish ye to ken.”
Her shoulders slumped as she nodded. “What of Lady Euphemia?” she asked, unable to keep the words in, though she had no hope that Donald would provide answers.
“My lady—” he started, then stopped, giving her a helpless look.
“Oh, just leave me,” she grumbled, irritated that he would not aid her but also glad of his unwavering fealty to Alex. “I am trying to help Alex,” she said to Donald’s back as the man exited the bedchamber.
He turned slowly toward her. “I ken it, my lady, and I pray that ye succeed. Broch?” Donald looked to the man. “Are ye coming?”
Broch nodded. “Momentarily. I have word of the MacLeod clan to share with Lena.”
Donald nodded and departed the room, shutting the door behind him. Lena and Marsaili both turned to Broch. “What is it?” Lena asked.
“Is all well?” Marsaili demanded.
“I’m certain it is,” he replied. “In truth, I dunnae have anything to impart about our clan, but I do ken a bit about what ye were asking Donald. And as my fealty is to ye and nae to yer husband, I dunnae have the same qualms about sharing what I ken.”
Lena detected lingering animosity toward Alex in Broch’s tone, but she understood it was born out of concern for her and Marsaili. Once Alex had agreed to allow her to journey with him to the Steward’s home, he also had been forced to reveal the king’s assignment to Broch. It was too dangerous not to share the truth with him. If Broch had continued to think Alex a traitor, he could have attempted to take Lena and Marsaili and return them to Dunvegan with the misguided belief that he was protecting them. It would have been one matter for Broch to simply flee to Dunvegan and tell Iain that Alex was a traitor, but it was an entirely different matter that Broch might go to different lengths to save Lena.
When a Warrior Woos a Lass Page 19
