“We wait to see if there is any response. In the meantime, we should see to the needs of the Lady Lochlaigh’s most honored guest.”
“You expect me to show him civility?”
“’Twould not do any harm. Were you to demonstrate some courtesy toward him, charm him with your wit and intelligence, when he’s faced with interviewing the glum lot we’ve invited he may take pity on you. The plan is for him to become even more discriminating in his selection than he’d originally intended to be. Not only would he consider James and the Crown, but he’d consider your desires as well. ’Tis worth a try.”
“But we already know he’ll not find a loyal one in the bunch.”
“True, but mind you, in his eagerness to return to his precious England, he might pick the one who comes closest to James’s mark. We want to prevent that from happening. Therefore, he must be made to see that none of these men are well suited to the endearing Lady Lochlaigh. Although unaware of his motives, he’ll dismiss them all.”
Leniency. The word spun through her head. Her guardian had suggested the same himself. Much as it pained her to show him the least bit of kindness, it seemed she had no other alternative. She’d try anything, so long as it kept him from choosing her a mate. “I’ll attempt it, Devin. But I refuse to be too amicable. Knowing my feelings for him, he would quickly perceive it for what it is—another trick.”
Having gained the castle’s upper floor, Chandra set a course for her guardian’s room. Winded from the climb, Devin followed at a slower pace.
Standing before the portal to his austere quarters, she squared her slender shoulders; her fist rose and struck the wood. Footsteps were heard coming toward the door, then the panel opened. “The letters have been sent,” she told Aleck, her chin high. His height intimidated her, but she withheld any sign that it did. “The last courier left only minutes ago.”
“Thank you for informing me.” He marked that she stood rigidly, hands clasped at her waist, fingers stained with ink. “I know I had said I wanted the first of your suitors to arrive by next week, but I had not expected such swift compliance, especially from the one who insisted she would not be made to wed.” He glanced at Devin, who was passing behind Chandra. Briefly he noted that the man wobbled on his feet and his breath wheezed in his chest. Devin withdrew from his sight, and Aleck’s attention again centered itself on his ward. “Have you suddenly changed your mind?”
“Never!” she snapped, forgetting her need for courtesy. “You ordered it done, and so it is.”
“I’m gladdened by the news,” he said, crossing his arms over his solid chest, his muscular shoulder leaning against the door’s casing. Only moments ago, he’d watched from his window as his ward and her cousin made their way across the yard. Heads together, they seemed to be devising a plan. Studying her, he cocked his head. “But why is it I feel you’ve grown a bit too eager to see this thing through?”
Chandra noticed the wry smile on his face. “Eager?” she questioned, wondering if he’d somehow discovered their deception. “You are mistaken, Lord Montbourne,” she said after surveying him closely, deciding he was by nature suspicious. “If there appears to be any eagerness on my part, it is because I have other matters that concern me. They pertain to my position as head of the clan. With the letters written and sent on their way, I am now free to attend to them. If you will excuse me, I—”
From the corner of her eye, she saw her cousin collapse against the wall just outside his chamber door down the hallway. He fought to get inside his room, then nearly fell through the opening when the panel was freed, to disappear from sight. The sound of violent coughing fired into the corridor.
“Devin?” she cried, and ran toward his chamber.
The frightened tone of her voice set Aleck into action; he sprinted after her. By the time the two reached Devin’s door, silence met their ears. Through the opening, Aleck caught sight of Devin who was leaning over a small table, a basin atop it. His face was colored a dark red, verging on purple; it was obvious that he was unable to breathe.
Brushing past Chandra, who stood frozen in the doorway, Aleck quickly strode toward her cousin. His fist hit the younger man’s back—once, twice. With the last blow, the copious amount of mucus that had clogged Devin’s throat expelled itself. Hearing the air rush into the younger man’s lungs, Aleck frowned. There was blood in the basin, and he grasped how ill Chandra’s cousin really was.
“Devin?” Chandra questioned, her feet now carrying her toward him.
“Keep her from me,” Devin pleaded with Aleck on a rasp, his face turned from the Englishman. “Do not let her see.” Then he tried to push himself from the table, intent on making it to his bed, but his strength failed him.
Cognizant of the man’s weakened state, knowing his ward was almost beside them, Aleck lifted Devin in his arms. Turning around, he stood between Chandra and the basin, blocking her view. He nodded toward the bed. “Throw back the covers,” he said. She rushed to do his bidding, and Aleck carried Devin’s slight weight across the room. “You have my gratitude, Sassenach,” Aleck heard Devin say as he lowered him onto the mattress.
Aleck straightened, and his gaze connected briefly with Devin’s. An acceptance of his fate was written in the depths of the younger man’s eyes. Any spark of concern was meant for Chandra. Then Aleck fathomed how very much Devin loved her, not just as a close relative, but also as a man.
Pity welled inside him, as did another emotion, though he could not put a name to it. Watching the gentle care being given the man—Chandra propping pillows behind his head, her hand softly stroking his damp brow—Aleck understood how strong their relationship truly was. Never having formed such a tight bond with anyone himself—at least, not since childhood—Aleck thought what he felt was a twinge of envy, but without the usual spite or malice. Then again, the odd sensation might have been caused by the knowledge that Devin would soon succumb. Death, he decided, was such a waste.
As he regarded his ward’s perfect profile, her flaming hair loose and tumbling down around her slim shoulders, caressing the length of her back, he knew her grief would be great, and his heart ached. A vital need to protect her surged through him; the strength of the emotion stunned him. Turning away, he moved toward the small table, a bewildered frown marring his brow. Not finding a place to dispose of the bloody mucus, which attested to the seriousness of Devin’s illness, he draped a cloth over the basin.
Aleck eased back around to survey Chandra again. She was no fool, he thought, wondering why he’d taken such measures to hide the evidence. By the way she had run toward her cousin’s room, by the look on her face when they had entered, by the way she fawned over him now, Aleck knew she was aware that it was far worse than her cousin had let on. He sympathized with her, but none of this really concerned him. By month’s end, he would be gone, his ward wedded, his duty fulfilled. So why did he suddenly feel as though he were about to suffer a heavy loss of his own?
Growing angry over the mix of emotions teeming inside him, Aleck stalked to the foot of the bed. “Should I summon someone to assist you?” Her eyes met his, and Aleck was momentarily entranced. “If not,” he said, forcing himself to look away, “I shall return to my quarters.”
“I will care for him, alone.” He nodded and headed toward the door; Chandra followed, stopping him as he stepped into the corridor. “Thank you for acting so swiftly. You saved his life,” she said, gazing at him with a new expression in her eyes. “I am forever indebted to you.”
Aleck’s nerves had grown taut. Something was happening to him, something he didn’t understand. Nor did he desire that it continue. “Don’t be,” he snarled, jolting Chandra’s sensibilities. He looked at the slender hand resting on his arm; it quickly fell away. “You should find another to care for him. That is why you have servants.”
Chandra bristled. “I do not think of my clansmen as servants. They are my family. As such, we care for each other.”
“’Tis your choice,” he
said, then walked to his room.
Chandra stared after him. A moment ago she thought she’d seen something in his eyes that bespoke a certain tenderness, a concern and caring. Obviously she’d been mistaken. The Sassenach’s door thumped closed, and she spun on her heel, marching toward the table and the pitcher of water sitting by the basin.
“Chandra, don’t bother.”
She heard Devin’s weak voice just as she cast aside the covering that hid the basin, intending to pour water over a face cloth she’d retrieved. The sight that met her startled and frightened her. She turned toward the bed. “He tried to hide this from me—why?”
“He did so at my request.”
“Oh, Devin, why did you not confide in me?”
“I did not wish to worry you. ’Tis bad, Chandra,” he rasped. “I know not what it is. I forever fear having you near me. If it is contagious, you might be struck by it also. Henceforth, you must keep yourself away from me.” His head rolled on the pillow and he faced the wall. “Go, leave me now—I must rest.”
“Rest you shall, but I’ll not leave you.”
Wetting the cloth in the pitcher, she moved toward the bed, where she gently bathed his face, then pulled the bedcovers over him. Afterward, she sat in a chair not far away. His ragged breathing had eased somewhat.
“Remember, Chandra, treat the Sassenach with courtesy,” Devin said, a weak smile crossing his face. “Despite his sullen moods, I suspect he is not as disagreeable as you think.”
“He’s more so.”
“We have formed a strategy. Follow it through. ’Tis for your own good.”
Devin fell silent; soon he slept. While Chandra kept vigil over him, she reviewed her cousin’s words. The pair had formed a strategy. For it to work, she had to play the perfect hostess. The thought of treating him with the least form of civility sickened her, for it was obviously something he could not easily reciprocate, but she knew she had no choice. She would do anything to dissuade the arrogant rogue from fulfilling his duty, even it meant killing him with kindness.
“It appears, Montbourne, that you’ve gained in status,” Sir John said, looking around Aleck’s new quarters. Having just finished their evening meal, the two men had sought out the earl’s gloomy little room for a short discussion, only to be met by the bowlegged Angus, who led them down the hall. “Perhaps things will improve for you altogether, since the clan Morgan seems more receptive to your being here.”
Aleck was in a surly mood. Though he knew why, he denied it. His eyes traced the same path as the knight’s. The chamber was far larger than the one in which he’d originally been installed, its appointments more acceptable, but it was not anywhere near as large as his own room at Montbourne nor did it contain the finer amenities to which he was accustomed.
“’Twill do, but it is not home. At least the bed is larger and softer. I won’t have to cling to the thing as I did the past several nights, fearing I’d meet the floor.” He removed his sword, placing it across the table, then saw that his possessions had also been moved. “As for the Morgans, they desire me here no more now than they did earlier. It is their chieftain who has instructed them to be more civil, and I believe I know why.” He noted the knight’s raised eyebrow and waved his hand in a wide arc. “All this is a bribe—the room, the sumptuous food and good wine of which we just partook, the friendly service we were given. She’s hoping for clemency when I select a husband for her. She probably hopes I won’t choose one at all. She’s wrong, though. Take note, friend, when the marriage vows have been said, we’ll undoubtedly be fleeing here with arrows raining down on our heads—if not sooner.”
“Then you believe her motive is concern for her own welfare and not because she feels guilty over how she has treated you, or possibly that she is compensating you for saving her cousin.” Sir John caught Aleck’s surprised look. “I overheard one of her clansmen telling several others about your heroic act.”
“Heroic? ’Twas more like a reflexive response. I did nothing out of the ordinary. Compensation? I doubt it. Guilt? Unlikely. She is Scot and I English—it would go against her nature to feel remorse over what I have suffered.”
“And her cousin?”
“She could have saved him herself. I simply reached him first. No, I am certain it is the thought of her own welfare that motivates her. Had I not mentioned that courtesy and regard could gain her my leniency, I might have taken it for genuine remorse. Even compensation, as you’ve suggested. But I did mention such—hence you see the marked changes. I do not blame her, considering her fix, but it will do her little good, for my allegiance belongs to James.” Her schemes would not work, Aleck vowed in silence, his mood growing even more sullen. “She will be married,” he continued with strong determination. Purposely he kept the memory of his ward’s lovely face far from his thoughts, knowing if he envisioned it, he’d surely relent. “Whether her husband is young or old, fat or thin, tall or short, I care not, just so long as he meets the criteria that have been set forth.”
“I hope you do not tell her that, else we might be eating dry cakes and drinking naught but water again.”
Aleck chuckled wickedly. “I’m not that foolish. No, I intend to enjoy all the attentions bestowed upon me, as will you and your men, Sir John. However, no matter how great the pleasures given us, none of us should become too passive. I do not trust these Morgans, especially the girl’s uncle. He is overly eager for a fight.”
“Aye, he is.”
“While I entertain the Lady Lochlaigh, making certain she doesn’t take flight, I ask that you keep a close eye on this Cedric fellow. I do not wish to be slain in my bed.”
“Nor I,” the knight said, watching as Aleck pulled a folded piece of paper from inside his jerkin. “He will be watched. Count on it.”
“Good.”
“In her note to you”—Sir John nodded toward the paper—“did your ward explain your change in quarters?”
Aleck looked around the room again. It appealed to him more than before, but it was still not home. England. Why had he left it? “No, but I assume she meant it as a surprise.” His eyes returned to Sir John. “She said only that she still attended her cousin. She begged my forgiveness for not joining us at the evening meal, but said she could not in good conscience leave him. On the morrow, if he is recovered, she has asked that I ride with her to see the extent of the Morgan lands.”
“Will you go?”
“I hazard too much should I not go,” Aleck answered. “What good will it do to find a bridegroom if there is no longer a bride? As I said, I plan to keep the Lady Lochlaigh entertained.”
“Then, if you think she feels no remorse, do your entertaining well armed. She might be small, but I have a feeling she is quick. You’ll find little enjoyment with a knife in your gullet.”
“I shall keep that in mind.”
Sir John soon left, and Aleck took himself to bed, his mood darker than before.
He thought he’d dismissed the strange emotions that had roiled through him earlier in the day, while watching his ward attend her cousin. Their force both surprised and confused him. Adamantly he wanted to deny their true import—he felt something for her, and it was not based on mere lust. How convenient it would be to attribute the whole episode to his having ingested something that had disagreed with him, thus the unaccountable pressure near his heart becoming a mystery no more. But he could not do that.
Damnation! The girl means nothing to me.
The insistent words shot through his head as he thrashed about his new bed while trying to find some comfort. Settling finally, he lay there, staring at the ceiling. With great effort, he at last gained the control he desired, convincing himself that he held only a passing interest in her.
Shortly, his thoughts turned to Sir John’s words of warning. To Aleck, having seen the couple’s heads together, it was apparent that the Lady Lochlaigh and her cousin schemed against him. After the way he had dealt with her, he could not blame her for seeking out
a plan, hoping to foil him while making him look the fool once more. In her mind, he deserved no less.
Remembering the last few moments of their heated discussion in her antechamber, Aleck cringed. She had deemed him arrogant, and that he’d been. His male curiosity piqued, he’d taken undue advantage of her, excusing his actions by telling himself she’d merited such punishment. In truth, it had had the reverse effect. Briefly he relived his response to the kiss, but just as quickly locked all memory of it away.
Directing his thoughts to the present, he conceded he’d erred in his treatment of her. She was not some peasant girl whom he could tease and try to bed; she was his ward. He was responsible for her. Admittedly, her beauty still tempted him, but he knew he had to restrain his masculine urges. Otherwise he would incur James’s wrath.
Aleck did not relish having his head separated from his body. Nor did he wish to have a knife stuck in his gullet—a serious possibility. Again he heard Sir John’s words of warning. Despite the shift in his circumstances, the courtesy now being shown him, naught had actually changed between the Lady Lochlaigh and himself. She still despised him. Entertain her, he would. But he would do it with great caution.
Chandra quietly closed the door to Devin’s room, relieved that he still slept peacefully. As she made her way to her own bedchamber, recollections of the last few hours seized her, she began to tremble. On entering his room, her feet had been rooted to the floor, her mind a blank on how to aid Devin. Had her guardian not reacted as he had—brushing past her to strike Devin’s back—Devin would surely have died. His condition was far worse than she’d originally thought. Or was it simply that she’d refused to see the truth? She could not lose Devin. He must not die!
The door to her room opened, and she nearly fell inside. Irrepressible tears flowed down her cheeks as she stumbled toward her bed. Too much had happened of late, too much to worry over. Her father’s sudden death, whereupon she’d had little time to grieve; her duties as clan chieftain and all that entailed; Devin’s illness and the possibility that he, too, might die—the weight of it all was more than she could bear.
Lord of Legend Page 8
