Paper Roses

by Collier, Celia

  "Johann, you have been dismissed."

  The deep timbre of her husband's voice comforted Ciara. Without a thought, she moved her hand to cover his. Johann lowered her gaze and left the room. The moment the door latched behind her, some of the tension left Ciara's heart.

  The men helped themselves to tankards then resumed their discussion.

  "Friendship?" Ninian said, a frown on his brow. "With whom?"

  "My uncle." Alastair squeezed Ciara's fingers then lifted his goblet. "I suspect he is linked to MacLean somehow."

  "And you need me to discover how?"

  "Aye." Alastair drank from his mug, then placed it on the tray. "The task should be simple. John is quite vain and loves to boast about himself."

  "Aye," Ciara whispered. "He paid visits to my sire before -- I glimpsed him only once, and recall he strutted about the great hall, preening over his newly-acquired lands."

  "I had no knowledge that my uncle knew your sire." The hush of Alastair's voice drew her gaze. Nestled in the depths of his haunting eyes, something disturbed him.

  "'Twas after he gained the area of Glengarry," Ninian said. "He approached our keep, and those of his neighbors, bringing with him a claim of peace and unity." He snorted and shook his head. "'Twas difficult to maintain peace with a man who lifted your cattle and chased every maid on the land."

  "Livestock were stolen from ye?" Torquil frowned and placed his mug on the mantel.

  Ninian nodded. "Aye, although the thieves were never caught, nor could we prove our new neighbor was the culprit. 'Twas naught but a gut instinct that severed relations with him and the band of ruffians he dubbed a clan."

  "What happened after communication with John ceased?" Alastair asked.

  Ninian's gaze flashed to Ciara before returning to her husband. "Others were blamed for the crimes. Evidence was left behind that incriminated innocent clans."

  Ciara closed her eyes. She never knew this. The accusation from Torquil in the dining hall, which now seemed a lifetime ago, fluttered through her mind.

  "Were other clans in ill favor with yours?"

  Alastair's voice drew Ciara from her thoughts. The set of her husband's jaw worried her. She turned her attention to her brother.

  "Aye. Some were barely tolerated, others not at all, until my sire died." Ninian scowled and placed his mug on the mantel. "Eneas is more forgiving than I would be."

  Images of MacLean flashed through her brain. Her sire had naught to do with the man. After his death, and Eneas advanced as laird, MacLean was again welcomed into their home. The memories stirred bile in her belly. Her brother had tried to force the decrepit fool upon her. Ciara, with the help of her mother, refused. Her defiance, coupled with his lust for the family silver, propelled her mother to return to her homeland in the company of her only daughter.

  Alastair sighed and shook his head. "All this makes my head spin. It seems there is quite an intricate web that surrounds, not only your sire, but my uncle and MacLean as well."

  Ninian stretched his arms. "If there is nothing else, I would appreciate being shown to my room. Torquil and I made haste traveling here. I could use a meal and a rest."

  Ciara climbed to her feet. "I will arrange a tray and discover which chamber Johann assigned you." She turned a gaze on Torquil. Despite his earlier resentment of her, something in his eyes had changed. If she did not know better, Ciara would think he was beginning to like her. "I would be pleased to arrange a tray for you as well, Torquil."

  The part of the giant's face not covered with hair colored slightly, followed by a scowl. "I can fend fer myself, milady."

  "As you wish," she said and approached the doors. A feeling of accomplishment touched her heart. Torquil, her most adamant enemy, had called her by a favorable name. 'Twas progress, and Ciara welcomed the change.

  * * *

  "Did you ever discover who sent word of Valerie's death to Glengarry?"

  Alastair rolled to his side in the bed he shared with Ciara. Through the faint light of the moon that spilled into their chamber, he studied her.

  "I thought you were asleep," he whispered and moved his hand to her belly. Beneath his heated palm, the slight swell of his child filled his hand.

  Ciara rested her palm across his and sighed. "My thoughts keep me from slumber." She stroked his fingers. "The missive, husband. Did you ever discover who dispatched the news?"

  "Nay." He frowned and moved closer to his wife. "'Tis a riddle. None were absent from the keep in the days that followed Valerie's death." He shook his head. "I pray once John arrives, I can glean the truth from him and know who to condemn."

  Her fingers stilled against his and she turned her head against the pillow. In the semi-darkness of their chamber, her eyes glistened. "I believe I know who is responsible."

  She had his attention. His heart stilled and his breath lodged in his throat. "Who?"

  A moment of silence passed, followed by her sigh. "You will think me daft," she whispered, then turned her gaze away. "I suspect Johann."

  Alastair's heart fluttered to his belly. He expected her to name Torquil or one of the other men in his realm. But Johann? She lived a life of seclusion, sequestered amid the trees. 'Twas her daughter who had been tortured to death.

  "Can you tell me why you suspect her?"

  Ciara slowly nodded. "Aye. Do you recall the day I first met the woman?"

  Through the pages of his mind, Alastair drew forth that frosty morn when he had ridden with his bride deep into the woods. "Aye."

  Again Ciara turned his way. "Do you not think it odd that she knew my identity?"

  He shook his head. "I introduced you."

  "Nay, you did not, husband." She paused and twined her fingers with his over her womb. "You knocked upon her door and told her you had brought your bride to meet her."

  Why did you bring this Mackintosh bitch to me? Johann's words echoed through Alastair's mind. His gut churned with disbelief.

  "If she remained secluded in her croft, how did she know from which clan I hailed?"

  How, indeed? Dread closed Alastair's eyes. The sire of this heathen bitch killed my daughter. Could Ciara be right? But why would Johann send word to John?

  By all rights, I should be given free reign to bind and torture her, make her suffer the same indignities forced upon my Rachel.

  Revenge. Retaliation upon a clan he believed innocent, yet Johann believed guilty as sin.

  Dear Lord, he had unwittingly invited more than one deadly viper into his home?

  "Alastair?"

  The brush of her hand against his cheek drew his gaze. His heart raked his ribs. Empathy had clouded his judgement, and he had placed danger within striking distance of his wife.

  "I am ashamed to say, I had no idea," he whispered and covered her hand with his own. "I will confront her on the morrow."

  "Nay, husband, you will hold your tongue."

  Her plea chilled his blood. Through the darkness he tried to see her eyes, read her thoughts. "I will not allow anyone near you who may cause you harm."

  "I can handle Johann -- or have you forgotten the tussle in her yard?"

  The memory of Ciara holding Johann captive in the snow flitted across his mind. "I remember, yet--"

  "Keep silent until your uncle arrives," Ciara said, not allowing him to finish. "Inform Torquil and Ninian of our suspicion, but do not act differently around Johann."

  Understanding edged its way into his brain. He kissed her palm and cradled her hand in his. "I see your ploy. If Johann is the one responsible for conspiring with John, it will become evident when he arrives."

  The warmth of her sigh caressed his soul. "As I have told you before, husband, you are not a dim-witted man."

  Alastair pulled her into his arms and held her close. "Nor are you a dim-witted lass." He kissed her brow and tightened his hold. "Sleep now, love. You need your rest."

  He held her long after her breathing evened and her body grew lax against him. If their suspicions wer
e proven true, Alastair did not know what he would do.

  Treason could not be tolerated at all, and the punishment would be severe. He had a couple of options before him. Banishment would be in order. Death was also an alternative. Yet, could Alastair dole such a sentence to a woman?

  As dawn streaked the sky pink, Alastair made up his mind. He knew exactly how to gain the truth from Johann and his uncle. Now, all he needed was for his trap to be sprung.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ciara cleared a circle in the frost-covered pane in Alastair's den that overlooked the clearing. Through the smear, blurred images moved. Despite the obstacle, she recognized her husband at once. He alone sat astride a horse.

  Again, she wiped away the fog from the window. Alastair's mount moved, carrying her husband away from their home. His men waded through snow and moved further from her view.

  Unease nestled in her womb. John of Glengarry approached. Her husband rode out to meet him and his men.

  "Are you truly happy here, sister?"

  Startled, Ciara turned her attention from the windows. Framed in the doorway stood Ninian. Ciara smiled and went to greet her brother.

  "Aye, I am content." She paused before her champion and looked into his worried eyes. "Why do you ask?"

  He gently shook his head. "'Tis merely a question I longed to ask when we found time alone." He sighed and placed a tender kiss upon her brow. "It pleases me to know you have found love."

  Love? The word stilled Ciara's heart. In silence, she watched her brother enter the room and lower himself into a chair. How did he know what rested in her heart? How could he know of something she had admitted to none but herself?

  A crooked grin curled his lips. "'Tis in your eyes, Ciara. Your fondness for MacDonell cannot be missed."

  Heat flushed her cheeks. How easily he read her thoughts! "I never imagined being in this position, Ninian." She shook her head and seated herself on the couch across from him. "A husband and a babe of my own. I truly thought I would die a spinster."

  "If you had not gone to France . . ." His voice trailed away and he avoided her gaze.

  Melancholy touched her heart. "Ninian, she did not suffer." His gaze met hers. Tears glistened in his eyes and drew moisture to her own. "Mother died in her sleep."

  Grief contorted his features, and once again he looked away. "Eneas was such a bastard to her after father died." A ragged breath filled his lungs and one hand moved over his eyes. "I will never forgive him for driving her away."

  A tear slipped from Ciara's eye. She wiped it away, then approached her brother. "Mother knew that, in their own way, her sons loved her." She rested a hand upon his shoulder.

  "I'm sorry you bore her death alone," he whispered and covered her hand with his.

  Ciara swallowed the lump wedged in her throat and nodded. "I managed." She turned away from him and approached the hearth. Her gaze rested on the portrait of Valerie. "'Twas harder to cope with losing Val. Where mother was concerned, I knew she was dying. I had three years to accept it. But Val," she paused and shook her head. "I was given less than a fortnight to prepare."

  "I am amazed you maintained your sanity."

  "It has not been easy, brother." Ciara closed her eyes.

  The voyage across turbulent seas, her arrival here, the funeral of her friend and subsequent marriage to Alastair. 'Twas enough to make her mind spin.

  The weight of Ninian's hands on her shoulders drew her from her thoughts. "You are a very strong person, Ciara. To grow up the way -- well, you either had to be strong or perish."

  A weary sigh escaped her lips. She turned into her brother's arms and held him close. "You made things bearable."

  His chest rumbled with a chuckle. "Beating the stuffing out of Eneas has always given me pleasure."

  Ciara leaned away from him and smiled. "'Tis something Alastair longs to do as well."

  The front door groaned open and halted their talk. Ciara disentangled herself from her brother and moved so she could see into the foyer.

  Alastair entered first, followed by Torquil and John of Glengarry. Although she only saw him once many years ago, Ciara recognized the man.

  The top of his head barely reached Alastair's shoulder. Hair as dark as the wings of a raven tumbled over his brow. 'Twas the only resemblance she saw to her husband. Her gaze slid to John's face. A long scar marred his flesh from brow to chin. He looked solid, strong and mean.

  Johann appeared from the shadows, so it seemed, and relieved the men of their cloaks. John turned and dark, narrow eyes settled on Ciara.

  She shivered, yet refused to look away.

  "Och, I see you have noticed my bride," Alastair said and placed himself between Ciara and his uncle.

  Her gaze flashed to his. Despite his uplifted tone, his eyes could not hide the abhorrence for their guest. She took a deep breath and said not a word as Alastair approached and placed a protective arm around her shoulders.

  John entered the room, Torquil close behind. He paused when he saw Ninian standing before the hearth. "Mackintosh?"

  "Aye, glad to see you again, John," Ninian replied and moved to welcome the man.

  The glimmer in John's eye as he looked from Ninian, then to her sent shivers down Ciara's spine. "I was not aware you knew my nephew."

  "Aye," Ninian said and nodded toward her. "Ciara is my sister."

  Again, eyes as narrow as an adder's slid over her. So repulsive was the gesture, Ciara cringed.

  Recognition cleared the man's hard features. "'Tis a small part of the world we occupy, is it not?"

  The gentle press of Alastair's fingers against her shoulder prompted her reply. "Aye, milord, it truly is. Please, make yourself comfortable."

  "Ninian, would ye accompany me tae settle in John's men?" Torquil asked.

  "Aye," her brother replied and turned to John. "Now that we are more than neighbors, perhaps we could use this time to become friends?"

  "Perhaps," John whispered, his gaze on Ciara. "There is a satchel attached to my saddle that contains a peace offering for my nephew. I would be most grateful if you could bring it back with you."

  "'Twould be my pleasure," Ninian said before following Torquil from the room.

  "Did your trek pass without incident?" Alastair asked as he seated himself on the couch, pulling Ciara with him.

  John glanced from his nephew to Ciara and back again before lowering himself into a chair. "Aye. Winter, as you know, is a time of solace in the Highlands." Again, his gaze sought Ciara. "How did you come to wed my nephew?"

  Alastair cleared his throat and drew his uncle's gaze. For that, Ciara was grateful.

  "I explained that in the missive, uncle. Ciara and Valerie were friends. 'Twas Valerie's dying wish that united Ciara and me."

  John's cold eyes assessed her. "You are a bigger man than I, Alastair. I could never honor a dying wish I did not agree with."

  Icy dread washed over Ciara. She disliked this man, and decided not to pretend otherwise. "Then, are you not fortunate to remain friendless, milord?"

  Alastair's hand covered hers and squeezed. Ciara ignored the silent meaning and stared at his uncle. If the man wanted to exchange veiled barbs, she would comply.

  "I am very pleased with my bride, uncle." Alastair's voice drew John's gaze, but not Ciara's. "While it grieved me to lose Valerie, I soon saw the wisdom in her plea."

  One of John's eyebrows lifted toward his scalp. "Wisdom?"

  Alastair nodded. "Och, aye. Not only have I gained a lovely wife, but I will be a father before the year is done."

  He tucked a finger beneath Ciara's chin and turned her gaze to him. Nestled in his dark eyes, she recognized his silent plea to behave and follow his plan.

  "I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth," he whispered.

  A lump formed in Ciara's throat and she averted her gaze to his chin. He spoke the truth and she knew it. When, if ever, would she be able to tell him the words he so freely spoke?

&nb
sp; "Then I wish you a long, prosperous life together." John's words broke the spell.

  "Thank you, uncle. That means a lot to me."

  How Alastair stomached being in the same room with this man, Ciara never knew. Yet, despite her instincts, she decided to curb her dislike and attempt to comply to her husband's wishes.

  'Twould be a difficult task to accomplish, but somehow Ciara would survive.

  * * *

  Alastair poured a few swallows of whisky into three mugs. He studied his uncle, and again an uneasy feeling settled in his bones. Despite the aged whisky presented as a gift, Alastair had the distinct impression his uncle was up to no good. He was also convinced the man was deeply involved in the disappearance of Rachel. Alastair knew this as surely as he knew the sun would rise tomorrow.

  The man sat near the hearth in quiet conversation with Ninian. Alastair prayed this puzzle came together soon, for having his uncle under his roof was a dangerous ploy. He gathered the tankards in his hands and approached the men.

  "I am pleased my nephew invited me here, and accepted my peace offering. 'Tis a clear indication he is willing to forget the past." John paused and took the tankard Alastair offered.

  The urge to toss the contents of the remaining mugs in his uncle's face was strong. Yet he restrained himself and handed a vessel to Ninian. "Naught can be accomplished by dwelling on past slights, uncle."

  "'Tis true," Ninian said as Alastair lowered himself into a chair. "Eneas feels the same way. Since my sire passed, he has resumed relations with neighboring clans."

  Images of MacLean flashed across Alastair's brain. He still didn't understand the alliance Eneas forged with that laird.

  "When is the bairn due?"

  John's question pulled Alastair from his thoughts. "Early fall, most likely."

  "I hope the child resembles you instead of its mother."

  Anger stirred in Alastair's veins and tightened his hold on his tankard. Again, Alastair fought the urge to cram the vessel down his throat.

  "There is more to life than beauty," he managed to say.