In the Laird's Bed

by Joanne Rock

  “Thank you.” Gratitude filled her, chasing away the chill from the winter air. “I will notify the kitchen and help with preparations—”

  A shout went up from the tower gatehouse at the same time a horn sounded nearby.

  The whole courtyard stilled except for Duncan. The laird vaulted back onto his horse and raced toward the tower, where a watch stood guard over the bridge.

  Knowing the alert could not possibly bode well, Cristiana followed him. She threw herself on her horse’s back as no groom had led the mount away yet. Riding clumsily toward the tower gate, she thanked the saints Leah was already inside the keep. On trembling legs, she slid from her horse and climbed the stairs to the battlements, desperate to know what danger approached. She reached Duncan’s side in time to see a riding party closing in fast. The horses ran full out over the surrounding hill, their riders leaning deep over their mounts to urge the most speed possible.

  “Do they not see the moat?” Cristiana could not fathom their purpose. The riders were too small in number to mount an attack. Why ride so fiercely for the gates? “If we raise the bridge, the first line is sure to perish in the fall.”

  The guard in charge of the bridge mechanism looked expectantly at Duncan, awaiting a command.

  “Leave it,” he ordered, his eyes still on the field and the oncoming riders.

  Cristiana wanted to argue, having recently discovered how easily a keep could be taken by stealth when a conqueror disguised himself as a traveler seeking shelter. But first her eye caught sight of a pale swath of fabric beneath a wind-tossed cloak. Narrowing her gaze, she had the impression that this particular rider wore a surcoat beneath a dark cape.

  “It seems we will not have to return to Domhnaill after all,” Duncan announced, turning away from the battlements. “I believe your sister has arrived.”

  Dark foreboding arrived along with Lady Edwina of Domhnaill.

  Duncan could feel the change in the air despite the squeal of high-pitched female greetings and the wealth of happy tears. His ability to read people and moods had made him a good diplomat for Malcolm abroad, and he could see the latent thirst for vengeance in Edwina’s eyes the moment she galloped into his courtyard and swung down at Cristiana’s feet, sweeping her sister into a hug.

  If only Duncan had cultivated his talent before his trip to the continent. He might have seen Donegal’s perfidy and the Domhnaills’ honesty long ago. But then, perhaps his ordeal with these people had helped him refine his skills in the first place.

  Now, while the women clutched each other and exchanged whispered words in the hall, Cullen of Blackstone confided the details of their journey to Duncan.

  “We were set upon by thieves just outside Domhnaill’s gates.” Cullen gulped mead and broth while servers hastened to find more substantial food for the guests. “I lost three good men and sent back to Domhnaill for reinforcements.”

  Duncan had already noted several horses and men with flesh wounds that needed tending. After all of Blackstone’s riders were within the walls, he’d ordered the gates closed. Donegal was attacking more frequently, acquiring good horseflesh and weapons for each kill.

  And Duncan planned to take an inventory of everything Donegal had stolen to help sharpen his knowledge of the enemy. For too long he’d allowed the bonds of kinship to blind him regarding his half brother. But first, he had more immediate concerns for the newcomer swilling mead like a man dying of thirst.

  “Why did you come?” Duncan did not care if the query sounded inhospitable.

  Cullen replaced his drinking horn on the table, not quite hiding his surprise at the question.

  “Edwina has been parted from her sister for too many summers.” The older knight’s gaze went to the seat at the dais where the women had the run of the table. Cristiana served Edwina herself, calling for furs and blankets while she spooned broth into her sister’s mouth. “If you’d seen how close the two of them were during their growing-up years—”

  Duncan’s fist hit the table. He could not stomach Blackstone’s eyes on Cristiana for even one more moment.

  “You expect me to believe you brought danger to my door in the heart of winter for the sake of a woman’s wants?” He edged into the knight’s space, ready to make his message clear. “I know exactly why you are here. But you will never touch Cristiana as long as I draw breath.”

  Blackstone did a credible job of feigning surprise. Confusion.

  “I have never coveted Lady Cristiana—”

  “Then why did she think you would wed her to keep Domhnaill out of my hands?” He could not bear the thought of this man under his roof, knowing Cristiana would have given herself to him to avoid marriage to Duncan.

  Again, Blackstone appeared caught unawares. He set down his broth and shook his head.

  “I had no idea she hatched such a scheme, but I can only think she felt safe with me because I once loved her sister. I offered for Edwina before—Donegal.” The bitterness on the man’s tongue could not have been more apparent. This distaste was no act.

  The pieces shifted into place, making sense. Cristiana had not sought a marriage to Cullen because she found him pleasing. She had sought him out because she felt secure with him.

  Around Duncan, the noise of Blackstone’s knights warming themselves with fine mead faded. His glance stole to Cristiana again, her expression worried as Edwina spoke earnestly in her ear. He hoped her sibling had not brought more bad news. Duncan would have his hands full flushing out Donegal and all his followers. Between the crimes of his brother, two keeps to manage and Culcanon’s empty coffers, he had enough obstacles to surmount. He did not need any more trouble.

  “I see.” He believed the man. But that belief did not make it any easier to have him under his roof when Cristiana had considered giving her innocence to him. “Would a fat dowry be enough enticement for you to resume your pursuit of Edwina?”

  The sooner he could settle the sister away from here, the less attention she would draw to his household. If Donegal knew Edwina had returned, he might increase his efforts to claim the keep. Claim Leah.

  And that, Duncan could not have. Sooner or later, Donegal would suspect he had fathered the girl. Would he use the child as a means to rally more supporters? Some men might believe he had been wronged by Edwina and lend their swords to a movement to take back the child. Duncan had not only vowed to protect Leah, he had come to care for the bold little lass a great deal. He would allow no harm to come to her.

  Perhaps if Edwina was far away, wed and protected by a strong knight, Donegal would not give her another thought.

  “I am not sure.” Cullen’s gaze had returned to the women. And, Duncan now acknowledged, it was Edwina who claimed the older knight’s interest.

  Cristiana’s elder sister still spoke fervently, her hands in motion to emphasize her words. Cristiana’s once-joyous expression had shifted to a dark frown. Her eyes studied a spot on the table, as if all her thoughts were focused on what she heard and not what she saw.

  Then, as if she’d felt his stare, she looked up. Their eyes locked and he expected to feel that warm, growing connection that had developed between them recently.

  Instead, he felt the sharp daggers of her displeasure evident in her gaze. Hastily, she looked back down to the table, but he had not mistaken what he’d seen. Edwina had apparently returned with news that did not please her sister. And somehow he had become a source of unhappiness.

  Turning his attention back to his guest, his sense of foreboding increased.

  “Consider the arrangement this eve and give me an answer in the morn.” He rose, more determined than ever to confront the brother who continued to betray his family. “One way or another, I will need to wed her off. And soon.”

  “You are mistaken.”

  Cristiana trembled inside despite the hearth embers warm on her back. She prayed her unease did not show in her voice. Her sister had endured hardship and hurt beyond anything she could imagine. Cristiana did no
t wish to appear weakhearted in this matter. She watched Duncan rise and depart the hall, his expression grim.

  They had been so close on their ride with Leah earlier this day. Cristiana had felt happy. Hopeful.

  “Nay. There is no mistake.” Edwina shook her head, her red-gold curls longer than ever in the blossom of womanhood. Her clothing was simple, humble even, despite the position she’d been in at court. But her eyes did not mirror her dress. She might have left Domhnaill a fallen woman, but she returned strong and proud.

  “But I was there when we heard there was a messenger from the king.” Cristiana had known Duncan to be a favorite of Malcolm’s and witnessed the receipt of a communication from the king’s own herald. “If Malcolm did not write to give Duncan command of Domhnaill, what could he have wanted?”

  “Who knows what business takes up men’s time?” Edwina waved the matter away impatiently. “But I was with the king less than a sennight ago and Cullen was in residence there before I arrived. Malcolm did not give away our keep to a Culcanon. Duncan only told Father as much to meet his own ends.”

  Cristiana recalled the way Duncan had compelled her to open her gates, playing upon her sympathies. Then he’d found a way to stay under her roof with his story of treasure hunting told as an entertainment for her hall. Now, even his basis for wedding her was—it appeared—a lie.

  A hole opened within her. Dark and cavernous, the empty space yawned wide on a day that should have been filled with celebrating her sister’s return.

  Could she have been foolish enough to care for Duncan again after knowing how he’d betrayed her trust the first time? Her aching heart already knew the answer.

  To protect herself from the dark wretchedness of that hurt, she called up all the fury that was her right. She’d been lied to. Cheated. Robbed of her sovereignty in her own household.

  “Cristiana?” Edwina studied her thoughtfully, as if Cristiana had been the one to make a dangerous journey through the snow and bands of outlaws. “If it is not too much trouble, I would like to see my daughter.”

  My daughter.

  Abruptly, she was yanked from one pain to another. She had dared not even think about this request since her sister had arrived because the thought of losing Leah was unbearable.

  She had to close her eyes for a moment while the hurt washed over her. Duncan did not care for her. He wanted what he’d always wanted—Domhnaill. And now, it seemed, Edwina wanted Leah. The possibility of losing her family stabbed through her.

  “Those are dangerous words,” she warned. “I have protected Leah as my own because you made her thus at her birth.”

  Edwina nodded, chastened. “Of course, but—”

  “No. Her safety is too important for us to make careless mistakes.” Cristiana understood her sister’s request even when it pained her to have Edwina call Leah “her” daughter. By the laws of nature, it was the truth, obviously. But to a heart already ripped raw, the small slight cut deep. No one would take her daughter away from her. “She is with her nurse, but I will take you to her when you are finished eating.”

  Edwina dropped her knife and dipped her hands in a bowl of water to the side of the trencher.

  “I am done.” She dried her hands quickly and stood.

  And though years had passed since she left, Cristiana felt the same pull of forces between them. Both of them were strong willed, yet Edwina had always pushed for her way a bit harder.

  Not this time.

  Cristiana rose more slowly, reeling in too many directions at once. Her world was falling apart like a castle gate beneath a battering ram. The blows just kept coming, and her life kept crumbling away beneath the force. If she was back at home, she would take solace in the mead house where she could at least have control over the brewing, simmering concoctions. Here, she had nothing to distract her from Duncan’s betrayal and her sister’s return.

  And while she would fight Edwina with everything she had, Cristiana didn’t think anything could save her from an impending marriage based on lies.

  Chapter Fourteen

  D uncan knocked on the door to the solar outside Cristiana’s bedchamber.

  Normally, she slept in his bed, but since her sister had arrived she had remained in Edwina’s rooms.

  “Who is it?” Her voice was cold and distant. Or was it his imagination?

  “Duncan.” He opened the door a bit, enough to see that Edwina was not with her, but that the door to the sleeping chamber at the far end of the solar was closed.

  “She has fallen asleep,” Cristiana explained from her seat near the closed door, apparently keeping watch over her sibling this night instead of joining him in his rooms.

  He hated to disturb Cristiana after being parted from her sister for so long, but this could not wait. He needed to share his new concerns with Cristiana, something he found himself doing more and more since they’d come to Culcanon.

  She was more than just his bed partner. More than a sweetly affectionate mother to the daughter he’d claimed as his own. Cristiana was as sharp and insightful about running a household as she was about mead-making. Managing Domhnaill for so many years after her father’s health had deteriorated left her with a keen understanding of battle and defense, strategy and alliances.

  “There is trouble afoot.” He’d been restless for hours, for reasons he could not quite name.

  “What do you mean?” She peered up at him from her seat at a heavy, claw-footed table. Shadows loomed under her eyes and he recalled how unhappy she’d appeared while they’d fed their guests earlier. “Trouble with Donegal? Or within the walls at Culcanon?”

  He shrugged, unsure how to define his concerns.

  “Both, perhaps. I thought to engage Donegal more easily once we came to Culcanon, but now I wonder if he hoped to draw me back here on purpose. Perhaps our move to Culcanon was a mistake from the start.” He knew something wasn’t right tonight.

  Something had bothered him ever since Cullen and Edwina had arrived with a few of Cullen’s retainers and men-at-arms borrowed from Domhnaill. They’d only been at that keep briefly, just long enough to find out that Duncan and Cristiana had moved on.

  Then they’d gathered up additional men and made the shorter trek to Culcanon so the sisters could be reunited. Or, perhaps, so Edwina could be reunited with the daughter she’d hardly seen since giving birth. Having Edwina around Leah would make him uneasy until he was certain she had no plans to stake a claim to the child.

  “It is always humiliating to discover you were wrong.” The bite in her words reminded him of the dark looks she’d given him in the great hall.

  Had she learned something of his deceits? Or had her sister merely stirred trouble with her old grievances against his family? Either scenario would create difficulty for him.

  For them.

  “You are angry.” Regret fired through him. He’d hoped to find some haven here from the threat his half brother posed. Even with all of Domhnaill at his disposal, he might not have enough to defend two keeps, since Donegal had emptied the weapons stores along with everything else he’d taken.

  But instead of finding a moment’s retreat from the coming dangers, he found Cristiana had somehow become his enemy, too.

  Facing him, her gray eyes narrowed.

  “You told me the king awarded you Domhnaill.”

  She knew. He’d promised himself he would explain it to her after her heart had softened, but he’d seen no sign of that until earlier today at the river’s edge. And then, he’d selfishly soaked up that rare happiness, deceiving himself in thinking he could wait a bit longer.

  “I would have told you.” He reached for her. “Soon.”

  She wrenched away.

  “Perhaps so. Did you hope to wait until after it didn’t matter anymore? After I was already married to you and powerless to change our fate?” The resentment in her rising voice made him recall the way she’d hardened her heart to him five years ago.

  She’d become his enemy
once when she’d perceived deception on his part, and it had not even been true. How might she grow to hate him now when his trickery had been carefully planned?

  “I sought to protect you and your lands.”

  “You sought to recover the keep you lost when I broke our betrothal! Do not pretend an altruism you did not feel. I am not so naive as that, Duncan. Not anymore.” Her stare was cold. A veil had fallen between them, closing him out of the more tender emotions he’d seen in her these past days.

  “I could have demanded justice for that broken betrothal.” His father had urged him to, but he had not wished to pursue a woman so intent on hating him. “It was within my right.”

  “So instead of demanding the marriage then, you waited until you really needed Domhnaill, and demanded it later? By deceit, no less?” Her voice broke and she turned from him, her arms wrapped tightly about herself. “Do not speak to me of your rights.”

  He’d hurt her. At some point, early on in all of this when he’d first stood at her doorstep, he probably intended to. But somewhere along the way, he’d come to care about her more than he’d ever intended. More than he’d wanted.

  And the hurt he spied within her speared him as well.

  “I am sorry.” Sorry for what might have been between them. Sorry for many things.

  He was not surprised that she made no response.

  “Cristiana, perhaps our fate was decided five years ago, after a kiss so powerful neither of us have ever forgotten it.” He meant that. He’d been running away from that truth for too long. “I went halfway around the world to put you out of my mind and I couldn’t. Perhaps it’s time you admit how much of a hold the past has had over you, too. Think about that next time you’re brewing mead on the very spot where we promised to be together for all time.”

  “You lied to me again!” She raised her voice, seemingly heedless of her sister sleeping in the adjoining chamber. “We were supposed to be building back trust, but all along you knew we built nothing on a foundation of deceit.”

  The unshed tears in her eyes shredded his insides like an enemy blade. But by the rood, he’d had noble intentions mixed up with all the rest.