The Maid of Lorne

by TERRI BRISBIN

  “How be ye faring, dear cousin?” it asked in a whisper that made her skin itch. “My da has been fretting night and day about ye being held prisoner here.”

  “I am well, Eachann. When did you arrive here?” She peered into the darkness and saw no place of entry. “And how did you get in without being seen?” She stayed on her knees so that, if one of the guards opened the door of the chapel, it would appear that she was praying.

  “Never ye mind about the how of it, sweetling. I have been watching for ye for more than four days, Lara. ‘Tis a pity to see ye kept so. Has he beaten ye?”

  Lara shivered at the question. Her cousin’s constant fascination with pain terrified her. She shook her head in answer. His dark eyes took on a mean shine, but his voice softened to an ominous whisper. “’Tis a good thing then. I would not have ye mistreated.”

  She sensed more to his answer, but resisted the urge to ask about it. Her time here was not unlimited, and she could almost hear the pacing of Sebastien’s man outside the door. “Why are you here?”

  “Da wants you to listen to them and report anything that may tell us their plans. The word is that with the fall of Dunstaffnage, the Bruce moves north from here, but we must know before launching our attack.”

  “But I am isolated, Eachann. No one speaks to me, not even him.” Lara sat back on her heels and thought of how to accomplish this task. If she could give them some knowledge of the Bruce’s plans, it could gain her forgiveness in her clan’s eyes.

  “The servants hear everything. Let them gather what they can, and you bring it to me. Let Da decide if ’tis important or no’.”

  Before she could respond, Eachann held up his hand and stepped back into the shadows. Still on her knees, she straightened up and bowed her head, waiting for his word.

  “Go say a prayer for your mother’s soul,” he ordered in a low voice.

  “I did that, Eachann.”

  He shook a fisted hand at her. “Lara, do what I tell ye. Go say a prayer for your ma…and listen well while you pray.”

  Shrugging, Lara stood and walked back to the stone that lay over her mother’s grave. In the quiet of the chapel, she could hear voices outside the window. She glanced back at Eachann in the darkness near the altar. How had he known? Now, standing as silently as she could, she listened.

  “When do you leave, then?” Hugh asked.

  “In three days. I go and Robert will meet all of us in Kilcrenan.” It was Sebastien’s voice. “’Twill be just over a week before I return.”

  He was leaving?

  “How many go with you? Or should I say, how many do you leave with me?” Hugh laughed lightly.

  “I take three score of Robert’s men with me,” Sebastien answered. “My men remain with you for the safety of all we’ve gained.”

  Something moved in the woods next to the church, and the men stopped talking abruptly. Lara saw her cousin motioning to her, and she crept back to the altar.

  “What did they say?”

  “The Bruce goes to Kilcrenan. Sebastien leaves in three days.”

  “Good, Lara. We might make a good spy out of you yet,” he whispered.

  “Spy?” she asked. The dishonor of it struck her sharply. “I am no spy.”

  “Ye have turned whore, why not spy as well?” Eachann laughed bitterly. “Men spill secrets in the heat of passion, and if ye spy as well as we’ve heard ye whore for the Bruce’s man, ye might earn your way back into the clan.”

  Lara reeled back at the horrible accusation, but Eachann grabbed her arm and drew her so close that his rancid breath burned her cheek. “I will be visiting this place every five days to meet with ye. If I canna’, I will have someone come in my stead. Be here.”

  Then, before she could argue, her cousin released her and stepped back into the shadows with a harsh, whispered curse. Falling to her knees once more, she heard the door pulled open and approaching steps behind her on the stone floor.

  She tried to catch her breath, but the dread and the shame of her cousin’s accusations made it difficult. What kind of rumors had gotten back to her uncle? Whore ? She had been forced on threat of death to marry the man, and had been taken. And yet they believed the worst.

  Lara knew Sebastien stood behind her now, but she did not dare face him. Would the guilt show on her face? Would he know what she’d just done?

  “Lady?” he said. “Are you ready to return?”

  He leaned over and held his hand out to her, to help her stand. She did not take it, but rose on her own and then, with a deep breath forced in and out, turned to him.

  “I know about what happened in the yard, Lara.” His voice, softer now and filled with concern, poured over her. “As I told you before, they are not my men.”

  She sensed that this was as much of an apology as she would receive, and more would make her uncomfortable. She did not know if her cousin stood watching or not; however, she did not want to stay here now.

  “I am ready to go back.”

  He held out his arm and waited. Finally, she placed her hand on his and walked down the center of the chapel. Just as she reached the door, a wind blew into the church and the candles and torch went out. Sebastien stepped out first and, as Lara followed, a single whispered word echoed through the stone building.

  Whore.

  Something was wrong. She was stiff as she walked by his side, and he could not discern if it was anger or fear or something else that made her behave so. Sebastien suspected that most of it was due to the coarse names expressed by the soldiers in the yard. Hugh had sent word to him and he’d come directly to the chapel.

  He would feel better when these men were gone. He knew the warriors in his command, knew whom he could trust and those he could not. He knew what they were capable of and what their limitations were. But the bulk of the Bruce’s forces were unknown to him and unpredictable. And, as this evening’s actions had shown, they would turn on anyone weaker in a moment.

  In three days, he would lead a force away from Dunstaffnage to the shores of Loch Awe and the meeting of the Bruce’s allies from all over Scotland. Robert had promised to decide Dunstaffnage’s fate at that meeting.

  Lara was silent as they walked through the woods, to the drawbridge and over it. He felt her hand trembling on his, though he guided her along a path already cleared of soldiers. The wind whipped around them and he knew it foretold of a change in the weather. Lara did not react when her hair was loosened by the force of it and tore around her madly. She did not slow her steps or pull away.

  Soon they reached the hall, and he escorted her in and to the entrance of the tower. He wanted to say something to her, something more, but words failed him. Her maid stood waiting there and he relinquished his hold on her. As Lara climbed the steps to her chambers, he turned back to Hugh.

  “She may have the freedom of the keep once I leave.”

  “I understand, Sebastien.” His friend of many years nodded. “And the chapel?”

  “Only at your command and with your presence.”

  Sebastien’s stomach growled and he nodded toward the hall. Joined by Hugh and his other commanders, he sat at the table and ate his meal. But with every bite, he thought about the distress in Lara’s face as she’d turned to him in the chapel. She had not looked that upset on the day they were married, indeed, not even when her father had repudiated her. And the fair skin around her eyes was still marred with the darkish coloring of sleepless nights.

  Was it what Hugh had revealed to him? The threats that could never be carried out as long as he was in charge? Or was there something more at work? After assigning tasks for the morrow and deciding which of his commanders would oversee various duties while he was on the king’s business, Sebastien trudged up the stairs to the chamber.

  Before even reaching it, he was stopped by a guard with a message to meet Hugh near the stables. Sebastien dismissed the men that followed him and made his way there. Entering with no torch to light his way, he found the place th
ey’d designated to meet, and was not surprised to see another man present as well. They greeted each other as the kin they were.

  “I trailed him here a few days ago and lost him just over a mile away,” Munro reported. “I do not think he entered the castle, but he may still be nearby.”

  Sebastien nodded. Munro served in his network of spies and had been following the MacDougall’s nephew, whose father now led the clan. A vicious, unmerciful man, Eachann liked to terrorize and torment his victims before killing them.

  “Have there been any signs of him?”

  “Nothing reported yet, Sebastien,” Hugh said. “I will send out more soldiers and make our control a bit more visible, to see if that discourages him.”

  “Anything else, Munro? Any words in the wind?” His cousin looked as though he would say something and then stopped himself and stared at him intently. “What is it?”

  “Tread carefully, Sebastien. If Eachann is here, then he has spies of his own. Guard your back.” Munro looked at Hugh and frowned. “Guard his back.”

  Hugh nodded in reply.

  They clasped arms and parted, with Munro drifting into the darkness to leave the castle in his own way, while Sebastien and Hugh walked back toward the keep.

  “So, the game is under way then.” It was a statement, not a question, and Sebastien nodded in agreement.

  “’Twas always under way, Hugh. Until the Comyns are destroyed and the throne his, Robert is not safe.”

  Sebastien stopped and turned to his friend. Lowering his voice, he shared the plan with Hugh. “Robert thinks to use Dunstaffnage as a launching point for his movements up the coast. We must root out any enemies or spies here.”

  Hugh whistled lightly. “He will not raze the castle then?”

  “Nay, this one will stand, but it must be held. That will be your duty while I see to the king.”

  Hugh straightened to his full height, towering over him by several inches. “I understand, Sebastien.”

  “And keep her safe while I am gone,” Sebastien added. He need mention no name. “She will be her own worst enemy at times.”

  They reached the keep and parted in the hall, Hugh heading for his quarters with the other commanders and Sebastien climbing the steps to the tower rooms.

  The game has indeed begun, he thought as he crossed to the door to his chambers. May the best man win.

  Chapter Seven

  Although she knew she had not slept, Lara somehow woke up in the bed again. She’d paced for hours after her return from the chapel, the tension inside her gripping her stomach. Refusing the meal sent up for her and the children, she chose to go back over everything her cousin had said during their encounter. Then she’d wrapped herself in her cloak once more and propped herself in her father’s chair and tried unsuccessfully to sleep.

  Now here she was, under the thick covers on one side of an obviously used bed. Pushing her hair back, she peered around the room, looking for telltale signs that Sebastien had indeed shared the bed through the night. The trunk where he kept his clothing was open. The other pillow bore his imprint. Indeed, the other side of the bed still bore his warmth as well. Sliding her hand over it, she thought on how he continued to move her each night without her waking.

  As soon as she climbed off the bed, Margaret entered with water for washing. Another servant followed with a covered tray.

  “I know you did not eat last even, or much of anything of substance for the whole of the day, milady,” Margaret said as Lara directed the kitchen maid to the table. “But on such days as these, everyone is off their usual customs.”

  “I fear it will continue for some time, Margaret,” she answered, sharing only a small measure of her unease with the woman who’d grown up at her side.

  Lara’s stomach now reminded her of its emptiness. She completed her ablutions and then, sitting in her chair with the tray on her lap, tore the loaf of steaming bread apart and ate one piece after another until it was gone.

  “My lady,” Margaret said. “Has he said what is to become of us? I was terrified when I heard that the bairns might be taken from us.”

  “As was I, Margaret. Apparently, keeping them here fits into the Bruce’s plans more than taking them with him. For now, they would seem safe.”

  “And you? Now that you are married to the Bruce’s man? What’s to become of you?” Margaret’s fingers twisted together even as her brow knitted in a frown of worry. “And of me?”

  “The knight assured me that we are safe. Prisoners, although not called that, but safe in our tower. More than that, I know not.

  “Margaret, I have a boon to ask of you,” Lara added, broaching a subject that she had lost sleep over since Eachann’s demands. “You make your way through the castle and keep. Tell me who remains here from our clan. I worry that some have not escaped to safety.”

  “Milady,” Margaret began, “I fear I have not taken notice of much other than you or the children in these last days.”

  Lara reached over and patted the maid’s hand, trying to ease her worry. “There will, I think, be time to sort these things out. For now, are the children below?”

  “Yes, milady.” The young girl who had brought the tray answered from across the chamber. She was one of those who’d remained behind, who were now pressed into services they did not usually provide. With so many gone from Dunstaffnage, fewer hands carried out many tasks.

  “Milady?” Margaret cleared her throat and glanced to the other side of the room, nodding slightly at the young girl waiting to take the tray back to the kitchens. Realizing the message to caution, Lara nodded and drank deeply from the cup of ale. She needed to have a care to be discreet in her attempts to gather information. There would be time.

  “Milady?” Margaret asked again, gaining her attention once more.

  Looking up, Lara discovered Sebastien watching her. As was his usual custom, he stood dressed in his mail and parts of his armor, but no helmet on his head. That meant he was staying close to the castle. She smiled as she realized this pattern of behavior in the man now her husband.

  She held the tray out to the girl and stood in greeting. His gaze was intent and it made her nervous. Through the last two weeks, although married, they’d had very little contact at all. He’d taken over her home and her people, and she’d been banished as effectively as her father had been. Etienne now ran the keep, and Lara’s opinions were not sought by anyone.

  She smoothed her gown with nervous palms and waited for him to speak first.

  “Good morrow, lady.” His lips curved at the corners, not quite a smile.

  “Sir,” she replied, nodding.

  “I did not intend to disturb your meal. Pray thee, sit and eat.” He motioned toward the tray now held by Margaret, but Lara shook her head.

  “I have broken my fast already, sir. My appetite is less than my maid hopes, and for far less than she brings me each morn,” she said.

  “I have come to ask you to sup with me this evening.” He paused and his expression was one of puzzlement. “If your appetite returns, of course.”

  Lara looked at him and tried to discern a reason for this invitation. “Where do you wish to eat? In the solar below?”

  “I would wish to eat here for some measure of privacy, but I am certain that you would wish a measure of freedom.” He turned and, in a quiet voice, told both Margaret and the kitchen maid to leave. He waited for the door to close and then faced Lara once more.

  Here was her chance. The one that she’d missed because of his absences or other duties that kept him so busy.

  “What would you like to discuss that requires privacy, sir? We could accomplish it now, if it pleases you?”

  He frowned at her; his eyes narrowed and he squared his shoulders. “I have no specific topic, lady.

  I just had hoped for…” He stopped. “We have much…” Another start and stop. “We are married and…” His frown deepened and he shook his head.

  Now it was his turn to look lost a
nd confused, as confused as she usually felt around him. He walked to the window and peered out onto the dreary day. Lara waited, fear filling her heart, since she knew his words would be about their marriage, and therefore something she did not want to hear.

  “Our marriage was precipitous and unexpected,” he said finally, still staring out into the rain. “I would like to discuss with you the expectations I do have for our union.”

  She swallowed and then swallowed again, her mouth suddenly dry and unable to form words. This was exactly her concern, too, but she had not anticipated his raising the topic. He had not turned to face her yet, so she took a deeper breath and tried to stay calm. She had few rights and little recourse against him as her husband, so she prepared herself for the worst.

  “Too many things are uncertain at this time,” he said as he finally did face her. “There are too many arrangements that cannot be confirmed yet to make any bold declarations to you about our future. But, there is time to become accustomed to each other before any decisions are made.”

  “Decisions, sir? What kind of decisions are being made about me?” Would she ever be able to face life as a pawn of her enemy? She placed her fisted hands on her hips. “I thought everything was settled. You took my virtue. You took my family. You stole my future.”

  She tried so very hard to use anger as her shield against this uncertainty. However, the naked longing she spied in his gaze, longing for she knew not what, was so strong that it nonetheless unnerved her. He could not simply want her in a carnal sense—a man as handsome as he could surely have any woman he wooed to his bed, so there was no need to take an unwilling one.

  “What more do you want from me?”

  Oh, God help her. She should never have asked the question, for she did not want to hear the answer. Truly, it was one of the stupidest things she’d ever done, and now there was nothing for her to do but await his answer.

  He cleared his throat and smiled, a smile tinged with sadness. “I simply want to share a meal with you. No more, no less than that.”