The Maid of Lorne

by TERRI BRISBIN

  When put so plainly, how could she refuse? But something deep within told her she must. “And whom do you threaten if I refuse this request?”

  He let out an exasperated breath and muttered something too low for her to hear. Lara took a step back, afraid she’d pushed him too far with her obstinacy.

  “Since that is how I have sought to control your behavior these last weeks, I can understand how you would expect that to be the course for every action I take. Your pardon, lady, for asking you to do something so distasteful.”

  Surprising her completely, he bowed and turned away without another word, opening the door and leaving before she could comprehend his intentions. Blinking and expecting to see him still there, Lara shook her head and tried to clear her thoughts. Staring at the closed door, she searched for an explanation of how she felt.

  He had just held out some offer to her, one made from a man to a woman, not enemy to enemy. He had attempted to ease her fears, and she had rejected whatever he made an effort to do. Tempted to follow him and accept his invitation, Lara heard her cousin’s words come back to her, and the accusation he’d made stopped her from any foolish softness.

  Sebastien was the enemy. His words and other ploys to soften her were meant to remove her as a threat to his assuming the role that belonged to her father and to Malcolm after him—Laird of Dunstaffnage. Lara wrapped her arms around her waist and shuddered at how close she’d come to betraying them all again, for the hope of some kind words and treatment.

  But wait. She stared at the door again. He was not the only one who could gain knowledge through such an exchange. Had not Eachann ordered her to gather such information about their enemy and share it with him? She could ask her own questions of this knight in the service of the Bruce, and help her clan’s allies in their continuing battles against them.

  Examining it in that perspective, she realized she must accept this invitation. Pulling open the door and hastening past both her maid and his astonished squire, who stood holding Sebastien’s helmet and sword, she ran down the steps after him. She stopped at each floor to see if he were there, but she did not find him in the solar nor on the first level. Reaching the entrance to the hall, she stumbled to a stop as two guards blocked her path.

  Lara struggled to catch her breath as she called out to him. “Sir?” He was at the far end of the hall and walking briskly away. With the noise of dozens of soldiers and servants in the hall, there was no way for her voice to reach him. Instead, his second-in-command stepped in front of her.

  “My lady? Is there something you need?” he asked her in a formal tone that served to remind her of her position and her heritage. Standing back, she waited a moment until she could speak without effort.

  “Sir Hugh.” With his nod, she continued, “I had thought to speak to your commander, but he left.”

  “Aye, my lady. He has many duties to be about here.” There was some measure of sanction in his voice, as though she somehow took Sebastien from such tasks. Lara looked at Hugh to see if his eyes betrayed him, showing the disdain she heard in his voice, but there was none. Still, she could not resist the urge to remind him of his place, as well.

  “Then you must also have some that you should be about. You are dismissed.” She began to turn away when she noticed the glances of the guards. ‘Twas almost as though they waited for him to reprimand her in some way. No hand gripped her to stop her, so she climbed the first step.

  “As you wish, my lady,” Sir Hugh said.

  Lara did not dare to stop and look back. She continued her ascent until she’d reached the solar, and called for Margaret. Would Sir Hugh tell Sebastien that she had dismissed him, and done it disrespectfully in front of their guards? What would his reaction be?

  She decided that she needed to prepare for their next encounter, so she called for her needles and thread and went to the solar to join Malcolm and Catriona there. Embroidery always soothed her nerves. She would work on the tapestry for a bit and sort her thoughts as she moved the threads, connecting and weaving colors and patterns into shapes and designs.

  As it had been since the knight’s arrival, her brother’s subject of discussion was Sebastien of Cleish and everything about him. After Malcolm praised the new conqueror of Dunstaffnage for too many minutes, Lara cut off further gushing with a warning for the boy to consider his own clan and his own allegiances. Malcolm’s scowl matched her own as the solar finally grew silent. Catriona climbed off Lara’s lap and onto Margaret’s, reacting to the tension.

  Lara took a deep breath, trying to sort out her own thoughts and feelings.

  Two hours and many skeins of jumbled thread later, her thoughts were as muddled as ever.

  He cursed himself for the fool he was a thousand times as he circled the perimeter of Dunstaffnage for the fifth time. The rain had lessened, but not the winds, which tore at him. He was alone now that he had ordered the guards to remain at the gate, near the stone wall that led away from the castle and into the woods where the chapel stood.

  The castle was an imposing sight, especially when viewed from this close. Its sheer rock walls and base would convince attackers of the futility of such action. With rain and wind bashing against it from the firth, it stood as a testament to the wisdom of those who’d planned its design and its location.

  Those damn MacDougalls, he thought as he stared through the rain at the two towers facing him now.

  He should be grateful that they saved Robert the time, efforts and expense of building such a guard tower for Loch Etive and farther upriver at the narrow pass of Brander, Loch Awe and its rich, fertile lands and castles. For now, Sebastien felt like a target, his men assigned to guard this castle as the main forces of the king moved north.

  Slowed by their lack of provisions, Robert had decided to stock this place and use it during the next months to shore up his hold over these lands controlled, for now, by allies of the powerful Comyns. Not many were privy to his plans, but Robert had shared them with Sebastien, and intended to announce them to his noble supporters at the gathering in Kilcrenan.

  Sebastien could only imagine the resistance that would explode there at the news that he, an illegitimate soldier from largely unknown origins, would receive the wardenship of the captured MacDougall lands and titles permanently. Sebastien of Cleish would stand as guardian to the MacDougall’s heir and control this crucial part of the coastline of western Scotland in reward for his service to the Bruce and his promise of allegiance for the future.

  Robert had revealed that once the war was done, Sebastien was to receive a large grant of land here that he could pass on to any sons of his own. And, so long as Malcolm would swear allegiance and be counseled by Sebastien, the boy would regain Dunstaffnage once he was old enough to control the men who served the MacDougalls.

  Of course, Sebastien knew that through all of this, Lara would be an overwhelming influence on the boy and on the path to peace in this area. Malcolm had revealed some of Lara’s warnings against betraying his clan. Sebastien would need to gain her support and trust in order to gain the boy’s.

  For someone who had never truly dreamed of home and hearth, he was surprised how those dreams now invaded his thoughts and, nightly, invaded his sleep. This invitation to sit and sup with him sprang forth from the odd longings he’d developed since marrying the Maid of Lorne and learning of the king’s plans.

  Not that she gave Sebastien any encouragement. She fought him with words or with silence at every step. She exerted pressure on her brother to make him resistant to any argument for a true truce, or to any offers to continue his training. She refused to share a meal with Sebastien.

  Foolish thoughts again! Here he stood, one of the Bruce’s most able commanders of men, twisted in complete confusion over a mere woman. He turned his face into the rain, allowing its chill to infuse him once more. He’d been so rattled by her accusations that he’d left without his helmet, his sword, or his damn cloak, which would have protected his armor from this onsl
aught of rain.

  Even more frustrating, he found himself standing on the shore of the firth, staring up at the north tower where she was. Not sure of how much time had passed, he wiped his face and decided to go back to his duties.

  Since he would be leaving in another two days, there was much to see to, and wasting his time like this was not his usual behavior. Shrugging off this nonsensical worrying over Lara and her part in his future, indeed in Scotland’s future, he turned and nearly walked into Hugh.

  “A good fight would rid you of this restlessness,” his friend said. “Or is it a good lay you need?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and a wary expression in his dark eyes.

  “Either? Both? Neither?” he answered flatly.

  “If ’tis a good fight you want, I can provide that to you,” Hugh replied, smacking him on the back. “It’s been nigh to a month since I faced a real challenge on the field.”

  “A month? Have you forgotten Brander Pass?”

  “Nay, Sebastien, I have not. But fighting MacDougalls is not really a challenge…not when they run from you.”

  Sebastien shook his head over Hugh’s attempt at an insulting jest.

  “Speaking of running away, the lady followed you from her tower.” Hugh crossed his arms over his chest. “But you were running from the hall so fast that you did not hear her call.”

  “Did she tell you why?” He tried to dampen the interest in his voice, but it was obvious even to his own ears.

  “Nay, but she did not delay in reminding me of my proper place.” His friend laughed now as though remembering what had occurred. “She has spirit, that one. But, in spite of her clear intent, I did not accept her challenge and tell her that the two places I belong are in battle or between the warm and welcoming thighs of a fair wench.” Hugh laughed louder this time, and Sebastien chuckled because he knew that his friend usually would not hesitate to enter a battle of words.

  Sebastien sobered then, daring to ask the one person he trusted with his life the question that had been tormenting him for the last hours and days. “Do you ever wish for more than this soldier’s life? Do you ever crave living in one place with one woman?”

  “Is that what has you in such a state?” Hugh stepped back and looked him over from head to toe as though he did not know him. “Sebastien, for mercenaries such as us, there is only the battle. I cannot see myself in one place even when the Bruce controls the whole of Scotland. And I cannot think that you would be happy in such a life.”

  He shrugged, trying to consider his friend’s words. Hugh did not yet know of the Bruce’s decision, which gave Sebastien an option he’d never had before. The fact that he’d been ordered to marry or kill Lara was the first step, and Sebastien was certain that Robert had never meant for him to kill her. The Bruce was excellent at making people believe they had a choice, when none truly existed.

  Robert wanted Sebastien in place and in control when he presented his counselors with his plans. It would be much more difficult for those within Robert’s forces who opposed him to stop him once he actually held Dunstaffnage, the Maid of Lorne and the heir to the clan.

  But now what?

  The castle, he could hold.

  The heir, he could protect and train.

  The woman? Wed and consummated. Their marriage was a fact, but Lara refused to accept it. Could he change her mind and exert the same control over her that he did over his other responsibilities? He shook his head.

  Hugh misunderstood the gesture. “So, you see the wisdom of my words. Though this marriage accomplishes some feat for the Bruce, he will no doubt assist you in nullifying it when his enemies are no more. Dunstaffnage is simply a stop along our path as soldiers, and she is simply a diversion for you while we are here. Accept her as such and do not allow her this power over you.”

  Sebastien’s thoughts warred in his mind. Part of him, the part that had lived the same life as Hugh for years, accepted the truth in his friend’s words. Unfortunately, that other part, the part that knew much more about the Bruce and about his plans and about the truth of Sebastien’s background, did not wish to acknowledge it for the harsh description of his life that it was.

  His delay in arguing his friend’s assumption made Hugh believe he agreed. “Come then. Let us find that worthless lad you call squire and give him your mail and armor so that he can clean off the results of this rain.”

  Sebastien nodded and walked with Hugh back toward the drawbridge. Philippe could indeed clean his mail and armor and begin teaching Malcolm to, as well. Sebastien’s skin itched for him to remove it, but he hesitated while outside the keep.

  “Then I will fight you man-to-man and truly give you something to worry about,” Hugh added the challenge very casually.

  Thinking that just might take his mind off these unsettling questions and considerations, Sebastien nodded. As they crossed the yard and he called for Philippe, intending to give him instructions, the rain stopped and the winds died down. Most of the men who’d been staying in the yard had been moved, those still injured into the hall, and the rest to Robert’s camp. Still, a crowd began gathering as word spread of their plan.

  Philippe helped him off with his mail and the hauberk beneath it, and then handed him his sword. Asking permission for both him and Malcolm to stay and watch, he yelled happily when Sebastien granted it. Philippe moved off to one side of the yard and pulled Malcolm, who’d just arrived at Sebastien’s orders, along with him. At his nod, the guard he’d assigned stood behind the boys.

  “Well, Sebastien, are you feeling confident?” Hugh taunted him, swinging his weapon very close and motioning for him to strike first.

  Sebastien laughed out loud and directed an insult at his friend. With that, the fight was on. Though thoroughly soaked by the rain, Sebastien was able to move more easily without the heavy mail encasing him. Hugh met him blow for blow, feint for feint and move for move. Their footwork was not the best or smoothest—the heavy rain had turned the yard into a muddy quagmire and they both slipped and fell several times.

  But the fight continued until they were so covered in mud they could no longer see each other. They tossed their swords down and continued to fight hand to hand until they could no longer take hold of their opponent. Although the onlookers grumbled about the fight being a draw, Sebastien and Hugh promised a better one once the yard dried out. As they strode out to use the water of the firth to remove the mud, Philippe and Malcolm ran after them, talking excitedly about the fight. Sebastien would work against the quiet resistance that Malcolm’s sister offered by including the lad in Phillippe’s assignments and introducing him to knightly training. The boy was quite interested in swordplay.

  As though the thought of her had conjured her up, Sebastien glanced up at the tower and spied Lara gazing from a window in their chambers. He raised his sword to her and watched as she stepped back until he could see her no more. Shaking his head, he turned to Hugh and the boys, and went out to clean up before entering the hall.

  Chapter Eight

  The door opened and he stood before her, looking much the same as he had the night of their wedding. Not the brutish soldier she’d watched fight in the mud earlier this day. Nay, this was a man whose bearing cried out of noble blood coursing through his veins. A man who defined good breeding. Yet, as far as she could discover, he was simply a knight, one of unknown or at least questionable origins, who had risen in favor with his king as a direct result of his skills.

  She shuddered as she remembered seeing his strength displayed in the yard. Both men had removed their hauberks and mail and fought in only their trews and boots. That same strength was now hidden beneath his raiment.

  “Are you chilled, lady?” he asked as he held out his arm to her. “There is a fire in the solar to take away the coolness.”

  “I am not cold, just a bit tired.”

  “Then I will not keep you long from your…bed.”

  She heard the smile in his voice as he spoke of her resting place. Lara
could still not figure out how he moved her each night to the bed, and not once had she awakened. She walked at his side, down the steps to the solar, and was surprised by what she found there. The room had been transformed, a small table now in the center, covered with linen and plates and goblets for their use, with a chair on each side. Candles were lit and a fire did indeed burn in the hearth, chasing away the dampness of the day.

  Her stomach warned her by its tenseness that this would be no simple meal. Why had she thought this a good idea? When Malcolm returned safely to their rooms, she had decided to accept Sebastien’s invitation. After sending word through Philippe, Lara had worried the rest of the day about how to gain the information she needed from this enigmatic man.

  They paused for a moment, not entering the room, and then he continued to walk down the steps, guiding her to the entrance to the hall.

  “Sir? Do we not eat in the solar?” she asked.

  “I thought after being closed up inside these last days, that you might enjoy a walk along the battlements? The sky has cleared and the evening is actually quite pleasant and we have some time before our meal is ready.”

  He spoke in a voice that could tempt an angel into sin. Did he know how unsettled she’d been by her walk to the chapel? Both the path there and then meeting her cousin had terrified her. She wanted desperately to walk; truly, she wanted to run to release the tension within her.

  “I confess, sir, that you have discovered my weakness. I detest the uselessness and inactivity of these last days. I would indeed like to take a walk.”

  Although she knew the route in the dark with her eyes closed, she allowed him to lead her out of the hall and up the stairs near the south tower, to the battlements. There was a path around the entire perimeter of the castle, and from it, when the weather cooperated, one could see the best views of the firth to the west and south and Loch Linnhe to the north. Reaching the top, Lara let go of his arm and walked to the crenellated edge of one of the stone walls. Leaning forward, she looked out at the woods where the chapel lay, and toward the open expanses of land to the southeast, where the Bruce’s forces camped.