She began to argue, but he put his finger to her lips. “I believe him to be a fair man. Meet him and then tell me what you think of him.”
A twinkling in his eyes warned her of something afoot, but he gave her no chance to object again. Sebastien guided her to the man he’d been talking to, and pulled her close. “James, let me present my wife to you.”
Lara took a step forward and held out her hand to him. Sebastien’s friend kissed it lightly and bowed. It was a graceful bow, one worthy of a nobleman in the royal court. He brushed his black hair out of his eyes and greeted her with a smile and a soft voice.
“My lady, ’tis a pleasure to finally meet the woman who held Sebastien of Cleish outside her gates.” His hand was warm as he grasped hers for a moment more. “Not many have refused him entrance and lived to tell.” He glanced over at Sebastien, who suddenly looked like a very nervous man.
Although she was certain that his words held another meaning, she smiled back. The knight’s impeccable manners and pleasing personality put her at ease. “Have you eaten yet, Sir James?”
“It is simply James, my lady, for I have not attained knighthood yet. My thanks for your gracious invitation, but there are arrangements I must discuss with your husband before I can take my ease. Will you excuse us for a very short time?”
“Lara?”
Sebastien squeezed her hand, most likely because she was staring at his friend. A strange and puzzling twist at the bottom of her stomach tightened as a niggling suspicion bothered her mind. James? Friend and confidant to the Bruce? Lara pulled her hand from Sebastien’s grasp.
“James,” she repeated as she looked more closely at him. “James Douglas?”
A wide grin broke out on his face and he nodded. “At your service, my lady.”
Others were beginning to watch their exchange, some of the servants and some of Sebastien’s men as well. She could not keep her voice from growing louder, partly due to the shaking that seized her at the realization of the true identity of the man standing before her. She clenched her fists.
The very devil was in their midst.
“The Black Douglas?” She glanced over at Sebastien, who seemed interested now in the way the ceiling joints were arranged. “Sweet Mother of God, you’ve let the devil himself into Dunstaffnage!” Lara raised her hand to bless herself when Sebastien reached over and took hold of her arm, preventing her from completing the sign of the cross.
Silence filled the room as those who knew already and those who were just discovering that the scourge of southern Scotland, the man who Scottish mothers warned their children about, stood before them, focused their attention on the center of the room.
“He does not particularly like it when people cross themselves in his presence,” her husband whispered as he held her hand firmly in his own. “He says he finds it to be insulting.”
The man in question watched the scene unfolding and could hear every word Sebastien whispered. Lara was, however, about to tell the Black Douglas exactly what she thought of him when he leaned over to her, mimicking her husband’s position, and whispered his own words in a gruff voice.
“And ye dinna want to anger the devil himself, do ye now, lass?”
She jumped back, for his voice took on a whole different tone and a menacing one at that.
“James, have a care here! You are terrorizing my wife and in front of me. Have you no shame?” Sebastien reached out and punched James on the arm, and Lara was tempted to run.
“Here now, there is no call for violence,” Sir Hugh stated as he approached. “A messenger from the king is waiting to speak to you both.”
The three men turned their gazes on Lara at the same moment. Feeling very much the outsider, she knew she must leave. But, here was an opportunity to learn important information from the Bruce’s own men, his closest counselors and fighters. This was exactly what Eachann had pressed her about, what he wanted to know. A pang of regret and confusion filled her now. If she had taken a step toward being Sebastien’s wife, could she continue reporting his plans to her clan?
The entire hall grew quiet once more and Lara became aware from the stares toward her that the men were waiting for her to leave. She made her decision in that moment of rejection—she would find out from the Black Douglas what Eachann needed.
“My lord,” she said, curtsying to Sebastien and simply narrowing her gaze when she looked at James and Sir Hugh. “I would speak to the cook about the evening meal. If you would excuse my absence?”
Sebastien appeared to want to say something to her, but he gave her permission with a nod and she walked past them toward the kitchens’ stairs.
And to the steward’s chamber, where she could hear everything they said when they were not guarding their words.
Chapter Twelve
I am longing for a good meal, Sebastien. Do you think she will poison it?” James asked with serious intents. “Should someone follow her?”
Sebastien turned and punched his friend once more on the arm. “You have brought it on yourself this time. What was in your mind to taunt her that way?”
James crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Taunt her? I was the model of decorum and courtly behavior. Did you not see how impressed she was with me?”
“Impressed, you say? Until she realized who you were, and then she seemed more afraid than accepting.” Sebastien laughed now.
The reputation that James carried was well-earned by his actions; they both knew that. But, the rumors and stories and truths took on a life of their own as they spread from friend to foe. If it had not worked to their advantage many times, they would all, even the Bruce himself, squash the hearsay and correct the misapprehensions. Sebastien had witnessed one garrison of English soldiers surrender as one when they heard James shout out his battle cry. True, it was a small garrison, but they did lay down their arms, avoiding bloodshed on either side.
“So you think then that I should have someone taste my food while I am here?”
Hugh thought his jest was a good one, for it was his turn now to laugh. “From the expression on Lady MacDougall’s face, I would say you are each in danger. I for one will sit somewhere far away from both of you this evening and not share in your plates for fear of my life.”
“Enough jesting. There is much we should discuss.”
Sebastien walked to the long table in the south end of the hall and invited the two to sit. Once a serving maid brought tankards and ale and their thirsts were satisfied, Sebastien switched from the local Gaelic to French and reviewed with James the latest reports about the increase in attacks and ambushes to his men and those of the Bruce when transporting supplies over the western Highlands.
Each raid was not significant in itself, but there was an alarming pattern developing, and it seemed to spread out from Dunstaffnage itself. When he noticed the sameness in the timing, execution and details of each one, he knew that these were not simply random acts. Someone was directing them, and the attacks were too similar to be a coincidence and to not be related to the taking of Dunstaffnage.
“What do your spies tell you? Have the rest of the MacDougalls scattered or are they still lurking and plying mischief all around us?” James asked. Leaning in and looking from one to the other, he lowered his voice and asked, “And does your lady wife know about this?”
“That Eachann MacDougall is somewhere nearby? Nay, I have not told her that. She has been somewhat limited in her freedoms since I arrived here.”
James laughed again and smacked him soundly on the shoulder. “Sebastien, must you chain your women to keep them in hand?”
“Your obnoxious jesting aside, James, with all the disarray and change, I thought it best to keep her secluded and safe. She has been little out of the castle grounds and then only to the chapel. And always with an escort.”
“I suspect that Eachann and his men are behind the attacks.”
“I, too, share that suspicion and have assigned Munro to the task. Munro can run any man to groun
d.”
“In the meantime, we will target several places where the Comyns still have friends and uproot them from their keeps.” James took out a small parchment from inside his tunic and spread it on the table before them. Pointing to three locations, James named them. “Invercreran. Here in Glen Gour on Ardgour. And here, to the south of Loch Awe.”
Sebastien considered the locations, each one not far from MacDougall lands. Two could be reached by water, the other was in a valley to the northeast and would involve another journey much like the one through the Brander Pass. Once these places were cleared of enemies, the whole of southwestern Scotland would belong to the Bruce.
“In which order will we take them?” Hugh asked. “Or do we split our forces and attack at the same time?”
“Robert wants us to each take one of these—” James pointed to the last two “—and together take Invercreran.”
“When?” Sebastien asked. He still had much to do here to get Dunstaffnage to the way it should be. And, now that things appeared to be more promising with Lara, he did not wish to be away for long.
“By the first week in October, for Robert plans to pursue the Earl of Ross then.”
“No more truces?” Sebastien knew that the Bruce had signed a truce with both Lorne in the west and Ross in the north. One had been broken and the other had expired, and Robert was now anxious to gather them all under his control. Even worse, the Earl of Ross had captured Robert’s wife, daughter, sister and one of his most ardent supporters, the Countess of Buchan, all of whom he’d turned over to the English.
James’s smile was one of grim determination. “No truces. He submits or dies.”
Sebastien noticed the servants waiting near and realized they were ready to prepare the table for supper. Standing, he invited James and Hugh to join him in the yard to meet with Etienne for a brief discussion of the supplies and men needed for these actions.
“I should tell Lara that we are done here,” Sebastien said.
The other two looked at him and then each other, and James wiggled his eyebrows. “Ah, the life of a married man! For a warrior who was so dedicated to life on a horse, I am stunned that you are settling in so well here.”
“We practically ordered her away. It is simple courtesy to let her know that our discussion has ceased.”
“So it is,” James acknowledged, as he folded the map and tucked it safely away. “Hugh and I can speak with your steward, if you’d like?”
“Enough! I will tell Lara and meet you near the barracks. Go now, before I demonstrate to everyone watching that the Black Douglas has no special powers.”
James leaned his head back and laughed at the threat. “Very well, my lord. Seek you your wife and we will await your counsel in the yard.” He bowed and turned and, with Hugh at his side, walked out through the hall to the yard.
Actually, if he were telling the truth, James did have special powers. Otherwise, he could not have accomplished as much as he had at such a young age. Just over a score of years had he, and yet the whole of Scotland and a good part of England knew of him. Thankful that he had never faced James on the field, Sebastien did understand how the man upset most people upon first meeting.
The king’s business awaited him, so Sebastien headed to the corridor and stairs that led to the kitchens below to find Lara. He wasn’t certain if giving her more time before supper was a good thing, but knew it was necessary. As he stepped through the doorway, Lara came running up the stairs. He moved back to make room on the landing.
“Lara, we are not done with our discussions and will return for the meal in a short time.”
“As you wish,” she replied. She tilted her head down and Sebastien could not see her eyes. Then he noticed that she was breathing heavily and sweat beaded on her lip.
“Are you well?” He reached out his hand to lift her chin. Her face was a bit pale and her gaze wary.
“I must still be overwhelmed from this morn. The heat of the kitchens bothered me and I fear that running up the steps has left me breathless.”
The lie did not quite reach her eyes. Sebastien was not certain why she was lying or about what, but he read the lie as easily as he read a battle formation.
“Have a care, lady. Come into the hall where it is cooler and mayhap guide the servants in preparing for the meal.”
She accepted his hand without hesitation and Sebastien escorted her back into the hall. Once in the cooler room, she took a deep breath and released it. Granted, the heat from the kitchens, when the meals for dozens of people were being cooked, could be significant. The blush in her cheeks returned and he released her. James and Hugh were waiting for him.
He would think on this puzzle later.
She leaned forward once more and tried to peek around Sebastien at James Douglas. Her husband had suggested that he sit between them so that James’s presence did not terrorize her. And rightly so! The Black Douglas was the scourge of those who opposed Robert the Bruce. A strange turn of events since the Bruce had, when fighting on the English side, captured Castle Douglas and turned him and his mother and sisters over to Edward Longshanks.
Lara peeked again. She could not believe that this young man was one of the Bruce’s elite fighters. He was, she thought, at least five years younger than Sebastien. Lara glanced at her husband and found him watching her.
“Is he really the Black Douglas?” she whispered so the man in question would not hear her. “He looks so young.”
“I assure you, my lady, that I have indeed attained the age of twenty and two years,” he said in a voice that was both soft and cultured.
Lara gasped. He’d heard her. She sat back in the chair so he could not see past Sebastien. Then, damn him, Sebastien leaned back and exposed her to James’s gleeful gaze.
“I do prefer just my name over the one that the English use.”
The men all laughed at this. Sebastien joined them and then turned to her. “He is truly the Black Douglas, called that for many reasons.” Sebastien lifted his goblet in a salute to the man on his left and called out, “A Douglas! A Douglas!”
James’s men all stood at once, lifting their tankards high and answering back the same chant in thunderous voices. The hall shook with the intensity. Lara glanced around the table and saw that every person stared at James, including Malcolm, who watched from his place behind the table with Philippe. Instead of fear, excitement and awe filled his face.
Stunned by it, she looked around at the other MacDougall servants and villagers who’d stayed on at Dunstaffnage. All joined in the revelry. Was she now the only one carrying on the fight? Then she felt Sebastien’s hand on hers under the cover of the table and she met his gaze.
“All will be well, Lara. Truly,” he said, trying to reassure her with his words and a gentle squeeze of her fingers.
She could say nothing, so she sipped from her goblet and watched as the hall quieted and the people went back to their meal. Exhaustion began to claim her and all she wanted to do was sleep.
“May I retire, my lord?” she asked in a low voice.
“Of course,” he answered, waving to Sir Hugh at the other table where he sat with Margaret, to bring the maid to her lady. “I will join you soon.”
He stood when she did, as did everyone in the hall. Startled by the sign of respect, she left the table and sought the comfort of her chambers. So many things were changing in her life and she did not know how to deal with all of them. Unfortunately, her room held not the comfort she sought, for it presented her with more choices to make.
Lara stopped at the entry way and looked about. Her father’s chair stood on one side and the bed on the other. Where should she go? It seemed a farce for her to take her usual place in the chair, fully dressed, as she had each night since Sebastien’s arrival. She turned and looked at Margaret, who seemed as confused about what to do as she was.
“Help me wash and take down my hair, Margaret. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
“Aye, my lad
y,” the maid said as she crossed the room and gathered the things needed for her tasks.
With another glance at the bed, Lara sat on a bench placed near the hearth and accepted the linen cloth and soft soap from her maid. Once Lara had washed her face and hands in the basin held out to her, Margaret took the water away and returned with a brush. Lara allowed her thoughts to drift as first the snood was removed and then the intricate braids were loosened.
The maid’s long, sure brush strokes through her hair calmed her. The tension in her shoulders and in her back from meeting a dreaded enemy melted away. It was as her head drifted forward and her chin fell onto her chest that Margaret spoke.
“He is a good man,” she whispered. Lara was not certain if she defended Sebastien or Hugh until she continued. “I have watched how he treats the others of our clan who have remained behind. I think you are fortunate that he is your husband and lord now.”
“But my father was—”
“Pah! Your father would have sold you to the highest bidder. We both know who he had in mind for your bridegroom, my lady. And we both know how things would have gone for you married to such a rogue.”
Lara had not thought about the man her father had intended her to marry since the day Sebastien had arrived. Actually, her father had declared several men to be candidates for her husband, “to take the Maid of Lorne in hand and in control” were his words. Now, thinking on it, she realized the kind of life she might have had with another in Sebastien’s place. A shudder raced through her at such thoughts.
“My thanks, Margaret,” Lara whispered as she tried to shake herself from the images of what might have been. She allowed the relaxed state brought on by her maid’s sure hands and calming strokes to take over once more. After a few more minutes of silence, Margaret shook her gently.
“My lady, he is here.”
Lara discovered that Sebastien was indeed there. He stood in the doorway, staring at her with an intensity that nearly frightened her. Her mouth went dry and she swallowed several times, trying to moisten it.
The Maid of Lorne Page 12
