"Damn the lass," Rebbie muttered.
"Blast!" Calla scrambled from the bed and grabbed her smock. "I cannot believe she came in here. Why did we not bar the door?"
"There is none. I should've stolen one from another chamber. Or pushed a chest in front of the door." Rebbie pulled his shirt over his head. "No doubt she wanted to try to make me kiss her again. Brat."
"Or talk you into changing your mind about marrying her."
"'Twill never happen."
Wearing her smock and wrap, she pulled on her cloak. "I'll go talk to her."
He frowned. "Do you think that's a good idea?"
"Nay, but I must try to calm her down."
"Come back here if she gives you trouble."
Calla nodded and hastened into the corridor. At the room they shared, Elena's sobs reached her through the door.
Calla entered, thankful she hadn't barred it. "Elena—"
"Leave me be! I never want to see you again. Traitor! You knew I loved him and you had to steal him away."
"I didn't steal him away."
"What would you call it, then? You were… in his bed… naked!" She burst into tears again. "You are naught but a trollop."
Annoyance blazed through Calla, along with no small amount of guilt, but she didn't regret one moment of the time she'd spent with Rebbie. Something stunning happened every time she was with him.
"What happened when he rescued you? You were alone with him for days," Elena said. "No doubt sleeping with him every night."
Unable to tell the girl the truth, but at the same time, not wanting to lie, Calla kept her lips sealed.
"You stole him away from me!"
The girl couldn't understand she'd never had Rebbie to begin with. Nor did Calla possess him. No one did. He was his own man, and he was powerful enough and wealthy enough to do whatever he pleased. "I'm sorry. 'Twas never my intention to hurt you."
"Well, you did. You're no better than a wanton tavern wench."
Calla bit her lip and stared down at her clenched fingers. Elena's words were too close to the truth for her comfort. She had seduced Rebbie, not in a tavern, but an inn… and only to save her own life. She couldn't tell Elena that, for the girl would never understand. She'd been spoiled, sheltered and overprotected her whole life. She had never known any hardships, and Calla hoped she never faced anything more painful than what she was going through right now.
"Pray pardon," Calla said. "I hope you can someday forgive me."
Elena sniffed and blew her nose on a handkerchief. "Are you going to marry him?"
Calla shook her head. "He certainly hasn't asked me."
"But if he did?"
"I know not."
"You would," she said, then burst into sobs again. "Do you love him?"
Not wanting to lie to her cousin, yet also uncomfortable talking about her feelings, especially to the woman who'd wanted to marry him, Calla shrugged.
"You do," Elena accused with disgust. "You love him."
"We don't always get to choose who we love."
"I don't want to hear your words of wisdom. I want to be alone."
"Very well." Calla stood and moved toward the door. She supposed she could slip back to Rebbie's room and sleep there.
A loud knock at the door startled her.
She opened it to find Elena's father and mother waiting there. Barclay looked like a dark thundercloud.
"What's going on in here? What's the ruckus?" He entered the room, his wife following, and approached Elena, weeping on the bed.
Calla had forgotten their chamber was next door. Elena would no doubt tell her father she'd caught Calla in Rebbie's room. She didn't want to be alone when those two confronted her. Barclay might become angry enough to strike her. She quickly quit the room and closed the door behind her. She rushed along the corridor.
Angelique stood outside her open door. "What is wrong?" she whispered. "I heard shouting."
"Elena came into Rebbie's bedchamber."
"Again?"
"Aye, and what she saw shocked her to her toes."
Angelique's eyes widened. "I see."
"She's distraught and her parents are in her room. I'm certain she'll tell them."
Angelique almost smiled, then bit her lip. "Come." She pulled Calla into her private sitting room and closed the door. Thankfully, no one else was in the room.
"Where is Lachlan?"
"Asleep in the laird's chamber."
"Oh, I'm so sorry I woke you."
"Non, I was already awake. I'd just finished nursing the babe when I heard someone yell." Angelique dropped to the settle by the fire.
"'Twas Elena." Too agitated to sit, Calla paced.
Raised voices reached them from the corridor. A man shouting.
"'Tis Barclay!" Calla said.
Angelique jumped to her feet and raced to the door.
"Don't open it," Calla said. "Bar the door. He sounds enraged." No telling what he would do to her. He might slap her if she stood before him now.
Angelique barred the door, then stood listening.
"Where are you, whore?" he yelled as he walked past the door.
Fury, along with embarrassment, washed over Calla like hot water. She covered her burning cheeks with her hands.
"Lady Stanbury!" he yelled.
Saints! Was he going to wake the entire castle? Her face felt scalded.
"What a bastard he is!" Angelique growled in a strong French accent. "I will demand that Lachlan make him leave tomorrow."
"I feel like a coward for hiding from him."
"Non, by the sound of it, he's turned into a madman. 'Tis best you stay out of his way until he calms. I need to wake Lachlan, if all this yelling hasn't already."
One moment later, the connecting door burst open. 'Twas Lachlan, haphazardly dressed in his shirt and belted plaid. "Angelique? What is all the damnable yelling?"
She explained the situation to him.
"Hell. He may try to kill Rebbie." Lachlan charged for the exit that led into the corridor. "Bar the door again after I leave," he told his wife, then opened the door.
"Is the whore in there?" Barclay yelled while the door was open.
"Out!" Lachlan commanded. Shoving the man back before he could enter, he slammed the door. "This is my wife's private chamber." Lachlan's voice now sounded muffled through the wood. "Get a hold of yourself, man."
Angelique barred the door.
"Oh, dear Lord," Calla whispered. "I hope he doesn't hurt Rebbie."
More shouts and a loud crash sounded.
***
"What the devil?" Rebbie muttered. Those yells didn't sound like Elena. Was Calla all right? He opened his door and stepped into the corridor.
"There you are, you bastard!" Barclay charged him.
Before Rebbie could say a word, a fist smashed into his eyebrow, and he staggered back against the door. "What in blazing hell!" Barclay had hit him?
"Get a rein on your temper," Lachlan commanded and grabbed the older earl's arms behind his back and shoved him further along the corridor.
Damnation!
Rebbie followed them. "Is Calla all right?"
"Aye, she's with Angelique," Lachlan called back to him.
"What is happening, Robert?" his father asked behind him, his head stuck out of his chamber.
"I'll tell you later."
"Let me go!" Barclay yelled. "I'm going to kill that whoring bastard."
"No one is killing anyone. Now, if you don't want to find yourself in the dungeon, you'll calm yourself."
"Are you threatening me, you—?"
"Watch your tongue. I welcomed you into our home and now you're being an arse."
A hand pressed to his bruised brow bone, Rebbie followed them downstairs and to the solar. Lachlan shoved the earl toward the settle. "Have a seat," he ordered. "I'll have no more violence in my home. I don't care who you are."
Rebbie's father followed them in and closed the door.
Lachlan glanced at Rebbie. "Are you well?"
"Aye." He'd have a bruise on his eye tomorrow but that was naught.
"What is the meaning of this, Barclay?" Rebbie's father demanded. "I thought you were content with the deal you two worked out."
"That bastard—" Barclay pointed at Rebbie.
"Watch your tongue," his father warned. "I'll not have my wife's or my son's name besmirched."
"Elena caught that whore, Calla, in his bedchamber a short time ago."
"She is no whore, you bastard!" Rebbie growled, rage running rampant over him.
Lachlan lifted a brow. "Let us all remain calm, aye?"
Rebbie was trying his damnedest, but no one called Calla a whore.
"That's why he doesn't want to marry my daughter. He's swiving her cousin! Do you intend to marry that penniless widow?"
"That is none of your concern!" Rebbie said, but aye, he did intend to marry her. Now was not the time to announce it however, especially since he hadn't even asked her yet.
"Well, you won't be gaining anything but a willing bed partner. Naught more than you could get at any tavern between here and Edinburgh."
Fury bounding through him, Rebbie ground his teeth. "Lachlan," he growled. "Tell the man to shut his gob before I throttle him."
"Aye, no more insults!" Lachlan commanded Barclay. "Now, let's calm ourselves and talk civilly."
Rebbie inhaled deeply and forced himself to speak in a neutral tone. "We worked out a deal, and you accepted it. What happened after that between Lady Stanbury and me is no concern of yours."
"You were alone with the woman for days! I'm not daft enough to think tonight is the first time you've bedded her. So indeed, you were swiving her while still betrothed to my daughter."
"I never intended to marry your daughter. So, none of it matters."
"It matters," Barclay seethed. "Indeed, it matters. And you will regret this."
"Did you stop to wonder why your daughter barged into my chamber in the middle of the night? Was she planning to trap me into marrying her, like before? Or was she planning to seduce me?"
Barclay narrowed his eyes.
"He makes a good point," Rebbie's father said. "And I want you to know, Barclay, I was wrong to sign the betrothal contract without consulting with my son about it first. I'm sorry and I hope you both can forgive me for it."
Rebbie nodded, surprised and relieved by his father's words.
Barclay didn't appear the least bit appeased by any of it. "I'll not forget this." He strode from the room, slamming the door on the way out.
***
Rain poured down the next morn as they broke their fast in Draughon's great hall. Most everyone was silent. Elena was absent, but Calla had forced herself to face everyone. She might be embarrassed that they all knew she'd been in Rebbie's chamber, but she was no coward. She glanced at him, seeing a faint bruise on his brow bone where, he'd said, Barclay had struck him last night. She felt partially responsible, for it had happened because she'd been in Rebbie's chamber.
An hour later, the rain had slowed to a mist when Calla climbed into the large black coach alone. Rebbie, Lachlan, and two dozen of Lachlan's and Kilverntay's garrisons also mounted up. As the coach traveled over the rough, rutted road littered with stones and holes, she was jostled this way and that. 'Twas much like her life. Never a smooth ride.
Last night had been disastrous and mortifying. After the row with Elena and Barclay, Angelique had moved Calla to a small bedchamber of her own. Still, she'd gotten little sleep.
What would happen when Rebbie met Jamie? She prayed he wouldn't see any family resemblance. Jamie had blond hair, much like her own but perhaps a few shades darker. But Jamie's eyes… and his smile… were so much like Rebbie's. Her stomach knotted and she wished she hadn't eaten anything that morn.
They navigated through Perth and an hour later, the coach drew up outside the gates of the Glenhaven Estate.
After the coachman opened the door, Rebbie assisted her to the ground, her stomach aching by this time. Her palms sweated and she was glad to be wearing her gloves. Rebbie and Lachlan accompanied her to the gates, letting the guards know their identities.
"The three of you may take the coach up to the main keep, but your men must remain outside the gates," the guard said in a gruff voice.
"You don't need me to accompany you," Lachlan said. "I'll wait out here with the men. You go with Calla in the coach. Besides, they may send servants with the lad."
Rebbie nodded. "I thank you for your help."
Lachlan strode back toward his horse.
"What did he mean when he said they may send servants with the lad?" Calla asked, her heart rate tripping along.
"With everything that happened last night, I forgot to tell you… I want to bring your son back to Draughon with us to make sure he's safe from Claybourne and his men while I deal with the knave and pay him off. I trust Draughon's defenses more."
A breathless panic almost overcame Calla, but she forced herself to think. "I see no need for it. He's always been safe here."
Rebbie frowned as if she perplexed him. She was certain she did, but the longer he spent with her son, the more of a chance he would figure it out, surely. She never should've allowed him to bring her today.
"I thought you might also want to spend a few days with your son," he said.
"Well, of course, I do. But his safety is most important to me."
His frown deepened. "You think I'm putting him in danger by taking him to Draughon Castle?"
"Nay, 'tis only…" She swallowed hard and clasped her hands together to still their shaking. "I was simply going to visit with him for a few minutes today. To make certain he is all right. You don't even have to go up to the castle. You can wait here with Lachlan, if you wish."
"Nay. As I said, I want to meet the lad. And I want to make certain Claybourne can't kidnap him. If he does, he'll want to exchange him for you. He'll stop at nothing to get his paws on you. You know this."
She nodded. Rebbie was right, of course, but still….
He opened the coach door and held out his hand. She couldn't very well refuse now without looking a fool. After they climbed inside, he sat opposite her.
Dear God, help me… she prayed.
As the coach jolted into motion, Rebbie sat eyeing Calla. She was lovely today, but pale with worry. How could she think he'd put her son in danger? Nay, he wanted to give the lad the best protection possible.
And why wouldn't she wish to spend some time with her son? She rarely got to see him.
The night before, he'd almost told her he loved her, but damnation, the thought made him feel as if he'd been punched in the gut. It snatched his breath for a moment. Still, everything in him proclaimed it the truth. Since he did love her, he wanted to marry her, although he was not yet completely comfortable with the idea of marriage itself. Anyway, he loved the notion of having Calla with him all the time.
If she agreed to marry him, he would want her son to come live with them at Castle Rebbinglen. Imagining that, he smiled, for the big castle wouldn't feel so empty then. 'Twould feel like home.
If they were betrothed now, he'd have a much more legitimate reason for accompanying her today. As it was, Glenhaven might question their curious relationship. He'd wanted all their problems—especially the Claybourne problem—behind them before proposing to her.
Sitting stiffly and almost appearing as if she were heading to the executioner's block, Calla stared out the window, her brows drawn together.
"Are you well?" he asked.
She flicked a fleeting glance at him. "Aye."
But he could tell she wasn't. Nerves had almost gotten the better of her. Did she think Claybourne was going to kidnap one or both of them? Switching seats, he sat beside her and drew her against him with an arm around her shoulders. She went rigid, then finally relaxed and slid her arm around his waist. Saints, but he loved the feel of her pressed against him. He had the mad urge to seduce her in
this coach, but there was no time. The drive might be long, but it wasn't that long.
"You worry too much," he murmured. "We'll protect both you and Jamie."
"I know," she whispered, then straightened. She gave him a wan smile. "You'll never know how much I appreciate your help."
"You're most welcome, and I'm glad to help. I've always enjoyed helping you." He winked. 'Twas true. She was an adventure and a half and he loved every minute of it, whether they were in bed or being chased by feral mongrels, either the animal or human sort.
He loved the blush that spread over her face, along with the first genuine smile he'd seen since the night before, in his bed. Grinning, he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "I love you."
Her eyes widened, searching his, questioning, and her mouth hung open.
Saints, had he just said that? It wasn't half as difficult as he'd thought it would be.
"I love you, too," she whispered.
Hearing those words upon her lips melted his heart. He kissed her again, much slower and more in depth this time. Her lips were so soft and delicate, and her mouth sweet as a plum tart. The way she kissed him back, her tongue flicking against his, awoke his lusts. He growled and devoured her mouth.
The coach jolted to a halt, jarring them apart.
"Damnation," he muttered.
Her gaze flew to the door. "Would you like to wait out here?" she asked. "I'm not certain how I'll explain why you've accompanied me. Glenhaven will surely suspect the truth of our… association." She blushed. "And if that's the case, he might try to take permanent custody of Jamie."
Rebbie ground his teeth and nodded. She was right of course, but he didn't like the idea. If they were already married, there would be no problems or misunderstandings. Soon.
She climbed down from the coach and approached the castle, part medieval monstrosity and part modern mansion.
During the quarter hour after Calla exited the coach, Rebbie wondered if she would bring Jamie along or not, but no doubt they would have to pack his clothes and such.
Still, Rebbie hated waiting. He wanted to jump out and pace back and forth across the worn cobblestones, but he didn't want to draw attention or raise any suspicions.
Finally, the castle's door opened and three people stepped out—Calla, a wee blond lad, and a woman dressed as a servant, carrying a satchel. They headed toward the coach, then someone inside the castle called Calla back.
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