Ian lifted a dark, bushy brow. "Do? Madam, he is your husband." He smirked.
"And a little boy," she corrected.
"Aye, but boys his age are beginning to notice women."
"I don't know what I've done to draw his attention." She rested her hands on her hips. "As soon as I realized he was watching me, I became more modest in our bedchamber."
"The only way you can end his infatuation at this point would be to shear your hair, blacken your teeth, and take to wearing sackcloth and ashes, and even then..." Ian's sentence hung in the air as he reached out to brush a bit of hair from her eyes. He lowered his voice. "Even then, he would still smell your sweet skin, hear your voice, see the laughter in your eyes."
Kara swallowed hard. Ian was talking about Harry, of course, but she had the feeling he was also talking about himself. She lowered her gaze to her hem, struggling to come up with a way to change the subject, which was becoming all too personal too quickly. "I... I want to thank you."
"Again?" His tone was playful once more.
Another side of Ian Munroe revealed.
"For what now? Did I offer you water? Perhaps make way for you in the hall?"
"The girl. You saved her hand, perhaps her life."
"Nae, that was you." He reached out to touch her again, but pulled back and grabbed the rope instead, as if for safety. "So I thank you, my lady, not just for being there for the girl, but the other cases as well."
"No thanks are necessary. You were right. My duty is to my husband"—the word stuck in her throat—"and his people."
"Duty, hell. Hearing you in the hall today made me think you should be the lord of Dunnane and not my little brother."
"You embarrass me with your undeserved flattery," she said, avoiding eye contact. In her mind she could see Ian's dark brown, penetrating eyes.
"Not at all undeserved. Ye have a knack for justice, Kara. And I am greatly relieved. This is one of Harry's duties I was most concerned with." He leaned toward her, drawing her into his confidence. "I feared he was not old enough or wise enough to make life-and-death decisions for the people, but your abilities exceed my expectations."
She laughed. "Ian, let me by. I must see to the girl."
He moved to prevent her passage and she looked up. "Please let me go," she begged meaningfully.
He was immediately contrite. He stepped aside. "You've no need to fear me, Kara. I would never—"
"I am not afraid of you. I'm afraid of—" It was on the tip of her tongue to say she was afraid of her feelings for him. Feelings that were still in their infancy stage, but feelings she knew were wrong, harmful, even dangerous. But she couldn't say it.
"Afraid of what?"
She passed him on the bottom stair tread and grasped the rope just above his hand. The heel of her hand brushed his knuckles, and she had a strong urge to cover his hand with hers, feel its size, its warmth, its strength.
"Kara?"
She shook her head, unable to say more. "Good day, sir." She lifted her woolen skirt and ran up the steps.
She was thankful Ian did not follow.
* * *
Kara entered her bedchamber to find Isla curled up in a chair in front of the fireplace. She looked cold, though she was wrapped in a woolen blanket, covered from neck to toe. She looked up expectantly when Kara entered the room, but did not move from the chair.
"I see you got a bath," Kara said kindly. "And did someone bring you a meal?"
Isla nodded. "Aye. Soup and bread and buttermilk." She drew the blanket closer. "I had nothing clean to put on, my lady. My skirt and shift were torn and soiled past savin'."
The girl was naked beneath the blanket; no wonder she was cold. "Let me get you something to wear." Kara knelt at the trunk at the foot of the bed and retrieved a shift and woolen stockings, followed by an old plaid skirt and a cotton bodice. She rose, the clothing bundled in one arm. "Dress in these. I'll turn away."
Isla stood and accepted the clothing. "Ye don't have to look away. My stepfather, he took away my modesty long ago."
The young woman's words were matter-of-fact, but Kara heard the pain in her tone. Her heart went out to Isla.
"How far gone are you?" Kara busied herself straightening the bedcovers, giving the girl a little privacy to cover her swollen abdomen.
"'Bout seven months, I'm guessin'."
Kara turned to her, a blanket folded in her arms. "If you tell me where you came from I could send men to your stepfather. He should be punished for what he has done to you."
Stepping into the old but sturdy woolen skirt, Isla shook her head, her damp blond hair swinging at her shoulders. "Nae. Harm him, and me mother and little brothers would starve. What's done is done. I never want to see that Satan's son again." She glanced up quickly."'Scuse my words, my lady."
"Bedeviled is right," Kara said.
Isla met Kara's gaze and grinned. She picked up her filthy clothes left in a pile near the bathtub at the hearth. "What should I do with these?"
"Toss them in the fire. Burn them with your past."
Isla hugged the dirty clothes. "Ye got a good heart, my lady."
Kara turned back to the bed. "I thought you could help me dress, do a little sewing for me, for my husband."
Isla tossed the clothing in and watched the flames flare up. "Pardon me for bein' so bold as to ask, but why are you married to that boy? Was it my choice, I'd take the big bear man who was standin' behind his lordship."
Kara didn't dare face the girl for fear Isla might read something in her expression. "Ours is an arranged marriage," she said. "We were wed only last week."
Isla nodded, looking around the small, cozy chamber. "So ye want me to sleep on the floor? I could pull my pallet right up here to the fireplace. I won't disturb you and your lordship." She covered her ears. "I don't hear nothin' once I'm asleep."
Kara laughed. "Have no fear of hearing anything." She didn't know what made her make that comment. She had told Ian she would keep their lack of consummation a secret. But somehow Kara knew Isla would not betray her. Something told her that she would find a friend in Isla.
Isla chuckled. "Ye need not say more. My lips are sealed." She ran one finger across her full, rosy mouth.
"There's a builder coming. The other two chambers on this floor will be joined. You can sleep in the small one."
"Anything ye wish, my lady. I told ye: I'm grateful."
The bedchamber door opened and Harry burst in. "Kara! Ye have to come out. Ian's going to let me fly his best hawk." He ran to her and took her hand.
Kara didn't know what to do. He'd never been so bold before. Had he taken the wrong meaning from her actions this morning, or was he just an excited boy?
"Won't you come?" He tugged on her arm.
"Aye, let me grab my cloak."
As Kara reached the door with Harry, she turned to Isla. "I've some wool there to spin if your hands are idle. I won't be long."
"I'll be fine here by the fire," Isla said. "Ye go with your husband and pay me no mind. A woman needs to spend time with her new laird."
Isla said all the right things, but when the women's gazes met, the young girl winked mischievously, and Kara smiled as she let Harry lead her out the door.
It felt good to have a woman to confide in.
Chapter 6
"How many head stolen?" Harry cracked a chestnut with a small wooden mallet and picked the meat from the shell.
After the evening meal, Kara, Harry and Ian had gathered in front of the fireplace to relax before retiring. This had become their regular routine, and Kara looked forward to it each day. She found it awkward being alone with Harry in their private chamber before bed, but here in the great hall, with both men she was comfortable, almost content. Tonight she had roasted chestnuts on the hearth and placed them in a bowl to be shared by all.
"At least three dozen head," Ian intoned. He sat straddling a straight-backed chair, his back to the fireplace, watching Harry struggle to crack another
nut. "We ignored the first dozen or so; my guess is that they came back for more."
Chewing with great gusto, Harry thrust out his hands to Kara. "Can I have some more nuts?"
"Ye think it's the same thieves?" She passed another handful to her husband.
Near the fireplace it was warm and cozy, and the air smelled of roasted chestnuts. Shadows cast by the blaze on the hearth danced on the stone walls of the great hall, making the lighted space she shared with the two men seem intimate and far removed from the rest of the castle.
"Aye, it's the same rogues. That I'm sure of. They're bold as Satan himself," Ian said with disgust. "They butcher a cow where she stands and take the choicest cuts, leaving the rest to rot on the ground."
"I don't like men stealing my cattle." Harry tapped on a nut, but the shell didn't break. "We can't let them steal my cattle, can we?"
Ian took the nut from his brother and cracked it in his palm. He handed the broken nut to Harry. "Nae, we cannot tolerate cattle reivers at Dunnane. They will only grow bolder as the season passes. This time they took from far afield, but next time it might be from our own paddock."
Kara lowered the red wool stocking she was knitting for Isla to her lap. "What must be done?"
"We've little choice but to go after them. We must round them up like the swine they are." Ian cracked another chestnut and passed it to Kara. "They can surrender and take their chances with the sheriff or hang where they stand."
Kara popped the warm nut into her mouth. For the last half hour her husband had been eating nuts she had roasted for him, yet he had not offered her one. Ian had not eaten a single nut before first cracking one open for her. She knew the difference was only that Harry was still young. When did children not think first of themselves? She knew it was a minor incident, but Ian had thought first of her and it felt good. No one had ever put her first before.
"We hang them ourselves?" Harry asked, wide-eyed. "I've never seen a man hang." He chewed excitedly. "Once I wanted to go to a hanging in Edinburgh but Mother wouldn't permit it. She said it would give me nightmares."
Ian's and Kara's gazes met. His mouth twitched into a smile; then it was gone as quickly as it had come. She hid her smile behind her hand. It wasn't even that amusing—the great Earl of Dunnane's mother controlling his actions for fear of nightmares. It just struck Kara as funny, and Ian as well, apparently.
"Aye, 'tis not a pleasant sight, one I would wish upon no one," Ian told Harry stoically. "But justice must be served, else there will be anarchy in these hills. Hanging is the price a man pays for stealing another man's livelihood."
"Hanging? Who are we hanging?" Dungald entered the circle of firelight as if appearing magically.
Kara had not heard him approach nor seen his shadow. Not even Harry's dogs in the entryway had stirred. She wondered if Dungald had sneaked up on them on purpose. What could he possibly be hoping to hear by eavesdropping?
"We were talking about the cattle thieves," Harry told his cousin. "I think it's time we go after them."
"Do ye, now?" Dungald perched on the arm of Harry's chair, placing himself between Kara and the other men.
"I received word as to where it's believed they're camped," Ian advised.
He cracked another nut in his palm, and Kara noticed that his movements were stiffer. He had been relaxed a moment ago, but now the muscles in his neck stood out. She realized now that Ian was always on guard in Dungald's presence.
"Want to go, Dungald?" Ian did not look up. "You always enjoyed a little bloodshed."
"I want to go." Harry jumped from his chair, sending nutshells skittering across the floor.
Annoyed, Kara lowered herself to her knees and began to retrieve the shells, dropping them into her skirt. She knew she must speak to Harry about constantly making messes for others to clean, but she hadn't yet found the right time. Here in front of his cousin and Ian was not the right time.
"Leave those, Kara," Ian said absently. "I'll get them." He looked to Harry. "No, ye should stay here... with your wife," he added as an afterthought.
Harry rested his hand on his hip petulantly. "They're stealing my cattle. I should go, too. I want to go. I'm the earl and I'm in charge. I can go if I want."
Her husband sounded as if he were on the edge of a temper tantrum, and Kara found it rather unbecoming. Harry was too old to be behaving like this, his responsibilities too great. But wasn't that like a boy his age, mature one moment, childish the next?
Dungald settled into Harry's chair, the chair that had been Harry's father's. Dungald crossed his leg over his knee, leaning his head back to relax as if the brocade-upholstered chair was his rather than Harry's. "Aye, let the boy go if he wants. He's right. They are his thieves, too."
Ian eyed Dungald, warning him to back down. He returned his attention to Harry. "For safety reasons, I believe it would be wise for you to remain here, my lord. We may be gone overnight and be forced to camp. And our mother is scheduled to finally arrive tomorrow. You should be here to greet her."
"You're always telling me I need to make decisions." Harry strutted back and forth before the stone hearth that was as long as a dining table. "Then when I do make decisions, you tell me they're the wrong ones."
Kara moved behind Ian to dump the shells into the fire. "I believe Ian is right, Harry," she said quietly."'Twould be safer if—"
"Safer!" Dungald exclaimed. "Christ's bones, he'd be better guarded if he stayed attached to his mother's tit, too! But if the boy wants to be a man, let him be a man!"
Ian rose from the chair, gripping its back in an obvious attempt to control his anger. "Dungald, that language is not appropriate before Lady Dunnane."
"It's all right," Kara murmured. She was flustered, not because of Dungald's language, but because Ian had spoken up for her, not Harry. She was embarrassed for her husband. "My father used far worse in my presence."
"It's not right," Ian said. He glanced at Harry, who was occupied picking through the bowl of nuts looking for the biggest. "My lord, it's not fitting."
Harry sighed. "Dungald, shut up," he threw over his shoulder.
Surprisingly, Dungald sat back in the chair and was silent.
Harry turned to Ian. "What would my father do?"
Ian did not hesitate. "Your father would tell you to remain at Dunnane with your new wife, greet your mother, and see to your duties. He would tell you that your men could take care of this small annoyance whilst you dealt with more formidable matters."
Kara smiled to herself. She knew that what Harry was asking was what his father would do in his place, not what his father would tell him. Ian was clever. Very clever.
Harry took the last nuts in his hand and pitched them into the fireplace. "You never want me to have any fun!" he snapped. "Fine. Go round up the thieves yourselves. But if you get to hang anyone, bring them to Dunnane. I always wanted to see a hanging." He stomped out of the light. "I'm going to bed. You coming, Kara?"
She turned her head to reply, but unintentionally caught Dungald's gaze.
He lifted a bushy, black eyebrow questioningly. He said nothing, and yet the lascivious look in his eyes said so much, as if he was thinking of her naked body in bed with Harry and he wished it was himself instead. The idea of it sickened her.
"Aye," she snapped, whipping away from Dungald. She wanted to say something to him, but what could she say? A woman could not make accusations against a man for his thoughts. "I'm coming, my lord," she called to Harry.
"Sweet dreams," Dungald mocked as she passed him. "Don't stay awake too long. Get plenty of rest."
Kara followed Harry, ignoring Dungald. What she really wanted to do was hit him so hard that she wiped the smirk from his face.
* * *
"I should think you'll be comfortable enough in here," Kara said, covering a pallet with a wool blanket.
Isla hung in the doorway. "I never had no room to my own," she said proudly.
"There's no fireplace, of course, but the stone
from the fireplace in the next room should heat this room just fine."
Isla tugged on an old shawl Kara had given her. "I'd say I'll be more than warm, my lady. Some nights in my cottage, ice would form in the water bucket."
Kara smoothed the blanket on the bed. "And when your baby comes, we'll get you a cradle to put right there." She pointed to the corner of the room. "That way the babe will be close at hand in the night."
"I can't say words to thank ye," Isla said.
"Ye needn't thank me. Just serve Dunnane well." She walked past her, touching her arm as she went by. "Harry has ordered a door cut between each of the three rooms so they'll all be connecting. When your labor comes, I'll only be in the next room. You have only to call out."
Isla leaned against the doorjamb, her brow furrowing. "Ye mean ye won't be sleepin' with his lordship in the master bedchamber?"
Kara hesitated. She glanced up the short hallway. The tower was the Earl of Dunnane's private chambers, so there were rarely servants about. There was never any reason for anyone to be here on the third floor of the tower unless they had direct business with the lord or lady of the manor.
"If you're to be my handmaid, I suppose you will know much of my private affairs anyway," she said softly. She paused and then continued. "His lordship has a great deal on his mind presently, and I just think he would be more comfortable sleeping alone."
Isla's rosy lips turned up in a sly smile. "I wouldn't tumble with no boy his age either," she said. "I got a brother, Timothy, the same in years, and he wouldn't know a woman's teat if he fell over one." She crossed her arms over her bosom, her tone softening. "But he'll grow up soon enough, your earl, I warrant you that."
Kara lowered her gaze. "I would ask that you not mention this to anyone else, nor refer to the situation to his lordship."
"Ain't nobody's business," Isla chimed in. "Nobody's but yours and the earl's." She ran a finger over her rosy lips to seal them. "That ain't nobody's business. Not that nor anything else. Me, I don't know nothing that goes on here, nothing that goes on in this whole castle for that matter."
Kara smiled. The girl might be a thief, a liar, maybe even a harlot if her sad tale wasn't true, but somehow she knew Isla would not reveal her secret. Woman's intuition.
Highland Bride Page 6
