Harry wiped his tears with the back of his hand. His monkey crawled onto his lap and pushed under his hand with his head, wanting to be petted.
"Hallo there, boy, and how is the king of all the monkeys?" he asked. He stroked its little round head. "Better than the master, I hope."
There was a rap on his door and Harry glanced up. "Isla?"
The door opened. "Nae. 'Tis your brother... Ian."
Harry's first thought was to send him away. Far away. Hell would be too close.
"May I come in?" Ian asked from the open doorway.
Harry rose, cradling his monkey under his arm. "Looks like you're already in, brother. Suit yourself."
Harry turned his back on Ian to pour himself some wine. He took his time in watering it down. He heard the door close behind Ian.
Harry could feel Ian watching him from near the door.
Harry searched for the courage to turn and meet him eye-to-eye, man-to-man.
"Want wine?" Harry asked finally. He felt silly the moment he said it. Here was a man in his bedchamber, a man who had cuckolded him, and Harry was offering him refreshment. If Harry was any man at all, he knew he should have been offering his brother the tip of his sword.
But of course Harry knew he was not a man. He was only a boy playing a man's part, and at this moment not playing it well.
"Aye, I'd like some," Ian said quietly.
Harry was surprised by his acceptance. He poured the wine, adding water, and then carried the goblet toward him. Ian met him halfway.
Their fingers brushed as Harry passed the wine.
"I want to tell you how sorry I am."
Harry dropped his pet onto his bed and walked to the window, sloshing the wine in his cup. He stared out the window into the darkness.
"I am sorry for hurting you," he said. "But I cannot say I am sorry for loving her. It's something I can't explain. Something so wonderful. Something I hope you will experience one day."
A lump rose in Harry's throat. He wanted to hit Ian. He wanted to slap his face. To kick him. Harry wanted to climb into his bed and pull the covers over his head. He wanted to cry. He did none of it.
"I didn't know," Harry said lamely. "I knew you two were close, but... I didn't know." He sipped his wine. "I never suspected she would... you would..." He was at a loss for words. He ached so right now that he didn't know if he would ever find the words.
"We did not intend to fall in love." Ian moved close, his footfall echoing on the polished floorboards. "And it is love. Not just bed play. You have to know that."
Harry exhaled slowly and lifted his goblet to his lips again. Listening.
"Which, in a way, makes this more difficult. For all of us."
Harry turned to face his brother, the brother he loved so much.
Ian's face was drawn. "We never intended to hurt you, Harry." He hung his head. "And for that, we are sorry."
Harry felt close to the edge of tears. He felt so lost, so afraid. He needed Ian; he needed Kara. Even now he needed them. "You..." He paused and began again. "Are you going to leave me?" he asked when he found his voice.
"Leave you?"
"Take her from here," Harry said. "Go away together and leave me here." A sob slipped out of his mouth. "Leave me alone with all this."
"Nae." Ian's voice cracked. "We're not going to leave you." He put down his wine and came to Harry. "Is that what you were worried about? That we would leave you?"
Harry felt his older brother's arms wrap around him. It felt strange to have another man hug him, but good. It was Ian. It was Ian, and the embrace was genuine.
Harry leaned his forehead against Ian's chest for a moment. It was like leaning on a rock. "I'm not ready to be alone. Not yet," he whispered.
"I cannot tell you man-to-man that I will not love your wife any longer, but I can swear to you, man-to-man, that I will never abandon you, Harry. Never until you send me away will I leave these walls. Not until you send us away or to our deaths."
Tears ran down Harry's cheeks, but he was beyond embarrassment. He didn't know for certain that Ian meant what he said, that Ian would be able to keep his word, but Ian said what he needed to hear. What he had to hear at this moment. What he needed to believe.
What, in spite of the truth of their betrayal of him, he knew he could believe.
"I just can't do this without you, without both of you," Harry repeated.
"And you will not." Ian hugged him tightly and then released him.
Harry lifted his gaze to meet his brother's. "You still love me?"
"I have loved you since I first laid eyes upon you as an infant."
Harry dashed at his eyes. "And Kara?"
"She must speak for herself, but I can tell you, all along, her concern has been for you."
Harry breathed deeply again. All day as he had ridden at Dungald's side, talking of hunting, of horses, of things that meant nothing, all he could think of was what he would do if Kara and Ian left him. It was funny, but he didn't really even care that they were in bed together. That they had done what he knew they had done. Maybe because he already knew that would never come to pass between him and Kara. All he cared about was that they not leave him for each other. That they not stop loving him because they loved each other.
There was another tap at the door and Harry quickly wiped his eyes. "Aye?"
"Your bath, my lord," Isla said from behind the closed door.
Harry looked at Ian.
"Bathe. Then come down and we will share a meal together. As a family," he said.
Harry nodded, managed a smile. "Tell Kara I'll be down directly," he said. He glanced at the door. "Come in," he called.
Ian and Isla passed in the doorway. Behind her were several servants with great buckets of hot water. Harry stood at the window, staring into the darkness until the servants had poured the water into the tub and taken their leave.
He heard Isla moving quietly around the room, finding towels, laying out clean clothes for him. He liked being alone with her like this. She made him feel special in a way no one else did.
"'Tis ready now, my lord, if you are ready."
He turned from the window, leaving his empty goblet. "You know?" he asked.
"I know," she said simply.
"And what do you think?" He sat on a chair and pulled off his boots. He tossed his bonnet to the bed and pulled his shirt over his head.
She turned her back to allow him privacy as he dropped his kilt and climbed over the side of the tub.
"I think that we have no choice in love. It just happens. I think they were lucky to find each other, and unlucky not to have the freedom to marry."
"You think I'm a fool to allow such a thing to happen under my roof and not hand down a punishment?" He slid into the warm, silky water.
She brought him soap and a washrag. She knelt beside the tub. "I think you are a brave man. A good man with a good heart. This is not the path you would have chosen, had you been given the choice, but you were not given a choice. None of us were."
He lathered the rag with soap. "Ian says he loves her." He looked at Isla. She was so pretty. Her blond hair looked so soft. "But he says they won't leave me."
She shook her head. "They would never leave you. They would die first."
He watched the water run off the rag. "I suppose a man could do worse. I have two people who are willing to help me. Who are devoted to me."
"Three, my lord," Isla said softly.
Then to Harry's surprise, she leaned over the tub and brushed her lips against his.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, frozen. Terrified. Thrilled.
Her lips were softer than he had imagined, her breath more fragrant. Her mouth made his spine tingle. It made his whole body tighten and shiver. Without thinking, he rose up in the tub, pressing his mouth harder against hers. She gave no resistance.
Harry was afraid to open his eyes as she drew back, afraid he had imagined it all. He just sat there, naked in his tub, in amazement
.
"Call me if you need me, my lord," Isla said, standing, walking away.
Harry opened his eyes long enough to see her disappear into Kara's room, and then he sank under the soapy water, his heart still pounding, his soul singing.
Chapter 22
Harry leaned against the fireplace with one hand, gazing into the flames. He had grown so quickly that he was now as tall as Kara, slender, and appeared far more masculine than he had when she'd arrived. His chin was even beginning to sport a few hairs.
She smiled to herself. Wasn't it funny how time passed, even when you thought it couldn't possibly? Christmas had come and gone, Harry knew the truth of her and Ian, and yet he acted as if nothing had changed. He almost behaved as if he had known all along, that or expected it... Harry, like Ian, saw no sin in what she and Ian did. Both of her men viewed the marriage as one laid down by law, but not God nor heart. Her men, God bless them both.
"Alfred still refuses to pay his duty to me?" he asked quietly.
Kara glanced up from the stocking she was knitting for him. Over his head, on the mantel, rested the Dunnane horn of tenure. The ornamented cow's horn had been granted to the first Earl of Dunnane more than two hundred years ago. He who possessed the horn, possessed the title and the lands. As Kara studied Harry's tired face she wondered if the horn was worth all this.
Ian sat across from Kara in Harry's chair, one leg propped on his knee. Both of her men looked tired. Worn.
"Aye, he refuses," Ian said. "He's dug in. Last word we received this morning was that if we wanted the payment we would have to come and get it."
Harry swore beneath his breath.
Kara glanced at Ian.
As terrible as Harry's discovery of her and Ian's infidelity had been, it had most definitely matured her young husband. Though she still saw glimpses of the child she had married the previous spring, he had come out of the incident an older, wiser boy. A boy very close to becoming a man. For that, Kara admired him and loved him all the more. And though she didn't know what the future held for her and Ian and Harry, she knew it was a future they would face together.
Harry turned to gaze at them both. "So I've no choice."
Kara and Ian listened, allowing him to speak, to make his own decision without their guidance. He knew what he had to do.
"I want you to gather men—four dozen," he told Ian.
"I'm not certain we have that many at our disposal presently. I will have to call men in."
While more than a dozen fighting men lived permanently within the castle walls, the others who served Dunnane came and went on a schedule. Each man who lived under the protection of the Earl of Dunnane, the Gordon clan chief, took his turn twice yearly residing within the residence for a fortnight. For years this service meant little else than drinking into the night with old friends and sleeping late in the morning. There were drills, but little true danger. Service to Dunnane was often safer work than caring for one's own cattle. Because the foothills of the Grampians had been relatively quiet for years, men actually looked forward to serving. But also because of the relative calm of the area, the service had not been enforced. Only recently had this come to Harry's attention when he counted just how many men he had at any one time to defend him.
Harry cracked the knuckles of one hand thoughtfully. "Can we send riders to bring those men due in?"
Ian nodded. "Call up a few extra as well."
"How long before we can be ready to ride?" He rubbed his temple. His blond hair fell forward over his face, obscuring his features. "I'll want men left here, of course, to defend these walls."
"Of course. Three days. Four at the most."
"And I want my own men." He glanced up to be certain no one else was near enough to hear him. "Not my cousin's cronies."
Kara knew that though all the Gordon men officially served Harry, there were several Dungald had taken under his wing years ago, and considered his own.
"So what?" Ian arched a dark eyebrow. "We leave the wolf to guard the henhouse?"
Harry chuckled, but without humor. "Nae. My cousin will ride with me."
Kara immediately glanced up from her knitting. "Ye think that wise?" she asked quietly. She hated to question Harry's authority, but she was concerned for his welfare.
Harry lifted one shoulder. "I'll be surrounded by my own men, men I know to be loyal to me." He paused. "And you know, honestly, my cousin has done nothing against me. Aye, yes, petty behavior here and there." He gave a wave. "But I begin to think we worry—you worry"—he smiled—"over nothing. I begin to think he's all wind and blather, but he hasn't the conviction to actually do anything to put me in danger. The man is a worm, not a snake in the grass."
Kara folded her hands in her lap. What Harry said all sounded perfectly logical. He was right. She knew he was right, and yet...
"And as for you," Harry said to his brother. "I have decided that you will remain here and guard my castle... my wife."
Kara's anxious gaze shifted from Harry to Ian and back to Harry, but she did not dare interfere again.
Ian half rose from his chair. "Harry, I understand your reasoning with Dungald. I must admit I agree, but were I to come, too—"
Harry held up one hand, and the look on his face told Kara he would not be swayed. "Who else but you can I trust to protect what is mine, brother?"
Ian lowered his gaze.
Kara knew that Ian knew that Harry was right. She also understood Ian's hesitancy to send Harry off alone. Not only was he still not entirely convinced Dungald was not a threat, but what of the actual task? Alfred Gordon might hand over the cattle due Harry if Harry arrived with enough fighting men, but he might just call his bluff, too.
Ian took a long time to answer. "As you wish, my lord."
"Excellent," Harry clapped his hands together. "So send riders for men and then meet me back here dressed warmly." He looked at Kara. His boyish smile had returned. "You, too, and Isla. Tell her to bring the babe if she likes. 'Twill do Meggie good to be out-of-doors. 'Tis cold, but the sun is shining."
Ian rose to follow Harry's bidding. "Dress warmly? What are we doing? Where are we going?"
Harry smiled, tucking his hands behind his back. "I know you hate this, not knowing all, but you shall see." He shooed them both off. "Now go. You both have your orders."
* * *
Kara caught an overhanging branch and whipped around it, sliding out of control on the ice. "Whoa!" She fell back and hit the slippery surface on her bottom, sliding to a stop against a tree.
Harry, skating directly behind her, bumped into her and tumbled head over heels over her. They burst into laughter as he came up with snow on his chin.
Ian skated by on glistening steel blades, his hands tucked casually behind his back as if he were out on a summer stroll. "Need help?"
"Nae!" Harry and Kara shouted in unison and fell into laughter again.
Harry's surprise had been a half-mile walk to a small pond frozen over with ice. In his bag he carried four pairs of ice skating blades he'd discovered in a pile of refuse in one of the catacomb chambers beneath the castle. The ice-skating outing seemed to be just what they all needed.
Harry pushed himself to his feet, wobbling on the skates attached to his boots. He offered his hand.
"Methinks I would do better to crawl to the shore," she said, struggling to get to her feet.
Harry gave a tug and pulled her up, his cheeks rosy with the bite of the winter wind. "Oh, come, ye just have to get the hang of it."
She swayed, holding on to his shoulders to steady herself. "I warned you I was not a woman of superior balance and grace."
"And I—" he rocked forward, then back, steadying himself against her this time—"am a man of superior grace and balance?"
She laughed and let go of him to catch her own balance, putting out her hands as if she were about to take flight.
Ian sailed by again, turned and skated backward. He apparently skated as easily as he walked.
Harry started after him awkwardly. "Ye know, I have never liked him. Never." He put out his mittened hand to wait for her. "I've been thinking of sending him north... or south. Sending him to fight some English or something, just to get him out of my hair."
Isla laughed and clapped from the shore as the three of them skated by. She had started a fire and was warming cider she'd brought from Dunnane's kitchen. She wore Meggie bundled and tied in a sling over her shoulder. The baby laughed and waved chubby hands covered by little socks Kara had knitted.
"Hot cider is ready if anyone is cold."
"I'm ready for cider." Kara veered off, her cloak flapping in the bitter wind.
"I, as well." Ian followed.
Harry came to a halt on the shore's edge, arms out to keep his balance. "Isla, skate with me."
"Ye'll have to take us both," she said, coming to the edge of the pond, carrying her skates.
Kara slipped out of her skates and walked to the fire to get warm. Isla had left steaming mugs of cider on a rock. Ian approached behind her and she handed him one before taking one herself. They stood side by side to watch Isla and Harry skate around the pond holding on to each other, laughing and whispering.
Ian blew on his hot cider and took a sip. "I think Harry's found a friend in your maid," he said thoughtfully.
Kara smiled. "It's nice to see him so happy." She cradled the mug in her woolen mittens, enjoying the warmth it radiated. "Her, too."
He cut his gaze to her as he sipped from the mug. "They have seemed very... close as of late. Do you think our Harry would... has..."
"I haven't asked him or Isla. I wouldn't dare. All that matters to me is their happiness."
"And you, my love, are you happy?"
"Depends," she said, looking down into the cup of steamy amber liquid.
She didn't know why, but she knew what she would say next. After all the fretting over when to tell him about the baby, suddenly she knew the time was now. She didn't know what made this time and place right, only that it was. Only that she must tell. The words were already out of her mouth before she could reconsider. She was already headed toward the point of no return.
Highland Bride Page 22
