by Mary Wine
“Well then, you’ll be leaving with almost everything ye came with, for the lady belongs to me,” the earl announced. “Take yer men and go before I lose me patience.”
Quinton watched the English escort leave through a small side gate. They didn’t open it very often, but it would allow the captives to ride down a road that was deserted.
“I did nae expect them to ask for the lady,” Coalan said.
“They cannae have her.”
Quinton was repeating himself, but he didn’t care if anyone thought him deranged for it. Deirdre would be staying.
***
Mary Ross enjoyed many things—fine things and refined items—but such a lifestyle required attention to details. She looked at the letters that had come in from Drumdeer and other castles where she had informants. She selected the one from Drumdeer first because Quinton was still more important than any other man. She opened the letter and began to read, but quickly lost her good humor.
She crumbled the edges of the parchment as her hands began to clench tight with her anger.
The bitch!
No one would take her place in the eagle tower solar.
No one!
Mary paced around her own fine solar, wrinkling her nose at all the things her husband had provided for her.
She wanted none of it. Drumdeer was where she longed to be, and it had been too long since she had been directed by her family to wed a more powerful man. She had been waiting forever for him to die, and yet he lived. Quinton still loved her; such was the reason he’d not married. She knew it, actually felt it inside her heart, and it gave her comfort every time she was forced to tolerate her current husband.
But she couldn’t stand idle while another woman called herself Quinton’s mistress.
She suddenly stopped, a thought forming in her head. Mary hurried back to her letters, scanning the pages again to make sure she understood everything her spy was saying.
Well… if the Chattan girl wanted her place with the queen so badly, Mary would make sure the queen called for her. She looked about to make sure her attendants were still in the outer chamber where she had sent them. Once she was sure they were not peeking through the doorway, she opened her writing desk and took out a very fine piece of parchment.
One worthy of a queen.
***
“Ye’ve impressed my household.”
Deirdre smiled, unable to stop her lips from curving. She was pleased to hear such a compliment from Quinton, for the man didn’t hand them out without a solid reason.
She turned around and looked at him. “Oh my, so this is what you look like by the light of day.”
He tilted his head but shrugged. “Aye, I’m guilty of avoiding ye after sunrise, but I enjoy the night hours full well.”
She pressed her lips into a pout.
“Och now, I did nae mean it like that. Ye’re a handsome woman, Deirdre, but ye have a stubborn nature. I was letting time soften yer attitude.”
“Leave it to a man to call a woman stubborn when she is only attempting to do the right thing,” Deirdre accused him, but her tone lacked true disgruntlement.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “If it includes leaving Drumdeer, ye can call me an unmovable ass, but we’re nae discussing it.”
“Clothing…” she hissed at him. “I want a say over what I wear, Quinton.”
He shook his head. “Ye’d slip past me men too easily.”
She slapped her hands down on top of the table where she’d been working. “Ye cannae simply keep me.” Even as she spoke the words, she knew he could do exactly what he wanted. He was laird; no one would go against him.
His blue eyes were dark, contemplating her while he frowned. “I think we’ll go back to seeing one another by moonlight, lass.”
“For how long, Quinton?”
He stopped at the doorway and looked back at her.
“For as long as it takes for ye to admit ye belong with me.”
He was gone before she could utter a retort. The kitchen was silent as the laird walked through it. Deirdre couldn’t sit down, because her temper was rising so fast. She felt as though it would leave blisters on her cheeks, it raged so hot.
“Some lasses would be thankful the laird is willing to shoulder the responsibility for keeping them. It makes things easier between the lairds if the man is the one making such decisions.”
It was the cook who spoke, filling the doorway while rubbing her hands on her apron. There was a look on her face that came with her years of experience. Deirdre sat down, defeated by the logic in the woman’s words.
It was more than that, though.
Deirdre felt the walls pressing in on her. What bothered her most about how she felt was the fact that part of her was relieved. Days had passed into weeks and longer, until a month had gone while she was at Drumdeer. The castle was growing on her, and her will to leave fading.
Her father’s face rose from her memory—the disappointment she’d witnessed in his eyes when she departed for the abbey and her place of shame. She couldn’t take her own happiness again at the expense of her sire.
She mustn’t, for she feared she’d be unable to live with herself if she did.
***
“God damn Douglas,” Quinton growled as he reread the letter in front of him. The messenger who had brought it to him looked rather bored. Obviously the lad had seen similar responses to his master’s letters.
“I’ll be there,” he announced. “Tell yer kin the Camerons will be coming.”
The lad pulled on his bonnet and hurried down to where his horse was waiting. Quinton snorted and stood.
“I suppose it will be good to get out of this room.” But it was the truth that he’d rather stay. Riding the hills by night was no longer drawing his attention as it once had. The confrontation he’d had with Deirdre weighed on his mind as he strapped his sword onto his back and descended to the yard.
He did not want her unhappy.
That thought gnawed on him as he rode out to meet the Earl of Douglas.
***
The bells rang long before sunset.
Deirdre sighed, because her mood was melancholy, and it muddied her thoughts. The day stretched on endlessly, but she refused to leave her duty, in spite of not accomplishing very much. Once the day was finished, she walked to the bathhouse and indulged herself.
But once she was clean, the only place to go was her chamber. The place held too many whispers of the nights she’d spent there with Quinton. She realized she missed him, and the idea of not seeing him that night hurt.
She frowned and forced herself to climb to the bedchamber. She would not wander through the hallways looking lovesick. Her escort trailed her, and she was happy to leave them behind the solid door of the chamber. At least they did not hear her sigh when she stared at the empty chamber.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
“The cook thought ye’d care for something before supper.” The girl offered her a nod before sitting a tray on the table. She never pulled the cloth off and was gone in a flash.
Deirdre felt a touch of suspicion tingle down her spine as she reached for the cloth. When she pulled it away, she discovered a plate of bread and cheese and fresh summer berries.
But there was also a letter.
Her name was clearly written on it, and she picked it up. It was sealed with wax, but there was no signet pressed into it. She broke through the dried wax and unfolded the parchment.
Deirdre…
You have served me well. Your place is waiting for you if you will journey to the black knight of Lorn’s holding to serve me.
Joan Beaufort
Deirdre held the letter close to her chest for a moment. She knew where the black knight of Lorn called home. He was a powerful man, and it made perfect sense that the queen would have chosen him to wed.
“Mistress…” Amber was out of breath and stopped in the doorway to pant. “I did nae realize ye’d be leaving t
he accounts before supper.”
She hurried into the room while Deirdre turned to hide the letter from her. “It is no difficulty, Amber. I simply longed for a bath, and I’m no’ yet accustomed to having anyone tending to me.”
Deirdre looked about for a place to conceal the letter from Amber’s attentive eyes.
“Who brought ye food?” Amber sounded suspicious, and she looked at the plate with a frown on her lips.
“I do nae know the girl’s name. I’ve seen her at least once before.”
Amber scoffed before realizing she had allowed the sound past her lips. “Forgive me, mistress, but I’d prefer ye only partake of what I bring ye.” Amber picked up the tray and walked toward the door with it.
Deirdre might have argued with her for being so protective, but she took the opportunity to slip the letter beneath the cushion of the window seat.
“I’ll be back with supper for ye, mistress; the cook won’t begrudge ye eating a bit early since the laird is nae here.” There was a knowing gleam in her eye that sent Deirdre toward the window seat the moment the door shut. She pulled out the letter and read it once more.
Her heart suddenly protested, but she ignored it. Hadn’t she sworn to keep her heart as cold as stone? Well, she had, and even if there was much to like about her life at Drumdeer, there was still her father’s honor to consider. She looked at the bed she’d shared with Quinton, and felt tears sting her eyes.
She went across the chamber to the opposite window to check for any sign of Quinton’s return.
She had to remain firm in her choice. It was the only honorable one. The last time she’d taken a lover, it had been because he’d promised her marriage. A bride didn’t always have to be a maiden, so long as there were wedding vows later. Quinton had not promised her a wedding, nor was the man willing to listen to what she wanted from their relationship.
She felt the sting of that shame keenly. Maybe if she could shoulder the weight of that burden alone, she might follow her heart and stay. But to become his mistress would shame her father and her clan. She refused to do it, even if her father had always pronounced her guilty of that crime. Melor Douglas had deceived her into yielding her innocence to him.
But Quinton had not, and unless he was prepared to offer her more, she would leave him now that she knew where the queen was.
Amber returned with a cheerful smile. “The cook outdid herself tonight. You’ll enjoy supper.”
Deirdre hurried to conceal her troubled emotions, but not before the girl noticed the gloom darkening her features.
“Do nae fret, lady. The laird will return; he always does.” Amber hurried to lay out the supper.
“Thank you, Amber. I am well for the night, simply tired.”
The girl smiled with relief. A flicker of wicked understanding flashed in the girl’s eyes. “Ye have been keep up late quite often, mistress.”
Deirdre felt her cheeks heat, but she nodded. “Aye, so I am going to seek my bed early. Good night.”
Amber left the chamber, and the moment door closed, Deirdre hurried to the table where a small writing desk sat. She opened it and pulled a clean sheet of parchment from it. Quinton deserved an explanation, and she penned him a few lines.
Quinton,
I’ve gone to take my place with the queen. Remaining with ye is something I’d like, but it will no’ bring honor to my name. I must think of my father.
Deirdre Chattan
She looked about the chamber but settled on leaving the letter on the chair that he used when eating at the table. A quick glance toward the window sent her heartbeat accelerating. She went to the bed and began to rearrange it. She pulled the seat cushions off the chairs and pushed them beneath the coverlet to make it look as though she were in the bed. The sun was beginning to set, and she felt her chance for escape sinking with it. Once the gates were closed for the night, she would be imprisoned. The castle was large, but not large enough to hide in if it was discovered that she was missing.
The clothing she’d taken from the solar storerooms was still sitting in the bedchamber. Deirdre had carefully pushed it behind the silk clothing Coalan had given to Amber from the queen’s horse. She picked up the ankle-high boots and pushed her feet into them. She fought back frustration as she laced them closed, but smiled with satisfaction to at last be wearing proper footwear. If she never wore another pair of silk slippers, she would be content.
She returned to the door and pulled it open in nothing but the common underrobe and boots.
“I need Amber. Go and fetch her, please.” One of the lads pulled on the corner of his cap before starting down the stairs. Deirdre closed the door and forced herself to count to one hundred so the first retainer might reach the bottom of the tower.
She opened the door again and looked into the startled face of the remaining retainer. “I cannae wait for Amber. My leg pains me too much. Fetch Tully quickly.”
“But, lady… I cannae leave my post.”
“Do nae be ridiculous… ye are here for me. Fetch me what I need, and quickly. I’ll bar the door if that puts yer worries to rest. Now go.”
The youth opened his mouth to argue once more, but Deirdre lifted her hand and pointed him down the stairs. He shut his mouth with a snap and took the stairs at a run. Deirdre had to control the urge to run across the chamber. She couldn’t risk having her steps heard by the youth. Such would certainly betray the fact that her leg injury had healed very nicely, but it was the only excuse she could think of to get both men away from her door.
She counted as she shrugged into the wool overrobe and covered her hair with the plain veil that matched the serving attire. She grabbed the bread and cheese from her supper and tied it up in a linen napkin.
She turned her back on the warm stew in spite of the rumble of protest from her belly. She reached out and pinched out the candles before hurrying out of the chamber and pulling the door closed behind her. She ran down the steps, her lungs threatening to burst before she made it to the bottom of the eagle tower. Time seemed to slow down, each step taking three times as long to pass over as it normally did. At the bottom floor, she turned and forced her pace to become even as she moved toward the long stone hallway that connected the tower to the rest of the castle. She looked down, trying to appear haggard and worn by the day.
Most of the inhabitants were in the great hall, enjoying the last meal of the day and conversation with their friends now that their duties were finished. Retainers remained on watched on the walls, but they faced outward, scanning the darkening hills for signal fires.
Inside the stable, only a few young boys remained. They were the newest members of the staff and therefore had to sit watch while the older boys and men got the chance to enjoy supper in the hall. The boys were gathered around the remains of the blacksmith’s fire. They broke bread with one another while one of them tossed a set of dice.
She passed them and took a mare that was in a stall at the far end of the stables. There was no time to saddle her, only to slip the bit into her mouth and toss a blanket over her back. With a soft pat to gentle her, Deirdre pulled her gently from the stables and toward the main gate. A few people were still passing through it, on their way down to the village for the night. She muttered a prayer before leading the mare forward toward the open gate.
***
Tully arrived first. She frowned when her soft rap failed to gain any answer from within the chamber. A moment passed as the young retainer became increasingly nervous.
“She’s waiting on ye to tend her leg,” he insisted, gesturing for her to enter the chamber.
Tully opened the chamber door a mere two inches and saw that the candles were no longer burning. Amber froze behind her, and the two retainers followed them.
“My lady?” she whispered. “Do ye need me yet tonight?”
There was no answer, but the small lantern that hung outside the chamber door for the retainers to see by cast its yellow light over the bed. The lump beneath t
he coverlet was plain.
“She’s sleeping,” Tully whispered.
“But the lady insisted that she needed ye.”
Tully lifted one weathered hand to silence the lad. She looked into the dark chamber, staring at the bed for a long moment.
“I hear that noble ladies change their minds quickly. She’s gone to her bed, and that will heal her leg better than anything I have to offer.” Tully firmly closed the door and nodded.
“Let her be, and do nae fret. Ye did as she asked.” Tully looked at Amber. “Find yer bed, child. Ye look as though our fine lady works ye hard.”
“It will be worth it if she names me her chief lady’s maid. Such would make me family proud.”
The two lads set to guard the door both stared at one another as Tully and Amber descended the stairs.
“I do nae understand ladies,” one announced.
“Nor do I. Do ye want to play cards?”
One began to deal out cards on a tiny table that sat near the door. It was a good way to pass the time as well as keep their wits keen throughout the long hours of the night. Their duty was to guard the door, so they would.
***
Deirdre had to suppress the urge to move to fast. She trembled like an autumn leaf ready to fall. Retainers watched those crossing out of the castle, but only with mild interest. In the servant robes, she passed through easily. It seemed too simple, but her muscles ached from the tension. She waited until she was several hundred feet from the gate before mounting the mare. The animal might look old, but it still had strength and took to the road in a graceful canter. Deirdre leaned low over the neck of the mare, tucking her veil close to her face as she headed away from Drumdeer.
It was a bittersweet moment, filled with a sense of accomplishment, but also remorse. She refused to turn her head and look back over her shoulder. Honor was not about making the easy choice.
She rode through the night, using the moon to keep her direction true. She avoided the village, the memory of how Coalan had captured her too vivid in her mind for her to risk being seen. By dawn, she could see that she was still on Cameron land, because the men working in their fields wore the same yellow, orange, and black plaid Quinton did. She slid from the back of the mare to give the animal a rest.
