by Mary Wine
“Forgive me, but I would no’ give that lady cause to speak ill of Laird Cameron because I failed to answer her summons.”
Deirdre nodded with respect toward the two older women. They contemplated her for a moment before one of them pointed a finger at her.
“Aye, ye’re a clever one, and that’s for sure. The earl needs to be thinking of his reputation among all those titled lairds at court. For sure that’s why he’s placed ye here to oversee Cameron issues.”
Deirdre left the chamber with Amber trailing her.
“Ye shouldn’t do anything that horrible woman says.”
“Yer laird made her welcome. I cannae do any less. Besides, some things are best done quickly so that the thought of them does nae fester.”
Amber scoffed at her. “He did nae tell her she might be Drumdeer’s mistress. He gave that honor to ye. That woman has been saying the most awful things to everyone. She’s no’ happy about any service offered to her, and she’s taken over the solar like it is her own.”
Quinton had prepared it for her…
Deirdre had to force the lump that formed in her throat down. She refused to cower in front of the woman who had hurt Quinton so deeply. Mary Ross was a whore, just like any woman who took coin for her favors on the waterfront. She’d peddled her beauty for a title that she obviously enjoyed very much.
But love was more important. The only thing Deirdre felt was envy, because she yearned to have Quinton’s love. She only felt scorn for the woman who had plunged a dagger into his heart.
Amber went to knock on the door of the solar, but the Sinclair retainers who guarded it refused to allow her close. Amber propped her hands on her hips.
“Yer countess summoned my lady, in spite of the fact that Lady Deirdre has responsibilities to see to.”
The retainer nodded and backed up to clear the way to the door. Amber stepped forward to knock. The same attendant opened it a moment later. She sniffed when she identified who was waiting to see Mary Ross.
“Just ye.”
“I go everywhere with my lady Deirdre,” Amber argued.
The attendant raised one of her manicured eyebrows. “My lady does nae allow her private conversations to be overheard by anyone in whom she does nae have the deepest trust.”
Amber scoffed. “Ye mean witnessed by those who will tell the facts plainly without worrying that their pay might be subject to their lady’s displeasure.”
The attendant drew in a stiff breath. “Why, ye little peasant.” She flipped her hand in the air. “Be gone before I have ye removed.”
The Sinclair retainer looked at Amber, but Deirdre stepped between him and the Cameron girl. Amber reached out and gripped her wrist.
“Come with me, Lady Deirdre. Ye should no’ stay here. The laird would no’ like it. Not with such conditions that ye be seen alone.”
Deirdre looked at Amber. “There is nothing I fear from Mary Ross. I’ll see what she wants and be down to join ye soon. We couldn’t have the Sinclair thinking the Camerons and the Chattan do nae teach their daughters manners.”
Amber didn’t look appeased. The girl frowned, but Deirdre gently lifted her hand away from her wrist. “Besides, I refuse to think there is anything to fear from being summoned by Lady Braunfield.”
Amber smiled. She nodded. “As ye say, Lady Deirdre.” She drew out the “lady,” and the waiting attendant hissed.
“Peasant,” she muttered when Deirdre entered the solar.
Deirdre didn’t get to see Amber’s response, but the attendant made a snorting sound before she shut the chamber door with a little too much force.
“Alice, have ye taken leave of yer senses?” Mary Ross called from across the solar. “Ye know I do nae care for loud noises.”
The attendant turned in a swirl of silk velvet and lowered herself quickly. “Forgive me, my lady. The Cameron girl was insisting on following her mistress in.”
“Ye mean Quinton’s mistress, for that is all she is. Deirdre Chattan is a shamed woman who has found herself another man to whore for.” Mary Ross spoke as though Deirdre were not standing in the room. The Countess of Braunfield eyed her expectantly. Deirdre offered a nod only, refusing the arrogant woman a courtesy.
Mary Ross frowned. “Ye are foolish to tempt my displeasure.”
Deirdre moved forward with her chin held high. “I think ye are presumptuous to demand such currying of yer favor here. This is the Highlands, no’ the royal court.”
The countess surprised her by smiling. When she did, her face became radiant, until Deirdre looked into her eyes. In spite of the beautiful blue shade, they showed just how calculating Mary was.
It was quite an ugly sight.
“I know where I am, Deirdre Chattan.” Mary Ross stood and began walking around the chamber. “I am in the solar Quinton prepared for me.” She sounded smug as she stared at all the fine things. At last she came back around to where Deirdre stood watching her.
Mary spread her hands out wide. “Everything in this chamber was bought for me with only one purpose in mind—to please me.” She pressed her lips into a small pout. “It was simply too bad Quinton wasn’t the most titled man at court that season, but since ye are the daughter of a laird, ye should understand a daughter must catch the best husband possible.”
“So ye told Quinton. Personally, I think ye a fool for wedding another.”
Mary clicked her tongue. “But I did nae ask ye for yer thoughts on the matter. I would never take any advice from ye. Ye’re the foolish one, spreading yer thighs before the wedding. Little wonder ye have naught to show for the two lovers ye’ve had, except that bastard growing in yer belly.”
All the attendants stared at her belly, while Deirdre covered it with her hands. Confusion swept through her as she considered whether she might be carrying a child. She hadn’t thought about it, not since the first morning after sharing Quinton’s bed. “What are ye talking about?” She tried to resist the urge to feel her abdomen, but she couldn’t recall the last time she’d bled either.
Mary went over to the desk and picked up several letters. “I may have married Gower Sinclair because he had more holdings than Quinton, but I assure ye I have always kept myself informed of what Quinton was doing, because he is the man I wanted most of all. It’s a desire I have no’ abandoned, nor shall I.” She looked at the letters. “A very reliable source at Strome reports ye did nae bleed there.”
Mary clicked her tongue again and shifted the letter to the bottom of her pile while reading the next one. “Ah… and here I have a report that ye never bled here either. Nae before or since yer return. So…”
Mary laid the letters aside. “Ye are carrying Quinton’s bastard.” Her tone became menacing. “The first one never shows early on, but yer waistline is thicker, and yer tits are plump. Since ye came in early spring, ye might be as much as four months along now. Do nae be so stupid as to think ye might fool me into believing ye do nae know. Why else would Quinton be suggesting marrying ye?”
Rage coated Mary’s words now. Her face flushed as she shot a glance full of hatred toward her. All her attendants lined up behind her, aiming similar looks at Deirdre.
“Quinton needs a son, but I shall be the one to give it to him, not ye.”
Deirdre forced her surprise down. It was possible she was with child, and it was slightly embarrassing to admit she had not thought upon the lack of her monthly cycles. But even the hint of possibility made her suddenly protective of the life that might be sleeping inside her belly.
“Ye are wed to another man, Mary Ross, so yer words are sinful.”
Mary suddenly changed her expression. Instantly, her face became a mask of sadness, but once again when Deirdre looked into the woman’s eyes, she could see the cold, calculating look that betrayed her.
“It’s really very sad, but Gower died last week. Of course, he was old, and it was to be expected.” She sighed, but her lips lifted into a smile mere moments later.
“So, ye see
… I will be wedding Quinton Cameron. Why else do ye think he has gone so long without contracting another bride?” Mary laughed, soft and menacing. “Why, the answer is very clear. He has been waiting for me.”
“I do nae believe that.” She refused to accept it. She laced her fingers over her belly, protecting the precious life that might be growing there.
Mary scoffed at her. “Believe? Oh aye, ye have quite a history of men in whom ye believed, but what did that gain ye?” Mary reached over and shuffled the letters again before picking one up. “According to a Sinclair girl who is doing her duty as a nun, ye arrived in shame, yer lover Melor Douglas having renounced ye for the whore ye are.”
Mary tossed the parchment down. “But I am no’ completely unkind.” She picked up another letter. “I know ye tried to prevent Quinton’s seed from taking root in ye. Men can be such selfish bastards when it comes to forcing women to bear their babies. Even ones whom they will no’ honor with their names.” She looked up from the letter and smiled with glee. “Do nae worry. I will help ye get rid of the nuisance.”
“It’s a babe—”
“It is a bastard,” Mary insisted. She snapped her fingers, and one of her attendants came forward with a mug with steam rising from the top.
“Drink that, and ye will lose it tonight. Ye cannae be further than four months along, so it will nae be so difficult to hide.”
“No.”
Deirdre spit the single word out and backed away from the offered mug. Her hands flattened over her belly, guarding it as she felt the rise of her temper and an urge to strangle the woman who suggested such evil.
“I may have asked for a brew to prevent a child from being created, but I will no murder one who already lives.”
“Even if that means birthing a bastard?” Mary came toward her. “I won’t have it beneath my roof, I promise ye. Once Quinton returns, he’ll forget ye even live. I swear that to ye.”
Deirdre lifted her chin, defiance filling her. “Try if ye will, but I believe ye shall fail.”
Mary laughed, as did her attendants. “I will nae fail. Men are always besotted by my beauty.” She opened her eyes wide. “I assure ye, I know how to apply it well. Quinton has fallen beneath my spell before, and now I know so much more about how to keep a man’s attention… it will be simple to regain his favor.”
Mary’s ladies laughed, narrowing their eyes in a knowing manner. “Do what I say, and I’ll make sure ye have an escort to where the queen is. But if ye stay here and let yer belly round, I swear I will have revenge against ye and yer brat.”
Deirdre scoffed at the woman. “Ye disgust me.” And she refused to remain in the room with her another moment. Deirdre turned her back on Mary Ross.
But a splintering pain shot through her head a moment later, and she fell to her knees as her vision went dark.
***
Deirdre felt urgency pounding through her. She needed to wake up but couldn’t remember just why. Still the urge persisted, needling her until she opened her eyes. Her vision was nothing but wavy lines. She blinked and blinked several more times as she tried to restore her sight to normal.
“Alice… get around and tie up her mouth before she wakes up…”
Deirdre tried to sit up, groaning as pain filled her head.
“I told ye to hurry…hit her again so we can get her away from here without her crying out…”
Mary was issuing orders in a hushed tone. Deirdre could hear the attendants’ robes swishing as they hurried to obey. Her thoughts cleared in a moment, and she rolled over, hitting Alice’s legs as the woman took another swing at her. The long piece of firewood hit the floor, because Deirdre had moved. Alice went headfirst over her and cried out when she tumbled head over heels across the Persian carpet in the middle of the solar.
Deirdre rolled over and struggled against whatever bound her hands behind her back.
“Are ye insane, Mary Ross?”
Deirdre rolled over again and slipped her feet through the bound circle of her hands to bring them up in front of her. A silk veil was knotted around her wrists; although delicate, it held very well.
“I am determined…” Mary hissed. “Ye are an ignorant peasant, and I will split yer skull open before I allow ye to have Quinton’s son.”
She swung an iron hook that was used to move logs around in the hearth toward Deirdre’s head. Deirdre ducked and struggled against the binding on her wrists. The other ladies all circled her, and true fear began to seep past her anger. There were five of them and only one of her. She kept moving while she struggled to free her hands. At least she wore simple clothing, unlike Mary’s attendants. They all had to pick up their overrobes to avoid tripping.
There was a muffled cry from outside the chamber door. “Let me in there!”
Mary suddenly looked stricken as Amber’s voice floated beneath the door. She snapped her fingers at her attendants.
“Hurry up… ye fools!”
Someone grabbed Deirdre’s biceps from behind, and Alice lifted the log above her head to bring it crashing down on Deirdre’s skull, but Deirdre bent her knees, and the log hit the attendant holding her with a dull sound.
Deirdre surged to her feet and lunged toward Mary. The lady let out a shriek of surprise and sent a hand swinging at Deirdre’s head.
Deirdre grunted when it hit her, but gripped Mary’s hair in a vicious hold, pulling her head up until it was next to her own. The attendants all froze, unwilling to risk hitting their lady.
“The next blow that lands on me will split yer skull too,” she hissed into Mary’s ear.
The lady opened her mouth and screamed. She screeched loud enough to be heard in the yard below, and the stairwell was full of the sound of men rushing to her assistance. The door was jerked open by the Sinclair retainers, but Amber tumbled into the room first.
Deirdre released Mary with a mutter of disgust, and her maids all clustered about her. But the lady refused to be soothed. She screamed and yelled in spite of the men crowding the solar, her face flushed red with her fit.
“She tried to kill me! She’s a lunatic! Lock her in chains before she murders me!”
The Sinclair retainers turned on her with rage shimmering in their eyes. Amber flew between them and Deirdre, covering Deirdre with her own body.
“That is nae true!” Amber shouted. “I heard everything from the storeroom below. Mary Ross tried to murder Lady Deirdre and the child she’s carrying—Laird Cameron’s child.”
The solar became a mass of swearing and yelling. Sinclair plaids faced off with Cameron colors as Deirdre was pushed back against the stone wall of the solar by Amber.
“Stop… everyone… stop…”
No one heard her above the fighting, and she watched in horror as dirks were pulled from boot tops and belts. There was no way to stop the impending bloodbath, no way to be heard above the shouting.
Nine
“Hold!”
Authority edged the tone of the man who shouted that single word. It was something that every man in the solar felt as well as heard. Hands were still clenched around dirk handles, but the men turned their heads to look toward the doorway.
Deirdre whimpered with relief.
Quinton stood there, along with a young man wearing the Sinclair plaid. In the side of his bonnet were three feathers all pointing upward, and the Sinclair retainers lowered their weapons.
“What have ye been about… sweet stepmother?” the Sinclair laird asked. The retainers who had escorted Mary Ross to Drumdeer looked confused, but their laird stepped forward and slapped Mary across the face.
“Ye murdered my father, and I swear ye’ll answer for the crime.”
Mary trembled visibly. “Ye have no proof, no witness to convict me.”
“Do ye think ye are the only one who has spies? I’ve had ye watched for years, and I assure ye I have a witness who will swear ye smothered me father while he lay with ye. If ye had no’ taken to the road so quickly, I’d have run ye dow
n before ye left Sinclair land. But I have ye now, and ye can be grateful that I’ll at least grant ye a priest before I have ye hanged. It’s more than ye gave me father.”
Quinton stepped between the Sinclair laird and Mary Ross. She smiled at him, her face becoming radiant. “Quinton, my darling… ye must help me… Do ye see how it’s been for me? Cyric has always hated me because he was jealous of the love his father had for me. Ye have to give me protection from him, keep me here with ye. My father forced me to wed Gower Sinclair… I wanted ye.”
Quinton looked into her eyes, and Deirdre felt her heart freeze. Mary reached for him, her hands delicate and trembling. He captured them, only to push them away.
“I’d rather knot the noose about yer throat meself. How dare ye come here with a man’s blood on yer hands?”
“Ye love me…” It was a ghost of a whisper, but Mary’s face turned bright red a moment later. “It’s because of her!”
Mary turned on her in a rage. “Ye Chattan whore! Ye shall no’ have my place!”
Mary lunged toward her, and the wall behind her back made it impossible to escape. She pulled a small dagger from her sleeve, and Deirdre lifted her arms to protect herself.
Mary never touched her.
There was a soft sound, too delicate for the dire circumstances, but there was no pain from a dagger entering her flesh. Deirdre looked around her arms and stared into the sky blue eyes of the beautiful woman. Her face was frozen in a mask of disbelief, and the front half of a sword protruded from her chest. It was stained with her blood, and she smiled before her body went limp.
“I could offer ye an apology, Cyric, but it would be a lie.” Quinton pulled his sword free and wiped it on the back of Mary’s slumped body.
“Ye saved me the trouble of listening to her whimper all the way back to Sinclair land.” Cyric Sinclair nodded, but there was no easing of the anger that flickered in his dark eyes. He looked at the Sinclair retainers who had escorted Mary Ross to Drumdeer.
“She murdered my father, and they helped her.” He pointed at Mary’s attendants.
Every set of eyes turned toward Mary’s ladies. They were pressed together, Alice still holding the long piece of firewood she’d hit Deirdre with. Her eyes grew wide, and she suddenly looked down at the log. With a soft shriek, she released it, and it fell to the floor with a dull sound.
