His Woman

by Cosby, Diana

  She shrugged. “I have caught naps.”

  “Not enough.”

  Her expression grew remote, as if she were a stranger. “I am well. Your growing upset will only tire you further.”

  Refusing to be swayed, he shifted to a more comfortable position on his side. “It would seem the amulet convinced Seathan in believing I needed help, but that does not explain how you convinced my brother to allow you to care for me?”

  She looked away, her expression remote. “He is a practical man.”

  Her guarded words furthered his interest. Practical, aye, but his eldest brother was fierce in his protection as well. When their father had died, without hesitation, Seathan had taken responsibility to raise him, Alexander, and until his death, Patrik. The day he’d learned of Isabel’s betrayal, Seathan had sworn she would never again set foot in his home.

  Now, for him to have permitted Isabel to remain within Lochshire Castle, much less tend to Duncan, something significant had passed between them.

  “What did you say to Seathan to convince him to allow you to tend me instead of our healer?”

  Wind whistled through the window in a soft hush. The candle sputtered, then held its own. The rich scent of burning wax filled his every breath as he waited for an answer.

  She sighed, a soft and lonely sound. Then, as if a trick of the light, tears shimmered in her eyes. As quickly, they vanished. “That you almost died saving me, and I had a great debt to repay.”

  “That may be true, but there is more that you are not telling me.”

  At her silence, his suspicions built. What could she have told Seathan, that she loved him? Quickly, he cursed the foolish thought. Even if Isabel wanted him, he would never accept her back now. Neither could he believe that Seathan would accept such as truth from her.

  Disgusted with his musings, he glanced through the window and into the night. Stars filled the sky, tinged with the hint of the oncoming morning. So like many of the nights of his youth. Nights where he’d looked out and crafted his dreams. Except now he was a man grown. And everything had changed.

  His dreams of forever with Isabel, like his trust in her, had shattered.

  The door eased open and Seathan stepped inside.

  At the interruption, relief flashed across Isabel’s face.

  Duncan caught the expression. He would discover the truth, but from Seathan’s hard look, it would be a blistering telling.

  “You are awake then,” Seathan said.

  “Aye.”

  Isabel stiffened at Duncan’s side. “My lord.”

  Seathan’s mouth tightened as he turned to Isabel. “Leave us.”

  Chapter 8

  Isabel tensed at Seathan’s command, but Duncan didn’t miss the shimmer of distress on her face. Again Duncan wondered what had transpired between the two while he’d slept. From the ire brewing in Seathan’s eyes, he’d find out soon enough.

  “He awoke but moments ago,” Isabel cautioned, “and needs to rest.”

  Seathan stepped forward, nodded his dismissal. “I will see to his welfare.”

  “As you wish.” With a nervous glance toward Duncan, she left, closing the door in her wake.

  Silence echoed between Duncan and Seathan like ice pellets against forged steel.

  Seathan’s obsidian gaze narrowed on him. “The missive you sent stated you were helping the rebels. You deliberately omitted to both Alexander and me about Symon’s death and your vow to him to save Isabel. Now, I will be knowing why.”

  Duncan lifted his body up and braced himself on his arms, the movement igniting a pounding in his head. Every inch of him ached and the smallest movement cost him. Already the lure of sleep pulled on his senses. But he’d been lucky.

  Unlike Symon, he had lived.

  Before he could speak, the door was shoved open. His brother Alexander strode inside. “Good, you are awake.”

  The ire in his voice framed his scowl, assuring Duncan neither of his brothers would yield in their outrage. “It would seem so.”

  Alexander sent Seathan a questioning look. “What has he said?”

  “Naught as yet.” His oldest brother kept his gaze skewered on Duncan. “But he will be explaining why he lied to us.”

  “Aye, he will,” Alexander agreed.

  “Symon was a rebel,” Duncan said.

  “And a friend,” Seathan stated. Grief dug deep lines in his brow as he stoked his thumb upon the hilt of his dagger. “You should have told us immediately of Symon’s death—not left us a missive skewed with a version of the truth before you rode off.”

  Alexander gave a grunt of disgust. “You have the wits of an ass. Had Frasyer caught you, he would have gladly delivered you to King Edward. Longshanks would revel in displaying the head of yet another Scottish rebel upon a pike.”

  Alexander’s use of the slang name given for the English king, Longshanks, assured Duncan of the depth of his brother’s fury.

  Humbled, embarrassed he’d not given his brothers a full explanation from the start, Duncan nodded. “I was wrong. For that I am sorry.” He held his hand up when Alexander made to speak. “Because it was Isabel, I felt it was personal. Something I had to do by myself.”

  “Personal? Nay, you were ashamed because it was her,” Alexander challenged. “And for that, you almost bloody got yourself killed.”

  Seathan stalked toward him and towered over his bed. “You made this task personal—by choice. Your going to Moncreiffe Castle stemmed from your vow to Symon before his death, not a request from Isabel. Since she broke her betrothal to you three years past, you have neither tried to see her nor spoken of her.”

  Duncan rubbed his brow to try to quell the pounding in his head. And failed. Mayhap Seathan was right, but over the past three years thoughts of her had haunted him like a curse. Still, he wouldn’t admit that. A man could only concede to being so much of a fool.

  “Right or wrong, I left a missive stating my reasons for going alone.” Duncan shot a hard look first at Seathan, then toward Alexander. “Did Isabel tell you that Frasyer has charged Lord Caelin with aiding the rebels and has sent him to Lord Monceaux’s to be hung?”

  Seathan nodded. “Aye. I have sent several runners to Rothfield Castle in England to explain the situation to Lord Monceaux.”

  Relief swept through Duncan. Why had he not thought of doing the same? With Alexander’s marriage to Lord Monceaux’s sister, Nichola, the English lord would surely help them. Not to mention the fact that although Griffin was King Edward’s Scottish adviser, the English were unaware he was a spy for Scotland who worked under the code name of Wulfe. The information Lord Monceaux passed to Wallace ensured the Scottish rebels stayed one step ahead of the English king. God help Griffin should King Edward ever learn the truth of his secret identity.

  “Griffin will ensure Lord Caelin’s life is spared,” Duncan said.

  “He will try,” Alexander said. “But furious at the embarrassment served to his troops by the rebels, King Edward will settle for no less than Wallace’s head. Nay, Longshanks spares no one whom he believes knows the whereabouts of Wallace.”

  “And with his rage of having Wallace slipped past his knights’ searches several times now,” Duncan agreed, “to vent his anger, the English king would cling to a lie.”

  “A lie indeed,” Seathan agreed. “One that Frasyer will no doubt ensure reaches Griffin.”

  “Wanting to earn royal praise,” Duncan added, understanding the self-serving bastard too well, “Frasyer will send a missive to King Edward as well, which negates Griffin ensuring Lord Caelin is unharmed.”

  Seathan and Alexander nodded in unison.

  Pain throbbed in Duncan’s head. “Frasyer would sell his mother if it earned him praise in the king’s eyes.”

  “We will do all that we can to save Lord Caelin,” Alexander said solemnly, “but we must take care to preserve Lord Monceaux’s identity. If we should lose Griffin’s aid to the rebel cause, it is a blow I doubt from which the rebe
ls could recover.” He shot Duncan a serious look. “Nor would I wish to deal Nichola such news of her brother.”

  Like the sputter of a windswept flame, Duncan’s hope for Isabel’s father wavered. “Wait!” He sat up straighter and winced as the movement pulled against the stretch of healing skin. “There is proof of Lord Caelin’s innocence. Isabel explained to me that before her father was hauled away, he told her to look in her mother’s Bible!”

  “Her mother’s Bible?” Seathan asked.

  Alexander frowned. “She nay mentioned a Bible to us. Or the fact that any proof of his innocence exists.”

  “Which makes no sense.” Duncan shook his head. “Why would Isabel not tell you that we delayed our leaving Moncreiffe Castle because we tried to find her mother’s Bible to save her father?”

  Fresh anger clouded his brothers’ faces.

  “She said you were hurt while fighting guards, which delayed your escape,” Seathan said, “but no more.”

  A sword’s wrath. What else had she omitted? “The only reason I can think of why she wouldn’t tell you about the Bible is…because it is a lie.” Frustration churned within Duncan like a cauldron boiling over. “No, it cannot be. When she told me about the Bible, she pleaded and begged me to leave without her. Isabel was determined to find it on her own. She acted as if she truly cared that I was safe. Though I found her actions confusing, I believed, and still do, that she was sincere.”

  “God’s steed! The two of you need a good shaking,” Seathan muttered; Alexander grunted in agreement. “You both have given me enough of the truth to serve each of your purposes.”

  Duncan bristled. “My original intent was to spare you from seeing Isabel again. One of us being afflicted with her presence was enough.”

  Seathan raised his brow. “Afflicted?” He waved a hand when Duncan would have spoken. “Start at the beginning and tell me the truth about what happened between you and Isabel. The entire truth. I will tolerate no more deception.”

  At thoughts of Isabel, a barrage of unwanted emotions stormed Duncan.

  Desire.

  Unanswered longing.

  The sting of old betrayal.

  But to avoid his brother’s demand would only cause further chaos where too much lay at stake. “I will tell you, but first, explain why have you allowed Isabel to remain at Lochshire Castle.”

  Alexander’s mouth thinned into a hard line as he slanted Seathan a hard look. “A question I have asked him as well.”

  “I have my reasons,” Seathan stated.

  And Seathan believed Duncan was stubborn, Duncan mused. He couldn’t keep pace with his oldest brother. “Since she saved my life, I would think they are reasons I would deserve to be knowing.”

  “Since your thoughts have misguided you as of late,” Seathan said, “I will determine when a reply to your question is necessary.”

  Alexander walked over to stand beside Seathan. He spread his feet shoulder width and crossed his arms. “Out with it, Duncan.”

  Aware that his brothers wouldn’t be budged and thankful that his dizziness had abated, for the next few minutes, Duncan relayed the facts—from Symon riding up to him mortally wounded, his vow, freeing Isabel, and their escape.

  Seathan curled his hand around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles grew white as he listened. “Had I known of what you were about—”

  “You would have stopped me,” Duncan said.

  Alexander’s nostrils flared with anger. “Which is why you did not wait for Seathan and me to return from Selkirk Forest after our meeting with Wallace.”

  “I had not anticipated such trouble. Had Isabel but cooperated, she and I would have been long gone before the dungeon guards noticed her absence.” His throat parched, Duncan reached over for a goblet of water. His arm began to shake, and sweat beaded his brow.

  Alexander stepped forward and handed him the pewter goblet filled with water.

  “My thanks.” Duncan took a long drink. After a moment, some of the dizziness passed. He wished he could say as much for how his body ached.

  “What will you do about the Bible?” Seathan asked.

  “I will be going back for it,” Duncan said.

  “Go back,” Alexander scoffed. “With your wounds still healing, you will not be setting one foot inside—”

  Seathan raised his hand, silencing his brother. For a long moment he studied Duncan as if he weighed a decision of import. “Do you trust Isabel?”

  The question caught Duncan off guard, more so that it was a question he had asked himself many times over. A question that still gave him doubts. From Alexander’s grimace, his brother was as surprised by Seathan’s change of topic as well.

  “I am not sure,” Duncan admitted.

  Seathan dropped his hand to his side and strode to the window. After a moment, he turned to face Duncan. “If indeed she is telling the truth, we must consider that Frasyer has taken the Bible with him, if not hidden it elsewhere.”

  “Or destroyed it,” Alexander added.

  Frustration collapsed atop Duncan’s already mounting pile. “I am well aware those possibilities exist.”

  Seathan’s eyes sparked with fury. “Are you? As Alexander stated, you are unfit to travel, much less fight Frasyer or his knights if confronted.”

  Duncan pushed himself into a sitting position, ignoring his body’s protest. “It will take me a day, two at most to be up and about.”

  Alexander grunted. “You are as weak as a babe. You need rest, not to be pushing yourself.”

  “I will hand select two of my most trusted men to return with Isabel,” Seathan said.

  “Nay.” Duncan threw off the covers and ignored the black spots dancing before his eyes. Clenching his teeth, he slid his feet over the side of the bed. “I will go. It is my responsibility.”

  Seathan shook his head. “Your vow to Symon to free Isabel is fulfilled. You owe her nothing more.”

  Words Duncan had repeated to himself a hundred times over, but shamefully, they didn’t ease the anxiety spreading through him at never seeing her again. Which, after she’d abandoned him but days before they were to wed, made absolutely no sense.

  “I have also given her my vow to help find the Bible.” Duncan looked from one brother to the next. Anger flared in his brothers’ eyes, but in Seathan’s gaze, he also noted understanding.

  Unsettled, Duncan curled his hand into a fist, then slowly released it. What was there to understand? Or rather, after Iuliana, the woman Seathan loved had betrayed him, why would his older brother hold nothing but contempt for Isabel? Yet, he had allowed Isabel to remain within their home.

  “Regardless of what either of us wishes,” Duncan added, “with Frasyer’s men in search of Isabel and her accomplice, for the next few days it would not be wise for anyone to try and reenter Moncreiffe Castle. If the knights I fought with within Frasyer’s castle recognized me, Frasyer will have posted a watch upon Lochshire Castle to intercept me, or any of my kin, upon my return.”

  “True,” Seathan agreed. “But garbed as a priest, I doubt they recognized you. If so, Frasyer would have arrived at my gates with a contingent of men demanding you and Isabel.”

  “Aye,” Alexander grunted. “Still, with Frasyer’s ire peaked, it would be foolhardy for any of us to ride upon his lands. Like it or not, we must wait a few days.”

  Seathan tapped his finger on the hilt of his sword. “I will increase the guard around Lochshire’s borders in case Frasyer’s men grow bold.”

  “I do not like the waiting, but it is a wise decision.” With a sigh, Alexander began to pace the room. When he reached the far wall, he turned and stopped. For a long moment, he studied Duncan, his face hard. “A question Seathan asked earlier will not let me be. You said you are not sure if you trust Isabel, Duncan, but do you believe she has changed?” He stepped toward him. “Do you believe yourself immune? That your continued involvement with the lass will not lead to another round of hurt?”

  Duncan didn’
t miss Seathan’s watching him with interest at Alexander’s question. He shoved to his feet. The room spun, but he braced himself. Out of sheer will, he remained standing.

  “Do either of you think I could forget that she betrayed me?” Duncan demanded. Neither could he deny that the familiar spark, the warmth that’d always existed between them, thrived. An awareness that until he’d held her in the dungeon, he’d deluded himself into believing had faded. Now, despite her treachery, he wanted her. If he allowed Isabel back into his life, she could hurt him once again.

  Except this time, he doubted he could recover.

  “Though you would deny it,” Alexander said, cutting into his musings, “you still carry feelings for the lass, want them or not. Your actions say what you will not.”

  “To Hades with you!” Duncan’s legs began to tremble beneath the effort of standing. “I owe you no explanation other than the one that I have given.”

  “Enough,” Seathan stated. “Arguing will change nothing.”

  Redness slashed across Alexander’s cheeks, then his face softened with regret. “My words are driven from worry. Damn you, Duncan, you almost died.”

  The concern in his brother’s voice tempered Duncan’s anger. Tiredness washed over him, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know.” Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what was going through Isabel’s mind. Though she’d not spoken of her relationship with Frasyer, one would think with her imprisonment in Frasyer’s dungeon, her father threatened with his life, and her brother killed, a woman would leave her lover. Except with Isabel, life had taught him not to expect the obvious.

  “Rest, brother,” Alexander said, “before you collapse and reopen Isabel’s careful binding.”

  As Duncan slid back in bed, Seathan walked over to the table and poured himself a glass of wine. “Has the lass given you a reason why Frasyer imprisoned her?”

  Duncan stiffened at his own idiocy. So caught up in emotions for Isabel, he’d neglected what he should have explained from the first. “Frasyer did so because she refused to tell him where Wallace is hidden.”