“We can continue to listen from here,” Old Meg said, standing on her toes to whisper in his ear.
It took Artan a moment to realize Old Meg was peering through a very small crack in the thick stone wall. Even as he stepped up beside her, he snuffed the candle, not wanting to risk any chance that Edmund or Anabel would notice the light through the crack. He knew he had heard enough of their secrets to justify anything he did to free Cecily from their grasp, but there was always the chance they would give him even more.
“I dinnae trust him,” said Anabel. “I think he means to betray or cheat us in the end.”
“He may try,” replied Sir Edmund, sounding utterly bored. “Of course, if ye hadnae spread your legs for him, he would ne’er have gotten into your bedchamber and found those papers.”
“So condemning ye sound, ye who ruts with anything in a petticoat.”
“But who ne’er leaves important secrets where any fool can find them.”
“Gloat if it makes ye feel better. It was an error in judgment. Most of what he holds o’er us was naught but conjecture, and ye did as poorly as I in defending yourself against that. Can we now turn our minds to what must be done about that kilted brute? He is trying to woo Cecily into leaving with him for Glascreag, ye ken.”
“Then ye had best make your disapproval of the mon verra clear to Cecily. Ye have kept the girl cowed for years, done verra weel in making sure she ne’er asks questions and seeks to please ye in all things, so I ken ye can twist her to your way now. Keep yourself at her side. Mayhap cutting the mon away from our wee prize will be enough. Ye have made her hungry for approval. Let her see that having anything to do with that mon will surely lose any she might gain from her marriage.”
“I could always lock her in her bedchamber.”
“’Twould give rise to too many questions. So would a sound beating if that was your second choice. If ye wish to continue to live as weel as ye have for the last twelve years, keep the lass close so that Highlander cannae talk to her alone and weaken her allegiance to us.”
“That will make for a verra long eleven days.”
“Think of the noose awaiting each of us should ye fail. That should provide inspiration.”
Artan held himself very still until he was sure Sir Edmund and Lady Anabel were gone. This time he did the leading. Careful not to be seen with Old Meg, he took her to his bedchamber. He poured them each a goblet of wine and spent several minutes going over all he just heard as he drank.
“They mean to kill the lass,” said Old Meg after several moments of tense silence.
“Aye, and I believe they killed her father and brother, although that would be hard to prove after so many years,” said Artan. “Did ye arrive in time to hear Sir Fergus say that at least he didnae have blood on his hands?” Old Meg nodded, her fury clear to see in her eyes. “Then there was Sir Edmund’s remark about living as weel as they have for twelve years.”
“But Cecily could have died in that attack.”
“I suspect the fact that she did not was a hard disappointment to them. Once she returned to Dunburn they feared doing anything to be rid of her.”
“And so that bitch played upon my poor wee lass’s feelings and her need to have a family.”
“It kept Cecily from asking questions such as why her uncle ne’er wrote and all.”
“And so by keeping Cecily thinking Angus had turned aside from her, Anabel was able to tighten her grip.”
“Banishing ye from Dunburn did the same, I expect.”
Old Meg sighed. “I should have held fast to my temper. I am lucky I wasnae hanged for beating the woman. But, aye, taking me away from Cecily only left the poor wee child e’en more alone and in need.” Old Meg cursed and shook her head. “I was no better. I ne’er asked any questions and was quick to cast aside whate’er suspicions I had in the beginning. I only briefly doubted it was just thieves who did the killing, and I fear I just cursed Angus for an old fool and assumed he had e’er only been interested in the laddie.”
“Most men are. An heir and all that.” He patted Old Meg’s shoulder. “Dinnae chastise yourself too heartily. They obviously didnae use any Dunburn men or ye would have heard a whisper or two to set ye to thinking.” He shrugged. “’Tis done and past. There is no changing it. Aye, and the ones who are really at fault are her kinsmen, the verra ones who should have cared for her.”
“So what is to happen now?”
“I need to get Cecily out of here.” He frowned. “I can nay longer just try to convince her to come to Glascreag with me and openly ride away with her. That would ne’er be allowed, and I cannae fight off all of the Donaldson and Ogilvey men.”
“It sounds as if ye have been giving it a goodly effort.”
Artan ignored that remark. “I need to get Cecily to Glascreag as quickly as possible. She can be better protected there. There isnae any chance of doing that here, as this is her enemy’s home ground. Howbeit, I am nay sure how I can get her away unseen.”
Old Meg crossed her arms over her chest. “Your greatest problem is how to get her to go with ye at all. Aye, we now ken that she has been cheated of what is hers by right and that her life is in danger, but she isnae going to believe it just because ye say it is so.”
“What if ye tell her all we have just learned?”
“’Twill plant a few doubts in her mind, but nay enough to make her calmly walk away with ye. Wretched as these people are, Cecily sees Dunburn as her home and these people as her family. Bonnie as ye are, she has only kenned ye for a few days, so why should she believe ye o’er them? And I have ne’er liked Anabel or Edmund and have made my dislike far too clear o’er the years for her to heed me too closely.”
Artan softly cursed. Old Meg was right. Cecily would be slow to believe them, if only because no one would want to accept that they had been made a fool of for years, and there was no time to convince her. He could not depend on getting her to overhear another revealing conversation by her own guardians so that she could hear the ugly truth from their own mouths. It appeared there was little chance Cecily would willingly walk away with him, at least not this soon in the game or without far more proof of the danger she was in than just his word.
“I am going to have to try to get her to meet with me somewhere outside the walls of the keep and then kidnap her,” he said. “After listening to those three swine, there simply isnae any time left for convincing her that her guardians and her betrothed are a threat to her or to woo her into coming with me.”
“Nay, there isnae enough time, although I cannae believe I am e’en thinking of helping ye kidnap the lass; but better she go with ye than stay here with these carrion. And what do ye mean woo her?”
There was a tone to Old Meg’s voice that sharply reminded Artan of the one his own mother would use when she had caught him out in some mischief. To his utter dismay, he felt a guilty color burn in his cheeks. For a moment he considered several ways to wriggle out of answering that last question, but then he looked into her eyes. There was that look, the one he suspected all mothers gave erring sons that seemed able to pull the truth right out of them. Artan heard himself tell her all about the bargain Angus had offered him and was not really surprised that he was doing so.
Old Meg frowned and studied the young man. She did not like the idea that Cecily would be taken away from a marriage she had been forced to accept and thrown right into another that she was being lured into by pretty words and a handsome face. Neither man seemed to care much for Cecily’s feelings. Then she inwardly cursed. Sir Fergus planned to kill the girl when he had taken all he wanted from her. Sir Artan might also be marrying the girl for gain, but he would keep her safe. Cecily might have her feelings hurt when she discovered exactly why this big, strong man had married her, but at least she would still be alive to complain about it. Considering Cecily would have this man in her bed instead of Sir Fergus, Old Meg decided that hurt could be quickly soothed. As soon as she could collect up the things
Cecily had hidden away, Meg also decided she would take them to Glascreag herself and make sure that her lass was being treated well.
“I dinnae like the fact that Cecily is still being wed because of her dower, but better ye than that sly ferret Fergus,” she said.
“I willnae marry her just to gain Glascreag,” said Artan.
“Are ye trying to tell me that ye already love the lass?”
The bite in Old Meg’s words was so sharp Artan almost winced. “I like her, I desire her, and I am a mon who will hold fast to vows made. She wouldnae get that from verra many other men, nay when she is so richly dowered.”
“Aye, that is the sad, hard truth. So, best we start planning on when and how we can get her out of here.”
“The when had best be tonight, I am thinking. Anabel may hesitate just tonight to take up her role as guard, but she will take it up and it will make an escape nearly impossible. I need to get Cecily alone long enough to convince her to slip away and meet me. Since we cannae guess how quickly or firmly these carrion will increase their guard on her, ’tis best if we take time to consider ways to elude them.”
Artan limped through the gates of Dunburn. A few men chuckled, but most watched him with a look of fear or respect. Cecily had to be the only one at Dunburn who did not know he was being attacked at every turning. This time he had actually had to draw his sword and two men would not be returning to Dunburn. It had, however, given him a good excuse to leave Thunderbolt secured near the burn. No one would question that his horse had gotten away from him during the attack, although he found it irritating that he had to leave these fools thinking he had so little skill with his mount. It was a necessary bruise to his pride, however. Getting Cecily out of Dunburn was going to be difficult enough. The only ideas he had come up with for getting his horse out at night could all too easily have given Cecily the idea that he had left for good, and she would then think there was to be no meeting after all.
It was not just Cecily who had to leave now either. This last attack had been much more than a nuisance. Eight armed men had come at Artan, and he had been hard-pressed to even the numbers enough so that he could more easily rout the others. He was a skilled fighter, but even that could not save him if the number of men attacking him continued to increase. Although he hated to run from any fight, he would do Cecily no good if he died.
As he walked toward his bedchamber, a noise from within Sir Fergus’s room caught his attention. It sounded as if someone was crying. For a minute Artan thought the fool may have already heard that his men had failed once again, but then he heard a soft feminine voice cry out. It was followed by the distinct sound of a fist hitting flesh. Stealthily entering the man’s bedchamber, Artan had to fight the strong urge to immediately kill the man. Only the knowledge that if he did so he would have to fight his way out of Dunburn and that that would leave Cecily unprotected stayed his hand.
Sir Fergus had a young maid pinned to the floor. She did not look to be much older than twelve or thirteen. Her gown was torn, and her face was bruised. Artan silently closed the door behind him and walked over to the struggling couple. He grabbed Sir Fergus by the back of his jupon and threw him against the wall. The man seemed to stick there for a moment, staring at Artan in horror, but then his eyes rolled back and he slowly slipped down into a heap upon the floor.
“Get ye gone, lass,” he told the girl as he helped her to her feet, “and stay far away from this swine.”
“Aye, sir, I will,” she said in a voice choked with tears as she fled the room.
Artan walked over to Sir Fergus. There was blood on the wall and he could see a small stream of it running down the man’s neck. He checked for a pulse and was relieved to find a strong one. The man sorely deserved killing, but now was neither the time nor the place. Artan was sure, however, that there would be one less guard on Cecily tonight, for Sir Fergus would be a long time waking and would be feeling poorly when he did. He would have to be satisfied with that, Artan mused as he left the room.
Cecily found that she was actually enjoying herself. Dining in the great hall was much more pleasant without Anabel and Sir Fergus glaring at her and critically watching her every move. Both were indisposed according to Sir Edmund. Although Cecily felt a little guilty about being so pleased that neither one was at the table, for she would never wish anyone to fall ill, she could not deny what she felt. Sir Edmund was still at hand, but he mostly ignored her as was his habit. At the evening meal most of Sir Edmund’s time was spent in deciding which woman he would drag to his bed for the night.
When Sir Artan placed some venison on her plate, she smiled her thanks. Cecily found it hard to believe that such a handsome man sought her company and her kisses. It was a heady thing to hold the attention of such a man, and she appeared to be the only one who did. Many of the women at Dunburn, guest and maid alike, had tried their best to catch his eye, but he showed no interest. Although Cecily found that odd, she also found it exciting.
Once the meal was done, she allowed Sir Artan to walk her to her bedchamber. Several of Sir Fergus’s kinsmen scowled at her, but Sir Edmund was too busy trying to charm the plump Lady Helen to notice what his ward was doing. Cecily suspected the unusual freedom of movement she had been allowed for the past few days would shortly come to an end. She could still hear Anabel’s furious lecture on the day she had taken Sir Artan on a tour of Dunburn lands. Anabel had even made it sound as if it was all Cecily’s fault that some fool had nearly killed them.
“Do ye ken that no one claims to have been near the burn the day we had those arrows shot at us?” she asked Sir Artan as they halted before her bedchamber door. She hastily smothered the shocking urge to ask him to step inside with her.
“Aye,” he replied, placing his hands on the door on either side of her and slowly moving his body closer to hers. “No huntsmon would e’er admit to being so poor at hunting. Since neither of us was harmed, he doesnae see any need for confession and no one else sees any need to ask too many questions.”
She nodded absently, her attention fixed upon his mouth despite all her efforts to raise her gaze to his eyes. She actually ached for his kiss. She clenched her hands against the urge to grab him and pull him into her arms. When he brushed a kiss over her forehead, she shivered with longing.
“Lass, come meet with me tonight. Midnight. At the bower near the burn.”
“Creep away ye mean?”
“Aye, slip away from this crowded place, from all these curious eyes.” He kissed the hollow by her ear and heard her breathing quicken. She was so responsive, so soft and warm, he had to fight the urge to pull her into her bedchamber and ease the ache she so effortlessly stirred inside of him. “We havenae been alone since the day we went riding together.”
“And were verra nearly killed.” She was almost panting and found it difficult to catch her breath.
“’Twill be safe this time. Come meet with me. ’Tis a warm night and the moon is full.”
She was so tempted it almost frightened her. “But I am a betrothed woman.”
Artan kissed her and all hesitation fled her heart and mind. She wrapped her arms around his neck and readily opened her mouth for the hot invasion of his tongue. He made her feel almost wild in so many ways. Her blood raced through her veins and her breathing grew heavy and fast. He tasted like sin, and she knew he was tempting her to commit a very big one. Then she thought of the man she would have to marry soon and no longer cared.
“Meet me, lass,” he said in a husky voice as he kissed her throat.
“Aye, I will. Midnight. At the burn.”
He gave her a quick kiss, opened her door, and gently nudged her inside her bedchamber. “If ye can bring some food and wine, we can share a wee meal beneath the stars.”
As if he could not help himself, Artan gave her another kiss and shut the door. Cecily stared at the door and wondered why he would want her to bring food. The only meal she wished to share had nothing to do with food. Unless I could l
ick it off his body, she thought, then gasped in shock at her own thoughts.
For just a moment she considered running after him and telling him she could not do it, could not share a tryst with him by the burn, but she hastily pushed aside that burst of cowardice. It was wrong, but for once, she intended to do what she wanted to do. She would meet Sir Artan at the burn and take whatever he had to give her, for all too soon she would be married to Sir Fergus.
“Did ye convince her?” asked Old Meg as Artan entered his bedchamber.
Seeing the woman sitting comfortably in his bedchamber, Artan shook his head in a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Do ye ne’er enter a room through the proper door?”
“Anabel might discover I am here if I did that. Why? Are ye afraid I might catch ye with one of the maids? Davida, perhaps?”
“Davida is fair, fulsome, and verra friendly, but she is nay for me. Ye ken weel that one of the reasons I came here was to decide if I wanted Cecily for my wife. ’Tisnae a time to be shaking the linen with any willing maid in reach. And, aye, I have convinced Cecily to meet me at the burn, at midnight. Neither Fergus nor Anabel attended the meal tonight and Sir Edmund was ogling Lady Helen, so Sile was verra lightly guarded. Now, I ken what happened to Sir Fergus, but I am curious about what happened to Lady Anabel.”
“I put a purgative in her wine.”
“Cruel woman.” He laughed softly but quickly grew serious again. “Do ye think ye can gather any of Cecily’s clothes?”
“I already have.” She pointed to a sack set near his bed. “I long ago showed her the easiest and safest way to slip out of the keep.”
“Good. I will take her clothes with me when I leave.” He gently grasped the woman by the hand and tugged her out of her seat. “Now, I mean to have me a wee rest, for ’tis certain I will be riding for near all the night.”
Highland Barbarian Page 7
