Sweet Revenge

by Lynsay Sands

  "Well!" Kyla gasped. "That is simply not true, sir. 'Tis slanderous even to suggest such a thing."

  "Well now, me lady, there is the time ye snuck off to the beach," Duncan piped up judiciously, having overheard Galen's comment.

  "Which time?" Tommy asked dryly, and the men all laughed.

  Kyla glared at them, then snapped, "Which is to be my horse?"

  Without bothering to answer, Galen caught her about the waist and swung her onto the horse beside which he had brought her to a halt. Catching her wince as her bottom landed on the saddle, he cast her a sympathetic glance. "'Tis almost over. We should be at Forsythe in another two days."

  Kyla nearly groaned aloud at that. Two more days in the saddle...And she used to like riding. It was what she had missed most these last weeks. Access to a horse had been denied her and no amount of begging or arguing had changed that. Now she thought she could do very well were she never to ride again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Galen peered at his wife and smiled slightly. She sat upright on her mount...sort of. She was sleeping in her saddle, her body wavering like a willow in the wind. He could not blame her. They had been riding nonstop for well over forty-eight hours since leaving Stafford. He himself was weary enough to collapse from his saddle. In fact, he had some doubt as to whether he would be able to keep his feet beneath him were he to dismount now. He would find out soon enough, however. They were approaching Forsythe hall.

  Sighing, he urged his weary mount closer to Kyla's and reached out to draw her gently onto the saddle in front of him. She hardly even stirred at the action, merely murmuring sleepily and cuddling into him.

  "She sleeps the deep sleep of the innocent."

  Galen glanced at Shropshire. Taking in the slightly befuddled frown on the man's face, he shook his head. "Still wondering if Catriona was telling the truth about Kyla wishing her brother dead?"

  "Catriona was most convincing."

  "From what I have heard ye have known Kyla all her life?"

  "Aye," he sighed, nodding.

  "Surely ye know then that she loves her brother? Even I have come to know that in the short time we have been together." When the Englishman's confusion and uncertainty showed on his face, Galen shook his head. "I will be interested in meeting this woman."

  "What woman?"

  "Forsythe's wife. She must be a real beauty to have all of ye twisted about so. That or she is most convincing in bed." Even in the dark, Galen could see the man flush at that. That, plus the fact that Shropshire did not immediately defend the woman's honor, but instead frowned, told Galen he had guessed right. "She sought comfort in her hour of need, did she? And you, as Lord Forsythe's long time friend, supplied it."

  "I--" he began, but Galen cut him off.

  "Never mind. 'Tis sure I am yer not the only one to have found her favors offered. In fact I ken yer not. Kyla hasn't spoken of it since awaking from her fever, but while delirious she confessed to suspecting the woman was sleeping with her brother's First."

  "James?" Shropshire looked horrified at the thought, then a sudden comprehension dawned on his face.

  "Damn," he sighed unhappily. "She said she loved me."

  "They all say that," Robbie rumbled suddenly, joining the conversation. "At least that is what Aelfread claims. She says the ones who speak of love quickly are free to do so because they feel none, while those who truly do love, often keep such knowledge to themselves for fear the feeling is not reciprocated."

  Galen glanced down wistfully at Kyla, taking in her sweet untroubled face. He would give much to believe that that was how she felt. That she cared for him, but feared saying so lest he not return those feelings. Unfortunately, he had already told her how he felt. He himself now regretted confessing his own feelings and blamed such foolishness on the stress of the moment.

  His thoughts came to a halt as they reached the moat of Forsythe Castle. Bringing his mount to a halt, he shifted Kyla slightly as Shropshire raised a hand to his mouth and called a greeting to the men on the wall. Within moments the bridge was lowered and the gate lifted.

  Shropshire started across it at once, Galen and his men hard on his heels, their gazes moving curiously around the interior of the bailey. It did not take more than a glance to tell that this was a prosperous estate. The people that were still about at this late hour of the night were all well dressed and obviously well fed.

  "His lordship sleeps."

  Galen turned his gaze forward at that to find that they were now at the foot of the stairs. Reining his mount in, he peered at the man who stood on the bottom step. The man was eyeing Shropshire with such animosity that Galen knew before the other lord introduced him that this was John Forsythe's First, James. And that Kyla was most likely right, the man had had an affair with her brother's wife. Though, judging from the soldier's bitterness, he would guess that it was now over. The man blamed it solely on Lord Gilbert Shropshire. There was nothing like a woman to make a fool of a man. And vice versa, he added when Kyla stirred sleepily in his arms.

  "Should we wake him and settle this thing now?" Gilbert asked after introducing John's First.

  Galen peered down at his wife's weary face and shook his head. "Nay. 'Twill keep 'til morning. They have both been sore ill. Let them gain their rest."

  Nodding, Shropshire hesitated, then winced as he swung one leg over his mount in preparation of dismounting. He landed on the ground a moment later and grasped the pommel of his saddle, barely suppressing a groan. His legs shook visibly beneath him as they came back to painful life.

  Galen frowned at the other man's problems, knowing quite well that he himself might suffer so and worried over the safest way to dismount while holding Kyla. He was loath to let her go for even a moment, especially here, but knew he might hurt her should his legs prove as troublesome as Shropshire's were.

  "Give her to me."

  Galen stiffened at that order, his gaze moving to the newcomer who now stood at the side of his horse, face solemn, arms outstretched to take Kyla.

  "Who are ye?"

  "He is Henry. Morag's son," James sneered, finally deigning to come forward off the steps. Approaching Galen from the other side of his horse, he added, "Naught but a serf. I shall take her."

  Galen was silent for a mere moment, then turned to Henry, handing his wife down into the servant's care. Their eyes met as she passed from one man to the other, understanding passing between them, as well. Galen straightened and slid his leg over his saddle and dropped to the ground. As with Shropshire, his own legs were none too steady and he caught at his saddle when they threatened to go out from beneath him. Then they came back to pulsing, prickling life, and he almost wished they had stayed numb.

  As distracted as he was by the sensations attacking his lower body, Galen did not miss the hatred that crossed James' face before he walked away, but he was surprised when the servant, Henry, commented, "You have made an enemy there."

  Raising his head, Galen met the man's solemn gaze and nodded his acceptance of those words. "How fares Lord Forsythe?"

  "He recovers...slowly."

  "And I would bet you are never far from his side," Gilbert murmured. He joined them on shaky legs to tell Galen, "Henry and John were of an age and since Morag was John and Kyla's nurse, they played together. You made a good choice. Both of them are as safe with Henry as they are with his mother."

  The servant smiled at that. "How is she?"

  "Morag?" Gilbert shrugged. "She seems well...happy."

  "No doubt," Henry murmured wryly. "She has ever longed to return to Scotland."

  "Of course she has," Robbie rumbled. "Don't we all?"

  Gilbert rolled his eyes when the Scots all murmured their agreement. "You have only just arrived in our fair country. Give it a chance ere you start crying for home."

  Galen raised his eyebrows at that. "Ye and me wife lead us into a den of vipers and expect us to relax and enjoy being made a meal of?"

  The Englishman grimaced at
that. "Well, mayhap not just this moment, but once we clean the den out."

  "Speaking of which," Galen muttered, releasing his saddle and straightening painfully. "Where is Lady Forsythe?"

  "Thank Goodness!" All eyes turned toward the stairs at that exclamation, widening on a woman who could only be Lady Catriona Forsythe. She was Kyla's height, with ice-blond hair that reached past her shoulders and down to the back of her knees. It flowed out behind her like a cape as she suddenly rushed down the stairs toward them. She wore a gown of azure to match her eyes, the bodice of it cut to emphasize her generous bosom and small waist. That generous bosom came to be pressed strategically upward against a suddenly stiff Shropshire's chest as she hugged him. Peering up at the man through her lashes in a manner that was both demure and seductive, she breathed, "I feared so much for your safety on your travels, my lord. The roads can be so dangerous nowadays."

  "Not as dangerous as some castles," Tommy muttered under his breath behind Galen.

  Lady Forsythe peered around at that, her gaze moving sharply over the six Scots before returning to Galen. Shropshire suddenly forgotten, she reached a hand toward the MacDonald clan chief, her body seeming to flow after it.

  "You must be Lord MacDonald," she murmured in a sultry half-whisper that actually sent a shiver down his back. Grasping his hand, she squeezed it briefly, then ran her smooth, soft hand along his arm, then back to slide the fingers along the inside of his wrist in a seductive manner. Her mouth made a moue before she glanced toward Henry who still held Kyla. "I see you have brought her back to us. Despite all she has done, we cannot help but love her still. Johnny will forgive her, of course."

  Galen took in the feigned sadness in her expression and shook his head as her fingers slid seemingly unconsciously back and forth across his skin. She was definitely an experienced woman, he thought grimly as she shifted, her breasts brushing "accidentally" against his arm. Then her gaze shot back to his and she peered up at him through the curtain of her eyelashes, her blue eyes shining with all sorts of promises. "But we should leave that unpleasantness for the morning. Now, you are all no doubt exhausted from your travels and would wish a bath and a...bed."

  Galen did not miss the slight hesitation and the extra meaning added to that last word. What he couldn't understand was why she was bothering with him...and right there in front of Shropshire. Unless it was her intention to get him away from Kyla. Perhaps to allow some injury to be done his wife?

  Tugging his arm away from the woman's hold, Galen turned and scooped his wife from Henry's arms. "Aye, a bath would be appreciated. As would a bed for me wife and myself." Turning deliberately away from her, he addressed Henry. "Would ye show me to Kyla's old room?"

  "Johnny is in there," Catriona snapped before Henry could respond, then regained herself enough to smile and half-whisper. "I shall show you to the room between that and mine."

  Shrugging, Galen shifted Kyla slightly in his arms and fixed an uncaring expression on his face. When Catriona then turned to lead the way, he glanced at his men, his expression telling them to follow. He did not trust this woman as far as her hair would reach. She was trouble. Crafty. He would not underestimate her.

  Lady Forsythe led them to a room on the upper floor, surprise showing in her eyes briefly when she opened the door and turned to see Galen followed into the room by his five men, Shropshire, and even Morag's son Henry. Vexation showed on her features briefly before she managed to smile sweetly and suggest, "There is one other free room up the hall, my lord. It is the room Gilbert used when last here but I am sure he would not mind sharing. Perhaps you would like for your men to be put there? They would be close at hand."

  "Aye," Galen murmured moving to the bed to set Kyla down on it. "Have one bath brought here and another taken to the other room."

  Her mouth tightened just the smallest fraction at being ordered about like a serf, then she managed another smile and left the room to pass on the order.

  Gilbert closed the door behind her and shook his head. "She is like a...a..."

  "Snake?" Galen suggested dryly.

  "Aye. A snake. Damn, but she seems to slither right into your braies." He shook his head in bewilderment as if wondering why he had not seen it before, and Galen took pity on him.

  "She has some appeal. Most men would be blinded by her sensuality."

  Shropshire sighed at that, then glanced up. "What now?"

  "Once they are ready, we shall bathe." His gaze slid over his men. "Ye shall take turns at it. Two of ye stand guard outside the door while the others bathe, then ye switch. Once I've tended to meself and Kyla I want ye back in here to plan out how we'll handle the night. I don't trust that woman. She plans something. She was trying too hard to get me interest."

  "Aye. She was rather obvious," Gilbert muttered with distaste.

  "I've the feeling she wants to get me away from this room and me wife. That means I definitely want at least two men with Kyla at all times. She'll be desperate to do whatever she plans ere Kyla can speak with her brother. That means tonight."

  The men all nodded grimly at that. It seemed they had given up the peril of the journey only to land in further peril at Forsythe. No one would rest well that night. There would be no comfort until Kyla had seen her brother and straightened things out come the morn.

  Galen was snoring loud enough to wake the dead. No doubt that was what awoke Kyla. Turning her head in the bed, she frowned at him slightly, then could not help but smile. Snoring or not, he looked as sweet as a babe while asleep. His face was relaxed and slack, his mouth hanging open.

  Holding back a laugh, she eased the covers aside and slid carefully out of bed. They were at Forsythe. The room they were in told her that much. Kyla recognized it at once as the spare room next to her own. She did not recall arriving, however. That meant she had most likely been asleep when they had got there. Again. She had been aware that she was dozing off as they had ridden. Several times she had started awake in the saddle to find herself nearly tumbling from it. Galen had asked her at least a dozen times if she would not like to ride with him a bit and have a nap, but she had refused out of pride. If the men could manage, she could, as well. This trip was all on her insistence, after all.

  She must have dozed off anyway and to the point where she had not even awoken upon arriving. Kyla grimaced to herself at that as she dressed. It was not all she had slept through. It appeared she had been stripped and bathed on arriving and had slept through it all. Galen's doing, no doubt. He was a dear man. Kind and considerate. She would have to tell him so...After she had seen her brother.

  Renewed determination buoying her, she finished donning her clothes and moved purposefully toward the chamber door, only to pause.

  Catriona.

  The name was enough to make her scowl. Having slept through her arrival, Kyla had no idea what that woman was up to. She could be trouble. The woman would hardly welcome the proof of her treachery.

  Biting the inside of her mouth, she paused to consider the situation. It was more than possible that Catriona would have guards at Johnny's bedroom door. She would insist it was for his own protection, but it was doubtful that they would allow Kyla inside his room to speak with him. Were Gilbert and Galen with her, Catriona could not keep her out of the room, but without them...

  Her gaze slid around the room and a slow smile came to her lips. As with all castles, this one had its secrets; hollow walls, peepholes, and all the rest. And it just so happened that this room had a hidden passage between it and her old one. Kyla had discovered the walkway while very young and had used it on more than one occasion to evade her parents. Today she would use it again, she decided with satisfaction. She would sneak in to see her brother, if he was still in her room. It was where Morag had placed them both on their being brought back after the attack. She only hoped he was still there.

  Hurrying across the chamber, she searched briefly for the stone in the wall that when pressed revealed the passageway. She found it nea
rly at once. Despite the fact that so much had happened that it felt like years since she had last been here, it truly had not been that long at all. It was surprising. A matter of months really. Such a short time for so much to change. She had thwarted an attempt on her brother's life, stabbed a man while trying to flee what she thought were robbers, married, made love, escaped the MacGregor's clutches, not once, but twice, fallen in love and--

  Sweet Jesu! Had she really said that? Halfway through the entrance, Kyla turned to peer back at her sleeping husband, feeling the affection and desire that immediately welled up within her. Good God, she loved him. She did. He had said it to her over a week ago, and she had been uncertain as to how she herself felt, but now she knew. She loved him. With all his pride, his ornery nature, his odd sense of humor, his over-protectiveness--

  Come to think of it, what exactly did she love about him? she wondered with vague amusement, then sighed. The answer was easy enough. She loved his pride--despite the moodiness it sometimes caused in him. She enjoyed his fine mind and the conversations they had had, few though they might have been. She felt as light as a bird and giddy to boot when he made her laugh. She loved how he made her feel in bed and even out of it. His over-protectiveness might be annoying when he insisted she should do naught but embroider, but it also warmed her heart and made her feel cherished. But most of all, she supposed she loved him for his belief in her. Not for a moment when Gilbert had come with Catriona's accusations had he, or even any of his men, looked at her with suspicion. They had stood by her, steadfast. They, who had known her a shorter time than Gilbert and--more importantly--not even half as well as her brother. Aye, they had stood by her, just as she knew she would always stand by them.

  At that moment, as she stood braced on the entrance to the passage, Kyla believed she might very well not only love Galen, but each and every one of his men. Though, of course, in a very different way. She would trust any one of them with her life at any time. An important point when she was finding trust something in short supply of late.

  Sighing, she cast one last glance toward her husband, then let the panel slide closed before feeling her way along the wall to the ridge that denoted the entrance to her old room. Pressing the lever that would release the panel, Kyla eased the door open and peered inside, relieved to see that Henry was the only person present besides her brother. He, like his mother, was more family than servant. She knew he had most likely not left Johnny's side since Morag and she had been sent away. He was as faithful in his way to them as Galen and his men had proven to be to her.