by Rue Allyn
“At present,” she said. “We can neither pinpoint MacClaren as a spy nor dismiss him as loyal. As chamberlain he has ample opportunity to cause mischief or add poison to food, even after it has been tasted.”
“What of his information about the letters my father sent to Lady Coillteach?” Colin sighed. He stroked his free hand over hers to clasp her fingers.
Warmth stole over Sorcha. “What of it? Many people write letters, and all know that Earl Coillteach’s wife is something of a simpleton. I doubt she could be a spy.”
“However, spies have been known to disguise their abilities or use innocents when living amongst their victims, and you may recall that Coillteach has directed my activities on Scotland’s behalf for the past ten years. Were his wife a spy, he would be destroyed personally and politically. As for frequently writing letters, my father avoided the activity whenever possible. Using a quill or stylus gave his hand cramps. When events forced him to send letters he always summoned the priest to write for him.”
“That is interesting.” She eased her hand from his and straightened her head away from him.
“I doubt my father would have sent to the village for Father Andrew, so the priest writing his letters would be the man who came with Lady Agnes.”
“When I speak with Father Cuthbert, I’ll try to get him to tell me what the letters contained. What of servants of longer standing, the knights, and other clansmen? Your father’s leanings were well known. Wouldna those people share some of his inclinations?”
“Precisely why we must speak with everyone at Strathnaver.”
“Which leaves us still undecided about Sir MacClaren.”
“Aye, he will bear watching.”
They fell silent. Sorcha became more aware of Colin’s body warming her side and his arm about her shoulders. Last night his ultimatums had failed to get her into his bed. Was he trying to seduce her, now? ’Twould be a mistake, but she had nae objected to anything done while they talked. She breathed in deeply, trying to calm her racing thoughts. But Colin’s spice and leather scent filled her head. She couldna possibly think if she stayed where she was.
Praying that Colin would nae try to stop her, half hoping that he would so she would have cause to resist him more strongly, she slid to the edge of the bed. She could nae allow him to ken how weak she was.
His hand fell from her shoulder, and she stood. The side that had pressed against him cooled. She couldna help longing to discover once more the touch of his lips and the comfort of his embrace. If only passion were enough. If only desire were nae a self-betrayal.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Unsatisfied passion lingered in his mind and his body. God’s blood! She’d wed Brice, which meant she’d lain with him. Was that why she wouldna give herself now? When he’d first gotten here, he’d thought she mourned her husband. In the days since then, he’d become less and less sure. Beyond her protests over the handling of his brother’s corpse, she’d barely even mentioned the cur. She’d spent vastly more effort avoiding the topic than championing her spouse. And in those rare unguarded moments, when Colin had touched her, she’d responded—magnificently. Such contrary reactions were incomprehensible. How could he be sure of her if he couldna understand her? His desire for her muddled his thinking, and ’twas his own fault.
He was the one who insisted she stay by his side—fool though he might be, he’d do it again. All through the conversation about the chamberlain, Colin had been conscious of Sorcha’s body. When the opportunity presented itself, he couldna resist the temptation to compel her to sit closer. Too close, evidently. Her scent had filled his nostrils. She’d swept some loose hairs behind her ears and drawn his eyes to the graceful length of her neck. She’d turned her head to look at him as she spoke, and he’d wanted to plunder the sweetness of her pink lips. ’Twas a delicious torture. Still, he’d forced himself to keep his gaze on her face. If he’d let his eyes wander to the swell of her breasts, he would have been unable to keep his hands off her.
And look what happened. At the first chance, she ran like a hare before a hound. Mayhap that was the problem. She denied them both out of fear. He must lull her into forgetting any doubts or hesitations altogether.
He’d had his first victory today. She hadna objected when he eased his arm around her shoulders . . . nae until they’d fallen silent. Then her body had tightened, and she’d moved away from him. He’d seen the pulse in her neck beat faster, and her breathing increase. He’d used all his will to keep himself from reaching for her as she stood. Today’s small touches had set his desire boiling, and he dinna know how much more he could take before doing something unforgiveable. He’d let passion run away from him once—ten years ago. His dilemma with Sorcha resulted directly from that heedless act. He could nae afford to lose control again. The solution was a seduction that, God willing, would put her in his bed again before another week was out, sooner if he was lucky. Never mind that his feelings for Sorcha were uncertain. His body knew what it wanted, and he saw nae reason to no have it. But first he must persuade her that she was willing.
He knew better than to rush his quarry, however, lest she take flight before he could capture her. Nae, like the spies he hunted, he must lure her to him with patience and irresistible temptation. So he’d permitted her return to her sewing and her window bench without any remark. Let her believe that she had escaped him, that he was nae threat to her placid, solitary life.
St. Andrew’s Cross, she was driving him mad and distracting him from his purpose. He needed to perfect his plans to find the letters from France and to discover the spies who threatened Scotland. Getting Sorcha into his bed must wait.
Soon the steward knocked at the chamber door. Sorcha looked to Colin. He gave her a nod. “Let’s get this over with.”
She admitted the Englishman who managed all of the earl’s property and servants outside the house—guards, animals, buildings, yeomen, supplies.
“Welcome, Sir Fitzsimmons,” Colin said. “Thank you for coming to see me.”
“I only regret we could nae meet earlier, my lord.”
The man smiled, all teeth and shining eyes, but his forehead remained smooth, and the skin at the corners of his eyes didna wrinkle. That gleam could as easily be assessment as good nature.
The steward took up a seat on the same stool where the chamberlain had recently sat. “’Tis glad I am to see you recovering. Tell me, how may I be of service?”
“I gather that you came to Strathnaver from one of the Marr holdings in the south.”
“No, my former position was as under steward to Lord Du Grace on the coast of the Irish Sea near Lancaster.”
“When was that exactly?”
“About six, maybe seven years come this spring.”
“So, you came here after my father died.”
“His health was failing rapidly when I arrived. The earl was unable to act for himself, and the former steward had become too old for the work. So the countess pensioned the man and sent for me on his recommendation. Evidently, he’d heard of my management of the animals at Blancmer and been impressed. I had been able to increase wool yields and eliminate many excessive costs as well as improve the Du Grace horse breeding efforts. Strathnaver’s newly acquired destrier, courser, and palfrey stud was very attractive to me. Given my experience, it was thought I would be a good choice for putting that enterprise on the best possible footing.”
In his peripheral vision, Colin saw Sorcha stiffen and her hands paused above her sewing. “I was not aware that my father had decided to proceed with the idea of breeding horses.”
The steward jerked his head back, clearly surprised. “But, that is, I was told you played a major part in helping your father acquire the stallions and mares needed.”
Sorcha frowned. Her agitation increased so much that she pricked a finger. “Pah.” She shoved her needlework aside and thrust the wounded digit into her mouth.
“Ah, yes.” Colin had nae idea what the man was talking a
bout. “That was shortly before we argued. I left home for a number of years, so I wasna aware of father’s precise plans.” He lied with glib ease as he had done all his life whenever he pretended to be Brice, just as Brice had lied even more easily and on many more occasions than those in which he pretended to be Colin.
“I see.” The man’s expression said he didna see at all. “Perhaps you would like me to give you the details of Strathnaver’s breeding plans.”
Sorcha rapidly stroked her braid.
“That will be an excellent place to start filling me in on all matters pertaining to the holding.”
His faux-wife shot to her feet. “Please excuse me, husband. I’ve just recalled that cook asked to speak with me about a number of matters.”
“I regret, wife, that I need you here. You may attend to matters with the cook later.” He held out his hand, forcing her to come to him or appear exceedingly rude to her beloved spouse.
When she was settled, somewhat stiff and resisting, with his arm securely about her waist he nodded at Sir Fitzsimmons. “Please continue.”
“Well, as you know, the stock was acquired from the MacKai herd.”
Colin felt Sorcha jerk within his grasp.
Fitzsimmons cast her a curious look but continued. “How you and your father persuaded Baron MacKai to put so many steeds into the betrothal contract, I and many others would like to know. The Mackais have been extremely stingy with their breeding mares and studs. Only two that I know of have left MacKai control and are now owned by Edward I of England.”
Sorcha’s body stilled and became even more rigid, then she sucked in a small breath.
Colin’s grip tightened on her waist. She knows something about this, and she will tell me all. Before the feud the MacKai clan might have given a mare or two as betrothal gifts to Clan Marr but never a stud and certainly not a large number of horses. And they would nae ever allow their stallions and mares to fall into Edward Plantagenet’s clutches. “Ah, I canna reveal family secrets, especially from so long ago that I may mis-remember the details. The horses were somewhat of an early wedding gift. Lady Strathnaver and I were betrothed many years ago, but circumstances forced us to delay our marriage until recently.”
“You are fortunate in your choice of bride,” Sir Fitzsimmons remarked. He cast Sorcha a quick glance. “The MacKai horses you received are all of the highest quality. With Lady Agnes’s permission, I added a couple of trainers to the Strathnaver stable workers and hired a superior master of horse. I’m sure you’ve heard of Ian Strathclyde’s skill. With his management, Strathnaver has produced some of the best-trained and most valuable destriers available today. The coursers and palfreys have been quite successful as well.”
“This is wonderful news, Sir Fitzsimmons, and assures me that my children and their children will live prosperous and comfortable lives. I am certain that pleases my wife as well. Does it not, muirnean?”
He found her staring at him, her expression somewhere between appalled and baffled. She smiled sweetly and faced the steward. “Oh, aye. You can have nae idea, sir, what dreams I have for my children.”
“I imagine most mothers have ambitions for their babes.”
Color flared in Sorcha’s cheeks.
Colin grinned.
“Let us continue with your report, Sir Fitzsimmons. What of the guard and the stronghold defenses? Have you made improvements there? I hear rumors that some of the guards neglect their posts at night.”
“’Tis the first I’ve heard of it. If ’tis true, I will put a stop to that immediately. As for improving the defenses, I’ve made very few, my lord. Your father was a superb strategist, and other than to increase the number of knights, I would not presume to change his orders. However, the additional men allow us to send out patrols more often and to cover more ground.”
Colin settled back into his pillows. The man was lying through his teeth about the old earl’s strategic abilities. Colin’s father had believed in the dominance of numbers over guile. Violence, not strategy, had been the only form of attack Colin had ever known him to use. So why would an apparently smart steward say differently when Brice must have known better? To curry favor? To appear less intelligent than he was? To direct attention away from the truly worrisome information that Marr guards neglected their duties even after the number of available men had increased beyond what his father had kept—which was already twice as many as the stronghold needed?
“That was very wise of you.” Colin nodded, to give the impression he’d been duped. “Are the additional guardsmen all of Clan Marr?”
Sir Fitzsimmons acquired a sheepish expression. “I regret that all the available clansmen were already serving at Strathnaver. I was forced to seek far and wide for mercenaries to supplement our numbers. I even went so far as to hire a few Welshmen.”
Far and wide nae doubt meant England and any country not friendly to France or Scotland. Nae English sympathizer trying to build a force in Scotland would seek men from those two countries. The hiring of Welshmen was interesting. Few of them had any fondness for the king who had conquered their country and given their lands to his nobles as reward for their help in subjecting Wales to English rule. Seeking out those men and questioning them without the steward’s knowledge seemed prudent.
“No doubt the increases in income from the breeding enterprise helped to pay for these additional men,” Colin remarked with deceptive placidness.
“Yes, indeed. I’ve acquired a master blacksmith and ironmonger, and I’ve been able to provide our sheep and cow herders with better dogs.”
“Scottish herding dogs?”
“Certainly,” Fitzsimmons agreed. “The English and French dogs are less capable, and while the Irish might be almost as skilled, they are notoriously difficult to train.”
The conversation continued for quite some time before they had covered all aspects of the steward’s work. When Colin finally dismissed him, Sorcha rose, saying, “I’ll leave as well to get your dinner, husband.”
Colin kept hold of her hand. “Nae, muirnean, I wish you to stay with me. Sir Fitzsimmons can request the cook to send up our meal.”
Turning her back to the steward, she tugged quietly at her hand, but Colin refused to release her. “Husband, you are only beginning to recover. You must rest, and will do better if I leave for a time.”
“Nae, wife, I need you beside me to ensure I have nae trouble finding my sleep.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I can tell you intend to be stubborn about this. Very well, since you insist, I will ask a kindness of Sir Fitzsimmons and have him tell the cook to send up a tray with our supper on it.”
Colin loosed his grip, and she withdrew her wrist.
“I will be most happy to be of service and ask cook to send up the meal.”
“Thank you.” She extended her hand.
Sir Fitzsimmons made a show of bowing deeply and kissing her fingers. The man’s mouth lingered over long. Does he nae stop within the next instant, I’ll knock him on his arse.
As Colin finished the thought, Fitzsimmons dropped Sorcha’s hand then backed out through the door.
Sorcha shifted as if to return to the window bench, but Colin caught her dress in his fist, pulled her down beside him, and circled her waist with one arm, clasping her to his side.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Using his chest for leverage, she pushed against his grip but couldna break his hold.
He grinned. “I am getting you to sit with me without having to remind you that we need to talk quietly about the steward and whether or nae he could be a spy.”
She clenched her teeth and all but snarled at him.
“Did I do something to make you imagine you could touch me will you nil you?”
He blinked in feigned innocence. “Nae, but you canna blame a man for trying.”
She looked at him, eyelids narrowed, as if she very much wanted to accuse him of some trickery.
“I would prefer you keep your hand
s to yourself.”“
“I’ll nae argue with you, muirnean, but simply remind you that you canna deny what is between us.”
She stared at him, clearly wanting to deny it.
“Hmph,” was all she could manage. She folded her arms across her chest. “Let us speak of the steward now, so we may be done with this foolishness all the sooner.”
At least she didna try to reject the truth of their mutual passion.
“He lied about my father’s strategic plans.”
“I would agree. I would never have said your father was a strategist. He was over fond of blunt force and large numbers.”
Though she’d stopped trying to push out of his clasp, she held herself stiffly away from him.
“And he has to be lying about the breeding herds, true?” Colin asked.
Sorcha turned her face away. Her body went even more tense than he’d thought possible. Why did every mention of those horses upset her?
“You did well by replying that the horses were a gift.”
The words were stilted, and her shoulders hunched. He wanted to see her face.
“How did Clan Marr come to acquire MacKai breeding stock?” He kept his tone gentle, all the while rubbing his hand up and down her arm.
“I willna tell you.”
“You must, Sorcha. Whatever happened was no secret to all at Strathnaver, including Brice. ’Twill ruin our plans if I am ignorant of what he knew well.”
“You canna understand.”
“Then help me understand. Tell me what happened. How did my father get those horses? Your family would nae have simply given away a breeding pair, let alone the entire herd.”
She lifted her head, shaking it, and turned toward him. Unshed tears gleamed in her eyes. “’Twas indeed the entire herd. He stole them.”
Colin’s body jerked. “Certes my father was capable of such a theft, but surely your parents guarded their livelihood well enough to prevent it.”
