“To whom did you give him?”
“To strangers. He could not fare worse than the fate I offered him at Inverfyre, and I dared not leave Inverfyre.”
“You feared to leave your master, even knowing he might kill you?”
“There was another reason, one of no interest to you. I cannot leave Inverfyre, not for long. I left once and only once, only to carry my babe three days to the north. I left him on the steps of the monastery in Glenfannon. I thought it far enough.” She seemed to find this amusing, though I could not guess why.
“And?”
“The monks sent him back to Gilchrist, unaware of what they did.” Adaira laughed bitterly. “The monks thought such a hale child better suited to a life of warfare, and every soul for miles around knew how Gilchrist wished for a son. The monks thought they showed compassion for an orphan and gained the boy a fortune that might suit him better than a life of prayer.”
“But they, however unwittingly, unfurled what you had tried to do.”
“We cannot challenge the gods. I have tried to thwart their schemes a hundred times, I have tried to avert tragedy and wring kinder solutions from the elements at hand over and over again.” She lifted her head and I fancied that she looked into my very thoughts. “I have lost, every time. The gods will not be thwarted. Any deed can be twisted to their purposes; any mortal intent can be undone.”
Her shoulders sagged and she appeared more ancient than she had all along. It struck me that she would not live long, perhaps not long enough to see what came of what had begun.
I had to know more while I had the chance. “But what became of the boy?”
“He was raised at Inverfyre, for Gilchrist was not adverse to another warrior in his hall and he knew nothing of the child’s origins. I said nothing, for I still hoped to see matters resolved for good.”
“And when he grew, the boy chose to stay?”
“If you were a young and valiant warrior fostered by the laird, would you leave a holding that lacked an heir?” Adaira shook her head and answered her own query. “Not if your father’s ambition burned in your veins. No, you would fight for the chance to make that holding your own, to have yourself declared heir.” She arched a brow as she turned to face me. “You might even demand the hand of your laird’s daughter as your bride.”
“Niall.” I breathed the man’s name in sudden understanding.
“No man of merit would let his son and his daughter become man and wife,” Adaira said, poking the fire with her stick, her expression grim. “Gilchrist, for all his faults, was a man of merit. I had no choice but to tell him the truth once Niall’s intent was clear, and Gilchrist acted with honor.”
“Niall and Evangeline are siblings.”
“Half-siblings: Evangeline wrought in the marital bed, Niall wrought where you sit.”
I leaped to my feet, not having desired that particular detail. “But do they know?”
“Niall knows. Gilchrist had to grant a reason when he refused Niall’s request for Evangeline’s hand. I would have preferred that Gilchrist lied and the secret be left a secret between we two, but the revelation from me came too soon before their meeting, too soon for Gilchrist to hide his disgust from Niall.”
“But Evangeline does not know.”
Adaira shrugged. “She cannot. Their nuptials will be celebrated on the morrow.”
I felt my jaw drop. “What is this?”
“The lady confronted Niall in the forest and demanded they be wed. She declared that they had been lovers and that she would have their child born in legitimacy.”
“I am that child’s father!” I declared, more irked by Evangeline’s deed than I could say.
Adaira smiled. “The prophesied son must be born legitimately to the Laird of Inverfyre. No doubt, the lady thought that both she and Niall would win their desire with this wager.”
“Why would she do this?” I raged.
“They have long been friends,” Adaira said mildly. “Doubtless, she thinks Niall her sole ally at Inverfyre.”
I frowned at the floor of the hut, disliking the web that seemed to be tightening around me. I knew Evangeline had been stung by Niall’s refusal to take her cause before Alasdair and now I knew why. Her annoyance with his lack of faith made sense if they were old friends—while his ambition explained why he was intent upon being shown to be a just lawgiver.
But if Evangeline bore a son, that child would be the obstacle to Niall’s ambitions. Indeed, he could only assert his claim to the lairdship if there was no other seventh son to compete with his claim.
I feared suddenly that Evangeline’s child—my child!—would die very young. Babes died in childbirth very commonly and none would ask questions if another failed to draw its first breath.
I stood, impatient to do some deed to aid the lady who stumbled unwittingly into a nest of vipers. “How ruthless is your son?”
“As ruthless as his father.” Adaira turned and presented a vial to me, one that exuded menace even as it lay cradled in her palm. “As ruthless as his mother.”
I disliked the look of the vial’s dark contents. “What is that?”
“A remedy I granted to Evangeline and one which she refused.”
I stared at her, horrified. “An abortifacient. You favor your son’s cause! You too would ensure that this child never sees light.”
Adaira licked her lips. “Understand that I have a fondness for the lady, but I know my son as few others do. She will find that there is a price to be paid in trusting to the goodness of others. She has seen only the sunshine in Niall’s heart, not the shadow.”
“But…”
“But there is more at stake, far more. The lady bears her heir too soon. This soul returns too early. Trouble will come of it, trouble far worse than a child dying in the womb. My solution was the kinder one.” Adaira turned aside, but our conversation was not finished. She mused as she fingered her herbs. “Can you guess how often a seed takes root but never ripens to fruition? It is common, appallingly common.” She paused and pursed her lips, as if considering whether to continue.
“The choice is not a mortal one to make,” I retorted. It seemed that the priests had found an unlikely champion in me.
“What if the child threatens the mother’s survival, solely by occupying her womb?” Adaira turned to me, her milky gaze seeming to hold mine. “Recall that until a child looses its first bellow, its survival depends solely upon the survival of its mother. It may be simpler, to the thinking of some, to be rid of both mother and child lest the lady later conceive again.”
My blood ran cold as I understood her warning. The matter was more urgent that I had realized. Evangeline would die, by some supposed accident, so Niall would never face a challenge to his claiming of Inverfyre. Indeed, she might not survive her wedding night.
Unless I aided her.
Unless I ensured that she knew the truth and avoided such a fearsome error. The terrifying import of that was not that I held responsibility for Evangeline’s fate in my hands, but that I knew without a shadow of doubt that I would risk even my own life to ensure her safety.
In my urgency to flee that realization and my uncommon confidante, I forgot to ask her about Magnus Armstrong.
Later that evening, as the sounds of merrymaking rose from the hall below to serenade me, I reflected that it was not the first time I had lain in wait in an unsuspecting lady’s chamber.
I sincerely hoped it would not be the last.
I possess no superstitions, but it simply is not good sense to return to the scene of a previous theft. To return once and escape relatively unscathed is splendid good fortune. To return twice to the same locale and escape would be a success inconceivable.
Yet I lay in the dark upon Evangeline’s bed, my boots crossed at the ankle and my weight propped upon my elbow.
It was not a reassuring situation, despite all my careful preparations. At least, every soul in Inverfyre celebrated in the hall, unaware that I had cl
imbed to the lady’s eyrie from the forest below. My desire for haste had been misguided—I had even had time to explore the meager treasury, left in what had been Fergus’ chamber and protected with a ridiculously simple lock. There had been one or two items of interest within it.
You are surprised? I cannot change my nature any more than a leopard can change its spots. Indeed, I was more at ease while on the prowl. I heartily disliked my growing sense that I was cornered in the chamber while I awaited Evangeline. There was nothing for it, however, as I would have no other opportunity to speak with her alone.
I had to tell her what I had learned, even if I could not predict her response. Memories of our last night together here assailed me with the scent of the lady’s perfume, distracting me from my purpose. I shifted my weight restlessly and eyed the darkening sky as circling falcons cried out to each other. Why did Evangeline delay her retirement?
I even had sufficient time to realize, to my dismay, that I had already returned twice to Inverfyre. I had forgotten to count the visit that my father and I made here so long ago, when we unwittingly set all of these events into motion.
This was not a reassuring detail to recall. I pressed my good fortune too far with this visit and must have lost my wits to even come here again.
I would have swung to my feet to pace, but there were sounds in the corridor at that very moment. So, I lounged, belying my concerns with my posture.
Evangeline opened the door.
She was alone, Fiona having been banished precisely as I had anticipated. And she was, of course, heart-wrenchingly beautiful.
This was despite the fact that the lady was dressed as primly as she had once been in the chapel. The deep plum hue of her kirtle favored her coloring most well and the tight laces showed her curves to advantage. Her magnificent dark hair was braided back tightly, instead of loose as I preferred it. She did seem to be more pale and certainly moved with less vigor.
She held a flickering oil lantern and was intent upon not spilling the oil, her concentration so complete that it made me smile with affection. I dearly loved how she gave the smallest matter her utmost attention. Indeed, the reminder tightened my chausses, for she spared her greatest concentration for matters savored abed.
If I considered that overlong, I should forget my noble mission. I cleared my throat softly lest I sully a fine moment with base desires.
Evangeline jumped. Her gaze flew to me and her eyes widened slightly as she halted upon the threshold to stare. Her ruddy lips parted in surprise and I began to rise, thinking to reassure her with tender kisses.
But Evangeline schooled her features and closed the door with resolve. “You!” she said with heat.
This was neither the lusty greeting nor the relieved embrace that I had hoped for. I hid my disappointment quite well, considering the circumstances.
“Me, indeed.” I patted the plump mattress beside me and smiled with all my charm. I not so readily deterred as that. “Come to bed, Evangeline, and let us make merry once again.”
“I will not.” She set the lantern down with such vigor that I thought she might shatter the earthenware. Then she folded her arms across her chest and regarded me, her expression highly unwelcoming. “Why are you here?”
I leaned back to watch her, folding my arms behind my head and reclining against her pillows with leisure. “Perhaps you summoned me in your dreams, so great was your desire for another stolen night abed.”
Evangeline rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you fancy yourself more than any other soul could do.”
“You enjoyed our nights together. I ensured as much.”
“As did you. But they are past and you are not welcome here.” She fixed me with a quelling look. “You offer no pleasures in which a sensible woman would indulge for long.”
I was insulted by this estimation, though found myself in agreement with her claim. It was somehow unseemly that she had stated the truth aloud. I smiled. “But you have indulged several times already—what damage once more?”
The lady was unpersuaded. “What brings you back? I thought you long gone to the south.”
“I heard that there was to be a wedding. I considered that it would be remiss of me to not extend my felicitations to the bride.”
Evangeline arched a brow. “The bride accepts your kind wishes. Now, leave my chambers. I can risk no scandal on this night and I have need of my sleep.” She dismissed me with a glance and moved to place the lantern upon a chest. She was cool and composed, so remote that once again I feared that my Evangeline had a twin.
I felt foolish for reclining upon the bed to greet her. I remembered belatedly that I had acted churlishly in the stable to warn her away from me. “I returned to save you from a grievous error.”
“You?” A smile touched her lips though it was not overly warm. “You undertook a chivalrous deed? I cannot believe it.”
I swung to my feet, irked that she was so prepared to think poorly of me. “You should believe it. You cannot wed Niall, not if you value your life.”
Her sidelong glance was skeptical. “I will wed Niall precisely because I do value my life.”
“Why?”
“I must wed someone who could have fathered my babe. Thus, it had to be someone who was here that night the Titulus was shown.”
I could not refrain from a wry comment. “I thought every man in this part of Scotland was here that eve.”
Evangeline impaled me with a glance so frostily blue that I could not catch my breath. “It had to be someone I could trust.”
I smiled despite myself at the irony of this. “You trust Niall?”
“I have known him most of my life.”
I sauntered closer, not yet prepared to tell her news she would not welcome. “How fares the babe?”
She shrugged. “I was resoundingly ill this morning. I suppose if he can make such trouble, he is well enough.” She cast a sharp glance my way. “Perhaps if he is so inclined to make trouble, he favors his sire.”
I feigned innocence. “But I have never made trouble for a lady. Perhaps I am not his sire, after all.” I leaned back against the bed and regarded her with amusement. “Perhaps he is a she, and she favors her mother’s ability to challenge expectation.”
A light flickered in Evangeline’s eyes that I should have missed if I had not been watching her carefully, so quickly did she dismiss it.
“It is a boy, and your son.” She nodded briskly. “Indeed, I am glad that you are here. You must vow to me that you will never tell another the truth of it. It would injure Niall’s pride to have the paternity of his son a matter of gossip.”
I was annoyed, if you must know, that this was the sole reason that my presence could be accounted to be good. “And we must ensure that dear, dear Niall is not insulted.”
Evangeline’s eyes snapped with anger in a most reassuring way. I had awakened the slumbering passion within her, and she was a demure, dutiful maiden no longer. I much preferred her with fire in her eyes and her words, even if it meant we must disagree.
“What right have you to mock a man? Niall is a good and noble man, a man of honor.” Her implication that I was not such a man was clear, but I could hardly take issue with such a fundamental truth.
“He is ambitious, Evangeline, and ambitious men are the most troublesome kind.”
“Nonsense! Niall and I are well-suited. Our match will be a good one.”
“Your match will be horrific from beginning to end, for no man takes well to being cuckolded afore his nuptials, particularly a man of scrupulous honor. He will have his vengeance from you for your lack of chastity, upon this you can rely.”
“You do not know Niall,” she scoffed.
“Nor do you.”
“You are oddly certain of your claims.”
“I have seen much of men in my days. Few men have as much to lose by the birth of a son as Niall, yet still you choose him.” I shook my head with undisguised disgust. “You cannot complain that you have lived a f
ettered life, Evangeline, for at each opportunity you choose your irons anew.”
“How dare you say as much to me?” She marched after me, a warrior queen intent upon slaying me with her bare hands. “What would you know of honor and duty and ensuring a legacy? You care only for what you can steal, and that only because the sale of it puts coin in your purse! You are your father’s son, just as I am the daughter of mine—a noble and good leader who took care for those beneath his hand!”
I jabbed a finger through the air toward her. “Your father made but one choice that made sense, though I know that he did not do as much for your sake.”
She folded her arms across her chest, her expression skeptical and her lips a taut line. “And what was that, since you seem suddenly to know so much of Inverfyre?”
“He forbade Niall to wed you.”
“There is no mystery in his reasons for that.” Evangeline’s smile turned wry. “Before he lay dying, my father thought no man good enough to be his successor.”
“No?” I waited for a heartbeat, wanting my revelation to have the might of silence before it. “Not even his own bastard son?”
If I took triumph in surprising others, Evangeline’s reaction would have delighted every fiber of my being. She gaped at me, stunned to silence, yet I felt a wretch for burdening her with this truth.
When she began to shake her head in disbelief, I plunged on. “Niall is Gilchrist’s son, Evangeline. That is why Gilchrist forbade Niall to wed you, for you are half-siblings. He told Niall as much.”
“No, this cannot be true.”
“Did I not vow to never lie to you?” I flung out my hands. “Here is a truth, Evangeline, a truth that I risked my own life to bring to you even though I doubt it is one you desire. Niall is the seventh son, though not legitimately born. He will not suffer the challenge to his ambitions that fills your belly!”
All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances Page 54
