She didn’t remember saying or hearing anything after that.
She was awakened several hours later by a gentle shove. She opened her eyes to find herself sprawled out across her empty bed and the commander standing over her. They were alone.
He held up a small loaf of bread.
“We found grain in one of the villager’s homes. Is it safe to eat, lady?” He brought it to his mouth and stared down at her with a hint of warmth softening his hard features. And then it was gone again.
Aleysia rose from the bed and said nothing to stop him while he took a bite. She hadn’t thought about poisoning the villagers’ grain! She’d remedy that the first chance she got. “You risk your life on the hope that I will save it? You are a fool.”
“Not entirely,” he corrected and held the bread out to her. “Richard ate the first loaf.”
She pushed him out of her way and then whirled on him. “How did you know I had not poisoned all the grain?”
“I didna know. I know now. Richard will be tastin’ all our food first until the Bruce answers my missive aboot what to do with ye both.”
Oh, she wished she had stabbed him. Every moment she spent with him made the thought of it easier. She would not hesitate again when she had the chance.
Her belly rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since before the attack. She swiped the bread from his hand and bit into it.
“Where did ye send the villagers?” he asked while she chewed.
“Away.”
He looked mildly annoyed by her defiance, but his voice remained steady. “This grain willna last. We need the farmers back.”
“They are not coming back until you are dead. I promised them safety from you.”
“I willna harm them.”
She laughed. “Why should a rabbit trust a snake?”
His gaze on her sharpened, making her skin feel warm. “Ye are no rabbit, lady.”
“No, Commander, I am not,” she told him, doing her best to ignore the effect his full attention was having on her. “And I will not send for my people until Lismoor is rid of you.”
“Verra well, then,” he said with a shrug that stretched his léine across his chest. “I shall offer their homes to others.”
Her eyes opened wide with surprise and anger at his audacity. “You most certainly will not offer their homes to others! You took my home from me! Do you think I will let you take theirs, too?”
Oh, she shook with fury. She’d failed. She’d failed her friends. Now they were going to lose their homes because of her. She felt tears filling her eyes and hated him all the more for it.
“I will…” She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes to gather control of herself. “I will send for them, but I want you to swear upon the Holy Book that none of them will be harmed.”
She thought she saw him smile. It faded before she could define it, but it seemed laced with regret.
“Verra well.”
He gave in easier than she thought he would. She wasn’t prepared for it and didn’t know what to say.
“Let us go find Father Timothy now,” he continued, and turned for the door.
She’d failed. She was bringing them back to a castle filled with wild Scots. She wanted to weep, watching him leave the room.
She bent quickly to the feather mattress and lifted the corner. She retrieved the knife she had hidden there and slipped it into her boot.
Chapter Nine
Cain turned to make certain his captive was behind him and not preparing to stab him in the back. When he didn’t see her, he clenched his jaw and hurried back to the room.
He barged into her chamber and found her combing her long, loose hair over her shoulder. She turned to him, her large, anxious eyes belying the brief smile she offered him.
“I will just be a moment.”
He knew she was up to something but, at the moment, he didn’t care. All he could do was stare at her while she ran her alabaster comb through her long, raven locks and think about how beautiful she was. Would the other men think so when they saw her?
He’d written to the Bruce about her but it would take time to hear back. What was he to do with her until then?
He was sorry he’d listened to Father Timothy and come here. It wasn’t the first time he’d had regrets. After his men died, he’d wanted to throttle his friend for volunteering them for the siege. But last eve, when the lass told him he didn’t understand what it was like to lose his home, he wanted to tell her about his parents, his brothers, his life.
It made him want to run, to leave Lismoor and never look back. If he hadn’t written to Robert already, he would have fled.
What had come over him to make him want to share pieces of his life with her? Why did he feel like hell…a monster for doing his duty?
She plaited her hair into one long braid hanging over her shoulder and tied it with a piece of twine.
She held the bottom edge of her bodice and wiggled in it, straightening it on her body. “There,” she said, turning to him.
“I have to use the garderobe.”
He nodded, beguiled by the way she moved, the way she looked. Who was she trying to impress?
He held out his arm to clear a path for her and breathed her in when she passed him and left the room.
He followed her out, and waited outside the door while she stopped in the garderobe.
He’d stayed awake listening to her speaking to William last eve. She’d been direct yet gentle and managed to get the lad to open up a little about his past and the mysterious Julianna. He’d been the servant of the Governor of Berwick, and was in love with his daughter—who was likely dead.
Losing a loved one was difficult. That was why Cain made certain to stay clear of loving anything.
“How is William this morn?” she asked him, leaving the garderobe.
“He is well.”
Her smile lit the hall. “That is good news.”
“Aye,” he agreed. She liked the lad. It made Cain happy for some ridiculous reason. “Yer potion saved him.”
“As I told you ’twould,” she replied with her nose to the air and moved past him.
He followed her. “He is in better spirits than I have seen since we found him.”
She paused in her steps and looked up at him. “Found him?”
“Aye, we were leavin’ Berwick and found him on the road tryin’ to get back to the castle.”
“For Julianna,” she said softly.
“The governor’s daughter.”
“Aye, is that not the most tragic thing you have ever heard?” She wiped something from her eye and continued walking.
Cain could think of a few things that were more tragic than that. But he didn’t say so. Let her pity the lad. It might keep her from killing the rest of them. “Aye, ’tis tragic, indeed. I can find oot what became of him and his family after the attack.” Why was he volunteering for this? Why couldn’t he stop? “Mayhap we can find her.”
She stopped again and turned to him, surprise and delight lit her eyes. “Aye, mayhap we can.”
Should he smile back? He was tempted to. Was he giving her too much?
He was about to take her to the great hall, where she would meet his men. He had lied for her. He’d told them Sir Richard’s elaborate story of Lord de Bar to keep her safe. He’d done it for the king and for the peace Robert sought. He would continue to keep her safe no matter how many times she tried to kill him. When word regarding her came, he would see her off and get on with his life. He couldn’t wait.
She went back to walking without him. “Where is Father Timothy?”
“In the great hall,” he told her, turning left after she did. He caught up to her in two strides. “Stay close to me or someone may try to grope ye.”
She tossed him a cool smirk. “You must be so proud.”
He climbed the three stairs that led to the great hall’s inner entrance, and then went inside.
She stayed close and followed him when he leaped upon
a table.
He didn’t have to shout or even speak at all. In fact, he looked at her and counted their breaths before they had everyone’s attention. It took five breaths for his men to take notice of her.
“Who is this, Commander?” someone called out.
“Are ye sharin’?” called another.
“Nae!” he shouted back. “I am not sharin’.” He waited a moment until they realized he was serious and they settled down. “That means if any one of ye touches her, touches her, he will meet me in a fight to the death. Is that understood?”
He could feel her eyes on him, surprised by his threat and warmed by it. He kept his hard gaze on his men while they nodded and murmured their agreement.
When they were quiet again, he continued. “This is Aleysia, granddaughter of Richard the Steward.”
Every eye turned to Richard standing next to Amish and smiling at Aleysia.
If they knew…they should know the truth. They deserved to know. “She saved William’s life last eve when he became poisoned by the wine. She is to be treated with dignity. I have given her the solar to use while we are here.”
When they heard about William, their smiles softened on her. Still, these bastards were hungry for a woman, and this woman would likely kill every last one of them.
So he didn’t let her out of his sight after he bounded from the table. He reached for her and she stepped into his arms. He looked into her eyes, painted golden green in the sunlight splashing through the windows.
For a moment, unlike any before it that he could remember, he forgot everything else. All the death. All the hatred, more rancid than what it produced, was burned up like dried leaves in the fire of her eyes.
He wanted to pull her in while he lowered her feet to the ground. He wanted to kiss her and discover how she tasted.
She stepped away when he let her go. He closed his eyes. What the hell was he thinking? If there was nothing else, she fought on the side of the English! Hell, he’d betrayed his men for her.
He drew in a deep breath. Why was his heart beating so hard he wasn’t sure he could take a step without collapsing? He felt ill. The bread—? No, Richard appeared sound and well, as did everyone else.
Could they hear his heart battering against his ribs? Did they notice him breathing as if he’d just sprinted here from the village?
He wiped his brow and took a step. This wasn’t love suddenly hitting him hard.
This was the fear of it. Fear of losing control over his decisions based on what his heart wanted. He’d learned every day when he was a boy to control his desires to kill the English soldiers who killed his family. Fear of stirring the ashes and finding an ember of something so painful he had to forget his family to survive it. Of letting his heart wander deeper into the abyss, where he would lose it completely.
“Aleysia, greetings!” William’s voice jarred him back to the present. He forced himself to turn and was grateful to spot Father Timothy coming toward them. If his God was listening, Cain needed strength to see this through and get her out of his life as quickly as possible.
“William! You have recovered nicely,” she sang, reaching out to touch his arm.
“Aye, thanks to you. I am in your debt.”
“No, Will,” Cain heard himself saying. He didn’t want the lad beholden to the woman who tried to kill him in the first place. “There is no debt. Now, excuse us, we need a word with Father Timothy.”
She stiffened when he grasped her elbow and pulled her toward the priest.
“Why were you curt with him?” she seethed on the way.
Had he been curt? He was tempted to turn around and look back at the lad.
And then he came to his senses. Since when did he care about whether or not he hurt the feelings of one of his men? He cursed under his breath and pointed to the way out when he reached the priest.
They stepped off the stairs and into the corridor.
“Brute,” she ground out and yanked her arm away. “What is the matter with you?”
That was what he wanted to know. He doubted she had the answer, and he wouldn’t ask Father Timothy in front of her.
“We need yer Holy Book,” he told the priest, ignoring her question. “I need to swear on it.”
As he’d suspected, Father Timothy didn’t appear pleased, but he finally nodded and waved his hand. “Come.”
He led them to the keep’s small chapel and waited while Cain took the Book in his hands.
“Now what?” he asked, turning to her after he swore. “How will ye bring them back?”
She closed her eyes while she inhaled a deep breath. He knew she didn’t want to do this, but she was going to have to trust him. They needed people to farm the land. They needed whatever livestock they had brought back.
“I expect you will not be letting me out of your sight,” she said with a spark in her eyes and a snap in her tongue. “So prepare to climb a tree or two.”
The priest smiled. Cain did not.
“And I’ll need arrows.”
The two men exchanged a skeptical glance.
She slapped her palms on her thighs. “How else do you expect me to contact them?”
“How many d’ye need?” Cain asked her, feeling as if he were giving in yet again. What kind of madman gave his enemy weapons?
“Three. And I also need three strips of blue linen or wool.”
“Why?”
“’Tis a code,” she explained. “Blue for safe. Red for unsafe. Anyone could be coerced into penning that ’twas safe to return when ’twas not. Besides, many of the villagers cannot read.”
Cain nodded, but he was busy marveling at how thoroughly she had planned everything out. “What if red is fer safe, and blue fer unsafe? How would I know if ye wished to deceive me?”
Her eyes shone in the candlelit chapel. “I do not wish to deceive you, Commander. I wish to kill you. Do not forget that. As for the villagers, you can throw me to your dogs if they do not begin returning in a few days.”
She dared threaten him again, and with amusement in her eyes! She had courage and confidence to do so—or she was completely mad. Keeping her close was more necessary than ever. Truly, she hated him.
Why then, was he tempted to pull her back and kiss her saucy mouth when she brushed past him? Damn him. “How d’ye know I willna throw ye to the dogs anyway?”
She paused and turned to look over her shoulder. She smiled as if she knew something he did not.
She was deadly. That was all he needed to know.
Chapter Ten
The forest was alive with the calls of ospreys in the distant trees and red squirrels leaping from alder to birch and elm. Below, roe deer and smaller critters scurried away from the two people walking the narrow planks and branches above them.
Aleysia trudged onward with a lowered head. She didn’t need to see where she was going. She’d practiced this run thousands of times over the years. She knew it well. She hated herself now though. She wanted to bring the villagers back to their homes, but not with the Scots here. She’d wanted the commander to swear on the Holy Book, and he had. But she still didn’t believe that her friends would be safe. And what about Mattie and Elizabeth? They resided in the castle! They would return with the rest. She didn’t have a colorful ribbon to indicate that only some should return.
Oh, she lamented on the way, what was she to do? She couldn’t get rid of the commander long enough to plot anything. He walked close behind her, keeping up when she leaped from one branch to another, being a constant distraction. She’d thought about sending red ribbon, but they’d been away for two months. They had little. They needed to come home.
“Ye truly prepared to take on an army alone,” he said now, his voice a rich blend of deference and astonishment. “I have never seen such dedication in any man I know.”
She stepped out onto a thick branch and turned, wrapping her arm around the trunk to face him. She liked his words and the liquid, lilting way he said them. She like
d more than that about him. She wished she didn’t. Lismoor was hers. She wasn’t giving it up. She couldn’t.
“What other choice was I given?” she asked him when he stopped walking. “I learned about what your armies did to the villagers in Berwick. My people are not fighters and I would not have them perish under a Scot’s blade.”
He stood on a plank a few inches away, tall against a backdrop of leaves and blinding rays of sunshine. He carried on his broad shoulder a quiver of arrows, a bow, and a sword. He moved to block the sun. His gaze on her was potent, taking in every angle, every shape all at once.
She took in her fill as well, noting his fit, ready body with appreciative eyes. He was her equal. A man she would consider giving herself up to. Pity he stood in the way of her home and her freedom.
“My men had no part in what took place in Berwick,” he said with disgust while he took a step closer.
She moved away, sure-footed and quick. She paused, squatting in the cradle of two branches and watched him hop closer.
“Nonetheless, your arrival has robbed me of every choice I have ever made and will make in the future.”
He looked like he might offer her some more pretty words, but he closed his mouth and reached out his hand just before she jumped.
She landed on a lower branch and clung to the trunk for a moment, thanking God for making branches like steps, and that she hadn’t missed the first one. She had to do it again. She didn’t want to. Her heart pounded like a drum in her ears.
She heard the commander somewhere above and she let go of the trunk. She jumped again, closer to the ground.
The bastard fell and hit her on the way down. Or perhaps, she reasoned when he landed on his back with her on top, unscathed, he meant to fall.
She looked down at his face, scrunched up in pain, and didn’t waste a moment to examine him up close, but leaped up and ran.
She stopped after a moment when she realized he wasn’t behind her. Had the fall hurt him more than she realized? Why did she care? She didn’t, but if he was injured, it might be the perfect opportunity to kill him.
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