A Laird and a Gentleman

by Gerri Russell

She stepped farther inside and left the door slightly ajar. “Why would I do either?” she asked, struggling to control the shiver in her voice. “I came to see if there was anything you needed.”

  “I need nothing but to be set free.” Her father scowled as his gaze measured her from her head to her feet. “When the king hears about my imprisonment, he will be most annoyed.”

  “When Laird Sinclair took me on as his ward, King James ordered you to stay away. I suspect the king will be more annoyed you didn’t follow a direct order. So why did you come here?” She straightened to her full height as he came to stand before her trying, as he had when she was a child, to make her feel small. The girl she had been then was gone. She was all grown up now.

  His eyes narrowed at her lack of a negative response. “I came not as your father, but as the witch pricker. It was brought to my attention that strange things were happening around Ravenscraig Castle as of late—strange occurrences involving you,” he said, his voice cold.

  “Why did you buy the Isle of May?”

  He startled for a heartbeat before his icy mask fell back into place. “Who told you about that?”

  “So, it is true?”

  “’Twas a worthless isle. What interest could you possibly have in an abandoned hunk of land?”

  “It was my mother’s home, and that of her people. They’d lived there for centuries, but you forbade them to return. I want to know why.”

  A predatory smile lifted his lips as he grabbed her hand, holding it up between the two of them. Her fingers quivered, despite her attempt to still them. “What’s this? Emotions, Mariam? More specifically, fear?” He shook his head. “You’ve grown soft in the past year. The lessons I taught you are fading.” He tightened his grip, pinching her flesh.

  Doing something she never would have dared in the past, she wrenched her hand away. “Do not touch me.” She stepped back, out of his reach.

  Again, he startled before he shuttered his features. “Such boldness in a female is undesirable. I taught you better.”

  Mariam ignored his barb. “Why did you take away their home?”

  Her father’s lips tightened. “Your mother’s home was with me. She needed nothing more. How many opportunities do you think a woman like her would have?”

  “What do you mean ‘a woman like her’?”

  “She was a challenge.” He turned away from her, heading for the slit of a window on the opposite side of the chamber.

  “The greater the challenge, the more intrigued you are,” Mariam stated flatly. “And the crueler you become.”

  He twisted around, glaring at her. “I do what I do to survive. This world is full of depravity. It is my duty to protect people like me against those who are dangerous to themselves and others.”

  “Witches.”

  He snorted derisively. “Ungodly demons.”

  “People who are a little different,” she clarified. “Like Mother.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And people like me.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Are the rumors I have heard about you true? Are you like your mother?”

  “Who brought those rumors to you? A man named Kendric?” The pulse of a vein at her father’s temple told her she’d hit upon the truth.

  “The lad wasn’t wrong to contact me.”

  “Why did you destroy Mother’s home?”

  He frowned. “Are we back to that again?”

  “We’ll keep coming back to it until you answer me.”

  “You want the truth? Are you certain you can handle it?” His voice lowered to silken softness. “You should know better than anyone else how intolerable I find . . . magic.” The last word was almost torn from his lips. “Your mother came ashore in a small boat one day when I was fishing off Milsey Bay on the North Berwick coast. The very air around her sparked of magic. I was as awed by her as I was terrified.”

  Her father’s cheeks flushed red. “She wasn’t frightened of me even though I was the first person off the isle she had ever had contact with. We talked for hours. The more time I spent in her presence, the more I wanted whatever it was she had. I begged her to share her secrets with me, but she refused.”

  “That surprised you?” Mariam’s tone was deliberately mocking.

  “You don’t understand.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “I had to have her gift. In the months following our meeting on the beach, I worked relentlessly, controlling my anger. The isle and your mother became my passion. For two years I saved every farthing I had, denying myself even the most basic of needs, until I had the funds to buy the isle and everything on it.”

  “That’s when you went to claim your prize.”

  He inclined his head. “I brought five mercenary soldiers with me—my little army—praying it would be enough to capture what I truly desired.”

  “Was it Mother you desired, or what she could give you?”

  A glint of pride shone in his eyes. “You were always smarter than you should be for a girl.”

  Mariam kept her expression blank. She refused to let him get the better of her.

  When she didn’t react, he continued. “I asked your mother to share her magic a second time. She denied me again. So, I asked her to marry me, to come back to the mainland with me. When she rejected me a third time, something inside me broke free.” A terrible smile crept across his lips.

  “What did you do?”

  “The only thing I could. I captured her mother—your grandmother—and punished her for her daughter’s willfulness.” His hand drifted to the now-empty leather pouch at his belt. “She was the first woman I ever tortured. I pricked her until she cried out in agony, but she wouldn’t reveal either her or her daughter’s secrets to me. She chose death over a confession.”

  A ripple of revulsion moved through Mariam. “You didn’t stop there, did you?”

  He shook his head. “I tortured her father to death, followed by her younger sister. When the young girl was on the verge of lifelessness, your mother finally relented. I forced those who remained alive onto the boat and brought them to the mainland with me.”

  “She married you then?”

  “Aye. After which I drove her family away, forcing them to settle elsewhere, leaving her alone with only me. But even then, no matter how much pressure I applied, she still denied to share her gift with me.”

  Mariam knew full well what kind of pressure he had used on her mother. She might not remember much about the woman, but she would never forget the bruises on her mother’s flesh or the pain in her eyes. “If you wanted her magic so badly, then why do you punish others who might also have a ‘gift’?”

  He gazed directly into Mariam’s eyes as he moved ever closer. “If I could not have magic, then no one else would either.” Cold bitterness stared back at her until he stopped, towering over her. His smile became set in place. “Ridding the world of those who possess such power has become my life’s work. My glory. My passion.” His hand jerked up and around her throat. He tightened his grip, squeezing.

  Mariam sputtered, desperately seeking air. She tried to cry out for the guards, but only a strangled sob came out. She clawed at his fingers. “F—ath—er. Pl—ease!” Fear coiled inside. She was going to die at her father’s hands.

  As her senses faded, desperation took hold. Mariam summoned all her strength. An unearthly rumble echoed through her chest and shuddered through her body until it erupted from her in a great burst of power, which she directed at her father. His features distorted as his hands slid from her neck.

  He roared in outrage as he hurtled backward, slamming against the opposite wall. He collapsed in a heap just as the door to the chamber burst open and Orrin and Kyle rushed in, swords drawn.

  Mariam’s knees failed her and she sagged to the ground, drained of all energy. Orrin sheathed his sword and dropped to his knee beside her. “Are you well, my lady?”

  Her throat burned. “I will be,” she rasped out, allowing him to help her up. She turned her gaze to her
father. Kyle was at his side. “Is he . . . does he live?”

  Kyle rolled the man onto his back. “I can see his chest moving up and down.” The guard’s gaze shifted from her father to her neck where she could feel a welt beginning to rise. “How did ye do it, my lady? How did ye best him? He’s twice as strong as ye?”

  Mariam set her jaw. “I was twice as angry that my own father would attack me.”

  The explanation seemed to satisfy the young guard. He assisted Orrin in helping her from the chamber. Once outside the doorway, Mariam looked back at the man who might have sired her but had never truly been a father. Anger and hatred had motivated him over the last many years to harm not only her mother and her people, but hundreds of others as well.

  “Your tyranny ends tonight,” she whispered under her breath. The man was mad. Instead of encouraging his behavior as King James had, somehow, some way, she would make certain he never harmed anyone else again.

  *

  On unsteady feet, she made her way back to her chamber. Her maid Thea, who she’d learned early today was Kendric’s sister, waited inside. For a moment, Mariam hesitated with her hand on the door latch. Did the dark-haired maid secretly blame Mariam for their mother’s death? “If you’d rather not attend me, Thea, I would understand.”

  The girl looked up, startled. “Nay, my lady.” She hesitated and wouldn’t meet Mariam’s gaze. “I have nae objections tae attendin’ ye,” she continued as she finally looked up. Her expression was blank, her gaze shuttered. “’Tis time to prepare ye fer supper, milady.”

  Mariam stepped fully into the room and came to stand before the maid, still unsure of the girl’s loyalty. She had to be certain. “Thea, can I trust you?”

  The words must have startled Thea because she paled. “Of course, milady.”

  “Then why were you spying on me this morning when I went out with Laird Sinclair?”

  At the question, panic stamped on the girl’s delicate features. “Ye ken how curious I am. ’Twas nothin’ but my own need tae ken everythin’ that’s goin’ on at the castle that brought me outdoors this morn. And I didn’t just follow ye. I also tailed Mistress MacInnes as she went tae talk with cook about yer breakfast, and I hid in the hallway outside the armory when the guardsman Ian talked with the men about the villagers.”

  “Your own brother was among those villagers.”

  Thea wrapped her arms around her middle as if she were trying to console herself. “’Twas why I hid outside the doorway. If the guardsmen had moved tae attack, I would’ve made a case against doin’ so. I already lost my ma, I did nae want tae lose my brother too.” Remorse filled Thea’s eyes. “I’ll try harder in the future to curb my curiosity, milady.”

  Mariam was slightly comforted by the girl’s sincere tone, even though something still seemed a little off with the young woman. She had explained her presence on the hillside this morning, and she had declared her loyalty. What more proof did Mariam need? After all, she knew what it felt like to have her own motives questioned. “I believe you are telling me the truth. Let us put this behind us then. Shall we?” Mariam stepped past the girl to the bedside and loosened the lacings of her bodice before pulling her day dress over her head and setting it atop the coverlet.

  “Aye, milady.” With an audible sigh, the maid moved toward a tall wardrobe on the wall opposite the door and swung the doors wide. “Tae be honest, when I started servin’ ye a year ago, ’twas difficult—ye being a Swinton and all. But ye were nothin’ like I expected.” Though the young maid’s motions were stilted, her tone had lightened. “Then on last Boxing Day, when ye not only gave me coins, but also a beautiful length of lace, I knew the truth about ye.”

  “What truth is that?” Mariam asked, almost fearful of the answer.

  She offered Mariam a smile that wasn’t reflected in her eyes. “Ye have a kind heart, though ye try nae tae show it.”

  “You’re very perceptive, Thea,” Mariam said, still trying to come to terms with Thea’s odd behavior, until she finally decided she was placing her own anxiety upon the girl. Instead, Mariam turned her thoughts toward the night ahead as she waited by the bedside in her chemise. Tonight’s banquet would be an intimate affair with only she, Cameron, Peter Mason, and David Sibbald sitting at the high table while Cameron’s men ate at the tables below.

  “Which dress would ye like tae wear?” Thea asked as she thumbed through Mariam’s dresses.

  “The green.”

  Thea frowned. “Green is yer best color, but ’twould be unwise tae wear yer green gown tonight.” She turned back to the wardrobe and withdrew a sapphire-blue damask gown. “This’ll look lovely on ye, yet make ye look cool and aloof. We don’t want these men tae fall in love with ye now, do we?”

  Mariam couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Nay, we do not want any declarations for my hand tonight.”

  At her side, the maid’s gaze dropped to Mariam’s throat. “Whatever has happened to yer neck?”

  “’Tis nothing.”

  Thea’s eyes widened. “Doesn’t look like nothin’.” She pressed her lips together. “Let me put some rosemary oil on it tae reduce the swelling, if I may.”

  “That would be most welcome, Thea.” The maid grabbed a vial from a shelf near the wardrobe then deftly applied the soothing oil. Instantly, the burning sensation eased.

  Once done, Thea continued her task of dressing her mistress, slipping the sapphire gown over Mariam’s head. Then, instructing her mistress to take a seat at the dressing table, Thea worked quickly to shape Mariam’s red hair into an artful presentation.

  When she was done, Thea stepped back, inspecting her work. “It needs one thing more,” she said, moving to the storage trunk where Mariam kept several lengths of ribbon. The maid returned with a dark blue and lacy ribbon and tied it about Mariam’s neck, over the redness there. Once again she stepped back, inspecting her work, this time with a satisfied smile. “Ye look very nice, my lady, but just short of enchanting.”

  Mariam brought her fingers up to touch the lace at her neck. Thea was wise to conceal the mark from Cameron and everyone else. “Thank you, Thea. I know I don’t say that enough. You are quite skilled and I do appreciate your efforts on my behalf.”

  The maid’s face paled and her gaze dropped to the floor. “Yer welcome.”

  Mariam stood, then smoothed her hands over the silky fabric of her gown. “I suppose I cannot put this off any longer.” Gathering her nerve, she left the room and headed down the stairs to the great hall.

  Chapter Nine

  A cacophony of sound greeted Mariam as she stepped into the chamber, followed by the scent of roasted mutton and onions. She paused a moment, fortifying herself for the night ahead when the noise in the room suddenly died and all eyes fastened on her. Cameron stood as she entered, along with the two men at his side. On legs that trembled ever so slightly, Mariam made her way forward.

  Cameron looked every bit the lord of the castle tonight, dressed as he was in a tartan of green, red, blue, black, and white with a snowy-white shirt beneath. The Sinclair plaid. He looked every inch the Scotsman—sleek, masculine, and elegant. “You look lovely,” he said, as his gaze moved over her from head to toe before lingering briefly on her neck, then moving down to the rise of her breasts as they pressed against her low-cut bodice. Appreciation shone in his eyes.

  Her flesh tingled beneath his gaze and heat moved through her in mindless, melting circles that only intensified as he took her by the arm, leading her forward. As they passed the lower tables where his men sat, a low-level murmur replaced the silence.

  At the high table, Cameron motioned to the chair beside him. When she was seated, the others took their seats. “I have already informed our guests of your decision not to marry anytime soon,” he stated in a smooth, unhurried voice.

  She forced a calm smile as her gaze met that of Peter Mason. He was younger than she’d expected. Perhaps a score and five. He was tall and lean. His shoulders were broad and straight. His
mouth might be made for kindness, but his eyes were filled with anger. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for coming all this way only to be told he had come in vain. “I am truly sorry you traveled all this way under a misapprehension.”

  Peter Mason lifted his tankard of ale and drank deeply. Setting his wooden mug on the table once again, he leaned back, appraising her. “Laird Sinclair has compensated us with game from his woodlands. Until I set eyes upon you, I deemed it was enough. Now I am not so certain.”

  “You’re mad, Mason,” David Sibbald argued. “Laird Sinclair was more than generous. He gave us enough meat to see us through the months ahead.”

  David was older than Peter by at least another score. His eyes were a deep brown that should have lent some color to his face beneath his graying hair and brows. Instead, he looked tired and worn. He sported a pointed beard that was also threaded with gray. A fleeting emotion, both subtle and reserved, flickered in his eyes as he said, “Lady Mariam, ’tis a pleasure to meet you. Pay no heed to Mason. From our hunting this afternoon I can tell the young buck is the competitive sort. He’s more upset that he didn’t win your hand than he is about not marrying you.”

  “Gentlemen,” Cameron interjected, his gaze watchful. “Any disillusionment you feel should be directed at me, not the lady. I mistakenly brought you here. If you require further compensation for the inconvenience, I would be happy to discuss such with you in private. For now, let us enjoy this delicious meal. Agreed?”

  Both men nodded. If it were possible, David’s features grew even more pasty, while Peter’s expression became neutral, as though he were still deciding whether to push for more or be happy with what he had been offered.

  Mariam was simply relieved as the conversation shifted away from her. For the remainder of the evening she listened to the men talk of politics, the world, and local events. If she had any opinions, she kept them to herself. The only thing she longed for was that the evening would come to an end. Once it did, she would politely bid the gentlemen farewell and be thankful Cameron had allowed her to slip away from marriage to either of these men.