“What is it you are hearing?” she asked.
“That you were cavorting with a big, handsome Scotsman.”
“You are not supposed to be listening to rumor and gossip.”
Mira laughed. “I do not seek it out. It seems to find me wherever I go.”
“Uh-huh,” Ivy laughed. “Some people just do not know how to keep their mouths shut when they should not be speaking out of turn.”
“You know how people are,” Mira replied. “People talk. People will always talk.”
“You mean, people will always gossip.”
“That too,” she chirped. “Now tell me about this Scotsman.”
Mira took her by the hand and led Ivy over to the sitting area beneath the stained glass windows. The sunlight filtering through the windows cast the area in hues of red and blue - an effect that Ivy had always loved. It was almost as if she had a rainbow in her room. Together, they sat side by side on the cushioned couch, and Mira turned to her, a wide, expectant smile on her face.
“There really is nothing to tell,” Ivy said.
“That is not what I am hearing,” she replied. “I am hearing that you and he spent much time together. Some of it sequestered away by yourselves.”
Ivy laughed. “People will make up the silliest things.”
“So, none of that is true?”
A small smile touched Ivy’s lips, and she looked away. A moment later, she giggled and shook her head. Mira’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open, her expression moving between shocked and scandalized, which only made Ivy laugh harder.
“It is not true in the way people are talking about it,” Ivy said.
“But there is a rather large and handsome Scotsman in this story?”
Ivy laughed. “Yes, and his name is Fin. Finlay Begbie,” she said. “The Baron of Westmarch sent him to York to find the assassin.”
A small frown flickered over Mira’s face. “Terrible business that,” she said. “Why would somebody want to kill the Duke and his daughter?”
Ivy shook her head. “Fin believes they were trying to assassinate the Baron, not Gillian,” she said. “She just had the misfortune of taking Col’s wine.”
“She is a lovely woman,” Mira said. “That is unfortunate.”
“She is very lovely, and I hate that this has happened to her.”
As she spoke the words, the memory of her last conversation with Fin echoed through her mind. She was still infuriated by his suggestion that her brother was in any way involved with these near tragedies. But she shook off the feelings and pushed away the thoughts. She cleared her throat and looked up at Mira, whose eyes twinkled mischievously.
“So? Tell me about this Finlay Begbie,” she said with a slow smile.
“As I said, there is not much to tell,” she replied. “He is… nice.”
“Nice?” Mira laughed. “Surely, he is more than just...nice.”
An image of Fin flashed through her mind, and she felt herself growing warm. She recalled his light brown hair and his smoldering dark eyes. Ivy thought about the tautness of his muscles and his chiseled body. To Ivy, he looked like he had been carved out of marble. He was a god made flesh. The thoughts brought a smile to her face and sent a quiver through her body.
“Judging by that reaction, I’d say what I heard was right,” Mira laughed.
Ivy quickly gathered herself and pushed all of those thoughts away. She cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter, doing what she could to preserve her dignity. Or at least, what remained of it.
“He is an attractive man, yes,” she said. “But nothing happened between us.”
Mira arched an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Nothing at all?”
“No. Nothing at all,” Ivy said. “We talked quite a bit. We shared a meat pie. But that was the extent of things.”
Mira scrutinized her closely, looking deeply into her eyes, searching for some sign of deception. Apparently, seeing none, she sat back and pursed her lips.
“Well, that is disappointing,” she said. “I was hoping for a story.”
“I’m sure you have plenty of your own,” Ivy replied wryly.
A salacious grin crossed Mira’s face. “Well, now that you mention it, there is a new house steward who showed me how to polish…”
“No, you can stop right there,” Ivy burst into laughter and playfully slapped her arm. “You are incorrigible.”
They laughed together for a moment, leaning into one another. But as their laughter faded, Mira looked closely at her again, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. Ivy felt like she was probing deep into her soul, laying her bare, and seeing her true thoughts and emotions. It always disturbed Ivy that Mira seemed able to do it with ease. Ivy had always been discomfited by her ability to lay her open like that. No secret was safe around Mira, and Ivy hated it.
“You fancy him,” she said, that smile returning to her face.
“I do not,” she gasped.
“You do,” Mira pressed. “I can see it in your face.”
Mira obviously found it humorous and needled her about it as badly as her brother would if he knew. She leaned closer to Ivy, squeezing her hand a bit harder, the questions in her eyes more than clear.
“He is attractive,” Ivy finally admitted. “And he is not what you would expect at first glance.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that he is intelligent and articulate,” Ivy said. “He is kind and has a compassionate soul.”
“So, he is not the savage Scotsman you feared he might be?”
“He was not. He was something very different than the stories I have heard about his people,” Ivy said, a note of wonder in her voice. “He was very different than what I had been told the Scots were like.”
“Right,” Mira said. “So, you fancy him.”
“You are awful,” Ivy laughed.
She looked down at the stone floor beneath her and thought about what Mira said. She did not know if she fancied Fin exactly, but she definitely felt something unexpected for him. It was one of the reasons she had wanted to stay at York to see if she could determine what it was she felt. She was confused about the things she thought and felt about Fin, and she sought clarity. And the only way Ivy thought she would attain that clarity was spending more time with him.
Of course, now I may never receive that clarity. I may never see him again, thanks to my brother.
“It seems as if you feel something for him to me, Ivy,” she said. “I know you better than anybody, and I can see it in you.”
“I do not know what it is. Fin is - there is something about him that moves me,” Ivy said. “There is something about him that intrigues me.”
“Then, it is worth exploring.”
“Castor would never let me see Fin again,” Ivy said, a tone of dejection in her voice. “He all but forbade me already.”
Mira gave her a devilish smile and a wink. “Who says Castor has to know?”
“You are a terrible influence.”
Mira laughed. “I am. And you need more of my influence in your life.”
“You might be right.”
Their laughter was cut short though when the door to her bedchamber opened, and one of her brother’s pages stepped in. He was a boy who was no more than two and ten, with shaggy dark hair and green eyes. He was tall and gangly for his age and looked at them curiously.
“Beggin’ your pardon, Miss,” he said. “But your brother is askin’ after you.”
Ivy sighed heavily. “Fine. Tell him I will be along shortly.”
“I’m sorry, Miss,” the page said nervously. “But he said he would like to see you in his office immediately.”
Ivy leveled an icy glare at the boy, and he swallowed hard as he shifted on his feet nervously.
“Tell him I will be along shortly,” she intoned. “Do not make me repeat myself.”
“Yes, Miss,” the boy said as he backed toward the door. “Right away, Miss.”
&nb
sp; He turned and fled from her bedchamber, slamming the door behind her that set her and Mira off into another fit of laughter. They leaned against each other and laughed until tears stood out in their eyes.
“That poor young man will be having nightmares tonight, thanks to you,” Mira said as she brushed the tears from her cheeks.
“It is not my fault; he has such a delicate constitution.”
“No, but to have the big, bad Lady of the house staring at him like she would enjoy having him drawn and quartered might try even the hardiest of men.”
Ivy shrugged. “I enjoy knowing I can still have that effect on a man.”
“I am certain you also enjoy the effect you have on a certain Scotsman.”
Ivy laughed and got to her feet. “You truly are incorrigible.”
“I am told it is one of my better qualities.”
“It is certainly not your worst,” Ivy said as she arched an eyebrow at her. “I suppose I should go see what has my brother in such a state.”
“We will talk about your Scotsman later,” Mira warned. “I will not forget, you know.”
“He is not my Scotsman. He is a Scotsman,” Ivy reminded her.
She left her bedchamber and walked through the winding halls of the keep, taking her time. Even though she knew it would be wise, she would not give Castor the satisfaction of thinking she would jump at his commands. She was well beyond tired of being the pawn her brother moved around the board on his whims and was determined to start acting for herself.
As she walked, her thoughts drifted to Fin once more. He seemed to be dominating her thoughts more and more lately. The further away from York they were, the more she realized she was thinking of him. It was as if his absence and the void he had left inside of her was wide and deep. She was stunned by it simply because they had not known each other very long. And yet, the impact he had left on her was profound. Far more profound than she would have thought or expected.
She finally arrived at Castor’s office door and took a deep breath. She let it out as she pushed it open and stepped inside. He was behind his desk looking at some documents in his hand and raised his eyes to her. He grunted and dropped the parchment, then gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
“Close the door and sit down,” he ordered.
Rolling her eyes, Ivy closed the door harder than was necessary and walked to the chair he had motioned to and sat down heavily. She pursed her lips and gave him the most irritated expression she could muster.
“So, you have deigned to speak with me again, have you?” Ivy snapped.
“When I summon you, I expect you to come.”
“I am not some house servant you can summon,” she replied.
“Actually, I am the Lord of this House,” he said. “Which means I can summon you whenever I desire, and you are required to tend me.”
“You seem exceptionally churlish today, Brother,” she said. “Were you not able to find a maiden to spoil?”
Castor drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was obviously trying to control his temper, though Ivy had no idea what he was in such a foul mood about. But ever since the attempted assassination of the Duke back in York, she knew her brother had been on edge. Tense. He was nervous and much surlier than usual.
“What is the matter, Castor?” she said. “You have been less pleasant to deal with than usual ever since York.”
“Brixton tells me that you ran away from him,” he said. “And that he found you alone with that Scot in his office.”
“Yes, and?”
“Does the impropriety of what you did not bother you?”
Ivy shrugged. “No, not particularly,” she said. “We were leaving, and I wished to say goodbye to him.”
“Alone?”
“Have we not already established that?”
Castor pinched the bridge of his nose as if he were trying to stave off an aching in his head. He looked at her as if she were causing him physical distress.
“Why are you this way, Sister?” he asked. “Why can you not behave yourself and act like a proper lady?”
“I have done nothing to suggest I am anything but a proper lady, Castor,” she hissed. “And I resent your suggestion that I have.”
“Ivy, how you conduct yourself is a reflection on this House,” he growled. “And it is a reflection on me.”
“I have done nothing that I should be ashamed of,” she replied coolly. “Let alone anything I need to apologize for.”
His chair creaked and popped as he leaned back in it, taking a long draw from the flagon in his hand. He looked at her through narrowed eyes for a long moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching.
“What did you and the Scot talk about?”
“His name is Fin,” she replied. “And I already told you, I was saying goodbye.”
“Because you two were such good friends, and you were going to miss him.”
“We were friendly,” she countered. “And unlike you, I learned manners and etiquette growing up.”
“What else did you talk about with him?”
Ivy looked taken aback by the question. “I do not see that it is any of your business.”
“That is for me to determine, Ivy. Now, what did you two talk about?”
Ivy pursed her lips and studied her brother for a long moment. And as she did, Fin’s questions rattled through her mind once again. She heard his unspoken suspicions about Castor, and as much as she hated to admit it, the way he was acting right now was making her suspicious of him as well. He just seemed a little too on edge. And if she were honest with herself, his abrupt decision to leave York and return home had not set well with her.
“Where were you last night?” she asked.
He cocked his head, a strange expression crossing his face as if the question had confused him. But that expression quickly gave way to a darker expression and a look of consternation as he glared at her.
“I was in my chambers,” he said. “Not that it is your business.”
“You were not,” she replied. “I stopped by your chambers to speak with you. You were not there.”
Castor did not say anything. Instead, he sat there drinking from his flagon in silence, just eyeballing her over the rim. Ivy decided to press him a little more, not knowing exactly what she was thinking yet, but wanting to see what he might say.
“I heard you were in the gardens,” she said.
“Who told you that?”
She smirked. “Castle gossip. You know how quickly it spreads.”
His grunt was non-committal, and he said nothing more about it. Her curiosity piqued, Ivy leaned forward and clasped her hands together.
“So, were you in the garden last night?”
“No, I was not in the garden last night,” he growled.
“Then, where were you?”
“It is not your business.”
Ivy scoffed. “It is as much my business as what I spoke with Fin about is yours.”
He rolled his eyes dramatically. “If you really must know, I met a young lady who works in the kitchens, and I spent the evening entertaining her,” he said. “Really, Sister, you should not listen to castle gossip. It is beneath you.”
She looked at him closely, a strange sensation starting to course through her. And she did not like that it was a feeling she had never known before. At least, not when it came to her brother. Doubt. Sure, he had plenty of faults and foibles, but she had never doubted him at his word before. But the inescapable fact was that her brother had just lied to her.
The next thought through her mind, though, was that she was taking Fin’s word over her own brother’s, almost by default, and she was not sure what she thought about that. But then, she did not know what cause Fin would have to lie to her. Why would he make up a story like that if it were not the truth? What would he stand to gain from creating a fiction such as that?
The other side of that coin was that her brother would stand to gain much by lying to her if he was
, in fact, in the garden last night. Especially if Fin’s suspicions were correct and Castor had something to do with the assassination attempt. If he had indeed been meeting with the assassin, then he would obviously need to lie to cover that up.
That cannot be though. I cannot force myself to believe that is true. Castor could not have had anything to do with it. He would not do murder upon another person. Especially the Duke.
But he lied. She knew her brother well enough to know when he was truthful with her, and at that moment, he was not. She could see it in his eyes. But what could she do about it? And what was he lying about? She had to admit to the possibility that he wasn’t lying to cover up his role in the attempted assassination, but for something far more mundane than that.
There was just so much she did not know, and she could not make unfounded accusations. Nor could she completely force herself to believe that her brother was an assassin. Or at least, somebody who would hire an assassin, anyway.
“Now, I told you what I was up to. It is your turn, Sister,” Castor said. “What did you talk to the Scotsman about?”
“If you must know, I was asking after Gillian. I wanted to know if he had any news,” she said. “I was also asking him to deliver a message of well wishes and a fast recovery to her for me.”
The lie came so easily to her lips that she was almost ashamed. But she was impressed with her cleverness as well. She had to fight to keep from giving herself a pat on the back as Castor eyed her closely. He scrutinized her, seeking the small hint of deception. But then his eye slid away from her, and she knew that he had accepted her answer as factual, and she let out a silent sigh of relief.
His insistence in knowing what she said to Fin, though, was another potential red flag for her to pay attention to. Why was he so interested? Why did he want to know what she said? Was he worried about something? Was he concerned that she had let something slip about him to Fin? Why was he pressing her so hard about it?
“That is fine. Thank you,” Castor said as he turned his attention back to the parchment in front of him. “You’re dismissed.”
Siren of the Highlands: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Cherrythorn) Page 11