He had every one of them snared beneath his spell. Her vassals edged closer to each other, as though the sun was not enough to warm them in this place. Eglantine made to interrupt, but Duncan touched his fingers to her lips with such familiarity that she was momentarily startled.
’Twas long enough to suit him. He fingered the broken rope and let it fall from his fingers, his expression grim. “So many centuries they have waited in solitude, so many centuries they have longed for revenge. Can one blame them for seizing upon the first so bold as to build a keep upon the site of their misfortune?” He shuddered and stood. “Who knows what toll they ultimately will demand? In truth, I fear for you all—though you have acted in ignorance, you may well be forced to pay some gruesome toll.”
A chattering broke out in the ranks of Eglantine’s vassals and she wished she could consign Duncan to that same state of lingering between this world and the next.
It took but a trio of heartbeats before the appeals began.
“My lady, we must abandon the construction.”
“My lady, we must move camp.”
“My lady, we beg of you, do not trouble these souls any longer.”
“Perhaps,” Louis interjected crisply, “’twould behoove us to return to Crevy.”
Eglantine spun in horror to eye her châtelain, never having expecting him to correct her before the company. There was a glint of determination in Louis’ eye, though, and she knew he did not believe Duncan’s tale.
But he seized the opportunity to express his opinion of what should be done. Eglantine gritted her teeth, fully intending to have words with the older man over his so-called loyalty to her family.
The company rallied behind the châtelain, their gazes expectantly fixed upon Eglantine. She had but a glimpse of the wicked twinkle in Duncan’s eye, but ’twas enough to spark her temper.
He enjoyed the havoc he wreaked on her!
“This man lies to us all,” Eglantine declared with such fervor that her company was visibly startled. “Are you so witless that you do not see his hand in this? ’Twas a mortal hand that cut these ropes and pulled these pegs, ’tis a mortal man who wishes us to leave that he might make his claim to this land. He contests ownership of this holding, after all, and ’tis in his interests to see us gone.” Eglantine lifted her chin and glared at Duncan. “I will not be such a coward as to cede to his game.”
The company rallied slightly at her words, but the seeds of doubt were sown. The damage was done. Eglantine knew that reason would sink with the sun this night and that her vassals would lay awake whispering in fear. She knew that Duncan would not cease his manipulation of events and she knew that if he were not halted, her support among her own superstitious vassals would erode.
And he would claim Kinbeath in the end. Eglantine was not prepared to let him win so readily as that.
She would fight fire with fire. She hailed the priest and beckoned to him. “Father, we have need of a mass.”
“Aye, my lady.” The priest of Arnelaine bowed deeply. “’Twas the edict of none less than Pope Gregory to consecrate the heathen shrines of Britannia to the service of Our Lord. With your permission, we shall celebrate the mass at noon at the great stone.”
An apprehensive shiver rolled over the company, but Eglantine smiled with confidence and spoke before Duncan could interject. “I have always admired the clear thinking of Pope Gregory. Make it so, if you please.”
The assembly dispersed, chattering avidly as they returned to their duties. The priest chose a few to aid him and strode toward the stone, his crucifix held before him and his black robes blowing in the wind.
Eglantine left Duncan without another word, so irked with his game that she had no interest in whatever he was clearly schooling himself to say. She spoke with Louis, though to no avail—he believed he served the ultimate welfare of the family by expressing his doubts.
His tone made it clear that he thought Eglantine risked all for no good reason. ’Twas not an argument she could win. Esmeraude played with Célie, reminder of another battle in which Eglantine took the losing side. Alienor swept past Eglantine and headed directly for the camp of Duncan’s men, prompting her stepmother to sigh with exasperation.
Could anything else go awry?
First matters first. Eglantine’s gaze was drawn unwillingly to Duncan, joking with his men. He stood with his muscled legs braced against the rock, as much a part of this place as she was not. Her heart skipped when he lifted a hand to her in silent salute.
As though she would welcome his company after what he had done! Eglantine stalked in the opposite direction. She had to find an alternative, more enduring, solution to the problem and the presence of Duncan MacLaren. She glanced back in time to see Alienor preen before Duncan as he watched, a small smile playing over her lips.
And with sudden certainty, she knew.
Eglantine had hoped French knights would compete for her daughters’ hands. But then, there was a paucity of knights in this region, and Kinbeath was considerably further from civilization than Eglantine had expected. ’Twould take years to build the manor, perhaps even longer to build a reputation that would coax men to Eglantine’s court.
And Alienor grew no younger.
Duncan was the chieftain of the Clan MacQuarrie, so evidently a man of some affluence and influence in these lands. He spoke Norman French and thus could converse with Alienor, an apparently distinguishing characteristic in these parts. He was far from foul to look upon, Eglantine conceded, ignoring the unruly skip of her heart. He was not without charms—he could sing, he had shown compassion with Esmeraude.
Alienor clearly found him appealing. Perhaps they two would suit each other—her demanding nature might pass for honesty in his estimation. Aye, and Alienor could certainly benefit from a match with a man nigh as stubborn as herself.
Certainly, such a course would resolve the issue of their respective claims, for a marriage between Eglantine’s family and Duncan’s clan would merge the ambitions of both groups. ’Twould halt this nonsensical competition between them and ensure all could labor together for the benefit of all.
’Twas perfect. Something needled Eglantine about the solution, but she deliberately ignored her doubts. No doubt Duncan would agree with such a sensible proposition. Aye, once he had a woman in his bed, he would cease his attempts to seduce her, as well.
For some reason which did not bear exploration, Eglantine did not want to think overmuch of that.
Aye, as soon as she set the camp to rights again, she would propose the arrangement. The matter must be presented delicately, in privacy and with ceremony. Eglantine nodded crisply. She would see her own tent outfitted as her temporary court and welcome him as an honored guest. He would be impressed with the circumstance.
Duncan would surely be delighted that she thought so highly of him as to surrender her daughter to his hand.
* * *
Contrary to Eglantine’s expectations, Duncan was infuriated.
She sent for him shortly after midday, and Duncan expected naught good. Indeed, ’twas unlike her to send another to retrieve him, instead of simply hunting him down herself and he assumed ’twas no good portent. He came to her tent, as bidden, braced for her fury and a lecture on the inappropriateness of fostering superstition, no less meddling with the beliefs of her vassals.
But the lady surprised him, yet again.
She received him with a gracious smile, like a queen at her court. She wore a kirtle he had not seen before, its rich green hue making her eyes yet more like emeralds. Her hair was secured behind a sheer pale veil, making her look disconcertingly unfamiliar and remote by dint of her formal attire. She appeared slender and regal and unapproachable in such garb, even more foreign than she had thus far.
In contrast, he felt somewhat less than presentable. Aye, Duncan was well aware that his shirt had need of a scrub—as did all the rest of him—and his whiskers had need of a scrape. The tower his men occupied offered somewhat
primitive accommodations and they had not intended to linger here, after all.
Coals glowed upon an ornate brazier near the lady’s feet, rugs were thick beneath his feet. The silken walls of the tent shimmered as they moved slightly in the wind, the filtered sunlight painted the rugs in striped patterns. A thick mattress piled high with pillows lurked behind the lady, the fine texture and varied colors of the cloth beyond what was seen locally.
Duncan was awed. Eglantine wrought a court of naught, she proved her ascendancy and her birthright, in the same moment she made Duncan painfully aware of his lack of one.
’Twas a game of power and one artfully played.
While he hovered on the threshold, feeling large, male and unkempt, Eglantine donned a fur-lined cloak and a pair of gloves wrought of finest leather. “I would have you show me all of Ceinn-beithe,” she said with a sweetness he knew better than to trust.
This composed creature might have been a stranger. Even her features seemed unfamiliar, her expression so demure that she might have been the twin of his countess. She might have been a woman cursed with ice in her veins.
Duncan blinked. “I beg your pardon.”
The lady gave undue attention to her gloves. “I assume you can ride? I have ordered a steed saddled for you, as well as my own palfrey.” She met his gaze, her own sharp with challenge. “I assume you have no issues with this.”
She had a scheme, of that Duncan was certain. Though he was curious, he was more interested in how her scheme meshed with his own. He had pledged to seduce the lady and truly, there were better places to do so than within her camp.
He smiled, knowing his expression was predatory. “I should be delighted to show you my Ceinn-beithe.”
And then she surprised him again. “Your specific claim to Ceinn-beithe will be moot when you wed Alienor.”
She brushed past him, leaving him standing with his mouth open in shock. She had the manner of a woman who has resolved everything to her own satisfaction.
Duncan charged after her. “What nonsense is this?”
“You need not look so astonished, ’tis perfectly good sense.” Eglantine smiled at him as sweetly as a Madonna and continued to argue her case. “Now bite your tongue. I shall not discuss the matter before my vassals.”
The woman was naught if not determined.
Duncan was so angered by Eglantine’s presumption that he needed time to find words for his outrage. In other circumstance, he might have been amused by the lady’s underestimation of his response, but now, he was at such a loss for words, he who always had a glib reply. They rode in strained silence, their steeds climbing the low roll of hills that buttressed the land to the east.
Then Duncan knew precisely where he would take her. He seized the reins of her palfrey and touched his heels to the flanks of the steed she had shared with him.
“What are you doing?”
Duncan said naught but rode.
“As you can undoubtedly appreciate, this course makes perfect sense,” Eglantine declared with crisp efficiency, obviously taking his silence for some measure of agreement. “If our families are united, then this tedious competition...”
“It makes no sense,” Duncan interrupted, speaking somewhat more loudly than strictly necessary.
Eglantine blinked but was typically was untroubled by his volume. “Of course, ’tis somewhat of a surprise to you, but should you pause to consider the advantages...”
Duncan glared at her. “There are no advantages to be had in wedding a child!”
Eglantine cleared her throat gently. “Alienor is eight and ten years of age. She is a woman fully...”
Duncan snorted. “She is a ungrateful wretch of a child with naught good to recommend her character.”
Eglantine’s eyes widened at his blunt assessment. Then she smiled, the way she leaned forward to pat his forearm in such maternal fashion doing naught to aid matters. “I think perhaps that in your surprise at my generous offer, you underestimate Alienor’s assets. She can be somewhat temperamental, but I would think that a man of your nature would appreciate her honesty.”
“A barbarian is what you mean,” Duncan corrected, his anger rising with every word she uttered.
Eglantine laughed beneath her breath, a winsome twinkle appearing in those green depths. Desire joined Duncan’s simmering anger and coaxed it the boil.
How could she conclude that she could chart the course of his life, that she could conveniently be rid of him by saddling him with Alienor, the most unwelcome bride any man could find in his bed?
Duncan gritted his teeth, inclined to be anything but convenient.
“One never doubts Alienor’s desire certainly, but she is young and beautiful and not too old to bear a son for a man of such a position as yourself.”
“She is but a child!” Duncan roared. He coaxed his horse to a gallop and hers was compelled to match his pace since he yet held her reins.
“There is no need to shout and alarm the horses....”
“There is every need to shout!” Duncan halted the horse in a small clearing, then bounded from his saddle. Eglantine regarded him from her saddle like a queen, shocked at the outspoken manner of a minion. “How dare you imagine that you could rid yourself of that selfish creature by foisting her upon me!”
“I had thought you might be of like mind.”
“You thought wrongly! I have no lust for children, no desire for women who think only of themselves, and no interest in blushing virgins who come unwillingly to bed!”
Eglantine rolled her eyes. “I hardly think that Alienor could be considered reluctant to rid herself of her virginity,” she said with a touch of the incisiveness he had come to expect from her.
The very glimpse of the Eglantine he knew vastly encouraged Duncan. “But I shall not do the deed!” he cried. “You may find another hapless fool to do your bidding in this!”
Eglantine’s eyes flashed and she too dismounted, her own words rising in volume. “’Tis not a case of doing my bidding, but of finding a suitable solution for all.”
“This solution does not suit me!”
“Well, perhaps it should!” Eglantine shouted back. “Perhaps you are a witless fool, after all! What manner of man would refuse a noble bride, a young beauty like Alienor? What manner of fool would choose dissent over peace?”
Duncan was sorely tempted to give her a shake. “A man who knows what he wants, no more than that.”
“Aye?” Eglantine, unafraid, tilted her chin in challenge. “And what is it that you want, Duncan MacLaren? What lofty ambition have you that Alienor is not good enough to fulfill?” She flung out her hand. “Tell me what good reason you might have to spurn this fine offer?”
Though he appreciated that he could shout without Eglantine fleeing like a startled hare, in this moment Duncan was irritated that she paid so little attention to his anger. He let his voice drop low and noted the answering flicker in her eyes with satisfaction.
And something else. She caught her breath but did not step away from him.
“Let me make myself understood, my lady Eglantine,” he growled. “I have seen one commanded to wed to suit another’s convenience once already in this life, and I will not be part of such a plan again.”
She was blessedly silent, her gaze fixed upon him. Aye, he had her full attention. Duncan liked that Eglantine did not flinch. He liked her trust and he liked her bravery. He caught her elbows in his hands, lifted her to her toes and drew her closer, liking the heat that dawned in her eyes.
“A wise man learns from error, Eglantine,” Duncan purred. “If ever I wed, ’twill be solely for my desire and convenience.”
“How like a man,” she whispered. “To wed solely to sate his lust.”
“How like you to twist all I say into what ’tis not.”
Eglantine arched a brow, inviting him to explain, the wary light in her eyes telling him she expected little persuasive.
Duncan smiled despite himself, her respons
e dismissing his temper. He let his thumbs move across the smooth wool of her kirtle, let his palms slide up her arms to cup her shoulders, and leaned close enough that he could hear her catch her breath.
“If ever I wed, my lady Eglantine, ’twill be to a woman without whom I cannot draw a breath, a woman who had laid claim to my heart, a woman from whom I cannot bear to be parted.”
Her lips quirked. “And you shall cast her over your shoulder in good barbarian fashion.”
“I shall woo her, until there is naught in her heart but me.”
Eglantine swallowed visibly as she stared up at him. “Then woo Alienor,” she suggested, her voice catching on the words.
Duncan let his gaze drift to her lips and he flexed his fingers as he drew her closer. She caught her breath, her lips parting, and he knew with sudden clarity what he did want. “Nay, Eglantine,” he whispered, his lips a finger’s breadth from her own. “I cannot woo Alienor. ’Twould be far too simple to live without her presence.”
Eglantine almost laughed. “You and your whimsy. Tell me where you will find a bride of finer birthright, of more noble lineage, of more beauty than Alienor?”
Duncan smiled, the word rising to his lips with such ease that he knew ’twas the truth. “Here.”
Duncan felt Eglantine shiver when he claimed her lips with his. He hauled her against his chest, lifting her to her toes. ’Twas no gentle salute he offered this time, but a kiss demanding her surrender, a kiss demanding that she loose the passion he knew slumbered within her.
And ’twas but a moment before the lady leaned against him. She opened her mouth to him and Duncan did not need to be invited twice. Duncan’s heart pounded in triumph and he tasted her fully, loving how she met him touch for touch. He discarded her veil impatiently, marveling at how finely she was wrought even as he pushed one hand through the thick silk of her hair.
She was magnificent.
He claimed her lips hungrily again. Duncan did not know whether he had provoked her into showing her true desire, or whether she twisted him to her own purposes. He was provoked enough himself that he did not care.
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