She supposed looking after Miles wasn’t so bad.
“Who do you think is attacking?” Feiyan asked. “Do you think it might be…” She clasped a trembling hand to her bosom. “…the English?” Damn, she was good. There wasn’t anything Feiyan feared. But the worried lines of her brow would have fooled even her parents.
“I don’t know,” Bethac admitted.
“But you’re sure they can’t get in? There are no gaps in the wall or…or hidden passageways or…”
Jenefer held her breath. If Feiyan could find a secret passageway, they could make their way out of the castle. Morgan would lose his leverage over Rivenloch. And Rivenloch could easily take Creagor.
“Oh nay, Miss,” Bethac said. “The keep is sealed tight as a beer cask. The laird himself inspected every inch.”
Jenefer feared as much. She’d inspected every inch and hadn’t found so much as a crack for a mouse to fit through.
“What about the archers?” Jenefer asked, attempting Feiyan’s more subtle approach. “Do they always sink their points into the butt, or is it mostly fishtailers and bouncers?”
Bethac only stared at her with an open mouth.
“What my cousin means to say is,” Feiyan interjected, widening her eyes at Jenefer in horror, “are they skilled enough to protect us?”
“Och aye,” Bethac replied.
Jenefer scowled. Wasn’t that what she’d asked?
Feiyan continued with her cagey interrogation.
“Do you know,” she asked, pressing her fingertips to her lips as if she feared the answer, “if they’ve found our cousin yet?”
“Your cousin?”
Jenefer nodded, but she let Feiyan speak. Feiyan was clearly more practiced at deceit.
“She was lost in the wood last night,” Feiyan blurted out, blinking back fake tears.
“Lost in the wood?” Bethac’s eyes went round.
“Aye, and the laird promised us—”
She didn’t get the chance to reveal what Morgan had promised. At that moment, the door burst open. There stood the man himself, wild-eyed and full of fury.
Chapter 23
Siege preparations had been well underway when Morgan finally received confirmation of Colban’s whereabouts. The watchman who’d relieved him last night said Colban had rushed off, claiming he’d seen a suspicious figure heading into the forest. According to the man, Colban had followed the figure and never returned.
Morgan was fairly certain that figure had been Hallie. And since his best tracker was already on her trail, Morgan could rest assured she’d be found, unless…
Unless she’d lured him all the way back to Rivenloch.
If that had happened, Colban would be trapped in enemy country. Alone and defenseless, it wouldn’t be long before he found himself at the mercy of the Laird of Rivenloch.
Once the laird found out his nieces were being held hostage at Creagor, he’d not only send his entire army to lay siege. He’d likely try to hold Colban as counter ransom for the Warrior Daughters.
For Morgan, Colban was not a pawn to be sacrificed. So if Rivenloch captured him, Morgan would no longer have leverage. And without the king’s decree in his hands, he stood to lose Creagor.
But there was little more he could do at this point. The castle was as well-defended as it could be. There was nothing to do but wait. Either Colban would show up with Hallie in tow, or the army of Rivenloch would arrive to storm the gates.
In the meantime, he needed Bethac to supervise the maids who were stockpiling the harvested crops.
Bounding up the stairs, he approached the nursery with stealth. All was quiet, so he eased open the door. The wet nurse was slumped in a chair, fast asleep. Miles was nowhere to be seen.
Softly closing the door behind him, he scanned the chamber again, sure he’d missed something. The bairn had to be here somewhere.
His brow furrowed as he peered cautiously under the coverlet. Nothing.
His breath grew thin as he searched every inch of the rush-covered floor. Nothing.
His heart was pounding as he opened the wooden chest at the foot of the bed. Nothing.
The wet nurse awoke with a gasp. “Oh! M’laird!” She staggered to her feet and bobbed a curtsey.
“Where is he?” Morgan asked, lowering the lid of the chest with trembling fingers, astonished at the raw edge of fear in his voice.
“Who?”
“My s-,” he breathed. “The bairn.”
She looked around the room in confusion.
“Where is he?” he demanded, fast losing his patience and his sanity.
She blinked, and then shook her head as if clearing the cobwebs from her brain. “Ah, I remember now. Bethac has him.”
Relief softened his rage. Nonetheless, his temper was tested as he bit out, “And where is Bethac?”
“In your bedchamber.”
“My bedchamber? My bedchamber? With the prisoners?”
“Wee Miles wouldn’t stop cryin’,” she explained, “and Bethac said that the Lowland lass was the only—”
His growl silenced the nurse.
For God’s sake! Didn’t he have enough to fret about? Losing his wife. Leaving his home. Holding onto his castle. Protecting his clan. Now he had to worry that his son had fallen into enemy hands.
He wheeled and left the nursery. Five angry strides brought him to his bedchamber. His dark glower convinced the young guard to stand aside.
When he barreled in through the door, it was as he’d feared.
The three women stood in clear defiance of his wishes, consorting together.
The scheming Jenefer had taken possession of his son. The innocent, trusting infant dozed against her breast.
And as loyal a maidservant as old Bethac was, the dreamy expression on her face told him she’d been gulled by the Lowland lass as well.
“What are ye doin’ here?” he demanded of Bethac.
He almost saw the hackles rise on her neck as she straightened in challenge. He should have remembered that though old Bethac was a trusty servant, she’d also known Morgan when he was a suckling bairn. She wasn’t easily intimidated by him, even with “laird” attached to his name.
She told him in no uncertain terms, “The bairn was quite distraught, m’laird. Since ye were busy with the siege, I took matters into my own hands.” She gave Jenefer a smile. “The lass seems to have a way with wee Miles, as if the two o’ them are—”
“Enough!”
Morgan didn’t want to know about the lass’s way with the lad. The bairn was Alicia’s child. Alicia’s. And he’d settle that, once and for aye.
“Give him back,” he commanded Jenefer, nodding toward Bethac.
She shrugged and surrendered the bairn, who fussed at being disturbed.
“From now on,” he told Bethac, “ye’ll call him Allison, after his mother.”
Bethac didn’t respond, probably because she was occupied, trying to keep the bairn from waking.
“Go back to the nursery,” he told her, “and don’t come here again.”
She left without a word or a glance, and he faced the two cousins with a scowl. “And ye…”
“What have we done?” Jenefer challenged, her hands on her hips. “We’ve stayed here like good little hostages all day. We haven’t tried to escape. We haven’t so much as fired a wicked word at the guard.”
Feiyan decided to take the offense. She was direct and demanding. “What about our cousin? Have you found her yet?”
In the tumult of preparing for siege, Morgan had forgotten he’d promised to search for their cousin. But Colban was already following Hallie. So he didn’t have to lie.
“Not yet,” he grumbled. “But my best tracker is on her trail.”
“Just one?” Feiyan seemed disappointed.
He scowled. “’Tisn’t as if I can spare an entire army for the task.”
He was irritated with the lasses.
Vexed with Bethac.
Impatient
with the bairn, who had started crying again.
And he needed his man Colban by his side for the fight ahead.
Unable to control any of those things, he headed downstairs to take care of something he could control—quenching his thirst and sharpening his claymore.
Chapter 24
“Just one tracker,” Feiyan repeated when Morgan was gone, this time with a sly smile. “You know what that means.”
Jenefer wasn’t listening.
“He can’t just change the babe’s name,” she said in annoyance. “I’m going to keep calling him Miles.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Miles. I can call him whatever the hell I want.”
“Why do you care?” Feiyan asked. “The babe’s not yours.”
Jenefer knew that. But she did intend to take him.
Eventually, she’d find him a suitable home at Rivenloch. Maybe she’d invite Bethac along. The charming old maidservant would probably be glad to leave her hot-tempered, dominating brute of a master.
“Allison,” she sneered.
“Honestly, Jen, let it be. We need to make a plan.”
Jenefer had a plan. She intended to send Morgan Mor mac Giric packing to the Highlands. The sooner, the better.
The man was infuriating. For one moment, she’d thought he might actually have a heart beating in his chest. Now she knew he was as cold as chain mail.
“As I was trying to say,” Feiyan continued, “if he only sent one tracker, then Hallie likely wasn’t found.”
That was good news. “I suppose we’ll know soon enough if she made it to Rivenloch.”
“Aye, and now we know the Highlanders’ strength.”
“That was quite clever, Feiy,” she had to admit, “getting all that out of the maidservant.”
Feiyan smiled with pride.
Jenefer sighed. “I hope Bethac’s grandson doesn’t become a casualty of the siege.”
Feiyan shrugged. “He’s a soldier. He knows the risks.”
“Aye, but ’twill be hard to convince her to stay here if the knights kill her kin.”
“Stay here? Jen, what are you talking about?”
“I’m taking the babe.”
“What?” Feiyan’s eyes were as round as an owl’s.
“And ’twould be good to have a maidservant who knows a thing or two about babes.”
“You can’t just take the babe!” Feiyan hissed.
“Why not?”
“For one thing, the laird would tear Rivenloch apart looking for him.”
Jenefer gave her a puzzled laugh. “Why would he do that? He doesn’t even like the child.”
“The hell he doesn’t. Why do you think he stormed in the way he did?”
Jenefer flinched in surprise. Then she bit the corner of her lip. Morgan had seemed excessively upset that Bethac had brought the lad here. She assumed it was because he hated being disobeyed.
“Besides,” Feiyan added, “I think the babe’s mother might have something to say about that.”
“That’s just it. He doesn’t have a mother. She’s dead.”
“Wait.” Feiyan stared at her for a long while and then bit back a smile. “You don’t think you are going to be his mother, Jen?”
“Of course not.”
Still, the scornful, mocking look Feiyan gave her and the cruel laughter afterward felt like a kick in the gut.
Why Feiyan’s words should bother her, she didn’t know. But ire suddenly blazed in her like fire on a hot forge.
Before Feiyan knew what was coming, Jenefer gave her a shove that made her tumble back onto the bed.
“What the…” Feiyan began.
Another skirmish might have started then, but from outside the window came a distant cry. “Aim! Draw! Loose!”
The familiar commands made them forget their quarrel and rush to the window.
In the courtyard, a row of four archers were shooting at a straw target. Morgan yelled out the orders again, and they let their arrows fly.
“Are they any good?” Feiyan murmured.
Jenefer watched with a critical eye. While Feiyan could be classified as a weapon in and of herself, and Hallie was deadly with a blade, Jenefer’s weapon of choice was the longbow. Neither of her cousins could come close to her skill.
“’Tis hard to gauge their marksmanship at this distance,” she said. “But two of them missed the target completely.”
“Aye? That bodes well for our uncle then.”
Jenefer wasn’t so sure. “Bethac said there were eight, aye? Their best archers may already be posted atop the wall.”
“Ah. Right.”
They shot again. Their form was flawed. One of them jerked as he released the bowstring. Another pulled to the left. And one of them didn’t even have the strength to draw the bow back fully.
“Again!” Morgan yelled.
She narrowed her eyes at the Highlander. He might have a loud bellow and a firm hand. But he didn’t know the first thing about archery.
“If I were in charge,” she mused, “I’d have those archers hitting the target every time.”
Feiyan grew bored and left the window.
Jenefer watched for another hour, longing all the while to feel her own bow in her hands. She wondered if anyone had yet retrieved her weapon from the woods.
Soon her stomach began complaining again. How long would it be, she mused, before someone brought food to them?
She glanced over her shoulder at Feiyan, who was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She looked like she was daydreaming. But Jenefer knew Feiyan was probably devising a plan of attack. Though her cousin could be bothersome sometimes, there was no one Jenefer would rather have by her side in a battle.
But it had begun to look like there wasn’t going to be a battle today. The sun had moved halfway across the cloud-strewn sky, and there was still no sign of Rivenloch.
Finally, Feiyan voiced what they both were thinking.
“Damn it, they should have been here by now.”
Chapter 25
Several hours later, Morgan was fairly confident the army of Rivenloch was not coming—at least not today. He entered the crowded great hall for supper after a long day of drilling the archers.
The clan had performed admirably. His knights were ready for war. His servants had followed instructions swiftly and with efficiency, despite Bethac’s absence. Even the children had helped prepare for siege.
A siege that had never come. Which was for the best. He didn’t want war with the neighbors.
If the king’s messenger arrived on the morrow, there would be no need for a confrontation at all. He could substantiate his claim and return the Warrior Daughters to their laird. That would be the end of it.
He washed his hands in the basin of water near the screened end of the hall, drying them on the linen cloth one of the maidservants offered.
There was still one complication. Where the devil was Colban? And where was the lass he’d gone after? Without her, any encounter with the Laird of Rivenloch would be volatile indeed, for the laird was sure to blame Morgan for her disappearance.
He didn’t relish breaking the news to the fiery lass upstairs. Indeed, he’d half hoped Rivenloch would come today so he could banish the winsome, troublesome hellion from his household. Even if purging her from his mind might take a bit longer.
Finding his seat at the high table, he looked down at his cup of ale and smirked. Jenefer had half choked on their strong brew. Like everything else here, the Lowland ale was probably a diluted version of the Highland’s, with all the roughness smoothed away.
Except for Jenefer. She definitely had jagged edges. Like a thistle, she was a lovely flower above with thorny spikes beneath.
He glowered into his cup. Why the lass haunted his thoughts, he didn’t know. But he felt it wasn’t right.
Alicia had been gone for but a quarter of a year. Yet even now, he was beginning to have trouble recalling her face.
The way the lass had held Miles…Allison, he corrected…seemed so natural, as if the bairn belonged in her arms.
With a silent curse, he shook the feckless thought from his head. The child had belonged to sweet and gentle Alicia, he reminded himself. Not a sword-toting warrior wench who would sooner hold the bairn up as a human shield than rock him to sleep.
Morgan sighed. The beguiling lass was trouble. He had to be rid of her as soon as possible.
Once the meal was over, he took a platter of food upstairs and sent the guard down to fetch more peat for their fire. Then he knocked on the door, realizing as he did how ludicrous it was to knock on the door of one’s own bedchamber.
“Finally!” Jenefer exclaimed as she threw open the door in dubious welcome. “I thought perhaps you were going to starve us.”
He gathered his brows. “Didn’t a maidservant bring ye a midday meal?”
“Aye,” she said, “but that was hours ago.”
She practically mauled the platter out of his hands and dove into the roasted chicken as if she hadn’t eaten for days.
“Leave some for me, brat,” Feiyan said.
Morgan was fascinated, watching Jenefer. There was something raw and sensuous about the way she ate. She closed her eyes, savoring every morsel and licking her fingers with élan.
Alicia had never eaten like that. She’d always picked at her food with mild distaste, more so when she was carrying their child.
But it was foolish of him to make such comparisons. They were two different creatures, Alicia and Jenefer. Alicia had been like a prize falcon, requiring gentle treatment and careful coddling. Jenefer? She reminded him of a woodland wildcat.
He cleared his throat. “I thought you’d wish to know about your cousin.”
“Oh. Aye.” Jenefer honestly seemed more interested in the coffyns than in her cousin. “What of her?”
Bride of Fire Page 10