Claire cast a questioning glance toward Ian. He nodded. Perhaps time spent with Claire acting the part of a shrew would turn Niall’s thoughts away from Whitfield. Ian could only hope.
Claire placed her hand in Niall’s and followed him to the middle of the hall. Ian watched the two dance. Both were light of foot, turning, spinning, and stepping around one another.
“Why the heavy frown?” Fiona slid into Claire’s chair. “You could join them, you ken.”
“I am not light of foot.” Nor light of heart. Watching Claire dance with Niall dragged his temper to a new low.
“I find that hard to believe. You were always quick on your feet as a child.”
Ian snorted. “To avoid my brothers.” ’Twas either flee their presence or be subjected to ridicule or worse.
“Aye,” said Fiona, her voice soft. “You dealt with much more than you should have.”
Ian slid a look at her, and his eyes misted at the compassion in her gaze. By the saints! He was acting like a maid to respond to her kindness so. “’Tis of no consequence.”
“I should have protected you. ’Tis sorry, I am, that I was a party to your pain.”
His face flushed at her confession. Most of his young life had held pain and neglect, yet he had successfully pushed it aside by finding a place … a home … at Ramslea and becoming a knight. He’d refused to dwell on his past. He dinna allow memories to steal the contentment he had found with people who had treated him as a friend.
Fiona’s confession pulled all those remembrances … all those horrid feelings … up to the surface. He wanted to turn his back on his sister and be done with this confrontation. Yet, he was a better man than that. He wouldna treat others as he had been treated.
He dipped his head to Fiona. “Thank you. Those must have been difficult words to utter.”
“Not really. I’ve been wanting to say them for a long while.” She smoothed the hair caught in the knot at the top of her head. “While I know the past is behind us, I wanted to make amends as God would want me to.”
“God?” Ian shook his head.
“He is a good God, Ian.”
Ian barked a laugh. “He is a silent God. Where was he when I was a wee child? Where was he when …” Ian’s throat closed, and he fought against the cloud of anger enveloping him.
“Ian, God is a good father. So much better than our own. God wants—”
“Nay, Fiona. I accept your apology, but I willna listen to your sermons.” He dinna need more condemnation heaped upon him by a God who dinna care.
“As you wish, brother. I pray God will reveal his goodness to you in time.” Fiona came to her feet. “If you will excuse me, I fear my head aches, and I would like to retire.”
As Fiona took her leave, one of the men Ian had assigned to care for the sheep entered the great hall and made his way to the dais. “Sir McGowan, one of Sir Bardsley’s men was attacked by a boar in the woods and is hurt.”
Ian came to his feet. “In our woods? Near the sheep?” Did Bardsley have men spying on them?
“Aye. We heard a yelling in the distance and then found the man bleeding from a bad wound on his leg.”
“Did you bring him to the castle?”
“Nay, his horse ran away. I wrapped my cloak about his leg to staunch the blood, and then ran the whole way to the castle to fetch aid.” The man wiped the sweat from his brow.
Ian wished he could provide horses for all his workers, but his guards needed them more than those taking care of the sheep. “Very well. Tell Toly to saddle three horses, and then refresh yourself with a drink and return to your post. I will take a couple of guards to fetch Bardsley’s man.”
Ian glanced across the room at Claire, still twirling in the dance. He should take her with him, but he hated to interrupt her ploy to tamp down Niall’s interest in her and Whitfield. He’d bring the injured man to the castle and let her treat him here.
After putting Phillip in charge and telling a couple of guards to prepare to leave, Ian interrupted Claire’s dance. “’Tis sorry I am, but I must see to some urgent business.”
“Anything I can help with, brother?”
Niall’s concern surprised Ian. “Nay. I will return shortly.”
“Then I shall take great care of your intended in your absence.” Niall smiled at Claire, who in turn scowled her displeasure.
Gratified by her response, Ian took his leave. He hoped that by the time he returned, Niall would be saddling up his horse for home, ready to put distance between himself and the surly Claire.
Chapter 21
Ian and his men arrived at the secret glade concealing the flock and met the other shepherd still guarding the sheep. He led them to Bardsley’s man a short distance into the woods to the north. The injured man did not stir when they came upon him. Was he dead? Ian dismounted and pressed a hand on the still man’s chest to check for breathing. The man opened his eyes and struggled to sit up.
“Nay, lie still.”
“I’m a kinsman of Lord Bardsley,” the man mumbled. “He will hunt you down if you hurt me,”
“We’ve come to give you aid, even though you are trespassing upon my land.” Ian did not like the idea of spies scouting Whitfield land, but he would not leave a man wounded.
The man relaxed, and Ian took in the cloak wrapped around the man’s upper thigh. From the looks of the blood-soaked garment, he knew the man would have died of blood loss without the tourniquet. He would need many stitches. Best get him to the castle and under Claire’s healing hands.
Ian sent one of his men to look for the intruder’s horse, while the other helped him secure the injured man onto the extra mare they had brought. They slowly made their way back to Whitfield.
By the time they arrived back at the castle, torches lit the bailey. They had only been gone an hour or so, but darkness had settled, and the yard was quiet except for the sound of music and laughter coming from the keep.
After instructing his men to take Bardsley’s kinsman to the guardhouse, Ian entered the great hall and viewed the merriment before him. A veritable beehive of dancing and laughter. He saw Claire in the midst of a dance with Niall. Her face was aglow with pleasure, and Niall laughed as he passed her in the dance steps. What had happened to Claire’s ill-tempered ruse? The song’s final note came to a close, and Ian strode toward them.
“You are returned,” said Claire, her voice breathy from the dance.
“I am.” He searched her flushed face, trying to find clues to her happy demeanor.
“Brother, your bride is a fine dancer, as I’m sure you are aware.” Niall clasped his hands behind his back and gave Claire a slight bow.
Claire gave Ian a smile and raised a brow.
Not having danced with her, Ian was not aware, but he wasna about to let Niall know that. “Aye, she is, indeed. Claire, I need—”
“I was telling Claire of your exploits as a lad.” Niall and Claire shared a smile.
By the saints, what tales could Niall possibly tell? Especially ones that would make Claire laugh.
“According to Niall, you were a delightful child.” Claire tilted her head and looked at Ian, as if conjuring up such happy times.
Ian’s gaze locked on Niall. What sort of game was he playing? The only times Niall interacted with him was to mistreat him. “I would hear of these tales, brother, but later. First, I must speak with Claire.”
Niall ignored him and placed a hand on Claire’s arm. “There was the time we taught one of the dogs several tricks and put on a show for our sire. We were young, without a care in the world back then.”
“Sounds like a wonderful way to grow up,” said Claire.
Ian eyed the hand still resting on Claire, wondering why she didn’t pull away from his touch. She dinna like Niall. At least that is what she had told him before this eve. He wanted to lean over and knock the hand away.
“Aye, it would have been a wonderful childhood if anything you said was true,” Ian said.
/> Niall patted Claire’s arm. “I’m sure he’s spoken only poor things about me. As an older brother, I might have been a bit rough at times, so it may be difficult for him to remember the good.”
Claire looked from Niall to Ian, her face pensive, questioning. Was she believing the lies spewing from his brother’s mouth?
“Claire, I must speak with you on a matter of great importance.” Ian took her hand and drew her away from Niall.
Claire glanced over her shoulder as Ian led her across the great hall. “But I—”
“Someone’s been hurt.”
“What? So that’s why you left so suddenly. Why did you not call me to go with you then?”
Because he wanted her to continue dancing and being surly to Niall to drive him away. But he wasna about to tell her that. “A badly injured man has been found in the woods. I dinna ken the extent of his injuries until I saw him. ’Tis one of Bardsley’s men sliced by a boar’s tusk.”
Claire stopped. “On our land?”
“He was most likely trying to find Bardsley’s sheep.” Ian assumed Bardsley would hunt down the sheep, but ’twas unnerving how quickly they had been discovered. “Come. He is in the guardhouse and will most likely need stitching.”
“Then I need supplies.”
Ian followed her to the cellarium and helped her carry the needed items to the guardhouse. Once inside the small quarters lit with several torches, Claire went to Bardsley’s man who lay upon one of the beds along the wall. She began unwrapping the cloak from the man’s leg, and he moaned despite his state of unconsciousness.
Simon entered the room and set two pails of water by the bed. “Is there anything else you need, my lady?”
Claire looked up from her work. “Nay. Sir McGowan will assist me.”
Surprised by Claire’s words, Ian moved to the other side of the bed to help. “How shall I give you aid?”
“Hold him down while I clean the wound. This will hurt.” She dipped a cloth into one of the pails of water.
Ian held the man’s shoulders while Claire began the difficult task of cleaning the large gash in the man’s thigh. The man cried out and thrashed in pain, just as Claire had predicted. Once the gash was cleaned, she began to sew up the wound, taking great care with each stitch. Ian watched her lips purse together as she concentrated on making the stitches even. “You are a good healer, Claire.”
Her gaze lifted, and her face reddened before returning to her work. “Thank you. I am thankful I can help others.”
“Aye, ’tis grateful I am, for your skill will be of great aid to our people in the coming years. Of course, once we have children, you will be much too busy to tend all of Whitfield’s needs.”
Claire cast Ian an angry glance. “Too busy? I will never be too busy for my people.” She tied off the last stitch and came to her feet.
“Of course, I only meant—”
“That I am quite capable? Aye, I shall be able to assist my people and manage my children, should the time come.”
Ian smiled at his confident betrothed. She was fierce, perhaps to a fault, but he admired her determination to help others.
“What do you intend to do with Bardsley’s man? Hold him until Bardsley agrees to leasing land?”
“Nay. I will have some guards secure him in a wagon and return him to Bardsley tonight.”
“But you could use him to get Bardsley to agree to pay us money he owes us.”
Ian shook his head. “I do not want to deal with others in such a way.”
“You took Bardsley’s sheep,” said Claire, as if to prove the validity of her argument.
“Sheep are animals, not men. I willna treat men as a bargaining tool.”
Claire blinked, and then she gave a nod. “I suppose you are right.” She must have seen his shock at her admission, for she continued, “And you can wipe that look of surprise off your face. As one who was used as a pawn in the stipulations of your inheritance, I fully understand how degrading using Bardsley’s man would be. I can admit to being wrong from time to time.”
Ian grinned. He couldna help it. Claire’s combination of strength and compassion continually amazed him. Her fierceness belied the sweet character within. “Shall we see if the dancing still ensues? You seemed to be enjoying yourself earlier.”
“Oh, aye!” Claire’s eyes lit with pleasure. “But you must join in, as well, for I have not danced with you yet.”
Ian laughed. “There is good reason for that. Your toes’ safety is of utmost importance.”
Claire laughed, and Ian was mesmerized by the delightful sound. Would that he could hear it more often. “Come. We shall end this night on a happy note.”
Claire took the hand he offered, and they headed for the keep. Ian gave instructions to the guard at the door to send a couple of Whitfield men to take the injured man to Bardsley, and then he and Claire entered the great hall.
Loud music still played, and laughter rang out as many still danced in abandon. Niall sat at the head table, but when he saw the couple enter, he rose to greet them.
“You returned,” he said with a smile. “I thought you might have run away, you were gone so long.”
“’Twas only business that needed our attention.”
“Very good. Now I shall dance with your lovely bride.” Niall reached out both hands to Claire.
Ian stepped in between them and held out his hand to Claire. “I believe that honor is mine.” She took his proffered hand.
Niall gave a forced smile. “I shall join you. Dancing has always been one of my favorite pastimes.”
Ian wished Niall would go back to the head table, or better yet, go to his room. Clenching his jaw, Ian led Claire off the dais and into the dance. His brother was like a leech that never quit sucking the life from its host.
Niall joined in the merriment, partnering with a young woman who blushed at his offer. His joyous countenance and pretty manners made him a much-desired partner as he danced with many of the women in the subsequent dances. ’Twas as if his brother had transformed from monster to saint—bewitching Claire and everyone else in the process.
Ian dinna like Niall’s ruse and dinna know how to fight against his deception.
Claire leaned on Ian’s arm as he led her up the stairwell to her chambers. The light of the torches set into the wall flickered along the steps. Faith, her feet throbbed from dancing and her cheeks ached from smiling. She couldn’t remember when she had enjoyed herself more. Between Ian’s attentiveness and Niall’s charming conversation, she’d been diverted from the weary work of the castle and her fears for the future.
While Ian had warned her of Niall’s interest in Whitfield and his ill-nature, her donning work clothes seemed to have had no effect on tempering Niall’s attention. Was Ian wrong in his assessment of his brother? Niall had been nothing but pleasant all evening. Aye, he’d been a bit forward when they first met, but as with Ian, her judgment could have been clouded by her hatred of Scots. While she would never forgive those who killed her parents, she was learning that not all Scots were the murderous sort. Niall might be as compassionate a man as Ian had turned out to be.
Perhaps Ian was jealous of his brother.
As they neared the corridor to her chamber, Ian took her hand and led her further up the stairs.
“Where do you take me?”
“The battlements.”
“For what purpose?”
Ian did not reply, only tugged her upward.
Claire pulled at her hand. He gripped tighter. “Ian! I demand to know what you are about.”
Ian ignored her. He opened the door to the battlement and led her through. The moon was but a sliver, though the stars shone bright in the sky. The brisk spring breeze whipped her stray curls about her face. So much for her tight plaits.
“Ian, tell me what is wrong.”
Ian dropped her hand and turned to face her. He crossed his arms over his broad chest.
Claire waited. “Well?”
&nbs
p; “I told you not to trust my brother.” His furrowed brow spoke his displeasure.
“That is why you brought me here?” Claire huffed and lifted her chin. “Niall was more than pleasant tonight. He was humorous, and the stories he spoke of you—”
“Were untruths.”
Claire paused. “Surely not.”
“Aye, all lies. There are no good memories from the past with my brothers. I told you he wasna a kind man.”
“But he seems so … so …”
“Niall is anything but kind. The dog he spoke of? He killed it for sport and threw it’s body on my bed as I was sleeping.”
“Nay!” Claire couldn’t believe it.
“He threw me into the dungeon too many times to count. Only by the mercy of my sister was I ever released.”
“Mayhap he has changed over time. You are not the evil Scot I believed you were.”
Ian’s hard face softened, and his lips curved into a smile. Claire wished she hadn’t uttered the words.
“You do not think me evil?”
Claire shrugged. “Not overmuch. You are overbearing at times, but …” She lost her thought when Ian stepped close.
“But?”
Claire swallowed at the low timbre of his voice. Words left her at his nearness, the scent of leather and spice filling her senses. “But you are not the ogre I expected.” She dropped her gaze to his chest. His impossibly broad chest.
Ian tucked a curl behind her ear. “’Tis difficult to act the ogre with such a fair lass.” His finger lifted her face, and she gazed into his dark eyes, made all the darker in the dim light of the night sky.
She cleared her throat. “What I meant to say is, ’tis not beyond the realm of possibility that Niall has changed.”
Ian dropped his hand and took a step back.
She let out a breath she did not realize she’d been holding. “People can change over time. Age sometimes softens a heart.”
“Or hardens it.” Ian ran a hand over his face as if frustrated.
“I think you should make an effort to get to know Niall better. Learn if you are justified in your mistrust.”
His to Keep: A Medieval Romance Page 18