They traveled at a quick pace, and even with the woman within his arms smelling of horse and … vomit? … she stirred in him a desire to rush home faster.
Home to Whitfield, where he would attempt to woo Claire once more. He felt sure they could build a good marriage. She had desired him before. He’d see to it she did so again.
While Claire relished being held within the circle of Ian’s arms, her back chaffed against the hard mesh of his mail. They had traveled all night and most of the day, stopping only to rest the horses. She had tried to discuss her abduction, but he said they would talk about it once they were safely at Whitfield. She understood the need to outrun Niall and left the conversation for a later time. But they had much to discuss, and she would not let it go for long.
They didn’t reach Whitfield until the evening sun settled in the west. The castle stood dressed in black against the golden sky sinking into the horizon. As they rounded the castle wall and approached the gate, shouts rang out from within the castle. Claire closed her eyes and breathed deeply, relishing the air of Whitfield. The odor of lit torches, smoke wafting from the fireplaces inside the castle wall, even Ian’s scent after a long day traveling—she breathed in home.
The wooden gate opened, and their entourage rode into the bailey, greeted by the cheers and laughter of her people—their people, hers and Ian’s. Theirs together. As she gazed over the crowd, her heart expanded with love for them all. Edith, with tears streaming and her hands clasped over her bosom. Leticia jumping for joy. Even Toly, nodding his head with a grin spread wide across his leathered face. And Fiona, her hand over her mouth, her gaze searching the returning party—looking for Niall.
Fiona rushed toward them, and Ian reined in the horse. “Niall. Is he …?” Fiona’s voice trailed away.
“He is alive. I stole Claire away while they slept.”
Fiona’s shoulders slumped as she expelled a breath. “Thank you, Ian.”
“’Twas the best solution at the time.” Ian dismounted and reached for Claire.
She slid into his arms without a moment’s hesitation. ’Twas like night and day, the difference in her attitude ... her feelings ... towards him since he’d first arrived at Whitfield. ’Twas a good lesson in not proclaiming judgments upon an entire class of people because of the misdeeds of a few. Her parent’s murderers didn’t make all Scottish men evil savages.
“Let me carry you to the keep. You’ve been through much this day,” said Ian.
“Nay, let me walk. I want to hug Edith’s neck.”
Edith rushed to Claire with wide open arms. “My sweet Claire.” The loyal servant wrapped her up in a hug as warm and inviting as the springtime sun. Claire sank into the embrace and squeezed Edith in return.
“Lady Claire, ’tis good you are home,” said Leticia.
Pulling out of Edith’s arms, Claire turned to Leticia and gathered her close. “’Tis good, indeed.” Claire released Leticia and embraced a red-faced Alma. Her silence spoke of her deep emotion though she held her body rigid in Claire’s arms.
Claire stepped away from the women as the crowd dispersed to finish their daily work. Ian returned to her side and led her the rest of the way to the keep. Once they entered the great hall, Claire turned to Ian. “I know we have much to discuss, but I need to clean up first.”
“You look lovely to me.” Ian’s eye’s crinkled at the corners as he smiled.
Claire snorted. “You must have weak eyes, for I am covered in dust and my hair has escaped its bounds. I smell like vomit as well.”
“Not overmuch, fair one. But I shall make sure a bath is drawn for you if you insist.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Until later.”
After Claire had bathed and dressed, she returned to the great hall. Ian sat before the fireplace with Fiona, while some of the tenant children played on the other side of the vast room.
Ian stood as she approached. “You look refreshed, my lady.” His gaze traveled over her before coming to rest on her face.
“I feel better, thank you.” Claire took the seat he offered. As Ian settled next to her, one of the tenant women brought them ale to drink before the meal was served.
“I am so thankful you did not come to harm upon your journey,” said Fionna.
“Other than the blow to the head and a slap to the face, I am fine.” She gingerly touched the small lump beneath her hair. “Being taken by Niall could have ended badly had Ian not come to my rescue.”
“Niall took you against your will?” Ian shot Claire an intense gaze. “But you were not bound, and your letter indicated you went willingly.”
Claire shook her head. “He released me from my bindings before we slept and had thrown my shoes away so I could not run away. As for the letter, I wrote no letter. He attacked me in the middle of the night, forced poison down me, and then knocked me unconscious. If you thought I wanted to leave, why did you come to my rescue?” Claire frowned, trying to work out his intentions. Suddenly she realized his true desire. “You came so you could keep the land—because of the king and his decree that we marry.”
Ian took her hand and gave a gentle squeeze. “Nay. Niall deceived you into thinking he was good and kind. And while I thought you cared for him and what he could do for Whitfield, I knew you couldna know the depth of evil Niall was capable of. Nay, I saved you from a fate you couldna understand. I had to do it even if rescuing you made you think I was a detestable Scot once more.”
Claire blinked. He rescued her even at the risk of incurring her eternal disgust of him. Did he care for her truly, or was it all really done for the land?
“Ian, I have something I’ve been waiting to show you.” Fiona held out a small, empty vial. “Leticia was cleaning Claire’s room and found it on the floor beneath the bed. I wasn’t sure it held any importance except for the fact that I saw this vial in Niall’s hand the day we toured the land.”
Ian took the vial and held it up to his nose. “I dinna recognize the scent, but the smell is vaguely familiar. Yes, I remember this faint aroma coming from Niall’s waterskin as he offered me a drink yesterday.”
Claire reached for the vial. “Perhaps I can identify it.” One whiff told her what it was. “It’s nightshade. This is what Niall forced upon me when he kidnapped me. In large quantities it is deadly, but if used sparingly, it can render a person unconscious, or at least feeling terribly ill.”
“When I said I had seen Niall with the potion,” said Fiona, “it was while we had stopped at the tenant homes, right before he gave you a drink from his water skin. I thought the vial was medicine for him, but now it is clear that he put it in the water for you to drink?”
Ian crossed his arms over his chest. “That would certainly explain why I felt so ill that evening.”
“And why you were not able to defeat him when he challenged you.” Claire shook her head. “What a foul creature your brother is.” Ian pierced her with a look she could not fathom. Relief? Confusion? Anger? “I have no doubt you can defend Whitfield against your brother, should he return.”
Ian squared his shoulders. “I dinna know my brother’s plans. He might go on to Scotland to gather forces against us, but if he returns tonight, we will face him and his men and soundly defeat them.”
Claire’s heart swelled with pride at Ian’s words. He sounded confident in his abilities, and whether or not he was able to defeat Niall on his own, she knew he would give it his all to keep her and Whitfield safe.
“Forgive me for interrupting, but the meal is ready to be served.” Edith voice pulled Claire from her musings.
“Thank you. I am famished.” Ian rose, keeping her hand in his. She came to her feet and followed him to the head table. She was weary from the day’s events and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed. If she wasn’t so hungry, she would beg her leave.
While they ate, Claire shared the details of her ordeal with Niall. Ian and Fiona told her how her disappearance had been discovered and the plans made to rescue h
er. ’Twas a blessing Ian had come for her and saved her from what could have been a life of torment with Niall.
Once she had finished eating, Claire placed a hand on Ian’s arm. “I am weary. Would you mind if I retire for the night?”
“Not at all. After what you’ve been through, I should have had supper sent up to you.” He escorted her across the great hall toward the stairs.
As the neared the stairwell, Claire stopped and gazed around the room filled with her people, old and new. “There is no other place I would rather be than here at Whitfield,” she said with a smile. She looked at Ian. “With you.” Even if he did just want her for the land.
Ian brought her hand to his lips. “I would hear more of this change of heart, for it sounds as if delightful interludes might be in my near future.”
Claire threw back her head and laughed. “When you say delightful—”
“I mean enjoyable, diverting, enchanting,” Ian slipped an arm around her, encircling her with warm strength, “and utterly captivating.”
Her heart fluttered in wild abandon, sending tingles through her limbs. Could he truly care for her? His gaze roamed her face before alighting upon her mouth. Would he kiss her?
Someone coughed. “Why don’t you take this, er, conversation upstairs?”
Claire blinked and then looked toward the voice. Phillip stood with his hands crossed over his chest, his expression droll.
“We were—”
“I was—”
Ian and Claire spoke at once, then stopped. Claire stepped away from Ian, heat suffusing her cheeks. “If you will excuse me, I shall see myself to my chamber.”
Ian reached out a hand and tucked one of her wayward curls behind her ear. “I will also have a guard posted outside your chamber on the chance that Niall makes his return tonight.”
Claire frowned. “Is that necessary? Won’t you need all the men to fight Niall if he comes?”
“I willna leave you unguarded.”
She took in the solemn expression on Ian’s face and nodded. She’d not cross him. “Very well. I bid you good eve,” she said and headed to her chamber.
Once she was ensconced in her room, she donned bedclothes and crawled into bed. The warmth of the covers eased her tense shoulders as she contemplated what lay ahead of her. While she was safe at home, the threat of Niall’s return kept a grim hold on her, preventing any sense of peace. She closed her eyes and hoped sleep would free her from her doubts, and she’d wake up renewed in her faith in Ian. Surely, he knew his capabilities and would use discernment in dealing with his brother, regardless of when he returned.
She knew without a doubt that Niall would return, and when he did, he’d wreak destruction upon them. He’d return not just to take the land, but for revenge. God help them all.
Chapter 28
Ian surveyed the great hall as a few stragglers finished their morning meal. Most had eaten and were off to their daily chores. He’d scarfed down the warm bread and porridge that had been set before him and had been surprised by Claire’s hearty appetite. After her ordeal with Niall, he thought she would have stayed in bed this morn.
’Tis glad he was that she decided to grace him with her presence. The emerald colored dress she wore deepened the green of her eyes, and she had let her long curls fall down her back. The scent of lavender wafted over him whenever she leaned near to tell him something of importance, as she was doing right now.
“See how Phillip’s ears redden when he speaks with Rhoda?” She gave a nod toward his friend grinning like a fool, his ears indeed scarlet.
“It’s been awhile since Phillip has eaten with us. He seems to hunger for a different sort of fare of late.”
Claire smiled and heaved a happy sigh.
Ian was glad to see her so happy. She had good reason for it. Niall had not returned in the middle of the night. Ian had assigned extra guards to walk the battlement in case his brother and his men did return, but it hadn’t been necessary. Ian felt the tension ease from his shoulders.
“What deep thoughts are you hiding?” Claire gazed at him expectantly.
“Nothing to hide. Only thankful Niall did not appear last night.”
Claire smiled. “Aye. Good news, indeed. Do you think he went to your father’s land to gather up men to fight you?”
“To be sure, but that will take a se’ennight or two. Enough time to form a plan with Bardsley.” He took Claire’s hand in his. “Do you have a day of leisure planned after your harrowing experience?”
Claire shook her head and frowned. “I do not. I have much to do.”
“Indeed, what?”
“One of the tenant women used to spin wool. We are going to work together to design a spinning wheel. Now that we have sheep, we can begin making our own clothing.” Claire’s eyes sparkled as she talked.
“I do not want to dampen your fervor, but it will be awhile before we will have enough wool to make you one dress.” Ian watched the smile slide from her face. “In time we will have plenty of wool, but we only have six sheep. We will be lucky to gain enough wool for a cap.”
Claire drew in a deep breath. “Fair enough. I will tamp down my excitement for the time being.”
Ian rose and helped Claire to her feet. “While you create a spinning wheel, I shall take some men and mortar up the small hole in the outer wall on the north side, as well as knock down a good portion of the garderobe chute. We must not give Niall easy access to the castle once he returns.”
Claire laughed. “I see a bath in your future.”
Ian remembered his foul climb up the chute, and grimaced “I shall not be the one in the chute, m’lady. I have men at my command now.”
“Ah, poor Phillip.”
“I wouldna make Phillip endure such a climb again, but perhaps ’twould be humorous to try—if only to see his look of horror.” Ian chuckled at the thought.
“Your sense of humor is a bit frightening at times.”
“Aye. I do love a good jest.” Ian led Claire off the dais. “I must see to my work, and you must see to yours.” He leaned down and gently kissed her on the cheek. Her skin was soft like flower petals, and her sweet scent intoxicated his senses. He wanted to pull her into his arms and taste her lips, but he drew back. One taste would have him wanting more. A chaste kiss on the cheek would suffice. For now.
Claire’s full lips slid into a smile so sweet, he almost bent once again to capture her mouth with his own. But he stepped back, away from her beauty and her warmth. “Until later, m’lady.” He turned and left the keep, shaking off thoughts of sweet kisses. There was much work to be done in preparation for the upcoming battle against his brother.
After several hours of hard labor, Ian wiped the sweat from his brow and surveyed the patched hole in the castle wall. The mortar still had to set, but he was happy with the result of the work he and his men had wrought. He hoped the crew working on the garderobe chute were as productive.
A woman’s scream sounded in the distance followed by shouting from within the castle wall. Ian grabbed his sword and tensed.
“My lord! My lord!” One of the guards leaned over the battlement. “Your brother has Maid Claire! In front of the castle!”
Ian sprinted around the castle wall toward the front gate, sword in hand. How had Niall infiltrated their wall whilst he and some of the men worked on it? It dinna make sense. Was Niall kidnapping Claire again?
By the time Ian reached the front of the castle, Phillip and his men had gathered facing east, swords out and ready. As Ian came alongside his men, he saw the cause of their alarm.
Niall held Claire against him, his knife pressed to her throat. One of his guards stood watch over two women near the stream, baskets of washed clothes strewn about the grass. His other three guards stood near two of Ian’s guards, their bodies lying face down on the ground. What had possessed Claire to leave the safety of the castle? More important, what daft guard allowed such a thing?
The sound of his labored breat
hing battled with the heavy thrum of fear in his heart as Claire stood immobilized within Niall’s grasp. She clutched at his arm wrapped around her waist and winced as the blade of Niall’s knife came against her throat. Her green eyes widened and her face paled.
Ian pointed his sword at Niall. “Release her, and you will live.”
Niall’s low laughter rumbled over Ian, hurling him back into the past when Niall found humor in torturing him. Pleasure in the pain of others. Delight in their fear.
“You are outnumbered, Niall. Release her and you may go free.”
Niall’s face twisted into a snarl. “You sorry refuse of a man. You aren’t capable of running Whitfield.”
“You’ve seen with your own eyes I am more than capable. ‘Tis too late to claim it for yourself.”
“‘Tis never too late, fool.” Niall gripped Claire tighter and she cried out, her face grimacing at the press of steel against her flesh.
“Claire, be still!” Ian stepped toward her.
“Stay back!”
Ian stopped and held up his free hand. “Do not hurt her or—”
“Or you will what, little brother?” Niall sneered. “Kill me? You haven’t managed to stop me yet. You are nothing but a worthless piece of dung.”
“I managed to make Whitfield inviting enough for even you to attempt taking the land.”
“And I thank you for the improvements. Now turn around and leave or I shall mar Maid Beaumont’s pretty neck.”
“If you kill her, the king will never grant Whitfield to you. In fact, he would likely send his troops to McGowan land to avenge her death. I doubt Father would appreciate going to war over a piece of English soil that even he passed over.” Ian watched indecision play across Niall’s face. “Don’t be asinine. Release her.”
A guttural roar issued forth from Niall as he thrust Claire to the ground. He drew his sword with one hand, while still holding the knife in the other. “I will see you dead before I let you have Whitfield.”
His to Keep: A Medieval Romance Page 24