The Lady and the Laird

by Maura Seger

  She stood, brushing dirt from her robe, looking startled but otherwise unhurt. As he drew rein, she glanced up and said, "You keep strange hours."

  Only the slight tremor in her voice revealed the terror she had passed through. Angus smiled inwardly. When this was all over, he would sit by Isaiah Sinclair's grave and tell the old man he knew what he'd intended when he sent his precious granddaughter to Innishffarin, and that he'd been right.

  But first there was Katlin to convince. Discussion was all very well, but so far it had availed him nothing. Action was the better wisdom.

  He bent easily in the saddle, put an arm around her waist and lifted her.

  She meant to protest, really she did, but somehow it got lost in the overwhelming sense of tightness flowing through her. Charles's touch had filled her with disgust and loathing; Angus's was incandescent pleasure. Nature was trying to tell her something. Perhaps it was time to listen.

  Chapter Twenty

  "I didn't kill him," Angus said. He felt a need to be clear on that point.

  They were in the stables behind the castle. The stallion stood calmly as Angus removed his tackle and led him into a stall where there was fresh hay and water. The horse whinnied appreciatively.

  "Were you thinking of it?" Katlin asked. She stood outside the stall, her arms wrapped around herself, and watched him. Every movement, every gesture he made was grace personified. He was the most splendid man she had ever seen, even doing something as mundane as pouring water into a trough. Her senses were almost giddy with the realization of how much she loved him.

  Heaven help her, this shouldn't have happened. But it had, and try though she did she could not blame it on shock or the emotion of the moment.

  Katlin Sinclair loved Angus Wyndham. She felt like proclaiming it to the skies but some flickering prudence kept her silent. Instead, she asked, "Did you mean to?"

  Angus nodded. He finished tending to the horse, patted his flanks and joined her outside the stall. "When I went after him, I did, but by the time I caught up with him, he looked so frankly pitiful that I didn't have the heart." He sighed and added, "Sometimes I think I must not be much of a Wyndham."

  Katlin's eyes widened. "Why would you say that?"

  "Because," Angus explained matter-of-factly, "any of my ancestors would have cleaved him in two, brought the pieces home and hung them from the castle ramparts as a means of discouraging anyone else with similar ideas."

  "I see," Katlin murmured. It did not escape her that when he said home he meant Innishffarin, not Wyndham Manor with all its elegance and comfort. But then men who thought seriously about cleaving tended to be very basic in their requirements.

  "We live in more civilized times," she reminded him gently.

  "I suppose." He was clearly regretful.

  A fluttering sounded over their heads. Katlin jumped. With a swoop of its wings, an owl settled on a beam nearby and stared at them unblinkingly. It held something in its beak that she did not wish to identify.

  "I think we're disturbing his dinner," Angus said. He took her arm. "You should be inside. What were you doing out here, anyway?"

  Katlin hesitated. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about Theeler's book, the back passageway, the centuries-old search for the Wyndham treasure. But she feared he would find her foolish.

  "I couldn't sleep," she said, which was true enough, "so I went for a walk. Obviously, that was a mistake. Charles must have been waiting outside."

  "Any idea why? I mean besides the obvious reason that he wanted to do you harm?"

  Angus watched with interest as her cheeks warmed.

  "He had some idea..." she began. "That is... he thought... we ... you and I..."

  His eyebrows rose. He smiled. "Really? How would Charles have known about that?"

  She looked straight ahead, concentrating on the path to the front door. "He was merely suspicious, that's all."

  "It was enough," Angus said. His smile vanished. In his eyes was the grim light of certainty that if he ever did encounter Charles again, the baron would not survive the meeting.

  Katlin touched her stomach surreptitiously. It felt painfully tender, but she knew that she had been incredibly fortunate to get off so lightly. She had Angus to thank for that.

  "I am very grateful to you," she said and managed not to sound at all grudging.

  Angus shrugged. He decided now wasn't the time to point out to her that she belonged to him and that he always protected what was his. Later would do.

  "What's wrong?" he asked suddenly as he saw her touch her midsection again.

  "Nothing," Katlin said hastily.

  Angus did not believe her. He stopped abruptly and took her by the arm. "What happened?"

  There was no point lying as he had every intention of getting to the truth. Reluctantly, Katlin said, "Charles hit me."

  The look on Angus's face should have terrified her. Had she been a man confronting him in combat, she would have been struck dumb with dread. But instead, she was oddly comforted. "It's nothing," she added.

  Angus was not persuaded. He lifted her into his arms—a position she was swiftly getting accustomed to—and carried her forthwith toward the castle, all the while upbraiding her.

  "Why didn't you say anything? I should have killed him, the dog. What else did he do? I'll go after him. I'll tear him in two and—"

  "Nothing," Katlin said quickly. Her voice was soft, the word slightly slurred. In the aftermath of terror, she was suddenly exhausted. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open as Angus pushed the heavy oak doors in, crossed the main hall and began carrying her up the stone steps.

  He remained unconvinced, but one look at her white strained face was enough to make him decide further discussion would have to wait. She needed rest more than anything.

  "Where is your room?" he asked.

  "Tower," she murmured.

  He smiled faintly. How fitting that she should have chosen the personal quarters of the former Wyndham lords of Innishffarin. The quarters that would have been his had fate taken a different turn.

  It occurred to him that in all his visits to the castle, he had never been in the tower. He was pleased to see that it was private but spacious and with an excellent view.

  The bed, he also noted, was large enough for two.

  Angus laid Katlin beneath the covers she had left such a short but momentous time ago. Instantly, her eyes closed. She made a soft sound of contentment and fell into deep sleep.

  He hesitated imperceptibly before joining her.

  ***

  Katlin woke scant hours later. She was filled with a sense of warmth and safety that had held her fast till dawn, free of the nightmares that would otherwise have plagued her.

  She stirred lazily and only then realized she was not alone. Angus lay beside her, deeply asleep, his breathing soft and regular and his features relaxed. She stared at him in amazement as heat curled through her.

  How dare he make himself at home in her bed? Had he been there all night? What if he woke?

  The last consideration was enough to jolt her fully awake. Much as a part of her wanted to linger and explore the delightful possibilities, her better self prevailed. It was morning; the servants would be about. She had to keep Mary and Margaret from tidying her room until she could convince Angus to leave without being seen.

  Quickly, she dressed and hurried downstairs. Her middle was still slightly tender and did bear a bruise, but all things considered she had fared remarkably well.

  Mrs. Fergus was in the kitchen. "Good morning, miss," she said. "Bit of tea?"

  Katlin nodded. She had always enjoyed tea, but only since coming to Scotland had she considered its restorative strength absolutely essential.

  "By the way," she said as casual as she could manage, "I'm thinking of making some changes in the tower room, so would you tell Mary and Margaret not to bother with it until I decide what's to be done?"

  Mrs. Fergus cast her a surprised look. '
'Changes, miss? It's not comfortable then?"

  "It's fine. I'm just..." She sought quickly for an explanation. "I'm concerned about how it's to be heated come winter. It may be necessary to move different furniture in—or out—and it seems silly to be worrying about keeping it so tidy when that's the case."

  The housekeeper looked unconvinced. In her mind, an unmade bed was an invitation to trouble. But if that was how Miss Sinclair wanted it, that was how it would be.

  "As you wish, miss."

  Katlin concealed her relief, sipped the tea as quickly as she could and asked for another mug to take upstairs with her.

  Angus was still asleep when she got there but he woke when he heard the door open. He did not move but smiled slowly as his gaze ran over her.

  "No ill effects?" he asked. His voice was low and slightly rough. She caught herself wondering if that was how he always sounded in the morning. The night's growth of beard darkened his square jaw. His hair was rumpled. He had slept in his breeches, for which she supposed she should be grateful, but had removed his shirt and boots. Both lay at the foot of the bed.

  "You shouldn't leave your clothes on the floor," she said as she retrieved the shirt and shook it to smooth out the wrinkles.

  Angus sat up, accepted the tea and took a sip. His eyes caught hers. "How wifely of you."

  Katlin flushed. She dropped the shirt as though it was hotter than the tea had ever been. "Nonsense. You have to leave."

  Far from making any attempt to set himself in motion, he gazed at her benignly.

  "You look very pretty in the morning."

  Her fingers plucked at her skirt. She caught herself and put her hands behind her. "Thank you, and thank you also for your help last night. But now it is day and if my servants find you here, they will naturally be given the wrong impression."

  "Naturally," Angus agreed with mock solemnity.

  "I mean it. I won't have that. You must go."

  He shrugged as though the demand was not so much unacceptable as pointless. "As you wish," he said.

  Surprised by her easy victory, Katlin looked at him doubtfully. "I really am grateful to you."

  "I know you are," he said gently. He set the tea aside and got out of bed. Katlin looked away hastily. His bare, burnished chest reminded her too fully of what it felt like to be held against him, joined in incandescent pleasure.

  "I'll tell you something else," he went on companionably as he reached for his shirt. "I've decided I'm glad I didn't kill Devereux. The past is all well and good but we can't be living in it, don't you agree?"

  Katlin wasn't sure whether she did or didn't. It was passing strange for a man obsessed with a centuries-old castle to suddenly be saying the past shouldn't matter so much.

  "Does that mean you no longer want Innishffarin?" she asked.

  "It means it doesn't matter now one way or the other."

  "I don't believe you. Every Wyndham since Francis has wanted to get Innishffarin back, and I don't think you've suddenly decided to be different."

  Angus shrugged. He tucked his shirt into his breeches and sat down to pull on his boots. When that was done, he stood and faced her.

  Softly, he said, "Katlin, the fact is that if I wanted Innishffarin so much, I could have it right now."

  Her mouth dropped open. She closed it with a snap and glared at him. "If you are referring to that wifely comment—"

  "I'm not. You violated the terms of your grandfather's will."

  A chill ran through Katlin. She stared at him in disbelief. " I did not."

  "The night you spent at Wyndham," he said pleasantly as though imparting no more than an interesting fact. "Isaiah's will called for you to live at Innishffarin for six consecutive months. But you had only been here a few days when you spent the night away."

  Her stomach churned. How could she have failed to realize that his seeming neighborliness had a hidden motive? "You tricked me!"

  He shook his head. "No, I didn't. The truth is it didn't even occur to me until afterward. But it doesn't matter. As I said, I—"

  "Get out."

  He stopped and stared at her. "Don't be rash, Katlin. There's no reason for us to—"

  "I said to get out! I won't have you under this roof, not when I know how you plotted and schemed, how you betrayed—" She broke off, her voice choked with tears.

  He looked at her for a long moment before he seemed to reach a decision. Without another word, he strode from the room. She heard his footsteps going down the steps. They faded away into silence.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  She had to find the treasure, Katlin decided. It was absolutely imperative that she do so. As much as she hated it, she had to admit that Angus had a case. He could claim Innishffarin for himself, and she would be hard pressed to keep it.

  But not if she had something to offer him in exchange—the Wyndham Treasure.

  With Theeler's book in hand, she returned to the back passage. By daylight it appeared less mysterious but no more forthcoming than it had before. As she stared at row upon row of large granite blocks, a sense of the hopelessness of her endeavor filled her. How could she possibly think to find what had escaped so many generations of searchers?

  Yet she had no choice but to at least make a serious try. Resigned to long, difficult hours ahead, she girded her strength and began.

  It went very slowly. To begin, she walked the entire length of the passage, about two hundred feet, testing each stone. She was fortunate that the ceiling was low enough that she could reach even the topmost by standing on tiptoe.

  She persevered to the very last but the effort won her nothing except a stiff shoulder and the loss of precious hours. Not a single stone moved when she pushed it. Not a single one appeared in any way significantly different from its fellows.

  That left the floor and the ceiling. She looked up dubiously. If Theeler's description of the treasure-admittedly gathered from rumor and legend—had anything at all to it, the cache was far too large and cumbersome to be secreted in a ceiling. There would be too great a chance that the weight of the building forcing down upon it, and the pull of gravity, would reveal the hiding place.

  Her gaze shifted to the floor. Here there was less uniformity among the stones. Those in the middle had sunk slightly and become worn where uncounted numbers of people had walked on them over the centuries. Those to the side had undoubtedly also sunk somewhat from their original position, but they were noticeably less worn.

  If she were a long-ago Wyndham, Katlin thought, where would she hide a vast treasure?

  She frowned, turning the question over in her mind. The problem was that she couldn't figure out why she would hide it at all. Other Crusaders had brought home great wealth and had not hesitated to display it.

  Their wives had been decked with Saracen jewels, their homes made considerably more comfortable by fine Araby carpets, carved braziers, inlaid trunks and tables and rare manuscripts; vitally needed medicines and the like had all made their way into medieval life.

  Then why hide the Wyndham Treasure?

  She sat down slowly on the floor with her back to the outside wall and began flipping through Theeler. The good parson had addressed the question at length. His theory was that there had been a feud between two Wyndham brothers and that the treasure had been hidden by one in order to deny it to the other.

  The death of both of them within weeks of each other, apparently by coincidence, had completed the concealment. Within a surprisingly short time—barely one or two generations—the family had no longer been certain that there even was a treasure, much less where it might be found.

  Katlin put aside the worry that nothing became so easily lost as something that didn't exist to begin with. The stories had been too persistent over too long a time to have no truth to them at all.

  The night before, when she had tried to read the book, she had been tired and distracted. Now the print seemed less intractable and she was able to make better progress with it.


  But what she learned only increased her bewilderment. Theeler seemed to have settled on the back passage early in his investigation. Apparently, he was convinced by an obscure reference to the private journal of a Wyndham who lived two hundred years after the treasure supposedly disappeared. And that Wyndham had merely been repeating an old family legend.

  It was precious little to go on and didn't seem to provide legitimate reason for eliminating the entire rest of the castle as a possible hiding place.

  But if she had to search all of Innishffarin, she would have no chance of finding the treasure. At least not in whatever time she might have left before Angus took steps to evict her. She had to find it quickly.

  With her determination renewed, Katlin began pacing up and down the passageway, following first one row of stones and then the next. She looked at each and every one without finding a single clue that would indicate anything was hidden underneath.

  Tired and frustrated, she stopped for a moment and tried to decide what to do next. Theeler had outlived his usefulness. All he could tell her now was that he, too, had failed to discover anything in the passage. At that point, he had given up. She could not afford to do the same.

  On one side of the passage was the outer wall, on the other were a series of small doors that led to what appeared to have been storage rooms to be used in time of siege. Katlin had not given them much more than a glance out of innate distaste for the things that tended to live in such abandoned places. But now she resolved to make a better effort.

  As the light from the passage was inadequate to her task, she had to return to the kitchen to fetch a lamp. Mrs. Fergus was still there. So were Seamus and Sarah, who were sitting at the table together sharing a plate of gingerbread. They looked embarrassed when Katlin suddenly entered.

  "Oh, miss," Sarah said as she got quickly to her feet, "I'm sorry. It's just that—"

  Katlin looked at her blankly. Her thoughts were firmly on the passage and the small adjacent rooms. "Sorry for what?"