by C. C. Wiley
“Meg,” Anna said. “If you insist on lending a hand, at least pay attention. When do you intend to confront Sir Nathan regarding my patient?”
Quashing a shiver, she turned her focus away from the unknown and tied back the drapes surrounding the bed. She threw open the shutters. A sea breeze cooled her skin. A sigh slipped past her lips. “Sir Nathan is Lord of Fletchers Landing. ’Tis his command. Not mine that keeps you here.”
The basket filled with flagons of oils and unguents hit the floor with a heavy thump. “Duncan helped saved your life. I cannot help him if you insist on treating him as a prisoner.” She returned to his side, lifting the flagon of ale to his lips.
“In Sir Nathan’s eyes, that is what he is,” Meg said. Ignoring the flash of anger crackling in the room, she added, “Anna. I must speak with you and expect you in my bedchamber anon.”
Duncan lifted a sardonic brow. “Where is the lady dragon’s fire?” He stretched the leather thongs tied to his wrists. “You’ve ordered me manacled to the bedpost, lass. I shan’t be attempting anything nefarious while you’re away.” He flicked his fingers. “’Tis an auspicious day. Go now, run to your man, Lady Meg. Your beautiful sister and I will find a way to keep ourselves amused until the time comes.”
Meg gritted her teeth. “We have an agreement.”
“Aye, but you’ve broken it more than once. From now on, ’tis the Lord of Fletchers Landing that I mean to deal with.”
“You took money for protection,” Meg hissed under her breath as she bent to straighten the bedclothes.
“And I mean to keep that bargain. But not from this bed. Find a way to change it.” He pierced her with a glare. “Those men have comrades who will come looking for them. Their assault is not over.”
Meg’s hands stilled.
“My lads will take notice of my absence soon enough. They’ll seek me out. You know this to be the truth.”
“We’ll send a messenger.
“’Tis not that simple, as ye well know, my lady.”
“Certes, when they learn of your injury and that we are caring for your wounds they will maintain peace until you give word otherwise.”
“And if they don’t? If they fear for me, they will come and do more damage than any night of roving.” His auburn main of hair caught the sun as he shook his head. “Smaller misunderstandings have caused great pain in times past. We have not only placed your village in danger. We have placed the members of my clan in its path, as well.” She felt him searching for the weakest link in her armor. “Would you have their blood on your hands, my lady?”
Chapter 17
Nathan paced through the village and surrounding outbuildings. It was high time he acted like the new Lord of Fletchers Landing. He glanced at the monk striding beside him. Did the man know that Meg spent the night in his bedchamber? Nathan’s groin tightened. His heart beat a rapid rhythm in anticipation of seeing her, having her in his bed. He attempted to shake off the distraction. Was that all it took to turn his mind away from his responsibilities?
They walked past the chandlery. Little remained of the building. The scent of wood smoke lingered despite the villagers’ efforts to rebuild the structure. Puddles of melted wax stained the stone path.
“Matthew, we’ll start with this one.” He directed the steward to the charred rafters. “I want the roof material changed from thatch to shale.”
The woman clinging to his thoughts appeared at his elbow. He would forever link the taste of honey to that of her lips. None could be compared. He offered her a gentle smile, his gaze lingering on her mouth. How much time would have to pass before they wed and shared their bed? Memories of her soft moans sent his blood coursing through his veins.
He tucked her hand through his arm. “Good morn, my lady. I trust that you slept well.”
His arm tightened as Meg stumbled and broke eye contact. She yawned, barely covering her mouth. “’Twas an uneventful night.”
Nathan swept his gaze over her face. Her lie brought a pretty flush to her cheeks and brought back fresh memories of their night of passion. Her curves fit perfectly next to his. “Mine was beyond exciting. Thrilling even. I still wear bruises from our adventure at the cove.”
A soft rose color spread up her neck. “Not all of us knew of that incident,” she said under her breath.
“’Tis a small village, my lady,” Matthew reminded her from where he trailed behind them. “The aftermath of the battle was a rare sight for some. The old ones retold long tales deep into the morn.”
“You could have brought reinforcements,” Nathan muttered to the monk and steward.
Brother John cleared his throat. “Aye, it was noisome at all hours.” He glowered at Nathan. “Mayhap I should move to the chapel after today’s festivities.”
“The wedding can wait,” Meg said in a rush under her breath. “I must speak with you. In private.”
Nathan arched a brow. In private? Had she searched him out for a reason? Perhaps to smile and warm him as she had a few hours earlier? Her sighs of pleasure had remained with him throughout the morning.
Her fingers trembled against his arm. Mayhap she still feared that foolish curse of hers. He always appreciated a challenge and he had only just begun to show her the pleasures to be found in their bed. Without another thought of the two men in attendance, he brushed his lips over her temple. “Once we are through here, I shall escort you to the master’s chambers. We will speak of many things then.”
Brother John cleared his throat. “The Lord of Fletchers Landing wishes for the moving of the outbuildings. He wishes them rebuilt with stronger, safer materials. Starting immediately.”
Meg gasped and regarded Nathan from head to toe. He itched under her frowning scrutiny and had come to the conclusion they would have their meeting in private sooner than they thought. “Meg, ’tis not that difficult to comprehend.”
She withdrew her hand and stepped away from him. Her nostrils flared, reminding him of a wild mare. Anger snapped from her dark brown eyes. “I understand more than you realize. You forget that I have been in charge since the death of my parents.” She whipped her skirt away from him as if she feared vermin would leap from his tunic and take residence on her body. Meg cut her glare to Matthew and Brother John. “I disagree with our new lord. It’ll cost extra. Extra that we don’t have at the moment.”
“Worth it if we don’t lose everything in a fire.” He redirected his thoughts and surveyed the rest of the small buildings. “They should be moved out and away from the tower keep. Again, the roofs made of shale will help slow a fire if one does start again.”
She pivoted on her heels. “Whose treasure do you intend to use?”
“Mine.” He watched the color from her cheeks drain. Did she think that he came to her as a pauper? Nathan grunted. Her disdain came from more than their night of passion. If she wanted a battle on the village streets instead of in private, so be it. He would not be the one to start it. He took a deep breath. “I’ve had some of my spoils of war set aside.”
“You intend for this before winter falls?”
“Not enough time. The materials for the structures will need to be sent for.”
“We haven’t the manpower,” she argued. Her steps quickened.
“Not to worry, my sweet. I’ve sent a messenger to Lockwood Castle to the south. Sir Darrick is lord of that land. He’ll send a few of his men to help rebuild and strengthen Fletchers Landing.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He owes me.” He slowed Meg’s pace by curling his fingers around her hand.
“But we have no need of more men. We have managed well without soldiers underfoot.”
“I disagree.” Nathan tucked her close to his side. “Your disregard is insulting,” he said under his breath. “You wished to speak with me, and so we shall. Look around you, my Meg. Do you wish for eve
ryone to worry that they are no longer safe with either of us at the helm?”
The villagers milled around, offering signs that they were busy about their tasks. Nathan knew otherwise. He had already noticed their nervous conversations. They moved about but produced nothing with their labor.
He dipped his head in salute. “How goes it master ale keeper?”
“’Tis a fine day, my lord,” Harrigan touched his cap as he struggled to load a keg onto a cart. Worry tugged at the older man’s mouth.
“A moment.” Nathan left Meg to help with the unwieldy barrel. He would have shared a cup of ale if not for the woman standing alone, looking as lost as he often felt.
“Move over, my man.” He nudged the bearded one over. “Let me show you how our king’s knight is able.”
“My lord,” Harrigan groveled. “I cannot let you dirty yourself.”
“What, and take away the opportunity to display the strength my betrothed is receiving in the marital bargain this afternoon?”
“No, my lord.” Harrigan swept off his cap, crushing it in his meaty fist. “Many thanks, Sir Nathan. I thought to handle it all by myself. ’Tis a wonder King Henry has let you leave his side.”
Nathan offered Meg a sly wink as he returned and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. His heart warmed when a suppressed chuckle filtered through her fingers.
“You’re right. I have been foolish.” Meg’s rib cage expanded and compressed with each shuddered breath as she released the tension.
He flexed his arm, offering a gentle nudge. Hope began to build.
They walked past the unusually quiet smokehouse. Nathan’s brow furrowed. “Brother John, what news have you regarding our guests?”
“They were a godless bunch,” he said. “Those that clung to their last breath refused prayer for their soul. A few of them mentioned your name, Sir Nathan. Expected you’d soon join them where they were headed.” The monk crossed himself. “I left the lone survivor with the smithy Wayland. They appeared familiar with one another.”
Nathan’s shoulders began to crawl, alerting him to danger. He tried the door and the rusted iron locks flaked away in his hand. His mood began to sour. “By whose anvil and hammer were these created?” A fearful silence followed on the heels of his question.
“The blacksmith,” Matthew uttered.
“The only place to stow our prisoner and we put him in here? Shite.” Nathan cursed his misfortune for the king’s gift of rot and fools.
“Stay where you are, Meg,” he ordered. “Matthew, stay by your lady and protect her. If you fail I will cut you down myself.”
Brother John drew his sword as they pushed open the door. It swung on rusted hinges, announcing their arrival. A torch wavered as the breeze caught it. The scent of fish lying on the drying racks filled his nose. Legs of smoked mutton hung from the rafters. Vessels of preserved goods lined the shelves. But the improvised cell that should have held the blacksmith was empty.
Nathan knelt and tested the corroded locks. They, too, were brittle to the touch. “More of his handiwork?” He rose, dusting his hands free of rust.
“Aye,” Brother John growled. “I curse him for his deeds.”
Nathan gripped the man’s cassock as they left. “Tell me what he’s worked on since he arrived.”
Brother John began to list the items. Nathan’s stomach began to twist by the time they reached Meg and Matthew. He would have someone’s hide for this blatant negligence.
“Matthew, are you not steward of the keep?” he snarled. The steward’s tunic wrinkled under his fist. The man’s face turned a mottled purple as Nathan tightened his grip.
“Cease this madness,” Meg cried. She pried at his fingers, breaking him from his rage. “You’re killing him.”
Nathan shifted his glare, placing it on all of them. “I would it be him, and not you or your family.”
“My lord,” Matthew choked out under the stranglehold, “we learned that Wayland and the wench Millicent came from the direction of Carlisle. Mayhap the others did too.”
“Or they work with Duncan Graham and his clan,” Nathan said. “’Tis time I discovered why our large friend was waiting at the cove.”
He released the steward. The time for punishment had passed. Their need for answers grew with each moment they delayed. “I want every lock and hinge checked.”
Matthew nodded as he rubbed the raw spot on his neck. “Aye,” he said, then trotted off to do Nathan’s bidding.
“Meg, you and Brother John wait for me in the master’s library. I will meet you there once I’ve had a word with Duncan Graham.”
“I implore you to listen, my lord,” she cried.
“The time for pretty speeches is over, my lady,” Nathan said. He pushed open the double doors. They swung on silent hinges. At least one door was in good repair. Thank God, since the door’s size and weight would kill should it happen to fall on an unsuspecting victim.
Meg planted her feet to block his path. Her slim hands pressed into his chest. “I must explain. In private.”
Nathan nodded and took her by the hand. “Brother John, I assume you’ll need to attend us.” The monk swept his tunic up in his fists and followed on their heels as they climbed the winding stairs.
The heavy doors stood before them. No longer locked, the room behind the doors proved to be a welcoming haven that Nathan had not anticipated. He bit back the smile. No use in allowing Meg to know his pleasure. Judging by her mood, she was intent on forgetting the pleasure they shared the night before.
He shoved through the doors. Meg still pinned close to his side. “You have your privacy. Speak as you wish, but do so with truth or not at all.”
* * * *
“Truth?” Meg’s chest rose and fell rapidly. One of the first items she intended to address when life had returned to some kind of peaceful normalcy was to slow the speed in which he strode. A lady cannot maneuver the steps as easily when laden down with skirts. “Why are you pursuing the need for men? I do not require them.”
“You…we,” Nathan corrected, “do not have enough able-bodied men to watch our walls. And ’tis apparent we do not have protection for our keep or our village. The people know this. Why are you so damn stubborn and refuse to accept this fact?”
“Our protection is handled.” Meg cut her gaze to Brother John. “What say you, monk? Have you nothing to add to ease your lord’s soul?”
The brother’s grayed curls quivered. “No, child. ’Tis not for me to share.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “When have you never had an opinion?”
Nathan puffed his chest. “I will not tolerate secrets. Whatever pertains to Fletchers Landing will be told. Or punishment will be met.”
Where had the gentle man from the previous night gone? Did he retreat when the sun rose overhead? Would she know him only in the dark hours? His eyes scoured her until she felt raw from the distrust in his gaze.
Meg took a deep breath and prayed God would find a way to soften her news. “I paid Duncan Graham for protection. To keep the reivers from roving over our land. It has been a peaceable agreement. Until now.”
The crease in Nathan’s brows deepened. “I’ve seen the ledgers. How did you do this?”
Meg looked to Brother John. Would he support her? Or release her to the winds and let Nathan’s ire send her to punishment. She received her answer when the damn monk found the navigator’s lens more interesting than their discussion.
The old man sighed and spun the glass as he turned. A rainbow of lights bounced across the wall. “Your arrangement with the Clan Graham is flawed. ’Tis why I sent for your assistance, Sir Nathan. Our Lady Meg is trusting of so few, but when she does relent, it is to a fault.”
Her breath caught. Betrayed by her father’s trusted confidant.
Nathan turned, his glare seeking hers, searching. �
��How much trusting has been done?”
She cleared her too-dry throat and poured a healthy helping of ale. The cool liquid quenched her thirst and then left her just as nervous as before she took a drink. Her hand shook as she set the pitcher down. Would their marriage begin on distrust and hatred? She could not allow it. She had bared herself body and soul. They had shared the night. He knew of the places that made her toes curl when he licked and sucked.
And she knew what made him lose control.
She slammed the empty horn cup on the table. “You know for yourself that there has been nothing shared between the Scotsman and me.”
“And yet you trust him. Over me?”
“He has proven himself worthy of my trust. What of you?”
Meg felt the blood drain from her face. The room spun as panic built. Would he take offense and beat her? As lord, he had that right.
“Leave us,” he ordered the monk.
“I think, mayhap…”
“You will do as I say,” Nathan warned.
Meg trembled, awaiting the eruption that would surely come. A part of her soul broke off to argue with her conscience. Would he call off the wedding? Defy the king? ’Twas what she wanted. Was it not?
Brother John did not argue as she anticipated, but nodded and did as he was bid. The door thumped shut. Meg stepped back as Nathan approached her, cutting the distance between them. She ached for the time when she found safety in his arms. Was it so easily fractured?
“Meg.” His voice soft as lamb’s wool wrapped around her, sealing her fate.
Nathan cupped her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. She nearly lost herself in their mossy warmth. This is where she wanted to stay, but she feared it was created by the faeries. A trap; easily found and rarely escaped.
“You mentioned the need to speak in private. What is it you wish of me?”
Heaven help me. If only she could tell him how her body still hungered for him. Instead she was forced to explain her agreement with Duncan and the smugglers. Her throat tightened. What if he turned her family from the land? It was all that they knew.