Panahasi had known for days that Jean had accepted MacKay’s proposal of marriage, but he still hadn’t done anything about it. Jean was restless and nervous. MacKay and Jean had stood before Laird Keith and affirmed their intent to wed and Keith set the date for the ceremony to be a fortnight away. Jean could feel MacKay’s breath close behind her at every turn, keeping a close eye on her and acting like he possessed her already.
On this late morning, Jean was hiding in the Great Hall long after the meal and all but her own trencher had been cleared away. Her plate only had small bites picked from it, Jean unable to stomach very much. Her insides were churning with nerves, worried about what kind of bargain she had struck with Panahasi.
Jean tensed when the sound of feet came toward the door into the hall. She did not want MacKay to find her. But the footsteps belonged to Horatius who appeared in the doorway, arriving too late to eat and looking surprised as he surveyed the empty room.
“Where is everyone?” he asked Jean with a cheerful smile.
His moods were so unpredictable, Jean never knew what to expect from him. She was relieved to see he seemed especially bright and sober this morning. He was so often red-eyed and sloppy drunk.
“Ah, what lovely company that I find here. And to have the pleasure of seeing you without that feckless fool MacKay sniveling around you—if you don’t mind me saying so. He grows tiresome quickly. But he is to be your groom I understand, so I shall slander him no more.” He smiled the most beautiful smile Jean had ever seen. Then he laughed, and it was spectacularly authentic and natural. Jean didn’t feel at all that he was trying to seduce or manipulate her. “You, Lady Jean, are clearly a strong woman to put up with all that you have. I wish you the best.” He sat across from her and poured a cup from the jug always available on the table.
His charm was such a surprise. It soothed her frayed nerves and lifted her mood. She was drawn to him and wanted to converse more with him. “Good day,” she said, uncertain how to even respond to the many things he’d just said. “You’ve missed the meal, I’m afraid. All that is left is my own plate. You’re welcome to it if you’d like.”
She pushed it over and he pulled it in front of himself.
“Don’t mind if I do. I haven’t eaten for a while.”
“I haven’t seen you for a couple of days.”
He waved it off. “I needed to be elsewhere. But here I am now,” he said, resting both arms on the table and dazzling her with his bright grin. “Is there anything interesting happening around Dunnottar Castle and in the realm watched over by my good friend William Keith?”
Jean was quite surprised at how clear his eyes were. He was full of energy, like a new person. The transformation was astonishing. Then she realized she was staring and sat back. She brushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes to hide her embarrassment.
“You’re blushing,” he said.
Jean touched her fingertips to her hot cheek. “I’m sorry. You caught me staring. You just look so different. Before you were so….” She caught herself before insulting him, before bringing up his usual bleary-eyed intemperance. “I am surprised is all.”
His marvelous laugh bounced out of his chest again and almost pulled a smile from her.
“Indeed. You are quite right, so no need to be uncomfortable. I have a method for quick recovery. It rejuvenates me. You are seeing its effects.” He took a large bite of the roasted goose on the trencher she’d surrendered to him.
“Seamus sat on his dagger and needed the wound to be sewn closed.”
Horatius raised his eyes with a questioning gaze as his teeth sank into a big bite of goose.
“You asked what has been happening here. The most interesting thing was that Seamus cut open his arse yesterday. No one wanted to help, no one who had experience with a needle. Graham said he’d be happy to stitch it. But Seamus said he’d just as soon live with a sliced open arse then let Graham and his clumsy hands attempt to sew it. Finally, Lady Margaret was called and she consented to do the stitching. Everyone agrees she does the finest work. She used the most colorful threads and really made a work of art. Afterwards—after a great deal of very loud complaining from Seamus during the ordeal—once he recovered his composure, he was showing the work of art across his hip to everyone who would look. He said it looked exactly like a lion’s head.”
The laugh came again. And the smallest of smiles crept onto Jean’s lips. The sensation was startling after not moving her mouth so for such a long time and thinking she never would again.
They talked on for the longest time, Jean completely unaware of the passing time. Eventually their lighthearted conversation turned to more serious talk when Horatius asked her about her family and how she was faring after such a difficult time.
“I keep seeing my father in his last days. I can’t remember what he looked like when he was full of life and vigor. That disturbs me day and night, that I can’t summon his face when he was alive.”
Horatius laid his hand over hers. The warmth and weight of it was an unexpected comfort to Jean. She reveled in his care and let his hand stay.
“Is your father living?” she asked him in a quiet voice.
“We are at odds currently,” he answered. “I do not really understand it. I have done something to anger him, but don’t know what.”
“Like with your brother, Panahasi?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Somehow, she wasn’t even bothered that she might have stumbled onto an awkward topic. “Oh, I thought you two were at odds.”
Horatius shook his head. “No, we enjoy our camaraderie. We don’t always agree of course, but we bear no malice toward one another.”
“That is good. One shouldn’t want to waste time on trivial things. My sister used to vex me beyond tolerance. But I would give anything to have her back.”
Horatius squeezed her hand in his and gave her a compassionate gaze.
“What goes on here?” Angus MacKay yelled. “Lay your hands off my betrothed!”
Angus had come upon them completely unseen and unheard. Jean jumped back, the blush burning into her face. Then anger raged through her that Angus would turn a tender, innocent moment into something questionable.
“You take any woman you wish around here, but you will not take my woman!” Angus pulled his sword and pointed it directly at Horatius. “And you certainly will not take Balvenie Castle from me!”
Horatius slowly rose from his bench. He looked like an experienced animal handler facing a wild bear. He remained steady and cool while the color flamed in Angus’ sweaty face.
“Put your sword away, MacKay,” Horatius said quietly. As he stood and his full height towered over Angus, Angus took a step back and his sword tip dropped a perceivable amount. “Nothing happened here. Your lady was taken with grief and I only offered a moment’s sympathy. Perhaps if you spent less time carousing with your mates and gave even a wee bit of kindness to your intended, she would not need to come to others for comfort.”
Jean was suddenly defensive. “I did not come to Horatius for comfort. It just happened. I was here. He came in.” Her anger flared more, feeling she had to explain herself. She’d been enjoying talking to someone who finally cared enough to ask after her to see how she fared. No one else had done that. And now Gus had turned it around. Plus, he dared to presume that her home was already his. His audacity enraged her.
Angus lifted his sword again, shaking it at Horatius, and started yelling. Horatius lost his cool control and raised his voice too. Jean jumped in to add her defense and keep them from talking about her as though she were only a piece of property, a mere object with which they could play tug-of-war. They both ignored her.
William Keith hurried into the room, waived in by a servant who’d been drawn to the Great Hall after the yelling started. A growing crowd of servants watched from the doorway.
“Put your sword away, MacKay. We’re all friends here,” Laird Keith said.
“He’s no frie
nd of mine!” Angus shouted.
“Sheathe your weapon, man!” Keith demanded again. He put his hand on his own claymore, preparing to draw it out. “I’m warning you, Angus.”
Angus growled as he grabbed his leather scabbard in one fist and lined up the tip of his sword to its top and plunged it down inside. His narrowed eyes shot daggers at Horatius.
“What’s this all about?” Keith demanded.
“I found him with his hands all over—”
“That’s ludicrous!” Jean snapped at the same time Horatius said, “He is being ridiculous.”
“Slow down,” Keith said. “One at a time. Angus, you seem most determined to run someone through. Tell me true. What did you actually see?”
Angus’ chest rose and fell as his breath sliced in and out of flaring nostrils. Before he started to speak, a noise at the door drew his attention. Everyone followed his line of sight. Panahasi was in the doorway, sending the curious servants scattering. He sauntered toward the group by the head table, his sword in his hand twirling languidly at his hip in a sweeping arc.
“I heard arms were needed to calm a brawl. Am I too late to intervene?” he asked. “Has my brother molested someone’s lady again?”
Jean didn’t like the mockery and contempt in his words. She hadn’t seen the sarcasm in him so undisguised before. Everyone was shocking her today with their unexpected responses.
“Relax, Panahasi. I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of it without bloodshed. Isn’t that right, Angus?” Keith said firmly.
“He is trying to cuckold me!” Angus burst out. “I want you to banish him from Dunnottar. He is only trouble. Send him forth and then I can agree to no bloodshed.”
Keith laughed. “You’re being overly sensitive. It’s your upcoming vows putting you on edge. There is no need to subjugate the man. He is friend, not foe.”
Several curse words exploded from Angus’ mouth, some of them words Jean had not even heard before but she could tell they were vile.
“That’s enough, MacKay. Jean knows to whom she belongs. She would not neglect her obligation to you. Go outside and cool off. Mayhap a ride to town would give you time to put things in perspective. You go on now and return at supper when your anger has abated.”
Angus’ eyes flashed around the group, glaring at everyone there. When he got to Jean, something very frightening glinted in his hard expression. She shrank beneath his stare. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed out of the hall.
“Well, that was an unfortunate occurrence,” Horatius said. “I nearly needed to do something unprecedented to him. It would have shocked everyone. Much better he simply leave. You came in just in time, Will. I will stay out of his path for a time.” He avoided looking at Jean.
“That would be wise,” Keith said. “Please do. That hot-headed young lad has some lessons yet on discretion, I’m afraid. I hope he learns from this. A few hours from now and I’m sure he’ll be back to his former self again.” Keith left through one door and Horatius departed via the other.
“Beautifully played,” Panahasi said once everyone else was gone. “You couldn’t have done any better to set the stage for what we are about.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Jean protested. “It was all just a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding to weave the web of suspicion and distrust. It is perfect.”
Jean hated him thinking she was so calculating and heartless.
“Don’t make such a face,” Panahasi said, chiding her. “Do you not want to return home? To gain back what you’ve lost?”
She wanted to go home, of course. But she was having a difficult time keeping things in perspective. She certainly didn’t really believe that she could get her lost family back. She couldn’t even really remember what Panahasi had told her, she’d been so careful not to listen too closely. But when she’d said she’d do anything to get back home, she’d meant it. She would go forward with their plans. She would let unfold whatever Panahasi put into play with the hope that somehow she could stand looking like a shameful girl and live with the consequences of defying the chief of the clan.
“That’s better,” he said when she’d visibly reacted to her new resolve to proceed by standing tall and holding up her head. “Tonight will be the night.” He reached into his boot top and pulled out a small bottle with a cork in its top. “Entice my brother to meet you in the smithy. Have drinks there and put this in his cup. I will do the rest.”
“But do you think he’ll come? Especially after this?”
“You don’t know him like I do. He’s already seeking out his next drink, I promise you that. You seduce him and he will belong to you.”
As Jean reached to take the bottle from Panahasi, her hand was shaking. She tried to still it, but she couldn’t.
Panahasi chuckled at her. “Don’t worry. It’s perfectly human to be nervous. I’d worry if you weren’t. I’ll see you again tonight.”
TRYST
The Raid of Balvenie and the Maiden Who Survived Page 9