“Aye. In truth, we dinnae ken who she is. She says she is a Kirkcaldy, but we have no proof of that and cannae afford to send men to the Kirkcaldys to test her claim. She has ne’er told us who her father is either. Has she told you?”
“Nay.”
Balfour inwardly cursed and pushed away his plate, his appetite completely gone. He did not want to listen to James, did not like the taint of suspicion that was entering his heart. The mere thought that Maldie might betray him cut him deeply. If it was only his own life at stake, he was sure he would not want to know, would rather go to his death in blissful ignorance. Unfortunately, if he allowed her to lead him into a trap, a lot of his clan would be right there at his side.
“I just ask ye to be careful,” James said quietly. “Aye, she is a bonny lass and she seems all that is good. But Grizel was an evil-tempered woman who liked no one, and she fooled us. How much easier it would be for a sweet-faced girl to lead us to our deaths.”
“Yet ye have found naught to accuse her with.”
“I ken it. E’en so, she tells one little about herself and she simply appeared, walking into our lives out of nowhere. That alone should make us cautious.”
“And she kens a great deal about Beaton and Dubhlinn. There is something to ponder. If she means to betray us, then why would she tell us so much that can help us?”
“It could also ensnare us. There is no kenning if what she tells us is the truth. I hear little from our mon at Dubhlinn. I am nay sure if he is even still alive. There is no way I can find out if what she tells us will help us save Eric and defeat Beaton, or if it is all some clever ruse meant to lead us down a path Beaton has chosen.”
“Why would she save Nigel’s life?”
“To make ye indebted to her and thus trust her.”
“Why would she bed down with me?”
James shook his head. “Ye didnae need me to teach ye how weel a woman can use her womanly charms to make a mon stupid and blind.”
“She was an innocent, James,” Balfour said softly, not wanting anyone else in the hall to hear him. “I saw the blood that marked her so.”
“There are ways a woman can trick a mon into believing she still has a maidenhead.”
Balfour finished off his wine and abruptly stood up. He did not want to discuss the matter any longer. His mind still reeled from discovering all the crimes Grizel had committed and the hanging he had been forced to carry out. The very last thing he wanted to hear or be convinced of was that Maldie was also betraying him.
“Enough, James. Ye are right to try and make me open my eyes. ’Twas my blindness that allowed Grizel to do all she did. Howbeit, I am unable to deal with the matter with a clear head and widely opened eyes. Later.” He started toward the door, then hesitated, briefly looking back at a frowning James. “I give ye leave to step in and stop me if ye can see that I am making a great fool of myself. Too many others could lose their lives if I am left to learn another harsh lesson on my own.”
All the way up to Nigel’s room Balfour tried to push James’s words of warning from his mind, but they refused to be dismissed. Grizel’s betrayal had left him unsure of his own judgments. Just because he felt Maldie was not another Beaton spy did not mean it was so. He had thought Grizel was safe.
He stepped into Nigel’s room and tried to return Maldie’s welcoming smile. “I can sit with Nigel for a wee while, Maldie. Go and have yourself something to eat.”
She nodded and walked out of the room, pausing only to squeeze his hand in a brief gesture of sympathy. The moment the door shut behind her he let out the breath he had not realized he had been holding. He needed to sort through James’s suspicions and warnings a little before he faced her again. It would be too easy to give them away in word or deed and, if Maldie was a traitor, the worst thing he could do was warn her that he had guessed her game.
“The woman is dead?” asked Nigel.
“Aye, Grizel went to her hanging as ill-tempered and contemptuous as she lived her life,” Balfour replied.
“I wish I had had the strength to watch it.”
“Nay, ye would have gained little from seeing her die. I didnae. I cannae feel I avenged our father’s death, for my guilt o’er that outweighs any satisfaction from finding his killer. And, when all is said and past, there sits the fact that she was just a bitter old woman, a lover cast aside. She did a lot of harm, but hanging her doesnae change that.”
Nigel grimaced. “I ken it. It does stop it, however. She cannae hurt us or help Beaton anymore.” He studied Balfour for a moment. “Is it only your needless guilt o’er our father’s death that has ye looking so troubled?”
“’Tisnae needless. I could have stopped it.”
“Since ye are determined to heft that burden upon your shoulders, I dinnae think I can change your mind. And ye didnae answer my question.”
Balfour sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I find that I am willing to cast a suspicious eye on anyone now.”
“And by anyone ye mean the fair Maldie.”
“Aye, Maldie. Ye trust her.”
“I do, and I dare not start to think of her as a possible traitor. Ye ken how I feel about the lass, and how I must feel now that ye have made her your lover.”
“Did she tell ye that?”
“Nay, she said naught, but I am nay so weak-witted that I cannae guess why she didnae sleep on her wee bed in the corner last night. Ye move swiftly, brother.”
He could feel the heat of a blush upon his face, but Balfour just shrugged. “I dinnae see why that should make ye reluctant to suspect her of anything.”
“Trust me when I say that I couldnae do so fairly. ’Tis best if we dinnae discuss her at all.”
There was a chill to Nigel’s voice that surprised Balfour. His brother was jealous. He was certain of it. What he could not be certain of was how deep it went, how badly Nigel suffered from the loss of even a chance to hold Maldie. Balfour decided that Nigel was right. They should not talk about her. Nigel did not want to hear anything about what his brother was sharing with the woman he wanted, and Balfour did not really want to know how badly Nigel wanted Maldie.
Nigel cursed softly. “Does James feel she should be watched?”
“Aye,” Balfour replied. “She is a stranger.”
“Not to you,” Nigel grumbled, then waved Balfour to silence when he started to speak. “’Tis clear that James feels there is something amiss. Heed him. I willnae be a spy for you though. I cannae. As ye can tell, I am finding it hard to accept that I cannae just reach out and take the woman I want. I should like to think that I am a fair mon and wouldnae stoop to letting petty jealousies taint my thinking, but I would rather not be asked to test the truth of that. I owe the lass my life, and I dinnae wish to repay that with mistrust.”
“Neither do I.”
“I ken it and yet ye must. Ye are the laird and many lives depend upon you. And ’tis clear that ye would like to speak of this from time to time. Fine. I refuse to let a wee, green-eyed lass come between us. Talk if ye must.” He smiled crookedly. “Just dinnae tell me what a fine time ye are having with her. Ye tell me what troubles ye and I will play her advocate. After all she has done for me, ’tis only fair that she has one.”
“James says that saving your life is a verra good way for her to win our trust.”
“I didnae ken that the mon could have such a hard heart. Aye, he is right. I hope ye will understand when I say that the reason why she saved my life doesnae matter. I still owe her.”
Balfour nodded and poured them both a tankard of cider. “She has told me nothing of herself. Just wee glimpses into her youth with her mother.”
“She has had a sad life. Mayhap she just wishes to forget it all.”
“True. She kens a lot about Dubhlinn.”
“She stayed there for a while and she has the wit to notice things.”
“Ye are a good advocate,” Balfour drawled and was pleased to see Nigel grin.
For a while
they continued in a similar vein, Balfour telling him things that could be suspect and Nigel pointing out how they could also be completely innocent. There were a few things Balfour did not tell him, cautiously avoiding any mention of the fact that he and Maldie were lovers and how good a lover she was.
Finally, unable to find any answers, he stood up. “Enough. We talk in circles. There is a good reason and a bad for every word she says and everything she does. I, too, dinnae wish to think ill of her, but I have no choice. I must try and look beyond what I feel and what I want to be the truth.”
“The curse of being the laird,” Nigel murmured. “I have but one request.”
When Nigel just scowled and hesitated, Balfour pressed, “What? I cannae grant your request if ye ne’er make it.”
“If Maldie proves to be a traitor, a spy for Beaton, what will ye do to her?”
Balfour flinched away from the thought of her guilt and what he might be forced to do about it, then cursed his own cowardice. “I dinnae ken. I willnae hang her if that is what ye fear. We all owe her your life and probably the lives of some of the other wounded men who crawled back from Dubhlinn that day. What else I may choose to do with her, I just dinnae ken.”
“Dinnae worry on it, Balfour. I just needed to ken that she would be safe. In truth, I dinnae ken why I e’en concerned myself with that. Ye would ne’er have the stomach to harm her. I dinnae think many of the men here would, not even James.”
“Nay, not even James. I think all I will do if she does prove to be helping Beaton is secure her so that she can tell him nothing until this fight is over.”
“Weel, I pray ye find nothing.”
“So do I,” said Balfour as he walked to the door, “if only because I will have a hellish time trying to make ye believe it.”
He smiled faintly as Nigel’s laughter escorted him out of the room. It was hard to accept that he was the one who would have to be suspicious of Maldie, have to watch her closely and weigh her every word. He would rather be in Nigel’s position and be her advocate. He would even prefer to leave it all in James’s capable hands as he had done at the start. He could do neither. He was the laird, and he could no longer shirk his responsibilities no matter how distasteful he found them.
There were many good reasons to at least be cautious around Maldie. In consideration for his brother’s feelings for the woman, he had not told Nigel the one that weighed most heavily upon his mind. Maldie’s skill at lovemaking troubled him, and there was no one he could discuss it with. It was almost funny, for Nigel was the one person at Donncoill who was the most knowledgeable about such things and could probably help either exonerate or condemn her. Maldie was passionate and free in the sharing of that passion, more so than he thought an innocent ought to be. The most disturbing thing, however, was the way she had loved him with her mouth. Her explanation had made sense and he desperately wanted to believe her, but it also stirred his doubt. It was almost easier to believe Maldie was some sly maid sent to seduce him into a trap, than to think that a mother would tell her daughter such intimate details on how to pleasure a man.
As he entered the bedchamber he and Maldie had shared for a week, he forced himself to return her welcoming smile. He wondered how much of his doubt about her was born of his doubts about himself, about his attraction to a woman, his appeal and his ability to keep a woman interested. He had never had such a beautiful, passionate woman give him a second glance, yet there sat Maldie, smiling as though she was truly pleased to see him and showing no interest in his brother. She was sharing his bed, yet all of his past experience said she should be curled up at Nigel’s side.
“Ye look verra troubled, Balfour,” she said quietly, holding out her hand and tugging him closer to the bed when he took it.
“I have no taste for hangings,” he murmured as he sat down beside her on the bed. “I try not to watch them, yet I have just ordered one and stood there while it was done.”
She slipped her arms around him and pulled him down onto the bed with her. “Ye had to do it as I am sure everyone has told you.” She began to follow the firm lines of his face with gentle kisses. “Ye must keep the law. What would happen if ye let her go, a traitor and a murderer? That would tell all who heard of it that ye have no stomach for righteous punishment. It would tell them that they could do as they pleased. I dinnae ken exactly what I am trying to say, except that ye had no choice. Ye didnae just punish her for what she had done, but to be sure that all ken they must hold to the law.”
“Aye, I ken it. ’Tis a hard thing to say clearly, but ’tis something one just knows in their heart. Grizel couldnae be allowed to escape punishment for her crimes, not because she was old nor because she was a woman.”
“Mayhap that is what troubles ye so, that she was an old woman.”
“Aye, I think it is. I believe I shall pay closer heed to the women in my life. ’Tis clear that they can be as dangerous as any mon.”
Maldie busied herself with the laces on the front of his shirt as she fought a sudden unease. She knew he did not have to be talking about her, that her guilt simply made her think so. He had just had to deal with Grizel, with her lies, her deceits, and her murder of his father. That was undoubtedly what he meant when he talked of the threat a woman could be. Maldie told herself not to be so afraid of discovery, that no one knew who she was, not even Beaton himself.
For one brief moment she considered telling Balfour everything. The need to weigh her every word and the constant fear that the truth would be uncovered before she was ready to tell it threatened to drive her mad. Then reason returned. She had to fulfill her vow—an oath made to a dying woman—or she had no honor. Once Balfour knew the truth, she might well lose all chance to do so.
“The pain of all ye learned today and what ye were forced to do will pass,” she finally said. “And, if it has made ye more wary, is that truly such a bad thing?”
“Nay.” He began to unlace her gown. “There is a lot of work I should be tending to.” He kissed the hollow behind her ear.
“Aye, ye neglect your duties.”
“Ah, weel, I think I have earned a moment or two of pleasure.”
“Only a moment or two?” she whispered.
He laughed and kissed her. Maldie wondered if the strong need she had for him would ever fade, then prayed that it would. If she had to leave him she did not want to spend the rest of her life aching for a man she could not have. The mere thought that she might soon have to turn her back on the pleasure he gave her made her want him even more, and she hungrily returned his kiss.
She murmured her delight when he tossed aside the last of their clothing and they were finally flesh to flesh. Maldie did not think anything had ever felt so good. When he touched a kiss to her breast she closed her eyes and combed her fingers through his hair, determined to savor every kiss and caress.
Soon his hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere, and Maldie found the hint of ferocity in his lovemaking exciting. She shuddered as he dampened her inner thighs with kisses, and fought to gain some control over her rising passion so that she could enjoy his touch for as long as possible. Then his mouth touched the heated softness between her legs and shock stole away both her desire and her breath. She tried to move away, to escape that intimacy, but Balfour kept a firm hold on her. Her passion returned with a vengence a heartbeat later. Maldie opened to his caress, crying out her pleasure. When she felt her release near she tried to pull him into her arms, but he ignored her, taking her to desire’s heights with his mouth. She was still shaking from the force of that ecstasy when he began again, stirring her passion with a skill and speed that was almost frightening. This time when she called to him, he responded, joining their bodies with one hard thrust. She clung to him and he kissed her, his tongue mimicking the strokes of his body within hers. Their cries of release blended as they fed their hunger as one, and Maldie held him close when he collapsed in her arms.
As her mind cleared, Maldie fought a sense of embarras
sment. She may have been without skill, but she had knowledge and that particular manner of lovemaking was known to her. Such intimacy was hard to accept, however, and she could not stop herself from wondering if the great pleasure she had found in such a caress was a sign that she had a whore’s soul. It certainly implied that she had little sense of modesty when passion held her tightly in its grip.
“Dinnae frown so, lass,” Balfour said, smiling faintly as he kissed the tip of her nose. “’Tis no whore’s game.”
She grimaced, not sure she liked the way he so easily guessed her thoughts. “’Tisnae always easy to ken what is or isnae a whore’s game.”
“True.” He sat up and began to dress, laughing softly when she scrambled to pull the sheet around herself. “Ye will find those who say anything but a cold, quick rutting is a whore’s game, and others who feel anything ye wish to do that gives ye pleasure is acceptable. I believe in something somewhere in between there.” He winked at her. “And that made it all verra clear, did it not?”
She grinned and shook her head. “Oh, aye, verra clear.”
He grew serious as he stood up and draped his plaid around himself. “We share a rare passion, lass, and I confess that I am more than eager to be daring. Howbeit, ye must tell me when I do something ye dinnae like.”
Maldie blushed and was unable to look at him as she softly replied, “Be sure that I will. Just remember what my mother was and be patient with my uneasiness. I sometimes fear that if I like something we do too much it may be the mark of a whore.”
He tilted her face up to his and kissed her. “A whore doesnae usually enjoy much of anything except for the coin it can bring her. Feeling passion doesnae make ye a whore, Maldie. ’Tis what ye do with that passion, how ye use it, that marks ye.”
His words were comforting, yet there was an odd tone to his voice. She decided she was still feeling a little embarrassed and that made her hear what was not there. Balfour was not a man who said one thing but meant another.
“Go and do the work ye must do, ere the people of Donncoill think I have spirited ye away.”
Highland Destiny Page 11