by Lexi Post
The torch burned low and he quickly divested himself of his clothing and stretched out upon the woolens. Aye, he wanted Diana in his bed, but he must determine if the pit was a more appropriate place for her. He cringed. No, Graham was down there, but she could be chained to the tower wall. The vision of her white wrists encased in black iron had him rolling over, uncomfortable with the thought. This woman played with his senses and his mind, and he didn’t like it.
Tomorrow, he would send Fergus to contact the king. Tomorrow he would discover who dared send a traitor within his walls. And tomorrow he would determine if the woman he wanted in his bed played him for a fool.
…
Diana woke refreshed. Sleeping through the rest of the night had her feeling like she could take on the world, or at least the little part of it she currently resided in. Nessa had forgotten her disappointment from the day before and started the day by dragging her down to the stream to wash clothes and blankets. The washing served as a great workout—bending, squatting, repetitive arm movements, and lifting heavy wet wool. Overall, she thought Javier would approve.
“Diana. Come help us with this.”
She looked up from hanging a linen cloth over a tree branch to find Mairi, Nessa, and Beth struggling with a huge wet woolen. She ran forward to help, picking up the last corner that dragged in the water. “What is this that it’s so big?”
Beth huffed. “It’s the laird’s bedding.”
Of course. She held up her heavy end and helped the women place it over a large boulder. The sun would dry it and give it a fresh scent.
“Diana! Those leines!”
She spun at Nessa’s call and saw a freshly cleaned leine falling into the stream. Holy Hamlet, she’d just finished that! She rushed forward and caught the long male shirt before it hit the water. Securing it over another branch, she returned to where the women sat, taking a well-deserved break.
Nessa patted the grass next to her and offered a cup of water.
“Thank you. I can’t believe how thirsty I become while knee deep in water.” She took a big gulp of the cool liquid.
Nessa leaned in and lowered her voice. “Did ye hear the laird caught a spy last night?”
Water spewed from her mouth. “What?”
The other two women bent closer. Nessa nodded, clearly excited by her news. “Aye. Evan was hurt in the taking. Ye cannot see it as he wears his bandage under his leine, but he was sliced with a dagger from elbow to wrist. The laird caught the spy in the act!”
Mairi’s eyes grew round and Beth puffed like a peacock. “Good for our laird.”
“Where is the spy now?” She wiped her mouth with her sleeve to hide her concern.
Nessa waved her hand toward the castle. “He be in the pit.”
“And what was he spying about?”
Her friend’s brows rose high. “About the king, of course. Graham is a traitor!”
Graham? So he was a spy? The chances of him being with the Disruptor were minimal now. If he was in the dungeon then he wouldn’t be able to save Torr, unless he was released for some reason, or escaped. A Disruptor could easily transport Graham to anywhere at any time.
Her stomach growled. “Is it not time for the midday meal? I think I could eat an entire salmon.”
Nessa grinned. “I don’t think we have any salmon, but last I saw, we had a good deal of eel.”
“Wonderful.” She swallowed hard against her rising bile, having tried to eat the eel the day before. Bread and cheese sounded good to her about now.
Once they secured the wash, they strolled up to the castle. As they headed for the main entrance, Douglas approached them. “Diana, may I speak to ye?”
Not her first choice, but she nodded. “Of course.” She unhooked her arm from Nessa’s. “I’ll be right inside.”
Once the others had entered, Douglas motioned for her to step around the corner, out of sight of the open doors to the Great Hall, but still within sight of the stables.
She stopped, not comfortable with going any farther. Besides, she was hungry. “What did you want me for, Douglas?”
He grabbed her about the waist and pulled her against him. “I want ye for a kiss, lass. Surely, ye have noticed I like ye.”
She had her hands braced against his chest, which didn’t give her much leverage. “Yes, I have noticed, but as I told you before. I don’t want a man right now. I’m still grieving.”
“It didn’t look that way in the yard last night?”
She gasped. He must have been the guard who had spotted her and Torr. “That was not my choice.”
He gave her a long look. “Don’t grieve too long, Diana. We are at war, and life can be cut short.”
There was something in his words that caught her attention. She looked into his gray eyes. Loneliness resided there. Loneliness and a deep tiredness. “I know. These are troubling times. My parents…” She dropped her gaze and let her voice trail off.
The man gave a great sigh and loosened his hold. “Ye best go in for the meal.”
She stepped back. “Thank you for understanding.”
He didn’t respond, simply turned on his heel and rejoined his companions.
As she walked into the Great Hall, the encounter with Douglas continued to bother her. She had thought he might be working with a Disruptor, but what she read in his gaze was that he’d seen too much death and wanted more from life. If he wasn’t with the Disruptor, then who? Ian? Maybe that was why he chafed at Fergus’s constant vigil?
A hand latched onto her arm. “Diana.”
Startled, she stopped. She’d almost walked into the laird’s brother. “Oh, Kerr. I’m sorry.”
He let her go and studied her. “Are ye thinking about me brother?”
“Who? Oh, Torr. No. Actually, my thoughts were on Ian and Fergus. Did Fergus know Ian before he arrived here?”
Kerr looked at her strangely. “I don’t know. Why?”
Oh, Shakespeare, now she had Kerr seeing spies. She shrugged, trying to make it look like a casual question. “I just wondered because Ian seems to resent Fergus’s guardianship.”
“Ach, I don’t think that be much of a problem anymore. Besides, Fergus is not here and Ian is just fine.”
She scanned the room. Fergus wasn’t there? She opened her mouth to ask, but Kerr put his finger on her lips. “Nay, do not ask. I do not wish to lie, and I canna tell ye.”
She smiled, and he removed his finger.
“Does it have something to do with the spy who was caught?”
Kerr threw his hands up in overstated exaggeration. “Ach, are there no secrets in Gealach? It makes me wonder how anyone could attempt to spy in this clan.” He chuckled.
“Maybe that’s why he was caught.”
Kerr nodded. “True. But I’d best not talk more about it because it appears my brother would rather remove me head from me shoulders.”
She looked across the room to find Torr was indeed glowering at them. Now what had she done? She shook her head in frustration. His mood shifts were too fast and confusing. They knotted up her stomach and tangled her thoughts. She would never understand that man. “I’d best have my meal before there’s none left. Thank you for catching my attention.”
“Always happy to aid a lass in distress.”
She returned his smile before sweeping up her leine and striding to the table where Nessa sat. The frowning laird at the head table would not ruin her day. She had more important puzzles to ponder than what she had done to bother Torr. She had a Disruptor to find.
As she ate, she couldn’t help surreptitiously watching the laird. Everything about the man was huge. His muscles. His loyalty. His heart.
He called over a young woman she’d seen on the weaving looms. Her name was Hetty or Harriet or some such thing. The two had a brief conversation as the woman laid her hand on Torr’s arm. Obviously, his lust was huge as well. If she didn’t miss her guess, Torr just asked the woman to his room for the night.
Good
. That is what he should do. That was how history was supposed to flow. But despite her absolute conviction all was as it should be, the constriction in her chest added to the blow to her pride that he had so easily given up pursuing her.
…
Torr frowned at the square hole in the floor. “Ye’ve one more chance to tell me who sent ye.”
Graham remained silent.
Kerr, standing on the opposite side of the hole, shook his head in frustration.
For all Graham’s awkwardness, he proved to be stubborn. That, or he hoped his silence would keep him alive, a theory Torr would agree with if he were in similar circumstances. “Very well. Enjoy yer own company.” He motioned to Braigh, who replaced the bars over the hole. “Nothing but water for the next two days unless he requests to speak to me.”
Braigh nodded.
As he exited the lower turret, Kerr followed him up the stairs to the Great Hall. “Do ye think two days will be soon enough?”
“I don’t know. I’m hoping his belly calls me earlier or he gets tired of the rats.”
His brother grinned as they stepped to the high table. “I’ll wager it will be his belly. Rats like to stay together.”
The two had just started on a mug of ale when Fergus entered. His leine and brat bore much mud and his face showed weariness, but his broad smile announced his news before he did. “Robert is but an hour behind me.”
Torr stood and slapped him on the back. “Good! We will celebrate the king’s return. Kerr, let Beth know we need more food for the table.”
“Aye.” Kerr swiftly headed for the kitchens. “Beth!”
“Fergus. Ye smell like a bog, man. Go to the baths and find yerself a clean leine. The lasses washed them today.”
“Aye, laird.”
He smiled at his faithful clansman before he strode outside to the wall-walk. Despite the watch already stationed there, he scanned the north wood for signs of movement. He would feel more settled once the king was safely behind his walls once again. As he searched for any sign, a flash caught his peripheral vision. Scanning the trees to the east of the castle, he waited.
“Laird.” Evan approached from his post on the northeast corner. “There is someone in the east wood.”
“Aye, I saw it, too. But is it enemy or friend? A single man or many?”
The two examined the tree line. The small flash occurred again. He growled. “That is the sun’s reflection off a drawn weapon!”
Within seconds he’d made the yard and strode toward the stables. “Men! Mount up! Enemies in the east wood!”
Running into the stables, he threw reins over Ceo and jumped upon the tan destrier’s back. His people knew what to do, and the carts from the village were cleared before he reached the gate.
Chapter Seven
As Torr pounded across the field for the forest, the sound of horses’ hooves shaking the ground told him his men were close behind.
The enemy gave up their silent watch and rode through the trees, out onto the field, a poor strategic decision. He charged the leader, yelling for added effect, and threw his weight into an upward swing of his claymore.
Though the man’s sword blocked him from harm, he lost his balance and fell from his horse.
Torr spun Ceo around. There were but four enemies mounted, with others on foot, so he jumped from his horse to finish his attack.
The leader scrambled to his feet.
He studied the blond, beardless man. He’d not seen him before and from his dress, he was far from home, most likely from south of the Firth of Forth in the Lowlands. Damn, had the king’s enemies tracked him this far?
Though the clang of swords rent the evening air, he focused on his man, bringing his claymore to the front. The enemy ran at him. “Hamiltons! Through!”
He braced at the sound of his enemy’s war call. Their swords met. The man had skill, but not strength. Keeping the Hamilton on the defensive, he glanced at Kerr to his right, easily handling his adversary. They had trained together for years and he accepted they were nearly equals in battle, but he still worried.
The Hamilton tried a sharp under swing, but he slammed it down, noting the man’s heavy breaths.
As the Hamilton lifted his claymore, sweat ran along his hairline.
It was time to end this. He could allow no one to spread the news the king was near, and if he judged the gloaming correctly, he expected Robert to emerge from the north wood at any moment.
Going on the offensive, he battered the man before him until the Hamilton could barely lift his sword. As the man backed toward the forest, a warning shout rang out.
The pounding of hooves shook the earth as the king’s forces burst from the north trees and headed straight for them, but before the last man had cleared the forest, the Hamiltons turned for the woods.
Kerr snarled. “Cowards! Come back and fight like men!”
He touched his brother on the shoulder and shook his head. “Nay. Let them leave. I do not want them to know who has come to aid us.” He glanced at Evan and Ian, nodding once. His men immediately set to yelling and chased the Hamiltons, further ensuring they would continue their flight.
Robert came to a halt next to him.
He reached up to hold the bridle of his king’s horse. “It is good to see ye again, my liege.”
“It did not take much to scare your enemy away.”
“They were of the Hamilton clan. Luckily, they did not see who ye were.” He let go of the horse, walked to where Ceo patiently waited, and mounted.
Robert let out a low whistle. “This far north? That means Edward grows desperate. He would like nothing better than to have my head.”
That was his thought as well. He turned Ceo toward the castle and the king’s men fell into step.
Robert rode beside him, deep in thought. Finally, he spoke. “Did you find the traitor?”
“Aye, he is in the pit.”
“Who was it?”
He didn’t miss the tension emanating from Robert. The man had been betrayed so many times, it was a surprise he could still trust anyone. “Graham.”
The king nodded once. “And which clan did he hope to betray me to?”
“That is unclear as yet. But we should know in a few days. The runner was killed and buried, and there was no one else here who helped Graham.” He thought of Diana and his hands tightened on the reins. “At least none I am sure of. It is safe for now.”
“Good. I need a hearty meal and a warm bed.”
He clapped Robert on the shoulder. “That you shall have.”
As they entered the yard, the gloaming held long as it was wont to do in summer, and they made short work of stabling the horses. Once in the Great Hall, he breathed in the smell of roasted pig and grabbed a tankard of ale from Beth as she walked by. Robert joined him at the high table, food was brought, and a victorious mood filled the hall.
The men talked of the Hamiltons’ attempt and shared stories with the king’s men, but Robert himself was quiet, his high brow furrowed.
“Something holds my king’s mind tonight?”
Robert started from his reverie. “Aye. My wife.”
He stilled. There was nothing he could say that would ease Robert’s mind on that topic. The lovely Elizabeth was held prisoner by King Edward, just as his own brother was, but the hope, though feeble, was Elizabeth’s prison was less brutal than Carrnach’s, if he still lived.
Without thought, his gaze found Diana. She brought food to a table of men. Douglas’s gaze fastened on her until Ian elbowed him in the ribs.
He gripped his tankard hard. What if the true reason Douglas had joined his clan was to find a wife? That might be a proposition Diana would be interested in. The image of her with another made his arm itch to strike the man down, yet his doubts about her were just as strong.
When she sat with the women, she looked up and their gazes locked.
Though he couldn’t see the color of her eyes, he could imagine them, as bright as the south
field. But as her gaze moved off him, it stopped for a moment before she returned her focus to her meal. He looked to his right to see Helen approaching. The lass was a comely widow who had agreed to share his bed tonight. Her lithe figure was smaller than Diana and her brown hair much darker. She stopped next to him, her doe-like eyes revealing her interest. “Ye wanted me this night?”
“Aye, I do.” He put his hand around her waist and pulled her to him.
Robert raised his tankard. “A lovely lass this is. Who may she be?”
“This is Helen. She is one of our weavers.”
The king drank, but did not look at the woman with any interest. He shifted his gaze to Torr. “I know you have plans this evening, but I wish to have your time as well.”
He nodded. “Of course. Helen, when ye are ready, go to my room. I will be there when I can.”
She nodded demurely and walked to her seat at the women’s table. He watched as she sat at the end, the women closest to her talking excitedly. But at the table’s other end, the conversation appeared much more serious, Diana obviously oblivious to his plans for the night. Though why he cared baffled him. He had more important problems to solve than the uniqueness of one possibly traitorous lass.
It was a long conversation with Robert in his room. One that had Torr concerned about his king’s flagging spirits. He strode to his own chambers and quietly opened the door. Helen was in the chair by the cold fireplace, asleep. She was a lovely woman who enjoyed his attentions. In her thin leine, her pert breasts were easily discernible and her trim ankles peeked from below the hem, a hint of the thin legs curled up under the material.
He stared his fill, waiting for his body to react, for lust to fill him, but nothing happened. He touched her long silky hair, remembering it playing across his chest but a fortnight ago. Still, he had no urge to wake her. He had no need.
Shaking his head at that oddity, he strolled to the bed. The smell of freshly washed wool penetrated his senses and the need to take off his clothes grew strong. To be naked on the clean woolens with Diana, her pale, light hair splayed across his pillow, her plump breasts bare and… He looked down at his leine. His need had finally awakened. Turning back to Helen, he found it waning again.