by Diana Cosby
Her gasp betrayed her vulnerability, her belief that if he drew her to him, they would indeed become lovers. His body hardened, and his blood pounded hot.
Bedamned. He burned to lay her down, strip her naked, and do what they both desired.
“When you try to leave,” he said through a wash of heat, “you will fail.”
Anger blazed in her eyes, but she was wise enough not to argue.
He gazed upon his home, which had been hewn from the rock with blood, sweat, and pride. Too many men had given their lives for him to risk Linet’s secret jeopardizing the freedom the rebels sought. He was unsure of the exact threat she presented, but instinct screamed that she was more than she appeared. Until he knew the truth, had squelched any threat she offered, she would stay beneath his protection.
Seathan nudged his mount forward and caught up with his brothers. A sense of rightness as well as pride infused him as he, along with Alexander and Duncan, rode up the causeway to Lochshire Castle.
“Lord Grey arrives!” a knight called in the distance.
Chains rattled, orders were called out, and the thick wooden drawbridge groaned as it was lowered to settle upon the earth.
Home.
Seathan inhaled. A sense of nostalgia filled him as memories of his youth overwhelmed him, of the day he was knighted by his father.
Warmth rippled upon his chest.
A smile curved his mouth as he touched the halved moss agate pendant hanging there, a gift presented after his knighting from his grandmother. A woman who’d long since passed away, but a woman he still loved.
Linet moved in the saddle before him, and the warmth of his memories fell away. He made another vow—she would change nothing. Long before fall, he would know the secrets she held, have delivered her to the Highlands, and she would be gone from his life. He kicked his mount forward.
Hooves thrummed against the weathered wood of the drawbridge as he and his brothers cantered over. The shadows of the gatehouse enveloped them, the cool darkness at odds with the burst of light as they rode into the bailey, his knights crowding within the grassy expanse to greet him.
“My lord,” his master-at-arms called. His expression sobered as he took in Seathan’s bedraggled state. “You are wounded?”
“Aye.” Alexander dismounted. “Call for the healer. Have her sent to my brother’s chamber.”
“Aye, Sir Alexander.” The master-at-arms turned and hurried back through the crowd.
Linet shifted, and he caught the paleness of her face, and the worry within her gaze. “You will not be harmed.”
Her stomach churning with doubts, Linet was far from convinced.
“You saved my life,” he said. “For that you will be lauded.”
“So you say.” On edge, she studied the throng of people, strangers who regarded her with open curiosity, loyal followers who would believe what their lord said. She believed Seathan would not lie. At least she had that.
“Alexander!”
At the woman’s lyrical voice, dread swept through Linet.
As if in slow motion, the people gathered within the courtyard fell back, carving a pathway within the crowd.
No one appeared. Relief swept through her.
A glimmer of auburn hair filtered through the crowd.
Linet stilled.
A second passed.
Another.
The blur of a woman came into view.
Grew clear.
Sweet Mary! She didn’t need to see the woman’s eyes to know their color—gray. Her laughter, her intelligence, and sharp wit—traits Linet had always admired.
She had to get out of here before she was recognized!
“Do you know her?” Seathan asked.
Linet froze. In her panic, she’d forgotten a crucial fact. She sat before Seathan, a warrior who missed nothing.
The auburn-haired woman broke from the crowd. She turned toward Seathan, and a smile burst upon her face. Then, the woman’s gaze landed upon Linet. The auburn-haired woman grew still. A frown wove across her brow.
Linet didn’t move.
Only prayed that somehow, Lady Nichola Westcott, the Englishwoman she’d met at King Edward’s court, wouldn’t recognize her.
Chapter 8
Time stood still. Linet braced for the damning moment of recognition, for surprise to widen Lady Nichola’s eyes. And for the woman whose brother was King Edward I’s Scottish advisor to greet her.
Instead, like a blessing, Nichola continued to stare at her, perplexed.
Duncan stepped to Alexander’s side, breaking the woman’s line of sight, allowing Linet a brief reprieve. After a quick glance around the bailey, then a frown, Duncan nodded to Alexander. “See to your wife. I will aid Seathan.”
Seathan shot his youngest brother a hard look. “I need no aid.”
Linet ignored the brothers’ interchange. This noblewoman whose brother held a high political office, and ties to King Edward, was Alexander’s wife? That would explain the Englishwoman’s presence in Scotland, but not how a lady of her stature had come to meet, much less marry, an enemy of England.
In stunned silence, she watched as Alexander strode to Nichola, caught her in his arms, and hauled her flush against him. Before the knights gathered in the bailey, the men standing guard upon the wall walk, he drew her into an intimate and wholly possessive kiss.
Heat swept Linet’s cheeks at the bold display, but a part of her envied that a revered warrior would dare show such strong affection before his men. Never could she envision Fulke allowing any woman such importance in his life. But she found nothing weak in Alexander’s passion, or his obvious love for his wife. If anything, she lauded his confidence as a man to dare a blatant show of affection.
“Down with you now.” Duncan set his hands upon her waist and lifted Linet from her mount.
On the ground, she glanced up toward Seathan and stilled. His face had turned ashen. His eyes, though steady upon her, darkened with pain.
“Seathan!” She caught his hand, her worries about Nichola falling away.
His mouth tightened. Seathan withdrew his hand from her touch, nodded to Duncan without turning toward her. “Take the lass inside,” he ordered, his burr rich.
Anger flared. The pig-headed fool. “You need—”
“Nothing.” He nodded to Duncan. “Go.” Seathan’s command severed further argument.
Duncan shot a worried frown toward his brother, then gently clasped her arm. “Come. ’Tis for the best.”
Linet hesitated. “He needs help.”
As if to prove her claim false, Seathan swung to the ground, his grip tight on his mount, his feet steady upon landing, but she caught the slightest tremor of his body.
“Tell me,” she hissed, anger coating her words, “will you appear so powerful if you fall flat on your arse?”
Seathan shot Duncan a hard look.
“Come, lass.” Duncan gently drew her away.
Frustrated, she glared one last time at Seathan as his youngest brother led her away. At their approach, people stepped aside to let them pass, but she didn’t miss their curious looks.
Nichola? Where was she?
Nerves prickling over her skin, Linet scanned the crowd for the Englishwoman. Relief swept through her as she recognized no one. Thank God, Alexander must have taken her to the keep.
Unable to catch a glimpse of Lord Grey through the crowd, Linet turned her attention to Duncan. “Seathan is barely able to stand on his own,” she said in a quiet voice.
“He is,” Duncan agreed, “but once in his chamber, he will be well cared for. He will allow it to be no other way.” They walked several steps through the throng of people. “Do not judge a man you know little of.”
“I may not know him,” Linet said, “but I understand too well the actions of power-driven men.”
Intrigue sparked in his eyes as he glanced over. “You misread my brother’s motive.”
“Do I? Does he not wish for everyone to s
ee his strength?”
With a noncommittal sigh, Duncan urged her forward. “Come, my lady. There will be time enough for questions later. And,” he said with a smile, “time to get to know better a woman whom my brother finds a challenge.”
“I am not—”
“Duncan?”
Nichola! She’d thought Alexander had taken his wife inside!
With a twinkle in his eyes, Duncan drew them to a halt, turned toward Nichola, ignorant of Linet’s panic. He lifted the Englishwoman’s hand, gave a courtly bow. “Nichola, I have missed the warmth of your smile and the light in your eyes.”
The Englishwoman laughed. “You have missed naught but your wife.”
Dimples deepened in his face. “Aye, ’tis true.” He glanced around, frowned. “Where is she?”
“Out with several women picking herbs,” Nichola replied. “She should return before long.”
“I will be sure to greet her properly upon her return,” Duncan said.
Nichola’s lips twitched. “Of that I have no doubt.” She turned to Linet. “Excuse my brother-in-law, his desire to charm often outweighs propriety. We have yet to be introduced.”
Nichola didn’t remember her? Unsure how to respond, Linet chose silence.
Nichola laid her hand upon Linet’s forearm. “Forgive me, I did not mean to embarrass you.”
“I am sure her lack of response is due to the lass being shy,” Duncan replied, his voice dry.
Curiosity flickered on Nichola’s face as she cast a speculative look from Duncan to Linet, then removed her hand.
“Lady Linet,” Duncan said, “meet my brother, Alexander’s wife, Lady Nichola.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Nichola,” Linet said, praying with all her might that the Englishwoman would not remember her.
Nichola hesitated, frowned. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
Sweat trickled down Linet’s neck. “You are English, are you not?”
A knowing smile touched Nichola’s mouth. “You mean, how did I come to wed a Scot and live in a rebel stronghold?”
Heat stroked Linet’s cheeks, but the other woman waved her hand in dismissal.
“It is a common enough question.” Nichola smiled. “And a story I will tell you once you are settled. That is, if you are interested to hear.”
“Yes, please,” Linet replied. Not that she planned to be around that long.
“Lady Linet saved Seathan’s life,” Duncan interjected.
The lightness of moments before fell away. Nichola glanced at Seathan, who slowly made his way toward the keep, then turned to Duncan. “How was he wounded?”
“Wounded nay,” Duncan spat. “Tortured.”
Nichola’s face paled. “By whom?”
Duncan’s jaw tightened. “The Viscount of Tearlach.”
“May the scoundrel rot in Hades.” Nichola paused, met Linet’s gaze, her gaze unwavering. “My words are harsh, but I will not ask for forgiveness. Seathan is like a brother to me. If within my power, none will harm him or those I love.”
Linet swallowed hard, the woman’s warning loud and clear. She would not be foolish enough to incite her anger. The Englishwoman was indeed a good match for Alexander.
“Nor will I,” Linet agreed.
Nichola’s face softened. “Then it seems we will get along fine.” She shook her head, a smile touching her mouth. “Look at me. You have just arrived and here I keep you outside when you are tired and dusty from travel, and with the coolness of this spring day, no doubt cold. Once you are bathed and rested, we will talk more. For now, I thank God for your actions. We owe you much.”
Linet shook her head. “Nay, you owe me—”
“Come,” Nichola said, trampling her words. “I will take you to a chamber so you may rest.” She turned toward the keep.
Duncan lifted a brow, leaned close to Linet’s ear. “It seems you have made a friend.”
If only that were true. Linet would savor having a confidante, someone to turn to, to reveal her deepest fears. With Fulke as her brother, that would never be Nichola, or anyone within this castle.
“And how is the lad?” Duncan asked as they walked, pride filling his voice.
A sheen of pure joy swept over Nichola. She smiled. “I nursed Hughe but a short while before you arrived. Now, he is fast asleep, and you will not be waking him.”
Duncan laid his hand upon his chest. “I am wounded by the charge.”
Nichola laughed, smiled at Linet. “If I let him, Duncan would be sweeping the lad from his nap in a trice.”
“How could I not, Hughe being my first nephew. He has the devil’s black hair like his father, but is blessed with his mother’s charming smile and disposition.” He winked at Nichola. “Besides, ’tis my right to spoil the babe.”
Their easy banter left an ache within Linet’s soul. To hold a child of the man you loved. Until this moment she’d not entertained the notion, but Nichola’s marriage to a rebel was proof that differences could be set aside, and against overwhelming odds, love could be found.
“Duncan!” a woman’s lyrical voice called from behind them as they reached the keep’s door.
A bold smile lit his face. He whirled.
Intrigued, Linet turned toward the gatehouse. Inside the stone entry stood a beautiful young woman. Whiskey-colored hair framed a face smudged by dirt. A thick cloak shielded the woman from the early spring chill. Herbs overflowed from a wicker basket on her arm, and her smile glowed with love.
“I will take Lady Linet to her chamber,” Nichola told him.
Duncan hesitated.
“’Twould be unseemly for a man not to greet his wife properly upon his return,” Nichola teased.
“Aye, it would,” Duncan replied. “Rest assured, you will be well cared for. Nichola, make sure she is given a special chamber befitting a woman who saved Seathan’s life.”
Nichola hesitated, frowned. “Special?”
“The chamber within the tower.” Duncan gave Nichola a wink. “Off with me now.” With an eager expression, Duncan gave a half bow then sprinted to his wife.
Linet’s heart ached. To be loved by a man so would be wondrous.
“They are truly in love.”
She glanced at Nichola, saw curiosity as the Englishwoman waited for her response. “They are,” she replied. It was too easy to become lost in emotions, in wishes that for now were out of her realm.
Easy and dangerous.
Had Nichola truly not remembered meeting her? Was her ignorance an act? No, she’d caught no flicker of deception. For now, thankfully, the woman recalled nothing.
“Come,” Nichola said, “you need rest, not idle talk.”
But the curious glance the noblewoman shot her suggested she wondered much about Linet’s circumstance, including why Seathan had brought her to Scotland.
With a prayer that Nichola’s lapse of memory would hold until after she’d left, Linet followed. She entered the keep behind the noblewoman, catching a glimpse of Duncan sweeping his wife in his arms and circling her around. Laughter boomed in his voice as he claimed her mouth in a fierce, loving kiss. Yes, though a rogue, like his brothers, he was a man who deeply loved.
As would Seathan if he ever overcame his distrust and gave a woman his heart.
In silence, she accompanied Nichola up the length of the spiral steps. Even within the vastness of Seathan’s castle, Linet felt warmth, a sense that the people here truly cared for each other. But even as the residents bade her welcome, her own deception left her feeling cold.
They ascended to the next level, continued up. After numerous steps, a single chamber came into view, its entry forged with fine craftsmanship and graced with an elegance never expected on such a remote floor.
Linet glanced at Nichola. “An unusual door.”
“It is.” The Englishwoman smiled. “It was made for an unusual woman. Duncan wanted you to have the best.” She drew the door open, but Linet didn’t miss the forged brackets impaled
within the carved oak panels, or the sturdy length of wood propped against the wall in the corner, ready to secure a prisoner if necessary.
“You will not be locked inside,” Nichola said with a smile. “After saving Seathan’s life, far from it.”
If they knew the truth, her visit within this room would be very different indeed. No, not this room, she would be cast in Seathan’s dungeon instead.
“Come, you are surely tired.” Nichola entered.
Linet followed in her wake. Though the door hinted at more than normal living quarters, she’d not expected the magnificence before her.
As if a wish granted, sunlight streamed through a single arched window, bathing the room within its iridescent glow. Flickers of dust danced playfully in the swathe of light as if conducted by an unseen hand.
Against the back wall lay a bed sheathed with an elegant, hand-stitched coverlet, its color an unusual blend of yellow and silver. Nearby, a small table sat adorned with an intricately carved bone comb, an ivory-framed mirror, and several fine pieces of jewelry. Upon the far wall hung a finely crafted tapestry bearing a forest scene, woven with images of fairies peeking through the breaks in the leaves.
Overwhelmed with the unexpected beauty, Linet looked up. And her breath caught. Painted upon the ceiling lay a sprinkle of fairies caught in a spritely dance.
Wait, the fairies…
She looked toward the tapestry and back up again. Intriguing. At first, she’d believed each of them to be unique. Now, she saw the creator had painted a duplicate of the images woven within the tapestry, except on the ceiling the fairies were revealed to the viewer in full, as if they’d flown from their shield of leaves to play.
“I was enchanted when I first entered the room as well,” Nichola said, her voice soft, as if to speak loudly would break a magic spell.
Linet met her gaze. A sense of bizarre belonging infused her, a rightness she’d never anticipated. “The chamber, paintings, everything…they are truly wondrous.”
“As was the woman who once lived here.”
“Who was she?”
The Englishwoman smiled. “The brothers’ grandmother. A woman they loved and who loved them very much in return. I never met her, but the stories they tell make me wish I had.”