by Jackie Ivie
Dallis and Annalise dropped the hand-hold at the same instant.
“Mistress Annalise? Your troubadour awaits.” He moved sideways, allowing the girl off the dais, and then went back to blocking Dallis.
“Why…can’t I go?” she asked.
He gestured with his head to the crowd beyond them. “He needs you. Which means I need you.”
“He does na’,” Dallis replied, but there was a doubtful note in the words he couldn’t miss.
“Now, more than a-fore.”
“Why?”
He held out his hand to her and assisted her back up to the stool, but he didn’t reseat her. He untied the pillow-form they’d given her, and set it behind the stool, showing the hard surface.
“Well?” Dallis prompted, when he just stood there, looking at her.
“Look about. What do you see?”
“I doona’ wish to play this game with you. Just tell me why and have done.”
He sighed. “’Tis better if you see it, than if I tell it.”
Dallis lifted her chin to peer up at him. “You speak with riddles. I doona’ appreciate it.”
“I know. Neither does he,” he replied, with a grin. “So tell me. Look about. What do you see?”
“Richness. Wealth. On display for all to note. Serfs, freemen and freewomen, and housecarls. And women. All kinds of women. All in one place. All waiting about patiently for the man that woman is clinging to.”
He grunted. “Stand,” he told her.
“There?” She motioned to the stool.
“Aye. There.”
He held out his hand and kept holding to her after she stepped up onto the stool.
“Now. Look out again. Describe what you see again.”
Dallis sighed heavily. Looked heavenward for a moment and then brought her head back down. “Why?” she asked.
“You are verra stubborn,” he said.
“And you are verra dense.”
“Humor a poor dense man, then. One who will be needing such bits of charity in the future…the verra near future.”
“I thought you left me,” she replied.
“For a moment. I returned.”
“You left me alone.”
“I was protecting Payton.”
“By assisting that woman down the steps and kissing her hand?”
He flushed. “You saw that?” he asked.
“As did everyone.”
He nodded. “Good. ’Twas na’ in vain, then.”
“It…wasn’t?”
“The woman needed a reminder. I gave her one.”
“A reminder of what?”
“That there are other men—I doona’ wish to continue these words.”
“What do you wish to continue, then?” she asked.
“I need you to tell me what you see.”
Dallis scanned the room. From the additional height she could see Payton. Easily. He was surrounded. She could pick out the heads of some of his Honor Guard about him. She could see the widow from the pearls reflecting from her head, and her proximity to Payton.
And then he turned toward the dais as if searching, locked eyes with her from far enough away she knew she was imagining it, and smiled before turning away. Dallis gasped, her knees trembled atop the stool, and if Redmond hadn’t tightened his hand, she might have fallen.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Payton.”
He nodded.
“Go on.”
“With what?”
“Describe what you see. As if I were blind and unable to view it myself.”
“This is foolish.”
“Trust me. All will be clear. Just tell me what you see.”
Dallis pulled in a breath. “The great hall at this castle is large. Huge. Probably has a lonesome echo when empty.”
He smirked.
“They have two fireplaces, one at each end. They can burn whole trees in those fireplaces. They have windows…high on the walls, but they’re small. And slitted, although it appears there are leaded panes in them.”
He nodded.
“The entire room is built of stone. From the archway width, it looks thicker than Payton is tall. They have little in decoration, though, and the walls could benefit from tapestries or other covering. ’Tis unfriendly having to look at all this stone.”
“They have nae decor on the walls?”
“I dinna’ say that,” Dallis replied. “They have a great big, hammered silver shield, too large to be wielded except by a giant of legend. ’Tis mounted on the wall behind the dais. They have streamers of cloth attached to this shield, and this cloth unfurls, making a draping of sorts, until it is attached against the wall. I see it attaches where they need to lower and raise their chandeliers. What an intriguing design. That must save on dusting and such.”
He smiled again.
“What about the floor?” he asked.
“A floor is a floor. Like any other. This one is so packed with boots and such, that ’tis difficult to tell….” Her voice trailed off as Payton swiveled his head again, searching for her, finding her, locking gazes with her again, and then he smiled. Again.
Dallis gasped, felt the stool tremble beneath her and had to consciously lock her knees to keep standing.
“What is it?” Redmond asked from a position at her shoulder. He was still sideways to the room in front of them.
“’Tis Payton,” she whispered. “Again.”
“What does he do?”
“I swear he looks for me. Sees me. And returns to those about him.”
Redmond nodded.
“What else do you see?”
“Payton,” she replied, and didn’t even care that her voice got dreamy and soft on the name.
“What is…Payton doing?” Redmond said it with his usual nonemotional voice, but there was the slightest waver of amusement in the midst of it.
“I doona’ ken. Greeting those in the crowd. I canna’ tell from here. Why?”
“Another reminder,” he replied.
“Of what?” Dallis asked, and this time it was in a sour tone.
“What truly matters in this world.” Now his voice had gotten lower, and carried such emotion it trembled.
Dallis turned from looking at the room and stared at him. Redmond cleared his throat. “Forgive me,” he said.
“I doona’ understand,” Dallis said.
“Look about you,” he commanded. “Look about and tell me how much of this is real and has value.”
“’Tis all real. And verra valuable,” she replied. Now, she was getting cross. It sounded in her voice.
“Look out into the room and tell me what’s real enough to touch.”
“Nae,” she answered.
“Why not?” He was getting just as cross. That was amusing.
There was a murmur of sound growing in the room about them, and Dallis turned her head to see why. It was Payton. He was carving a path through the humanity about him, directly to her, putting him close enough she could see him easily. It wasn’t a popular move if the crowd noise was any indicator. When she looked at him he stopped, lifted his eyebrows and waited.
Dallis smiled, blushed severely as everyone had to note what he’d done, and then Payton nodded and turned back. She watched him shake hands, nod constantly, draw his sword and pose with it before sheathing it again, and bend down to whisper something to a shrouded woman, heavy with child.
“What did you want to know?” she asked Redmond.
“’Tis na’ important now,” he replied.
Dallis wrinkled her forehead and turned to him again. “Why na’?”
“Because you already have the answer. So does he. I only hope you both realize it.”
“What does that mean?”
“It will come to you. Trust me. Now, look. He’ll be searching for you again. Trust me on that, as well.”
“’Tis odd that he does that.”
Redmond was grinning now. And then he nodded. “He lacks con
trol. I told him of it. This is more proof.”
“He looks for me because he lacks control?”
“With that woman attached to him, you need ask?”
Dallis considered that, with her head tipped to one side. And then Payton turned his head again. She nearly waved and felt a flush of pleasure clear through her before he turned away.
“Is it this way every time?” she asked.
Redmond didn’t answer, so she turned her head to him. “Well?”
“There are too many answers to that. What way?”
“The crowd. This movement among them. The adulation they seem to smother him with.”
“The crowd is a spawn of nature. ’Tis there sometimes, and sometimes na’. The way he moves among such a crowd is Payton. He has ever been so. He kens they waited for him, so he gives them his time in repayment. The adulation? Well…’tis na’ so much at Edinburgh. The king holds court there. He would frown on such idolatry and probably seek retribution. Unless ’tis directed to himself. Payton knows this. As do we.”
“We?”
“We’re his Honor Guard. We deflect attention toward the king. ’Tis nae easy task, I assure you.”
“Mayhap we should na’ journey there, then. Dunn-Fadden may have gained control of Payton’s castle, making it moot for us to go to the king.”
“We have na’ enough men to reach the keep safely. We have nae choice now. We go to Edinburgh. And then we return to his castle. With masons to rebuild what needs rebuilding. Unlike a-fore.”
Dallis colored. “I had my reasons,” she informed him.
He nodded. “Dinna’ we all,” he replied.
Payton was turning toward her again, swiveling at the waist to look over his shoulder, and Dallis connected with him and nodded. He returned to his followers, and she returned to waiting.
“How long must we await him?” she asked.
“Hours,” came the reply.
“Hours? I canna’ stand for hours,” Dallis informed him.
“’Twill na’ go to midnight,” Redmond advised her. “She’ll end it.”
“How do you ken?”
“Trust me,” he said again.
The oddest, faintest tingle of sensation spawned from her womb and she placed her free hand on it in wonder and shock.
“It moved! Sweet heaven…the bairn moved!”
She lifted her head toward Payton and met his gaze over the top of the crowd. As if she’d called to him and he’d heard. And that’s when he tilted his head back, brushing the small of his back with his queue, and bellowed out the most joy-filled sound.
Dallis had been right, too. The great hall echoed.
Chapter 15
“Edwin? See to the chamber.”
Dallis stirred from the comfortable spot in Payton’s arms at the sound of his voice through his throat. It had to be close to midnight now. Payton seemed to wait for that event before coming back to the table where Dallis sat. She’d long since given up standing on the stool, and had moved to the comfortable chair he’d gotten to use. That’s where he’d lifted her from, and she hadn’t demurred one bit.
“Seth-the-Silent. Alone. Awake,” Edwin came into the hall to report, shutting the door behind him. “He was only disturbed twice. By the daughters. Marion and Elyse. Or so, he says. Here. You ask him.” The last came as Seth left the chamber behind him, shutting the door as he did so.
“Jesu’, Mary, and Joseph. ’Tis worse than a-fore!” Payton swore.
“Why…was Seth in Payton’s bedchamber?” Dallis lifted her head to ask it. None of them met her eye, Payton included. And she looked to each one.
Edwin cleared his throat. “The Widow Meryck serves mead that is too strong. Her daughters need a father’s hand with directions. That’s what ’tis.”
“You should na’ try to be Redmond. You lack his way of speaking.” That was Martin. He chuckled when he finished.
“Well, mayhap MacCloud should be here to assist with this. Then, I would na’ have to take his lead.” That was Edwin again.
“Well, doona’ look to me. I dinna’ see him leave.”
“He has pressing business, lads. Pressing.” Payton informed them.
“What could be so pressing at this hour—?” Edwin stopped his words and his eyes opened wider.
“We have our own pressing matters, lads. We’ve sleep to gain. And escape to plan. Early. First light.”
Dallis snuggled back against Payton’s throat. “Escape? Again?”
Payton nodded, rubbing skin against her nose with the motion. “We dare na’ give the widow another day. Or, her daughters. Why, if it weren’t vastly cold outside and the dead of the night, and if I’d na’ already lost a man this eve, I’d be for marching right to the stables and taking my leave now, Lady Dallis Dunn-Fadden. To do so would create more incident than MacCloud could contain, but that would be his problem, na’ mine.”
“That is na’ verra generous of you,” she told him. “Considering.”
“Considering…what?”
“Dismiss your men, and I’ll tell you,” she answered.
“One stays. As guard. Martin? Two hours on. Then relief.”
He nodded.
“You need a guard? Still?” she asked.
“The women doona’ sleep in this household, My Lady. That means we canna’, either.”
Martin answered her and then nodded at the look she couldn’t prevent. Dallis let the shock and disgust seep into her, and that’s what he saw.
“Have I told you yet that I hate this castle?” Payton asked, to no one in particular.
“Ceaselessly, My Laird,” came the reply. “Go. Rest. Both of you. We’ll na’ let anyone disturb you.”
Rest was not on Payton’s mind when he entered the chamber, setting her on her feet before he turned and dropped the bolt down. And then he moved to the adjoining door to her assigned bedchamber and slammed a bolt down on it as well. She giggled when he went to the slit of a window, before shaking his head. He’d obviously decided it wasn’t wide enough to allow entry.
“What?” he asked, when he heard her.
“You. And this…this.” She couldn’t define or describe it, so she let her voice trail off.
“Safety measures?” he asked.
She giggled again.
“What is so blasted amusing?”
“You. And this…. You ken. This.”
“This…what?”
“This lust that the lasses have for you. That.”
“Well, you saw it! You heard.”
Dallis put a hand over her mouth to stifle the amusement that time. “You fostered it, though. Worked at it. Created it. And now you seek to deny it?”
“I dinna’ make one of those lasses lust for me. Na’ one!”
Dallis replied with a huff through her open lips, making it a low sound. It was doubt and disavowal, and she hoped he recognized it as such.
“You saying that I want lasses lusting for me?”
“I’ve na’ said a word,” Dallis replied.
“You’re saying more than a word. You’re arguing with me.”
“Give me your wrist band.” She commanded him.
He pulled back slightly and stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because these lasses are lusting for a reason, withal this argument. I’ve a desire to ken why. Now, hand over the band.”
He made a move as if to pull one of his silver bands off. Then stopped. “What will I get if I do?” he asked.
Dallis pursed her lips, rocked slightly as if considering, and then tilted her head. “What do you want?”
“Your headdress.”
“For one band? I think you overestimate your charm.”
He grinned at that, and toyed with the band, rotating it so the firelight could flicker all about it. “How about both of them?” he asked.
“And the sporran.”
“For a headdress? This is too much. Add more.”
“The headdress has a veiling. Th
at is included.”
“Will you also unbind your hair?”
“Why?’
“Because I love the color…and I want it caressing me…swirling about me. Like a cloud.”
His voice lowered nearly a full octave and her heart made the same move.
“Who said anything about caresses?” she asked in an argumentative tone.
“You wish to see what they lust after…or na’?” he asked.
Dallis considered that for a moment, and then lifted her hands to the strap at the back of her scalp that secured the headdress. It wasn’t an easy matter to remove it, because of the wool strips she’d fastened it with. That kept her occupied, and away from any view of what he was doing.
Or not doing.
One of the silver bands rolled across the floor near her feet and Dallis squealed before looking over at where he’d crouched in order to launch it.
“You take too long,” he informed her. And then pitched the other band.
Her fingers fumbled more than they worked as she watched him stand, pulling at the back fastening of his sporran belt, before lowering it to his knee level with a sinuous movement, and then dropping it with a thud on the floor. By then she had her veiling unlatched, slid it from her braid with as sensuous a motion as she knew how, and stood across from him, wrapping it about her hand.
“The braid?” he reminded her, and put his hand up as if to emphasize his point.
Dallis pulled it over her shoulder and started working at it, pulling each lock as straight as she could before she had it completed. She hadn’t been successful at keeping the waving from it, for ripples of orange-brown mist looked like it en-wrapped her.
Payton responded with a guttural noise and then he was leaning a bit onto a table for support, and looking to bend the structure if the way his arms flexed was any indication.
“What…is it?”
“Fortification,” he replied.
“You need fortification against one wench? When thousands lust for you? You are a weak man, Payton Dunn-Fadden. Weak.”
That straightened him. And angered him. And made everything on him look tense and male. Totally male. Dallis had to part her lips to let the sigh out.
“I doona’ have to take such abuse, you ken,” he warned.