Last night they were wild in their lovemaking, reveling in the ecstasy of coming together. Now she wanted Cairn with renewed passion, as if it had been months and not hours since they made love.
His lips were coming closer, descending a tantalizing inch at a time, but before they touched Cairn yelped and snatched his hand back as if he had been burned.
"There are spiders in your hair!"
She squealed and began furiously brushing herself off. Getting dirty was an unfortunate consequence of her clandestine activities, but she didn’t relish the thought of vermin crawling over her.
"Good afternoon," said a voice behind them.
Andreu suddenly appeared from the shadows, watching them with interest. For a moment he seemed like an unholy specter emerging from the gloom and she fought another scream. Though she managed a smile, her heart was hammering in her chest.
"Milords, are you searching for the treasure?" she asked, noticing the large bunch of keys hanging from Cairn’s belt.
Andreu shrugged.
"It seems like a popular activity."
"May I stay with you?" she asked in her best damsel-in-distress voice. "After the last scare the thought of returning alone is frightening."
"Of course," replied Cairn. "Would you like to go back now?"
"I am fine as long as I’m with you."
The look Cairn gave her in response turned her knees to jelly. If Andreu was not there Cairn would be kissing her—regardless of the spiders. He unlocked the large, wooden door. It opened grudgingly, hesitant to give up its dark secrets.
They stepped through the portal and she felt an immediate chill go up her spine. The room was inexplicably colder than the hallway, causing their breath to fog before their eyes. Cairn held his candle up to peer into the darkness and the flame made eerie hissing sounds as it came in contact with the cobwebs falling from the ceiling. Their flickering light illuminated what used to be the Old Lord’s bedchamber.
Cairn’s grandfather had an affinity for red, judging from the predominant color of the tapestries and blankets, which spread like a bloodstain across the bed. The light from their candles cast a rosy hue on the thick, dusty fur before the fireplace. Though it was too dark to be sure, she thought it might be arctic bear, perhaps a gift from their Norse relatives.
A young man she assumed was Cairn’s grandfather watched from a large tapestry that dominated an entire wall. In the background was a landscape of the McPherson castle and lands while dark clouds hovered in the sky above him. At his feet a strange child stood, peeking mischievously from behind his legs. It looked like an aged cherub with piercing black eyes and bright red hair that might also have been a cap.
"Is this Auvergne work?"
"Yes," replied Andreu. "Our families have been connected for years."
"And that must be his familiar."
Verena referred to the strange child by the Old Lord’s feet. She was surprised the tapestry hadn’t been taken down to protect it from the creatures that inhabited the Old Lord’s chambers. The rodents that destroyed the contents in the other rooms seemed to have a curious reverence for this chamber and left the Old Lord’s belongings untouched.
"I have no idea what that is."
"There is nothing here," said Andreu, brushing the cobwebs from his fingers in disgust.
She pursed her lips in thought. There was something here. She could feel it, but she couldn’t adequately search with Cairn and his brother hovering about.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cairn pause to gaze at the tapestry. The resemblance was eerie. Even Cairn seemed a bit nervous as he brought his fingers up to trace his face. Had he ever seen his grandfather’s picture?
Glancing down Verena noticed the eyes of the peculiar creature resting at the Old Lord’s feet seemed to be fixed on Cairn, studying him with a look that sparkled through the cloth. The tapestry was so life-like she half expected the thing to walk out of the portrait.
A heavy hand descended on her shoulder making Verena shriek and breaking the hypnotic moment.
"I am sorry," said Andreu, quickly removing his hand. "I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you ready to leave?"
She nodded, drawing a shaky breath. She was not looking forward to returning here alone, but she knew she must come back. There was something in this room that tugged at her mind. She had a hunch that something was hidden just out of sight waiting for her to discover it. If Owen didn’t appear soon with her tools, Verena would have to improvise on her next search.
Chapter 24
A memorial service was held the next day for Cairn’s lost comrades. Though Father Simon gave a beautiful sermon, the glaring absence of bodies cast an eerie pall over the ceremony. The families were robbed of the chance to properly bury their dead.
Verena scanned the crowd, mentally reviewing the many people she had met since coming to Scotland. There were so many odd things that warranted investigation. The crotchety old Thomas stood proudly in the cold air, crying silent tears for his lost grandson. This was a man that upheld the clan’s honor with conceit. He even refused to sell the valuable rug given to his father by the Old Lord. Despite its origins most would have sold Thomas’ rug if faced with hunger.
Father Simon’s easy camaraderie with the clan was also suspect. He was trustworthy and non-judgmental, the kind of man who invited secrets. Perhaps someone had told him of the treasure or asked him to hide it, but if so, why hadn’t he revealed that secret to his new laird?
Verena stood to one side of the cemetery with Cairn and his family wearing a luxurious fur-lined cloak that once belonged to Cairn’s mother. Standing next to Lady Ivone Verena felt like an invisible wall separated her from the rest of the clan. There were times she seemed so silly, gossiping about expensive treats her clan could ill afford. Yet other times she felt the woman’s gaze fastened on her in a calculating way. Were her mannerisms pretense? Surely if Ivone had the silver she would have spent it long ago. It was hard to dismiss the suspicion that Ivone was hiding something.
When the lady sat in the great hall her presence infected the entire clan with unease. The McPhersons had been careful not to say disparaging remarks about her, but she knew Ivone was not loved by the clan.
After the funeral the nobles quickly returned to the castle, anxious to get out of the freezing cold, but she stayed behind to pay her respects to the families. She was pleasantly surprised when Cairn stayed with her. He had spent many hours training with his men, but she doubted he was close to their families. Though shy around their new laird, the villagers appreciated the gesture of kindness.
"Shall I escort you, milady?" asked a gravelly voice near her side.
She turned to see old Thomas’s spindly form beside her. He was still reserved around the elegant newcomer, but not as hostile as the day before. She decided to take advantage of his unexpectedly social mood.
"Thank you."
She threaded her arm through his and slowed her steps to match his shuffling ones.
"It isn’t right for a lady to be wandering the lands without an escort."
"Surely there is no danger here."
"It’s about what’s proper," he replied stiffly. She couldn’t tell if the words were bitter or accusing. Once he had been the laird’s chief steward, but now he was forced to live out his retirement in a cottage far from the castle. Did he envy her position or condemn her for it?
"It is nice to be treated like a lady, but I would rather us be friends. Surely there is no need for formality between us."
She wanted Thomas to believe there was a vast difference between Verena and Cairn’s stepmother. He eyed her suspiciously, but his next words confirmed her earnest words had worked.
"Hmm … That is what you say now, but time will tell. You should have seen Lady Ivone when she first arrived. Her baggage train stretched for half a mile. The others were so happy to see it. They thought with all that stuff we would be the richest clan in Scotland."
"But you didn’t trust h
er. What happened?"
"I didn’t trust her for a minute. Her fancy things are still in the castle, but for some people there is never enough."
Thomas shook his head at the mysteries of the nobility.
"I’ve noticed," she hedged, not wanting to sound too direct. "The clan seems reserved around her."
"Of course they are! When Lady Ivone arrived she tried to model us after the French nobility. What good are fancy ways when crops are failing?"
"It is strange. The McPhersons had so much wealth when the Old Lord died and then when Lady Ivone arrived it disappeared. Do you suppose she spent it all?"
"I hope the Old Lord had the sense to hide it from her, but he isn’t around to ask."
Chapter 25
The pale sunlight hesitantly peeking through the clouds gave Verena the perfect excuse to search the surrounding countryside. She borrowed a basket from the kitchen, offering to collect some late-season herbs for the cook.
To avoid prying eyes she began her search far away from the village. She headed deep into the woods searching for an abandoned cave, a well, or the entrance to the old silver mines. Unfortunately, after several hours all she had to show for her work was a muddy gown and growling stomach. She reached down to collect some wild rosemary and decided to try again tomorrow.
Instinct made her glance up then, catching sight of the large man watching intently from the shadow of a nearby tree. His face was hidden by the dense underbrush, as was most of his body. How long had he stood behind the tree silently watching her? If not for the unsettling awareness of danger, she might not have noticed him at all. She covertly reached for the knife hidden in her boot. Though it wouldn’t stop an attacker his size, the small weapon would certainly slow him down.
"I like mine better," said the man, drawing an ordinary-looking knife from his belt. It was a crude and undistinguished piece of wood and metal, but she had seen it too often to mistake it or its owner. It was the exact duplicate of the one she lightly clasped, ready to throw.
With an expert flick of the wrist the man hurled it at her, planting the knife less than an inch from her foot.
"You must be bored," said she levelly. She gracefully rose to her feet, wrenching the blade from the soggy ground. "Owen."
He stepped from behind the tree finally revealing his face to her. It seemed like ages since she had seen Owen. He had grown a beard and now wore a dirty grey tunic and cap instead of the brown one from previous winters.
"It’s good to see you, Verena," he replied, giving her fine new clothes an assessing and appreciative glance. "Scotland agrees with you."
She shrugged at the compliment, waiting for him to get to the point. Owen wouldn’t seek her out, placing her cover at risk, unless he had something important to report.
"Is there somewhere you can hide this?"
"Aye."
She didn’t need to open the small bundle to know what was inside. Her lock picking set, throwing knives and all the other necessary devices of her trade left behind in Langthorne were neatly packed and transported by Owen.
Only he would understand how naked she felt without her things. The contents were more than the tools of her trade. They represented a lifetime of clandestine work. Each item was specifically made for her, costing more than half a year’s work. With her tools Verena felt invincible.
"Do not bother searching out here," said Owen. "I’ll do that. Concentrate on the castle."
Being outside the drafty and possibly haunted stone walls was wonderful. She had enjoyed roaming the countryside without having to worry about the proper thing to say or do, but they had to work efficiently. Her wishes hardly mattered with so much at stake.
"You should hurry," he cautioned. "Lord Gundy grows impatient."
Verena gave him a sour look. Lord Gundy was always impatient. That was why Hadran handled him. He had much more finesse than his younger associates.
"He knows the McPherson is preparing for war and wants us to make sure that doesn’t happen."
Though she had been preoccupied with searching for the treasure she could see the preparations being made by the McPhersons. Animals were slaughtered to extend the winter stores; arrows were being made by the hundreds while every man old enough to hold a sword was drafted to learn something of combat.
It was oddly touching to see the busy activity. Villagers with no skill in combat were now forced by necessity to defend their homeland. Though she didn’t know all of Gundy’s plans she knew they might soon have to use their new skills.
"What does he expect us to do?" she asked, but she already suspected the answer. The McPhersons were a stubborn lot. Verena had seen the tight bonds connecting the families and knew they would fight with their last breath to save their homes. With Andreu’s help they might have a chance of surviving. Given enough time Cairn might also be able to convince his neighboring clans to join the fight. No wonder Gundy was anxious for Verena to find the treasure. He needed the silver to finance his invasion, but if he waited too long the McPhersons would be ready for him. The only way for Gundy’s plan to succeed was to cut off the head of the McPherson clan, namely Cairn’s head.
"You know," replied Owen quietly. "We can’t allow the McPhersons to recover. Secure the treasure first, and then take care of their laird."
Verena nodded. She knew this was coming. As soon as Cairn outlived his usefulness he would be killed in a manner least likely to arouse suspicion. It was the only way to succeed.
"I’ve heard," continued Owen, "that you’ve become the McPherson’s leman. Don’t get too close. We both know how this must end."
"I can still do my job."
Owen reached for Verena and pulled her into his arms. He was rough where Cairn was gentle, hard where Cairn molded perfectly to her body. Owen had done so much for her. He deserved her respect and kindness, yet she was stiff in his embrace, unable to stop comparing him to the man that had held her so tenderly the night before.
"I know. When this is over you and I …"
"Someone is coming!" she whispered, hastily stepping away. She felt a twinge of guilt at her enthusiasm. It wasn’t Owen’s fault he didn’t feel right. The only reason she allowed the embrace was because he was her friend, but when she felt his rough hands skimming over her hips it took every ounce of willpower not to shove him away.
Perhaps it was familiarity. They had known each other for years and she had grown accustomed to thinking of him as a brother. Maybe that was why the bulge in his hose had seemed so wrong. Verena would have to sort out her puzzling reactions later. Her conspirator disappeared behind a tree moments before Cairn appeared along the forest path.
"Verena," he greeted her warmly. "I heard you were collecting herbs."
Her heart was surely pounding loud enough for Cairn to hear. Though she tried to smile she was horrified by that close encounter. If Cairn had stumbled upon her in Owen’s arms no amount of explanation would save her from his wrath. She glanced up at the sky as the pale winter sun passed behind a cloud and felt a shiver of premonition. Soon enough the joy they had shared together would dissipate like that sunlight. Soon Cairn would realize that the maiden he had welcomed into his home was a viper undermining everything he held dear.
"Is something amiss?" she asked in her sweetest tone.
"Nay. There is something I would like to show you."
She followed Cairn along a separate path that led deep into the southeastern woods. Her mind was awhirl after her conversation with Owen. So much of Gundy’s plan depended on her success. She must locate the treasure, arrange for it to be transported to Lord Gundy and dispatch Cairn before the English army arrived and she had no idea when that might be. The McPhersons would likely secure the castle as soon as the English appeared in preparation for a siege. If she was not careful she would be locked inside with the clan.
"What would you like to show me?" she asked, to take her mind off the dizzying future. They were heading deep into the Old Lord’s woods. Above them the canop
y had thickened with foliage, obliterating the sparse sunlight and giving the trees threatening, distorted shadows. A thick, sparkling mist wafted through the trees and she imagined a host of mischievous nymphs hiding in the gloom. The spooky atmosphere made her skin crawl.
"Don’t worry," teased Cairn, sensing her unease. "I’ll protect you from any demons interested in devouring your soul."
"What of thieves and brigands?"
Cairn pointed to the sword at his side. "Do you think this is for decoration?"
Taking a deep breath, she allowed him to lead her deeper into the woods. They walked along an old trail that was mostly covered with fallen leaves and overgrown bushes. Wherever Cairn was taking her must be special. Was it also important during the Old Lord’s time?
"This is it," said Cairn, stopping in front of a massive hill. Verena looked at him curiously. Did Cairn bring her all this way to look at a mound of dirt? The hill was mostly covered in soil except for one side where several small boulders poked through the mud.
"This is my grandfather’s grave," Cairn explained, placing one hand reverently on a stone. "As a child I used to come here to think. In the spring I would roll down the hill until my limbs were on fire from the itchy grass. For some reason I always thought this place was safe. When I was here nothing could touch me."
"Did you often run away?"
"Children sometimes need a secret place, or anyplace to hide. My father was always so busy and Lady Ivone … I needed it even more after she came to live with us."
She could understand why. Ivone didn’t seem like the type to dedicate much time to children. If his parents had also tried to keep him away from the village children Cairn must have been a very lonely boy.
"He died before I was born, but sometimes I wonder what it would be like to know him. As a child I imagined the Old Lord letting me keep one of his familiars as a pet. Or I would imagine saving the clan from one of his lingering spells …"
Seducing the Laird Page 11