Seducing the Laird

by Marrero, Lauren

  "I don’t understand."

  "Throughout this assignment, we have become close. I believe he cares for me despite everything that happened. He knows the truth. He knows I work for Gundy, yet he didn’t harm me. He promised to protect me and our unborn child, and I believe him."

  Hadran was silent for a long moment. He stared at her as if she were a stranger. Hadran taught her to never fall victim to her emotions. He schooled her repeatedly on the dangers of getting attached to an assignment, yet that was exactly what she had done. She couldn’t murder Cairn because she had fallen in love with him.

  "This Scot has turned your head."

  "Aye."

  "This is madness! I taught you better than this."

  "I love him."

  "Love him?" Hadran spat the hated words. "How could you love a rich, spoiled noble? He is not like us. He is another Gundy!"

  "You are wrong. Cairn is not shackled to this land. He could have left any time and returned to France with his brother. He chose to stay here and take on the responsibility of his clan, for no other reason than they need him. There is no glory in what he does, no wealth or prestige. He has emptied his coffers to stretch the clan’s finances. He is the bravest, most compassionate man I have ever known and I would never do anything to hurt him."

  "I cannot believe my ward. You are like Owen, turning against family."

  "Any punishment shall be mine to bear," Verena said. "The failure is mine."

  "If you think I will let you face Gundy’s wrath alone, you are mistaken." Hadran tugged on his thinning hair as he paced the confines of the dungeon. He was shocked and disappointed, but She hoped some part of him would understand her feelings. They had been through so much. Surely Hadran would be sympathetic. "Foolish girl, he locked you in a dungeon."

  "Gundy would have done much worse. Cairn knows the truth. He knows I betrayed him. He knows I work for Gundy, yet he didn’t hurt me. I don’t think he could ever harm me."

  "Does he love you?"

  She paused, glancing guiltily to the side. She wanted to say yes. Verena knew he cared for her, but was it love? So much had changed since he discovered the truth.

  "I believe so."

  "We don’t have time for this. Owen is not far away. We’ll meet him and then devise a new plan."

  "Thank you, Hadran."

  "Don’t thank me yet. We’ll speak again when this is over."

  The sound of footsteps on the stone stairs made the two spies spin around. Their conversation had been so animated, they lost track of time. There was so much to discuss, she forgot Roselyn would be returning soon with her meal.

  The terrified maid stepped through the open doorway, followed by a grim-faced guard and Jon. The young lad was holding a crossbow in his arms, trained on the back of the guard’s head.

  "Roselyn?" she asked with a sinking heart. She had not wanted to involve her in this nasty business, but it seemed she had no choice. "Are you alright?"

  "Who are these people?" asked Roselyn in wide-eyed terror. "Are you going to kill me?"

  "No one will touch you."

  "If you do what we say," broke in Hadran. He pulled out another crossbow and aimed it at Roselyn. "Turn around and march back up those stairs. Good work, Jon."

  As he led their small group out of the dungeon and to the Old Lord’s secret passage, Jon spared Verena a curious look. What did he think of these developments? Roselyn had taken a special interest in Jon before he was forced to flee Scotland. It must be terrifying to find out the sweet lad was in the employ of her hated enemy.

  Chapter 42

  Verena and her prisoners walked quickly toward the village. Winter had come to Scotland while she was in the dungeon. Thick snow flew sideways across the land, carried by a freezing wind. This was the first real storm of the season and promised to be an ugly one. Only a fool would fight a war in such weather, but Gundy didn’t care for the comfort of his men. If he thought the unseasonal invasion would give him the element of surprise, he would use it.

  Although their presence exiting the Old Lord’s woods might look strange since aside from Jon and Hadran, they wore no cloaks, their group drew little attention. The few villagers outside in such abysmal weather were hurrying home.

  Once they had to duck behind a cottage as a small group of soldiers came toward them. Their guard looked like he would call out, but the sharp prod of her hair pin silenced him. The small weapon worked, but she sorely missed her knives. As soon as they were out of sight, the weary group continued their trek.

  She was surprised at first when Jon led them to Thomas’ cottage, but the same factors that made him the most likely candidate to hide the treasure, also made Thomas the perfect man to hide them. He insisted upon his privacy and independence so the villagers were unlikely to disturb him. It also gave her the opportunity to test her theories about his involvement.

  Inside the cottage was virtually unchanged since the last time she was there with Roselyn, to dispense bread and soup from the castle. A large table was placed directly on top of Thomas’ incongruous rug, forcing people to walk around it. Owen sat upon a three-legged stool, calmly helping himself to Thomas’ supper while the old man lay in a corner, tied and gagged.

  "Owen?" she asked, checking to make sure Thomas was unharmed. Aside from a nasty bruise on his cheek, he seemed fine. The old man was conscious and glaring at her as if she were the wife of Satan. "What have you done?"

  "You know I had to keep him from making trouble," Owen replied. "You are looking well. I heard that whoreson locked you in a dungeon."

  "I am fine."

  "What shall we do with them?" asked Jon, pointing to Roselyn and the guard. She finally remembered his name was Stephen. He also glared at her as if all of this was her fault.

  "Too many hostages are difficult to handle," replied Owen. He wiped his knife on his thigh and menacingly approached Roselyn. "We don’t need them all."

  "We made it here without killing anyone," she pointed out, horrified that her former friend would casually murder for no other reason than convenience. "And we won’t be here long enough for them to create trouble for us."

  "Did you find the treasure?"

  Verena froze. What should she tell him? If Owen knew Thomas had the silver, he would do anything to get the truth from him. The nasty old man had caused many people, including his clan, a lot of trouble, but did that justify torture? She hesitated to point fingers at a frail old man no matter how unpleasant he was.

  "Why should I give it to you? All you care about is yourself. Have you considered what this betrayal will mean for the rest of us?"

  "This is for us. We don’t need a spoiled noble controlling our lives. With our skills we can control the world. We can create a web of intrigue that will engulf England and the continent. What do you think these nobles will pay for the secrets we can uncover?"

  "That is blackmail."

  "It is too late for an attack of conscience. We have been doing this for Gundy for years. This time it is for us. I want us to obtain the riches we deserve."

  "You will get us killed," interrupted Hadran. "There is a reason Gundy limited our activities. If anyone uncovered the truth, they wouldn’t rest until we were dead. Your plan will destroy us."

  "No! I will save us. We will live like kings. You’ll see.

  Owen crossed the room and grabbed Roselyn roughly by the arm. He twisted her until she cried out in pain. Verena made a move to stop him and he struck out, knocking her to the ground.

  "Stop, Owen!" yelled Hadran. "We don’t treat each other this way."

  "Don’t tell me how we treat each other. From now on you’ll do as I say."

  "Verena, please," whispered Roselyn, as Owen twisted her arm until her eyes rolled backward in pain. "Make him stop. I’ll do anything."

  "Is this a friend of yours?" asked Owen with deceptive sweetness. She bit her lip. If she displayed concern, Owen would try to use her emotions against her, but it was too late. He knew she cared for
Roselyn. "I have watched you interact with these Scots. I see they way they treat you, the way the McPherson treats you. This assignment is different, he is different to you. Do you think I cannot see how you feel about them?"

  "I don’t know what you are talking about."

  He was toying with Verena the way he toyed with all their targets. It was the same maddening impulse that led Owen to leave the bloody dagger in Queen Anne’s chambers and let himself be seen by Cairn in the Langthorne woods. The wild recklessness would never allow Owen to calmly accept his role. With or without the treasure, in Gundy’s employ or independent, Owen would always feel the need to push and tempt fate.

  "Owen," broke in Hadran, stepping forward to try to diffuse the tense situation. "This is not necessary. Verena will tell you where the treasure is."

  "I’m waiting."

  Verena knew Thomas had the treasure, but she didn’t know where. Everyone was watching her for an answer, but her mind was blank. If she told Owen her suspicions, he would likely torture the old man. If she was mistaken, it would cost Thomas his life.

  Why did he stubbornly insist on living alone? Surely someone would shelter Thomas despite his grumpy nature. For years he had refused to leave this cottage, steadfastly maintaining his independence. She peered into the shadowy corners, trying to fathom what in this cottage had kept him for so many years.

  As she climbed to her feet, she felt the ground change beneath her. Under the rug, she heard the soft, but distinctive creak of wooden beams.

  Some peasants built extra storage space beneath their cottages. These recesses were often used to hide valuables during times of conflict. What would Thomas chose to hide under his floor?

  "You are taking too long. Perhaps you don’t know where the treasure is and are seeking to delay me. Or perhaps you do know and are seeking to test my resolve."

  The knife rose to Roselyn’s throat and gently pricked her skin. Roselyn squeaked in alarm as Owen’s intentions became clear. He would kill her to prove he was serious. He would probably kill all of the hostages regardless of what she did because they were taught to leave no witnesses.

  It was hard to believe Verena had once passively accepted such knowledge, allowing Owen to clean up after her clandestine work. Now the thought of what was to come made her sick. She had to do something fast.

  "I will give you what you want, if you give me what I want."

  "What do you want?" he asked intently.

  "Their lives."

  "And what do I want?"

  "The treasure … and me."

  "What of your lover?"

  Verena looked Roselyn directly in the eye, hardening her voice so there would be no mistaking her next words. "He will not follow."

  Owen took his time responding, staring at her, and judging her motives for any sign of treachery. She saw Owen’s distrust, but also his excitement. He was so close to getting everything he desired, but he had learned over the years to be wary.

  "Do we have a deal?"

  Ever so slightly, Owen nodded in agreement. Before he could change his mind, she reached down and tossed the table and rug aside, exposing the trapdoor beneath. She pulled it open, ignoring the splinters that dug painfully into her palms. She made a show of her struggle, trying to get Owen to release Roselyn and come to her assistance, but he was too smart to fall for that.

  "It was here the whole time!" said Jon in surprise. "I knew the old bugger was hiding something."

  Tucking her skirts into her girdle, she descended the rickety ladder. At first glance the room looked like an ordinary storage room. Old blankets and sacks of moldy grain were piled up and most likely forgotten as the years wore on. She was not convinced. The McPhersons had been through too many hard times to leave piles of food to rot.

  She approached one sack and lifted out a few handfuls of dusty grain. There was nothing there.

  "S’wounds!" she hissed in frustration. This was her last hope. If the treasure was not hidden here, she had nothing left to bargain with. She threw the heavy sack to the ground in frustration and watched as the dusty grains spilled across the floor. She was about to turn away when something caught her eye.

  Lying among the spilled granules was a scrap of dirty fabric. She leaned down to tug on it and realized the cloth was actually a smaller, separate bag concealed within the larger one. Her heart was pounding as she pulled it out and spilled its contents into her hand. Dozens of Roman coins glinted dully in the light of her candle.

  Thomas was living on top of a fortune! Why didn’t he take the silver for himself or turn it over to the new laird? Whatever his motivations the treasure was in her hands now, but instead of feeling triumphant, she felt only a dull ache of regret. This treasure had cost Cairn so much pain, yet he would never see it. The McPhersons would have to survive this winter without it.

  "This is what you want," she said when she climbed up the ladder. She held up a silver coin to Owen’s hungry gaze.

  "Aye."

  How could she have considered marrying a man like him? Owen was so selfish, so transparently greedy. She looked down at the silver piece resting innocently in her hand. Gundy would destroy the McPhersons for this treasure. Countless lives would be lost because of one man’s selfishness and she was complicit to it all.

  "Let her go."

  "Your time in Scotland has made you soft," Owen chided as he released Roselyn. She could see the indecision on her friend’s face. She was torn between staying to help and running for her life.

  Owen quickly took the decision out of her hands. Before Roselyn could move, Owen cuffed her hard across the face. She crumpled unconscious to the ground.

  "You could have tied her up," she pointed out. Owen shrugged. Both methods were equally effective in keeping the maid quiet. "We’ll need several horses to carry it all."

  They decided Jon would go in search of the horses while she, Hadran and Owen brought the sacks of silver up the ladder. Even with horses they would have a difficult time transporting all the silver. The amount of treasure was enormous. As soon as Jon returned with the first of his purloined mounts, they sent him for more.

  "Verena," whispered the lad while Owen was occupied checking the distribution of their baggage. "Did you mean what you said in the dungeon about laird Cairn? Do you trust him?"

  "With my life. He was furious, but he didn’t hurt me, nor do I think he would."

  "Would you stay with him?"

  "If I could, aye."

  "I believe you. If Gundy found out we were conspiring against him, he would do more than lock us in a dungeon. Laird Cairn is a fair man."

  "He is an angry man and likely to explode when he finds out I escaped."

  "What are you two whispering about?" Owen demanded, seeing the two huddled in deep conversation.

  "I asked how many more horses we would need," lied Jon. "There should be some old nags in the southern pasture that no one will miss."

  "Bring as many as you can. Quickly."

  Hadran helped Verena carry Roselyn to Thomas’ bed and cover her with a blanket. She had expected her to awaken long ago and was beginning to grow worried.

  As the minutes ticked slowly by, no sound of horses were heard from the castle. She paced the floor in frustration imagining the millions of things that could go wrong. Suppose Owen didn’t keep his end of the bargain and decided their hostages were too much of a liability? What if Roselyn never woke up? What if Cairn saw her leaving with Owen and assumed the worst?

  "Tie her up," Owen commanded, gesturing to Roselyn’s still form. "She is not dead yet and we can’t wait any longer for Jon."

  She looked at him sharply, stunned by his callous attitude. Owen was going to leave Jon behind knowing the whole castle must be alerted to his treachery. Hadran taught them to protect each other, but for Owen things had changed. The treasure was more important than his companions.

  "We cannot leave Jon."

  "If the Scot catches him, they will soon have us all. We must leave before
it is too late." Owen hefted Roselyn onto his shoulder. He adjusted her small weight and she imagined she heard the girl groan in protest as his shoulder dug painfully into her abdomen. "You may hate me now, but in time you will realize everything I have done was for you."

  She wanted to scoff. She would never believe Owen acted selflessly. She saw the way his eyes lit up when she showed him the silver coin. Owen wanted the treasure as badly as Gundy and was just as ruthless in obtaining it.

  "I will not leave her in that cold, dark pit."

  "Would you rather I kill her now?"

  She snapped her mouth shut, hating her powerlessness. She had bargained for Roselyn’s life, but could push Owen no further. Verena had to think of what she could do for her friend.

  She gathered several blankets to place around Roselyn’s body and left a long candle burning near her. At least Roselyn would have a few hours of warmth and light. With Thomas and the guard, she wouldn’t be alone. Hopefully someone would discover them soon.

  Roselyn finally awoke when Owen stuffed a cloth into her mouth. It seemed he was taking no chances. Though she tried to scream through the gag, Roselyn could only make a tiny, muffled sound. Owen brought his hand back to cuff her again and Roselyn wisely quieted.

  The weather outside had grown steadily worse while they loaded the horses. There was a chill to the air that cut through her woolen gown as if she wore nothing at all. Hail plastered her garments to her skin. Her cloak was still in the castle, but she had purloined a few blankets from Thomas to wrap around her shivering frame. Owen tried to place his cloak around her shoulders, but she stubbornly refused the gift.

  Before they reached the forest, she turned to look on the castle one last time. Within its foreboding walls she had experienced such joy and pain. Verena would never forget her experiences there, the friends she made and the man she had come to love. She would worry about Jon until they reunited. The little imp was constantly getting into trouble, but she knew even if he was captured, Cairn would treat him fairly.

  Chapter 43

  "Milord!" came a familiar shout from behind. Cairn was far from the castle, overseeing the slaughter of the McPherson sheep. Animals that wouldn’t survive the winter had to be killed and their meat preserved. It was a yearly ritual, but this time there was an air of desperation to the act. The Scots were furious warriors at close quarters, but if Gundy was planning a long siege they would need more than their current reserves to survive.