With William and Robert watching so diligently Jon couldn’t approach close enough to whisper to her. He saw the tension in her shoulders when Hadran entered the tent and the way Hadran averted his guilty eyes from hers. Their small family of spies was rapidly falling apart.
The only time she was allowed to move from her position near the fire was when the unconscious Mary was brought in, tightly bound and stripped of weapons. It was Verena who ignored William’s harsh bark of command to stay and ventured forth to check the ugly bump on her head. Mary’s eyes drifted open while Verena probed her scalp, but after a few moments of confusion her gaze fastened on her with murderous intent. She couldn’t be too badly damaged if she remembered everything.
"This is your fault!" spat Ivone. With a sigh she moved back to her assigned chair beside the brazier. She shrugged her shoulders, too weary to argue with the spiteful woman. Verena knew nothing of Gundy’s plans and was as much a pawn in this as she. They were all prisoners, but what kind? Gundy may intend to exchange them for something or punish them to incite Cairn’s rage.
"We should rest for the night," announced Hadran. His voice sounded weary and much older than his years. He had always seemed so strong to her as he spearheaded their adventures. Now he looked ancient. The stress of this journey had aged him remarkably in the last few days.
Good. She felt little sympathy for her former mentor. He was like Owen, solely concerned with his own advancement. It hurt to know he could treat her so callously, but she hid the pain behind a steely gaze. She was done feeling sorry for herself.
•
Verena lived alone long before she met Hadran. Her earliest memories were of running with packs of orphaned children through London’s filthy streets, stealing anything she could get her grubby hands on and hiding from the royal guards. Meeting Hadran was a considerable upgrade, but he couldn’t replace the father she had never known.
Though her early days were lonely, yearning for a real family and home, they made her strong. It was a hard life, but somehow she had found the strength to take care of herself. She needed to reclaim some of that strength now.
"We just returned!" cried Jon, interrupting the tense moment. "Don’t we deserve a rest before our next assignment?"
"That is what tonight is for and I suggest you use the moonlight hours." Owen spread out a bedroll beside the fire. He had not said much since they left Scotland and she was puzzled by his behavior. Yesterday he had been anxious to enact his daring plan. Now he seemed unconcerned with their mission, but she knew better.
He was a wolf stalking prey, casually waiting for the right moment to strike. Owen never backed down or changed his mind. This added a new, deadly dimension to Gundy’s games, a sinister threat he would be completely unprepared for. When it came, Owen’s blow would plunge them all into chaos.
"You have no right to complain." Jon lifted one mud-stained sleeve, exposing a large, colorful new bruise. "You were resting comfortably on your mount while I had to shimmy up every tree in this forest. If you weren’t so fat …"
"Enough!" Owen rolled his shoulders, proudly showing them all how false Jon’s remarks were. He bulged with muscles in thick, bumpy chords along his biceps and back. Ivone gulped audibly at the display, but she was used to Owen’s preening. She much preferred Cairn’s physique. He was tall, broad and perfectly proportioned like an ancient Roman statue she had once seen in a Flemish palace. Cairn’s body never failed to take her breath away while Owen’s bulky girth seemed crude.
One beefy hand grasped Jon’s collar while another pinched the flesh of his thigh as Owen lifted the struggling boy high overhead.
"Still think I am fat?"
"I wouldn’t dare say such a thing in this position."
Jon’s fearful glance moved about the tent and their astonished audience. If Owen wished he could snap the boy’s spine like a twig. Thankfully after a few tense moments Owen set him down and roughly mused Jon’s hair.
"I’ll trust you to keep a civil tongue from now on."
Jon nodded, for once shocked into silence. Owen’s hand had fallen to his throat, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse.
"I think you have frightened him enough for one night," said Hadran. He placed a restraining hand on each of them. "We have a long journey tomorrow and need to rest."
Jon quickly stepped away and began gathering his blankets. They had often joked like this in the past, but now there was a tension in the air. Owen’s actions were not met with the usual laughter and boasting, but with an unnatural silence. This failed moment of fun spoke volumes of their changed circumstances: the spies no longer trusted each other.
Chapter 52
True to his word Gundy marched the massive army at dawn, despite a midnight attack on their baggage train. A continuous stream of fire arrows were shot at their supplies and the overzealous soldiers trying to save their grain actually helped destroy them by saturating the supplies with water. Without the ability to adequately dry their foodstuffs most of it quickly began to rot.
Gundy insisted to the grumbling lords that this was not a hindrance and would actually free the army to march faster without so much baggage. To the poor soldiers stripped to quarter rations and forced for forage off the frozen winterland, his words must have seemed ludicrous.
Luckily Hadran was much wiser than their lord and after the first attack insisted each of his spies carry several days of provisions in their saddlebags. This expedition was turning into a disaster and he wanted his people to be taken care of.
With the extra weapons she hid in her dress the day before she felt overloaded, but it was always better to be overprepared. The brightly painted litter was abandoned and she was now forced to ride sidesaddle on a mount tethered to Gundy’s horse. Mary rode nearby, similarly anchored to one of Gundy’s personal guards. Lady Ivone was also under guard, though she did her best to pretend otherwise. She was charming and gracious during their grueling march, determined to return to Gundy’s good graces, but he seemed impervious. No woman, regardless of how charming, would make Gundy deviate from his plans.
"Your Scotsman is trying my patience," announced Gundy when another group of men returned empty handed from scouring the forest. Cairn’s men were experts at attacking any trailing group of men and disappearing before reinforcements could arrive. Many of Gundy’s scouts didn’t return at all.
"I am sure he would say the same of you," she replied.
Gundy chuckled and adjusted himself in the saddle. The cunning lord wore an impressive suit of armor, painstakingly engraved with intricate symbols. Though the metal offered more protection than the padded linen most of his foot soldiers wore, the armor was much too nice for a battlefield. Gundy probably intended to give orders from a well-protected camp and not risk his life or expensive armor.
"If I knew you were so witty I would have summoned you to my side long ago."
Fighting the nauseating roll in her stomach as she pictured herself as Gundy’s leman, she forced a smile. She would rather die than allow Gundy to touch her.
"Then you would have lost a valuable agent. Who would have secured the treasure if not I?"
"I’m sure it was ridiculously easy for you to gain the Scot’s trust. With those big eyes you look like a nun on the way to confession. Tell me; were you as saintly in the bedchamber?"
"I was effective in my role." Verena wished she could spur her horse forward. She had no desire to speak of the passion she experienced with Cairn, particularly not to Lord Gundy. He could pull her into the woods and toss up her skirts if he so desired and no one would do a thing to stop him. When Gundy turned away to speak to a soldier she discreetly wrapped her cloak more securely over her low-cut bodice.
"I’m sure you were, but perhaps you are more suited for other duties. I should discover for myself how skilled you truly are."
"You forget, milord, that I am also a trained assassin."
The beautiful chestnut mare tossed its head as Gundy jerked on the reins. He sta
red at her for one perplexed moment before letting out a deep roar of laughter. He shook with mirth until tears coursed down his face. She gazed innocently ahead, ignoring the curious stares of the onlookers.
"I admire your boldness," said Gundy when he could speak again. "It is always the most brazen lasses that make the best lovers. It is a pity we weren’t better acquainted before this venture."
"Servants are taught to obey." Ivone tried to nudge her mount forward and break into their conversation, but her guard kept pulling her back. They had a brief tug of war as she attempted to bring Gundy’s attention back to herself. "A real woman must be independent otherwise how can you trust her sincerity?"
"A woman’s sincerity should never be assumed," Gundy replied irritably. Ivone’s vanity was beginning to annoy him. "I know Verena’s motives so I can trust her to act in the way that is most beneficial to her. She needs survival, safety and money, all of which she obtains by my side. You on the other hand are motivated by ambition and greed –sentiments I know all too well. How long would your loyalties remain if another benefactor were to offer his protection?"
"I don’t know what you mean, milord. I would never betray you."
Ivone lowered her head demurely and guided her horse away. There was something guilty in her expression that made her wonder if she had not already solicited the other lords for aid. She might have done the same if she thought they would help, but they were all firmly in Gundy’s pocket—especially after the arrival of the McPherson silver.
"Of course not."
His tone was one of patronizing kindness. Their relationship had rapidly deteriorated in the few days since she joined the army, but it was to be expected. Though they shared ambition, they were too stubbornly independent to work together for long. If Gundy had not betrayed Ivone, she surely would have done the same to him as soon as the opportunity arose.
When they finally crossed the border into Scotland Gundy divided his army into three parts. The larger group encircled the castle in an impenetrable ring, beginning the siege. Another group was sent to wreak havoc on the countryside, burning and looting homes and killing anyone who had not taken refuge in the castle. Luckily Cairn was prepared for Gundy’s arrival and had long ago brought his people into the castle’s protective walls.
Verena was untethered from Gundy’s horse and given to her former guards, William and Robert. Together with Mary, Ivone and a few other soldiers, they made their way deep into the Old Lord’s forest. Mary bore this change with stoic silence, glaring at each of them as if calmly envisioning their disembowelment.
"Where are you taking us?" Ivone demanded, but the men ignored her. "Why won’t anyone answer a simple question?"
"The Old Lord’s tunnel," she guessed when no one spoke up. It was the only logical destination.
"Correct," William replied. It was the first word he said to her all day, though he had spent hours by Verena’s side. Like Mary he had the look of someone intent on murder, but William was calm and composed; a stark difference to Mary’s simmering rage. "The McPherson has been following us since the first attack. Gundy supposes he will follow us to the Old Lord’s tunnel and try to stop us from entering."
"So you will lay a trap for him using us as bait," she finished. "How will you find the Old Lord’s tunnel? You can’t expect me to tell you its location."
"The old man, Hadran, told us it was in the big mound."
She winced at the mention of her former mentor. Evidently he told Gundy much more than his theories on Cairn’s love. If Hadran was beside her right then she would have wrung his interfering neck.
Hours had passed since they separated from the main army, enough time for Gundy’s men to set up an effective siege of the castle. Had Cairn decided to wait for his brother to return with reinforcements or had he attacked Gundy’s forces alone? The first seemed the most likely. Cairn’s men were skilled at evasion in the woods, but they couldn’t hope to defeat him in a pitched battle.
They reached the Old Lord’s burial mound and Robert swung her from the saddle. He handed the ladies shovels and ordered them to start digging.
"You cannot be serious!"
Ivone was aghast at the order. The hem of her fine velvet cloak was rapidly becoming soaked with mud despite the tall chopines she wore. Her fur lined gown was suited more for sipping wine in a solar than digging holes. She eyed the shovel as if it were a serpent.
"Make it look convincing."
"It would be far more convincing for you to dig for us," returned Ivone with asperity. "My son knows I do not work."
"You will work or I’ll slice your pretty throat."
"I wouldn’t do that," said Mary. She looked quickly around as if alerted to a noise in the surrounding forest. Catching her alarm many of the men drew their weapons, scanning the trees for danger. "Cairn could be watching right now. What would he do if he saw you murder Lady Ivone?"
"He would probably thank me." Several of the men snickered at the jest, but they didn’t sheath their weapons. In a louder voice William began giving orders. "Alright men, we have wasted enough time. You three stay here and assist the women. We will return with more supplies."
Chapter 53
The soldiers with the cheapest armor were ordered to stay while William and the others pretended to leave. They were bait, like Verena, to make the excavation look convincing enough to provoke Cairn to abandon his hidden position in the woods and attack.
She and Mary set to work clearing the stones in front of the Old Lord’s tomb, but Ivone refused to help. She insisted refined ladies didn’t do manual labor and sat imperiously on a fallen tree, refusing to move no matter how the soldiers railed at her.
The men left behind wore patched and cheaply padded linen instead of metal armor. They were obviously peasants untrained in battle or tactics and thought this assignment would elevate them in Gundy’s household. They reminded her uncomfortably of the English archers who met their end in these woods and the young lad who was killed after bringing poison to Cairn’s table. They were all expendable. She would almost feel sorry for the soldiers if they didn’t take every opportunity to ogle her cleavage and share crude jokes about what they would do to her when this was over.
"Gundy won’t mind if we toss her skirts," said one. The soldiers were in a tight group to one side of the mound, encouraging each other to act. Despite their bold words, none of them seemed brave enough to try. "We would be done long before the others arrive."
"Speak for yourself," said another, scratching his crotch. "The wenches like me to take my time."
"What do you know about wenches?" asked the third. "You haven’t touched a woman since you were sucking your dam’s teats."
"That’s not true! Before we marched Kate took me into her barn."
With the soldiers’ attention on their boastful stories she turned to Mary and whispered a question that had been plaguing her for days.
‘"Why did you warn me about Gundy’s intentions?"
"This is not the time for such talk."
"I don’t know if there will be another opportunity."
"Then you may question your Holy Father. You may meet Him soon."
"Tell me the truth," Verena insisted when Mary tried to turn away. She needed to understand the complex woman before they went any further. The people Verena thought she knew were constantly changing, eroding the bonds of their previous relationships. Perhaps if she understood Mary, the perplexing events of the last few days would begin to make sense. "I am tired of pretenses. Do you still intend to murder me?"
"Nay." The words were said grudgingly from a face twisted in distaste. "I could no more hurt you than cut out my own heart."
"Why?"
"Because of the babe you carry."
"You were a mother."
"Aye, long ago. I was working in the fields while my son played nearby. He wandered into the road while I wasn’t looking and was trampled beneath the horse of an impatient young knight. For a while I went mad with
grief. No one could console me, not my husband, or the priest. It was only when the knight offered a few coins to atone for our loss that I was able to think clearly again.
"That night I snuck into his bedchamber and slit his throat while he slept. I thought my life was over then, indeed, I wanted it to end, but Lady Ivone intervened on my behalf. I owe her my life."
What prompted the haughty woman to save Mary? Had it been kindness or opportunism? She doubted Ivone was capable of an altruistic act. She had spared Mary only to turn her into a slave.
"No matter what I feel for you, your babe deserves to live."
The contemptuous flick of Mary’s wrist showed just what she thought of Verena, but her words lacked venom. That was much more than she expected from the gruff older woman.
Quickly she slipped a couple of knives to Mary. Unarmed the women had little chance of surviving the skirmish between the English and Scottish soldiers. They needed to work together to escape.
"I’ll take Pockmarked and Squeaker. The others won’t put up much of a fight."
The oldest of the group had a face covered in ugly red and white pimples. He was smaller than the others, but had the loudest mouth and carried two daggers in his belt. Squeaker wore an old green tunic that probably belonged to his father. It had been clumsily refitted to his slender frame, but he had not bothered to wash off the old sweat stains.
"What are you two conspiring about?" Rough hands grabbed Verena’s shoulders and pushed her face forward into the burial mound. Taking advantage of her helpless position her attacker began to run his filthy hands along her backside, drawing up her skirts. "I like a wench on her knees."
The other two soldiers reached for Mary and tried to tackle her to the ground, but she was ready for them. She jerked one knee up, catching the first man in the groin. He collapsed on top of her in pain, but as she fell Mary reached around him to strike the second man in the neck with the knife. Taking advantage of his surprise, Mary rolled the first man off and jumped to her feet.
Seducing the Laird Page 24