by Ashley York
An hour later, Iseabail sat a little less straight, irritated by Calum’s whistle. “Please stop, Calum! You are not getting any better!”
Seumas had cinched and re-cinched the saddle, cleaned the horse’s hooves, and even brushed his coat. He looked up with surprise at Iseabail. “Methinks he is.”
Calum took a breath to protest at her insult, but stopped abruptly to beam at Seumas. He stuck his tongue out at his sister and blew again.
Iseabail turned toward Seumas, her eyes bulging and her lips pursed. The noises emanating from Calum were similar to a newborn calf squawking for its mother. The fury in her eyes caused Seumas to stop mid-stroke, relieved to see the men coming from the castle gates.
“Here they come.” Seumas pointed. The three of them stood together in anticipation of their welcome.
“If you would follow me.” The same dark man turned his retinue of three men and the newcomers toward the castle. Seumas helped to seat Iseabail and Calum, Rodney tucked unseen inside his tunic, astride the horse as they followed behind the group. Upon their arrival through the gates, Seumas helped the two down, and a young boy took the reins and led the horse away.
“This way.” Not even a welcome face greeted them into the castle. They followed the man up the back staircase to the second landing. The group disbanded at the Great Hall, where several other armed men sat.
“M’lady, if you would be so kind as to give me your name?” His voice gentler now, he looked expectantly as Iseabail, holding her gaze with twinkling eyes. She appeared to have trouble tearing her eyes away.
Panic flew between the three of them like a living thing. They had not anticipated what they should have. What name should they give? Who would they say they were?
Seumas stepped forward and took her arm. “May I present my sister, Lady Iseabail.”
They turned as one toward their apparent host. The man’s eyes, however, remained on Iseabail.
“This will be your room, Lady Iseabail.” He opened the door to a candlelit chamber with heavy tapestries covering the wall and a wooden tub in front of the fire. Seumas and Iseabail looked at each other at the same time. The naked Iseabail by firelight came instantly to his mind. He glanced down, but looked back when color crept up Iseabail’s neck and she turned away from him—it seemed she remembered as well.
They left Iseabail behind the closed door after she murmured her thanks. The man led Calum and Seumas to another room just down the hall. Seumas struggled to focus on what was being said and leave the memory of Iseabail’s beauty in its proper place.
“This is where you may wait. They will bring you a bath anon,” the man said.
Was it hospitality he was offering or imprisonment? He fought down his ire to take a page from Iseabail’s book.
“Forgive me, but I did not get yer name.” Seumas spoke in a reasonable tone.
“I did not give it.” Green eyes pierced blue as sounds from the hall drifted up the stairs.
Seumas stood rigid, awaiting an answer to his question.
“Malcolm, m’lord.” He held Seumas’s gaze a second more before continuing, “I am Seneschal to Lord Mark. I welcome you to his castle on his behalf.”
“Well, Malcolm, ye said this is where I may wait but what ye meant was this is the room I may use as my own while I await yer laird. Correct?” Seumas did not care for Malcolm and the lack of common courtesy being shown him did nothing to improve his irritability.
Malcolm dipped his head in acquiescence before he left, shutting the door behind him.
“Seneschal?” Calum asked. “He does not behave very well, does he?”
Seumas walked to the bed to remove his boots before answering. “I would say not.”
Calum closed the distance between them and placed his small hand on Seumas’s arm. “Your faith in your friend is noble.” They looked at each other, and Seumas felt the boy’s perceptiveness. “This is a man who you trust or you would not have brought us here.”
“How do ye know that, Calum?” Seumas was irritated. “Mayhap I am not to be trusted at all. Mayhap I have led ye into a trap to collect the ransom myself.” Seumas tried to keep his face from revealing his true feelings.
“That is not true and I know it. I trust you, and I am right to trust you. I have no doubt about that at all.” Calum marched to the stool beside the fire and sat down to remove his own shoes. “Besides, what would you think of people who looked as ragged as us coming to your castle?”
Seumas considered this. They had been on the road for long enough that they were no longer clean. Calum and Iseabail’s clothing was worn threadbare before they had even started out, and hers were bloodstained from her injuries. And yet, it did not look to Seumas as if Malcolm had seen anything other than a beautiful woman. Iseabail. A woman he wanted.
Perhaps he had overreacted. “Methinks ye are correct.”
Calum hesitated as he started to take off his own shoes, his brow furrowed with concentration.
“Is something on yer mind?”
“I heard Iseabail tell you about when we left home.” His green eyes seemed dark to Seumas. “She told you Iain could not come with us because he had to make sure we got away safely?”
“Yea. That is what she said.” Dread coiled in his gut. Was he about to have more proof of her lack of trust? “Is that not the truth?”
Calum looked at the shoe he held. It had a hole big enough for his thumb to go through. “It is the truth as far as she knows it.”
Seumas became instantly alert. How could Iseabail make good decisions without all the facts? “What was the truth then?”
“He had been beaten.” The silence that followed was thick with all that implied.
“Beaten?”
“Yea. He was barely able to make it across the field to meet with Iseabail.”
“Tell me who beat him.”
Calum’s eyes held Seumas’s, and he knew the answer. Their uncle had beaten Iain so badly that he could no longer go with them to protect them.
“Iain would never have let Iseabail leave undefended if he had any other choice. He would have died rather than let any harm come to her.” Calum’s eyes filled with tears. “He made me promise not to tell her what Uncle Henry had done. She would never have left had she known. She would never have left Iain with no one to care for him. You are the first person I have been able to tell. Oh, Seumas, I am so worried that he died from the beating.”
Seumas took the sobbing Calum into his arms. Things that had seemed bad enough had taken a turn for the worse. Wanting to console the boy, he realized he had nothing to say. “There was no one to care for him?”
Calum pulled out of his arms. “No one. That is why I am afraid he is lost.”
“We shall have to find out for sure. Try not to think the worst, Calum.”
“Perhaps.” Calum wiped at his face then took off his other shoe. “I just do not feel him like I used to when we were all together.”
Seumas did not understand what that meant, but the boy had many worries for one so young. The way Iseabail spoke of her brother, it would kill her to know Iain had been suffering without her there to help him.
“We should continue to keep the promise then?” Calum asked.
Seumas nodded. “And hope for the best.”
After a bath for both of them, Seumas wiped away the last traces of soap from his freshly-shaven face. A timid knock on the door startled them. Calum went to open it.
Iseabail jumped. “Oh,” she said as she put her hand to her heart, looking flustered. “I did not know which door was yours. I am glad to find you.” She walked in and removed her cloak. “Where should I leave this?”
“On a hook, of course,” Seumas answered. “Is that not where ye normally place yer outer garments? Anywhere else and it would call attention.”
Iseabail thought for a moment before apparently realizing the idea had merit. “Now why are you so good at such deception?” Her mouth puckered and her frown deepened. She eyed him suspic
iously. “Is there something you would like to tell us?”
Seumas did not know why the question surprised him. He already knew she had no great trust for him.
Calum smiled at Seumas. “She is teasing you.” Laughing, he pulled on Seumas’s arm to lighten his seriousness. “She thinks she is funny when she makes that face.”
They turned toward her. She reddened slightly before raising her eyebrows in irritation. “I do not make faces, and I do not know what you are going on about.”
Calum and Seumas exchanged glances, but Seumas knew the sting of her accusation. Would there always be feelings of guilt, even when he had done nothing wrong?
Still holding Seumas’s hand, Calum led him to the door. “Come, let us see if the evening meal is served.”
“It would have been thoughtful of them to bring something to us here,” Seumas said as he followed Calum and Iseabail down the staircase. “I will need to speak to Mark about this behavior.”
Stepping from the landing, the three found themselves confronted by Malcolm and four armed men. Seumas studied each man, unable to detect their purpose. All four men refused to meet his gaze. Mark was a kind man. It did not make sense for his men to be so cowed.
“Is anything amiss?” Seumas asked.
“Forgive me.” Malcolm bowed with great formality. Seumas tried to hide the shock at this sudden show of respect. “I have been remiss.” His gaze included all three when he spoke and dismissed the soldiers with a wave of his hand. “I will be sending up a light repast for you and,” he turned to Iseabail, “Lady Elisabeth’s personal maid is on her way to your room as we speak.”
The unspoken question passed between Seumas and Iseabail. Then she asked, “For what purpose, m’lord?”
Malcolm’s mouth turned down at the corners in disgust, and his nose rose a bit higher. He gestured to all of her. “To assist you, m’lady. Your travels have been…demanding, and Margaret has many gowns that may be to your liking. May I escort you back to your room so that you might dress appropriately?”
He offered his arm as he turned toward the stairs.
“No need. I can find my way.” Iseabail’s smile lit up her face. She had not taken it as the insult Seumas believed it to be.
“We will be dining anon. May I escort you down at that time?”
She nodded her acquiescence.
“Then I would be pleased to have you at my table.” Almost as an afterthought Malcolm looked over her shoulder to include Seumas and Calum. “All of you are very welcome, of course.”
Malcolm smiled down at Iseabail. Ice water ran through Seumas’s veins. It did not sit well with him.
He looks as if Iseabail is fresh cream and he the castle cat!
Iseabail’s response to this suddenly chivalrous behavior was like a kick in the gut. She had lit up. She was flirting with him.
Iseabail’s color rose under Malcolm’s perusal. It was clear he found her pleasing to look upon. Seumas understood that any woman would like to feel attractive. She deserved better than to be dining in clothes she had worn nigh on two months now. No doubt it was disheartening to have to put on her same dirty, torn garments after her bath.
“Your thoughtfulness is much appreciated,” Iseabail said, her gaze drifting toward the floor.
Malcolm appeared to be strutting like a peacock for Iseabail. Seumas did not like the way it looked and liked even less his own feelings about it. The tug on his arm brought him out of his uncomfortable reactions. Calum gave a slight shake to his head and turned his back to the other man. Calum mouthed a word that took him a second to comprehend…sister!
Seumas could not show any of this festering dislike without ruining the cover he had erected. He needed to remember to act like Iseabail’s brother, not her lover. He clamped his mouth tight against any protests he might have made and gave a short nod of acknowledgement to Calum. Seumas would do his part. His stomach flipped when Malcolm’s hand grazed Iseabail’s back as he helped her through the door…and stayed there a beat too long. Seumas had to remember to exhale after the door shut.
Malcolm turned to face them both, grinning from ear to ear. “Whisky?” he asked Seumas.
When Seumas would have declined, Calum touched his arm and answered for him. “M’lord Seumas would be much inclined to share a dram or two. If he will allow me to return to the mending of his clothes?” Calum turned a questioning look to Seumas and awaited his response.
Seumas did not understand, but by the look of the lad’s bulging eyes, it was clear he needed to say aye. He did not feel so inclined…not in the least. Something was going on here, and he did not want to play along. A man of action, he wanted to find out what had turned Malcolm so abruptly.
“I will be sure to take care of all the matters you required, m’lord,” Calum said and bowed with a great flourish to Seumas, who blinked back in disbelief. “M’lord, Sir Malcolm will have another to see to your needs in the hall. If I may retire for now?”
Like a splash of cold water, Seumas realized Calum had taken the role of his squire. He must have meant to find out what he could while Seumas had Malcolm otherwise engaged.
“Make it so.” Seumas could manage to say no more.
Calum acknowledged both men with a drop of his chin and continued up the stairs, so it would seem, to the room he shared with Seumas.
“He is a strange one,” Malcolm said and slapped Seumas’s back. “But who am I to judge?”
They headed back across the hall, and Malcolm sounded quite contrite as he continued, “I have to apologize for my earlier rudeness. We have had many unwanted guests during Sir Mark’s absence, and I admit it makes me suspicious. Many items are now missing that he will never be able to replace, and I fear I am the one responsible.”
Malcolm’s long-suffering gaze made Seumas’s lips tighten. What an actor.
“That must be very trying. When did ye say Mark would return?”
“I di—” Malcolm cut off his response. “I would say within a day or two. You are welcome to wait, and I hope your time here will be pleasant.”
Malcolm directed him to the table closest to the fireplace. He grabbed the flask and glasses from the side table and joined Seumas.
“We have much to keep you busy, and if there is anything you require, ask and it will be yours.” Handing Seumas a glass filled with a golden liquid, he looked him in the eyes before he allowed him to take his cup. “Anything, m’lord. No questions asked.”
Seumas thought a glint of humor passed over Malcolm’s face and wondered what it meant. Perhaps someone was telling tales about him.
Malcolm downed his drink in one swallow. Seumas sipped his whisky. It burned its way down his throat, and he closed his eyes in appreciation before finishing his drink and voicing his question.
“Has Mark spoken of me, Malcolm?”
Malcolm poured them both another drink before answering. “He speaks little of the journey to the Holy Land.” Seumas saw no telling sign that he lied. “Is that where you met?” Malcolm threw back another dram and reached for more.
Seumas saw right through his acting—playing at casual conversation. His back was rigid with tension, awaiting the answer.
“We had met before.” Seumas said no more and decided to take his time on this second dram. This man was shifty, and he would need his wits about him.
As Malcolm started to refill his glass, his hand froze mid-air. He stared at a spot behind Seumas. The look of lust that passed over his face made Seumas tighten his grip on his drink. He prepared himself for the sight, putting down his half-full cup before turning to face Iseabail. He closed his mouth before his jaw dropped as Malcolm’s had.
She was beautiful. The gown fit her as if made for her, showing off the curve of her waist and the full thrust of her breasts to perfect advantage. Seumas perused her body, remembering what lay beneath until his lungs would burst for want of air. His appreciation turned to wrath when he found her smiling at Malcolm, who had already risen to greet her.
Seumas seethed as Malcolm put his wet lips against her hand, his eyes never leaving her face. She blushed and lowered her eyes as every good noblewoman was taught to do at a compliment. He listened while the sweet sound of her voice assured Malcolm no offense had been taken; she had no need of an escort. The whisky burned as Seumas finished his drink and reached for more. He sat back at the table. He filled his mouth and closed his eyes, relishing its peaty bite before swallowing it with a hiss.
“Seumas?” With his eyes closed, he realized her voice did soothe, like velvet…nae, like honey on yer tongue, nae…he licked his lips and savored the lingering whisky. He opened his eyes and poured himself another glass. He got up from the table, a bit shaky.
“Ah, dear sister, ye have returned, I see.” Seumas toasted her, and his gaze raked over her body. “Ye do look quite the lady of the manor now.”
His sarcasm was clear but Malcolm did not seem to notice. His eyes were fixed on the tight bodice. He had not even let go of Iseabail’s hand yet. Seumas took a swallow and watched her over the brim. Her eyes showed hurt, but Seumas knew how these noblewomen played their games with men. He would not be caught off guard.
“Come, sit, dear sister,” he said. Malcolm ushered her to the seat beside his own. Seumas dropped down on the bench opposite them. “Take a nice soak, did ye?”
Seumas’s reward was her flushing deep red from the top of her head to the square collar of her gown. The embroidery around the neck appeared to be blue hearts, though Seumas had to squint to be sure they were not daggers. Her heaving bosom was even more telling. When his eyes met hers, he thought he saw tears.
He rose from his seat, filed his glass, and held it up in salute.
“Malcolm.” Seumas took in the number of people moving about the room. Surely Iseabail would be unmolested in such a public place. “Must be off to check on Calum…return shortly.”
Malcolm nodded and returned his lustful gaze to Iseabail.
Seumas took long strides to separate himself from his “sister” before he forcibly and painfully removed Malcolm’s hand from hers and crushed it for good measure. His breathing was labored by the time he found his empty room. Calum was not in it. Seumas surveyed the chamber for clues. It seemed strange that Calum would not be there. The room started to spin. That was probably why Calum had left. The spinning was damn irritating.