by Jackie Ivie
“You are actually claiming to be the new countess?” the woman spoke in an aggressive tone.
“I do not claim anything,” Cassandra replied. “I am the new countess. Rhoenne Ramhurst is my husband. And I carry his heir.” She rested a hand atop her belly in the event Aileen missed the inference.
“So you say,” came the reply.
“We have not been introduced, but you must be Aileen. Rhoenne’s...step-mother,” Cassandra prompted.
“My. My. Aren’t you misinformed.”
Cassandra’s brows rose.
“I am not anyone’s step-mother. I am the laird’s sister.”
Sister?
Cassandra’s eyes went wide. Her heart dropped. Her belly roiled unpleasantly. She hadn’t known she’d swayed until Emin stepped forward to stand just behind her on the left side. She didn’t see him. She felt his presence like a reassuring wall to lean against. She lifted her chin but didn’t move her glance from Aileen.
“Angus FitzHugh?” Cassandra called out.
“My lady?”
He trotted toward her, making a semi-circle about Aileen, clearly avoiding her.
“You were a former steward of Castle Tyne? That is what you said?”
“Aye. That I were.”
“Explain this woman’s status to me, please.”
“This is Aileen Ramhurst. She was brought here as wife to the fourth earl, Caillen Ramhurst. After his passing, she...uh. Well. She up and wed with the laird’s younger brother.”
That was distasteful. Borderline incestuous. Angus said it with a hint of disgust. Cassandra’s nose wrinkled. She couldn’t help it.
“Didn’t that make him her...step-son?”
“What does that matter?” Aileen snapped out.
“I am not speaking to you, Aileen,” Cassandra addressed her. “You will hold your tongue until I do.”
“Well!”
Aileen’s exclamation was loud. Scandalized. Cassandra ignored it to look back at Angus.
“Tell me, Angus. This brother. Does he have a name?”
“Bhaltair.”
“Where is Bhaltair?”
“He was murdered!” Aileen inserted.
“I will repeat myself. Once more. I am not requesting any information from you, Aileen. You will be given an opportunity to speak when I allow it,” Cassandra replied.
“So, I am supposed to just stand by and—?”
“Silence!”
Emin’s command was loud, shocking even Cassandra. She started. His hand immediately touched her back, holding her in place. Cassandra watched as Aileen evaluated that. And knew she put a wicked interpretation to it.
“Allow me to introduce my personal guard.” Cassandra spoke loudly. Succinctly. And with a bit of amusement coloring her tone she didn’t even bother hiding. “This is Emin. I should probably warn you. He is from the east.”
Aileen looked Emin over, her gaze slow and lingering. Akin to a touch. Cassandra watched her dispassionately. She didn’t know what expression Emin had, but she could guess. Aileen was very good. Her method of enticement practiced. She had a frown when she’d finished and tried locking gazes with Emin. It was obvious she hadn’t received the response she expected. That was even more amusing.
“Angus FitzHugh!” Cassandra called out, as if he wasn’t standing directly before her.
“My lady?”
“How old was Bhaltair when this wedding took place?”
“He was a man grown!” Aileen burst out.
Emin stepped from beside her, two daggers in his hands, poised to throw. Cassandra actually wasn’t certain of his intent. Aileen’s eyes went huge. She took a step backward.
“Calum Montvale!” Aileen called out.
“My lady?” the captain of the guards responded from behind her with a nonchalant cant to his voice.
“You will stop this man from threatening me.”
“Apologies...but I obey the countess’s orders now.”
“You would allow this man to harm a woman?”
“ I do na’ see any harm.”
There was a rumble of reaction from the crowd, instantly quelled. Aileen gave a choked sound, sent through clenched teeth. Her expression was not a beauteous one.
“The lad was sixteen, your highness,” Angus supplied in the silence that followed.
“Highness?”
Aileen’s shocked exclamation was gratifying. Cassandra decided to humor her.
“I will allow your outburst this once. And I shall answer. I am a member of the ruling families of two kingdoms. Princess is one of my titles. Do not interrupt again. Angus?” Cassandra tilted her head toward where he stood, but her focus didn’t move from Aileen. “I return to my query. You are telling me this Bhaltair was sixteen at the time of his nuptials. But now...he is dead?”
“Aye.”
“Was this death...recent?”
“Five years past.”
“Oh. So...sad.”
Cassandra wasn’t thinking of the heartless woman before her. She was thinking of Rhoenne, and his younger brother. Barely a man. Wedded to this manipulative woman. Perishing so young.
“Lady Aileen is twice widowed, then? Is that correct? Or are there are further Ramhursts she might have... also wed?”
“How dare you!”
Emin flung the blades. They smacked into the wood floor pinning the bottom of Aileen’s skirts to it. It forced her to hunch forward slightly. He had two more knives out before the first two ceased wobbling. There was a collective gasp from the assemblage. Cassandra almost pitied the woman.
“I did warn you, Aileen. Emin is...from the east. I am not addressing my questions to you. You need to hold your tongue until I do. Angus FitzHugh?”
“Aye?”
“How old was Bhaltair when...he died?”
“He was murdered!” Aileen burst out.
“Emin!”
Cassandra’s cry wasn’t in time to stop his throw. These two blades hit the floor right next to the first two. The hilts clicked against each other in the silence that followed. He had two more ready to throw. This time the collective gasp about them was stained with awe. Aileen paled significantly. Cassandra had to re-evaluate her first impression. Aileen wouldn’t have lasted a day in the harem. She hadn’t even the sense to keep silent.
“He is going to kill me!” Aileen shrieked.
“Aileen. Please. Emin would never harm a woman. He is an expert marksman. He could shave an eyelash if he wished. He is simply enforcing my request for you to hold your tongue. Perhaps I should see you sequestered while I finish questioning my new steward. Angus?”
He still possessed a mouthful of white teeth. They were on full display with his newest grin. He stood taller, as well. “Highness?” he replied.
“Are there chambers in this castle for the reigning countess?”
“Aye. With the earl. Chieftain’s chambers. Right up those stairs.” Angus pointed, but Cassandra had already guessed.
“The ones Aileen used?”
“One and the same.”
“I am confused. Didn’t Bhaltair have an assigned chamber?”
“Tower. East wing.”
“And the Dowager Countess? Where would she be situated?”
“Hmm. Well. There has na’ been a dowager since Caillen and Tevin’s mother. She used the east wing as well, though na’ the tower.”
“I see. Well. Aileen? I am speaking to you now. It appears you have chambers for your use in the east wing. Which is your preference? Tower or lower rooms?”
“Neither.”
“How...unfortunate. If you do not wish to select a new domicile, I shall do it for you.”
Aileen lifted her chin, and attempted to look down her nose at Cassandra. That was amusing. She was tall. It would have been easier if Cassandra wasn’t atop a stool. Aileen’s upper lip lifted in a sneer. She obviously wanted to do more than glare, but she kept glancing toward the blades in Emin’s hands.
“Your choice, please?’
Cassandra prompted.
“I have been in the chieftain’s chamber since I came here. For over a decade now,” she finally answered.
“Well. That is over. Angus? Is there a place for Bhaltair’s widow to...rest...while the chieftain’s rooms are cleared out?”
Aileen almost burst an exclamation out. Whatever impression Emin was demonstrating stopped her.
“The ladies solar should suffice,” Angus supplied.
“Good. That is where the lady Aileen will be taken. Captain Montvale?”
“My lady?”
“I have an assignment for you and your men. You are to escort Lady Aileen to the solar. She is not to leave it until her rooms are ready. Is that understood?”
He nodded. Aileen was looking inordinately pleased at Cassandra’s order. That would change.
“Oh. And Captain? Could you retrieve Emin’s knives for him?”
Montvale knelt down. The blades didn’t look easy to pull free. Cassandra watched Aileen and Calum exchange glances. It was precisely as she’d suspected. They’d been lovers, or still were. Aileen was exactly the type to use men. It had soured Rhoenne. She didn’t know how many others Aileen had favored and then used. Or what they’d do for her. But for now, Cassandra would have some of them gathered into the same area of the castle. They’d be much easier to deal with.
The captain handed the blades to Emin. Bowed toward Cassandra, then turned and offered his arm to Aileen. The eight men who’d entered the castle with him moved to accompany. The rest of his original guard unit were either still outside, or didn’t step from the crowd. They formed a small retinue of men surrounding Aileen. They walked to the back of the great hall, and entered a dark space to the left. The crowd parted for them. Cassandra waited until the sound of their boots faded before speaking again.
“Angus?”
“My lady?”
“Do we have any men who could keep an eye on the area around the solar? Make certain my orders are not...countermanded?”
He nodded sagely. “I will personally select them.”
“Excellent. And do we have...trustworthy staff to assign the chore of cleaning out the chieftain’s chamber?”
“We brought them with us, Highness. ’Tis why we came.”
Cassandra looked over the myriad of smiling faces. Wobbled slightly.
“Ah. I see you are the perfect steward. I have just a few more items, please. Is there a chamber that Rho—Rho...enne used?”
She stammered on his name. Her heart gave a mighty series of thumps, the babe kicking in harmony. And then Emin was at her side, placing his hand at her back again as if he knew she’d need it.
“Aye. He had the west tower.”
“Can someone see me to it?”
“Of course. My womenfolk will be honored. Margaret? Nessa? Maysie?”
The ladies came forward.
“Thank you, Angus,” Cassandra responded.
“Oh. My lady. Thank you. The clan has been needing a cleaning out for some time. ’Tis honored I am to have been able to assist. Clansmen! I need volunteers to keep watch on my nephew and his men! Any takers?”
The chorus of ‘ayes’ was loud. Emin opened his arms. Lifted his brows. Cassandra nodded, and he swept her up again. Good thing. Her legs were too shaky to step down.
“You did well, Highness,” he spoke softly as they left the great hall, following the same path Aileen had just taken.
“Because of you,” she answered.
He shook his head. “No. You are strong enough by yourself. I, but shortened the event.”
He thought her strong? Tears hovered just beneath the surface. She felt drained. Exhausted. Weepy. Bereft. She needed Rhoenne more than ever. Missed him with every fiber of her being. The baby must have felt the same for the amount of movement was ceaseless and massive. Emin felt the kicks against his abdomen, if the glance he gave her after a spate of them was an indicator.
“Your sons are strong,” he told her as he mounted circular steps, following Nessa. “His Excellency will be pleased.”
“Sons?” Cassandra queried.
“I believe the old one’s words have merit. You carry two sons. He will be most pleased.”
“If I only knew where he was.”
“He is not far.”
“If...only I could believe that.”
“Highness. Please. He is close. You will be together. Soon.”
“Oh, Emin. What makes you so certain?”
“Allah. Faith. And knowledge of the man. You wed well, Highness.”
He gave her a smile that she returned. And then they reached Rhoenne’s old chambers.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Well. This marks another day with naught to show for it.”
Euan’s remarks preceded him into their chamber. He shoved into a chair with the same aura of discontent that colored his words. The chair almost upended. Someone chuckled. Rhoenne sent him a glance before ignoring him again. Euan’s remarks didn’t rancor. They didn’t even disturb. Nothing broke through the shell around him.
They didn’t understand.
No one did.
Rhoenne lived with constant pressure about his heart. It burned. Squeezed. Pained. It was always there. Every waking moment, and if he managed to sleep, it seemed worse when he woke. It accompanied every heartbeat. Unyielding. Never easing.
He touched the little bag that held the lock of Cassandra’s hair. It remained hidden beneath his tunic. He silently regarded the fire brightly burning in this chamber he’d been given. Words ebbed and flowed about him. He didn’t truly listen. He might be present physically, but that was the extent of it.
“Well, I suppose if I was a lad of thirteen and king of the Scots, I’d probably spend my days in hunting, too,” Iain remarked.
“I can na’ blame King Alexander his preference. I am sorely tired of this court, too. Already. So. Looks like we’ve an eve of feasting and a bit of revelry ahead of us, men,” Euan remarked.
“As happens most every eve here in Edinburgh Castle,” Grant piped in.
“Yes. Well. Who is for attending?” Euan continued.
“Are they serving tripe?” Graham asked.
“And haggis?” Iain spoke up.
“Well. Come along. We’ll check.”
“And if things begin to pall, we can always start a fight. Who’s with me?”
“Grant. Please.”
“None of this is getting us any nearer an audience than we were four days ago,” Henry spoke up.
Rhoenne huffed slightly.
“You find it amusing?”
“I do na’ find anything amusing anymore, Henry. Anywhere. At any time.” Rhoenne answered the fire.
“Then why can we na’ go and find non-amusing things at your own castle, rather than dance attendance on the king’s court? Especially when the king even avoids it?”
“Because I need to see him afore I can leave.”
“But not the regent?”
“You ken MacDougall detests the sight of me. Despite being a relation.”
“Most men detest the sight of you, Ramhurst. Nae lady will even look their direction after being soured by a glimpse of you. They can na’ compete.”
“Cease.” Rhoenne gave a desultory wave of his free hand.
“Well.” Euan spoke with a forced bright tone. “Let’s off to join the fest then. We ken they’ll have tripe tonight. Who’s with me?”
The room emptied. Rhoenne didn’t note it. Or care.
He wished they hadn’t brought up the king’s regent, Laird Allistair MacDougall. The MacDougall clan was one of the most powerful in the Highlands, their antecedents going back beyond recorded time, their land holdings immense and fruitful, the relations with the crown solid. They were the clan Bhaltair’s mother hailed from. Laird MacDougall had the same carrot-red hair as Bhaltair and looked to be the same size Rhoenne’s younger brother would have achieved...if he’d lived into manhood.
Staring into the fire brought it back v
ividly. Blame for what had happened to Bhaltair was squarely at Rhoenne’s feet. Aileen had given him the clue.
He just hadn’t listened.
It had been when she’d accosted him in the chieftain’s study. The last time she’d touched him. Rhoenne had stood near the desk, looking over a Latin tome, one laboriously hand-lettered by monks in the prior century at the Jedburgh Abbey. Aileen had loudly coughed, interrupting him. Rhoenne had looked up, and instantly known that she’d gone to a bit of trouble with her attire. Her hair had been plaited into braids behind each ear and pulled back. She’d worn a white linen dress, and a tiny lace-edged caplet to match. It should have looked pristine and pure. It hadn’t. She didn’t wear undergarments, and the opacity of the linen wasn’t strong enough to disguise it. She looked like the material had been poured onto her.
She’d approached where he stood, holding the book aloft, trembling in place. The same sensation of cold washed over him as she neared. He’d thought it was revulsion. Now he knew it was deep-seated fear instilled in him years earlier by his father’s beating. He couldn’t conquer it. He’d swallowed nervously as she neared.
“Ah. Rhoenne. Here you are,” she’d said. “I have been looking for you.”
He remembered asking what she wanted. She’d lowered her eyelashes and stepped close, slanting her chin in order to glance up at him. She’d put her hand atop his, and squeezed. Rhoenne had recoiled back a step, breaking the contact.
“Don’t touch me,” he’d told her. “Do na’ ever touch me.”
She’d laughed and done it again. And that’s when he’d warned her. “You touch me again, and I’ll break your fingers.”
That time, she’d lifted her hand. Considered him for a long moment until he’d finally asked her what she wanted.
“I want to be your bride. So I can be countess again,” she’d replied. “I should think it obvious.”