A Noble Deception (The Douglas Clan) (5 page)

Lachlan did his best to put it all out of his mind and simply enjoy the event. He almost succeeded; his enjoyment was hindered only by the nagging curiosity of why he’d been summoned to Glendalough in the first place. But there were enough lovely lasses to overshadow his private concerns. He th
rew himself into enjoying them as well, enjoying their rosy cheeks, their glances and smiles, their curves and pillowy softness.

Alex, too, was in high spirits.
The knight indulged himself in the ale which flowed freely; by the time the platters were cleared away he was quite in his cups.

“Lachlan, isna this fan—fantastic?” he
hiccupped. The jerk of his body caused him to spill ale over the rim of his cup.

“Easy there,
man. What’s gotten into ye? Ye act as though ye’ve never been to a feast before.”

“I ken, isna it grand? I’ve no’ had so much fun in years.”

“I’ll no’ begrudge ye yer fun,” Lachlan conceded. “Things have been tense of late. ‘Tis good to shake it off for a night.”

“Aye
.” Alex bobbed his head vigorously. “Aye, ‘tis. Tonight I am content to forget about old Fiery Face, to forget about Slains, about Lord Erroll and the whole Hay clan. Tonight I’ll drink myself daft, find myself a nice, soft lass, and forget all about the troubles that await us when we return.”

“I’d say ye’re half-way there
.”

Alex
squinted into his cup, examining the dregs intently. “Ye’re right. Half-way isna good enough. Wench!” He raised his cup above his head and lifted his chin to a nearby serving lass.

The
maid approached and filled both men’s cups, encouraging their flirtations as she did. When she’d gone, Alex gazed across the room, furrowing his brow at something that caught his attention.

“
Isna that the lass we saw at the brae this aft?” He pointed, sloppy and tactless.

Lachlan followed
his finger to the rear of the hall. There, indeed, was the lass from the brae. She remained seated at one of the few trestle tables which had not been removed, and conversed mildly with two elderly clanswomen.

“How in the blazes of hell did ye make her out when ye could hardly see the bottom of yer cup?” he demanded, incredulous.

Alex winked. “I’ve a gift when it comes to comely lasses, I do.”

Lachlan snorted. “Comely my arse! She’s
the body of a young lad, flat as a board. She isna even dressed finely.”

Alex pursed his lips,
considering the lass’s plain tunic of umber wool, and her simply bound hair which was a bland, colourless kind of light brown in the surrounding torchlight.

“Perhaps. But she’s lovely eyes.”

“I think that’s the ale speaking. Besides, ye’ll no’ be looking at her eyes if ye get her into yer bed.
That’s
when the shape of a woman counts.”

Alex flipped a hand dismissively
and drank from his fresh cup. His gaze moved on to other, lovelier maids.

Lachlan, though, could not redirect his attention as easily as his friend
. The presence of the unexceptional lass in the unexceptional clothing intrigued him. It was then that he noticed others seemed to be talking about her. He watched as eyes darted towards her and then quickly away, as lips were hidden behind hands to shield unkind whispers and giggles.

The lass
noticed, too. Knowing this, Lachlan wondered if the conversation she kept up with the two elderly women was for the sake of her pride.

His interest was a brief aberration, and it
passed eventually. Soon he and Alex were talking of other things, and indulging in the atmosphere once more.

Just as the merriment was winding down, in the wee hours of the morning,
they were interrupted by Lady Glinis. She approached their table gracefully; all eyes in the immediate vicinity followed her with admiration. Any that did not know who she was at least recognized her importance.

Upon noticing her
, Alex jumped up; he swayed a little as he bowed. Lachlan bowed as well, though being less inebriated, he did not wobble like his friend.

“
Nephew, I am sorry I didna have the chance to speak wi’ ye at the meal as we said we would.”

“Dinna think on it, my Lady,” Lachlan
assured her. “I ken ye’re busy wi’ his Lordship. How is he this evening?”

“He does poorly, though in truth I’ve seen him worse. He has just woken, actually, and wishes to speak wi’ ye now.”

“There is no rush. It can wait to the morrow.”

Lady Glinis lowered her eyes. “’Tis best ye see him now. No
t only because he bids ye, but because there is no guarantee that he will be any better on the morrow.”

“
Of course. If that be his wish.” Tossing a wink to Alex, he said, “I’ll tell ye all on my return.”

He followed her out of the hall and to the keep.
It escaped his notice that Alex had not taken his eyes off the lady for a single moment.

Five

THE INSTANT THAT Lady Glinis entered the hall, the skin at the back of Moira’s neck began to tingle. It was as if she had some sort of innate awareness where the Countess of Kildrummond was concerned. Moira observed from the corner of her eye, careful not to let the lady see her watching, as she approached the two visiting knights and ushered the dark-haired one away.

Only when
Lady Glinis had gone was Moira able to release the tension that had crept into her shoulders. Oh, how that woman made her uncomfortable. Never a smile, never a kind word did she offer. Ever since childhood Moira had known, on some level, that her very existence offended Lord Kildrummond’s wife.

As she grew older she came to understand the reason.
To sympathize with the unfortunate lady, even. Were she in Glinis’s shoes, Moira would probably feel the same way. What woman could tolerate such close proximity to the bastard offspring of her husband’s mistress, after all?

There were many reasons
why Moira avoided Glendaloug; Lady Glinis was one of them. It was for her sake that Moira had declined Lord Kildrummond’s offer that she live at the castle when her mother died (not that the lady appeared in any way grateful, or even appreciative). In fact, Moira would have preferred to avoid the meal tonight, too, if she could. If she hadn’t felt guilty about denying a dying man’s request.

“And how is that young lad of yers these days?”
The elderly clanswoman with whom Moira had been chatting cut into her silent fretting.

She studied the woman, her brows knitting together
. “
My
young lad?”

“Aye, that tall,
gangly one. What be his name?”

“That’d be Nia
ll MacCormack.” Her companion tapped her wrinkled finger on the slatted table board, adding authority to the statement.

“Ah yes, young Niall
MacCormack. Will ye be announcing yer wedding soon? I’m sure it’d make his Lordship happy to ken ye’ll be looked after. He does love ye so, even if ye are a bas—er, well, that is to say ‘twould make him happy, is all.”

Moira pressed her lips together
and forced a smile. “I’m sure it would. But unfortunately Niall MacCormack is only a friend. He and I willna be announcing our wedding plans any time soon. I
guarantee
that!”

“Oh, well
that’s a shame. ‘Tis no bad thing to be the wife of a brewer. They do a decent trade, they do.”

Eager
to end this particular line of conversation, Moira racked her brain for something else to talk about. Thankfully she was relieved of her predicament by the reappearance of Lady Glinis—and the fact that Moira was relieved to see Lady Glinis emphasized how uncomfortable her predicament was.

Glinis
towered over Moira, who had to lift her chin to meet the lady’s steely gaze. “His Lordship wishes an audience wi’ ye.”

A chill ran across Moira’s shoulders
at the countess’s veiled hostility. She refused to let Glinis see it, though.

“If ye’ll excuse me
.” She smiled brightly to her companions. Rising from the bench, she followed Lady Glinis who glided from the hall with not a single backwards glance.

The lady
proceeded through the lower corridors of the castle, and on to the keep. Reaching the staircase, she lifted the hem of her pale blue silk gown. The grace with which she moved enchanted Moira, who in turn bunched the fabric of her own simple gown in her fists and lifted the hem just enough that she wouldn’t trip.

Their manner was just one aspect of a
world of difference which existed between the two women. Their hair, their clothes, even their shoes told of that difference in status. Lady Glinis wore exquisite slippers of satin which had hardly been worn at all. Next to such finery, Moira was slightly ashamed of her rivelins, which she’d made herself from her own stock of rawhide and laced together around her feet with leather thongs. The footwear of a peasant.

Not for the first time Moira wondered what it might be like to give in
, and let his Lordship provide her with financial stability, a comfortable life. It was a hope the earl had not abandoned despite Moira’s persistent rejection. She rejected the notion even now, for as a child she’d resolved never to be at the mercy of a man the way her mother had. She would not open herself up to the derision of others.

Not that it did much good
; the highborn Douglases looked down on her with derision anyway. But at least she had not invited it, not the way her mother had.

Ending the uncomfortable silence in which the pair travelled,
Lady Glinis halted at Lord Kildrummond’s bedchamber. Moira felt her heart pick up speed; she had not seen the earl since he’d taken to his bed with his illness. A pang of guilt pricked her conscience over that. Despite what her personal resolutions were, the man
was
her father, and he
did
love her.

As if divining her thoughts, Glinis shot Moira a warning glare.
Behave
, her eyes seemed to say. Then she rapped curtly on the door. Without waiting for an answer she pushed it open and stepped through. Moira trailed in after her, her entrance meek.

“Yer Lordship.” Lady Glinis curtsied, and i
mmediately her countenance softened. A warm smile came to her face as she took in the men in the room.

Moira cringed, for she had not expected such an audi
ence. Besides the earl there were also Lord Albermarle and Eamon Douglas, Glendalough’s steward.

A third man stood against the far wall. She
recognized him immediately as one of the riders she’d seen earlier that day by the brae. He’d been with another man then. As determined as she was to ignore the gossip and snide stares, she hadn’t noticed that he’d been in the great hall for the meal.

The man
looked at her now with passive curiosity. A shot of hot pride bolted through her. She knew his type: full of himself and his good looks. Thought he could get any beautiful lass he desired. She disliked his kind thoroughly.

Moira lifted her chin and stared coolly back. She was
determined that this stranger would be of as little consequence to her as she so obviously was to him.

“Yer Lordship
.” She curtseyed properly to the ailing earl. A touch of hurt came to Lord Kildrummond’s eyes at the formal greeting, which Lady Glinis noticed. She pursed her lips disapprovingly.

“Moira, my sweetling. I’m glad ye’ve come.” The earl’s voice was raspy, and his breathing laboured, as if he’d worn himself out
by those few words alone. Alarmed, Moira glanced uncertainly towards Lord Albermarle, with whom she enjoyed a friendly companionship.

“Aye, ye didna think he were so far gone, did ye?”

“Perhaps ye might come more often now,” Lady Glinis added crisply.

“Hush now.” Lord Kildrummond held a hand up
for his wife. To Moira he said, “Will ye have a seat?”

The
only available seat in the room was the bedside stool. Gingerly she moved towards it, noticing, as she arranged herself on it, that she was the only one sitting. Lady Glinis probably wasn’t too happy about that, she though miserably.

Standing
, as he was, outside the group, Lachlan surveyed the interaction between the others present. He maintained an impartial expression, though curiosity tickled beneath the surface. Who was this lass, this plainly dressed, plain-faced lass, who seemed to be afforded such courtesy?

“I’d first like to thank ye for making the journey
here this evening,” the earl addressed Lord Albermarle and Lachlan. “As ye ken, I’ve no’ long left in this world; I’ll be meeting my maker soon enough.”

“No’ too soon, we hope
,” Lady Glinis spoke earnestly.

“Nevertheless, I’ve an immediate concern wi’ making sure my lands and family are taken care of. Now we all ken what trouble the ki
ng makes for Douglases, and wi’ these recent confiscations of Douglas lands, I’ve a concern that Kildrummond might come into his sights. We are no’ a wealthy people, but my lands are prosperous enough, and my people live in peace. I willna rest easy until I ken it’ll continue this way after I’m gone.”

“Lord Albermarle will see to that, yer Lordship,” Lady Glinis assured
him. “I’ve no doubt he’ll manage the lands well enough.”

Lord Albermarle exchanged a glance with Lord Kildrummond.

“As it happens, my dear, I’ve spoken wi’ Edward already, and he accepts my decision that I’ll no’ be naming him my successor.”

Thi
s shocked everyone in the room. Except for Lord Albermarle, who lowered his eyes.

“If no’ Lord Albermarle, then who—” Lady Glinis broke off, her eyes widening excitedly. “Ye dinna mean our Lachlan, d’ye? Is that why ye’ve summoned him?”

“Aye, ‘tis. Viscount Strathcairn, the title and the lands are yers upon my death, if ye want them.”

Lachlan stared at the earl, his
jaw hanging slack. “Yer Lordship? Why would ye choose me? I’m no’—”

“Ye’re family,” Lord Albermarle put in. “But no’
Douglas
family. If the lands are no longer in Douglas hands, Fiery Face will have a difficult time confiscating them should this feud continue the way it is.”

Lady Glinis clapp
ed her hands together gleefully. A slow, baffled smile spread across Lachlan’s face.

“There is one condition, though,” Lord Kildrummond continued.

“Anything.”

“
As these things go, there must be a tie stronger than the law; there must be a tie made by God. I’m sure it’ll come as no surprise to ye that I wish ye to marry my daughter. Keep a little Douglas blood in the place, aye?”

“Yer daughter, my Lord?” Lachlan glanced questioningly to his aunt, whose elation had turned to
disbelief. “Who be yer daughter?”

“
I am,” Moira interjected shakily. Her head was reeling. She was so shocked she felt as though she would faint. And, simultaneously, so outraged she was sure she could pound through the masonry with her bare fists.

Lachlan’s confusion cleared swiftly. The m
istress—of course. This lass was illegitimate. Studying her now, he saw the resemblance between her and Lord Kildrummond, though she was much more feminine than the earl. They had the same rounded jaw, the same high forehead. The eyes, too, were of the same wide shape and the same shimmering blue.

Chafing under the intruder’s scrutiny
, Moira scowled. “I’ll do no such thing,” she vowed, and stood abruptly.

“Now, Moira,” Lord Kildrummond urged.

“Ye’ll mind yer tongue and do as yer father says,” Lady Glinis argued.

“My dear—”

“Nay, I’ll no’ hear it. Ye indulge that lass too much. Ne’er before have I seen a daughter behave so terribly towards her father. I would have been flogged in the village square if I dared speak to my own father in such a manner.”

Lachlan said nothing, though
in truth he, too, was appalled by the lass’s brash outburst.

“Ye’re in no position to defy him, Moira,” Lord Albermarle added gently. “Ye live on his lands, free of rent—
often enough,” he amended when she shot him a challenging glare. “Ye’re dependent on him for yer coin, too. Even when ye dinna take a direct offer, most of yer goods are sold at market to Douglases and Kildrummond tenants.”

Moira opened her mouth. U
nable to think of any argument, she closed it again. Her face flushed scarlet; she could feel its heat colouring her neck and cheeks. “I’ll no’ live on his lands, then. I can find another place to live, far away. I’ll head north; or I’ll find somewhere in our old border village. I can live anywhere, I dinna have to live in Moray.”

“And struggle even harder than ye are now?”

“Moira, love, I think only of yer best interests,” Lord Kildrummond promised.

Moira
stared hard at the earl; then she turned her head to Lachlan. Immediately her blood boiled even higher. “What the bloody hell are
ye
looking at?” she spat. “Ye can forget about it, I’ll no’ be marrying the likes of ye!”

Then, before anyone could
speak further, she whirled and bolted from the room.

“Moira!” Lady Glinis shouted after her. “Moira ye come back here this instant.”

But the lass was gone. Exasperated, the lady dropped her hands to her sides. “Ye should have her dragged back here. That’s what any father would do wi’ a daughter so insolent.”

Lord Kildrummond nodded, resigned. “Aye, I should. But I canna.”

“Ye’ve ne’er been able to discipline that wee terror.”

“My Lady, she is in a state,” Lord Albermarle said. “I agree wi’ ye, that kind of behaviour shouldna be tolerated, but give the lass a bit of sympathy. She’ll come round.”

“But what about Lachlan? Will ye still offer him Kildrummond if Moira runs off and he doesna marry her?”

“My Lord, if I may,” Lachlan interjected. “Give me the morrow to speak wi’ the lass. Perhaps I can bring her round to the idea.”