Amanda Scott (34 page)

She did not mind in the least. The last thing she wanted to do was to ride pillion with him, or worse, to ride in front of him on his saddlebow with his arm around her. A brisk, bracing walk in the rain-washed air would suit her just fine.

He took her by the shoulders, startling her and making her realize that his grip there before had bruised her, but he only gazed into her face this time and gently brushed a few errant strands of her still-damp hair from her cheeks as he said, “What happened to your caul?”

“I pulled it off whilst I sat on the rock, because I wanted to feel the wind in my hair. I expect it blew away after you snatched me up.”

He smiled wryly, saying, “Looking as we do, I’m thinking it will be as well for us both if we can manage to slip inside and upstairs without meeting Lady Margaret or his grace.”

Grateful as she was for his light tone, aware that he was trying to ease the tension between them, she did not respond. She did not care whom they met.

The clouds were breaking up as they scudded eastward, and sunbeams spilled through the openings, like shining pathways from heaven to earth. Their golden light sparkled on the waters of the Sound and the bay, and made the raindrops on the grass and shrubbery glitter like brilliants on formal court costumes.

As Cristina and Hector approached the walkway between the hall and the guest wing, he said, “We’ll just have time to change for supper if we don’t dawdle, so we have excellent reason to slip in through the kitchen instead of the main entrance. We’ll tell anyone we meet that we’re in a hurry, not wanting to be late.”

She nodded and let him lead the way. No one moved to stop him, nor had she expected that anyone would, although the kitchen stairway was for servants’ use, and guests rarely used any but the main entrance to the castle.

When they reached the guest wing, he paused, saying, “Now that you’re safely inside, I want to make certain my horse did return to the barn, lass, so I’ll leave you here. You’ll get your clothing changed quicker if Brona does not think she has to guard your modesty from me. But I’ll be back in a twinkling.”

Brona was waiting for her, making Cristina glad—and not for the first time—that she had not taken a maid of her own with her from Chalamine to Lochbuie. To have had to endure just then the strictures of one who had known her from the cradle would have irritated her beyond endurance. But although she had come in looking as if someone had tried to launder her clothes while she wore them, Brona simply began with her usual quiet air of dignity to assist her.

“I was caught in the storm and lost my caul,” Cristina said as the woman began gently to comb out the tangles in her hair.

“I can see that, m’lady,” the woman said. “I think we’d best sit ye down by yon fire, so your hair will dry. It would no do t’ be sending ye down t’ pay your respects t’ the next King o’ Scots wi’ a wet head.”

Cristina moved obediently nearer the hearth, and Mariota walked in.

“Faith, but where have you been, Cristina?” she exclaimed. “I thought you’d got lost, or were still vexed with me.”

“You should not walk into this room without rapping first, my love,” Cristina said with a smile as she imagined her sister’s shock had she walked in on Hector as he was changing his clothing. “You forget that I share it with my husband.”

“Nay, I did not, but I saw him crossing the courtyard, and I knew you would not mind if I interrupted you.”

“Then come in and shut the door,” Cristina said. “I’m just getting warm.”

“But where were you? I thought you just went for a short walk.”

“We got caught in the storm on the cliff, near a rock on the highest point. I think it is the one Mairi called the judgment rock.”

Mariota nodded. “
Creag na Corps
. What on earth were you doing there?”

“I wanted some peace, so I went up alone to see the view, but don’t start scolding me, for I promise you, I have already heard all I want to hear about it.”

“From Hector? I told him I thought perhaps you’d gone up there.”

“Yes, he found me just as the lightning caught up with us, and seeing me exposed to it as I was frightened him witless, so naturally he lost his temper and said horrid things to me.”

Mariota said complacently, “Aye, well he won’t be doing that much longer. I talked with the abbot today, and he faithfully promised—”

“Mariota, you didn’t!”

“Well, of course I did,” Mariota said. “He likes me, Cristina, and he sees the bigger picture, just as I do. He says we can sort it all out in a trice, so you need not fret about Hector’s temper. I can tell you, it won’t worry me in the least, because I know exactly how to keep a man’s mind on something other than scolding me.”

“Aye, you do,” Cristina agreed. “But Hector is not a man you can manipulate so easily. Indeed, he means to send me home tomorrow,” she added with a sigh.

“He does?” Mariota’s expression lightened, but then, as if she realized that joy was not the proper emotion to display, it altered ludicrously to sympathy. “I’m desperately sorry that you’ll have to go,” she said. “You must be so disappointed.”

“I’m not exactly delighted,” Cristina said dryly, aware of Brona’s presence. Hoping the woman’s discretion was as trustworthy as it seemed to be, she added, “I’m afraid most folks will think he’s punishing his wife for misbehavior.”

“Mayhap a few,” Mariota said. “But recall that nearly everyone will leave by week’s end. Doubtless Hector will be busy till then looking after the Steward.”

“Aye, but he’ll be back here at any moment,” Cristina said, standing and asking Brona to fill the washbasin so she could wash her hands and face before donning her gown and sitting down again to have her hair arranged.

Eyes atwinkle, Mariota said, “I know you have to hurry, so I’d better go. If he is in a temper, I don’t want to see him now, anyway,” she added, chuckling.

Cristina fixed her attention on her appearance for the next twenty minutes before she realized that more than enough time had passed for Hector to go to the barn and back. By the time Brona had finished arranging her hair, she was wondering if she ought to send a gillie to find him, but before she had made up her mind, the latch clicked and he hurried in, looking both worried and harried.

“Did your pony not return?”

“Oh, aye, he did, but he managed to strain a hock somehow. I’m guessing the lightning frightened him and he stumbled, or he stepped into a rabbit hole.”

Guilt surged through her. “Mercy, and it’s my fault. If I hadn’t—”

“Enough, lass,” he said firmly. “It was no one’s fault. I should have tied him or at least looped the rein over a bush before I ran to get you.”

Discretion or none, Cristina decided that she would prefer Brona’s absence now more than her presence. “That will be all, Brona,” she said. “I’m quite ready to go downstairs, and you can tidy up in here after the laird has dressed.”

“Aye, m’lady,” she said, bobbing a curtsy and departing.

“You should go ahead, lass. Your father will be down by now, and you can make my excuses to his grace if he looks for me—or if Lachlan does. Be tactful.”

She nodded. “I’ll do my best, sir, but hurry.”

As she walked briskly toward the stairway, Fergus Love stepped out of a shadowy alcove ahead of her, smiling broadly. “There you are,” he said. “I wondered if you had managed to leave your chamber before I could run up here.”

Pausing, she said with a touch of annoyance, “But you should not approach me this way, sir. You must know that such behavior is inappropriate.”

“My lady, I cannot stay away,” he said, spreading his hands. “I am helpless against the power of your attraction. I came at once when I heard that your husband had lingered elsewhere, leaving you in need of an escort to make your appearance below. No such beautiful lady should go unprotected at his grace’s court.”

As if he had known her all his life, he took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. “Think of me as your protector, lass. I’ll look after you well.”

“Please, sir, you must not,” Cristina said in dismay as she tried to pull free.

“Ah, lassie, do not tease me,” he said, catching her other hand, pulling her hard against him and holding her there with an arm around her waist. “There now, you feel the evidence of my desire for you,” he said, leering at her.

“Oh, for mercy’s sake,” she snapped, disgusted. “If you do not release me at once, I shall scream.”

“I cannot allow that,” he said, capturing her mouth in a hard kiss and raising a hand to cup the back of her head so she could not pull away.

Furious, Cristina raised a foot and stomped down as hard as she could. Although she could not see her target, she felt it and heard him cry out in pain.

Jerking back his head, he gaped at her in astonishment. “How dare you!” he snapped. “By heaven, when you are mine—”

But Cristina did not hear the rest because a large hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around as another gripped her arm and pulled her away from him. Before Fergus Love could protest the rough treatment, a cracking blow from Hector’s right fist sent him crashing full length to the stone floor.

Standing over him, Hector growled, “Do not lay hands on my wife again.”

“Mercy, sir,” Cristina exclaimed, looking at her would-be suitor in shock. “What if you’ve killed him?”

“What if I have?” Hector demanded. “You stay away from him, my lass, or you’ll suffer the consequences of my temper, too.”

“If you think for one moment that I—”

“I don’t, or we’d be heading back to our bedchamber right now for some plain talk, instead of going down with dignity to join his grace’s honored guests.”

“Are we just going to leave him there?”

“We are. Have you an objection to that?”

She hesitated, but his grim scowl told her she would win no debate with him over the likes of Fergus Love. “No, sir,” she said.

“Good. You may precede me. These steps are too narrow to go two abreast.”

As they passed the first turn in the spiral stairway, Love’s voice sounded from above: “I don’t know why you’re so wroth with me, lass. Your own sister said you were that taken with me and would soon be free, seeking a husband. ’Tis shameful to serve the one man willing to wed you with such wicked treatment.”

Cristina gasped.

“If Mariota sent that scoundrel to waylay you outside your bedchamber door, I’ll have something to say to her that will make her hair curl,” Hector snarled.

“Please, sir, do not,” Cristina said, feeling a shiver of fear at the thought of what might ensue from such a scene.

“Your sister badly wants skelping,” he said. “Everyone may blame you when she takes the bit between her teeth, but you cannot control her alone, so I’ll help. I expect I’d better wait till after his grace’s reception before taking her to task though.”

However, to Cristina’s further dismay, Mariota was standing just outside in the courtyard, and she grinned as soon as she saw her step through the doorway. “I see Fergus found—” She broke off, apparently seeing then that the man following Cristina was not Fergus. Her mouth fell open.

Cristina exclaimed, “Mariota, what were you thinking, to send that man upstairs like that! Do you realize he believed I would welcome his attentions?”

“Never mind, lass, I’ll deal with this,” Hector said grimly.

“I don’t know what you think you must deal with, sir,” Mariota said, smiling. “If the stupid man took liberties, I’m sure it is not my fault. Fingon told me Fergus wanted to extend his acquaintance with Cristina, and reminded me that after the annulment she will need another husband. I hoped his interest would comfort her after you were so mean and said you were sending her home. I was just being kind.”

“The devil you were! If you were my daughter, by heaven, I’d—”

“Daughter! Faith, I’ve no wish to be your daughter. I mean to be your wife, and if you think you will bully me then, you had better think again.”

Before he could finish telling her what he wanted to do to her, Cristina said, “For shame, Mariota! Keep your voice down lest others out here hear you. Do you not realize that that horrid man tried to kiss me right outside our bedchamber?”

“Even if he did, I—”

“We left him lying on the floor,” Cristina interjected curtly. “It was dreadful, Mariota, and if you sent him up there, the whole thing
was
your fault!”

Mariota looked from one to the other, and as her wide-eyed gaze met Hector’s furious one, her expression altered. “I didn’t know,” she said. “I do apologize if anything I might have said led him to believe he could behave so dreadfully, but you must have done something to make him think he could kiss you, Cristina, because I certainly never told him to. Please, you must believe me, sir. I’m most dreadfully sorry. Truly, I am, but it was not my fault. Cristina is always so friendly, and doubtless her natural, rather flirtatious nature led him to believe—”

“Be silent,” Hector snapped. “I do not want to hear another word from you. I mean to tell your father of this new mischief you have stirred. You have behaved disgracefully, and if you think for one moment that I’d want to marry you, ever, you were never more mistaken. I’d as lief marry a she-badger!”

“You don’t mean that,” Mariota said, her eyes welling with tears.

“I have never meant anything more,” he declared, ignoring them. “Now, leave us before I tell you—no matter who can hear it—exactly what I think of you.”

Gathering her dignity, she turned on her heel and walked quickly away.

“Oh, sir, you do not know what you have done,” Cristina said, wondering what she could possibly do to ease the pain Mariota must be feeling.

“I know what I’ve done,” he said. “I’ve emptied your idiot sister’s head of the twaddle with which she, unaided by anyone else, has stuffed it, and I see what a miraculous escape I had. Had I followed my own course, I’d have married her and been duty-bound to honor the marriage, which terrifies me. That woman is mad.”

“Nay, sir, not mad,” Cristina said, although she had often thought as much herself. Mariota’s tears had stirred her as little as they had stirred him, because from early childhood, she had watched her produce tears at will. Still, Cristina knew that her sister was suffering, because that was always the case when she felt slighted, and she would react to Hector’s anger even more than to anyone else’s, if only because she had persuaded herself that she loved him.