Delight (20 page)

That was it for Douglas. His deception had failed. He smelled like a chamberpot. Rowena believed him capable of hu
rting her.

He gave a low-throated growl and barreled through the doorway. He had naught left to lose.

R
owena ran past him, barefooted, his shirt trailing over her pet
ticoats, all the way down the
stairwell. She foll
owed him as he strode into the
hall and shouted for his men. Douglas ignored her. He was staring in astonished fury at the stranger ensconced on the dais.

A pa
le red-haired nobleman in gold-
embroidered velvet stared back at him. The bold
usurper slumped in the gigantic carved chair of the castle laird.

This stranger regarded Douglas with curiosity over the goblet of burgundy he
'
d just raised to his long pinched nose. He took two disdainful sniffs, then lowered the goblet. He looked scandalized at the sight of Rowena rushing into the hall.

"
Rowena, are you wearing a man
'
s shirt?" the young intruder demanded.

Douglas wondered if he should pick the scrawny twit up by the ears and hurl him out of the hall. After all, he spoke with a displeasing familiarity to her, and he was sitting in Douglas
'
s chair.

Douglas glanced over his shoulder at Rowena, who was struggling to put on Gemma
'
s cloak. "Who is this twit?
"
he asked tightly.

"He is my cousin Jerome,
"
Rowena said. "Jerome, this is the Earl of Dunmoral, your host.
"

"You jest, Rowena,
"
Jerome said with a delicate shudder. "I thought he was the village huntsman.
"

The twit rose from the chair, examining Douglas in fearful amusement. Douglas suddenly realized how he must look. His long black hair was crudely tied in a leather thong. His face was unshaven, the cheekbones prominent from four days of fasting.

The sword and pistols protruding from the belt of the breeches he had pulled on did not give him a friendly appearance. He probably resembled one of the castle
'
s original inhabitants, a medieval
warrior who would slaughter his guests if the fancy struck him.

"
Your cousin?
"
Douglas felt a moment
'
s uncertainty about killing the clodpate.
'
Twas probably not a good idea to kill a future in-law.

Jerome gave Douglas a nervous smile.
"
We have hoped for your recovery, my lord. Rowena has refused to come home until she was assured you would survive. With matters taking such a drastic turn in Hartzburg, I have been quite frantic to pry her away from your
…
hospitality.
"

Now Douglas had a genuine reason to kill him: the twit not only sat in his chair and sniffed Douglas
'
s wine, but he meant to take Rowena back to that dangerous land. He turned stiffly to look at her.

"Are you leaving me?
"
he demanded.

"
Not yet.
"

"
Not ever,
"
he said emphatically.

He realized then how exhausted she too appeared, with purple shadows beneath her downcast eyes. He wondered if she had lost sleep by worrying over him, and the thought was strangely pleasing.

"
Jerome
'
s father has just been taken hostage.
"
Her shoulders sagged with the burden that Douglas would gladly bear. "The rebels have almost broken past Papa
'
s guard.
"

"
Prince Randolph cannot hold out much longer,
"
Jerome said.
"
That is why Rowena mus
t hurry home to reconsider their demands.
"

Douglas poured himself a goblet of wine. "You would negotiate with kidnappers?
"
he said in disbelief.

Contempt flickered across Jerome
'
s colorless face. "You do not understand the politics of a principality, my lord.
"

"
I may not understand the principles of a principality,
"
Douglas said without thinking.
"
But I do understand a kidnapping.
"

Jerome looked up at him in alarm. "From personal experience?
"

"Highland history is rife with episodes of treachery and abduction,
"
Douglas answered evasively. He narrowed his eyes as Jerome nervously took a gulp of wine.
"
Surely you
'
ve heard of the unwelcome guest who sat at a Scotsman
'
s table only to have his own head served on the supper platter that same night?"

Jerome
'
s breath rushed out in a startled cough. Douglas gave him a forceful thump on the back, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "I would not drink too much if I were you, either. I suspect someone is trying to poison me.
"

Jerome set the goblet down on the table.
"
If Rowena does not return with me, Hartzburg will fall to the—
"
He wrinkled his nose. "What
is
that disturbing odor?
"

"
His lordship
'
s poultice,
"
Rowena said.

Jerome pulled out a perfumed handkerchief.
"
Good God."

In his entire life Douglas had not had to struggle harder to subdue his emotions. He realized that Rowena was seriously considering returning to her homeland because of what her cousin had told her. He ached to grab the runt by the neck and use his head as a battering ram against the door. If the princess had not been present, he would have thrashed the twit for daring to entice Rowena into danger.

But Rowena was watching and God only knew what she thought of him since that debacle in the woods. Matthew would handle this situation with calm diplomacy and not the primitive rage that had characterized Douglas
'
s reactions in the past. He would have to tread carefully around this matter of her father else he would risk losing her forever.

"
Her Highness has a personal advisor,
"
Douglas said, ignoring the anxious hammering of his heart.
"
What does he say of this?
"

Rowena frowned. "I have not seen Frederic since the night I arrived at this castle. It does begin to worry me he has not even sent me a message. A full fortnight has come and gone.
"

Jerome
'
s gaze darted to Douglas. "Frederic would not want Her Highness to stay here. He never really wanted to leave Hartzburg in the first place.
"

"You
are a misguided
fool,
"
Douglaa
sai
d
smugly. "You hope to have her appeal to
the
kidnappers
'
higher instincts. I tell you that
such
men have none.
"

"My father
'
s life is at stake.
"
Jerome looked suddenly like a frightened young boy. "The rebels want Rowena to meet them in person. What else can we do?"

"
Frederic wanted Matthew to take a small army of mercenarie
s in through the mountains," Ro
wena said quietly.
"
'
Tis the only way.
"

Douglas stared down at her, striving to conceal his alarm. His lady did not belong in a battlefield. She belonged at his hearth, brushing out her hair, reading to their children.
He
would fight for her. She would not have to defend herself.

"Matthew is not the only authority on military tactics," he stated.

"True." She appeared to have missed the point.
"
But there are v
ery few warriors who are experi
enced, willing, and available to help me.
"

"
Mayhap you have not looked in the right place.
"

"
I have looked everywhere,
"
Rowena said in exasperation.

"I can help you,
"
Douglas said bluntly, a trifle offended that he was forced to state the obvious.

Rowena studied him in rueful silence. "How?" she said at last. "The physician said you will need at least two months to heal. And your hands are
f
u
ll hunting down the outlaws who
threaten your village. Uncle Wal
ter is being held by at least twenty ruffians in a rocky dungeon.
"

Douglas was too insulted to respond.

What did he know of manly things like rescues and revenge? she might well have asked. What use was an injured warrior who let outlaws harass him when her homeland tottered on the brink of anarchy?

In all the days of playacting the gentleman, he had never dreamed he would be so convincing that his very manhood would be questioned.

"The Dragon of Darien could help you," Douglas said with steel in his voice.

Before Rowena could react, the doors opened and Aidan, spurs striking sparks against stone, strode into the hall. "The horses are saddled, sir. We have food.
"

"
Where are you going?
"
Rowena asked Douglas in alarm. "No. Don't tell me. I know—'tis a dreadful idea. Aidan, tell him to wait another week. He isn't ready to go out again after those men.
"

Aidan didn
'
t say a word. He merely squared his shoulders and stared at a shield on the wall. Rowena might as well have been bargaining with a stone effigy for all the emotion he showed.

She turned in desperation to the short bewhis
kered man who sat in the corn
er cleaning a pile of swords. "Baldwin, tell His Lordship he isn't
strong enough to fight Neacail. He
;
ll tear his stitches. The wound will get infected.
"

Baldwin laid down his sword and cloth. He looked at Rowena. He looked appraisingly at Douglas. Then he went back to his work, shaking his grizzled head as if solving this problem were beyond him.

Rowena exhaled forcefully.
"
Douglas of Dunmoral, I
forbid
you to leave this castle.
"

Douglas regarded her in irritation. "Stopping Neacail is not a matter to discuss like a dinner dish," he said. "The man will strike again and again until someone catches him.
"
He lowered his voice.
"
Privately, I appreciate the fact that you care enough to order me about. In public, however, I cannot tolerate this unseemly henpecking.
"

She ran her fingertips up his bronzed wrist.
"
Would you not rather spend time alone with me than chase after an outlaw?"

"
You forget your place," Douglas said in a voice loud enough for every man in the hall to hear. And at the same time he suppressed a shiver of pure longing at her touch.

"We should talk about this in private, Douglas.
"

"
We do not have time,
"
he said. "We will talk later.
"

"We won
'
t talk later if you're killed,
"
Rowena said.

"
We are talking now,
"
he said impatiently, "and 'tis wasting my time.
"

"
What is the point in talking about this later if what we wanted to talk about is already done?
"
she asked.

"What are you talking about?" he said.

Rowena shook her head.
"
I love you, Douglas, but you are of no use to me dead.
"

His heavy-lidded gaze swept over her with possessive hunger as he realized what she had said. She loved him. He was stunned that he could experience such a strange brew of gentle and barbaric feelings in one breath.

She had come after him that night in the woods because she worried about him. She had seen him at his worst, a humiliated warrior. He had sworn at her and said incredibly embarrassing things in her presence. Yet unbelievably the bond between them had been strengthened, not weakened by his failings.