Flame (28 page)

That was where the key to Ironcross Castle’s
secrets lay. The reasons for these killings were rooted in the
past. Perhaps as far back as the time of Duncan MacInnes, or even
more distant than that. Perhaps in the time when the women buried
in the vault still walked on this earth. Gavin certainly hoped the
old priest would have the answers.

“I believe I will continue to enjoy your
hospitality a while longer, laird.”

“Is that a request, m’lord earl, or a
statement?”

“Take it as you wish.” Athol shrugged. “But
with Joanna MacInnes living within these walls while you wait for a
response from James Gordon, I see it as my duty to remain.”

Gavin felt the hackles on his neck rise. “If
that’s the only reason...”

“Nay, ‘tis hardly the only reason. Do not
forget, that attempt was on my life as well as yours. I do not take
kindly to such impertinence. I have as great a desire to find this
blackguard as you do.”

Gavin considered Athol’s words for a moment
before agreeing. “Aye, you may stay. But only so long as you keep
your wily ways to yourself and that bruised and ugly face away from
Joanna.”

“Och!” the Highlander responded, feigning
injury. “I thought sweet Joanna was unaffected by my charms.”

“Aye.” Gavin eyed the earl suspiciously.

“Well then, I will make no promises that I
intend to break. And
you
have nothing to fear.”

“I wish I could say the same for you,” Gavin
growled with a menacing look.

Sitting in an elaborately carved chair by her
bed, Joanna started abruptly as the beam of late afternoon sunlight
that had been creeping unnoticed across the chamber, caressed her
foot with its warm rays.

Why, she thought, must he stay away?

Standing and moving across the chamber, she
stood with her back to the wall. Night would soon be falling, and
Joanna was glad. It was painful to pretend that there was nothing
amiss around her. Joanna knew she would inevitably have to leave
this chamber that Gavin had his people hastily prepare for her. She
knew she would have to go out and face the members of the
household. But she hated the thought of it. Despised the false
front she would have to put on before them.

Joanna moved restlessly about her bedchamber.
They would ask her questions. They would smile and pretend to be
solicitous. Running her fingers along the smooth edge of the damask
bedcurtains, she cringed inwardly at the thought of the encounters.
She knew she couldn’t trust herself to look into the women’s faces
and still keep her fury in check.

Already, Joanna had caught a glimpse of
Molly, the housekeeper. She, too, had been among the women of the
crypt. How different she had looked that terrible night, dressed in
white, chanting and moving with the rest. There had been no trace
of that Molly when yesterday, she and two of the serving boys had
brought into her room a chest of clothing that had been undamaged
by the fire.

Joanna had remained seated, her face averted
until they had left the room. She sat for a long while after that,
staring at the chest.

When Joanna opened the chest, she had found
the dresses that had once belonged to her mother, and tears had
followed. Tears of sadness. Tears of regret. Tears of anger.

But those tears were finished now. The young
woman moved to the window and looked down at the dress that had
once been her mother’s. She smoothed her hands over the cloth the
way she had seen her mother do it a thousand times. She
straightened up and gazed out at the lengthening shadows.

And for the hundredth time today, Joanna told
herself that she would bide her time for the present and await that
moment of justice.

When the time came, Joanna was determined to
follow through on her plan, but in the meantime she found herself
longing more and more for time alone with Gavin. The happiness of
that single night in his arms was firmly imprinted on her heart.
And with so few days left, she simply could not content herself
with this ache that seemed to gnaw at her very bones.

The night she had stepped into his arms and
into his bed, she had done so knowing that she could no longer be
bound by what others might think or say. This was her life to live.
No one else would decide her path.

And she had said as much to the Earl of Athol
in his visit to her chamber this afternoon. In response to his
concern at her remaining at Ironcross Castle, at her “alleged”
consent to marrying Gavin Kerr, she had spoken her mind--bluntly
and freely--telling the Highlander that it was not his place to
question her decisions if he wished to remain her friend. Though
she had spoken from her heart, Joanna was nonetheless surprised
that John Stewart had shown such goodwill, even relief, in
accepting her wishes.

But with that done, Joanna still had the
problem of luring Gavin into her room.

The young woman glided across the chamber to
her bed. Her virtuous lover was determined, it seemed, to await the
return of his messenger from James Gordon, so he could wed her
first before taking her back into his bed. Well, as far as Joanna
was concerned, by the time that happened, she could very well be
dead and buried, and she had no intention of waiting that long.
Each moment now was more precious than Gavin could possibly
imagine.

**

As the sounds of night gradually descended on
the Old Keep, Gavin strode out of the Great Hall, past sleeping
warriors and servants, and into the corridors leading up to his
chamber.

Moving along the dim corridors of the keep,
Gavin considered the priest. Father William had been missing since
this morning, so far as anyone could tell, but Gavin was not going
to just sit back and hope that the strange little man would return.
From what the new laird could see, the chaplain was not one to
spend his time visiting sick crofters or doing anything else quite
so noble. For the short time he’d know the cleric, Gavin hadn’t
once seen him venture out of the castle. The spiritual needs of
anyone outside of these walls were obviously being met by
Mater.

But the priest’s absence had not been the
only disappearance of the day. In talking to Athol, Gavin had
learned that the earl’s informer, the stable hand David, had also
disappeared. The earl had openly admitted that, having found the
meager provisions and bedding of some wayward peasant, he’d left
David in the shadows of the underground loch to keep an eye on the
spot. But now, a day later, there had been no word from the
man.

And that hadn’t been all of it. During
supper, word had reached Gavin that Molly was upset since she had
not been able to locate Margaret, the steward’s sister,
anywhere.

Three people missing. At this rate, Gavin
thought grimly, in a fortnight or so there will be no need for a
laird.

But then, the mute woman’s disappearance
perhaps would be the easiest to resolve, Gavin thought. In talking
briefly with Joanna this morning, she had told him of the scene
she’d witnessed in the vault the day before--the one in which she
had learned of Margaret and Mater being sisters. More than likely,
that was where Margaret had gone--to the abbey to be with her
sister.

Gavin slowed down as he passed by Joanna’s
door. His warrior, who was leaning with his back against the wall,
straightened up and nodded to him.

Tempted to relieve the man of his duty and
send him on his way, Gavin paused, fighting the longing that was
suddenly stabbing at him with every step he took.

Nay! Don’t do it, he told himself. His reason
told him that this distance he was forcing between Joanna and
himself was needed. Until the message came back from James Gordon,
until Gavin could claim her as his own, he was not about to
jeopardize her reputation in public.

But his heart fought him every step of the
way. He missed her, and he ached for her the way he had never ached
for another woman in his life. Raking a hand through his black
hair, Gavin forced the thought from his mind and trudged
onward.

Reaching his chamber, he pushed open the
heavy door and walked into the darkened room. This would be a long
night, he thought with frustration. Between searching for a
murderer and overseeing the massive reconstruction of the south
wing, which was just beginning in earnest, Gavin had hoped that his
mind would be preoccupied enough that he would not miss Joanna’s
company.

“You are a fool if you think that!” he
muttered aloud, wearily making his way in the darkness to the
window and yanking open the shutters.

The light of the half moon flooded the
chamber with a blue-white glow, and Gavin turned around, gazing
across the room at the portrait still sitting above his hearth.
Looking into her smiling eyes, thoughts filtered through his mind
of what life would be between the two of them once they were done
with the cursed problems of the present.

The two of them, he thought, a smile creasing
his face.

For the first time in his life, Gavin Kerr
found himself dreaming of a future. Not since he was a lad had he
allowed himself to look into the night sky and dream of what lay
beyond the stars. But now, here he was, seeing the two of them in a
vision as clear as a Highland loch, standing side by side in the
years to come. Stunned, he allowed his thoughts to wander. He could
see her now, her middle swelling with his child. He could see their
daughters and sons around them. And again he could see them--the
two of them--growing old.

Aye, he thought, how good it would be to live
and to grow old beside the one you love.

The sudden tightness in his throat caught him
unawares, and he leaned his head back against the wall beside the
window and closed his eyes.

The movement of the panel in the wall opening
beside his bed snapped him sharply out of his reverie. Alert to the
possibility that this may very well be another attempt on his life,
Gavin silently drew the gleaming blade of his dirk from its
sheath...and then replaced it.

He didn’t have to see her face to know that
it was Joanna. Like an apparition she moved, gliding into his
chamber with the same grace and ease that she had moved into his
soul. With a smile, Gavin moved away from the wall, more than
willing to offer her his heart as well.

“Gavin,” she called softly, taking couple of
steps in his direction before coming to a halt in the moonlight
pooling in the center of the room. “I heard your footsteps passing
by my door. I had hoped...I wondered...”

She stopped, her hands nervously clutched
before her. Gavin’s heart swelled at the sight of her. He’d thought
her breathtakingly beautiful, clad only in rags. But now, standing
before him, a woman of substance, adorned with the finery
appropriate to her station in life, she stunned him with her
beauty.

“I...” he fumbled. “By...well, I
thought...”

She smiled at him, and he forced himself to
focus his attention. “Joanna, I put a guard outside your chamber
and a latch on that panel door, thinking that you would stay
put.”

“And I would have, if you had not persisted
in staying away.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow and moved closer,
drawing her hands into his. Holding her at arm’s length, he let his
eyes roam appreciatively from head to toe and back again. “I was
there this morning.”

“So were three of your men, working on the
panel, and a serving girl seeing after my things. You were all
there at the same time.” She pulled one hand free and touched him
on the shoulder. Gavin thought he did a good job at hiding the pain
that shot through his body. “Is this the shoulder that struck the
side of the chasm?”

He could not hold back any longer. Encircling
her waist with a brawny arm, he drew her into his embrace, brushing
his mouth against her parted lips.

“What shoulder?” he whispered.

“The one that John Stewart told me you
injured!”

“John Stewart has a big mouth and
no
sense of discretion.” Gavin deepened the kiss and felt Joanna rise
against him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and pressing
her body firmly against his. The hunger he constantly felt for her
took charge. His fingers traced the firm flesh of her breasts
before moving around to her buttocks and pressing her hard against
his rising manhood. Her response, immediate and passionate, brought
out a madness in him. A madness pricked with desire.

“This was my fear,” he said hoarsely,
breaking off the kiss and settling his lips onto the sweet, ivory
skin of her neck. “Of being left alone with you and being unable to
stop.”

“Then don’t stop,” she said hoarsely, running
her hands down his back, tracing his backside. Her fingers started
to pull at his belt.

“I cannot risk having someone discover you
here.” His fingers were making short work of the laces on the back
of her dress.

“No one will,” she whispered as he tugged
down at the neckline, freeing one of her breasts. “I have a
guard...” He leaned down and took her nipple between his lips.
“...inside my door...” she managed to gasp, digging her fingers
into his hair.

“He had better be outside,” Gavin growled,
pulling down her dress down her body and sliding it over her hips.
He eyed the thin chemise that failed to hide her perfect form.

“Outside,” she repeated. As she unfastened
his belt and dropped it to the floor, Gavin kicked off his boots
and helped her as Joanna pushed his shirt up over his head. Now it
was her turn to eye him as she ran her hands over his chest, and he
could see in her face the embers of desire. She glanced up at him
and smiled. “I have a guard
outside
my door!”

“Even so,” he continued, the conviction of
his argument somewhat undermined by the fact that his fingers were
gently peeling the chemise over her head. “We could be...” his
breath caught in his throat as he cast the garment aside. “We could
be caught!”