Knight Protector (Knight Chronicles) (11 page)

“If there is aught to confess. However, I am nae certain she has enough motherly feeling to crack under a threat to Henry.”

Sorcha caught Colin’s gaze and nodded. “You couldna endanger that child any more than I, could you?”

Colin sighed. “Nae, but I’d have nae trouble letting Lady Agnes believe her son in danger if I thought it would help us find the traitors or the letters.”

Sorcha looked forward once more then leaned back to find Colin’s muscled shoulder at her back. Her head slid naturally into the crook of his neck. “So we are agreed that Lady Agnes is an unlikely spy?”

“Perhaps,” mused Colin. “But we canna afford to discount anyone without solid evidence to the contrary. Naught she has said or done during our brief visits indicates one way or the other. Mayhap I should speak with her again when you talk with Father Cuthbert, so they canna confer. She may well be more forthcoming when you are absent.”

“True.”

His hand stroked gentle circles at her shoulder joint. She should shrug off his touch, but the caress soothed some of the tension caused by talk of spies and murder.

“Now tell me, what other conclusions you draw about our chamberlain and his report?”

“He seemed more aloof than usual.”

“Perhaps nervousness at an interview with a new master exaggerated his normal manner.” Colin’s tone was low and easy.

She remembered that tone from years ago when Colin would croon comfort to a skittish horse or a nervous hound. She was nae horse or dog, but with his big body so close, she couldna suppress the ache of longing in her belly or the twinge of anticipation in her breasts. She gamely ignored the distracting sensations and continued the discussion.

“Perhaps. Or mayhap he was hiding something more than simple knowledge over missing kitchen supplies. The MacClarens are known to sympathize with the English, and he spoke of his clan with pride. If he were a spy, why reveal that?”

Colin shifted in the bed once more. “His name has been known here for decades, so ’twas naught to reveal. But Clan MacClaren has connections to Clan MacAba—known to favor the English even more than the MacClarens. Our chamberlain said that Sir Broc, my half brother’s bodyguard, is a MacAba. ’Tis a relation I’d nae reveal if I were working with a man against Scotland.”

“So by revealing Sir Broc’s allegiance, Sir MacClaren draws suspicion away from himself.”

“At the very least he causes us to waste time proving the truth of Sir Broc’s clan ties.”

“Why bother? Which clan claims Sir Broc proves little either way. Half of Scotland is related to the other half, and just as many have ties to England through marriage or land ownership.”

“Perhaps our chamberlain bears the man a grudge. Relatives are nae always friends.” Colin spoke solemnly and let his free hand drop to his lap. “Clan Marr being a solid example.”

’Twas the first time she’d heard him hint that his feelings about Brice might involve more than envy and occasional anger. Sorcha looked at him briefly. He was frowning, but over what, exactly, she couldna tell.

“At present,” she said. “We can neither pinpoint MacClaren as a spy nor dismiss him as loyal. As chamberlain he has ample opportunity to cause mischief or add poison to food, even after it has been tasted.”

“What of his information about the letters my father sent to Lady Coillteach?” Colin sighed. He stroked his free hand over hers to clasp her fingers.

Warmth stole over Sorcha. “What of it? Many people write letters, and all know that Earl Coillteach’s wife is something of a simpleton. I doubt she could be a spy.”

“However, spies have been known to disguise their abilities or use innocents when living amongst their victims, and you may recall that Coillteach has directed my activities on Scotland’s behalf for the past ten years. Were his wife a spy, he would be destroyed personally and politically. As for frequently writing letters, my father avoided the activity whenever possible. Using a quill or stylus gave his hand cramps. When events forced him to send letters he always summoned the priest to write for him.”

“That is interesting.” She eased her hand from his and straightened her head away from him.

“I doubt my father would have sent to the village for Father Andrew, so the priest writing his letters would be the man who came with Lady Agnes.”

“When I speak with Father Cuthbert, I’ll try to get him to tell me what the letters contained. What of servants of longer standing, the knights, and other clansmen? Your father’s leanings were well known. Wouldna those people share some of his inclinations?”

“Precisely why we must speak with everyone at Strathnaver.”

“Which leaves us still undecided about Sir MacClaren.”

“Aye, he will bear watching.”

They fell silent. Sorcha became more aware of Colin’s body warming her side and his arm about her shoulders. Last night his ultimatums had failed to get her into his bed. Was he trying to seduce her, now? ’Twould be a mistake, but she had nae objected to anything done while they talked. She breathed in deeply, trying to calm her racing thoughts. But Colin’s spice and leather scent filled her head. She couldna possibly think if she stayed where she was.

Praying that Colin would nae try to stop her, half hoping that he would so she would have cause to resist him more strongly, she slid to the edge of the bed. She could nae allow him to ken how weak she was.

His hand fell from her shoulder, and she stood. The side that had pressed against him cooled. She couldna help longing to discover once more the touch of his lips and the comfort of his embrace. If only passion were enough. If only desire were nae a self-betrayal.

Unsatisfied passion lingered in his mind and his body. God’s blood! She’d wed Brice, which meant she’d lain with him. Was that why she wouldna give herself now? When he’d first gotten here, he’d thought she mourned her husband. In the days since then, he’d become less and less sure. Beyond her protests over the handling of his brother’s corpse, she’d barely even mentioned the cur. She’d spent vastly more effort avoiding the topic than championing her spouse. And in those rare unguarded moments, when Colin had touched her, she’d responded—magnificently. Such contrary reactions were incomprehensible. How could he be sure of her if he couldna understand her
?
His desire for her muddled his thinking, and ’twas his own fault.

He was the one who insisted she stay by his side—fool though he might be, he’d do it again. All through the conversation about the chamberlain, Colin had been conscious of Sorcha’s body. When the opportunity presented itself, he couldna resist the temptation to compel her to sit closer. Too close, evidently. Her scent had filled his nostrils. She’d swept some loose hairs behind her ears and drawn his eyes to the graceful length of her neck. She’d turned her head to look at him as she spoke, and he’d wanted to plunder the sweetness of her pink lips. ’Twas a delicious torture. Still, he’d forced himself to keep his gaze on her face. If he’d let his eyes wander to the swell of her breasts, he would have been unable to keep his hands off her.

And look what happened. At the first chance, she ran like a hare before a hound. Mayhap that was the problem. She denied them both out of fear. He must lull her into forgetting any doubts or hesitations altogether.

He’d had his first victory today. She hadna objected when he eased his arm around her shoulders . . . nae until they’d fallen silent. Then her body had tightened, and she’d moved away from him. He’d seen the pulse in her neck beat faster, and her breathing increase. He’d used all his will to keep himself from reaching for her as she stood. Today’s small touches had set his desire boiling, and he dinna know how much more he could take before doing something unforgiveable. He’d let passion run away from him once—ten years ago. His dilemma with Sorcha resulted directly from that heedless act. He could nae afford to lose control again. The solution was a seduction that, God willing, would put her in his bed again before another week was out, sooner if he was lucky. Never mind that his feelings for Sorcha were uncertain. His body knew what it wanted, and he saw nae reason to no have it. But first he must persuade her that she was willing.

He knew better than to rush his quarry, however, lest she take flight before he could capture her. Nae, like the spies he hunted, he must lure her to him with patience and irresistible temptation. So he’d permitted her return to her sewing and her window bench without any remark. Let her believe that she had escaped him, that he was nae threat to her placid, solitary life.

St. Andrew’s Cross, she was driving him mad and distracting him from his purpose. He needed to perfect his plans to find the letters from France and to discover the spies who threatened Scotland. Getting Sorcha into his bed must wait.

Soon the steward knocked at the chamber door. Sorcha looked to Colin. He gave her a nod. “Let’s get this over with.”

She admitted the Englishman who managed all of the earl’s property and servants outside the house—guards, animals, buildings, yeomen, supplies.

“Welcome, Sir Fitzsimmons,” Colin said. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“I only regret we could nae meet earlier, my lord.”

The man smiled, all teeth and shining eyes, but his forehead remained smooth, and the skin at the corners of his eyes didna wrinkle. That gleam could as easily be assessment as good nature.

The steward took up a seat on the same stool where the chamberlain had recently sat. “’Tis glad I am to see you recovering. Tell me, how may I be of service?”

“I gather that you came to Strathnaver from one of the Marr holdings in the south.”

“No, my former position was as under steward to Lord Du Grace on the coast of the Irish Sea near Lancaster.”

“When was that exactly?”

“About six, maybe seven years come this spring.”

“So, you came here after my father died.”

“His health was failing rapidly when I arrived. The earl was unable to act for himself, and the former steward had become too old for the work. So the countess pensioned the man and sent for me on his recommendation. Evidently, he’d heard of my management of the animals at Blancmer and been impressed. I had been able to increase wool yields and eliminate many excessive costs as well as improve the Du Grace horse breeding efforts. Strathnaver’s newly acquired destrier, courser, and palfrey stud was very attractive to me. Given my experience, it was thought I would be a good choice for putting that enterprise on the best possible footing.”

In his peripheral vision, Colin saw Sorcha stiffen and her hands paused above her sewing. “I was not aware that my father had decided to proceed with the idea of breeding horses.”

The steward jerked his head back, clearly surprised. “But, that is, I was told you played a major part in helping your father acquire the stallions and mares needed.”

Sorcha frowned. Her agitation increased so much that she pricked a finger. “Pah.” She shoved her needlework aside and thrust the wounded digit into her mouth.

“Ah, yes.” Colin had nae idea what the man was talking about. “That was shortly before we argued. I left home for a number of years, so I wasna aware of father’s precise plans.” He lied with glib ease as he had done all his life whenever he pretended to be Brice, just as Brice had lied even more easily and on many more occasions than those in which he pretended to be Colin.

“I see.” The man’s expression said he didna see at all. “Perhaps you would like me to give you the details of Strathnaver’s breeding plans.”

Sorcha rapidly stroked her braid.

“That will be an excellent place to start filling me in on all matters pertaining to the holding.”

His faux-wife shot to her feet. “Please excuse me, husband. I’ve just recalled that cook asked to speak with me about a number of matters.”

“I regret, wife, that I need you here. You may attend to matters with the cook later.” He held out his hand, forcing her to come to him or appear exceedingly rude to her beloved spouse.

When she was settled, somewhat stiff and resisting, with his arm securely about her waist he nodded at Sir Fitzsimmons. “Please continue.”

“Well, as you know, the stock was acquired from the MacKai herd.”

Colin felt Sorcha jerk within his grasp.

Fitzsimmons cast her a curious look but continued. “How you and your father persuaded Baron MacKai to put so many steeds into the betrothal contract, I and many others would like to know. The Mackais have been extremely stingy with their breeding mares and studs. Only two that I know of have left MacKai control and are now owned by Edward I of England.”

Sorcha’s body stilled and became even more rigid, then she sucked in a small breath.

Colin’s grip tightened on her waist.
She knows something about this, and she will tell me all
. Before the feud the MacKai clan might have given a mare or two as betrothal gifts to Clan Marr but never a stud and certainly not a large number of horses. And they would nae ever allow their stallions and mares to fall into Edward Plantagenet’s clutches. “Ah, I canna reveal family secrets, especially from so long ago that I may mis-remember the details. The horses were somewhat of an early wedding gift. Lady Strathnaver and I were betrothed many years ago, but circumstances forced us to delay our marriage until recently.”

“You are fortunate in your choice of bride,” Sir Fitzsimmons remarked. He cast Sorcha a quick glance. “The MacKai horses you received are all of the highest quality. With Lady Agnes’s permission, I added a couple of trainers to the Strathnaver stable workers and hired a superior master of horse. I’m sure you’ve heard of Ian Strathclyde’s skill. With his management, Strathnaver has produced some of the best-trained and most valuable destriers available today. The coursers and palfreys have been quite successful as well.”

“This is wonderful news, Sir Fitzsimmons, and assures me that my children and their children will live prosperous and comfortable lives. I am certain that pleases my wife as well. Does it not,
muirnean
?”

He found her staring at him, her expression somewhere between appalled and baffled. She smiled sweetly and faced the steward. “Oh, aye. You can have nae idea, sir, what dreams I have for my children.”