Samantha James (6 page)

“Nay.” His tone was smooth. “I told you I had only just arrived.” His eyes snared hers. “Would that I could see you so again,” he said softly.

Glenda felt her face grow hot. “Do not say such things!”

“Why not?”

“Because it is wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?” His smile vanished. “You are free,” he pointed out. “So am I.”

“I am not free. I am…” She stopped short.

“A widow,” he finished for her. “You are no longer married, Glenda.”

“Oh, but I am. I am wed in my heart as surely as the day I left here a bride. And that is all that matters.” If she was deliberately cruel, she couldn’t help it. Whatever it was that was happening between them, it must end!

Only now it was his turn to be deliberately cruel. “Is it? I find I am curious, Glenda. You and Niall were wed for many years, and now that he is gone, surely the nights are endless. Do you not feel very alone?”

Glenda started. What was this? How could he know the heartache she felt without Niall? The way the nights stretched long and lonely and empty—especially those nights since Daniel’s wedding. For the space of a heartbeat, it was as if he delved deep inside her mind, her very heart.

She drew herself up to her full height. “What would you know of it? You are not married.”

“Nay, I am not. But that does not mean I will never wed. That does not mean I don’t harbor the same desires as other men.”

Glenda’s chin came up. “Aye, I know about men’s desire,” she said stiffly. “I know about
your
desires. Indeed, we
have
known each other for many years. And in those years, you’ve hardly led a celibate life, have you?” She tapped a finger against her lips and pretended to consider. “Ah, I have it! I believe Anna was the first I knew of. Then there was Mary, and Louise—she was madly in love with you, you know. Ah, and the most recent…Patsy. You were with her the night of Daniel’s wedding, were you not?”

Egan’s teeth came together hard. He stared at her, wondering how the devil he was supposed to respond. He disliked knowing that she was aware he’d been with other women. God’s teeth, but it made no sense that he should feel guilty! He owed her no loyalty. He owed her nothing, for she had been another man’s wife.

Not his.

Nay, he’d not been celibate. But if he had not, it was because he’d had to find a way to somehow forget about
her
—if only for a time! But he couldn’t tell her that! Instead he said only, “I am not a monk, nor did I ever pretend to be.”

The sound she made low in her throat made it abundantly clear she quite agreed. With a swirl of her skirts, she whirled and started toward the oaken door.

Egan was already there, planted squarely before her. “Do not be so hasty, lass. It occurs to me perhaps we should settle this.”

Glenda looked from him to the door. “What are you doing, Egan?”

“Ah, I think you know very well what I’m doing.” Softly, deliberately, he said, “There is much between us. Perhaps we should tend to it here and now.”

Panic wedged deep in her breast.

“There is nothing between us.” Her gaze flitted away. Her voice sounded nothing at all like her own. She had to force the words past the dryness in her throat. “I feel nothing for you, Egan, save what I have ever felt these many years.”

“And what is that? I confess, I’m eager to hear.”

His directness took her by surprise. From some
where she summoned the courage to meet his gaze anew. “I—I admired you,” she stated without thinking.

His eyes began to gleam. “Ah. So you admired me.”

Oh, how dare he appear so pleased! “Not in that way!”

“In what way then?” He remained undaunted.

Not so with Glenda. “You—you are a man of honor. A man of pride and respect, of strength and valor. I-I admired that,” she said breathlessly. “Indeed, I still do.”

“And that is all?”

Her pulse skidded. In truth, she’d revealed far more than she’d meant to. “Aye,” she said unsteadily, somehow managing to sound more desperate than forceful. “What more did you expect?”

He did not answer, not directly. “This journey,” he said softly. “The two of us alone”—he shook his head—“’tis not the same as before, Glenda.”

There was that in his tone which made her heart begin to hammer…that…and the way he looked at her.

“I know not what you mean.” Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak.

“And I think you do. I know you fight it, lass. Indeed, I have fought it, too.”

Damn him, she thought. Damn him! He was so sure of himself, while she felt scattered to the winds of a storm. Nor could she meet his eyes any longer. The air was suddenly close and heated and intense.
He
was so intense. Her gaze slipped to his mouth…ah, dangerous territory, that! Her regard finally set
tled on the bronzed column of his throat.

“You are wrong, Egan. There is nothing between us.” She despised herself, for now her denial was even weaker than before.

He stepped close, so close her breasts brushed the front of his tunic. “Of a sudden you are reluctant to look me in the eye,” he observed. “Indeed, if that is true, then look me in the eye and tell me so.”

Egan saw the way she swallowed, sensed her struggle as she finally lifted her gaze. And as their eyes tangled, he saw the leap of fear, heard the labor of her breath, felt the rise and fall of her breasts…and knew her anxious panic.

Dear God, was he elated? Or as terrified as she was?

For Egan had just discovered that she could not tell him,
would
not tell him…for it was not true. He’d wondered if she felt what he did, and now he knew. Oh, she could talk of honor and respect and admiration, but he was not fooled. She’d not be so skittish if there was nothing, as she claimed so righteously.

It was too soon. Deep in his soul, he knew it. But if he could not have her lips, he would at least have this. He raised a hand, intending to trace the delicate line of her mouth, just for an instant.

Her lashes fell, hiding from him what he craved so desperately. She turned her head away in the heartbeat before he would have touched her.

“Do not, Egan. I beg of you, do not.”

Her voice was so low he had to strain to catch the words. Her plea hung between them, like stale smoke in the air.

Egan’s hand dropped slowly to his side. He stared at her, while she stared into the shadows across the room. Time stretched into eternity. Neither of them moved.

It was Glenda who broke the tense, ringing silence. “I’ll see that there is food ready when you leave in the morn.”

His jaw tensed. “I’ll not be leaving.”

Her eyes flashed to his. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll not be leaving in the morn,” he reiterated coolly.

A moment’s hesitation. Though spite was not his way, a part of him relished her uncertainty.

“What,” she said faintly. “The next day, then?”

“Nay. Not then or the day after, or even the day after that.”

His coolness rekindled her fire. “Explain yourself, if you please.”

“Certainly. Cameron charged me with your care—with your protection—and I will see to it.”

“There is no need.”

“There is every need, since I was—”

“Aye, I know! Charged with my care! But I now discharge you of that obligation.”

“My obligation was to Cameron, not you, Glenda. Even were it not so, I have an obligation to myself to see that you are safe.”

“I
am
quite safe, and I am hardly alone. I have Bernard and Milburn, and Nessa and Jeannine.”

“Nonetheless, I am staying.”

Her mouth opened and closed. Egan was not about to back down, and perhaps she knew it. Still, it seemed she would have the last word.

“One night, Egan. You may stay this one night, and that is all.”

She swept past him with nary a glance, the set of her small shoulders stiff with proud defiance. Egan waited until the echo of her footsteps had faded, then finally moved to close the door.

Did she truly think he would leave her in this place, such as it was? Why, the very idea was laughable!

I have Bernard and Milburn, and Nessa and Jeannine
.

Egan shook his head in amazement. Did she really believe those four would insure her safety? A woman who was half crippled and another who was daft! A man who was half-blind and half-deaf and would not hear if an entire army crashed through the gates—and another who apparently was as fond of bathing in his ale as drinking it!

And did she truly think there was nothing between them?

He could not help but shake his head in disbelief.
We shall see, sweet lady
, he thought to himself.
We shall see
.

As luck would have it, Egan was one of the first ones Glenda encountered when she ventured into the bailey the next morning. He stood just outside the stables talking to Milburn, who was mounted atop a gray gelding. Glenda could see that he was much more alert than he’d been yesterday when they arrived.

There were several large pouches looped across his saddle. She couldn’t help but remember last eve, when she’d told Egan she would have food readied for his journey…but it appeared as if Milburn was the one prepared for a journey, not Egan…

Even as she watched, Egan said something to Milburn. Milburn squared his shoulders; his chest seemed to puff out. He gave a nod, wheeled the gelding, and galloped across the bailey toward the gate.

A frown pleated her brow. With a whirl of dust in his wake, he disappeared beneath the shadows of the gatehouse. Where was he going, she wondered, and what was it that he and Egan had been discussing so earnestly?

Her gaze slid back to Egan. If she could have
turned and scurried back into the keep, she would have, for he had seen her and was striding toward her. Glenda remained where she was. All at once her pulse was suddenly thudding.

“Good morning to you, Glenda.” His greeting was calm, his gaze unerringly direct.

She found it rather irksome that he appeared so well rested and at ease. She, on the other hand, had hardy slept a wink. Her mind was amuddle…and all because of him!

Her fingers curled into her palms. Somewhere she found the courage to meet and match his ease of manner. “Good morning to you, Egan.” She tipped her head toward the gatehouse. “That was Milburn, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

“Ah. And where is he off to?”

“To Dunthorpe.”

“To Dunthorpe!” Glenda’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Whatever for?”

“To deliver a message.”

“And may I be privy to this message?”

Her arch tone was not lost on him. He inclined his head, his features cool. “Indeed you may. I’ve informed Cameron that I intend to remain here at Blackstone indefinitely.”

Glenda’s temper began to simmer. “I thought we settled this last eve, Egan.”

“We did not.”

She glared at him. “Your behavior is most audacious.”

“No doubt it is”—he startled her with his agreement—“but I have good reason. I would not leave
any woman here under these circumstances.”

“I meant what I said last night. There is no need for you to remain.”

“Is it pride, or stubbornness, which lies behind your refusal? A little of both, methinks. And something else, too, I vow.” His regard was steady. “Why are you so afraid of me, Glenda?”

“I am not!” Yet her heart began to thud almost wildly in her chest. It wasn’t him, she told herself. It was
her
. The way he made her feel, so out of control, so unlike herself.

“Then why are you so set against it? So set against me? Is it because of last night?” A brow arched high. A smile curled his lips, a smile she suspected was rooted in lazy amusement. “Need I remind you that nothing happened?”

Glenda felt her entire body go hot, and it was not from the warmth of the spring sun beating down. “Of a certainty it didn’t,” she snapped, “so do not make sport of me, Egan MacBain. My father is gone. My uncle is gone. These are my people now, and I must set things to right here.”

His smile was no more. “As well you should,” he said almost grimly. “Still, there are some things which cannot be done alone. I pray you will not let your emotion sway your good judgment.”

“You seem convinced I have no good judgment!”

“If I gave you that impression, I am heartily sorry, for in truth I do not know any woman more capable than you. Yet if someone is driving your people from their homes—burning them out—you cannot ignore it.
I
cannot ignore it. What of the castle’s defense? What if someone should attack the keep itself? Your
men-at-arms I can count on the fingers of one hand. And if it’s true that Simon Ruthven is a lawless man, then it may well take a lawless man to bring him to heel.”

“And you think you are that man?”

“Mayhap I am.”

His tone had turned as hard as his gaze. “I meant no affront to your manhood,” she said stiffly. Sweet heaven, never that. She eyed his lean, powerful form, the depth and broadness of his chest, the power of his legs as he stood with booted feet slightly apart. The sun turning his eyes to a silvery-blue hue nearly took her breath away. The planes of his cheeks and jaw were deeply bronzed, and the breeze lifted a black lock of hair from his forehead. All she could think was that she’d never seen him look quite so handsome as he did at this moment.

Everything inside her churned. She was wrong. She
was
afraid of him. What was she to do? she thought almost desperately. God help her, what was she to do?

Exactly what he said
, a voice inside her prodded. She must be rational. She could not be a fool. She could not gamble with others’ lives. She must put her feelings for him aside…she caught herself just in time.

What madness was this? Her feelings for him…she
had
no feelings for him save what she’d stated last night! This was Egan. Above all, she must ever bear that in mind…

This was Egan
.

Dear God, how could she forget? And why was this decision so hard, when it should have been so easy?

She twisted her fingers in her skirts. “This is my home,” she said, her voice very low, “not yours. The duty is hardly yours.”

His gaze seemed to sharpen. “I am well aware of that, Glenda. Be assured, I have no intention of wresting control from you.”

For the longest time she said nothing, aware that he watched her. Then: “How long will you stay?”

“As long as it takes. No more, no less.” His inflection, like his features, was impassive.

Glenda nodded. When he had gone, she let out a long, uneven breath. She had denied that anything was happening between them. Indeed, she told herself, she would not allow it…

Yet she was very much afraid it was already too late.

By the end of the day, Glenda’s head ached abominably. She spent the day inspecting every inch of the castle. Though she would never have admitted it to anyone, she was disheartened by all she found over the next few days. The castle stores were vastly depleted—whether from careless waste or sheer inattentiveness, she knew not, though she suspected the latter. In truth, it didn’t matter either way. She must hope that the year’s harvest would be a fruitful one, that provisions for the winter ahead could be acquired.

Nor was that the only worry. There were numerous repairs to be made. Egan had found several gaping holes in the castle walls and places where the stone had crumbled and fallen. The timbers that supported the rooms in the north tower were rotting and
required replacement. And Egan was right. Blackstone Tower’s defenses were deplorable.

It was Egan who found a mason to begin repairs. Their meals over the next few days were far better than the first as well. She suspected it was Egan who had gone out hunting, but he did not say, and Glenda did not ask. It was as if she’d convinced herself that the less she acknowledged him, the easier it would be to disavow his existence.

If only it were so easy.

Several days later, Simon Ruthven arrived just before the evening meal. Egan didn’t know what he’d expected, but it was not the tall fair-haired man who strode into the hall. He carried himself with the graceful, commanding air of a man who was confident of himself in all things. Clothing of deep, rich burgundy complemented the gold of his hair. His eyes were the color of jade. Full lips smiled beneath a long, well-shaped nose that had clearly never sustained damage from the brunt of another man’s knuckles. He was, Egan knew, the kind of man that women whispered about in hushed excitement, each longing to be his chosen one…the kind of man that he—Egan—was not.

He gritted his teeth. Glenda had crossed to the newcomer. The top of her head barely reached Simon’s chin. Rosy lips were curved in a smile that Egan had seen but seldom these past few years. His only satisfaction came when Nessa curled her lips and declared her intention to take her meal elsewhere. He inclined his head in polite acknowledgment when Glenda introduced him. Simon deemed
him unworthy of further attention by turning back to Glenda.

“Will you sup with us?” she asked.

“Dearest lady, I would be honored.”

These past days, Egan had heard much of Simon Ruthven—none of which had been flattering. He’d been anxious to meet the Englishman face-to-face; indeed, he’d chafed when he’d learned Simon was away. Yet now that Simon was here at Blackstone, Egan found himself wishing Glenda would toss the bastard out on his ear! Still, he was well aware what must be done. He must put his feelings aside, put his annoyance aside and use the opportunity to watch and learn.

“You must forgive my tardiness in welcoming you back to Blackstone Tower,” Simon was saying. “I have been in London and have only just returned. Have you ever been there?” He reached out and plucked a fat goose leg from a platter.

“To London? Nay.” Glenda shook her head, her tone wistful. “’Tis a long way from the Highlands?”

“The Highlands. Lord God, but I must tell you, Glenda—you look exactly the same as when you left here so many years ago to wed your Highlander…what was his name?”

A split second passed before she spoke. “Niall. His name was Niall.”

“Niall! Ah, yes, that’s right. I had heard of your loss, but I must know. Have you children?”

Her eyes darkened. The smile faded. Wordlessly she shook her head. She did not elaborate.

Egan took subtle note. After all this time, it was still difficult for her to speak of the bairn she’d lost.
Indeed, he’d never heard her speak of it, at least, not to him. The day was branded forever in his mind—the day when the heads of Niall and his father Ronald had been delivered to Dunthorpe. ’Twas a sight that sent many a man to his knees, sickened and retching. The shock had sent Glenda, heavy with Niall’s babe, into labor.

Born too early, her son had survived but a few pitiful minutes.

That had been nearly three years ago. Perhaps, being a man, in particular a man who had never fathered a child—at least that he knew of—Egan could not fully comprehend her difficulty. Was it truly still so very painful?

The thought was cut abruptly short as Simon’s hand came out to cover hers. “I, too, have seen the loss of one dear to my heart.”

Egan curled and uncurled his fingers. He longed to leap across the table and rip out Simon’s throat with his bare hands.

“Ah, yes. Your wife. I’d heard. How awful for you to have lost her during your first year of marriage.” Glenda eased her hand from beneath his and reached for the ewer of wine. “More wine, Simon?”

“Yes, if you please.”

In order to fill his goblet, Glenda had to lean forward slightly. Egan didn’t miss the way Simon’s gaze wandered lustfully down the arch of her throat, boldly evaluating the swell of her breasts beneath her gown.

When she was done, he murmured his thanks and glanced at Egan. “And what of you? Do you have lands in the Highlands?”

“Nay.”

“A farm then?”

Did Simon intentionally belittle him? Egan would have given anything to strangle him then and there. “I know naught of farming,” he said without thinking. He groped for something more to add, feeling very much the fool.

It was Glenda who said, “Egan lends his sword to the clan MacKay. Indeed, he is my brother-in-law Cameron’s most trusted warrior, as well as his friend.”

“A pity then, that he couldn’t have saved your husband and his family.”

Every muscle in Egan’s body went taut. Did this bastard somehow know of the guilt that consumed him in those days that followed the massacre of the MacKays by the Munroes? He had agonized endlessly—at times he still did! Over and over he’d wondered…would the outcome have been the same if he had been there? Could he have saved Niall and the others?

He had to force himself to relax. “I do hope you meant no insult.”

For an instant the air seemed charged with a pent-up tension. Then those perfectly arched golden brows shot high. Simon began to laugh. “Good God!” he erupted. “No need to be so defensive, man, or you’ll have me believing it’s true the Highlanders have the devil’s own temper. ’Twas an idle remark, meant as neither insult nor challenge, I assure you.”

Never had a meal progressed so slowly. Egan was smoldering inside. Was Glenda taken in by the Englishman’s demeanor? Simon was strikingly hand
some, but it wasn’t just his god-like golden looks. His speech was cultured, glib and facile; he was well-mannered and well-dressed. Next to Simon Ruthven, Egan felt the lowliest churl.

“I have a question for you, Simon. Upon my arrival, I learned that Blackstone has seen troubled times aplenty since my father died and my uncle sickened.”

Egan sucked in a breath, caught wholly off guard by Glenda’s words. What in God’s teeth was she doing? Surely she didn’t mean to confront Simon with the rumors! Faith, but he could have throttled her. He would have warned her with a glance, but she had focused her attention wholly on Simon.

“Indeed—” calmly she folded her hands atop the table—“there have been nighttime raids on some of Blackstone’s people.”

Simon nodded. “So I’d heard! What blackguards, to attempt to roust those poor people from their homes.”

Both Egan and Glenda gauged Simon’s reaction closely, but the Englishman was completely composed.

Glenda’s lips curved into a smile. “Can you imagine?” she said lightly. “Why, I’ve heard tell that even your name has been bandied about as the one responsible.”

“No doubt because my own lands and tenants have not been harmed.” Simon was as smooth as ever. “I’ve been lucky, it seems.” He gazed at Glenda levelly. “Blackstone’s lands are valuable. You must guard them well.”

Egan’s gaze narrowed. He had the feeling that
Simon was a man who coveted Blackstone…
and
its mistress.

“But the hour grows late,” Simon was saying. “I’ve extended my welcome long enough.”

Indeed, he never
was
welcome, Egan decided blackly. He rose as well, but kept his distance from the pair as they advanced toward the tall, carved doorway. He didn’t want to make his presence too obvious, yet he was reluctant to leave Glenda alone with this man.