The Beauty of the Mist (11 page)

But the Highlander before him had a way of...well, distracting her. One unguarded look at the warrior, and Maria was finding her thoughts a jumble, her words forgotten.

Well, if she was going to relay her message, she knew she’d better do it quickly, before she lost the chance.

“I...I came here this morning, Sir John, to express our great appreciation...that is, Isabel’s and mine... in doing all you’ve done for us.”

“Isabel!”

Maria looked up in alarm. Had she said too much already?

The Highlander shrugged. “Now, at least, I know your companion’s name. And her relation? To you, I mean.”

Maria waited an instant and weighed the danger of revealing the truth. But there was none, as far as she could see. Something told her it would be best to stay as near to the truth as she could. She had very little experience with lying, but it seemed that the less one invented, the easier it would be to make hold to it later.

“My aunt. Lady Isabel is my aunt.”

“And were you and Isabel traveling alone? Or were there other family members traveling with you when your ship came under the attack?”

“Alone?” she repeated. He was doing it again–controlling the conversation– and Maria could not allow him to continue. She tried to keep her thoughts focused, but in all her life, she’d never felt as unworldly as she did now. “There were no other family members with us.”

John started to voice another question but stopped abruptly as Maria quickly raised a hand to him. He looked questioningly into her serious face.

“I’ll try to explain as much as I can,” she said quietly. “But please ask me no more questions now.”

“Very well, lass,” the Highlander responded, hardly surprised at the young woman’s obvious distress. She had no reason to trust him. Her face was turned, and John studied her profile intently. Her eyes were darting nervously about, and he could see her pulse fluttering rapidly beneath the creamy skin of her slender neck.

He’d never provoked this kind of reaction in any woman above the age of sixteen. She seemed afraid of him, and he didn’t like it a bit. He wondered if perhaps he’d been too rough with the woman. Perhaps he was pressing her too hard for information. He needed to choose a new tack.

“But I am afraid if I don’t,” he continued with a smile, “Then we’ll sit here in total silence until you–finding naught more interesting in my hands–will realize you’ve got no reason to stay, and take your leave.”

Maria stared at the friendly face. “And what is wrong with that? With me leaving?”

“Quite a bit, I’d say!” John said matter of factly. “For one thing, I’d be deprived of your pleasant company. But more importantly, I’ve your safety to consider.”

“My safety?” she cried.

“Aye. Lady Caroline might be standing around the just corner, you know. Waiting for your departure.”

Maria looked uncertainly at him. “You aren’t saying I need protection against her.”

“Nay, lass.” John leaned his face close to hers, his voice confiding in its tone. “Not you. I’m the one needing protection.”

He certainly had to be jesting with her, but Maria could not discern any hint of it in his face. “Excuse me, Sir John, but you don’t look like the kind that needs protection against anything...or anyone.”

“Ah, but I do,” John said, pulling his chair closer and lowering his voice to a whisper. “The truth of it is, while the lady waits around one corner, her husband awaits around the other. Both appear keen on doing mischief at the first opportunity.”

“Directed at you?”

“Aye. At me,” John repeated.

Maria stared at him skeptically. “But why?”

John shook his head, then gazed at her thoughtfully. “May I speak in confidence, lass?”

Maria paused, considering his features. She had the sense that he definitely was jesting with her, but beyond the hint of a twinkle in his eyes, nothing in his look betrayed him. Well, there was no harm in having him think her reliable. She nodded, albeit somewhat doubtfully.

“You must promise not to relay this to anyone. Not even to your aunt.”

“To whom does this confidence pertain?” she asked quietly.

“To Lady Caroline, of course. And her husband. Sir Thomas Maule.”

Maria nodded. “You have my word.”

John moved his chair even closer to the young woman’s. He fought to stifle his smile as she, in turn, leaned toward him. If gossip was the way to smooth away some of her resistance and fear of him, then, by God, he’d begin inventing tales and slander that would make a tinker proud.

“Sir Thomas Maule,” he whispered. “Lady Caroline’s husband, you have met him. Haven’t you?”

Maria shook her head in response. “Nay, I haven’t. Unless he was one of the faces looking on when you took us aboard.”

“He was.” John nodded, leaning on his knees. “Well, lass, the man is some twenty years or so older than Lady Caroline.”

“Is that bad?” Maria asked curiously. In her case, she had been a year older than her husband and would be seven years older than the Scottish king.

“I can’t say it is, Maria, and I can’t say it isn’t. I suppose it all depends. Lady Caroline is twenty-eight years old. Still young, but hardly a bairn anymore. The problem lies in the fact that their difference in age does indeed bother Sir Thomas.” John watched her expression attentively. She looked so young. “How old are you, Maria? If you don’t mind my asking?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Are you, now?” John responded, raising an eyebrow. “I am thirty-two.”

“Nine years difference. That doesn’t seem much for...” Maria stopped abruptly, turning her scarlet face at once toward the bandaged hands in her lap.

This time John smiled openly, but not wanting to lose the ground gained, he reached over and handed her cup to her.

She accepted it gladly and brought it to her lips.

“Aye. Nine years, but where was I?”

She handed him back the cup. “You were telling me about Sir Thomas.”

“Aye.” John absently examined the empty cup in his hands, without thinking wiping a clinging droplet from the side of the cup with his finger and drawing it across his lips.

Maria watched his every move.

“This is a second marriage for Sir Thomas,” John said finally, rousing himself.

“I assumed that, Sir John. Mistress Janet is a lovely woman.”

“Och, aye. That’s right. You know the lass.”

“What happened to his first wife?”

“A fever took her. About five years back.” John turned the cup slowly in his hand. “She was a good woman, I should think. Mistress Janet seems to be a young woman brought up with loving care. But this second marriage of his...”

“There is no love in the match,” Maria said gravely.

John smiled to himself. He loved playing the devil. In truth, he was certain that there was little about the marriage between Sir Thomas and Caroline that hadn’t been the subject of endless whispering at court. What he really wanted from this little chat was to learn something more about the green-eyed beauty looking so intently at him now. He wondered what secrets
she
might have to share.

“Love. Well, I don’t know. Most folks these days seem to take a view to marriage doesn’t have much to do with love. And, to be honest, I don’t much hold with that view, but Sir Thomas is a difficult man to call on that account.” John placed the cup gently on the table. “I myself have never married, but I wonder if it’s possible to love more than once in a lifetime?”

Maria stared at him, uncertain of the answer herself.

“You must know what I’m speaking of.” John pressed. “You told me you’ve been married before. Could you ever love again–ever marry again for love–after being on the receiving end of your first husband’s love and adoration?”

Maria stared down at her hands. Why had she been so foolish as to bring up the subject of love with regard to marriage? Now she found herself on the spot, and she felt completely unprepared to answer. What could she know about a real marriage? When had she ever felt the love of her husband? When had she ever loved in return?

“You have a fanciful view of marriage, Sir John.”

Her expression had turned from grave to despondent in the wink of an eye, and the Highlander knew he was sailing into treacherous waters. But, inexplicably, this glimpse of her emotion drew him irrevocably on.

“How long were you married, Maria?”

She raised her eyes to his face, steadily returning his gaze. “Four years.”

“Was that a marriage of love?” John believed he already knew the answer to his question, but he wanted to hear her say it.

Maria paused a moment, then shook her head. “Nay, only a marriage arranged...well, for the mutual benefit of our families.”

Suddenly, the young woman realized that her knee was touching his, and she made no attempt to remove it. In their four years together, she thought, not even once had she sat with Louis, her husband, alone, in such a conversation as this. Always, there had been others about. Only during his rare and all too brief visits to her bed had they spent even a moment alone. She thought now of those distressingly distasteful moments. She had known from the start that Louis had...other interests. And then he had led his troops against Suleyman the Magnificent at Mohács, and that had been that.

John saw her withdrawing once again. “Well, lass, for whatever reasons they had for marrying–and whatever Lady Caroline’s feelings might be for him, I believe that Sir Thomas is at least infatuated enough with his wife that one might construe his feelings to be love. And that brings us to why he wants me dead.”

“Wants you dead?” she repeated, startled by the ominous tones in his voice. “But why?”

“Apparently, he thinks I am having an affair with his wife.”

Maria’s green eyes narrowed. “Are you?”

John shook his head. “Nay, I have no interest in the woman. I don't believe in carrying on with married women.”

“Well, Sir John,” she murmured, saying the first thing that came to her mind. “That’s...honorable.” She wondered absently if she could trust his words. He was handsome enough that he probably could choose and carry on an affair with whomever he pleased.

“Thank you, lass.” John reached out and brushed the tips of her exposed fingers with his, watching as she suppressed the instinctive urge to pull them away. “But just because I say it’s so, I don’t think that is quite enough for Sir Thomas.”

The jade green of her eyes glowing with interest, Maria now leaned toward him, capturing his gaze and looking searchingly into his face.

“But there must be more to this, Sir John,” she said. “I have to assume that the men of Scotland don’t make it a practice of hurling charges of such a serious nature at one another...unless something has raised their fears, encouraged their suspicions. Why should he suspect you and not the other men aboard this ship? Indeed, why does he not trust his wife? In my country there is great dishonor in a woman being suspected in this way.”

“But not a man?” He had to ask.

“You know as well as I, Sir John. Men answer to a different set of standards than women do. But it seems, in this case, this woman’s fidelity is the one in question, not yours.”

Maria watched in silence as the Highlander stood and walked across the cabin to the window. Pausing there, he turned and looked at her intently, as if trying to decide something. Abruptly, he strode across the floor and sat before her once again. He had her full attention.

“Lady Caroline was, at one time, my mistress,” he announced. As the shock registered on her face, John continued. “Before she ever married the man. And our liaison was completely over and done with before their marriage.”

“For how long was she your mistress?” she asked under lowered eyelids. Now she could see the poor husband’s struggle.

John held back his laugh. Her tone and manner conveyed a clear reproach. But seeing Maria come out of her shell was worth the danger of the admitting such a thing to her. “Seven years.”

“Seven years?” she asked incredulously. “That’s longer than the time I was married.”

“She was a free woman,” John argued, attempting to defend himself. “And she remained free to spend her time with whomever she pleased.”

“Seven years!” Maria repeated.

“And she did have other men in her life,” John argued, continuing to maintain his relative innocence. “For each of those years, I spent many, many months at sea. And during those times, she was free to act as she so desired.”

“Poor Sir Thomas.” Maria shook her head disapprovingly. “The agony the poor man must be going through.”

“The agony
he
is going through!” John said, his voice becoming an angry growl. “What of the agony I’m going through.”

Maria raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t appear to be in pain.”

“You think not, lass?” John protested. “Here I am, being haunted by the husband for something I am totally innocent of. And at the same time, I know that...well...”

“Know what?” Maria urged him, unconsciously touching his hand.

John moved closer to her and whispered the words. “I know she still fancies me, Maria. She wants me back.”

“But she is married!” Maria shook her head. My God, she’d led a sheltered life! Up to now.

“I’m starting to think that perhaps her marriage vows don’t mean a thing to her.”

“But they mean something to you,” she huffed, truly wanting to hear him confirm it once again.

John nodded. “Oh, aye. I don’t want anything to do with her. I certainly don’t love her. I don’t care for her. I just want her to keep her distance. Is this too much too ask? In truth, it would bring great dishonor to me and to my family if I were to kill Sir Thomas on our way to...well, while we’re on this voyage.”

“Kill him?” she asked, shocked.

“Aye, in self defense. If I am forced to it.”

“Might it come to that?” This was a much more serious matter than she’d thought it to be.

“It very well could,” John answered honestly. “The man is known for his temper, for his hot-headedness–and for his lack of trust in his new wife. Depending on the conduct of Caroline, we could have war or peace on board this ship. And trust me when I say it, peace is what I’m praying for.”