The Bruised Thistle (The Order of the Scottish Thistle) (13 page)

Calum pulled out of his arms. “No one. That is why I am afraid he is lost.”

“We shall have to find out for sure. Try not to think the worst, Calum.”

“Perhaps.” Calum wiped at his face then took off his other shoe. “I just do not feel him like I used to when we were all together.”

Seumas did not understand what that meant, but the boy had many worries for one so young. The way Iseabail spoke of her brother, it would kill her to know Iain had been suffering without her there to help him.

“We should continue to keep the promise then?” Calum asked.

Seumas nodded. “And hope for the best.”

After a bath for both of them, Seumas wiped away the last traces of soap from his freshly-shaven face. A timid knock on the door startled them. Calum went to open it.

Iseabail jumped. “Oh,” she said as she put her hand to her heart, looking flustered. “I did not know which door was yours. I am glad to find you.” She walked in and removed her cloak. “Where should I leave this?”

“On a hook, of course,” Seumas answered. “Is that not where ye normally place yer outer garments? Anywhere else and it would call attention.”

Iseabail thought for a moment before apparently realizing the idea had merit. “Now why are you so good at such deception?” Her mouth puckered and her frown deepened. She eyed him suspiciously. “Is there something you would like to tell us?”

Seumas did not know why the question surprised him. He already knew she had no great trust for him.

Calum smiled at Seumas. “She is teasing you.” Laughing, he pulled on Seumas’s arm to lighten his seriousness. “She thinks she is funny when she makes that face.”

They turned toward her. She reddened slightly before raising her eyebrows in irritation. “I do not make faces, and I do not know what you are going on about.”

Calum and Seumas exchanged glances, but Seumas knew the sting of her accusation. Would there always be feelings of guilt, even when he had done nothing wrong?

Still holding Seumas’s hand, Calum led him to the door. “Come, let us see if the evening meal is served.”

“It would have been thoughtful of them to bring something to us here,” Seumas said as he followed Calum and Iseabail down the staircase. “I will need to speak to Mark about this behavior.”

Stepping from the landing, the three found themselves confronted by Malcolm and four armed men. Seumas studied each man, unable to detect their purpose. All four men refused to meet his gaze. Mark was a kind man. It did not make sense for his men to be so cowed.

“Is anything amiss?” Seumas asked.

“Forgive me.” Malcolm bowed with great formality. Seumas tried to hide the shock at this sudden show of respect. “I have been remiss.” His gaze included all three when he spoke and dismissed the soldiers with a wave of his hand. “I will be sending up a light repast for you and,” he turned to Iseabail, “Lady Elisabeth’s personal maid is on her way to your room as we speak.”

The unspoken question passed between Seumas and Iseabail. Then she asked, “For what
purpose, m’lord?”

Malcolm’s mouth turned down at the corners in disgust, and his nose rose a bit higher. He gestured to all of her. “To assist you, m’lady. Your travels have been…demanding, and Margaret has many gowns that may be to your liking. May I escort you back to your room so that you might dress appropriately?”

He offered his arm as he turned toward the stairs.

“No need. I can find my way.” Iseabail’s smile lit up her face. She had not taken it as the insult Seumas believed it to be.

“We will be dining anon. May I escort you down at that time?”

She nodded her acquiescence.

“Then I would be pleased to have you at my table.” Almost as an afterthought Malcolm looked over her shoulder to include Seumas and Calum. “All of you are very welcome, of course.”

Malcolm smiled down at Iseabail. Ice water ran through Seumas’s veins. It did not sit well with him.

He looks as if Iseabail is fresh cream and he the castle cat!

Iseabail’s response to this suddenly chivalrous behavior was like a kick in the gut. She had lit up. She was flirting with him.

Iseabail’s color rose under Malcolm’s perusal. It was clear he found her pleasing to look upon. Seumas understood that any woman would like to feel attractive. She deserved better than to be dining in clothes she had worn nigh on two months now. No doubt it was disheartening to have to put on her same dirty, torn garments after her bath.

“Your thoughtfulness is much appreciated,” Iseabail said, her gaze drifting toward the floor.

Malcolm appeared to be strutting like a peacock for Iseabail. Seumas did not like the way it looked and liked even less his own feelings about it. The tug on his arm brought him out of his uncomfortable reactions. Calum gave a slight shake to his head and turned his back to the other man. Calum mouthed a word that took him a second to comprehend…
sister!

Seumas could not show any of this festering dislike without ruining the cover he had erected. He needed to remember to act like Iseabail’s brother, not her lover. He clamped his mouth tight against any protests he might have made and gave a short nod of acknowledgement to Calum. Seumas would do his part. His stomach flipped when Malcolm’s hand grazed Iseabail’s back as he helped her through the door…and stayed there a beat too long. Seumas had to remember to exhale after the door shut.

Malcolm turned to face them both, grinning from ear to ear. “Whisky?” he asked Seumas.

When Seumas would have declined, Calum touched his arm and answered for him. “M’lord Seumas would be much inclined to share a dram or two. If he will allow me to return to the mending of his clothes?” Calum turned a questioning look to Seumas and awaited his response.

Seumas did not understand, but by the look of the lad’s bulging eyes, it was clear he needed to say aye. He did not feel so inclined…not in the least. Something was going on here, and he did not want to play along. A man of action, he wanted to find out what had turned Malcolm so abruptly.

“I will be sure to take care of all the matters you required, m’lord,” Calum said and bowed with a great flourish to Seumas, who blinked back in disbelief. “M’lord, Sir Malcolm will have another to see to your needs in the hall. If I may retire for now?”

Like a splash of cold water, Seumas realized Calum had taken the role of his squire. He must have meant to find out what he could while Seumas had Malcolm otherwise engaged.

“Make it so.” Seumas could manage to say no more.

Calum acknowledged both men with a drop of his chin and continued up the stairs, so it would seem, to the room he shared with Seumas.

“He is a strange one,” Malcolm said and slapped Seumas’s back. “But who am I to judge?”

They headed back across the hall, and Malcolm sounded quite contrite as he continued, “I have to apologize for my earlier rudeness. We have had many unwanted guests during Sir Mark’s absence, and I admit it makes me suspicious. Many items are now missing that he will never be able to replace, and I fear I am the one responsible.”

Malcolm’s long-suffering gaze made Seumas’s lips tighten. What an actor.

“That must be very trying. When did ye say Mark would return?”

“I di—” Malcolm cut off his response. “I would say within a day or two. You are welcome to wait, and I hope your time here will be pleasant.”

Malcolm directed him to the table closest to the fireplace. He grabbed the flask and glasses from the side table and joined Seumas.

“We have much to keep you busy, and if there is anything you require, ask and it will be yours.” Handing Seumas a glass filled with a golden liquid, he looked him in the eyes before he allowed him to take his cup. “
Anything
, m’lord. No questions asked.”

Seumas thought a glint of humor passed over Malcolm’s face and wondered what it meant. Perhaps someone was telling tales about him.

Malcolm downed his drink in one swallow. Seumas sipped his whisky. It burned its way down his throat, and he closed his eyes in appreciation before finishing his drink and voicing his question.

“Has Mark spoken of me, Malcolm?”

Malcolm poured them both another drink before answering. “He speaks little of the journey to the Holy Land.” Seumas saw no telling sign that he lied. “Is that where you met?” Malcolm threw back another dram and reached for more.

Seumas saw right through his acting—playing at casual conversation. His back was rigid with tension, awaiting the answer.

“We had met before.” Seumas said no more and decided to take his time on this second dram. This man was shifty, and he would need his wits about him.

As Malcolm started to refill his glass, his hand froze mid-air. He stared at a spot behind Seumas. The look of lust that passed over his face made Seumas tighten his grip on his drink. He prepared himself for the sight, putting down his half-full cup before turning to face Iseabail. He closed his mouth before his jaw dropped as Malcolm’s had.

She was beautiful. The gown fit her as if made for her, showing off the curve of her waist and the full thrust of her breasts to perfect advantage. Seumas perused her body, remembering what lay beneath until his lungs would burst for want of air. His appreciation turned to wrath when he found her smiling at Malcolm, who had already risen to greet her.

Seumas seethed as Malcolm put his wet lips against her hand, his eyes never leaving her face. She blushed and lowered her eyes as every good noblewoman was taught to do at a compliment. He listened while the sweet sound of her voice assured Malcolm no offense had been taken; she had no need of an escort. The whisky burned as Seumas finished his drink and reached for more. He sat back at the table. He filled his mouth and closed his eyes, relishing its peaty bite before swallowing it with a hiss.

“Seumas?” With his eyes closed, he realized her voice did soothe
, like velvet…nae, like honey on yer tongue, nae…
he licked his lips and savored the lingering whisky. He opened his eyes and poured himself another glass. He got up from the table, a bit shaky.

“Ah, dear sister, ye have returned, I see.” Seumas toasted her, and his gaze raked over her body. “Ye do look quite the lady of the manor now.”

His sarcasm was clear but Malcolm did not seem to notice. His eyes were fixed on the tight bodice. He had not even let go of Iseabail’s hand yet. Seumas took a swallow and watched her over the brim. Her eyes showed hurt, but Seumas knew how these noblewomen played their games with men. He would not be caught off guard.

“Come, sit, dear sister,” he said. Malcolm ushered her to the seat beside his own. Seumas dropped down on the bench opposite them. “Take a nice soak, did ye?”

Seumas’s reward was her flushing deep red from the top of her head to the square collar of her gown. The embroidery around the neck appeared to be blue hearts, though Seumas had to squint to be sure they were not daggers. Her heaving bosom was even more telling. When his eyes met hers, he thought he saw tears.

He rose from his seat, filed his glass, and held it up in salute.

“Malcolm.” Seumas took in the number of people moving about the room. Surely Iseabail would be unmolested in such a public place. “Must be off to check on Calum…return shortly.”

Malcolm nodded and returned his lustful gaze to Iseabail.

Seumas took long strides to separate himself from his “sister” before he forcibly and painfully removed Malcolm’s hand from hers and crushed it for good measure. His breathing was labored by the time he found his empty room. Calum was not in it. Seumas surveyed the chamber for clues. It seemed strange that Calum would not be there. The room started to spin. That was probably why Calum had left. The spinning was damn irritating.

Seumas lay across the bed and stared at the canopy overhead. It too spun. A few drams should not be affecting him like this. He closed his eyes and opened them a short while later when he thought he heard someone enter the room. How long had he been there? He sat up too fast and pain slammed across his head. Something was not right. Calum should have been back by now, unless he had gone straight to the hall to dine. Seumas noticed the side table with an array of cheese and fruits that must have been delivered as promised by their host.

He took a sip of the wine provided on the tray. It seemed bitter.

Malcolm was after one thing and that one thing was very apparent.

Our little virgin noblewoman may not remain so if that bastard has his way.

A second’s clarity was all it took for Seumas to sense the impending doom. He sat up straighter and tried to clear his head, without success. He took another sip of wine and blanched. It tasted terrible. When he stood, the room spun violently. He realized too late that Malcolm was also ruthless. Seumas dropped like a dead weight to the floor.

“Your brother takes little precaution with such a lovely sister.” Malcolm brought Iseabail’s hand to his lips. “Methinks I would protect you more carefully were you my sister.”

Iseabail tried to blink away the tears so he would not see them. She did not understand why Seumas had been so cruel and angry, or why it bothered her. Malcolm clearly found her attractive—a fact she enjoyed, along with the intensity in his eyes. Glancing over the hall at the people milling about, she remembered her last night in a room like this with unfamiliar men. She had had two protectors then. Of course, this was different. Malcolm’s rank gave him importance and this castle belonged to Seumas’s friend. Where was Seumas?

Malcolm moved closer until his leg pressed against her thigh. His hot breath fanned her face when he spoke again. “You really are quite beautiful, lady.” Malcolm released her hand and picked up a lock of hair that hung from her shoulder, getting dangerously close to brushing her breast. Iseabail bit her lower lip and fought against the strong desire to push him away. This seemed a little too forward and might get out of hand fast. He brought the lock of hair to his face.

“Mmmm, lavender.” His gaze followed as it dropped. “Are you betrothed, Iseabail?”

“I am not,” she answered without forethought. His brows raised the slightest amount. “Why do you ask?”

Malcolm took a sip of his drink and appeared to be contemplating the correct answer. “Someone as lovely as you,” he raised his glass to her, “should be married.”

He lied. She was not sure how she knew this, but unease rumbled deep inside.

“I fear for you, being so unprotected.”

He brushed her hair off her shoulder then rested his hand at the curve of her neck. He lightly traced little circles and her eyes closed in response. Iseabail shivered as his fingertips moved along her shoulder.

“Maiden as you are.”

It took her a moment to grasp his meaning, but the oily satisfaction in his voice made her eyes fly open even so. She turned toward him. “My brother is an excellent protector.”

Malcolm’s nostrils flared, and he tightened his lips. He shook his head ever so slightly, as if fighting for control.

He appeared to be only tolerating her answer, but she continued. “He is an excellent swordsman, very strong. I am well protected, I assure you.”

“And yet,” Malcolm indicated their surroundings with a wave of his hand, “he is not here.”

“Do I
need
protection here?” Iseabail’s pulse quickened. She might indeed.

Malcolm took another sip, his gaze never leaving her face. He placed the glass on the table then turned toward her with such deliberateness that Iseabail feared what he was about to say. “Iseabail, I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the man you call your brother is a well-known outlaw in these parts.”

Though caught totally off guard, Iseabail remembered the first rule of living in the wild—do not react. She struggled to keep her voice from shaking. She needed to sound convincing if she wanted to get out of this intact. “My brother is no outlaw.”

“He is not your brother then.” Malcolm’s statement held the same conviction.

Silence filled the room. He simply watched her as if playing chess, waiting for the next move—her move. Iseabail fought to breathe normally, keep a clear head, and consider her options. Confess? Or continue to protest? Did he really
know
Seumas was not her brother? Why would he say Seumas was an outlaw?

She lowered her eyes to hide conflicting emotions, waiting for what Malcolm would say next. What she had not expected were his wet lips where his hand had been. A shiver ran down her side at the sensation on her sensitive neck. She turned toward him to protest, and he captured her lips with his own. She smelled the whisky on his breath. His lips were not firm and warm like Seumas’s but soft and cold.

Allowing her to pull back, Malcolm withdrew to a more appropriate distance and faced the hall before he continued. “My apologies, little Iseabail.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

“Do not call me that.” She heard her uncle’s voice. He always called her his little Iseabail, always when he…

“My apologies,
Iseabail
.” He dipped his head. “You are enticing to the extreme…but I must tell you what I know.”

The pause might have been to consider her feelings or to gauge her own duplicity. “You travel with an outlaw who has a price on his head. You are in danger.”

He stated it so simply that she had to repeat it in her mind to be sure she had heard correctly. That was
her
story. She traveled with a price on her head.

Iseabail stood abruptly. “I am afraid I must excuse myself.”

Trust no one.

Malcolm remained seated, gazing up at her. He leaned casually back on his bench, intently assessing. He said nothing in response.

Trust no one.

“I am not feeling well, and I wish to retire,” Iseabail said.

“Shall I see you to your room?” Malcolm asked.

Trust no one.

His eyes were wide, and a slight frown creased his forehead. He appeared genuinely concerned. No one would believe this man had acted inappropriately with her. Had she overreacted? He looked like a good man, a trustworthy man.

Best not to test him. “Nay, m’lord, I can find my own way. Thank you for your concern. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight then.”

His gaze bored into her back as she made her way across the hall.

Overwhelmed, Iseabail had no choice but to return to her room. She looked down the hall, but no light showed under Seumas and Calum’s door. She closed the door of her room behind her and leaned against it. Why would Malcolm say those things about Seumas?
They could not be true. Seumas was kind and good.
The memory of how he had acted when she first entered the Hall came flooding back. He had seemed a different man than the one in the woods. He had mentioned her soaking in the tub, and she would have sworn he had meant to embarrass her. Had taken pleasure in doing so. Why would he do that?

What did she really know about Seumas?

The question haunted her as she headed down the hall. Tapping on the door, she listened and waited for Calum and Seumas to open it. Nothing. She opened the door and reached in to where she had hung her cloak. It was gone. Panic gripped her.

She opened the door wider. “Seumas? Calum? Are you in here?”

No answer. No candles were lit, and no fire in the hearth. She returned to her room. Lesson two and three came quickly to mind. Do not assume the worst. Do not panic.

Where is the cloak?

Iseabail checked her room. It was not there. The will was gone. Her only chance to save her family was gone. She could not sit in this room and wait. Catching sight of movement in the looking glass, she barely recognized herself. Margaret had piled her hair high on her head with cascading ringlets. Even in her own home, Iseabail never chose such elaborate styling. She pulled the pins from her hair so that it fell loose. Seumas’s irritated look flashed through her mind. He had not liked anything about her when she had come into the Hall. She nibbled at the inside of her lip. She had hoped he would. She had hoped he would tell her she was beautiful. Malcolm had not let her down.

Everything felt out of control. She needed Calum. If she left this room, she might be able to find him or Seumas. She also might run into Malcolm, and that could be very dangerous for her person. His kiss had felt like nothing, had sparked no longing within her. He was handsome and charming, but something about him filled her with unease. Still, his concern for her seemed genuine, and he simply had to be misinformed about Seumas. He was certainly no outlaw.

Not knowing the castle, Iseabail could not even begin to guess where to look for Calum and Seumas. Preparation for the evening meal had begun, so mayhap she could find some assistance. Heading quietly down the stairs to the hall, she stopped short at the sound of Malcolm’s voice. She took the last few steps to listen.

“Did she believe you?” an unknown man demanded.

“Alas, she did not.” Malcolm sounded concerned. “We must protect her as best we can anyway.”

“Is she worthy of your protection, sir?” A different voice asked. “It could be very dangerous for you.”

Iseabail shifted to peek around the corner. A tall man with blond hair was speaking. She pulled back when the man turned her way. Pressing herself flat against the wall, she held her breath. What could she say if she was caught eavesdropping on them?

There was a pause in the conversation.

“You cannot put yourself at risk.” The blond man sounded stilted now.

“I need to protect her at any cost.” Malcolm’s voice rang clear and confident, almost as if reciting an oath.

The men left the room in a clamor of half-shouted conversation and clattering armor. When she looked again, they were gone. Quickly, she crossed the hall in search of the kitchen. At the opposite wall, through the window that opened into the garden, she spied the two men that had been speaking with Malcolm leave the outer bailey.

“Can I be of assistance?” A small woman with a big smile stood in the doorway, arms loaded with carrots, turnips and potatoes. “I am sorry supper is so late your first night. It was Sir Malcolm’s orders.”

Her spry manner belied her plump stature as she dumped her vegetables in the bucket and started to scrub.

She continued, “Now Lord Mark would never decide to make everyone wait for their evening meal… Oh, I am sorry, miss.” She wiped her damp hands on the towel that wrapped around her large waist. “Did you need anything?”

“I am looking for the two people I came with. Have you seen them? A small boy,” Iseabail held her hand at chest level, indicating Calum’s height, “and a handsome, dark-haired man.” She held her hand over her head to indicate Seumas’s.

“Weel, I have not seen the man, but the boy left here a while ago. Mayhap he went to the barn? I cannot be sure, but he was here asking about Lord Mark. Is there anything else you need?”

Iseabail’s breath caught at the information. “What did he ask about Lord Mark?”

What could Calum have been thinking? Did he wonder about Seumas’s friend? Did he wonder about him the way Iseabail now wondered about Seumas? Calum’s discernment may well be trusted even if hers could not, distracted by Seumas’s handsome face as she was. Her cheeks warmed at the memory of his smile. She frowned in concentration, listening to every word the woman said.

“I cannot quite remember…something about how long he had had Sir Malcolm as Seneschal?” Hand on her hip, she nodded before her face lit up. “My, what a pretty blush you have. I would venture you are a woman in love.”

“
What
?” Iseabail fought to control the heat flooding her face. “I am sure I do not know what you are talking about. Now what did you say to Calum? How long has Malcolm been Seneschal?”

“I have been here for three years.” Malcolm’s voice sounded loud in the small space. He stood in the doorway.

Iseabail turned to face him. Malcolm was immaculately dressed in black, from his hair, which gleamed as if it had just been brushed, to his tight-fitting trews and tunic. He was breathtakingly handsome. She cleared her throat. With a twinkle in his eye and the corner of his lip slightly turned up, he appeared more than pleased to find her asking about him.

“But, Iseabail,” he pushed off the jamb, closing the distance between them, “I could have told you that myself if you had but asked me.” He smiled at the cook. “You need not have bothered Janet here.” He took Iseabail by the arm and gently turned her back the way he had come. “We will leave you to your work, Janet.”

He followed her through the door, the heat from his body intense as he trailed a little too closely.

“I am sorry you did not like the way Margaret prepared your hair, though your beauty cannot be diminished by either style.” He stopped in the narrow passageway to the Great Hall and turned her toward him. “Are you feeling better then?” His voice was low and seductive.

“I am.” Iseabail tried to keep her voice from quivering. “Have you seen Seumas or Calum?”

His jaw tightened, and his face shifted from seduction to alertness. “Are they missing?”

He glanced around him, an attempt at humor since there was nothing to see in the passageway.

He tipped his head toward her. “Shall we look for them together?” His lips curled into that seductive smile, his eyes hooded as he traced circles where he held her arm familiarly. “I would be happy,” his voice grew quieter as he moved even closer, “to assist you in anything.”

“Thank you, Malcolm. You are truly kind.” She tried to step back but had no room. Her hands were beginning to sweat. “I would appreciate your assistance. I am very concerned about my brother.”

Malcolm’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I told you. He is not your brother. He is an outlaw, Iseabail.”

Though momentarily confused, Iseabail quickly remembered herself and said a little prayer of thanks for the confusion. She was concerned for Calum, not Seumas. She lowered her gaze.

“I understand you believe this, Malcolm. Why you would believe I do not know my own brother, I cannot fathom. As to his breaking the law, I would need to speak to him myself. Surely you understand that?”