The Chase (28 page)

“Seonaid does not need assistance. She was perfectly fine the way she was. I liked her the
way she was!” Blake tugged the tunic into place, then stilled as he noted that one arm was
longer than the other. One sleeve stopped midway between elbow and wrist, while the other
hung past the tips of his fingers. Then he spotted the needle dangling by a bit of thread
from the unfinished hem.

“Ha!” Amaury pointed to the needle and thread. “This is her work, is it not? See! She
needs proper training. You should be grateful my Emmalene deigned to take the time to do
so.”

Blake glared at his old friend, then moved closer on legs that were so weak still that
they were shaking. Ignoring that, he poked a finger into Amaury's chest and snarled, “I
have servants to sew for me. My wife is perfect just the way she is.”

“Blake?”

He glanced to the side to find Seonaid and Emmalene standing in the open doorway, staring
at the two of them. He felt a moment's panic, worrying over how much of the argument she
had heard, but judging by the smile trembling on her lips, he was guessing she and
Emmalene had only just arrived.

“What are ye doing up?” She moved forward around the bed, her steps faltering as she took
in the tunic he wore. A frown claimed her lips, and he thought he heard her mutter
something about having more work to do on the top, but then she stepped between him and
Amaury and urged him back to bed. He let her. It seemed better to get back into bed
willingly than to have his legs give out under him.

“Ye must build up yer strength. Ye're recovering from a mighty wound.”

“Aye.” Amaury's voice was cold. “The sooner you recover the sooner you can go home.”

“That will not be soon enough for me,” Blake growled in response. The two men glared at
each other for a moment; then Amaury turned and stomped out of the room.

Seonaid and Emmalene exchanged bewildered glances, then turned their attention to the
matter at hand and saw Blake back to bed.

“Have ye been able to find out why they are so angry with each other?” Seonaid asked. She
and Emmalene stood at the top of the steps of Eberhardt keep, watching their husbands
stubbornly refuse to acknowledge each other below.

Blake sat his mount, expression grim and back stiff, deliberately not even looking in
Amaury's direction, while Emmalene's husband stood grimly at the bottom of the stairs,
arms folded over his chest, steadfastly refusing to look Blake's way. The two hadn't
spoken to each other since Emmalene and Seonaid had walked into the room as Blake had
snarled,“My wife is perfect just the way she is.”

Seonaid had been too pleased with the compliment to notice that the men were glaring at
each other until Amaury had spoken in such cold tones about Blake's needing to recover.
Her husband's answer had sounded no more cheerful, and she had realized something was
wrong, but not the extent of it.

At least, not then. But Blake had spent the last four days in their room as he recovered,
insisting that she stay there with him. When she had tried to discover what the men had
been discussing, he refused to answer.

During the few snatches of conversation Seonaid had managed with Emmalene since men, she
had learned that Amaury was equally as grouchy and angry as Blake but would not say why.
The women had vowed to figure out what was about, but the way Emmalene was now shaking her
head suggested that neither of them had succeeded.

“Nay. He is being very unreasonable and will not even discuss Blake.”

“Hmmm.” Seonaid heaved a sigh. She and Blake were leaving for Sherwell today. Blake felt
six days was long enough to recover and insisted they leave. Emmalene and Seonaid tried to
argue for another couple of days at least before he risked the journey, trying to sway him
by reminding him of his weakened state and the fact that Little George and Aeldra had not
yet returned from their visit. But he would not be moved. And Amaury had not helped,
pointing out that most of the warriors were back from the free time Blake had given them
and so could escort them to Sherwell and see him safe. He had also pointed out that one of
the men could be sent to Little George to let him know Blake was on the way home and to
meet him there, rather than return to Eberhardt.

“Seonaid!” Blake scowled in their general direction. “Finish thanking Lady Emmalene and
let us go. We have a half day's ride to reach home.”

Seonaid turned to Emmalene. She considered hugging her but had never been very comfortable
with emotional displays so only smiled. “Thank ye for everything.”

“You are more than welcome, Seonaid.” Emmalene patted her arm and walked down the stairs
with her. “If you should find out what the men are so angry about...”

“I'll do what I can,” Seonaid promised.

Smiling, Emmalene nodded, quickly caught Seonaid up in a hug, then stepped back to let her
mount her horse. It was a tricky business for Seonaid. Used to riding astride her beast,
she was clumsy and awkward trying to ride sidesaddle. Blake watched grim-faced, then
tossed Amaury an accusing glare once she was settled and turned his mount toward the gate.

It was a long ride for Seonaid. Not only was she uncomfortable seated as she was, but
Blake was silent and morose the whole way. Seonaid was quiet too. This was the last leg of
the journey; within a short time she would be meeting Blake's father, and she was suddenly
nervous at the prospect. What if he didn't like her? What if she forgot to hold her skirts
up and tripped and fell on her face as she walked up to meet him? What if he hated her as
much as he was reported to hate her father?

Seonaid tortured herself with such concerns the entire way so that it was almost a relief
to arrive. Even if it was to be bad, it would at least be over.

Blake ordered the men to ride to the stables but led Seonaid directly up to the keep doors.

She glanced up warily as the doors opened and an older, slender man appeared at the top of
the steps. Seonaid guessed by his pallor and frail appearance that this must be the ailing
Earl of Sherwell. She was just screwing up her courage to meet him when her father
appeared next to the man and took his arm to help him down the stairs. He was followed by
Lady WildwoLady Dunbar, she corrected herselfthen Little George, Aeldra, and the bishop.

Most of Seonaid's nervousness left her. She no longer felt so alone and anxious. Besides,
she was distracted with the questions running through her mind. There was no sign of
animosity between the two older men, which suggested they had sorted out their
differences, whatever they had been. And she wanted to know how the trip to court had
gone, and how the English king had taken the news of Lady Wildwood's marrying her father.

She also wanted to know how Aeldra had found Little George's family. She hoped her cousin
had liked them and that they had been kind to her.

Blake dismounted and moved to help his wife off her horse, but she slipped off before he
could reach her and rushed to meet her cousin and new stepmother as Aeldra and Lady
Margaret bustled around the more slowly-moving men to greet her. He watched the women hug,
then clasped Seonaid's hands and turned to introduce her to his father. She greeted the
old man politely, nodded to her father, then allowed herself to be dragged off by the
women, who were both chattering away about what had happened while they were apart.

Blake sighed as the castle door closed on them. They looked like any three normal women.
Even Aeldra was presently wearing a dress. His fascinating bride was gone. He had hoped
that by keeping her away from Emmalene the last four days she would revert to her old
self. Unfortunately, that had not been the case. Instead, she appeared to have redoubled
her efforts to be more ladylike in his presence. She hardly even cursed anymore, which she
had done on occasion during the first two days after he'd awakened.

Sighing again, he turned to glance at the four men still standing at the foot of the
stairs. All four of them were staring after the women with differing expressions. His
father looked curious, Little George looked bewildered, the bishop was smiling benignly,
and Angus Dunbar looked horrified. Since that was something like what he had been feeling
since awakening after his injury, Blake could sympathize.

He moved forward to his father.

“Father.” Blake clasped the man's arms briefly in a half hug and found himself frowning at
the weight his sire had lost. The claim of being unwell had not simply been a way to avoid
riding to Dunbar. The man had definitely been ill, and was still recovering by the look of
it.

“She is lovely,” the Earl of Sherwell said.

“Aye.” Blake shrugged, resisting the urge to tell him he should have seen her in braies.
“She”

“What in the bloody hell have ye done to me daughter?”

Blake turned to find Angus glaring at him furiously. Shifting with irritation at being
blamed for something that was none of his fault, and that he didn't even like, Blake
scowled at him. “I did nothing. That is how she was when I woke up after the injury.” He
grimaced his distaste. “I think Emmalene influenced her.”

“Emmalene? Lady Eberhardt?” the bishop asked with surprise.

“Aye.”

“Nay.” Angus considered Blake's obvious displeasure as he shook his head. “Nay. She has
been around ladies afore without their turnin' her like this. It must be something else.”

“Amaury admitted that Emmalene had put servants to the task of making the dressdresses,”
he corrected himself, for Seonaid had left Eberhardt with three dresses and the promise
thatthe others would be sent when they were finished. “And he even admitted that Emmalene
had spent a good deal of time with her 'ere I awoke. It must be Emmalene.” His expression
turned grim as he added, “Though Amaury did not like my saying so. He took it as a
personal slight that I was upset that Seonaid was turning into a taller, dark-haired
version of his wife.”

“Really?” Angus asked with interest.

“Aye. We almost came to blows over it.” He grimaced. “We were not talking by the time
Seonaid and I left.”

“Hmm. It sounds no unlike the argument we had some twenty years ago,” Angus said to
Blake's father.

“Aye.” The earl nodded. “And we waited far too long to clear it up. Do not make the same
mistake, Blake. Sort things out with Amaury quickly; do not let the anger fester. He loves
his wife, just as you obviously love yours, and you are both defensive when it comes to
possible slights to them.”

“I do not” Blake began to deny he loved his wife, then paused and simply stared at his
father. He liked her, respected her, and had from the beginning. He had also enjoyed her
company very much since the wedding. Not just the bedding, but talking to her and playing
with her, their wrestling and tickling and her cleverness and wit and...

Dear God, he was wearing the lopsided tunic. Seonaid had done her best to repair her
handiwork, but it was still lopsided and hewho refused to wear garments that were not
presented to him in perfect formwas wearing it. Hewas falling in love with his wife. Or,
as his father suggested, he loved her already. And he wanted her back.

“I fear someone will have to explain how Seonaid was before this trip,” the earl said.
“She seems perfectly fine to me.”

“Aye. She would,” Angus muttered. “But then, ye've never met the lass before, have ye? She
was very like yer Elizabeth 'ere today. She wore braies, no dresses, and she rode astride,
no sidesaddle. I thought I'd fall over when I saw them ridin' up.”

“Like Elizabeth?” Blake asked, starting at his mother's name.

“Ye willna recall her much, I'm sure,” Angus said. “But yer mother was very like our
Seonaid and Aeldra. She was a warrior. Beautiful and strong.”

The Earl of Sherwell nodded. “Aye, she was. Beautiful and strong and still every inch a
woman.”

“That sounds like my Seonaid,” Blake said. “At least, the way she used to be.” He glanced
at Angus. “I want her back.”

The bishop cleared his throat, then asked, “Have you asked her why she has suddenly
changed?” “Nay. I did not wish to hurt her feelings.” “When did she change exactly?” the
earl asked. Blake shrugged. “She was wearing a dress when I woke up after the injury.”

“So sometime while ye were unconscious,” Angus murmured.

“She was still the same Seonaid 'ere Aeldra and I left to visit my family,” Little George
offered helpfully.

“So it was during the last two days 'ere I awoke,” Blake said with a nod. “During the time
that Amaury says Emmalene was spending a lot of time with her.”

Angus Dunbar shook his head again. “I canna see it, lad. As I said, plenty o' ladies
visited Dunbar over the years, including Iliana, and she tried to turn Seonaid into more
o' a lady at my request, but Seonaid would have none o' it. It must be something else.”

They were all silent, considering the matter; then Little George said, “Mayhap it has
something to do with Lady Ardeth.”

Blake's head shot up at this comment. “Lady Ardeth?”

“Aye. Aeldra was telling me that Lady Ardeth tried to insult Seonaid, but she put her in
her place,” he explained, then shrugged. “Mayhap something she said affected her after
all.”

“What did she say?” Blake asked.

“She said she had witnessed their practicing with their swords, then said something about
it being interesting for you to be married to an Amazon and did you substitute swordplay
for foreplay to accommodate her.”

“Bitch,” Angus said with distaste.

“Aye,” the earl agreed, then murmured thoughtfully. “Ardeth... Did you not dally with her
'ere she married? You came home for Christmas the year you earned your spurs and she was
here. She and her family stopped in on the way to her marriage, and I felt sure there was
something between the two of you.”

“Aye,” Blake said and nearly groaned aloud. Lady Ardeth had a vicious tongue. “She is a
viper.”

Angus Dunbar shook his head again. “Plenty o' ladies have taken their talons to Seonaid
over the years. She's always put them in their places an' gone about her business. Why
would this be any different?”