The Earl's Enticement (Castle Bride Series) (11 page)

Excitement in her eyes, Maisey grabbed the note. After tucking it into her apron pocket, she dashed out the door. A smile twitched the edges of Adaira’s mouth at the unmistakable sound of the maid running pell-mell down the corridor.

Adaira returned to the table and after inspecting the eggshell thin blue rose teacup for cracks, took her seat once again. Sipping the tea and nibbling a roll did seem to help settle her stomach.

Five minutes later, someone knocked at her bedchamber. Opening the door, she gave her father a wary smile. “You received my message?”

“Aye.” He stepped further into her room. She didn’t remember the last time he’d been in her chamber. It seemed to shrink around his great size.

She laid a hand on his arm. “Please let me go to Vala. This is her first foal. She needs me.”

Though Vala was a large horse, Adaira wanted to be present in case there were complications. More than once, she and Niall had needed to assist with one of the mares’ birthings.

Her usually jovial father stood in the center of her room, more somber than she’d ever remembered him. He shook his head, the thick mane of his too long black hair brushing the collar of his shirt. Worry glimmered in his serious gaze.

“Nae, lass. Ye will stay here,” he skimmed the room with his gaze, “until Ewan and I can meet with the earl.”

His broad shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “Clarendon be very angry and rightly so.” Father rubbed his forehead with his great paw of a hand. His troubled cinnamon eyes met hers. “This is serious. Ye are a Scot. Ye imprisoned an English nobleman. He could bring charges against ye, lass.”

“I know,” Adaira whispered. What if he did? She could hang.

Her father shook his head again. “I don’t even want to think about what could happen to ye if the Regent or some other English peer gets wind of it. The English always want to teach us Scots a lesson. We’re hoping, now that Ewan is the earl’s brother-in-law, his lordship will be lenient with you.”

Adaira stretched out her hands, imploring. “It’s not like I tortured him. He was well-cared for.”

Except for that ghastly business with the rats.

“And I was trying to protect Yvette. Surely you. . .” she pulled in a steadying breath, “he understands that.”

“Lord Clarendon’s not a man to be trifled with. He’s a very powerful lord with a strong,” her father paused and shook his head, “nay an unyielding, sense of justice.”

Father moved to the doorway. “Stay in yer chamber, ye hear me?” He pointed a large finger at her. “I don’t want the earl to see ye before we can reason with the man. I’ll lock ye in here if need be, daughter.”

Stepping into the corridor, his serious gaze bored into hers. “Your mother and I be very disappointed with ye.”

A wave of remorse engulfed her. Adaira’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.”

Her voice shook. She wrapped her arms around her middle to still her trembling. Father extended his arms, and she ran into them, desperately needing his reassurance. She was terrified wondering what the earl would do. Her father’s soothing embrace eased her tremors but did nothing to lessen her fears.

Resting her head against his comforting chest she asked, “Can you ask Niall to tend Vala? He’s helped with the last several births.”

Thank God for the blacksmith. Strong as an ox, he was also gentle as a lamb.

“Aye, lass.” Father’s voice was gruff with emotion. He patted her back, then released her. “See that ye remain here.”

“I will, I promise.”

She had fully intended to keep her word, too.

CHAPTER 12

A short while later, Maisey poured a draught of lily scented oil into a copper tub in Adaira’s bedchamber. Maisey swirled the water with her hand.

“Ye’ll be pleased with this foal, miss. Niall says it must be very big. The mare’s having to work to birth her babe.”

Adaira paused in piling her hair atop her head. “Vala’s struggling?”

“Aye, but Niall says yer not to worry. He has help.”

Help? Who?

Adaira secured a couple more pins. She glanced at the window facing the stables. This wasn’t good. She swallowed, forcing herself to remain calm. “How long has she been in labor?”

Births were usually swift. Delays could be deadly.

Maisey shrugged. “Not that long. Niall says she’ll deliver soon.”

Soon? What if a hoof was stuck? What if the foal was breech? What if . . . what if the baby was just too big? Adaira had been so careful to select the largest mares to breed with Fionn. She’d reduced Vala’s feed to make sure the foal would be smaller during the last month. Still. . .

Adaira had to find out what was happening. But she’d sworn she’d not leave her room. Hurrying to the window, she nudged the heavy drapes aside. There was little to see in the deepening night. Thousands of glittering moonbeams glistened on the loch’s surface. Light blazed from the stable’s open doors and windows, beckoning her. Dash it all.

“Maisey, I’ll not need you to stay.” Adaira turned her head and offered the maid a wobbly smile. “This day has been fraught with emotion. I need some time alone.”

The catch in her voice and the moisture pooling in her eyes were real. She’d jailed an earl and created an enormous bumblebroth. Yvette had been abducted. Now, Vala was foaling without her. And the mare obviously needed her.

Adaira was on the verge of caterwauling like a wee bairn.

“Ye’ve had a time of it today, that ye have,” Maisey agreed. She efficiently gathered the remnants of Adaira’s dinner. “Ye didn’t eat much.”

“I know. I’ve much on my mind, and my stomach’s unsettled.”

The maid smiled on her way out the door. “I’ll bring you a hearty meal to break your fast in the morn. Sleep well, Miss Adaira.”

Though she thought she might go mad from the wait, Adaira delayed ten minutes before daring to open her door and peek into the hallway.

Silence.

Boots in hand, she hurried along the corridor, listening for the slightest sound. Muted snores penetrated two doors she slipped by. Tiptoeing down the front staircase, she nibbled her lower lip. She couldn’t take the time to use the back stairs into the kitchen. The stables were much closer if she exited through the gatehouse.

She sent up a silent prayer that she’d not encounter anyone.

The castle was silent as she made her way below. At least five and seven people lived here, but it appeared everyone was nestled in their beds already. An odd sense of loneliness permeated the keep.

The monstrous front entry whisked open and closed with nary a sound as Adaira slipped into the cool night air. She donned her boots, furtively watching the bailey for anybody that might be wandering about. Except for shadows contorted by a soft breeze, nothing moved.

Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, her breath caught. A meager light shone through a crack in the drapes covering the window of Ewan’s study. Raising her gaze, she spied two more lit rooms, one directly above the other. Not family chambers. It seemed neither Marquardt brother could sleep.

A guard on watch lifted his hand in a casual wave. Adaira waved back. No sense raising his suspicion. It wasn’t unusual for her to visit the stables at night. She squinted into the darkness. No light glimmered in the blacksmith’s cottage on the far side of the courtyard, but a dim glow filtered from an open stable door.

She descended the stairs on silent feet. Sticking to the shadows, she dashed to the stables. No one had sent further information about Vala. Most vexing. All Adaira knew was what Maisey had told her over a half an hour ago.

Mares generally delivered in under an hour. Was Niall still with the mare? Adaira prayed Vala wasn’t yet in labor. It didn’t bode well if she was. Adaira slowed her pace just outside the west end of the stables. Apprehension gripped her. What if there’d been no word because something awful had occurred?

As she’d ordered for the past several evenings, the twin doors stood open to allow the chill of the night to cool the livestock. The days had been beastly hot, the heat lingering long into the night hours.

Adaira cast a worried glance at the keep. The study light had been extinguished. She’d sworn to stay in her room and couldn’t bear to add to her mother’s and father’s disappointment. Her impulsive actions had brought shame upon the entire family this time. When the earl announced he’d been imprisoned, the matching expressions of hurt disbelief on her parents’ faces had wrenched her heart wide open.

How was she to breech the chasm between them? There was no one to blame but herself. She’d made a mull of it. If she’d only gone to Father upon first meeting his lordship in the village instead of acting impulsively and letting her emotions rule her. Her misguided quest for vengeance had led her astray.

Adaira closed her eyes against the wave of despair coursing over her. Grasping her cross necklace, she bowed her head.

Lord, what have I done?

In that moment, when she’d accosted the earl, her life had irreversibly changed. Something unidentified had been set in motion. There was no putting things aright or going back. The fear of an unknown future was suffocating in its intensity. For a moment, dizziness seized her.

Sagging against the door, she drew in great pulls of air.

I know I don’t deserve your help, Lord, but please. . . Show me your mercy. Let Lord Clarendon be forgiving.

Fionn nickered softly in welcome reeling her back to the present. Straightening, she shook off her melancholy and smiled at the horse. A lone lantern hung by a hook on a post near Vala’s stall.

Adaira took several cautious steps into the building, her boots crunching on bits of straw and oats littering the smooth stone floor. She released her breath with a slight huff. Vala stood in her stall. Her head lowered, and then slowly moved up and down. She licked her foal, no doubt.

Adaira cast a glance around. No one else was here. She’d take a peek at Vala, say hello to the foal, and return to her room straightaway. No one would be the wiser.

She stopped to greet Fionn and took a moment to rub his forehead. “You’ve become a father again, my friend.”

Pressing her head against his, she breathed in his familiar scent. With a last pat on his neck, she said, “Forgive me, but I’m anxious to see your foal. I’ll say good-bye before I go.”

He nudged her shoulder. Adaira chuckled. “I promise.”

Striding to the mare’s stall, Adaira murmured her name, while unlatching the door. “How’s my beautiful?”

The mare whinnied softly. Standing beside her was the largest foal Adaira had ever seen. He had to be over ten stones. “My goodness. No wonder you had a time of it.”

She caressed the mare’s dark bay neck. “You’ve done well, Vala. I’m so pleased with you, my bonnie lass. So, do you have a son or daughter?”

Adaira stepped around the mare and ever-so-gently touched the foal. Was the new addition a laddie or lassie? Skimming her hands over the newborn, she bent to take a peek. A colt. The sheen of his coat glistened in the muted light. Other than a white face and leg markings, he was the color of rich Turkish coffee.

“Ooh, you’re magnificent!” she breathed in awe.

“He is, indeed,” rumbled a harmonious baritone.

She whirled around. The Earl of Clarendon leaned across the stall door. His forearms rested on the top edge. He clasped a silver flask loosely in one hand. His shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows, and he wore no waistcoat or jacket. The top of his shirt was unfastened too.

Just perfect. She wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the earl, and here he was, in
her
sanctuary. She ought to be afraid, after his parting words, but she sensed something altogether different.

No, she wouldn’t stare at the crisp dark hair on his forearms or peeking from the collar of his open shirt. Bugger it. She curled her hands into fists against the oddest urge to run her fingers through the curly hair on his chest.

A bolt of unease speared her, though whether from his disquieting presence or her awareness of him as an attractive man, she couldn’t be certain.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “What are you doing here, my lord?”

And more on point, why are you dressed indecently?

Father would be furious.

“What are
you
doing here?” Lord Clarendon raised the flask to his lips, then paused. “I distinctly heard your father tell you to stay in your chamber.”

After taking a swallow, his lips tilted into a boyish grin, and he shook his head, as if amused. “Not that I’m surprised to see you. Truth to tell, I was expecting you.”

He was? Well, that didn’t bode well. Adaira eyed him. The rakish tilt of his lips and the glint in his eyes caused another flicker in her belly.

She ran a hand along the length of the mare’s back. “I had word Vala was struggling to deliver. It’s no wonder. He’s the largest foal yet.”

Adaira glanced at the colt, then in the earl’s direction. He looked relaxed, almost boyish. Shifting her gaze to the door, rather than focusing on his lordship, she dared a couple of steps toward him. She needed to leave. Now. Not another inkling of impropriety must occur.

“I should be going—” She shouldn’t be talking to him at all.

For a moment, she thought he’d refuse to move. He slowly straightened. After tilting his head and closing his eyes, Lord Clarendon took a hefty swig from the flask.

He swallowed and gave a low satisfied sigh. How on earth could taking a drink be sensual? And why, in heaven’s name, was she aware of him in that manner? He moved away, his lips skewed up at the corners.

Thank goodness. She must return to the keep. Swinging the door open, she blurted, “Really, though, what are you doing here? I’d have thought you’d be eager to seek the comfort of a nice soft bed tonight.”

Her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own, dratted thing. She was sorely beginning to regret her tendency to speak frankly. Heat suffused her face. What was she thinking, rattling on about soft beds?

With her back to him, she latched the bolt. “My lord, I’m sorry—”

He snorted loudly. “I’ll wager you are.”

She sent him a sharp look. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

Pain pinched Lord Clarendon’s face for the briefest of moments. A flash, then it was gone. He masked it so swiftly, she almost thought she’d imagined it.

“Don’t be. He’s got what he deserved for his illicit conduct.” The earl took another short swallow. Holding the shiny container before him, he shook it. “Empty, blast it.”

He sank to a stool, setting the flask on the stone floor beside a pile of soiled straw, probably from Vala’s foaling. The flask promptly fell over, clanking against the stone. Adaira slid an uneasy look to the door.

“Tell me about these.” He motioned to the stalls, his attention on the horses. “Niall said this is your doing. I’ve never seen such colossal horseflesh. They’re truly beautiful steppers.”

Pride surged through her. “Yes, they are spectacular,” she said softly.

Sweet-goers, everyone.

“How long have you been at this?” His lordship seemed genuinely interested.

Returning her attention to him, Adaira regarded him for a lengthy moment. He’d crossed his legs before him and lounged against a support beam from which his coat and waistcoat hung on a nail. He stared at her from under hooded eyes. Was he foxed? His speech wasn’t slurred, and his gaze was as intense as ever. If she didn’t count his partial state of undress, he was neatly groomed once more.

He must have become overheated. The stables were terribly warm. But that didn’t explain his presence here in the first place. Unless he was in the habit of quaffing back a dram or two while sequestered with livestock. Most peculiar.

“My lord, I’m not supposed to be in your company. Please excuse me.” Chin tucked to her chest, she made to move past him.

“Surely you can answer my questions.” He straightened and began to unroll a sleeve. “After all,” he sent her a sidelong look, a lock of sable hair falling across his forehead, “if it wasn’t for me, it’s possible both the colt and his mother would have perished.”

Adaira went rigid. She was sure from the odd quivering in her chest, her heart skipped a beat or two. She grasped her cross, as if it could give her some strength. She flung a look to Vala and the foal, then blinked at the earl.

“Truly?” she whispered, emotion closing her throat. “They would have
died
?”

He gave a curt nod before turning his attention to his other sleeve. “The foal’s head was turned aside, blocking the birth canal. I simply manipulated his muzzle into the canal, and everything proceeded as normal.”

Simply?

“But Niall—” She drew in a trembling breath, hating how her voice shook.

“Only knew how to assist in drawing a stuck foal from a mare. He’d no idea how to proceed with one that wasn’t even in the canal yet.”

For the first time, she noticed the dark stains ringing the earl’s shirt cuffs. He’d had to reach deep inside Vala. Adaira acknowledged a flicker of admiration for him. “How did you know what to do?”

He stood and yawned, stretching his arms overhead. His shirt tugged taught across his muscled chest. “I’ve had a bit of surgical and medical training. I also spend a great deal of time with animals, mainly livestock.”

He wasn’t the dunderhead she’d thought him to be. There was a considerably more to this man. He might actually be a decent person. The notion piqued her interest and flooded her with contriteness.