by Lynsay Sands
"He took an arrow to the shoulder," he informed her, his little freckled face solemn.
"An arrow?" Seonaid echoed with horror.
"Aye, but Lady Iliana tended to it right quick an' says he'll be fine."
"Oh, good," she breathed the word, then asked, "a-an' Duncan?"
"He's fine. He was off tryin' to rescue ye from the Colquhouns."
"The Colquhouns?" Seonaid stared at him in confusion.
"Aye. We got news ye'd been kidnaped by the Colquhouns. Duncan took most of the men an' rode out to get ye back. But it was a trick. Greenweld was jest tryin' to lure the men out so he could lay siege to the castle. He planned to take over before the men could return to stop him. But Lady Iliana's smart an' she held them off. Gave 'em a good fight too."
"Iliana? What about Father?"
"Well, he took that arrow," Willie reminded her. "He's fine now, but fer a while there he was unconscious an'--" He shrugged. "Lady Iliana had to take over. She did a right fine job o' it too. Did us proud."
Seonaid nodded but was a bit amazed that her sister-in-law had managed to hold off Greenweld. Iliana was such a tiny little thing, which didn't mean much, she supposed, Aeldra was small too, but skilled in battle. However, Iliana wasn't. She was small and pretty and ladylike and knew all there was to know about being a wife, but the news that she had the ability to hold off an army set Seonaid to thinking. She had thought they were opposites--Lady Iliana skilled at female things while Seonaid boasted battle skills. It would seem, however, that Iliana was a far more talented woman. It was a depressing realization.
"What about Allistair an' Giorsal an' everyone else?" Aeldra asked, and Seonaid glanced to the side with surprise, not having realized that the other woman was there.
Suddenly aware that Willie hadn't answered the question, Seonaid turned back to the boy. The expression on his face and the way he was now staring at the ground made her stomach drop. She could only think the news was bad, and immediately suspected it was about Giorsal, Aeldra and Allistair's aunt. Her cousins had come to live with their mother's sister when their own parents had died. Giorsal was a mother to them. Whatever the bad news was, it had to be about her. Allistair would have been with Duncan and the other men.
"Is it Giorsal?" Aeldra asked, her thoughts apparently running along the same lines as Seonaid's.
Willie shook his head but still wouldn't look up.
"Did Allistair no' go with Duncan?" Seonaid asked and her stomach sank even further when the boy shook his head again. If Allistair had been here and able, he would have been the one to take over when Angus had been felled. But Iliana had.
"Is Allistair ... ?" Aeldra's voice broke as Willie raised sad eyes to her. Whirling, the petite blonde raced down the stairs and charged off across the bailey. Seonaid was right behind her. Taller and able to take longer strides, she could have easily caught up and overtaken her cousin, but she stayed behind, knowing she was heading for Giorsal's cottage to find out what had happened. Allistair was Aeldra's brother, she had the right to know first.
She had nearly reached Giorsal's cottage when Seonaid was suddenly caught by the arm and drawn up short. Whirling to face her captor, she scowled to find Blake had run after her and caught up to her.
"Let me go," she hissed, glancing over her shoulder to see Aeldra disappearing into the nearby cottage.
"Nay, my lady. There will be no more running away. You--"
"I'm no runnin' away," Seonaid snapped impatiently. "Let me go."
"You are not running away?" Blake asked slowly.
"Nay. Something has happened to Allistair, Aeldra's brother. I think he may be dead," her voice cracked on the word. Rallying herself, she gave her arm a shake, trying to free herself of his hold. "Now let me go. Aeldra needs me."
Blake released her at once and stepped back, watching as she turned away and hurried after Aeldra. Seonaid almost expected the man to follow her into the cottage, but a glance over her shoulder before she slipped inside showed her that he was still where she'd left him, simply watching. Little George was approaching from the keep at a gallop. The man was large and strong but not overly quick, and was just catching up.
In the next moment, Seonaid forgot all about the two men as Aeldra's distressed cry drew her attention to the conversation she had walked in on.
"What? But Allistair--"
"He should have been laird," Giorsal hissed, interrupting the blonde. "As yer fither should have before him. Angus and he were twins. He had as much right to rule, and he should have ruled the Dunbars. And Allistair should have ruled after him."
"But Father didna want to rule. He was happy to let Uncle Angus--"
"They claim Allistair was killed by Greenweld," the old woman went on bitterly, as if Aeldra hadn't even spoken. "But it isna true, I tell ye. Greenweld would no have killed him. They were working together."
"What?" It was an almost breathless gasp of horror from Aeldra. "Allistair was with Greenweld? Why?"
"To get back what was rightfully his," Giorsal said grimly. "Greenweld was goin' to help him get Dunbar back."
"But what about Uncle Angus an' Duncan?"
Giorsal shrugged. "With them out o' the way, Allistair'd be laird."
"An' Seonaid?" Aeldra asked grimly.
"He wanted to marry her. He said it would strengthen his claim."
"So Allistair plotted with that vile Greenweld an' betrayed everyone?"
Giorsal nodded with satisfaction. "It was my idea. He didna want to at first, but I convinced him. Necessity makes strange bedfellows, an' I kenned Greenweld could help Allistair to gain possession of the keep an' the clan chief's seat. He deserved it. But he didna agree until I pointed out he could have Seonaid that way, that Greenweld could send men out to kill the Englishman an' she'd be free to marry him, that in her grief for her father an' brother, she'd be easily led into marriage were he there to offer her support. It would have worked too," she said furiously, "but Duncan returned earlier than he was supposed to an' killed my baby."
"You convinced him to do this? To betray his own people?"
Seonaid's eyes had been frozen with fascinated horror on the old woman's bitter face up to now, but the flat sound of Aeldra's voice drew her gaze down to her. Aeldra had been on her knees at Giorsal's feet with her back to the door when Seonaid had entered. She still was, but where she had seemed like a collapsed doll then, she was stiff now, as if a stick had been slid up her back. Her head was erect and slightly lifted and her tone of voice was dead, but with an undercurrent of cold fury that made Seonaid's heart ache. Allistair had died while attempting to betray them all, but he had been led into doing so by Giorsal. Aeldra had lost both members of her closest family in a matter of moments, for while the old woman still lived, she would be dead in Aeldra's heart forever more.
"Betray who? That arrogant old bastard Angus? Who sat up in the castle while ye an' Allistair an' I lived here in this tiny cottage like peasants?" she asked bitterly. "We should have been in the castle! We should have--"
Seonaid didn't know who was more stunned when Aeldra suddenly slapped Giorsal.
Aeldra didn't say a word. She got slowly to her feet, turned her back on the woman who had raised her, and walked out of the cottage, neither slowing her step when she reached Seonaid nor even glancing her way.
Seonaid started to follow her, then paused and glanced back to ask, "How long ha'e ye hated us?"
Giorsal's mouth twisted bitterly. "Yer whole life."
Seonaid merely nodded and walked wearily out of the cottage. She looked around for Aeldra, but the girl must have broken into a run the moment she was out the door. Her cousin was nowhere in sight. Neither was Little George, she noted. Blake was still there, however. Seonaid debated her chances of avoiding him, but it seemed unlikely. He had that stubborn set to his shoulders she was starting to recognize.
That thought gave her something of a start. It was surprising that she was beginning to recognize anything about him.
&n
bsp; "Your cousin is dead?" Blake asked the question in quiet sympathetic tones as soon as she paused before him.
Seonaid nodded. It was all she had intended to do, but suddenly she found herself blurting out what she had learned; Allistair's perfidy, Giorsal's hatred, and their plans for her and her family and even for himself. She finished with, "Aeldra is sore upset."
"Aye." Blake nodded, then added softly, "As are you."
Much to her horror, Seonaid felt tears rush to her eyes at those words and the sympathy he offered. She struggled to force them back, but they would not go.
"Oh, damn," she gasped, and tried to turn away from him, but he caught her arms and held her in place.
"There is no shame in grieving the deaths of those you love," Blake said quietly and tried to pull her against his chest, but Seonaid resisted.
"He would have killed me father an' brother, an' you too even," she cried, and the words revealed her confusion. Part of her grieved Allistair's death; the other part was grateful he had died without succeeding at his plan. Was even grateful he was dead so she needn't hate him, a man who had been like a brother to her for years.
"I suppose you are sorry he did not succeed at killing me at least, though I doubt you would have seen your father and brother dead to escape me."
Seonaid's resistance had been weakening and she had slowly been allowing him to urge her against his chest, but now she pulled back with a shocked gasp. "I would ne'er--"
She paused as she spotted the faint twinkle in his eyes. He had been teasing.
"Would you never, Seonaid Dunbar?" he asked, and there was curiosity on his face. "You would not wish me dead?"
Seonaid shook her head and knew it was true. She did not wish this man dead. She didn't wish him ill at all. She wasn't even sure she wished not to marry him. Seonaid had been fleeing him for many reasons, fear, pride, anger ... but mostly out of pride. Pride could be a terrible trial, and she had more than her fair share of it. Being betrothed to the son of a man her father hated had been hard enough to bear, but his tarrying in collecting her had been a shame she'd had to carry as well. The years in between had been confusing ones.
Life didn't appear to be getting any less confusing either, she realized as she became aware that his face was lowering toward hers.
"Seonaid." He whispered her name and she felt his breath on her lips. Her eyes closed, reopened, then almost crossed in an effort to focus on his mouth.
"Aye?"
"I am going to kiss you," he announced.
"Oh," she breathed, and was immediately cast into deeper confusion. He was going to kiss her. She should fight, she supposed, but Seonaid didn't have the energy to do so. She didn't even know if she had the will. She had felt so weary and lost on leaving Giorsal's cottage, and now those sensations were easing somewhat and she felt sure they would ease even more were he to kiss her. Maybe she could even forget for a little bit. She desperately wanted to forget. Seonaid did not suffer loss well, and Allistair's loss was twofold because of the hurtful actions that had apparently led up to it.
Her thoughts were brought to an end as his mouth covered hers. It was incredibly soft. He looked a terribly hard man--even his lips could form a straight line that appeared ungiving--but it felt soft, and he tasted as sweet as plum wine as his lips moved over her own. Seonaid's hopes that he could distract her from her thoughts were realized immediately. All she was aware of was the pressure of his mouth on hers, and the way his hands now moved up and down her arms, then slid around her back. His tongue slid between her lips and Seonaid released a small moan of pleasure as he invaded her, filling her mouth with the taste of him. All her senses seemed overwhelmed by him; his scent--one she had grown used to while riding with him--filled her nose, his taste was on her tongue, and she felt him everywhere their bodies met.
For the first time in her life, Seonaid felt completely and utterly female and didn't mind. She had always thought of women as soft and weak, but in Blake's arms, while she felt feminine, she also felt excited and powerful. She could have stayed happily locked in his embrace forever, and couldn't restrain a moan of disappointment when he broke the kiss and eased away to peer down at her.
"I am sorry about your cousin, but Allistair's death is not your fault."
Seonaid stared at him blankly, her mind slow to adjust. Allistair. Dead. His plans to kill her father and brother, marry her, and become laird. His betrayal. His death. Her fault? Had she felt guilty? Aye, she had. She hadn't had a clue that Allistair's feelings for her had gone beyond cousinly love. Certainly he had teased her and complimented her at times, and Seonaid had sensed that there was something. But ...
But she was lying to herself, she realized. Aye, she'd known. She'd known his feelings for her had been stronger than they should be as cousin, but his attention had flattered her, and eased some of the pain Blake's neglect had caused. She had known and now admitted that she had even gently encouraged it. Seonaid had basked in his attention, using it as a balm to soothe her hurt pride. She'd told herself that Blake might not think enough to even bother to claim her, but Allistair thought she was brave and smart and beautiful. She hadn't felt the same in return, but she had encouraged him and unknowingly encouraged his traitorous intentions, aiding him in his downfall, and very nearly abetting the death of her own father and brother. And she was ashamed of herself, and mad as hell. But she wasn't just mad at herself. Blake deserved some of the blame. Had he come to claim her when she was sixteen as most men would have ...
"Seoanid?" Blake was watching her face closely and concern now filled his features. "What are you thinking?"
Pressing her mouth closed to keep from speaking all the thoughts whirling in her mind, Seonaid shook her head and pulled away. He tried to catch her back, but she was in no mood to deal with him now. She was terrified she would start to yell at him for what she saw as his part in this ordeal. And she would cut out her own tongue and swallow it before she would allow this man to know how much his failing to collect her had hurt.
Evading his hands, Seonaid slid past him and broke into a run for the keep. She gave the effort all she had, stretching her muscles and pumping her hands to use up some of her anger. It worked somewhat, although it wasn't a great distance from the cottage to the keep, so perhaps her exhaustion as she mounted the stairs had something to do with the collection of emotions she had suffered in such a short time: shock, fear, grief, anger, and betrayal, even passion. After the strenuous ups and downs of the last few days it was all too much. Seonaid felt about a hundred years old as she dragged herself up the stairs and entered the keep, far too tired to deal with Lord Rolfe, whose voice was sounding extremely agitated as it reached her ears.
Chapter Nine
"What do you mean, the laird is unavailable? Is he all right?"
Seonaid let the door close behind her and eyed the bishop and Lord Rolfe. The prelate simply looked weary, but Rolfe looked frustrated as he questioned young Willie. It made Seonaid suspect that the lad wasn't being forthcoming with his answers. But then, she supposed he wouldn't be. Lord Rolfe was English. Scottish children were taught from birth to hate the English.
"I asked you a question, lad, and would appreciate an answer."
Seonaid sighed wearily and started across the hall. "Father was wounded in the siege. He's restin'; let him rest."
"Wounded?" Rolfe turned to her with a combination of relief and alarm. Relief at finally getting his questions answered, she supposed. Alarm at the news he was hearing. "Is he all right?"
"Aye. He took an arrow in the shoulder. Iliana tended it. He's recoverin'."
"Oh." He relaxed somewhat. "Well, what about Duncan, then?"
Seonaid arched an eyebrow in Willie's direction.
"He's restin' too," the lad said. "With Lady Iliana."
"Resting with ... oh." Rolfe scowled, but Seonaid smiled. She was glad her brother and his wife were all right. It also sounded as if they were getting along well, which made her happy. She liked Iliana.
"Well, perhaps we could speak to Lady Wildwood then, Iliana's mother."
"She's restin'," Willie repeated.
The bishop seemed to lose some of his sleepy air at this news. "She was not injured too, was she?"
"Nay. She's restin' with the laird," the boy explained with a grin that made Seonaid's eyes widen. Her father and Lady Wildwood? Resting? Together? The very idea stunned her. What had been going on while she was gone? If she was surprised, Lord Rolfe was positively horrified.
"What?" he exclaimed. "Well, tell them we must speak with them at once. We--"
"Let them rest," Seonaid chided, continuing across the hall toward the stairs. "It's been a tryin' time for all. Surely ye could use some rest too after our journey?"
"Lady Seonaid is right," Bishop Wykeham murmured. "It's been a long journey. Surely the morrow is soon enough to find out what went on here and who attacked the castle."
Seonaid stopped walking, her eyes fixing on Willie. It would seem the men hadn't got much information out of the lad if they didn't even know who had attacked. Either they'd asked the wrong questions or the boy was being difficult on principle alone. She suspected it was the latter but couldn't find it in her to be angry with him. They were English, after all.
"Greenweld sent a message claimin' I'd been kidnaped by the Colquhouns," Seonaid explained. "Duncan took most of the men and rode out to fetch me back. The moment he was gone, Greenweld attacked the keep and laid siege. Father was hit by an arrow and unable to lead those left behind. Iliana took his place and managed to hold the castle until Duncan returned." Seonaid glanced at Willie. "Is that no right?"
"Aye." He nodded and grinned.
"What happened to Greenweld?" Lord Rolfe asked.
"Dead," the boy said succinctly and with obvious pleasure.
"His men?" the bishop asked.
"Some fled, some are dead, and some are in the dungeons."
"Well." Lord Rolfe and the bishop exchanged glances and seemed to be at a loss as to what to say or do.
"Sleep, gentlemen," Seonaid said and started toward the stairs again. She had heard enough. Greenweld was dead, Allistair was dead, her father wounded, and Dunbar battered but not beaten. Anything else she could learn on the morrow. Despite her rest during the ride, she was so weary she could barely lift her feet to take the stairs. "Find one o' the women to show them where to sleep," she added to Willie as she slowly trudged up the stairs, leaving it to the boy to handle. For all she cared at that moment, they could sleep on the rushes on the great hall floor.