Amanda Scott (27 page)

“Let me see that again,” Michael demanded, holding out his hand.

Sir Henry moved nearer so that he could read it as Michael did. The latter finished first. “By heaven,” he said, “I believe my lass has found your message.”

“Aye,” Henry said, scratching his head. “It seems obvious now. How could we not have seen it before?” His eyes narrowed as they shifted back to her.

Isobel chuckled. “I am no witch, sir, I promise you. Michael said your father must have left you some instructions, and you both agreed that this is the only letter he ever directed to you alone. I merely accepted both of those statements as fact and tried to figure out how he might have included a message in this letter that anyone reading it would not instantly recognize. The lines and dots are not nearly as dark as the words they mark, and perhaps they are darker now with age than when he put them there, and thus noticeable to one seeking a message. I warrant you would have noticed them yourself before long.”

“You are kind, my lady, and generous, but I still feel like a noddy to have carried such a thing with me all these years without deciphering its true meaning.”

“You’d best keep deciphering, my lad,” Michael said. “Because if you know the meaning of those words, I do not. I own, I did wonder why he should pray for you ‘at Roslin’ rather than simply offer a prayer for your safety.”

Henry grinned suddenly. “I recall wondering if it meant that he did not trust Sir Edward,” he said. “That he was advising me to look elsewhere for answers than to his cousin. Fortunately for me, I never suggested as much to Sir Edward.”

“I understand that he is your foster father, but who is Sir Edward exactly?” Isobel asked.

“Sir Edward Robison of Strathearn is Hugo’s father,” Michael said.

“But I thought Sir Hugo was a connection of your mother’s,” she said. “I am sure that is what he told Hector.”

“And that is also true,” Sir Henry said, “because he is a double cousin. His mother is a St. Clair, our father’s youngest sister.”

“If Sir Hugo’s mother had the same father that your father did, does that mean that Hugo is a Knight Templar, too?” she asked.

Sir Henry looked at Michael, but this time Isobel did not object. She looked at him, too, and waited.

He rolled his eyes, but he smiled, too. “Hugo’s father was, and we all had the same training, lass. But if you would please me, you’ll not mention the Templars to anyone even when it seems safe, as it does here, for there are ears everywhere.”

“Aye, there are, indeed,” she said, remembering the many times she had eavesdropped as a child.

“You know, Michael,” Henry said, “many of the carvings at Roslin portray bearded men.”

“That thought had occurred to me also,” Michael said. “Every lintel, pediment, and pillar contains different carvings, however, as do most of the door panels, but I have never paid any particular heed to their details.”

“The message does seem to refer to Roslin,” Isobel said.

“Aye, and I’m thinking that the sooner we can search for a pattern amongst those carvings, the better,” Michael said.

“You cannot leave here before the ceremony,” Henry said with a sigh. “I would not mind in the least if you did, especially if you can find the key to this puzzle, but our lady mother—”

“Say no more,” Michael interjected hastily. “I’ve no wish to infuriate her any more at present. I could see at once that my marriage displeases her.”

“I cannot think why,” Henry said, smiling at Isobel. “Pray, do not take offense at her megrims, my lady. Much as she may think she commands all in her orbit, she does not rule at Kirkwall, or at Roslin.”

“She will not trouble me, sir,” Isobel said confidently.

Michael put his arm around her. “It must be nearly time for supper, Henry,” he said. “Had you better not go and prepare yourself to receive your company?”

“Aye, for my Jean will be fearing that our mother will blame her for my tardiness. I must therefore make haste, but put your wits to work, Michael. It will not do for you to declare that you are bound for Roslin. Waldron will be hot on your heels if not well ahead of you if he suspects that we have learned something new.”

Michael nodded, and Isobel made her curtsy, but Henry caught her hands and pulled her up again, planting a firm if brotherly kiss on her cheek. “Welcome to Clan St. Clair, my lady,” he said warmly.

“I do not think he is at all eccentric,” she said when he had gone. “He seems most pleasant and kind.”

“Aye, he is a good man,” Michael said. “For all that he believes he can sail a ship to the edge of the earth and beyond.”

“He said he had seen a map,” she reminded him.

“Aye,” he said. “But I’m thinking he dreamed it, for I have never seen such a thing, nor do I think anyone else has. And right now,” he added in a warmer tone, “I am recalling that Henry interrupted us at a most inopportune moment. Shall I untie your laces for you, madam?”

Feeling the surge of heat that particular tone always stirred in her, she grinned saucily and said, “You may loosen them for me, sir, but if you do not want to anger your mother, I’d suggest that you attempt no more just now.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I warrant you think you have found the one weapon that will win over all of mine, lass, but you are mistaken. My mother does not terrify me, although I own, she does try. I am my own man.”

He reached then for her laces, and she did not attempt to dissuade him, neither when his fingers wandered more freely about her body than the changing of her clothes for supper warranted, nor when he stripped her clothing from her and carried her to the bed.

As he quickly disrobed, she murmured, “We’ll be late.”

“Aye, perhaps.”

She chuckled low in her throat as he climbed into bed with her, but moments later, she was moaning. She had forgotten how swiftly his mouth and fingers could stir her body’s responses. She did remember the aching pain she had felt at Glenelg Bay, however, and that memory made her wary.

When his fingers touched her between the legs, she tensed.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Touch me.”

She had been kissing him and moving against him, stirred by his caresses, but she had kept her hands near his sides or back, uncertain what else to do with them. Remembering certain things he had done that she had found particularly pleasurable, she began to experiment, scooting lower to kiss his nipples, and lick and suck them as he had done with hers. When he gasped, she smiled, and as his hands continued their explorations, her body responded more and more fervently.

She felt no pain, only desire, and when he shifted his body to possess hers, she welcomed him, finding it easy to match the rhythm of her responses to his thrusts. As their passion increased, she stopped thinking of everything but the sensations he stirred and what she could do to stimulate equal feelings in him.

With no more than a change in his breathing to warn her, his rhythm altered to a more urgent pace, but her body responded with equal fervor. The sensations she experienced then overwhelmed her, giving her a sense of soaring higher and higher until her mind seemed to have entered a place filled with sunlight, where she felt warmth and joy unlike any she had ever known.

With a groan, Michael collapsed atop her, his face buried between her shoulder and her neck. Gently, he kissed her just below her ear and murmured, “Ah, sweetheart, that was wonderful.”

Gasping, almost sobbing, she tried to draw a deep breath, but he was too heavy. Choking back a bubble of laughter, she said, “It was splendid, sir, but if you do not move, you will render yourself wifeless and thus unable to repeat it.”

“A dire fate,” he said with a chuckle as he shifted his weight off her. “I collect that you found this experience more enjoyable than last time.”

“Aye,” she said, “It was wonderful, but I don’t understand how a body can go from having so much energy to so little.” She felt languorous and content to stay where she was. Even as that thought drifted through her mind, though, another trailed behind it, reminding her of the time. “Mercy,” she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright, “we
are
going to be late for supper!”

“Very likely,” he agreed, his tone of voice mirroring the feelings she had had before the unwelcome reminder presented itself.

“Well, don’t just lie there,” she said, tugging at one muscular shoulder. “Get up and get dressed—and make haste about it, too!”

“Gently, lass,” he said. “We’ll not starve, even if we are late.”

“Now, you listen to me, Michael St. Clair. Your mother already looks at me as if I were something she’d scrape off her shoe. I don’t want to do more to irritate her before she has even come to know me. Up, sir, or you will not need to suffocate me to render yourself wifeless in bed.”

“Heaven forfend,” he said, laughing but getting out of bed nonetheless.

The others were all at their places when Michael and Isobel entered the great hall, but she noticed straightaway that Sir Henry’s chaplain had not yet spoken the grace before meat. One seat was empty on the ladies’ side of the high table, between Cristina and Adela, and another was empty on the gentleman’s side, between Lachlan and Sir Hugo. Princess Margaret occupied the ladies’ place of honor, next to Sir Henry’s wife, Jean, with Mairi beside her. Macleod of Glenelg sat at the far end of the table on the men’s side, and Waldron sat at a central table below the dais with a number of men she did not know. She saw Michael eye them narrowly, but she did not see the Green Abbot, so perhaps he was late, too.

The meal passed quickly and without incident. The food was excellent although plainer than what Isobel was accustomed to at Lochbuie, and the claret flowed freely at both ends of the table. Minstrels played throughout the meal, and when servants presented the banquet of sweets, a troupe of players ran into the center of the lower hall. A space had been cleared for them there, and a fool emerged to direct their antics. Jugglers and acrobats displayed their skills first.

Many travelers in Isobel’s party were covering yawns before the jugglers had finished. Isobel had had but one goblet of wine, but although she still felt the aftereffects of her interlude with Michael, she was not tired. Cristina clearly was, however, and Lady Euphemia, and before long, Princess Margaret stood, thereby announcing her intention to retire.

Everyone else stood until she and her ladies had departed from the hall, but then others prepared to leave, including Lady Euphemia, who paused beside Adela and Isobel to say, “I shall not presume to tell you when you should go to bed, Isobel. Now that you are a married lady, you are at your husband’s beck and bay, but you, my dear Adela, will come along with me, and go straight to bed.”

“Oh, pray do not take me away so soon, Aunt. I promise you, I am not at all sleepy, and I want to watch the players. See, they are even now taking their places.”

Lady Euphemia looked as if she would insist, so Isobel said, “She can stay with me, Aunt. Cristina is still here, too, so we’ll see that she gets back safely. Indeed, I cannot imagine what could happen to her in a bishop’s palace.”

“Nor can I, my dear, but there are a good many young men here, and young men, by their very nature, cannot be trusted to behave. Do not go anywhere alone tonight. Indeed, you should not go anywhere without a good strong, trustworthy gentleman to accompany you. But I warrant Sir Michael will look after you both, so I shall leave you now and bid you goodnight.”

Adela chuckled when Lady Euphemia was safely out of earshot. “Faith, I did not think she’d give in so easily. Is this what it is like at his grace’s court, Isobel? I never had interest in such things, you know, but I hope there will be dancing tonight. I fear I have grown quite sinful of late. Sir Hugo has not gone yet, has he?”

Isobel looked at her. “Do you like him?”

Adela shrugged. “He is very merry, is he not? But I do think he ought to be more serious about some things. He seems to laugh at everything.”

“He does have a cheerful disposition,” Isobel agreed. “Still, I think he takes his duties seriously.”

“Oh, aye, indeed he does,” Adela said, frowning. “I had forgotten that. Do you know he refused to ride with me to Chalamine to collect your maid? And he had no way to know at the time that we would be seeing you again so soon. Indeed, I did not know that myself. And he might have taken her with him quite easily.”

“It all came right in the end,” Isobel said soothingly. “Yes?” she added, when a gillie wearing the St. Clair gray tunic with its distinguishing black cross stepped up to her and made his bow.

“Beg pardon, madam, but the princess Margaret has asked that you and the lady Adela join her in her chamber at once. I am to escort you there.”

“Just Lady Adela and me?” Isobel asked.

“Aye, madam.”

Adela paled. “What do you think we have done?” she asked.

“I cannot think of anything,” Isobel said. “But we had better not tarry.”

They got up at once, and when Cristina turned with a questioning look, Isobel said, “Princess Margaret sent for Adela and me. I cannot think why, but we’ll be back in a trice, I expect. If Michael asks, tell him we have a St. Clair gillie with us.”

Cristina nodded and turned to relay the information to Mairi.

They followed the gillie out of the hall, along a corridor to the main stairway, and up two flights to another corridor. Halfway along, he stopped at a door and rapped. The door swung inward, revealing the golden glow of candlelight within, and he gestured for them to precede him.

Adela went first, but Isobel bumped into her when she stopped just inside the door and cried out in surprise. Before Isobel could see what had startled her, a hard hand pushed her into Adela, and the door snapped shut behind them. Hearing a bar thud into place, she turned and saw the gillie who had accompanied them standing in front of the now-barred door, fists on his hips, grinning at her insolently.

“Sakes, what do you think you are doing?” she demanded.

“Don’t blame him,” a familiar voice said. “He just followed my orders.”

Adela stepped aside, and Isobel found herself face to face with Waldron of Edgelaw. Beyond him stood the Green Abbot of Iona, the flickering light and his vulpine features making him appear even more predatory than his companion.