Highland Heat (21 page)

“So ye just let me father think ye detested him?” Deirdre demanded. Ruth looked away, staring into the fire instead of answering.

“Mother?” Erlina spoke up. “I want to know the answer to that question myself. Ye always made it sound as though my father cheated on ye with another woman.”

“Oh, enough, out of all of ye,” Ruth announced. “I did what was best for me daughters. I do nae need any of ye standing in judgment over me. If I’d wed Robert, one of ye would have been smuggled out of the castle in a basket of laundry to grow up somewhere without any notion of what blood runs through yer veins. And what if I’d been found out? Ye both would have been drowned. He wasna the only man in the Highlands who believed twins were bad luck.”

It was true. Deirdre shook her head, because her grandfather had believed in all the old superstitions. “My father does nae believe such old folklore.”

Ruth pointed at her. “How do ye know for sure? Yer mother never gave him a pair of twins. Just because he does nae order any others born on his land to be killed, does nae prove he would welcome a set of his own. A laird cannae have his position questioned.” She suddenly sighed. “Besides, it was done long ago, and by the time yer father was laird, it was past undoing.”

“Ye mean that ye did nae want to trust him,” Deirdre insisted. Maybe she was mad to make such an accusation, considering her circumstances, but at the moment, shock kept her from thinking about what she said.

Ruth surprised her by nodding. “Aye, ye’re right. But mark my words, girl. Ye do nae learn what true fear is until ye have tiny new babies depending on ye for their lives. A mother learns what being afraid means when she finds her heart full of love for her children.”

There was a truth in Ruth’s words that sobered everyone in the room. Erlina crossed the room and sat down next to her mother. Her sister followed, and Deirdre fought back tears to see the pain her grandfather had caused them.

“What is yer name?”

Erlina raised her head from where it had been resting on her mother’s shoulder.

“Her name is Shylah.”

Deirdre felt anger flickering inside her for the time with her sisters her grandfather had denied her. She knew it was wrong, but it was hard to force her temper aside. She turned on Kagan and lifted her bound hands.

But the brute shook his head. “I think I’ll leave ye secure for the time it takes to get ye to Strome tower.”

“But ye know I’m no’ a threat.”

Kagan smiled, and the sight of it sent a ripple of apprehension through her.

“What I think is that since ye’re kin, ’tis my duty to see ye are well provided for.”

“What ye mean is ye want to see if Quinton Cameron will offer ye something of value for my return.”

“Will he?” Kagan asked bluntly.

“He’ll give ye nothing. He’s already forgotten me. Why do ye think I left him?”

The smile faded from Kagan’s face. He contemplated her good and long before shaking his head.

“Maybe, but then again, maybe no’. A woman will do a great deal to protect those she loves. Even leave a man she loves, because remaining as his mistress would shame her clan. I know for a fact Quinton didn’t contract ye, so that means ye took him as yer lover and stole that clothing to escape Drumdeer.”

He looked past her to Ruth before he let out a soft whistle. “Let’s ride home, lads. It will certainly help to ease tension between the Chattan and us to have the man know his daughter is being cared for inside Strome tower.”

***

Strome tower was an old Norman fortress. It lacked the refinements of Drumdeer, and if there were any touches of decoration, Deirdre couldn’t find them. Kagan was welcomed home by the ringing of the church bell and several more which were set onto the walls.

Once he and his men rode into the courtyard, the huge gate that kept the castle secure at night was lowered back into position with ear-splitting groans. He slit the leather binding her and turned her over to an older woman by the name of Peg.

“Find her something to do, Peg. She’ll be staying awhile.”

Peg looked as bewildered as Deirdre felt by Kagan’s words, but Deirdre had plenty of time to ponder them.

***

She discovered her nights filled with dreams of Quinton.

Deirdre did her share, laboring along with the other maids to keep the tower clean and food on the tables. She worked harder than some, but it wasn’t because Peg ordered her to.

No, she tried to exhaust herself so that she might sleep without remorse tormenting her. Her plan failed her too many nights to count. Tears that she managed to avoid by keeping her mind on her labors could not be fended off once she was lying in the narrow cot that Peg had moved into the room Deirdre slept in. Once she was no longer forcing her body to move, the only thing she could do was keep her tears silent.

“A strange thing happened today.”

Deirdre bumped her head into the top of the hearth she was clearing ash out of. She turned a hard look on Kagan Hay.

“Ye did that just to be mean.”

He shrugged unrepentantly. But his gaze studied her while she took the time to look at him in return. The man had dark hair to go with his dark eyes. She waited for any sort of attraction to stir inside her, even the mildest amount of lust, but nothing tingled across her skin.

Deirdre dusted off her hands, excitement finally arriving to send her blood moving faster through her veins. It felt like she had been sleeping for months, frozen in place while Kagan forced her to remain in his tower fortress.

“For Christ’s sake, what do ye want of me, Kagan? It cannae be my fine abilities as a servant.”

He grinned at her. “Actually, from what I hear, ye work harder than most of the girls I pay to keep this castle.”

She groaned. “Fine. I’ll sit on me arse, even if it bores me to death if that is what it will take to make ye stop holding me here.”

“It might be interesting to see how long ye could stand doing naught. According to the letter I just received from one of me kin on Cameron land, ye lasted two days in the solar before ye found a way to escape.” He held up a folded parchment, and she failed to mask how much she longed to read about Drumdeer. She realized she was looking at the letter like a hungry colt and glanced away, but it was too late.

“Quinton is searching for ye.”

Her heart jumped. “Well, he should nae be,” she snapped. Fear suddenly threatened to choke her. Quinton was a powerful man, and there were many lairds who would relish the opportunity to have something to press him into favoring them.

She shot a hard look at Kagan. “I have a place waiting for me, and I long to take it. I am nothing to Quinton Cameron.”

“He claimed ye were his mistress.”

“And ye believe such nonsense?” Deirdre hid her fear by turning to look at the pile of ash waiting to be removed. She scooped it up and dumped it into a large bowl to take outside for soap making.

“Why should I doubt it? I hear he said it in front of his captains.”

She forced down the lump in her throat. She might be weak enough to tumble into Quinton’s embrace, but she was strong enough to face down Kagan Hay. She turned to glare at him.

“I am sure there are women who actually believe that a man like the earl might be besotted by them, but I am nae so whimsical.”

“But ye are dropping weight. Yer face is thinner.” Suspicion coated his words.

Deirdre stood and propped her hands on her hips. “Because I’m worried Joan Beaufort will nae wait forever for me to arrive. Surely ye can understand I want to make me father proud by gaining a position that will bring honor to his name.”

“Considering ye shamed him by taking a lover and ruined his plans to wed ye to Connor Lindsey, that would certainly make sense.”

Deirdre picked up the bowl of ash and balanced it on one hip. “Connor is wed to my sister Brina, and they are well pleased with the union. It is time for ye to allow me my freedom so that I may also please my father.”

Kagan Hay shook his head. “Keeping ye ensures that yer clan will nae raid mine, and I will nae set ye loose when it’s possible Quinton Cameron might come for ye once I tell him ye’re here.”

She left the room and made her way down the steps until she was outside the larger tower.

She was truly foolish…

Her position was precarious, and she had been consumed with her own worries. She needed to be more concerned with how she might be used against Quinton. Or her father. Kagan Hay had good reason to want to make her father suffer for the fate that had befallen his aunt. Highlanders held grudges longer than anyone else. Even if it had been her grandfather who began it, Kagan might decide to begin raiding her kin in retribution.

The thought of blood being spilled sickened her.

She reached up and ran her fingers over her cheek. Maybe she was thinner; she wasn’t sure. Well, she would have to begin eating more. She’d never see the outside of Strome tower if Kagan continued to suspect that Quinton might want her back.

But do ye still want to go to serve the queen?

Deirdre didn’t care for how much she disliked that idea. She had risked everything for it, and now, she dreaded it. She shook off the feeling and forced herself to recall that honor was a thing easily preserved.

She’d made her choice, and she would be content.

***

Summer grew warmer, and still Kagan held her inside his fortress. They had more visitors, and one morning, Deirdre arose to find the kitchens in a frenzy. Wagons were hauling fresh meat and other stores up into the yard, while the cook shouted at her staff. Maids scurried to please her, but she only continued to snap her fingers and call out more orders.

“What goes on here?” Deirdre asked Peg.

“Archibald Douglas, the lieutenant general himself, was sighted on the road. He sent a missive up to the laird that he’s going to be joining us for supper. The cook is running mad with preparations for it.”

The smell of roasting pork floated through the hall, and Deirdre suddenly gagged. She clamped a hand over her mouth and ran toward the garderobe. Her belly heaved, refusing to be quieted until every bit of food she’d eaten was lost.

“Ye don’t care for roasted pork? Pity that, it will be a fine treat, I’m thinking,” Peg informed her when she returned. “Still, there will be plenty of other things to enjoy. But I fear we’ll have to suffer this day first.”

The hours flew too quickly and yet not fast enough, for Deirdre watched for the approach of the promised visitors with eager anticipation. She fought to conceal her growing excitement but couldn’t help but smile as she thought about how many people would be moving in and out of the gate.

It was the opportunity that she had longed for. The waiting felt impossible to bear now that she could feel an end nearing. The sun seemed frozen in position for hours at a time. At last the bells began to ring, and she ran up the stairs of the tower to look out the windows with the other Hay women.

Archibald, Earl of Douglas, seemed to enjoy making a large impression. His men held long pikes with banners flying the earl’s colors. The sound of trumpets and drums floated to her as he rode closer.

She had to resist the urge to laugh, for Quinton would have been in the yard before anyone heard him coming. That was the way of a Highlander. They masked their movements, blending into the pace of life around them so they might be more effective in defending their land.

For all that Archibald Douglas was also a Highlander, it was obvious he preferred the ways of court.

Kagan greeted the earl in the yard while servants hurried to bring a huge chair into the hall. Deirdre descended to the kitchen with the rest of the maids to discover the earl’s men poking their fingers into everything the kitchen staff had labored so hard to produce throughout the day. The earl’s men broke pieces of pastry off pies and tasted them, ruining the delicate shapes that were constructed to please the eye before the food was tasted.

They sniffed and licked and chewed mouthfuls of stews and sauces while armed retainers stood watching suspiciously. Every maid was lined up against the wall while the earl’s men ran through the kitchen, and the cook began to cry.

At last, the oldest man among them grunted. “I am satisfied, no poison,” he announced and turned to walk away, leaving them the task of salvaging the feast for his master. Deirdre began to carry plates of fresh fruits out to the banquet tables with the other girls, but she ran into two of Kagan’s retainers.

“The laird says ye’re to come with us.”

“I’ve been given a task to do.” She brushed around them, the sight of the people streaming in and out of the hall beckoning to her.

But the retainers followed her. One reached out and hooked her upper arm the moment she sat her platter down.

“Do nae be making a fuss. Being Chattan’s daughter will nae gain ye any favor with me.”

“Unhand me. I’ve work to do. Ask the cook. She needs all of us now,” Deirdre insisted.

“She’ll make do with the good Hay lasses. Ye are to be locked abovestairs so that ye do nae slip past the gate during the upheaval of the earl’s visit.” The retainer began to pull her across the stone floor toward a side doorway. “That is what me laird says, so it will be so.”

“What is amiss there?”

The hall fell silent. The retainer pulling on her froze as everyone turned to look at them.

“Can’t yer men wait until after supper to toss the skirts of yer serving lasses?”

Kagan tried to reply, but Deirdre snarled, her temper gaining the upper hand.

“Take yer hands off me.” She grabbed a plate off the table and used it as a club against the man holding her arm. He released her with a growl.

“Chattan bitch,” he cursed as he raised his hand to slap her.

“Hold!”

The Earl of Douglas’s voice bounced off the walls, and the retainer lowered his hand. Deirdre felt tension tighten along her shoulders as Archibald Douglas stood up and braced his hands on the table in front of him.

“Bring her here.”

Deirdre stepped forward, avoiding the hand the Hay retainer tried to hook around her upper arm once more. She kept her chin level as she moved up the center aisle. Kagan sat next to the earl, a dark look on his face. She refused to lower herself before the man.