Highland Scandal (16 page)

Their gazes locked. He seemed in no rush for her to do as he ordered. He knew she would give in to him.

For a wee victory, she slowly crossed to the chair. She made a great show of straightening her
leine
. She flicked a non-existent spot of dirt from the red embroidered edge. She ran a hand over her skirts. She pushed her hair back over her shoulder and gave her head a flick to straighten it. With nothing else to do, she folded her hands on her lap and grinned up at him.

He knew her ploy and did not respond. She lowered her head, shamed by her childish action. He said nothing and loomed over her. His brow was pinched. His mouth twitched at the corners as it did when he mulled over a problem.

She stayed silent. He would start when he was ready.

“I have made a vow to your son. Will you help me to keep it?” His somber visage twisted her heart. Lachlan valued his honor. She couldn’t deny him.

“Aye.” She grasped his hand.

The corner of his mouth lifted up before he smiled. He clenched and unclenched his hand around her own. “You are the only person I trust here.”

Rowen blinked, feeling a bit faint. She felt a pounding behind her eyes. As quickly as it came, the thumping ceased.

“When Semias—whom you shall meet later—came to me about this lairdship, he informed me that the clan had voted for me. When I arrived, I learned of Jonty, who is rallying men to fight for my position. Then there is the murder.” He never left his spot but there was a reined in edge to him. It made him seem as if he never stilled.

She listened without inserting a word.

“She carries my father’s child. My brother.” He shoved a hand through his hair and rubbed the nape of his neck. “I do not know if she killed him. Though I cannot understand why, as she would lose her position and fall to the lowest standing within the clan.”

“How may I be of help?”

“Help me…” He moved his head up and down absentmindedly. His brows pinched as he thought of all she must know. “Be aware of everything, be amicable to people to learn information, and gain Sheena’s confidence and learn what she knows. I need to know, Rowen. If I make the wrong choice, I will not be laird and cannot protect your son. I am fond of him.”

“He is charming and bonny lad. Women fawn over him a great deal.” She had no wish to speak of her son. “Perhaps, I can go to Sheena now before meeting Semias. I wouldn’t want it to seem as if I do his bidding, but yours.”

“Aye.” He grasped her hand and planted a kiss upon her knuckles. The end of his dark locks brushed against her hand. With the other, she pushed the strands back, feeling his heat caught in them.

He raised his gaze toward her. His chin brushed against her skin. She should pull free from his hold.
Should
. The hunger in his eyes fired the yellow chips blending with the sepia. When he aimed that attention on her parted mouth, she froze, waiting for his mouth to touch hers. She couldn’t breathe, not that she cared. She licked her lips. The skin about his eyes pinched. If she had not known him intimately, she would have not understood his reaction.

Rowen had felt those skillful lips feast upon her own and she had never forgotten it…yearned for it even now. She shifted toward him though it felt like barely a move. His neck muscles bopped up and down as he swallowed. He blinked.

“I can’t.” His voice was thick. He drew his hand away.

Her hair slipped forward and concealed the blush heating her cheeks. She waited until the thickness within her own throat and chest dissipated before she spoke. “I shall go meet with Sheena.”

He pushed back the stool. “Aye, I shall escort you or, the guards will not let you in.”

“Should I not go by myself to test the men?” She had to gather control of herself and could only do that if Lachlan wasn’t near her.

“Nay, I want the news of your visit to spread.”

She grinned. “Oh, you have a plan. These Gordons do not know of your smarts.”

Lachlan winked at her. She melted. That little gesture was filled with wickedness and playfulness. She must take these last pleasures in the gesture because when the truth was revealed, the warm glances would turn to hatred. That would break her heart again.

She followed Lachlan from the chamber. Being midday, some people milled about the hall. They turned to Lachlan giving greetings and watching her follow him. Their curiosity heightened. The news would spread through the clan before Rowen finished meeting with Sheena.

Rowen stared at the men flanking the door. Her stomach soured. A roar filled her ears. She knew the fear that must live behind those planks of oak banded together by iron. After Eacharn’s death, Rowen had waited for the moment when she would die. She had lived in terror, barely able to catch her breath, or slow her racing heart. She flinched at every sound or movement. Only pretending all was well for Kenny had kept her sane, letting her believe for a brief moment in the lie. She had escaped.

She swept by Lachlan and entered the chamber. The scraping of wood against stone sounded like a final wail. The latch fell down with a metal screech.

Sheena dropped the oilskin back, blocking any light and halted the gust of wind through the narrow slit. The men accused her of murdering the auld laird. She had never met him, but she had heard the tales—he was a tall man, thick with muscle and not a pinch of fat. It was said that no woman could wrap her hand around his arms or, if men spoke, it centered on his manhood. Rowen always wondered at these women’s statures but this one—well, the only thing big on her was her belly.

“Good day. I am Rowen Murray.” Was that a cringe in her tone?

“Sheena MacAdam.”

Rowen felt the wall she had erected. “Have you been fed?”

She looked at the platter with cheese and bread.

“You haven’t bathed. Would you care for one?” Mud clumped in her hair. Her long locks hung stringy from her face, stretching out the curls. Peeks of roan hued hair appeared between the blackened streaks. Her
leine
must have been saffron-yellow once, but now appeared to be covered in dirt, along with her crusty feet peeking out from the edge.

She reluctantly dipped her head in agreement. Rowen banged on the door. She hadn’t lowered her hand when it opened. She ordered the bath. With that seen to, she settled before the hearth.

“It will be some time. I imagine, though, you will be grateful for it no matter the time that passes. I arrived here ill, raging with fever and once well, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted food or a bath. Since you have eaten, I can guess what you desire most. May I ask how many months you are?”

Rowen ignored the distrust in Sheena’s green gaze. Sheena was young, her face still possessed youthfulness as well as hardness.

“Near to eight months, now.” Her voice was light but strong.

“Oh, I recall that time. I felt my son rolling about within me, stretching me out. My back hurt, I never got far from the privy, and I couldn’t close my hands since my fingers were thrice their size.” Rowen held up her hand. “I swore I could not grow any larger, but I was wrong.”

Her mouth twitched.

“These three years…almost four…I just want to keep him close to me. He shall be Laird one day, so I shall not. You have probably heard him, raising the spirits with his screams.”

“Is he the Laird’s offspring?”

Rowen laughed. “Why do you think such a thought?”

“I had seen the Laird with a lad I had never seen before.”

“The children do like Lachlan very much.” Rowen made a point by using his name.

Sheena stepped to the table. She ripped a chunk of bread, took a bite, and put the rest down. “So he won’t kill me until I birth this one?”

“Did you kill the laird?”

Sheena ambled toward the hearth. “Does it matter? That question has been put to me and my answer has not changed, yet no one believes me. But nay.”

“Why do you think he was murdered?”

“How would I ken such things?”

“Sheena, I am not a man, so don’t play the helpless female with me.”

Sheena grinned and sat. “I don’t want to die, but I canna see how I can live.”

Rowen grabbed her hand. “There may be a way. Tell all you know so Lachlan can learn the truth or he will base his judgment on the lies.”

Lachlan…instead of laird…that revealed an intimacy that Sheena understood. Rowen Murray was an ethereal beauty the kind that would turn a Gordon man’s head. Much like Ewan, the auld laird, his son liked women.

“Verra weel,” Sheena said. She had to put her trust in someone and Rowen proved to be a powerful ally. “He seemed much changed in his last days. He spoke to himself and most cruel to those around him. He raged. One night, he almost killed Jonty. The lairdess stopped him. He struck her and aimed his sword at her neck. After that, everyone spoke of a fairy taking him.”

“Fairy,” Rowen repeated.

Her face remained fixed. Yet, Sheena sensed a change within her. She heard the tales of the MacKenzie banshee and how she had killed her husband.

“Why did the laird attack Jonty?”

“Why he hadna before? Ye have to ken him to understand. Jonty is a fleckless, spoiled man who likes his drink more than most mon. He can be cruel with his words and actions. He can wield a sword skillfully, but canna lead men. That night, Jonty spoke of Lachlan.” She raised a shoulder without revealing her turmoil.

“What had he said?”

“He called him a bastard who bore no ties to the Gordons. The laird dinna care for his words. Ye might expect him to bellow, but his voice was low. I had to strain to hear his words. He told Jonty that bastard was the only of his bairns to show true Gordon blood. That Lachlan from a by-blow, he rose to be a tacksmen and trusted man of Black Duncan as well as his father. He also spoke of Lachlan’s skill with the ladies, a true sign of Gordon blood.”

Rowen chuckled low in her throat. “Aye, he has never lacked a woman’s company.”

“Then he resembles his father verra much. Ewan said that he dinna have any bastards so he mustna be verra virile. He made a vulgar motion.” Sheena lifted her hand with her small finger up straight and curled it at the joints. “Ewan took offense at that. He drew his claymore. The keen tip pricked his skin. Then he pronounced before his tacksmen, servants and Semias,”—her mouth flood with sourness from speaking his name— “Lachlan was his
tanist.
”

“And when the vote was put, Lachlan won.” Rowen aimed those misty eyes that seemed to see beyond this world and into a netherworld. Sheena felt a cold in her chest, even her bairn ceased tumbling about.

“How did you come to the attention of the laird?”

“You mean how did I come to be in his bed?” She tilted her head to the side.

Rowen lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “Both stories started with an introduction.”

“Aye, my parents died and I had three younger sisters to care for. I couldn’t depend on my neighbors to help me indefinitely and rents must be paid, so I came to the castle to beg the laird to get me a husband.”

“You are a bonny woman, so I imagine his desire was different than yours.”

Sheena laughed. “He saw my sisters wed, me fed and clothed, and even arranged a marriage.”

A guard held open the door, letting in two male servants carrying a tub as well as servants with pails of water.

Sheena leaned forward and in a false whisper said, “The men are afraid I will escape, but I canna even walk properly, let alone run. I am surprised I am permitted to bathe, I may drown myself.”

The guard glared at her.

“I shall leave you to clean up.” Rowen stood.

“Will ye come back?” She hated hearing the quiver in her voice.

“Aye, I shall and if you need anything send word to me or the laird.”

Sheena watched her depart. Since the day of the arrest, she had felt hollow and did not care for anything. Yet with Rowen’s appearance, she felt herself once more. She laid her hand on her belly. “We may get what we want thanks to her.”

* * * *

Rowen left the chamber, mulling over the time spent with Sheena. At this moment, she had to find her son. Kenny never sat still unless a platter of food sat before him, and even then he squirmed. She first checked the kitchen. Mistress Cullen bellowed orders to kitchen servants, calling out to the kitchen boys to turn the meat.

“Has my son been here?”

“Och, aye, fairly ate out the stores an’ ended up wit’ most food on his face. He ran away before I could wash him up.”

Rowen thanked her on her way out. She decided to check outdoors. She found Lachlan first. “Is it raining?”

“Of course, ’tis Scotland however, most of this”—he waved a hand to his wet plaid—“is from your son.”

“Where is he?”

“One can hope not getting dirty again. He should be in the Laird’s Chamber as I ordered him to stay. I do not think that boy can ever get clean. There is not enough water in Scotland to do that.”

“Isn’t that what boys do? Besides, I remember as a lass, I always found a bit of mischief that always led to filthiness and a good scrubbing by my mother.”

Lachlan snorted. “I found a piece of bread in his ear.”

“His ear?” she repeated, her tone hitching up a notch.

“I asked him how it got there and he told me he did not know. It must have happened when he was eating.”

“How does that happen?”

“I cannot even begin to imagine. But it was from this morn because everything sounded far away. I must say though, he is entertaining.”

“You two have developed a friendship.” Whether her words were an accusation or question, she couldn’t determine. She risked much by coming to Lachlan, but she had been desperate and with no other options.

Lachlan took it for a question. “Aye, I guess not being around Connor…”

“You miss them.”

“It isn’t as if I’ll never see them.”

Rowen let his non-reply stand. There was a time when he would have laid out his feeling to her. He trusted her, he had told her and perhaps compared to the others around him, she was the only one he could present that to, but the trust and bond they both shared had vanished.

Lachlan bid her to enter the chamber first. Kenny sat in the chair.