His Conquest (13 page)

Duncan took a long swig of ale at the war table strewn with unrolled maps, then set down the goblet. “When do you expect to hear word from Bishop Wishart?”

“Another month at most,” Seathan replied. “With the English slaughtering all who oppose them, we cannot wait longer.”

Alexander grimaced. “With you hobbling about, I still think it unwise that you travel on the morrow.”

“Hobbling about?” Seathan asked. “My wounds are well healed and I—”

“You have rested little,” Duncan interrupted, his expression hard. “Wait another day, if not two, before you go.”

Seathan shoved to his feet, ignoring the tug of healing muscles. “I will wait no longer to find Dauid. Already he has enjoyed his freedom overmuch.”

“Fine,” Duncan agreed. “Then we will go with you.”

“Nay.” Seathan took a swig of his ale. “You will remain here for word from Bishop Wishart. Or from any of the other Guardians. We must be ready to fight.”

Alexander cocked a brow. “And your leaving will help that?”

Seathan banged down his goblet. “We have a traitor in our midst.”

“Aye.” Alexander shoved away his ale and stood. “And I still find it difficult to believe Dauid betrayed us.”

“As do I,” Duncan agreed, standing beside his brother.

Seathan stared at the flames, his friend’s treachery tearing at his soul. “Unless I had witnessed his treasonous act, it is the last thing I would have believed as well. ’Twas hard penning the missive to Wallace to warn him against a man we once called friend.” He lifted his cup, swirled the golden brew. “But then, war changes men, twists them into people no longer recognizable.”

A knock sounded upon the door.

“Enter,” Seathan ordered.

A runner stepped inside. He halted before Seathan and bowed. “My lord, I have come from Bishop Wishart. He sends his blessings and an urgent missive.” He passed him a leather-bound writ.

“My thanks.” Tension filled the chamber as Seathan untied the cured leather cover, withdrew the tightly wound parchment, then broke the seal. The cured goatskin scraped as he quickly unrolled it and read through the penned words. He stilled. “God’s teeth!”

“What is wrong?” Alexander asked.

In stunned disbelief, Seathan looked up. The news threatened the rebels’ very foundation. “Wallace has slain the English Sheriff of Lanark!”

Nichola paced along the wall walk in the warmth of the morning sunlight. She glanced toward the tower window of Alexander’s grandmother’s chamber, the room where Linet had slept this past night, the same chamber she’d resided in upon first coming to Lochshire Castle.

A smile flickered on her mouth. So much had changed since her arrival, since Alexander had abducted her and imprisoned her as
his captive
. The warmth of love filled her. Now she and Alexander had a son.

The shimmering rays glinted off the tower of rock, the stone laid to build an impregnable defense. A chill swept her, and her smile fell away.

As if a door opened, she remembered standing within an opulent ballroom in King Edward’s castle with her brother, Griffin. Of the many people he’d introduced her to, she focused on one.

Lady Linet Dancort.

God in heaven. Her breath caught. Linet was the sister of the Viscount of Tearlach, the noble who had imprisoned Seathan and sentenced him to die!

Except, Linet had set Seathan free.

Why?

A strong hand caught her shoulder; she jumped.

“I meant not to startle you,” her husband said as he turned her toward him. Sharp eyes studied her face. “You are upset.”

An understatement. She looked about to ensure no one would overhear them.

“Is the news so dire?” he teased.

Nichola lifted her gaze to meet his. Concern filled his eyes, but love as well, a love he’d given her when she’d expected naught but death. That was a year ago. Since then, everything had changed.

Now, he was her husband, a man she could trust, a man she would love forever, a man from whom she would never keep a secret, no matter how hard to reveal.

“Tell me.”

His quiet words unsettled her further. “It is about Lady Linet. I know who she is.” Then she quietly explained.

Alexander cursed. “Come. We must tell Seathan.”

They hurried down the steps, then rushed to where Seathan quietly planned for war.

At their entrance, he turned. Seathan stepped forward. “What is wrong?”

Silence crawled through the chamber.

Nichola glanced once at her husband, then back toward Seathan, and wished she was wrong. “Linet is the Viscount of Tearlach’s sister.”

“Lord Tearlach’s sister!” Outrage poured through Seathan. Whatever he’d envisioned as Linet’s secret paled in comparison to the truth.

From the start she’d lied to him. Everything about her had been an act. Her fear of Tearlach. Her desperation. Her need to escape. She’d been setting him up to betray them.

Nichola shot her husband a nervous glance, then looked at Seathan. “When I first met Lady Linet upon your arrival at Lochshire Castle, I thought her familiar. I asked if we had met, but she assured me she knew me not.”

“Aye,” Seathan said through gritted teeth, his mind churning with the tales the lass had fed him. “I am sure she did. Whatever her part in the twisted plot devised by her brother, I am sure he planned for me to remain ignorant of their ties.”

Alexander’s expression darkened. “What do you think is the bastard’s intent?”

“To learn rebel plans.” Hadn’t Seathan suspected her of deceiving him from the first? The warrior in him had eyed her with distrust, but their passionate interludes had smothered his mind’s warnings, his desire obscuring what a blind man could have seen.

Furious, Seathan spun to leave. He almost slammed into Duncan as he entered the room, his face hard with anger.

“A runner has arrived with disturbing news,” Duncan stated.

“’Twould seem a day for such,” Alexander spat.

Seathan shoved his hands upon his hips. “Tell us.”

“The runner states Lord Tearlach has charged Seathan with abducting his sister.” Outrage slashed Duncan’s face. “Tell me Lady Linet is not the viscount’s sister.”

“It is true,” Seathan replied, hating every word. “I learned the fact but moments ago.”

Duncan scowled. “How could you? The runner has barely dismounted from his steed.”

“I told him,” Nichola replied. “Several years ago, I met Lady Linet at an event at Westminster Palace.”

“Why did you not tell us before?” Duncan asked.

Alexander drew his wife against his side. “She told us as soon as she remembered.”

Duncan rubbed the back of his neck, focused on Seathan. “There is more. Tearlach has offered a reward for you—alive or dead.”

Alexander snorted. “As if the bastard did not want him dead from the first. I’m sure his only regret was not hanging Seathan while he was rotting in his dungeon.”

“Which is why,” Seathan said, wading through the muddle of thoughts storming his mind, “Tearlach’s claim is but a farce.”

“A farce?” Duncan asked.

“Aye,” Seathan said. “The viscount’s search for his sister is well planned. The days he has allowed to pass since Linet and I escaped were to give her time to gain my trust as well as information about rebel activity. Now he allows the lure of coin to aid him in finding her, believing the search will lead to me and to the information she has culled.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “She is a spy?”

Seathan didn’t want to believe it, searched for another explanation, but none came. “With her blood tie to Tearlach and the fact she kept her identity secret, I must believe that. But if she is indeed a spy, why has she not tried to pry rebel information from me?” None of this was making a bit of sense. “Whatever her intent, I will bloody find out.” He stalked to the door.

“I am going as well,” Duncan said.

Seathan shook his head. “I need not your help.”

Alexander walked to stand at his brother’s side. “You will have our help anyway. Lady Linet’s treachery affects us all.”

Seathan wanted to speak with her alone first. But with anger fueling his emotions, mayhap his brothers’ presence would offer her a measure of safety.

“So be it.” Seathan exited the chamber with his brothers.

“Where is she?” Duncan asked as he strode down the corridor at his side.

“Most likely asleep,” Alexander replied, a step away, and with Nichola on his heels.

“Nay, she is awake,” Seathan said, fury stroking him with every step. He rounded the corner, then stormed up the tower steps, Linet’s betrayal cutting deep.

Sunlight poured through the tower window above like a glistening promise.

Promise? Nay. Linet had lied to him from the start, her every act planned, carried out with deceptive precision.

Except now her treacherous charade was over.

“What are you going to do to her?” Worry trembled through Nichola’s voice from several steps back.

“Do?” Seathan continued up the steps, the slap of his boots echoing with solemn promise. “That depends on her.” When he asked Linet the truth this time, God help her if she lied.

At the tower chamber, he unlatched the door and shoved. Handcrafted wood slammed against the wall. Seathan glared around the empty room.

Alexander halted at his side. “She is not here.”

“I bloody see that!” The chamber’s pristine condition left Seathan unsettled. The bed’s linen lay taut as if made by a steady hand, the room sparkled as if wiped clean, the air held a slight tang as if scented with newly strewn rushes, and the window stood open, spilling the warmth of the morning sun within. It was as if Linet had not stayed within the chamber last night.

But she had. He’d seen her, touched her, and had he not thought of Dauid, would have foolishly made love with her.

Bedamned!

Nichola stepped past him. Slowly, she walked around the room, stopped at the window, then turned. “She might be within the great room breaking her fast.”

“She might be.” Instinct warned Seathan otherwise.

Duncan strode to the bowl containing the halved gemstones and frowned. “Seathan, your moss agate is gone.”

Unease cut through Seathan as he stared at the empty space where but hours ago the match to the halved gem he wore around his neck had lain.

“The lass took it,” Alexander stated.

“Aye,” Duncan agreed.

A twinkle from the ceiling caught his attention.

Seathan glared at the fairies painted above, then toward the woven tapestry where mirrorlike images of the fey hid within the patterns.

Nay, love spells did not exist, his choices carved his future.

Then he remembered his confrontation with Linet this morning. Relief swept over him. “I know where the lass is,” Seathan said.

“Where?” his brothers asked in unison.

“I had a servant move her to another chamber.” A detail he’d forgotten. Neither did he inform them of his earlier visit, nor how he’d almost made love to her. He needed not a reminder of his insanity, especially since she’d proven herself untrustworthy.

“I still cannot believe it.” Duncan’s almost dazed tone stopped Seathan’s swift exit. His youngest brother lifted the remaining halved gem within his palm, somber light glistened from its deep olive core. Duncan faced Seathan. “It is as Nichola said, ’tis Patrik’s malachite.”

His youngest brother’s pain echoed in Seathan’s chest, in a place even Linet’s lies couldn’t numb. “The reason for its return must wait. We must find Linet.” He turned and strode to the door. She would tell him the truth or by God he’d cast her into his dungeon until she confessed, Tearlach be damned!

Heart pounding, Linet pressed against the stable wall, the rough boards digging into her skin. Daylight erased the shadows she desperately needed to slip from Lochshire Castle. She’d planned on stealing a horse to make good her escape. Now, after several delays and with the sun high above, any attempt to leave would ensure her capture. What was she going to do?

Linet squeezed the halved moss agate within her palm, the soft warmth a soothing balm to her rattled nerves.

A horse whinnied behind her.

Linet started. She needed to remain focused on her escape, not think of Seathan. God help her when he discovered her gone.

She peered toward the tower. The window stood open as if nothing was amiss, as if it were an ordinary day when it was anything but.

Had anyone noticed she’d left her room? If she chose, she could slip back within the tower chamber. A safer choice with daylight upon her. After a short wait, then she could descend to the great hall and pretend to have overslept. No, that wouldn’t work. Seathan had ordered a servant to come and help move her to anther room.

A shadow appeared in the tower window.

Linet froze. Seathan! Even in the distance he looked like an enraged god. Sweet Mary, he’d discovered her gone. If Seathan suspected she was trying to escape, the stable was the first place he’d order searched.

She scanned the bailey. With the men engrossed in cleaning their swords across the grassy expanse, Linet tucked her hair beneath her gown, pulled her cloak tight. She kept her head averted and walked at a pace that would not draw their attention. Nervousness rippled through her with every step, but thankfully, she made it to the side of the building nearer the exit.

The echo of hooves sounded. A group of knights cantered in from beneath the gatehouse. Several warriors cleaning their swords glanced toward the men at the entrance before returning to their task. Two guards strode toward the exit, paused, facing the opening and continued to talk.

They blocked any chance of escape!

She scanned the bailey. Sunlight saturated the brilliant blue sky. It would be foolish to try to leave Lochshire Castle now. Her only hope was to hide until this night, and pray that Seathan failed to find her.

On the far side of the bailey, children swung their carved swords in mock games of battle as their mothers washed clothes nearby in wooden tubs. A smith patiently heating a rod of iron within a fire stood waiting until it glowed. In the outer bailey, knights sparred with aggressive determination.

It was all too heartbreakingly familiar. Over the years she’d witnessed similar activities within Breac Castle. Except now, each task was not only a daily routine, but a preparation for war. The knights honing their skills, the smith crafting a weapon to kill, and the children practicing for the reality they would one day face. Heart heavy, Linet slipped into the building before her.

The thick oak door, secured against quarried walls, softly moaned as she pushed it open. She stepped inside, shoved it closed, welcoming the shield of blackness.

No, not blackness.

As her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim interior, candles flickered before her. The unmistakable scent of beeswax tinged with the hint of frankincense and myrrh filled each breath. Curious, she stepped forward, took in the flagstone upon the floor sprinkled with fresh rushes. She’d entered the chapel.

Melancholy touched her. Once she’d believed she’d find hope within sacred walls. After her father’s death, Fulke had allowed her to believe that she would be able to choose her path of life. Lies, naught but mistruths concocted to serve his cause. If her brother thought to wed her to the Earl of Fallon to strengthen his royal ties, he could go to Hades.

Guards’ voices echoed from outside; grew closer.

Heart pounding, she whirled toward the entry. They were coming in. She had to hide!

Guided by candlelight, she bolted down the aisle, skirting the thick wooden benches. Frantic, she glanced up, found thick beams securing the ceiling above. If only she had a rope to climb, a chest to crawl into, something, anything.

The door was shoved open.

Linet dove beneath a solid wood bench and held her breath.

Footsteps slapped the sacred ground. “A woman entered moments ago?” Seathan’s ominous demand echoed throughout the chapel.

Fear tore through her. She pressed herself against the earthen floor, her entire body trembling.
Oh please God, let him not find her!

“I am not sure, my lord,” a guard outside said. “I saw a lass near the chapel. For a moment, I looked away. When I turned back, she was gone.”

Fear crowding her every thought, Linet prayed he’d leave. If Seathan came farther inside, bent down, he would see her. Should she stand and give herself away?

Seathan walked past her row, stilled.

Sweat slicked her brow.

“What color was her hair?” Seathan asked.

“I but caught a brief look at her face, my lord, and I cannot say.”

But Seathan knew—a luxurious amber-gold, hair that felt like silk a man could touch forever. “Join the others,” he ordered, letting his eyes adjust to the dim, candlelit interior. “I will finish searching here.”

“Aye, my lord.” Quick steps echoed within the chapel as the knight hurried away. The door thudded closed. Silence, thick, harsh, and unforgiving filled the void.

Hands on his hips, Seathan scoured the darkened chamber. Soft candlelight outlined the sturdy pews. Unbidden, the fragrance of frankincense and myrrh drew his memories back to his youth. To the time he’d prayed as they’d laid his father deep within the earth, to the angry words between him and his father before he’d died, and a wrong he could never apologize for, a wrong he would forever regret.

Throat dry, he forced the memories back along with any softness for the woman who deserved his wrath.

“Linet?” His voice boomed into the fragile silence. He scoured the play of flickering light in search of any sign, any shadow exposing her. “I know you are here.”

His men’s voices echoed from the bailey. He heard Duncan calling to Alexander from farther away.

“You think I do not know you are hiding within the chapel?”

Nothing.

With methodical precision, he took in every curve, each slope of the bench. Though the chapel remained silent, he sensed her presence.

He took another step forward. “You will regret trying to escape.”

A rustle of clothing sounded to his left. Then, a darkened image crawled from beneath a pew. He caught the outline of her slender form, a body he’d burned for.

He stepped forward, severing any avenue of escape. “Do not try to run.”

Linet stood, faced him, the wash of pale candlelight upon her at odds with the challenge etched on her face. “Run? I came here to pray.”

Outrage that she dared lie to him poured through his soul. “Is that what you call hiding beneath the pew?”

At her challenging silence, he stormed over, caught her, and hauled her to him. “I am tired of your lies.”

Her eyes widened. “I—”

He leaned to within a hand’s width of her face, close enough to smell her woman’s scent, near enough to have claimed her mouth. In that moment, he hated her for the way she made him feel. Confused. Aroused. Angry.