In the Laird's Bed (14 page)

Then, as if she’d felt his stare, she looked up. Their eyes locked and he expected to feel that warm, growing connection that had developed between them recently.

Instead, he felt the sharp daggers of her displeasure evident in her gaze. Hastily, she looked back down to the table, but he had not mistaken what he’d seen. Edwina had apparently returned with news that did not please her sister. And somehow
he
had become a source of unhappiness.

Turning his attention back to his guest, his sense of foreboding increased.

“Consider the arrangement this eve and give me an answer in the morn.” He rose, more determined than ever to confront the brother who continued to betray his family. “One way or another, I will need to wed her off. And soon.”

“You are mistaken.”

Cristiana trembled inside despite the hearth embers warm on her back. She prayed her unease did not
show in her voice. Her sister had endured hardship and hurt beyond anything she could imagine. Cristiana did not wish to appear weakhearted in this matter. She watched Duncan rise and depart the hall, his expression grim.

They had been so close on their ride with Leah earlier this day. Cristiana had felt happy. Hopeful.

“Nay. There is no mistake.” Edwina shook her head, her red-gold curls longer than ever in the blossom of womanhood. Her clothing was simple, humble even, despite the position she’d been in at court. But her eyes did not mirror her dress. She might have left Domhnaill a fallen woman, but she returned strong and proud.

“But I was there when we heard there was a messenger from the king.” Cristiana had known Duncan to be a favorite of Malcolm’s and witnessed the receipt of a communication from the king’s own herald. “If Malcolm did not write to give Duncan command of Domhnaill, what could he have wanted?”

“Who knows what business takes up men’s time?” Edwina waved the matter away impatiently. “But I was with the king less than a sennight ago and Cullen was in residence there before I arrived. Malcolm did not give away our keep to a Culcanon. Duncan only told Father as much to meet his own ends.”

Cristiana recalled the way Duncan had compelled her to open her gates, playing upon her sympathies. Then he’d found a way to stay under her roof with his
story of treasure hunting told as an entertainment for her hall. Now, even his basis for wedding her was—it appeared—a lie.

A hole opened within her. Dark and cavernous, the empty space yawned wide on a day that should have been filled with celebrating her sister’s return.

Could she have been foolish enough to care for Duncan again after knowing how he’d betrayed her trust the first time? Her aching heart already knew the answer.

To protect herself from the dark wretchedness of that hurt, she called up all the fury that was her right. She’d been lied to. Cheated. Robbed of her sovereignty in her own household.

“Cristiana?” Edwina studied her thoughtfully, as if Cristiana had been the one to make a dangerous journey through the snow and bands of outlaws. “If it is not too much trouble, I would like to see my daughter.”

My daughter.

Abruptly, she was yanked from one pain to another. She had dared not even think about this request since her sister had arrived because the thought of losing Leah was unbearable.

She had to close her eyes for a moment while the hurt washed over her. Duncan did not care for her. He wanted what he’d always wanted—Domhnaill. And now, it seemed, Edwina wanted Leah. The possibility of losing her family stabbed through her.

“Those are dangerous words,” she warned. “I have protected Leah as my own because you made her thus at her birth.”

Edwina nodded, chastened. “Of course, but—”

“No. Her safety is too important for us to make careless mistakes.” Cristiana understood her sister’s request even when it pained her to have Edwina call Leah “her” daughter. By the laws of nature, it was the truth, obviously. But to a heart already ripped raw, the small slight cut deep. No one would take her daughter away from her. “She is with her nurse, but I will take you to her when you are finished eating.”

Edwina dropped her knife and dipped her hands in a bowl of water to the side of the trencher.

“I am done.” She dried her hands quickly and stood.

And though years had passed since she left, Cristiana felt the same pull of forces between them. Both of them were strong willed, yet Edwina had always pushed for her way a bit harder.

Not this time.

Cristiana rose more slowly, reeling in too many directions at once. Her world was falling apart like a castle gate beneath a battering ram. The blows just kept coming, and her life kept crumbling away beneath the force. If she was back at home, she would take solace in the mead house where she could at least have control over the brewing, simmering con
coctions. Here, she had nothing to distract her from Duncan’s betrayal and her sister’s return.

And while she would fight Edwina with everything she had, Cristiana didn’t think anything could save her from an impending marriage based on lies.

D
uncan knocked on the door to the solar outside Cristiana’s bedchamber.

Normally, she slept in his bed, but since her sister had arrived she had remained in Edwina’s rooms.

“Who is it?” Her voice was cold and distant. Or was it his imagination?

“Duncan.” He opened the door a bit, enough to see that Edwina was not with her, but that the door to the sleeping chamber at the far end of the solar was closed.

“She has fallen asleep,” Cristiana explained from her seat near the closed door, apparently keeping watch over her sibling this night instead of joining him in his rooms.

He hated to disturb Cristiana after being parted from her sister for so long, but this could not wait.
He needed to share his new concerns with Cristiana, something he found himself doing more and more since they’d come to Culcanon.

She was more than just his bed partner. More than a sweetly affectionate mother to the daughter he’d claimed as his own. Cristiana was as sharp and insightful about running a household as she was about mead-making. Managing Domhnaill for so many years after her father’s health had deteriorated left her with a keen understanding of battle and defense, strategy and alliances.

“There is trouble afoot.” He’d been restless for hours, for reasons he could not quite name.

“What do you mean?” She peered up at him from her seat at a heavy, claw-footed table. Shadows loomed under her eyes and he recalled how unhappy she’d appeared while they’d fed their guests earlier. “Trouble with Donegal? Or within the walls at Culcanon?”

He shrugged, unsure how to define his concerns.

“Both, perhaps. I thought to engage Donegal more easily once we came to Culcanon, but now I wonder if he hoped to draw me back here on purpose. Perhaps our move to Culcanon was a mistake from the start.” He knew something wasn’t right tonight.

Something had bothered him ever since Cullen and Edwina had arrived with a few of Cullen’s retainers and men-at-arms borrowed from Domhnaill. They’d
only been at that keep briefly, just long enough to find out that Duncan and Cristiana had moved on.

Then they’d gathered up additional men and made the shorter trek to Culcanon so the sisters could be reunited. Or, perhaps, so Edwina could be reunited with the daughter she’d hardly seen since giving birth. Having Edwina around Leah would make him uneasy until he was certain she had no plans to stake a claim to the child.

“It is always humiliating to discover you were wrong.” The bite in her words reminded him of the dark looks she’d given him in the great hall.

Had she learned something of his deceits? Or had her sister merely stirred trouble with her old grievances against his family? Either scenario would create difficulty for him.

For them.

“You are angry.” Regret fired through him. He’d hoped to find some haven here from the threat his half brother posed. Even with all of Domhnaill at his disposal, he might not have enough to defend two keeps, since Donegal had emptied the weapons stores along with everything else he’d taken.

But instead of finding a moment’s retreat from the coming dangers, he found Cristiana had somehow become his enemy, too.

Facing him, her gray eyes narrowed.

“You told me the king awarded you Domhnaill.”

She knew.
He’d promised himself he would explain
it to her after her heart had softened, but he’d seen no sign of that until earlier today at the river’s edge. And then, he’d selfishly soaked up that rare happiness, deceiving himself in thinking he could wait a bit longer.

“I would have told you.” He reached for her. “Soon.”

She wrenched away.

“Perhaps so. Did you hope to wait until after it didn’t matter anymore? After I was already married to you and powerless to change our fate?” The resentment in her rising voice made him recall the way she’d hardened her heart to him five years ago.

She’d become his enemy once when she’d perceived deception on his part, and it had not even been true. How might she grow to hate him now when his trickery had been carefully planned?

“I sought to protect you and your lands.”

“You sought to recover the keep you lost when I broke our betrothal! Do not pretend an altruism you did not feel. I am not so naive as that, Duncan. Not anymore.” Her stare was cold. A veil had fallen between them, closing him out of the more tender emotions he’d seen in her these past days.

“I could have demanded justice for that broken betrothal.” His father had urged him to, but he had not wished to pursue a woman so intent on hating him. “It was within my right.”

“So instead of demanding the marriage then,
you waited until you really needed Domhnaill, and demanded it later? By deceit, no less?” Her voice broke and she turned from him, her arms wrapped tightly about herself. “Do not speak to me of your rights.”

He’d hurt her. At some point, early on in all of this when he’d first stood at her doorstep, he probably intended to. But somewhere along the way, he’d come to care about her more than he’d ever intended. More than he’d wanted.

And the hurt he spied within her speared him as well.

“I am sorry.” Sorry for what might have been between them. Sorry for many things.

He was not surprised that she made no response.

“Cristiana, perhaps our fate was decided five years ago, after a kiss so powerful neither of us have ever forgotten it.” He meant that. He’d been running away from that truth for too long. “I went halfway around the world to put you out of my mind and I couldn’t. Perhaps it’s time you admit how much of a hold the past has had over you, too. Think about that next time you’re brewing mead on the very spot where we promised to be together for all time.”

“You lied to me again!” She raised her voice, seemingly heedless of her sister sleeping in the adjoining chamber. “We were supposed to be building back trust, but all along you knew we built nothing on a foundation of deceit.”

The unshed tears in her eyes shredded his insides like an enemy blade. But by the rood, he’d had noble intentions mixed up with all the rest.

“If you had seen the devastations of battle that I have, you would appreciate the humanity of a blood less takeover.” He did not want to think about how vulnerable Cristiana and her old father had been before he arrived. “Do you have any idea how easily Domhnaill could have fallen into far more malicious hands than mine? The whole of Scotland knew of your father’s infirmities since he hasn’t shown his face in Malcolm’s court for years. Your keep was ripe for taking.”

“And you had to be the man to benefit from our misfortune? It wasn’t enough for you that your family twisted a knife in our backs once before? You would not let us rest until you claimed all the same wealth you sought five years ago.”

He told himself it was just as well she thought he’d been gold hunting from the start. His pride would only suffer along with the rest of him if she knew how she’d conquered far more with a simple kiss than he’d managed in all this time.

“You are healthy and safe from harm, as is our daughter. As is your father. In a time of unrest when a laird fails in his duties as your father neglected his for too long, that is a great deal to be thankful for. And even if you are not,
I
am thankful that you have
not known more misfortune in this shift of power, though I truly regret you feel misused.”

Unsure how else to explain himself when she was ready to believe the worst of him—still—he turned on his heel to leave.

“I am thankful for all of those things.” Her voice was so soft he feared he would see tears in her eyes if he confronted her now, and
that
he could not bear. Not when his grip on his own emotions was tenuous at best.

“I do not expect thanks—” He started.

“But how am I to feel when you have deceived me at every turn? You could have arrived at my keep to request a meeting with the laird. Instead you requested shelter to entreat me to open the gates, all the while planning to betray me once you were within the walls—”

Within the walls.
The words unlocked a puzzle that had been rattling around his head.

“Hellfire.”
At once, he understood what had been niggling at his brain ever since Edwina and Cullen had arrived. They’d come with a mix of retainers and men-at-arms not well known to one another. They’d fought a battle and lost men en route.

What if some of their attackers secretly joined the travelling party? What if traitors even now slept in his keep? Or worse, opened the gates to still more while they slept?

“What is it?” Cristiana’s face paled, perhaps
reading some of the gut-wrenching fear that just twisted around his innards.

Edwina stumbled sleepily into the chamber, a blanket around her shoulders like a cape, her red-gold hair a mirror image of her sister’s.

“What is it?” she mumbled, peering from Cristiana to Duncan and back again.

“I think our defenses have been breached. Invaders could have entered with Edwina unbeknownst to her.” He hauled open the door to the corridor and sprinted down the hall, shouting as he left. “Find Leah. Lock yourselves in the keep and do not emerge from there unless I come for you.”

Cristiana tore down a winding set of steps and then up another, following the convoluted path to the children’s sleeping chamber. Was she going in the correct direction? Panic had robbed her of rational thought, her maternal heart rattling her whole body with every erratic beat.

Her chest burned as she panted for air. The way to the chamber was purposefully confusing, intended to shield the occupants from just the kind of attack Duncan was afraid had happened—enemies lurking inside the walls. But the hidden passages would present no problem to Donegal’s men, many of whom had once called this keep home before defecting to the side of the traitor.

“Cristiana?” Edwina’s voice carried through the darkness from somewhere behind her.

“Up here.” Cristiana held a hand to her heart, thinking if she could slow the frantic beat, maybe her thoughts would clear. “There is a narrow staircase that veers off to the left of the main steps.”

She could picture where her sister had grown confused. Why couldn’t she remember the way from here? The trek through the dark had taken only moments, but it felt like hours when she wasn’t sure if Leah would be safe at the other end. It was like a dream where nameless terrors chased her and she could never find her way out of a dim maze.

The remembered corridors of Domhnaill overlapped with the less-familiar floor plan of Culcanon, a sea of maps and directions blurring when she needed to find her way to her little girl.

She heard Edwina approach, but did not look up, her mind on the verge of remembering a route she’d travelled several times but forgot in a haze of fear. All at once, her cloudy thoughts crystallized, growing sharp once again. The halls and passages of Culcanon and Domhnaill became distinct, her thoughts focused. Oddly, she only remembered where Leah slept during her brain’s fitful seizure.

While she struggled to unlink the overlapping keeps in her mind, she also suddenly realized where the treasure must have been hidden from the Norsemen back at Domhnaill.

“This way.” She grabbed Edwina’s hand and pulled her up the rest of the steps, desperate to see Leah. She had never known such helpless fear.

“I will never forgive myself if I endangered Leah by coming here.” Edwina’s strangled sob echoed all the fear Cristiana felt inside. “I was so intent on revenge when I should have been grateful my daughter—
your
daughter—was safe.”

Turning a sharp corner and finding a door to yet another staircase, Cristiana led her sister up it.

“A mother’s heart always finds a way to feel guilt.” Cristiana knew this all too well. “We blame ourselves if a child sneezes or speaks inappropriately at the table or tumbles down a hill. If Leah is not there, I will say it is my fault for ever allowing Duncan to keep us here. Or for not bringing her in my chamber every night—”

“Mother?”

The small, sweet voice of her daughter bounced through the halls to Cristina’s ears. She nearly sank to the cold stone floor with relief.

“Leah!” She hadn’t realized she could run even faster, yet somehow she did. “My angel.” Spotting the girl’s face peeking out from the large chamber door, Cristiana raced to close the distance between them. “You are well.”

She wrapped the girl in her arms, squeezing, kissing, hugging. Edwina did the same, squeezing, kissing and hugging both of them. Edwina had introduced
herself to the child as her “aunt,” and Leah had taken to her immediately. It was wrong of Cristiana to feel any envy of her sister after what Edwina had gone through, but she could not help the occasional twinges, knowing Edwina’s bond with Leah was an unbreakable blood tie. For now, Cristiana was merely grateful they were all safe.

“I heard your voices in the hall,” Leah told them, brushing her hair from her eyes. “The sounds echo and make it hard to sleep. There have been so many footsteps.”

Slowly, the child’s words filtered through her relief. She’d heard the sound of someone walking outside the corridors? Enough to wake her from her bed to see what happened outside her chamber?

Unease closed a cold fist about her gut.

“Footsteps?” She released Leah at the same time as Edwina, puzzling over that comment. Some of the footfall sounds would have been hers and Edwina’s. But their slippers were far quieter than the echo of a man’s heavy boot.

“Do not move.” A deep, masculine voice filled the corridor just as Leah let out a scream.

Cristiana reached for her, but the child was yanked back forcefully out of her reach. A man-at-arms thick as a pillar held a blade to Leah’s delicate neck, the silver glinting dully in the inky darkness broken only by the glow of the hearth from inside the children’s sleeping chamber.

Edwina clutched Cristiana’s arm, her fingers like talons in her skin. The sister, who had once been afraid of nothing, was more terrified than Cristiana had ever seen her. Yet she could not possibly feel half the fear Cristiana did.

Do not let him hurt her,
she prayed.