Knight Protector (Knight Chronicles) (5 page)

“Swallow!” Agnes ordered. “You may be too ill to savor the food, but you must regain your strength.” She gave him a toothy smile and thumped his chest.

Sorcha felt Colin tense and finally force the mouthful down his throat.

“Thas a braw lad,” she murmured in his ear.

Agnes sniffed at the familiarity. “Now is no time for dalliance. You must eat more, my son.”

She presented another spoonful to Colin’s mouth.

He shook his head slowly.

“Nonsense. You will eat.” She placed the spoon against his bottom lip and pressed. He was forced to consume the swill or wear it dribbled over his clean nightshirt.

Sorcha doubted he desired either result.

In the end he opened his mouth.

The process repeated for another five spoonfuls before Sorcha took pity on Colin and put her foot down. “Mathair, me
muirnean
canna take more.”

The spoon plopped into the bowl. “What do you mean? He’s scarce had a fifth of what he should.”

“Aye. ’Tis kindness itself ye are. But th’ puir mon is knackered and canna take more right now. Leave the bowl, and I’ll see he eats it all before he sleeps.”

“I dinna see why….”

“Please,” Colin interrupted in that fake whisper.

Agnes bent a cold stare on him. “Are you sure?”

He gave one limp nod.

“Oh very well.” She rose, placed the bowl on the hob then looked at Colin. “I am retiring for the night. However, I will send my son, Henry, in the morning with a heartening breakfast. He will ensure that you have eaten all the porridge. He will report to me, so you may tell him if this slattern fails to provide the best of care.” Glaring at Sorcha, Lady Agnes sniffed then pointed her nose upward and left.

The minute the door closed behind the woman, Sorcha made to slip out from behind Colin. However, his strong arms encircled her before she could leave.

“Let go of me.”

“I am cold. Would you deny a sick man warmth and comfort?” He snuggled his head against her breasts, all but buried his face between them, and inhaled. “Ah,” he sighed. “You still smell of wild heather.”

Heat struck through her lightning quick and left her gasping. ’Twas all she could do to restrain the trembling in her belly from spreading to her entire body. His touch was as dangerous now as it had been ten years ago when one kiss had destroyed her dreams and her family. She would nae allow him to cause such havoc.

She pried his arms loose and escaped. “You and I are nae wed, nae matter what you want the world to think, and I’ll nae become your leman just to satisfy your base urges.”

Shrugging, he clasped his hands behind his head, and his hooded gaze wandered over her body. “What of your base urges,
muirnean
? You have needs, and your husband is dead. I, poor substitute that I am, stand ready to fill his role in every way.”

She swallowed her outrage, nae certain if he or her own contrary desires caused the fury. Tingling fire bloomed everywhere that roving gaze touched. Her mouth throbbed; her fingers twitched, and her nipples ached. Emptiness twisted in her belly. How did he do that? She hadn’t felt desire this strong since that fatal kiss. Despite his boasting, Brice had nae been much of a lover. Of its own volition, her gaze traced the shape of Colin’s body beneath the bedclothes. Even the thick coverlet couldna hide the evidence of his arousal. She marched to the fireplace before she could yield to madness.

“Nae? Ah well, I suppose ’tis for the best. I am recovering from an illness.”

His teasing words floated to her over her shoulder. She grabbed a cloth and reached for the bowl on the hob.

“Not just nae, but never, so stop your
seabhas
. Now, I’ve this slop to deal with, or would you like to have more?” She knew the answer, but ’twas the best distraction she could come up with at the moment.

“You’d have me poison myself? As my loving wife, how could you let that woman force her swill on me?”

Compline had rung long ago and Matins could not ring soon enough. Refusing to dignify his nonsense with a reply, Sorcha shook her head, moved to the window, and stepped up on the bench so she could reach to open the glass. Then she tossed the contents of the bowl into the air with as much force as she could manage. As she closed the window and stepped down, she prayed that nae unsuspecting guard was drenched by a rain of
good English porridge
—pity the poor English if that was typical fare. With luck, a loose dog would devour the evidence and nae sicken or die.

While Sorcha disposed of the horrid porridge, Colin donned his heavy cloak and drew on his gloves.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she accused.

“Getting that badge, and you’re coming with me.”

“Will you please see sense and wait for a better time?” She folded her arms across her chest and pressed her lips together.

“Delaying will serve nae purpose. Now, get your cloak and gloves, and put on a shawl and raise the hood and make certain. . . .”

“Colin.” Her voice held menace. “Nae another word.”

Her hands fisted at her sides, and her glare burned.

He glared back, arms akimbo. If she didna wish him to protect her, too bad. He may nae love her as he once believed he did, but he’d nae let her risk her health in the cold because circumstance forced him to use her help.

She marched to the peg where her dark red cloak hung then turned on him as she flung it about her shoulders. “You are crazed. ’Tis well past midnight. Even if we escape notice leaving the stronghold, the piney copse is on the far side of the loch. We’ll nae return before dawn, and both of us are sure to be seen.”

“’Tis mid-winter and dawn is dark enough, if we keep to the shadows. I promise no one will see me.”

“What of your horse? We canna abandon it at the woodcutter’s hut.”

“When we return, my men will take care of it.”

“Men? You have men?” Her eyes flashed. “I thought spies worked alone in secrecy. But then you are nae an ordinary spy, are you, so of course you would have men.”

He rolled his eyes. She was raising every possible objection. Obviously she didna want to do this. However, they had little choice. That badge had been planted for one of Brice’s fellow traitors to find. They must retrieve it in order to lure the traitor into approaching Colin in his role as Brice and thus expose the man’s identity. Once caught, the spy could be questioned until every traitor in the stronghold and any contacts elsewhere were identified and captured.

“I doubt any spy is ordinary, though appearing so is a useful skill. As for my men, everyone, spy or nae, needs friends and allies.”

“Willna they be seen by the traitors here?”

“Aye, they will. However, my men will be seen because they intend to be seen. Tonight I will tell them to leave the area then find their way back in pairs and approach our steward for work as guards or stablemen or such. I will tell the steward to consult me on any hiring decisions, so I may make certain my men are taken on.”

“And Strathnaver will have more spies.”

“You and I will have more eyes to help us watch for traitors.”
And I will have more trustworthy guards to keep Strathnaver safe
.

“What if one or more of these men betrays you?”

“That willna happen. I would trust them with my life.”

“Betrayal need nae be intended to happen.”

“True, but my men are experienced at deception and used to me pretending to be Brice. I doubt any mistake will occur.”

She huffed, frowning. “I guess you’ve thought of everything?”

He shrugged and took up an unlit torch then held back the tapestry and bed curtains that covered the secret stairway.

Sorcha lifted a thick candle on its holder and preceded him into the darkness of the landing.

“’Tis pure insanity for me to leave my dying husband and venture out alone at this time of night, especially when I’ve already been out once today. What if someone comes to check on Brice while we’re gone?”

He lit the torch from her candle. Holding the pitchy flame high, he started down the narrow spiral of steps.

He sighed. Would she never cease with these arguments and objections?

“You bolted the door, yes?” he whispered.

“Aye.”

“Then when no one answers they will think we sleep. Now keep quiet; we will pass entrances to other rooms that we canna be certain are unoccupied, and we dinna wish to rouse attention from any quarter.”

When the walls grew damp, he knew they’d descended past the ground level of the stronghold. He stopped beside a door on the landing. His brother’s body sat propped against the opposite wall.

Sorcha gasped. “You just left him here?”

Colin ground his teeth. “I had nae time to do more and still return to our chamber before Lady Agnes came back.”

“What will you do with him?”

He removed something from a pocket then knelt before the corpse and hefted it over one shoulder.

“I’ll take him to the cottage with me and ask my men to bury him. In the spring we can have the body moved to the family tomb.”

“So be it. Any hazard to his soul is on your head.”

“I accept that. Now, go through here. You’ll be in the dungeons. Take this key.” He held out a palm. “Lock the door behind you, for no one must suspect it to be anything other than the door to another cell. Get your horse and meet me at the woodcutter’s cottage as we discussed earlier. When we are done, you must return this way. I’ll be waiting for you here.”

She merely stared at the key. “Where did you get this?”

“This is my home, remember? I have copies of all the keys.”

She rolled her eyes. “You left with your father’s anger at your back, yet he let you keep keys to the entire stronghold?”

Colin ground his teeth. “I’ll nae waste time standing in the damp debating my traitorous parent’s mad decisions.”

He thrust the key into her hand and disappeared down the stair, which descended more than a hundred steps before rising to a passage that ended in a door at the outer curtain wall. From there he made his way to the woodcutter’s hut. At least she was cooperating, for now. Hopefully he would complete this business quickly, and they could go their separate ways. She couldna be any happier to be forced into living with him than he was to be with her.

• • •

For the fifth time Colin stepped outside and circled the hut in search of Sorcha. They’d played here as children, so she couldna be lost. Where was she? He cast a glance at the sky, but without a moon, the stars gave little hint as to the hour. She’d been right about how little time they had to pull this off successfully, so why delay?

Had she foundered in the dark and now lay injured and helpless or worse? The terrain between here and the stronghold was rough. Without light she could easily have taken a misstep.

Shivering with something more than cold, he made another circuit around the cottage. His men—though they were more like friends—were starting to wonder what was wrong with him. He would wonder himself, if he didna ken he owed it to Raeb MacKai, Sorcha’s brother and his onetime best friend, to take every care of her whether he wished to or nae.

He must go and find her. With his friends’ help, the chance of finding her improved, though ’twas still nae good.

As he approached the front of the building a twig cracked. He froze next to the wall and held his breath. The dark-cloaked figure that stepped into the clearing with a horse in tow was the right size and shape for Sorcha. However, the person’s back was to him. He waited, wanting to be certain they were nae betrayed.

“Colin?” The husky whisper could only belong to her. “Are you out here?”

“Aye.” He stepped from the shadow of the wall. Thank God she was safe.

She gave a relieved sigh. “Thank Mary Queen of Heaven.”

“Aye. Did anyone follow you?” He took her free hand.

She was pale, and her hand trembled in his clasp.

“I dinna think so. The stable boys were all asleep, and I saddled my own mount.”

 “Even the guards slept?” He frowned.

She shook her head. “I canna say as I dinna see them.”

Worry deepened his frown. If guards were not at their assigned posts, more was wrong at Strathnaver than he imagined. And he’d left her alone in the middle of that nest of traitors. ’Twas even more vital now that they keep up the pretense of her marriage to Brice. Colin may nae wish to have anything to do with her, but she was innocent, and until this was over, deserved his protection. The best way to achieve that was to cement the idea that she was the earl’s wife. “I’ll look into that at the first opportunity.”

He took the reins from her hand and tethered her horse to a low tree branch. Then gestured for her to follow. “Come, I would have you meet the men you can trust as if they were me.”

“’Tis nae saying much.”

He ignored her. She knew what he meant. Opening the door, he ushered her in. Of Brice’s body there was nae sign. Hopefully, Davey had taken it and buried it as ordered.

“Lady Sorcha Marr, Countess Strathnaver, meet my most trusted friends. Sir Ranulf MacFearann.”

The brown-haired man, nearly a hand taller and much broader at the shoulder than Colin, executed as courtly a bow as possible in the small room.

“Sir Robert Clarwyn, Baron Ravensmere.” Black-haired and as solidly built as Colin, the man smiled and nodded.

Sorcha smiled back. “What does an Englishman in the company of Scots?”

“I am here merely as a favor to Colin, who is greatly responsible for my marriage.”

“The one snoring in the corner near the hearth is Sir Alex Daracheas,” Colin continued.

Ranulf reached out with a large foot, snagged the stool on which the auburn-haired man slept, and tugged it out from under his compatriot. Alex toppled to the floor and woke swearing.

“Alex,” Colin admonished.

Rubbing his backside, the man fell silent and glared at Colin.

“Make your apologies to Lady Sorcha Marr, Countess Strathnaver.”

Alex’s fair skin flushed. “I beg your pardon, my lady.”

Eyes and smile aglitter, Sorcha nodded. “Thank you. You are forgiven.”

“Davey, youngest and still a squire, is getting my horse. The lad’s proven his usefulness a hundred times over.”