Samantha James (7 page)

Simon raised a hand. “Egan, may you have a safe journey back to the Highlands.”

For the first time since Simon Ruthven had entered the hall, Egan’s smile was one of genuine pleasure. “I fear it won’t be a journey I’ll be making soon. Glenda has asked that I stay on and assist her with matters here for a while.”

Did he imagine it—or did those pretty lips curl into a sneer that was swiftly masked? Nor did Glenda deny it—which pleased him even more.

“’Tis good that you are here, then,” Simon acknowledged. To Glenda he said, “However, since Egan here is not so fond of farming, I am only too happy to offer my assistance, should you need it.”

Surely no smile had ever been as short-lived as the one that rimmed Egan’s lips. With an effort he caught hold of his anger.

Simon had reached for Glenda’s hand. “I trust we’ll meet again soon.”

“No doubt we will.”

“I will look forward to the day, then. For now I bid you good-night.” He raised Glenda’s hand to his lips, then strode from the hall. Egan cursed to himself
foully. No doubt the scoundrel was gloating at his triumph!

Glenda watched him disappear into the shadows, then turned. She jumped when she discovered Egan there before her. How the devil had he moved so silently and so quickly?

“Do not be alone with that man.”

His tone was almost deadly quiet, yet within was an imperious note she found vastly irritating. Her reply was as blunt as his.

“I am not a child to be told what I can and cannot do.”

His eyes flickered. Almost casually, he said, “When you leaned forward to pour his wine, he was staring at your breasts.”

“What!” Glenda couldn’t believe her ears.

“Aye, he was staring at your breasts. Quite lustfully.”

“And you have
seen
my breasts!” Not until the words issued forth did Glenda realize what she’d blurted out.

“Aye,” came his tight-lipped response. “Your breasts, and far more.”

Such frankness made her gasp. “Egan, stop! Why do you persist in saying things you should not?”

“Things I should not? Mayhap you should expect it, for am I not a clod from the Highlands?”

Glenda blinked. Something flared high and bright in his eyes. Her mind was suddenly buzzing. ’Twas so quickly there, so quickly gone. Was he jealous? Nay. Surely not.

“Nonetheless, I must ask that you heed me in this, for you were entrusted to my care.”

“Entrusted to your care! Egan, I am a woman full-grown—”

“As Simon can surely attest to. But I have seen you naked and did nothing. He might not be so generous, so do not trust him. And while I admire your daring, I must also warn you to guard your tongue when speaking of these raiders. ’Tis never wise to provoke a man unless you are prepared for the consequences. In short, you need no enemies.”

Glenda expelled a sound of sheer frustration. He could state that he admired her in one instant, then berate her in the next? “Egan, you speak in riddles! You tell me not to trust him, and then you tell me not to make an enemy of him!”

“All I mean is this—do not test him, Glenda. He covets you. He may well covet Blackstone, but Blackstone has neither the men nor the provisions to handle a full-blown assault.”

He was somberly intent. Her ire was no longer so ripe. For the first time, she began to truly grasp the gravity of the situation. Egan was right to warn her to be wary. There could be no open accusations without proof.

Despite Egan’s observation, she could fault neither Simon’s manner nor his speech. Yet when Simon had kissed her hand, she had longed to snatch it back and scrub it clean.

Her mind traveled back to the days of their youth. She hadn’t known Simon particularly well; indeed, she hadn’t wanted to, for on those occasions when she was with him, he’d struck her as a greedy sort of lad.

A prickle of unease trickled down her spine.

“You’re right,” she admitted slowly. “I will not be so careless again. And—I will be wary.”

Seeing Simon that day somehow solidified something deep within Glenda. She was all the more determined to restore Blackstone to its former state of prosperity. It was a daunting task, and of a certainty she was not about to give up.

The next day she pored over the accounts anew, flipping the parchment pages over and over as if it would somehow change the neatly etched letters and numerals there. She couldn’t help but drop her quill in mute despair. There had been some coin locked away in the small chest used by her father and uncle; the contents of the storeroom was meager. The over-lord here in this part of the Borders was the Earl of Whitley; he held lands both in Scotland and England, including those across the river. It was through the Earl that her family held charter to Blackstone, since the early 1100s. Simon held his lands through the earl as well.

But rents were due to the earl in just over a fortnight. The earl’s men would be making the rounds and expecting payment and goods, of which, in either case, there was precious little.

There had to be a way through this, she told herself, but what? She prayed that night for a solution, but decided to say nothing to Egan about the rents. This was her burden, not his.

Just then there was a knock on the door of the solar. Jeannine opened it a crack. “My lady,” she said, “there is someone here to see you.”

Before Glenda could ask who it was, a peremptory hand pushed open the door. “Is she in there?” came an impatient male voice. A tall male figure brushed by Jeannine and stepped boldly within. “Ah, there you are, Glenda.”

It was Simon.

“Good day, Simon.” She remained where she was behind the table. Deliberately she smiled at Jeannine.

“Thank you, Jeannine.”

Jeannine gave a slight nod. Glenda made note of the way her eyes lowered immediately as she flattened her back against the door when Simon stepped past, lest he touch her.

As the door swung closed, Simon’s lips carried a curl of distaste. “There is no babe in that swaddling.”

Glenda’s spine stiffened. “Nay,” she confirmed.

“Then why does she persist in carrying it?”

Glenda wasn’t particularly obliged to be gracious, but Egan’s warning not to provoke him rang in her head.

“She lost her babe, and still misses him greatly.”

“In the village they call her daft.”

And in the village they call you “Simon the Lawless.”
The retort hovered on the tip of her tongue.

“She does no harm to anyone.”

“I do not know how you abide having her about,
but no matter. I’ve come to let you know that I’ve given orders for a half-dozen of my men to patrol your lands each night. If I have aught to say about it, we will find the rogues responsible for your people’s ills.”

Glenda chose her words carefully. “Simon, that is not necessary.”

“Of course it is. Why, I insist! We are neighbors, are we not? We must help each other as we can.” He smiled. “I do hope you will feel safer.”

It seemed her hands were tied. How could she refuse without appearing ungrateful? “Then I must thank you, Simon.” She hoped he would not notice her reluctance.

Glenda was relieved that his visit was not so lengthy as his first. She didn’t see Jeannine again until the evening meal, when she filled their cups with ale.

Egan crossed his legs at the ankle and leaned back. “How is your young one today, Jeannine?” he asked pleasantly.

Jeannine’s dark eyes brightened as always upon such inquiry. She pressed a finger to her lips. “Sleeping quite soundly, my lord,” she whispered.

Egan lowered his voice. “And it wouldn’t do to wake him at such a late hour, would it?”

Glenda’s mind sped straight to Simon’s unkind words this afternoon. Thus far, she had yet to witness Egan issue even a single criticism of odd behavior. His manner had always been gentle and considerate. If she compared the two men, she could not help it.

Almost as if he’d known what she was thinking, Egan swung his attention to her. “I understand
Simon was here today.” Little did she realize his jealousy was carefully guarded.

Glenda nodded. “He informed me he’s sending some men out to find those responsible for plundering Blackstone lands.”

Egan’s features blackened. “Ah, but I should have expected it! How clever! Now his men have an excuse to be about at night.” His lips thinned in self-deprecation. “Damn, if we but had the men to spare, I would have already seen to it myself!”

Glenda’s reaction had been much the same. Yet it struck her how easily “we” had sprang to his lips. Should she be offended? Dismayed? Somehow, she was neither.

“You were not alone with him, were you?”

Glenda fought the impulse to squirm in her chair. “Nay,” she lied, then wondered why she did so. It was just as she’d told him last eve—she was not a child to whom he could dictate.

Luckily, he questioned her no more.

Glenda’s sleep that night was troubled, her mind fraught with worry. Should she have told Egan about the Earl’s rents? Nay, she decided. When she had resolved to resume her life here at Blackstone Tower, she had known there might be difficult times ahead. She must be strong. Resourceful. Somehow she would find a way to pay the earl his due.

She woke at dawn the next morning. Though the hills were still shrouded in brooding mist, she ordered Druscilla saddled. She was restless and felt the need to be alone to think.

The land had just begun to stretch and yawn when
she headed back toward Blackstone Tower. There were shouts in the fields. Cattle lowed.

The sun was just breaking through the haze when she started to pass by a small cottage tucked into the hillside near the apple orchard. Outside were a shaggy-haired man, a woman, and three young children clustered around a small cart. Their features were shadowed and bleak. A funny feeling crowded her chest as the man heaved a sack into the cart and stuffed it beneath the legs of a chair. Was this yet another family packing their belongings and leaving? She whirled Druscilla and headed toward the hut.

They all looked up at the sound of hoofbeats. Glenda didn’t imagine the fear that flashed across their faces until they saw it was a woman who approached. Still, the woman gathered the children close to her skirts. They stared at her with wide and wary eyes.

“Good day,” she called as she reined Druscilla to a halt. “I am Glenda of Blackstone Tower.”

The man swept his cap from his head to his chest. “Mistress. I am Buford. This is my wife Analise and our children.”

Her smile encompassed all of them. “You are awake early this morn.”

There was a slight hesitation, then he said, “Aye. We’ve a long journey ahead of us.”

“I see. And where does your journey take you?”

“To Perth, mistress.”

“I see. And when will you and your family return?”

A flush crept into Buford’s thin cheeks. “We will
not, mistress. I am a freeman, and you cannot stop us.”

“Indeed,” Glenda said quietly. “May I ask why you’re leaving?”

Buford and his wife exchanged glances.

“Do not be afraid to speak, Buford. I’ve only just returned from the Highlands, but I’ve heard tales of the raiders that plague our tenants. Is that why?”

“Aye,” he said. “I fear we have no choice.” He swept his hand toward a small patch of land that sloped beyond a crude pole fence. “Mistress, we have plowed and seeded. Our crops began to sprout and we thought ’twould be a good year. Then one night men came and trampled the field, and so we plowed and seeded again. Our crops sprouted anew.” A shadowed bleakness crept into his face. “Then once again men came and trampled the field. They killed our goats and our sheep.”

Glenda leaned forward in the saddle. “Who, Buford? Who did this? Did you see them?”

“Nay, lady. Always in the dead of night they came. Always.” He paused. “There are those who blame Simon Ruthven,” he said heavily, “Simon the Lawless. I fear I cannot say. Even if I knew, it changes nothing! We must have food. We must have food, or we cannot survive the winter.”

Taking a deep breath, Glenda looked from Buford to his wife Analise. “Buford, I will not stop you from leaving. But I will help you, I swear.”

“So you say, mistress, but how can you? We know of Egan, the Highlander. Indeed, we could trust in just such a man. But what will happen when he leaves? You are a woman. How can you defend us?
How can you protect us? And what if we stand behind you and you fall? What then? Simon the Lawless will have his revenge on
us
!” He shook his head. “Nay. I cannot. We go to join my brother.”

His words were bitterly forthright. Glenda was aware there would be no persuading him otherwise. And indeed, what could she do? Take up the sword herself?

In the village the clatter of the mill-wheel reached her ears. Several men waved; her smile was distracted. In the bailey, a pair of hounds snarled and fought over a stringy bone outside the smithy’s shed. Glenda never even noticed. She stepped inside the great hall, feeling both frustrated and helpless. Buford’s words weighed heavily on her mind.

You are a woman. How can you defend us? How can you protect us
?

If Blackstone’s men-at-arms were at full strength, there would be no problem. Was Blackstone’s defense truly beyond her capabilities? If only she had a fighting force! She had no choice but to rely on Egan to find and train men-at-arms, and fortify the keep to the point where she could at least defend her own.

So involved was she that she nearly barreled headlong into Jeannine. The girl looked over at her.

“Mistress, have you seen Egan this morn? Bernard is asking for him and no one has seen him yet.”

Glenda’s heart leaped. She couldn’t withhold the thought that sped across her mind. She hadn’t wanted Egan to stay and had protested most vehemently. Had he decided to leave as well? Sweet Mother of Mary, she prayed, please, no! For if he had,
then she—and Blackstone Tower—was doomed.

She patted her shoulder. “Tend to your duties, Jeannine. I will find him.”

On impulse, Glenda decided to check his chamber. Perhaps he’d slept overlong this morning.

As she approached, she noticed the door was ajar. She hesitated, then raised a hand to knock. As she did, she glanced within.

Egan stood with his back to her. Apparently he was not long from his bath. His hair was black and gleaming wetly. He did not wear his kilt; trews covered his legs, but he was bare to the waist. In all the years she’d known him, Glenda had never seen his naked torso. An unsettled heat descended into the pit of her belly, for it was disturbingly virile…disturbingly masculine. Somehow she had always known he was a powerful man—aye, and never more so than at this moment! His skin was sleek and brown, his shoulders and arms sculpted and keenly defined. His back was one long slab, thick with muscle and carrying no hint of fat.

He half-turned, and it was then she saw he was not alone. Belinda, a young and pretty serving girl with ample hips and breasts, stood before him. In her hands she held a length of linen. Belinda saw her before Egan did. She froze in the act of reaching for his chest with the linen, drawing back the cloth sharply. She dipped a curtsy and rushed past Glenda out into the passageway.

Glenda scarcely noticed. The soft line of her lips compressed. To think that this was the man she hoped might be her savior and salvation. Here she was, worried sick about the safety of her people,
while Egan amused himself with one of the maids!

She was sorely vexed and she cared not if he knew it! When he turned to face her, she bestowed on him a withering look. “Well, you are ever at the ready, are you not?”

He cocked a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know quite well what I mean!”

He was completely unfazed by the fire of her glare. A slow smile rimmed his lips. “Glenda, do you speak of my manly appetites?”

“Your words, sir, not mine,” she snapped. Her resentment blazed higher with his amusement. “Though I must say, your appetite seems quite hearty!”

“And what of yours, Glenda?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You are a woman without a husband. A woman without a man. I am not a fool. Women…well, women have appetites, too. Especially those who know the pleasure that can be found in another’s body.”

And well she knew. She had lost her maidenhead on the marriage bed, but she had never found love-making a chore or a duty, as she’d heard some women were wont to do. Instead, she had found it a vastly pleasurable experience…all at once she was appalled. She couldn’t believe what they were discussing! To speak of her lying with a man…of his lying with a woman…and to each other, yet!

He persisted. “Come, Glenda, what of you? I asked you once, and you would not answer. Do you not find yourself lonely? Do you not miss the closeness of a man’s body, the heat of lips warm upon yours?”

Suddenly she was the one who was on the defensive. “Nay,” she gasped.

“Nay?” He feigned astonishment. “What, Glenda! Did you not love Niall, then?”

Glenda’s breath grew short; it seemed there was not enough air to breathe, for he was so close.
Too
close. So close that she could see the tiny droplets of water which glistened in the dense forest of hair on his chest. Niall’s chest had been smooth and nearly void of hair, and it was all she could do not to stare in mingled shock and fascination.

She was certain her face flamed scarlet. “Of course I did! You know I did! But I”—she made a valiant stab at reasoning—“I have put aside such longings.”

He did not take his eyes from her mouth. “Have you?” he said softly. “Have you indeed?”

A strong hand settled on her waist. In but a half-breath, it was joined by the other. His touch seemed to burn through the layers of clothing to the flesh beneath.

“Egan.” She floundered. “Egan, please!”

“What, Glenda? What is it?”

She shook her head. Her eyes were wide and dark. Her head had lifted. Her lips hovered but a breath beneath his. The temptation to give in, to kiss her, to trap her lips beneath his and taste the fruit of her mouth was all-consuming. Almost more than he could stand.

She wanted it, too. He sensed it with every fiber of his being, but she was fighting it, damn her! Yet still he wanted to hear her say it. He
needed
it.