The Enchantress (21 page)

“I have done no such thing.”

He pointed an accusing finger in her direction. “You call meddling in my business no such thing? Pawing through my worktable, organizing my chamber, using my name to accomplish what you believe needs to be done.”

Her violet eyes flashed. Her cheeks glowed as she defended herself. “You must be absolutely blind if you cannot see that the little I have done was not to fulfill my own desires but the needs of your people. And if you paid more attention to being the laird you should be, you would have long ago seen to these matters yourself. Then, there would be no need of my, as you so absurdly call it, meddling.”

“So you admit that you are meddling.”

“I do not!”

“As a matter of fact, I would have taken care of all of this myself.”

“When?” she asked him. “In another two years? And meanwhile, everyone is waiting. What about the immediate needs of your people? Or the needs of a child who is being sent here and put under your care?”

“I did not ask anyone to have her brought here. She should have stayed where she was.”

“But she is not staying there. She is coming, and she has needs.”

“Needs? You don’t have to tell me. I know all about those needs.” He took an impatient step toward the door and lifted his finger again in accusation. “The needs of a privileged woman--a brat--born and raised with all comforts that wealth can offer. Just like her mother. Aye, she had needs, too.” He took another step toward the door. “Well, the wee chit can wither in this castle for all I care, for I will never aid another monster like Mildred. Never!”

As the laird turned to leave, his brain on fire with bitter memories, he saw Gilbert standing silently in the corridor, watching, listening. William pushed past his brother without a word.

Laura watched him go. Confused and hurt, she stared at the priest, a poker of hot iron buried deep in her belly.

The gusts of wind howling through the kirk yard of Ironcross Castle tore at the tall monk’s cloak. Limping through the graves toward the vaults, he scowled darkly at his squinted-eyed companion.

“‘Tis not your position to question me. Particularly regarding whom I choose to use in this quest.”

“I meant no harm,” the wiry priest quickly replied. “But knowing--having heard so many bloody tales of this pirate. I mean--the Blade of Barra is a name feared by anyone who has ever traveled in the west. I just--”

“He is a Knight of the Veil in addition to being a thief of the seas. He is as well known, to some, for his honor as for his cunning. He was chosen by those in his order because of that reputation, but he will yield to me because of his greed.”

“So you trust him to get the treasure for you?”

A croaking noise rose from the monk’s throat, a laugh devoid of mirth. The other man winced involuntarily at the sound.

“I trust him to get the maps. When it comes time to go after the Treasure of Tiberius, though, I will not trust the Angel Gabriel himself."

*****

“Who was Mildred?”

Gilbert Ross glanced over his shoulder down the empty corridor. There was no sign of William, who had disappeared only a moment earlier, carrying a lifetime of guilt on his shoulders. Before turning and meeting the young woman’s troubled eyes, he thought hard about how to answer her question.

“She was Thomas’s wife. The only child of Lord Herries of Hoddom. She was Miriam’s mother.”

Laura wrapped her hands tightly about her to contain the hurt she felt inside. She’d wanted to be of help. But she’d clearly touched a source pain inside him. There was torment buried there that she’d never imagined, hidden beneath an exterior of reckless indifference. She took a deep breath and pressed on.

“What was she to William?”

Even as she blurted out the question, she knew she had no right to ask. William had made it clear that he despised her and her ‘meddling.’ She had no right to know.

The provost walked quietly into the chamber and went to the hearth. Standing there, he stared down into the bucket of filthy water on the floor.

“Years back, mistress, when we were young lads and Thomas came of age, William was sent first to the university at St. Andrew’s and then to Lord Herries for his entry into the world. As the second son and dead set against a life in the church--a life I was planning on for myself--William’s options were few. But his best chance lay in seeking a position in the king’s service, in becoming a courtier or a politician--though neither of those things seemed to me to fit William’s nature.” The provost stopped, his blue eyes thoughtful as they rested on Laura. “William and Mildred were the same age. They were both at Hoddom Castle before ‘twas arranged for Mildred to marry Thomas. Anything beyond that, mistress, should probably come from William himself.”

She nodded in understanding, though she knew the Ross laird would never provide her with any more information than what she’d just been told. Perhaps, though, she had no need to know anything more.

“I believe he wishes for me to leave.”

Gilbert made his way around the room, studying the furnishings. “You are making a difference, Laura. He needs you.”

She shook her head adamantly. “I’ve overstepped my position. ‘Twould be best if I were to return to St. Duthac’s.”

“And forsake the cause?”

Laura looked away from the provost’s probing gaze. She searched for something to do with her hands. They were covered with soot, William’s imprint on her wrist the only mark of white.

“I thought you were determined to stay and see that wee Miriam gets settled.”

“She already has a good start. With the new steward installed here, and you here now as well--the laird has very little need for me at Blackfearn.”

Deep inside, she wished it was different. She wanted to be allowed to stay. The usefulness she felt in doing things to improve castle life filled her up somehow. And if she wanted to be truly honest, the energy she felt race through her whenever she and William argued, the lightning bolts that set her ablaze whenever he touched her--the way he touched her--these things were everything she’d dreamed of and yet missed all of her life.

But now he wanted her gone, and that was reason enough to go.

She watched the provost’s wide shoulders as he moved to the window and looked out for a long moment. He turned then and faced her.

“Laura, though my predecessor was the one who corresponded with your mother, I will still honor Nichola Percy’s request
and
your request, and keep you at St. Duthac’s for as long as you desire.” He clasped his strong hands before him, a look of concern clouding his blue eyes. “But having received an additional letter from the earl of Athol and finding that there are...well, dangerous men following you and your sisters--”

“I don’t have to go to St. Duthac.” She blurted out immediately, remembering how helpless the nuns at Little Ferry had been. She could understand the provost’s concern for his people. “I can go away, disappear to some forgotten convent in the mountains to the north.”

Gilbert shook his head. “Nay, lass. That would not be the answer. Whoever these people are that are after your family, they will have no difficulty locating you wherever you go.”

She felt the burning sensation again creeping into her middle. In the letter she had received from her sister, Catherine had suggested that Laura come and join her new family at Balvenie Castle. With the opening of the new school, Catherine had been adamant about needing the younger sister’s help. But her sister was a dreamer, and though nothing would make Laura happier than being reunited with Catherine, their mother’s orders needed to be obeyed as closely as possible. The main thing was that three sisters were not to be together--not until such time as the Treasure of Tiberius was ready to be secured.

She turned helplessly to the provost. “Where do you suggest I go?”

Gilbert stared at his hands for a moment before looking up at Laura again. “I suggest that you marry. As things stand, with a husband and the protection he can offer...”

“Marry!” she repeated in confusion.

“Aye. Your eldest sister chose that path, and she is safely situated at Balvenie Castle.”

Laura wrung her hands. “But she--she met the earl of Athol...and there must have been some time that passed. I’m certain that my mother would not have simply arranged a marriage for my sister.”

Gilbert cocked an eyebrow. “Mistress, from what I’ve learned of their union, they were married the first night she arrived in the Highlands. In fact, the earl’s men dragged a priest out of his bed in the middle of the night to bless the marriage at the earl’s hunting lodge.”

Laura’s eyes rounded in surprise. Catherine had mentioned nothing about the hurried ceremony. She shook her head, though, and faced the provost. “Though such an action might have worked for my sister, it cannot work for me.”

“And why is that, mistress?”

She started pacing the room. “Because we are different people.” She stopped abruptly and met the man’s questioning gaze. “Catherine’s one wish was to open a school of her own. And she has already told me in her letter that the school is opening with her new husband’s support. ‘Twas easy for her to find her way.”

“And you, Laura?”

She turned and paced the room again. “I need constant challenges. Things to plan and do. Certainly no husband would understand that in a wife. And there is surely no man out there who could possibly...” Her words trailed off.

“Would you allow me to act in your interest, mistress?”

“But I don’t know anyone in the Highlands. I am half English! I--”

“Leave it to me, lass. Since I now know that you will at least consider marriage as an option, leave it to me to gather the names of some possible matches. No one will force you to accept someone unsuitable.”

Gnawing her lip, Laura nodded resignedly and stared down again at the band of white around her dirty wrists. Perhaps finding a husband
was
the answer. Perhaps marrying a stranger would give her the chance to free herself from this maddening spell William Ross had cast on her.

“Now that we have a plan ahead of us,” Gilbert stated, drawing Laura out of her silent brooding and leading her out the door. “there is no reason to waste time sending you back to the convent at St. Duthac’s. You are safer here under William’s protection, for the time being, and in no time at all we will find you just the right husband. You’ll see, we’ll find just the right match.”

A doomed match at best, she thought silently. But one that at least would release her from the unhappiness she was causing at Blackfearn Castle.

*****

William knew he had to get outside of the confining walls of Blackfearn Castle. He knew he had to get away so he could breathe. So that he could think.

Taking Dread and leaving everything and everyone behind, he took to the snow-covered hills, riding south for hours. Pushing his steed up the rugged slopes of Meall Mor, William finally dismounted and walked through snow-encrusted bracken to the edge of a precipice. Below him, ice had formed on a narrow loch. Steep, craggy hills hemmed the frozen waters on two sides, and a mist rose over the frothy stream leading into the loch. Far to the south, the violet-gray peak of Ben Wyvis disappeared into a cloud.

He was in trouble. For so long he had struggled to drive the past from his mind. And yet there was no escape from it. And now this woman, this Laura Percy. His actions in that chamber in the east wing were more than troubling. What was the matter with him? She was a desirable woman; he wanted her. The old Will Ross would have just taken her. This new William couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted her. He couldn’t ruin her chances for something better, and God knew he did not deserve to keep her.

In the distance, clouds swept over the braes, blanketing them one moment, releasing them in the next.

All his life he had tried to turn his back on those things that plagued him, tormented him. But now, as he stood looking out where Ross and Munro land joined, running away no longer seemed like the right thing to do.

As he Walked back to where Dread stood patiently watching him, thoughts of Laura continued to crowd his brain. She knew what was important. With her violet eyes flashing, her words had battered down the thick wall of indifference he’d constructed so many years ago around his heart. For the first time in years he had made himself see the truth--and his own cowardice.

Mounting Dread, William spurred his horse over the frozen and uneven ground. By St. Andrew, there were changes that needed to be made. Not so much for himself, but for his people, his clan.

His people. His clan. He silently repeated those words to himself. He had responsibilities. Thomas was dead! Dead. Dead. Dead. Gilbert was a priest who had his own responsibilities. Everything had been left to him. His people. His clan. And as Laura had said so pointedly, he’d been neglecting them.

He would make a change, he vowed. He would work on improving the castle and the clan’s holdings. He would do his best for his people.

But he would do it in
his
way. Laura’s methodical way of organizing--of putting in order everything and everyone around her--was not his way. He would not suffocate himself trying to be something he was not.

He turned Dread’s head back toward Blackfearn Castle.

If he were to have any peace of mind, she would have to leave. Having her this close was more than a distraction, it was gunpowder by a lit torch. Whether it be their desires or their tempers, her nearness made them both dangerous, explosively so.

William thought of his brother staying at Blackfearn Castle. He would speak to him when he got back. Gilbert had sent her here to start with; he could take her away. The wee, fiery planner had to go away. It was as simple as that. It was their only sure salvation.

But as he rode back to the keep, William had a nagging feeling that he’d just concocted a plan.

*****

He had chosen a crusader’s life. He no longer carried a weapon. But when it came to fighting the battle of right and wrong, of pursuing the enemies of justice, Gilbert Ross was the fiercest of warriors.