Chapter 9

T he forest surrounding Akermoor reminded Simon of Elishaw. The primary difference was the way Akermoor perched above the trees on its granite knoll. The track up to it was a good one but dropped off precipitously to the burn below, so anyone trying to attack the castle would be at a distinct disadvantage.

The distance to the water was about three hundred feet at the track's highest point. A siege might be possible, he thought, but if the tower were well stocked . . .

"Have you a source of water inside?" he asked Sir Malcolm.

"We've a spring in the cliff just above us, aye," that gentleman replied.

"How far are we from the loch?"

"A mile, no more, by yon track," Sir Malcolm said, pointing to a narrow dirt path into the woods. "But come in, lad. I'll show ye the whole place."

Dismounting in the forecourt, Sibylla hurried to embrace her sister, who met her laughing. Alice also had their father's light gray eyes but was half a head shorter than Sibylla, very fair, and of a willowy shape and build.

"I am so glad you're home," she said to Sibylla. "I've missed you."

Introducing her to Lady Murray and Rosalie, Sibylla said, "The Murrays were very kind to me, and they stay only one night before riding on to Edinburgh to join the royal court. We must show them our finest hospitality."

"Oh, how I wish I could go to court," Alice said, looking at Rosalie, her envy plain to see. "It has been so dull here, and everyone else is going somewhere!"

"Your turn will come," Sibylla said, her attention drifting to Simon and her father, who had dismounted and were heading toward the stables together.

"I know I shall go one day, Sibylla," Alice said. "But our lord father says I must marry first, and I—" Breaking off, she glanced at Lady Murray. "Forgive me, madam— and Lady Rosalie, too," she said ruefully. "I should not be talking about myself. Do come inside and I will show you where you may refresh yourselves."

"Thank you, Lady Alice," Lady Murray said. "I am sorry you will not be going to court. I had hoped that you and our Rosalie might become friends."

"I'd like that, aye," Alice said, smiling at Rosalie. "I have two cousins my age, but I rarely see them. 'Tis a pity I am not to go to Edinburgh."

Sibylla said, "Someday, dearling, but let us go in now." She accompanied them to the chamber Lady Murray and Rosalie would occupy that night. Waiting until her lady-ship's woman joined them, and assured that their baggage was on its way up, Sibylla said, "Now you may take me to your room, Alice love, and tell me all the news." With their ladyships' door shut behind them, she added quietly, "I want to hear all about this young Colville our father tells me you are to marry."

Alice's face fell but she silently led the way to her bed-chamber and shut that door. Then she said, "Sibylla, Edward Colville is horrid!"

"I own, although Father wanted me to marry his brother, I have never met Edward. Sakes, I scarcely knew Thomas Colville."

"I'm sure Thomas was just as bad, but you were so brave, Sibylla, refusing him as you did. I just wish I could refuse Edward."

Recalling her father's threat to lock her up if she encouraged rebellion, Sibylla said cautiously, "But why do you want to refuse him? Father says he has property, and if he is like Thomas, he is handsome. What makes him so horrid?"

Alice shuddered dramatically. "He is the sort of man who says what he thinks people want him to say and then behaves as he wants to behave."

"How do you mean?"

"At Yuletide, when we were all at Ferniehurst together in a large company, he heard our father express admiration for the Bishop of St. Andrews," Alice said. "Straightaway Edward began to act holier than I expect it has ever occurred to the bishop to act. One might have thought he aspired to take holy orders himself."

"Perhaps he does. Many younger sons go into the Kirk."

"Edward has no such intention," Alice said, grimacing. "One has only to see the way he leers at anyone in a skirt to know that."

"He is exactly like Thomas then. So why did you agree to marry him?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "I'll tell you how it happened. Father came to me and asked if I was a good, obedient daughter. I thought I must have displeased him, so I assured him that I am as obedient and dutiful as I know how to be, which is true ."

"I know it is, dearling," Sibylla said.

"Aye, well, then Father asked what I thought of Edward Colville."

"And you said . . ."

"I told him I scarcely knew him but he had done naught to attract my liking. Father frowned heavily, the way he does, making my knees quake. So I said, ‘Faith, sir, what would you have me say of him?' "

"And he said . . . ?"

"That he expected me to agree that Edward was a worthy young man that any marriageable maiden would rejoice to have as a husband."

"Mercy, Alice, did you agree?"

"I did not! I told him I could not say such a thing without lying. Faith, but I had no reason to like Edward Colville, let alone to call him worthy."

"What did our father say to that?"

"That he is sure I will be very happy with him as my husband. So you see—"

"I do not see," Sibylla said. "Surely, you disagreed with that, too."

"I did, aye, and he began bellowing at me. You know his way."

"I do. But the law will side with you."

Alice shook her head. "Nay, then, it won't, because I've told him every way I know. But he went ahead as if I had agreed to everything. We marry in August."

"But—"

"I saw how your behavior infuriated him each time you refused a husband. He regarded it as a personal affront that you sought the Douglas's aid to defy him."

"Mayhap he did," Sibylla agreed, ignoring a twinge of guilt. "I did what I believed I had to do, Alice. I did not think of it as defiance but as taking my own path rather than fading to dust here at home."

"But to do such a thing was defiance, and I have no one to aid me. I wish you had come home when Hugh died," she added wistfully.

"I suppose you do, but I did not learn of his death for weeks. Do not forget that Isabel had just lost her husband, too. By the time the news of Hugh's death caught up with me, we were in Galloway," Sibylla said. "But I have visited twice since then. And Father seemed gey pleased to see me at Elishaw. He did not even scold me much for falling into the river Tweed."

"Sakes, neither of us could imagine how you came to do such a thing!"

Sibylla described her adventure, and the two spent a cozy time talking of Kit and Dand and the household at Elishaw. If Sibylla passed over the master of Elishaw, noting only her gratitude that he had appeared in time to help her get Kit out of the river, she doubted that Alice noticed any lack.

Alice made no further reference to her own situation as they chatted, and Sibylla did not press her. She knew that her sister lacked the fiercely independent spirit that had inspired Sibylla to reject each of their father's plans for her future.

Alice would not defy him, but she had given her sister food for thought.

Sibylla hoped she was not emulating Isabel's tendency to see Fife's hand in any ill. But, since Fife had tried to marry her into the Colville family, she believed he might also have had a hand in Alice's betrothal. Had he not tried to marry young Rosalie to his man Harald Boyd after failing to force Amalie to marry him?

With these thoughts in mind, another occurred to her with near certainty. If Thomas Colville had found himself a wealthy heiress, Fife must have arranged that as well. Moreover, the connection would somehow benefit Fife.

Deciding that she must help Alice but would have to be subtle about it, Sibylla soon went to change from her riding dress to garb more suitable for supper with their guests. Then she sought out Sir Malcolm and found him having just entered his bedchamber with his manservant.

"What is it, lass?" he asked when she peeped through the doorway.

"Prithee, sir, I would beg a word with you."

Her father nodded to his man, who bowed and left the room. "What, then, lassie?" Sir Malcolm said, adding, "I like that yellow dress on ye."

"Thank you, sir," she said with a smile. " 'Tis one of the old ones I left here, but I like it, too, although such a pale yellow is usually better on Alice. I own, I am quite jealous of her. She has grown to be a beauty, has she not?"

"Aye, she's well enough. But I doubt ye came here to praise the lass, so I'll tell ye to your head, Sibylla, I'll have none of your argie-bargle."

"You will do as you think best, sir. I've just realized how little I know of her. She was a bairn when I left and is now old enough to marry. The only pity I see is that she must do so before she has had any opportunity to see and be seen."

"Here now, what are ye saying?" he demanded, scowling.

"I hope I've not said anything to vex you," she said. "Mayhap 'tis only that I'd like to know her better myself before she marries."

"Ye'll have plenty of time for that, for she'll not marry till August. The pair of ye can talk yourselves mute afore then if ye like."

"Nay, sir, for Isabel will be in Edinburgh by now or as soon as makes no difference. I must return to her service."

When he bristled, she added hastily, "It will not do for me to anger her after she has been so kind to me, sir. Also, Murray has offered to escort me. As Lady Murray will likewise be with me, my journey need not trouble you in any way."

"Aye, ye'd be safe in Annabel's charge," he agreed, still frowning.

Satisfied with that response, Sibylla said, "I do wish Alice could go with us. Seeing the court would be such a treat for her, and under an eye as watchful as her lady-ship's, she would be safe, too. But doubtless the Colvilles would disapprove."

His frown had grown darker before she paused, and she suspected that by shifting so abruptly from her plan to his, she had unsettled him.

He did not speak for a long moment, and she kept silent.

At last, he said, "Why d'ye think the Colvilles would disapprove?"

With a little smile, she said, "Why, sir, surely you can see that men will need only to look on our Alice to fling themselves at her feet."

"Aye, well, I'll have none of that!"

"You certainly won't if you keep her clapped up here," Sibylla agreed. "Edward Colville must be pleased that you have, because he surely knows that better and wealthier men than he would leap at a chance to marry our Alice. He won her so easily, I suspect, only because no others had seen her."

"Sakes, she has not been buried here. I took her to Ferniehurst at Yuletide."

Sibylla nodded. "To be sure you did, sir. But one must suppose that nearly everyone at Ferniehurst was a kinsman of ours on one side or the other. And most of the younger men who were there are married, are they not?"

"Aye, they are that," he said, looking thoughtful. Deciding she had made her point, Sibylla said, "You will take good care of Alice, I know. I just wanted to tell you that I shall accept Murray's kind offer to escort me to Edinburgh. But if you should choose to visit me whilst Isabel is in residence there, I can easily provide chambers for you and Alice at the castle."

Her sister could share her room, but she sent a prayer aloft that he would not demand to know if she thought the princess had taken to including gentlemen as her guests. She also prayed that Archie the Grim had not forgotten his promise to house any guest of hers in his gatehouse apartments. As generous as he could be, he might have made the same promise to others and might find himself short of space.

It was not in her nature to worry about things she could not control or influence, and she knew Archie well enough to be sure that if he were there he would find space for

Sir Malcolm. So she went in search of Rosalie and Lady Murray.

"I trust you find everything to your liking," she said when they bade her enter their chamber.

"Indeed, Lady Sibylla, Akermoor seems most comfortable," Lady Murray said.

"Thank you, but pray do call me Sibylla. Praise from one who knows a well-run household when she sees one will mean much to my father."

"I have seen too little to judge how well it is run," Lady Murray said more austerely. "And I should think your charming sister or Sir Malcolm's housekeeper would deserve the credit for its management. In my experience, gentlemen know little of how to run a household smoothly."

"I am sure you are right," Sibylla said. Smiling at Rosalie, she said, "I would ask a kindness of you, my lady."

"Anything you like," Rosalie agreed.

"My sister is sadly envious of your journey to court, so I would beg you to be as tactful as you can if the subject arises. My father's notions on such things are stern, I'm afraid. He believes she should marry before she attends the royal court."

Noting Lady Murray's knitted brow, Sibylla said they must let her know if they needed anything more for their comfort, then suggested they go down to supper.

Simon enjoyed his tour of Akermoor.

Although he had once believed that Sir Malcolm had misled him about his daughter's willingness to marry, Simon's anger had soon shifted to Sibylla. He now found that he liked her father. Moreover, Akermoor was thriving, so he seized the opportunity to ask questions about matters that had perplexed him at Elishaw.

Sir Malcolm answered them all with hearty good sense, and the two men had spent the entire afternoon together in perfect amity.

Entering the great hall at suppertime with his host, Simon saw Sibylla on the dais, talking with Lady Murray. A short distance away, near the large fireplace, Rosalie chatted animatedly with the lady Alice Cavers.

As they all took their places, servants scurried about with dishes of food and pitchers of what was likely ale for the lower hall and wine for the high table.

They paused where they were while Sir Malcolm said the grace before meat.

Evidently believing he had already talked with Simon as much as courtesy dictated, Sir Malcolm turned to Lady Murray as they sat down, and engaged her in conversation. Simon was amused to see her respond with smiles and arch comments.

Beyond her, Sibylla chatted with Alice and Rosalie. Simon's ears were sharp enough to hear most of what the others were saying without troubling himself to take part in the conversation. Soon his thoughts drifted to Edinburgh and Fife's summons. Those thoughts proving less than cheerful, he pushed them away only to have them drift back whenever he let down his guard.

Fixing his attention firmly on Sibylla's low-pitched voice and the younger girls' higher ones, punctuated now and again by her throaty chuckle and their giggles, he found the sounds oddly peaceful, even comforting.

From time to time, his host would address a comment to him, and he would reply. Each time Sir Malcolm quickly returned his attention to Lady Murray. Thus, he surprised Simon as they were finishing the meal when he said abruptly, "Sibylla, lass, Murray has asked several times today about our loch. I've been thinking ye could put your riding dress back on and take him to see it afore darkness falls."

"I do not need to change my dress, sir," Sibylla said. "At least an hour of daylight remains, and it is no more than a twenty-minute walk through the woods to the loch. His lordship is fit enough, I think, to manage that without undue exertion."

Simon's spirits lifted. "I'd like that," he said, smiling.

The naturalness of Simon's smile startled Sibylla. The only other time she could recall seeing his smile had been the small, rueful one he had offered her the previous night in Elishaw's great hall when she had reminded him of his threat to have Sir Malcolm ask her how she had got out of the castle.

Even that smile had altered his features considerably. This one did much more. When he looked at her, still smiling, every nerve in her body reacted.

Sir Malcolm's suggestion that they go to the loch had surprised her, but she knew his reason for the apparent impulse. He still hoped for a union between them.

Still, she was grateful to escape an otherwise tedious evening, doubtless a prime sample of how it would often be if she had to remain under her father's roof.

Outside, the sun touched a nearby hill to the west, and she knew they would see the sunset when they reached the hilltop. The track up through the pines and beeches was wide enough to walk side by side. As they followed it, Simon glanced back twice.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I expected your father to have someone follow us," he said. "He should not have sent you alone with me like this."

"Should he—or I, for that matter—not trust you?" "That is not what I mean," he said. "I'm thinking only of protecting your reputation, lass. People talk whenever they hear or see aught to stir talk."

"His men can see us easily enough from the watchtowers," she said. "I suspect, though, that he hopes we might still make a match of it."

Smiling wryly, he said, "You are very blunt tonight." She nearly told him that if she was blunt, he was unusually cheerful. Resisting the impulse, she said, "He was pleased to find me at Elishaw under your protection, for he said as much and hinted— Nay, that is too tame. He would have expressed his hope outright had I not interrupted him to tell him not to be thinking such a thing."

Simon was looking at her feet, just as he had the night they had met at the pond. "Those shoes look too thin for this rough track," he said. "I warrant their soles are slick, too, so take care how you step. How much farther before we see the loch?"

"Just over that low ridge ahead," she said. "I told my father I mean to accept your offer to escort me to Edinburgh," she added, watching for his reaction.

"My offer ?"

"You did say you'd take me if he gave me leave." " Did he?"

"He did not forbid it. Moreover, you may find your party further enlarged."

She thought his lips twitched, but he said only, "How so?"

"I may have put the notion into his head to take Alice to court."

He did not roll his eyes, but he did look heavenward. "You may have?"

"Aye, so I pray you will not discourage him if he mentions such intent. He wants my sister to marry Thomas Colville's younger brother, Edward, but she does not like him. Thomas is now to marry a great heiress, but as Edward inherited their mother's estates, Father believes he will make Alice a good husband."

"I should think he would," Simon said.

"Perhaps, but she can do better, and so I told him. Alice has scarcely met any eligible men. You have seen how beautiful she is, and I think the sweetness of her temperament would appeal to most gentlemen."

"I'll not argue that. But surely your father knows what is best for her."

"I fear he still thinks only of what such a marriage may do for him," Sibylla said. "The Colvilles are as firmly in Fife's encampment as you are, sir."

"Thomas Colville is doubtless much more so than I am by now," he said. "But I am not aware that Edward serves Fife in any capacity."

"Nor did your brother apparently serve him."

When he flinched, remorse banished her irritation and she said ruefully, "I should not have spoken so bluntly, sir. But your brother did seek to please you with many of his actions, and it may well be the same betwixt the Colville brothers."

"Don't apologize," he said quietly. "If reminders of Tom give me pain, I deserve it. I'd got him involved in

Fife's attempts to keep an eye on Isabel, and it was I who sent him to Scott's Hall that fateful day."

"We both know you had naught to do with the attack that killed him, even so. He was but carrying word of your father's death to your mother at the Hall."

"Aye, well, the guilt lingers nonetheless. But you need not apologize for aught you say to me, lass. You just speak your thoughts. I like listening to you."

The last statement warmed her. No one had said such a thing to her before.

He had diverted her, however, from her point about the Colvilles.

She said, "You don't like me talking about Fife, sir. Yet he is the reason you offered for me, is he not, and the reason my father accepted your suit?"

"I cannot deny that I obeyed Fife's wishes and hoped thereby to gratify him. But I can speak only for myself. I do not know what your father's reason was."

She made a rude sound.

He shook his head at her but said, "Sir Malcolm did talk to Fife. But at the time, you'll recall, I had just come of age. I paid heed to nowt but pleasing my liege lord and my own keen interest in increasing our Murray holdings. But I have gained experience enough to know now that any truth has two sides to it."

"What is the other side of pleasing Fife?"

"That if you please one person, you invariably displease someone else."

"That someone being me, I expect."

"As matters transpired, aye. But you may recall, too, that I did not tell anyone in my family," he said.

"You feared it would displease them?"

"There was dispute between my parents and yours," he said. "I do not know why, but I'd heard my father speak the name Cavers disparagingly before Fife mentioned a possible marriage. But Fife did not approach my father either. Instead, he waited until shortly before I came of age and put the matter directly to me."

"Do you think he knew what lay between them?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "He may have, but looking back, I can see that I thought I was taking control of my life. I felt like a man, and I had a long habit of following Fife's orders. As nothing came of it, it did not occur to me until much later that I ought to have talked to my parents before taking such a step."

She understood that. Young men who wanted to make something of themselves made it a habit to obey those in authority over them. Hugh had, but he had admired James Douglas and was proud to follow where James led.

After her years with Isabel, she found it hard to imagine any man of integrity staying loyal to Fife, let alone admiring him. But she knew that many honorable men were loyal to him and admired his strength as a ruler. Archie the Grim supported Fife, although Archie had said he did not always trust him.

They continued in silence to the hilltop overlooking Akermoor Loch, an oval body of water a third of a mile long and a quarter mile wide. As they watched, the sun dipped below hills to the west, its last rays gilding the one on which they stood.

As they started down the steep, pine-needle-strewn path toward the loch, Simon said, "Where would your father and Alice stay if they do go to Edinburgh?"

"I reminded him that I have access to Isabel's chambers in the castle."

He chuckled. "You're treading on thin ice, lass. Even if he is unaware that the princess houses no men in her chambers, he will find out soon enough."

"My godfather also keeps rooms there, in the gate-house tower."

"Aye, sure, I should have remembered you can call on Douglas to aid you."

As she took her next step, she looked up at him, wondering if he mocked her. Her right foot, coming down on dried pine needles, slid right out from under her.

Somehow he caught her by one arm and managed to swing her toward him and catch the other. Pulling her close, he steadied her against his warm body. He was not wearing his cloak, but she could smell its spicy scent on his doublet. Indeed, she could detect an underlying scent of lavender.

Heart pounding, and with unexpected heat surging through her, Sibylla pushed against his chest with both hands and looked up at him.

A glint in his eyes was her only warning before he pulled her close again, lowered his head, and captured her mouth with his.

Simon felt her soft lips yielding against his, and primal instinct surged through him, urging him to overpower her and claim her for his own.

A tiny, nearly unheard voice from the civilized part of his brain gently advised resistance to that urge. Every other fiber of him sided with the urge.

His arms encircled her, holding her close, and his mouth moved against hers as if it would devour her. His mind and body both anticipated her resistance, but none stirred. She pressed her body to his, breasts to chest, hips to hips. Her lips parted beneath his, inviting his tongue into her mouth to explore.

Accepting that invitation, he shut his eyes, savoring sensations that burned through his body, yearning to tear her clothes from her and see her again as he had in the moonlight at the pond. His hands slid up over her back to her shoulders.

With his right palm between her shoulder blades, his left hand stroked the back of her head and pulled off the soft cap she wore and the netting beneath it. Dropping both, he laced his fingers through her thick hair as his right hand moved to cup the nearest breast.

His lips and tongue continued to investigate her mouth as the hand at her breast began to explore, easing over its softness to the tip, prominent now beneath the soft cloth of her bodice. When he rubbed the nipple, she moaned.

He opened his eyes. Hers had shut. Her tongue moved against his.

Her hips moved, too, and he felt himself swell against her.

Aching for her, watching expressions play on her beautiful face, he shifted his hand from her breast to her lacing.

Her eyes opened. As his fingers began to tug, she touched them.

Aching more than ever, he shut his eyes again, this time in a wince.

Groaning his reluctance, he released her and opened his eyes.

Hers were dancing.

"We should go back," he said, his voice sounding hoarse in his own ears. "It is too dangerous here."

"It is, aye," she agreed. "I understand gey well now why you thought my father should not trust you."

"I did not say that," he retorted indignantly. She did not reply, but her eyes twinkled more.