Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The entrance to Hawthornden Castle was a tall archway boasting stout double gates. But when Lestalric whistled and shouted his name, the gates opened swiftly for them. As he and Adela rode into a small, flagged, torchlit court-yard dominated by the great, square keep, he pointed out the stable, bakehouse, and carpenter's shop, three small stone buildings that abutted the curtain wall.

Fearing that Lestalric—or Rob, as she would try to call him privately now—must be in pain again, she watched as he dismounted. But he did so without using his left hand, so she could not judge how much his wound was hurting him.

Compared to Roslin or Chalamine, Hawthornden was small, but when they entered the keep, she saw that the architecture inside was similar to Roslin's.

The hall, located directly off a half-landing, was much smaller than Roslin's, and the rushes on its floor gave off an odor that told her they needed replacing as much as those at Lestalric did. Her first inclination was to blame Sorcha for the lack of care, but recalling that her sister had been resident there for only a month before departing again for the Highlands, she knew blaming her would be unfair. Sorcha and Hugo had stayed at Hawthornden only at night, too, returning to Roslin every day.

A number of men were sleeping on the hall floor, but when several stirred and began to get up, Rob signed to them to stay where they were and guided her back to the stairwell. On the next landing, he pushed open a door to a shadowy chamber that seemed at first glance to be full of curtained bed. With the door fully open, she saw that the room was larger than it first appeared.

Crossing it, Rob threw back the shutters on a tall window to let in the pale light of a moon much lower now in the western sky than when they had left the abbey. "Come," he said quietly. "Look at the view."

Shutting the door behind her, she obeyed, passing the large bed extending along most of the wall to her right, its foot end toward the window. It still seemed overlarge for the room, but when she went to stand by him and gaze out on the moonlit landscape before her, she forgot about the bed.

"How beautiful."

They had followed the wooded track along the eastern rim of the gorge, rather than the cart trail that followed the river's course through its depths, and she had seen during her journey to Edinburgh that the west side of the river was not as steep or as high as the eastern side. From the castle, she could see Roslin, more than a mile to her left up the glen. And she could look straight down to the river, too, which had not been possible from the track, since it ran through dense woodland some distance from the cliff edge.

She stood to his right, and when his arm slipped around her shoulders, she turned to him willingly and raised her lips to meet his. His were warm and touched hers lightly, but then his arm gripped tighter and his lips pressed harder, opening slightly as his free hand eased up between his body and hers to brush over her left breast, stirring nerves to life in the nipple, making her gasp. But the hand did not linger. Warm fingers touched her chin.

As if it were a signal, his right hand shifted to cup the back of her head, and his kisses grew more demanding. His tongue pressed between her lips, and when she parted them, it slid inside to explore the interior of her mouth. Astonished, since no one had ever kissed her so before, she stiffened and would have pulled back but for his hand at the back of her head. Then his body pressed hard along the length of hers, and new feelings awakened in her, making her forget her surprise. Moaning softly, she leaned into him and touched her tongue to his.

The fingers touching her chin moved to the ties of her cloak, tugging briefly until the sable-trimmed lavender velvet hushed to the floor at her feet.

"Doesn't your shoulder hurt?" she murmured.

"Aye, but some things are worth the pain," he murmured back before his lips possessed hers again.

Her tawny-silk surcoat followed swiftly, then her front-laced kirtle and underskirt, leaving her in her linen shift, heavily wrinkled, she was sure, from riding with it rucked round her hips. The only other things she still wore were the gold chain necklace her mother had given her, and the ring from her husband.

Trying to smooth the worst of the wrinkles from the shift, she said, "Have you undressed women often, sir? You seem most adept at the business."

His eyes twinkled. "I vow, 'tis no more than male instinct."

"You once claimed to be all integrity," she said sternly, raising her eyebrows. "But I suspect falsehood in those words."

"Doubtless that is no more than male instinct, too," he said with a grin. "Deriving from the strongest of all male instincts, that of survival."

"So now I must guess when you are honest with me and when you are not?"

"Nay, lass, you'll know. Do you doubt that?"

She looked narrowly at him for a long moment, but he met the look easily.

"No," she said. "I believe I will know."

"Good," he said, kissing her again lightly. "We've more important things to do than to fratch about words or about things that should remain in the past."

Sakes, but he would have to watch his step! How foolish to point out how easily she would know if he were lying!

Although he had told her the only way to keep a secret was never to share it, in troth, the only way was never to let anyone know one had a secret. She already knew he harbored at least one, and doubtless she suspected he kept others.

When she had mentioned the treasure earlier, he had diverted her by proposing that they marry. How smug he had been then to believe marriage would make no difference, that her unusual lack of curiosity and disdain for secrets would let him keep his easily. But he could hardly count on that if the subject of the treasure arose again now that she knew she could discern a falsehood.

And what about the map?

She had held it in her hand, had concealed it for him, and had returned it without a murmur. To be sure, others had surrounded them at the time, and events of the evening had doubtless pushed it from her mind. But he could not keep diverting her. Not if she could read him merely by narrowing her beautiful eyes.

His attention diverted when he touched her cool skin and realized that, in her shift and so near the window, she must be chilly. Yet there remained the not insignificant matter of removing his own clothing before they could both get into bed. Ignoring the continuing ache in his shoulder, he gently rubbed both hands up and down her bare arms, then indulged himself by kissing her more.

The skin of her upper arms was soft to his touch and silky smooth. Her hair smelled of dried lavender and rosemary, her skin of something similar but lighter, more herbal. He pulled her close again and nuzzled her neck, easing her necklace aside so her could kiss her there, making her giggle as a child might when he did.

"Art ticklish, lassie?"

"Aye, there … and other places, too."

"I shall have to explore them all," he said soberly.

"Will you?" Her eyes were wide, their pupils huge and black.

He kissed her lips again. "I'll need help undressing. Shall I waken one of the lads to aid me so you can get into bed and stay warm, or—"

"You undressed me, my lord. Surely, I should have the same pleasure."

He grinned. "Please yourself, sweetheart. I begin to think this marriage may have been a wiser decision than I knew, providing me with a beautiful handmaiden."

"Mayhap you should keep a still tongue in your head, sir," she said with a slight edge to her tone. "Recall that if you irk me, you may cause me to forget your injury for one brief, unhappy moment."

"I was teasing, lass."

She frowned as if her thoughts had turned inward. "I'm not a good subject for teasing, I think. But strangely, just tonight I realized I had spoken teasingly to you. That is unusual, too. I am generally of a more sober disposition."

"Laughter is good for the soul, but mayhap we both should beware. My temper has got me into trouble more than once, although over the years I have learned to control it much better than I did as a lad. Still, if you are venturing into the art of teasing at such a late date, don't forget to trust your instincts and be sure I am of a mind to laugh. I'll promise to do the same."

She nodded, then said, "Should we not clean and tend your wound whilst you have your shirt off?"

"Nay, for I'm sure it will just need tending again later," he said. "But come now, you must be freezing. At least put on your cloak over your shift."

"It will only get in the way," she said. "The air is just cool, not cold." He tried to keep his hands off her, to let her unlace his doublet and hose quickly, so she could get into bed. It seemed impossible, but despite her assurance, he saw gooseflesh on her upper arms as she knelt and freed his hose lacing from the eyelet holes on the underside of his doublet. After that, he did naught to delay her.

The rest came off quickly with the exception of his doublet and shirt, both of which she eased away from his wound so slowly that his patience nearly expired before both were off. He was ready for her by then, pain or no pain.

"Is that the same bed Sorcha and Hugo sleep in?" she asked as he pulled back the coverlet and quilt and gestured for her to climb in.

"Aye, do you mind? Hugo won't."

"Nor will Sorcha, I'm sure, but it does seem strange to be in their bed," she said as she climbed in and shifted to the far side.

"It would seem stranger, and far less comfortable, to be in the one Hugo provided for me whilst I lived here with them."

"Mercy, did he give you an uncomfortable one?"

"Recall my position at the time, lass. Even as a captain, I slept on one of those straw pallets in the hall with the others."

"It is hard to think of you as Einar Logan," she said as he got in beside her. "When I think about him, all I remember is his beard."

"No beard now," he said as he moved carefully toward her. "I may be somewhat clumsy, though. Take off your shift for me. I want to look at you."

Obeying, she said, "I don't know how you will manage."

He shook his head at her as he said, "Sakes, I've fought battles with worse injuries and scarcely noticed them. But stop talking, sweetheart. It has been a long day, and we both need to sleep at least a few hours tonight."

So saying, he moved over her, leaning on his right elbow and thus blocking much of the moonlight from the window, although there was still enough to glint on her simple necklace. He would buy her a jeweled one, he decided as he cupped one soft breast. He stroked it gently, then moved to stroke her ribs and belly before shifting to the breast again, teasing the nipple, then bending to lick and taste it. Little shivers fluttered across the silky skin beneath his hand as he did.

Easing himself up, he claimed her lips, his body already pulsing for her and beginning to ache elsewhere than his shoulder.

"Will it hurt?" she asked.

"Aye, probably," he said, adding with a smile, "or so I'm told. But if we go slowly, mayhap it will not."

"I don't know what to do."

"You need do nothing this time, sweetheart. Just relax and don't jump out of your skin if something I do should startle you."

Smiling, she said, "I never used to do that." Her words ended in a gasp when he began sucking the nipple he had tasted earlier.

He teased her body and stroked her from her breasts to her belly and lower, getting her used to his touch until he began to fear he could wait no longer. Easing his hand to the fork of her legs, suppressing all thought of the sharpening pain in his shoulder, he gently parted her nether lips and eased a finger inside her.

She was tight but moist and ready for him. Still he spent a few minutes letting her get used to his fingers, hoping that by doing so he would ease the way enough so that she could more easily endure the pain his penetration would cause.

Adela marveled at the feelings his lightest touch stirred. Nerves she had not known she possessed had come to life, and the sensations fascinated and delighted her. Had anyone told her she could feel this way with any man, let alone one she had known for only days, she would never have believed them. But so it was, for she had felt from the beginning as if she had known him forever, as if by his voice alone he were familiar to her and beloved.

Common sense told her such a thing was impossible, that no one could know another person well without a long, close relationship to develop kinship. She had never had that with a male before. She had no brothers and no male cousins to whom she could speak so freely. But she had felt kinship with Rob from the start, and something more, a bond that she had never felt with anyone before.

His hands felt as if they belonged on her body, stroking her, making her gasp with delight. And when his fingers penetrated her, she gasped again. As he eased himself atop her and fitted himself inside, she felt a frisson of fear, but it passed. She felt a dull ache then. But he was still for a few moments, and the ache passed, too. He began to move again, slowly, rhythmically, and her mind filled with the feelings he stirred until all awareness of anything but his movements and her feelings ceased.

She savored each moment, focusing on each new sensation until he began to move faster and faster, plunging deeper with each stroke. She felt pain again, but it did not seem to matter as much as the thought that he might be giving her a child at that moment. His child and her own, to love and to cherish.

Soon he was moving so quickly and so powerfully that she feared he must be hurting himself badly. But instinct and desire banded together to suppress that fear, and Adela savored the moment.

When he collapsed atop her, they both lay still for several long moments before he murmured, "Can you still breathe, sweetheart?"

"Aye, well enough. How is your shoulder?"

"I feel nothing. I'm numb." He raised himself up and looked into her eyes, and he was smiling.

She smiled back. "I felt many things, new and wonderful things," she said.

"That was only a beginning," he said. "There is much more I can teach you."

He got up then and poured water into the basin from the ewer on the washstand, and soaked a cloth to help her clean herself.

"I'll help you, too," she said. "Where is the countess's salve?"

"In that pouch I was carrying," he said. "I set it somewhere."

He found it, and after she had dealt with his wound, they got back into the bed, where he slid his good arm under her shoulders and drew her close again, holding her comfortably so until she slept.

She rode peacefully beneath a big golden sun in a clear azure sky, her mount a snow-white beast with a lovely, silken mane and tail, her saddle so comfortable it was as if she floated on pillows, rocking gently, ever so gently, the way one did in a small boat on a calm sea. But as she became aware of the boat and realized she was not on horseback at all, the boat began to rock faster, then wildly.

The sky was no longer azure, no longer clear. Clouds swiftly gathered, including a huge black one that enveloped her as the sea heaved and water rushed into the boat, threatening to drown her. She was cold to the bone and all alone, abandoned again. A cruel, taunting voice in her head said she always would be.

Everything was black and wet and cold, and silent, although before the silence she had not been aware of any noise other than that awful voice in her head and before it, birds perhaps, singing in the sunlight, or water lapping at the boat.

Now, all was silence and darkness. She was sinking downward, underwater, plunging ever deeper. But she could breathe as easily as if water were air.

Then light again, a bright beam from an unknown source that illuminated a brassbound chest. As she stared in awe, the lid opened, revealing great treasure—rubies and pearls, gold and silver, piled high and spilling from the chest.

Hands in black gloves reached around the lid to lift a long strand of pearls and a handful of glittering rubies. When the strand of pearls coiled upward and changed into a coal-black snake with slitted green eyes, she felt fear deeper than any she had ever known, chilling her as if ice had filled her veins.

Then Waldron of Edgelaw, all in black, huge and menacing, stepped from behind the chest and wrapped the snake around her neck.

Adela screamed …

… and awoke, sitting bolt upright in bed, still screaming, naked and cold, clutching the gold chain necklace she had forgotten to take off the night before.

A shadow loomed over her, making her jump again. But it was only Rob, moving swiftly toward the bed, dim twilight from the window outlining him.

"What is it?" he demanded gruffly. "What happened?"

"A … a horrid dream," she said, hating the quaver in her voice. "I have them sometimes."

"Sakes," he said. "I leave you for no more than a minute to relieve myself, and you have a nightmare. What happened in it?"

She hesitated, and when heavy rapping sounded on the door, she jumped.

"Be aught amiss, me lord?" a man shouted.

"Nay, my lady wife just suffered a nightmare," Rob told him.

"Come now, tell me," he urged, putting his arm around her and drawing her close as the man's footsteps retreated down the stairs. "It will sound silly when you put it in words. I know of no better way to exorcise such demons."

The warmth of his body against hers was comforting, and she leaned into him and helped him draw the coverlet over them both.

"I was cold," she said.

"Foolish lass, I pulled the covers over you when I got up, but you pushed them off again." Then, more firmly, he said, "Tell me about this dream of yours."

"I meant I was cold in the dream," she said, and described it. When she mentioned the treasure chest, she felt him stiffen. "Waldron stood behind it," she said. "At first I did not see him, only hands playing with rubies and pearls. But then he stepped from behind the chest, and the long strand of pearls he held coiled into a snake. He … he wrapped it around my neck." She shuddered.

He was silent for a moment, then said, "Common sense tells me that our talk on the way here stirred thoughts of that devil in your mind and mixed him in with other things you may have thought. Then, when your necklace got tangled…"

"Aye, I suppose that is all it was," she said doubtfully, reluctant to remind him of how much it had frightened her, lest he think less of her.

"That is all it is," he said confidently. "You're safe now, sweetheart. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

"No one should make such a promise," she said. "People die, or things happen to prevent them from keeping such promises." Then, for the first time in a conversation with him, she wished she had not spoken her thought aloud. Half to herself, she murmured, "Mayhap it means he is coming back again."

"He can't, lass. Surely you know he's dead."

"Ardelve told me he drowned," she said. "But I never saw him dead."

"Nor did anyone else," he admitted.

She stared at him. "Mercy, sir! Then I would remind you that Waldron has been thought dead before and come back. Why should he not do so again?"

Damnation!

Rob wanted to kick himself for revealing that detail. They had purposely told Ardelve only that Waldron had drowned, not how and certainly not where.

Recalling what she had said before she began talking about Waldron, he said ruefully, "You are right to take me to task, sweetheart, on two heads. I wanted to ease your fright, and I have done the reverse. And some of the secrets I hold are things I begin to believe you should know."

"You trusted me at Lestalric when the Earl of Fife came," she said, her tone making it clear that she was displeased with him. "I trusted you, too. I have not even asked you what you gave me."

"Aye," he agreed. "But trust is not always such a simple matter. Some secrets must remain secret. I have sworn an oath to that, and I will not break it. This business of Waldron, however, is not of itself one such as that."

"Are you certain he drowned?"

"Aye," he said. "But I remember that Hugo told me afterward that you recalled little about the day we rescued you. Do you remember the cavern?"

"Aye," she said. "I remember the chests, too, and talk of treasure. And, too, Waldron told me he served God and was seeking a treasure taken from Holy Kirk."

The room was gray now with the light of approaching dawn as it spread over the landscape outside.

Ignoring the treasure, he said, "Waldron drowned in the cavern's lake. He went under, and the devil claimed his own, because he never surfaced again. Hugo and I built a raft and searched every inch of that lake shore. In most places, the cavern wall is sheer, impossible to grip even if one were not severely injured, and he was nearly dead before he went in. Other places, one might climb out but not go anywhere, only sit on a narrow ledge or outcropping. And, too, that underground lake is very deep and very cold, not likely to return its dead to the surface."

To his surprise, she nodded. "'Tis like the sea round the Isles," she said. "That water is so cold that bodies just sink and stay sunk, even in the sounds."

Her head rested in the hollow of his good shoulder, and hugging her closer, he kissed her hair, breathing in the scent of it and feeling himself stir again.

Doubting that she would be as interested in the state of his libido as he was, and knowing he had at least one more apology to make, he strove to ignore his eager, apparently sex-driven body as he said, "I should not have made it sound as if I believed your nightmare to be of small account. The experience you had with Waldron is bound to stay with you for a long while. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that your jumpy nature results from that, too. Your nightmares certainly do."

"I think they do, although it seems silly for them still to plague me so long afterward, when I am perfectly safe again."

"There is a rule in warfare," he said. "If one suffers great defeat, especially if a commander loses many men, that commander and his surviving men must train even harder than his new recruits. They must sharpen their skills and strive to learn new, even more difficult ones."

"I'd think such survivors prove just by surviving that they know what they are doing."

"Aye, sure," he said. "They may be the finest soldiers in the land. Even so, each saw close comrades killed, mayhap even stood beside one cut down by a weapon that could easily have killed him instead. Learning new skills rebuilds and strengthens one's confidence, and confidence does more than any skill to aid a man fighting a battle. I'm thinking it ought to do the same thing for a woman."

"Mercy, would you train me for battle?"

Suppressing his too-ready sense of humor, Rob kept his tone serious as he said, "There is more than one way to do battle, sweetheart. It is early yet. Do you want to sleep a little longer, or are you too fully awake now for that?"

"I am wide awake, so if you want to get up …"

He chuckled. "Part of me is likewise wide awake, standing up in fact and causing me some small suffering. Mayhap we can do something to ease that first."

"What can I do?"

"I'll show you," he said.

Adela's second lesson proved even more pleasant than the first. Afterward, her husband being willing to help her find and don her discarded clothing, she was in full charity with him when he left her to finish her ablutions while he found a manservant to tend his wound and ordered food for their breakfast.

That she was wearing her tawny silk dress from the night before reminded her again of her abduction, when she had worn one dress for days. Recalling that Isobel had sent clothing to Hawthornden for Sorcha, who like-wise had arrived at Roslin with little of her own to wear, Adela decided that after breakfast she would search until she had found more suitable clothing for such an untidy place.

Mentally making lists of where she would begin the task of setting Hawthornden to rights, she hurried down-stairs to find her husband, shirtless, on the hall dais, having his wound tended by a burly young man-at-arms as gillies prepared the linen-draped table nearby for their breakfast.

"My lady," Lestalric said, "I would present Archie Tayt to you. Be kind to him. His uncle is an influential burgess in Edinburgh. Make your bow, lad."

Smiling at the "lad," who, like most of Sir Hugo's men, stood more than head and shoulders taller than she was, Adela responded to a twinkle in his blue eyes as she greeted him by adding for her husband's benefit, "Indeed, my lord, and I hope I should be kind to him even if he had no uncle."

"And I hope not too kind," he warned with a teasing look.

Stifling the retort that sprang unbidden to her lips, she said, "How does his wound look, Archie?"

"It's fine," Rob said, grimacing as Archie returned to smearing salve on it.

"I was asking Archie Tayt," Adela said, moving closer as Archie shot her a look of near anguish, telling her as plainly as words that he feared saying something that might anger her husband. "Never mind," she said. "I'll look for myself."

Rob said in a long-suffering way, "Sakes, Archie, you see what I've done?"

"Aye, me lord, ye've married yourself a good woman, ye have. Likely she'll make a gey fine mother for your bairns."

"True enough," Rob said. "But I don't require mothering."

"Aye, well that be …"

"Thank you, Archie," Adela said. "Stand aside now, if you will, and let me see how it progresses. I have seen it thus far only by moonlight. Stand still, sir," she added as Archie made way for her and Rob started to turn toward her.

"Well, lass," he said a moment later. "What do you think?"

"I think you were singularly fortunate for a second time, sir. You mend with commendable speed."

"'Tis nobbut the countess's potions," he said. "Many of us have had cause over the years to be grateful for her skill. Cover it up now, Archie, and I'll thank you not to be telling every man and rascal that my wife leads me by the nose."

"I'd no do that, m'lord, nae for nowt," Archie said earnestly.

Rob thanked him, adding, "Don't forget that other matter I asked you to attend for me."

"Nay, then, sir, I willna forget."

"What did you ask him to do?" Adela asked as they sat down at the table.

"To find a wee item I've a mind to give my wife as a bride gift."

"What?"

"You've become gey curious all of a sudden." He grinned at her. "Well, I'm not telling, so eat your break-fast. And don't give me that look, either. I have already decided to let you slap me after we eat, so save your ire for that."