Chapter 15

Hugo had not had any intention of kissing her until she grinned at him, impishly showing her dimple. Even then he had hesitated, calling himself several kinds of fool, but he had wanted to see her face again, to see if the dimple still showed. He wanted to see, too, if moonlight would ignite silvery fire in her eyes.

So he'd asked her to look at him, never realizing what a mistake it would be.

She did look, warily, almost shyly, her moist lips parted as if in expectation of kissing, and his body if not his good sense leaped in response. His hands gripped her shoulders, pulling her close, and his head lowered so his lips could claim hers.

He could not say he'd made the decision to kiss her. He did not stop to think or consider consequences. He simply did as instinct compelled him to do.

To his delight, she responded in kind, her full, tender lips softening under his, her body meeting his as naturally as if they had made a long practice of such behavior. He moved a hand to cradle the back of her head and felt the silky soft veil she wore over her beautiful amber-golden hair. Pulling the veil off, he let it float to the river below. The gold netting followed, and as soft curls entwined his fingers, her lips moved under his. He savored their slightly salty taste.

As he moved his free hand to the center of her back and delighted in the taut suppleness of her slim body, his imagination stirred pictures that he knew would shock her if she could see them. Lust stirred again, and feeling her body tense, he knew she had felt its stirring.

She did not pull away, and with a low groan, he slid his tongue gently across her lower lip, then to the opening of her mouth. Her lips parted, but when his tongue slid inside to explore its velvet softness, she tensed again, and when he stroked her and pulled her tighter against him, she moved her hands to his chest and pushed.

"What are you doing?" she asked huskily as she shot a glance northward, evidently remembering that Jeb stood guard round the corner.

"You know what I'm doing," Hugo murmured. "You were doing it, too."

"I was not!"

He raised his eyebrows and felt his lips twitch.

She grimaced. "Aye, well, for a moment, perhaps I was. But I certainly did not instigate it, and 'twas gey wicked of you to."

"Why?"

"You know perfectly well why," she said. "Sakes, but I am here under your aunt's protection if not your own, and you are promised to Adela. Well, mayhap not promised exactly," she amended swiftly. "But—"

"I have no obligation to her now that she has gone willingly with Waldron," he interjected. "I won't say I'm sorry, either, because much as I have struggled against the inclination, I am growing daily more attracted to her younger sister."

Her mouth dropped open before she said indignantly, "Hugo, you are daft, and I'd be daft to believe you. Well, I do believe the struggling part," she said. "Nevertheless, you are still Adela's only hope to recover her reputation, and you know it. What's more, you don't know that she went willingly rather than to save Isobel and the child. Indeed, we do not even know where she is."

"Waldron is at Edgelaw, and we know that she is with him."

"We do not," she retorted, "because if he even suspects that you or I think she went with him willingly, he is likely to decide he has no further use for her. Indeed, he may already have abandoned her or given her to his men, or… or he may even have…" She clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the words before she could finish the thought, and he saw tears sparkle in her eyes.

He reached for her to draw her back into the comfort of his arms, but she pulled away, saying, "I'm going to bed, sir. Goodnight."

As she turned to go, he caught her arm. "One moment, lass," he said. "I have something else I want to say to you."

"You have said enough for one night," she snapped, jerking her arm free.

"Wait," he said as she strode to the stairway door. "I want to apologize. I was a fool to stir your anger, especially when you are so tired. Also, you are right. I should not have taken advantage of my position here, or of yours."

She had stopped moving at the word "apologize," but she did not turn.

Gently he added, "I do know that Waldron did not abandon Adela or harm her. They are both at Edgelaw now, and she was certainly alive when they got there."

Sorcha turned, brushing a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand as she eyed him narrowly. He had never given her reason to doubt his word, but when the topic shifted to Adela's safety, unexpected emotion had jarred her into realizing how worried she was about her.

She knew she was not thinking straight. The last thing she had expected was for him to kiss her, right up to the half second before he did. And even when she had seen that he meant to do it, she had felt no urge to stop him.

That thought floated in her mind for a moment before honesty intervened. She might pretend to him that his kiss outraged her. She might even persuade him. But she could not expect to persuade herself—not when just the thought of his marrying Adela made her want to sink down to the stones of the walkway and squall like her new nephew had squalled at his first glimpse of the noisy, battle-filled world he'd popped into.

But she could not curl up and cry. She had to maintain her dignity and her resolution. Adela loved Hugo. How could she not, when anyone would? And, too, sacrifice was noble. Everyone said so.

Everyone was mad.

Sacrifice was horrid when you were the one who had to do the sacrificing.

Hugo was still watching her, waiting for her to speak, and she knew he had seen the tear and could easily guess how close she was to a collapse of one sort or another—simple exhaustion if nothing else. She had slept some in the tent with Isobel the previous night, but not nearly enough.

Drawing a deep breath, she let it out, then asked the questions that she knew she ought to have asked straightaway. "How can you know that Adela is at Edgelaw? For that matter, how did you learn that Waldron is there?"

"Einar followed them."

"But how could he? Was he not one of the men who crept up on Waldron's encampment with you? Did you not tell the countess and Sir Edward that all of you left your horses behind?"

"He took one of the enemy horses," he said. "If Waldron left men to guard them, either Einar dealt with them first or they had already died or joined the fight. I did not ask him which it was. He is one of the best men I have for such tasks, so they'll not have seen him, but he followed the two of them closely enough to see them ride through the gateway into Edgelaw's forecourt."

"But—"

"Moreover," he went on firmly, "I can assure you that if Waldron did not abandon or kill your sister straightaway so that she could not hinder his escape, he will not do so at Edgelaw whilst he still has any use for her."

"Thank you, that does make sense," Sorcha said, gathering her dignity tightly around her. "I will sleep better, knowing she is safe. Now, goodnight, sir."

"Not yet," he said, stepping closer to the door to stop her. "I have more to say, and because I have told you where they are, you will listen to me."

She sighed. "Very well, but I warn you, if you do not say it quickly, I am likely to fall asleep just standing here."

"I would suggest that you pay close attention," he said. "I have told you where your sister is because I agreed to tell you as much as I could about that. And I have told you how I know because you asked me. Now I will tell you one more thing. You are not to try to find your way to Edgelaw to visit her, to try to rescue her, or for any other purpose that might occur to you. Do you understand me?"

"Aye, but if you think I'll abandon Adela to that horrible man, you are much mistaken. She is not there willingly, and we are her only hope for rescue. To abandon her now would be a betrayal of the highest order. I won't do it."

He caught her by the shoulders again before she realized his intent, and gave her a shake, saying, "You will obey me this time, lass. I say that as your protector, guardian, or whatever you have made me with your persistence in following Waldron and your sister. If you will not promise, I'll see that you have no choice but to obey. Now do you understand?"

"How would you do that?" she asked, curious to know how far he would go.

His grip tightened until she feared she would wear bracelets of bruises on each arm. But although she continued to gaze steadily at him, he seemed to realize he must be hurting her, because with a growl of exasperation, he released her before he snapped, "Don't be a fool. Who do you think commands Roslin's guards? Do you really want me to issue orders that would make you a virtual prisoner here?"

Heat surged into her cheeks at the thought. Then she wondered if, even without such orders, any guard at Roslin would let a lone female leave the castle, particularly one he knew had never been there before. She decided she would be wiser not to test Hugo's irritation further by asking him.

Instead, she said with careful dignity, "I am not such a fool as to go riding over strange countryside by myself."

She could not be sure what the sound was that came from him then, but it sounded somewhere between laughter and a snort of derision. He glanced upward as if seeking guidance—or patience—before he said, "Nay, Skelpie, you walk there instead. The last time you did so, you walked straight into Waldron's arms."

Much as she would have liked to explain that had resulted from unique circumstances, ones that she had believed, and still believed, to be quite desperate, she did not want to stir the coals of that particular venture again either. Retaining her dignity with considerable effort, she said, "I meant only that I will engage not to ride away from Roslin without an escort, sir. But since it pleases you to throw that other incident in my face, I will likewise engage not to walk away from here alone."

"That won't serve," he said. "I want your solemn promise that you will make no attempt whatsoever, without first gaining my permission, to visit your sister at Edgelaw or anywhere else whilst you are here at Roslin. You are not going to leave this walkway until I have that promise."

"What if my father comes here? He is likely to do so, you know."

She was not at all certain Macleod would come, as he seemed to have washed his hands of both Adela and her. But she doubted that Hugo would think of that.

Nor did he, for he smiled sardonically and said, "If you can persuade your father to let you ride to Edgelaw or to take you there himself, I'll be astonished. But if you think he would do either of those things without consulting me first, you are not thinking at all, my lass."

She sighed, knowing he was right and knowing, too, as she had from the start, that she had no choice but to obey him. "I'll give you my promise," she said. "But I also promise that I'll give you no rest until you make Adela safe again. You say you care for me, Hugo. If you do, you will not abandon her."

With that, she thrust him aside, opened the door, and did not look back.

After she had gone, Hugo turned back to gaze down at the river and the deeply shadowed woods to the west, wondering if she would keep her word. He knew he had not handled the discussion well, that he had angered her. But after he had told her where Adela was, he had feared with all his being that she might slip away again to find her. And heaven only knew what might come of that.

He dared not take such a risk, but neither had he wanted to infuriate her, and he certainly would do that if he gave orders to his men to keep her inside the castle walls. As for whether he cared for her…

He smiled, wondering what demon had possessed him to fall in love with her. She bore not the least resemblance to the eventual wife of his imagination. That woman was perfectly familiar to him. She would be a calm, honest, competent female of pleasing looks and figure, who would manage his household and bear him numerous sons and a few well-behaved daughters without any fuss or distress.

In return, he would exert himself to be an excellent husband and father, and they would all enjoy an affection that placed no strain on the emotions and thus would likewise share a happy home, free of fractious strife. If he'd expected to wait a few more years before acquiring that paragon, it was only because, for a long while, more important matters had filled his time and demanded his attention.

Lady Adela had certainly seemed to be such a woman if one could dismiss the holy-water incident. That, admittedly, had cast a damper on his intentions in more ways than one. But he had realized at the time that Adela was under great tension and had been willing to forgive the incident if no others of its nature occurred.

Remembering that image of the perfect wife now caused him to shake his head at himself and send up a prayer of thanksgiving that Sorcha would never know about it. He realized, thinking about Sorcha, that his perfect family might have turned out to be a trifle boring. Certainly that perfect wife seemed boring the instant he compared her to the temperamental skelpie he had fallen for instead.

Trying to imagine Sorcha giving him well-behaved daughters made him grin. It was far more likely that she would give him a dozen just like herself. That is, she would if he could first figure out what the devil to do about Adela.

"Beg pardon, Sir Hugo. It were so quiet here, I thought ye'd gone."

Hugo straightened and smiled ruefully. "Sorry, Jeb, I should have called you. I got lost in my own thoughts, but I'm leaving now. Goodnight to you."

As he shut the door behind him and went down the stairs, he grimaced at what lay ahead. Doubtless his father was either sitting with the countess in her new solar or they both still lingered with their claret at the high table. One thing was certain, though. Having said he wanted to talk more with his son, Sir Edward would not go to bed until he had.

Sorcha's mood had not improved by the time she reached her bedchamber, and she nearly slammed the door behind her before realizing she was not alone. The room had been dark when she'd left it after fetching her cloak. Now, candles glowed, and the sleepy-looking chambermaid who had assisted Sidony stood up rather too quickly to bob an awkward curtsy.

"The housekeeper said Countess Isabella wanted me to wait up for ye, me lady," she said with a wary look. "But if ye dinna want me…"

Sorcha's ready sense of humor stirred. The whole place provided pitfalls at every turn, and Hugo was one of them. Trust him to inflame her temper to such a pitch that she could terrify innocent maidservants!

Sternly taking herself in hand, she said, "What is your name?"

"I be Kenna, me lady, Kenna Elliot."

"Are you kin to the guardsman Jeb Elliot?"

"Aye, he's me brother," Kenna said, looking surprised. "Tam's another."

"Sir Hugo was kind enough to show me the view from the ramparts, and we met Jeb up there," she said. "He mentioned Tam, too. I did not know you'd be waiting," she added. "But I am glad you are. Would it be possible for me to order a bath? I have been traveling for nigh onto a sennight, you see, and although I washed the worst off before supper…"

She stopped, because Kenna was already nodding.

"Aye, sure, ye can ha' what ye like," she said. "I'll just run and tell them to fetch a tub and hot water up here, and I'll ask the countess's Martha if ye can use some o' her mistress's scented soap. Will ye be wanting to wash your hair, too?"

Sorcha frowned. "I'd like that, but it takes hours to dry."

Kenna's smile crinkled up her hazel eyes until they almost disappeared. "As short as it be, it willna take so long, me lady," she said. "But there be nae fire in this room. Ye'd ha' to go down to the hall fire or to the kitchen one to dry it proper. Or I could ha' them fill a tub right in the kitchen if ye like. There'll be nae one save the baker's wife there and mayhap a lad to tend the fire. She kneads her dough for the manchets, and leaves it to rise after they bank the fire for the night. We've a screen and all, if ye dinna mind. Or we can wait till tomorrow," she added cheerfully.

Since Sorcha and her sisters all bathed in the kitchen at Chalamine, she did not mind in the least doing so at Roslin and said so.

"Then I'll see to it straightaway, me lady. I've set out a robe and one o' Lady Isobel's clean shifts for ye. Will ye come wi' me now, or shall I return to fetch ye?"

"Now," Sorcha decided, and the two went together down to the kitchen level.

The fireplace there lay in the east wall, doubtless directly below one of the two hall fires, and in less time than she had thought possible, Sorcha was stepping naked into her bath. The screen Kenna had produced was solid enough both to provide privacy and to prevent much of the fire's heat from escaping. The baker's plump wife had banished the lad tending the fire, and the rhythmic thumping of her dough on a table at the far side of the chamber provided a soothing background.

As Sorcha slid down in the hot water and let Kenna wash her hair, she began to relax, but her sleepy thoughts still resisted order. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on helping Adela, she could think only of Hugo's kisses and what he had said to her. Angry as she had been when she left him, she had harbored a small hope that he would follow her, if only to say something to indicate that he really meant to do all he could to protect both Adela and Adela's good name.

"He doesn't want to, though," she muttered. "So I hope his father flays him."

"What's that ye say, me lady?"

"Nothing, Kenna, nothing at all."

Hugo had entered the upper hall to find Sir Edward sitting alone before the fire, wine goblet in hand, evidently in rapt contemplation of the leaping flames.

Although the trestles in the lower hall were gone, the privacy screen stood as it had earlier, because a number of the men had lingered and many would sleep there. Two of them, Hugo noted, were casting dice near the lower hall fire. Others had begun laying out pallets for the night.

Sir Edward turned his head at the hollow sound of Hugo's footsteps on the dais. "I was beginning to think you had got lost," he said.

"No, sir," Hugo said. "I had something important to say to Lady Sorcha."

"I warrant she's been a handful," Sir Edward said. "This problem with Waldron has developed into quite a tangle, has it not?"

"Aye," Hugo agreed.

"And not entirely by fault of the lady Sorcha."

"No, sir."

Two more guardsmen strode into the lower hall on a burst of laughter. When one offered to share the jest with the others, they roundly cheered him.

Sir Edward stood up and set his goblet on the high table. "I trust you can provide a place with greater privacy to continue our talk."

Hugo nodded and led the way to his own chamber. Since it was above the hall and boasted a small hearth, a fire already burned there, and the manservant who looked after his things at Roslin sat on a low stool before it, brushing a dark-blue velvet doublet. The room was small but comfortable, with a high curtained bed, a pair of back-stools by a small table nearby, and a washstand in one corner.

The manservant got up, bowed to Sir Edward, then said to Hugo, "I'll just take this gear away wi' me, sir. Will ye be wanting anything more?"

Hugo glanced at his father, who shook his head. "Not tonight," he said. "But wake me at dawn."

When the man had gone, Hugo drew both back-stools nearer the fire and said, "Take a seat, sir. I don't doubt you have much to say to me."

Sir Edward arranged the back-stool to his liking and sat down. Stretching his long legs to the fire, he said, "I did have much I wanted to say before you went upstairs. But it occurred to me, as I sat staring at the fire, that you have been your own master for a long while now, lad. I believe I can trust you to manage your affairs without bringing dishonor to our name. And you'll likely do a better job of it without my sticking an oar into such murky waters as these have become."

"Thank you for your faith in me, sir," Hugo said as he turned his own stool with its back to his father and straddled it. "In truth, though, I had almost looked forward to your reproaches, hoping you would tell me what to do next."

"Sakes, lad, you know without my saying it that you bear some responsibility for what happened to Lady Adela, and for the ladies Sorcha and Sidony, too. I shall be interested to learn, after you settle it all, just how you managed to do it."

"I'd rather like to know how I'll do it, too," Hugo said, folding his arms across the top of the stool's back. "At risk of displeasing you more, I must confess that I've taken a strong interest in Sorcha. Unfortunately, she is determined to make me save Adela from Waldron and then restore Adela's reputation by marrying her."

"So you've fallen for the lass, have you," his father said. "Isabella told me you had, but I did not believe it. Do you not recall once describing for me, in considerable detail, just what sort of wife you meant to have?"

That his shrewd aunt had seen through him was no great surprise, but Hugo had hoped no one would remember his perfect wife. "I was thinking about that earlier," he admitted. "Do you know, now that Sorcha has brought me face-to-face with my own arrogance, I am appalled at how colossal it was."

"Then she has taught you much, my son, and my confidence increases that you will do whatever is both right and honorable. But now, tell me what remains to do in preparation for the council? Do you require aught of me?"

Instead of answering immediately, Hugo moved to the door and opened it, peering out at the small landing and the spiral stairway up which they had come. The chamber on the opposite side of the landing was empty and securely locked.

Shutting his door again, he said, "This room affords me considerable privacy, but I try never to take it for granted."

" 'Tis wise to be certain. But now, the council."

"Doubtless Michael will arrive tomorrow evening," Hugo said. "Then, on Tuesday, as you know, everyone will attend the court in Edinburgh to show support for MacDonald of the Isles when he pledges his fealty to the King."

"It can surprise no one that young Donald means to ally himself with his grandfather," Sir Edward said. "But when he does, there will be a smile or two from those who recall how stubbornly his father resisted doing the same."

"He did it, though," Hugo said. "Moreover, Donald means to continue his father's habit of refusing to wear a hat in the King's presence."

"So that he need never take it off," Sir Edward said with a chuckle. "Does Ranald expect any trouble at court?"

"Nay, but he wants to make a good show of strength nonetheless, so no one will believe the Isles are still unsettled over Donald's ascension to the Lordship instead of his own. 'Tis why Ranald wants so many of us to attend."

"It also affords us cover," Sir Edward said. "How many do you expect?"

Hugo knew he no longer spoke of the royal court. "I don't know exactly," he admitted. "So much secrecy has attended the Order, and for so many years now, that we know of only small groups here and there. The list of names we found in the chest with Henry's much-beloved maps gave us a turn, as you know, but…"

"… but that list is at least seventy-three years old," Sir Edward said, finishing his sentence. "So we must take great care."

"We made contact only with members known to other members," Hugo said. "Even so, we've relied heavily on secret signs and symbols, and only commanders will attend this council. None of them will learn its exact location."

"I'd expected that by now you'd know just how many will come."

"I might have, had Henry not decided to spend a month in Stirling with the court and travel from there to Edinburgh with the King. Or if I had not been in the Isles, busy with preparations for Donald's installation. I know only of six men, mayhap seven from the west, but I wager Henry will know of more. We could not risk exchanging that information through ordinary messengers."

"But how is it you do not at least know the exact number from the Isles?"

"Because Michael intended to look into one or two more possibilities."

"Such as?"

" 'Tis possible that Macleod of Glenelg may be one of us," Hugo said quietly.

"Indeed?"

"Aye, sir. Michael was going to do what he could to look into it before they both joined his grace's flotilla or try to create an opportunity to do so on the way."

"What stirred this intention?"

"It seems Macleod is a notoriously superstitious gentleman," Hugo said. "So superstitious, in fact, that he refused to allow Adela to marry on Friday last, although her intended bridegroom originally chose that date."

"I see. If I am not mistaken, that Friday fell on the thirteenth."

"It did."

"Aye, well, be sure that you and Michael keep me apprised of any progress there, and anything else that may affect the council. But now, tell me about Donald's installation. Is Ranald satisfied that all will be well?"

Perfectly willing to accept the change of subject, Hugo complied. But as he prepared for bed two hours later, he could not help wishing his father had proven more helpful in the matter chiefly occupying his own thoughts.

He had enjoyed their conversation far more than he had anticipated, and was encouraged that Sir Edward had revealed no disapproval at learning of his interest in Sorcha. But Hugo knew he would happily have endured the severest reprimand if it had produced some of Sir Edward's generally excellent advice.