Chapter Eight

H er temper was surprisingly effective when it came to keeping her warm.

By the time Modesty felt the chill of the stone floor beneath her bare feet, she’d placed some distance between herself and Ruben’s chamber. In fact, she was unsure of just how to return to it.

She blushed again but this time, it was with shame because storming through someone else’s home was very poor behavior, indeed. One of her stockings was hanging over her forearm while the rest of her clothing and shoes were bundled and hugged tightly against her chest. Her hair was piled on top of her head like a bird’s nest, her silver knitting wires jammed through the messy bun to keep it in place.

What a sight she must be.

Disheveled…

She truly was. There was no use denying it, even if she’d managed to get out of Ruben’s bed with her maidenhead intact.

Modesty looked for a bench or stool but there was none in sight. She’d made it to the bottom of the tower and was well on her way through a passageway. Here, there were workrooms. She looked inside the nearest one but there was nothing in the room.

Absolutely nothing.

“Every last bed and stool have been taken away to replace what the bloody English burned in their quest to sentence us to a slow, bitter death during the winter.”

It seemed that Ruben hadn’t been exaggerating. She shivered; her stomach turned by how cruel her own people had been.

She walked to the next doorway. The chamber beyond it offered her a single stool to sit on. She went toward it, eager to sit down and get her stockings on. She secured each one with a simple leather garter before she got her boots on. Simple and sturdy, the leather covered her ankles to help banish the chill clinging to the chamber.

Like all strongholds, the thick stone walls meant it took time for the change in seasons to affect the internal temperature. The room had a simple coal box built of brick near one corner but there were only cold ashes.

Her clothing had dried during the night. She’d carried the cassock out of Ruben’s chamber along with her dress. Modesty ended up putting it on because her pride wasn’t going to be much help against the chill of Scotland.

Good sturdy wool clothing was the way to combat the weather.

The cassock was large but thick. The garment settled around her, granting her some warmth.

So now what?

A sense of being displaced hit her. Every day, as far back as she could recall, she awoke with a list of things to carry out before the sun set. Now, she had no idea what to do with the sunlight filtering in through the arrow slits.

The stool wasn’t the only furniture in the room. A spinning wheel was there, along with baskets full of newly spun wool yarn. All of it was neatly bundled, ready for the spring markets.

Modesty saw where wax had dripped onto the floor of the chamber from a candle holder. Someone had most likely spent many months working the spinning wheel to produce so much yarn. She tested one of the little bundles with her fingertips. The spinner had been skilled, for the thread was smooth and even.

The tension inside of her suddenly eased. Wool yarn was something she knew well. Modesty looked for a flint stone. It was near the candle. A few strikes and the wick caught. A little bubble of golden light brightened up the room. She settled down and withdrew her knitting wires from her hair and took a moment to braid it.

It was supposed to be her wedding day.

Modesty knew she should have felt remorse for not keeping her father’s word, but the truth was, she was relieved to not be on her way to the church to meet Eleph Cressens.

Are you happy to be in Scotland?

Modesty ignored the question. It was easy to do with yarn and knitting wires in her hands for she needed to concentrate. She cast on the beginning loops of a man’s woolen cap and began to knit.

And she forbid herself to think about how much she preferred Ruben to Eleph Cressens.

*

“I’m sorry lair—” Eachan bit back the word “laird.” His cheeks darkened before he managed to recall what he’d been saying. “None of the lads have seen the English girl. She did nae leave the stronghold or someone would have noticed her.”

Ruben nodded. His father’s desk was piled high with letters. He’d honestly never seen so much paper in his entire life. These were important matters, ones he needed to start dealing with. But his sense of responsibility conflicted with his desire to find Sabine.

It would have to be enough to know she was still beneath his roof.

And not at her wedding.

Ruben didn’t shy away from admitting how much he enjoyed knowing Sabine wasn’t getting married today. He should have felt guilty but there just didn’t seem to be any room inside of him for anything except a feeling of satisfaction.

He settled down to work through some of the letters. Later tonight, he’d have the right to claim a little time for himself.

He’d find Sabine. Of that, Ruben had no doubt.

*

Modesty was avoiding thinking about how she had returned Ruben’s kiss. Counting tiny loops of thread kept her mind focused while the hours passed. Knitting had fascinated her back when the two men had sheltered with them throughout the winter, for it astounded her to see a length of thread transformed into a garment with nothing more than knitting wires.

It was all in the stitches and motion of her fingers and wrists.

The cap took shape, growing out of the little bundle of yarn into a garment while she concentrated. It was a marvel really, the way just a small amount of yarn might be fashioned into something like a cap that could be sold for so much more than the yarn.

She smiled when she finished the last row. She rolled her shoulders and pushed her knitting wires back into her bun. Modesty headed off toward the kitchen to find warm water to felt and block the finished cap. Her belly rumbled because it was late into the day now, but she was satisfied with her work.

The kitchen wasn’t hard to find. The scent of bread and roasting meat grew stronger after Modesty made a few turns. Ahead of her was a large passageway opening. Through it she could see two large worktables. Above them hung a huge lattice work frame. There were only a few bundles of long-dried herbs worked into the lattice now.

Modesty spied a wooden bowl sitting in the corner. It had a chunk missing from the side of it, but it was the perfect size. She picked it up and headed for the copper. The water in it was softly boiling. She scooped some up and then added some cold water. A quick test with her finger and she smiled at the temperature.

Modesty pushed the new cap into the water, holding it down so that the wool would absorb the water. Once the cap was soaked, she tossed the water out of the open kitchen door and started to pull the cap over the bottom of the bowl. She stretched and tugged, being careful to set the hat band and brim into the proper shape. Once it dried, the cape would be very nice.

“Did someone send ye up to work in the kitchen?”

Modesty looked up to see a woman eyeing her curiously.

“I wanted to set this cap,” Modesty replied.

The woman’s expression changed dramatically. She blinked rapidly before she pointed at Modesty. “Are ye English? Is there an English woman in the stronghold, Morven?”

Morven was near a table overseeing several platters that were being made ready to be served. She sniffed and turned to look back at Modesty. “Not if I have anything to say about it, Aisling.”

“I am sorry to have disturbed you,” Modesty said.

“Sorry?” Aisling asked incredulously. “Ye could never be sorry enough for all the suffering yer kind has caused here. What makes ye think ye can come into this kitchen? I assure ye, there is nae even a crust of bread for the likes of ye.”

Aisling propped her hands on her hips, standing between the worktable where the food was and Modesty. She had her nose winkled and a look on her face that was hostile.

The rest of the kitchen staff had stopped working. They were coming closer, their hatred clear on their faces.

“She will be taking supper beside me.”

The staff who had been intent on Modesty jumped. They turned toward one of the arched openings. Ruben stood there.

“But…an Englishwoman?”

“I brought her here, Morven,” Ruben told the first woman firmly. “She is my personal guest.”

Modesty felt her cheeks heat. Ruben sent his people a final, hard look before he turned and disappeared.

The kitchen staff immediately turned to glare at her. But Modesty was too absorbed with what Ruben had said.

His personal guest?

She wasn’t anything of the sort!

Her temper flared and she started off after Ruben, intent on making certain that he understood that she wasn’t his.

*

“Good riddance,” Aisling muttered when Modesty dashed through the doorway and out of sight. “I’ll send her packing with a good strike of the birch if she dares to show her face here again.”

Morven looked at where a long birch branch was hanging near the door. More than one of the staff members had felt its bite across their backs when Aisling was displeased with them.

“But…the laird said she was his personal guest,” a young girl dared to voice her thoughts.

Aisling snorted. “Mind yer thoughts, Norrie. I will not have English anything in my kitchen and that is final. Ruben is nae the laird. If he wants an English pet, he can keep her in the barn.”

“Ruben shoulders the burden of being laird,” Morven argued. “We all know who made sure no one starved last winter.”

“As to that bit, aye,” Aisling relented. “Back to yer duties…all of ye.”

The staff was quick to obey. Morven swept the kitchen to make sure no one was watching before she picked up the bowl and carried it out of the kitchen. No one witnessed the smile on her face.

*

Ruben moved swiftly. He had a long stride. She had to stop and listen in the passageway to decide which direction he had gone. Her heart was racing and her breath coming quickly but she heard a soft footfall. She raced down a length of corridor and just caught the edge of his kilt when he went around a corner.

“Ruben.”

She doubted he’d hear her. So, she picked her feet up faster, running down the last few steps to that corner and going around it.

She ran straight into him.

Ruben had turned around in response to her call. Modesty collided with him.

“Christ, woman,” Ruben declared.

His arms closed around her in surprise, but it was Modesty who discovered herself completely stunned.

She hadn’t intended to end up in his embrace!

But now that she was, her mind simply went blank. Everything she’d intended to say evaporated, leaving her head swimming with conflicting feelings. It happened instantly too, like a bolt of lightning crackling across the sky.

Only the storm was brewing inside of her.

At some point during the day, she’d convinced herself that her reaction to Ruben that morning was because she’d been asleep. Dreams always were strange and distorted.

But now she was very much awake.

She flattened her hands on his chest. Intent on pushing away from him, instead her fingertips registered how hard his chest was. Her rapid breathing drew his scent into her senses again, intoxicating her just as quickly as it had before.

She seemed to transform in the blink of an eye the moment she came into contact with him.

Ruben blew out a hard breath. His eyes narrowed and she felt his arms tighten around her. A jolt of awareness shot through her in response. His strength delighted her in the deepest part of her belly.

She wanted his kiss.

It was more than a longing. Modesty raised her face because the desire was a need that was growing rapidly in strength inside of her.

Ruben met her halfway. He tilted his head to the side, so their mouths fit together while he cradled the back of her skull and held it firmly.

This kiss was hotter than the one they’d shared that morning. Wide awake, Modesty didn’t miss even a tiny second of the way they reacted to one another.

Somehow, she’d never known that her body was fashioned to fit against a man so very perfectly.

No, to fit against Ruben…

Her mind instantly corrected her. Ruben released her from all the boundaries she normally never even thought about crossing. With him, she wanted to race across those lines and plunge headfirst into what had always been forbidden.

She lifted up onto her toes to press her mouth firmly against his while moving her lips. He encouraged her with a hand on the center of her back and kept her head precisely where he wanted it.

She smoothed her hands over his chest, delighting in the way pleasure shot through her. She’d never felt so good, so very delighted in her entire life. Every point of contact between them unleashed more enjoyment as if they had somehow climbed inside of a bubble and were floating through the night sky with nothing else to do except see how much more heat they might create together.

A bell started ringing nearby. It was loud and jarring.

Ruben broke off, his face nuzzled against her neck for a moment while he let out a gruff word of profanity.

Modesty was suddenly alone as Ruben broke their embrace. She leaned back on the stone wall, shivering as the chill tore into her now that Ruben wasn’t pressed against her any longer to keep her warm. She curled her hands into talons, her fingernails trying to sink into the stone supporting her to keep from launching herself back into his embrace.

But that bell was ringing, and she heard doors opening. She could hear muffled voices from those answering the call of the supper bell.

Ruben had his hands gripping his wide belt. His jaw was tight but there was a light step behind them and then a girl was at the bottom of a staircase.

“Ruben,” she called out happily. “I am so glad you are still here.”

The girl came up beside Ruben while Modesty discovered herself eternally grateful for how few candles there were burning in the passageway. The girl looked at her, curiosity on her face.

“Sabine, this is my sister Allision,” Ruben introduced the girl.

“My name is Modesty.”

Allision winkled her nose. “I think Sabine is much better than Modesty.”

Ruben’s sister was delightfully carefree. It would seem that Ruben had shielded his sister from the hardship being suffered around her.

“Go on to the hall, Allision. We shall join ye shortly.”

Allision sent Modesty a bright smile before she turned and did as she was told. Ruben was the master of the stronghold, that much was clear. The need to rebel that had sent her running after him flared back up.

“I will keep the name my father gave me,” Modesty declared firmly.

Ruben raised one eyebrow. “Sabine is a far more suitable name for the lass who just returned my kiss for the second time today. Ye are not modest, and I like it well.”

He liked it?

Her cheeks were definitely on fire now. Modesty discovered herself looking away because the truth of his words was just too much for her to face.

Ruben cupped the side of her face with his hand, turning her face back toward him. Their gazes fused. Something felt as if it snapped inside her. Obedience was something she was accustomed to tolerating but now, it felt impossible to endure.

“My name is Modesty.” She shook off his hand and sent him a look designed to make it clear that she was going to stand her ground.

Ruben flattened his hand on the wall behind her. In a flash, he was too close to her again. Her heart started thumping hard inside of her chest.

“I will only call ye Sabine,” Ruben muttered softly before he pressed a hard kiss against her mouth.

This kiss was demanding. He pressed her lips beneath his own, parting them and leaving her breathless before he lifted his head away.

Modesty shook her head. The need to deny him overshadowed any concept of being congenial.

“I need to leave here,” she insisted.

Something flashed in his eyes. “I’ll keep my promise to ye, Sabine. I swear it. Leave and I will follow ye.”

“Why?” she demanded to know. “We barely know one another and…this draw between us is too intense.”

Her voice lowered because it felt as if she was confessing and in truth, she was.

Ruben acknowledged it, pushing off the wall to stand straight. “It is intense. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“So it is best if I leave,” Modesty forced the words out.

Ruben shook his head. “Ye saved my life. I will not allow ye to suffer for it Sabine. Honor would never permit me to leave ye back in England where I do nae trust the soldiers to not come looking for ye.”

Honor.

She’d noticed before that he was a man of honor. Many men claimed to be devoted to honor but the truth was, they would abandon it when it became too taxing.

Ruben meant what he said. She saw the certainty in his eyes.

She shook her head.

A different light flickered in his eyes. A second later, Ruben scooped her up.

“Ruben,” she gasped.

He didn’t pay any attention to her sputtering. Ruben carried her down the passageway. Modesty heard conversation beyond the arched opening he was heading for.

“If you put me down, I will follow you,” she blurted out.

Ruben stopped. “I will introduce ye as Sabine and ye will not argue further.”

She wanted to resist. Ruben didn’t miss it. He started forward again, intent on bending her to his will.

“I agree.” She forced the words across her lips.

He lowered her to her feet. “Follow me, Sabine.”

Three words had never vexed her so greatly before in her life. It was as if her temper was the tide, rushing in to fill her with a fiery need to sputter and argue. But the scent of food filled her senses, drawing a long growling sound from her belly.

Ruben grinned at her. “Come, lass, we’ll resume the battle after a meal.”

He wasn’t going to leave the matter to chance. Ruben reached down and captured her wrist. A firm, yet unbreakable hold. He pulled her behind him into the hall and the way the Lindseys went silent made her happy to be at his back.