Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

B ernard looked at her for a moment, torn between horror, amusement, and pity. He had seen how the brothers behaved and could not blame Janice for her feelings of dislike and embarrassment, but hate? His face must have displayed his emotions, for Janice groaned and looked away from him.

"Have I shocked you?" she asked.

"Yes," Bernard replied truthfully. "Hate is a strong emotion, but I understand what you mean." Then he smiled and changed the subject. "How is your hand?"

"Fine," she replied, flexing it. "Your massage must have helped. It does not hurt me anymore."

"Do you think you could do someone any damage with that hand?" he asked. A smile was twitching his lips.

She frowned. "I don't understand. What do you mean?" She was genuinely puzzled. "Do you mean could I hit someone?"

Bernard stood up, grinning at her. "Would you like to know how to defend yourself against a man?" he asked.

"Yes, but which weapon would I use?" Janice was intrigued, especially when Bernard held up both his fists, which resembled clubs.

"The ones at the ends of your arms," he answered, watching her face as it changed to a mask of astonishment.

She gasped. "But look at the size of your hands compared to mine. I would never stand a chance." She clenched her hands and held them up, comparing them to his. It was like holding up grapes next to apples.

He stood up and reached over to pull her up. "Not many men are as big as I am," he admitted. "But then, not many men expect a woman to be able to defend herself. It is not only brute force that matters. Surprise is a great weapon. Let me show you."

At first, Janice was very reluctant, but then the experience became fascinating. Janice had never realized that throwing a good punch with a lot of power behind it involved the use of her whole body, from her feet to her shoulders, elbows, and hands. Bernard did not hit her but allowed her to hit him, but she had the feeling that she had struck a good blow with only every tenth hit or thereabouts.

When they sat down again, she was laughing, flustered and happy, until Bernard said, "Will your guests not be missing you?"

Her guests! Janice had been having such a good time she had forgotten about them! Yet why did she not feel guilty? She knew why. No one in the great hall cared a jot whether she was there or not. She might as well have been invisible for all the notice that most of them had taken of her. She felt her anger surge back again.

"I doubt my guests have even noticed that I am gone," she told him, as calmly as she could even as she was swallowing down the bitterness inside her. "They will all be drunk by now."

She noticed that Bernard looked much more comfortable now. In fact, his eyelids were beginning to look distinctly droopy.

"You must go to bed, Bernard," she ordered, standing up.

He smiled at her. "Indeed. William will be here soon. He hates big gatherings, and he always leaves as early as he can. Thank you for looking after me."

"It was the least I could do, considering the damage I did!" she retorted. "Thank you for the boxing lesson. It is a pity you are leaving so soon or you could have taught me more. Goodnight."

She smiled and walked out, leaving Bernard alone, tired, and frustrated, wishing she could have tumbled into bed with him, even if it was only so that he could wrap his arms around her. It had been a long time since there had been a warm woman in his bed.

At that moment William entered. He frowned as he saw his friend looking a little the worse for wear.

"What happened to you?" he asked. "And why did I see the mistress of the estate slipping out of your room like a thief in the night? Is there anything going on that I should know about?" His tone was deeply suspicious.

Bernard chuckled. "My friend, if you think I am going to have secret assignations with the mistress of the house, do you think I would do it in the room I share with you?"

William smiled wearily. "Good point. Well, that is another ceilidh endured," he sighed wearily. "How many are left? Five? Six? A dozen?"

"You are exaggerating," Bernard remarked. "Three, and I am sure you will manage to pull through all of them unscathed."

"Why was the mistress of the castle in our bedroom?" William persisted.

Bernard yawned. "It is a long story," he answered, then fell into bed and was instantly asleep.

William pulled his friend's mud-encrusted boots from his feet, shaking his head ruefully. He would not be happy until he had prised the whole story out of him.

The next morning marked the first event in which the Stewart brothers would compete against each other. It was an archery contest. Neither of them had even lifted a bow until Laird Stewart had announced the contest, so there was a frantic scramble to organize lessons at the last moment. Then the twins had declared that they wanted to have their weapons custom-made just for them. Accordingly, a procession of bowyers and fletchers arrived at Howdenbrae Castle to show off their wares a few weeks before the contest.

One fletcher and one bowyer were selected to make the weapons, a task which took them weeks because of the brothers' over-fastidious requirements. When it came to choosing horses for their races, Janice left it to the head groom, who declared that he was on the verge of killing himself before they made a choice. Janice gave him a bottle of her best whisky for his trouble.

After that, Laird Stewart, who was beginning to regret the whole enterprise, gave them each a sword for the fencing contest and told them to take them or leave them. He canceled the foot race but, due to popular demand, kept the bare-knuckled fistfighting. Bernard was in charge of helping them with their training, but the laird had given him strict instructions not to let them bruise their faces while practicing.

"For God's sake, lad," he said wearily to Bernard, "try to spare their pretty faces. I am too old and too sick to listen to all the wailing!"

"I will do my best, M'Laird, but boxing is not a gentle sport," Bernard answered. "I cannot guarantee anything."

The laird muttered a few choice words that made him grin. "Those two would make a saint swear," he said gruffly before he patted Bernard's shoulder and walked away. "You have my permission to swear at them as often as you like. In fact, the more the better!"

Meanwhile, Janice, who had shouldered the burden of organizing staff, who had procured all the food and drink and attended to the ordinary business of running the estate while doing all that, was feeling very unappreciated.

Over breakfast, she flitted from table to table in the great hall, meeting, greeting, and chatting with many of her guests. She was a little better received than she had been the previous evening. Everyone seemed more inclined to take notice of her and be civil to her, at least, although she had a feeling that she was being discussed behind her back. How she hated these affairs!

Nevertheless, she had the impression that despite her efforts, she was regarded as a mere ornament, someone for the young men to flirt with and the young ladies to gossip about. The only people she could remember being civil to her were William Ballantine and Lady Davina Galbraith, but Alasdair was monopolizing her.

She looked over the huge room to see if she could spot William, but she knew from what Bernard had said that he was likely enjoying his breakfast in his chamber.

Then, of course, there was Bernard Taggart, but he was not among the elite who were eating breakfast in the dining room, yet he ranked above the staff below stairs, although he liked their company better. He was somewhere in the middle, in a class of his own. She smiled as she thought of that. He was like no one she had ever met before.

Suddenly she saw him passing along the atrium to the courtyard with William, no doubt going to see the archery contest between the two brothers. Neither of them looked too enchanted at the thought, and she saw that they had identical hunted expressions on their faces as though they were thinking: How can I escape?

She smiled mischievously at the thought, and at that moment Bernard happened to glance her way, and thinking that the smile was for him, he returned it. William followed his gaze, looked surprised, then tugged Bernard toward her and went to speak to her.

"Mistress Stewart," he said warmly, "a fine ceilidh last night, but you disappeared halfway through the evening." He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "My father and I looked for you."

Janice laughed nervously. "I apologize. There was an emergency in the kitchen. I sorted it out, but I acquired a huge grease stain all over my new gown. I am not sure it will ever wash out. I hope everything was to your satisfaction, though?" She raised her eyebrows in a question.

"Of course it was, Mistress Stewart," he assured her. "And now we are going to see which one of your brothers is the better shot. Are you coming to watch? If you are, please come and sit with my father and me."

William was eager to be in her company since this was a good opportunity to talk to her and find out how her mind worked. He prided himself on being an intelligent man, but as he looked at Janice, he knew that hers was a mind at least equal to, if not better than, his own.

The tale of the kitchen accident was complete fiction. He knew this because Bernard had told him the true story, but she had sounded utterly convincing. There had been no hesitation or evasiveness in her answer, so unless she had rehearsed it, she had made it up on the spur of the moment.

Damn. More time wasted, he thought.

"I am afraid I cannot come with you today," Janice said regretfully. "I have business in the village to see to. Enjoy it, though, but stay well clear of the target. I have a feeling that my brothers will not hit the target too often."

She turned away, but she could feel Bernard's eyes on her back until she was out of sight, then she saddled up her mare and rode into the village. The ride there would give her time to think, and she had a lot to think about.

As a woman, and especially as one who had two older brothers, she had no legal power at all. The law did not recognize a woman's rights. In fact, for all intents and purposes, she had none. The only way she could gain power was to marry it, but that would mean being under the thumb of a man unless she could make a gentle, biddable man fall in love with her. If she were fortunate enough to meet such a man, she would be able to control him to a certain extent without his knowledge and even make him enjoy it. There were some men who were very happy with an arrangement like that.

Her thoughts turned back to Bernard. She could not stop thinking about him, and she realized that she did not even want to. Would he be suitable for a union such as the one she envisioned?

She imagined their wedding day. She would be wearing pink because it was her favorite color. She would invite only a few guests and only people she liked. She would have her father, mother-in-law, William, and a few of her favorite staff there, but not her brothers. She doubted that they would be particularly hurt anyway. When the vows had been taken and the wedding was done, she imagined Bernard sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her into the bedroom. He would lay her on the bed and kiss her, and…what then?

Janice only had the vaguest idea of what happened after that. She did not have a single female friend whom she could ask, and she was too embarrassed to ask her maid, Kitty. However, that was a minor problem. She was resourceful by nature and could find out. Her biggest difficulty would be in persuading her would-be husband to see things her way and act on them. Given what she knew of him, could she make Bernard do that? She thought she could. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more appealing the idea became, and she had heard that men were simple creatures mainly motivated by lust. She thought she could control him if she used her feminine wiles cleverly enough.

Little did he know it, but Bernard Taggart had just become a marked man.