Arsenic and Old Armor (16 page)

“
Usually only for a day or
two,” Judith added. “But when the villagers come to the tower to
help, we do like to send them off with pastries and
sweets.”

Sir George looked at them. They were truly
all alone here. “And that’s all?”

Margaret nodded. “That’s all.”

“
That’s all,” Judith
repeated.

“
No one else?” he pressed.
“Not even an occasional rider or two who have lost their
way?”

“
No one, Sir
George.”

Harington exchanged a look with his
attendant. He had his answer. These ladies had not seen the missing
Hastings and Eden.

“
I suppose I should be
going before I finish
all
of these delicacies you have worked so hard to
prepare.” He put the plate and cup on the table and stood
up.

“
We do this every day.”
Judith stood, as well.

“
Do please come back to
visit,” Margaret encouraged.

“
Anytime at all, Sir
George. It was lovely meeting you.”

Harington smiled, very pleased with his
hostesses' warmth. “If you don’t mind, ladies, I might just do
that. I don’t know when. But perhaps I might ride over one
day…before the wedding festivities begin.”

The two sisters exchanged another look, and
they were both beaming when they turned to him.

“
We’d be delighted,” the
two replied together cheerily.

“
You shouldn’t have told
your uncle before he left that we’d be going first to Blackthorn
Hall. I’ve told you time and time again, Iain. I am going to Fleet
Tower.”

When Marion slowed on the inn’s steep,
narrow steps, Iain placed a hand in the small of her back and
gently pushed to keep her moving upward. He was actually impressed
that she had waited this long to say what was on her mind.

Brother Luke and some of the men had left in
the early afternoon. Iain had been able to distract his bride with
a feast of a dinner that the innkeeper had produced for them. An
aging former soldier, he had fought the English kings in France and
in skirmishes along the Borders under the banner of the late King
James. Rewarded for his service with a tract of land and an inn on
Loch Lomond, the man had settled in to a quiet life. That is, until
a wee lass from the Fleet Tower had arrived.

Nonetheless, the innkeeper had been jovial
and quite entertaining, with dozens of stories about peculiar
guests he’d given shelter to and the damage they’d done to his inn
and people over the years.

“
Iain, you’re ignoring
me.”

“
Could we call a truce for
one night, lass?” he asked.

“
Not until you give me some
answers.”

She tried to stop halfway up the steps. Iain
didn’t let her. “You mean, not until you get your way.”

“
Say what you will. But
I’ve conceded many things during my lifetime of betrothal. This is
one thing I shall not accept,” Marion pressed. “I shall be staying
with my aunts and uncle until the day of the wedding.”

“
That ceremony is to
fulfill some formalities. We
are
already married. You are my wife, and as such,
you shall stay with me.”

She shook her head. “Fleet Tower is my home.
Those people are my only family. It is only right that I should
return there after being away for so long.”

“
You can visit them. I’ll
take you over there myself, every day if you wish it.”

“
That is not enough,” she
said, shaking her head stubbornly.

“
Do you remember what
happened in that hut in the Highlands? You might not be safe
there.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and she
planted her feet, refusing to go another step. “I was safe there
for all my years of growing up. Jack would not sink so low as to
try to hurt me in the place where his father lives.”

They had been married barely a week, and
Iain already knew her so well. The stubborn set of her chin, the
blazing eyes, the folding of her arms across her chest--all told
him she was not about to lose this skirmish without putting up a
bloody battle.

Iain crossed his arms, too, mimicking her.
He glowered at her. “I have not taken all these precautions to have
you get hurt at the last minute.”

“
You said it yourself. We
are already married. You are now legally the master of all McCall
and Armstrong lands. What does it matter if something were to
happen to me now?”

“
It matters to
me
,” he said in a
gentler tone. “Don’t you see that I truly care for you?”

His honesty was uncalculated. Iain spoke his
heart, and he was surprised to find Marion flustered because of it.
She stepped away from the top of the stairs. He fell in beside her,
and she appeared to remember which room they would be staying
in.

“
I would still like to go
to Fleet Tower first,” she said much less combatively, stopping by
the door. “Think of it as a moment’s respite that I need in my life
right now. There is no way I can go directly to Blackthorn Hall and
face your mother and dozens of strangers, and still have the
confidence to play my role beside you.”

He ran a frustrated hand through his
hair.

A smile touched the corner of her lips. She
reached up and pushed the hair out of his face. Her fingers traced
the scar on his forehead. “You came home from Flodden Field with
this. I hated you for bringing the news of my father’s death.”

“
I hated to bring that
news.”

“
I know that…now.” She
paused a moment. “Iain, I want to go back there, to my home, to the
tower, with my new feelings for you.”

“
Feelings that are stronger
than hate?”

Her fingers moved down and touched his lips.
“I harbor no hate…only affection.”

Marion’s words warmed his heart. He couldn’t
refuse her this. He kissed her lips, pouring out his own
affection.

“
Please, Iain,” she
whispered, pulling back. “Give me this time with my family. You can
certainly spare me for a couple of days.”

“
You should know I hate the
thought of giving you up for even an hour.”

She stared at him, obviously unsure of what
to say.

“
I’ll make this
concession.” Iain braced himself for her denial. “We shall
both
go to Fleet Tower.
I’ll stay there, as well.”

Marion hesitated for a long moment. “It will
be awkward. You’re not accustomed to them.”

“
And you have been away
from them for quite a long while. You don’t even know how awkward
it can be.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you making fun of
them again?”

“
No.” He laughed and took
her hand. “I’ve made a concession, and I am asking one in return. I
only grant you your wish if you grant me mine.”

Marion jumped when the door to their
bedchamber opened. Three servants came out, carrying empty buckets.
An ample-bosomed redhead followed the rest out. Her hair was long
and loose and cascaded down her back. She smiled broadly at the
sight of Iain and gathered her hair in front, stroking it as she
addressed him.

“
Everything is prepared,
m’lord. Just as ye required. Is there anything else I might be
doing for ye tonight?”

Iain peered inside the room. Steam was
rising from the water in the wooden half-barrel tub. Clean towels
had been placed beside it. The wool blankets and quilt on the bed
were folded back and the clean linens glowed in the fading light.
On a table by the fireplace, a platter of cheeses and fruits sat
next to a decanter of wine. It was a chamber fit for a queen.

He flipped the woman a coin. “Exactly what I
wanted.”

She paused before him, turning her back on
Marion and totally ignoring her. “I’d be happy to stay around and
help ye with your things.”

Iain was relieved that his wife couldn’t see
the wench’s saucy expression and the direction of her gaze.
“No--”

The rest of his response never left Iain’s
mouth as Marion pushed past the woman and stood in front of him in
the doorway.

“
I am certain that I can
see to anything else my husband needs.”

If the tone of her voice sounded somewhat
territorial, there was no question that the message got across. The
wench curtsied, turned, and tossed her hair over her shoulders. The
two watched her as she marched off and disappeared down the
stairs.

Taking him by the hand, Marion pulled him
inside the bedchamber. Iain pulled the door shut and latched it.
The room was warm, and a golden light streamed through the two
small windows.

“
Is that vixen one of your
women?”

“
One of my women?” Iain
smiled at the sight of her fists planted on her hips, the same
gesture she'd made when she was six years old. “I have no other
woman. None but you.” He unbuckled his sword belt, undid his
broach, and hung his weapons and cloak on a peg on the
wall.

“
She acted as if she’s
known you a while.”

“
Didn’t they teach you in
that priory that jealousy is a sin?”

“
I’m not jealous.” She
flushed slightly. “I’m…I’m curious.”

“
Ah, well. That’s
different.”

“
So?”

“
If you really must know,
Marion, I saw the wench today for the first time. The innkeeper
called her in to see to the preparations for our bedchamber.” He
peeled off his shirt.

Marion’s gaze fixed on his wounded shoulder.
She had been changing the dressing every time they made camp. The
last time, he hadn’t let her. There was a healthy scab forming, and
he was healing fine.

“
What are you doing?” she
asked, her gaze moving over his chest.

“
Undressing. Getting ready
to take a bath. You should do the same.”

“
With you here?”

He nodded, taking off his boots.

“
I can’t do any such thing.
It would be totally improper.”

Iain realized she was watching every
movement of his hands. “We are husband and wife, my love.” He undid
his belt, and his kilt fell to the floor at his feet. He smiled,
watching her gaze follow that movement, too. Her face had turned a
few darker shades of red.

“
It’s really quite warm in
here. Perhaps we should open the windows.”

“
Take your dress off,
Marion. After so many days on the road, we both need
it.”

She wiped her brow and tried to look away,
but her gaze returned to his body. “I…I think I’ll wait until
you’ve finished.”

“
No, lass. We’ll take a
bath
together
.”

She looked over her shoulder at the tub,
then at the bed. “It is too small. We won’t fit.”

“
Oh, we’ll fit. In fact,
we’ll fit perfectly. Don’t you remember?”

She didn’t have to answer. Iain could tell
by the way her gaze swept down his body, and her eyes narrowed as
they fixed on a certain part of him.

“
Do you need help with that
dress?” He started toward her.

She shook her head and backed toward the
tub. Her hands drifted to the neckline of the dress. Slowly, she
untied the laces and began to pull them free. Iain’s gaze followed
the movement.

“
I’ve been thinking about
this for the past four days,” he said, his voice husky.

“
I have, too,” she
whispered, sliding the dress down her arms. He looked at her long
arms, following the movement of her hands.

“
You are so
beautiful.”

“
And you’re growing,” she
whispered, staring downward. “I think we shan’t fit
today.”

“
We will. I’ll show you.”
The back of her knees touched the edge of the tub. He took her
hand. She stepped out of the dress. “I have been thinking of the
things I’d like to do to you. The ways I could have you. The things
I could teach you.” He reached and untied the top of the shift and
slipped it off her shoulders. It pooled at her feet.

Her firm, round breasts called to be kissed.
Marion laid her hand on his cheek as his mouth approached her
flesh.

“
Before you make me forget
everything, including my name, answer my earlier
question.”

She never forgot a thing, Iain thought,
smiling.

“
We’ll stop at Fleet Tower
first. You and I both. We’ll stay there until our wedding
festivities require us to go to Blackthorn Hall.
Satisfied?”

“
Yes,” she replied softly.
“I believe I will be.”

Smiling, she took him by the hand and
stepped back into the warm water of the tub.

Sitting on his horse and looking down at yet
another hut in yet another glen, Sir George Harington thought yet
again about the letter he had received the day before. He was no
more pleased with it.

The Marquis of Dorset had condescended to
make a personal appearance at the Armstrong and McCall
nuptials.

“
Blast,” he cursed to
himself, starting down the hill. The four men attending him
followed wearily.

Dorset would be at Blackthorn Hall by the
week’s end. In the letter, his lordship had also directed that Sir
George send Hastings and Eden south to Carlisle to attend to other
business. Sir George, on the other hand, was to wait at Blackthorn
Hall for the marquis.