Authors: Felicia Rogers
By God's Grace (11 page)
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When Arbella awoke the next morning, Duncan was gone. Stretching out, she pulled his pillow to her face and inhaled his rich, masculine scent. This was proof his presence hadn't been a dream.
Where was everyone? Surely they hadn't left her alone? She flipped onto her back. Her arms rose high overhead like a contented cat. A moan of pleasure released as her sore muscles tensed and relaxed in succession. With a sigh, she rolled to the edge of the bed. Her heart thumped erratically.
There on a chair sat Duncan. His large muscular arms were folded across his broad chest, his lips spread wide in a grin. “Feel better, do ye?”
Heat infused her cheeks. “I â I thought I was alone.”
There was a change in Duncan's tone, his gaze gaining intensity. “Would ye like to dress before we talk?”
“Hmm⦠Maybe I should. This sounds grave.”
Although he'd asked her about getting dressed, Duncan didn't wait before asking, “Do ye remember what happened yesterday?”
Arbella thought for a moment, the blood draining from her face. The room spun in circles before her. A bout of dizziness assailed her. The idea she might swoon fleeted across her mind. At least she was lying down and wouldn't land on anything harmful. Scrunching up her face, she answered, “Then it wasn't a dream.”
Duncan groped amongst the bedcovers, finding her hand. With a tight squeeze, he offered encouragement. “Nay, Arbella, it wasna a dream.”
“Who, who found me?” rushed out in a hoarse whisper.
“A seamstress walking by on her way to the kitchen heard ye tapping.”
Arbella glanced at her wrapped knuckles. She whispered, “I remember doing that.”
He stared at her hands as he asked, “Did ye yell?”
“Aye, until I could yell no more.”
His head lifted. “Do ye remember how ye got in the room in the first place?”
Arbella gnawed her lip. Closing her eyes, she rehashed the day before. Opening her eyes, she said, “I remember Bryce coming in the room and informing Tamara and myself he was going to check on the commotion in the main hall. Then Tamara and I settled in front of the fire and talked. Then there was another banging on the door. Tamara went to open the door, but before she could, the person on the other side pushed it so violently it whacked her in the head.”
Arbella placed a hand across her fluttering heart. “Where is Tamara?”
Duncan fidgeted, upset by the interruption, but answered nonetheless. “She is in the other room. There is a nasty bruise on her head, but other than that, she seems to be none the worse for wear.”
Arbella released a pent-up breath. “Thank God.” She looked at Duncan, pleading with him to understand. “I didn't want to leave her.”
Duncan nodded.
“The visitor told me, told me that, thatâ” Arbella struggled to remember the details, fear overwhelming her as the memories came. “The stranger told me you were being blamed for a murder and were set to be hanged. They thought I could help you.”
Her head fell forward into her bandaged hands. She wailed. “I didn't want to leave her. I thought I could come back and help later. I started to refuse to leave, but I was pulled away and pushed in front of them. When we got close to the kitchen, they opened a door in the wall and told me to go in. I could tell there was no light, but I went anyway. I am so mindless.”
“Did ye see who came to the door?”
“Aye, I did.”
“Ye did?” Duncan answered with excitement. “How many were there? What did they look like?”
“I don't know.”
Exasperation laced Duncan's voice. “How could ye not know? Ye just said ye saw him!”
“I did see a person wearing a head covering and a cloak. The covering was dark, and I don't know if the individual was a man or a woman!”
Duncan stood. He shook from head to toe. Stalking to the table, his large hands slammed the wood. With one swoop, all the contents were swept off the surface. The baubles, which had been on top of the table, fell to the floor and shattered into tiny pieces. Tears poured down Arbella's cheeks at Duncan's wrath.
His hands rested palm down on the cleared table. Arbella wept, unable to stop shaking. Duncan faced her. His hands raked through his hair, the tone of his voice soft and hesitant. “Arbella, ye have to give me something more.”
She peered up with a tear-stained face. “I have nothing more to give.”
With a slow gait, he approached. “Think, Arbella. There has to be something.”
Desperation laced the words as she tried to explain. “I tell you there is nothing more. The person was covered. I was grabbed and pulled away from Tamara.”
“Was the person strong?”
“Not too strong, but yes, strong enough to pull me away from Tamara.”
“Was the person as tall as ye?”
“I don't know. The intruder seemed stooped over, kind of bent like an old person.”
“Arbella, since ye have just arrived, ye might not understand the situation. But here it is. My brother was murdered. Yesterday a man came forward with information on his demise, and he was killed in the main hall as he walked beside me. Then ye went missing because someone threw ye in the abandoned cellar and left ye to die. Now I don't mean to scare ye, but fact is I'm scared, and we need to find who is doing these things and quick.”
“Do you think I am next?”
“I don't know. But I am gonna find out.”
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Arbella and Tamara spent several days in their quarters recuperating. Always a guard stood outside the door, and no one got in without the guard's approval. Arbella argued she needed a weapon since one guard could easily be eradicated, leaving Tamara and herself defenseless. However, Duncan refused. He said giving her a weapon would only endanger her more.
“I've told you I'm good with a dagger, so explain to me how you think I will be injured by it.”
“Because ye may be disarmed and killed with yer own weapon.”
“Prove it.”
“And how do ye suggest I do such a feat?”
“Give me your dagger.”
Duncan's eyebrow rose as he withdrew a weapon from his boot and handed it hilt first to Arbella. She clasped the dainty hilt of the blade. “Thank you. Now disarm me.”
Duncan crossed his arms. “Nay, I willna.”
“Oh, Duncan, please.”
“Nay, I will hurt ye.”
“I don't think so.”
“Doesna matter. I am not attackin' ye, and ye are not keeping my dagger.”
“Oh, very well,” Arbella said, letting the dagger loose. The instrument flew through the air, embedding itself in the opposite wall. Furious at Duncan's resistance, Arbella twirled, back facing him, and headed to the adjoining room.
Aye, brooding she was. Sitting in Tamara's room and waiting until Duncan left before coming out. When the door clicked closed, she went back to her own room and settled in front of the window. She'd been in the keep for almost a fortnight. The first sennight had been consumed with preparing and participating in the tournament, and the next had been spent doing nothing. In her opinion, she'd been cooped up in this room way too long.
All meals were taken here. All conversations were spoken here. The only time she was allowed to leave was to attend to personal needs, and even then there was an armed escort. Fortunately, Tamara was with her. If not for Tamara, Arbella would have gone completely mad.
Today she was frustrated more than normal. Today was the first time she had seen or heard from Duncan in several days. The events that followed the tournament had overshadowed everything. Even in this short visit, all he'd spoken of was her safety. There had been no mention of their impending nuptials by either of them.
No time to enjoy each other's company or begin to learn anything about one another. No, all Arbella knew of Duncan's adult life was what Tamara shared with her, and even that information was sparse.
Staring out the window, she twisted a curl around and around her finger. “Tamara, I am so tired of this.”
“Excuse me, my lady?”
“Oh, Tamara, I can't just sit here. Duncan looks so tired and worried. I must think of a way to ease him.”
“My lady, Duncan's mind willna be put to rest until the murderer is caught.”
Arbella shrugged. “I understand what you're saying. I guess I wish he would talk to me. Allow me to share his burden like a husband and wife would.”
“My lady, ye must understand my laird is used to working out his own problems. Aye, his brother, Cainneach, used to be a big help to him in burdensome times, but only until Mistress Lyall came.”
“How come I have yet to meet Mistress Lyall?”
“Laird Duncan has ordered her under guard in her quarters.”
“Oh.”
“Now don't ye go gettin' any ideas Laird Duncan is trying to protect Mistress Lyall because he has feelings for her.”
“I wasn't thinking that. But do you think it might⦔
“Now I just told ye. He doesna have any interest in Lyall. If anything, she is under guard so she can be watched.”
“Very well, Tamara. I am certain if Duncan had an interest in her, then he wouldn't have invited me to stay in the keep. Nor would he be willing to wed me.”
Still, doubt nagged. Chewing on her lip, she asked, “Do you think Duncan sees Lyall more than me?”
Tamara placed her needlepoint on her lap and threw her hands into the air. “Now, Arbella, I told ye, Duncan doesna care one wit for that woman, so stop being jealous.”
“Oh, Tamara, I am not worried about Lyall, but I am worried about my sanity. I must get out of this room.”
Tamara picked up her sewing and asked, “And how, my lady, do ye propose such a feat?”
She tapped her head. “I have an idea.”
A sigh filled with trepidation escaped. Tamara said, “Let's hear it.”
****
Dinner rolled around, and Tamara helped Arbella into a dress of dark pink. The future mistress's hair was arranged high above her head with little ringlets pulled loose and laying along her neck, just gracing the top of her creamy shoulders.
Tamara stood back and admired her handiwork. “Ye are verra beautiful, my lady.”
Arbella twirled. “Thank you. This day you've made me feel like a princess.”
Tamara waved her hand at the compliment. “Ah, my lady, how ye do go on. I have done nary a thing but dress ye in yer own clothes. The beauty was already there.”
Arbella clasped Tamara's hands. “Thank you for being my friend.”
“My lady⦔ began Tamara.
Arbella interrupted, “Let me finish. You have been a true friend and counselor. I want you to know that will not change when I marry Duncan.”
“Nay, my lady, I didna truly expect it to.”
“Good. Now we have that settled, do you think this will work?”
Tamara laughed. Arbella couldn't blame her. One moment she was in complete confidence of the plan, and the next minute she was worried it was doomed to failure.
“Aye, my lady, it should work as well as any other idea. Just do what ye planned, and ye should be all right. Like ye said, what can he do to ye?”
Her trembling hand smoothed a wrinkle in the fabric. She lifted her chin and gazed at Tamara as she answered, “You're right. Here we go.”
Arbella's spine straightened; her shoulders pulled back, she walked demurely to the door. The first hurdle was coming, and she was ready.
Since Arbella had been attacked, the Kincade clan had insisted they be allowed to help with the ongoing search as well as the protection of her person. Tonight this arrangement worked to her favor. Through a kitchen servant she discovered that Tavis was her guard. This would be used to her full advantage.
The door opened, not with hesitancy, nor roughly, but as normally as possible. Tavis bolted from his relaxed position at the first creak.
Patting the fabric of her gown, she gazed upward and awarded him a full smile. “Oh, Tavis how lovely to see you this afternoon.”
Tavis turned his head and looked down the hallway. He whispered, “And ye as well, Arbella. Are ye⦠are ye headed to the⦠do ye need to use the privy?”
Arbella restrained the laughter threatening to burst forth. It would do no good to agitate the one person who could keep her from leaving her quarters. “No, Tavis, I am headed to dinner. But you are more than welcome to join me.”
“But, my lady, I thought theyâ”
“Oh, Tavis, now don't be modest. If you would like to join us for dinner, you are welcome to come.”
“Aye, well I thank ye, butâ”
Arbella was heading down the hallway toward the stairs and the main hall when she shouted, “Tamara is going to be eating in our quarters tonight, and I am sure she would enjoy your company if you prefer to stay where you are.”
“Well, thank ye, Arbella. I might take ye up on yer offer. Enjoy yer dinner.”
Under her breath she muttered, “I intend to, indeed I do.”
Arbella faced forward, a breath released. Hurdle number one overcome. Now on to hurdle number two. Her legs trembled as she stood at the top of the steps and gazed down at the room below. The huge table, which graced the room, was filled with large, kilted Scots. They were eating, drinking, talking, and laughing. It was fortuitous that Duncan's back faced her. As she waited and attempted to get up her nerve to descend, she heard Duncan speak.
A glass rose high in a toast. “It is good to have Boyd and Filib back with us.”
Mugs banged the wooden table as a round of “Hear, hear” was said.
The room quieted. Duncan asked, “And how do Cedric and Sarra fare?”
“Aye, they fare quite well, my laird. Sarra sent ye her, um â how did she say it, Filib?”
“Warmest wishes.”
“Aye, her warmest wishes.”
“And what of the lad?”
“Oh, little Thomas Duncan is still quite a handful. A little spitfire, he is.”
Arbella paused her descent when she heard the mention of a child with Duncan's name.
Duncan laughed in good-natured humor. “And the babe? Has Sarra delivered the babe?”
“Aye, she has. Cedric is now the proud papa of Thomas Duncan and Etta.”
“What about that. Etta, now that is a right pretty name.”
“Aye, Sarra said Charism's sister was named Etta.”
“Verra well. I know how much of a blessing Charism has been to Sarra and Cedric.”
Boyd grabbed another leg of mutton off the table. Before it reached his lips a low whistle passed over his teeth, causing heads around the table to turn in unison. “Duncan, Duncan, my friend. What have we got here?”
Arbella blushed from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes as the men turned to stare, all except Duncan. There were no other women in attendance, and Arbella was on the verge of turning and heading back to her room when the fair-haired one they called Boyd whistled. Now all eyes were upon her, except for the ones she sought.
Duncan never turned. “Lyall, what do ye want? I am not in the mood to have ye ruin my evening. Go back to yer rooms.”
Arbella didn't know what to say. Grant was turning to Duncan to correct the mistake when she stared at him and shook her head. She didn't know why Grant listened, but he did. He nodded then relaxed back into his own chair.
By now she was committed. Sauntering to the table, she picked an empty chair that just happened to be next to Boyd and directly across from Duncan. The heavy, wooden seat was pulled back. With her bottom planted, she applied leverage to reach the table. Before she could finish, Boyd jumped and offered to scoot the chair closer. Duncan's head remained low. His eyes squinted. A vein beat wildly upon his forehead. Knuckles cracked. The laird refused to look up. Obviously he believed Lyall had disobeyed a direct order in front of his men and his friends, which didn't appear to be making him happy.
Boyd studied Arbella. He bowed. “Boyd Sinclair at yer service, my lady.”
“Nice to meet you. Arbella Kincade at your service.”
Duncan's head jerked. A fierce stare was sent in her direction as Boyd replied, “Arbella Kincade, ye say. That is a verra beautiful name.”
“I thank you for the compliment, Boyd Sinclair,” Arbella said, flashing him one of her most charming smiles.
The men at the table remained silent except for Boyd, who was enjoying the companionship of such a beautiful woman. He instructed one of the servants to have the cook bring Arbella a plate. She took food from the table and loaded the plate as high as she dared. Everything looked so delectable that she had taken a small sample of all that was offered. Before eating, she bowed her head and said grace. Then she noticed it. She was the only one eating. The men had stopped and were in the process of not enjoying themselves.
Arbella leaned over to Boyd and whispered in his ear, “Why is no one eating?”
“Because they don't want to embarrass themselves.”
“I don't understand.”
Boyd's hand strayed. It was headed to scratch a private area but stopped at the last minute. “Well, miss, we aren't used to being in the presence of women of yer, well, of yer status as it were.”
“I have no status. Can you please tell the men to be themselves?”
Boyd laughed. “I don't think ye know what ye are sayin'.”
“I believe I do. Everyone will be much more relaxed, and we can enjoy each other's company if you feel free to be yourselves.”
“Ye are a strange lady.”
Arbella buttered a piece of bread and shrugged her shoulders. She ate, taking special care to observe the men. They still seemed tense. Finally they began to eat, but instead of throwing their leftovers on the floor, they sat them beside their plates on the table. The one called Filib even picked up a cloth and dapped at the corner of his lips. Arbella spotted Duncan.
He stared at her. The intensity of his gaze made her want to squirm. His knuckles were white with tension. Was he on the verge of expressing himself? She needed to do something quick to placate the situation. But what could she do?
The linen cloth was lifted to her mouth. A belch that would have rivaled any Scotsman's was released. Instant silence filled the room. The men froze. Arbella's face spread into a smile. “Excuse me,” she said, before going right back to eating.
This set the tone for the rest of the evening. The men relaxed in Arbella's presence once they realized she wasn't that different from them. There were still things they wouldn't say or do, of course, but they did begin to enjoy themselves as they had before Arbella had come to the table.