Captured by a Laird (28 page)

When the Blackadders took her, she had feared she might never see him again. Never touch his face, never hear his voice, and never have the chance to show him how she felt.
Now she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her. When David crushed his mouth against hers, she dug her fingers into his shoulders and kissed him back, matching his passion.

No matter how tightly she held him, she could not get close enough. She wanted to leap into the flames with David Hume. Her husband, her lover, the man who had earned her trust and stolen her heart.

She slid her hand between them to unfasten his breeks. “I want ye inside me.”

Instead, he unhooked her legs from around his waist and stood her on her feet while he tore her gown and chemise down over her hips until they fell around her feet. He dropped to his knees, and she gasped even before his mouth touched her.

God have mercy!
She fell back against the wall and gripped his hair in her fingers under the sensual assault of his mouth and tongue, circling, sucking and licking until she came in a pounding climax. Her knees were so weak she would have fallen, but he held her against the wall. In one motion, he rose to his feet and thrust inside her.

She gasped as another orgasm hit her with a burst of blinding light. She did not know if she was dying and glimpsing heaven. And still he pounded into her. She sank her fingernails into his shoulders and screamed his name.

His release came in a cry of anguish.

He dropped his forehead against the wall, and she felt the pounding of his heart against her chest. They were both gasping for air, and sweat glistened on their skin. Though her limbs felt weak, she kept her arms and legs wrapped around him. She wanted to stay joined like this forever.

She was so depleted that her mind was sluggish. Words, even if she could have formed them, seemed inadequate after such intense lovemaking.

She had hope that all would be well between them now.

He carried her to the bed, and they collapsed onto it. Though it must be the middle of the day, she had not slept the night before and the ordeal with her uncle and the Blackadders had taken its toll. She hooked her arm around David so she would know if he tried to leave and fell into an exhausted sleep.

She had no idea how long she’d been sleeping when he woke her to make love again. The first time had been in anger, but this time he shattered her with his tenderness. He kissed her as if he might never get the chance again.

With every touch, every kiss, every murmured endearment that escaped from his lips, he exposed his heart to her. The connection between them was too deep for him to deny it.

Though David did not want to be, he was hers again.

***

David got out of bed and gathered his clothes, which were scattered on the floor with hers. When he saw the ragged edge of her torn shift, he felt a surge of guilt for ripping her clothes off and taking her like an animal.

Then, the second time, he’d let her see his bleeding heart. He would not make that mistake again. He had his pride.

He looked at Alison lying on the bed, looking as innocent and vulnerable as ever. Despite her disloyalty and his fury, he had to fight the temptation to lie back down and hold her in his arms.

He had become as weak as his father.

David had hoped she would say something that would change what had happened. But there were no words she could say that would not be false. Her actions had spoken so forcefully that only a desperate fool could find a way to ignore them and believe in the soft looks she gave him.

He was desperate, but he was never a fool.

CHAPTER 38

Patrick Blackadder watched his father drink his ale and waited.

“I’ve sent a message to D’Orsey,” his father said. “He fought the Humes on Albany’s behalf before, and he owes us his position as warden.”

His father had conveniently forgotten that he had betrayed the Hume lairds, expecting a grateful regent to appoint him as warden. Patrick did not bother reminding him. It did not matter now.

“Once D’Orsey learns that Wedderburn is supporting Cochburn’s siege of Langton Castle, he’ll have to act.” His father paused to cough and thump his chest. “He’ll break the siege and bring the perpetrators to justice. And we’ll be rid of Wedderburn for good.”

His father sputtered and coughed again, then dropped his cup. Patrick watched it roll across the floor.

“Help me!” his father wheezed, clutching at his throat.

“There’s nothing that can be done,” Patrick said. “You’re dying.”

Curious as to how long it would take, Patrick leaned back and sipped his wine. The old man fell to the floor and rolled on his back, making ugly sounds through his closing throat.

As usual, his father sought help from the wrong quarter and grasped Patrick’s ankle. Good God, the old dog was strong. Patrick had to pry his fingers loose.

“Father,” Patrick said, leaning over him, “you’ve made your last miscalculation.”

His father’s attempt to wed Lady Alison himself had been the last straw.

A flash of confusion clouded his father’s eyes, then his body convulsed and his eyes turned into blank, bulging orbs.

Patrick had not even finished his wine yet. Hell, that took no time at all.

***

Alison awoke to an unearthly keening and reached for David, but he was gone.

Fearing someone in the household had died, she dressed quickly and opened the door. The wretched sound was coming from upstairs. She followed it to the Tower Room, where she discovered that Flora was the source of the wailing.

The nursemaid sat on a stool weeping, while Old Garrett stood beside her, patting her back and looking distraught.

“What’s wrong?” Alison sank to one knee and took Flora’s hand.

“I can’t do without my Garrett,” Flora said with tears running down her face.

Alison was too stunned by the revelation that the two elderly servants had formed a romantic attachment to speak.

“The laird ordered all the Blackadder servants to leave the castle,” Garrett said. “Says he’ll flail us if we’re not gone in an hour.”

Alison closed her eyes. This was her fault.

“I’ll speak to the laird, but come with me first,” she told Garrett. “I have something I want to give ye in case I can’t change his mind.”

Alison looked away while Garrett murmured something to Flora and kissed her cheek, then she led him back to her bedchamber, where she rummaged through her trunk. At the very bottom, she found the leather bag that held the few silver coins she had managed to squirrel away over the years without Blackadder noticing.

“’Tis not much, but here are two for you and two for the cook.” She put the coins in his palm and closed his fingers over them. “Please tell Cook I am sorry to see him go.”

She found David sitting on the keep steps sharpening a long dirk with a whetstone and wearing a hard expression. He looked very much as if he was preparing to make good on his threat to skin someone alive.

“I must speak with ye,” Alison said.

“I’ve other matters to attend to.” He pressed his lips into a firm line and drew the whetstone across the blade with unnecessary force.

“Why are ye sending all the servants away?” she asked.

“If the part of your story about the monk delivering a message is true,” he said, drawing the stone across the blade again, “then one or more of the servants was party to the scheme.”

“Every word I told ye is true,” she said. “Can’t ye question them and find out which ones were involved?”

“I don’t care which ones did it,” he said. “I want every one of them gone.”

“Surely ye can spare Old Garrett and the cook?” she said. “I’ve no doubt both are loyal.”

David wiped his blade and held it up to examine the razor-sharp edge, which gleamed in the sunlight. Then he stood and rammed it into the sheath at his belt. Finally, he looked at her, and the cold fury in his eyes made her draw in a sharp breath.

“Loyal to you, perhaps,” he said. “But I don’t trust them. Or you.”

She had been mistaken in thinking he’d spent his anger in their fierce lovemaking and was well on the way to forgiving her.

“Patrick Blackadder took us by force on our way home,” she said, though she had explained this before, “because I refused to do what they wanted.”

Without a word, David turned away from her and started down the steps.

“I told them nay!” she said, gripping his arm.

“Ye shouldn’t have been there,” he said, and shook her off. “Ye shouldn’t have gone. I told ye not to leave the castle.”

“And I’ve told you why I did it, but ye don’t want to hear.”

“Ye gave me your word,” he said. “I won’t trust ye again.”

“Ye never did!” she said to his back.

***

David leaned over the map he’d rolled out on the head table and contemplated the final steps he needed to take to avenge his father and uncle. He had allowed himself to be diverted by his wife for too long.

It pained him that his father’s widow continued to languish in Dunbar Castle, but until her captor, Lord D’Orsey, exposed himself, there was nothing he could do. That left the Blackadders. After the events of the last two days, he regretted that he could only kill Patrick Blackadder once.

“The Laird of
Tulliallan and his son Patrick sent those men to attack the village as a diversion,” he said to his senior men and Robbie, who were gathered around the table. “They wanted me away from the castle when they lured my wife to the abbey.”

Was Alison lured or was she part of the scheme? Even if she was complicit in the beginning, it had not gone as she expected, for she had clearly been frightened for her daughters.

Regardless of her guilt, he would not speak ill of her in front of the men.

Now that his temper had cooled somewhat, he realized that it had been unreasonable for him to expect loyalty from a woman he had forced to wed him. And he could not fault Alison for not wanting to be bound to him. She had, however, done her best to deceive him into believing that she did.

That she had succeeded was his own fault. He had wanted to believe it.

David brought his thoughts back to the business at hand and nodded to Brian, who had just returned from Hume Castle and looked as if he’d aged ten years in the last two days.

“We know for certain that the men who committed the attack on the village were former guards at this castle.” Brian’s haunted gaze traveled over the other men. “When we find them, Walter Blackadder is mine.”

Brian had told him earlier that Leana had named the former captain of the guard as her attacker.

David looked up as one of the guards from the front gate entered the hall and approached the head table.

“Laird,” the guard said, “we’ve got a fellow outside who rode in alone and says he carries a message for ye.”

“What clan is he?” David asked.

“He’s an outlander. Talks funny and is verra”—he paused as if searching for a word— “clean-looking for a fighting man.”

“Invite our guest inside.”

The tall, well-built stranger who entered the hall wore gleaming armor and a neatly trimmed beard. David guessed he was a French knight, and his heartbeat quickened.

“I am Sir Francoise Guinard,” the man said with an elaborate bow and an accent that confirmed he was French. “Lord D’Orsey has asked me to convey a message to you.”

“May I offer ye some refreshment first?” David did not wish to appear anxious to hear D’Orsey’s message, and a Scot always offered hospitality in his home.

“
Non, merci
,” the man said with another crisp bow. “My lord awaits your reply.”

“What is the message?”

“Lord D’Orsey wishes to parlay with you.”

“Where and when?” David asked.

“Tomorrow at dawn, in the place where the Blackadder and Whiteadder rivers meet.”

David allowed himself a small smile. D’Orsey was finally leaving the impregnable Dunbar Castle. Better yet, they would meet on David’s territory.

“What assurances do you require for your safety?” the knight asked.

“I don’t rely on other men’s assurances,” David said, which caused the French knight’s eyebrows to go up a fraction. “But ye can tell Lord D’Orsey I’ll be there.”

“I am instructed to inform you that, as the meeting place is but a short ride from here,” the knight said, “Lord D’Orsey will extend the protection of the parlay to you for only one hour after the parlay ends.”

“I’ll grant Lord D’Orsey the same,” David said, and was amused when the knight’s eyebrows shot up still higher this time.

“That should give you and your men adequate time to return to Blackadder Castle.”

It would, if that was what David intended to do.

“
Bon nuit
,” the knight said, and made yet another bow before turning on his heel. His shining spurs made soft clinks as he left the hall.

“Do ye think you’ll be able to persuade Lord D’Orsey to release my mother?” Robbie asked as soon as the doors closed behind the messenger.

“I hope so,” David said.

“He could be setting a trap for us, instead of a parlay,” Brian said.

“Ach, ye know these Frenchmen set great store by their rules for fighting,” David said. “All the same, we’ll go tonight so we can scout the area and set up lookouts.”

In Scotland, men who trusted their enemies’ word alone could end up with their heads on pikes or hanging by their necks in burned buildings.

“Why did he set the parlay on Blackadder lands?” Robbie asked.

“Marching an army of men across our lands, especially so close to the castle, is meant as a threat,” David said. “He’s telling me he’s warden and has authority here.”

“Arrogant son of a bitch,” one of his men said.

David smiled to himself. He would take advantage of that arrogance.

“Why didn’t ye tell him to stay off our lands?” Robbie asked.

“Because,” David said, putting his arm around his brother’s shoulders, “this is right where I want him.”