Dangerous (15 page)

Crossing his arms, Eric laughed. “Afraid to step into the barn with me,
mon
ami
?”

“I’m no fool,” Christian grinned as he helped Elisabeth down. “I’m off for a leisurely drive through the valley. I’ll return shortly.”

The team of horses moved off at an easy trot, their sorrel coats glistening in the sunlight.

“A wise man, your brother.” Eric stepped from the landing and opened the wrought-iron gate for her with a grand bow. “Welcome to
Maison
Jordanne
.”

He held out his arms, and she gladly went into them, burying her face in the softness of the simple tunic he wore. Framing her face with his hands, he tipped her head back for a long kiss that made her wish for many, many more.

In wonderment, she traced the scar on his jaw, the bold lines of his mouth. “Tell me you’re not a dream.”

His wry grin told her he recognized his own words from their first night together. As he brought her hand to his lips, his eyes glowed a deep, delighted blue.

“I’m not a dream,
mon cœur
.” Frowning, he caressed her cheek. When he spoke, his tone was even gentler than his touch. “Christian tells me you’ve been ill.”

“It’s nothing unusual, Eric. He worries too much.”

His thumb found the circles she knew shadowed her eyes. “You’ve not been sleeping well.”

“It’s better now.”

He bent to kiss her cheek, drifting across her face with feathery touches of his lips. Pressing a hand to her waist, he murmured, “Our child tires you.”

Mesmerized by his tenderness, at first she didn’t comprehend what he’d said. When his words became clear she tried to pull away, only to have him tighten his grasp.

“You know?” When he nodded, she nearly whimpered. “But how? Only Mother knows, and she’d not have revealed such a secret.”

“In truth, I wasn’t certain, but I’ve wondered.”

“So you tricked me.”

“Don’t be angry.”

“I’m not angry.” She added a little smile. “I admire your cunning. It will serve you well in your business dealings.”

“No doubt.” Laughing, he kissed her soundly. “Come inside. ’Tis best if no one sees you here.”

Light flooded the interior of the house. To her left she found an ample sitting room with a gracefully arched fireplace but no furniture. The intricate metalwork on the windows spread scrolling patterns across wide oak floorboards that cried out for rugs to soften them. Outside she glimpsed rolling fields and the nearby forest. Though all was wild and untamed, she had no doubt that next spring would find everything in order at the little manor.

Through the entryway to the right was a receiving area that held only a battered wooden bench and a three-legged table. This room boasted a massive stone fireplace with an oaken mantel that held his sword ready to be snatched up at any time.

Eric folded his arms as he leaned against a post hewn from a single oak. “What think you?”

Strolling about the nearly empty room, she tapped her lower lip with her finger. “It needs—something.”

He chuckled. “It needs a great many somethings. We’re building while we can to finish the upper floor and well house. When they’re completed, I’ll tend to the furnishings.”

She glanced through the archway into a kitchen devoid of utensils. A bowl of cold porridge on the worktable was the only sign of any sort of food. “What do you eat?”

“Your father invited me to take my meals at the castle whenever I wish. Beyond that, the women in the village keep me from starving.”

“How generous of them.”

Unaccustomed to feeling envy, the covetous edge on her voice shamed her. While she didn’t want him to remain alone, the thought of him sharing any part of his life with another woman made her burn with jealousy.

To conceal her disquiet, she began to chatter. “A settee before the fireplace.” Avoiding his gaze, she considered the stone hearth as if decorating his common room were the most important task imaginable. “A chair on either side, with tables to match. Woolen rugs to warm the floor. Mother kept some of my old books and prints. I’m certain she’d—”

“Lise.”

Startled by the interruption, she spun to find him directly behind her. He rested his hands on the mantel on either side of her head, capturing her neatly between his arms. Tempting her with comfort, offering his strength to her as he’d done so many times.

“Such a fine house you’re building. Does this mean you’ve found a mistress for it?” Forcing a smile, she met his eyes. They darkened to a murky bluish-gray, and he shook his head. “You must have met a dozen women who suit you.”

“Only one.” Leaning in, he kissed her before wandering at a leisurely pace along the curve of her jaw. His breath warmed her cheek, sending a tingle of sensation the length of her body. “I’ve no desire for anyone else.”

Her heart tripped over the words, spoken so quietly she barely heard them. But she felt the truth of them, closed her eyes as he feathered her brow with tender kisses. Under her hand beat his remarkable heart, stalwart and determined as ever.

Like the elements themselves, Eric existed in the wind and sun, in the sighing of the trees, the cool depths of the forest. Why he’d chosen to love her, she couldn’t say, but it was wrong for his remarkable spirit to be bound to a woman he couldn’t have.

To gain his attention, she rested a hand on his cheek. When those vivid blue eyes met hers, her resolve wavered, and she forced conviction into her tone. “Eric, you must find someone who makes you happy.”

“I have,” he replied, turning his lips to her palm.

She let out an exasperated breath. “Someone else.”

“There is no one else for me.” He regarded her intently as thunderclouds blew through his eyes. “My heart will have none but you.”

The revelation should have filled her with sorrow, but instead she felt bolstered by hope.

Eric hadn’t surrendered to fate. Neither would she.

***

Her hand folded in Eric’s, Elisabeth listened while Christian explained the theory they’d formed about Grant’s treachery. Every word sank into her heart with the weight of the truth and when he finished, she felt filled with lead. “You have no proof of this.”

“And no way to get it,” her brother affirmed with a bad-tempered scowl. “Unless one of the mercenaries comes forward or Grant confesses.” At her mirthless laugh, he grimaced. “Indeed. But we have Blair’s testimony, and we’ll keep trying for more. Meantime, Briarton is the safest place for you and my little nephew.”

When he glanced toward her waist, she realized she’d placed a protective hand on her stomach. The foolish girl in her turned to Eric. “I want to be with you.”

“My farm is all but defenseless. I can’t protect you from Colton.”

“Then I’ll stay in the castle.”

“Do you truly wish to start a war?”

The faces of her dead kinsmen flashed through her mind, and she couldn’t stem the tears flooding her eyes. “’Twas my fault John and the others were killed. They died because of me.”

Eric’s hands came up to gently frame her face. “No, Lise. They died because Colton will stop at nothing to have you.”

“But he gave me the cure that saved you.”

His expression pained, he shook his head. “Your mother said it was nothing but willow bark tea and feverfew.”

“Then how did you survive?”

Smiling, he lightly kissed her cheek. “You saved me,
mon
cœur
.”

“From a madman,” she added. “Grant isn’t who we thought he was.”

“If you’ll remember,” Christian said, “his father was quite peculiar.”

“Andrew,” she commented with distaste. “That’s the name Grant has chosen for his firstborn son.” While she spoke, she’d noticed Eric’s puzzled frown. “What is it?”

“This is important,” he replied, taking her hands lightly in his. Turbulence coursed just beneath the surface of his skin, alerting her that something was amiss. “Why did you think you were barren?”

“When a woman bears no children, she’s barren. That’s hardly a mystery.”

“Did John father any children?”

She and her brother exchanged wry looks, and she replied, “None that I knew of.”

“Grant would have known the same,” Christian added tersely, rising from his chair to begin pacing. “Yet much as he craves an heir, he wasn’t concerned about you bearing children. If by some miracle ye bore him an heir, he’d have his legacy. If ye couldn’t–”

“He’d have an alliance with your father against the enemies you heard Gray talking about,” Eric finished his thought. “Along the border, such an advantage would be priceless.”

“I’ve gone from broodmare to pawn,” Elisabeth groused. “How very flattering.”

Christian gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “We’ll set it to rights. We just need more time to gather our proof.”

“And if you canna find any? I’ve no intention of spending the rest of my life wed to a monster.”

“I understand your feelings,” Eric said in a soothing tone. “But for now, the best we can do is ensure your safety.”

“As you’ve always done.” She gave him a grateful smile. “It won’t be easy, but I’ll keep my peace ’til the baby’s born.”

“That gives us a few months,” Christian commented, determination glinting in his eyes. “Plenty of time.”

Elisabeth glanced to Eric, who nodded slightly.

“Christian,” she confessed, “this bairn is not Grant’s.”

His astonished gaze traveled from Eric to her, and he let out an unexpected laugh. “Thank God. Big as ye are, I thought ye were carrying a plow horse.” He quickly sobered. “What will ye tell Grant when his child is born early?”

“I’ll deal with that when the time comes. ’Tis all I can do.”

***

After wishing Christian a safe journey home. Grant found his wife in her solar, laughing with Glenda over tea. The maid politely excused herself and scurried off to whatever duties had been set for her. What the girl actually did, he had no idea, but her presence made Elisabeth happy so he tolerated her incessant giggling as best he could.

Strolling through the sunny room, he went to the window to look out over his freshly planted wheat fields. “So, if I were to ask the wood sprites, might they tell me you’d gone to see Eric Jordanne?”

“Of course not.”

Canting his head toward her, he captured her gaze. The silence between them thickened, her will against his. Did she think him a fool? The moment he entered the room, he knew she’d been with Jordanne. When he drew close enough, he smelled horses and sweat, tinged with the dankness of the forest. Not a womanly scent, to be sure.

It was the stench of betrayal.

She’d broken her vow and was attempting to deceive him. In her eyes blazed a willfulness that he could no longer afford to ignore. Once their child was born, he would turn over some of his more mundane tasks to his stewards and focus more attention on his wife. Perhaps a trip to Paris would settle her restless spirit. Another bairn to coddle would help, as well.

At least that task he would enjoy.

Seating himself on the settee, he took a biscuit from the pewter tray. “So, what news have you from your family?”

He waited patiently while she relayed frivolous bits of gossip, then asked, “Did Christian mention anything about Father Blair?”

“Actually, yes. One day he told my parents that God had called him elsewhere, and he left Caileann. I’d no idea you knew him.”

“We became acquainted a few years ago. Do you know where he went?”

“Christian said only that he left.”

At the clever noble’s suggestion, no doubt. That explained the lack of communication from the Redmond stronghold. Grant knew only the cleric’s name, as was his practice with all he hired. Now he wished he’d at least discovered where Blair was raised, since he’d almost certainly return to the place he considered home. Most people did.

In all likelihood, it was not God who had prompted Blair’s abrupt departure from his post. How much had Christian paid the fallen monk?

And what had he gotten in return?

Chapter Thirteen

On a late summer evening, Eric prowled before the hearth in his common room, his dinner untouched on the small table. The sky was black as pitch outside his windows, rain drumming steadily on the roof overhead. He should have been abed hours ago, but he couldn’t even consider sleeping.

His son was being born.

He hadn’t seen or heard from Elisabeth since her springtime visit, so he couldn’t explain how he could possibly know what was going on in Briarton. But he knew it all the same, his fists clenching and unclenching helplessly while he paced.

Exhausted by the futility of his actions, he dropped onto the hearth and stared into the small fire he’d built to repel the dampness. He could hear Elisabeth’s laughter, taste her tears on his lips when she bade him farewell all those months ago. And now she was far away, fighting to bear his child.

“Be strong,
mon
cœur
,” he said aloud, hoping his words could somehow bridge the distance between them.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he pulled them away in surprise. His damp fingers glistened in the light of the fire, and he rested his forehead on his folded hands. He sent a heartfelt prayer to the God of heaven, another to the enigmatic Goddess that his mother had insisted ruled the earth. Neither answered him directly, but a curious peace settled over him as he busied himself with the toy he’d been carving from a piece of birch.

When he’d felled the tree, he’d found it nearly pure white inside and had cut a small hunk from the rest. That same evening, he began chiseling a likeness of a curled-up kitten. After nearly a sennight, the piece was considerably smaller but was beginning to resemble a slumbering cat.

What he’d do with it, he had no idea. Perhaps one of the children in the village would enjoy it. Then again, he couldn’t give something to one and not the others, and he wasn’t skilled enough to make animals for them all. Some would want horses or falcons, creatures he couldn’t begin to fashion.

Eric held the piece away from him and studied its face while he etched in whiskers. With those added, the little cat took on a decidedly feline expression. As surely as if the wood had spoken to him, he knew there was only one child he could give it to.

His son.

***

“Too soon,” Grant heard one maid mutter to another as they left Elisabeth’s bedchamber.

“Such a hard time,” her companion added in a hushed voice, crossing herself. “The baby’s far too big for such a petite woman to birth.”

They cast forlorn looks at Grant and scurried along the corridor toward the servants’ stairs. He could make out no more of their whispered comments, so he resumed his pacing. Fourteen steps down, turn, fourteen steps back. Never did he stray more than a few strides from his wife’s door. Well aware that women often died in childbirth, his concern deepened with each hour that passed. He’d not considered that his quest for sons might cost him Elisabeth.

She was the only woman he’d ever wanted for his own. How could he possibly live without her?

When a hoarse scream pierced the quiet of the hallway, he rushed to the door, bracing his hands on either side of it. He’d been told repeatedly that his presence during the birth would not only be unnecessary but most unwelcome. Elisabeth herself had suggested that he retire to his chamber and take his rest. As if he could sleep while his firstborn son came into the world.

Pressing his ear to the thick door, Grant strained to hear what was happening on the other side. No sounds had reached him since that heart-rending screech, and his patience was wearing thin.

The door opened suddenly, and Maude’s eyes widened with surprise. The kindly midwife had brought him into the world, along with dozens throughout Briarton’s wide territory. Her plump cheeks broke into a lovely smile. “You have a son, milord.”

“Elisabeth?”

“She’s as well as can be expected. I’ll come fetch you when Lady Colton is ready to see you.”

“I want to see her now.”

Maude took his arm and steered him back into the corridor. “’Tis best if you wait.”

With that, she firmly closed the door.

***

Elisabeth felt so weak, she knew that were it not for the pillows supporting her, she’d fall over in a boneless heap. But her arms seemed to possess a strength all their own as she brought her son to her breast. He rutted with determination, and she laughed. “Hungry, are you? ’Tis difficult work, being born.”

While he suckled, his grayish-blue eyes locked with hers in a curious stare.

“Mama,” she told him as tears streamed down her cheeks. She brought his tiny fist to her lips, stunned by the perfection of his fingers as they wrapped tightly about hers. Crooning the lullaby Eric’s mother had sung to him, her tears doubled, and she touched her forehead to Andrew’s.

“I promise you, Eric,” she whispered, “one day you’ll hold your son.”

“Lady Colton?” Elisabeth looked into the midwife’s tired face. “Forgive me, but your husband is most anxious to meet his son. Shall I fetch him?”

Though she resented the intrusion, there was no reason to refuse Grant entrance to her chamber. Should she invent one, it would certainly cause no end of trouble. “Of course. Tell him he may come in now.”

She couldn’t keep back a smile when the door opened and Grant nearly pitched onto the floor. His characteristically immaculate appearance had frayed as the long night had worn on. His clothing was disheveled, and his hair looked as if he’d nearly pulled it from his scalp.

He settled beside her on the bed, leaning down to kiss her lips. “I’ve been frantic with worry. Are you well?”

“Well enough. Would you care to meet Andrew?”

With one finger, he drew the soft blanket back from the baby’s face, and she prayed he’d not see what she saw: A child far too large, and far too dark, to be his own.

To her great relief, he chuckled. “Considering how early he’s come to us, he’s quite the sturdy little fellow, is he not?”

“Like his father.” She cringed at the wistful note in her voice. Thankfully, Grant didn’t seem to hear it.

“Indeed,” he said, kissing her again. “For now, his father needs a bit of sleep, so I’ll leave you to your rest. Thank you for this precious gift you’ve given me.”

She smiled in reply, accepting another kiss before he passed through the adjoining door and into his own rooms.

Andrew yawned, and she tucked the blanket closer about him. Cuddled together after their long, grueling adventure, they quickly fell asleep.

***

On a crisp autumn day, Grant stood in the doorway of the nursery and stared thoughtfully at the sleeping bairn who bore his father’s name. Often, he watched Andrew as he slept or played with Elisabeth on the floor in the sunlight. Nearly three months old, he was a hardy lad, growing more so by the day. With dark skin and brilliant blue eyes that defied change to Colton brown, there was no mistaking it.

This was not his son.

Others must see it as well, but he never heard even a whisper of gossip or noticed a raised eyebrow. Andrew was treated with the respect befitting the future master of Briarton. Grant burned to renounce the boy, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. To do so would make it appear that his wife had cuckolded him with another man, and that he couldn’t bear. He knew in his heart that Elisabeth would never be false to him, but the fact remained that during some liaison or another, Eric Jordanne had gotten her with child. This child.

Grant railed silently at the little impostor. His son should be resting in the heirloom crib, not the spawn of a bastard knight who’d never known his rightful place. A downy pillow lay on the floor, and he bent to retrieve it. Holding it between his hands, he wondered...

“What are you doing?”

Elisabeth’s sharp query cut into his musings, and he turned to her.

“Admiring our son. I’d hoped you would sleep longer to make up for being awakened so often last night.”

At the sound of his mother’s voice, Andrew stirred and looked to her with a yawning smile. She reached into the crib and lifted him high in the air. “I can sleep later. Now it’s time for breakfast, is it not?”

The baby cooed in response, obviously delighted by her attention. She sat in the rocking chair and kissed him all over his swarthy face. As her fingers went to the lacings of her gown, Grant fought off a grimace of distaste. “I wish you’d allow me to employ a wet nurse. You’d get more rest.”

“Nonsense,” she retorted, settling Andrew at her breast. “I’ve waited too long for a child to let someone else feed him.”

Grant relented with a sigh. “As you wish, but there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Smiling at the boy, she ticked his pug nose with her finger. “Of course. What is it?”

Trying vainly to ignore her lack of regard for him, he continued. “A brother for Andrew.”

At last she looked up at him, but her smile gave way to a frown. “So soon?”

“We must plan for the future. After all, so many unfortunate things happen to children.”

“Andrew is a Redmond,” she retorted, contempt blazing in her eyes. “As such, he’s under my father’s protection. I’d suggest you keep that in mind.”

“Are you implying that I’d harm my own son?”

Meant to trip her into revealing her assignation with Jordanne, instead his comment elicited only an icy stare.

“Never would I do such a thing,” he soothed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She made no response, but the brittle gleam in her eyes spoke louder than any words. The spirit he’d once admired had resisted his best efforts to tame it. In fact, each day she grew more defiant. The time had come to remind her of her position, much as he would with a vanquished opponent who refused to concede defeat.

Leaning down, he gripped the arms of her chair. Her eyes narrowed warily, and she drew the boy closer to her.

“However, I would ask a favor of you, my dear wife.”

“What is that?”

“Perhaps next time, my son could look a bit more like me.”

“Elisabeth?”

Elisabeth glanced up to find Glenda in the doorway of the nursery. The maid held a small tray filled with delicious-looking pastries, and Andrew cooed with joy the moment he saw her.

“Come in, Glenda,” Grant said in a gracious tone at complete odds with the threatening one he’d just been using. “Have you brought us a treat?”

“I have, indeed. Fruit pastries and tea, with fresh milk and sugar for the two of you. Shall I pour?”

“For Elisabeth, certainly, but I have some urgent business to tend to.”

With that, he retreated, leaving the door wide open behind him in a silent but blatant warning that whatever was said in the nursery could be heard by anyone passing by. The arrogant gesture irked her, but Elisabeth covered her irritation with a smile. “There’s plenty here for both of us. Would you care for some?”

Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, Glenda closed the door and pulled over a chair to join her. Smiling at Andrew, she reached out and ticked the tip of his nose with her finger. “And how does our handsome lad fare this morn?”

He babbled at her in response while she regarded him with a serious expression she might use with an adult. “Is that so? And what other news have you to share with me?”

Elisabeth smiled while she sipped the fragrant floral tea and watched the two of them play. Often she’d seen Glenda interrupt her duties to talk with him or sneak in a quick spin that made him squeal with boyish delight.

The time had come for her to resume her full responsibility as lady of the house, and Elisabeth could imagine no one better suited to caring for her son. “You’re wonderful with him, and he clearly adores you. Would you enjoy being his nurse?”

“I’d love it!”

“I’m pleased to know that, but I want you to promise me something.”

Glenda nodded earnestly. “Of course.”

“If anything should happen to me, take Andrew to Caileann and stay there.”

“I couldn’t possibly abandon you here,” her loyal cousin protested with a scowl.

“You will because you’ll have no choice. If I leave Briarton, Grant will attack the Redmond, and Father will be forced to retaliate. Should that happen, this fragile peace among the clans will disintegrate as if it never existed. I will not be responsible for tearing the Borders apart,” she finished sternly.

After several moments, Glenda nodded her agreement. “Very well, but I’ll pray every day that it won’t come to that.”

Elisabeth summoned a reassuring smile. “We both will.”

***

Later that day, when Elisabeth opened her eyes it was dark. Tired from an afternoon in the gardens with Andrew, she’d lain down for a moment’s rest, and now the day was gone. She rose from her bed and cracked a window to let in some fresh air.

There was a soft knock at her door, and she sighed. “Come in.”

“Good evening, milady.” Carrying a tray laden with food, a kitchen maid greeted her with a smile and a nod. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Yes, I would.”