His Woman (12 page)

Except Isabel’s virginity was long lost. Her choice to become Frasyer’s mistress made for her own gain. He’d allowed his mind to fill with needs he had no right wanting.

Frustrated, he turned to leave.

“Duncan?”

“Stay here,” he all but snarled and strode toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

The waver in her voice almost had him turning back. Almost. A mistake he refused to make again. He stepped outside the chamber and shut the door.

With his emotions on edge and his body burning its demand, if he returned to Isabel now, he’d take her.

The earthy scent of porridge teased Isabel awake. Opening her eyes, she found a tray laden with bread and cheese along with porridge on a small table near her bed. Steam slowly curled up from the wooden bowl. She glanced toward the door. A servant must have delivered it while she slept.

The first hints of sunrise spilled through the arched window glazed with ice, brushing upon her face in a warm caress. She took in the budding dawn, the play of prismed light as it sifted throughout the chamber, its fragile aura capturing all within its path. Like a faerie’s magic. She glanced at the faeries painted upon the ceiling. Smiled.

Memories of Duncan’s visit last night spilled through her mind, his unexpected tenderness, the barely restrained control she’d felt within his hands as he’d cupped her face. And with regret, the shock of realization at what he’d allowed himself to do as he’d pulled away and left her alone.

She hadn’t expected him to touch her, much less kiss her. But he’d wanted her with the ferocity of their tarnished youth. The desire burning in his eyes had mirrored that in her heart.

Even now, with the sun climbing its way into the snow-etched sky, her body yearned for Duncan, to cherish the feel of his mouth, the hewn strength of his body firm against hers. If only for a while.

Thankfully, last night he’d stepped away. Only after his departure had she realized what she’d almost given him. If he’d laid her upon the bed, stripped her of her clothing and made love with her, she would have savored each tender moment.

And Duncan would have discovered she was a virgin.

She pressed her hand against her brow at the sobering reminder. God forbid if he learned that truth. It would raise too many questions. Neither could she forget Frasyer’s vow to kill Duncan if she ever told him the truth of their union, nor her belief that the earl would use deceit in achieving his goal.

As much as she wanted Duncan and still loved him with all her heart, she couldn’t take the risk. Though Frasyer’s men scoured the lands for her and an unknown man, the knights’ proximity to Seathan’s castle assured her Duncan was a suspect in Frasyer’s mind. However much she wished to remain here, she must leave before Frasyer found confirmation of that fact.

Except now her need to leave was more urgent. Though she’d resolved to stay away from Duncan, as proven by his visit last night, when he touched her, her good intentions had fled. At least she hadn’t vowed to Duncan that she would not leave Lochshire Castle.

A soft knock sounded on the door. Unsure who would be on the other side, she turned toward the entry. “Enter.”

The door opened, Nichola stepped inside, the warmth on her face of last night replaced by guarded hesitation.

Foreboding flooded Isabel. She shifted to the side of the bed and stood. “Is it Duncan?” Fear made her voice sharp, but she didn’t care. If anything happened to him because of her, she couldn’t forgive herself.

“Duncan is fine.” Nichola cleared her throat, obviously uncomfortable with whatever her task. “Seathan has requested that I escort you downstairs to his council chamber. He and his brothers await your arrival.”

Fear consumed her. “Is it my father?”

“Not that we have heard news of.”

Isabel sagged with relief. As quick wariness stole through her. “Then what is my presence needed for?”

Nichola’s eyes shadowed with worry. “I do not know, neither do I believe it is my place to tell you such if I did. I would never betray Alexander’s confidence.”

“Of course. Nor would I ask you to.” But what was so important that Seathan would summon her at first light? A thousand thoughts flooded her mind, each one more ominous than the next.

“When I first met the brothers together,” Nichola said, breaking into Isabel’s frantic thoughts, “I admit to being frightened. Then, of course, I was not free.”

Isabel remembered the story, grasping on to the bit of sanity. “You were Alexander’s captive.”

“Yes.” A blush warmed her cheeks, and she slid her hand along a chain at her neck and the tip of the halved azurite peeked from her gown. “A circumstance that changed to one where I willfully remained.”

“Did Alexander not tell you that I have known them since we were children?” Isabel asked, touched by the Englishwoman’s attempt to calm her at the prospect of facing the brothers. “I ask as I am well aware that when united, Seathan, Alexander, and Duncan present a daunting force.”

“Alexander explained parts of their past where you were concerned, but not all.” Nichola held her gaze. “He did mention that you were betrothed to Duncan. I will not ask why the marriage did not occur, but I will caution you that whatever the reason, Alexander stews about it still.”

“Why are you warning me?” Isabel asked. “We only met a few days past. I have done naught to earn such trust.”

Nichola’s face instantly softened. “I watched you while you tended Duncan. I am unsure of the reasons why you did not handfast with him, but from your tender looks, the way you cared for him these last few days, you love him still.”

Isabel gasped.

A smile touched Nichola’s mouth, then slowly faded. “Is this such a horrible thing?”

“Please, Duncan must never know.”

“Living with secrets is an awful chore. They haunt you, sway you to decisions that you otherwise would never have made.”

Isabel touched the pendant of Wallace’s emblem on a chain, hidden beneath her gown, the sincerity of Nichola’s words assuring Isabel they came from her own personal trials. If only it was so easy to admit the truth.

“Some secrets are not within our control,” Isabel whispered.

“Life rarely is.” Nichola reached over and laid her hand upon Isabel’s shoulder. “I know not what guides your decisions in regards to Duncan, neither do you know me but for a brief meeting of yesterday past. But if ever you need someone to talk to, I offer you my friendship.”

Humbled by Nichola’s generous offer, Isabel felt more the traitor, bound by promises ill made. “My thanks.”

“I will send in a maid to help you.”

“No, I can tend to myself.” And she needed time to gather her thoughts.

Nichola nodded. “I will await you outside while you dress.” She departed.

Alone, Isabel tugged on her gown and finished her toilet. A short while later, she trailed Nichola down the curved turret steps. The rumble of dozens of knights talking as they broke their fast echoed from below. Their warmth, their easy laughter and good-natured calls far contrasted the sterile domain of Moncreiffe Castle.

Frasyer’s knights and servants lived beneath his strict rule. He despised incompetence and found joviality a sign of indolence. The residents lived with hushed whispers, lowered eyes, and a solid dose of fear.

As she completed the last few steps, the great room opened before her. Meat-seasoned smoke spewed from the fires reaching up to disappear within a mammoth chimney. Women worked over large pots of porridge along with spits heavy with venison to be served later in the day, and lads hurried over with armloads of wood to restock the fire. Benches sat alongside huge trencher tables filled with knights breaking their fast.

The scene was so potent a reminder of her visits here as a child, Isabel’s heart ached. She longed for those days of innocence, of the times before her father’s gambling had stolen the life she’d known.

Nichola turned down a secluded hallway. “This way.”

Isabel followed, her worry increasing with every step. Whatever had happened, please let her father be safe.

Halfway down the stone-laid corridor, a knight guarded an entry. At their approach, he nodded, then opened the door.

With more confidence than she felt, Isabel stepped inside the chamber. Rugs embroidered with subtle colors lay scattered upon the floor, a fire blazed in the hearth taking off the chill, and a large oak table stood centered in the room near the back. She shivered despite the heat as she gazed around. Minimal adornment in a chamber intended for planning, for interviews designed to intimidate, both with the focus on war.

At her entrance, the three brothers, standing beside the hearth, turned to face her. Their expressions ranged from outright anger to honed interest.

An inquisition.

Steadying herself, she lifted her chin and met Duncan’s unwavering gaze with her own. His complexion was healthier than last eve when she’d awoken to find him in her room. Thank God he was healing.

Refusing to show fear, Isabel took another step forward and halted. She nodded toward Seathan at the opposite side of the chamber. “My lord.”

“Sit,” the earl ordered.

No informalities. She’d expected none. A simple carved chair stood empty to her left. Already outnumbered, if she sat, she would give them the edge of height as well.

She cleared her throat. “I would rather stand.”

Seathan nodded. “Frasyer’s men have been spotted in the distance.”

Heart pounding, Isabel turned to face Alexander. “Frasyer knows I am here?”

“I am unsure,” Duncan’s middle brother replied. “Unless a guard recognized Duncan while you both were in Moncreiffe Castle, he would have no way of knowing.”

“My guess,” Seathan supplied, “is Frasyer is taking no chances and scouring all lands within a day’s ride.”

“No,” Isabel agreed, her voice a whisper, aware of Frasyer’s obsession when it came to her. “He will not stop searching for me until he has me back.”

As if sensing her distress, Duncan’s expression grew defensive. “You shall be safe here.”

The brothers nodded in unison, but a shiver of fear worked its way though Isabel. Though Seathan’s fortress was bound on three sides by water, the defenses strengthened by that of a single road gaining access to Lochshire Castle, they didn’t understand the lengths Frasyer would go to keep her. Or rather, to ensure Duncan never had her.

She would dearly pay if she was ever again in his grasp. And once she had cleared her father, Frasyer would know where she was. No doubt existed that he had guards watching Lord Monceaux’s castle for her arrival. Another hurdle she would face once she arrived there.

“Last eve,” Seathan said, breaking into her thoughts, “after you departed Duncan’s chamber, Alexander and I learned that you are aware of rebel activity.”

“To a degree,” she replied.

Seathan’s jaw tightened. “Why did you withhold such an important fact from us?”

“My concern was for Duncan and his health.”

Alexander folded his arms across his massive chest. “Do you know where Wallace hides?”

Isabel nodded. “In the bogs west of Selkirk Forest, but he and his men recently moved out.”

“Bedamned,” Alexander muttered. “It is treachery!”

Seathan raised his hand, his obsidian gaze hard. “Why were you privileged to such critical information?”

“Symon is my brother,” she said stiffly. “We are family. What information he passed on to me, he chose to do so because he knew I would never betray him and the rebel cause. Never did I query him for what was not mine to know.”

Duncan’s expression remained solemn as he watched, but he remained silent. He believed her, didn’t he?

“Do you not find it odd that Frasyer’s mistress holds information that could cost Wallace his life?” Seathan asked with deadly calm that underscored the graveness of this moment.

“You expect us to believe that you do not share such knowledge with Fraser?” Alexander demanded.

“I would never tell Frasyer of Wallace’s hideout or any other rebel news.” She tamped down her anger. “The belief of my doing so is absurd. Had I told him, with King Edward’s obsession to capture Wallace, would Frasyer not have acted to seize him long past?”

Alexander shook his head with disgust. “None of this makes sense. Your claim is as befuddled as lye mixed with clotted cream. Except now, Frasyer knows that you have information about the rebels.”

“Yes.” She met Duncan’s gaze, refusing to back down. “As I explained to Duncan, my refusing to reveal Wallace’s position is the reason I was sentenced to his dungeon.”

“That satisfies my question of why he imprisoned you,” Seathan stated, “but not why you also neglected to mention your mother’s Bible.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed as she hesitated. “Out with it, lass.”

She tilted her chin up a degree more. “I saw no reason to share the fact. The Bible is mine to find, the proof mine to deliver.”

“And if you returned and found the Bible,” Seathan asked, “how would you have brought it to Lord Monceaux?”

“I would find a way,” she replied.

“In the dead of winter with a snowstorm upon us and Frasyer’s men possibly having arrived at Lord Monceaux’s castle by now?” Alexander asked with disbelief. “Even if you left this day, do you truly believe you stand a chance to reach Rothfield Castle in time to halt your father’s fate?”

Frustration balled in her throat. Damn them. “He is my father. Frasyer gave me a fortnight to tell him of Wallace’s position. My father will not be hung before then.”

“And you believed him?” Duncan asked quietly.

Until this moment, she’d not considered that Frasyer would have lied. A saint’s curse! She fought to staunch the rising fear. “He promised.” She wanted to believe he would keep his word, but even as she made the claim, Isabel realized that Frasyer’s word, especially to her, was moot.