Knight Defender (Knight Chronicles) (4 page)

Artis smiled. “I vow you’ll have all you need as soon as you get to Neilina’s chamber.”

They climbed a spiraling stair to the third level and sped down a hall with one door on each side and one at the end.

Artis opened the portal at the end of the hall and revealed a spacious chamber with two beds. Jessamyn followed her inside. Neilina sat on a stool near a braiser, naked to the waist and dabbing gingerly at her injured side. Three other women surrounded her, all chattering at once.

“Out!” Artis ordered. “I’ve brought our future sister-in-law. She’ll help Neilina, but to give them quiet we must all leave.”

The women fell silent, staring at Artis. One by one they nodded, stood and left without uttering a word. Artis followed.

When the door closed behind them all Jessamyn approached Neilina. Blood still oozed down the woman’s side. The cloth she used to wash with and the water in the bowl beside her were both red.

“Here, let me get clean water and more cloths.”

“On the table beneath the window.” Neilina lifted a hand, pointed, then dropped back to lean against the wall. “My thanks to you and Artis for getting them to leave. I love my sisters, but I dared no show weakness for fear I’d frighten them all. All save Artis. Naught ever frightens her.”

Returning, Jessamyn pulled up another stool and sat. “I gather you are the oldest and always put on a good face for them.”

“Our oldest sister married recently and no longer lives here. I’m next in line. Sorcha always knew what to do. I never know how to behave with my sisters, and more often than not I anger them instead of comfort.”

Jessamyn drenched one cloth, wrung it out, and folded it lengthwise before laying it over the entire long wound.

A knock sounded, and Artis entered before either Jessamyn or Neilina could respond.

“I brought the medicaments, bandages, and food you requested.” She set a basket on the floor beside Jess.

“Thank you, Artis.”

“Do you need me to stay and help?”

“No,” said Neilina. “But please tell Raeb I’m fine and expect to be about my normal tasks tomorrow.”

“I’ll get the message to him right now,” Artis said then left.

“Your brother must love you very much,” Jessamyn remarked.

Eyes closed and her back still resting against the stone wall, Neilina nodded. “Yes, all of us have always been close, but since our parents’ deaths, Raeb has been both father and brother. We try to lighten his load where possible. He doesna make it easy, though. He tends to guard his emotions and tries no to show anything but a calm face to the world. And ’tis worse now that Sorcha is wed and canna mother us as she has these past ten years.”

Jessamyn wanted to ask all sorts of questions. What were the other sisters’ names? How had their parents died? Yes, she agreed Raeb MacKai was annoyingly difficult to read, but why was their brother so boorish? A hundred other queries pushed at her, but she could see Neilina was tiring. The most important thing was to get the woman into bed so she could rest and heal.

When that was accomplished and Neilina was slipping into a curative sleep, Jessamyn dragged her stool to the braiser that warmed the room. She ate the stew, and drank the mead Artis had brought. Jessamyn had not imagined getting drawn into this family. Her plan—vague as it was—had always been to maintain a chilly if polite distance and try to give her betrothed a strong enough distaste of her that he would reject her without good cause, thus allowing her to retain her dowry. So far she’d been ignored, toted around like a sack, and maneuvered into nursing one of the rather astonishing MacKais. Keeping any sort of distance from the family was unlikely at this point. In fact, she feared the wedding might happen too quickly. She’d been locked in the baron’s own chamber, which implied intimacies that could force her to marry. On the other hand, the baron treated her with such callous disregard, she doubted he wished to marry at all. Honestly, she did not know what to think. She needed more information about the man contracted to be her husband.

She would find Margery and their baggage while considering the best course. She did not know what to do now to get Raeb MacKai to reject her, but she would figure it out. She would start by surprising him and hopefully keeping him off balance. He no doubt expected her to be locked and cowering in his chamber.

She did not know how to cower.

• • •

In the room where Rhuad MacFearann lay having Maeve tend his thigh wound, Raeb paced the perimeter. He didna like the anxiety pushing at him, but Jessamyn Du Grace was locked in his chamber with access to all his personal belongings—including a number of weapons. He wouldna put it past her to try to kill him with his own knife. She was a devious woman. St. Finan’s ghost, by now she’d been in his room long enough to prepare a verra unpleasant greeting. Perhaps he should just leave her be until morning.

“Are you done fussing over the man yet?” Raeb asked.

His sister calmly placed her unguents and bandages in a basket and stood. “Aye, I’m leaving a cup of mead with a sleeping draught mixed in. While you talk, make sure he drinks it all.”

“I’d rather no be losing my wits, thank you very much, Lady Maeve,” Rhuad said.

She turned a fierce stare on him. “You’ll do as you’re told, or I’ll make certain Neilina never speaks to you again.”

Rhuad swallowed. “Yes, my lady.”

She turned her gimlet gaze back on Raeb. “And you, brother, dinna exhaust my patient with questions that can wait. He needs rest, and if you badger him into a fever, I’ll ensure your soon-to-be wife makes your life a misery.”

Maeve had no idea how miserable he already was. He looked to be so for many long weeks. He couldn’t send Jessamyn Du Grace home until Edward I’s troop ships were captured and provided the means to get rid of the cursed woman. Nor could he afford to have her leave before she rejected him without cause and must leave her dowry behind. The only blessing out of this entire day was that he’d succeeded in giving the woman a disgust of him. With luck when he went to check on her, she would demand only to be returned home and would leave his body in one piece. He anticipated agreeing to such a demand with great joy. Too bad he’d not be able to send her anywhere until midsummer.

When the door closed behind his sister, Raeb sat on the bench she’d left at the bedside and studied Rhuad MacFearann.

The man gave a toothy smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “I suppose you’d like to know what business brought me to Dungarob.”

“Aye, but I’m more interested in how you came to know Neilina and whether or no I should kill you for dishonoring her.” He handed MacFearann the cup Maeve had left.

Rhuad took a long, slow sip. “’Tis no reason for killing, as I’ve never touched your sister, no even to hold her hand or help her across a stile.”

“Then why did you let my entire clan think otherwise?”

“To cover my real reasons for being here.”

Raeb lifted a brow. “What would those be?”

Rhuad drank again. “’Twould be best if I explained from the moment Lady Neilina and I met.”

Raeb leaned forward. “Whatever will get you to the point faster.”

“I sought shelter with some crofters on your holding while trying to figure out how best to approach you. Given my father’s reputation, I wasna certain I’d be welcome, and ’twas vital I speak with you.” He paused to sip.

“Lady Neilina showed up at the same place two days ago. Her horse had gone lame.”

St. Finan’s ghost
. “I remember my master of horse telling me of it.”

“I offered to give her a ride back to Dungarob if she would do me the wee favor of pretending she knew me as a suitor when I arrived in a day or two.” Rhuad drained the cup and continued. “’Twould give me a chance to speak with you on the excuse of asking for her hand. I told her who I was and why my name forced me to a ruse to get your attention. I even confided that I had news of vital import, though I didna share what that was.”

“I’ll inform the clan I’ve rejected your suit. Now, why did you choose to no confide in Neilina?”

“I dinna believe you wish your sisters to know yet of the plan to capture Edward Plantagenet’s ships and men.”

Raeb lifted both brows. “I’ll have to tell them at some point when their gossip can do no damage. How did you learn of the plot?”

“I agreed to carry messages for Lord MacBirnum if he would tell me where I could find my brother.” Rhuad’s eyes blinked rapidly. “Your sister’s potion is working quickly.”

“I’m surprised he trusted you when Ranulf betrayed Scotland.”

“I knew my half brother would no give details, out of his misplaced sense of honor. His mother and sister had been lured to visit friends who betrayed them to the bishop. The cleric held them for ransom. His excuse was pious revenge for our father’s attack on the priory, which hadna paid its rents and was abusing our peasants. Clan MacFearann is small and has little left after paying the death debt demanded by Rome. I couldna understand the purpose for demanding ransom until I learned, after the fact, that the demand was used to coerce Ranulf into betraying Scotland.”

“That explains a great deal. Did MacBirnum tell you Ranulf has been banished to
Bana-bhuidse
?

“Aye.” MacFearann’s head drooped, but he jerked it upward. “MacBirnum agreed I could arrange delivery of the messages so that Dungarob’s is the last. I hope to find a ship or fisherman willing to take me to the isle.”

“If you dinna find passage before we take the English troop ships, then after the fight, I will make certain you are taken to your brother at the first opportunity. The ships are Dungarob’s prize. The other clans will have Englishmen to ransom as their portion.”

A gentle snore answered this pronouncement.

“Curse it, man, you didna deliver your message.” Even a push on his shoulder could not rouse the man. What to do? Raeb decided to search the man’s belongings. MacFearann traveled light, and the search did not take long. As expected, Raeb found no written messages. He looked to the bed where the snores had grown louder. He’d not get anything tonight. However, on the morrow, he’d be at MacFearann’s side first thing.

With nothing more to distract him, he needed to turn his attention to the problem of Jessamyn Du Grace. But first he’d get his supper. ’Twould do no good if hunger laid him low when he dealt with his betrothed.

“How fares Neilina?” Raeb asked of Dougal as he took the seat beside his captain.

“Artis said to tell you Lady Neilina is resting well, that her wound is slight, and she should be about her normal activities tomorrow. And MacFearann?”

“Maeve is an excellent healer, and I’ve no doubt of his recovery.”

“Good.” Dougal lowered his voice. “Do you no think ’tis time to inform the clan of the plot against Edward of England? You have his goddaughter as surety against any threat, should the plan leak as far as England, which I doubt it will do before Edward launches his ships.”

“I’ll no risk all our preparations by telling the men of our plans too early.” The plot to deprive Edward I of coin, men, and ships, thus preventing England’s invasion of Scotland, had been born behind the screen of Raeb’s sister Sorcha’s wedding to Colin Marr, now Earl of Strathnaver. Through an intermediary, King Edward had been offered the lure of landing English ships in Dungarob bay for a small fee and his goddaughter’s hand in marriage. Edward had accepted quickly. In the same message that told of Lady Jessamyn’s arrival during the last weeks of April, the English king sent word that his first ships would arrive at midsummer. In the passing months, Raeb had grown weary of keeping secrets from his sisters and clansmen. However, without secrecy the plan had little chance of success, and midsummer was still more than two months away.

“They are warriors and grow restless with lack of action. They dinna ken why you willna take gold from Colin Marr for giving him your sister’s hand. And with the clan’s fortunes so bleak, they dinna understand why you will no release some of them to seek wealth elsewhere for a time.” Dougal sounded as frustrated as Raeb felt.

True, releasing some of the men would ease the burden on Dungarob’s already small resources. But he couldn’t be certain of the exact date that Edward’s ships would arrive. Midsummer was the designated time, but sea winds and currents could alter man-made decisions. They must wait on nature’s pleasure.

“Nonetheless, I’ll keep my own council until midsummer at least.” The solstice couldn’t come soon enough for Raeb. He’d be rid of the annoying English woman. As long as he kept his
slat
in his breeches. When the plot succeeded, his people would once again have ships for fishing and could feed themselves. He would have the Du Grace dowry to restore the keep and its defenses, to make improvements in the village, and to restore his stables and the MacKai reputation as horse breeders. The horses to fill those stables would soon be on their way to Dungarob.

“I dinna ken if ... ”

Deep in thought, Raeb wasn’t certain what Dougal had been saying, but the man didn’t normally stop speaking in mid-sentence.

Evidently Raeb’s failure to reply went unnoticed, for Dougal stood, took a step back from the table, and stared—openmouthed—at something on the other side of the room. Then the silence filling the now crowded main hall struck Raeb. Even the deepest night was never this quiet.

“What is it?” He shifted to peer around Dougal. Raeb’s jaw dropped.

How had she escaped his room?

Dressed in pale green samite, Jessamyn Du Grace glided into the hall. Her carriage was proud and tall, and every stride bespoke confidence in her own worth. On both right and left, she graced his clansmen and women with a sweet expression and a few words, which he couldn’t hear. Though none he could see spoke in response, men and women alike instinctively made way for her. She had no need to pick her way between the crowded benches.

Raeb understood. He’d seen her disembark and treat a horse with unusual concern and kindness for an English noblewoman. He had witnessed her thoughtful consideration for a servant. He’d seen the lady soaking wet and shivering, and somehow no less attractive. He’d witnessed her screeching invectives and swearing retribution. Now the irate passion of the early afternoon was gone and in its place was a kindly interest so alluring it tempted him to drop his cold reception.