My Valiant Knight (6 page)
The moment she was alone, Ainslee shed her dirty clothes. “Ye have a true skill, Ainslee MacNairn,” she muttered to herself as she eased her body into the hot water. “Not many can make an enemy ere they even meet them.” As she began to enjoy the rare pleasure of a hot bath, Ainslee hoped Justice would recover quickly and soothe the maid’s temper.
Gabel smiled faintly when he stepped into Justice’s room and a blushing young maid scurried away. “I came to see how you fare, but ’tis clear that you are rapidly recovering,” he drawled as he shut the door and walked over to the bed.
Justice grinned as he sat up, leaning insolently against the thick newly fluffed pillows. “I am well tended.”
“Obviously.” Gabel helped himself to a tankard of cider from the flagon set on a table next to Justice’s bed, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. “I have secured our prisoners.”
“So you have, if one can call giving them the best chambers in Bellefleur
securing
them.”
securing
them.”
“They have shown no sign of being troublesome. And, I see no need of locking a crippled old man and a
wee lass
in my dungeons. They are also being closely watched.”
wee lass
in my dungeons. They are also being closely watched.”
“And
m’lady MacNairn has such a fine, bright pelt of hair, ’twould be a true shame to see its luster dulled by the dungeons.” Justice grinned at his cousin.
m’lady MacNairn has such a fine, bright pelt of hair, ’twould be a true shame to see its luster dulled by the dungeons.” Justice grinned at his cousin.
“There is that to consider,” drawled Gabel, but, after a brief smile, he frowned in thought. “Do you think I err in treating them with such courtesy?”
“Nay,” Justice replied after a moment of thought. “Once the girl surrendered herself and her companion, she has been little trouble. There is also one thing I am very certain of, something which strengthens my belief that you may not even need the guard.”
“And what is that?”
“That girl will never leave without her companion, and Ronald MacNairn will not be hale enough for a race back to Kengarvey for many a week.”
“Ah, of course, the wondrous Ronald.” Gabel looked at Justice with curiosity when the man laughed. “And what do you find so amusing?”
“You sounded almost jealous, Cousin,” Justice replied, accepting the tankard of cider Gabel served him with a short nod of thanks.
Gabel looked toward the arrow slot which served as the small bedchamber’s window, averting his face from Justice’s keen eyes so that his cousin could not possibly read his expression. He
was
jealous of Ronald, deeply so, and found that both embarrassing and troubling. As they had traveled from Kengarvey to Bellefleur, Gabel had closely watched the rapport between Ainslee and Ronald, the way she tenderly cared for the man’s wounds and how Ronald fretted over her, as well as the way the pair talked to each other, openly with an unhidden affection. With every mile they rode, he had grown to dislike it more. and more. He had even caught himself vying for Ainslee’s attention like some lovesick boy.
was
jealous of Ronald, deeply so, and found that both embarrassing and troubling. As they had traveled from Kengarvey to Bellefleur, Gabel had closely watched the rapport between Ainslee and Ronald, the way she tenderly cared for the man’s wounds and how Ronald fretted over her, as well as the way the pair talked to each other, openly with an unhidden affection. With every mile they rode, he had grown to dislike it more. and more. He had even caught himself vying for Ainslee’s attention like some lovesick boy.
If Justice discovered that, Gabel mused, the man would tease him unmercifully. Worse, Justice might even feel inclined to indulge in a little matchmaking. Although he had only known Ainslee for two days, Gabel knew he was going to have difficulty fighting the allure Ainslee MacNairn held for him. He did not need Justice trying to push him and Ainslee into each other’s arms. He was going to have to be careful, and make Justice believe that, if he felt anything at all, it was a base lust. That was something he and Justice could occasionally chuckle over and then forget.
“ ’Tis but stung vanity,” Gabel replied, and smiled crookedly at Justice. “ ’Tis not easy to seduce a lass or convince her of my greatness when she spends all of her time nursing some old man.”
Justice laughed and shook his head. “For shame, cousin. You should not be considering seduction when you are in the midst of a search for a wife to grace Bellefleur.”
“Aye, a wife.” Gabel was disappointed, yet not really surprised when the thought of searching for a suitable wife no longer held any interest for him. “Aunt Marie told me that Lady Margaret Fraser will be arriving at Bellefleur in a few days. Her father hopes to convince me that his daughter will make me a good wife.”
“ ’Tis not a good time to conduct a courtship. Knowing all we do about Duggan MacNairn, I cannot believe this ransoming will be an easy business.”
“Nay. I expect trouble. Howbeit, ’tis too late to stop Fraser. He has already begun his journey here, and we do not know what route he travels.”
Justice nodded. “So we must do as best we can. For your sake, I pray that there is no trouble.”
“You can not pray for that any harder than I do.”
It was not easy, but Ainslee ignored Michael as she made her way up onto the thick encircling walls of Bellefleur. The young man clung to her like a shadow on a sunny day. He had been standing outside her room when, clean and refreshed from her bath, she had gone to see how Ronald fared. Assured that her dear friend was not suffering, and still surprised over the high quality of the quarters he had been given, she had left to find a faintly smiling Michael outside that room as well. She knew he was now at her heels, but she refused to look at him.
Standing at the ramparts, she took a deep breath of the crisp fall air. It was nearly dark, the days already growing noticeably shorter. Ainslee knew that, if her father hesitated to ransom her, she could easily be a captive at Bellefleur for the length of the winter. When she saw Gabel approach her, she knew that a lengthy stay could prove dangerous. Just the sight of his big, strong form caused a skip in her heartbeat. She hated to think of how that infatuation could mature, if she spent too much time in his company.
“Are you looking for your father to ride to your rescue?” Gabel asked, leaning against the wall and subtlety waving Michael away.
Ainslee gave him a brief look of disgust. “I am looking for your weak points, my cocksure knight, so that I may return to conquer your lands and give you a wee taste of captivity.”
“I am all atremble.” He took her hand in his, slowly drew it to his lips, and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “Yet, what man could protest imprisonment by such fine blue eyes?”
It was nonsense, Ainslee knew it, but she smiled and even felt her heart flutter. The tone of his deep voice stroked her. She tensed only briefly when he reached out to thread his long fingers through her hair. She was not so naive that she was unable to recognize an attempt at seduction, but she did not feel any inclination to rebuff him. Although she knew there was little chance of his ploys leading to anything more than a turn in his bed for the duration of her stay at Bellefleur, she discovered that she was still curious and highly aroused by his actions.
“Ye talk a great deal of pretty foolishness,” she murmured, making no attempt to elude him when he gently caged her body between his and the wall.
“Foolishness? Nay. ’Tis but the pure truth. You do have very lovely blue eyes and hair that leaves a man speechless, there being no words to adequately describe such beauty.”
Ainslee shuddered when he brushed his lips over her forehead. They were soft and warm, and their touch clouded her mind. She knew he was going to kiss her. Despite a multitude of self-scoldings about rampant vanity and the folly of it, Ainslee had suspected that he wanted to kiss her since shortly after they met. It might be wise and proper to sternly rebuff his advances, but she knew she was going to consign right and proper to the winds. She was far too curious, had thought about kissing him often enough to want to know what it would feel like. When he touched his lips to hers, she leaned into him, wordlessly conveying her willingness.
Warmth rushed through her body, pushing away all remnants of the chill caused by the brisk weather. She clutched at the front of his thick tunic, desperately needing the support when he slowly began to deepen the kiss. A tremor went through her when he invaded her mouth with his tongue. Each stroke of his tongue within her mouth increased the sense of hunger swamping her. She clung more tightly to him, pressing her body closer to his as, for a moment, she fully succumbed to the power of his kiss. Then, as he smoothed his hands over her back, a flicker of alarm broke through passion’s haze. The need in her was too strong, the desire too hot and fast.
It was not easy, but Ainslee pushed Gabel away. She took a few deep unsteady breaths and, her voice so thick and husky she barely recognized it as her own, she said, “I believe I will return to my chambers now. ‘Tis a very fine room, though ’tis still a prison.” Afraid she was in danger of babbling, she sidled around him and headed toward the narrow steps which led down from the walls. “Howbeit, prison or not, it does seem the safest place for me to be right now.” Without waiting for him to respond, she fled.
Gabel smiled as he watched her flee. It was wrong to try and seduce her, yet he found it easy to push aside all twinges of guilt. That one kiss had shown him a glimpse of a passion so fierce and rich he could not simply ignore it, no matter how fleeting it may be. He knew Ainslee would now try to hide from him, and he would allow her that escape for a while, but he knew nothing would stop him from taking up the chase again—soon.
Six
As quietly as she could, Ainslee began to creep down the stairs. For the first time since Michael had been ordered to guard her four days ago, she had caught him napping. It only surprised her a little, as she had worked very hard to ensure that the young man got no sleep during the night. She had done everything from noisily moving the heavy furniture in her bedchamber—thus stirring up his suspicions about what she was doing—to using the garderobe so often he had to think she was ill. Her games had left her exhausted as well, but they had succeeded in freeing her of her constant shadow for the first time since her arrival at Bellefleur.
She glanced over her shoulder to make certain Michael was not following her. When she looked back down the stairs, she cursed and abruptly stopped. Another few steps and she would have walked right into Gabel. He stood at the foot of the stairs, hands on his trim hips, watching her with unveiled suspicion.
“And where are you creeping away to, m’lady?” asked Gabel. “Escaping?”
“Oh, aye. I thought I would rush boldly from the keep and bound through the gates,” she replied, leaning against the tapestry-draped wall flanking one side of the narrow, winding stairs. “I feel assured I can do so without any of your score or more fighting men espying me. And ’twould be but a small challenge to outrun all your war-horses.”
“A restless night clearly makes your tongue even sharper. ’Tis not a good day to be so clever. A few of us are not in the kindest of humors, after being roused from our beds in the middle of the night.”
Ainslee ignored his remark, but inwardly grimaced with guilt. At one time during the long night she had feigned having a nightmare. It had seemed like a clever way to keep Michael from getting any rest until a concerned Gabel, his aunt, and young Elaine had also stumbled into the room. Lady Marie and her daughter had been all that was kind, but a gleam of suspicion had quickly entered Gabel’s sleep-softened eyes. Gabel had seen her caught in the throes of a real nightmare, and she knew she was not skilled enough to imitate it properly, especially since she woke from her nightmares with little memory of what she had said or how she had acted. She would never admit to such a deception, however.
“Many pardons for being such a troublesome guest. Mayhaps it would be best if ye sent me back to Kengarvey.”
“I think not,” he replied with a crooked smile. “What I will do is select a second guard for you, so that you can no longer weary the man so much so that he becomes less alert.”
“As ye wish, m’laird,” she said, but silently cursed. Until Ronald was well she had not planned to try and escape, but now her little game to elude Michael could well have cost her any chance to flee. “I was about to go for a wee walk,” she murmured as she cautiously continued down the stairs, ignoring his wide grin as she nudged her way by him.
“I insist upon joining you, m’lady,” he said as he hooked his arm through hers, tightening his grip when she tried to slip free, and ignoring the glare she sent him. “I should think you would be interested in what your father has replied to my ransom demands.”
“I am surprised ye would feel ye could repeat his reply to a lady,” Ainslee drawled.
She was not really sure she wanted to know what her irascible father had said. There were two ways he could respond to a ransom demand for her—with anger and numerous attempts to delay paying, or by telling Gabel to do as he pleased with her. Ronald believed her father would never simply cast her to the wolves, but she was not so confident of that. Her father had no love for her, and, since no match had ever been arranged for her, she was beginning to think he had no use for her either.
Gabel laughed, but the thought of her father’s callousness killed his humor as quickly as her wry comment had roused it. The laird’s reply to the ransom demand revealed that Duggan MacNairn cared nothing at all for his daughter or her servant. There was only one captive the man had inquired about—the horse. Gabel hoped Ainslee was not too fond of the beast, for he had decided to keep it just to spit in MacNairn’s eye. It was a somewhat childish gesture, but eminently satisfying. His concern at the moment, however, was to tell Ainslee what response her father had made, yet not hurt her feelings. One glance into her wide eyes told him that he was probably trying to protect her from a truth she was already well aware of.
“Your father’s language was somewhat belligerent.” Gabel ignored her soft snort of derision over his politely vague reply. “He is attempting to negotiate your price.”
“If he refused to buy me back, ye need not fret about telling me so. I have long understood that I am not dear to my father’s heart. I canna be hurt by a truth I have already learned,” she lied, and prayed her appearance of outward calm could not be penetrated by Gabel’s piercing look.
“Are you certain you want the full truth?” he asked, stopping to face her.
“Aye, ’tis always best.”
“Sometimes it can be cruel.” Gabel wondered if he could diminish her loyalties with the truth. It might well stop her from enacting any dangerous attempts to escape just to save her father’s pride and coin.
“The truth is still best. Aye, I would never tell a friend that the gown she wears makes her look like a grazing cow, nor that she dances like a goat with three legs, but, on most occasions, the truth does more good than harm.”
“Then have the truth. Most of your father’s reply was a profane rant against ransoms, empty-headed daughters, and ambitious Normans. He feels you are at fault for this, you and your companion. The only one whose welfare was inquired after was your horse. Your father also told me that he can only afford to pay a pittance, a sum so small ’tis an insult to me as well as to you.”
That did hurt, and did so more deeply than Ainslee felt it ought to. Hiding her pain, she gave Gabel a brief smile and stepped around him. “That does sound like my father.”
Gabel fell into step beside her as she walked toward the narrow steps which led up the walls of Bellefleur. He wished he could see her eyes. It was hard to believe that she could be quite so nonchalant about her father’s cruelty as she pretended to be.
“I have sent a messenger to him today,” he said, as he followed her up the steps, his gaze fixed upon the gentle sway of her slim hips. “I told him what I have just told you—that his offer is an insult. Since he ignored my mention of the king’s wishes for a cessation of his lawless ways, I have repeated them, and I warned him of the consequences of thinking himself beyond his king’s reach.”
“My father isna a mon who considers the consequences of anything he does.”
“Are there no wiser heads at Kengarvey?”
“Aye, and they grace the pikes upon the walls of Kengarvey. My father’s reply to any advice is a blind fury at the one offering it. No one speaks out now, no matter how great a folly their laird commits. After all, one might survive Duggan MacNairn’s mistakes, but one never survives the urge to advise him.”
“I am surprised that anyone remains at Kengarvey.”
“Some have no other choice. Also, Kengarvey is their home. Even if they must endure a fool for a laird, they stay out of love for Kengarvey.” She sighed as she stared out over the walls of Bellefleur. “Kengarvey isna as fine as this keep, neither as sturdily built nor as comfortable, but ‘tis home and, for many, ’tis the only home they have ever kenned. There are fools there as weel, dim-witted ones who think my father is the bravest of men. They admire the way he spits in the eye of anyone who tries to rule him.”
Leaning against the cool stone wall at her side, Gabel asked quietly, “Even his king?”
“Do ye wish me to talk my father into a charge of treason?”
“Such a charge already hangs o’er his head and, if he does not soon swear the allegiance asked of him, he will find out that the king he scorns can be a formidable enemy.”
Ainslee shuddered at the thought of the fate her father tempted. The penalty for treason was death, a long, gruesome death. It would not be only her father who suffered it either. Most certainly he was placing his precious sons at risk, and could even be endangering her and her sisters. She could not defend her father’s actions, but she decided it was past time to begin weighing her every word. By neither word nor action would she help Gabel or the king brand her father a traitor. Although her father had done nothing to earn such loyalty, it could easily prove to be a matter of self-preservation.
“My father but plays the ransom game, Sir Gabel,” she replied. “Verra few people bow to the first ransom demand made.”
“I cannot believe you truly think that.”
“What ye believe about me and my thoughts, sir, doesna really matter.” She returned to staring out at the countryside and tensed when he moved closer to her, his body brushing against hers all along one side as he lightly stroked her hair.
“But it does matter. I do not know you well, Ainslee MacNairn, but I did feel that you were an honest woman.”
“I have told ye no lies.”
“Nay, but you have told me few truths either.”
“Weel, here is a truth. Someone approaches and ’tisna my kinsmen.”
He tensed, stared at the riders moving toward Bellefleur at a slow, steady pace, and moved away. Ainslee felt the chill of his leaving immediately, and knew it was not just from the removal of his warm body. He had retreated from her in every way. She looked more closely at the riders, trying to discern the reason for his almost complete withdrawal. In the midst of the riders was a small horse-drawn cart. Within the cart sat several women, one of them clearly a wellborn lady. Ainslee recognized the party as the Frasers, one of her father’s many enemies and the most ardent.
There were two reasons for the Frasers to travel to Bellefleur. One was to ally themselves with Gabel against her father, but the wellborn women of the clan did not often join such a venture, especially not at this time of the year. The other was to attempt to bind the two families together through a marriage. Ainslee had the sinking feeling that the lady in the cart was going to be offered as a possible bride for Gabel.
Ainslee was torn between fury and disgust. She had harbored no illusions about Gabel’s attempts to seduce her, although the depth of her hurt indicated that she might not have been as free of romantic self-deception as she had thought. For Gabel to try and draw her into his bed even as he courted a bride was not only infuriatingly arrogant of him, it was deeply insulting. If she was right and this was a candidate for a bride entering through the heavy gates of Bellefleur, then it was indisputable proof that Gabel de Amalville had a very low opinion of her. He really did see her as no more than someone to dally with then cast aside, as no more than some common hedgerow whore, for it was evident that he did not treat every wellborn Scottish lady the same.
“I believe I will return to my bedchamber,” she said as she headed down the steps, desperate to get away from him for fear he would read the turmoil she suffered in her eyes.
“You do not wish to meet the Frasers?” Gabel asked as he quickly followed her.
Ainslee wondered what would happen if she pushed the fool off the walls. She could not believe he wanted to introduce his intended leman to his intended bride. “This particular Fraser loathes my clan. I dinna believe he would be pleased to see me.”
Despite her best efforts to reach the safety of her bedchamber before Colin Fraser or his people saw her, Ainslee found herself trapped in the bailey as her clan’s deadliest enemies arrived. She tried to hide behind Gabel as he shook hands with Lord Fraser and greeted the man’s daughter, a dark buxom beauty named Margaret. Ainslee knew her pathetic attempt to hide until she could flee to her room had failed when Lord Fraser glared at her.
“What is one of those MacNairns doing here?” Fraser demanded.
“She is a prisoner,” Gabel replied. “I am discussing her ransom with her father even now.”
“Ye let a prisoner walk about freely? Especially one of those treacherous MacNairns? Ye should lock the bitch in chains, or ye will soon find a knife sticking in your back.”
“At least MacNairns dinna smile sweetly at a mon whilst using lies, the law, and the king to rid ourselves of him,” Ainslee snapped, glaring right back at the burly man.
“Your father has never obeyed a law in his whole miserable life, so ’tis sure he wouldna ken what ones to use to his advantage. And he certainly canna even go near the king or he will swiftly be hanged for the thieving dog he is.”
“Enough,” Gabel said and, seeing an abashed, sleepy-eyed Michael walking toward him, nudged a glowering Ainslee toward her youthful guard.
Although it caused the bile of fury to sting the back of her throat, Ainslee bit back the final insult she was prepared to hurl at Fraser. The look of contempt Margaret Fraser gave her only made that silence harder to maintain. Ainslee ached to hit the woman, but allowed Michael to drag her away. Watching Gabel soothe his guests and flirt with a suddenly coquettish Margaret was not something she wished to be subjected to anyway. She did wonder how much the circumstances of her captivity would now change.
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