Seducing the Laird (25 page)

Chapter 45

Owen called a halt not long after they crossed the border. They had ridden through the night and Verena’s muscles were aching with fatigue. She gingerly swung her leg over the saddle and Owen was immediately by her side to help her dismount. She silently cursed the weak muscles that forced her to cling to him to keep from falling into the mud.

"Gundy’s army is through those trees," Owen explained. "He put us uncomfortably close to the center."

The nobles liked to stay in the middle of their army camps where it was safer and everyone could see their importance. Hadran would never have chosen such a spot for the spies. They would be constantly on display, giving them little chance to sneak around.

"He wants his precious treasure as close as possible."

Though this conflict was close to home, there were many families in Gundy’s camp. One of her first assignments had been to sneak into an enemy’s encampment disguised as a camp follower and assess their strength and numbers. Did Cairn have men hidden in the English army? She didn’t recognize anyone.

Perhaps because of their proximity to the noble’s area or pleasure at their success, Gundy decided to furnish the spies with a much grander tent than expected. Fabric flaps divided the space into three rooms. Beautifully carved furniture graced rooms hung with colorful tapestries. Mountains of thick furs and blankets were gracefully draped across comfortable beds and chairs.

Weary from traveling through the frigid night, she wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the giant bed. Unfortunately before she had time to remove her cloak, a lad of about fifteen summoned them to Gundy.

"I’ll go," offered Hadran, smothering a yawn. He had always been the one to deal with Gundy and had years of practice soothing his easily offended pride.

"He wants the woman," said the lad, gesturing to Verena with his chin. He no doubt thought she was a new leman being summoned for his lord’s pleasure. He opened one of the chests to reveal a wine-colored dress of flimsy silk. She shivered just looking at the fabric. The fine cloth would be as warm as gauze in this weather.

"He can’t be serious."

"My lord has also generously provided a fur cloak for your comfort," continued the messenger in the same bored tone. The tent flap opened behind him to reveal a group of servants carrying a large wooden tub, buckets of steaming hot water and platters of assorted meats, breads, cheeses, and wines. He directed them to set up in one of the smaller rooms. "I suggest using plenty of soap."

"Lady Verena thanks his lordship for this generosity," spoke up Hadran before Verena could box the impertinent boy’s ears. After a fortnight in a dungeon making do with occasional sponge baths,
She
knew her smell was offensive, but he didn’t have to point that out.

Deft hands washed, combed and braided her hair into an elaborate circlet while fragrant herbs from the bath perfumed the air. She would have liked to linger in this small respite, but Gundy was probably anxious to hear her report. She didn’t know why Hadran couldn’t deliver it like usual, but long ago gave up trying to understand Gundy’s whims.

She forced herself to climb out of the cozy tub and munched on a crust of bread while the ladies dressed her. When they were finished, she grimaced at her reflection in the small mirror.

The ladies were experts at showing the female figure to the best advantage and transformed her into an expensive courtesan. Her bosom was proudly displayed in an indecently low bodice, tightly laced underneath to accentuate her still tiny waist. The voluminous skirt was parted in the center to reveal a saucy red underdress. Five small puffs decorated the sleeves which were fashionably slashed to show the red fabric beneath.

The effect was just short of decadent. The soft fabrics begged to be touched, the fashionable slashes clearly showed her undergarments. When she left the bathing room, the look Owen gave her made Verena want to cover herself with a blanket.

"You are radiant," he said, scrambling to his feet. The silver had been unloaded and stacked beside the table where Owen and Hadran were busy devouring the rest of her meal.

"You will be fine," said Hadran, stepping forward to wrap the luxurious sable cloak around her shoulders. He gave a wry smile at the two long hair pins stuck into her elaborate coiffure. "Remember what I taught you."

She took a deep breath and forced the worry lines on her brow to smooth.

She gave Hadran a brilliant smile despite the knots in her stomach. Gundy had never touched her in the past, but that was thanks to Hadran’s efforts to keep them apart. Wearing this dress, she felt as safe as a chicken in a wolf’s den.

"Gundy is still cloistered with his neighbors," said Owen once the last of the servants departed. "That is why he chose you instead of Hadran to attend him. There is nothing suspicious about a new whore following her lord to war. Make note of the tent’s layout and any other useful data. When the time is right, we shall need it."

Soon Owen would assassinate Gundy. Strangely, that knowledge no longer terrified her. Did it really matter who became her new master? She would still be a slave. It was Gundy’s nature to use his servants as he saw fit. Owen wanted to become just like him.

She desperately wished she hadn’t followed Hadran out of the dungeon. Perhaps with a little more time, Cairn would have forgiven her. When she was with him she began to think dangerous thoughts of what life would be like if she wasn’t a spy. She wanted to be that innocent and brave lass Cairn met during his flight from Langthorne.

Years of working for Lord Gundy had taught her to be practical. Wishing for Cairn wouldn’t change anything. Lifting her skirts free of the muddy road, she allowed Owen to escort her to Gundy’s tent.

Chapter 46

They stopped outside the largest tent in camp. Owen bent down to remove the tall wooden chopines that protected her delicately embroidered slippers from the road’s mud and filth. The gesture was for the benefit of the curious onlookers staring with unabashed awe at the mysterious lady. Owen’s reverence silently told them better than the fabulous cloak, that she was an honored guest and worthy of respect. She wondered what curious role she was supposed to play this time.

Before she was ready, Owen whisked the cloak from her shoulders and pressed a fragile decanter of wine into her hands. Like her flimsy dress, it was entirely unsuitable for a war camp.

"Relax," he whispered into her ear.

Verena gave a curt nod and stepped into the tent. If her arrangements were grand, Lord Gundy’s were nothing short of opulent. The colorfully draped hangings gave the space an oriental look. It was probably Gundy’s intent to remind his associates of the foreign crusades, though the lords would be foolish to mistake themselves for crusaders.

Fabric in every shade hung from the canvas walls. Everywhere she looked there were gilded ornaments and furniture more suited for a palace than a war
tent.
Thick imported rugs hid the mud beneath her feet.

Six lords sat in a circle debating battle scenarios and venting their unease. Gundy looked like he would like nothing better than to banish them all from his sight, but he knew he needed their support to win.

"S’wounds!"
came
an appreciative exclamation when she stepped into the room. She dipped low into a respectful curtsey, giving them all a generous view of her bosom.

"Ah, Verena!" exclaimed Gundy happily. "It is so good of you to join us. And you brought wine. You were always such a dutiful child.

"Milords, allow me to introduce Lady Verena, my ward from France. She is a distant relation of my late wife. Do be kind. This is her first trip away from the continent."

His ward?
What game was Gundy playing today? Putting Verena on display like this guaranteed she could never again work in any of these lords’ households. Like Cairn, he was giving them the impression of nobility, but Gundy always had an ulterior motive. Did he seek to use Verena’s beauty against these lords in some way?

"It is a pleasure," gushed a florid man who introduced himself as Lord Oswald.

Verena remembered his lands bordered Gundy’s and he had been anxious to form a more permanent alliance for years. He kissed her fingers as if she were the grandest lady.

"I’m sure
your
… er … ward shall find England most diverting."

That was said by Lord Reginald, a man surprisingly cunning to be in Gundy’s camp. Verena had once played a servant in his household when the king had come to visit. Gundy must not trust him if he felt the lord needed to be watched. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had his own ideas for the outcome of this expedition.

They reminded her of Owen’s gambling partners. The lords were the most casual allies, united only in purpose. They came together for supposed friendship, but each greedily sought to benefit from the other’s downfall.

"Come and sit by me," crooned Gundy in the gentlest voice. He placed an elaborately embroidered pillow on the carpet next to his chair. Verena gracefully sank into it and just barely kept herself from flinching as Gundy began idly playing in her hair.

"We should push on," demanded Lord Oswald. He was the most impatient of the bunch and ignored his chair to pace the room in agitation. "The McPherson must have seen our army by now. He is probably preparing for a siege as we speak."

"There will be no siege," insisted Gundy. "Our battle shall be quick and decisive."

"How do we know that? You are so bloody secretive. I have a mind to withdraw my men until I get some answers."

The finger that was gently playing in her curls suddenly jerked. Gundy wasn’t always so powerful. He had built his small empire through conquest in war and intrigue. Though he had vastly expanded his lands and purse, Gundy continued to push Hadran’s agents. He still felt the need to prove his dominance over England and Scotland. Gundy would never allow one of his allies to withdraw and leave him vulnerable.

The hand in her hair lowered to caress her cheek and then gently squeeze her shoulder. Taking the hint, she rose to her feet and approached Oswald.

"Your wine glass is empty," she observed sympathetically, allowing her voice to thicken with a sultry French accent. "Allow me."

One drop of wine spilled down the side of his glass. Verena caught the drop on her finger and seductively sucked the digit into her mouth.

"An excellent selection.
My lord is most generous."

The room lay in shocked silence after that brazen display, only disturbed by Oswald’s audible gulp. When she was reseated next to Gundy, he once again placed a proprietary hand on her shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze to show he approved. She wanted to vomit.

"It would be a shame if you decided to leave us," said Gundy with affected nonchalance. Oswald was quick to recant his threat.

The meeting continued and no more was said about withdrawing. When the lords began to grumble about Gundy’s demands, he would skillfully use her to distract them. He presented a platter of succulent delicacies for her to nibble on. When Lord Reginald complained that his troops would be on the front lines, Gundy allowed one sleeve to innocently fall from Verena’s shoulder. The men were enthralled.

When they finally left, Gundy was ecstatic from his success.

"That was the most fun I have had in ages! If I knew you were so effective, I would have brought you in from the field long ago."

"Milord is too kind."

The inner flap dividing the large tent into smaller rooms was pushed aside to reveal Ivone’s grim-faced assassin. She glared at Verena as if she longed to carve her in two. Ivone lay beyond, posed provocatively on a massive rope bed, wearing only a blanket and a smile.

"That sounded productive," she purred as Gundy came forward to stroke the inside curve of her thigh. Ivone stretched contentedly on the bed, drawing Gundy’s hand up under the blanket. She giggled like a young girl, and then moaned. She quickly looked away.

"It has been too long."

"Indeed, my love," replied Gundy, leaning down to kiss her puckered lips. After a moment, he forced himself to straighten. "Unfortunately now is not the time to dally. There is much to be done. Verena, tell us about Scotland."

"I have found the treasure." Her attention was focused on the bump on Gundy’s nose, pointedly ignoring the naked woman and assassin. Gundy whistled low as she produced a small pouch of silver coins. "Owen, Hadran and I brought most of it with us. We were able to fill eight sacks, each weighing about fifty pounds. The McPherson is still alive."

"What?" Gundy slapped her hard, but his heart was not in the punishment. He was too distracted watching the candlelight skim over the surface of the coins. "That was not the plan."

"I know, milord. The fault was mine."

"Why couldn’t you murder him?" interrupted Ivone.

"I became pregnant and needed to be removed from the assignment."

"Pregnant?"

Gundy cocked his head to one side, astounded that the woman he thought of solely as a tool could be a mother. From the corner of her eye she saw a slight jerk of the assassin’s blank visage. It passed as quickly as a blink of an eye, but she was certain. Something in the assassin had reacted to news of the child. Perhaps it triggered a memory of her past.

They were like two sides of the same coin. She was soft where the other woman was hard. She was trained to infiltrate, preying upon people’s emotions and expectations. Verena was like water where the assassin was stone.

There was no softness in the assassin. She skulked through the shadows until coming close enough to strike. The hard life she must have faced was clearly evident in her blank eyes, completely devoid of emotion. She knew that look well and often feared the day she would wear a similar expression. Hers were eyes that had seen too much.

"Your female problem could have cost me the entire war!" Gundy exclaimed, clenching his fists in indignation. "Get rid of it. I still have need of you."

She dutifully bowed but didn’t answer. Of course she would do no such thing. She would never let someone take her child away.

"I’m sure you noticed my esteemed neighbors’ reaction to your beauty. Those vipers would cheerfully plant a knife between my ribs. I will need you to make sure that doesn’t happen."

"I am ready to serve, milord."

"When this is over I may give you to one of them. Wouldn’t that be nice? Imagine marrying a penniless spy to a lord! Mind you don’t get a brat inside you next time. That is all."

With a short nod she turned and left the tent before the ever-watchful assassin noticed her shaking limbs. He meant to get rid of her child and pass Verena off to another lord. The thought of one of the geriatric English lords touching her made her gag. She never thought to have children but suddenly couldn’t imagine living without the tiny person inside her. She had to escape, but how? Ivone’s assassin was silent and deadly as a ghost. If she came after her, she wouldn’t get far.

Owen was waiting for her outside the tent, holding her muddy chopines like a faithful servant, but his lips were twisted in a grimace of distaste.

"Did you enjoy playing a lady? It took you long enough to leave," he whispered as soon as they were a safe distance from the tent. Did he think she enjoyed being used by Gundy? Owen wasn’t concerned for her safety. When did he become so self-centered?

"Ivone was there with her assassin."

"A woman.
Jon told me about her. No doubt she is a pitiful creature fallen on hard times. She probably knows nothing about her art besides poisons and whoring."

"I fought her," she pointed out, startled that she felt the need to defend the woman that tried to kill her. "Do not underestimate her skill."

Owen’s only response was a dismissive snort.

"I told Gundy about the child. I needed some reason to explain why Cairn is still alive. He told me to get rid of it so he can send me to spy on one of his neighbors."

"That explains the dress. This was merely a test to see how captivating you can be. Too bad Gundy won’t live long enough to enjoy your success."