Seducing the Laird (26 page)

Chapter 47

"Verena!
What on earth are you wearing?"

As soon as Owen lifted the tent flap, Jon scrambled off his stool and barreled into her arms. She barely managed to brace herself for the impact. With those familiar scrawny arms tightly circling her waist, she felt some of her anxiety melt away.

"That’s enough!" Hadran said, coming forward to pry them apart. "You’ll ruin Gundy’s dress and I’m not helping you repair it."

"The dress is fine," Verena said with an exasperated sigh. She wished she could burn the infernal thing instead of gently dabbing the mud stains left by Jon’s grubby hands.

Hadran demanded to know what transpired in Gundy’s tent, so she recited the events almost word for word. They waited patiently until the end and then picked apart her story by asking dozens of pertinent questions. Where did the assassin stand during the interview? Were any of the lords carrying weapons? Were there other servants present? How far away were the guards? Had Gundy actually used the word "love" when addressing Ivone?

She patiently answered each question, familiar with this type of interview. One of the first lessons of being a spy was to know what type of information to look for. Gundy’s report was fairly straightforward. He was only interested in the results of her endeavor. Hadran wanted to know every detail so that he could accurately assess Gundy’s mood, desires and his next actions.

"It appears I arrived just in time," said Jon, sucking the marrow out of a chicken bone. "Things are starting to get exciting."

"How did you find us?"

"That was easy. Those nags I told you about were being moved just as I approached. I had to wait hours before they were left alone and by then, you had already left.

"At first I thought you would take the treasure back to Langthorne castle. Then I remembered Gundy borrowed a goodly sum to finance this invasion. He needs the silver fast to keep the other lords quiet. So he must have ordered you to bring the treasure to him. The three of you received quite a bit of attention entering the noble’s area dressed as you were in rags."

"I always knew you were sharp," praised Hadran, ruffling the lad’s unkempt curls. "Anyone else would have wasted hours searching in all the wrong places, but you knew just where to go."

"I learned from the best."

"What of Roselyn? Do you know if Cairn found her?"

"Nay.
The cottage was undisturbed when I left."

Was there a brief hesitation in his words? Perhaps Jon wasn’t as unaffected by their actions as he tried to appear. The knot in her stomach curled tighter, rising up to form a lump in the back of her throat. More than a full day had passed while Roselyn and the others lay tied and gagged in Thomas’ basement. The candle she left burning would be extinguished by now leaving them in a cold, dark pit. Eventually someone would arrive to check on Thomas, but what if they didn’t find the hidden prisoners?

Owen poked at his soggy garments drying on a rope strung across the tent. The others had not been provided with a change of clothes and huddled around the brazier in blankets while they waited for their clothes to dry. The smell of sweaty men, wet wool and leather permeated the large tent. Ever the exhibitionist, Owen threw off his blanket, giving them a good view of his broadly muscled back, generously covered with thick hair.

"I need to rest if I am to be of any use tomorrow. Jon, will you help me?" She abruptly stood and walked toward the room she had appropriated as her own. She was a good spy, but it was difficult to pretend around her family.

Jon’s deft fingers made short work of her laces. She remembered watching him as he picked the locked door in the Old Lord’s tunnel. Any woman would envy such slender hands, shaped for grace and precision. There was a slight tremble in them now as he helped her undress, though his voice was firm when he spoke.

"Did he hurt you?"

Her eyes filled with tears at the young lad’s earnest question. Perhaps she wasn’t as alone as she thought. Though he would never win a fight against Owen, Jon would do what he could to help her.

An image of Roselyn’s terrified face suddenly appeared in Verena’s mind. She hadn’t wanted to hurt the girl, but she had done precisely that. How many others would suffer because of this treasure? Would Jon be the next victim or her unborn child?

"I have endured worse."

Owen knew the value of Verena’s face and wouldn’t damage her while she could still be of use. Though she tried to make her voice sound flippant, Jon could hear the sarcasm in her tone.

"Not from him," Jon pointed out.

"Nay, I don’t know what to do."

Jon led Verena to the large rope bed and lay down beside her. For a moment she forgot she was the elder and allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace. The smell of clean, damp linen and wind clung to his shirt.

"First, you will allow yourself to cry. Then you will sleep. Then we shall figure a way out of this mess."

His voice was so confident, she had to chuckle. No matter how dire things became, Jon could always put a smile on her face, but he wasn’t laughing now. The young man’s eyes were deadly serious as he stared unfocused at the tent walls.

Though she tried to resist, she felt the tears pour out at this sudden and unexpected tenderness. She clung to Jon, burying her face in his shoulder to muffle the sound of her tears.

"That’s it," he murmured, knowing Owen was probably listening on the other side of the fabric wall. "Cry until there is nothing left and you will feel much stronger after."

"How did you become so wise?"

"I know a thing or two about hopeless situations."

His tone was light, but she heard the underlying strength. His easy manner made her assume Jon was much younger, but she realized she didn’t know his true age. What had this man-child experienced before finding Hadran? Before she could ask he tucked her face back into his shoulder and she let out a fresh stream of sobs.

She cried until she was completely spent and more exhausted than she could remember, and like magic her mood began to lighten. For this one moment she didn’t have to repress her emotions or pretend to be in control. As her eyes finally drifted shut, her mind began to lift with hope.

She had cried, she would sleep, and then she would find a way out of this mess. She didn’t know how the last part would happen, but she was immensely grateful to have such a wise and mature friend by her side.

Chapter 48

"Isn’t this a tender sight?"

Owen’s rough voice pulled Verena from a deep sleep. She was dreaming of Cairn, running to him through a tangle of dark, twisted trees that scratched at her face and dress. A beautiful infant was cradled in her arms, crying as if his little lungs would burst. She was lost and desperate, but she knew if she could reach Cairn she would be safe.

There were only a few yards to the castle, but it seemed impossibly far away. Cairn stood just in front of the gate, his arms open in welcome, but before she could reach him, he turned away. Verena called out to him, begging Cairn not to leave her, but it was no use. He didn’t love her. Cairn didn’t want their child.

Strong arms clamped on her skirt. She looked down to find Owen and Gundy pulling at her, drawing her down into the Old Lord’s sarcophagus. The beautiful, frightened child with the powerful voice was slipping from her hands and there was nothing she could do to catch him.

She bolted upright in bed. One hand rushed to her belly, desperate to feel the tiny child inside. He was safe and Verena vowed nothing would tear him away.

Jon groaned at the intrusion, pulling a cushion over his head to block out the morning sunlight. They had slept curled in each other’s arms. Now Owen stood glowering over the bed with his arms folded across his chest.

"Has Gundy asked for me?"

That was the only reason she could think of for Owen appearing in her room unless he meant to replace Jon with himself. She shuddered at that thought and discreetly reached for the knife she had tucked under her pillow. Her earlier resolve to give Owen what he wanted only referred to the treasure.

"Nay.
Get dressed. We have a visitor.
You too, Jon."

With one last disgruntled look at the boy lounging in her bed, Owen left the room.

"Poor Owen.
He was seething with jealousy."

"That is not funny."

Snatching the pillow, she whacked Jon over the head with it. This was certainly no time for teasing. Where was the mature youth who tenderly wiped her tears the night before? That person vanished with a loud and decisive snore.

She gave a sudden push and shoved Jon off the bed. He lay in a tangled heap of blankets, staring at Verena with murder in his eyes.

"You are lucky you are pregnant," he warned. Those words were like ice water on their play. She was pregnant. Lord Gundy demanded that she get rid of the child. Owen planned to assassinate Gundy and make her his lover. What was she to do?

Jon promised they would think of a plan, but it appeared they would have no time. Owen’s mysterious guest awaited them in the front room of the tent. Neither of them could imagine who the stranger could be. It was obviously not one of Lord Gundy’s neighbors paying a visit or Hadran would be there instructing her on how best to conduct herself.

Verena could hear the awake and active camp through the tent’s fabric walls. Orders were shouted and servants ran about seeing to their lord’s comfort. Gundy must have given new orders after she left the night before.

She drew back the flap separating her room from the rest of the tent and paused in shock. A small figure in nondescript dark clothes stood in the center of the room, sizing up Owen and Hadran. Hollow eyes swung to Verena and peered at her as if calmly plotting her disembowelment.

"That is Ivone’s assassin."

She desperately longed to draw her knives, but forced her itchy palms to remain at her sides. If she meant to harm them, the woman would have snuck into their tent during the night.

"Assassin doesn’t quite describe the full range of my abilities." The self-confident words belied the modest nod of her head. She seemed to be at ease, but her feet were balanced in a fighter’s stance. Her hands hovered close to the long knife at her belt. She would bet there were many more weapons concealed in her clothing. "Gundy has sent me to offer my services."

Verena suspected the woman’s appearance was due more to Ivone’s influence than Gundy’s. She was a guest in his camp with only one soul she could trust. The lady no doubt sent her servant to keep an eye on his spies. By placing her own spy with them, Ivone guaranteed she would be the first to know of any changes to the plan.

"We don’t need your help." Jon remembered the battle between this assassin and Verena, and wanted nothing to do with this deadly woman.

The assassin lifted one eyebrow, not bothering to respond to the boy’s bluster. Regardless of their abilities, Gundy’s word was law. If he thought they needed the extra support, they would get it.

"What is your name?" She tried to make the question sound innocuous, but she was burning with curiosity. She wanted to know everything about the woman who vowed to slay her.

"Mary."

"Well met, Mary. Welcome to the team. Are you hungry?"

Verena gestured for her to take a seat next to a tray full of breads, meat and cheese. Without a word, the family of spies circled the assassin. She stood in front, Owen behind, and Hadran and Jon were on either side. They were relaxed, but there was a tension in the air that strained her nerves.

None of them trusted this woman and for good reason. Did she really expect them to welcome her into their fold merely because of Gundy’s order? They wouldn’t defy him, but neither would they lower their guard around this newcomer.

"You should eat too," said Mary, wrapping a chunk of bread into a napkin for later. How could she eat surrounded by enemies? "Gundy wants us on the road in an hour."

"We are moving camp?"

"Aye.
The lords are anxious for this siege to begin. When Gundy gives the signal, you will lead a small contingent of men through the secret passage. I searched and couldn’t find it, but I know it must lead to the Old Lord’s woods. You were clever to find it."

Praise from this woman? She blinked. Those words, with their semblance of kindness, made her more wary than a direct threat. Mary laughed at her unease.

Jon told Hadran about the secret passage when he escaped from Scotland, and Hadran told Gundy. He was delighted with the news and quickly saw how he could use it to his advantage. With the McPhersons busy repelling the main army, a small group of English solders would infiltrate the castle through the secret passage.

She remembered the anguish she felt in Scotland when Gundy ordered her to murder Cairn. She couldn’t hurt him then, and she couldn’t harm him now. What would she do when Gundy ordered her to betray Cairn again?

"You are precious! I can see why Gundy has such faith in your team. With those big, innocent eyes you don’t look capable of hurting a fly.
Muscles over there is
probably more than willing to handle the dirty jobs. A young lad is always useful for sneaking into difficult places, and the old man must keep you in line."

"What about you, Mary? Who keeps you in line?" Owen finally spoke up. There was no mistaking the threat in his voice. If Mary gave him any reason to doubt her, he would be ready and willing to end to her career.

Mary laughed again. It was a harsh sound, completely devoid of humor. It made her skin crawl. What happened to this woman? Verena had her family of spies to support her. They uplifted each other when their assignments became too difficult. This woman had nothing but the ruthless job and the coin she received from Ivone.

She couldn’t forget that moment when she informed Gundy about the child. A shadow of something crossed the assassin’s eyes, a flicker of emotion so brief it might have been imagined. Something was there beneath the impenetrable armor of Mary’s heart.

"I need no keeper," boasted Mary with a savage curl of her lip. "I follow milady of my own free will. If anyone tries to get in my way …"

The words trailed into silence, allowing each spy to imagine the gruesome fate that befell those who dared to control her. At least one person had tried and paid the price.

"There is much to be done if we are to leave within the hour." Hadran’s matter-of-fact words snapped them back to the present. Despite their personal feelings for each other, they still worked for Gundy.

Owen had not mentioned his plot to overthrow their lord, but she knew he was contemplating it with glee. This woman was another obstacle in his path, but Owen would deal with her.

The heady sense of anticipation lay thick in the air. Any moment she expected a calamity to strike. When would Owen make his move?

"We will need water for the journey. Verena, can you help me collect some?"

Sweet, perceptive Jon must have sensed her growing panic and offered her a respite. She was only too eager to grab their water skins and follow Jon to a small stream near the camp. She was dressed in her tattered garb from the dungeon and an old blanket so no one recognized her as the tempting vision that visited Gundy’s tent the night before.

"Thank you," Verena said once they were out of sight of the camp. She leaned down and splashed icy water on her face. The shock helped to calm her strained nerves.

"We don’t have much time. Give me your water skins and walk through those trees."

"I don’t understand."

"Shh! The soldiers will hear you. Go! You’ll understand soon enough."

She followed his instructions and headed deeper into the forest. In the distance she could hear their noisy preparations, but felt isolated in the thick trees.

"Verena?"

The knife was in her hand before she spun around, but she dropped it when she saw her visitor.

"Cairn!
What are you doing here?"

She flung herself into his open arms, kissing him as though her life depended on each brush of their lips. He was trying to say something, but she was so intent on the glorious feel of him in her arms, it took her a while to understand his words.

"You love me?"

"
Aye,
and I should have realized that long ago."

"But after all I have done …"

"You saved my life. That’s all I care about. You risked Gundy’s wrath for me and I repaid you by locking you in the dungeon. I am an ungrateful cur."

"Nay!
You were right to be angry. Oh Cairn, you must return to Scotland immediately. Gundy has ordered his army to advance. They know about the Old Lord’s tunnel. Gundy wants me to lead a group of his men through it while your soldiers are occupied repelling the siege."

"His men can’t find the tunnel if you come back with me. Once you are in the castle, you will be safe. Andreu should return any day with supplies and men. We can hold out until then."

She wanted nothing more than to go back to Scotland. She wished she could rely on his strong sword arm and the mountain of stone to protect her and their child from danger, but couldn’t. She had worked for Gundy far too long to trust her sudden good fortune.

If she returned with Cairn, the spies would come after her, if not Owen, then Ivone’s assassin. The family that supported her for most of her life also suffocated her, forcing her into a life of servitude and compromise.

"I cannot return with you." Cairn’s fingers tightened on her. It never occurred to him that she might refuse to leave. Cairn was bewildered by her refusal. "We would never be safe."

She told him of Ivone’s presence in Gundy’s camp and her sinister assassin. Mary wasn’t the only threat to their happiness. Owen vowed to keep Verena by his side. If she ran away, Jon would be punished for helping her escape. She couldn’t let that happen.