Seducing the Laird (6 page)

Chapter 12

It was late that night when Verena awoke, lying on a bed of luxurious furs. It was almost too dark to see, but she could make out the inside of a crude shelter and surmised they had finally met with the Scottish reinforcements. Only nobility could travel so comfortably, with pack horses and mules laden with unnecessary items. As she snuggled into a cocoon of warmth, she didn’t begrudge the vice.

Outside the noises from Cairn’s party were muted, but still discernible. Each one was so distinct she could imagine someone seeing to the horses, checking supplies, whispering a joke and grunting in amusement. Small sounds that would easily blend into the night, but Hadran had taught her how to listen.

She yawned, blinking tired eyes and contemplated going back to sleep. Her shoulder ached abominably making it difficult to relax. She had sustained injuries before; it was a hazard of her profession, but knowing her wound was superficial didn’t lessen the pain.

A movement caught her eye and she glanced up, ashamed to find she was not alone inside the shelter. At first, she assumed the shape a few feet away to be merely a pile of clothes or blankets, but as her eyes focused she could make out a sliver of moonlight highlighting Cairn’s cheek and his sparkling eyes, which were open and focused on her.

She gasped at the intrusion. Her cheeks flamed in the darkness. Though he seemed relaxed, she could feel the tension as their eyes met. The beat of her heart increased to a furious pound. Cairn’s gaze dropped to her lips and she had to force herself not to nervously lick them.

Did he think of their kiss? Verena remembered how perfectly she fit in his embrace. She remembered the warmth of his skin, his smell and the intoxicating play of their tongues and lips. His lovemaking would be magical.

That thought was like ice across her fevered skin. She had no business imagining his lovemaking. Cairn was a means to getting the treasure.
Nothing more.
Verena abruptly wrenched her gaze from Cairn’s, turning away to block out the sight of him, but even with her eyes averted she could feel Cairn’s magnetic presence.

It was just a kiss, her mind argued, but she knew it was so much more. With that kiss she found herself dangerously drawn to the man she was supposed to betray. Her effectiveness as a spy depended upon her ability to rationalize and remain unattached. Even physical desire could jeopardize the mission.

Cairn was certainly not the spoiled noble she expected. He tried to protect her though they were virtual strangers, and despite the sensual tension between them, Cairn had behaved with remarkable restraint. What would be the result of the unspoken promise that lay between them? That question plagued her imagination until she forced her exhausted mind to sleep.

Cairn stayed awake for some time thinking of their predicament. Remembering that passionate kiss was enough to have him throbbing in
expectation.
Verena was beautiful and Cairn hadn’t bedded a woman in a long time, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted by a comely lass. There were more pressing concerns than bed sport.

This would be a difficult winter for the McPherson clan. Cairn knew a treaty with Lord Gundy was risky, but couldn’t afford to ignore his threat during these hard times. The raiding across their border had to stop so his people could focus on rebuilding.

Though the Scottish and English armies never met during Perkin Warbeck’s unsuccessful maneuvering, border lands like Langthorne were ravaged as Scotland sided with Warbeck and England sided with King Henry VII. A truce could only benefit them, but Lord Gundy had shown he was not interested in peace or the wellbeing of his tenants. He wanted the glory of war and his own revenge.

The McPhersons lay next to a viper poised and ready to strike. Lord Gundy saw the clan at its most vulnerable and decided to take advantage. The raids wouldn’t cease, they would increase, forcing men away from the fields to defend their homes. Cairn’s victories on the tournament field didn’t seem like adequate preparation for running an estate, but he understood war.

Verena tossed in her sleep, throwing the covers off her upper body and exposing her bandaged shoulder. Andreu had loosened her bodice in order to operate and had not tied it back. Now it gaped open to reveal a creamy expanse of flesh. If she took a deep breath her bodice would fall, revealing the tips of her nipples to Cairn’s hungry gaze.

Resolutely Cairn threw off his covers, donned his boots and cloak and stepped outside. He knew he would get no rest this evening.

He approached Fergus who stood guard over their camp and nodded in greeting. He was a McPherson and not one of the men Cairn brought from France, with an infectious grin and burly, uncouth manners that had quickly won Cairn’s affection. He had hesitated to bring Fergus into England with his earlier party, thinking the man’s distrust for anything English would hinder negotiations. Fergus lived his entire life bordering Gundy’s estate and had railed forcefully against trusting him.

"My lord," Fergus began, reading the direction of Cairn’s thoughts. "I know why you went to Langthorne. Despite what I said before, if I was in your place I would have done the same."

Cairn looked at Fergus in surprise. He wasn’t expecting equanimity from the gruff soldier.

"’Twas not your decision to make, it was mine. And I chose wrongly."

"Nay, you didn’t," Fergus insisted. "Gundy was the one that broke his promise. To attack you like that after he offered peace … even for an Englishman that was wrong."

Cairn chuckled dryly in the darkness.

"Even for an Englishman."

He turned and walked farther into the woods. Half-formed plans rose in his mind and were quickly discarded. Winter was fast approaching and instead of helping his clan prepare Cairn languished in a dungeon. He would have to work day and night to recover the lost time.

Suddenly Cairn paused as some unseen threat caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise. He felt he was being watched by malignant eyes. It could be a wolf or other forest predator, or perhaps the hunter whose
lime trap
Verena had found. The two young archers were dead, but there must be other soldiers searching these woods.

The thick clouds shifted overhead, allowing a small ray of moonlight to filter through the trees and Cairn finally saw his watcher. It was a bear of a man dressed in muted colors that blended perfectly into the darkness. His arms and face had been liberally smeared with dirt. The only features that stood out were his peculiar eyes that resembled live coals against the dross of his background. So well did he blend in to his surroundings that Cairn blinked, wondering if he were truly a man at all, or some vengeful spirit sent to plague him.

He must be from Langthorne, though he wore no livery. Nor did he carry a tool to distinguish himself as a hunter or woodsman. The man shifted his weight slightly and Cairn tensed, recognizing the man’s fighting stance and intent. This was no hunter.

"To arms!"

Instantly Cairn’s men sprang up clutching their weapons and itching for a fight. They ran to their lord looking about for signs of a threat, but the forest man had vanished.

"A man is watching us," Cairn explained. "He disappeared through those trees."

Instantly they spread out, combing the forest for any sign of disturbance.

"What is it?" Verena asked, groggily climbing out of the shelter. She looked adorably tousled with her unbound hair, unlaced dress and bootless feet. The knife was once again clutched in her small hand. Cairn noticed more than a few of his men casting curious glances at her over their shoulders as they left in search of the man.

"Stay inside!" he barked a little harsher than he intended.

She blinked at Cairn’s tone and opened her mouth to argue, but after casting a worried glance at the giant Scotsmen surrounding her, she demurely returned to the tent. Verena had gotten over her initial fear of Cairn, but he was weakened from his ordeal and she had spent days nursing him to health. She had no such relationship with his men.

"Fergus," Cairn called before he went off with the others. "Guard the woman. Keep her here."

"Aye, milord."

"What exactly are we looking for?" asked Andreu after they scoured the forest for nearly an hour. Aside from a few recent footprints they had failed to find any sign of someone in the trees.

"A man.
His clothes and everything about him were made for concealment so I think he has been watching for some time. He was alone, but unafraid so there might be others nearby."

"I don’t like this," said Andreu. "It feels like a trap."

"I agree. We have a few more hours of night and I suggest we use them. The faster we leave England the better."

With those words the anticipation of a fight turned to wariness. Each man cast uneasy glances at the forest expecting an army of English soldiers to appear.

Verena had stayed in the tent but Cairn could see her wide, terrified eyes watching from the entrance. She was wise enough not to try to run with Fergus hovering
about like
a grumpy bear, nor did she scream, cry or speak. The lass merely watched and waited.

Cairn started toward her and gestured for his brother to do the same. Verena noticed the approach of the large Frenchman first and took several steps backward in fear. A Norse ancestor had turned his stepbrother into a formidable giant.

"Verena, this is my brother Andreu."

She looked from one man to the other and frowned, not seeing any resemblance. Though both men were large and muscular of frame the similarities ended there. Where Cairn’s jaw was square and strongly cut, Andreu’s was more delicate, his overall features more refined and classically handsome to Cairn’s ruggedness.

Hadran had told her Cairn’s brother was not related by blood; rather he was the son of Cairn’s stepmother from her first husband. When the lads were fostered together they became fast friends.

"Milord," she mumbled. She wished he wouldn’t stare at her so, as if Verena was some curious new beast they happened upon. She forced herself to meet his inquiring gaze.

"It seems this adventure has yielded many surprises," he said with surprising gallantry, taking her hand to place a light kiss on her knuckles. "I look forward to hearing about them—and you."

"How is your shoulder?" Cairn interrupted.

"Awful. I expect it to hurt for some time, but there is a skilled healer in my grandfather’s village."

Cairn glanced significantly at his brother and taking the hint Andreu left to finish saddling his mount. It was time to tell Verena the truth.

"I want you to join me and my clan in Scotland."

Verena gulped, almost giddy with excitement.
This was what she had been waiting for. Owen had his doubts, but Hadran knew Cairn would take her back to Scotland and the old man was always right.

A true Englishwoman would be terrified to find herself surrounded by Scottish warriors. Returning with them to Scotland would be unthinkable. So Verena allowed her eyes to go huge with fright, staring at Cairn as if he meant to ravage her.

"I … I cannot," she stammered. "My grandfather—"

"I promise you shall safely reach him, but I cannot risk your capture now. I will keep you safe in my homeland until I can escort you to your family."

After the days they had shared together she knew Cairn would do his best to protect her. It was strange to be the recipient of such esteem. Of course Owen would protect her too, but that was different somehow. That knowledge didn’t cause a warm tingling of excitement in her belly.

"You said we would part at the crossroads. You said you would let me go."