The Beauty of the Mist (16 page)

Caroline whirled on the younger woman.

“Aye. He’ll pay! Of that you can be certain.”

“Bloodshed? Why?” Janet stared at the twisted shadow of the other woman. She wished she could see her expression, but Caroline stood beyond the limit of her weak eyes. “For what reason? Why you talk this way?”

“Talk? This is not mere talk, hussy. If the Macpherson won’t take action against the vile creature for such a flagrant crime against our family, it will mean a fight to the finish. And knowing your father, he’ll not rest until the knave is dead.”

“David? Dead?” Janet asked with horror. “But why? Why should he want to fight David? I’ve told you...he has done naught wrong. Nor have I!”

A smile crept into Caroline’s face. A smile that she knew Janet could not see. “Stealing the innocence of Sir Thomas Maule’s only daughter is not simply wrong, Janet. It is a vile and evil sin. It is a crime the over reaching swine will suffer dearly for!”

“My innocence!” Janet repeated, dumbfounded. “Caroline! He has done no such a thing. He...David is a man of honor. He has...well, he has done naught improper.”

Angrily, Caroline raised her voice. “So you call spending the night in your cabin, in your arms, the ‘proper’ thing! So you call sneaking out of a maiden’s room at the crack of dawn the ‘proper’ thing? Do you call, leaving this proof to damn you both, the ‘proper’ thing?” Caroline waved the hat in the air before her.

Janet jumped from the bed and ran to her accuser. “Please, Caroline, please!” she pleaded. “Everyone on the ship will hear you. Please don’t accuse him of such things. If I could explain this...”

“There is naught to explain,” Caroline sneered, her face dark and ominous. “Not to me, at any rate. Aye, once your father sees this, once I tell him that I saw with my own two eyes, the filthy sneak stealing from your cabin this morning...”

Janet grabbed at her stepmother’s cloak. The tears now streamed down her face, her voice shaking with fear and anguish. “Please, Caroline. Please don’t do this. You must believe me when I tell you that David never came to me during the night. All I know was that he kissed me goodnight and then left me by my door. That’s last I saw of him. And now...and now...”

“Kissed you?” Caroline looked down at the younger woman, her expression of loathing enough to force the weeping Janet to her knees. The miserable thing was still clutching at her cloak. Caroline snapped out her words. “Get a hold of yourself!”

Janet tried to contain her wretchedness, but only managed to reduce the outward signs of her distress to violent sobs that wracked her body.

Janet Maule knew her own father. She knew his temper. If Caroline did, in fact, say these things to him, there would be no opportunity to explain anything to him. He would go after David. And then one of them would most assuredly be hurt. Or killed.

Since her mother died, Janet had only had her father. Volatile of temper and possessive by nature, Sir Thomas nonetheless loved her deeply. She knew that. Throughout the difficult grieving period, he had kept her near him, and they had helped one another through the worst of it.

Until his recent marriage to Caroline Douglas, Janet’s father had always cared for her, loved her. But now he was changed. His possessiveness regarding the things–and the people–he thought of as his was becoming a driving force in his life. Distrust and jealousy, she knew, now weighed on his mind, surfacing at times with an irrational violence that made Janet tremble.

And David, dear David, who treated her with such affection. The only man who had ever made her feel beautiful, intelligent, and desirable as a woman.

But now, because of her, one of them–perhaps both of them–would be hurt. My God, she wept, burying her head in her hands. How could I have allowed this to happen? One of them will certainly be killed. My God! My God!

The sharp knock on the door jerked the distraught young woman to her feet. Caroline was eyeing her coolly.

“JANET! CAROLINE!” Sir Thomas’s angry voice boomed outside the door. “What in hell is going on in there?”

Janet felt herself shaking uncontrollably. As if the deadly chill of winter had settled in her bones, she trembled violently, turning her wild-eyed gaze to her stepmother.

Caroline’s voice was a low hiss in her ear. “You will do as I say, do you understand me?”

Janet gaped uncomprehendingly into the eyes that were piercing her soul.

“CAROLINE! Open this bloody door!”

“If you want no bloodshed, you will do as I say.” Caroline took hold of Janet’s arm and pushed the blue cap into the younger woman’s face. “Do you understand?”

Sir Thomas was pounding furiously on the door. Dazed, Janet nodded, tears streaming down her face as she stared at David’s cap.

“Clean your face, you little fool,” Caroline sneered. “I’ll do what I can to save your wretched skin...and the skin of your filthy commoner.”

“...If you’ll not open it, I’ll break the bloody thing down. I’ll...”

Caroline lifted the latch and the door swung inward. Then she stood calmly before the burly volcano, a look of blank innocence on her face.

Sir Thomas took a step inside the cabin. His eyes quickly scanned of the interior.

Janet, pulling herself together, walked quickly to her bed, picked up a blanket, and wrapped herself in it.

“What in hell was going on in here?” the knight demanded. “Everyone from here to Rome could hear you two fighting.”

Before opening the door, Caroline had tucked the cap carefully into an inside pocket of her cloak. Now she took her husband’s elbow.

“We women don’t fight, my dear.” She gently tried to turn him toward the door, but she may as well have tried to turn Edinburgh Castle. “Aye, we might disagree, at times. But to answer your question–aye, we did have a wee variance of opinion this morning. But isn’t that the way with new family?”

“Aye, but...”

“I knew you’d understand,” she continued. “And you’ll be happy to know, you old bear, that the disagreement has already been resolved. So if you’ll be kind enough and let two of us be, we could...”

“I’m not going until I know what you were fighting about.” This time the old warrior addressed Janet. Sir Thomas’s gaze locked on his daughter’s face, and on the tears still drying there.

“‘Twas naught important, father,” the young woman blurted quickly. “Truly not anything at all. And I
am
fine, father. Believe me.”

The elder man remained where he stood, perplexed by his daughter’s last words. “Of course you’re fine. Why wouldn’t you be, lass?”

“My very words, Thomas,” Caroline broke in, her tone becoming more insistent. “Now be on your way, and stop your pounding on doors at such an hour. We don’t need to be bringing more attention upon ourselves than we have already.”

Sir Thomas opened his mouth to object, but he was quickly silenced by his wife’s fingers pressing to his lips, followed by a peck on the cheek.

“Mothers and daughters have a right to disagree sometimes, husband,” she cooed, her hands lightly caressing his barrel chest. “And Janet and I both told you that everything is just fine between us. So be on your way, you big bear. Janet and I need to finish our talk.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as she hugged his arm tightly to her warm body. Caroline had never been one to show such open affection.

“If you’ll go back to our cabin,” she purred seductively, “I’ll meet you there in a wee bit–after we’re finished here. And I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Seeing the sultry look in his wife’s eyes, Sir Thomas immediately succumbed to the suggestion.

“Aye,” Caroline nodded meaningfully. “Everything.”

As the door closed behind her father, Janet watched apprehensively as her stepmother turned and silently advanced on her, a malicious smile of victory on Caroline’s face.

Janet Maule shuddered with fear.

“Checkmate!”

“Twice in the row. And no mercy for an injured woman!”

Isabel stared with dismay at the exquisite ivory and ebony chessboard sitting beside her on the covers. Lifting her eyes, she glared menacingly at the handsome commander sitting on the chair next to the bed.

“If this is your way of trying to impress me, young man, then you’ve got a serious flaw in your judgment.”

“Impress you?” John repeated with a smile. “Nay, Lady Isabel, the thought never entered my mind. And why would I wish to do such a thing, anyway?”

“Lord knows,” Isabel retorted grumpily. “Considering you don’t have a chance of succeeding.”

John busied himself putting the carved pieces back in place, glancing up occasionally to answer the scrutinizing glare of the older woman.

“What do you have against me?” he asked, reaching for the black queen that lay half hidden in the folds of the bedclothes.

“What are your intentions?” Isabel countered. “Regarding Maria?”

The Highlander ran his fingers over the cool surface of the ebony chess piece. He began to place the queen beside the king on the board, and then stopped, silently eyeing the carved figure before turning his attention to the older woman.

“Very simple, Lady Isabel. Friendship.”

“Bah!” Isabel scoffed. “Friendship is anything but simple, Sir John. But even if it were, you don’t seriously expect me–a woman of the world–to believe such a thing. Maria is far too beautiful, and you are far too handsome for anything so ‘simple.’”

“Ah, m’lady, you are so generous in your compliments to such a leather-skinned sea dog as myself,” John quipped.

“You are a fool if you think I’m complimenting you.” Isabel pulled the blanket higher on her chest. “I’m telling you what I see, and what experience tells me to beware.”

“I take it we are done playing,” he said, quickly returning the queen to her place on the board.

“For now,” the elder woman answered.

The towering Highlander stood up and moved the chess board to the far end of the room. Isabel’s midday meal lay on the table, and the commander scooped up the tray and returned with it.

As she watched him, Isabel was more certain than ever that something had happened between Maria and this warrior last night. The injured woman had been drifting on the edges of sleep after their evening meal when the sound of Maria leaving the cabin had jolted her into consciousness. Isabel had remained in her bed, concerned about her young charge and forcing herself to remain awake. She knew the young woman’s purpose in going to Sir John. Maria had given her word to the Highlander before, and in order to cancel their agreement, the young queen would naturally go to speak with him.

The haze of the medicine clouded her memory, but Isabel could vaguely recall seeing Maria standing in the dimly lit cabin, her back against the closed door, staring into space. And Isabel had awakened once again, for just a moment, at the first light of dawn, and had seen the flickering glow of lamp light beneath Maria’s cabin door. She had seen the shadow of her young niece pacing back and forth beyond the door. Maria had obviously been up for most of the night.

Something had transpired between the two, and Isabel had a good idea what it was.

The arrival of the ship’s commander this morning soon after the departure of the young serving girl clinched it. The Scot hadn’t asked about Maria, but Isabel was no fool. The man simply lingered about the cabin, playing the nursemaid, engaging the older woman in conversation. And every now and then, when Isabel knew he thought she was not watching, the Highlander had glanced surreptitiously at Maria’s closed door.

Now just past noon, Maria continued to keep to her cabin. But Isabel was certain that her young niece was well aware of the presence of the Highlander. The thin plank door between the two rooms could hardly muffle the sound of his rumbling laugh and his bell-clear voice. But Maria continued to stay away.

Isabel ignored the tray of food and peered warily at the black haired giant. She needed to find out more. She was older and more clever than both of these young people together. She would find out more about their little game. After all, her responsibility as Maria’s aunt dictated it.

“Drink this,” he ordered, lifting a cup from the tray.

Isabel looked suspiciously at the mug that the Highlander held in his outstretched hand.

“What is it, a love potion, to make me like you more?”

“Now, there is not much chance of that, is there?” John answered, matching the faint smile of the older woman with one of his own. “Nay, it’s poison.”

“I should have thought as much.” Isabel took the cup and sniffed it. “It must be, at the very least, a sleeping potion. One that will make me unconscious for days so you can have your way with my niece.”

“It’s barley water and naught more,” John answered, ignoring the pointed remark. “It will help you regain your strength...if not your good humor.”

Isabel brought the cup to her mouth. “What makes you think I ever had any?”

“Strength?”
“Humor.”

“Your age, Lady Isabel. You must be near...forty?”

“Sly boy...”

“And no one could possibly survive their youth being as irascible as you.” John gazed innocently at the woman as a wry smile crept across her face.

“You
are
a devil, aren’t you!” she responded, waggling a finger at the smiling Highlander. She brought the cup again to her lips.

“But on the topic of getting you out of my way...”

The elder woman stopped suddenly. “It
is
poison, isn’t it?”

“Nay, it isn’t, I tell you.” He shook his head at her. “But I do need to talk to Maria. Naught more, just talk, in private.”

Isabel sipped the cup slowly and studied him. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before either, she guessed. “Is that the reason why you’ve been playing nurse-maid to me all morning?”

“Nay, I’ve a rare interest in being verbally abused, humbled and degraded, as well as being talked to as if I had the wit of a wee lad. That’s the reason.”

“I am glad we understand one another.” Isabel nodded with satisfaction.

John opened his mouth to continue, but then realized the wisdom in yielding the field–for the moment.

“So, you said you would like to talk to my niece in private.”