The Scotsman (23 page)

“That was not enough.” Fraser set his empty wine cup down on the table and moved to stand by the fire, propping a booted foot on the stone hearth. “You were given a fortnight to reply, and it has been thrice that.”

Smarting from the truth and the choking feeling of impotence the earl’s callous indifference for Catherine’s return had caused him, Nicholas could not reply for a moment. Fraser would not like what he had to tell him, and he was determined to delay that moment as long as possible. He moved to set down his gloves and his full cup on the table, then turned to face his sister’s captor.

“I am at your mercy, Sir Alex. There have been circumstances beyond my control, or I would have been here much sooner. As dear as your brother is to you, so is my sister dear to me. May I see her before we continue our negotiations?”

Something flickered in Fraser’s eyes, but he nodded curtly. “Aye. I sent Robbie for her, and you will be able to see for yourself that she is alive and unharmed. Will I have the same assurance about Jamie?”

Nicholas drew in a deep breath. “I have brought you proof that he is alive and as well as can be expected.”

Fraser’s face changed, his features sharpening. “If he has been harmed—”

“I swear to you on my honor as a knight that he is alive, though hating his prison. I saw to his care myself,
and he and de Brus are being fed well, with warm garments to ward off the cold.” He slid a hand beneath the edge of his surcoat and drew out a small leather pouch. Weighing it in his palm, he studied Fraser for a long moment. Then he held out his hand, allowing the pouch to dangle by cords from his fingers. “This was hard-won. Your brother may be young, but his will is strong and he is slow to trust. He cost me days of delay.”

As the pouch came to rest in Fraser’s outstretched palm, he looked steadily at Nicholas. “This had best not be in lieu of Jamie’s return.”

Nicholas did not respond. There was no good answer he could make to satisfy Alex Fraser, nor even himself. So he stood quietly while the pouch was opened and the Scot examined the contents. He should have drunk the wine. It would ease this sudden inkling of disaster, the impending doom he felt looming ahead.

“Nicholas?”

The soft, familiar voice jerked his head around and he swung about to see Catherine in the doorway, her face wreathed with joy as she came toward him. He caught her up in his embrace, arms around her slender body as he buried his face in her unbound hair. She smelled of lavender. “Ah, sweet kitten … I thought never, to see you again.”

“Nor I you.” Hot tears wet his neck above the edge of his mantle. “Oh, Nicky … I
have
missed you so!”

When he set her back on her feet, she clung to the loose edges of his mantle, her hands curled into the fabric with fierce tenacity. He held her close to him, and cupped a hand beneath her chin to lift her face so that he might see her better.

“Are you well, kitten? Unharmed?”

Color stained her cheeks a bright pink that contrasted with the misty violet of her eyes, and she lowered her
lashes demurely and nodded. “Yea, Nicky, I am most well.”

“Good.” He held her a moment, then put her at arm’s length, still clasping her hand. She was garbed in rough clothing, a yellow wool gown with a tan leather girdle tied under her breasts. The gown was short, revealing delicate ankles clad in thick hose, and shapeless slippers on her feet. Amused by the vast difference in her usual apparel, he looked up. “You look like a milk maid in that ugly garment. Have you learned to make butter since you have been here?”

He had meant it as a teasing jest to lighten the moment and ease the mood, but she shook her head. “Nay. I already knew how to make butter, and cheese, and all the other wifely tasks that I have been taught since I was still in leading strings. I have been allowed to read here … as much as I like. It has been most rewarding.”

Nicholas frowned. There was a subtle difference to her now, something he could not quite determine. She had always been his little sister, someone he must protect and love and cherish. Yet now she seemed almost self-assured. Mature. Or had she always been this way and he had not noticed? It was disconcerting to think she had changed in only two months, but perhaps living in constant terror would cause such a difference. He glanced at Fraser, who stared back at him.

“May I speak to my sister privately, Sir Alex?”

Fraser’s eyes narrowed. “This is a private chamber, my lord Devlin. Speak as you will.”

“Do you think I will spirit her away from under your nose? I have no weapons. Even if I did, my men and I are shut up in your keep. What can I do but talk?”

“Yea, you do that readily enough.” Fraser’s glance slid toward Catherine and lingered, and she colored prettily under his gaze. A faint smile touched the corners of his
mouth, and when the Scot looked back at him, Nicholas was suddenly confronted with a new suspicion. His heart began to thump furiously in his chest, so that he barely heard Fraser say, “While I read the message my brother sent I will leave you to yourselves in this chamber. Guards are posted at the door. You do not have long.”

Focusing on Catherine, Nicholas waited until the Scot departed and closed the door behind him, then moved toward her. She looked up at him, a quick slide of her eyes in his direction before she looked away, and the suspicion became awful certainty. He grabbed her by the wrists, fingers digging into the tendons until she gasped in surprise.

“Nicky—what are you doing?”

“Tell me what has happened to you, Catherine.” He didn’t mean to sound so rough and angry, but his voice came out all wrong. “I asked if you had been harmed … tell me the truth of it.”

“I have not been harmed.” She twisted futilely in his tight hold. “Free me or I will scream.”

“Will you? Does that mean the Scots bastard will come to your rescue? Would you set him against me?”

She looked miserable and turned her face away. “No.”

“Then for the love of Christ, tell me the truth—has he touched you?” Silence fell, and Nicholas groaned. “O Lord have mercy … sweet kitten … say he has not hurt you.”

Tears spangled her lashes, but her chin was lifted and she said with quiet dignity, “He did not hurt me, Nicholas. It was nothing like that. He was gentle—”

Releasing her hands with a shove, Nicholas turned away and pressed his face into his palms. He breathed in leather and bitter hatred, resentment rising hot and high in him as he struggled with this knowledge. Damn the Scot—he had sworn he would not despoil her—but he
had also given warning of what would happen if his terms were not met. A feeling of nausea rose in his throat, and he could not look up at her, could not bear to see her and know that the Scot had put his filthy hands on her soft white skin.…

“Nicky?” She put a hand on his shoulder and he jerked away.

“Christ, Catherine. You could at least have had the decency to make him take what you so willingly gave.”

“Damn you!” His head snapped up and he stared at her with narrowed eyes as she railed at him, using some of the phrases he had taught her long ago to amuse himself, French curses that still had the power to sting.

When she was through, glaring at him with wet angry eyes and flushed cheeks, he shrugged. “You have not forgot them, I see, but I vow I never thought you would use them against me.”

“I use them where I see fit. How dare you suggest that it would be better for me to be raped than to yield!”

“Kitten—”

“Nay, do not pretend you did not say it, for I heard you most plainly. You may not like it, but he did not force me to do anything I did not want to do. Yea, you may well look shocked. But did it ever occur to you that I may have my own free will? My own choices? And do not think this the naive tantrum of a child, for what I did, I did for a reason.” Her voice was quivering, but indignation lit her eyes. “I am not a child nor a fool. I am fully aware of the consequences of my actions, and I embrace them.”

“Do you?” Nicholas’s voice was tight. “Perhaps you have misjudged what the consequences will be. Do you think our father will allow this matter to be forgotten?”

“Nay, but I have not forgotten David of Linwood, though you may well have done so.”

Baffled by her tirade and the astonishing depth of her pent-up emotions, Nicholas shook his head. “I have not forgotten David of Lin wood, nor what happened to him. How does this affect us now?”

Catherine moved to the table and poured wine in a cup, then turned back to face him, her voice steady though her hand trembled. “David did naught but kiss my cheek, and was near beat to death for it. Since then, I have not dared to glance at another young man for fear of the same or worse happening again. And always, Papa reminded me how I have been a burden to him, how he cannot make an advantageous marriage when I am so rebellious a maid—he cares nothing for what I think or feel, only how much land or power I will bring to him.” She lifted the cup, her eyes bright as she looked at him over the rim. “But now the precious barrier he protected so fiercely for his own gain has been yielded, and to a man he cannot intimidate.”

“Aye, perhaps so, but he can have Fraser’s young brother flayed alive, and there will be no family to protest the deed as Linwood had. Ah, I see that you had not thought of that. Christ above, Catherine, I have been turning myself inside out these past weeks trying to placate our father as well as Alex Fraser, and in one mindless act, you have managed to destroy us all.” His laugh sounded hollow and hopeless, as indeed he felt at this moment. Shaking his head, he moved to brace his arms against the mantel over the fire, staring into the flames.

After a moment, he felt her come up behind him. She touched him lightly on the shoulder, but he only shook his head, sick with anger and grief. “Why, kitten?
Why?”

“Nicholas … I cannot explain it when I am uncertain of all my reasons, but I can tell you this—he is not as I had feared. There is a kindness to him that—”

“Kindness!” The word was torn from him and he swung about, incredulous at how quickly Alex Fraser had managed to convert her from what she had known all her life to his own distorted convictions. “Christ have mercy, I suppose now you will tell me that Scotland should be independent and Fraser should be king.”

Her mouth set into a mutinous line that he recognized and he just stared at her. There was nothing he could say that would change what had happened, and despite her naive foolishness, he still had to protect her. But how? It would not be easy.

“Nicholas,” she said with a sigh, “I do not know how it happened or why, but I do know I feel a great attachment to Alex Fraser.”

“Kitten, you fancy yourself in love with him because he is the first man to bed you.” His bluntness widened her eyes but he pressed on. “It is common for a maid to feel the same about any man who takes her maidenhead, but especially a man who is gentle with her. Once you are away from him, you will see that I am right.”

“Have you come to take me back to Warfield?”

He wanted to say yes; he wanted to take her with him and leave this accursed pile of stones before cock crow, but knew there was no likelihood of that. It was galling that her face reflected dismay at the thought.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he stared down at his sister and wondered if he’d ever really known her. He had thought so. Now she was alien to him, with her stubborn little chin slightly tilted, and the mutiny in her eyes a bright gleam.

“If I said I had come to take you with me, what would you say, kitten? Would you be glad?”

“No.” She met his gaze steadily. “I would not be glad.”

It was the answer he expected, but bitter nonetheless. “You fancy yourself in love with this Scottish brigand.”

She laughed softly. “I once corrected him when he named you brigand, so I should do the same for you now. Yea, you are right, Nicholas. I fancy myself in love with him, but not perhaps as you mean it.”

Scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck, he muttered with sweet irony, “I shall never understand the female mind, and I thank God for it.”

“Do not be angry with me, Nicky. You should be happy that I have discovered even a brief moment of contentment.”

“Not only do you expect me to accept this ridiculous fascination you have for a man who is our sworn enemy, now you want me to be happy about it.” His jaw clenched. “I am not. Nor will I be content until you are back in England again. I would like nothing better than to see Sir Alex Fraser’s head on a pike, if you must know the truth.” He drew in a deep breath at the stark white pallor of her face and managed to say calmly, “But your happiness is important to me, kitten. Even if we do not agree on the source of it.”

“Please, Nicholas, can you not do something to free the hostages you took? Will our father not listen to you at all?”

He had no intention of discussing with her his great difficulty in juggling both his father and Fraser, and so he shrugged. “Perhaps. It is—”

“Devlin.” Fraser appeared in the doorway, swinging it wide to enter. A scowl creased his face as he held up a scrap of parchment that had been folded several times. “Is this all the proof you brought?”

“It is. Is it not sufficient to convince you that your brother and de Brus are alive?”

“Yea, but it does not satisfy the terms of my offer. I do not want written assurances, I want them in the flesh. Do you think I do not know they could have been executed before the ink was dry on this letter?” He held it in his fist, frustration showing in his dark features.

Nicholas said calmly, “I do not have the power to release them from their cells, but I do have the power to see they are not abused until I am able to exchange them for my sister.”

“I was told ’twas you who captured them. Are they not then your prisoners instead of the earl’s?”

“They were until I gave them into his safekeeping.” His mouth twisted wryly. “Until you abducted Catherine, I had no reason not to promise them to the king as his hostages against further Scottish reprisals. It will take time to remind the king that they are mine to ransom as I see fit.”

“Curse you for a liar and a fraud, Devlin. Do you think me fool enough to play this game any longer?”