To Marry A Scottish Laird (19 page)

Joan nodded, knowing he’d have to. She could hardly lie there in the woods while her bruises healed, and that was mostly what she’d received from her latest catastrophe in these lessons to make her a lady: scrapes and bruises. Joan was pretty sure of that. She’d got the wind knocked out of her too, but that was it, she decided as she did a mental inventory of herself, cautiously moving fingers and toes, hands and feet, arms and legs. Nothing was broken. But damn, everything hurt, she acknowledged, gasping in pain as Cam slid his arms under her and scooped her up.

“I’m sorry, love,” Cam said grimly as he carried her to his horse.

He’d chased after her on his own horse, Joan realized and wondered how she’d not heard the thunder of his horse’s hooves.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated as they neared his mount.

“Nay, I’m sorry,” she said unhappily. “ ’Tis useless. I’m a complete failure as a lady.”

“Nay, ye’re not,” Cam said firmly.

“Aye, I am,” she insisted miserably. “I can’t dance, I can’t sing, I can’t shoot a bow. I didn’t even know I wasn’t supposed to sit at the low table and still wouldn’t if Finola hadn’t let me know in her less than charming way.”

“None o’ that matters,” he assured her.

“Cam,” she said, reaching up to touch his cheek and make him look at her. “I’m sorry. I love you but can’t be a proper wife to you. I don’t know the first thing about running a keep, or being a lady. Finola’s right, I’ll embarrass you and your family, and you should have the marriage annulled.”

He had stopped walking and now stared at her. In fact, he stared for so long she began to think he was having some sort of fit or something, and then he said with wonder, “Ye love me?”

“What?” she asked blankly.

“Ye said ye love me.”

Joan shook her head, “Nay, I—”

“Aye, ye did,” he insisted. “Ye said I love ye but can’t be a proper wife. It’s what you said. Ye can no’ take it back now. Besides, I love you too.”

“I—” She blinked. “You do?”

Cam nodded. “I realized it yesterday while I watched over ye. Lady MacKay insisted ye’d wake up, but I just kept thinking what if she was wrong and ye didn’t? I felt such guilt and regret over me first wife’s death, Joan, but that would be nothing next to how I’d feel if ye died. A part o’ me would die with ye, and I do no’ think the rest o’ me would even want to carry on without ye.”

“But I shall embarrass you with my lack of skills, and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to embarrass your family either. Mayhap we were only ever meant to be lovers. Perhaps ye should annul the marriage and move me to the village and just visit me from time to time and—”

“Joan,” he interrupted firmly. “There’s no damned way I’m annulling the marriage. I do no’ care if ye can sing or dance or shoot a bow. Either ye’ll learn those things over time, or ye will no’. It does no’ matter to me. I do no’ even care if ye learn to ride. Ye can ride with me if necessary. Those are no’ the things I came to value about ye on our journey north. I value yer honesty, yer courage, and yer spirit. I like that yer smart, and that we could talk about anything under the sun and laugh together. That’s what I want from ye. That’s why I wanted ye e’en with yer face a mess and in braies. Ye’ve an inner beauty and spirit that shines through everything, and I love ye fer it.”

Joan stared at him wide-eyed. Her whole body ached, and his arms were inadvertently pressing against her injured side leaving her head spinning and making her nauseous, and all she could think was how wonderful this man was.

“Joan, say something,” Cam said quietly.

“I—” She paused and swallowed, trying to hold on to consciousness.

“Joan?” he asked with concern.

Unfortunately he also, unintentionally she was sure, tightened his hold on her, sending shafts of excruciating pain through her. A moan slid from her lips and then she fainted.

Cursing, Cam hurried the last couple of steps to his horse and then paused briefly as he realized he couldn’t mount with her in his arms. Not liking that he had to do it, he laid her gently over his horse, then quickly mounted behind her and scooped her back up. Once he had her settled in his lap, he put his heels to his horse, determined to get her back to the castle as quickly as possible.

The clearing wasn’t far from the castle, and the ride out had passed quickly enough. However, the ride back seemed to him to take forever. Cam knew that was no doubt just a result of his worry and not a true measure of the time it took, but he was vastly relieved when he passed under the gatehouse into the inner courtyard.

He spotted Joan’s mare by the steps of the keep, his father and the stable master soothing the beast. Anger at the beast immediately joined Cam’s concern for Joan as he peered at the animal, but common sense managed to reign over the other emotions churning through him by the time he reined in beside the mare.

“She came back just moments ago and we were just discussing sending out a search party,” his father announced, leaving the stable master to hold on to the mare’s reins as he walked around to take Joan from Cam so that he could dismount. “What happened?”

“The mare went crazy when Joan mounted her,” Cam announced, dropping to the ground and taking his wife back. He paused long enough to glance to the horse and said, “Something’s wrong with the animal. Check her carefully ere ye stable her,” he ordered the stablemaster.

Laird Sinclair scowled. “There’s something no’ quite right going on here, son. First Joan and the other lasses fell ill, then Lady MacFarland took her tumble down the stairs, and now this?” He shook his head. “This is one too many accidents to me mind.” Clapping a hand on his shoulder, he said, “I’ll look at the mare meself. We’ll sort out what happened. You tend yer wife.”

Cam just grunted, he was already starting up the stairs with her.

Lady Annabel was seated by the fireplace with his mother when Cam entered with Joan. The two women glanced over and started to smile on seeing him, but those smiles died, replaced with alarm when they noted Joan in his arms.

“What happened?” Lady MacKay cried, lunging out of her seat and rushing toward him as he headed for the stairs. His mother was so close on the other woman’s heels he was surprised she wasn’t tripping over her skirt.

“I was giving her a riding lesson and there was an accident,” Cam said quietly.

“Did she hit her head?” Annabel asked, reaching out to feel her head for bumps as they walked.

“Nay,” Cam assured her. “It was her side and leg.”

Lady MacKay merely nodded and rushed on ahead of him up the stairs. By the time he reached the top step, she had his bedchamber door open and disappeared inside . . . to pull the linens and furs down, he saw as he carried his wife into the room a moment later.

“We’ll need to strip her so that I can see her side,” Lady Annabel said as he laid Joan in the bed.

“I’ll help,” his mother said at once, urging him out of the way. “Why do ye no’ go below, son? I’ll come tell ye what’s what once Lady Annabel—”

“Nay,” Cam interrupted firmly. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Well, go sit by the hearth then,” his mother said impatiently. “Ye’ll just get in the way here.”

Cam retreated to the foot of the bed, but that was as far as he was willing to go. It allowed him to see everything without having to dance about trying to look over his mother’s shoulder as the two women quickly and efficiently stripped his wife. They removed her gown and the tunic she wore under it and then turned Joan on her uninjured side and raised her arm over her head so that they could look at her side. Cam wasn’t surprised they hadn’t needed to ask which side was injured, the scrape on her leg was the size of a hand and bleeding freely now. As for her side, he winced and then ground his teeth together as he noted the size of the bruise already forming there. It covered a large area, from just under her arm down to her hip and he could tell already that it was going to be as black as night.

Joan’s aunt took one quick look at it and then straightened and started around the bed. “I need water, linens, bandages and my medicinals.”

“I’ll get everything,” Cam’s mother announced, waving her back. “Ye stay here. Ye ken better what to do.”

Lady MacKay nodded and moved back to the side of the bed, and then bent and began to run her hands along Joan’s injured side, feeling for broken ribs, he guessed. “The horse threw her?”

“Aye, I think so,” Cam answered, although it had almost looked to him like she’d leapt off to avoid being crushed against a tree.

“She didn’t hit the ground,” Annabel muttered, examining the forming bruise now.

“Nay. She hit a tree,” he admitted.

“And her leg?” Annabel asked, shifting her attention to the large abrasion.

“The horse scraped her against another tree first.”

“I will need to clean it well, then,” Annabel said on a sigh and straightened with a shake of the head. “She tries so hard, but these lessons are making her miserable.”

“She does no’ need them. I do no’ care if she can sing or dance,” Cam said grimly. “If I’d wanted a lass who could sing and dance I’d ha’e married one. I want her. And I’ll tell the daft woman that again when she wakes up. There’ll be no annulment.”

“Annulment?” his mother gasped and he turned to see her frozen in the bedchamber door, horror on her face and a passel of servants on her heels. “I should say not. Who the devil said anything about an annulment?”

“Joan,” he growled. “She fears she’ll embarrass me because she does no’ ken how to sing and dance and nonsense like that.”

“Oh, well that’s just nonsense,” his mother said with disgruntlement as she continued into the room. “This is all Finola’s fault for attacking her the other morning when Joan sat to break her fast at the low table. In fact, Finola said something then about the marriage being annulled.”

“You heard that?” Lady Annabel asked with surprise.

“Aye. I had slipped into the kitchens to have a word with Cook. I saw Joan at the table on my way there, and I suppose I should have explained then about the high table and had her move, but I didn’t want to embarrass her so said nothing.” Sighing, she shook her head. “If I had, it would have saved her the humiliation of Finola’s attack.”

“Finola attacked her?” Cam asked grimly, wishing the witch was still alive so he could throttle her.

“No’ with her fists or anything,” his mother said quickly. “She just was very, very cruel, calling her ignorant and saying she’d embarrass us all.” She glanced to Lady MacKay and added, “I was about to intervene when I saw ye coming down the stairs. I kenned ye would handle it though, and thought Joan might be less embarrassed was it you and no’ me so I eased the kitchen door closed and waited until I thought it was over.”

She glanced to Joan and a soft smile curved her lips. “She loves ye son if she’s offering annulment to keep from embarrassing ye. I’ve been trying to find ye a wife, but ye found yerself that and more, a partner who loves ye will work to make ye happy.” Her mouth firmed. “There’ll be no annulment.”

“Nay, there will no’,” Cam agreed solemnly.

“What the devil’s taking so long, Bearnas?” Artair Sinclair complained, suddenly in the doorway. “Ye were supposed to send Cam out to—bloody hell!” his father barked, spotting Joan. “What’d ye do? Paint her with pitch?”

“Son, yer father is in the hall and wants a word,” Lady Sinclair said calmly, shifting so that Joan couldn’t be seen from the doorway.

A startled laugh slipped from Cam’s mouth and he stepped up to his mother to kiss her cheek. “Thank ye,” he said solemnly and then moved to urge his father out of the room and into the hall.

“She’s a muckle mess,” Artair Sinclair said grimly.

“Aye,” Cam agreed on a sigh.

“Well, this is why,” he announced grimly, holding up a small object. “We found this in the mare’s saddle.”

“What is it?” Cam asked, taking the tiny sword.

“ ’Tis a hatpin,” his father said grimly. “I only ken because I bought one fer yer mother once from a traveling merchant.”

“And it was in the mare’s saddle?”

“Aye, it was set in the underside o’ the saddle so that weight on it would stick the horse in the back.”

“So when Joan mounted . . .”

“The horse was stuck by the pin and was desperate to get her off,” his father said dryly.

“And it’s Mother’s?” Cam asked with disbelief.

“Nay. Her’s had a different hilt,” his father said at once, and then frowned and shifted to the side to make room for the servants who had brought up the water and linens as they now left the bedchamber. Once they’d all hurried past and started downstairs, his father continued, “I showed yer mother though. She was coming out of the kitchens when I came inside. She says Lady MacFarland had one just like it.”

“Finola,” Cam muttered.

Laird Sinclair nodded. “And we ken it could no’ ha’e been her.”

“Nay. It could no’ ha’e been her,” he agreed. “But someone’s out to hurt Joan.”

Laird Sinclair let his breath out on a disappointed sigh. “I wondered if that were no’ the case. Yer mother helped Lady MacKay tend the lasses when the cider made them ill, and she mentioned to me that it was Joan’s cider that had something wrong with it. And then when Jinny came out o’ the kitchens and saw Lady Finola she said the wench was wearing Joan’s gown.” He smiled faintly and added, “She was more upset that the woman had gone and died in Joan’s gown than she was that the woman was dead.” Shaking his head he gestured to the hatpin Cam held and added, “And now this.”

Sighing, Artair ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I’ll arrange for men to guard yer chamber door while Joan is recovering, then to accompany her everywhere once she’s up and about until we resolve this. If ’tis all right with you,” he added.

“Aye.” Cam said, glad to have her guarded.

Nodding, his father turned away. “I’ll let ye get back to her then. Keep me informed on how she’s faring.”

“Aye,” Cam murmured and turned to slip back into the bedchamber.

His mother and Lady Annabel were just pulling the linens and furs up to cover Joan as he entered the room. Lady Annabel glanced to him as she straightened and announced, “I cleaned the wound as well as I could, and put some salve on her bruises to help them heal quickly. Now all we can do is wait.”