The Enchantress Page 12

  But this was a child they were talking about. Men!

  Well, it was time for someone to speak in the child’s defense. Staying at the convent with her was the best course of action. With Laura to take over the girl’s instruction, the situation would be good for Miriam, and she herself would feel useful.

  “Provost, considering the fact that I’m not much use as things stand...you haven’t much work for me at St. Duthac’s...perhaps you would allow me to...”

  “My dear, that’s extremely generous of you.”

  Laura, with the words still hanging on her tongue, turned to look at Father Francis, who looked almost gleeful. “I consider it my duty to be of service, Father.”

  “Are you positive about this, mistress?”

  Laura met the provost’s brilliant blue eyes, and suddenly she wasn’t certain what she had said and what she hadn’t. Before she could say anything, though, Gilbert continued cheerfully.

  “From what I understand, you’re an excellent organizer.”

  “I believe I have some ability in planning,” Laura croaked, doubts crowding in that they were not talking about the same thing. “And teaching a child--”

  “And you are extremely hardworking. That much is obvious to everyone who spends any time with you. Why, Father Francis here has already spoken eloquently of your efforts.”

  Laura blushed and sat in silence.

  “And from what you told me yourself, lass, not so many days ago...” Laura turned to Father Francis. “You’re looking for a challenge. A task where you can make a difference.”

  “I am. I was,” she murmured. “And a child--”

  “‘Tis done, then,” the provost announced excitedly. “But we somehow have to keep our intentions from William.”

  Laura stared in total confusion at the young priest. “But why should he object to me teaching his ward?”

  “He shouldn’t. Aye, there is so much that you can do.” Francis rubbed his hands together and turned to Gilbert. “But how will you explain taking her to Blackfearn Castle?”

  “To--to Blackfearn?”

  “Aye, lass. We need to provide a logical explanation, and a means of making your stay there...well, proper.”

  Laura felt that old burning knot forming in her belly. “But I--I didn’t--”

  “We have to keep Miriam’s welfare in mind, as well as Mistress Laura’s.” The two men appeared totally unaffected by her confusion. Gilbert started pacing the room. “But of course, William wouldn’t accept an open offer. Though yesterday, when I visited the chapel...”

  Laura found her hands clutching the fabric of the skirt. “Provost, I only...”

  “We could all pay him a visit,” Father Francis said brightly. “With Christmastide approaching, I could go along. And we could take some of the others as well.”

  “He’ll be wary with so many people visiting Blackfearn.”

  “Let him,” Francis grouched. “We’ll come bearing gifts.”

  “If I could get back to my concerns…” Laura cut in hopefully as the two men walked to the fireplace.

  “Mistress Laura will be along for the visit. And while she is there, she could begin to apply some of her cleverness in helping our poor William along.”

  “In truth, that’s all the lad needs.”

  “A bit of support and common sense.” Gilbert nodded.

  “And who better qualified to offer help than one who owes a bit of kindness to the laird?”

  “From what Mistress Laura told me, William practically saved her life.”

  They both turned to Laura. Her gaze moved helplessly from the face of one priest to the other. Father Francis was the one who spoke.

  “Well, we’ve a great deal to do, lass. How soon can you be ready?”

  CHAPTER 12

  The smoky torch hissed and flared, though not a breath of air stirred in the underground vault. The crypt, damp and still, smelled of death, and a chill ran through the Highlander’s blood as he moved around the chamber, inspecting the ancient tombs. A cloaked monk stood silently by the entrance, watching him.

  “Even as a lad I knew the stories about this place.” The warrior’s hand traced the carving on one of the stones. “There is power still in this sacred crypt. You can feel it, can you not, monk?”

  “Not as much power as you will feel once you succeed in helping me. Once we find the Treasure of Tiberius.”

  “Perhaps...though I hear your searches thus far have met with little success.” The Highlander looked across the vault. The monk’s dark eyes were shadowed by the cloak.

  “The English king’s deputy lieutenant was a fool driven by greed. Aye, there could be little success with him aiding us. He insisted on first chasing after the mother, Nichola Percy. You might as well chase a shadow. Unable to find her, he then decided that the Percy sisters were simpletons, burying their riches somewhere in England. The man was an arrogant fool, brutal and self-seeking.”

  “And you went along with him.” The Highlander moved around behind a tomb, running his fingers along a blackened stone wall. “I was also told that the sisters left behind clues.”

  “A clever distraction, that is all. We would have caught the three long before they reached Scotland if the late deputy lieutenant hadn’t been so easily gulled.”

  “I have no desire to waste my time, monk. What guarantee do you have that this time you will succeed?”

  “We’re finished digging in the earth for what is not there. ‘Tis time to go after them.”

  The Highlander frowned. “But did I not also hear that your attempt at kidnapping the middle sister ended in complete failure?”

  The monk’s gnarled fingers twisted together in the darkness. His voice was low, a hint of menace in his tone. “You have heard quite a bit. Far more than I imagined a Knight of the Veil would know.”

  “We never--I never walk blindly into any crypt, monk. Not when I have my own interests at hand. Explain your plan.”

  The hooded man paused a moment and then nodded, stepping toward the center of the chamber. “There is no purpose served in going after Catherine Percy. Since her marriage to the earl of Athol, taking her would require an army that we do not have. As far as the youngest, Adrianne--we have yet to learn her whereabouts. But that is a small concern, considering the fact Laura is so close. Why, she is nearly in our grasp.”

  The monk’s hood slipped back a bit. His eyes glowed strangely in the torchlight. “This is our plan, knight. Capturing one can be as productive as having them all. When we have the body of one, we control the hearts of the rest.”

  “You assume that they will all give up the fight once we have Laura?”

  “Aye, I know they will. I’ve known them since they were infants. They will surrender in an instant--any one of them would give up her life for the others. They cannot help themselves. I know them. ‘Tis in their blood.”

  The Highlander came around the tomb and strode to the monk. “I believe you. I have also heard of them...intelligent, beautiful, and intensely loyal to their family. And how do you suggest that I take possession of Laura Percy?”

  The monk’s face twisted into a smile as he placed a misshapen hand on the shoulder of the tall Highlander. “I, too, have heard things, my handsome friend. And when it comes to taking women, I do not believe the ‘Blade of Barra’ needs any help from me.”

  ****

  A dog and sheep barreled into Laura, knocking her backward into Father Francis as they crossed the threshold of Blackfearn Castle’s Great Hall.

  Before she could recover her balance, a half dozen sweating, bare-chested warriors descended upon them as well, shouting encouragement to the dog, which had quickly cornered the woolly animal. With a shout of victory, two of the men hoisted the sheep into the air and carried it toward the far end of the Hall. Toward the kitchens, no doubt, Laura decided with a look of amazement.

  The Hall before them was grand and spacious, and from the looks of the ornately carved laird’s chair and the tapes
tries hanging at rakish angles on the walls, it had obviously been quite elegant not long ago. But the chamber was now little more than a stable, with a menagerie of farm animals cowering in every corner and piles of refuse dumped on the floors. Overturned tables and benches littered the Hall, and the place smelled like a midden heap. In short, Laura thought, wrinkling up her nose, the place had the look of Noah’s Ark on the fortieth day.

  “Perhaps, mistress, we would have done better to have the laird greet us elsewhere.”

  Laura glanced at Father Francis and nodded in agreement.

  “Aye, Father, perhaps we should--”

  “Ne’er mind, lass, I believe ‘tis too late for second thoughts.”

  Laura threw a questioning glance at the priest and then, following his gaze, felt her breath catch in her throat. William Ross, stripped to the waist and dripping with sweat, was storming across the Great Hall, though "greeting" appeared to be the last thing on his mind.

  As he approached, her mouth went dry in an instant, and she felt heat race through her body. It seemed like a lifetime since she’d seen him last, and yet her entire being was set humming at the mere sight of him.

  She counted each of his cocksure steps as he blazed a path across the Hall. Try as she might, though, she could not help but gape at the rippling muscles of Highlander’s naked torso, at the fit of his tartan over lean hips, the plaid cloth flaring with each long stride.

  When he was nearly upon them, she could see his deep blue eyes flashing. And something inside her froze with delicious terror when those same eyes raked over her from the tips of her boots to the strand of hair that she hastily pushed back from her brow.

  She let out a quick breath. Handsome and strong, he was truly magnificent. And yet, it took all of her courage not to back out the door.

  “What is she doing here?”

  Well, she thought darkly, perhaps "magnificent" was too hasty a judgment.

  “William!” Father Francis’s tone was sharp. “The provost told you of our visit.”

  “Your visit. He said nothing about dragging along this--”

  “And this is your idea of hospitality, m’lord?” Laura broke in, forcing herself to keep a civil tone.

  Unfortunately, the closeness of his body blasted any opportunity of remaining aloof to him. Despite his infernal arrogance, he was still an incredibly handsome man. For the first time he turned and looked at her in the eye, causing her to redden slightly. But her temper flared when she saw a hint of amusement creep into the corners of his eyes.

  “If you have a complaint concerning my presence, perhaps you should address me directly?”

  “Well, Mistress Percy, by now I should at least know enough not to turn my back on you.”

  “I--I requested to come here.”

  William cocked an eyebrow. “And why is that? Did word reach St. Duthac’s that the cracks in my skull are nearly mended?”

  “I came here to be a help. To offer my services.”

  “Is that so?” One corner of his mouth hitched suggestively, his eyes roaming down her traveling cloak. Liquid heat rushed through her, and for a moment she thought she would die. “In what capacity?”

  “Now, William...”

  “Father Francis.” Laura quickly pulled herself together and turned to the priest. “If you would allow me a moment in private with the laird, I believe I will be able to clear up this confusion.”

  The older man nodded hesitantly and, giving William another hard look, headed for a table where a group of Ross men were watching with amusement.

  “Do you always insist on fighting your own battles?”

  “Always,” she answered testily.

  “Now, as for this moment in private.” He cast an eye at the onlookers. “Knowing my reputation as a rogue who cannot help but steal away helpless women, surely you--”

  “Stop right there.” If she could only cause him some physical harm. But there had to be better ways. At least, better places to commit murder. She would bide her time. “This hall will do. And as I was trying to say before, I am offering my assistance in preparing for the arrival of Miriam, your niece.”

  He crossed his arms over his bare chest and continued to watch her, a frown creasing his face.

  “She is coming here.”

  “So I’ve been informed.”

  “And a child needs some order and...” She paused and let her eyes travel over the chaotic appearance of the Great Hall. “And stability. A peaceful place to live and grow and learn.”

  “And you have decided to bring that to Blackfearn Castle.”

  She fixed her gaze on his face. “I am offering my services.”

  His hands dropped to his hips. “Do you mean you’ve come to stay?”

  “Nay! I mean, aye.” He didn’t have to look quite so horrified. “I’m only planning to stay until you have your--your affairs in order and the child is settled.”

  “Settled?” William’s arms again crossed over his chest, and he looked away. “To my thinking, they are in order. Though my brother holds a differing opinion, no doubt.”

  Right now, she thought with a quick glance at the Hall, she tended to agree with the provost.

  “Well, I assure you, I’m not planning to stay long. Perhaps a month at the most. If you give me leave, I will stay until Miriam arrives, and you have a chance to arrange proper care and tutelage for her.”

  His gaze bore into hers. “That is too long.”

  He knew exactly how to wound her. She felt her back stiffen. Her jaw ground shut for a long moment. But then she reminded herself that she should have expected such treatment, considering all the trouble she’d caused him in the few days that they’d shared. Still, though, his words stung her.

  “I am not here for you,” she persisted. “And as much as you hate me, you might consider what is best for the child.”

  His eyes softened momentarily, his frown deepening. He turned abruptly and motioned for a young lad who stood at a distance holding his shirt and tartan. Laura, not needing to be further flustered at the sight of him dressing right before her eyes, turned her attention to the Hall. Every eye in the room was focused on them. She hid her hands in her cloak and turned to the laird again.

  “I promise to stay out of your way while I am here.”

  “You will only deal with what concerns Miriam.”

  She gave a curt nod.

  “And nothing else.” He pointed a threatening finger at her chest. “No meddling in the business of the castle. No intrusion in the lives of the clan folk. No interference in the way I do things. No causing trouble of any kind!”

  She nodded again. As long as none of these restrictions, she thought, interfere with preparing for the little girl.

  “I agree.” There were many ways of accomplishing a task, she said to herself, smiling innocently at him.

  “And remember.” William’s blue eyes bore into her. “You will stay out of my way.”

  *****

  Laura had never in her life been one to place much value in creature comforts--which was a good thing, because she wasn’t going to get them at Blackfearn Castle.

  The bedchamber assigned to her by the Ross laird was located in an upper level of the castle’s east wing. The original keep of Blackfearn Castle, the upper levels of the building had been divided into bedchambers long ago, when the larger edifice housing the present Great Hall and laird’s chambers had been built.

  Following Robbie, the young lad who had held his laird’s shirt in the Great Hall, Laura climbed a dark circular stairwell and moved along a passageway lit only by narrow slit windows looking out on the courtyard. Passing open doors of two fairly large chambers--both of them with small drifts of snow on the wood floors--they made their way eventually to a door at the end of the corridor. Oak beams slanted upward just above her head, and looking up she could see patches of blue sky through missing sections of roof. It was cold, and Laura knew it was going to be wet.

  “What happened to the roof
?” she asked the boy casually.

  “The storm last summer, mistress. A fiercer wind I ne’er saw. Why, the roof came off in whole pieces. Flattened much of the crops, too. Did ye see it?”

  “As a matter of fact, Robbie, I was in a ship at the time. ‘Twas a frightening thing.”

  “I wasn’t frightened,” the lad boasted, pushing open the heavy door. “Though ‘tis true that the wind howled like a hound bitch looking for some supper.”

  “I’m sure it did,” Laura said.

  Left alone, she looked around the small chamber. The wind was whistling down a huge open hearth that must have provided heat to the entire floor before the renovations. The room itself was sparsely furnished with a narrow bed and a small chest. It was damp and cold but certainly bearable, she thought to herself. Going to fasten the shutter that covered the single window, Laura looked down on a training yard below. The snow had been trampled down by many feet, and the covering glistened in the bright sunshine.

  She made a small fire in the hearth from a small stack of kindling and peat that had been left, and smiled wryly as much of the smoke backed into the room, drifting up into the roof rafters instead of going out the chimney. When she picked up a pile of straw from one corner of the room, two brown mice darted along the wall. Fifteen minutes of careful searching with a broom she found in the corner, though, turned up no more occupying vermin.

  Blackfearn was an old castle, Laura reminded herself, and there were probably still grain and foodstuffs stored in the level beneath. Besides, she was here not for her own comfort, but to prepare for a certain little girl’s arrival. The thought of her purpose for being here cheered her greatly.

  Putting the room in order took very little time, as did the arrangement of her meager possessions. Looking around with satisfaction, Laura was thinking that perhaps it was time to return to the Great Hall when her supper arrived.

  Maire, a rather shy old woman who apparently worked in the kitchens, conveyed the message that the laird was certain Mistress Laura would prefer to take her meals in her chamber.