Читать книгу Highlanders: The Warrior and the Rose / The Forbidden Highlander / Rescued by the Highland Warrior - Бренда Джойс, Michelle Willingham - Страница 13

CHAPTER FIVE

JULIANA WISHED SHE had a looking glass. She hesitated on the threshold of the chamber she now shared with her sister and her nephews. She felt disheveled and untidy, and she worried her appearance might give her transgressions away. Mary would disapprove if she ever found out what had just happened. Worse, she would be disappointed. Juliana dared not consider how her brother would react, if he ever learned of her disloyalty. But it had been a mistake. She would never be so foolish again.

Juliana peered carefully inside.

All three boys were asleep in the bed, covered by one large fur. Mary stood before the fire, warming her hands. She turned when Juliana entered. “Where have you been?”

She could not claim she had spent the past hour or so begging Alasdair for their freedom. “I went to speak with Alasdair, and then I spoke with his mother,” she lied uneasily. She averted her eyes and was afraid she flushed. How she hated deceiving her sister.

Mary was quiet.

Juliana looked up. Now she saw the trencher on the chest, the plates there mostly empty. If Alasdair’s mother had brought their supper up by herself, she was caught in her lie.

“What did he say? Or should I even ask?”

“He said you and the boys will be freed when your ransom is paid,” Juliana said quickly.

“But what about you?”

Juliana started, recalling his exact words—he had not mentioned her ransom or her release. “Of course he will free me, too,” she said slowly. But as she spoke, she thought about the wild and shocking passion they had just shared—and suddenly, she was uncertain. Hadn’t she sensed that he had returned to attack Coeffin Castle because of her?

“What is wrong?”

She quickly smiled. “Nothing. I am simply...distraught...and I am tired, too.” She decided she was jumping to conclusions. He had not attacked Coeffin Castle in order to capture her. He had done so as an act of revenge against her brother.

“Maybe you should rest.”

“I intend to. Would you be disappointed with me if I went down to the hall to eat?”

“No.” For one moment, the sisters stared at one another. Mary added, “Be careful, Juliana.”

Juliana smiled and turned away. Her smile vanished as she went down the hallway. Her sister knew what she had done—she was certain.

* * *

JULIANA DID NOT go into the great room. She paused just beyond it, staring inside, instead.

Alasdair was seated beside his father, and as she looked at him, her heart thundered. No wonder she had leapt into his bed—he was a powerful and attractive man. She could not deny it now.

He was eating with a ravenous appetite while his father spoke to him. Angus Mor looked like an older version of his son, a big, muscular man, his cheekbones high and hard, although his long hair was mostly gray. He wore the same blue-and-red plaid about his shoulders, pinned there with a gold brooch. Lady MacDonald was also at the table, as were several Highlanders, all of whom she now recognized.

Angus Mor was speaking, but then he saw her and became quiet. All conversation stopped instantly, every pair of eyes turning upon her.

Alasdair leapt up, so quickly, it was almost comical. “Lady Juliana.”

She knew she blushed, and heatedly; worse, his gaze was very warm upon hers. “I am interrupting,” she said.

“Nonsense.” Lady MacDonald stood and came around the table, walking over to her. Alasdair remained standing—staring. She took her arm, guiding her back to the table. “I brought Lady Comyn and her boys their supper. I wasn’t certain if you would stay with them or join us.” She smiled.

Was she also wondering where Juliana had been during the past hour? Juliana now avoided looking in Alasdair’s direction, aware of him sitting back down. But unfortunately, she kept thinking about the passion they had just shared.

“You have not met my husband,” Lady MacDonald continued.

Angus Mor did not stand up, but he smiled at her. “Welcome to Dunyveg, Lady Juliana.”

Juliana met his blue eyes, which were cool and assessing. This man was the Lord of the Isles and her brother’s worst enemy. Unlike his son, he felt no admiration or affection for her. She knew from the course of her lifetime how dangerous he was. He and her brother had been at war almost incessantly since she was born, although she did recall a brief truce a few years ago, in which they had rebelled together against King Alexander, over some grievance they had briefly shared. “My lord,” she said uneasily. Suddenly she wished she had remained upstairs.

“Alasdair tells me ye are fearless,” he said.

“To the contrary, I am very frightened.”

Her comment did not appear to affect him. “Do sit, Lady Juliana.”

Juliana sat down at the table, Lady MacDonald between her and Angus Mor. She faced Alasdair, and she stole a quick glance at him. He was staring and not bothering to hide his interest.

“How is the Lord of Lorn, Lady Juliana?” Angus Mor asked.

She tensed. “I would not know, I have not seen him in a week.”

“Of course not. He planned his attack on my son from Dunstaffnage, and now, he is on his way to Lochaber.”

She flinched. How did Angus Mor know that? “Do you have spies amongst us?”

“Did ye not have spies amongst us?” Angus Mor returned.

She trembled, for Angus Mor was frightening, in a different way than his son.

“Juliana would not ken if her brother has spies amongst us,” Alasdair said.

She jerked at Alasdair’s hard tone, and her gaze flew to his. He would defend her to his father?

“It canna hurt to ask. Ye should demand their names as part of the ransom,” Angus Mor said flatly.

“I’ll think on it,” Alasdair returned.

Juliana looked at him and then at his father. She hadn’t realized that Alasdair managed his affairs independently from his father. And there was some tension between them, some rivalry. But his father was an old man—he had to be well over fifty—and Alasdair was in his late twenties, or so she assumed. He was mature enough to lead Clan Donald now. He probably wished to do so.

“Why dinna ye eat?” Alasdair said, surprising her.

A trencher had been placed in front of her, but now she had no appetite.

Alasdair valued her as a hostage and he admired her as a woman. And they were lovers. She might be his captive, but he would not truly hurt her. She had no such confidence in regards to his father.

Realizing Angus Mor was staring at her, Juliana ate.

* * *

DONALD AND ROGER were running up and down the corridor, chasing one another back and forth with loud shrieks. It was midday, and the boys had been cooped up in the chamber since they had awoken. But Juliana and Mary rushed in an attempt to quiet the boys before the entire castle complained.

“Roger! Donald! You cannot behave as barbarians!” Mary cried, running after Roger.

Juliana chased Donald down the corridor. “We are guests,” she cried, finally seizing him by the back of his leine. As they halted, they came face to face with a boy of seven or eight years old.

He must have just come up the stairs, and he was staring coolly at them. “Yer not guests. Yer hostages. Alasdair said so.”

Juliana was incredulous. She knew he was related to Alasdair instantly, and not just because of his demeanor. He looked like a childish version of him, with the same dark hair and blue eyes. “And whom might you be? I am Lady Juliana MacDougall,” she said, her tone deliberately imperious.

“I am Alexander—the second Alexander.” As he spoke, she heard footsteps behind him.

Alasdair appeared on the landing. “I see you have met my little brother, Alexander—we call him the little wolf.” He smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Even ye must be kind to a captive—she is a lady.”

The boy shrugged and slipped away, hurrying back down the stairs.

And suddenly they were very much alone, and she was acutely aware of it, as she felt her heart racing.

He said softly, “Ye vanished so quickly last night.”

She had fled supper, with the intention of making certain she got safely to her own bed.

“Did my father frighten ye?”

She said carefully, “Yes, he did.”

Their gazes were locked when suddenly Mary appeared with Roger and Donald in hand.

She looked back and forth between them. “Good morning,” she said to Alasdair.

He smiled at her. “I hope ye slept well. Ye need not confine the boys. Ye can take a walk in the courtyard, or upon the beach, with my guard. “

“Thank you,” Mary said. She looked at her sons. “Please go into the chamber and tell Elasaid to get your cloaks.” When they were gone, she stepped closer to Juliana—as if to protect her. “When will you ask for ransoms?”

“I am sending a messenger this afternoon,” Alasdair said. “I am about to write the missive.”

“You are asking for ransoms for us both?” Juliana asked.

He smiled at her. “Why would ye think otherwise?”

She felt like kicking his shin. “Because I hardly trust you.”

“I am writing both Comyn and MacDougall, have no fear, Lady Juliana. I could hardly keep ye here without asking for a ransom.”

Of course he had to ask for a ransom. An even greater war would result if he simply held her captive, against her will. “And will you also do as your father asked—will you ask for the names of any spies?”

He slowly smiled. “As a sign of good faith, I will.”

Her heart sank. Ransoms took months to pay, or years, if they were excessive. But to demand the identity of any MacDougall spies would only anger her brother and complicate matters.

“Do you want to walk with us?” Mary asked her.

Juliana realized she was hesitating. If her sister were out for a few hours, she would be free to do as she wished.

An image had flashed in her mind—of being in Alasdair’s arms. What was wrong with her? They had spent an hour together. That tryst was not to be repeated. Alasdair might admire her, and he might lust for her, but he was a ruthless man. She had seen that herself. She would be deluding herself if she came to believe that he might sincerely protect her. That he might forget she was Alexander MacDougall’s sister. That he was any less ruthless than Angus Mor.

“Of course I will walk with you.” Not looking at Alasdair, Juliana turned and hurried away.

* * *

JULIANA APPROACHED THE great hall and saw her sister seated at the table with her boys, Elasaid, and Lady MacDonald. , Alasdair’s brother, the little wolf, was with them. While the women conversed, the boys were in a fierce discussion, and Juliana could not imagine about what. But she smiled, pleased that the second Alexander was being friendly to her nephews.

None of the men were present.

She suddenly heard a great commotion in the entry hall, which was flanked by two towers. She heard men’s voices, booted steps, the jangle of spurs, doors closing, bolts being jammed. Juliana hurried to the end of the corridor and peered around it into the stone entry chamber.

A great many men stood there, all shedding snow from their furs and plaids. She had already known Alasdair was present, because she had recognized his voice immediately. Now she saw him embracing another man—a man as tall and muscular as he was, with similar dark hair, a blue-and-red plaid visible beneath the fur he wore. As she watched the two men, she knew that Alasdair was greeting his brother, Angus Og.

He and his Highlanders had clearly just arrived at Dunyveg, never mind the late hour and the snow. Angus Mor shouldered through the men to clasp his son’s shoulder. “Yer late,” he said, but warmly.

“Hello Father,” Angus Og said. “The snow is even worse in the east.”

Juliana could now see his face. He was so obviously Alasdair’s brother—he had the same high cheekbones, the same blue eyes, the same strong jaw, and even a similar mane of dark hair. “Did ye succeed in convincing Lennox to support Bruce?” Angus Mor demanded.

“The Earl of Lennox will think about it and he will decide in a week or two—before he meets Menteith,” Angus Og said.

“We will never take the throne for Bruce without Lennox and Atholl,” Angus Mor said grimly.

“Maybe I should seek out Atholl.” Alasdair was as dark. “I am impatient, awaiting his reply.”

Angus Mor scowled. “Are we being played? Do they truly think to prosper under John Balliol?”

“There is more,” Angus Og said, his blue eyes heating. “Richard de Burgh failed to attend the council. He sent word instead that he was delayed.”

There was a surprised silence.

Juliana’s mind was racing as she listened to them. She hadn’t meant to spy, but the information she had discovered might be valuable to her brother. She could not believe they meant to rally the earls of Lennox and Atholl, or that the Irish magnate, de Burgh, was also on their side. She knew she should retreat before she was seen. As she was about to flee back around the corner, Alasdair turned and looked at her.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

Instantly, Angus Mor looked in her direction, and Angus Og turned fully around, espying her as well.

Juliana stiffened in fear; Alasdair strode over to her. “Lady Juliana?” he asked tightly.

She met his gaze and saw the warning there. “I heard voices. Your mother wished for you to join her....” What kind of an excuse was that! She swallowed. “I told her I would find you.”

Angus Mor strode to her, his face hard, his eyes ice-cold. “Do we have a bold spy in our midst—yet again?” He turned to Alasdair. “Did she deceive ye, Alasdair? Perhaps she is not yer captive after all—perhaps yer her captive. Perhaps she has gotten ye so besotted, ye cannot see her for the spy that she is?”

Juliana cringed. She looked at Alasdair, who was dark with anger. “I am not her captive, nor will I ever be. She is no spy. She is my captive.”

“Ye had better make certain,” Angus Mor warned. In anger, he left.

She trembled, alone now with the two brothers. Angus Og was studying her, but not with hostility—he seemed curious. He nodded once, then followed his father into the great room.

Juliana was awaiting Alasdair’s rage—his attack. His face was cold now, as cold as his father’s had been. “We will speak of this later,” he finally said. “Go into the hall.”

Juliana nodded and rushed to obey.

Angus Mor was already at the table, and fiercely eating. Angus Og was embracing Lady MacDonald before sitting down between her and his father. Mary was seated on the other side of the table with her children. Juliana avoided Mary’s questioning look as she squeezed onto the bench beside her nephews, as far away from Angus Mor as possible. She wished she were not at the table at all.

She quickly began filling her own trencher with fish and game. Tears felt as if they were imminent.

What had she inadvertently done? It was one thing to be Alasdair’s prisoner, another his father’s. Alasdair remained the enemy, but he was rational and just compared to his father. And he had an interest in her, one beyond that of a captor toward his captive.

She worried that Angus Mor would interfere and assert his authority over her. She must not forget that there would never be mercy from the older man. In his eyes, she was his worst enemy’s sister and nothing more, a pawn to be ruthlessly used.

Alasdair strode into the room. Juliana avoided looking at him. He did not sit down with his parents and his brother. He went to her side of the table, and sat down on the end of the bench next to her, not giving her a single glance, either. He began piling food upon his plate. He looked up at no one and he did not speak.

No action could be clearer. She was his prisoner, and he meant to make certain that there was no doubt. But it also felt as if he had staked a claim, as if he meant to indicate that she was also under his protection.

Oddly, she felt reassured by his gesture.

But his father was angered, she could see that, as he ate in dark silence.

She meant to force herself to eat, but it was impossible. It was Angus Og who broke the tension, as he began telling his father about a feud involving land in Jute. Angus Mor turned his full attention upon his second son, asking him questions about the dispute, and Juliana felt some small relief. She hoped to never attract the chief’s attention again.

When the meal was finally over and they had politely bid everyone good-night, the sisters hurried upstairs, shooing the boys up ahead of them. As Donald and Roger ran inside the bedchamber, Mary took Juliana’s hand, halting her on its threshold. “What is going on?” she asked quietly, but with strain. “Did you argue with Angus Mor?”

Juliana shook her head. But as she did so, she saw Alasdair approaching. Mary turned and saw him, too.

“No, she did not argue with my father,” he said. “She spied on him, instead.”

Mary gasped.

“Juliana, I wish a word with ye.”

Juliana stiffened. “I think we should speak on the morrow,” she began.

He took her arm, his hold uncompromising. “No. We will speak now.” He looked coolly at Mary. “Good night.”

Mary did not move, her eyes wide, and Juliana was certain she thought that she was in trouble, and more, that she might even be worried about Alasdair’s ultimate intentions.

“Good night, Lady Comyn,” Alasdair said firmly.

Mary suddenly hugged her. “Please, do not be reckless!” and then she hurried into their chamber.

Alasdair did not hesitate. Still gripping Juliana by the arm, he closed the door after Mary. He gave Juliana a sidelong look and pulled her down the corridor with him. She had to run to keep up with him.

The moment they were within his chamber, he shut the door. He released her, went to the fire and stoked it. It blazed.

Juliana bit her lip hard. He was angry with her, and she expected his wrath, but she also knew exactly how he meant to end the night. And that knowledge made her blood hum hungrily within her veins, even though she knew she must resist him.

He straightened and faced her, slowly removing his plaid. “Do not ever spy upon me or mine again.”

She stiffened as he threw the plaid onto the room’s single chair. “Alasdair. I did not intend to spy.”

“Ye realize,” he said, “that I cannot allow ye to communicate with yer brother now.” He unbuckled the belt and tossed that aside, as well.

She was dry of mouth. “I did not understand what you were speaking of,” she said, though she had understood everything.

He laughed, sitting on the bed. He pulled off one boot. “Ye ken. Ye ken we need our allies to take the throne fer Bruce.”

She trembled. “I cannot stay here tonight.”

He pulled off his other boot and stood up. “Ye can—and ye will.” And he walked to her and seized her shoulders, hard. “Ye ran away last night. Ye will not run away now.”

Her hands found his hard chest. “Mary will know.”

“Yer sister will never betray ye.” And then he kissed her, hard and open-mouthed.

Juliana closed her eyes, her senses rioting, pressing every inch of her body against his, as closely as she could, her arms around him now. She kissed him wildly back. Alasdair made a hard sound, and he carried her to the bed.