Claimed By a Scottish Lord Page 14

  A corner of his mouth lifted, but his eyes were as somber as night. ―Little is sacrosanct at Stonehaven, especially what goes on in these chambers.‖

  Rose attempted to push past him, but it was like trying to move stone. ―Move aside.‖

  ―Or what?‖ he said, tilting her face into the light. ―You haven‘t the strength to swat a fly. Have you suddenly decided to surrender the fight? You shock me, love.‖

  ―Surrender should make your task easier, should it not?‖

  He laughed. Hers was a silly remark and she winced at her melodrama, suddenly feeling like some overwrought heroine in the worst sort of book.

  ―I did not take you for being nonsensical, Rose. Wouldn‘t killing you rather defeat our purpose for bringing you here?‖

  A knock sounded on the door. Without moving, he called, ―Enter.‖

  The young girl who had helped plait Rose‘s hair last night pushed a heavily laden trundle cart into the room. Roxburghe directed her to set the tray on the table nearest the hearth. The maid removed the silver domed lid covering the plate, revealing fruit and cheese and warm bread still steaming, then arranged two cups next to a silver carafe on the trundle cart. She lifted an inquiring gaze to her laird. With a subtle tip of his chin, he nodded and dismissed her.

  After the maid left, Rose pressed her thumb to her temple and told his lordship to go away and leave her alone. ―You are wasting your time.‖

  But he paid her no heed as he swung her into his arms. ―I am not my servants, Rose.‖

  He carried her across the room to the table. She didn‘t bother protesting as he set her in a chair and then made himself comfortable across from her. She narrowed her eyes. ―You cannot force me to eat your food.‖

  He looked offended as he took up the fork and began eating. ―Why would I force you to eat? What woman does not wish to have a smaller waist? Though I have seen you. All of you. And I think you look rather . fine.‖

  It seemed incongruous to her that after everything he had put her through, here he was teasing her while she was half-dressed in her private chambers, and they should be bantering as if they were a married couple sharing intimacies and ways to murder the other.

  ―Not all poisons kill.‖ She dared him to contradict her, while pride convinced her not to stare at the food or lick her lips. ―I‘ve worked with herbs and know certain ones can inflict great agony without causing death.‖

  Visibly savoring a plump strawberry, he watched her watching him. ―Then ‘tis fortunate for you . and probably for us, that our herbal has fallen into disrepair. If someone wanted to make you suffer, they would have to do so with garlic and onions.‖ He casually poured black . something into a porcelain cup. ―We‘ve an orangery in equal need of restoration if you‘d care to see for yourself.‖

  ―Are you saying I am free to walk about?‖

  She watched him tip back the cup and drink. His Adam‘s apple bobbed with the flex of tendons on his neck as the warm liquid eased down his throat. Afterward, he dabbed the serviette at the corner of his mouth and gave her his full attention. She noted a small wet mark at the corner of his lip.

  ―I‘m saying the incident with Julia was unfortunate, and for that, I apologize,‖ he said. ―It will not happen again. Neither will last night.‖ He sat back in the chair. ―Duncan departed this morning for Alnwick Castle to deliver new terms of trade to Hereford.‖

  ―I see.‖ Now she understood Roxburghe‘s purpose for coming to her chambers. Her chest tightened. ―Then I will soon meet my father? And this entire ordeal will be at an end.‖

  ―Aye, it will,‖ he agreed.

  ―How long before the meeting?‖

  ―Alnwick Castle is five, maybe six days‘ hard riding from Stonehaven. Two weeks perhaps before we hear,‖ he said. ―Then we go to Jedburgh.‖

  Something in the tenor of his voice told her that no semblance of diplomacy remained between the two sides, and battle lines were about to be drawn. So be it.

  ―I have waited a long time,‖ she said. ―No matter what happens in the next few weeks, I would have this done with. But what I do not know and what I would have you answer is what happens to me if my father will not recognize me as his daughter and refuses your terms? Will I be free to leave here?‖

  Roxburghe was sprawled back in his chair, the cup in his hand, his expression unreadable, but for an instant, she thought she had seen something. ―A disavowal from him of your existence?

  We both know that will not happen.‖

  Damp tendrils of hair fell around her face and she tucked a strand behind her ear. ―Until then, will you be testing all my food?‖

  He leaned forward. ―Is that an open invitation to visit this room?‖

  ―Surely, it matters little what I say,‖ she replied in a disinterested voice. ―I have no reputation left to lose.‖

  ―And after all the effort I have taken to safeguard your morals.‖

  The heat of his gaze flared through her as warm as the air she breathed, as enticing as the scent of apple blossoms and cloves still lingering in her hair, like the scent she had smelled on him, as seductive as the dancing firelight.

  Her disinterest in him was a lie. And he knew it.

  Strangely, he was the first to look away as he reached for the carafe. ―Has the fight gone out of you, Rose?‖

  She would not be much of an adversary if it had. Yet, perhaps it had gone out of her. She wondered absently what he was drinking, watching as he settled back into the chair and peered at her over the rim of the cup.

  Deciding she would not dignify his action with curiosity, she looked away. ―I would like to say something,‖ she said.

  She supposed it was her mood that was giving her a lofty feeling of detachment, as if she were floating above Roselyn Lancaster as a mere onlooker, indifferent to her emotional agonies. Her future no longer mattered. She would survive. She might be helpless now, but she would not always be so. The man sitting opposite her with the firelight on his face was equally unimportant to her. Except that he had done her a service and he should know.

  ―That night at the cemetery when you said my name . you were the first person since I was a child who had ever spoken my full name aloud. You freed me,‖ she said. ―I no longer live in fear of discovery, of what will happen should my father find me. I no longer fear what people will say when they know the truth. The worst has happened. Someone has discovered the truth and I have survived.‖

  She folded her hands in her lap. ―But no matter what has transpired between us, our acquaintance will end soon, and I will be most content to go.‖

  His was a relaxed pose but she could feel the tension inside him. ―Indeed.‖

  She narrowed her eyes. ―At the very least, the ring you stole from me is valuable. Mayhap you can trade us both for your brother.‖

  ―Mayhap I will keep both you and the ring, and send Hereford to the devil where he belongs. I could, you know.‖

  ―Why?‖ she asked.

  ―Why would I keep you? Or why would I kill him?‖

  ―Why would you keep the ring?‖

  He laughed. ―Ah, the deeper, more insightful question.‖ His pause was infinitesimal.

  ―Because it is something of yours, I suppose. And you want it back.‖

  She felt the minutest hint of irritation and something else.

  ―However . I am not as black hearted as ‘twould seem,‖ he said quietly, his fingers absently edging the rim of the cup. ―You need not be locked in this room. I have a library at your disposal. A large garden if you wish to take your morning and evening constitutionals there. A dining room if you choose to take your meals there. My home is yours.‖

  ―You do not ask my parole not to escape?‖

  The faintest suggestion of humor traced the line of his lips. ―Four hundred acres of open parkland surround Stonehaven. Unless you look like a fat wooly sheep, you would have a difficult time blending into the scenery. Nor could I guarantee your safety beyond Stonehaven‘s bord
ers. Though I suggest you allow your leg to heal before you try. Jason or Mrs. Duff will accompany you wherever you want to go.‖

  As he stood, so did she, but only because he was so tall. He came around the table, sure of himself as she stood before him with bared feet.

  No man had ever made her feel feminine and petite. Placing the cup in her hands, he wrapped her fingers around the warmed porcelain where his palm had just been. ―Now drink. Eat. No one at Stonehaven will harm you. You have my word.‖

  ―The word of an outlaw.‖

  ―The word of a border lord, Lady Roselyn.‖

  ―A privateer.‖

  ―A Scots.‖

  She held the cup between them like a wall, a barrier against her emotions.

  He merely sat against the table watching her, and with a twinge of illogic, she wondered why he had not tried to kiss her since coming to her chambers.

  She drank from the cup and nearly choked with the fiery heat. ―Whisky . ‖ she rasped in disbelief. ―You lace your coffee with whisky?‖

  ―Chocolate,‖ he casually corrected. ―Scotch-laced chocolate.‖

  Rose felt some of the fire return to her. She no longer felt lethargic. She didn‘t care what the stuff was. ―You should have warned me.‖ She frowned as the floor seemed to move up and down in a curious manner.

  He laughed. ―And would you have heeded my warning.‖

  ―Go away,‖ she murmured. ―Your chocolate has poisoned me.‖

  She reached out to put the cup back on the table. But for some reason she misjudged the distance and the cup dropped to the carpet and bounced against his boot. ―Aye,‖ he agreed much humor in his tone as he bent to retrieve the cup. ―You have the most delicate constitution of anyone I know who can hold a dirk to a man‘s throat.‖

  ―I should have known that a man who by his own admission and actions is a smuggler and a libertine would trick me.‖

  He set the cup behind her, leaning into her until he had her pressed her intimately to the table‘s edge, half sitting and near to sliding the dishes off the table. ―I never claimed to be a libertine, love.‖

  And they remained thus thigh to thigh, the thrum of her pulse in her ears. The scratch of his cheek against her tender skin as he slid his lips to the soft shell of her ear. ―And I have no reason to trick you, Rose.‖

  She closed her eyes, her heart hammering. Sister Nessa had once warned her about the temptations of the flesh and warned her that she was too free and impenitent with her wild ways. Rose had never appreciated the full import of that lecture until the other night in the glade and the darkness, for she had always considered herself above the inanity that had ruined many a foolish maid in Castleton. But being so close to Roxburghe and remembering his touch like the hottest fire, she recognized temptation in its basest form. Like that sip of scotch-sweetened chocolate. One taste was not enough.

  And it frightened her. She was too weak. Or not too weak.

  She was beginning to feel much invigorated. She had but to ease her legs apart, she thought, and he would be pressed against her.

  Murmuring something inexplicable beneath the hot caress of his breath, Roxburghe pressed his mouth to her ear. ―I have no‘ slept,‖ he said. ―You have no‘ eaten. I can tell ye, mo leannan falaich, neither of us is in our right mind.‖

  His dark-lashed eyes were riveting and direct. She had never heard a brogue in his voice or Gaelic from his tongue, and now that she had, she knew that for all his Scot‘s blood, he had learned the ways of the English very well.

  ―Is aught amiss, Ruark?‖ The housekeeper‘s voice asked evenly from behind them.

  Rose looked around Roxburghe. She stood in the doorway behind them, arms akimbo, steel in her eyes as she eyed the laird‘s back.

  ―I was just leaving, Mary.‖ He pushed from the table. ―Lady Roselyn and I were merely clarifying the terms of her arrangements while she is a guest here.‖

  ―Arrangements indeed!‖ Mrs. Duff snapped at him, the shell earrings she wore bobbing against her cheeks. ―Since when have ye behaved yourself less than a gentleman? Out with ye. Now.‖

  Roxburghe spread his arms in surrender. ―Who am I to argue your wisdom, Mary Duff?

  As the dear aunt of my mother‘s distant cousin, I have always allowed you certain liberties over my welfare and moral education.‖

  ―Pish-posh, Ruark Kerr. I swaddled ye when you were a babe. Certain liberties indeed.‖

  Mary sniffed. ―Out!‖

  ―Is Jason in the corridor?‖ He asked Mrs. Duff.

  ―Aye, he is.‖

  He turned to Rose, his manner infinitely courteous, one corner of his mouth turned up slightly. ―Mary will see that everything is provided for you. You need only ask. But know the boundaries I have set, Rose. You have free rein outside this room but never alone.‖

  The cool heat of his eyes held her. ―Now if you will excuse me. I am to my own bed to sleep.‖

  Chapter 9

  Sleep was the farthest thing from Rose‘s mind as she finished the fruit Roxburghe left on the table. She discarded the cheese and bread, but ate the shelled walnuts. If his visit did anything, it galvanized her to fight. She might currently be helpless but her situation was far from hopeless.

  That evening, with her ear pressed to the door, she overheard Jason telling Mrs. Duff that Roxburghe left Stonehaven to go to Hawick, all hush-hush whispers. His lordship‘s solicitor and banker resided in Hawick, and they concluded that his reasons for leaving must be important or he would not have gone. Jason and Mrs. Duff were not to let Rose leave her chambers alone. Not for a moment.

  His lairdship was right not to trust her. But if she was to have any chance at all, she first needed to heal the wound on her leg and for that she needed proper food, rest, and light. Not only did she fully intend to recover but also she fully intended to escape. Or if she could not escape, she would meet her father standing tall and proud, not walking with a limp.

  To that end, Rose set about facilitating her own recovery, beginning the next morning with a long written list of required items she would need from the kitchen, which included a boiling pot, marigold heads, black willow and wild yam, raw carrots, and meadowsweet, to name a few. Uncooked brown eggs in the shell and honey would also do twice a day and mixed in a glass for her consumption; if the staff would not mind the inconvenience, she would crack the eggs herself.

  The fact that Rose merely asked yet demanded nothing of anyone put the onerous burden on the staff to choose whether to comply with her wishes. She had learned through years of managing much of the abbey‘s internal affairs that people were more apt to cooperate if one merely treated them with respect and honesty and made it seem as if your needs were their needs. Lord Roxburghe wanted her healthy, after all.

  Mrs. Duff supplied her with a pot to boil water in the hearth to make a decoction from elm leaves and bark to cleanse the wound, and an infusion from other herbs to ingest for strength. Rose praised the cook‘s strawberry tarts as the most wondrous ever and sent down a recipe for the strawberry pie that had been Sister Nessa‘s favorite. Soon the elderly housekeeper and cook were keeping time with her and bringing Rose various garments and apparel, much that needed altering, but a job that Rose did not mind doing.

  While Mrs. Duff sat with her, she chatted about how this wing of the house had been built on the foundation of a castle destroyed after the Battle of Stirling Bridge in the thirteenth century, and Rose learned that some of the old corridors were still in use as servants‘

  passageways. All meals were brought up to the floor from the kitchen this way. No detail of Mrs. Duff‘s conversations went unnoticed, including the fact that his lordship‘s chambers were somewhere in this wing.

  With her collection of scissors, needles, thread, and cloth, Rose lay in bed at night and worked on sewing special pockets into her clothes and making a knapsack that she would pack with food and other supplies she was collecting for her eventual departure. Already by the week‘s end, she had collect
ed silver from the food trays delivered to her. A spoon missing hither and thither could be overlooked in the short term, at least until an accounting of the silverware was taken.

  Overall, Rose managed to be a model hostage, seemingly too injured to be a threat. It was not a lie that her wound pained her, but she was not crippled and, with some effort, during her first few days at Stonehaven she was able to shove one of the dressers in her bathing chamber below the high window. If she set a chair atop the dresser‘s surface, she could reach the window‘s sill chest high, and using a supper knife, she slipped the blade in the crack to unhinge the lock without breaking the glass. The window opened onto a ledge.

  That first morning couldn‘t have been more glorious to her eyes as Rose looked out over the ledge down a beautiful trellis entwined with green and vines and into an empty courtyard, then beyond the peaceful setting to a reflecting pool.