Conquer the Night (19 page)

He smiled. “You needn't worry that you'd give anything to me. I don't give a damn about my power here. I've not come to stay.”

“What good is seizing power you cannot hold?”

“I'm not trying to seize power, lady; I am merely gaining strength. I will leave this place in time.”

“After you've plundered it of goods and riches and anything you can steal.”

“Goods, riches, plunder—and men, my lady. We have gained many things here indeed.”

She was surprised to feel a strange sense of fear. He hadn't mentioned anything about her. He meant to stay here, methodically strip her home, and when he must—simply leave. He didn't covet the lordship of Seacairn—he had no illusions that he might have won such a victory here.

“So what does it matter, Sir Arryn, if I stay, if I come to dinner, if I do not?”

“A matter of convenience. If you run, I come after you, we fight, you're hurt. I'm weary, dirty, and aggravated.”

“But what if I outrun you?”

“You can't imagine what a good horse I ride.”

“My mare is a good horse.”

“Aye, that she is,” he said, smiling, and she felt another streak of fear sweep through her. He could look at her and keep his every thought a total secret.

And he could look at her in such a way that she knew exactly what he was thinking.

He meant to steal her horse. She was worthless once he left, but he wanted her horse.

She thought about slamming her heels against the mare's flanks, trying the strength of her horse's bolt against him, but even as the idea entered her mind, he tightened his grip on the mare's reins.

“Don't do it.”

“And why not?”

“Because I'll see that you suffer far more for my pains than I will.”

She stared into his eyes. “Don't steal her. When you leave, please don't take my mare.”

“Please? Did that word come out of your mouth, my lady?”

“You've heard me say it before.”

“Um … the circumstances, however, were different.”

She flushed. “Oddly to you, sir, it is a word I know well. I cannot stop you from plundering the castle, robbing us blind. Please don't take my horse.”

He watched her for a moment. For one reason, he smiled. Had he forgotten whatever anger she had stirred in him this morning?

“Come to dinner. Willingly. Sit by me. Courteously. Politely. Be the lady to the manor born!”

She didn't respond; she continued to meet his eyes.

“Ah, think on it, my lady! The choice is not so hard. Race the mare, I come after you, I catch you, we roll in the dirt, another gown is ruined, you are bruised and humiliated, I am left in a foul temper, I am rude and irascible throughout the night and God knows for how long after the night, or just how wretched the night becomes—and I take your horse when I go.”

“And how long will that be?”

“Not soon enough for your liking, I'm certain. I will be here long enough to make you very miserable—should I choose.”

“You must realize that you make me quite miserable—whether you do or do not choose.”

“Ah, but with conscious effort, I can make you
very
miserable.”

“But all I have to do is come to dinner and you promise not to make me miserable and to leave my horse?”

“I promise to think about leaving your horse. I said that you should come to dinner and be polite—no, lady—be charming. I've heard you're quite capable of kindness, wit, and such charm to soothe even such a savage beast as the English king.”

“You're bribing me?”

“Is that how you see it?”

She smiled back at him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. “I am not for sale, sir, at any price.”

“So you did choose Kinsey Darrow.” His eyes seemed like glass again, masking his thoughts.

She froze, feeling trapped. “I never sell myself, sir,” she said, not allowing her voice to falter.

“Intriguing, my lady, whether true or not. But I'm not bribing you. I am cajoling you. I'm quite bereft that you cannot tell the difference.”

“I would be allowed to say no to cajolery. Am I allowed to say no?”

“Are you so fond of remaining locked in a tower?”

“The company is at least pleasant.”

“Dear God! You are flattering me!”

She flushed. “When I am alone in my tower, sir, the company is pleasant.”

He arched a brow. “Um, so you insult me.”

“If all enemies did was insult one another, sir, we would not be standing in a graveyard now.”

“True. So … we are in a quandary here, my lady. Do I let go of these reins, or not? Never mind. I've risked your pride again. You would fight unto the death! I won't force you into any desperate measures for the moment.”

Wary of his intent when he was so pleasant, she asked, “Out of respect for the dead, Sir Arryn? The men slaughtered here.”

“My men lie among yours,” he reminded her, and with a sudden smooth movement swung up on the mare behind her.

“What about your horse? Perhaps he'll take this opportunity to run away,” she said. He was at her back, his arms around her, his hands on the reins.

“Old Pict? Nay, he'll never run. We've come too far together.” He nudged her mare. “So … dinner, or none?”

“The great halls—or a great stone cage?” she inquired, trying hard not to feel him there.

“Those are the choices.”

“Once again, I ask you why?”

“Because as of now, I am lord here, and it is what I say.”

“As of now … you know that you are beaten, that you can hold nothing.”

“You never give up fighting, do you? You await any opportunity to inflict a blow. But don't worry; I am aware of the strength of your king. And in truth, I don't want to hold a ‘great stone cage,' as you say.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Scotland. Scotland, for the Scottish. Here we are—dinner, or your cage?” He dismounted from her mare and reached for her. She hesitated, met the steady probe of his dark blue eyes. His hands settled around her waist. She placed her own on his shoulders, allowing him to sweep her down to the ground. He turned away from her.

She was left alone. The breeze stirred, cool and fresh.

Men dismounted from their horses all around her; grooms came out to take the mounts. She stood very still in the courtyard as night descended, and life went on. The people who lived within the walls of Seacairn were returning, some sad and quiet, somber, some already moving forward—masons discussed the walls, a knight commented to a young squire that his saddle needed repair. The dead were buried, tears had been shed, and they all knew they needed to pray for tomorrow.

“My lady! May I escort you in?”

She turned. Jay stood there, smiling, a query in his eyes that went beyond the question he had asked.

“Aye, Jay.”

He came and took her arm, and started for the great doors to the inner tower. “I am sorry about your guards, slain in defense here. They died for duty.”

She gazed at him curiously. “You think that all the men who defended Seacairn should have changed sides, abandoned fealty to Edward so easily?”

“You lost very few men,” Jay said. “And so did we.” He didn't actually answer the question. He meant to be tactful.

“Aye, many surrendered. I commanded them to do so.”

“And it was a mercy,” he said simply.

“But, Jay, if Darrow's forces had remained …”

“It would have all been different. We can't know the outcome, can we? Because they didn't remain. Do you think that he might have known that we had enough strength to take the castle?”

She felt strangely uneasy. “Of course not. He'd have never left the castle to be taken by his enemy.”

They had reached the hall. The great table was filling with plates of venison, eel, fish, fowl, and mutton. Gaston had directed the cooks well, and all the serving platters were attractively prepared, adorned with greens and berries. Arryn's men were aligning themselves down the length of the table. Two seats at the head remained. Jay escorted her there.

“Perhaps I would be best off down the length of the table some. I haven't had much conversation with some of your companions.”

“Ah, my lady! There you are. We're quite delighted that you've decided to join us.”

The voice seemed to sweep around her. Deep, husky, pleasant. And with a warning mockery.

Arryn had come. He was so close that she spun directly into him as she turned, and it seemed that he swept around her, encompassing her air and space.

“I was just saying that I should sit elsewhere.”

“But this is your place.”

“Oh, I wouldn't presume to claim a place when you have claimed the castle. As I said, I should enjoy getting to know some of your men.”

He pulled out her chair, his eyes steady on hers. “How well did you wish to get to know them, my lady?”

Despite herself, she flushed. And again despite herself, she sat. She was immediately irritated with herself. She should have held her chin high and started down the length of the table.

He sat beside her. “Perhaps you should reconcile yourself to getting to know me.”

“I know far too much about you already.”

“How curious. I don't feel that I know you at all.”

“Well, you are the conqueror, you know. Fond of making entrances and exits at your will alone.”

“Alas, that's the way of it. Wine?” He reached for a trencher and the goblet that sat between them, filling it.

“I would love some. Dulls the senses, you know.”

“Sometimes, I've been told, it sharpens them.”

“I believe you've been told wrong.”

“Perhaps.”

“But then, I believe you've been told wrong about many things.”

“Such as?”

Me!
she might have shouted.

But she did not.

She shook her head, fingers reaching for the goblet. She drank a long swallow. The wine was cool, but it seemed to send a strange heat snaking throughout her limbs.

“Now, see, my lady, you don't feel comfortable completing a thought, even after goading me. We don't know one another at all.”

“Oh? Perhaps that's true. But I was not under the impression that you came here to get to know me at all, Sir Arryn.”

“I did not. But then, I am here. And so are you. So perhaps we should get to know one another better. I was reflecting upon just such an idea this morning.”

“Were you? I'd not have known. You left quickly. I thought that maybe you left with such haste to go out looking for a sheep.”

The minute the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.

She pretended to be busy with her meat, wondering what on earth had prompted her to say such a thing. She felt his eyes on her, and wondered if he would explode with anger. But he was amused, she realized. He leaned back, studying her, a strange smile curving his lips.

He leaned close to her suddenly. “Oh, good God, my lady! Were you distraught that I might have left
you
for a sheep?”

“Distraught? Never! I'd have pitied the poor sheep.”

“Oh, but I'd never have left you for a sheep!”

She felt her cheeks flaming, but chose to ignore her own discomfort. She ate a piece of meat, chewing slowly, aware he watched her all the while, wishing she were not feeling so painfully uncomfortable.

“Sir,” she said, speaking lightly, “you will have to cease with such chivalric words; I could become far too confident in my appeal, and I will begin to believe that I am preferable to domestic stock.”

He laughed softly. She had reached for the wine; he had done the same. His fingers curled around hers.

“My lady, I believe that I am done with this meal.”

“Oh, but we've just begun—”

“Indeed, we have.”

He rose and pulled out her chair. It scraped against the floor. Loudly.

The room had been filled with conversation.

It ceased. She felt a dozen eyes turn to her.

Arryn spoke out, addressing the assembly.

The assembly had all gone quiet, all staring at them.

“My friends, I'll say good evening. The lady and I have decided to retire for the night. Please, enjoy the excellent food at Seacairn, and indeed, stay, enjoy the meal, store the taste of this fine food in your minds for less affluent days to come. I know that I shall certainly remember all that I have enjoyed and known here in the leaner times ahead.”

She could scarcely breathe; she felt a tremendous sense of humiliation, every one of them watching her, knowing….

She would have run, would have turned, would have doused him in the wine, she was feeling so desperate. She would have done almost anything.

But he knew it. One look in his eyes, and she was aware that he knew she was feeling furious—and reckless.

Oh, he mocked her, taunted her—knowing she was powerless!

And still, she made a reckless movement for the wine to douse him.

She didn't make it. No matter how swift her dive, his reaction was faster. He caught her, spun her around.

“Nay, my lady, I think not.”

“One day, sir, I will make you pay.”

“Perhaps. But the day hasn't come.”

“Did you have to make all eyes turn to us?”

“Aye, that I did.”

She stared at him, her eyes damning him.

While the way that he looked at her …

She had seen the look before—the morning when she had stood before him, when he had taken the fur away….

Her breath quickened.

He swept her up into his arms. She struggled; his arms tightened. She longed to scream; it would have made it all the worse.

Her eyes met his again.

And he strode from the great hall, his purpose far more than evident.

CHAPTER NINE

“Lord Darrow!”