Highlander's Ransom (19 page)

As her breathing slowed for the second time that
night, she threw her leg over his and nuzzled under his chin so that her cheek
rested on his chest. Sleepiness was threatening to overtake her, but she wanted
to feel their naked bodies pressed together still. She had no idea what their
actions meant, or what would come of them tomorrow, but she knew that she
needed to feel him near. She felt safe with him, she realized drowsily. And now
she had to admit to herself that she also felt desire—both desire for him and
desire from him. She would think it all over tomorrow, and come up with a plan
of action. For now, though, she let herself succumb to sleep.

Robert could feel her go limp in his arms, her
breathing slow and steady. He brushed a few stray hairs from her face and
pulled a blanket around them both. He doubted he would be granted such peaceful
sleep tonight. He had thought that they could give each other pleasure and that
it wouldn’t change anything, but he feared he had been sorely mistaken. He had
plenty of experience with women, but something about Alwin was different. The
thought shook him to his core. He was completely intoxicated by her—the way she
moved, her smell, her eyes, her spirit. He had thought that perhaps his lack of
contact with other women had just been causing him to see what was not really
there, or to magnify insignificant attributes into dazzling traits. He had told
himself that if he scratched the itch with Alwin, he would see, as he had with
others, that there was nothing so remarkable after all. But now, as the smell
of her skin drifted to him and she made a little noise in her sleep, he felt
something in his chest tug.

But what was wrong with that? As he had said to her,
they were married, and they both wanted each other. It wasn’t like he was
ruining her honor—she was his wife! A part of him knew that he was working to
justify his nearly uncontrollable desire for her, and the fact that he had
acted on that desire. But he had wanted more than anything to give her
pleasure, to see her experience ecstasy brought on by his touch. And she was a
natural; he still couldn’t believe how readily she had responded to him, how
much passion stirred just under the surface. And when she had touched
him—though inexperienced, her instinctive sensuality had heated him like no
other.

Even as he lay in awe of the intimacy and fire they
had just shared, he forced himself to return his mind to his responsibilities.
He would damn well see his plan through, for thwarting Warren, and thus
derailing a mounting war effort, was still his top priority. But his mind
wrestled with the rest of it—his marriage to Alwin, her place at Roslin, what
he would do once Warren and her father had been made to pay—into the early
hours of the morning.

Chapter 26

Alwin stretched lazily and burrowed deeper under the
down coverlet. She vowed she would never take sleeping in a bed for granted
again. And what a bed she was in now. The down coverlet was finer than hers
back in her father’s manor, and the mattress was like sleeping on a cloud.
Plus, the bed was so wide that she could lie on it in any direction and not be
able to reach the edges. It was Robert-sized. That thought brought her
instantly back to reality. She blinked a few times and poked her head out from
under the coverlet. Robert wasn’t in bed, nor was he in the chamber. Suddenly
the events of last night came back to her, and she was swamped with a wave of
thoughts and emotions. Her body heated at the memory of their shared pleasure,
and she was filled with a strange mixture of guilt for what they had done and
longing for more. What should she say to him? What did this mean in terms of
her plan for an annulment? And how was she supposed to sort this all out
without anyone to talk to?

It was far past time to acknowledge that she had
feelings for Robert. The problem was, those feelings included lust, admiration,
anger, confusion, and…hope. She still wasn’t sure what her ideal solution to
their tangled situation was, but she felt a stirring of hope that the future
could be bright for her—for them.

Determined to be productive in some way today—whatever
that meant—she threw back the coverlet and stood in the frigid air of the
chamber. No fire burned in the brazier, and despite the thick rugs on the
ground protecting her bare feet from the cold stones below, the air still held
the note of winter. Scanning the room, she realized that her dress and chemise
from the night before, which Robert had thrown in a pile next to the bed, were
nowhere in sight. Panic seized her, but then she caught sight of some clothes
folded on the desk next to the armoire. Scampering over to them, she realized
that another clean chemise and gown of fine green material had been placed
there. She suspected that this was Stella’s doing, but didn’t remember anyone
entering the chamber. Then again, she also didn’t remember Robert leaving, and
he clearly had.

She slid into the chemise and gown, lacing them
awkwardly behind her, then quickly braided her hair and splashed some cold
water from the pitcher on the desk onto her face. Walking to the window, she
moved the furs and checked the sky. The scent of sea air met her nose. Patchy
clouds hung low in the sky, and she could barely make out the sun’s position.
It looked to be about an hour after dawn; she had slept in. Longing to get
something—anything—done, she let the furs fall back over the window and strode
to the door purposefully. She pulled the heavy wooden door open, but once she
was in the hallway, she began questioning her desire for action. She was not
one to sit about fretting the day away, but perhaps she longed to be busy to
distract herself from other thoughts and feelings. She glanced both ways down
the hall, suddenly unsure.

Just then, Stella emerged from the stairwell leading
down to the great hall. She carried a tray with steaming porridge and a mug of
milk on it. Seeing Alwin in the hall, she smiled.

“Ah, mistress, I see you are up and about. I was just
bringing you something to break your fast in case you didn’t wish to come
downstairs.”

“That is very kind of you, Stella.” Alwin considered
retreating back into Robert’s chamber for a moment, but straightened her spine
instead and said, “Actually, I think it would be best if you showed me around a
bit. Perhaps we can start in the kitchen, so that I may dine on this fine
breakfast?”

Stella bobbed a curtsy and nodded approvingly. “That
sounds like a fine idea, my lady.”

The older woman guided the way back down the stairs
and across the great hall, which was empty now, to the kitchen. The room was
warm, as a fire burned in the enormous hearth on one wall. Several servants
bustled about, but Alwin recognized immediately that one woman was in charge.
She was round and short, but with an air of authority about her. Her cheeks
were rosy, no doubt from decades of leaning over hot pots, and she wielded a
wooden spoon as she directed the kitchen staff.

Stella cleared her throat, interrupting the cook’s string
of instructions. The cook whirled around and dipped into a curtsy at the sight
of Alwin. “Lady Alwin, this is our head cook, Nora.” Nora bobbed into another
curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, my lady. I hope everything has been to your
liking so far?”

“Yes, thank you Nora. I must congratulate you on the
feast last night. Everything was wonderful, and you had so little time to make
it so!”

Nora turned even rosier under the praise, and
stammered out her thanks for her lady’s kind words. Alwin had guessed right—the
head cook would be an ally, just like Stella. Since her mother’s death, she had
been in charge of running her father’s keep. She had become fairly good at
reading people and creating camaraderie within the manor, a necessity since her
father was so hard and distant toward her and everyone else.

Stella guided her to a stool in the corner of the
toasty kitchen, and Alwin sat with the bowl of porridge in her hands, content
to eat and watch the goings-on between the cook, head of servants, and the
other servers. She gathered that for the most part a congenial, warm atmosphere
surrounded Roslin and its people, which surprised her given Robert’s exterior
gruffness. Certainly the castle was a place of order, which she guessed was due
to his influence. But she could tell that the people felt calm, happy, and
secure here.

When her porridge was done, Stella guided her around
the rest of the keep. She saw well-stocked store rooms, a good sign since
winter was well under way. The open courtyard where they had entered the castle
was filled with people bustling about their work. The stables were clean and
tidy, and the stable hands all blushed and nodded to her with downcast eyes.
Stella also brought Alwin through each of the four towers, most of which were
filled with sleeping chambers, servants’ quarters, or strategic rooms for
guards to survey the curtain wall and the land beyond. The fourth tower,
however, took Alwin’s breath away.

It was located in the northeast corner of the keep,
closest to the ocean. As they wound their way up the spiral staircase, the
sounds of crashing waves and seagulls echoed around the stone walls. Stella
kept going up and up until they reached the very top of the stairs, where only
one door stood. She pushed open the door, and Alwin gasped at the sight of the
room.

It was an enormous solar, clearly meant for the Laird
of the castle. The room’s far walls were curved along the same contour of the
tower, and windows, their furs pulled back to let in the morning light, lined
the entire wall. A large wooden desk and finely upholstered chair stood out a
bit from the wall. Thick rugs covered the floor, and several other chairs and
benches where scattered across the room. Sharing the wall with the door there
was a fireplace with a fire laid in it, ready to be lit. On the other side of
the door’s wall was a bookshelf filled with books, a rare luxury and sign of
great wealth, especially this far north.

Fresh air and sunlight suffused the room, along with
the fainter smells of candle wax and parchment. Alwin walked about the solar as
if in a dream. She had often taken solace in her father’s study, which he never
allowed her to venture into. As a child, she had always loved the smell of
books, even though she couldn’t read then. Though her father had permitted her
to be schooled in the keeping of ledgers, as it would be her duty as lady of a
keep, he had seen no point in educating her further. Her mother had taught her
to read in secret, claiming to be teaching her embroidery, but instead slipping
the two of them off to the library for lessons. Something about this solar
reminded her of that small, dusty library where she and her mother had
whispered over the parchment pages so many years ago.

At the memory, tears stung her eyes. “Is something
wrong, mistress?” Stella said softly at her shoulder.

“Nay, nothing at all, Stella. I simply love this
room,” she said honestly.

Stella nodded, a little smile playing on her lips.
“Our Laird loves it too, my lady. He spends whatever time he can steal from
training, meetings, and missions up here.”

“Where is he now?”

“Oh, I suspect he is out with his men training. He can
never take too much time away from that.”

Alwin didn’t respond, for the thought of him training
for battle with his men only reminded her of how she had come to be here and
what he planned to do with her. She let her attention be drawn back to the
room, which soothed her. Stella let her linger there for several more minutes
as she ran her fingertips lightly over the desk, the spines of the books, and
the window ledges. Eventually, the older woman cleared her throat and Alwin
remembered herself. “Please, continue with the tour, Stella. I’m sure there are
other important things to see.”

Alwin followed Stella back down the winding staircase
and toward the great hall again. By now, preparations were underway for the
midday meal, and servers moved briskly between the hall and the kitchen. Alwin
caught the faint sound of Nora’s voice giving orders and smiled. Everything
seemed to run so smoothly here. She only hoped that she wouldn’t throw off the
keep’s apparent balance with her presence.

Stella walked them through the great hall and past the
kitchen, through the courtyard and to the chapel, which was nestled between two
of the great stone towers on the northwest side of the castle. They entered the
chapel, and Alwin felt a familiar hush fall over her. This particular chapel
was simple yet peaceful. A few candles flickered as they walked up the aisle
toward the back of a robed figure hunched over the bible in prayer. At the
sound of their feet on the stone floor, the figure turned around, and Alwin saw
that it must be Roslin’s priest. The man was weathered but calm, and something
about his plain robes and wrinkled face made Alwin instantly trust him.

“My lady, this is Father Frederick. Forgive me, but I
must help Nora with the midday meal.” With that, Stella gave a quick nod to
each of them and bustled to the chapel door. Alwin had a vague suspicion that
Stella was plotting something, that she had intentionally saved the chapel for
last and was now purposefully leaving her alone with the priest, but decided
that the old servant had succeeded and there was no point in doing anything
differently now.

“I am glad to meet you, Father,” Alwin said politely,
but a bit rushed. She did in fact have something she wanted to discuss with
him. He bowed but said nothing, seeming to sense that a weight was on her mind.