Risk Everything (13 page)

He clenched his jaw and stared hard at the soiled garments.

“Bring a frame from the barracks and place the hauberk and tunic on it. The helmet goes atop where it belongs.”

Where should he have them stand it? Not where Meghan would see it right off. He would save it for his announcement.

’Twould be fitting to have it brought to face her seat at the table at the right moment. As if Connor bore witness to what he had to say. That brought a flicker of satisfaction. Bit by bit, his vengeance would build until the cloth of his honor was whole again.

In Ede’s room, the hours dragged for Meghan. Ede hurried through the doorway, cautious to make a wide arc around Ugsome. Meghan asked for a bucket of warmed water. After it arrived, fearful that her foray into the dusty bailey had dirtied her wounds, she removed the bandages and put her feet into the water.

“I dinna understand Rolf.” Ede shook her head and looked baffled. “He insists everyone but the guards atop the walls are to attend the great hall for the evening meal. He ordered a feast more likened to a celebration. I know not why.”

“A feast?” Meghan’s brows knotted. “Is it his saint’s day or mayhap Garith’s?” She could think of no other reason for such festivities at this time of year.

“Nay. Garith was born but a sennight before Christ’s Day.”

“ ’Tis yet the middle of September.” Meghan examined her sore feet to make sure they were clean. To escape Rimsdale, her wounds must heal so she could wear her boots. If she could not spirit Storm away, she must needs run long and hard to avoid capture.

“Never have I known Rolf to care what meal is placed afore him. Only that it be untainted and plentiful.”

Meghan took a deep breath as the pleasant steam wafted from the water, calming her. It was her favorite scent. Why

98

Sophia Johnson

had she not noted it that morning? She smiled, for it was the one vanity she allowed herself to enjoy. That someone at Rimsdale also liked heather pleased her.

“Did ye order the soap scented with heather when they made it?” She was curious, for Ede’s clean scent was more like spring roses.

“Oh, nay.” Ede brought an extra drying cloth. She pulled a stool close within Meghan’s reach and placed the cloth on it.

“ ’Tis unusual for the soap maker to do such on her own.”

Of a sudden, Meghan remembered Ingirid. “Oh, ’tis sorry I am I mentioned it. Rolf ’s wife likely preferred heather.”

“Nay. She also favored the rose.” Ede shrugged and looked puzzled. “Many months ago Rolf ordered the soap made and stored with the linens. He permitted no one to use it till now.

Yesternight he bade me fetch it.”

Meghan dropped the bathing cloth she was wringing dry.

It made a small splash as it plopped into the water. Her heart pounded. Did he recall those many years ago whispering how her heather fragrance pleased him? For certain he did not.

Not the hardened and bitter man she knew today.

She willed her thoughts to cease. As she snatched the cloth up, droplets flew out and landed on Ugsome beside her. He snuffled and grumbled deep in his throat, affrighting Ede to the other side of the room.

Meghan dropped her hand down to her side, opened flat to the floor. The dog quieted and put his head on his paws, his soulful eyes watching her.

“This night being special for some reason, would you not wish to wear soft clothing against your body?” Ede’s hesitant voice sounded hopeful. In her earlier visits, she told Meghan to make free with her Angus’s clothes. She eyed the fresh shirt and breeches Meghan had folded atop the bed.

“I dinna wish to appear weak and womanly afore Rolf. I would be more vulnerable if attired in gowns and such.”

He hated her boyish attire. She would wear nothing but such clothing as long as he kept her here.

Ede clucked over Meghan’s still-swollen lips and applied

RISK EVERYTHING

99

salves to her scraped neck, tending the wounds Meghan could not see. Meghan took the small jar of salve to care for her feet. If she wore heavy woolen hose over them, she would not need wrappings. Still, she could not wear her leather boots.

“He has even ordered the rushes changed.” As Ede braided her hair, a slight frown wrinkled her forehead. “And sprinkled with meadowsweet and rosemary. Never can I recall him noticing rushes,” she murmured. Her eyes widened as she glanced at Meghan.

Meghan shrugged and, without a wasted movement, donned the breeches and shirt that were on the bed. As she strapped the wide leather belt about her waist, she frowned, missing the dirk and short sword that always rode against her thighs. She narrowed her eyes and determined that afore the sennight was over, she would again feel their weight as she made her way back to Blackthorn.

“What brings such a look to your face, Meghan? Do your feet pain you?” Ede hurried over, ready to offer aid.

“Nay.” Meghan smiled and reassured her. “It is but disgust that I canna wear my boots.”

Ede picked up a wooden comb and tapped it against her chin. Her eyes lit with an idea. “You have such thick hair. ’Tis a lovely deep brown, and my hands itch to try something. Will you allow me to fashion it?”

“Aye. ’Twould please me.”

It would do no harm to give this kind woman her way. Ede had looked distressed that she would not wear feminine ap-parel, and it was relaxing to have someone manage her heavy tresses. She felt Ede take sections from each temple, bring them to the back, and start to braid them together. As she worked her way down the back of Meghan’s head, she added more sections of hair. After she was done, Ede sighed and clapped her hands in delight.

“Oh, Meghan. You look like a lady of Malcolm’s court.”

Ede held a polished sheet of metal for Meghan to peer at.

The face Meghan saw reflected there startled her. If she didna take into account her swollen jaw and split lips, the

100

Sophia Johnson

woman looking back at her appeared soft and feminine. Curly wisps of hair brushed the sides of her cheeks, and the rest had been drawn back into a braid that accented the delicate bones of her face.

Delicate?

Her mouth gaped open with shock. How could she, Meghan, the Warrior Woman of Blackthorn, look delicate?

She swallowed and studied the image again. Mayhap it wouldna be a bad thing to look soft and feminine. In their male ego, the men at Rimsdale would think her helpless and resigned to be their captive.

“Lady Ede,” a voice called outside the door. “Lord Rolf would have ye and the Lady Meghan come below.”

Meghan stood and rubbed her right forefinger against her chin, as if she tested it for soreness. Ugsome jumped to his feet to follow her from the room.

“I dinna see why Rolf must needs have Ugsome guard you.” Ede trailed behind, wary of the huge dog. “You dinna need both a guard and the beast as well.”

Meghan stopped in front of the guard, put two fingers on her lower lip and hesitated, acting unsure of where she was to go.

Ugsome began to act fierce. His growls and snarls made the guard grip the hilt of his sword.

“Oh, Saints help me, dinna let us upset this fearsome dog,”

she beseeched him as she allowed her voice to quaver. ’Twas not hard, for she wanted to laugh at his uncertain look.

Why did the man study her as if he had not seen her but hours ago? By the way he offered her his arm, she realized Ede’s handiwork was responsible. She gave his sleeve a light tug to remind him they were to go below to the great hall.

“Dinna ye worry. I will see to yer safety.” He blinked at her and led her down the stairs. Ugsome growled with each step as he followed behind.

Below, Rolf studied the room, approving of the clean and sweet-smelling rushes on the floor, the cloths upon the high table, and the silver cups placed there. His eyes scanned the

RISK EVERYTHING

101

walls. The Blackthorn plaids drew the eye as one came into the room. She wouldna fail to note them.

Hearing Ugsome’s growls before the dog even came into view, Rolf turned his gaze to the stairway. Meghan allowed Jamie to aid her. Rolf stiffened. She fought him, denied
him
that same courtesy, yet she smiled sweetly up at her guard, her hand on his arm. Rolf ’s lips tightened and his hands fisted.

Devil take it! Where came she by that clothing? The overlarge shirt should have looked manly on her. It did not. Flowing to just below her knees, it resembled a wide-sleeved tunic.

Even the leather belt that rode low on her hips in front did not look out of place. ’Twas unusual to see Meghan of Blackthorn without weapons at her side.

To his eye, she appeared dressed in but a loose-fitting tunic with woolen stockings cross-gartered up her calves. He caught a glimpse of breeches beneath the hem of the shirt.

Hearing the restless moves of his men behind him, he glanced around to find his men studied his captive with as much interest as he had. His brow lowered and his temper stirred.

Meghan and the guard reached the last step, and she dropped her hand to her side as Rolf came to meet her.

“I trust you have rested since noon?” he asked as he offered his arm. When she clenched her fist and refused to take it, he stiffened.

Ugsome shoved between them and started to bare his teeth and snap at the hem of her shirt. He reached down and tugged on the ruff of the dog’s neck.

“Quiet. I will take o’er from here.” Ugsome paid him no mind. Irritated, he turned and motioned to his brother, who looked nervous as he eyed the Blackthorn trophies. “Garith.

Quiet this beast so I may hear myself think.”

As Garith reached them, Rolf noted Meghan wiped her hand on her shirt as if the dog had made it sweat. Ugsome snapped his teeth together and stood, quiet, until Garith led him away.

“He has taken a dislike to you. Never has he been so fierce with anyone.” Rolf watched her face to see her reaction.

“Mayhap ’tis because he knows you hail from Blackthorn.”

102

Sophia Johnson

“Like as not he mimics his laird’s evil temper,” Meghan replied. She gazed up at him and waited.

“Evil temper? Rolf ?” Alpin sounded surprised as he came to stand beside them. He looked from one to the other. His gaze dallied overlong on Meghan’s form, building Rolf ’s ire.

“ ’Tis best you beware of my ‘evil’ temper,” Rolf snapped. To which one he sent the warning, he did not know. Both perhaps.

He studied Meghan and noted the soft look of her face. Ah,

’twas her hair. He approved of the style. It drew attention to light eyes the color of spring leaves, and full, luscious lips.

Those lips that could fire words of ice, yet made him yearn to trace their outline with his tongue. Would they taste of the coolness of mint if he were to nibble and suckle their softness between his teeth?

More likely of fire, from the looks of them now as he led her to the high table. She spied the Blackthorn tunics. She did not speak. He could almost hear her thoughts:
Where came he
by them
? He would bide his time till she asked. Connor would not have admitted to her he had attacked a woman, helpless with her body swollen with a babe.

He motioned with his hand for her to take the seat to his left, but she hesitated. His firm hand on her shoulder persuaded her to sit. Garith settled between her and Ede, the ever-present Ugsome at their feet.

Rolf poured wine from a flask into the silver cup between them, then filled the trencher they would share with the most succulent of the roast pig, salmon, and lamb. Meghan was a hearty eater, but her manners were ladylike and dainty. Much more so than any woman at Rimsdale.

How could she be anything else, for she had spent many months at the court in Normandy? She and Connor were or-phaned at the same time as raiders killed Damron’s father.

Her aunt, Lady Phillipa, took all three children to spend the summer months in Normandy with her family for courtly training. Mereck was left behind, for his grandda wanted to keep him close. Anyone who dared call Mereck bastard,

RISK EVERYTHING

103

though he was, would find himself trounced into the ground, be he prince or varlet.

Alpin, Dougald, Ede, and Garith tried to bring him and Meghan into conversation, to no avail. He could feel her tension build with each passing breath. Still, she did not ask. Tension seemed to spark from her and spread around the room. His people started to twitch on their benches, to look toward her with expectant faces. He watched out of the corner of his eye to assess how long she could contain her temper.

She began to shift about and refused to look at the walls.

Her body started to give off a heat and caused her heathery scent to float and surround him. His loins heated, as they always did, whenever he smelled heather. On her. Ever since that summer in Normandy, it never failed to excite him.

Ah. He sensed she was now coiled so tight she was ready to spring from her seat. He counted in his mind as she picked up the wine and took a healthy swallow. One . . . two . . . three . . .

four . . . five . . . six . . . He did not make it to seven.

Meghan could no longer hold herself back. She slammed the cup on the table and sprang to her feet. Wine sloshed over the rim and splattered like droplets of blood on the white cloth. Faces turned toward her, their expressions alert.

“How came ye by bloodied Blackthorn plaids?” Meghan clenched her teeth and stared down at him, awaiting his answer. Her heart beat faster. No raiding patrols had gone out in the short time she was at Rimsdale, and he had not fought anyone from Blackthorn afore he overtook her.

“When they raided here those two years past, Blackthorn men led them.” Rolf ’s gray eyes narrowed as he rose, slow and deliberate.

“Raided? Never has Blackthorn raided into Rimsdale lands.” How could he tell such a lie? “Ye well know a bargain was struck between yer father and Old Laird Douglas. Laird Damron would ne’er break it. ’Tis ye who raid deep into Blackthorn’s villages. Ye leave missives to prove it.”

They faced each other, both so tense that if a spadeful of peat lay between them, it would ignite.