Chapter Eight
The sky was so bright with stars that Triona was lost in the wonder of it. She leaned against the wall and sighed. She had come up on the walls of Banuilt to think, but the beauty of the night had quickly distracted her. Such sights had been a great comfort to her during her marriage. The wonder had already begun to fade, however, and her mind was slowly turning back to all the troubles she suffered from and just how she might be able to put an end to them. Troubles that not only did not end but seemed to multiply like rabbits.
The men they had captured yestereve were now loosely confined, no one concerned that they would escape or prove a danger to Banuilt. She had seen how troubled, even hurt, Sir John’s men were by how quickly their laird had denied them. Sir John had callously tossed six of his men to the wolves, knowing that those men could be hanged for what they had done.
Unfortunately, that still left her without the hard proof of Sir John’s guilt, which she had believed she had gained, for one happy moment. No one would heed accusations made by men guilty of stealing sheep over Sir John’s claims of innocence. The same poor men now also had to consider the possibility that their laird had done something to the entire garrison of Banuilt, a garrison whose men many of them had known for years. Some were even related. The people of Gormfeurach and Banuilt were intertwined in so many ways that something like this could never sit easy with any of them.
At the very best, she had just gained a fortnight or more of peace. Sir John was cunning enough to know that if he continued his harassment of her too soon after his men had been caught stealing, it would be enough to add some weight to her accusations against him. She now needed to decide how to make the best use of the short time of peace this latest trouble would give her.
Her mind refused to settle to the task of planning anything for Banuilt. The thoughts of what her garrison might be suffering preyed on her mind. She still shied away from even thinking of the possibility that they were dead, refusing to believe that even Sir John could heartlessly slaughter so many. Yet, nearly two long years of imprisonment would leave its scars on her men as well. If they were being held somewhere, she could not be certain they would be cared for properly. Prisons of any sort were harsh places and full of disease. The fact that all she could do was pray for their safe return frustrated her. It also took all of her strength not to give in to the urge to confront Sir John and demand he tell her what he had done with her garrison.
In an attempt to stop thinking of her men, she tried to think of what to do to make sure the promise of a good harvest was not stolen away, but thoughts of Sir Brett Murray kept intruding, turning her mind to images of a pair of fine, dark green eyes and memories of a heated kiss. Scolding herself for behaving like some witless love-struck maid did not stop it, either. Triona prayed that no one at Banuilt noticed her distraction or guessed at the reason for it. She knew she looked at him a lot but hoped she had succeeded in hiding just how deep her interest in him went.
She was going to have to decide what to do about Sir Brett Murray of the fine green eyes. It was tempting to simply thank the man for his help and send him on his way. Arianna had her husband with her now, even if the couple were still at odds, so Sir Brett and his friends were no longer needed as her cousin’s protectors. There was no good reason for telling the man to go, however, nor could she ever deliver such an insult to a man who had been nothing but helpful to her and her people. In truth, her people readily turned to Sir Brett for advice, treating him as a part of Banuilt. And there was no denying that she also really needed his and the other men’s help in finding out the fate of her garrison.
It was all rapidly becoming more than she could bear. Triona stared up at the sky again and sighed. Sometimes just looking at the vastness of the night sky was enough to make her see her troubles as small in comparison, but it was not working this time. She could see no way to end the trouble with Sir John that did not include giving in to his demands, if only to aid her garrison. Yet every day that passed, she became more and more drawn to Sir Brett Murray. Memories of how it felt to be held in Sir Brett’s arms, to kiss him, turned into dreams in the night that left her starving for more kisses. Ignoring that growing hunger was making it more and more difficult to think clearly about the trouble with the laird of Gormfeurach. The needs of the people of Banuilt had to take precedence over the needs of her body, but she was having a great deal of trouble abiding by that very honorable tenet.
“A fine, clear night, m’lady,” said Sir Brett as he stepped up beside her.
Triona was startled by his sudden appearance but struggled not to reveal it. It was humiliating to think she had been so lost in her thoughts that she never heard his approach. A woman in her position could not afford to be so oblivious to what was happening around her.
“That it is,” she replied, pleased to hear no hint of nervousness in her voice. “And nay so cold that ye cannae enjoy it for a wee bit.”
Brett looked up at the sky. “And there is a sight certain to humble any mon.”
“Aye. Did ye come out to see the stars then, or is the fighting between Arianna and her husband still raging?” Triona smiled, thinking of how her cousin and her husband still occasionally had a loud exchange, but the anger and hurt behind the words had definitely lessened.
He laughed. “It is still raging yet not as loudly. I dinnae think she is as angry as she was before. Now I believe she is just making him suffer for his crimes by being less than loving, irritating him when she can, and keeping him at a distance, which is driving the poor fool half mad and thus the occasional descent into a shouting match.”
“I can understand her upset. There were things in her past, heart-deep injuries that were all stirred up by her finding out about Mavis, by thinking her husband had lied to her. And, truly, how can a mon forget his wife?” she asked, fighting the urge to laugh with him, for she knew she would feel like a traitor to Arianna if she did.
“I dinnae think it was that he truly forgot Mavis as much as it was that he just didnae think it was important to speak of her.” Brett grimaced when Triona gave him a fleeting look of womanly disgust. “I dinnae believe he thought of her much at all once he returned home to Scarglas. It was o’er five years ago and the marriage didnae last verra long. Aye, he wanted her enough to run off with her e’en though she was chosen to wed his brother, but that caused no trouble for him. Her father was happy and his brother didnae want the lass anyway. Brian didnae gain anything from the marriage either, so no land or coin to explain. He simply returned to Scarglas and fell right back into the life he had always lived, save that this time he did so with plans to get what he craved—his own lands, through his own hard work. As he told me, that work filled his mind and heart, and near all his time, for five years.”
“I think I begin to understand. ’Twas such a short time in his life that poor Mavis became little more than just some lass he kenned in the past. She wasnae there long enough to leave her mark on him, poor lass. I suspicion there was no great heartbreak in it all for him, either.”
“Nay, I think not. He cared for her, liked her, and lusted after her. Said so himself. He would have been a good husband to her and given her bairns, tended her lands, and all that.”
“And his brother clearly didnae woo her verra weel.”
“Weel, he wasnae there. He had been to see her and her father, agreed to the match, but was taken for ransoming on his journey back to Scarglas. ’Tis where Gregor met his Alanna. Mavis wondered what had happened when Gregor didnae return as promised, and she and her father came to Scarglas looking for him. That was when Mavis met Brian. When Gregor returned to find Mavis there, weel, it didnae go weel, for he had Alanna with him, and soon enough Mavis had run off with Brian.”
“Ah, I see.”
Brett leaned closer to look into her eyes. “What do ye see?”
“Mavis kenned that Gregor didnae truly want her, and so she chose her own mon. ’Tis a shame she had so little time to enjoy her choice.”
Unable to resist the allure of her moonlit skin, he lightly stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. He knew he was going to do his best to seduce her into his bed. It had been too long since he had enjoyed the heat and hunger of a clean lust, one born not only of the body but of the heart and mind as well. He liked and respected Triona, something that only heightened the need that gripped him more tightly with every passing day. The fact that Brenda’s spirit did not trouble him each time he kissed Triona only made him more eager to have her.
Smiling faintly, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Brett had the passing thought that she fit perfectly in his arms, her face coming to rest against his chest and her soft hair brushing against his throat. She was small enough to make him feel big and strong, yet not so small that he feared he could hurt her. She was also very stiff, he mused.
“What are ye doing?” she asked, and then decided that was a very foolish question.
“Holding ye,” he replied, and could not keep all of his amusement out of his voice.
“Ye ken weel what I am asking, ye rogue.”
Triona knew she should be pushing him away, should even display a righteous outrage over his forward behavior. Just because she had already allowed him two kisses did not mean he had the right to accost her whenever he felt like it. Instead, she slowly began to relax into his embrace, because she had to admit she rather liked being accosted by him. He was warm and he made her feel that warmth inside as well as outside of her body. She knew she was experiencing the desire so many women spoke of, the heat that she had never discovered in her marriage.
What few twinges of desire she had felt for Boyd had died on her wedding night. The fragile hope she had clung to that the act had been cold and passionless because Boyd had been as nervous as she was, that now that she was no longer a virgin it would get better, had also died a swift death. Triona knew that even if Brett was not a greatly skilled lover, he could show her more about true desire than Boyd had ever done. She also knew that if she were not the laird of Banuilt, not a woman who needed to hold tightly to the full respect of her people, she would be dragging the man straight to her bedchamber to find out if he could give her all the passion his kisses promised her.
“I am preparing to kiss you,” he said, slipping his hand beneath her chin and tilting her face up to his.
“Are ye actually asking permission to do so this time?”
“Aye, I suppose I am.”
“Oh, I am nay sure that is wise, nay if ye really wish to kiss me. Asking gives me time to think about it. Then I start to consider the possibility that someone might see us, that it could hurt my standing here if I am caught in a mon’s arms, or e’en that every priest I have e’er listened to has spoken of such stolen moments as the first step on the path to sin.”
He kissed her, smiling against her lips when she laughed. It pleased him to make her smile, as she had been sunk deep in sadness and worry since finding out that her men might really be in danger and not just traveling around France trying to make money to bring home to their kin. And then Brett stopped thinking of anything but the sweet taste of her.
Triona wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him and he kissed with all the passion and need any woman could want. She was astonished at just how quickly a kiss could make her ache for so much more. Brett’s kiss twisted her innards with an aching want and had her blood running hot. She had never experienced anything like it before. By the time he moved his mouth from hers and began to kiss her neck, she was panting as if she had run miles.
“Anyone who is out can probably see us up here,” Triona whispered, but her concern was not strong enough to move her out of his arms.
“Aye, Mama, they can. I did. ’Tis how I found ye.”
Brett caught hold of Triona when she jerked out of his arms so fiercely that she put herself in danger of tumbling off the walls. Lightly holding her arm, he turned with her to look at Ella. The little girl was dressed in a lace-trimmed nightdress and was smiling at them. Brett suspected the panting Triona was doing now had very little to do with passion and much more to do with a parent’s fear at seeing her small child up on the high walls, alone.
“Ella Mary Margaret McKee!” Triona gasped and tugged free of Brett in order to reach out and grab her child.
“Uh-oh. Ye just said all my names. Am I in trouble?”
“Aye, ye most certainly are. What are ye doing up here? These walls are nay a safe place for a wee lass to be, and I think ye ken that weel. And yet here ye are with naught but your nightdress on, nay e’en wearing shoes. And where is Peggy?”
“Sleeping.” Ella lowered her head a little and gazed up at her mother through her lashes. “I had a bad dream, Mama, and I needed ye.”
Brett looked up at the stars, fighting a smile. The child was beguiling, and that look would be enough to soften the anger of any adult. He doubted it was going to work on Triona at the moment. The risk of a fall for such a small child, making her way up onto the walls, was far too great for a loving mother to allow big blue eyes, a sweet face, and a coaxing voice to stem the anger born of fear.
“Ye should have awakened Peggy then and had her come and find me. Ye never, never should have climbed up on these walls alone.”
“But, Mama . . .”
“Nay. I said never, and I meant never.”
A quick look revealed the child’s full lips quivering and two big, fat tears slowly slipped down her cheeks. Brett noticed that although her body softened in its tense stance, Triona’s stern expression never changed. Ella was a beautiful little girl and bright, but he suspected she was also one of those children who would always be in some sort of trouble.
“Am I going to be punished?” Ella asked in a small, shaking voice.
“Ye are. I will tell ye what that punishment will be on the morrow. For now we will get ye down off these walls and back to bed.”
“But I didnae tell ye what my bad dream was.”
Triona looked at her child and nearly shook her head. One had to be firm with Ella. She was a sharp-witted little girl, and her curiosity constantly got her into trouble. When Triona had seen her standing there on the walls, alone, her heart had leapt into her throat, and it was not really back where it belonged yet. For a moment she felt a horrible guilt over the fact that her child had walked into danger while she had been kissing Brett, but she quickly shook it off. The other times Ella had put herself in some danger, Triona had been doing nothing that could be called neglectful or selfish. The child had a knack for putting herself in some kind of trouble, even if one stood next to her holding her little hand.
“Ye can tell me what it was as I take ye down from these walls and back to Peggy.”
“Let me carry her down, lass,” Brett said as he stepped closer. “Ye have those skirts to watch out for.”
For just one moment, Triona hesitated, finding herself reluctant to release her hold on Ella after seeing her in such danger, but then she nodded and handed Ella to Brett. The way the man settled Ella in his arms and told her to hold on to his neck made her certain he was no stranger to children. Ella revealed no fear of him, either, but clung tightly as he started to climb down the ladder that led to the bailey. Triona hurried to follow.
“Mama, I saw a ghostie,” Ella said.
“In your room?” Triona asked. “A bad ghostie or a good ghostie?”
“A good ghostie, but I was still afraid. It was a lady and she smiled at me. I thought she was wanting to eat me up.”
“Nay, ye didnae. Weel, unless she had some verra big teeth.”
“They were nay that big, but I didnae like a ghostie in my room when I was supposed to be sleeping. I think that was rude.”
“So ye climbed out of bed and came looking for me, wandering all over the place in your nightdress with nothing on your feet and, when ye saw me, decided ye would just climb all the way up onto the high, high walls to tell me that ye had a rude ghostie smiling at ye. Have I got that right?” Triona asked as she hopped down the last step to the ground and faced Ella, who still sat comfortably in Brett’s arms.
“Aye,” Ella replied a little warily. “I thought ye would want to ken all about it.”
“Ye could have called to me from down here. Ye could have woken up Peggy and had her bring ye to me. Ye could have asked any of the people I believe ye snuck around to bring ye here. Ye didnae have to come here all alone in the night.”
“Aye, I could have. I am going to have to do a really big punishment, arenae I.”
“I think it might be a verra big one.” She reached out to take Ella from Brett’s arms, ignoring the sharp amusement in his eyes. “I think ye ken it was a verra bad thing to do.”
“Aye.” Ella stared at the lace-trimmed front of her gown and idly toyed with the brooch pinned at her shoulder. “I willnae have to wash anything, will I? I dinnae like washing things.”
“I will think on it. Now say good night to Sir Brett, who so kindly carried ye down.”
“Good night, Sir Brett. I promise I willnae climb up the walls again when ye are busy kissing my mama.”
Brett bit the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing when Triona blushed so brightly he could see it in the dim light in the bailey. As she hurried back into the manor he saw the little girl looking at him over her mother’s shoulder, smiling at him in a way that told him she was a handful and probably always would be. Shaking his head, he turned around to find Brian standing behind him, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Kissing the lass who isnae your lass on the walls in the moonlight, were ye?” Brian asked, putting on a face so mournful it nearly made Brett laugh. “And seen by a poor, wee innocent lass, too. I am nay sure what to say about it.”
“Nothing would be good,” drawled Brett. “And that child may be wee, but I begin to think one should nay call her innocent, nay as ye mean it. She is and probably always will be a wee bit of a devil.”
Brian laughed. “Aye. I saw her tiptoe by, but didnae catch her ere she started up the walls. Decided it was safest to just be quiet and be there to catch her if she fell.”
“Aye, startling her would have been a mistake.”
“Nay fear in the wee lass.”
“Nay sure that is a thing a mother would like to hear.”
“True, a brave heart and daring when they are so small is a worry, but it will serve her weel when she is grown.”
“True. And I must assume that ye are out here walking about because your wife still hasnae welcomed ye back into her arms.”
“Soon. I understand now that I scratched at some old wounds, and I can be patient. She needs to see that my being a bit of a heartless bastard concerning Mavis doesnae make me the same sort of heartless bastard she was wed to in France.” He grinned when Brett laughed. “I will give her a few more days. I fell in love with a wounded lass, and I kenned it would be a while before all the wounds healed.”
“Sad. I wish we had kenned what was happening. We would have been off to France on the next boat, and that bastard would have been dead and buried ere she e’en realized we had arrived.” Brett nodded toward the manor. “This lass doesnae have such wounds, but I think her husband and all that has happened with Sir John has left her skittish.”
“Nay doubt. Harcourt and Callum are off looking for the trail of her men. Now that they ken a few things about it, I am thinking we will soon ken what has happened to them.”
“They are good at tracking people down.”
“Best I have e’er seen, and coming from the kin I do, ’tis a verra high compliment I just gave them. Just dinnae tell Harcourt. Your brother doesnae need anything else to feed his arrogance.”
“Callum often says the same.”
“So what are ye going to do about the lass?”
Brett looked around the bailey, easily seeing all that was good about Banuilt. He felt comfortable here, welcomed and needed. It was a good feeling. Although he would never marry a woman for her land or coin, he could see himself settling in here with ease. Triona’s people already came to him for advice on occasion, accepting him as one who could and would help them. He liked the land that surrounded the manor, liked the people, and liked the fact that it was a peaceful place. The longer he stayed, the more reluctant he was to leave.
The problem was that, if he decided he wished to stay with Triona, he was going to have to make sure she understood it was for her and not for Banuilt. Both her husband and Sir John were more concerned and more interested in Banuilt than her. Something like that could easily leave a woman doubtful of any man who expressed the desire to have her for his own. Since he himself had no lands and only a modest purse, he did not know how he would convince her that he was not after her properties. Brett knew she trusted him in most things, but also understood that old wounds could make her reluctant to trust in him when it came to the matter of marriage.
A simple solution to the problem would be if he had an equal fortune, in both land and coin. He did not see that coming his way anytime soon, however. There were ways he might gain such things, but they could take a very long time, and it would be unfair to just leave her to find such wealth when he could not even tell her when he might return. At the moment he had no real plans to ask her to marry him, but he also knew he needed to think on the possibility that he might want to do so.
Before he succeeded in seducing her, Brett knew he had to make a firm decision as to whether or not he truly wanted to stay with her. Triona was not a woman one seduced and then left. She was too tenderhearted and too innocent in so many ways. Despite how much he wanted her in his bed, he did not want to hurt Triona in any way, and he was certain that a woman like Triona would never be able to separate the needs of her heart from the needs of her body.
“I need to be certain that I wish to stay with her ere I take the next step,” Brett said.
“Seducing her into your bed, ye mean.”
“Aye, that. I think that she is a woman that one cannae really take as a lover, enjoy, and then walk away from.”
“Ye think she will fall in love with ye if ye bed her, is that it, ye coxcomb?”
“Nay, Brian. I do think she is a woman who cannae keep desire separated from emotion, and I cannae allow myself to just ignore that. Triona is a woman who tries verra hard to hide all that passion I ken she has inside her, just as she tries to hide her soft heart because she wishes to be a strong, competent laird.”
“That soft heart that tries to be understanding about her entire garrison deserting her and riding off to France?”
“Aye, that soft heart.”
“Ah, so ye are afraid ye might break her heart.”
“What I am afraid of is that I will fall in love with her once I have looked too closely into that soft heart and tasted that passion she tries to hide.”