The Maid of Lorne. Terri Brisbin
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her mouth.
In spite of knowing she was manipulating him, and in spite of knowing that she did not return his desires, that small needful part of him hidden deep inside reveled at the chance of sparring with her. Of drawing her back from her fear and hurt into the person she must have been when her father still ruled here. Of such…possibilities.
Chapter Six
Despite the heavily armed guards and Sebastien’s second-in-command making the offer in his stead, Lara accepted the gesture and the opportunity it presented. It was the first time in nearly a week that she’d been allowed out of the north tower, or anywhere else in the keep but the two floors she was permitted. There had been a moment when she’d almost decided not to go, but she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders and followed the guard through the courtyard.
From the window in her bedchamber, she could see the yard, but at a distance. Walking among the Bruce’s men, some injured, some not, unnerved her. Disgusting insults were spoken just loud enough for her to hear. They called her names—despicable variations of the honorable one given her as the MacDougall’s eldest daughter, with none of the respect it carried among her own.
One curse threatening her and Catriona was so vulgar that Sebastien’s man, apparently one high in his esteem, kicked the fellow who said it hard enough to render him unconscious. She stumbled away at the sight, and only the knight’s hand under her elbow kept her from hitting the ground.
He was completely opposite in appearance from his commander, with short-cropped black hair and a dark complexion, but he had the tall, muscular physique of an accomplished warrior. His grim expression warned one and all that further interference would not be tolerated. With a nod, the man led Lara through the gate and down the path, which was lighted by the fires of many small groups huddled around them preparing for the coming night.
Now, the chapel stood a few yards away, and she tried to shake off hatred that was aimed at her. The knight stood silently at her side as his men searched it before they would allow her entrance, and then the commander moved to follow her in. Stopping just inside the door, she faced him.
“Am I permitted privacy at prayer, sir?” she asked the one called Hugh. She needed time alone to think.
“Aye, my lady, if you wish,” he said with a bow. She nodded in pleasure and waited for him to leave before walking toward the front of the chapel.
The place was dark, lit only by candles on the altar and a torch sitting high in a sconce on the wall near the door. She could walk from back to front in only twenty paces, the chapel was so small. Two windows cut into the stone walls opened on each side. Her mother was buried just off to the right of the entrance, and Lara paused to say a prayer for her soul. Then she knelt before the altar and took in a deep breath.
At first, she thought the shadows moved. Lara controlled her surprise and watched as a form soundlessly detached itself from the farthest corner and moved toward her. Wrapped as it was in a long, dark cloak, she could not see it clearly, but the voice was one she recognized.
“How be ye faring, dear cousin?” it asked in a whisper that made her skin itch. “My da has been fretting night and day about ye being held prisoner here.”
“I am well, Eachann. When did you arrive here?” She peered into the darkness and saw no place of entry. “And how did you get in without being seen?” She stayed on her knees so that, if one of the guards opened the door of the chapel, it would appear that she was praying.
“Never ye mind about the how of it, sweetling. I have been watching for ye for more than four days, Lara. ‘Tis a pity to see ye kept so. Has he beaten ye?”
Lara shivered at the question. Her cousin’s constant fascination with pain terrified her. She shook her head in answer. His dark eyes took on a mean shine, but his voice softened to an ominous whisper. “’Tis a good thing then. I would not have ye mistreated.”
She sensed more to his answer, but resisted the urge to ask about it. Her time here was not unlimited, and she could almost hear the pacing of Sebastien’s man outside the door. “Why are you here?”
“Da wants you to listen to them and report anything that may tell us their plans. The word is that with the fall of Dunstaffnage, the Bruce moves north from here, but we must know before launching our attack.”
“But I am isolated, Eachann. No one speaks to me, not even him.” Lara sat back on her heels and thought of how to accomplish this task. If she could give them some knowledge of the Bruce’s plans, it could gain her forgiveness in her clan’s eyes.
“The servants hear everything. Let them gather what they can, and you bring it to me. Let Da decide if ’tis important or no’.”
Before she could respond, Eachann held up his hand and stepped back into the shadows. Still on her knees, she straightened up and bowed her head, waiting for his word.
“Go say a prayer for your mother’s soul,” he ordered in a low voice.
“I did that, Eachann.”
He shook a fisted hand at her. “Lara, do what I tell ye. Go say a prayer for your ma…and listen well while you pray.”
Shrugging, Lara stood and walked back to the stone that lay over her mother’s grave. In the quiet of the chapel, she could hear voices outside the window. She glanced back at Eachann in the darkness near the altar. How had he known? Now, standing as silently as she could, she listened.
“When do you leave, then?” Hugh asked.
“In three days. I go and Robert will meet all of us in Kilcrenan.” It was Sebastien’s voice. “’Twill be just over a week before I return.”
He was leaving?
“How many go with you? Or should I say, how many do you leave with me?” Hugh laughed lightly.
“I take three score of Robert’s men with me,” Sebastien answered. “My men remain with you for the safety of all we’ve gained.”
Something moved in the woods next to the church, and the men stopped talking abruptly. Lara saw her cousin motioning to her, and she crept back to the altar.
“What did they say?”
“The Bruce goes to Kilcrenan. Sebastien leaves in three days.”
“Good, Lara. We might make a good spy out of you yet,” he whispered.
“Spy?” she asked. The dishonor of it struck her sharply. “I am no spy.”
“Ye have turned whore, why not spy as well?” Eachann laughed bitterly. “Men spill secrets in the heat of passion, and if ye spy as well as we’ve heard ye whore for the Bruce’s man, ye might earn your way back into the clan.”
Lara reeled back at the horrible accusation, but Eachann grabbed her arm and drew her so close that his rancid breath burned her cheek. “I will be visiting this place every five days to meet with ye. If I canna’, I will have someone come in my stead. Be here.”
Then, before she could argue, her cousin released her and stepped back into the shadows with a harsh, whispered curse. Falling to her knees once more, she heard the door pulled open and approaching steps behind her on the stone floor.
She tried to catch her breath, but the dread and the shame of her cousin’s accusations made it difficult. What kind of rumors had gotten back to her uncle? Whore ? She had been forced on threat of death to marry the man, and had been taken. And yet they believed the worst.
Lara knew Sebastien stood behind her now, but she did not dare face him. Would the guilt show on her face? Would he know what she’d just done?
“Lady?” he said. “Are you ready to return?”
He leaned over and held his hand out to her, to help her stand. She did not take it, but rose on her own and then, with a deep breath forced in and out, turned to him.
“I