MEETING IN THE SOLAR
Amabel walked lightly up the stairs to the solar. She could feel the cool of the castle steps under her slipper-clad feet. She ignored it. She was floating in a world of her own, beyond sensation or pain. At the door to the solar, she paused. She could hear voices. One was her great-uncle's.
“...and you will be facing the Bradley sentry-fort with twenty of my house-guard.”
“As ye say, my lord.”
She recognized the other voice. Him. Broderick MacConnaway. She tensed.
Even at this distance, the voice stroked over her skin like fire. She considered leaving. How could her uncle summon her here, now, to talk to the man! She did not think she could face him after the dinner. She felt so ashamed. She was turning to quietly walk away when some instinct made her stay. Curiosity, probably.
She lingered in the hallway outside the solar, listening to the conversation behind the half-closed door.
“Good,” Her uncle was saying. “Now. I have chosen to place them under my own chief of the guard. I am certain you will respect his superior knowledge of our terrain.”
“Of course.”
Amabel heard the stiffness of the reply and felt a savage delight blossom. It was no bad thing to hear the man forced to humble himself a little.
“Now, as to the matter of the marriage. That will occur as soon as you return. I expect you want to get it done as quickly as possible.”
“No, my lord,” the voice was defiant.
No? Amabel blinked. Why would he say that? Was he as reluctant as she herself? She tensed, waiting to hear what he would say.
“Why? Is my niece so repugnant to you?”
Amabel felt her cheeks flame. Was there no end to her uncle's cruelty?
“Not at all. I would not wish to rush the lady. The wedding must happen as and when she wishes it. No sooner.”
Amabel was amazed. He really cares? He wants me to choose when the wedding happens? Why? She felt a tap on her arm.
“My lady?”
Amabel whipped round and almost knocked the tray from the hand of a maidservant standing next to her shoulder.
“Oh!” she gasped. “Sorry, Hannah!”
The maid looked as startled as she was.
“The laird sent for tarts and ale,” she explained breathlessly. She tried to balance the silver tray on which a pewter pitcher and a plate of confectionary stood.
“Please enter,” Amabel invited as she stood aside for her.
She waited until the maid had laid the tray aside, listening to her uncle's response.
“...and I wouldn't worry meself on Lady Amabel's account...” her uncle was saying.
Amabel entered.
The instant she appeared, her uncle stopped whatever he had been saying. Both men stared at her, frozen to the spot.
Amabel raised her brow at her uncle. His mouth was open and he closed it again.
“Quite...” Amabel said briefly. “I can worry on my own account. Thank you, Uncle, for pointing out this important fact.”
She turned from him before he could answer and met Broderick MacConnaway’s eyes.
He smiled. His brown eyes twinkled, and she could see he bit his cheeks, fighting a grin.
“Lady Amabel.” He bowed to her.
“Good afternoon.” She made her voice detached, though the smile touched her in a way to make her heart thud in her chest. She faced her uncle.
“You wished to see me, Uncle?” she said levelly.
“Yes.” He recovered remarkably quickly and now faced her with his usual bland smile. “I had thought you might wish to say goodbye to the young MacConnaway before he rides into peril.” He put his head on one side. “What say you to that?”
Amabel did not know what to say. Feeling unaccountably emboldened, she said what had occurred to her straight away.
“I say I am surprised. Not so much at his speedy departure, though that is odd, but at your insistence I say my farewell. You seem to be disinclined to worry on my account in anything else.”
She heard a sound from the corner of the room. In another setting, she might have interpreted the strange huff as being laughter. But she dismissed the thought instantly. She was sure she had only imagined Broderick's joy in her defiance.
She risked a covert glance in his direction.
He looked at her with a neutral expression. His eyes, however, were smiling. They glowed with a mix of admiration and warmth. Amabel blinked. This was the man who had humiliated her, who had treated her like property! And yet he had spoken out for her.
She sighed. She should say her farewells.
“My lord,” she ventured shyly. She walked across the room, velvet skirts whispering. She faced him. Her voice was tight, and she cleared her throat. “My lord. I suppose we should say our farewell now.”
He raised a brow. “As ye wish, my lady.”
He stepped forward and held out his hands to her. She hesitated. She was not sure she wanted to offer him her hand. Not only because she was not sure if she was ready, yet, to forgive. She also did not trust herself to keep calm if he laid a hand on her. Not with the way her heart was racing.
What is wrong with me? She shook her head. Something in his gaze had touched her.
She looked up at Broderick. His look of disarming innocence made her heart soften. At that moment, just as she was about to reply, someone shouted behind them.
“My lord?”
They all turned around.
Amabel's uncle went immediately to the man-at-arms in the doorway.
“Yes, Donald?”
“My lord! The watch on the western wall. They crave your presence. Something untoward out there, sir. Didnae want to venture any guess 'til you'd seen it for yerself. Not like Bryce did yesterday...” He trailed off.
“Quite,” her uncle said smoothly. He followed the man out of the door, casting a glance at MacConnaway and Amabel as he did so, then shrugging. He seemed to come to a decision that it was safe to leave them alone together. Then he left.
“My lady?” Broderick said softly. They were, it seemed, both aware that they were alone together for the first time.
“My lord?” She looked up at him. She had not realized how tense she was whenever he was around. Now that her uncle had gone, she felt as if she was seeing Lord Broderick for the first time.
“Lady Amabel,” Broderick said.
Now he really was smiling. He even laughed, proving that had been what she heard earlier. Sweet and warm, his laugh filled the chamber, tracing fingers of fire down her skin.
“What?” she asked in her most-disdainful voice. She bit the insides of her cheeks, fighting her urge to smile. She was not ready to explore these new feelings, not yet ready to forgive the man.
“Nothing.” he sighed. “May I say that I deeply admire ye and what ye did just now?”
Amabel stared at him. “You do, my lord?”
He laughed. “I do no' ken why you are surprised. You are... different. Unusual. I admire it greatly.”
Amabel looked at him blandly. “Either quality could be good or bad. Bad weather is different, perhaps even unusual. I reserve judgment on your comment. It could as well be insult and compliment.”
This time, he roared with laughter. He has a nice smile. A nice smile and a nice voice. It might not be cultured like her own or her family's, but it was nevertheless starting to appeal to her.
“Lady Amabel. I wished tae apologize. And now I am glad I did. I am glad tae see ye. And in any case, I must apologize fully for my wretched behavior yesterday.”
Amabel sighed. She studied his face. He looked contrite. He meant it. This was not some sop to her dignity or meant to ease his way with her family. He was sincere.
“I accept your apology, my lord.” She paused. “Your actions were... strange. But in themselves should not have caused much trouble. I can find it in my heart to forgive your part in that.”
He let out a shuddering breath. “Thank ye, my lady.” He looked deeply relieved.
She blinked at him. She had not thought he cared so about her opinion. “I would thank you for your contrition, my lord,” she said archly. “But I find that I still consider it deserved.”
He tipped back his head, chuckling. His neck was long and muscular and Amabel could not help notice it. She shook herself. Pull yourself together.
“I agree,” he said when he stopped laughing. “I am a shocking wretch.”
“It is good you know that.” She gave him a tight smile.
She walked away toward the windows, wondering if he would follow. The arched windows of the solar were their main adornment, stone arches that flanked the right side. They were wrought from marble, and she was not sure which of their ancestors had added them to Lochlann Castle. She knew it was not her great-uncle, who kept most things in Spartan plainness.
She leaned on the windowsill and was surprised to hear Broderick follow her. He came over and stood just behind her. Here she could feel the warmth from his body, and she felt herself shiver a little.
“You take a keen interest in our gardens, my lord?” She turned to face him, speaking archly.
He smiled. “This castle holds many fair prospects, my lady. I am pleased tae see them more closely.”
She felt her belly tighten at his words. His words were meant to tease. They did so. She shivered and looked up at him. Then she smiled.
“Prospects are meant to be studied from afar. I see no reason to approach so near.”
He was right in front of her. She could almost feel his breath on her face.
“My eyesight is no' what it once was,” he said. “Which leaves me finding myself approaching all things closely.”
Amabel breathed out. She was tall, and he was a little taller, so that her head was just a hand's breadth below his own. If he bent forward, their lips would touch. His dark eyes were looking into hers, sparkling and amused.
He bent forward.
Their lips met.
Amabel closed her eyes. It was the briefest touch, the firm hardness of his mouth just grazing her lip, but it traced fiery fingers down her throat and to her belly. His lips tasted like the spice of the tarts Hannah had brought and she leaned in, wanting more.
He made a sound, then, deep in his throat, and leaned in toward her once again. His moved over hers more firmly, nipping at them like little fish. She let her lips part, surprised, and gasped.
The sound seemed to inflame him further, for he stood closer and his arms were round her now, holding her close. She felt his body press against hers, and her heart pounded fast.
He groaned and turned away.
“Forgive me, Lady Amabel.”
“My lord?” She looked up at him with confusion. Her mouth was warm and her lips felt deliciously plundered, aching from the kiss. Her whole body ached.
“I am sorry lass.” He was not looking at her. He sounded distressed. “You must be shocked by me.”
Amabel stared at him. How could he think that? She was far from shocked. Mayhap it should have shocked her. Somehow it didn't. She stepped toward him. Amazed at her own boldness, she touched his shoulder. He stiffened.
“My lord?”
He turned around. His eyes held a mix of pain and wonder that made her heart ache.
“Yes?”
“You did not shock me.”
“My lady…” He stopped. “You must forgive me. My behavior has been... odd. I cannae forgive it, but I can try and explain.”
“Oh?” She looked up at him, surprised.
“You see....” His fingers moved on her hand, stroking it in a way that made her body catch fire. “The trouble is, you see... you remind me so of my wife.”
Amabel stared. “You are married?” That made no sense. He was here to seek a bride. As she thought about it, she understood. Her guess was confirmed when he looked up, eyes full of pain.
“I was.”
“Oh.” Amabel looked into his troubled gaze. Her heart ached for him, then. That explained the look of pain in his eyes when he looked at her, his strangeness. His air of sadness that seemed to hang around him when she first saw him. “I am sorry. You must have loved her deeply.”
“I did.”
“May I ask when you lost her?”
“Five years ago. A long time.”
“There is never a long time in love. The memory of those we love is evergreen.”
His eyes widened. “My lady. That is wise.”
She swallowed. “It is true.” She would never forget the one or two memories of her mother, her aunt Frances. She had lost people and knew something of how the heart ached for them.
His hands were warm on hers and her heart was very dangerously close to becoming his. At that moment, she heard a footfall in the door. She whipped round, blushing.
“Ah. I see you two have said goodbye, after all,” her uncle said, “which is a good thing, since Broderick will have to leave this very afternoon on a little raid.”
Amabel's face flushed red, and Broderick smiled gently at her. “Goodbye, my lady.”
She cleared her throat. “Goodbye.”
She left the room and walked to her bedchamber, leaving him behind. She could not stop thinking of him, however. He loved his wife, who had died five years before. Would he ever love again? After the morning and its surprises, all she could think to answer that question was: perhaps.
She headed out into the gardens, feeling restless. The castle was seething with action. She walked past the men-at-arms training on the practice area and grinned to see Blaine, their young head of the guard, giving one of the soldiers a solid dressing down. She waved to him.
“Good afternoon, milady!” he shouted, wiping a lock of hair out of his eye.
“Good afternoon!” she called, then headed past him toward her favorite place.
Near the kitchens was a fragrant garden where the culinary plants grew. Amabel's mother Joanna had planned it in part, and it was beautifully designed, flowerbeds laid out neatly, bordered by stones. Amabel found her favorite place to sit – on a bench surrounded by lavender, where the evening sun warmed the stones. Settling down on the bench, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Her thoughts were all of Broderick. The prospect of this marriage did not, after all, seem so horrible.
What on earth has come over me? She shook her head, smiling bemusedly. She felt deeply peaceful and listened to the sounds of the castle around her as she let herself relax for the first time in days.
“Alina! It's my turn!” Chrissie called to her sister from somewhere across the courtyard.
Aline gave an answering sigh.
“Have you not tired of quoits?”
Chrissie giggled. “No! I never tire of games.”
Amabel smiled as she heard the clank of a metal ring against the post in the flagstones.
Someone applauded and Chrissie shouted, “Well done, Heath!”
Amabel's smile deepened. The sweetness between Chrissie and Heath deepened every day, and she was sure that as soon as they were both of marriageable age, he would make an offer for her hand. And, given her own surprising feelings toward Broderick, she was almost willing to hope her uncle would allow the match.
It seems that what he has allowed for me is not too awful, after all.
The only cloud on the horizon was the campaign. Feeling a sudden shiver, she looked up at the sky. I should go to the chapel before dinner. It would not hurt to pray for Broderick's safe return.