Chapter Nine
Cain turned to make certain his captive was behind him and not preparing to stab him in the back. When he didn’t see her, he clenched his jaw and hurried back to the room.
He barged into her chamber and found her combing her long, loose hair over her shoulder. She turned to him, her large, anxious eyes belying the brief smile she offered him.
“I will just be a moment.”
He knew she was up to something but, at the moment, he didn’t care. All he could do was stare at her while she ran her alabaster comb through her long, raven locks and think about how beautiful she was. Would the other men think so when they saw her?
He’d written to the Bruce about her but it would take time to hear back. What was he to do with her until then?
He was sorry he’d listened to Father Timothy and come here. It wasn’t the first time he’d had regrets. After his men died, he’d wanted to throttle his friend for volunteering them for the siege. But last eve, when the lass told him he didn’t understand what it was like to lose his home, he wanted to tell her about his parents, his brothers, his life.
It made him want to run, to leave Lismoor and never look back. If he hadn’t written to Robert already, he would have fled.
What had come over him to make him want to share pieces of his life with her? Why did he feel like hell…a monster for doing his duty?
She plaited her hair into one long braid hanging over her shoulder and tied it with a piece of twine.
She held the bottom edge of her bodice and wiggled in it, straightening it on her body. “There,” she said, turning to him.
“I have to use the garderobe.”
He nodded, beguiled by the way she moved, the way she looked. Who was she trying to impress?
He held out his arm to clear a path for her and breathed her in when she passed him and left the room.
He followed her out, and waited outside the door while she stopped in the garderobe.
He’d stayed awake listening to her speaking to William last eve. She’d been direct yet gentle and managed to get the lad to open up a little about his past and the mysterious Julianna. He’d been the servant of the Governor of Berwick, and was in love with his daughter—who was likely dead.
Losing a loved one was difficult. That was why Cain made certain to stay clear of loving anything.
“How is William this morn?” she asked him, leaving the garderobe.
“He is well.”
Her smile lit the hall. “That is good news.”
“Aye,” he agreed. She liked the lad. It made Cain happy for some ridiculous reason. “Yer potion saved him.”
“As I told you ’twould,” she replied with her nose to the air and moved past him.
He followed her. “He is in better spirits than I have seen since we found him.”
She paused in her steps and looked up at him. “Found him?”
“Aye, we were leavin’ Berwick and found him on the road tryin’ to get back to the castle.”
“For Julianna,” she said softly.
“The governor’s daughter.”
“Aye, is that not the most tragic thing you have ever heard?” She wiped something from her eye and continued walking.
Cain could think of a few things that were more tragic than that. But he didn’t say so. Let her pity the lad. It might keep her from killing the rest of them. “Aye, ’tis tragic, indeed. I can find oot what became of him and his family after the attack.” Why was he volunteering for this? Why couldn’t he stop? “Mayhap we can find her.”
She stopped again and turned to him, surprise and delight lit her eyes. “Aye, mayhap we can.”
Should he smile back? He was tempted to. Was he giving her too much?
He was about to take her to the great hall, where she would meet his men. He had lied for her. He’d told them Sir Richard’s elaborate story of Lord de Bar to keep her safe. He’d done it for the king and for the peace Robert sought. He would continue to keep her safe no matter how many times she tried to kill him. When word regarding her came, he would see her off and get on with his life. He couldn’t wait.
She went back to walking without him. “Where is Father Timothy?”
“In the great hall,” he told her, turning left after she did. He caught up to her in two strides. “Stay close to me or someone may try to grope ye.”
She tossed him a cool smirk. “You must be so proud.”
He climbed the three stairs that led to the great hall’s inner entrance, and then went inside.
She stayed close and followed him when he leaped upon a table.
He didn’t have to shout or even speak at all. In fact, he looked at her and counted their breaths before they had everyone’s attention. It took five breaths for his men to take notice of her.
“Who is this, Commander?” someone called out.
“Are ye sharin’?” called another.
“Nae!” he shouted back. “I am not sharin’.” He waited a moment until they realized he was serious and they settled down. “That means if any one of ye touches her, touches her, he will meet me in a fight to the death. Is that understood?”
He could feel her eyes on him, surprised by his threat and warmed by it. He kept his hard gaze on his men while they nodded and murmured their agreement.
When they were quiet again, he continued. “This is Aleysia, granddaughter of Richard the Steward.”
Every eye turned to Richard standing next to Amish and smiling at Aleysia.
If they knew…they should know the truth. They deserved to know. “She saved William’s life last eve when he became poisoned by the wine. She is to be treated with dignity. I have given her the solar to use while we are here.”
When they heard about William, their smiles softened on her. Still, these bastards were hungry for a woman, and this woman would likely kill every last one of them.
So he didn’t let her out of his sight after he bounded from the table. He reached for her and she stepped into his arms. He looked into her eyes, painted golden green in the sunlight splashing through the windows.
For a moment, unlike any before it that he could remember, he forgot everything else. All the death. All the hatred, more rancid than what it produced, was burned up like dried leaves in the fire of her eyes.
He wanted to pull her in while he lowered her feet to the ground. He wanted to kiss her and discover how she tasted.
She stepped away when he let her go. He closed his eyes. What the hell was he thinking? If there was nothing else, she fought on the side of the English! Hell, he’d betrayed his men for her.
He drew in a deep breath. Why was his heart beating so hard he wasn’t sure he could take a step without collapsing? He felt ill. The bread—? No, Richard appeared sound and well, as did everyone else.
Could they hear his heart battering against his ribs? Did they notice him breathing as if he’d just sprinted here from the village?
He wiped his brow and took a step. This wasn’t love suddenly hitting him hard.
This was the fear of it. Fear of losing control over his decisions based on what his heart wanted. He’d learned every day when he was a boy to control his desires to kill the English soldiers who killed his family. Fear of stirring the ashes and finding an ember of something so painful he had to forget his family to survive it. Of letting his heart wander deeper into the abyss, where he would lose it completely.
“Aleysia, greetings!” William’s voice jarred him back to the present. He forced himself to turn and was grateful to spot Father Timothy coming toward them. If his God was listening, Cain needed strength to see this through and get her out of his life as quickly as possible.
“William! You have recovered nicely,” she sang, reaching out to touch his arm.
“Aye, thanks to you. I am in your debt.”
“No, Will,” Cain heard himself saying. He didn’t want the lad beholden to the woman who tried to kill him in the first place. “There is no debt. Now, excuse us, we need a word with Father Timothy.”
She stiffened when he grasped her elbow and pulled her toward the priest.
“Why were you curt with him?” she seethed on the way.
Had he been curt? He was tempted to turn around and look back at the lad.
And then he came to his senses. Since when did he care about whether or not he hurt the feelings of one of his men? He cursed under his breath and pointed to the way out when he reached the priest.
They stepped off the stairs and into the corridor.
“Brute,” she ground out and yanked her arm away. “What is the matter with you?”
That was what he wanted to know. He doubted she had the answer, and he wouldn’t ask Father Timothy in front of her.
“We need yer Holy Book,” he told the priest, ignoring her question. “I need to swear on it.”
As he’d suspected, Father Timothy didn’t appear pleased, but he finally nodded and waved his hand. “Come.”
He led them to the keep’s small chapel and waited while Cain took the Book in his hands.
“Now what?” he asked, turning to her after he swore. “How will ye bring them back?”
She closed her eyes while she inhaled a deep breath. He knew she didn’t want to do this, but she was going to have to trust him. They needed people to farm the land. They needed whatever livestock they had brought back.
“I expect you will not be letting me out of your sight,” she said with a spark in her eyes and a snap in her tongue. “So prepare to climb a tree or two.”
The priest smiled. Cain did not.
“And I’ll need arrows.”
The two men exchanged a skeptical glance.
She slapped her palms on her thighs. “How else do you expect me to contact them?”
“How many d’ye need?” Cain asked her, feeling as if he were giving in yet again. What kind of madman gave his enemy weapons?
“Three. And I also need three strips of blue linen or wool.”
“Why?”
“’Tis a code,” she explained. “Blue for safe. Red for unsafe. Anyone could be coerced into penning that ’twas safe to return when ’twas not. Besides, many of the villagers cannot read.”
Cain nodded, but he was busy marveling at how thoroughly she had planned everything out. “What if red is fer safe, and blue fer unsafe? How would I know if ye wished to deceive me?”
Her eyes shone in the candlelit chapel. “I do not wish to deceive you, Commander. I wish to kill you. Do not forget that. As for the villagers, you can throw me to your dogs if they do not begin returning in a few days.”
She dared threaten him again, and with amusement in her eyes! She had courage and confidence to do so—or she was completely mad. Keeping her close was more necessary than ever. Truly, she hated him.
Why then, was he tempted to pull her back and kiss her saucy mouth when she brushed past him? Damn him. “How d’ye know I willna throw ye to the dogs anyway?”
She paused and turned to look over her shoulder. She smiled as if she knew something he did not.
She was deadly. That was all he needed to know.