Fifteen
A sennight later, the Steward’s keep came into view in the distance as a horn rang out through the air, undoubtedly to announce that his guards had spotted Alex, Lena, and their party. Lena thought briefly of the oaths she had given to Alex before they had departed Duart Castle. The first regarded her agreement to leave when he commanded it. If he truly feared for her life, or even simply felt her safety was in jeopardy, she had vowed to depart with Donald and Broch, both of whom had journeyed to the Steward’s hold with them, and return to Dunvegan.
Her other oath had been that at no time would she venture anywhere in the Steward’s home or attempt to gather any information without Alex’s approval and a guard trailing her. That oath had set her teeth on edge, but she had given it, knowing that if she had not, Alex would have done exactly as he had threatened and stayed at Duart until Iain arrived to take her home by force. She could not allow that to happen. Iain would not blink an eye at throwing her in the dungeon to protect her.
In front of her, Alex held up his hand for their small party of ten to stop. Along with Broch and Donald, and her and Marsaili, Munroe and four of Alex’s most trusted warriors had accompanied them. The party was not so large as to cause unease or suspicion on the Steward’s part but large enough that Alex would have a suitable number of men readily available to defend him if something went wrong.
Alex looked over his shoulder, his dark gaze settling on her. “Ye recall yer oath, aye?”
“Aye, Husband.” Behind him, she could see and hear the approach of thundering horses.
“Stay by my side,” he said to her and then swept his gaze over his men. “Guard my wife with yer lives. And remember, this castle is full of treachery.” Before he could say more, the Steward’s warriors were upon them, halting some feet away when the rider leading the group had commanded it. The lone man rode his black beast forward, and when he drew near enough that his face could be seen, Alex muttered, “God’s teeth.”
Lena focused on Alex. The look on his face was one she had never seen there before—pained, uneasy, and shocked, all at once.
“Thomas?” Alex asked.
Lena jerked at the tortured sound in her husband’s voice.
“Aye,” the redheaded, blue-eyed man replied. His eyes narrowed as his mouth twisted into a cynical smile. “I guess ye prayed nae to see me ever again.” The man’s cold tone made gooseflesh race across Lena’s skin.
“Nay,” Alex replied. “Ye’re mistaken. I…” He glanced around, as if he only just recalled he was not alone. His words trailed off, though the look on his face clearly showed he had wanted to say more. He motioned to Lena. “Thomas, this is my wife, Lena, sister to Iain MacLeod.”
Lena had expected the notes of derision when he presented her, as the plan was to make the Steward believe Alex’s breaking with King David had to do with their forced marriage and his taking land from Alex. Her part was to play the disgruntled bride and try to learn the names of the lairds who were siding with the Steward against the king. They hoped that pretending to be unhappy with Alex would lure men to speak to her, mayhap even boast of the rebellion and those involved.
Alex motioned offhandedly to her. “Wife, this is Thomas Fraser, son of Laird Fraser.”
Lena’s heart pounded an erratic rhythm at the strange way Alex was behaving, and at the blue, assessing gaze now resting on her. She noted a gleam of interest in the man’s eyes but also a coldness. “I’m pleased to meet ye,” she said, glad that her voice did not waver.
His smile widened, though his gaze remained frigid. “The pleasure is mine, I assure ye.” He flicked his focus from her to Alex. “Ye should guard this one closely.”
Lena frowned at the veiled threat. She stole a look at Alex. His eyes had narrowed, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. “And why is that?” he asked, the calmness of his voice belying the tension radiating from him.
“She’s a beauty, quite obviously. And ye seem rather frosty toward her. She can find one here to provide her warmth,” Thomas finished with a chuckle.
Alex’s jaw twitched, and his hand curled tightly around his sword. Lena feared all was about to be lost. Clearing her throat, she said, “’Tis nae a secret that the MacLean did nae wish me for a wife.” She pouted at Alex, meeting his eye long enough that she hoped she conveyed the reassurance that she could handle herself. “I was beginning to fear I was nae any longer a comely lass, so I thank ye for the praise, my lord.”
Thomas removed his gaze from Alex long enough to wink at her. She clenched her teeth in disgust but forced a smile. Thomas was a very attractive man, but there was something in the depths of his gaze that was disconcerting.
“I’m happy to show ye just how beguiling ye are, my sweet—”
Alex’s sword was drawn and pointed at Thomas’s chest before Lena understood what was happening. And quicker than she could blink, both Alex’s and Thomas’s men had their swords at the ready.
“Alex!” she cried out, forgetting she was supposed to refer to him only as the MacLean to further the pretense that they were not close. Her fear for his life, however, had taken precedence.
Without looking her way, he held up his hand, palm toward her. “Keep silent, woman.”
She knew he was playing his part of the uncaring husband, but he played it so well that a sharp pain stabbed her gut.
“Such poor manners, MacLean,” Thomas said easily enough. To his men, he said, “Stand down. The MacLean would nae draw my blood. We have kenned each other since we were both but lads. Is it nae so, MacLean?”
“I kenned ye as a lad,” Alex agreed, without moving the point of his sword from Thomas’s chest, “but I dunnae ken ye now. While I may nae care for my wife, she is my property, and I’m nae a sharing man. In truth, ye might say I’m rather stingy and would feel inclined to kill anyone who dared touch what I own. And dunnae mistake that I own my wife.”
Alex’s words made her wince and her cheeks heat with embarrassment, even though she knew he did not truly feel them.
Thomas held his palms up to Alex. “Forgive me. She seemed free to comfort, but I see clearly now that nae even for an old friend would ye share yer wife.” Before Alex could respond, Thomas locked his gaze on Lena once more and asked, “Did yer husband nae ever mention my name?”
Wave after wave of uneasiness ripped through Lena, but she forced herself to shake her head. “Nay, my lord,” she lied, her gut telling her this was the Thomas of Alex’s tortured dreams.
Thomas scratched at his beard as he stared thoughtfully at Alex. “So ye dunnae speak of our shared past?”
“Nay.” Alex’s answer was a frigid blast.
Thomas nodded. “I dunnae, either, of course, though my past is unavoidably kenned by some. Yers is shrouded in mystery, even still. But I can guess,” he said, the words almost taunting.
Alex’s face was expressionless. “I tire of yer banter, Thomas. I’m here to see the Steward.”
“Ah, right.” Thomas tapped Alex’s sword with his fingernail. “Might ye move this?”
“I might,” Alex replied, leaving the sword where it was, “as long as ye ken nae to touch my wife.”
“Ye have been quite clear. She is yer property.” Thomas nodded to the sword. “If ye please?”
Slowly, Alex brought his sword down to his side. “Where is the Steward?”
“In the great hall,” Thomas replied. “He’s quite eager to hear what ye have to say, but he sent me to greet ye and warn ye that if ye betray him, he’ll have yer head and those of yer party. Dunnae fash yerself about yer wife’s head, though. If ye betray the Steward, I’ll gladly make yer wife my own. I’m in need of a bonny bride.”
Lena had to clench her jaw to keep from spouting nasty words at Thomas, but when he turned his attention to her again, she forced another smile and prayed it looked enticing and not murderous. “Tell me, Lena—Ah, may I call ye Lena?”
She nodded, praying Alex would not kill Thomas here and now.
“Are ye with bairn?” he asked.
She was too startled by his blunt question to immediately answer. Beside her, she saw Alex’s sword start to rise once more, but Thomas waved a hand at Alex. “Dunnae take offense, MacLean. ’Tis just that Lena did nae provide an heir for her Campbell husband, and I am simply curious if she is able to bear children.”
Her own fears rose up to nearly choke her, but she heard herself say, “Dunnae fash yerself about my ability to bear sons, my lord. ’Tis the cold husbands I have been forced to wed that are the problem, nae me.”
Thomas chuckled at that. “I like yer spirit.”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “And I admire yer lack of concern for yer head. If ye continue this line of questioning, I fear my husband may lop it off yer body. It’s verra braw of ye.”
Thomas smirked. “I do try, Lena. There was a time I did nae feel so braw, but then I took hold of my fate.” His gaze trailed to Alex once more, and Lena got the distinct impression that Thomas was speaking in riddles purposely but that Alex understood the man’s meaning.
“Enough, Thomas. Take me to the Steward and have one of yer women show my wife and my men to their quarters.”
“I suppose I must, as the Steward is waiting. Lena, vow to me ye’ll save me a dance tonight.”
“I will,” she replied quickly before Alex could deny Thomas’s request. She avoided Alex’s gaze, though she could feel the heat of his anger directed at her. When he started away with Thomas, Alex turned to her briefly, his intense look impaling her.
“Remember yer vow, Wife.”
She nodded, as Broch and Donald flanked her, clearly recalling their own.