A Dangerous Love (36 page)

Pushing her onto the bed, he stripped his clothing off, tossing it carelessly from him. And when he turned back to her she had removed her chemise and lay naked for him to enjoy. He stood for a long moment looking down at her. Love? Was it this hungry longing he felt for her?

Nay. What he felt right now was nothing more than pure lust.

“What are you thinking?” Adair asked him, seeing the confusion on his face. She lay on her side, propping herself up on an elbow.

“That before I kill you I am going to enjoy your delicious little body,” the laird told her, joining her on the bed. His big hand swept down the curve of her hip. “Did you enjoy Alpin’s attentions?” he asked her jealously.

“I have already told you that the fool had nothing of me. Do you want to know exactly what happened, Conal? He pushed me face first into the bed space. His hand was holding me down by the nape of my neck. His other hand was attempting to loosen his clothing, and I screamed. Beiste came to my rescue, and I was able to stand. Then you came. That is all that happened. I had not had the opportunity to be certain the bed space was properly made, and was checking it. Since I had not yet barred the door, I assumed he was outside peeing, or talking with one of the men.”

“He wants you,” the laird said. “I could see it in his eyes even after I beat him.”

“He will never have me, Conal,” Adair said quietly.

“Learn to love me, and I will wed you. Not love me with your body, for you already do that.”

“But what other way is there to love a woman?” he asked her.

“With your whole heart,” she said softly.

“I do not understand,” he answered her.

“And until you do I cannot wed you, my lord,” Adair told him. “This time I will marry only a man who loves me, and whom I can love in return.”

“I do not know or understand the kind of love you speak about,” he told her honestly. “But I have heard it said that true love brings unhappiness as well as happiness, Adair. Is it not better to marry for more sensible reasons?”

“I should rather know true love, whatever it may bring me, than to know only loneliness of the heart for the rest of my life, Conal,” she replied candidly. Then, reaching up, she drew his dark head down to her and kissed his lips sweetly.

“If I put a bairn in your belly I will not have it born on the wrong side of the blanket,” he told her. “You must swear you will wed me if you are with child.”

“I was born on the wrong side of the blanket,” Adair responded.

“You were a royal brat, and that is different. You know it is.”

“Then if you would have a bairn born on the right side of the blanket, Conal, you had best learn what true love is all about,” Adair advised him. “Now make love to me, my lord, for you know I am as lustful as you are.”

He obliged, losing himself in the passion that blazed, but the matter of love hung between them.

In the morning after he had seen Alpin Bruce gone from the keep, the laird rode out to the cottage of Agnes Carr, which was on the far side of the nearby village. A big red-haired woman with pillowy breasts and full hips, she greeted him delightedly.

“I had heard you have taken a mistress. Some little 
English wench you bought from Willie Douglas last Michaelmas. Have you grown tired of her this soon, my lord?” She held out her arms to him and enfolded him in a lusty embrace.

Conal Bruce gave the woman a brief kiss on her lush mouth, and then he said, “Give me some of that whiskey you keep, Agnes. I have not grown tired of Adair. In fact, I would marry her, but she will not have me.” He sat down on the settle by the hearth.

“Will not have you? Is the lass daft then, my lord?”

She poured him the whiskey in a pewter double dram for she suspected he needed it. “Here,” Agnes said, handing him the cup, and sitting opposite him on a three-legged stool.

Conal Bruce took a gulp of the whiskey. It hit his stomach like a fireball, and made his eyes water.

“Where the hell do you get this stuff?” he asked her, but, not waiting for an answer, he continued, “She says she will wed me only if I love her, Agnes.”

“Ahhh,” Agnes Carr said, feeling not just a little jealous, but she smiled, nodding. “A clever and wise girl, I’m thinking, Conal.” At least she had him as a friend.

“What the devil does she mean, love her? I do love her,” he said.

“You
make love
to her, my lord, and that is an entirely different thing,” Agnes answered him. “She wants you to love her with your whole heart.”

“But how do I do that?” the laird asked, an almost desperate tone in his voice. “I don’t even understand what that means, and if I don’t understand it, how can I do it?”

Agnes sighed. “True love, my lord, is like a will-o’-the-wisp. When you love with your whole heart you would do anything for your woman. Even give your life for hers. And a life without her is unthinkable, for it is empty and lonely. The sound of her voice makes you happy, and your first sight of her after a long day fills you with joy. Your own life without her is simply miser
able.” Agnes shrugged. “I know that wiser folk than I could probably explain it better, my lord, but that is how I see it.”

“And men are really capable of these feelings, of this emotion, Agnes?” He swallowed the whiskey remaining in his cup. “She says she will know if I lie to her.”

Agnes Carr chuckled. “Wise, clever, and hard as rock,” she said. “Why I do believe, my lord, that you have finally met your match? And I suspect—although you are not yet aware, or even able to admit to it—that you love this lass, or at least have begun to love her. I have heard it said that your keep is habitable once again, and the food is edible. Grizel is my aunt. She tells me your lass is beautiful to look upon, and kind of heart with the servants and your men. Of course, when a lass walks about shadowed by a great dog, the men are apt to behave respectably. I suppose this means I’ll not be entertaining you in my bed anymore,” she concluded with a regretful sigh.

“I fear not, Agnes,” Conal Bruce told her with a small grin. “I suspect the kind of love Adair wants from me precludes a man’s visiting an old friend for a bit of a tumble.”

Agnes nodded. “It does, my lord. Still, I have many friends, including your two brothers. Duncan Armstrong brought the laddie to me just last week for tutor-ing. I must say that young Murdoc is an enthusiastic pupil. One of the best I’ve ever had. I was honored to have his virginity off of him.”

“Treat him well, Agnes,” the laird said. “As for Duncan, he had best treat you well. And you will never lack for anything as long as I am laird of Cleit.” He stood up.

“I had best get back to the keep. I am told the countryside may be in a bit of a turmoil, for King James wants the revenues of Coldingham Priory off Lord Home.

Keep yourself close, lass.” He walked to the door.

“Who told you?” she wanted to know.

“My cousin Alpin Bruce came yesterday. He’s in ser
vice to the Hepburn of Hailes. Lord Home is looking for allies.”

“What will you do?” Agnes asked him.

“Bide my time,” the laird responded. “I cannot afford to offend the king, and I cannot afford to offend Lord Home’s dignity. Such is the fate of we bonnet lairds,” he told her ruefully. Then he blew her a kiss. “Take care, Agnes.” And he was gone out her door.

Agnes Carr watched as the laird of Cleit rode away.

Then she chuckled to herself. The little English wench had ensorcelled Conal Bruce. He didn’t know it yet, but he was already in love with the lass; yet from what Grizel had said, Agnes Carr had no doubt that Adair would leave the laird if he could not admit to his feelings. “Poor laddie,” she said aloud. “Poor, poor laddie.”

T
he party of horsemen making its way to Cleit Keep was not large. The man at arms on watch 
counted ten men, lightly armed. He called down to alert the keep of their visitors. The horsemen galloped into the courtyard and dismounted. Conal Bruce hurried to greet them, his face impassive as he recognized Lord Home, the Hepburn of Hailes, and his cousin Alpin Bruce.

“Welcome to Cleit,” he said to Lord Home and the Hepburn. Then he shot his cousin a fierce glance. “You are not welcome here, Alpin, and you know it. Come into the hall, my lords, and take refreshment.” He led his visitors into the keep. When they had been settled with dram cups of his own whiskey, the laird of Cleit asked,

“How may I serve you, and what business brings you to Cleit?”

“I am disturbed to learn,” Lord Home began, “that you will not support me, Conal Bruce, in the matter of Coldingham Priory.”

“But neither will I support the king,” the laird answered. “I made that perfectly clear to my cousin when he last came. That was the message I sent to my lord Hepburn.”

“What prevents you from taking sides in this most 
serious business?” Lord Home asked quietly. He sipped at his whiskey thoughtfully.

“My lord, this matter is between you and the king. I have no part in it. I am a simple man of no importance.

A borderer. A bonnet laird. Naught else. But if the king wishes to take his revenge on you he will strike out at your supporters, not necessarily at you. He will punish people like me to make his point—men of little significance with no great family or friends to defend them. I have what you see about me, my lord. A small keep, some livestock, a bit of land, a village. My people rely upon me for their safety and well-being. I cannot afford to take sides either against the king or against you, my lord. Please understand, for I mean you no disrespect.”

“That is not quite how your cousin Albin explained it to Patrick Hepburn,” Lord Home replied. “He said that you reminded him the Bruces were blood kin to the Stewarts, and that you would defend their rights to the death.”

“My cousin is a liar, my lord, and he always has been,”

Conal Bruce replied steadily.

“I did not lie!” Alpin Bruce shouted.

“You are a liar, cousin, and the reason you have told this lie is because you wished to make yourself important in the eyes of your master, and because you were foiled in your attempt to rape my mistress,” the laird answered coldly. “Liar, debaucher, and now fool. Have the wounds on your buttocks healed yet?”

“I fucked her! I fucked her, and she loved it!” Alpin Bruce yelled.

Lord Home and the Hepburn of Hailes looked at each other curiously.

“My cousin attempted to force my mistress. He failed in his endeavor, and when Adair called for help her dog fastened his teeth in Alpin’s fat arse. I’ll wager you did not sit for a week or two, cousin,” the laird mocked.

“Now, get out of my hall. I am pleased to entertain Lord Home and the Hepburn, but I told you, you are no
 
longer welcome in my keep. If you come back again I will kill you, Alpin. Do you understand me?”

Alpin Bruce flung his dram cup across the chamber and slunk from the hall, muttering curses beneath his breath as he went.

“Is she worth the danger Alpin put himself in?”

Patrick Hepburn asked, amused.

“You will see for yourselves, my lords, for both of you are too far from your own homes to return today. You will spend the night, of course. Flora,” he called to the serving woman, “go and tell Elsbeth that we have guests for the night. There are ten of them, two to sit at the high board with me.”

“Aye, my lord, at once,” Flora said, and hurried off.

“Where is this paragon that your cousin covets?”

Lord Home wanted to know. He was a tall, distinguished older man with snow white hair who had once been Scotland’s ambassador to England. His blue eyes were curious.

“At this time of day she will be in her gardens,” the laird answered. “She has spent the spring restoring my late mother’s kitchen and herb gardens. She is an English captive Willie Douglas brought over the border last autumn. I bought her at the Michaelmas fair. I want to marry her. ’Tis past time I had a wife.”

“If you want to wed her, then why don’t you?” the Hepburn of Hailes asked.

“She’s been wed twice before, and widowed twice.

She says when she marries again it will be because the man loves her,” the laird explained. “I don’t understand her, but she will make me a suitable wife,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

Lord Home laughed. “A most unusual woman,” he said. “Will she join us for the meal, Conal Bruce?”

“Aye, she will,” he said. Then he continued, “My lord, we have not yet concluded our earlier conversations, and I would not offend you.”

“I will admit I am not pleased that you will not sup
port me against the king,” Lord Home said quietly, “but aye, I do understand your position. There is talk, however, of making the king step down, and setting his son upon the throne. If that were to happen where would you stand, Conal Bruce?”

“With the crown, of course,” the laird answered Lord Home.

The older man laughed heartily. “You are clever, my lord.” He chuckled. “With the crown indeed, but with which king?”

“Whichever wears the crown,” Conal Bruce replied with a small grin.

“A humble bonnet laird indeed,” Patrick Hepburn said. “Your wits are too nimble by far, I am thinking, Conal Bruce.” He chortled. “Our young Jamie would like you.”

The laird did not ask to whom the Hepburn of Hailes referred. He knew the reference was to Prince James.

There was more afoot here than just the matter of Coldingham Priory. He was not certain he wanted to know.

Any hint of treason could destroy him. And while a king sat on Scotland’s throne, suggesting he be replaced with his son was indeed treason. He moved the subject back once again to Cleit. “You will not hold it against me that I cannot publicly support you, my lord?” he asked Alexander Home. “Mind you, I do not disagree with your position. The king has no right to take the revenues that are yours and have been your family’s for many years.”

“There is no quarrel between us, Conal Bruce,” Lord Home said.

At that moment Adair entered the hall. “I am told we have visitors, my lord,” she said, coming forward. She wore a soft light wool gown, pale violet in color. It brought out the color in her eyes and made her pale skin seem paler, especially with her dark hair. She curtsied to Lord Home first, and then to the Hepburn of Hailes.