Seduced by a Rogue (16 page)

The plain fact was that although Robert Maxwell did not terrify her, he could easily enrage her. Rage certainly explained
throwing the stool. His outrageous hope that she might find her prison “comfortable” had deserved such a response.

However, heaving the trencher at him had been no more than a simple, perhaps even childish, impulse born of frustration and
unexpected opportunity.

He had been leaving the room. She could not.

Thanks to his so-provocative declaration of disbelief in the
fact
that she had never thrown anything before, her hand was still touching the trencher when he suddenly bent over as he passed
through the doorway. Such a tempting presentation of his backside just then had made throwing the trencher at it simply irresistible.

Only by the worst luck had he pulled the door shut just when he had. She wondered as she took the towel from the washstand
just
why
he had bent over.

There being no way to ask him before morning, she set about clearing up the mess she had made. The food on the floor was only
part of the problem, since he had gone away without taking the other things he had brought on the tray. They were still on
the table, including the pitcher and the goblets of barley water.

Deciding to leave them on the table since she had no idea what else to do with them short of hurling them into the sea from
her window, she went to close the still open shutter in case it rained during the night.

At the window, however, she saw that she need not worry about rain. The wind had dropped, and the sky was a blanket of stars.
The window was wide enough for her to put her head and shoulders out, so she did. If she had to remain a prisoner, at least
parts of her could pretend for a time that she was free.

Smiling again at the odd routes her thoughts had been taking, she breathed deeply of the cold night air, savored the starlight
for a while, then straightened and went to prepare for bed. Although she missed having a maidservant to aid her, she enjoyed
being able to think in silence as she took off the tunic and underskirt.

A candlestand stood near the head of the curtained bed. So, after blowing out two of the candles he had lit, she placed the
third carefully on the stand and opened the bed curtain. Soft warmth engulfed her.

The bed was larger than what she was accustomed to, and much more luxurious. Pressing down on it, she realized that it boasted
more than one featherbed and a thick quilt. One quilt was all she ever used as a cover at home except in deepest winter when
a second, wool coverlet customarily came into use.

The pillows were many and plump, and she soon found explanation of the warmth, in the stone wall at the back of the bed. Clearly,
the wall was the same as the fireplace walls in the hall and kitchen, and their warmth spread upward.

She was glad she did not have to close the curtain to keep warm. She was prisoner enough without shutting herself in. The
shutter stayed open, too. The only visitor that might enter would be a moth or an eagle. Neither would worry her.

Stretching out atop plush softness and against down-soft pillows, with linen sheet and quilt drawn to her chin, she suddenly
felt emotionally drained. Taking herself firmly in hand, she decided that she had to consider carefully all that she had learned
about her captor and try to think of how she could protect herself.

The next thing she knew, sounds at her door heralded a visitor.

Startled awake, eyes open wide, she saw morning sunlight spilling through the unshuttered window in a golden path across the
floor. It revealed a few shiny spots from mutton fat that she had missed in cleaning up the night before.

The door opened, and a flash of orange and white briefly diverted her attention before she saw that her nemesis had returned.

Rob paused in the doorway when he saw that the table still contained the remnants of their supper. He had forgotten all about
them and had simply ordered another tray of food to take up to her ladyship after he had broken his fast.

As he had clearly startled her, he apologized, adding, “I thought you would be up long since, lass. Also, I fear I never spared
our leavings a thought last night. Too accustomed to having others clean up after me, I expect. But I ought to have sent someone
up or taken away the remains myself.”

She was looking beyond him.

He frowned, thinking she meant to offer him only silence again.

Then she looked at him, and her eyes twinkled. She showed not the least embarrassment to be still abed or for him to see her
there.

“Apparently, you did bring a helper along to clear the mess away,” she said. “But I fear it may make itself sick if it eats
too much.”

Glancing over his shoulder to see the kitten on the table, he muttered an oath and hurried over, setting the tray on the settle
as he had before.

The kitten, wolfing food as fast as it could, shot him a quick upward look without moving its head and then ignored him to
concentrate on its breakfast.

When he grabbed it, it hissed at him and tried to wriggle back to the food.

Carrying the squirming, angry little creature to the bed, he handed it to her, saying, “Here, hold on to him until I can get
those things cleared away. Then the two of us will leave you to dress and break your fast.”

She took the kitten without a blink.

As Rob turned away, he said, “Take care, the wee devil bites.”

“Nay, then, you malign him,” she said in a cooing voice, clearly for the cat’s benefit. “You’re a princely fellow, aren’t
you,” she went on. “And so soft. I don’t believe you’ve ever bitten
any
one who did not deserve it. What’s his name?”

“I call him ‘cat.’ Gibby calls him ‘the wee terror.’ And he does bite, so do not trust that innocent look.”

A rhythmic rumbling sound reached his ears just then and he turned toward the bed to see that she had leaned back against
the pillows with the little cat snuggled on her chest. It had its paws tucked under its chin and was gazing at her adoringly,
purring loudly as she gently stroked its head with two slim fingers.

She smiled at Rob then so warmly that he felt something inside him melt.

Quietly, she said, “May he stay with me?”

“If he will, aye,” Rob said, turning back to his task with a sudden wish that they had met under other circumstances and that
she was not Dunwythie’s daughter.

Calling himself a fool again, he swept the things from the night before onto the first tray and carried it to the landing.
Then, wiping off the table as well as he could with a towel she had clearly used to clean up the food she had thrown at him,
he carried the towel to the landing and dropped it atop the things on the tray.

Returning, he set the new tray of food on the table. “I brought bread and ale, barley porridge, some milk, and two apples,”
he said. “I don’t know what you usually eat for breakfast, but if you will tell me, I’ll see to providing it for you.”

“You are too kind, sir,” she said.

He gave her a look. “Just be glad you cleaned up what you threw at me last night, or you would learn that I am not kind at
all. Not that you did much better with your cleaning than I did with that table,” he added. “I nearly slipped on a greasy
spot when I came in.”

“It would have served you right if you had,” she cooed. “A good thump on the head might knock some sense into you.”

She did not look at him as she spoke, and he grinned at the picture she made, murmuring impertinent things to him in the soft,
gentle tone she used with the little cat, which was still purring contentedly. As well it might, tucked snugly between those
tantalizing breasts as it was.

She was still looking at the kitten, still stroking it, and still ignoring Rob.

“Lass.”

She looked up, eyebrows raised.

“It is not wise when you are in someone else’s power to provoke him.”

“Is it not?” She frowned. “I think it is more unwise to treat me as
you
have, Robert Maxwell. Just what do you mean to do with me? Am I simply to remain in this chamber until you have got whatever
you expect to get by keeping me? How long do you expect
that
to take?”

“That must depend on your father,” he said.

“Then it will be forever,” she retorted. The kitten stirred, and she softened her tone to add, “Believe me, sir, my father
is
not
a man who submits to threats. He is a peaceable man and a good one, but he can be as stubborn as anyone I know. A threat
will just anger him and make him go contrary to whatever you demand.”

“That must be a load of blethers,” Rob said. “No man would risk injury to his firstborn child, certainly not to such a daughter
as
you
are to him. You underrate yourself a-purpose, I think, to dissuade me.”

“I would dissuade you if I could,” she admitted. “Faith, but I’d strike you down flat if I could, for you have made me angrier
in one day than anyone else has
ever
made me. I had thought myself unable to achieve such behavior as you have stirred me to, and with so little effort! Moreover,
you ruined the first true freedom I’ve had since my family returned to Annan House from Dunwythie Mains.”

“Are you not free to do as you please at Annan House?”

“Not since you Maxwells threatened to take our land. My stepmother worries that at any moment an army will engulf us. Naught
will persuade her that we would get due warning first. Your having so easily snatched me away will only increase her concerns,”
she added bitterly.

“’Tis always painful to learn that those in authority over us are right in what they say, is it not?” he said with a reminiscent
smile.

Instead of the quick retort he expected, she looked at him for a long moment. Then she said, “So, you have had similar experience,
have you?”

“Aye, too much of it,” he said. “To hear my brother—”

“Who is that lady, and why are ye in her chamber whilst she’s still abed? I’m thinking Herself would no approve o’
that
.”

Whirling on Gibby, who stood in the doorway, eyeing him with strong disapproval, Rob snapped, “Who the devil said you could
come up here?”

“Nae one did,” the boy retorted, still eyeing him askance. “I were a-looking for ye, and when ye were no in your chamber,
I came out again and heard ye talking. So I came a-looking up here. Shall I take this tray below for ye?”

“Aye, do that,” Rob said. “Then wait for me downstairs.”

“But who is that lady?” Gib asked, swinging an arm around to point at her. “And—Coo, would ye look at that now? That wee terror’s
no a-biting her!”

In fact, the kitten, still purring, had stretched out with its head still resting between her breasts. It rolled onto its
back then, fore and aft legs extending in a long stretch, and she stroked its furry white stomach. The damned cat seemed almost
to be taunting Rob, saying, “Just look at me now, will you, chappie?”

“You must be Gibby,” the lass said to the boy with a smile.

“Aye, and ye must be a witch,” Gib said, clearly awestruck. “Ye ken me name wi’ nae one telling ye, and ye’ve cast a spell
on that wee terror.”

“I am not a witch,” she said. “I know your name because the laird told me you call the kitten a wee terror. Sithee, he is
no such thing if you treat him kindly.”

“I dinna treat him at all,” Gib said firmly. “I dinna hold wi’ cats, ’specially cats which would rather than nowt eat me,
like that one. Ye take care, me lady.”

“And you take yourself off now with that tray, Gib,” Rob told him.

“Ye didna tell me her name. I should ken how to call her, should I no?”

The lady Mairi looked at Rob, challenging him to lie.

“You need know only to address her as ‘my lady,’” Rob told him sternly. “Also, you are not to talk
about
her to anyone else unless you want to explain your loose tongue to me when I learn that you’ve been gabbling, as I will.”

Meeting that look, Gibby hesitated. Then he said, “What if Herself should ask when
she
comes? I dinna lie to Herself, and nor should ye lie to her neither.”

“I don’t,” Rob said curtly. “Now, be off with you.”

The boy offered no further argument but picked up the tray and clattered off down the stairway with it.

Rob stared at the empty doorway, lost in thought of what consequences might result now from the lad’s having seen his prisoner.

“Who is Herself?”

“My grandmother,” he said, turning slowly toward her.

“The one whose property this tower was?”

“Since you would have it so, aye, that one. She is properly Arabella Carlyle, Lady Kelso. My Maxwell grandmother died before
I was born.”

“
Is
she coming here?”

“I expect you mean the one who still lives,” he said.

“Aye,” she said, but she smiled, saying it. “Now we are even where proper grammar is concerned, sir. The lad did suggest she
would be coming.”

And would likely snatch him baldheaded, Rob mused, the minute she learned he was holding a noblewoman captive at Trailinghail.