Lion’s face heated. The urge to teach Georas a much-needed lesson, burned hot in his veins. It was his Carmichael blood, the cursed temper inherited from the grandsire for whom he’d been named. Lion cooled it with Sutherland logic. A brawl would ruin his plans. “Name the time,” he repeated calmly.
“We’ll have none of that,” the earl snapped. “I’ve not enough men that I can afford to lose two of the best. Georas, you’ll respect Lion’s right to defend his friends. Lion, you’ll overlook Georas’s rashness. ’Tis just high spirits,” he added, signaling his squire to pour ale for all. “Nigh five hundred fighting men have answered my summons, and here they sit, with naught to do till we’re strong enough to begin.”
On that, Lion could not disagree. Battle-trained men with too much time on their hands were always a liability. He’d seen the same in France. There the leaders had kept their men busy with constant patrols and with jousts. Unfortunately, the patrols here led to just the sort of thing that had happened to Rowena. Innocent farmers and merchants were often attacked by bored warriors out for sport and plunder.
What of jousts? The idea of two bands of Highlanders conducting themselves as did tourney knights was laughable. There were no lances, no trained mounts, but...
“Football,” Lion said.
“Football?” the earl repeated, frowning.
“Aye, well, it does not have to be that Any sport will do, so long as it’ll let the lads test their strength against one another and, mayhap, win a prize or two.”
Alexander’s dark eyes sparkled with understanding. “Aye, that is a grand notion. And it’ll make a suitable display when the MacNabs come calling.” He added, “Aedh MacNab is sending his heir, Robert, to talk about joining us.”
Lion smiled, but his mind was racing. He knew Aedh and Robbie. Neither were the sort to fall in with the earl’s schemes. He had to meet with Robbie before he reached Blantyre, and try to convince him to see this Lion’s way.
Dickie MacPherson ambled into the room, cast a malicious glance in Lion’s direction, then went to whisper in Georas’s ear. Their furtiveness made Lion apprehensive.
Georas grinned, clapped Dickie on the shoulder and approached Alexander. The smugness of his expression made the hair on Lion’s nape prickle.
“Gunn!” the earl roared. “She’s Padruig Gunn’s widow?”
“Aye.” Georas’s smile turned feral. “That she is.”
“Why is she here?” Alexander demanded, spearing first Lion, then Georas with an enraged gaze.
“I do not know,” Lion was forced to admit.
“Yer childhood friend has not confided in ye?” Georas taunted. He must not know why, either.
“There was no time,” Lion said stiffly, alarmed by Alexander’s anger. The earl had an unpredictable temperament, being generous and friendly one moment, petty and vicious the next. Too often of late he would fly into a rage over a small thing. “But rest assured, Your Grace, I will know by morn.”
Alexander muttered a curse and drained his cup.
“It is possible they have come to join you,” Lion added.
“A woman?” Alexander’s black brows rose. “Much as I need men, I’d not take any who’d follow a woman,” he scoffed. His gaze went to Lady Glenda, a woman of great wealth. Kindly but homely, with a long, horsy face and mud-brown hair, she sat at a distant table playing at draughts with Selena MacPherson.
Lady Glenda looked up, caught the earl’s glance and immediately abandoned her game to join him. “You wanted me, my lord?” she said in her soft, lisping voice.
“Nay,” Alexander said absently, oblivious to the lady’s hurt expression. He’d seduced her, played court to her in order to gain the use of her castle. His interest in her was obviously waning, for he treated her with less respect every day.
“What of you, Lord Lion?” Selena inquired archly. “Is there aught you desire?” The seductive gleam in her pale blue eyes left him in no doubt she’d satisfy any craving he might have. She was breathtaking, her red hair a perfect foil for her porcelain-pale skin. Selena was newly arrived at Blantyre, but rumor had it she was a talented and inventive bedmate. Had she approached him the day before, Lion would have been tempted. As it was, he felt scant interest in the lush curves she pressed close to him or in the sensual promises glittering in her eyes.
Lion smiled coolly. “Alas, my lady, I must be about the earl’s business this evening.” With that, he bowed to Selena and took the unhappy Lady Glenda aside. “If your sister’s chamber is yet unoccupied, could my lady Rowena use it while she is here?”
“Well...I do not mean to seem miserly, ’tis just that Annie values her things greatly and—”
“You’d just as soon not see them misused by some careless trollop.” He looked pointedly at Lady Selena, who leaned close to the earl as she refilled his ale cup. “Rowena is my lady, and has no designs whatsoever on any other man.”
“I would be pleased to have her use the room, then.”
“She is in the great hall, if I could send word—”
“I’ll go myself.” Lady Glenda glanced at Alexander, her expression filled with pitiful longing, then left the room.
Lion bowed to the earl. “Until the morrow, Your Grace,” he said before exiting the room. Every step of the way, he was aware of Georas’s hate-filled gaze.
As he stepped into the gloomy corridor, Lion nearly fell over Bryce.
“What has he done to upset Lady Glenda?” Bryce said, staring after the lady’s retreating back.
“He ignores her now that he has what he wanted—the run of Blantyre and her Shaws to ride under his banner.”
“Yet she pines for him, dotes on his every word and whim. Can she not see what worthless slime he is?” Bryce snarled.
“Easy, my friend, I know you sympathize with her.” More than that, he feared Bryce was smitten with the earl’s lady. “But we’ve more pressing problems just now.” As they walked down the stairs of the old tower, Lion told his cousin about the imminent arrival of the MacNabs and the threat to Rowena. “I’ve asked Lady Glenda to give her Lady Annie’s chamber. ’Tis all I can do for tonight—that and post two men outside her door. Tomorrow I must persuade her to leave.”
“And the MacNabs?”
“That is the rest of tonight’s problem.”
Chapter Four
Rowena finished her ale and set the cup aside.
“More?” Sim inquired, standing behind her, ready to serve.
“Nay, I could not eat or drink another morsel.” She eyed the remaining scraps of meat pie. “Though it was delicious.”
“Aye. Lady Glenda sets a good table, but I must apologize for the company,” Lion’s squire added. His statement was punctuated by a hoarse shout and a round of drunken cheers.
Wincing, Rowena glanced toward the center of the hall. The tables had been cleared back to allow room for a wrestling match of sorts. Two large men, stripped down to linen drawers, were attempting to squeeze the life out of each other.
“It grows late, and I really must find my brother by marriage to see if he has found us lodging.”
Sim frowned. “I did send someone to inquire. Sir Eneas is not within the walls.”
“Run off and left me again. Well, I shall have to shift for myself, then.” She stood, but Sim barred the way.
“Lion said you were to wait