Lion's Lady. Suzanne Barclay

in the hall.” The steward bowed to her, then to Lady Glenda, and headed for the door.

      “A moment, Donald,” Lady Glenda called after him. “I’ve instructions to give you for the morrow.” She turned to Rowena. “Enjoy your bath and sleep well. In the morning you can tell me more about the challenge you’re facing.”

      “Thank you, my lady. You have been more than kind.”

      Glenda smiled wryly. “While I cannot claim to know what lies between you, if anything, I know how it chafes to have your life ordered by a strong man. No matter how well meaning. If it is any comfort, I am exceedingly glad he did, for I’ve enjoyed meeting you. And I’ve said that about precious few people these past three months. I look forward to our chat tomorrow.” She exited with the grace and dignity of a queen.

      Rowena sighed, drained and buffeted by the events of the day. Her emotions had suffered more ups and downs than a skiff on a wind-roughened loch. The quiet of the room wrapped around her like a healing balm. How lucky she was to have this haven.

      Lion arranged this, taunted a little voice. Did he think to share this room with her, to take up where they had left off six years ago? Well, he’ll soon learn that she was not the foolish, gullible lass she’d been then.

      Stiff with determination, Rowena stalked to the tub and shucked off her dirty clothes. “Ah,” she sighed as she sank into the hot water. It melted the ache from weary muscles and banished the cold. “This is heaven.” There were days on the trail when she’d thought she would never be warm again.

      The urge to linger, to steep in the water as she used to when she was young and carefree, was tempting, but the bath was cooling fast, and if Lion was planning to invade her chamber, she did not want him to catch her thus. She picked up a handful of soft soap, sniffed appreciatively at the sweet scent of heather and began scrubbing her grimy arms.

      Working quickly, she moved on to unplait her braids. It was not easy to wet the long, curly hair, harder still to work a lather through it, but her scalp itched fiercely. And she was not climbing dirty into Annie Shaw’s bed. As Rowena washed, she tried to keep her mind on meeting the earl, but her thoughts kept straying to Lion.

      He’d deserted her six years ago, yet stuck by her side tonight while she tended young Harry.

      “There are things you should know,” he’d said.

      What explanation could he give that would excuse his actions? If his father had changed their plans, Lion could have met her and told her so. Had he feared that she would cry and beg him to stay or to take her with him?

      Bah, it did not matter now.

      She ladled water from the bucket over her head to rinse away the soap. If only she could be shed of her problems as easily, she thought as she stood and wrapped about her the long linen towel left warming by the fire.

      Bundled in a thick bed robe, she crawled into bed and leaned against the pillows. She stared into the fire and drew the wide-toothed wooden comb through her tangled hair, her thoughts on the morrow. She’d arise early, don her best gown and see if she could catch the earl in the hall breaking his fast. With any luck, Eneas would not have had a chance to corner the earl and fill his ears with lies.

      Tired as she was, Rowena found sleep elusive, her thoughts haunted by images from the past. Images of Lion.

      Had he arranged for her to have this room so he could join her? The notion was terrifying. And thrilling.

      “Ah, it feels good to be free of that cursed place, if only for a few hours,” Bryce observed as they cantered away from Blantyre and headed into the hills.

      “Aye,” Lion answered. A slender moon lit their way, the air smelled fresh and clean. It had not been easy for them to leave unobserved by the edgy earl’s guards, but soon after coming here, he had secured a copy of the postern gate key. Once away from the castle, he and Bryce had walked down to the village and gotten their horses from Roderick, a Sutherland working there as the blacksmith’s helper.

      Lion would have been grateful to leave behind the stink of intrigue and corruption, except for his worry about Rowena. The lass had always been headstrong. Though he’d warned her to stay away from Alexander and had left Red Will to watch her, his gut was by no means easy on that score.

      It was incredible seeing her again after all this time. The wonder of it had struck him anew as he’d sat beside her in the hall, watching the play of emotion over her face, marveling at the changes the years had made. Rowena was here, free of Padruig, free to take another man. Lion wanted to be that man. He would be that man.

      Winning her would not be easy.

      Lion grimaced. Somehow he had to overcome her distrust.

      “You’re worried about the meeting with the MacNabs. Surely Robbie will listen to you. His father and yours are old friends, and you played together as lads.”

      Lion shook away one problem to shoulder an even larger one, the one that had brought him to Blantyre. “It’s not Robbie I’m worried about. Aedh is chief of the clan, and he will have given his son specific orders about what to tell Alexander concerning his barbaric plans.”

      “Aye, the MacNabs are much like us and most other honorable clans—not eager to make war on their neighbors.”

      “But I fear the MacNabs are a stubborn lot.”

      Bryce chuckled. “You are not?”

      “At least I know when to bend.” Lion’s father had taught him that, among other valuable lessons, and he’d never missed Lucais Sutherland’s sage advice more than he did now. Lion had fought his way across France, had intrigued with the best—or worst—of them at French Robert’s court, yet he’d never felt as inadequate to a task as he did this one. The enormity of trying to protect whole clans of men who resented his interference, while trying to find proof of Alexander’s treason, was nearly overwhelming.

      “You think Robbie will not bend?”

      “I would not have, were I eight and ten and off on an important mission for my old bear of a sire. If you’ve ever seen Aedh in a rage, you’d hardly blame the lad.”

      They crested the rise and raced along a high plateau that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the horizon. A rocky outcropping came into view, black against the new grass. Lion headed toward it, slowing so the stallion could maneuver between the boulders. The trail turned sharply, then opened into a tiny meadow. The clearing teemed with horses and with men warming themselves before a few small campfires. Lion was about to complain about the lack of sentries when a wee man sprang from behind a rock.

      “We was on the point of sending out a search party,” Heckie grumbled, his weathered face cracked by a smile.