“Say nothing. I will speak to her of it later.”
It could have been something he’d said or the tone of his voice, but Ailsa paused, sticking out her chin and meeting his gaze for a moment. Mayhap she’d sensed he had truly reached the limits of what he would accept from her in personal commentary or intrusion? Whatever had worked, he was glad of it. The servant nodded and backed away. When she’d reached the door and was pulling it closed as she left, the words escaped him.
“I did not harm her, Ailsa.”
“As ye say, laird,” she replied without slowing or looking back.
Pushing aside all thoughts of the woman at the center of discussion, Connor decided he’d been inside enough this day. He needed to get back to his duties as much as Ailsa did, so he strode down his tower chamber, through the hall of the keep until he left the tall, stone building. Following the path to the stables, he ordered a small troop of men readied to accompany him to the site of the most recent complaints of incursions onto his lands. A few hours later and miles away, only his clan and his lands and their defenses claimed his attentions.
Jocelyn’s respect for the old woman grew quickly as each of her offered remedies worked its magic on her—first on her head and stomach, both of which threatened upheaval at any moment, and then on the rest of her body. The hot concoction that Ailsa brought her soothed the swirlings in her belly and eased the pain in her head. A long, very hot bath eased the aches and coldness that seemed to have seeped into her bones during the night. Then, dressed in warm stockings, a clean chemise, a new gown and length of woolen plaid, Jocelyn felt as though everything that came before had been just a nightmare.
Never one to suffer from self-pity or bad humors, Jocelyn faced the rest of the day knowing that the worst was behind her. She’d lived through the arduous journey to this place. She’d lived through meeting and wedding and being bedded by the infamous Beast. It had not been a pleasant experience on the whole of it, though parts of it were. His touch made her feel things that she’d only heard hinted at by other women, things only sampled lightly with Ewan.
If he kept his word, and she had no doubts that he would, her brother would be free to return to their clan along with the aid and protection promised by the clan MacLerie. Jocelyn intended to ask about the arrangements as soon as she could find the laird. Athdar’s treatment at the hands of the MacLeries was uneven at best and she only hoped that his temper did not get him into more trouble than he already was. He would learn to control it, she was certain, as he grew closer toward manhood.
Soon though, according to the provisions of the marriage contract, Athdar would arrive home with the resources and men to rebuild their keep and village and feed the entire clan through this next winter. No more a target for the hungrier clans around them, her marriage insured her family’s survival. For now, at least as long as her heart ached over Ewan’s loss, she could content herself with the knowledge that no one in her family would die due to a lack of food or shelter this year.
The sun had fought its way through the thick clouds that lingered after the storms of the night, and now it beckoned to her. Jocelyn found her cloak and made her way down to the hall. Determined first to see to her brother and confirm the arrangements for his release. Then, mayhap with his company for she was certain he would welcome the chance to be out of the dungeon cell, she would explore the keep and castle. She made her way to the stairs that would take her deep underneath the keep.
Pushing on the strong wooden door, Jocelyn hit its surface when it did not give under her pressure. Stepping back, she turned the knob and still it did not open. Stretching up to peer in the small opening, she tried to remember the name of the man guarding it last night.
Two nights ago, she corrected herself.
So much had happened in the last few days, she| looked around to make sure she was trying to open the correct door.
It had not been locked when the laird had brought her to see her brother, but it was now. Finally remembering, she called inside to the guard.
“Duff? Duff, are you there?”
No one answered. Jocelyn lifted the latch again and pushed. It was locked and by the sound, or lack, of it, no one stood guard below.
“Duff?” she called out louder. “Is anyone there?”
“Does Ailsa know you are creeping around outside your chambers?”
She let out a scream as someone whispered in her ear—from just behind her. Turning quickly, she discovered the laird’s cousin Duncan apparently up to more of his mischief. Her bottom twinged as she remembered how his last scare had caused them both to arrive mud-covered from their journey.
The pace on their journey here had turned into a test of wills with her slowing to avoid and him hastening to arrive at the designated time. When Duncan slapped her horse to spur it and her on, she purposely slid from it, grabbing him to cushion her landing, never dreaming the wretch would drag her down, too.
“Duncan,” she said, not moving from her place in front of the door.
“Lady,” he replied, bowing and smiling that irritating smile he had. The one that said he had all the answers but chose not to share them with her. Why had the laird chosen him to come to her home and escort her here? “So, does Ailsa ken of your escape from your chambers?”
“Am I a prisoner then? As my brother is,” she looked at the door now and then back at him. The expression he wore in that instant spoke of spoiled eels…or too much wine.
“You are a wife, lady. No prisoner. Ailsa mentioned your state of…that is, that you were not feeling well this morn.” He would not meet her gaze now and she was glad of it. She did not need to know that others knew of her personal matters. Especially not this one who would use it to cause her discomfort.
“I am well now. And am seeking out my brother,” she said turning back to the door and knocking on it. “But Duff does not seem to be at his post.” She paused, hesitating to ask anything of him that would put her in his debt. “Can you take me to him?”
His face took on a more miserable pallor and she thought him the ill one, until he shook his head. “You must speak to the laird about your brother.” He stepped back and gestured her away from the door. “Come, I will see you back to your chambers.”
“I have no wish to return to my chambers. I want to see my brother and arrange for his freedom. You know the agreement—you negotiated on behalf of the MacLerie.” Jocelyn pulled the woolen shawl up higher around her shoulders. “If you say I must speak to the laird before I can see Athdar, then fetch the laird here.”
“Fetch the laird?” Duncan sputtered and choked on the words. “You speak of him like some animal to do your bidding. You must have had a coddled upbringing if such behavior was permitted of you. ’Tis no wonder that your clan lies in ruins if your father allowed his clan to speak to him or even think of him in that manner.”
His sharp words brought her to a stop. Although she thought he was putting too much meaning into her words, Jocelyn knew that this man had the laird’s ear and confidence. If he wished, he could make the difficult situation even worse between her and her new husband. She’d sensed honor within him, but he was, after all, the laird’s man.
“You mistake my words, Duncan. I will happily seek out the laird to ask him about Athdar, if you would but reveal his whereabouts to me. I mean no disrespect to him.”
He seemed to think on her words and then he nodded at her. “’Twould appear that you have not yet recovered from the journey here or the…events of the last few days. Your concern over your brother is understandable, even admirable, not unnecessary. Connor has said he is safe, and so he is.”
Only the Blessed Mother knew how she stayed her hand in that moment. Everything within her wanted nothing so much as to make a fist as Ewan had taught her and to swing it at the side of this fool’s head. But then she realized something—he’d