My Lady Captor. Hannah Howell

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СКАЧАТЬ told him what?”

      Sorcha grimaced at Robert’s bellow. She had run straight from Ruari’s room to the armory shed and Robert. For a few minutes she had fidgeted about, babbled aimlessly, and paced the room pretending to watch Robert put the finishing touches on a scabbard for Dougal’s sword. Robert had finally cursed and demanded to know why she was plaguing him. She could not tell the man she was upset because one kiss from Ruari Kerr had her aching to crawl between the sheets with the man. Instead she explained how she had told Ruari the secrets of Dunweare and allowed Robert to believe she was upset about such disclosures.

      “I told him all our secrets. Weel, the ones concerning the spirits leastwise. Euphemia went to his room, and he got a verra good look at the worst of our curse. I couldnae even get the door open. The spirits held it closed.”

      “Ye could have told him the door was stuck.”

      “Robert, we have spent the past three days mouthing such lies. He has heard the complaints, the crashes, the thuds, and all the noises that plague us all through the night. We have all twisted our tongues into knots trying to explain away those things. When Effie decided to creep into his room and play the budding whore, her ill-tempered spirits became quite enraged.” Sorcha sighed and sat down on a stool made from a thick old log. “I fear there was no lie big enough or clever enough to explain away all he saw.”

      “Mayhap, but I am not sure ’twas wise to tell him the truth.” Robert moved to stoke up the fire in his forge.

      “He didnae believe me.”

      “That cannae be a surprise to you.”

      “Nay, yet I wish he had. I fear he now thinks we are all quite mad. Effie telling him all about being a changeling, a fairy caught in a mortal life, certainly didnae help.” She smiled faintly when Robert leaned against the wattle-and-daub wall of the armory and started to laugh, although she was not sure what he found so amusing. “I am not sure I see the humor in all of this.”

      “Ah, weel, ye would, lass, if ye werenae so heartsore for the lad.”

      “I am not heartsore for Ruari Kerr,” she snapped, jumping to her feet, but Robert just smiled.

      “Oh, ye are. ’Tis why ye have been hiding from the mon since ye first brought him here. ’Tis also why ye came running in here to hide now and looking like a weel-kissed lass. If he is behaving too boldly, ye just tell me. The two of you can play all the games ye want, but I willnae abide a mon taking advantage of you, or forcing ye to do what ye dinnae wish to do.”

      Sorcha cursed and kicked at a stone, sending it rolling out the door. “The mon will begin to think we have brought him here to play the stud for a paddock full of mares in heat.” She ignored Robert’s guffaw. “He holds a strong allure for me, Robert, and ’tis a dangerous thing.”

      “Dangerous? How so? Ye are both gentle born.” Robert moved to stand near her, slouching against the doorframe.

      “I believe he is higher born than I.”

      “Not by much.”

      “He is also a great deal richer than I. I dinnae e’en have a dowry.”

      “There is truth in all its ugliness.”

      “And he thinks we are all quite mad.”

      “He may change his thinking about that.”

      “He may or he may even prove to be a mon who finds a touch of lunacy in a lass an attractive thing.” She exchanged a brief grin with Robert. “Howbeit, I have taken him prisoner for ransom.”

      “Aye, and unless he is a verra forgiving mon, that could pour water on the fire in his heart.”

      “Verra strangely said, but true. Nay, I dinnae think Sir Kerr will forgive this ransom matter verra easily. I am certain that his being taken by two lasses makes the bruise to his pride all the more tender.”

      “Do ye think he will return to Dunweare armed and eager for battle?”

      “Nay,” Sorcha replied and, after a moment of thought, knew she was as confident of her reply as she sounded. “He willnae raise his sword against us o’er this. I believe some of his anger is aimed at himself. Even though his first sight of me was upon the battlefield as I picked o’er the dead, he began to trust me.”

      “And instead of rescuing him, ye took him prisoner. Aye, that would make him wonder if he had been a wee bit of a fool. ’Tisnae a feeling any mon enjoys. Is that why ye are fighting your interest in him?”

      “I am not interested in the mon. Not in the manner ye infer.”

      Robert snorted. The sound was so full of scorn it made Sorcha curse. She opened her mouth to reprimand him only to frown when he tensed and stared out into the inner bailey. Looking in the same direction, she saw the too-thin figure of Robert’s only son, Iain, hurrying toward them.

      “Do ye think something is wrong?” she asked Robert.

      “I think we are about to have guests,” Robert replied even as he moved to greet his son.

      “Father,” Iain cried then paused to catch his breath. “Three men wait outside our gates. They are English and they ask to speak to someone concerning Sir Dougal.”

      “The ransom demand,” Sorcha murmured. “Give me a few moments, Robert, then bring them into the great hall. Try to keep them from seeing our weaknesses too clearly.”

      “I will, lass,” Robert said. “Howbeit, if they have the wit to see our weaknesses, they will also see our strengths. Dinnae worry o’er that. Just think on getting that fool Dougal back.”

      Sorcha nodded and hurried back to the keep, cursing her brother with each step. She dreaded dealing with these men. They would be scornful when they realized they had to talk over a ransoming with a woman. She would have to be strong, to make them believe she could take on the task as well as any man.

      As she entered the great hall, she saw her aunts seated in a circle near the huge stone fireplace arguing with the newly arrived Annot over what color yarn would best depict their father’s hair in the family tapestry they were working on. Sorcha hurried over to them, determined to enlist their aid. Although the Englishmen might be scornful toward one small female, she knew they would find confronting seven women a daunting experience. It was true that her nervous aunt Bethia and her shy aunt Eirie were not strong women, but when placed shoulder to shoulder with their more determined sisters, they were very skilled at pretending.

      “The English have come to ask the ransom for Dougal,” she told them as she reached Neil’s side.

      “Ah, ye want us to leave,” murmured the tall, silver-haired Annot, the eldest of her seven aunts.

      “Nay, I want ye to sit at the head table with me. Hurry now,” she said as she shooed them all toward the long, heavy oak table set on a low dais at the head of the great hall. “I think even an arrogant Englishmon will be set aback when confronted with seven weelborn women.”

      “Ye want us to look stern and forbidding,” said Grizel as she settled her short round body into the seat to the left of the high-backed oak chair Dougal usually occupied.

      “Exactly.” СКАЧАТЬ