My Lady Captor. Hannah Howell

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СКАЧАТЬ asked Neil as she sprawled in the chair on Sorcha’s right.

      “Weel, ye may put in a word or two, Aunt Neil,” replied Sorcha. “I mean no discourtesy,” she told her other aunts.

      “None taken, m’dearling,” Bethia assured her. “Long ago I learned how imposing we seven sisters can be when we array ourselves as one against someone or something. Howbeit, Neil is the one who can hold onto that strength even when she speaks, putting hard steel behind her words. I fear the rest of us begin to waver when we talk.”

      “Here they come,” whispered Annot, who then clasped her hands in front of her and assumed a stony expression.

      Three Englishmen strode into the hall, followed by Robert and his son. Their steps faltered slightly as they caught sight of the seven women staring at them. Sorcha saw Robert quickly hide a grin and knew he understood what game she played. She saw two more well-armed men take up the post of guards on either side of the wide door. Robert left his son standing behind the three Englishmen and moved to stand on Sorcha’s right. She was glad of his presence as she met the cold, steel gray eyes of the tallest of the three men.

      “I am Sir Simon Treacher, and these are my men, Thomas and William,” announced the man, his voice as cold as his eyes. “I am here to discuss the ransoming of Sir Dougal Hay. He is your liege lord?”

      “He is,” replied Sorcha, fighting the urge to shift nervously beneath his steady look. “What are your terms?”

      “You expect me to discuss such a matter with women?”

      “If ye want your blood money—aye. I am Sir Dougal’s closest kin, his only sister.”

      “Ah, you are the Lady Sorcha Hay.”

      “I am.”

      “He said I would need to deal with you, but I assumed he was jesting. In England we do not allow women to play the lord of the keep, nor to take a part in such manly business.”

      “’Tis probably why your twice-cursed country is in such disarray,” muttered Neil, glaring at the man. Simon ignored her, but the sharp lines of his long, narrow face grew noticeably tighter.

      “Sir Dougal also mentioned a Neil Hay,” he drawled, hinting that Dougal had not said anything he considered complimentary. “I believe I would prefer to discuss the ransom arrangements with a man.”

      “Ye may prefer it, sir, but I fear ye will be disappointed,” said Sorcha. She waved her hand toward Aunt Neil. “This is indeed Neil Hay, Dougal’s aunt. Now, do ye wish to discuss Dougal’s ransoming with his sister or his aunt?”

      “His sister,” the man spat. “M’lady”—his tiny bow was riddled with mockery—“shall we begin?”

      Sorcha nodded, mildly amused by his irritation. She ordered a page to fetch a bench for the men to sit on as well as wine for them to drink. Her amusement faded quickly when Sir Simon named his terms. He wanted a great deal for Dougal’s life. For one solid hour they bartered, always polite, yet each determined to win the bargaining. At one point Neil rose to her feet in anger, slamming her fist on the table, sending several tankards bouncing hazardly close to a fall, and causing all three Englishmen to forget their manners, staring at her in gaping wonder. Sorcha took quick advantage of their astonishment, but only gained a small decrease in the ransom.

      Throughout the negotiations Sorcha’s unease grew. Sir Simon Treacher only took his eyes off her once—when Neil stood up in all her infuriated glory. The man was certainly trying to use the power of his unblinking gaze to make her bow to his demands, but there was more. As he bargained, a gleam of interest entered his eyes, a hungry look that made her skin crawl. She fought the urge to concede to his demands just to make him leave. Robert’s increasingly dark look told Sorcha she was not imagining Sir Simon’s lecherous stare.

      When the negotiations were complete, the price and the place of exchange agreed to, Sorcha rose from her seat. She eyed Sir Simon’s approach and extended hand warily, but could not ignore him. Such an insult could easily cost Dougal his life. He took her hand, slowly drew it to his lips, and kissed her fingers. There was nothing specifically offensive in the way he kissed her hand, but she could not shake the feeling she had just suffered an unwelcome advance. The moment he left, she sat down, poured herself some mead, and took a long restoring drink of the sweet honey wine.

      “I feel as if I have just been privy to a seduction,” muttered Robert as he helped himself to some mead.

      “Aye,” agreed Neil, scowling at the door. “That Sassenach wriggled in here like the adder he is and was eager to coil himself around our Sorcha.”

      “How verra colorfully put, Aunt Neil.” Sorcha sighed, slumping in the chair and idly drumming her fingers on the ornately carved arm. “Between his looks and his touch, I do feel almost ravished.”

      “Mayhap someone else should go to the meeting to pay for Dougal’s release.”

      “Nay, Aunt. I must go. The English may scorn the idea of a woman dabbling in a mon’s business, but they understand that I act as laird in Dougal’s place. They could deem it an insult if I send someone they consider an underling. And, if they dinnae see the emissary they expect, they could also fear a trick, and that would endanger Dougal.”

      “Aye,” said Robert, “and we cannae afford to insult the English. They need no new reason to raid our lands.” He looked at Sorcha. “Howbeit, that mon looked too eager to get his hands on you. Ye will go to that meeting with at least four men and Neil. ’Tisnae a big enough force to cause any alarm or insult to those cursed English, but enough to make Sir Simon Treacher think again about attempting to sate his lust for you.”

      “Mayhap ye are right, although I dinnae like the idea of taking men away from Dunweare.”

      “We can spare them. Now, ye had best prepare the message ye wish to send to the Kerrs of Gartmhor.”

      “I shall take great pleasure in throttling my brother when next I see him.”

      “Sorcha, I cannae find Beatham,” Margaret cried as she raced into the hall, not slowing in her reckless pace until she stumbled to a graceless halt in front of the table.

      “I dinnae think he has escaped,” Sorcha said as Neil handed the disheveled Margaret a tankard of mead.

      “Then where is he? He certainly isnae in his chamber.”

      “The lad was up and about this morning,” said Neil. “He was also asking a great many questions about his cousin Sir Ruari.”

      “Have ye looked in Sir Ruari’s chamber, Margaret?” Sorcha asked.

      “Oh. Nay.” Margaret gulped down her mead and headed out of the great hall.

      “If ye dinnae find him there, we shall begin a search,” Sorcha called after her cousin.

      “Mayhap ye ought to go with her,” suggested Robert.

      “As soon as I decide what message to send to the Kerrs, I will go and see what our prisoners are doing.” She sighed wearily and shook her head. “They are no doubt plotting an escape. The good Lord clearly feels I dinnae have enough trouble upon my table.”

      “I dinnae think ye look weel enough to attempt СКАЧАТЬ