By God's Grace Page 10

  Now the young woman sat across from him at the dinner table. With a dumbfounded expression, he stared. The thought struck him, How did she get past the guard? In all honesty, he couldn’t say he was loath to see her. In fact, it was just the opposite. Since the tournament and taking residence in the keep, they’d had absolutely no time to get to know one another. Why, he didn’t even know her favorite color.

  After her bodily discharge, Duncan leaned over to Grant. “Ye switch places with Arbella. Now.”

  Grant argued, “But, my laird, my food is already here, and this is my seat at the table.”

  Duncan glared, whispering through gritted teeth, “If ye wish to have children at some point in yer miserable future, then get Arbella over here!”

  Grant smiled, pushing just a little more before giving in. “But my laird, she appears to be having a joyous time with Boyd.”

  Indeed she did. Boyd must have told her something entertaining. Her face was lit with laughter, and tears streamed from her eyes. The men at the table were loud. He had no idea what they were talking about, and he didn’t care. Arbella should not be making those expressions for anyone but him.

  “Grant, I am not jesting with ye. Bring Arbella over here now.”

  “Aye, my laird.” Grant scooted back his chair and headed over to Arbella. The melodious laughter increased the closer he got.

  “Boyd, that did not happen.”

  “Aye, but it did.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I believe you, but it does make for some jolly entertainment.”

  “Jolly, ye say?”

  “Aye, jolly.”

  “Are ye English, lass?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “How can ye be not exactly English? Ye sure sound English.”

  Grant took his own sweet time collecting Arbella. Duncan squirmed. His second was just standing there like he was eavesdropping on Arbella and Boyd’s conversation. Duncan could have told him it wasn’t necessary. The two of them were so loud their conversation could be heard from anywhere in the room.

  “My father was Jameson Kincade, and my mother was Marie Sutton.”

  “Yer father was one of the Kincade three?” Boyd asked, aghast.

  “Aye.”

  “Is he the one who married the English singer, the English farm girl, or the English milk maid?”

  Arbella snickered. “I see my family’s reputation precedes me. My mother was the English singer. They were all three sisters, just as the men are all three brothers.”

  “Aye, that would explain yer speech.”

  “Not really. My mother died while in childbirth. I actually lived here for the first five years of my life. Although I don’t remember it, I was close to Duncan and his sister Alison.”

  “Duncan, is it?”

  “But, of course. We are set to be married. Although ‘set’ might not be the best way to put it, since we don’t officially have a date.”

  “Wait just a minute. Ye are saying ye are the lass who won the games and named yerself as Duncan’s future bride?”

  “I am.”

  “That would explain a lot.”

  “Explain what?”

  “Well, lass, don’t ye feel the laird’s eyes boring a hole into ye? Don’t ye see Grant hovering close by with his food in hand?”

  “I admit I have felt Duncan’s eyes upon me since he heard me give my name. But I just thought maybe he was jealous that I was sitting next to a charming, handsome man such as yourself.”

  Arbella’s speech contained a hint of jest. And Boyd leaned his head back and roared with laughter. When he finished, he glanced back at her. “I like ye.”

  “Well thank you, Boyd. I think I like you as well.” Arbella didn’t have time to say more. Duncan grasped her arm and jerked her out of the chair.

  “What are ye doing?” He whispered, not wishing to embarrass her in front of the men.

  She smiled sweetly. “Having dinner.”

  “Now Arbella—” Duncan began.

  But Boyd cut him off. “Duncan, why have ye been hiding this little gem from us?”

  “Ye only just arrived, and I have hardly had time to tell ye.”

  “Let the little lass sit with me. We were just getting to know one another.”

  “Nay, Boyd.”

  Arbella spoke, “I believe I prefer this seat. Boyd seems to enjoy my company.”

  Duncan clenched his teeth. “I said nay. Besides, I believe Grant wishes to speak with him.”

  Arbella looked at Grant and asked, “Is this true, Grant? Do you need to have speech with Boyd?”

  “Well, I, um… my lady, I believe I do.” The anger radiating from Duncan’s pores was tangible. Boyd should’ve felt it, but he didn’t appear to be as afraid of his cousin as perhaps he should be. He stood up to argue, but before another word could pass, Duncan slammed a fist into his face. Boyd flew across the room and landed flat on his bum.

  Arbella stifled a gasp. “Duncan Sinclair, what has gotten into you?”

  Boyd laughed. “Probably what has always been in him.”

  Duncan sent Arbella a look meant to send cold chills down her spine before he addressed the other men at the table. “Let me make myself clear. This is Arbella Kincade, and she is going to marry me a sennight from today. If anyone of ye men would like to meet me in the lists after dinner, then feel free to be extra friendly with her. Otherwise treat her with the respect due the laird’s wife, and ye will keep all ye vital organs in place.”

  After the speech, he grabbed Arbella’s hand and pulled her back to Grant’s abandoned seat. With an unceremonious flopping sound, Duncan sat and began eating his own meal. The rest of the men slowly joined in.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tamara was still up when Arbella waltzed back into the room. Without asking questions, the maid helped her remove her clothing and loose her hair. This freed her to review the evening’s events.

  Tavis was to be chastised for allowing her initial escape. Of course, this couldn’t be allowed. Arbella needed a way to convince Duncan not to discipline the innocent guard.

  A swift intake of breath rushed past her lips as she remembered her technique.

  Duncan leaned forward, mentioning the lateness of the hour, and that she should retire. Since her eyes were barely held open, she’d readily agreed. Their hands were clasped, as they walked up the stairs side-by-side. The warmth fanned through her fingers, her hand, up her arm, and over her whole body.

  When they were out of sight, Duncan pushed her against the wall and held her body in place. Hands rested on either side of her head as he leaned down, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered, “Did ye have a good time tonight?”

  She leaned forward, a hot burst of breath hit his neck as she whispered her answer. “I had a lovely evening.”

  She felt his pulse as he planted a kiss at the base of her neck. A giggle escaped as she shrugged her shoulder. “That tickles.”

  A look of offense crossed his face. “Humph. I was expecting a different reaction.”

  In a manner that didn’t seem quite her own, she grabbed a handful of his buttock, lowered her voice, and leaned in close. “You will get that reaction after the wedding.”

  As soon as it had happened, it was over. With her spine straight and her eyes glancing forward, she placed her hand back to her side. “You’re not going to punish Tavis, are you?”

  Reeling from the bold touch and the comment, he shook his head as if in a daze. Arbella stifled the laugh. The poor man didn’t seem to remember who Tavis was, let alone why he needed punishment.

  “Nay,” was croaked out.

  “Good, because Tavis doesn’t need to be punished.” After speaking, she raised her hand and straightened his crooked collar. On tiptoes she gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek and added, “See you tomorrow.”

  She left him standing alone in the hallway. With a blank gaze, he’d stared at the opposite wall, unmoving.

  The spell broke when Tamara asked, “Ho
w was it?”

  Arbella tapped her finger to her forehead. “It was grand.”

  Tamara’s brow rose. “Grand, ye say? Ye did eat at the huge table with a bunch of unruly Scotsmen, right?”

  The looking glass reflected her face splitting into a wide grin. “Aye, I did. And it was great fun.”

  “Ye will have to explain that one, my lady.”

  She laughed, “I would be delighted to give you details. But first, how did Tavis fare?”

  “Well, he was fine for a time. Then he started to worry, rollin’ his hands together and pacin’ something fierce. I was mighty afraid he was going to rub a hole right through the hallway floor. So I invited him in.”

  Shock tinged her voice, “You didn’t!”

  “I did. I had him sit down on that there stool, and I gave him a back rub.”

  “Tamara!”

  The sixteen year old giggled. “Well, it stopped his worrying, didna it? Besides, he is mighty handsome.”

  “But — but, you’re sixteen!”

  Tamara shrugged. “So are half my friends, and they are married with babes on the way. But it was innocent enough, so don’t worry. He left after the rubbin’ and went back to his pacin’. What did he do when he saw ye come back to the door?”

  “Oh, just glared and said, ‘Ye are back?’ I told him ‘Of course I’m back. I just went to dinner!’”

  “Is Laird Duncan goin’ to punish him?”

  “I don’t believe so, but if he does, it won’t be tonight,” Arbella said with a wink.

  A look of curiosity spread across Tamara’s face, but Arbella wasn’t about to share.

  ****

  Duncan leaned back against the wall and allowed Arbella to continue into her room with nothing but his eyes upon her. She was a very beautiful woman. Hips swayed innocently as she walked. Her company at the table had been pleasant. This whole time worry had plagued him, but her happy attitude had eased some of his fears.

  Limbs rested limply against the wall at the memory of Arbella’s smile. The lass no doubt believed she’d saved Tavis from punishment, and maybe she had. Truth be told, the punishment of Tavis couldn’t have happened now if he wished it. Complete worthlessness assailed him.

  What had his men thought of his future bride? Boyd certainly approved. If he failed to accomplish his husbandly duties, the Sinclair cousin would have no reservations about stepping in and picking up the slack. The others had seemed quite comfortable as well.

  When Lyall ate dinner with Cainneach, the men had been reserved and sullen, never saying more than an “aye” or “nay”. Vast differences were seen with Arbella. He would dare to say they had been themselves. Of course Arbella had set the tone with her less-than-feminine display. The men may have never seen a women do such at the table and probably thought they never would again. It was obvious Arbella had taken special care to appear normal in front of the men.

  Questions plagued him, like what did Arbella think of them? She was probably complaining this very moment to Tamara about how rude the Scots behaved.

  ****

  “Tamara, they were so, so… likeable.”

  Tamara shook her head. “Ye are talkin’ about a burly group of Scots that cut people to pieces for any offense, aye?”

  “Of course, they are a little rough around the edges, but they have such character.”

  “Character, is that what ye call it?”

  “Aye, I do. I had the most marvelous time. Ever since I can remember, it has been just me and my father, or me and my aunt and uncle. Dinner was a quiet, solemn affair. Since we were together all day doing chores around the house or farm, there was nothing new to discuss. Therefore words were seldom spoken. Our energies were saved for work. But having dinner with the men downstairs made me feel like I belonged to a family.”

  ****

  Duncan was headed back to the dinner table when Lyall appeared. What was it with the guards this night? Were none of them competent enough to protect a few helpless ladies?

  “Duncan, I must have speech with ye.”

  “Lyall, how did ye get past yer guard?”

  “Ye haven’t spoken to me in days, and now when I see ye, all ye can say to me is ‘How did ye pass yer guard?’”

  “Aye, that is all I have to say to ye. Now go back to yer rooms. I am tired and don’t feel like having speech.”

  “Nay, I willna leave yer side until ye listen to me.”

  Duncan sighed. He wasn’t in the correct frame of mind to argue. It was probably better to just get it over with. “All right, Lyall, what is yer current concern?”

  Sarcasm coated her voice as she bowed. “Thanks for taking time to listen to my paltry issues, my laird and master.”

  Raking his hand through his hair, he waited until she looked at him before saying, “Lyall, I understand ye are not happy with yer situation, but I do have important issues of my own to attend to. So if ye will please continue with yer problems, I would be most grateful.”

  Spine stiff and shoulders straight, she said, “I want to go home.”

  Duncan sighed. “Ye are home.”

  Lyall stomped her foot. “Nay, ye are not listenin’. I want to go to my home.”

  His brows knitted together. “Back to yer father’s keep?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t feel safe here. Ye have murderers running rampant that ye canna seem to catch. And ye have guards keeping me locked up all the time. I believe I would have more freedom with my father.”

  “Verra well.”

  Etched upon her face was an expression conveying hurt. “So that is it. Just ‘Verra well’. Ye don’t even care if I go, do ye?”

  “Nay, Lyall, I don’t care.”

  “Ye know Cainneach never loved me.”

  Duncan refused to take the bait. “Ye never let Cainneach love ye.”

  Hands shot forward to grab him, but he moved away. They fluttered back to her body. “How could ye expect me to love Cainneach when I loved ye?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Lyall, ye love no one but yerself. I told ye even before ye married Cainneach, I had no desire to be yer husband, and I still have no desire to be yer husband.”

  “But ye never gave me a chance,” Lyall begged.

  “We were never meant to be,” he said as easily as possible. Then added, “Ye may go to yer father’s home tomorrow. I will send men along to protect ye.”

  She turned, showing him her back. “Don’t bother. I will just borrow a horse and go on my own.”

  He grabbed her arm to stay her. “Nay, ye willna. Ye are still a Sinclair, and we protect our own.”

  She pulled free and headed back to her room. Her laughter echoed as she left.

  Duncan needed to do something about Lyall and soon. She was too vocal in her feelings for him, and although they were not reciprocated, she could still cause problems between him and Arbella. The request to leave the keep was probably the best for all.

  ****

  Lyall returned to her room and kicked the sleeping guard. He did nothing more than make a loud snoring sound. Good for nothing Sinclair! Admittedly, the sleeping herb added to his ale was the cause of his inanimate form, but Lyall still blamed him for resting on post.

  “Lazy Sinclair dog,” she mumbled, going in the room and closing the door.

  Sori waited for her. Sori had been named for a group of spores that grew on the underside of a fern frond. If ingested at the wrong time, these spores could make a person extremely ill. Sori loved to believe enough of her company would sicken even those with the strongest of constitutions. Thus her name.

  “Well, what did he say to yer request?” asked Sori.

  “It was granted,” Lyall whispered.

  “Excellent.”

  Lyall sat on the stool, facing the looking glass. Her head was cradled in her hand. A wistful sigh escaped. “How can this be good? He is fine with me leaving. Canna ye see he is trying to get rid of me so he can have
more time with the Kincade lass?”

  “It is of little importance.”

  “How can ye be so flippant? I need a husband for — for the babe.”

  “If ye had used the husband ye had in the correct manner, then ye wouldn’t be wailing about a husband now. Cainneach was an infinitely more attractive man than Duncan.”

  “Sori, I don’t care for yer opinion on their looks, or their personalities, or any other opinion ye have on them. In fact, I don’t care about any opinion ye have on anything at the moment. Just go away.”

  “As ye wish.”

  As soon as she left, Lyall regretted Sori’s absence. It left her lonelier than ever. The babe kicked. Her stomach growled. She’d yet to eat dinner.

  After dinner, packing for the long trip would ensue. Too bad she no longer had an accomplice to leave behind. Fantasy after fantasy about the damage she could have executed, even while not in attendance, floated across her mind, her lips twitching in excitement.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The evening was finished in the company of Sinclair family. After much conversation with the returning cousins, Boyd and Filib, he retired alone to his room. There was a temptation to seek Arbella’s company, but he decided to forego the enticement her presence was sure to present.

  The night lasted forever. Tossing and turning was no way to rest. When day broke, Duncan was more exhausted than before. Covers cast out of the way, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and placed his feet on the floor. Sunlight filtered through a tiny crack in the wooden shutters. Soon Lyall would leave the keep. Once she was gone, the wedding planning would begin in earnest.

  Dressed, Duncan sauntered downstairs. Lyall’s belongings were packed and loaded. Per his instructions, an armed escort surrounded the former mistress. Fortuitous for him, the lady didn’t balk.