“Shame on ye, sir.” But her expression held no scolding. In fact, her look reminded him of the slyness of a cat about to pounce. “I am widowed naught but a few months, and yet ye would request my kiss? What would my clan think of such behavior?”
“I dinna think ye give a rat’s arse what yer clan thinks.” Valan dared to smooth an escaped strand of her silky hair away from her face. “If ye did, I hardly think yerself and yer daughter would wear armor and defend yer lands with the fury and vigor of any man.”
Her lips twitched, but the subtle glint in her eyes convinced him it was because she wished to hide her amusement rather than anger. With a flip of her heavy braid, she stepped aside and resumed her course toward the gatehouse. “I shall await ye in my hall, Valan. Dinna tarry too long.”
“Never ye fear, m’lady. I willna keep ye waiting.” He admired her form as she walked away, wishing the wind would settle enough to stop the torchlight’s flickering and allow the light to better outline her every curve.
“No losses,” William said from behind him. “Who is the armored lass?”
“Our hostess,” Valan said. He faced William after the beguiling woman disappeared inside the castle’s walls. “The Lady Elspet Maxwell.”
“The way our liege spoke, I thought the laird’s wife to be aged and helpless.” William stepped to one side, squinting at the gatehouse as if willing the stones of the fortification to reveal the lady within. “What of the daughter?”
“Lovely as her mother and more interested in the skills of sword, bow, and lance than in stitchery and cooking.” He clapped a hand on William’s shoulder. “Bear in mind our Lord of Argyll answers to his wife, Lady Christiana, and Lady Elspet is her close cousin. While I know our forces are needed here, I believe there is more to this quest than we are aware.” He squeezed William’s shoulder again and shook it. “Mind yerself and mind the men. I fear the wrath of the Lady of Argyll more than I fear the MacDougall. For the sake of us all, we must remain watchful.”
“I shall remind each of them of yer order to leave the women alone.” William thumped his fist to his chest. “Where shall I have the tents set?”
“No tents.” Valan pulled in a deep breath, then hissed it out between his teeth as he aimed a single nod at the triangular-shaped castle. “We shall stay within those walls. The great hall is to be ours. Lady Elspet assured me there is room.” He scanned the dark woods and rolling landscape surrounding the clearing around the castle. “Our watches from the battlements shall rotate to keep the men fresh, as well as ease any cramped conditions inside the hall or the courtyard. Since I have seen no villagers other than those fighting from the rooftops here, I wager they’re sheltering inside the castle as well.”
“I believe we almost outnumber the remaining Maxwells,” William said. “After Gordon sent the supply wagons inside, he joined our wee tussle with the English curs. He reported verra few in the castle. Their laird left less than needed to guard these lands. ’Tis a wonder it hasna fallen to the enemy afore now.”
A testament to Lady Elspet’s vigilance. Valan looked forward to knowing the beguiling woman better. Few intrigued him. But she did. “See that all are within the walls soon. I prefer to surprise the English when they attack during the day.”
“Ye dinna think they’ll suspect something when those who attacked tonight dinna return?”
Valan allowed himself a wicked smile as he strode toward the castle. “I dinna ken. But I look forward to confirming their suspicions come daybreak.”
“M’lord!” Marcas, his provisions knave who cooked, cleaned, and offered herbal remedies better than any wise woman of the woods, stepped out of the shadows. “Will ye be housing with the men or in separate quarters?” His narrow face tightened. “I see fresh blood on yer mail. How bad is yer injury, m’lord?”
“’Tis naught but a scratch, and Lady Elspet insists on tending it since it was she who inflicted it.”
Marcas halted. His eyes flared wide, pushing his bushy brows to his thinning hairline.
Valan laughed. Marcas guarded his position as the constable’s provisions knave with the jealousy of a new mistress. “Ye can examine her handiwork once I return to the main hall. ’Tis there where we shall settle, aye? Tell Niall as well so he can see to my armor. ’Twill need a good oiling after all this rain.”
Marcas relaxed somewhat, enough to give a respectful bob of his head before bending to pick up the small trunk of herbs and healing tools he trusted no one to carry other than himself. “I shall see to everything, m’lord. As I always do.”
“I know ye will.” Valan made his way through the rest of the small village before anything or anyone else detained him. He looked forward to seeing Lady Elspet again and wished for no further delays. As he entered the gatehouse, he noticed the advanced age of both guards and the weariness lining their gaunt faces. He also noticed the relief in their eyes. This pair looked ready to drop to their knees and give thanks. “How many hours have ye been at this post?” he asked the white-haired man on the right.
With a sad smile, the old warrior shook his head. “I dinna ken, m’lord, and it doesna matter. My laird assigned me to this post, and here I shall stay as long as I am able.” He pointed at a maid waiting at the far end of the corridor that opened into the courtyard. “Lady Elspet said to watch for ye. That there’s Dullis. Waitin’ to lead ye to her apartments.”
Valan decided to test the exhausted man’s capabilities. “And how do ye ken I am the one Lady Elspet said to watch for? How do ye know I am nay a spy?”
The elder gave him a toothless grin, then winked at the other guard. “She said ye was braw enough to tote a pair of fat Highland bulls. One thrown over each shoulder.” He nodded. “I reckon that be yerself.”
“She also said ye had long hair brighter than the whitest moonlight. Not from age, mind ye, but Viking blood.” The guard on the left forced his bent body to straighten and gave a curt nod. “We may be long in the tooth, m’lord, but we still be as sharp as well-honed blades.”
The guard on the right jerked a thumb toward the fidgeting maid. “Best be on yer way, m’lord, or Dullis will have all our arses.”
Valan strode to the end of the tunnel-like entrance and glanced around the triangular courtyard. The silent, stern-faced maid didn’t say a word or greet him with any show of respect. She simply whirled about and headed for the timber forestair leading to the upper floors. He ignored her insolence, blaming it on the wearing nature of the long siege. No matter. Her rudeness gave him permission to take his time and assess the surroundings.
He noted the kitchens, stores, a stone wellhouse, and a stable that appeared to include a small smithy’s forge. The buildings attached to the interior of the reddish-hued sandstone skirting walls created a compact township as complete as the outside village beyond the moat. A pair of towers flanked the impressive gatehouse housing the guard’s barracks and portcullis room. It looked to have room enough for prison cells as well. The imposing structure at the head of the castle created a wallhead battlement at the top that would supply a commanding view of the lands. Two more towers rose at the south end of the courtyard. Even though the castle had but three sides, the gatehouse at its front enabled the fortress four towers.
“M’lord,” Dullis called out from the landing in the first turn of the forestair. “Her ladyship waits.”
“So, she does.” Valan took the wooden steps two at a time, sending the older maid scurrying up the stairs in front of him.
The harried woman, glaring at him as if ready to snap his neck, set her narrow shoulder against the massive arched door and bounced it open. After patting her simple white fillet and veil back in place, Dullis adopted a strained smile that turned her soured, wrinkled expression into a nauseating grimace. “Lady Elspet, are ye certain ye dinna wish to wait ’til morning to receive visitors? Ye’ve slept nary a wink in days.”
