Thinking that just might take his mind off these unsettling questions and considerations, Sebastien nodded. As they crossed the yard and he called for Philippe, intending to give him instructions, the rain stopped and the winds died down. Most of the men who’d been staying in the yard had been moved, those still injured into the hall, and the rest to Robert’s camp. Still, a crowd began gathering as word spread of their plan.
Philippe helped him off with his mail and the hauberk beneath it, and then handed him his sword. Asking permission for both him and Malcolm to stay and watch, he yelled happily when Sebastien granted it. Philippe moved off to one side of the yard and pulled Malcolm, who’d just arrived at Sebastien’s orders, along with him. At his nod, the guard he’d assigned stood behind the boys.
“Well, Sebastien, are you feeling confident?” Hugh taunted him, swinging his weapon very close and motioning for him to strike first.
Sebastien laughed out loud and directed an insult at his friend. With that, the fight was on. Though thoroughly soaked by the rain, Sebastien was able to move more easily without the heavy mail encasing him. Hugh met him blow for blow, feint for feint and move for move. Their footwork was not the best or smoothest—the heavy rain had turned the yard into a muddy quagmire and they both slipped and fell several times.
But the fight continued until they were so covered in mud they could no longer see each other. They tossed their swords down and continued to fight hand to hand until they could no longer take hold of their opponent. Although the onlookers grumbled about the fight being a draw, Sebastien and Hugh promised a better one once the yard dried out. As they strode out to use the water of the firth to remove the mud, Philippe and Malcolm ran after them, talking excitedly about the fight. Sebastien would work against the quiet resistance that Malcolm’s sister offered by including the lad in Phillippe’s assignments and introducing him to knightly training. The boy was quite interested in swordplay.
As though the thought of her had conjured her up, Sebastien glanced up at the tower and spied Lara gazing from a window in their chambers. He raised his sword to her and watched as she stepped back until he could see her no more. Shaking his head, he turned to Hugh and the boys, and went out to clean up before entering the hall.
Chapter Eight
The door opened and he stood before her, looking much the same as he had the night of their wedding. Not the brutish soldier she’d watched fight in the mud earlier this day. Nay, this was a man whose bearing cried out of noble blood coursing through his veins. A man who defined good breeding. Yet, as far as she could discover, he was simply a knight, one of unknown or at least questionable origins, who had risen in favor with his king as a direct result of his skills.
She shuddered as she remembered seeing his strength displayed in the yard. Both men had removed their hauberks and mail and fought in only their trews and boots. That same strength was now hidden beneath his raiment.
“Are you chilled, lady?” he asked as he held out his arm to her. “There is a fire in the solar to take away the coolness.”
“I am not cold, just a bit tired.”
“Then I will not keep you long from your…bed.”
She heard the smile in his voice as he spoke of her resting place. Lara could still not figure out how he moved her each night to the bed, and not once had she awakened. She walked at his side, down the steps to the solar, and was surprised by what she found there. The room had been transformed, a small table now in the center, covered with linen and plates and goblets for their use, with a chair on each side. Candles were lit and a fire did indeed burn in the hearth, chasing away the dampness of the day.
Her stomach warned her by its tenseness that this would be no simple meal. Why had she thought this a good idea? When Malcolm returned safely to their rooms, she had decided to accept Sebastien’s invitation. After sending word through Philippe, Lara had worried the rest of the day about how to gain the information she needed from this enigmatic man.
They paused for a moment, not entering the room, and then he continued to walk down the steps, guiding her to the entrance to the hall.
“Sir? Do we not eat in the solar?” she asked.
“I thought after being closed up inside these last days, that you might enjoy a walk along the battlements? The sky has cleared and the evening is actually quite pleasant and we have some time before our meal is ready.”
He spoke in a voice that could tempt an angel into sin. Did he know how unsettled she’d been by her walk to the chapel? Both the path there and then meeting her cousin had terrified her. She wanted desperately to walk; truly, she wanted to run to release the tension within her.
“I confess, sir, that you have discovered my weakness. I detest the uselessness and inactivity of these last days. I would indeed like to take a walk.”
Although she knew the route in the dark with her eyes closed, she allowed him to lead her out of the hall and up the stairs near the south tower, to the battlements. There was a path around the entire perimeter of the castle, and from it, when the weather cooperated, one could see the best views of the firth to the west and south and Loch Linnhe to the north. Reaching the top, Lara let go of his arm and walked to the crenellated edge of one of the stone walls. Leaning forward, she looked out at the woods where the chapel lay, and toward the open expanses of land to the southeast, where the Bruce’s forces camped.
“I have something to discuss with the guards, Lara. Walk ahead if you’d like.” He waited for her answer and when she nodded, he turned and approached the guards patrolling the walls.
A taste of a freedom she no longer had, she thought as she walked away as fast as she could without appearing to be running. Not that she could escape him if she wanted to, but being alone here was a relief. She held the crispinette that covered her braided hair in place as she turned into the wind, but not even that slowed her pace. Breathing deeply, she allowed the winds that swept over these heights to push against her until she turned a corner and the winds were at her back.
Laughing, Lara continued her brisk speed, returning to where she’d left Sebastien much sooner than she wished. He was still speaking with the guards, so she resumed her path, not stopping until she reached the place farthest from him. There she stood and leaned over, looking at the boats that could be used to cross the firth or the loch. Many more than her father usually had, this was a small fleet at the ready for some use. Guards circled, protecting the boats from any attack—or sabotage?
Soon, as the sun dropped lower to the west, the winds turned colder and she began to shiver. Still, she would rather be cold than inside, so she did not leave the spot. Instead, she sat between two of the crenellations and closed her eyes.
“You are making my men nervous, lady.”
She opened her eyes and found Sebastien standing before her, holding a cloak. “How so, sir?”
“Your hurried pace and the way you dare to hang over the side of the walls.”
“This is my home, sir. I have climbed these walls from the time I was a child.” She realized it sounded as though she could climb down the two-score-and-five-feet-tall walls of stone. Well, she could, but that was not something he needed to know.
“Mayhap that was something better left unsaid?”
“Ah, you mistook my words, sir. I mean that I have walked this path all my life. I am quite comfortable moving around on these battlements.” She stood and stepped away from the edge, an action that placed her nearer to him.
