“I do prefer just my name over the one that the English use.”
The men all laughed at this. Sebastien joined them and then turned to her. “He is truly the Black Douglas, called that for many reasons.” Sebastien lifted his goblet in a salute to the man on his left and called out, “A Douglas! A Douglas!”
James’s men all stood at once, lifting their tankards high and answering back the same chant in thunderous voices. The hall shook with the intensity. Lara glanced around the table and saw that every person stared at James, including Malcolm, who watched from his place behind the table with Philippe. Instead of fear, excitement and awe filled his face.
Stunned by it, she looked around at the other MacDougall servants and villagers who’d stayed on at Dunstaffnage. All joined in the revelry. Was she now the only one carrying on the fight? Then she felt Sebastien’s hand on hers under the cover of the table and she met his gaze.
“All will be well, Lara. Truly,” he said, trying to reassure her with his words and a gentle squeeze of her fingers.
She could say nothing, so she sipped from her goblet and watched as the hall quieted and the people went back to their meal. Exhaustion began to claim her and all she wanted to do was sleep.
“May I retire, my lord?” she asked in a low voice.
“Of course,” he answered, waving to Sir Hugh at the other table where he sat with Margaret, to bring the maid to her lady. “I will join you soon.”
He stood when she did, as did everyone in the hall. Startled by the sign of respect, she left the table and sought the comfort of her chambers. So many things were changing in her life and she did not know how to deal with all of them. Unfortunately, her room held not the comfort she sought, for it presented her with more choices to make.
Lara stopped at the entryway and looked about. Her father’s chair stood on one side and the bed on the other. Where should she go? It seemed a farce for her to take her usual place in the chair, fully dressed, as she had each night since Sebastien’s arrival. She turned and looked at Margaret, who seemed as confused about what to do as she was.
“Help me wash and take down my hair, Margaret. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
“Aye, my lady,” the maid said as she crossed the room and gathered the things needed for her tasks.
With another glance at the bed, Lara sat on a bench placed near the hearth and accepted the linen cloth and soft soap from her maid. Once Lara had washed her face and hands in the basin held out to her, Margaret took the water away and returned with a brush. Lara allowed her thoughts to drift as first the snood was removed and then the intricate braids were loosened.
The maid’s long, sure brush strokes through her hair calmed her. The tension in her shoulders and in her back from meeting a dreaded enemy melted away. It was as her head drifted forward and her chin fell onto her chest that Margaret spoke.
“He is a good man,” she whispered. Lara was not certain if she defended Sebastien or Hugh until she continued. “I have watched how he treats the others of our clan who have remained behind. I think you are fortunate that he is your husband and lord now.”
“But my father was—”
“Pah! Your father would have sold you to the highest bidder. We both know who he had in mind for your bridegroom, my lady. And we both know how things would have gone for you married to such a rogue.”
Lara had not thought about the man her father had intended her to marry since the day Sebastien had arrived. Actually, her father had declared several men to be candidates for her husband, “to take the Maid of Lorne in hand and in control” were his words. Now, thinking on it, she realized the kind of life she might have had with another in Sebastien’s place. A shudder raced through her at such thoughts.
“My thanks, Margaret,” Lara whispered as she tried to shake herself from the images of what might have been. She allowed the relaxed state brought on by her maid’s sure hands and calming strokes to take over once more. After a few more minutes of silence, Margaret shook her gently.
“My lady, he is here.”
Lara discovered that Sebastien was indeed there. He stood in the doorway, staring at her with an intensity that nearly frightened her. Her mouth went dry and she swallowed several times, trying to moisten it.
“Here now, my lord,” Margaret said, walking to him. “Allow me to take that for you.”
Lara blinked and then noticed the tray in his hands. He carried some kind of broth, a small loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese there. He’d brought food here?
“I noticed that you did not eat much at table. ’Twas probably due to the company.” The corners of his mouth curved into a smile—an attractive smile that warmed her. Before continuing, he nodded to the maid, who took the tray and placed it on the table. “Hugh waits below stairs for you.”
“Margaret…”
Lara thought to stop her maid from making the same mistake she had, but from the expression of joy on Margaret’s face, it truly was too late. Sebastien closed the door behind her and leaned against it.
“They are in love.”
“Hugh is a mercenary who will travel all over the land, fighting wherever and whenever and for whomever can pay his fee. He will not marry her.” Her conviction was such that she shook with the words she spoke.
“They have a place here and wish to marry, but have feared asking your permission.”
His announcement, almost whispered, struck her like a blow. Margaret had said not a word of this to her. Lara had spoken to her maid on the subject many times and, in a strange way, she’d hoped that it was simple lust. Lust would be easier to recover from when the worst happened. She drew back from the hurt that Margaret had not confided in her, and looked at him.
