Chapter Nineteen
It was a shameless act, performed before so many that it could not be denied later when she came to her senses. So blatant as to not be mistaken for anything else. Lara’s face flamed now even thinking on it.
Three days had passed since he’d left in the night from her bed to go off on this mission of the king’s. Three long days and three torturous nights when she’d lain awake and worried about what her father and cousin were arranging to thwart the Bruce’s, and her husband’s, plans.
She’d managed well enough in the light of day. After ordering one of the carpenters to work on her new piece of furniture, she set herself to work on the other things needed. Keeping her hands busy somehow made it bearable, and the thoughts of the terrible things that could happen to Sebastien did not take hold until the night.
Her dreams were filled with images of his broken and torn body being dropped at her feet by Eachann. Her father was there as well, calling her all the foul names that the Bruce’s soldiers had used against her. When she ran from them, they were behind her or in front of her and to her side. The third time she woke up screaming loudly enough to draw Margaret’s attention, she knew sleep would escape her grasp until Sebastien was home safely.
Malcolm and Philippe took to avoiding her—the lack of sleep and the constant worrying over Sebastien made her a miserable companion. Catriona was using her favorite word again, but now used it to refer to Lara’s mood. Lara knew she should have more patience toward the child; however, at the tenth use of that word she lost any hope of decorum and ordered her out of the keep. She knew that Sir Hugh had quietly countermanded her orders, but she chose to ignore that.
She’d almost succeeded in regaining control over herself when that damned James Douglas arrived. Just his appearance was bad enough in her eyes, but when he sat at her table, in Sebastien’s seat, and would say nothing to her about her husband’s condition or whereabouts, she threatened to use one of Philippe’s training swords on his “valuable bits.” After crossing himself and then making a hasty retreat, he relocated himself and his men to the barracks outside the castle walls.
Then Sebastien was there, just off to the west in the firth, heading for the shore and the dock. He stood in the boat and waved—she was sure it was to her as she watched from the battlements—but she could not raise her arm in greeting. Instead, just as he stepped off the boat and was welcomed by Hugh and James and Etienne, she crumpled on the stone walkway and sobbed so hard that she lost her breath.
Lara heard his voice in the yard and tried to stand. One of the guards came running to her and helped her, crying out to Sebastien at the same time. She was on her feet when Sebastien reached the battlements and called out her name. Leaning against the wall and uncertain of what his true mission had been, she said what came to mind first.
“Did you kill my father this time?”
Horrified at the insult, she put up her hands to fend him off. Then, even worse, with everyone watching from the yard and from the battlements, she called out to him.
“And I do not love you!”
He continued his direct path to her and waved the guards off as he neared her. Putting his hands on his hips, he challenged her. “Oh, yes you do, lass. And I love you, too.”
Overwhelmed and exhausted by worry and lack of sleep, she could not think of what to do or say next. She stood and waited for him to make some move. All he did was hold out his arms, and she ran to him. Jumping into his embrace, she wrapped herself around him and just breathed him in.
“Here now, love,” he whispered to her. “I know it has been difficult for you since I’ve been gone.”
She leaned into the curve of his shoulder and let his strength seep into her. “I have not slept since you left. I have offended most of your men and all of my family. And I chased James Douglas out of my keep.”
“So I heard. James appealed to me on the docks and said he would not enter until I did something about you.”
“He said that?” Now that Sebastien was holding her, none of it seemed important. “’Twas his fault, after all. Sitting in your place and not speaking a word about you.” She shook her head. “Oh, Sebastien, it has been horrendous without you.Ihave been horrendous.”
“So, Cat still uses that word? You have not been able to entice her from it with something new?” She shook her head again. “Come, then. Now that I am home we will have to try.”
He walked down the stairs, through the hall and then back up to their chambers without ever letting her go. It was a shameful display, both her actions and her words, but most especially the way that she clung to him as though she were a clinging vine on his wall.
No one spoke as they passed by. Finally, they were in their chambers, and she knew he’d seen her gift as soon as he began to laugh. He released her legs and she tried to stand. It took her a few times before she was able to let him go. Then, the expression on his face was worth all her efforts.
It was one plank wider than her father’s chair, and deeper in the seat area. She’d sewn pillows and a cover for both this new one and the old one, and they made for much more comfortable sitting. She could see the exact moment when he thought of the use for such a chair.
“An excellent welcoming gift, but I fear I would not put it to good use this day.”
“Oh, Sebastien! I have not even given a thought to your needs.” She would never survive this kind of life with him—watching him leave on the king’s business and never knowing what he would face or if he would return to her.
“Etienne has set up food and drink for the men in the hall, love. Fret not over that.”
She scanned his body, from head to toe and back again. “Have you been injured? Did you lose any men?” She shook her head. “What happened at Glen Gour?”
He lifted his hauberk over his head and fussed with the mail under it. “Not much. We approached in the hour at dawn. Some of my men climbed the walls and overpowered the guards and opened the gates. When the laird woke to our swords at his throat, he surrendered.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Nay, not in taking a keep without losing a man. Just confused, for I expected more resistance. But,” he said, finally lifting the mail over his head with her help, “there is simply no way of knowing what to expect.”
“Do not your spies tell you those kinds of details?”
