“Harder than I ever thought possible,” Sebastien answered. “I want this over and done so I can enjoy the fruits of my labors.”
“And the lady?” James added with a raised brow.
“And the lady,” he answered.
Her reaction was much better than he or anyone in Dunstaffnage thought could happen. She heard him out and accepted his words. She asked many, many questions and pointed out flaws in their plans. She repeated her concerns about their safety. But, she did not lose control as she had when last he left.
They spent their time preparing for his departure, and it was not until the night he went that she demonstrated how far they’d come in their love.
Lara had looked at him with horror in her eyes when he revealed his plan to take Philippe along on this mission. Between their uncontested raids on Glen Gour and Awe, and the presence of James and his men, Sebastien believed this would be an acceptable mission for his squire and soon-to-be knight-in-training to accompany his lord.
“Please, Sebastien, I beg you, do not take the boy.”
“Lara, ’tis his place and ’tis time for him to learn.”
She knelt before him and took hold of his hand. “My lord, my father and my cousin are ruthless and will stop at nothing to kill you.”
“How do you know this?” he asked. He suspected that Eachann was making bold claims and promises, but had no direct knowledge of it.
“He said it to me that night in the chapel. Your insult to the MacDougall honor by using our priory for the Bruce’s gathering has made this a matter of personal vengeance for them. The loss at Brander Pass does not sting as much as that.”
He’d known what he was doing, and had insulted their honor on purpose. Now he knew that they knew. He smiled.
She stood and shook her head. “You wanted him to know? It was part of your plan that they should know?”
“Aye, Lara, for I enjoyed the chance to run roughshod over their honor and squash their treasonous arses into the ground. What good is an insult if they know not of it?”
She screamed and he backed away. “So, this is a game to you as well? You and Eachann prick at each other to see the blood flow. When does it stop?”
“With one of our deaths. ’Tis the only way it can end.”
Her face paled and she shook her head once more. “Have a care, my lord, and watch for the ambush. Eachann is intent on your death and I would not have him succeed.” She began to turn away and then looked at him once more with haunted eyes. “Keep Philippe close, my lord. Protect the boy.”
“I protect those who are mine, Lara. Nothing will happen to him.”
They spoke no more of it and he departed in the night while she slept. It was easier than seeing her on the battlements as he left.
Chapter Twenty
They’d been gone for seven days and, with the passing of each one, her fear and anxiety grew. If Sir Hugh noticed it or thought it unreasonable for the circumstances, he said nothing. Lara controlled her behavior better this time, but the knowledge that her family knew of this coming attack terrified her in a way she could reveal to no one.
The tension finally drove her from the hall to her chambers. Unable to pace away some of it in view of Sebastien’s people, she sought the privacy of the tower. And pace she did. Minutes and hours passed as she stood at the window, walked to the cold, empty hearth and back again. Sometimes she sat in Sebastien’s chair and tried to push away the guilt within her.
Lara knew she’d caused many deaths this day, some within her clan and some of her husband’s warriors. Try as she might, she found it impossible to think of them as only the enemy now. She lived with them. She ate and drank with them. She knew their names. The acts she attempted to justify to herself as rightful resistance to an illegitimate ruler screamed out at her when the truth of her efforts sank in.
People would die because of the plans she’d forwarded to her father.
Mayhap even her husband.
The husband she loved.
Her stomach rolled at the thought of him dead. She could see in her mind his tall form lying slashed and bleeding on the cold, hard ground. His face twisted in the grimace of death. The expressive light in his eyes extinguished because of her words. The meager contents of her belly pushed their way up and she barely pulled the pot from under the bed before they escaped her control. Wave after wave of nausea pulsed through her. Then, empty and spent, she fell onto her side on the floor.
Was he dead? Had she killed Sebastien?
Lara pushed the hair out of her face and took in some slow breaths, trying to calm the tremors that shook her. Her stomach began to calm and she dared to sit up. With a huge amount of concentration, she did not collapse. When she felt stronger, she grasped the covers of the bed and used them as support to gain her feet.
This was why women did not involve themselves in war. Oh, aye, they were victims often enough of the violence of men’s conflicts, but this was too hard to do. Living in oblivion while her father planned the death of his—their—enemies was much preferable to being a part of it. How did people live with knowing they killed both innocents and willing participants? How did they form friendships or care about anyone, when they might send them to their deaths with a word? ’Twas too much to bear.
