“Ithink he bides his time until he can think of a way to wriggle out of this andstill keep his mighty pride intact. The mon cannae chance looking a fool.”
“Hehas already lost that battle.” She smiled faintly when Ivor laughed. “I think Isaw the Mary ye talked about. She is older, of course, but she looks much likeye described. She also grew verra skittish when I told Ruari ye had asked abouta Mary.”
“Andshe is wed to a mon named David?”
“Aye,devotedly, says Ruari. That could be because they are bonded by guilt. I mustcatch her alone, and that will take time for she is terrified of me.”
“Bewary, lass. If they truly believe ye are speaking to my spirit, they may becomedangerous. They murdered me.”
“Oh,I dinnae believe it was murder and I dinnae think ye really do either. Ye arejust angry that they didnae think of a more honorable explanation for yourdeath.”
“Aye,true enough. They could have thought of a tale that didnae leave my kinsmenthinking I was naught but an embarrassment.”
“Beeasy, Ivor,” she said, sensing the pain and despair that had washed over him. “Iwill clear your name. Weel, as much as I can.”
“Iken it, lass, and I shall ne’er be able to repay ye for such a deed, but ye kenthe depth of my gratitude. And one way I can do so is to keep ye warned of allthat is afoot in this keep. Ye had best be readied for a visit from my nephew.”
Shefrowned. “Why would he seek me out?” She decided she did not particularly likethe lecherous smile that crossed Ivor’s face. “Ah, so he hopes to seduce meinto warming his bed while I am here.”
Ivorgrew serious. “I think it may be more than that. I have been following the ladabout, ye ken. Rosse has been talking sense to the fool, and I think he mayweel have begun to heed his friend’s words.”
“Whatdo ye mean?”
“Justdinnae be too quick to toss the oaf out on his backside.”
Beforeshe could press Ivor for more of an explanation, he disappeared. She thoughtover his vague advice and tried not to let her hopes rise. Ivor was better thanCrayton at being clear and understandable, but he could still be annoyinglysubtle as well. It sounded as if he were saying Ruari might finally be seeingher as more than an object of his passion, but she did not dare trust in thatinterpretation. Too much was at stake—her heart and her happiness. If Ruariused her and cast her aside this time, it could easily be a wound she wouldnever recover from.
Ruaristared at the door to Sorcha’s bedchamber. He did not like the sense ofnervousness that had afflicted him as he had approached her room. The way shecould make him feel uncertain was not something he enjoyed. It was, however,more proof that Rosse could be right, that he was running away from the thingsSorcha could make him feel. It was that hint of cowardice that drove him to confronther. Neither could he bear to think that his own fears might make him destroyhis own happiness. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he rapped at herdoor.
Ashe heard her soft footsteps approach the thick door he tried to think of whathe would say to her. He could not tell her that he was there to try to sort outthe confusing knot of feelings that twisted his insides. He did not, however,want to give her the impression he had come in search of a good rutting and nomore. Not only was that an insult he had no wish to deliver, but also it couldpush her away from him at a time when he might want to pull her closer.
Hehad always been confident with women, knowing what to say and do to pleasethem. None of those things would work with Sorcha, and he had to admit that wasbecause he did not want to play flirtatious games with her. He liked thehonesty of their relationship even if it was mostly one of anger and insults atthe moment. When she opened the door and eyed him warily, Ruari decided that nowwas the time for complete honesty even if it was only to confess that he wasconfused about what he felt and wanted. He just prayed that she was equally ashonest and that what truths she confessed were ones he wanted to hear.
Chapter Eighteen
“M’lord,”Sorcha murmured as she allowed Ruari to step into her bedchamber. “And whatcauses ye to honor me with your presence?”
“Ithought ye might wish to hear what passed between your kinswoman and myself,”he replied, watching as she hesitated a moment then shut the door.
“‘Tiskind of ye to consider my interest, but I have already had a report on themeeting. Ye willnae like to hear it, but your Uncle Ivor was there.”
“Sorcha,”he said with a strong hint of irritation in his voice, “I have come hereintending to seek some form of peace between us. I dinnae think ye help mattersby talking of spirits.” He shook his head, briefly paced the room, and thenturned to stare at her. “God’s teeth, lass, if ye must speak to a spirit atGartmhor, couldnae ye choose one the rest of us might actually miss or want totalk to? Did ye have to pick a drunkard who fell out of a window, his braiesfluttering down after him?”
Evenas Ruari spoke his last word, a strong, icy cold wind swept through the room.It slammed into his back hard enough to make him sway, then, as abruptly as ithad begun, it stopped. He strenuously fought the urge to look around for hisuncle and instead stared at the narrow arrow slit that was Sorcha’s onlywindow.
“Itseems the weather is about to take a turn for the worse,” he murmured andturned back to Sorcha in time to catch her rolling her eyes as she smoothed outher windtousled hair.
“‘Tiscommon at Gartmhor for a wee gale to slip in a tiny window and swirl about thebedchamber, is it?” she drawled.
“Andwhat would ye have me believe?”
“Yeinsulted Ivor, and ‘tis clear that he is close enough to hear you. Being aghost, he cannae strike ye down for such an insult so he must show hisdispleasure in other ways.”
“Ifthe mon’s spirit is here, he must be hardened to the insults by now. The mon’signominious death is often the subject of jests.”
Hejumped slightly when the lid to the heavy clothes chest beneath the windowsuddenly banged shut despite the lack of any wind in the room. Ruari began tofeel uneasy. Sorcha’s strong belief in her spirits had clearly infected himenough that he found it difficult to simply shrug off such strange occurrences.He moved to the table by the bed and poured himself a tankard of cider, takinga long drink before he faced Sorcha. She was watching him closely as if sheknew exactly what he was thinking.
“Afew clever tricks arenae going to change my mind,” he said firmly. “Now, I havecome here to discuss the matter of the ransom, not my old fool of an uncle.” Astool that had stood in the corner of the room suddenly tipped over and rolledacross the floor. “He was always an ill-tempered bastard as weel,” he mutteredand was not surprised when a cold gust of wind blew through the room again.
