He gazed at her with affection. “Where have you been this evening?”
“Oh, around,” she said mysteriously, but her smile was quick and angelic. “Why should I knock? You’re alone. I listened at the door to make certain.”
His eyes went wide. She stepped back, giggling. “I’m not a baby anymore, Steph,” she said haughtily. She was the only one who dared bastardize his name. “I know what you do at night with the maids.”
He could not believe it. He didn’t know whether to laugh at her or scold her. “Just whatisit you think I do with the maids, wench?”
She gave him a knowing look. “Father says if there is one more bastard born on Alnwick, he’s taking a whip to you as if you were a boy of twelve!” She was gleeful.
“Oh, he does,” he managed, choking on laughter and despair. “You still haven’t answered my question, Isobel.”
“Do I seem stupid? You make babies, Steph, and the maids like it, I know, for I’ve heard them talking about you.”
This time he went still. “You’ve heard them talking …” He sputtered. “And what, pray tell, Big Ears, do they say?”
“Well—” she rolled her dark blue eyes “—they say ’tis big and strong and very randy … but sometimes quick, too quick … and sometimes—”
Stephen was scandalized. “Enough!” He pounced on her, but she dodged him with a laugh. “I hope you have no idea what you’re talking about,” he growled. “And I intend to tell Mother that you are eavesdropping—on the servants, no less!”
Isobel looked hurt, well and truly hurt. “Mother will send me to Father Bertold,” she quavered. Her large, luminous eyes held his, as soft and innocent as a fawn’s. “I promise not to listen anymore, really I do. Don’t tell Mother.”
He sighed, exasperated. She was a handful, had always been a handful, and one day would undoubtedly rule her husband with no contest. “I won’t tell this time,” he said. “But, Isobel, don’t test me.”
She bit her lip, serious now. They both knew she could only manipulate him so far. “Why is Mairi a prisoner?”
“Ah. So you’ve met the mysterious Mairi. I prefer to think of her as my guest.”
“She says she is your prisoner—and that you must release her at once.”
“Did she send you to me with such a message, Isobel?”
“I only know what she told me.” Isobel was wide-eyed and expectant.
Stephen was very exasperated with his guest again. Did she think to maneuver him through his sister? Could she be so shrewd? “Where is she?”
“In the women’s solar. Why have you frightened her so?”
“Your curiosity into the affairs of others will one day be your downfall, Isobel. If you are wise, you will mark my words and fight your inclination.”
Isobel was disappointed but undaunted. “Does that mean you aren’t going to tell me what you’ve done to her?”
“I have done nothing to her,” he said, then added, “yet.”
Isobel blinked, fascinated.
“Go and send Mairi to me.” He leveled a hard gaze on his sister. “And then you may join Brand downstairs.” He did not want her snooping outside his chamber door.
Isobel nodded, still wide-eyed, and ran off. Unsmiling, Stephen shrugged off his undertunic. It was time to make good his intentions—it was time to make Mairi Sinclair reveal the truth about herself.
Chapter 4
The heavy wooden door of the Liddel keep swung open to admit a group of men. They were soaked with rain and covered with mud, for outside it was storming fiercely, the sky black, the wind howling. Thunder boomed and lightning lit up the sky. Queen Margaret sat by the fire in the smoke-stained hall, motionless and despairing, unfinished embroidery at her feet. At the first sound of their entrance, she leapt up. “What news?”
Malcolm entered ahead of the other men, flinging off his sodden mantle, a servant unable to catch it before it fell into the muddy rushes on the floor. Immediately he strode to his wife. “We have not found her, Margaret.”
Margaret made a sound of fear, clutching for his hands.
Four men, all wet and weary, trekked into the hall behind him. Malcolm and Margaret’s three eldest sons, excluding Ethelred, a priest, were removing their dripping outerwear and reaching for cups of warm wine which servants hastily brought forth. The fourth man paused to stand and stare blindly into the hearth’s roaring flames, a puddle forming at his feet. He made no move to shed his soaking cloak.
