“Are ye serious? Who told ye that tale?”
“Two of their men, separately,” his other man, Neill, supplied. “Which makes us think it might be true.”
“And might save Kester’s life, if it is. But there’s nay proving it, not after a drunken brawl. I doubt any of those men remember enough to ken who they hit or who hit them.”
“But they might recall someone pulling a blade.”
“We can hope so.” He gestured toward the solar. “Quiet in there?”
“After one shouted oath, aye.”
“I’m going in. Ye two will follow me to the door. I’ll decide whether ye join me inside the solar or nay.”
“We should, laird. Ye’ll be at their mercy in there.”
“Rose doesna want me dead. He wants this alliance. But that fool Kester is another matter. I’m his laird. ’Tis up to me to protect—or to punish—him.”
The two men glanced at each other, frowning.
“But I hope Rose willna demand his life. I’ll do what I can to prevent that.”
Wrapped once againin her woolen shawl and pacing the floor, Fiona waited long past the time her patience ran out. Where was Erik? What sort of trouble had caused the Rose to summon him away from their bed on this of all nights? Especially after practically forcing her into this marriage. Still, she was learning that good things could come from bad, and perhaps this was one of them, if the trouble was something that was simply taking more time to settle than both of them had hoped. But what if it was something more serious, and Rose intended to separate them before the marriage could be consummated? Mary hadtold her about what their father put her sister Annie and Iain Brodie through. He’d agreed to their match, then refused it, only accepting it after the eldest sister, Mary, arranged for him to catch them together in Annie’s chamber. He signed the betrothal agreement with Brodie—with bad grace—but he signed it, and Iain and Annie were married a few days later at Brodie so that Iain’s ill father could attend.
Her suspicion galvanized her. She dropped the shawl onto the bed and pulled a woolen dress over her pretty night shift. Erik might need the help of his wife, but they could not prove they had consummated their marriage. The laird’s summons had come too soon and interrupted them. She had no bloody sheet to prove he’d taken her maidenhead. But the sight of her shawl on the sheets made her realize she could do something about that.
Her eating knife lay on the small table near the hearth. It would do. She traced the point across the inside of her upper arm, a place where a wrapping would not be visible under her sleeve. When a beaded line of blood appeared, she moved to the bed, tossed her shawl to the floor, and pulled the sheet up, holding it near where she imagined she would have lain while Erik took her and smeared a red streak there. She tore a strip from a léine and tied it around her arm with one end in her teeth and the other in her opposite hand. Now to dry the stain a bit. She gathered the cloth so it made the bottom of a bag and slung the rest over her shoulder, then passed the smear over the fire in the hearth, letting the heat set the bloodstain, but not dry it completely. When she was satisfied with her handiwork, she folded the sheet, thankful the fabric looked enough like her simple homespun shawl to fool anyone. She draped it around her shoulders, turned so that the stain was hidden next to her body.
She didn’t know how long it had taken her to make her preparations, but she was certain Erik had been gone too long. Something was wrong, and she needed to know what had happened to her new husband.
She arrived at the solar to the sound of angry raised voices. Both lairds were shouting, making her fear violence would soon follow. Taking a deep breath to gather her courage, she slowly opened the door wide enough to slip through, then closed it softly behind her.
Erik and the Rose faced each other across the laird’s desk, both standing, hands clenched in fists and planted on the tabletop. In profile as she saw them, the Rose had a stubborn set to his jaw. Erik, however, radiated frustration and mounting fury. In their short acquaintance, she’d never seen him look so fierce, muscles bunched, eyes narrowed to slits, and lips pressed into a resolute line. She found it hard to believe her tender husband and this man were the same person.
The lairds were so involved in their argument, they hadn’t noticed her entry. Safe for the moment, she glanced away from them, surprised to see Mary there, too, seated away from the raging lairds. Two other men stood with their backs against the far wall, watching. Mary acknowledged her with a nod, but raised a hand that warned her to move no farther into the room, so Fiona rested her back against the door and waited, as Mary was, for when their help would be needed to calm their men.
Something must have shifted in the air in the room, because at that moment, Erik glanced around and saw her. His brow lifted and his eyes widened as he straightened, as if the sight of her cooled his ire. He gestured for her to leave.
She shook her head, refusing, but stayed near the door rather than go to him until he needed her to do so. She didn’t want to be a distraction that might put him in danger. He was outnumbered in here by the Rose and his other two men.
The Rose realized Erik’s attention had wandered and followed his gaze. “Well, Fiona. How did ye get in here?”
She gestured at the door behind her with an open hand.
“As ye can see,” he said, straightening and glancing back at Erik, “we are at an impasse. Ross isna who I thought him to be. He allows his men to run wild in another clan’s keep.”
“What?” Her surprised exclamation slipped out before she could stop herself.
Erik’s low growl startled her into looking away from the Rose. Fury sparked in Erik’s eyes, but his posture slumped as if in resignation. What was going on here?
Rose continued speaking. “I now believe Ross is no’ a safe place for ye. Its men have unruly tempers and its laird canna control them. Ross will be too dangerous for a gentle lass of Rose. I canna in good conscience stand by the betrothal and marriage to a man I canna trust. Ye may remain at Rose until I can arrange the match with MacBean. Since ye had so little time with this man, I’m certain I can see the marriage annulled.”
“Da, nay! No’ again!”
Erik paled, but faced Rose and narrowed his eyes. “Ye canna do that.”
“I most certainly can. I’m the laird here, no’ ye. Ye canna keep yer men from drinking themselves into violence!”
“We dinna ken who pulled the blade! Ye will destroy the alliance we both signed to protect our clans. I am but defending my man, as much a victim of a drunken brawl as yers. Ye would do the same in a similar circumstance. In fact, ye are.”
