Page 16 of Flanders’ Folly (The Curse of Clan Ross #7)

16

SHOULDN’T ‘A DONE THAT

* * *

A t dawn, Flanders realized he needn’t have locked Brigid in his chambers after all. Obviously, she wouldn’t have willingly stayed behind, but that no longer mattered—she wouldn’t be leaving Todlaw anytime soon…and neither would anyone else.

Long before the sun reached the eastern horizon, Laird Stephan and every man at arms that was compelled to answer his call surrounded the substantial curtain wall built by James Duncan. Thankfully, all the bonnet farmers from the area were safely inside, and the young Laird Duncan appeared quite prescient for having his castle siege-ready.

Except for Bella Muir’s, not another life had been lost—as yet.

Alas, that wouldn’t be the case when it all came to an end. Flanders would see to that.

Robert took his time, making his way toward the gate, waving and wishing his people good morrow as he pulled on his gloves to greet his new visitors. And since the young buck seemed to have a plan, Flanders remained on the ground, dressed and ready for whatever was required of him.

A loud screech escaped from the keep at Robert’s back, but he kept coming. His eyes widened briefly before he gave Flanders a wink. “Prepare yerself,” he said. “They’ve let her out.”

No need to explain who she was.

The laird took the steps two at a time as if he would much rather speak with Stephan than deal with the woman who had, only temporarily, been locked in his home.

“Laird Stephan,” he shouted cheerfully. “Look how well ye sit a horse this morn. I had wondered if ye might ever do so again, after the state we found ye in yesterday!”

The men on the wall laughed, insinuating that the tale had well and truly spread. Unable to control his curiosity, Flanders climbed to the wall walk just west of the gatehouse, to see how their neighbor was handling the barb. The red of Stephan’s face was all the answer he needed.

“I’ve come for two things, Young Duncan,” Stephan announced. “First, I’ve come to retrieve my people—the ones ye kidnapped in the night. I’ve already sent a list of yer sins to Stirling, but if ye release them to me immediately, perhaps our regent will be lenient in yer punishment.”

“No.” That was all. Robert didn’t bother to elaborate or explain himself. There was no need.

“Then we shall await the verdict together.”

Stephan seemed surprisingly alert considering his condition of the day before. The question was, would it last? Would he suddenly wonder how he’d arrived at Todlaw’s gates?

The Rat Laird signaled to a pair of men who quickly dismounted and moved close to the gate, one of them leading a horse with a wrapped body lying across its back. The men reached for the ties that secured the burden, then paused.

“Second order of business is to return yer spy.” Stephan waved a hand and the ties were pulled. The body was yanked roughly from the back of the beast and it landed on the ground with a lifeless thud.

Flanders immediately turned to scan the courtyard for Mael, the brave man who had proven crucial in the triumphs of the previous day. He couldn’t imagine when their talented spy might have been captured between Gallabrae and Todlaw, without any of them noticing.

A gasp drew his attention back to the wall. The covering had been removed from the corpse, but it wasn’t Mael. It was Heslington who stared, sightless, at the morning sky.

This explained the Rat Laird’s morning clarity. The two people who might have kept him fettled and out of sorts were his wife, who was now safely inside the curtain wall, and the man who lay dead at his feet.

One down, one more to go.

Flanders could see Robert resisting the urge to turn and look at him. Likewise, he would like nothing better than to consult with his friend on how they should handle the accusation. But in the end Robert hadn’t needed his advice.

“I’m afraid ye’re wrong about Heslington. We simply sent the spy back to his true master.”

Stephan smirked. “Well, then, I suppose the Regent must decide who has been spying upon whom. That is, if ye still refuse to return my people to me.”

“Aye. I do. Feel free to enjoy our dirt whilst ye wait.” Robert gestured to the expanse of land that surrounded Todlaw on all sides. To prevent an enemy from catching them unawares, all trees and tall growth had been cleared away so the horizon was visible in all directions. And anyone laying siege to the place would remain in plain view. So there was little to shelter Stephan and his troops unless they brought them along.

Robert turned away from his visitor as if suddenly bored and moved to the stair. Once he was out of Stephan’s view, however, he hurried down the steps, sober as a priest. Flanders caught up with him halfway to the keep, where the war counsel would be gathering.

He stated the obvious.

“The Regent is too busy to come.”

Robert nodded. “Aye. The quandary is whom he will send in his stead?”

“And why does Stephan seem so confident?”

“You suppose he only pretends to know something we do not?”

“I wish I could say otherwise, but I don’t believe he is.”

“I thought…I worried it was Mael.”

“So did I. I’ve sent Mason to find the man and tell him to shave his beard, cut his hair, and find new clothes. And above all, to stay well away from the walls.”

Robert finished the sentence with him, and they laughed. Then the lad’s eyes flew wide and he came to a halt.

“What is it?”

“I forgot about yer woman.”

Together, they lifted their eyes to the top of the steps where Brigid Muir stood in a warm shaft of sunshine. She wore a rich green kirtle with long sleeves attached, and though her hair had been tamed, glints of gold and red still danced around her head like tiny knives of light. The way she linked her fingers demurely in front of her was just as deceptive for, even at a distance, her smile unnerved him. And for a moment, Flanders considered turning away.

But there was a fight overdue—and it wasn’t the one waiting at the gates.

“Favor me,” Robert said, as they started up the steps.

“I can try.”

“Make it well and clear that I had nothing to do with yer decision to lock her in.”

* * *

“Good morn, gentlemen.” Brigid held a practiced smile in place as her rescuers reached the narrow landing. She pushed the door wide and stepped back to allow them inside the keep. By the glances they exchanged, she had already made them nervous. And she tried not to enjoy that fact. After all they’d done for her, she should be nothing but grateful.

But that didn’t mean they should be trusted. Or rather, it didn’t mean Flanders could be trusted again. Looking back, she was certain he’d lied intentionally when he’d promised she could go with him back to the fort. He’d known his plan before he took his leave. Then as soon as she’d fallen asleep, he’d locked her inside the bedchamber.

Granted, he hadn’t gone off without her, but would have if he could have.

And now, he had more important things to deal with than her. But at least he knew that a reckoning was coming.

She breathed in the warmth of the morning sun and followed them inside. Like a silly puppy, she waited to see if Flanders might have something kind to say before he was swept into the tide of men headed for the war room. The women in the kitchens warned her not to get her hopes up, that now, with the enemy at their gates, the men would think of nothing but the fight, and that to distract them would be selfish.

She had learned, before her morning rant was through, that Flanders Leesborn was beloved by his people, and she would find no one to take her side against him—justified or not.

She’d awakened with tears on her cheeks, an ache for her sister, and vengeance in her heart—only to discover she’d been betrayed by the man she’d mooned over for years. And then, to be told that man was too sainted to be questioned—it was not to be born!

And yet, here she was, bearing it.

Robert started up the stairs to the upper floor but stopped to look back at Flanders, who had not followed.

“Go on,” Flanders told him. “I shall join ye presently.”

Robert glanced at Brigid, gave an understanding nod, then went on. Flanders turned to her and held out a hand. She hesitated long enough to make him worry, but finally laid her hand in his. He wasn’t smiling when he pulled her close and wrapped a hand around her back to keep her from escaping.

“Brigid.”

“Flanders.”

“I owe ye an apology.”

She breathed in those words and found them much more satisfying than the warmth of the morning sun, but still, she withheld her smile and held her tongue. No need to interrupt a good apology.

“I lied to ye. I let ye believe that I would allow ye back in harm’s way, because ye wanted it so badly. I wanted to make ye happy. Oh, how dearly I wanted to make ye happy, but I care about ye too much to allow it. And I should have said so. No matter how I might have angered ye, I should have told ye the truth.”

The resentment simmering inside her ceased boiling. That feeling of betrayal changed into something else entirely. And damn him, she hadn’t had a chance to say all the things she’d rehearsed. But there was still something…

“I understand, Laird Leesborn. I do. And I shall forgive ye this time. With all that happened, we were forced together by a storm of sorts. What we might have felt…perhaps we were desperate to belong to…someone. But the storm is over?—”

“It is not.” He made a broad gesture toward the enemy outside.

“Ye ken what I mean. I can see it in yer eyes. Ye’re relieved to know I won’t expect anything from ye.”

He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers, demanding she react as she had the night before. And naturally, she couldn’t refuse. But when she was finally allowed to take a breath, he laid his fingers across her mouth before she could speak.

“I am relieved, lass, that ye accepted my apology. But I can see ye’re disappointed. Ye were hoping for a fight, and I’ve robbed ye, plain and simple. So, if ye’re still wishin’ for a stramash, after this business with Stephan is done…” He pecked her lips yet again. “Just keep insistin’ that we don’t belong together, and I’ll oblige ye.”

He released her gently, like he was setting a wild animal free and worried it might come back at him. Then he grinned and left her standing there with nothing to do but watch his backside while he climbed the stairs.

Hot-faced and speechless, she was grateful they hadn’t had an audience. Or so she thought.

When she turned around, she found half the household standing in the entrance to the great hall, grinning like well-fed cats.