Page 10 of The Thief (Castle Blackstone #3)

I will never, ever, drink mead again.

With her back to the great hall’s cool paneling, her legs tucked beneath her, Kate tried to ignore the pounding in her head and the turmoil in her middle and focus on her most pressing problem: finding a subtle way of asking dozens of lords how they felt about ransoming James I. But the words wouldn’t come.

Because of him . The Thief.

And what on earth had she been thinking letting the man touch her in such fashion? She hadn’t been thinking at all, obviously, save for all the incredible sensations he’d fired within her. Augh. And wily devil that he is, MacKay had made sure she would think and dream of naught else by taking her hand and placing it on that long, swollen staff of his. Her middle quivered yet again, imagining what it might feel like within.

Augh! She had definitely lost her mind.

She gave herself a shake. No way could she continue to just sit here and think on Ian MacKay. And to hell with others seeing that she slept alone in the hall. She needed food and fresh air to set herself to rights.

She rose and headed toward the doors but found them barred by twelve-inch beams only two burly men could lift. She cursed under her breath, turned and tiptoed around dozens of slumbering bodies that reeked of stale ale and sweat and made her way to the heavy tapestry she knew covered the stairs to the kitchen. She lifted the corner and found the hall pitch black. No matter, as long as she was careful. She knew the curve of the stairs and where they would lead.

At the bottom of the stairs she pushed on the door. Soft light from a lone lamp, the scent of last night’s roasted meat and snoring from the distillery greeted her.

Finding a bowl of dried apples soaking in water on the massive center table, she wrinkled her nose and looked about for something more palatable. Finding a wheel of hard cheese she cut off a slice. In a crock she found some oatcakes. Her prizes in hand she went to the door. It too had been barred by heavy beams but of a decidedly more manageable length. She pocketed her food and as quietly as possible lifted the beams and set them to rest in the corner. There was an advantage in being a “cow” on occasion.

The door creaked on opening, and she held her breath. Blessedly none sleeping within the distillery stirred.

She passed through the garden, hiked up her skirts and leapt over the low wall, only to be assaulted by thoughts of the incredible yet exasperating man who had once lifted her over it.

Finding the bailey quiet, Kate nibbled on her cheese, her thoughts going back to the last time she’d stood in the bailey.

The vision she had experienced when MacKay had lifted her hadn’t proved accurate. He’d not lain upon her and he certainly hadn’t been bare-chested when he held her in that dark passageway, so mayhap the vision she’d seen when King James had wrapped his arms around her and the one involving Lady Beth wouldn’t come to pass quite as she imagined them either. Dare she hope for the best and take her leave?

No. Other visions had come true in horribly accurate fashion. She couldn’t risk it.

“Lord,...” She really wished she had never come to this place.

And if you hadn’t, a little voice in her heart whispered, you would have died a shriveled woman never having been kissed breathless, much less fondled.

Hmm, there was that.

And you’re falling under his spell, the voice mocked.

No, she was...well, she didn’t have a word for the feeling. One moment she simply felt wonderful, full of anticipation. The next she was terrified and the next her heart simply ached...painfully.

“Are ye all right, Madame Campbell?”

Kate jumped. Feeling an errant tear slip from the corner of her eye, she hastily brushed a hand across her cheek. “Oh, Lady MacDougall, you startled me.”

The mistress of Castle Blackstone, her straight brown hair loose about her shoulders, her white night rail billowing about her long legs, drew closer. “I’m sorry. I came down to the kitchen to get something to eat and noticed the door ajar. I wanted to be sure nothing was wrong.”

Kate shrugged. “The hall was so hot and crowded.”

Lady Beth bit into an oatcake. After a moment she said, “I heard there’s to be a tribunal on Wednesday, a matter of your husband’s estate?”

Did the whole castle know? “Aye.”

“You needn’t worry. Ian has apparently taken an interest in your cause.” She arched a brow, her curiosity evident.

Kate scowled. “How so?”

“He has spoken with Duncan and then with Angus of Donaleigh. And with John Campbell of Dunstaffnage, as well, I think.” Lady Beth tipped her head and studied Kate. “I think he’s taken with you.”

“Me?” Kate snorted. “No, he’s simply bored.”

More accurately, he’s randy, and Kate had proved herself an easy toy. He’d be chasing after some petite beauty within the week. And why that should cause a burning sensation around her heart she refused to think on.

Lady Beth laughed. “Nay, dear. I know the man, and I tell you he couldn’t take his gaze off you in the hall. He’s smitten, I tell ye.” She broke off another piece of oat cake and popped it into her mouth. “And about time if you ask me.”

Kate’s heart leapt. Could this woman see something she couldn’t?

After a moment Kate sighed. Nay, Lady Beth was more likely one of those women obsessed with matchmaking. Some could make a living at it. To redirect Lady Beth’s thoughts, Kate murmured, “Tis lovely here, what with the castle being so high above the rest. So peaceful. Your King James must miss it dreadfully.”

Lady Beth walked to the battlement. When Kate joined her, the lady pointed to the wide fields before her. “See that flat plain over there? Four years ago it was the site of the tournament Albany had held in honor of James’s birthday. I was a new bride then and new to this country.” Her gaze shifted over the hills and valleys for a moment. “In only four short years I’ve come to love this place, its glens, lochs, its mountains.” She bit into her lower lip, then faced Kate. “As a mother I can not imagine what that wee lad must be going through, being lock away so far from all of this, from all he knows.”

Kate placed her hand over Lady Beth’s. “I’ve thought the same.” After a moment, she asked, “Is your husband of the same mind?”

Lady Beth nodded. “Aye, he’s been hording what species he can—-‘tis a pitiful amount, really--in the hopes that we’ll be given a ransom demand. Many others are saving as well.”

Kate gaped, not believing her ears. “You’ve not been told how much the ransom is?”

Lady Beth shook her head. “Nay, that heartless bastard in London has yet to tell us.”

The woman’s words made no sense. Kate was sure a ransom demand had been made. Oh, dear God above, had Albany received it and not told his people? More importantly, what will James think when he hears of this? “Lady Beth, who else wants their king returned?”

She shrugged, “Nearly every clan in the Highlands, as far as I can tell.” She named several and Kate committed them to memory. “As to the Lowlanders—-I cannot say.”

“Forgive me. Being French, I find that confusing.”

Lady Beth nodded. “I know the feeling. Have you noticed that we speak three languages?”

“Aye, but usually mine, French.”

Lady Beth smiled. “The mountains are the cause. The Highlanders, isolated in glens and valleys, speak Gael and their law is that of the clan. Think of it as ‘our leader, right or wrong, do or die.’ The Lowlanders, on the other hand, have the Norman system and speak Scots. Few can speak both, but thanks to marriage and political alliances, however, all speak French, so...”

Kate rolled a piece of gravel along the edge of the battlement. “Yet Ian speaks both Gael and Scots...and French. ”

Lady Beth grinned. “So it’s Ian, is it? Nay, don’t bother denying it, you are smitten as well. And he speaks eight languages.”

Kate blinked in surprise. “Truly?” She spoke four and thought herself well schooled.

“Aye. He also speaks Italian, Spanish, Latin, German and...” Frowning, she silently counted on her fingers, then brightened. “And English.”

English? He speaks English! She could have gone a lifetime without knowing that. But then it wasn’t so different from Scot.

“Did I say something to distress you, Madame Campbell?”

Kate forced a smile. “Nay. So why are the Scots not united in getting their king home?”

“In the south matters are complicated. The two most powerful families, the Donalds and the Douglases, can both lay claim to the throne of Scotland. Both have as much right to the crown as the Stewarts. You see, Donald, Douglas and James’s father, Robert, were all grandchildren of a previous king. The sword put the Stewarts on the throne, and right now only patience is keeping them there. Should James not return, should Albany die, who knows. Either Douglas or Donald might become king.”

“Are all in the south just biding their time, then?”

Lady Beth laughed. “I doubt it. Division runs amok in Scotland. Too, James is a Lowlander, speaks Scots, so he’s one of their own. ”

Noticing the sky turning violet, Kate murmured, “You have made a great deal much clearer, but I’ve kept you overlong with my questions. Forgive me.”

Lady Beth patted her hand. “I’ve been a stranger in a strange land. Ask me anything at anytime.”

Thinking now was as good a time as any to confirm the accuracy of her vision Kate asked, “How many children have you?”

“Three. Our lad is four years, our eldest lass is three and the youngest is one year.” She grinned. “We would like another son. Mayhap another lass.”

“How blessed you are.” Aye, Lady Beth had a husband who adored her and she would have another son, one that looked very much like Laird MacDougall, dark and burly.

Kate sighed. What would Ian MacKay’s children look like? They’d be tall, of course, doubtless beautiful and highly intelligent. Would that she be the one to birth—

Lady Beth startled Kate, saying, “I enjoyed our time together. And as I said, ask me anything.”

Kate, embarrassed she’d been woolgathering, felt heat rise in her cheeks. “One more question, then, if you do not mind. Where do you come from?” The woman’s French was understandable but just barely, thanks to an atrocious accent. More importantly she spoke English.

Lady Beth looked a bit wistful and murmured, “America. ”

Kate, well read, frowned. “I’ve not heard of this place.”

The corners of Lady Beth’s lips lifted ever so slightly. “No one will for many more years to come.” With that she kissed Kate’s cheek and turned toward the castle.

Feeling a chilling breeze, Kate wrapped her arms about herself as she watched Lady Beth disappear into the kitchen.

What a lovely woman.

And if Kate did naught else, she would make sure King James knew the MacDougalls were ready—-sacrificing--to welcome him home.

But would James believe her? She’d been prepared to take back to England whatever list or coins Lady Margaret was to provide. Now she would have nothing to prove that she’d spoken with these people, much less prove that she’d even been here.

Oh, she could readily describe Stirling and all that she’d seen, but would James believe her? He’d grown so bitter and suspicious of late that he’d likely accuse her of lying.

Kate paced the bailey. As the sun broke over the wall and bathed the castle in gold, she saw the solution to her dilemma. The flag. She couldn’t take that, of course, but she could take something from the castle that had once belonged to James and bring it back to him. Something he perhaps cherished. But what? And where would that something be now ?

If anyone should know, it would be Ian MacKay. Yet the very thought of trying to get the information out of the man without making him suspicious—-or ending up naked—-made her mouth go dry.

She huffed. There had to be another solution.

~#~

“God’s teeth, where could the woman possibly be now?”

Ian’s gaze raked the crowded hall for the third time, looking for the tall widow in black he’d been obsessing about all night.

And why had he been obsessing instead of tupping her mindless? Because she thought it best that those in the hall saw that she slept alone. Being a gentleman he had concurred and to what end? All were stirring from slumber and Kate was nowhere to be seen.

“Ack.”

He wanted to take her on a ride before another crisis arose, before the midmorning General Council convened. She’d not seen the countryside and likely needed the distraction from the upcoming tribunal, and should they find themselves in a secluded glen, well...

If he could find her.

Having already checked the entire keep, he had nowhere to look but outside.

He took the stairs two at a time and nearly ran over Lady Beth. “Good morn, my lady. Have ye seen Madame Campbell?”

Beth, still dressed in her night garb and with her hair flowing, as was a lady’s custom while in private quarters, smiled in enigmatic fashion. “Why, aye, I have.”

“And?”

“And you look very handsome this morn.”

Ian frowned, wondering why his donning a new jerkin should cause comment. Aye, he had taken care with his ablutions this morn but then he did so every morn. “Thank ye. And where might ye have seen Madame Campbell?” Deep breath in, deep breath out.

“Oh. In the south bailey.”

How appropriate. Kate was in the Killing Field. “Thank ye, my lady.”

Waving distractedly at the scullery lasses who hooted at him as he passed, Ian strode out the kitchen and hopped the garden wall. As he scanned the south bailey--the scene of their first kiss--he grinned, picturing Kate with her hands on her hips, her eyes spitting fire, and telling him “Bullocks.” Lord, the woman was a challenge but then being attractive and lusty, she was worth the effort. She would make a man a fine ladywife. Not him but some lucky man.

Why that thought should make his skin crawl he couldn’t imagine. “Humph!” He gave himself a shake and scoured the bailey again for a sign of her.

Not finding her, he cursed. Thinking she might have wandered down to the nether bailey for a look at the village, he strode past the magazine storerooms and entered the broad lower bailey, the least defensible part of Stirling, and found only three guards, their bows and quivers on their backs. A slight unease bloomed in his chest as he walked up to the closest guard.

“Have ye seen Madame Campbell?”

The man blinked. “I saw two ladies not a moment ago, but cannot say if one was Madame Campbell or not.”

“Tall, in widow’s garb.” He cupped his hands in claw-like fashion and held them before his own chest, the universal language for grand breasts.

The man grinned. “Aye, that one...she went there.” He pointed toward the north end of the castle grounds.

“Thank ye.” If Kate wasn’t there, he would muster the damn guard.

~#~

Kate, her face to the wind buffeting the rampart, her loose hair and gown being whipped behind her, wished with all her might that she could take flight. Soar like a hawk over the village below and continue south. Aye, all the way to Salisbury and her grandmother.

Lost in the image of flying free above the untamed landscape she yelped, feeling a strong pair of hands gripped her waist. She spun and found herself chest to breast with the very man she wished to escape.

Dressed in an elaborately tooled, shrunk-leather sleeveless jerkin, white shirt, yards of dark blue plaid pleated about his narrow hips, then draped over his shoulder and secured by a solid brass brooch, and what appeared to be doeskin boots, Ian MacKay was a sight to behold. Sun bounced off the golden waves blowing about his incredibly broad shoulders as he purred, “Good morn

Handsome as sin or not, Kate slapped his iron-hard chest with a flat hand. “You frightened me near to death.”

Apparently not the least contrite, he chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Should be a glorious day. Come ride with me.”

She glanced over his shoulder. “The guards.”

He nodded as he followed her gaze. “Ah, that’s what they are alright.”

“But they’ll see.”

“So?” With a glint in his eye, he murmured, “Last night I could understand, but now? ‘Tis broad daylight.”

Unable to do anything else, given his hold, she glared at him. “My point precisely, and you really can be annoying.”

“Me? I think not.” He wrapped an arm about her waist and started toward the rampart’s stairs. “Come, hinnie, we need fill our bellies before we’re off.”

Kate tried to pry his fingers loose. “Off to where?”

“Ye’ll see.”

“Will you please stop! ”

Apparently surprised by her tone, he did. “What?”

“I’ve yet to...to do my ablutions.”

His features softened and those delightful dimples came forth yet again. He stroked her cheek with a gentle finger, sending chills down her spine.

“How thoughtless of me. Take the time ye need. The Council won’t meet until mid morn. We’ll have ample time for a ride. I’m most anxious for ye to see the area. Quite lovely in places, truly.”

Kate nibbled on her lower lip and looked down at the long fingers threaded through hers. She wanted to go with him. The thought of riding with Ian had sent her pulse racing and every part of her heart shouting, “Do it,” but what good was a heart if she had not a life? “I think it would be wrong for me to go.”

His beautiful broad brow furrowed and he let go of her hand. “Do ye fear the gossip?”

Tears began to burn at the back of her eyes and throat. “I just think it wiser that we not...be together.”

He did look contrite now. “Ah, lass. Did I frighten ye last night? For if I did, I apologize most profusely, for ‘twas never my intent—“

Heat scorched her cheeks as she placed a firm finger on his lips. “Nay, do not apologize. I knew that had I but asked, you would have...not proceeded. ‘Twas my fault entirely that matters got so out of hand.”

Goose! Could she have chosen poorer words? She blew out a breath, the hurtful band encircling her heart growing tighter. “We simply need to keep a distance betwixt us so we have no reoccurrence of...you know.”

He lifted her chin with a finger, forcing her to look into his eyes. Beautiful amber eyes with tiny flecks of gold.

“Lass, ye cannot deny ye enjoy my touch. So what do ye fear?”

Why was he being so impossibly persistent? Could he not tell she was dying inside? “I...I’m still in mourning, and you should be pursuing a marriageable lady of quality.”

He grunted. “And who might ye suggest?”

She threw up her hands. “How should I know?” She turned her back to him and wrapped her arms about her waist. “Surely you know dozens who would gladly accept a proposal of marriage.” Hundreds, more likely.

He leaned on the battlement, sheltering her from the wind. “Aye, but I have no desire for them.” After a moment he asked, “What did the beast ye were married to do to ye, lass?”

Surprised by the question, having nothing to say since she had never laid eyes on Robbie Campbell, she swallowed convulsively.

She needed to leave. Now. The man only wanted a convenient plaything who’d pose no obligations, make no demands on his heart. Fine. Hers would not become a trophy for the Thief of Hearts. Hers would stay squarely in her chest.

“Ian!”

They turned to see Shamus, his blond hair flying in the wind, his broadsword bouncing on his back, jogging up the steps.

At the top, he bowed to Kate. “Good morn.” He then turned to Ian. “Albany summons ye.”

With his gaze on her, Ian muttered, “In a minute.”

“Nay,” his brother said, “now. The Lennox has apparently left to join McLellen.”

Ian cursed under his breath, then took her shaking hand in his and brought it to his lips. “My lady, I must leave but think on this while I’m away. We’re not finished.”