Seonaid paused at the top of the stairs and stared around with surprise. Duncan had started the changes abovestairs before she'd left. He'd decided to add rooms when his father had pointed out that the family was growing and that should Iliana's mother visit, she would be expected to have one of the three rooms abovestairs. He had then added that neither he nor Seonaid were giving up theirs, so Duncan had best be prepared to give up the one he shared with his young bride. The idea of sleeping in the great hall with his sweet young wife had been more than Duncan could stand. He had been in a panic to build extra rooms abovestairs. It appeared the deed was done. Certainly the upstairs sported twice the rooms it used to.
Seonaid hesitated, then moved to the door to her own room, or at least the room she used to sleep in, and presumedly still did. However, when she opened the door, she found it already occupied. Seonaid came to a halt in the entrance. It took her a second to recognize Helen sound asleep on her bed. Unwilling to disturb her and then have to answer questions, Seonaid backed out of the room.
" 'Tis sorry I am, me lady. But I thought it best to put the sister in yer room," the maid, Janna, explained as she rushed up. "The new rooms are no yet all properly furnished."
Seonaid waved the explanation and apology away. " 'Tis fine. I'll take one o' the other rooms. Lord Rolfe and Sherwell can either share a room or fight over who sleeps below. I am too tired to be polite and would not disturb Hel--er, Sister Helen," she corrected herself quickly. "Mayhap ye can go below to sort out the men and where they're to sleep."
"Aye, m'lady."
Seonaid watched her hurry off to the stairs, which was the only reason she saw Blake appear as he took the last few steps to the landing. When he spotted her and started forward, Seonaid turned away and hurried to the door of the first of the new rooms.
"Seonaid!" Blake called, his voice grim.
Not in the mood to talk, Seonaid managed to slip inside and shut the door before he reached her. She had slammed the bar into place across it just before his fist landed on the other side.
"Seonaid!"
"Go away!" she yelled through the door, then turned to survey the room she'd chosen. A grimace immediately made its way across her face. It had a bed, but that was all. There was no other furniture in the room. Neither were there tapestries on the wall yet, nor even linens on the bare straw mattress of the bed. Seonaid shrugged. She'd slept in worse conditions. At least she had a bed.
"Seonaid, open the door!" Blake pounded on the wooden surface, but she ignored him. Removing her plaid, she wrapped it around herself like a blanket as she crossed the room, then collapsed on the bed to seek the oblivion of sleep.
Blake glared at the door with frustration and pounded on it again. "Seonaid! Come out here!"
"Here! What's all this racket? How's a body supposed to rest and regain his health with the likes o' you making all this noise?"
Blake turned slowly to find his intended father-in-law standing in the open doorway of the room across the hall from the one he had just pounded on. But it was the sight of his fine new braies on the man that made him scowl. The doublet was missing, but the bandage around the Scot's upper chest reminded Blake that the man had been shot in the shoulder by an arrow ... and no doubt while wearing the gold doublet too. The blasted thing was probably ruined.
"Aye. What's all the racket?" Duncan asked, drawing Blake's attention to the next door down, which had opened to reveal the younger male Dunbar in a similar state of undress, though he wore only a linen wrapped around his waist. A damp linen. The man had obviously just come from his bath.
"My apologies, gentlemen," Blake said dryly. "I was merely trying to have a word with Seonaid."
"Well, have it another time. 'Tis obvious she's no interested in talkin' to ye." Angus's gaze slid past him to the door, then back, and a grudging smile curved his lips. "Managed to get her out o' the abbey, I see. That's a surprise. She must favor ye more than I thought, else she woudna have come out."
Blake snorted. "She came out because the abbess had unbarred the door to let us in. She thought it was safer to leave. We just got lucky enough to catch her. Then catch her again, and again."
Duncan gave a bark of laughter and moved away from his door to draw nearer, dragging the linen behind him as he came. "She's makin' ye run after her, is she?"
"Aye. The only reason we managed to get here now is because the Camerons attacked, else she would have made another run for it," Blake admitted grimly.
"The Camerons?" Angus's eyebrows flew up, and his gaze shot to Duncan before he glanced back and asked, "Well, what did ye do to make them angry at ye, lad?"
"Me?" Blake said with surprise. "They were not after me. Seonaid, Aeldra, and Sister Helen were bathing when the men attacked them. Seonaid said they were enemies to the Dunbars and it was best to get back here before they went for help and came back with a larger party."
Father and son exchanged another glance.
"Why would she lie about that?" Duncan asked his father, but the older man merely shook his head in open bewilderment.
"Do you mean to say the Camerons are not enemies to the Dunbars?" Blake asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Nay. We've no fight with the Camerons," Duncan told him.
"But she said you did."
"She lied," Angus said easily, not at all upset that she had.
"But she made us ride day and night to reach here for fear they would attack again."
"She made ye hurry back here?" Duncan asked with surprise.
"Hmmm." Angus pursed his lips and scratched the gray stubble on his cheek thoughtfully. "That does seem odd." Then he asked, "Did you say Sister Helen? Ye brought a nun back with ye from St. Simmian's?"
Blake nodded. "Aye. Seonaid had promised to escort the sister to England to visit her family."
"She did, did she?" Angus was looking even more thoughtful at this news.
"Aye," Blake murmured, then glanced past Duncan to a dark-haired beauty standing in the doorway. Blake had never met Iliana of Wildwood before, but if this was she, Duncan was a lucky beggar.
"Husband? Is anything wrong?" the woman called softly.
Duncan whirled toward her voice and shook his head as he moved back to her. "Nay. Everything is fine. 'Tis just that fool countryman o' yers causing a racket as he tries to woo Seonaid. He ..." The rest of what he was saying to his wife was lost to Blake as the man urged her backward into their room, followed her, and closed the door without a by-your-leave to his father or Blake.
Angus was grinning with amusement when Blake turned back to him. No doubt his son's description of him as "that fool countryman of yours" had amused the man.
"Back to why Seonaid would lie about the Camerons ..." he said grimly, but the older man cut him off.
"We'll sort that out when she emerges," he said, waving the matter away as inconsequential; then he tipped his head and asked, "Would ye care for a bit of advice on wooin' me daughter?"
Blake stiffened at the very suggestion. He had never in his life needed advice on wooing. He'd been a born wooer, wooing the local girls before he'd left the cradle. "Nay. I do not need advice on wooing Seonaid," he said stiffly. "Especially from you."
"As ye like," the old man said with a shrug. "But mayhap I should point out that I am wooin' Lady Wildwood ... and verra well," he added with a grin. "While you appear to be makin' a mess o' it with me daughter." He allowed Blake to gnaw on that for a moment, then added, "Seonaid isna one of those weak-kneed, simpering idiots yer used to at court. Pretty words and fancy dress'll no impress her. It will take a strong man to move my girl."
Before Blake could respond, a rustling sound reached them from inside the Dunbar's room. Angus glanced over his shoulder, then turned back, suddenly all business. "Well, if that's all, I'm back to me bed. Took a terrible wound durin' the siege, ye ken." He raised a hand to cover the bandage on his shoulder and managed a sorrowful look as he backed into the room. "Need me rest. So keep the racket down." He growled the last i
n warning tones just before slamming the door closed.
Blake scowled at the door the Dunbar laird had just slammed, then at the door Seonaid had disappeared through, debating whether to pound and shout for her some more. He had just decided not to waste his breath or energy when the maid he had passed earlier appeared at the stairs at the end of the hall with Lord Rolfe and the bishop behind her.
"Ah, Blake." Rolfe nodded as they approached. "It would appear that there are only two rooms left. You and I can share one if you wish, and the bishop can have the other, or--"
"I shall sleep in the great hall," Blake announced, moving past the trio toward the stairs. That way he could keep an eye out in case Seonaid got it into her head to run again.
Seonaid didn't sleep long. The women had slept on the last part of the ride to Dunbar so that they would be wellrested when they arrived and could slip off again while the men recovered from the journey. She had only fallen asleep at all out of emotional exhaustion.
Rolling off the bed, she quickly rearranged her plaid, then moved to the window to peer down at the bailey and ponder what she should do. Her plan to escape once they arrived home no longer seemed viable. Helen was sleeping and Seonaid had no idea where Aeldra was.
Not that she really felt like running anymore anyway. It seemed to her that if she hadn't run in the first place, none of what had followed would have occurred here at Dunbar. Allistair never would have been tempted to treason because she would have been married to Blake when he arrived and wallowing in marital misery. Greenweld would have had no co-conspirator within Dunbar. Duncan and the men couldn't have been lured away by claims that she'd been kidnaped by the Colquhouns. The attack on the castle wouldn't have taken place, her father wouldn't have taken an arrow to the shoulder, the stables and several cottages wouldn't have been burned to the ground, Allistair would still be alive, and Duncan would never have been forced to kill him.
There was no doubt in Seonaid's mind that killing Allistair must have been one of the hardest things her brother had ever had to do. The four of them had been as close as peas in a pod as children, running the hills together, laughing and playing. Duncan had grown apart from the rest of them over the last few years, his time taken up with some of the duties he had to perform as he took over more and more of the laird's role. But still it must have been hard, and his suffering would be worse than hers and Aeldra's, because Allistair had died at his hand.
Sighing, she turned her attention to the problem of Helen and had been considering the matter for several minutes when a soft knock sounded at the door. Two raps, a pause, then three more. Recognizing Aeldra's signature knock, Seonaid moved to answer it and found both Aeldra and Helen in the hall. Stepping to the side, she gestured for them to enter, then closed the door behind them.
The three women milled about the room in an oddly uncomfortable silence for a moment, then Helen blurted out, "I fell asleep waiting for you to return. The maid who showed me to your room told me what happened. I am so sorry about Allistair."
Her gaze slid over both women as she said that, making it obvious that while Aeldra had found Helen in Seonaid's room, they hadn't really spoken yet, but had immediately come to find her.
"So am I. Sorry about Allistair, I mean," Seonaid murmured in Aeldra's general direction, too ashamed at the part she had played in his downfall to meet her eyes.
"Me too," Aeldra muttered.
They fell back into their uncomfortable silence again, then Helen said, "Well, are we going to slip off while the men sleep?"
"We'll have to take the secret passage," Aeldra announced. "Blake's in the great hall. He's sleepin' in a chair by the fire but wakes at every sound. He woke when I entered."
"Secret passage?" Helen asked with interest.
"Aye. It comes out down near the village. We can--"
"We arena goin' anywhere," Seonaid interrupted, and both women turned amazed faces her way.
"What?" Helen asked with disappointment. "You will not take me home to England?"
Seonaid shrugged away her guilt and said, "I was considerin' the matter 'ere ye got here, and it occurred to me that if Cameron has figured out yer disguise and followed us, he may be desperate enough that he could be waitin' outside the walls. If so, do we risk takin' ye back out, we could ride ye right back into his arms."
"Oh." Helen frowned. "I had not thought of that."
Seonaid shrugged. "Ye're safe here until yer father can come to fetch ye. We'll send a messenger to let him know where ye are."
Helen nodded, then glanced at Aeldra when the blonde said, "So ye'll jest stay here and marry the Sherwell?"
Seonaid met her cousin's gaze but quickly looked away when she saw the solemn way Aeldra was watching her. Guilt was suddenly a suffocating blanket around her. If she had stayed put the first time and married Blake ...
"Nay," Helen said firmly. "You need not stay here with me. If your father does not mind me staying, I shall be fine. You two should leave as you had planned."
Seonaid shrugged and turned to walk to her window. "Nay. We'll stay."
"Why?" Helen asked with amazement. "I thought you did not wish to marry Blake."
Seonaid shrugged but remained silent, her gaze fixed on the activity in the bailey below.
"Do you want to marry Blake?" Helen asked.
Seonaid scowled at her persistence. "Let us say I am resigned. I have known I was to marry him from the time I could talk." That fact had been drummed into her from childhood on, with confusing results. Part of her had loathed the idea of marrying him, but another part ...
Angus Dunbar had spent years cursing the senior Sherwell, but other than calling Blake "that sneaky Sherwell bastard's whelp" had said little against the man she was to eventually marry. But any real information she had gleaned of the man she was betrothed to had come from other sources. There had been the occasional visitor over the years who had stopped in at Dunbar and, when it was realized that Seonaid was to marry Blake Sherwell, had often immediately set about telling tales of what he was up to.
By all accounts Blake had been a handsome boy, charming even as a youth. As he had grown, his charm and good looks had apparently grown with him, and the women visitors had raved about what a lucky girl she was. Then he had reached adulthood, earned his spurs, and she had begun to hear other things. That he was not simply waiting around for his father to drop dead so that he could claim his title and wealth as others in his position might do, but that he was ambitious. He had joined with a friend of his, Amaury de Aneford, and had collected a small band of soldiers together who could be hired out to anyone who had need of a strong sword arm. They were successful warriors, and the size of their party had grown until Blake and Amaury led hundreds and had earned immense wealth.
Then there were the tales of his male prowess. He was handsome and good with words and used both to his advantage to woo countless women to his bed. The wife of one visitor had even caught her alone so that she could brag to Seonaid about how she herself had been bedded by him, and that it was a treat she would not soon forget. Not ignorant to the ways of men or women, Seonaid had taken the lady's catty comments in stride and merely said, "He is a man and like all men shall bed all the whores he can, but he shall marry me." Leaving the woman gasping, she'd walked away. And that had been her attitude at first.
Young men were expected to sow their wild oats 'ere settling down to marriage. Many continued sowing them long after they were wed. But whatever the case, Seonaid could not take his activities with other women as a personal slight. She had taken them in stride and patiently waited for the time when he would come to marry her, and they would start a home and family together. After reaching puberty and becoming a woman, she had even had the occasional daydream about the future, about a handsome blond Adonis riding into Dunbar. He was on a white charger, of course. He rode in as proud as a Greek god, surveyed those here at Dunbar and--of course--his heart recognized her at once as his bride.
In her daydreams Seona
id was always practicing at swords with one of the men when Blake arrived. Her dream Blake was mightily impressed by her skill and talent. He leapt from his horse, took the place of her vanquished loser, and began to battle with her, giving no quarter because he respected her skill too much to hold back. In the end the battle was always a draw, neither beating the other. And Blake bowed to her, professing his undying admiration for her abilities and his pride in having her as his wife, and sometimes he even kissed her. Other times--if she was alone in her room and Aeldra was not snoring away beside her--her daydreams went further than a kiss. He might dare to touch her breast through her gown, and then they would begin to wrestle and roll around on the ground. Seonaid usually fell asleep with a satisfied little sigh at that point.
She'd had these fantasies with incredible regularity starting just before her sixteenth birthday, when everyone had begun to comment that the Sherwell would no doubt be coming to claim her soon. They had continued after her sixteenth birthday, and her seventeenth birthday. They, along with the predictions that he would soon come, had begun to slow a bit after her eighteenth birthday passed without his arrival, and slowed even more after the nineteenth. By her twentieth birthday, Seonaid's daydreams had changed somewhat. He still rode in, still recognized her, but their battle ended in her beating him, then his groveling for her forgiveness in tarrying so long and her eventually relenting and deigning to marry him.
By her twenty-second birthday, all predictions that he would soon be coming for her had stopped and people had avoided her eyes altogether when his name was brought up. They were embarrassed for her because he obviously wasn't coming. It was around that same time that Seonaid's daydreams had taken another turn. In a new one, he still recognized her and there was a battle, but she beat him to a bloody pulp, then spat in his face and said she wouldn't marry him if he were the last person on earth. No amount of groveling on his part made her relent.