David tensed, afraid to hope his chance had come.
“You’ve wanted to catch D’Orsey outside Dunbar Castle,” Cochburn said. “I’ll wager that he’ll come himself.”
D’Orsey was famed throughout Europe for his fighting skills, and he liked to flaunt them.The pompous arse. David heard that D’Orsey loved to joust, for God’s sake. While it was true that Scottish kings sometimes held jousts for the court’s amusement, in this part of Scotland there was so much violence that men did not need to play at fighting. Here it was never a game, with ladies dropping lace handkerchiefs.
The Douglases spent a good deal of time at Court. Alison might well have been one of those admiring ladies, which only added to his irritation.
“I’ll send some of my men to support the siege,” David said, and poured them both another drink.
“I knew I could count on ye.” Cochburn slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, like your father.”
“When will ye need them?” David asked.
“Perhaps a week,” Cochburn said. “I’ll send word.”
“If D’Orsey does come,” David said, “I mean to capture him.”
“Capturethe bastard?” Cochburn said, raising his eyebrows.
“If I take him prisoner, I can trade him for my father’s widow,” David said. “Killing him will have to wait for another time.”
That time would come. David would not rest until he had fulfilled both of his father’s dying wishes.
***
Alison had to sit down to recover her wits. Wedderburn’s kisses had left her entire body tingling and her knees weak. The kisses sparked vivid memories of how he had touched her on their wedding night, which made it even worse. If Brian had not interrupted them…
She pushed those thoughts aside as best she could while she got dressed, brushed her gown, and re-braided her hair. Though the hour was late, she wanted to welcome her new husband’s first guest at the castle. David had just told her he expected the servants and his men to respect her. Obviously, it was important to him that she be the kind of laird’s wife who managed her household with grace and authority—the kind her mother had raised her to be.
After years of being treated like dirt under Blackadder’s boots, her confidence was low. Perhaps she would have been better able to withstand Blackadder’s efforts to crush her spirit if she had not wed him so young. Before going out the door, she took a deep breath and reminded herself that she came from a long line of chieftains and strong women. She was not meant to be that sad, meek lass Blackadder had made her into.
The hall was quiet when she entered. The two lairds sat alone at the high table at the far end of the long room, while most of the other men were asleep or talking in low voices in other parts of the room. A few of the men who had been away from the castle with David for the last two days wore fresh bandages. She wondered whom they had fought and why. The Humes had already taken Blackadder Castle. What more did David want?
She recognized Cochburn, though she did not know him well. With his thickening middle, bald head, bulbous nose, and jagged scar down the side of his face, he suffered by comparison to Wedderburn’s hard, masculine beauty.
After noticing no food had been brought to their guest, she gently shook one of the servants awake and sent her for a platter of cold meats, cheese, and oatcakes, as well as another jug of whisky. The woman rose at once and went to do as she bid with a courteous “Aye, m’lady.” Evidently, David’s threat to toss out anyone who disrespected her had already spread among the servants. Though he had done her many wrongs, she was grateful for that.
As she approached the two lairds, who were in deep conversation, she caught a familiar name: Lord D’Orsey.
“A thousand welcomes to ye, Laird Cochburn,” she said.
“My friend here is a verra lucky man,” Cochburn said. “Blessings on your new marriage.”
He spoke as though their marriage was a happy event arranged by their families, rather than one accomplished through siege and capture. She could not quite thank him, but she nodded to acknowledge his good wishes.
“May ye have many children,” he said, and raised his cup.
She smiled at the thought of a new babe in her arms. She had given up on having more, another fault Blackadder had laid at her door.
“May that blessed event come soon,” Wedderburn said, and raised his cup to her too. Over the top of it, he gave her a sizzling look that left no doubt he was thinking of the act of conception rather than the babe it might bring.
“Ah, here are the refreshments.” She smiled her thanks to the sleepy servant who arrived with a generous platter and a jug of whisky.
Cochburn had his eating knife out before the platter was on the table. “Thoughtful of ye, Lady Alison,” he said as he stabbed a slab of beef. “’Twas a long ride here.”
She had intended to exchange a few pleasantries with their guest, then leave the men to their talk, but they appeared to welcome her presence. With Blackadder, silence had always been the safest course, but she wanted to show Wedderburn—and herself—that she could be an engaging hostess.
“Did I hear ye mention Lord D’Orsey?” she asked. “I’m pleased to say that I met the famed French nobleman several times at court.”