Nodding, the other woman continued up the stairs to the second level of the keep. "I did not notice any baggage with you. Is--"
"I fear circumstances forced us to leave without baggage. I believe our belongings are following, but are most likely several days behind. We have been traveling night and day since leaving Liverpool yestermorn."
Lady Stafford cast a surprised glance over her shoulder. "Yestermorn?"
"Aye. Well, we would have arrived here sooner, but we did not originally intend on putting you out so. Unfortunately we had a change of plans and had to backtrack a bit. I hope we are not too much of a nuisance?"
Lady Stafford was silent as they reached the upper hall. She led the way past two doors, to a third that she opened and ushered Kyla through. It wasn't until she had closed the door behind them that she spoke, and then it was in a quiet, earnest voice. "Lord Shropshire is an old friend. He sent word to us from Forsythe on what was occurring there. He told us all about Catriona's claims."
Kyla hesitated, uncertain how to respond to this news. "Lady Stafford--"
"Camilla," the older woman interrupted. "Call me Camilla."
"Camilla," Kyla corrected, forcing a slight smile. "I am not sure--"
"I do not believe her."
Kyla blinked at that. "You do not?"
"Nay. I knew Catriona at court," Camilla told her bitterly. "She lifted her skirts for more lords there than--" Flushing slightly, she sighed. "Pray excuse my vulgar talk. I fear I did not like your sister-in-law. I found her deceitful and overly ambitious. Catriona--" She broke off as a tap sounded at the door. Moving to open it, she stepped out of the way as the servants entered with the bath, then glanced toward Kyla once more. "I must needs see to the meal Cook is putting together for you, so I shall leave you to your bath now."
Kyla barely had time to murmur a thank-you before the woman was out the door. Wishing they had had more time to talk, Kyla sank onto the side of the bed as the servants filled the tub. They had barely finished the chore and departed when another light tapping preceded the entrance of a petite, blond servant.
"Lady Camilla sent this dress for you to don after you bathe. She thought you might like a fresh gown."
"That was very kind," Kyla murmured sincerely, peering at the lovely crimson gown the maid laid across the bed. It was not a color she would have chosen for herself, but knew it would suit her dark hair and pale skin well.
"My name is Beth," the girl announced, moving to help her undress. "I am to be your maid while you are here. If there is aught you wish, you need only ask me, my lady, and I will see to it."
"I shall remember that, Beth." Kyla sighed her relief as her gown dropped away. That sigh turned into a moan of pleasure as she stepped into the tub, and the warm liquid enveloped her aching bones and joints. She would have liked to have had a nice long soak, but suspected she did not have the time. Sighing regretfully, she quickly scrubbed away the dust from her travels, washing her back and hair with Beth's help before stepping out of the tub into a large cloth the maid held out for her.
She was dressed and seated by the fire as Beth did her best to quickly dry her hair when Galen entered. Spying them, he ordered the girl out, then barely waited for her to flee before dropping his clothes and stepping into the leftover bath water. If she had been quick in the tub, he was quicker. Bare moments after stepping into it, he was out and redonning his clothes. That done, he headed for the door once more. "Come."
Dropping the brush she had been using, Kyla scooted to her feet and scurried after him. She managed to make it to his side at the top of the stairs and he took her arm in a firm grip as they descended those, remembering his manners for all his temper.
Everyone else was already at table when they arrived. Galen seated Kyla beside Lady Stafford, then sat next to her and immediately reached for the ale.
Wondering what exactly it was she had done wrong, Kyla sighed and began to pick at the food placed before her.
"Gilbert was just telling us of your adventure on the way here," Lady Stafford said.
Feeling Galen stiffen beside her at their host's words, Kyla frowned slightly, but cleared her expression as she glanced past Lady Stafford to her husband. "Has he, my lord?"
"Aye. You may call me Stephen, Lady Kyla. I am not so much older that you need 'lord' me."
"Did you truly take your dirk to the MacGregor?" Lady Stafford asked now with something akin to amazement.
Kyla flushed at the question, but had no need to answer as her men were more than happy to brag of her exploits for her.
"Aye, she did," Angus announced proudly. "Cut him good, too. Straight across the palm." He used his own hand to show them exactly where she had got the man. "He'll feel that for a while, I can tell ye."
Lady Stafford shuddered delicately at that. "'Twas fair brave of you, Lady Kyla. I fear that had I been in your position, I should have been quite helpless."
"Not our lady," Duncan proclaimed with pride. "Naught afrights her. Why, she even took her dirk to Robbie when we attacked her escort on the way to the MacGregors. Gave him a nasty cut jest here." He gestured to his side, then shrugged. "Mind ye, she didn't hurt him much, but she did manage to make him bleed. And it isn't the first time she's given the MacGregor the slip either. He tried to take her on the island and she and Aelfread--that's Robbie here's wife--they--"
"Enough!" Galen snapped, silencing his man at once. Kyla turned to frown at her husband for his sharpness despite the fact that she herself had just been wishing she were seated closer to Duncan so that she might kick him under the table and bring his taletelling to a halt. It was not that she was ashamed of defending herself, but she was embarrassed to have so much attention directed her way. Still, now that her husband had silenced him for her, she was irritated. Mostly because she suspected he wanted the end of it for an entirely different reason than she did. It had not gone unnoticed by her that men tended to prefer women to react as Lady Stafford said that she would have in the same situation.
"What is the matter, husband? Are you ashamed of me?" she asked coldly.
"Don't be foolish, wife."
"Foolish, is it? You have been angered at me since the MacGregor attack in the woods. Think you I had not noticed? The only reason I can see for your anger is that you are shamed by my unladylike defense of myself. Mayhap you would have preferred it had I sat helpless and allowed him to take me?"
"Aye, mayhap I would," he snapped shortly.
Seeing the hurt on her face, the men glanced at each other, then Duncan cleared his throat. He murmured gently, "He doesn't mean that, me lady. He--"
"You would rather he had captured me?" Kyla asked in dismay.
"Nay, me lady." Tommy frowned at his chief. "I am sure he didn't mean--"
"Aye, I did," Galen refuted, scowling at the censure emanating from his men. "Had that happened, I surely would have saved ye--as is me place."
"Pride," Robbie rumbled now. "A man's pride is a precious thing, me lady."
"Well, damn your pride!" Kyla snapped at Galen. "I would think--"
His mug slammed down at that. "That is the problem, wife. Ye think too damn much. Don't think. 'Tis my place to do the thinking and the protecting."
"I see," she murmured coldly. "I do not suppose you would care to tell me my place in all of this? What task is it exactly that I am to attend to?"
Galen scowled, his mind drawing a blank for a moment, then satisfaction crossed his face. "Yer the wife. Yer to warm me bed and bear me bairns."
Every single person present nearly groaned aloud at that as Kyla's eyes narrowed dangerously. This time it was Gilbert who tried to assuage her building temper. "I do not think he means--"
"And when I am not busy with those two things?" Kyla interrupted.
Galen shrugged irritably. "Women things. Embroidery."
"Camilla does some lovely embroidery," Lord Stafford said suddenly. Elbowing his wife, he added, "Mayhap you should show Lady Kyla some of--"
"I
fear I would much rather I had been captured by MacGregor and kept by him than to spend the rest of my days and nights working at my needlepoint."
Every single man at the table gasped at that. Even Lady Stafford was round-eyed, though she did take a turn at trying to soothe Galen then. "She does not mean that, my lord. She is just overwrought."
"As for warming your bed and bearing your bairns," Kyla continued icily, "I fear that at the moment I do not much feel like tending to either of those things. If you will excuse me, one and all?" Without awaiting a response, she stood and strode purposefully toward the steps to the second floor.
Galen glared after her departing back until it disappeared from sight, then turned to glower at the wide-eyed people around the table, daring them to comment as he reached for his tankard of ale. Slamming it down, he turned his attention to the food before him, determined to appear unbothered by his wife's words. He had swallowed his first bite and was chewing determinedly at a second when a loud dragging, scraping sound flowed down to them from overhead.
Glancing upward, he shifted uncomfortably on the bench. These were the sounds that had emanated from his own room the night he had announced their marriage. One look at his men told him that they remembered as well.
"I believe your wife is rearranging our guest room, my lord," Stafford's wife murmured, avoiding his eyes as the men all stared at the ceiling above.
When Galen remained silent, Duncan cleared his throat and explained, "Our lady has a tendency to do that."
"Especially when she is angered," Tommy added under his breath, wondering what she was moving against the door this time. At home she used her chests. She had no chests with her now. He could only assume that meant she was now pushing furniture up against the door. Heavy furniture, too, he thought as the first dragging sound ended only to begin again a moment later as another piece of furniture was shoved determinedly across the floor above.
Pretending unconcern, Galen continued to chew, then stilled as the sound stopped again to be followed by a much louder groan of wood against wood.
His gaze slid to Lady Stafford when she uttered an incomprehensible sound then burst out with a dismayed laugh. "I believe she is moving the bed, my lord. I would wonder she has the strength. 'Tis of solid oak...." Her voice trailed away into silence. Galen was no longer listening. He had fled the table, stomping determinedly toward the stairs.
It was a monster. A great behemoth of a bed. Kyla had never seen the likes of it before. Blowing a stray strand of hair off her forehead, she muttered something unflattering regarding its size under her breath, then bent to the bed again, putting all of her weight behind moving the blasted thing. She had already moved the two chairs from before the fire up against the door, but knew their weight was not sufficient to keep her husband out. This great elephant of a bed should do it, however. In fact, it alone would most like have sufficed. She only wished she had thought of that before wasting her energy on the chairs.
Grunting as the bed began to slide across the floor under her influence, Kyla allowed a smile of satisfaction to grace her face. The distance between the end of the bed and the edge of the two chairs before the door closed. Frustration brought a spate of curses from her lips in the next instant when the door suddenly pushed open and Galen slid quickly into the room a split second before the impetus of her push rammed the bed up against the chairs, pushing them against the door and forcing it well and truly closed.
Straightening slowly from her bent position at the end of the bed, Kyla glared furiously at her husband.
Galen peered back, taking in her flushed cheeks, the disarray of her hair and the fury on her face and could not restrain the smile that slowly grew on his face. His own anger slipped away that easily. "Rearranging again?"
She flew at him in a fury, fists waving and ready to do damage. Galen caught her easily before she had even managed one blow. Pulling her forward until her breasts rubbed against his chest through their clothes, he bared his teeth in a smile. "I like it when yer blood is hot and yer passions awakened, wife. It makes me hot, too."
Kyla's eyes widened at that, then narrowed when he dropped his mouth to cover hers. She thought of biting him. Considered bringing a knee up to do him injury, but in the end she did exactly as he accused and thought too much. While she was busy thinking, he was breaching her defenses. By the time she had decided to commit both actions, he had managed to arouse her body to the point where it was unwilling to perform either task. Instead of fighting him off, her body curved into him, her throat forcing a moan out into his mouth.
By the time he released her lips to kiss a trail along her jaw line toward her ear, Kyla was sighing in defeat. She simply could not stay angry with the great oaf. On the other hand, she thought now, neither could she spend the rest of her life locked inside a castle doing needlepoint. "Husband?"
"Hmmm?" He did not stop his kisses and tender caresses.
"Husband, I do not like needlework." She bit her lip then, waiting for a response, but all she got was an unintelligible mumbling as he reached her ear and began to nibble at the delicate lobe.
Determined to make her point, Kyla said, "I mean it, my lord. I really do not like needlepoint."
"Aye, loving, I heard ye," he breathed by her ear, then swept her into his arms and started toward the bed.
Frowning, Kyla twisted her head away from the lips still nibbling at her ear and neck, and she peered at him seriously. "One might even go so far as to say that I detest needlepoint," she told him firmly.
Galen finally seemed to get the point. Slowing to a halt, he took in her expression, then sighed. "I didn't mean what I said about ye defending yerself. I was just angry at meself because ye had to. B'Gad! I didn't even sense we were being trailed. Ye had to tell me." His self-disgust over that was evident. "I should have been aware of what was going on about me. Had I been more alert, I would have tended to MacGregor right then and he would no longer be a threat."
Realizing that this was as close to an apology as she was going to get, Kyla sighed and nodded in understanding, but Galen wasn't finished.
"Howbeit, that isn't what happened. He is still a threat, and so long as he is, I can't let ye wander about on yer own. I need ye too much to be allowing the MacGregor to steal ye from me. But--" he added when Kyla opened her mouth to speak. "I promise ye this. I'll tend to the man ere we return home so that ye can run the beach again."
He sealed that promise with a kiss as he laid her on the bed. Then he dropped his plaid and pounced on her, his hands and lips giving her little chance to discuss the matter further...even had she really wanted to.
The earth was rumbling and shaking. Kyla's eyes popped open with dismay, her hands reaching to grasp at the bed as the room moved about her.
"Good! Yer awake."
Turning at that voice, she stared blankly at her husband, the source of all the shaking and rumbling. Up and dressed, he was sliding the bed back across the floor with her in it.
Sighing as the bed came to a halt, Kyla sat up and peered toward the window. She could spy stars through it. "'Tis not even morn yet."
"Aye, yer right, it isn't," Galen agreed. He gave the bed one final push to set it in place before tossing her gown and under-tunic to her and turning back to the door to grab the chairs next, moving them both at the same time.
Sighing, Kyla tugged her under-tunic on, grumbling all the while. "I do not see why you needs must wake me. Surely we will not leave ere morn? I--"
"We leave within the hour."
Kyla paused to peer at him wide eyed. "In the middle of the night?"
"'Twill give us cover if the MacGregor followed and is waiting to pounce."
She frowned over that. "But what of the horses? Should they not rest--"
"Lord Stafford has been good enough to supply us with fresh ones."
"Oh." Seeing no escape from getting back on a horse, she finished tugging her gown on. It was a shame really, her behind was just beginning to have feeling aga
in.
"Come along. Don't tarry." Galen started for the door. "A meal awaits ye below."
Kyla's stomach rumbled aloud at that announcement. Hunger replacing her disappointment, she slid her feet to the floor and stood, straightening her gown as she moved to follow her husband.
The Stafford great hall was dead silent when Kyla and Galen entered. At first she thought the people in the room were all immersed in some sort of prayer. Their heads were raised, their eyes turned to the ceiling as if awaiting the rumble of God's voice. Then Galen cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him.
"There were three items moved against the door last night," Tommy explained when Galen raised his eyebrows as he ushered his wife to the bench and took a seat himself.
"I moved two chairs together," was Galen's response.
"Ahh." Leaning past his lord, he smiled pleasantly at his blushing lady and nodded. "Good morn, me lady."
Kyla managed an uncertain smile, then ducked her head to the food placed before her. She hardly noticed when the men finished their own meals and left the table. She herself had barely finished and sat back to release a satisfied sigh when Galen was on his feet, hand at her elbow, urging her up. "Come. We must go."
"Oh, but--" Tossing him an irritated frown, Kyla glanced back to her hostess as her husband dragged her toward the door of the keep. "The meal was lovely. You must compliment your cook for me. Thank you for everything!" She cried the last word as Galen tugged her through the keep doors, then turned to scowl at the man. "That was most rude, husband."
"Shropshire will offer our thanks. Stafford is his friend."
"Is he not coming with us?"
"Aye. He'll be along. I just wanted to check the horses ere we leave."
"Well, surely you did not need me for that? I could have remained behind to offer proper appreciation to--"
"Wife, have ye not noticed that when yer left to yer own devices, ye tend to get yerself in trouble?" Galen asked as he pulled her into the stables where the men were examining the horses set up for them.