Chapter Twenty
“As I have said many a time, Husband, Hawkhill is without a fine warrior,” Lady Currie said.
“You have fifty soldiers and one old sergeant in command, but he is not a great warrior. He’s just an old soldier and he is drunk most of the time.
But I have found a great warrior I believe we should retain. ”
Laird and Lady Currie were in Laird Currie’s cluttered solar. Laird Currie was listening to his wife rattle on this morning, unusual that she was up so early. But in hearing her speak on a warrior that caught her eye at the Ludus Caledonia, he was coming to understand why she was up at this hour.
She wanted something.
The only time she ever spoke to him was when she wanted something.
The woman was prattling on about this great fighter she had discovered, but Laird Currie wasn’t giving her his full and undivided attention. He was looking for something on his bookshelf, haphazardly stacked with books and clutter and dust.
“Did you hear me?” Lady Currie demanded when he didn’t answer her quickly enough. “We must have greater protection here at Hawkhill. I must have greater protection. I have found such a man and for the right price, he shall be ours.”
“I hear ye, my dear,” Laird Currie said, turning to look at her with a dusty book in his hand. “What would ye have me do?”
Lady Currie was back to smiling pleasantly. “Give me money to purchase him, of course,” she said. “I believe he makes the Ludus Caledonia a good deal of money when he fights, so they will want a high price for him.”
Laird Currie scratched his head in thought, reaching into his pocket and pulling forth one of his rats.
He held the little beast as he moved away from his bookshelf, heading to the great table in the chamber that was so terribly cluttered.
As he shuffled across the room, lost in thought, Lady Currie sighed heavily.
“Greer, do you understand me?” she said sternly.
“I am trying to gain some quality protection for Hawkhill. The least you could do is cooperate. This warrior is relatively new to the Ludus Caledonia, which means they haven’t spent a good deal on his training yet.
However, he could make them a good deal of money over the life of his oath there.
I’ve heard that the good ones will make The Cal twenty pounds a year or more.
If we pay them sixty pounds sterling for him, I am sure they will take it. ”
Laird Currie reached his table and, still clutching the rat, seemed to be fumbling for something on the tabletop.
“My dear, we have plenty of soldiers,” he said. “I dunna see how one more will make a difference.”
Lady Currie pointed to the shelves and all of their expensive items. “If we were ever robbed, you would lose years’ worth of income,” she said.
“All you have are fifty-one drunkards to guard us. You know what I say is true; those men spend more time drinking than paying attention to their duties. Every night when I go to bed, I bolt my doors and pray we are not robbed in the night.”
“And ye believe this great warrior will help protect us?”
“I know he will.”
Laird Currie didn’t seem interested in what his wife was telling him, but he knew better than to argue. She would peck at him until she got her wish, so he waved a hand at her as if to shoo her out of his solar.
“If ye feel strongly about it, then do as ye wish,” he told her. “Go, now. I’ll have the money for ye before ye leave for the Ludus Caledonia tonight.”
“How do you know I am going tonight?”
“Because ye go every night.”
Considering Lady Currie rarely spoke to her husband, the subject of the Ludus Caledonia had her uncomfortable. She lived her life and he lived his, and they rarely crossed.
“It is a welcome respite from the monotony of this place,” she said. “I refuse to spend my life boxed up in this… this tomb.”
“And ye find distraction at The Cal?”
“You know I do.”
Laird Currie put his rat down on the tabletop, petting the little beast before it scurried away.
He busied himself with a piece of vellum that was in front of it, picking it up and pretending to examine it.
But all the while, he had something on his mind, something that his selfish wife had failed to notice.
Behind those dark eyes, he was calculating.
“I am glad,” he said after a moment. “I suppose it is exciting, though it has been years since I last attended a game there. Is Sir Clegg still in good health?”
“He is.”
“He has bought many fine pieces from me over the years, ye know.”
“I know.”
“I consider him a friend.”
“I know, Greer.”
“Ye missed going tae The Cal for about a month, so I was told.”
That caused Lady Currie to falter. “I was… ill,” she said. “Had you come to visit me, you would have known.”
He chuckled weakly, but it was without humor.
“I am not in the habit of visiting a woman, not even my wife, when she is ill with another man’s child,” he said.
“Dunna let it upset ye, my dear. I’ve known all along.
But there is something ye should know, too – any child ye bear will be my heir.
I need a son and since ye will lay with everyone but yer husband, I’ll claim any child ye give birth tae as my own.
So remember that when choosing those who will lie betwixt yer legs – make sure he’s strong and intelligent.
I should like those qualities for a son since I dunna have those qualities in a wife. ”
By the time he was finished, Lady Currie was red in the face. She stood over by the door to the solar, twitching with anger as Laird Currie continued to shuffle through the contents of his table as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“I must look for a father for my child elsewhere since my husband is a shriveled shell of a man who can only produce daughters,” she hissed. “I must find a real man to produce a son.”
He glanced up at her. “I wish ye well,” he said. “I’ll have yer money for ye later. Mayhap it’ll buy ye the man ye want.”
Lady Currie departed in a huff, slamming the solar door behind her.
Laird Currie stood there a moment, remembering the first woman he’d married, the fair Iris, and lamenting the tumor that had claimed her life.
Had he known then what he knew now, he would not have married again so he could have a son.
At least, he would not have married Blanche Ireby. It had been a dreadful mistake.
Unfortunately, it was one he had to live with.
*
Lilia was in her sewing room, working on a vibrant orange silk for Lady Currie that she planned to wear when spring came. She had been embroidering flowers and bees all around the neckline, a detailed project that took focus and skill, but all the focus in the world couldn’t help her today.
Not after everything that had happened the night before.
Even now, she knew Lady Currie was with Laird Currie, making demands of the man. And she knew what the demands were – Lady Currie intended to purchase Brody from the Ludus Caledonia so he could take charge of Hawkhill’s tiny army. But it wasn’t because Lady Currie wanted Brody’s fighting skill.
It was because she could command the man to bed her if he served her husband’s army.
That had been the grand scheme she’d come up with. As long as Brody was at the Ludus Caledonia, he could refuse her advances. But if she purchased his contract, he could refuse nothing.
Lilia’s hands were shaking even as she thought about it.
It was all Lady Currie could speak of last night as they returned from the Ludus Caledonia.
Lilia had spent a night of turmoil, thinking of Brody’s body against hers and the importance of their intimate encounter, but Lady Currie’s horrible plan threatened to ruin the joy she was feeling.
When she should be focused on her love for Brody, she was focused on her conniving mistress.
It was a hellish situation she found herself in.
“Lilia?”
A little voice broke her out of her train of thought and she looked up to see Tynan standing in the doorway with a tray in his hands. She smiled weakly.
“Come in, Tynan,” she said. “I’ve not seen ye lately. Where have ye been?”
The little boy entered the room, setting the tray down on the corner of a table that wasn’t covered with fabric or needles or thread.
“Angus has been teaching me about the horses,” he said. “I can work in the stable someday.”
Lilia set her sewing down in her lap. “There’s a good lad,” she said. “It’ll do ye well tae learn as much as ye can about many things.”
Tynan nodded. Then, he pointed to the tray. “Mam told me tae bring ye this. She said ye need tae eat.”
Leave it to Amy to pay attention to Lilia’s moods. It was true that Lilia hadn’t eaten much over the past few days. There had been too much on her mind. She smiled at her friend’s concern.
“I’ll thank her for watching over me,” she said.
She peered at the contents of the tray, which contained cheese, bread, and a full cup of wine. The food didn’t hold any allure, but the wine did. Picking up the cup, she downed half of it in two big swallows, feeling the warmth course into her belly.
Tynan was watching her closely.
“Lilia?”
“Aye?”
“Are ye worried?”
She looked at the boy, smiling. “About what?”
Tynan lowered his voice. “About m’lady,” he said. “About… everything.”
“What’s ‘everything’?”
“Ye know,” he said. “Brody. He said he’d come back for ye. Dunna worry because I know he will.”
Lilia’s smile faded and she set the cup down. Reaching out, she pulled Tynan very close to her so she could whisper in his ear.
“Tynan, I want ye tae listen closely,” she murmured. “Can ye do that?”
He nodded eagerly. “Aye.”
“Ye must never, ever mention Brody’s name here at Hawkhill,” she said. “Never speak of him, not even tae me. And if ye ever see him here, ye must never acknowledge that ye know him. Can ye do that?”
Tynan frowned. Brody was his friend and Lilia’s words were confusing, but he nodded. “Canna I even talk tae him?”