Chapter Fifteen #2
But, just before they turned to go up the stairs, she peered into the entry of the hall and saw Rob sitting at the high table with only Tyra.
Symon was not to be seen. The hall was filled so there was no way he could hear her.
He turned his head at just that moment and their gazes met.
Even from this distance she could feel or read the desire in his for her.
She shivered so much, in anticipation, in remembering, that the guard reached out to steady her.
Wrapping the shawl around her shoulders, she followed him up the stairs to wait on Rob’s return...and all that meant for them this night.
* * *
Tyra followed his gaze. Not that she needed to in order to know what he looked at—or rather, who.
She knew the slut stood at the back of the hall from the way his eyes softened and stared.
He’d stopped with his hand halfway to his mouth, like the village idiot unable to feed himself.
He seemed to gather his wits and realise what he must look like, for he coughed and put the bread down and lifted his cup instead.
She took a deep breath and let it out, exhausted now from hours of waiting for him to punish her for disobeying his orders.
Nothing could be clearer than his order that the MacLerie woman was his and no one was to touch her.
Though she imagined it was like a dog marking his territory against incursion, she did not fool herself into believing that her striking the bitch was not disobeying him.
So, she prepared herself all day for the summons or the angry interruption from him.
Laird Rob Matheson. She understood power—its uses and misuses.
She understood that she’d overstepped the boundaries he’d set around his little bedmate.
She understood after living with a father who did not allow anyone to disobey his word, or punishment would follow for that defiance.
She would hold Rob to the same standard to which she held her father and her brother—if he hit her, he’d better kill her or she would be the last one standing.
Her father had laughed at her bold words, but she was here and he was under the dirt in the burial grounds next to the chapel.
Her brother tended to think he was in charge and she let him think that—it was easier to control and guide him that way. The fool!
Now, it was Rob’s turn.
So, when he greeted her attendance at his table with a warm smile, chills ran down her back.
The smile and soft tone worried her more than when her father would rant and rail.
His gentle touch on her shoulder as he passed by her to his chair made gooseflesh rise on her skin.
Dinner became a tense time as she waited for him to lash out at her.
Since every living person within Keppoch Keep knew she’d struck Lilidh MacLerie, it would stand to reason that he would retaliate in public so that all could witness.
It’s what men of power did. Against her will, Tyra became skittish.
Every time he lifted his hand, she braced.
Each time he turned his attention to her, she waited for his harsh words and threats.
And the meal went on in peace. The conversation pleasant especially since her brother who tended to be sulky and bitter was absent.
Now, he sat there with a stupid grin on his face, watching the girl climb the steps to his chambers. She probably should feel some gratitude that the MacLerie’s
daughter was the target of his lust and she was not. As his betrothed, no one would naysay his rights to her even before the vows were spoken. Indeed, many betrothed anticipated their vows often. Her own mother was carrying her at the wedding to her father.
If he had chosen to take her to his bed in these months before their wedding, no one would have questioned him. That he instead chose to rut Lilidh
MacLerie like she was a bitch in heat was a good thing in her estimation. It made her life easier and allowed her time and caused enough distraction to him for her to put her plans in place.
So, she allowed herself a momentary victory of a sort—she’d not been reprimanded or even questioned about the incident with Lilidh this morning. Letting out her breath for the first time all day, the shock of his words and tone caught her by surprise.
‘You seem to think my orders do not apply to you, lady, but they do. Most certainly,’ he said in a low voice that did not carry past their table.
He leaned in towards her, a smile on his features that was as false as the one usually on hers.
‘If you go near her, if you send someone to her, if you speak of or to her, I will get rid of you once and for all.’
Though part of her wanted to laugh as if he jested, another part of her deep inside grew alarmed by his demeanour. She waited now for the blow, more nervous than she’d ever been.
‘Do you understand my words, Tyra?’ he asked, his voice softer and more menacing than before.
Fearful that she might cry out, she could only shake her head in reply. He accepted it and leaned back in his chair.
‘Goodnight then, lady,’ he said so that all could hear. ‘Seek your bed and I wish you fair dreams.’
Tyra forced a smile on her face as she stood. She did not make the mistake of taking her gaze off him as she curtsied low and then turned to leave.
* * *
Once back in her chambers, she dismissed her maids and readied herself for bed. And she planned her next steps. Symon had almost accepted the bastard’s offer of friendship and a place at his board. The fool would accept the scraps, but she would not.
Distrust would provide a powerful weapon to keep the two apart. Tyra knew what she needed to do. Arrangements were already in place. Executing the next part of her plan would be relatively easy.
Executing, she thought. Laughing at the word, she fell asleep easily that night.
Lairig Dubh
Connor stood and watched over the yard from his favourite place high on the walls.
It was the place where Jocelyn would wait for him and where they spent many pleasurable moments.
Now, he remained here and reconsidered his plan—something he did not do well or often.
After sending Rurik, Duncan and Jocelyn to
Keppoch to get Lilidh back, he wondered if the sins of his past were coming back to haunt him.
Obsessed would be a better word, for he had lost several nights of sleep over the last week.
Part of him wondered if he’d made the right decision in forcing his foster son to disavow his love for Lilidh and leave.
Part wondered if, in failing to rise to his challenge, Rob had indeed proven himself unworthy as he thought he was.
And a deeper part had thought and hoped that Rob would have defied his edict and claimed Lilidh.
Now, it seemed that the fates laughed at him once more as he must intervene again between Rob and Lilidh.
The one thing that truly plagued him was that Rob had done this simply to get Lilidh back. And to prove he could and would best the Beast in a contest of wills and abilities.
Was this all about Lilidh, then? Rob had not indicated any interest in her in the years since his departure.
Not when matches for her hand were being considered.
Not when the first talk of ending the alliance between their clans began and not even now.
The demand received was gold for her safe return. No offer of marriage.
So, it would seem that Rob was not worthy of his daughter—not now, not then. Or was he?
Connor let the winds buffet him as he thought about the matter. The moon had risen high in the sky when he stepped from the shelter of the alcove and called out to one of the men below.
This was more than clan against clan—this was a personal matter between him and his foster son and one that he must deal with face to face. He gathered his commanders and made plans to go to Keppoch.
And he would take enough men to finish this once and for all.