Page 14 of The Scot

Chapter 7

“How may I be of assistance, my lord?” Roysa said, letting more than a touch of ridicule flavor her voice. “Or do I call you chief? ’Tis so rare to meet a man with both titles.”

“Roysa,” Idalia hissed behind her.

“I would speak with you a moment, my lady.”

“Be kind,” Idalia said, pushing her way out of the room.

“You’re not staying?” she asked, eyeing the rude, though admittedly handsome, man standing at her door. She hated the way he looked back at her, with disdain that should be reserved for someone who deserved it.

Her sister did not seem overly concerned about leaving her alone. With him. Unchaperoned. Did she not realize one of them would be likely to leave the conversation bloody? Did she care so little for Roysa’s reputation?

Of course, she was a widow, so her innocence was no longer of great concern.

“I must speak to Lance,” Idalia said, only pausing long enough to deliver her explanation.

With that, Roysa was well and truly abandoned.

She looked up to meet Terric’s very brown eyes.

“Inside.”

When he attempted to guide her back into the bedchamber, Roysa was reminded of the first time her heartbeat quickened when Walter stood so close to her. Of course, he was anything but the courteous gentleman he’d presented himself as before their wedding. Her opinion had ceased to matter as soon as she became the lady of Stokesay Castle.

Never again would she be fooled by a man’s visage.

She refused to move from the doorway. “I would prefer to speak here, my lord.”

He attempted to guide her backward again. It was no firm push but enough of a nudge that she stumbled slightly.

“My lady, please,” he said, his fingers wrapping around her upper arm. To save her from falling? To ensure she understood who was the master here?

It did not seem to matter. He’d already nudged Roysa into the bedchamber, and he stepped away to shut the door. That done, he strode right past her and stood directly in front of the larger of the two fires.

“You will get us killed.”

Roysa rolled her eyes but did not move.

“Killed, standing in the corridor? Do you fear we will be done in by an errant stampede of servants?”

Was that a smile?

Nay. She just could not see his face clearly from such a distance. Roysa moved a bit closer.

“By inviting the enemy to stay within our walls.”

He grabbed the fire iron, though the maid had already tended to the fire just before Idalia’s arrival.

“The enemy?” She took another hesitant step toward him.

“Langham’s men.”

When he turned, she noticed the way the tips of his dark hair brushed his shoulders. Though clean-shaven, Terric Kennaugh was not a polished lord. At least one of her questions had been answered. She knew what to call this man with two titles. He was more Scots clan chief than English earl.

“They are the enemy?”

There was much, it seems, she did not know.