Lion's Lady. Suzanne Barclay
like that. You can trust him to make honorable arrangements for you.”
Once before she’d trusted Lion. No more. “I will see to it myself.” She stepped around him and into a burly stranger.
“Well. Lonely, are ye?” He stank worse than the garderobes. His black-and-purple plaid was stained with food, his eyes bleary with drink. “I can fix that.” He reached for her.
Sim shoved between them. “Off with you, John Chisholm. This lady is under my lord of Glenshee’s protection.”
“Get away, lad,” John snarled.
“Nay,” Sim said to the brute who towered over him.
Rowena gasped. “Sim, do not—”
“It’s ye who’ll be moving along, Dank John,” said the big redhead who’d materialized beside them.
John glared at the newcomer, but before he could protest, two more men in Sutherland green and blue appeared.
Cursing under his breath, John moved off.
“Thank you,” Rowena whispered. Her knees were suddenly so weak she steadied herself on the edge of the table.
“Glad to help.” The big man bowed. “I’m Red Will. This here’s Naill and that’s Lem’s Sandie.”
The wiry older man grinned at her. Fair-haired Lem’s Sandie blushed and bobbed his head.
Rowena managed a smile. “Thank you for noting my plight.”
“Oh, we’ve been keeping an eye on ye,” Red Will said.
“Per Lord Lion’s orders?” she asked faintly.
“Aye. He doesna want anyone harassing his lady.”
“I am not—”
“Lady Rowena?” inquired an imperious voice.
Rowena spun her head, braced for yet another confrontation.
The woman standing before her was of middle age, tall, thin and horsey looking. Her gown was of costly velvet, but the mustard shade was vastly unbecoming, turning her skin the color of tallow. Still, the crown of wispy brown braids atop her head gave her a regal look, and her eyes held a wary intelligence.
“Ach, ’tis Lady Glenda,” Red Will explained.
“My lady.” Rowena dropped a hasty curtsy.
“I am sorry not to have come sooner.” Her gaze moved from Rowena’s untidy hair to her muddy boots and back to her face. “You look as though you’ve had a long, terrible journey.”
Rowena smiled wryly. “My backside can attest to that.”
An answering smile curved Lady Glenda’s thin lips, making her eyes twinkle and her face seem almost pretty. “Ah. A sense of humor and a bit of wit. How refreshing.” She raised her hand, rings winking in the torchlight of the crowded hall.
Donald rushed over. “You have need of me. Lady Glenda?”
“Put the lady Rowena in the green room, Donald.”
“But—but when Lady Selena asked to have that chamber, you said it must be held ready for Lady Anne.”
Lady Glenda flushed. “That is because I did not want that sly woman entertaining her lovers in my sister’s room. She has the morals of a barn cat,” she said in an aside to Rowena. “Selena, not my Annie.” She glanced about the hall and grimaced. “There’s little we can do about yon riffraff being here, Donald, but the earl vowed I would have the arranging of the domestic matters in my own castle.”
“Aye, my lady.” Donald grinned. “Twill be a pleasure to see Lady Rowena settled in the green room.” He cocked his head, surveying her. “You’ll be wanting a bath.”
Rowena blinked, a bit dazed by the tempting offer. “Oh, but it’s so late...so much trouble...”
“Not at all.” He bowed. “Shall I show you up now?”
“I’ll do it,” said his mistress. Her lip curled slightly as she gazed about the hall. “I do wish Alexander would exert more control over his men.” She sighed. “Still, I know he has more important things on his mind.” The lady picked up her skirts and turned in a graceful sweep. “Come, let us away.”
“Gladly.” Lifting her muddy skirts, Rowena trailed after her rescuer. The older woman set a brisk pace across the entryway with its impressive display of ancient armaments and into a stone stairwell that spiraled tightly up two floors and opened into a well-lit corridor.
“Drat. I should have thought to bring a candle,” Lady Glenda grumbled. “’Tis what comes of acting in haste. Ah well.” She reached for a torch set in an iron holder in the wall.
“Allow me.” Rowena lifted the brand free.
“Ah. You are not one of those frail lasses who lets others do all the work.”
“If I were, I’d be home in my bed, not here, alone in a strange place full of louts and brigands.”
“Why aren’t you?” Lady Glenda asked as they walked down the hall. “Home in your bed instead of here?”
“I’ve come to ensure my son’s inheritance. You see—” she stepped through the door Lady Glenda had opened “—my husband died a week ago.”
“Oh. I am sorry.”
“So am I. Both because he was a good and honest man, and because our son is only five.”
“Ah.” Lady Glenda took the torch and thrust it into a pile of wood lying ready in the small corner hearth. The fire caught quickly, sending flickers of light over the fine furnishings—a tall, canopied bed draped in green velvet, a carved chest, a table and two chairs set beneath the window. “I know just how much of a challenge it can be, raising a child without a man. My oldest brother was two and ten when our da died. But our clansmen supported William. Is there no one to help you guide your young son into manhood?”
“Aye, there is, but Finlay, my husband’s cousin, and Father Cerdic are somewhat old and infirmed.”
“Mmm. That is a problem.” Lady Glenda plucked a thick candle from the mantel. As she stooped to light the wick from the fire, she groaned. “I am sorry for your loss and your troubles, but at least you loved and were loved in return. And you have your son...a living symbol of that love.”
At least you were loved. The pain stabbed through Rowena, quick and deadly as a knife thrust. “Aye,” she whispered.
“I—I hope that one day soon I will also know that joy,” Glenda said, cheeks flushing.
“You and the earl will wed?”
“He has not yet asked...but he is busy.” Her hands fluttered, unnecessarily tidying the bed drapes. “Tell me about your son.”
“Paddy is bright and quick and has a sweet disposition. ’Tis a joy to teach him, a thrill to watch him master each new task. But...” Rowena hesitated. Six years of living among the Gunns, of keeping her thoughts and plans to herself, made her cautious. Lady Glenda had befriended her, but if Eneas learned that she intended to have him ousted as Paddy’s guardian—
“But...?” Lady Glenda prompted.
A knock at the door spared Rowena from lying. At the lady’s command, servants entered with steaming buckets of water. Donald himself ducked behind the screen in one corner and dragged forth a small wooden tub. He set it before the fire with great ceremony, and the servants filled it quickly, then departed.
“Shall I send up a maid to help you?” Donald asked.
Rowena shook her head, dazed by the attention. “I’m used to seeing to myself, Thank you for all you’ve done.”
“Aye, well, I cannot claim all