In the Laird's Bed. Joanne Rock
good people,” she began, speaking to the high-ranking villagers mixed in the crowd as much as the lofty landowners from neighboring holdings. “I welcome Duncan of Culcanon again this night and have had more time to consider his request.”
Beside her, he stiffened. Good.
“You have generously offered me a portion of the some mysterious treasure at the end of your time with us.” There were a few gasps of surprise and a few cynical laughs. “But in the spirit of the holiday, good sir, we ask that you share some hint of what you seek before then? Your hunt can be our entertainment.”
She sought answers and hoped this would be a way to obtain them. At very least, she had made her court aware of his intentions. No doubt he would not be able to search in secret if everyone in attendance knew what he was about. Perhaps his work would be so hampered by interested attendees that he would leave, frustrated and empty-handed.
For a moment—judging by the dark expression in his gaze—she thought she had succeeded in outfoxing him. But as he rose to his feet, his visage cleared and the carefree courtier appeared again.
Ready to take up her challenge.
“Good mistress, I would not deny you.” Though he spoke to the assembled company, he stood close to her. Very close. As if they were lord and lady of this hall.
With an effort, she smiled up at him and wished she could tug herself away from him as strenuously as she had yanked her skirts from his fingers.
“Then how does your treasure hunting proceed? Tell us what you seek.”
She had put him under the whole court’s scrutiny. All eyes turned to him. Yet his gaze remained steadfastly upon her.
“For now, I can only tell these good people what I’ve found. Nay,” he said, breaking his gaze at her to grin at the assembled folk. “Each day, I will show them instead.”
Murmured interest rolled through the crowd as Duncan turned to her once more.
“Today, my friends, this is what I found.”
Like a bird of prey, he swooped toward her so quickly she could do naught but panic. Wrapping her in his arms in front of the entire company, Duncan of Culcanon drew her to him and kissed her full upon the mouth.
Chapter Four
It was a small victory and it wouldn’t last. But Duncan would never forget the sweetness in that moment he kissed Cristiana.
She’d been so surprised, her lips had parted in exclamation just before his mouth claimed hers. What man would not take advantage of such irresistible temptation? After what had transpired between them in the brew house earlier, he’d counted on the way her body stilled at his touch. He’d known she would not withdraw. Whatever awareness had sparked between them years ago became a potent force now.
When cheers and laughs erupted in the hall, he recognized it was time to retreat. With regret, he relinquished his hold on her.
Suspecting she would be angry all too soon, he savored a fleeting moment when her expression remained starry-eyed. For a moment, he could almost forget he attended her on a mission of deceit. That he’d come to wrest away her keep. Stuffing down those thoughts, he picked up his drinking horn to toast the company and deflect attention away from Cristiana.
“I am sure no other treasure I find will be half so rewarding.” He raised his cup to a hearty round of cheers from his knights. “To the health of your laird and his lovely daughter.”
Cristiana’s face remained bright pink, but she drank to her father’s health and motioned for the servers to start the meal. Upon taking his seat, Duncan noticed her hands shook slightly as she reached for the eating knife on the chain at her waist.
Not for a moment did he believe she trembled out of passion for him. Nay, he felt the anger emanating from her as surely as heat from the sun.
“You left me no choice.” He dipped his head to explain, needing to remain in her good graces for at least a little longer. He had tested her patience in the brew house earlier, but just now he may have worn out what scant welcome he’d had completely. Though he’d arrived at Domhnaill with a large retinue of men, they were unarmed and therefore easier to uproot from a stronghold where they were not wanted.
And it was imperative he remain under her roof. He did not have the forces to take the keep from without.
All around them, diners exclaimed over yet another lavish feast for the holidays. The mighty Yule log still burned brightly in the hearth, echoing the flickering of torches ringing the great chamber. The scent of fragrant pine and honeyed mead mingled with the gingered spices of rich sauces and savory tang of roasted meats.
“You could have simply shared your task with the assembled guests when I asked. Or made up some fanciful lie to distract us from the truth.” She did not look at him as she refilled his mead from a flagon left on the dais table. A fat silver ring set with rubies clanked against the hammered metal pitcher.
“I could not risk having the whole keep learn how deadly serious I am about my quest, lest every villager and guest alike would be tearing apart your lands and the structures upon it to join in the hunt.”
“You cannot be serious.” Frowning, she did not wait for him to serve her a morsel of spicy roasted duck, but speared a bit on the tip of her knife. She tested the heat of the dish by putting the bite close to her lip before nipping it off with her teeth.
“You have not guessed the object of my quest?”
Oddly, she seemed to pale at his words. What did she fear he sought? He tucked away that question to mull over another time. For now, he would share his full purpose with her, if only to draw her into the scheme and keep her quiet while he went about the task.
“I cannot possibly imagine—”
He withdrew her eating knife from her hand and set it aside, determined to serve her if only to maintain an appearance of goodwill between them.
“It is not a conversation for the hall, where anyone might overhear,” he confided, choosing a steaming bit of smoked fish for her.
“There is nothing on my family lands for which you could have any rightful claim.” She did not seem to see the bite of fish he waved in front of her.
There could be no doubt about it now. Her skin had lost all color.
Did she have some knowledge of the prize he sought?
“I have as much right to such a treasure as you.” He kept his voice low as he replaced the food on their trencher. “It belongs with the Culcanons as much as any Domhnaill.”
“It?”
He could not name the emotion behind that one incredulous word.
Cursing below his breath, he put his lips close to her ear and whispered the purpose of his quest.
“The old Viking treasure. I’ve discovered a reliable clue to its whereabouts.”
He expected her to be pleased. The rumored wealth of a long ago mutual ancestor had been buried be fore a Viking invasion to protect it. But he had not anticipated the obvious relief that sent a rush of color back into her cheeks and a burst of laughter from her lips.
“You’re searching for a box of trinkets no one has discovered for some two hundred years?” The news seemed to encourage her appetite for she reached to retrieve her knife.
He clamped the jeweled handle to the table and fed her his fish offering instead. She took it without hesitation, her spirits seemingly restored as much as her appetite. By the rood, what had worried her before? What treasure had she feared he would discover at Domhnaill?
“Aye.” One day he would confide how he came by the medallion with the map he wore about his neck. How his people would not make it through another winter without the spoils from such riches.
But if he could not locate