Heather banished the chilling thought. It cast a shadow over the bright day. She turned to the window, and her gaze traveled south, over the walls of the upper ward and across the glittering North Sea. Today was Beltaine, a time for revelry and good cheer, not for morbid thoughts that might never come to pass.
All the same, she worried for her sister.
III
MATTERS OF THE HEART
AILA HAD ALMOST finished putting up Lady Gavina’s hair, when the laird burst into the bed-chamber.
“David!” Gavina gasped, jumping as the door slammed back against the wall. Meanwhile, Aila only just managed not to stab the pin she was holding into her mistress’s scalp. “Please knock before entering my chamber. I could have been in the midst of dressing.”
In response, the De Keith laird curled his lip, making it clear how little he cared for his wife’s propriety. “Ye have organized a bonfire outside our keep’s walls,” he accused.
“Aye,” Gavina replied, her tone serene. “What of it, husband?”
Aila went still, rapidly blinking at the laird’s show of temper and his wife’s stoic response to it. David De Keith usually wore an urbane smile. He possessed a serpent’s charm, which Heather had warned Aila about before she left Dunnottar.
Over the years, many a tale had circulated the keep about De Keith’s infidelities. Everyone knew about the servants the laird took to his bed in favor of his beautiful Irvine wife. The laird and lady seemed to have very little to do with each other. In fact, this was the first time De Keith had ever entered Lady Gavina’s bed-chamber while Aila was attending her.
As if realizing this, David’s gaze flicked to Aila. Tall and handsome, with brown eyes and a neatly trimmed beard, De Keith had often favored Aila with melting looks—looks she’d studiously ignored. And as Heather had warned, she’d been careful never to find herself alone with him.
However, today his expression was fierce. “Send yer maid away,” David growled.
Gavina drew herself up. “Anything ye have to say to me, ye can say in Aila’s presence.”
The laird drew in a harsh breath, his hands fisting by his sides.
Aila’s breathing quickened. Was he going to lash out at his wife?
Long moments passed, yet De Keith didn’t move. In the years that Aila had waited on Lady Gavina, she’d never seen her mistress sport the tell-tale bruises that came from a violent husband.
The laird wasn’t going to strike the lady. However, his dark eyes blazed. He ignored Aila now, his attention entirely focused on Gavina. “Have ye lost yer wits, woman? Yer traitorous brother is breathing down our necks, and ye decide to build a bonfire outside our walls … to open our gates, and empty the fortress after dark.”
Gavina made a small noise in the back of her throat. “It’s Beltaine. The folk of Dunnottar and Stonehaven always dance around the bonfire together.”
“Witless woman,” De Keith snarled back. “Perhaps this is all part of ye and Shaw’s master plan. No need to bring the ‘Battle Hammer’ to our gates … not if we leave them wide open.” He paused there, breathing hard. “Or maybe, ye are in league with the English? I wouldn’t be surprised if ye wrote Longshanks himself a missive, inviting him to the festivities. Ye have no idea the danger we’re all in!”
Gavina went still. Standing behind her, Aila couldn’t see the expression on her face. Yet the rigidity of her mistress’s shoulders told her all.
“I would never betray ye, David,” she replied softly. “Not to the English … or to my kin.”
“Words are easy … just like the promises yer clan made and then broke.”
“But surely the castle is well defended? Especially now we have the Wallace and his men here.”
David De Keith’s lip curled once more. “Wallace could easily bring doom down upon us,” he spat. “He’s using Dunnottar as his hide-out … and using us to further his own ambitions.” He took a threatening step toward her. “In future, ye will speak to me before ye make any preparations like these.”
“Ye have always said ye don’t like to be bothered,” Gavina snapped. “Has that changed?”
The laird’s eyebrows drew together, while his beard narrowed to a point as he pursed his lips. “Ye know full well that I care not what cloth ye purchase for yer gowns,” he replied, his voice dripping with scorn. “But if ye put this keep at risk again with yer empty-headed wish for frivolity, I shall lock ye in this chamber for the rest of the