while the night was darkest, Cora was his for the taking. Much like a lamb to a wolf. He turned and headed toward the stairs. By dawn’s light, Cora would know her place and keep her mouth shut about just how she’d ended up in his bed, for Cormac Grant wouldn’t want her with Malcolm’s seed already spilled inside her.
And Noreen?
Well, Malcolm didn’t spare much time when it came to pondering his wife’s fate. She’d failed in her primary duty. If she went quietly to an abbey with her useless daughters, so be it. If not, he’d see her buried with the rest of his ancestors before he took Cora as his wife. His daughters could follow in time because he’d not allow them to wed and perform as their mother had. His mind was set.
*
One of the Retainers at Malcolm’s back didn’t climb the stairs.
Donald McKay had four sisters, and his father had died young, leaving his mother dependent on her position in the castle. A place the lady of the manor reigned supreme over. He turned and went to the north tower, climbing the steps quickly. There were no good reasons why Malcolm McKay might be heading up to where Cora Mackenzie slept.
It was the sort of information that could see his mother and sisters secure in the ranking of the household servants. There would be good pay and warm beds for them if the mistress was pleased about the news he delivered. Donald might know more about how to handle a sword than he did about mathematics, but it didn’t take a formal education to deduce that Malcolm McKay was about to take a bite out of the sweet young lass residing inside his keep without any chaperones.
And once he had a taste, he’d want more for certain.
Donald laid his fist on the outer door of the chambers Noreen slept in. Her personal waiting-woman pulled it open a few moments later.
“I need the mistress.” Donald pushed past her.
Half asleep, the woman only sputtered as he crossed the receiving chamber floor. “Mistress,” he announced himself, “I thought it best to tell ye where yer husband is headed while something might be done about it.”
Noreen sat up. Her hair was mussed, but her eyes narrowed as she focused on him.
“Continue, and turn around,” she ordered as she snapped her fingers at her waiting-woman to come and help her out of the huge bed.
*
Faolan was a full head taller than herself.
It wasn’t the first time Cora had noted the size of the man, but now, she had to lift her chin up so she might maintain eye contact with him. He was trying to intimidate her. Sending a stern look at her meant to bend her to his will.
She wouldn’t.
In some part of her mind, she recognized that she was being stubborn, just to prove she had the strength to stand up to him. But as for the rest of her motivations, Cora honestly didn’t know why she was so determined to dig in, only that bending was absolutely unacceptable.
She’d never show him weakness.
So, she ordered herself to stand in place as he closed the space between them once more. She felt him getting closer. Would swear she felt his body heat on her face. The night was suddenly far from chilly. It was balmy, and her clothing too thick.
“Ye should know when to yield, Cora,” Faolan muttered. “Stay in this chamber. It’s for the best.”
His last few words were spoken in a different tone. One that appealed to her rational thinking. Refusing to be weak was one thing, rushing foolishly into the unknown quite another.
“It isn’t a sin to want to be my own woman, Faolan.”
He tilted his head to one side. She caught a glimpse of agreement in his eyes, but he clamped his jaw tight against allowing any words to escape his lips.
“I’ll wager ye landed at that tower because ye refused to bend.” Cora couldn’t quite stop the words from escaping.
Her statement was a challenge. But she didn’t regret speaking.
“He refused to do what had to be done when a position such as laird is being fought over,” a new voice rose from the darkness beyond the doorway.
Faolan placed his hand against her shoulder and pushed her back into the room before rotating around to face his brother. Cora went skidding across the receiving chamber, fighting to maintain her footing.
“I suppose I should no’ be surprised to see ye here.”
From the dark stairwell, Malcolm McKay emerged.