Highlanders. Michelle WillinghamЧитать онлайн книгу.
began to shake. “Men have been excommunicated for fewer crimes against God.”
“I did not murder the bishop on holy ground, he was hanged outside the cathedral,” Alasdair said tightly.
Juliana was incredulous. “No one will care about such a minor detail! You must return Achanduin Castle immediately!”
He stared coldly at her. Then he turned to his brother. “She did not need to know any of this!”
“Why not? Perhaps she has some affection for ye, enough to persuade ye to a sane course.” Angus Og nodded at her and strode from the room.
Alasdair turned his back upon her and paced to the hearth, where he stared darkly at the fire. Juliana walked hesitantly over to him. She laid her hand on his back.
He started.
“You do not want to go to hell.”
“I am not excommunicated yet.”
“Alasdair! You cannot play such a dangerous game—return Achanduin Castle!”
He eyed her. “And should I return it to save my soul, or to enrich yer lands?”
She felt hurt. “I am not thinking about myself. Fool that I am.” She turned away.
He seized her arm, whirling her back to face him. His blue gaze was searing. “So ye do hold me in some affection?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know.” She was frightened for him, and did that mean she truly cared? Did she wish to save him, and his soul?
He made a harsh sound, then released her.
“But I do know this: keeping Achanduin Castle is not worth an eternity in hell.” Juliana turned abruptly, shaken. And she saw Angus Mor, standing on the threshold of the hall, watching them like a hawk. He still suspected her of treachery.
She hurried past him as she left the room.
* * *
JULIANA HAPPENED TO be in Alasdair’s room, where she was replacing the wool blankets on his bed with fresh ones. He hadn’t asked her to do so, and as she folded up the fur at the foot of the bed, she was aware that it pleased her to take some small care for him.
She turned and walked to each window in turn, opening the shutters wide. It was now mid-March, and it was a cold but brilliantly sunny day. There was no snow left about the castle or on the beaches below it; she could just see some snowy ridges in the north.
She paused, inhaling the fresh air, as birds chirped from the treetops outside the stronghold. Why hadn’t a messenger come yet? Why wasn’t there some word from either Alexander or William?
And was she truly dismayed?
She glanced about the stone chamber, which had almost become her own. She never slept in the chamber with Mary and the boys. She was becoming accustomed to sharing Alasdair’s room.
“Juliana? Have you seen Roger?” Mary asked worriedly from the doorway.
“I thought all the boys were downstairs.”
Mary shook her head, one hand on her now swollen belly. “He has vanished.”
Juliana hurried to her. “He hasn’t disappeared, I assure you of that.”
“No.” Mary plucked her sleeve. “He has begun to ask me where William is. He has started to complain that he wants his father—and he wants to go home.”
Juliana was surprised. Roger, although the eldest, was far quieter and more steadfast than his mischievous brother, Donald. He was so clearly the thoughtful brother—which would serve him well when, one day, he became lord of Castle Bain. “Roger has been complaining?”
Mary nodded. “Just this morning I tried to tell him that we will go home soon, but he refused to listen—he ran out of the chamber. Now, I cannot find him.”
Juliana was mildly alarmed. “I will find him, Mary. Just rest. He cannot have gone far.” She left her sister and hurried downstairs. It took a half an hour for her to realize that if Roger was within the castle, he was deliberately hiding from them. No one had seen him since they had all broken the fast that morning.
Juliana was alarmed, but she had no intention of worrying her sister. Having taken up a warmer mantle, she was about to go outside to look for him when Alasdair came striding inside.
He was disheveled from the wind, his long hair tangled about his shoulders, the bright blue feather more visible than ever, patches of mud on his boots, the skirts of his leine, and even his bare thighs. He grinned at her. “We will have venison tonight.”
She smiled back. Her heart turned over as it always did when she first saw him, after not seeing him for a few hours. Perhaps it was time to admit that she had truly become fond of him. “Then everyone will be pleased. Alasdair—have you seen Roger?”
“Isn’t he with the other children?”
“I have just searched the entire castle—if he is here, he is hiding. But perhaps he is outside.”
He was bewildered. “Why would he hide?”
“He has started to behave oddly, with distress—he has been asking to go home to his father.”
An odd look that she could not decipher crossed his face. “I’ll help ye look fer him.”
They went outside into the bailey, Alasdair telling her to search the area by the front gates. As they headed off in opposite directions, Juliana became dismayed when she saw the front gates were open. But even a small boy would be remarked if he walked out of Dunyveg—surely.
Another hour passed, in which Juliana became extremely alarmed. No one had seen Roger, and she had searched every nook and cranny of the bailey. She asked a passing lad if he knew where Alasdair was, and she was told he was in the stables.
Trying to reassure herself, Juliana hurried across the bailey and into the stone stables. It was dark within, smelling pleasantly of hay and horses. As she entered, a dog ran up to her, its tail wagging, and several mares nickered.
Alasdair stepped out of the shadows and placed a finger upon his lips, then nodded to his right.
Juliana rushed forward. Alasdair took her arm and guided her to where an old mare was stalled, a young foal suckling at her side. Roger was curled up in the chips and hay, in a far corner of the stall, asleep.
She inhaled in relief. Alasdair put his arm around her and pulled her close. She looked up at him, feeling a rush of gratitude. “We have to wake him. I’m surprised that mare allowed him inside with her colt.”
“Let me do it,” he said.
Juliana assumed that he did not want her to go within, in case the mare decided to behave protectively towards her foal. She watched him step inside, pat the mare, then carefully sidestep her and kneel by Roger. He lifted him into his arms and carried him outside.
As he did, Roger awoke.
Alasdair smiled at him. “Did ye come to see the newborn colt?”
Roger became widely awake. His eyes huge, he shook his head.
Alasdair stepped outside the stall, closed it, and set Roger down. “Did ye think to find a horse, then, and ride away?”
Juliana started. Why would he ask such a question!
Roger was tearful and belligerent. “I don’t like being a hostage.”
“I ken.” He stroked his hair. “No one likes being held hostage, but it’s the way of men.”
Roger shook his head fiercely. “I hate it here!”
Alasdair knelt. “I ken. But ye have a duty to yer mother. Ye frightened her, Roger, hiding as ye did, and thinking to run away. Ye frightened yer aunt. Yer duty is to be strong and brave like yer father. Do ye not wish to be