Circle Of Honor Part 27

He dared not let her know of Adam's order to keep her under watch, and the only other excuse he could muster was to feign interest.

"Who is he?" Daron asked with more jealousy than he'd planned.

Nathara smirked, but there was a touch of desperation in her voice along with the flirtation. "He's the archer who won today's match."

"Aye, I know that. Why did you have cross words with him?"

"You'll have to ask him." She pushed past Daron, and he let her go. What business was it of his whom she chose to meet later? And how was it possible that he, Daron of Buchan, was interested in a woman who pa.s.sed her favors around as if on a platter?

Foolishness.

He shook his head, then followed discreetly, suddenly hating the order to follow and see for himself what she was up to. Not because he cared what she did. No, he followed her because Adam asked and no other reason.

Thus a.s.sured of his motives, he trailed her. She went directly to her own cottage, and though he watched well into the night as the music faded and the castle quieted, no one shared Nathara's home with her this night.

As the night deepened, Daron pulled his plaid tighter about his shoulders and settled in for an uncomfortable night of contemplation. Who was the mysterious archer, and why did he have heated words with Nathara? A vague uneasiness plagued Daron as he dozed.

When dawn finally broke, he rose stiffly at the approach of the man who would keep Nathara under watch for the morning. Before he broke his fast, Daron searched the castle and grounds for the bowman.

He was nowhere to be found.

GWENYTH STARED out the arrow slit in her chamber, looking down on the gathering of clans. Despite her grief at Angus's death, she had been reluctant to keep company with those who'd come to mourn, preferring to remain in the kitchen or helping Eva instead. And this morning, a gnawing sense of anxiety, a feeling of dread, held her captive in her room.

Last night she'd promised to join Adam at today's festivities, despite her reluctance to mingle with the many strangers within the walls. Leod Macpherson was herea"she'd seen him last evening and fled the hall to avoid an encounter. The castle and grounds were swarming with those who might wish her harm.

Adam arrived at her door, looking incredibly handsome in his best plaid, held at the shoulder with the rampant cat brooch. "Come, we'll stroll amongst my clan." She could swear she actually saw his chest puff with pride. "And I'll impress you with my prowess."

She stifled a giggle, draped her arasaid around her shoulders, and took his proffered arm. "I am ready, then."

Thin sunlight filtered through a cloud-filled sky, but no mist or fog hung in the cool air. Gwenyth pulled her plaid closer as Adam led her to the area of the outer bailey set aside for the caber toss.

Gwenyth had not seen such a compet.i.tion for many years, but she remembered it vividly. A poplar tree was cut to a length twice as tall as a man, and the bark stripped from it. The men took turns seeing how far they could throw the ma.s.sive pole. The trick was to heave it end over end and get it to land as straight away from him as possible.

The compet.i.tion was already underway, and Gwenyth couldn't hide her amus.e.m.e.nt at the balancing act required in order to juggle the upright spar into position. Once satisfied, the man tossed it forward, and the giant tree flipped in midair before it tumbled and bounced just slightly off-center.

The crowd cheered as the smiling fellow carried the pole back for the next entrant.

She turned to Adam. "You were able to compete in this?"

"Not very well. I was eliminated in the first round. But 'tis the laird's duty to attempt each sport."

She grinned at his sheepish admission. "Tell me again why they do this?"

Adam moved them to a better observation point, then stood behind her. His arm nearly encircled her as he pointed, and she relaxed into his solid chest. His breath hitched before he said, "See how the pole is notched along one side? A man who can toss the log against the wall of a fortress with the notches facing up can then climb the pole and breach the wall."

"How clever." She felt safe as cares and duties fled in the simple bliss of a beautiful day with an agreeable partner.

"But I have also seen the skill used to toss a limb over a rain-swollen creek." His breath grazed her cheek, and she pulled away slightly, afraid to show her reaction to his nearness. But a s.h.i.+ver betrayed her, and he pulled her close again.

"Ah, then it is a very practical skill," she teased.

Tongue in cheek, he answered, "Aye. Perhaps I should teach you."

She laughed, relaxing as Adam guided her to a pavilion for something to eat. They sat at the makes.h.i.+ft table and devoured bannocks and savory colcannon stew before heading off to watch the hammer throw.

Everywhere they walked, Gwenyth was greeted with obvious curiosity and shy respect. But there were also other glances that clearly displayed animosity. She s.h.i.+vered.

Adam touched her hand where it rested on his arm. "I thought the hot stew would warm you, wife."

" 'Tis not the air that chills me."

"Aye, I've noticed the stares." He halted. "Do you wish to return to your room?"

"Not without seeing Daron." A stubborn part of her refused to cower from those few people who did not want her here. "No one has threatened me, and somehow I doubt they would risk your wrath to bring me harm."

"I think you're right. Come, let's find Daron."

They walked past the hammer-throwing event. "Were you eliminated in this event as well?" she asked.

"Aye. Barely managed ten feet. However," Adam bragged, "I am still among the leaders in the stone toss." He guided her to where that sport was taking place.

It didn't take much imagination to see how this event came to be. Gwenyth could remember her brothers and cousins tossing rocks into the loch, seeing who could throw the farthest, who could heft the heaviest rock. She smiled at bittersweet memories of so many whose lives ended much too young.

She offered Adam a tentative smile, pus.h.i.+ng her memories aside. As they approached the other athletes readying themselves, Gwenyth saw Daron among them.

Daron came to stand with them. "As laird, Adam makes the first throwa"he's really very good at this," Daron admitted. "So far only Seamus and I have bested him."

Throwing the stone only required the use of one arm, and Adam was obviously enjoying his success. Gwenyth watched as he made his second throw and the distance was measured. There were many admiring sounds, and Adam grinned.

His grin widened when he caught her eye, and she smiled back, unable to resist the warmth of his obvious affection for her. Seeing him standing there so pleased with himself and looking more handsome than any man had a right to, she wanted nothing more than to move into his arms and promise him anything . . . everything.

But he had made her his wife and imprisoned her with the words. Not a prison formed of love and attachment, but the walls of his keep and the enmity of his king.

And yet . . .

What had he said when he told her about love and loyalty? He expected both from her, but he'd given her no words of love. But didn't actions speak louder than words?

And yet. What if? But no. She sighed.

Daron and the others finished their throws, and to her surprise and delight, Daron was declared the winner. Adam strode toward them, and Gwenyth braced for the onslaught of emotions his presence seemed to bring.

Clapping Daron on the back, he winked at Gwenyth. "If I'd known he could beat me at the stone toss, I'd have refused his vow of loyalty."

Daron grinned. "Should I have held back and let you win?"

"Never," Adam responded, his voice full of good cheer.

In high spirits Daron joined them, and the three of them moved about the grounds. By late afternoon the compet.i.tions were finished, and a loud bell sounded.

Adam's cheer visibly faded as he said, " 'Tis time to name my personal guard." He led them to a small rise, indicating she and Daron should stand there while he made the announcement.

ADAM'S JOY in Gwenyth's company and the day's festivities abruptly ended in antic.i.p.ation of what lay ahead. He dreaded the naming of his guard, for Leod had done well and made no secret he expected to be chosen. How could Adam invite a man he couldn't trust into his inner circle? How could he explain if he did not?

The answer eluded him.

Leod approached him. "My laird, I propose one final contest, all in fun and in the name of sport."

Uneasy, Adam said, "And what would that be?"

"I would prove myself worthy to be in your guard. And you may show our clansmen how well you can wield a sword."

"You want to fight me?"

"Just a friendly display of swordsmans.h.i.+p. Show everyone how 'tis done."

The hair on Adam's neck stood on end. He remembered their confrontation that day in the fog and Leod's bold challenge at the council meeting. He did not trust Leoda"what was the man up to? But surely he wouldn't try anything dishonorable here, in front of everyone.

Ian stepped between them. "My laird, I must insist upon a private word with you."

Morogh appeared ready to murder Leod where he stood, and although Adam understood their desire to protect him, he resented the implication.

Ever since the council meeting, Adam had come to believe that the men he admired and respected had chosen him more for what was in his heart than for his sword arm. He didn't have to prove himself to them. Nor did he need to prove anything to himself.

So why even consider Leod's challenge? Perhaps Leod's request for friendly sport was his way of acknowledging Adam as laird. Or perhaps it was treachery. There was only one way to find out. Adam resigned himself to ending their feud Leod's way. And should Leod turn on his laird in front of the clan, he would not live out the day.

Forcing a smile and amiable tone, Adam said, "Leod, if you agree, I will meet you as soon as I have finished with Ian." To the crowd he said, "I will announce the guard at the conclusion of our sport."

"As you wish." Leod tipped his sword in deference and was soon lost among the crowd.

TWENTY-TWO.

ALTHOUGH MOST of the nearby clansmen seemed in accord with Adam's decision, Ian nearly dragged Adam away from the others. "Of all the stupid, ill-conceived, witless ideas. I should take a strap to you myself. Your father . . ." Ian muttered and sputtered until they'd reached an empty tent. "Are you crazy?"

"Nay. But I think Leod may be."

"All the more reason not to fight him, Adam. What if you are wounded?"

"I will recover."

Ian's face contorted. "Blast the optimism of youth."

Adam smiled grimly. "Leod's threats must end, Ian. All my life he has bullied anyone weaker than he. I cannot allow it to continue." He did not want to fight Leod or anyone. But this confrontation had been a long time coming, and Adam was determined to end it today, once and for all. "And when I beat him, I'll have reason not to invite him into the guard."

Ian puffed in exasperation. "If you beat him."

Before Adam could chide the older man for his lack of faith, someone cleared his throat outside the tent. Adam looked to the opening to see Morogh. And beside him an anxious-looking Gwenyth.

Morogh stepped closer and jerked his head. "Come, Ian. Let these young people have some time together."

Ian balked, but Morogh grabbed his s.h.i.+rt. "Come on." The two men left, Ian grumbling and protesting all the way.

GWENYTH CAME to stand before Adam and stared into her husband's azure eyes. She saw steadfast determination there. Still, Morogh had begged her to intercede, to use her feminine charms if need be to change Adam's mind.

She lowered her eyes, scanning the dirt floor of the tent. Anxiety and foreboding had shadowed her all day, and now it was clear to her that she was not the one in danger. And her heart nearly stopped at the realization Adam might be hurt or killed before this day was over.

Gazing back up at him she said, "You must not fight him, Adam."

"Do you fear for me then, wife?"

"I do." The admission came easily, far easier than acknowledgment of how much she cared for him. "Why must you do this? You have already seen the truth of your father's advice. The council chose you."

His tender regard told her he appreciated her opinion. "Leod is responsible for those other a.s.saults, Gwenyth. I can't prove it, but I know it. I must avenge them." He cupped her cheek with his palm, his gaze steady. "And you."

"Let Daron do it," she pleaded, knowing the argument to be futile.

"Leod challenged me."

She pulled away from his touch. "You will be hurt or killed." And it will be my fault for forcing you into this marriage. Another life cut too short. Merciful heaven, when would it end?

"And what of Daron? Ah, you are not so sure I can best Leod, but Daron can?" His voice hardened. " 'Tis only meant for sporta" Ian won't allow us to fight to the death." He tilted her chin upwards. "You have so little faith in me?"

"Of course not. I distrust Leod."

"As do I." He brushed away her tear with the pad of his thumb. "Have you come to care for me, then, love?"

"Aye," she whispered and flung herself into his arms, drinking in his gentle strength and the rich sound of his voice. The intensity of her feelings for him came as a surprise. Or perhaps they'd been this strong for some time, and she had fought against them.

She feared for him, not only because she feared the loss of his protection, but because she'd come to accept his belief that they were meant to be together. Who could know or understand G.o.d's reasons? It was useless to deny it. But he spoke of loyalty, and what she needed to hear were words of love before she could trust completely.

"Well now. Have faith. In me and in G.o.d." He lifted her face, then bent and kissed her, a sweet kiss of promise that quickly deepened into desire. He pulled away, his breathing as unsteady as her own. "You will be safe, no matter what, for Seamus has pledged to protect you, to marry you if need be."

"You have given me away?"

"Only if I am dead, Gwenyth. Only then. And only because doing so ensures your life and keeps you safe from Leod's reach. And Robert's."

She shook her head, both amazed at his foresight and praying his preparations were unnecessary. "I should be angry with you, but all I feel is fear. Please be careful, husband."

He observed her, his expression guarded. "And you will be waiting for me?"

"Aye." A day ago, an hour ago, she might have hesitated. But when faced with the possibility of losing him, everything became very clear. She cupped his cheek. "No matter what condition you are in or how many parts are maimed or missing."