Chapter 22

The babe was wailing just outside the door now.

The knock came again.

Once interrupted, their quarrel was quickly forgotten. She and Feiyan hopped up from the bed.

Feiyan smoothed back her hair.

Jenefer straightened her skirts.

Cracking the door open an inch, Jenefer spied Bethac standing outside with red-faced Miles, who was screaming as if someone had dipped him in boiling oil.

Beyond them was the lanky lad Morgan had apparently set to guard the door. He looked uneasy about the door being opened on his watch. But he looked more uneasy about the screaming infant.

“Please, Miss,” Bethac said, struggling to be heard above the din. “Do ye think ye could hold the wee one just for a bit? He’s cryin’ like his heart’s about to burst, and he seems to like ye.”

Jenefer glanced at the young guard. The maidservant’s authority apparently exceeded his, for he looked away, disinterested.

Jenefer frowned in consternation. Just because she’d been able to stop the babe’s cries a few times before didn’t mean she had magical, infant-soothing powers. She wasn’t even that fond of the wee, helpless creatures.

Nonetheless, she’d try. It was better than listening to the earsplitting sound all day long. And it was better than continuing the ugly, pointless battle with Feiyan.

She opened the door wider.

The maidservant gave a nod of greeting to Feiyan, who closed the door behind her. Then she handed the wailing babe to Jenefer.

Jenefer held Miles up before her, studying his misery-distorted face.

“What is it now, lad?” she asked. “Did a spider bite you? Did you have a nightmare? Drink sour milk?”

Miles seemed to recognize her voice. His crying softened, and he blinked his eyes.

“Or did your laird force you to come here when you’d rather be in the Highlands where you belong?”

Bethac made a moue of disapproval. But the babe stared at Jenefer, fascinated.

“How did you do that?” Feiyan asked in wonder.

Jenefer shrugged. She hadn’t done anything.

“The bairn is clearly drawn to ye,” Bethac gushed. “’Tisn’t that way with anyone else, not even…” She stopped short. “’Tis quite wondrous.”

“Wondrous?” Jenefer raised her brows. “’Tis quite inconvenient, I would think. Surely there’s some woman in your own household who can calm the lad.”

Bethac shook her head.

“Let me try,” Feiyan said.

Jenefer passed Miles to her cousin. Feiyan cradled the infant against her chest, cooing down at him. But after a moment, his face crumpled, he arched his back, and he began squalling again.

Feiyan handed him back.

Jenefer lifted him up once more, narrowing her eyes. “If you keep crying like that, soon you’ll have no tears left. Then what will you do when a faithless wench breaks your heart, eh?”

Miles’ cries turned to sniffles.

“If you use up all your tears, what will you do when your favorite hound falls down dead?”

The babe quieted. His mouth made a perfect O as he listened intently.

“What will you do when your master sells you for a coo?”

“Miss!” Bethac chided.

“Oh, I know all about Highlanders,” Jenefer assured her, clucking her tongue, “trading babes for coos.”

“What?” Bethac exclaimed. “That’s not true! We’d ne’er—”

The maidservant’s outrage was interrupted by a soft, sweet sound from Miles that turned all three ladies’ heads.

“What did he say?” Feiyan whispered.

Jenefer snorted. “’Twasn’t a real word, Feiy.”

But Bethac had other ideas. “It sounded like…” Her old, wrinkled face melted. “Da.”

Feiyan giggled. “He thinks you’re his da, Jen.”

Jenefer shot her a scathing glance.

Miles made the sound again, sending Feiyan into another spate of giggles.

Jenefer scoffed. It didn’t sound at all like “Da.” The babe was only making a random noise.

“He does seem to be fond o’ ye, Miss,” Bethac said.

Jenefer neglected to tell the maidservant that was a good thing, since she intended to take the lad with her at the end of the day. Instead, she gave her a fleeting smile.

Bethac, encouraged by her silence, asked her, “Have ye always had a way with wee ones?”

Feiyan nearly choked on laughter.

Jenefer clamped her lips, tempted to smack her unruly cousin.

But Feiyan wisely stepped out of reach, stifling her amusement, and returned to staring out the window.

“Do ye have a bairn o’ your own?” Bethac asked.

Jenefer could hear her cousin snickering at the window.

“Nay,” Jenefer said politely. “I do not.”

“Ye’ll make a good mother one day,” Bethac told her.

Jenefer arched a dubious brow at Miles. She would have sworn the babe returned her doubtful glower.

From the window, Feiyan, distracted by something outside, murmured, “They’re preparing for siege.”

Jenefer stiffened. “What?”

She unceremoniously tucked the babe under one arm, disregarding Bethac’s gasp of horror as she did so, and strode to the window.

Young lads were placing buckets of water along the palisade. There was only one reason for that—to extinguish fire in the event of an attack.

In the distance, she could see sheep being driven through the palisade gates.

And from an embrasure atop the castle wall, an archer stood at the ready, his gaze fixed in the direction of Rivenloch.

They knew. They knew.

“Shite.”

“Is somethin’ amiss?” Bethac asked. Her concern for the babe was etched in her brow.

Shifting Miles to hold him in one arm against her shoulder, Jenefer confronted the maidservant. “Why are you preparing for siege?”

“I don’t know, Miss. I only do what the laird commands.”

“And what exactly has he commanded?”

The old woman blinked, startled by Jenefer’s demanding question.

Jenefer realized, as Hallie was fond of saying, she might get further with honey than with vinegar. So she gentled her voice and asked a different question. “What are my cousin and I meant to do? Are we in danger?”

Bethac straightened with pride. “Oh nay, Miss, not with Laird Morgan in command. He knows what to do. And he’s brought some o’ the finest warriors in the Highlands. We’ll be safe and sound. Ye’ll see.”

Jenefer’s mood soured at once. Apparently the element of surprise wasn’t on her side after all. How Morgan had learned about the approaching army, she didn’t know. But it seemed he was expecting them.

At least she knew Rivenloch’s numbers were greater. Besides, the “finest warriors in the Highlands” surely couldn’t compare to her uncle’s knights, who were undoubtedly the finest warriors in all of Scotland.

Crafty Feiyan decided to mine what information she could out of the maidservant. She feigned casual interest in the activities taking place in the courtyard.

“The warriors look fierce. How many are they?”

“A dozen so far,” Bethac admitted. “The laird brought half his father’s men and planned to hire more here. But they’re braw lads and fine fighters.” Then she beamed. “My grandson, William, fights for the clan as well.”

Feiyan’s eyes softened, and only Jenefer could detect the spark of cunning in their depths. “Is he a proper knight with a claymore and a targe, your William?”

“Oh, nay. He’s an archer.”

“My brother is an archer,” Feiyan lied, “one of thirty in my father’s company.”

“Thirty!” Bethac exclaimed. “My William is one of eight who came with us.”

“Only eight? He must be skilled indeed,” Feiyan said.

Jenefer had to admire her cousin’s shrewdness. Sometimes Feiyan was right. Brains were more effective than brawn. With only a few innocent words, she’d discovered their enemy had a dozen knights and eight archers.

“Do you think we’ll have enough food for a siege?” Feiyan asked.

“Oh, aye,” Bethac assured her. “The laird has ordered the crops harvested, and we’ve got cattle and sheep enough for the winter, if need be.”

“The winter?” Feiyan exclaimed.

Jenefer pursed her lips. It had better not take that long for Creagor’s fate to be decided. She had no interest in being confined to this bedchamber for weeks on end, sparring with Feiyan and looking after a…

She glanced down at Miles. His head was turned toward her, and his eyes were closed in slumber. His soft, pink mouth made a perfect bow, and his tiny fist rested on her breast.

She supposed looking after Miles wasn’t so bad.

“Who do you think is attacking?” Feiyan asked. “Do you think it might be…” She clasped a trembling hand to her bosom. “…the English?” Damn, she was good. There wasn’t anything Feiyan feared. But the worried lines of her brow would have fooled even her parents.

“I don’t know,” Bethac admitted.

“But you’re sure they can’t get in? There are no gaps in the wall or…or hidden passageways or…”

Jenefer held her breath. If Feiyan could find a secret passageway, they could make their way out of the castle. Morgan would lose his leverage over Rivenloch. And Rivenloch could easily take Creagor.

“Oh nay, Miss,” Bethac said. “The keep is sealed tight as a beer cask. The laird himself inspected every inch.”

Jenefer feared as much. She’d inspected every inch and hadn’t found so much as a crack for a mouse to fit through.

“What about the archers?” Jenefer asked, attempting Feiyan’s more subtle approach. “Do they always sink their points into the butt, or is it mostly fishtailers and bouncers?”

Bethac only stared at her with an open mouth.

“What my cousin means to say is,” Feiyan interjected, widening her eyes at Jenefer in horror, “are they skilled enough to protect us?”

“Och aye,” Bethac replied.

Jenefer scowled. Wasn’t that what she’d asked?

Feiyan continued with her cagey interrogation.

“Do you know,” she asked, pressing her fingertips to her lips as if she feared the answer, “if they’ve found our cousin yet?”

“Your cousin?”

Jenefer nodded, but she let Feiyan speak. Feiyan was clearly more practiced at deceit.

“She was lost in the wood last night,” Feiyan blurted out, blinking back fake tears.

“Lost in the wood?” Bethac’s eyes went round.

“Aye, and the laird promised us—”

She didn’t get the chance to reveal what Morgan had promised. At that moment, the door burst open. There stood the man himself, wild-eyed and full of fury.