foolish ones. "I fear Tavis is sowing himself a harvest of grief," he said quietly, and Iain solemnly nodded.
Chapter Eight
Ignoring the tension that was building within her with each step she took, Storm followed Phelan into the great hall where dinner was to be served. Since Tavis had begun to share her bed there had been less of an air of imprisonment to her stay at Caraidland. Tavis did not like someone hanging around all the time, yet Storm knew she would not get many steps away if she tried to flee. There was always someone near, always a pair of eyes following her.
The fortnight had brought yet another reply from Hagaleah, couched in such terms that, although it was a refusal, it could not be acted upon as such. When Storm had presented Tavis with what she considered a reasonable tally for her nightly services and suggested that he deduct it from the ransom there had been a spectacular argument. She thought it a little hypocritical of him to use her like a whore, but then become enraged and outraged if she dared to call herself one in even the most subtle of terms. Nevertheless, she was careful not to, for they found quite enough to argue about as it was.
Then there were Janet and Katerine. They did all they could to make life miserable for her. They were proving to be experts in the field. It had reached the point where Storm feared an immediate outbreak of hostilities. More and more the subtle remarks flew, anger simmered and reaction was forced down to grow greater and fiercer.
Kate's reason for being vitriolic was plain to see. It had taken Storm a while to understand Janet's. When she did she wished fervently that she had not or that she would be proven wrong. Instead, as Colin grew weaker, Janet's reason for resenting her became all too clear. Janet plainly wanted Tavis, desired her own husband's son.
A silent groan rose up in Storm as the ever weakening Colin was led out of the hall, no longer able to linger with the others after the meal. The ritual of the women preparing to retreat to a far corner of the hall and leave the men alone to talk but the men inducing them to stay was gone through. Storm preferred staying at the table, for she really had little in common with the other two women, and the men afforded some protection from the vicious remarks and rising animosity. She was not afraid of the women, but did fear a humiliating scene if things were not kept curbed in some way.
Storm continued to feel that someone was slowly poisoning Colin but, although she had a very strong suspicion as to who it might be, she could not yet accuse someone. The watching she and Phelan indulged in had left them with only one firm conviction: Malcolm was the only one they could wholeheartedly exonerate. Their reasons for doing so were rather vague, but they did not care. If nothing else, they had to trust someone soon or Colin would die. Storm wondered how she could get to Colin's room to talk privately with the devoted Malcolm. There was little time left. It amazed Storm that Colin still lived, for he looked so very close to death.
"So your people still refuse to buy ye back," drawled Katerine, her eyes hard as they flickered over the way Tavis's hand rested upon Storm's knee with an unconscious possessiveness.
"Lady Mary would not part with a brass farthing to save her own mother," Storm remarked calmly.
"Aye, and mayhaps she kens ye be working off the ransom," Janet purred too loudly.
"Janet," Tavis growled warningly into the sudden hush that had fallen over the table.
Refusing to let the woman anger her, Storm coolly retorted, "Ah, well, I did present Tavis with what I considered a reasonable tally, but mayhaps I estimated too low, for he was loathe to accept it."
Tavis's hand tightened on Storm's knee in warning as snickering erupted around the table. He did not like to hear Storm referred to in such terms. Despite the situation, he did not think of her that way and did not want her or any other to do
Chapter Eight
Ignoring the tension that was building within her with each step she took, Storm followed Phelan into the great hall where dinner was to be served. Since Tavis had begun to share her bed there had been less of an air of imprisonment to her stay at Caraidland. Tavis did not like someone hanging around all the time, yet Storm knew she would not get many steps away if she tried to flee. There was always someone near, always a pair of eyes following her.
The fortnight had brought yet another reply from Hagaleah, couched in such terms that, although it was a refusal, it could not be acted upon as such. When Storm had presented Tavis with what she considered a reasonable tally for her nightly services and suggested that he deduct it from the ransom there had been a spectacular argument. She thought it a little hypocritical of him to use her like a whore, but then become enraged and outraged if she dared to call herself one in even the most subtle of terms. Nevertheless, she was careful not to, for they found quite enough to argue about as it was.
Then there were Janet and Katerine. They did all they could to make life miserable for her. They were proving to be experts in the field. It had reached the point where Storm feared an immediate outbreak of hostilities. More and more the subtle remarks flew, anger simmered and reaction was forced down to grow greater and fiercer.
Kate's reason for being vitriolic was plain to see. It had taken Storm a while to understand Janet's. When she did she wished fervently that she had not or that she would be proven wrong. Instead, as Colin grew weaker, Janet's reason for resenting her became all too clear. Janet plainly wanted Tavis, desired her own husband's son.
A silent groan rose up in Storm as the ever weakening Colin was led out of the hall, no longer able to linger with the others after the meal. The ritual of the women preparing to retreat to a far corner of the hall and leave the men alone to talk but the men inducing them to stay was gone through. Storm preferred staying at the table, for she really had little in common with the other two women, and the men afforded some protection from the vicious remarks and rising animosity. She was not afraid of the women, but did fear a humiliating scene if things were not kept curbed in some way.
Storm continued to feel that someone was slowly poisoning Colin but, although she had a very strong suspicion as to who it might be, she could not yet accuse someone. The watching she and Phelan indulged in had left them with only one firm conviction: Malcolm was the only one they could wholeheartedly exonerate. Their reasons for doing so were rather vague, but they did not care. If nothing else, they had to trust someone soon or Colin would die. Storm wondered how she could get to Colin's room to talk privately with the devoted Malcolm. There was little time left. It amazed Storm that Colin still lived, for he looked so very close to death.
"So your people still refuse to buy ye back," drawled Katerine, her eyes hard as they flickered over the way Tavis's hand rested upon Storm's knee with an unconscious possessiveness.
"Lady Mary would not part with a brass farthing to save her own mother," Storm remarked calmly.
"Aye, and mayhaps she kens ye be working off the ransom," Janet purred too loudly.
"Janet," Tavis growled warningly into the sudden hush that had fallen over the table.
Refusing to let the woman anger her, Storm coolly retorted, "Ah, well, I did present Tavis with what I considered a reasonable tally, but mayhaps I estimated too low, for he was loathe to accept it."
Tavis's hand tightened on Storm's knee in warning as snickering erupted around the table. He did not like to hear Storm referred to in such terms. Despite the situation, he did not think of her that way and did not want her or any other to do
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