thwarting Lady Margaret’s plan to be Gabel’s bride. This attempt at murder revealed how important it was to stop that marriage, but it also showed that a woman like Lady Margaret would not be stopped by such simple games as flirting with Gabel.
Once inside of the keep, Ainslee paused to take a deep, steadying breath. She tossed her cape to a young maid who was hurrying over to greet her, and strode toward the great hall. Straightening her shoulders, steeling herself for the first real meeting with the Frasers since their arrival, Ainslee stepped into the great hall. It did not really surprise her to find Lady Margaret seated at the lord’s table with Gabel and her father. It certainly did not mean that the woman was innocent. Lady Margaret would not dirty her white hands enacting such a murder. She simply ordered it done. What brief flicker of doubt Ainslee suffered about her conclusions vanished when Lady Margaret looked at her. The woman’s expression was briefly one of complete surprise, and then it hardened into fury.
“Lady Ainslee,” called Gabel, smiling and waving her toward the table. “Come and join me. I sent a page to your chambers, but he said you were not there.”
“I went for a wee wander about the bailey,” she replied as she approached the table.
“And where is Vincent?”
“Do I need my guard in this place where I am surrounded by de Amalvilles and their allies?”
“Of course not,” Gabel murmured, glancing toward the door and back at Ainslee, then frowning. “Come, sit here,” he said, indicating the seat to his left.
Ainslee hesitated, for that seat put her next to Lord Fraser. She suspected that some of the rage flushing the man’s craggy face was due to the fact that Gabel was offering her a seat which placed her higher at the table than him. Assuring herself that nothing could happen to her at the head table with the lord of the manor close at hand, she moved to sit down.
“Ye treat your prisoners most kindly, Sir Gabel,” said Lord Fraser, his tone of voice cordial, but his eyes revealing his distaste as Ainslee sat down and a page hurried over to serve her.
“This particular prisoner is a lady of good birth, sir,” Gabel replied. “And she has offered me no trouble. I see no reason to treat her otherwise.”
“And how does your father intend to gather your ransom, m’lady?” Fraser asked Ainslee. “Steal it from his neighbors as he has ever done?”
Before Ainslee could reply, Gabel set his tankard down with a distinct rap and said, “I have decreed that Lady Ainslee be treated as my guest, Lord Fraser. I had not realized that custom now allowed one guest to insult another at the host’s own table.”
“It does not, m’lord. Forgive me. I allow old animosities to rob me of my manners.”
Ainslee knew some reaction was expected of her, and she nodded in reply to Lord Fraser’s insincere apology. The words she wished to say were hard to swallow, stinging her throat as she choked them back. If she was to show Gabel how sly and untrustworthy the Frasers were, she had to behave better than they did. She began to think that was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done, for every time she looked at the Frasers, she could hear her mother’s screams.
“You are looking somewhat tousled, Ainslee,” Gabel said as he idly tidied her hair. “Has the wind grown strong?”
“Nay.” Ainslee wondered if Gabel was aware of how nappropriately he was acting as he neatened her lightly braided hair and spoke to her so informally. The Frasers had noticed and clearly detested the casual familiarity Gabel was showing. “I fear I must tell ye some distressing news—your fine keep appears to be crumbling.” Ainslee watched Lady Margaret narrow her eyes in warning.
“Crumbling?”
“Aye. I nearly had my head crushed by a falling rock.” She fought to hide her astonishment when Gabel paled slightly and looked her over carefully.
“You were not
Once inside of the keep, Ainslee paused to take a deep, steadying breath. She tossed her cape to a young maid who was hurrying over to greet her, and strode toward the great hall. Straightening her shoulders, steeling herself for the first real meeting with the Frasers since their arrival, Ainslee stepped into the great hall. It did not really surprise her to find Lady Margaret seated at the lord’s table with Gabel and her father. It certainly did not mean that the woman was innocent. Lady Margaret would not dirty her white hands enacting such a murder. She simply ordered it done. What brief flicker of doubt Ainslee suffered about her conclusions vanished when Lady Margaret looked at her. The woman’s expression was briefly one of complete surprise, and then it hardened into fury.
“Lady Ainslee,” called Gabel, smiling and waving her toward the table. “Come and join me. I sent a page to your chambers, but he said you were not there.”
“I went for a wee wander about the bailey,” she replied as she approached the table.
“And where is Vincent?”
“Do I need my guard in this place where I am surrounded by de Amalvilles and their allies?”
“Of course not,” Gabel murmured, glancing toward the door and back at Ainslee, then frowning. “Come, sit here,” he said, indicating the seat to his left.
Ainslee hesitated, for that seat put her next to Lord Fraser. She suspected that some of the rage flushing the man’s craggy face was due to the fact that Gabel was offering her a seat which placed her higher at the table than him. Assuring herself that nothing could happen to her at the head table with the lord of the manor close at hand, she moved to sit down.
“Ye treat your prisoners most kindly, Sir Gabel,” said Lord Fraser, his tone of voice cordial, but his eyes revealing his distaste as Ainslee sat down and a page hurried over to serve her.
“This particular prisoner is a lady of good birth, sir,” Gabel replied. “And she has offered me no trouble. I see no reason to treat her otherwise.”
“And how does your father intend to gather your ransom, m’lady?” Fraser asked Ainslee. “Steal it from his neighbors as he has ever done?”
Before Ainslee could reply, Gabel set his tankard down with a distinct rap and said, “I have decreed that Lady Ainslee be treated as my guest, Lord Fraser. I had not realized that custom now allowed one guest to insult another at the host’s own table.”
“It does not, m’lord. Forgive me. I allow old animosities to rob me of my manners.”
Ainslee knew some reaction was expected of her, and she nodded in reply to Lord Fraser’s insincere apology. The words she wished to say were hard to swallow, stinging her throat as she choked them back. If she was to show Gabel how sly and untrustworthy the Frasers were, she had to behave better than they did. She began to think that was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done, for every time she looked at the Frasers, she could hear her mother’s screams.
“You are looking somewhat tousled, Ainslee,” Gabel said as he idly tidied her hair. “Has the wind grown strong?”
“Nay.” Ainslee wondered if Gabel was aware of how nappropriately he was acting as he neatened her lightly braided hair and spoke to her so informally. The Frasers had noticed and clearly detested the casual familiarity Gabel was showing. “I fear I must tell ye some distressing news—your fine keep appears to be crumbling.” Ainslee watched Lady Margaret narrow her eyes in warning.
“Crumbling?”
“Aye. I nearly had my head crushed by a falling rock.” She fought to hide her astonishment when Gabel paled slightly and looked her over carefully.
“You were not
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