distant. Seven steps from his goal a horse and rider cantered into the clearing.
Colin turned his head toward the rider and froze. The chamberlain? What was the man doing riding out this early in the morning?
The chamberlain pulled his horse to a halt. “My Lord Marr?”
Colin did the only thing he could think to do. He burped loudly, took a wobbly step toward the chamberlain, and then crumpled to the ground. He’d never expected to be glad of his brother’s renown as a drunk. He could only pray that the small odor of ale on his breath would be enough to convince the chamberlain.
“My lord!” Hoofbeats hurried toward Colin.
St. Andrew, dinna let the man call for aid.
The shadow of the horse blocked the weak dawn light. A corner of the chamberlain’s cloak swept over Colin’s face as the older man knelt.
“What ails you, my lord? Shall I send for help?” The chamberlain’s hands searched Colin’s body for broken bones. When the man’s hand felt the raised scar of Colin’s upper left arm, the chamberlain frowned and paused for the space of a single breath.
Alarm rushed through Colin. That scar was the only evidence he knew that could distinguish him from Brice—the man who’d given him the scar in the first place. He’d nae notion what the chamberlain might know about Brice’s scars or lack thereof, but Colin couldna risk exposure.
Weakly, as a drunk might, he beat the searching hands away, rolled onto his back, and belched once more. A cloud of ale-scented air rose satisfactorily from his mouth.
The chamberlain turned his head and uttered a soft “Ugh” before turning back. But the man’s eyes had narrowed, and his mouth thinned. “Does Lady Sorcha know you have left your bed, my lord?”
Had the chamberlain discovered Colin’s secret? The answer must wait. Colin issued a vapid grin. “N . . . nae. Too tired to swive—damned woman thinks of naught but cleaning. Decid . . . cided to fuck chambermaid at wood . . . woodcutter’s hut.” He let his voice get progressively weaker and went slack when he’d finished his story.
“My lord, my lord.” The chamberlain shook Colin’s shoulder. “You must wake up, my lord.”
“Wha . . . what?” Colin fought his way to a sitting position.
“My lord, have you been deceiving your wife as to your recovery so you could slip out to swive while she slept?”
Colin beamed his idiot’s grin once more. “Aye. Sorcha neglects me. A man has needs.” As he spoke he made a fumbling and unsuccessful attempt to stand.
“Allow me to help.”
He let himself be hoisted to his feet. “Th . . . thank you.” He pushed himself away from the chamberlain then took several unsteady steps toward his goal.
“My lord, you canna go that way. It has been locked since before I came here and the key lost.”
Colin frowned, fumbled in his belt pouch. Withdrawing the key, he held it up for the chamberlain to see. “’Tis nae a door to be used by any but the earl.”
“Ah, I understand. Shall I assist you to your bed?”
Colin shook his head. “I shall be fine, thank you. Promise me you’ll nae mention this encounter to anyone.”
“Of course I shall keep silent,” the chamberlain vowed.
What else could the man say if he wished to keep his post? “Excellent, now I must hurry.” Colin turned his back on the chamberlain, passed through the door. He locked it behind him, resolving to be more careful as long as caution didna interfere with his mission.
CHAPTER FIVE
By full light, Colin sat in bed leaning against pillows Sorcha had just fluffed and watched her bustle about the room. She claimed to be straightening up. It looked to him like she tried to avoid talking with him by staying in constant motion.
“I dinna understand why you willna speak of the months after your betrothal with Brice was broken.”
“You left,” she accused. “You were nae there, so you’ve nae need to understand. Those events are in the past, and there they will stay. Naught
Colin turned his head toward the rider and froze. The chamberlain? What was the man doing riding out this early in the morning?
The chamberlain pulled his horse to a halt. “My Lord Marr?”
Colin did the only thing he could think to do. He burped loudly, took a wobbly step toward the chamberlain, and then crumpled to the ground. He’d never expected to be glad of his brother’s renown as a drunk. He could only pray that the small odor of ale on his breath would be enough to convince the chamberlain.
“My lord!” Hoofbeats hurried toward Colin.
St. Andrew, dinna let the man call for aid.
The shadow of the horse blocked the weak dawn light. A corner of the chamberlain’s cloak swept over Colin’s face as the older man knelt.
“What ails you, my lord? Shall I send for help?” The chamberlain’s hands searched Colin’s body for broken bones. When the man’s hand felt the raised scar of Colin’s upper left arm, the chamberlain frowned and paused for the space of a single breath.
Alarm rushed through Colin. That scar was the only evidence he knew that could distinguish him from Brice—the man who’d given him the scar in the first place. He’d nae notion what the chamberlain might know about Brice’s scars or lack thereof, but Colin couldna risk exposure.
Weakly, as a drunk might, he beat the searching hands away, rolled onto his back, and belched once more. A cloud of ale-scented air rose satisfactorily from his mouth.
The chamberlain turned his head and uttered a soft “Ugh” before turning back. But the man’s eyes had narrowed, and his mouth thinned. “Does Lady Sorcha know you have left your bed, my lord?”
Had the chamberlain discovered Colin’s secret? The answer must wait. Colin issued a vapid grin. “N . . . nae. Too tired to swive—damned woman thinks of naught but cleaning. Decid . . . cided to fuck chambermaid at wood . . . woodcutter’s hut.” He let his voice get progressively weaker and went slack when he’d finished his story.
“My lord, my lord.” The chamberlain shook Colin’s shoulder. “You must wake up, my lord.”
“Wha . . . what?” Colin fought his way to a sitting position.
“My lord, have you been deceiving your wife as to your recovery so you could slip out to swive while she slept?”
Colin beamed his idiot’s grin once more. “Aye. Sorcha neglects me. A man has needs.” As he spoke he made a fumbling and unsuccessful attempt to stand.
“Allow me to help.”
He let himself be hoisted to his feet. “Th . . . thank you.” He pushed himself away from the chamberlain then took several unsteady steps toward his goal.
“My lord, you canna go that way. It has been locked since before I came here and the key lost.”
Colin frowned, fumbled in his belt pouch. Withdrawing the key, he held it up for the chamberlain to see. “’Tis nae a door to be used by any but the earl.”
“Ah, I understand. Shall I assist you to your bed?”
Colin shook his head. “I shall be fine, thank you. Promise me you’ll nae mention this encounter to anyone.”
“Of course I shall keep silent,” the chamberlain vowed.
What else could the man say if he wished to keep his post? “Excellent, now I must hurry.” Colin turned his back on the chamberlain, passed through the door. He locked it behind him, resolving to be more careful as long as caution didna interfere with his mission.
CHAPTER FIVE
By full light, Colin sat in bed leaning against pillows Sorcha had just fluffed and watched her bustle about the room. She claimed to be straightening up. It looked to him like she tried to avoid talking with him by staying in constant motion.
“I dinna understand why you willna speak of the months after your betrothal with Brice was broken.”
“You left,” she accused. “You were nae there, so you’ve nae need to understand. Those events are in the past, and there they will stay. Naught
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