Diana Cosby (21 page)

Patrik grunted. “I can see Longshanks arrogant enough to agree with your reasoning. Except, he and his troops will learn that Stirling Bridge is but the beginning of our reclaiming Scotland’s freedom.”

“Mayhap,” Seathan replied, his expression far from convinced.

“Ah,” Duncan said with a smile, “your wife.”

Griffin glanced toward the keep. His heart swelled as he watched Rois walk down the steps surrounded by the brothers’ wives. At her side, Nichola carried her and Alexander’s son, Hughe.

A vision of Rois cradling their babe came to mind, and pride filled his chest. Never had he thought of her pregnant. What if, after this morn, she carried his babe? Images of a son, with brown hair and hazel eyes, riding fearless across the glen warmed his heart. Or, a daughter, her laughing eyes as green as her mother’s, telling bold tales as they broke their fast. Mayhap over time, Rois would bless him with several children.

“How long will you be away?” Seathan asked.

Griffin set aside thoughts of children. “I am unsure.” Rois within enemy lines meant risk, but she was safer with him than allowing her to return with her father and be in the presence of Sir Lochlann. Never would the bastard Scot be near her again. “Know that I shall not depart Westminster Palace for any length of time without her.”

“Wise,” Alexander agreed. “With King Edward away, the tension inside the palace should be a touch easier.”

“Aye,” Duncan agreed. “Thankful I am his attention is on Flanders.”

At Nichola’s laughter, Griffin smiled at the approaching party. Who would have believed their families would end up entwined? Or, his marriage to Rois would begin to repair a family torn? Fate, some would say. He glanced at the arched window of the grandmother’s tower, grimaced. Formerly a nonbeliever, well he’d learned this day that indeed magic existed.

Rois stepped inside the stable, and happiness filled her eyes when they met Griffin’s.

He walked to her, lifted her hand, and pressed a gentle kiss upon her palm. “We must depart.”

She nodded, her face pale; he suspected she thought of their crossing into England.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “All will be well.”

A brief smile touched Rois’s mouth. “It will be.”

“You said farewell to your father?”

Rois nodded. “I told him we would see him upon our return to Scotland.”

Neither would Griffin reveal he would travel to Scotland before then for brief communications with her father—under the guise of
Wulfe
.

Rois gave each MacGruder a hug, a few quick words of good-bye, and then she walked to Griffin.

Wrapping his hands around her waist, he lifted her upon his mount. Griffin nodded to Lord Grey. “My thanks for everything.”

Seathan nodded. “My home is yours, as it has been since your sister wed Alexander. With your marriage to our cousin, our bond is twice as strong.”

“Indeed.” Griffin turned to his sister, gave her a hug. “Take care.”

“I will.” A happy glow upon her face, Nichola stepped back to stand beside her husband.

Griffin swung up behind Rois. With a wave, he guided his horse from the stable. In the bailey, he kicked his steed toward the exit. Hooves clattered upon stone as he rode through the gatehouse. A burst of cool September air hit them as they cantered away from the formidable defenses of Lochshire Castle and rode toward the uncertainty awaiting them in England.

 

Rois strolled along the cobbled path in the courtyard of Westminster Palace. The numerous arched windows provided a magnificent backdrop to the countless, and priceless, statues, paintings, and pieces of art positioned inside. Across the neatly groomed lawns, the brown turf lay solemn against the late afternoon sun. Streams of sunlight pierced the cloud-ridden sky offering little warmth.

’Twas amazing to think that although she and Griffin had resided here a fortnight, she had explored but a fraction of the luxurious sights the royal palace offered.

“Lady Monceaux?”

At the deep male Scottish burr, Rois turned. A stately man boasting a groomed grey beard and a dignified face strode toward her. It was the Earl of Arthyan, a longtime family friend she’d come across the first night she and Griffin had dined in the palace.

A smile touched her lips at the memories of how in her youth she’d sat by the hearth and listened as the earl and her father spoke of Scotland’s affairs, and the mundane issues of daily life. A time that, when compared to Scotland’s current fight for freedom, seemed so long ago. She gave thanks for the earl’s presence as she worked to find a customary routine on English soil. His familiar face helped temper the adjustment.

She scanned her surroundings. Since her arrival at Westminster Palace, she’d met Lord Arthyan several times at formal events, but always in the presence of Griffin. Although a maid walked a short distance away and he was a family friend, she refused to invite any speculation of impropriety. Rois nodded to the earl, and started to turn.

“Please do nae leave, Lady Rois,” the earl said. “I saw you out enjoying the day, and found myself drawn to the fresh air as well.” Kind brown eyes warmed. “After the stuffiness of the chamber, I pray you do nae mind my joining you.” He cleared his throat. “My lady, if you think my presence is improper in any manner, regardless if you have your maid alongside, I shall depart.” At her hesitation, he stepped back.

She was being rash. He was a family friend and, since they’d come in contact at Westminster Palace, he’d offered her naught but kindness. “Wait.”

Lord Arthyan nodded. “My lady, I do nae wish you any discomfort.”

“I am being foolish. ’Tis nae as if we are alone, or are strangers.” In addition to her maid, several people strolled nearby.

His smile widened. “I found our conversation the last few nights engaging and refreshing. Long has it been since I spoke with someone from my homeland. I am sorry I missed visiting with your father during my last return visit to Scotland, but I had pressing matters needing my attention.”

Rois nodded. “I admit when I saw you outside Kincardan Castle almost a moon ago, I was surprised you didna visit Da before you left.”

The earl hesitated. “I didna realize you saw me? Where exactly?”

Confused by his question, she hesitated. “You were with Sir Lochlann. Near the forest where the river forks.”

“So you did see me,” Lord Arthyan said with a quick smile. “Aye. Sir Lochlann was pointing out the best spot to snare a few fish. Did you know he has mentioned you numerous times over the years? I admit, knowing how deeply he cared for you, I thought ’twould be him you would one day wed.”

She interlaced her hands before her and cleared her throat. “My lord, ours was never more than friendship.”

He arched a distinguished brow. “A belief ’twould seem only you held, but enough of such matters. You have made your choice and appear happy.”

“My thanks, I am.” She hesitated. “I will admit I was surprised to find you at Westminster Palace.” Rois shook her head. “Forgive me, my lord, if you think I pry.”

Mirth twinkled in his eyes. “Do nae worry. I understand. Are we nae both Scots whose lives have taken paths neither of us expected?”

Rois relaxed a degree. “We are.”

“We have a link, a connection between us the English will never understand. Their greed for soil nae their own blinds them to realize the people of Scotland will one day reclaim their land,” he stated, his last words lowering to a whisper. A flush stole across his face. “My lady, I should nae have spoken words so openly that could be interpreted as traitorous.”

Sadness for his struggles for a country they both loved, as well as her own worry, weighed on her. “You have sworn fealty to King Edward. Many a Scot has been forced to bend a knee and re-swear their fealty to King Edward to preserve the safety of their family and home.”

“Indeed,” he replied, his voice somber. “I, Sir Robert Bruce, and many Scots have been coerced to accept England’s dictate.”

Her initial distrust of Griffin flickered in her thoughts. “’Tis a complicated time.”

“My lady, you have great knowledge of our country and wisdom about those who swallow their pride and step in the shadows until time exposes an opportunity.” His smile erased the concern in his eyes. “I regret this talk of fealty and war. A topic you no doubt find boring.”

“I find the discussion far from boring. You caught me off guard, speaking of your passion for Scotland within King Edward’s walls.”

He nodded. “Our longtime friendship as well as your having grown into a beautiful woman loosens my tongue. I ramble like a common lad.”

“I—”

The earl chuckled. “’Twould seem I again overstep my bounds. Please, forgive me. I pray you do nae think me forward, but I and many others at the palace were surprised to learn of Lord Monceaux’s marriage. With your beauty, ’tis easy to see why he was smitten.”

Uneasy with his praise, Rois remained silent, unsure how to reply.

He shook his head. “God’s steed, I am forward. Forgive me, but when I heard Lord Monceaux had wed a Scottish lass, I found myself intrigued.”

“Intrigued?”

“As one of King Edward’s favorites, we expected your husband’s marriage to an English noblewoman approved by our sovereign. The baron’s actions are bold. However, when the king meets you, he will easily understand why his advisor to the Scots chose you as his wife.”

Nae wanting to discuss her future meeting with the king further, Rois stepped back. “If you will excuse me, I must return to several tasks that await me.”

The earl nodded. “Of course, my lady. ’Twas a pleasure to speak with you again. I have no doubt our paths will cross in the future. Fare thee well.”

She gave him a quick smile and hurried toward her awaiting maid. In silence they made their way inside. At her chamber, Rois turned to the younger woman. “I wish to be alone. I need naught for the rest of this night.”

“Yes, my lady.” With a curtsy, her maid left.

Alone, Rois closed her chamber door. She missed the simplicity of her life in Scotland, and yearned for her freedom to go about without inciting speculation from her peers. An adjustment she would weather.

With a weary sigh, she washed her face in the basin, then walked to the window where the reds entwined with yellows of sunset illuminated the sky with whimsical ease. However appealing the surrounding countryside, England held but a shadow of the rough beauty of Scotland.

“You look astonishing.”

Rois spun and found her husband closing the door, his eyes hungry. Her troubled thoughts of moments before fled, and she ran into Griffin’s arms.

“I love you,” he said, his gaze burning across her flesh. “I find myself starving, but not for food.”

Heat stroked her. “As I.”

Griffin arched a playful brow. “Let me not keep my fair maiden waiting.”

Rois laughed as he whisked her into his arms.

Claiming her lips in a heated kiss, he lowered her to the bed. With nimble fingers, he removed her gown. Griffin broke the kiss, and with reverence, ran his hands over her naked body.

“Do you know how much I want you?” he asked as his mouth carved a searing path across her skin.

Her body on fire, her every fiber craving the intimacy they’d shared over and over again, she gave him a sultry smile. “Aye, very much so.”

“My lady, ’twould seem your days of innocence are long lost.”

Enjoying the game of lovers, she nodded. “Because of you. Because of the amazing way you make me feel. Because of how boldly you touch me.”

He shed his clothes. “’Tis wanton you are, a fact that pleases me much.” He caught her mouth in a fierce kiss and entered her with one thrust.

Loving him with all her heart, Rois lost herself to the passion that only Griffin could bring.

Two days later, Rois stood upon the wall walk and stared through the crenulations at the sweep of the manicured lawns prepared for the upcoming winter storms that would ravage the lands. Against the cold air, her breath misted in a rolling cloud.

“We meet again?”

At the familiar welcome in Lord Arthyan’s voice, she turned and smiled. “’Tis a beautiful night.” She glanced about. “Your wife didna join you?”

He bowed. “She insisted I come up here alone. She knows I amble along the wall walk when I find myself heavy in thought.”

“Sorry I am that you are troubled, my lord.” Rois stepped back. “I shall leave you.”

He shook his head. “Westminster is large. I will find another place.”

Her curiosity piqued, she glanced toward her maid a short distance away. None would think their meeting untoward. “If I am nae intruding, I have been known to be a good listener.”

His expression grew somber. “The topic is one I wish nae to ponder aloud.”

At the graveness of his tone, she nodded. “I shall leave you to your contemplations.”

“Wait.” He darted a look around, then exhaled. “’Tis about your husband.”

A chill swept her. Had her presence here somehow jeopardized Griffin? “My lord, you are making little sense.”

“Forgive me.” He rubbed his brow. “I have debated speaking with you these past two days. I thought my mind made up, but I struggle now. It wouldna be difficult if I didna know you so well, or think of you as a daughter.”

“My lord, you are scaring me.”

“My regrets, ’tis nae my intent. My lady, I am doing this poorly.”

“Doing what poorly?”

“Warning you.”

She fought for calm. “Warning me? I know naught of how you could warn me in regards to Griffin. His actions are above reproach. Surely you err.”

“I pray ’tis true,” the earl whispered, torment edging his voice. “’Tis but rumor and speculation. However, I regret to say it is quickly gaining ground.” He paused. “I fear if this viciousness reaches King Edward’s ear, ’twill be too late to salvage Lord Monceaux’s reputation, or his life. Or”—sadness sagged on his face—“yours.”

Her body trembling, Rois laid her hand upon her chest, aware of the lethal damage wrought by poisonous gossip unchecked. “If the news is so dire, why have you nae spoken to my husband?”

“My lady, I have tried. As of late, Lord Monceaux has been out of Westminster Castle or ensconced in numerous meetings.”

Indeed. The last few nights Griffin had entered their chamber well after Compline, and their lovemaking gave way to his need for sleep.

“Please share with me this rumor, and I shall ensure it reaches his ears.”

The distant flicker of torchlight outlined the relief upon his face. “My thanks for accepting this caution. Again, I do nae know if it is true, but I have known you since you were a child. With my deep respect for Lord Brom, I could do no other than to alert you.”

Throat dry, she nodded.

He cleared his throat. “’Tis alleged that your husband delivers English battle plans and other critical information to the Scots.”

“Impossible!” Rois stared at him in disbelief. But, beneath his regretful stare, she hesitated. Was it true? Regardless, she must proceed with caution. “Griffin is loyal to King Edward. His holdings are in England. He has no reason to betray his king.”

“I agree, but to some, ’twould seem his marriage to you has raised questions of his loyalty.”

Now she understood: Gossip spawned by jealousy. “Speculation like that is pure folly. Our marriage has naught to do with his loyalty.” And everything to do with Griffin being tricked into the act by her.

“I regret to have shared such news.” The earl worried his hands. “Rois, I have one more request, which I ask only due to my having known your family over the years. Please nae say a word of where you heard the gossip to anyone, including to your husband.”

Stunned by his request, she stiffened. “Do nae ask me to betray my husband by withholding secrets. I willna.”

Lord Arthyan nodded. “Aye, I am wrong to ask you to keep secrets from your husband. Hence my hesitation to ask you to keep how you learned this to yourself. I make the entreaty only because my life is at risk if it is discovered I told you. But”—he paused, a touch of fear in his eyes—“I will respect your right to inform your husband what you feel is prudent. For old time’s sake, I pray you keep your source hidden.”

Torn by his request, Rois shook her head. She would never keep a secret from Griffin. “I make no promises.”

The earl nodded. He glanced around as if ensuring none could hear, and then focused on Rois. “Rest assured, I am a man who supports your husband’s actions. Please know I maintain secret ties to Scotland, which, I confess, still holds my first loyalty. If King Edward learns of my allegiance, charges of treason would befall me in a trice.”

She’d suspected as much, but along with relief, the weight of his words left her shaken. “I would never betray you.”

“Aye, that I believe.” Lord Arthyan withdrew a document from beneath his cape. “Mayhap this will convince you.”

God in heaven, what else could he share?

He unrolled it. “Here, see for yourself.”

In silence she scanned the neatly penned document, noted within the content Griffin’s name, and several meeting places in Scotland along with their dates.

Confused, she glanced up. “’Tis but missions assigned to him by the English king.”

“Nay, look closer. Note the initial G by each meeting with William Wallace, Andrew de Moray, and other rebels of import. King Edward did nae send him. The engagements were of his choosing. My lady,” he said, his words solemn, “this document was given to me by a traitor who does nae know of my loyalty to Scotland.”

“The document must be fake,” she whispered. “With Griffin’s attention to detail, if indeed he was working with the Scots, he wouldna be so careless.”

“A fact of which I agree. When I challenged the Scot, he explained he had stolen the document from Griffin’s horse during a recent trip, and that the document was very real.”

Fear tore through her. “’Tis treachery the Scot would act in such a brazen manner.”

“Treachery or nae,” the earl said, his voice grave, “the fact is a man loyal to King Edward is aware of Griffin’s exploits for the Scottish cause.”

Heart pounding, she shook her head. “This canna be.” And prayed it was true.

The earl looked at her with shrewd eyes. “’Tis truth.” He paused. “Apparently your husband has kept you ignorant of his exploits.”

Torn between excitement of such a possibility and fear for Griffin’s life, she hesitated. “Lord Arthyan, I still find this charge hard to accept. Except for his duties, I have been with Griffin day and night since we wed. He speaks constantly of his fidelity to England. He owns Rothfield Castle, which sits on English lands!”

The earl gave her a slight bow. “I will leave you to decide your own belief. But for your own caution, I bid you to beware. Lord Monceaux is in league with the Scots.”

Excitement rushed through Rois as she again assessed the document revealed to her by Lord Arthyan.

Griffin was loyal to Scotland.

With astonishing clarity, the questions raised since Rois had met Griffin fell into place. How he had dared to enter Dunadd Castle before the Battle at Stirling Bridge. Why Wallace had requested Lord Monceaux bring de Moray to Cumbuskenneth Abbey to recover. And why her father trusted Griffin with her life.

Her father.

Da must have known of Griffin’s true loyalty from the first.

Humbled by the risks Griffin had taken, ashamed she’d believed ill of him when all along he’d endangered his life to help Scotland, she found it incredible he could have fallen in love with her when she’d believed him her enemy.

“Mother of God, Griffin is in league with the rebels,” she whispered, needing to say the words, their taste wonderfully real.

“Aye.” Lord Arthyan pointed to the signature at the bottom of the penned document. “As you can clearly see, ’tis written by your husband’s hand.”

Hands trembling, Rois rerolled the writ, thankful the man she’d fallen in love with was indeed loyal to Scotland alone. She handed the document back to the earl.

“My apologies, my lord, for my outburst moments ago. It was, and still is, shocking news.”

“Rest assured, I will keep this hidden. God forbid if it falls into the wrong hands.” He laid his hand upon hers. “Please, my lady, all I ask is that you tell your husband his actions are being watched.”

On a hard swallow, she nodded. Lives lay at stake in a very real, very deadly game. “My thanks, I will warn Griffin immediately.” Heart pounding, she started to bid the earl farewell, then a new worry arose. “What of my father?”

“Lord Brom?”

“Aye,” she rushed out, fear for her father growing every moment. “If this gossip reaches King Edward’s ears, will my father be charged with treason?”

The earl frowned. “Why should your husband’s loyalties, such as they are, affect Lord Brom?”

Did he nae understand? “Because,” she explained, “my father sanctioned my marriage. He would never do so unless he believed my husband is a man he could trust. Or, he knew and has been meeting with Griffin in secret. And as I am sure you are aware, like you, his loyalties remain with Scotland.”

The earl rubbed his chin. “Aye, I understand your concern. Do nae worry, your father should be safe. Once Lord Monceaux is aware of the rumors concerning his loyalties, he will quash them.”

On an exhale, she wrung her hands. “Thank you, sincerely, for everything.”

“’Tis my pleasure, my lady, to be of your service.” He bowed. “Be off with you now, the sooner you alert your husband to the dangers the better.”

“Indeed.” With nerves frayed, Rois hurried away.

At the panicked look on Rois’s face as she entered their chamber, Griffin shoved aside his frustrations from his recent meeting.

“Rois—”

“Thank God you are here.” She hurried over, threw herself against him.

He drew back. “What is wrong?”

“Griffin,” she rushed out, her voice filled with relief, “I—I know.”

Unease swept him. “Know what?”

“That you are loyal to Scotland.”

Astonished, he stared at her. “Rois,” he said, his voice brusque, but the stakes were too high to misspeak. “What are you talking about?”

“I kn-know you aid the rebels.”

Griffin stilled. She couldn’t. Except by the conviction of her words, she believed she spoke the truth—which she did.

“Rois—”

“It is the reason why Da allowed you to stay married to me. And why Wallace trusted you to take my cousin Andrew to Cumbuskenneth Abbey, is it nae?”

He’d struggled to find a way to explain the truth of his loyalty, and doubted he ever would. Now, God help him, she knew, but it left a dangerous question unanswered. Who had told her?

“Is it true?” she pressed.

He would explain, but he needed answers as well. “Yes, my loyalty lies with the rebels,” he replied with caution. “I joined the Scottish cause in my youth. Many rebels know of me, but nae who I am.”

“Nae who you are? What do you mean?”

Pulse racing, he watched the mix of pride and fear on her face. Fear was healthy. It would keep her words and actions guarded. And keep her alive.

“I work beneath the name
Wulfe
.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You are
Wulfe
?”

He nodded. “My father before me was loyal to the Scots. He worked covertly for them against England’s tyranny. As a youth, I witnessed the injustice to the people of Scotland, so I joined the rebel cause as well.” He paused. “Over time, my title and connections allowed me to secure a place as King Edward’s advisor to the Scots, a position that has saved numerous rebel lives.”

Rois scraped her teeth across her bottom lip. “Why did you nae tell me before?”

“To protect you.” He caressed the soft curve of her cheek. “I wanted you innocent of the fact in case you were ever questioned, or I . . .”

“Died.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Y-you should have told me.”

“Rois, you were never to know.”

Shrewd eyes studied him. “Which is why you sought an annulment. Nae because you didna love me, but because you wanted me safe.”

God, he loved her. “I never should have touched you.”

A hint of a smile touched her mouth. “I am glad you did.”

“As I.” Neither could he ignore a more serious issue. “Rois, who told you of my loyalty to the Scots?”

“’Twas a trusted family friend,” she explained. “He showed me a document listing your name, and the dates of your meeting with your rebel contacts.”

Dread crept through him. “A trusted friend showed you this document?” God’s teeth. Rois considered only one man in residence her friend—a very powerful lord with dangerous connections.

“Aye,” she rushed on, “a document written by your hand. He explained they were given to him by a traitorous Scot who stole the document from your horse during a recent trip.” At his silence, panic filled her eyes. “What is wrong?”

“You are speaking of Lord Arthyan?”

She gave a jerky nod.

He muttered a curse, his mind racing at what he must do, of who he must warn. First, though, he must explain to Rois. “Listen to me,” he said with care, aware from their talks how she admired the earl. “No such document exists.”

“But I saw—”

“Rois,” he said, his voice grave, “Lord Arthyan is a man who seeks King Edward’s praise regardless of the foul play used.”

“Nay, you are wrong. I have known him for many years, and trust him with my life. I saw the document,” she said, her voice growing panicked. “Griffin, he risked his life to warn you.”

Fury slammed him. “The only life he risked is yours.”