Forbidden Legacy (3 page)

* * *

A church bell echoed in the distance.

Groggy, Katherine peered out. Red coals glowed in the hearth but, through the window, blackness still claimed the sky. She'd dozed.

Stifling a yawn, she glanced at Stephan's muscled form. After he'd assured her he'd nae harm her, and having watched him during his prayers, she believed him, though the peace of having a protector didna erase the grief of losing a family she loved.

The shouts, the stench of blood, and the screams of the attack on Avalon stormed her mind. With each memory, emotion built until she ached.

Needing to be alone, Katherine studied his breathing for several moments. Confident her husband was asleep, she slipped out of bed, crept to the entry. She glanced back.

He hadna moved.

Relieved, she slipped into the corridor, tugged the door shut.

The hewn wood settled into place with a soft thud.

Heart pounding, she froze, half-expecting Stephan to pull the door open and demand her return.

Torchlight from several nearby sconces flickered in the silence.

Thankful he'd remained asleep, she started down the corridor. Though the chill of fall filled the air, she would go to the wall walk and find a place where she could be alone to think. As she rounded a bend, several paces away, a large door stood ajar, a golden glow spilling from a chamber into the hallway.

The chamber where she'd sealed her marital fate earlier this day.

With quiet steps she walked to the door, glanced inside.

The king knelt before the cross, his head bowed in prayer.

Worried as to why he was awake at this hour, she stepped inside.

At the slight creak of the door, the king turned. With a frown, he made the sign of the cross, stowed a crucifix beneath his garb, and then stood. “Is something wrong?”

Heat stroked her cheeks. “I was thinking of my family and I . . . I couldna sleep.”

“So you came to pray?”

Emptiness filled Katherine as she took in the large cross hanging on the wall. “Aye,” she replied, the soothing scent of frankincense offering her a measure of comfort. “I am surprised to find you up this late, I pray all is well?”

“Aye. I have a few details to attend to before I find my bed.” A frown curved her godfather's mouth. “I am surprised your husband has allowed you to leave the chamber on your wedding night.”

The warmth in Katherine's cheeks grew. “In truth, he doesna know.”

The Bruce arched a skeptical brow toward the door and then met her gaze.

“I waited until he fell asleep. I needed time alone, to . . .” The pain of loss overwhelmed her, and a sob escaped. She sniffed. “I am sorry. I canna stop thinking of how my family died.”

With a somber nod, the Bruce stepped forward, and drew her against his chest. “'Tis understandable after all you have endured.”

At his compassion, her fragile control broke. Great sobs rocked her, and for several moments she wept. When nay more tears would come, when her cries were naught but quiet shudders, he released her and stepped back. “Come, kneel beside me and pray.”

With a sniff, she knelt. The polished wood cool against her knees, she made the sign of the cross. As her sovereign murmured a prayer at her side, she followed along, the familiar words, the cadence, comforting.

“Amen,” she said, matching his motions as he made the sign of the cross.

He shifted back to the sturdy bench, motioned her to sit at his side.

On edge, she settled beside him, keeping her focus on the cross hanging on the wall. For a long while she remained unmoving, comforted by her godfather's presence, the scent of aged wood and a hint of frankincense. Calmer, Katherine glanced over.

Sage eyes met hers. “You heart is broken with the loss of your family, but I sense there is more on your mind.”

Anxiety slid through her. “Stephan is a difficult man.”

Surprise flickered on his face. “Has your husband mistreated you?”

“Nay,” she whispered, unsure how best to proceed. “'Tis that he is more stubborn than a cornered badger.”

The king relaxed a degree. “How so?”

She hesitated. “He is nae pleased that I am sailing with him and his men.”

“Nor did I expect otherwise. He is a warrior, a knight of deep faith who sails on the morrow to engage in battle. He doesna wish a lass to distract him.”

Katherine stiffened. “My father taught me to fight, a skill my husband chooses to dismiss. He doesna know me.”

“Nor you him.”

She met her sovereign's thoughtful gaze. “Nor will he allow me. When I asked but the simplest questions regarding his past, he refused to answer.”

The Bruce gave a slow nod. “Sir Stephan is a man who needs a woman of strength and patience, and one who will support him.”

“He needs a good boot to the backside.”

A chuckle rumbled in the king's chest. “Said with such exasperation.”

“Sire, how do you reason with a man who willna talk with you?”

Her godfather leaned back. “I remember once when my men and I marched into battle. Your father and I came across a mule stuck in the mud. He was braying and causing a commotion. It took eight men to free him: five pulling from the front, two pushing from the back, and one banging a stick against his shield in hopes the noise would make the stubborn beast bolt.”

The image of the men trudging into the muck, their curses as they shoved, prodded, and pulled the thankless animal had a smile curving her mouth.

“Aye, 'tis funny now,” Robert Bruce said dryly. “Rest assured, at the time the blasted mule seemed more trouble than he was worth. Several grumbles of making him the night's fare were met with hearty agreement.”

Her smile faded. “Did you kill him?”

Mirth twinkled in eyes like a seasoned bard's. “The thought crossed my mind when the thankless beast nipped me.” He chuckled. “In the end, your father climbed upon the animal and pulled his tail. With an outraged bray, the mule kicked, lunged, and all but freed himself.”

Laughter tumbled from her throat.

“Your father lasted about two bucks and then landed flat in the mud.”

Tears misted her eyes as she continued to laugh, happy ones that entwined with the sad that had run down her cheeks earlier. “H-He never told me that story.”

Her guardian smiled. “Nor would I expect him to. He landed on his arse and wounded his pride.”

She giggled, sniffing back the tears.

“Aye, 'twas a time to remember, but I learned an important lesson that day.”

“Which was?”

The king's gaze grew somber. “We needed the mule to work with us. Until he did, there was nay prying the animal out. Your father found a way that, regardless if the beast liked it or nae, had the creature working with us.” He paused. “An intelligent woman like you would be knowing how to look past the external, to find what matters to a person, and to nurture that into more.”

She grimaced. “Mayhap you should have left the mule in the mud.”

Humor erased the sadness in his eyes. “Mayhap, but if we had left him, later, when your father was injured in battle, we wouldna have had a simple means to transport him to a healer.”

“His left shoulder?” she asked, remembering how he'd favored it.

The Bruce nodded. “What is important to remember is nae to give up on a challenge. In the end, with time and patience, you may find the rewards more than expected.”

More than expected. With Stephan, something she doubted. Tiredness washed over her and she smothered a yawn. “I thank you for listening and for your words of wisdom.”

Pride shone in the king's eyes. “I have confidence you are the woman for Stephan. Together, in addition to rebuilding Avalon, I believe you will create a strong marriage as well.”

A shiver crept up her skin and she stood. “I will retire now, Your Grace.”

He nodded but didna stand. “Sleep well.”

In silence she left, her mind pondering the story of her father and the message within. Robert Bruce might have faith that she was the woman for Stephan, but Katherine held naught but doubt. Neither did the king's beliefs regarding her and Stephan matter. In the end, he would go off to war and she would have her home.

Another wave of fatigue swept over her. More than ready to find her bed, she opened the door, stepped into the corridor, and stilled.

Paces away, Stephan stared at her, his arms crossed over his chest, a scowl darkening his face.

L
ifting the edge of the crate, Stephan turned his face to avoid the blinding rays of the sunrise and shifted back. He glanced at the lean, muscled knight at his side, a man with whom he'd fought many a battle, thankful his friend sailed with him on this journey. “Thomas, move to the right.”

“Aye, my lord,” Thomas MacKelloch replied, his voice rich with amusement.

“You willna be laughing,” Stephan said, edging to the left, “when 'tis you taking a vow to wed.”

“I, my friend,” Thomas said, his tone smug, “plan on avoiding such mayhem.”

Stephan grimaced. “As if finding a wife was my blasted intention?”

His friend's smile faded. “Any of us would have agreed to marriage to protect the Templar treasure.”

“I know.” Stephan shifted farther to the left. “The stronghold's central location will allow us to travel wherever needed with ease. In addition, the catacombs hidden beneath Avalon Castle will provide the safe location the sacred goods require.”

The man holding the box to his right, a dragon curled around a Celtic cross tattooed on his shoulder, nodded. “'Twill be a great relief once the cache our ships carry is hidden.”

Stephan met Aiden MacConnell's gaze, thankful he, too, sailed with their fleet. Thomas's expertise as an archer, along with Aiden's, was renowned. He welcomed both men's skill in the upcoming attack on Avalon. “It will. God help us if any besides Templars learn of the prize we carry.”

“Indeed,” Aiden said. “Nor do I envy you the task of keeping a wife.”

At the mention of Katherine, her image of last evening came to mind. How shimmers of firelight had caressed her golden hair, deepened her cheekbones, and made her appear a cross between a fairy, a siren, and a waif. Stephan grimaced. God's blade, what types of thoughts were these? He was going daft!

“Task, aye,” Stephan said, irritation hardening his burr. “I dinna wish a wife, but if saddled with such a burden, I would rather the woman be an old crone who finds pleasure in mundane tasks, nae a brazen lass who meddles in the duties of a warrior.”

“You have known her less than a day,” Thomas said. “Once we arrive, perhaps her wish to fight alongside us will fade, and she will want to do naught but immerse herself in running the stronghold.”

“Mayhap,” Stephan said, “but after a few hours in her presence, I have little faith of such.”

Aiden shifted a step. “A lass who knows how to handle a sword with skill is nae common.”

“Neither am I convinced that she can back her claim. Words are easily given.” Stephan edged back a wee bit, glanced at Aiden. “Are you clear on your side?”

“Enough so the crate will fit,” his friend replied.

“Good. Set it down.” Together, they lowered the large box beside another.

A scrape sounded as the bottom settled into place.

Stephan straightened, cursing his sluggish mind. Neither did he expect otherwise after he'd caught but scrapes of sleep throughout the night. Blast Katherine for slipping from their chamber in the first place.

At least he'd had the pleasure of witnessing her shock as she'd exited the chapel and the anger in her eyes when he'd instructed that such future actions wouldna be tolerated. She'd remained silent, a fact that had left him surprised. From her stubbornness, he'd expected defiance. After the long day, a confrontation he was more than ready to indulge. Instead, she'd stormed to their chamber. And, much to his chagrin, in but moments had fallen asleep.

Unlike him.

Aiden leaned against the crate. “Though your wife believes she is a skilled fighter, sparring in the safety of the bailey far from prepares a man, much less a woman, for the dangers in faced in battle.”

“A fact I made clear,” Stephan said. “Regardless of her wishes, she willna be allowed to fight.”

“Wise.” Thomas moved beside the knight, crossing his arms. “You should know that the men are nae pleased to have a woman aboard.”

Stephan's chest tightened at the disclosure. “A feeling I share, but a fact I canna change. 'Tis the king's order.” He shook his head. “Though the Bruce didna say why, I believe he was impressed by Katherine's stubbornness in refusing to share the entry to the secret tunnel beneath Avalon.”

A smile touched Aiden's mouth. “The lass sounds like she will be a challenge.”

Stephan grimaced. His wife's slipping from their bedchamber without telling him bespoke a recklessness he refused to tolerate, a fact he'd made clear. If she would adhere to his expectations was another matter.

“Speaking of which,” Thomas said, his voice rich with appreciation, “I see a lass heading toward the shore. Would that be the fair Lady Katherine?”

Eyes narrowing, Stephan turned.

Dressed in a sturdy yet flattering gown of blue, her hair braided in an intricate weave and secured behind her head, Katherine strode with a regal step toward shore.

The candlelight last eve had bathed her in a tender hue, but illuminated by dawn's golden glow against the backdrop of the castle, she looked more like the warrior she claimed to be.

God's blade, why was she here? He'd instructed her to await him in the castle until he returned. Aye, the lass would be trouble and then some.

Paces from shore, her head tilted. Amenable blue eyes met his. “Good morning, my lord.”

Stephan nodded, far from fooled by her soft, agreeable façade. Naught was docile about the lass. “My lady. I will be there momentarily.”

The dimples on Thomas's face deepened.

Stephan shot him a glare. “Nae a word.”

His friend arched a brow in mock surprise. “I have said naught.”

With a muttered curse, Stephan strode toward the gangplank, nae glancing toward the other Templar, confident Aiden's expression was equally amused.

* * *

Aware the men onboard watched her approach, head held high, Katherine started up the wooden walkway extending from the pier to the ship.

The slap of water against the hull and the salty tang of the ocean ignited memories of sailing with her father. Melancholy stormed her, and she pushed the thoughts away, refusing to show any weakness before these men.

At the entry to the galley, a large man blocked her path. “Halt—”

“Sir Cailin,” Stephan interrupted, “may I introduce you to my wife, Lady Katherine.”

The man with a shock of red hair surveyed her with a sage eye and then bowed. “My lady, 'tis a pleasure to meet you.” He stepped back, his remote manner at odds with the welcome in his voice.

“Sir Cailin,” she said with a nod.

“I will leave you with your husband.” After a glance toward Stephan, the knight strode away.

A shiver trickled across her skin as she caught the other men on deck studying her. By their wary expressions, they were displeased with her appearance. Neither could her presence be helped. After his warning of his expectations when it came to her last eve, if Stephan and his men sailed without her, she doubted he would ever return for her, a risk she refused to take.

Her husband's shadow engulfed her, and she faced the man she'd been sentenced to for life.

“We sail within the hour. I had planned to escort you aboard,” he said, his tone crisp, his gaze direct. “A fact I made
clear
this morning before I left our bedchamber.”

The arrogant toad. She leaned closer. “In case you have forgotten,” she whispered, “I am nae one of your men to be ordered about.”

Fire flashed in his eyes, then disappeared as quickly.

'Twould seem he wasna as composed as he wished her to believe. Pleased, she forced a smile. “Aware you are anxious to depart, I saved you the trip.”

His nostrils flared. “This way.” He strode toward the ladder.

The smooth, aged wood rocked below her as she followed. “'Tis a grand ship,” she said, noting the artistry, the care taken in crafting the smallest fixture. This wasna a simple galley designed to haul goods but a seaworthy vessel built with purpose.

He shrugged. “It serves my men and me well.”

An understatement. At her approach to the docks, she'd surveyed the other ships moored nearby preparing to sail, each as impressive. In her lifetime she'd seen many vessels but none so well built or maintained. With the time spent at sea, 'twas usual to find hints of rust or wear aboard ship. Wherever she looked, she found the wood highly polished, the knots securing the sails tightly woven, and beneath the morning rays the brass fixtures gleamed. Each item a testament to meticulous care.

“Watch your step as you descend the ladder,” Stephan said. “I will await you at the bottom.” He paused. “Unless you wish my assistance.”

Frustration built. From his dismissal to allow her to fight to reclaim her home to his every other action, he'd labeled her a hindrance. “I can climb below without help.”

When she reached the bottom, he led her to a spacious cabin. At the door he paused. “Once I finish above deck, I shall return.” Stephan departed.

Beneath the glow of the lantern hanging from a sturdy hook, she noted the minimal furnishings. A bed, chests to hold clothes and goods, several of them hers. Given the craftsmanship of this vessel, she'd expected to find the furnishings of the captain's quarters lavish.

Katherine recalled Stephan's simple yet sturdy garb, the same type he'd worn when they'd first met. After their marriage, as an earl and with access to her inheritance, she'd expected him to procure higher-quality attire.

He'd chosen otherwise.

Why? Had the limited time before they sailed prohibited him from addressing the issue, or was there another reason? As if his garb was her biggest worry. With her fate sealed through marriage, she had more important concerns than how her husband dressed.

The image of Stephan praying the night before came to her mind. However much she wished to dismiss the stubborn and frustrating man from her thoughts, there was a calm about him that perplexed her. He acted more like a monk than a knight.

A bell rang from above deck.

They were preparing to depart. Having enjoyed standing alongside her father when he'd sailed toward open sea, Katherine hurried above deck, ignoring her husband's grimace when she walked past him. At the ship's bow, with the cool, salty breeze fluttering against her skin, she leaned against the rail.

With the confidence born of a man used to the ways of the sea, Stephan called out orders while his men retrieved lines, checked equipment, and secured ropes.

Though her husband hadna disclosed his having lived in France, the ease with which the men worked in unison, making their departure appear effortless, exposed that he and his crew sailed, and often.

Was he a merchant based in France? At first she'd believed him a warrior. With his quick mind, a knight feared on the battlefield. He and his men's expertise at sea hinted otherwise. Their muscled bodies attested to long, hard hours of wielding a blade, nae those of lean men who made their livelihood sailing the ocean. If asked, she would say they looked like . . .

Pirates.

The shot of panic faded to humor. As if Robert Bruce would meet with those who lived outside the law or subject her to a life with a brigand. She trusted her godfather. Whatever her husband was, he wasna a scoundrel. Stephan's skills on land and sea explained why her sovereign had chosen him and his men to reclaim Avalon Castle, but the reason gave little insight into why the king had insisted they wed.

A gust of wind filled the sails with a firm snap.

The ship lunged toward open water.

Katherine closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the sun. She savored its warmth, the briny air, and the rush of water against the bow as the galley cut through the oncoming swells.

Memories filled her. 'Twas as if at any moment her father's heavy steps would reach her. Then he'd be standing by her side.

Grief welled inside her, and she dug her fingers into the polished rail and opened her eyes.

Her parents were dead.

Murdered.

However much she loathed the thought of marriage, she would do whatever was necessary to reclaim her home.

“'Tis best if you stay below.”

At her husband's terse voice, she stiffened. Katherine kept her focus on the incoming swells. “For whom?” she asked, irritated that so lost in her thoughts, she'd nae heard his approach.

Stephan stepped beside her, glanced over. “Our time together, however brief, doesna have to be one of strife.”

She took in his strong face, the harsh cut of his jaw. A warrior. Indeed, a man to be reckoned with, but perhaps a reasonable man as well. “I agree.”

“Then you will remain below until we arrive at Avalon?”

She laughed, his question so foolish she couldna do otherwise.

Darkness smoldered in his eyes. “It wasna a jest.”

Indeed, there was naught laughable about the situation. She didna want to live out the rest of her days at odds with this man. An idea came to mind. She glanced around. Confident nay one was close enough to hear them, she met his gaze. “Neither of us wanted this marriage, but if we approach it like a business arrangement, the move can benefit us both.”

His gaze grew skeptical. “How so?”

“From the way we shared last evening within the bedchamber, or rather apart,” she said, ignoring the heat sweeping her cheeks, “I anticipate our future nights spent together will be as”—she cleared her throat—“uneventful.”

“Go on.”

Relief poured through her at his willingness to listen. “You seek a stronghold for your men,” she continued as the galley cut through an oncoming swell. “A base of sorts for you and your knights while supporting campaigns for our king.”