Highlanders (10 page)

“This will do, Williame,” she said to the merchant standing beside her. “Have your men unload the goods in the kitchen.” She took a bag of silver from the pouch belted to her waist and handed it to him.

“Thank ye, my lady.”

The merchant climbed into the seat beside his son, but not before Rhoslyn caught the glance he cast at her grandfather and St. Claire. His curt order to his son to go to the postern door told her that he, too, knew the men had something on their minds. The cart lurched into motion. Rhoslyn stepped back. Once the cart passed, the two men closed the final distance between them. St. Claire’s eyes narrowed on her face and she touched the tender spot on her cheek before checking the action.

His gaze sharpened. “Are you well?”

A strange tremor rippled through her. She hadn’t seen him since last night and had hoped to avoid him as long as possible. “I am fine,” she said. He continued to stare, and she added, “The bruise isna’ so bad.”

“Bad enough,” her grandfather growled.

“It is over and I am well. That is enough.” she said.

“You are a fool if ye believe that, and I didna’ raise a fool.”

Irritation surfaced. “I had no’ expected to see ye. I thought you would have returned home.”

“Nay, we need to speak privately with you.” He grasped her arm and started toward the castle.

St. Claire fell into place alongside her and she felt as if she were being escorted to the gallows. They reached the front door and, minutes later, entered their private solar.

She seated herself on the bench in front of the hearth and her grandfather said, “Ye and St. Claire will marry tomorrow morning.”

Of all the things she might have expected to hear come out of her grandfather’s mouth, this wasn’t one of them. “But why? Edward commanded we wed a month from now.”

“Dayton is claiming you and he are married.”

“Married?” It made perfect sense, but that didn’t stop the feeling that a horse had rolled across her. “Ridiculous,” she said, then cursed the tremor in her voice. “We didna’ see a priest, nor was there even the hint of a handfasting.”

“It isna’ as simple as that, and ye know it,” her grandfather said.

Rhoslyn looked at St. Claire. “You claimed Edward’s command that we marry was unimpeachable. We are, in effect, already married.”

“True,” he said. “But Dayton might use the fact you and he were alone to make a claim.”

“Is that how ye would have seen things if I had reached Longford Castle and been
alone
with Lord Melrose?”

“Nay. I would have razed Longford Castle, then brought you back to Castle Glenbarr.”

Anger tightened her belly. “Yet you fear your brother can claim me?”

“It is my duty to ensure your safety. The church’s blessing on our union makes his claims more difficult to pursue.”

“King Edward will never uphold your brother’s assertions.”

“Not as long as I am alive,” St. Claire replied.

Rhoslyn gasped. “Surely, your brother would no’ go so far as to kill ye?”

“I would not have thought he would dare kidnap you.” His expression was impassive, but Rhoslyn felt sure she read the thought,
Neither did I conceive of the possibility that he would dare lay a hand on you.

“And what will ye do if you bear a child in nine months, Rhoslyn?” her grandfather asked.

Rhoslyn went cold.

“Dayton will say the child is his,” he went on. “Especially if there is any question that you and St. Claire havena’ lived together as man and wife.”

St. Claire remained silent, but Rhoslyn felt his stare. She wanted to argue, wanted to retreat to the solitude of her chambers—or even better, the convent—but could think of nothing to halt the inevitable. As much as she wanted to deny it, they were right. If she bore a child within the next nine months—especially a son—Dayton very well might rally his father and even petition Edward with the allegation that her child was his.

When she’d risen this morning, she had gone to the small chapel near their chambers and prayed to the Virgin Mary herself that she not be pregnant. Her stomach churned, for even while she’d knelt on the stone floor, she had planned how she might obtain penny royal and sage to induce bleeding before St. Claire lay with her.

Chapter Nine

Rhoslyn set the last egg in the basket, then recorded the total number of eggs on the small parchment she’d brought to the kitchen. Twenty-three eggs in this basket alone. She had always marveled at how Mistress Muira was able to coax so many eggs from her hens. In the past, they had surplus enough to share with the villagers. However, it was likely they would have to purchase more hens just to feed St. Claire’s men.

She stepped to the left where a fourth basket sat on the counter and began counting. Rhoslyn reached twelve before her thoughts turned to the wedding ceremony planned for tomorrow morning. A tremor rippled through her stomach. In less than a day, her marriage to Sir Talbot St. Claire, a man she’d known for two days, would be blessed by the church.

Nay. She
met
him two days ago, and had spent less than a day with him. She knew him not at all.

Perhaps, that wasn’t wholly true. She knew he was strong of body
and
mind. Physical strength was expected in a knight deserving of his king’s favors. Wasn’t that what she was, a favor bestowed upon a man for loyal service? Despite knowing such things were the way of the world, the thought galled her.

She’d married Alec because her grandfather believed he would be a good husband. His wealth, she had to admit, was no small consideration, but he’d been a good man who died too soon. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he had died before their son. He would have been devastated to know his son had lived only two months. Sadness poked at her heart and she ruthlessly pushed it aside. She couldn’t give into sorrow. She had retreated to the convent in sorrow, and look where that had gotten her.

Mistress Muira gave a small cry and Rhoslyn looked up from the eggs. Her stepdaughter Andreana entered the kitchen and stopped a few paces inside. Rhoslyn set the egg she held back in the basket and rushed forward. When she reached the girl, she threw her arms around her. Andreana stiffened. Rhoslyn’s heart squeezed. It had been too long since she’d seen her stepdaughter. Rhoslyn drew back and Muira crowded in to give Andreana a hug.

“Och, ye have grown in the two months since I last saw ye.” the housekeeper said.

The other half dozen women working in the kitchen crowded around and each hugged her as well, then Muira shooed them back to work and Rhoslyn grasped Andreana’s hands and looked at her. In the fourteen months she’d been gone, Andreana had gone from being a gawky girl to a young woman. Her hair had softened and grown lustrous, her face had lost its roundness, appearing longer, with more pronounced cheekbones, and her breasts accentuated a small waist.

“Ye are beautiful,” Rhoslyn said.

Andreana’s eyes fixed on her face and Rhoslyn detected uncertainty. Ah, so along with the woman’s body had risen a woman’s uncertainty. And Rhoslyn had been absent during this crucial time when the girl who had known her as her mother entered this new phase of life.

“Why just look at your hair,” Rhoslyn said. “So long and soft. I do believe ‘tis a darker shade of black than it was when I left.”

Andreana’s eyes brightened. “Grandfather says it is darker than a raven’s feather.”

Rhoslyn drew back and studied her hair more closely. “He is right.” Rhoslyn held her at arm’s length. “And ye have grown into a woman’s body.”

A blush crept up the girl’s cheeks.

“I am so glad to see you,” Rhoslyn said. “Who brought ye?”

“Grandfather.” She hesitated. “He said it was time I returned home.”

“He is right,” Rhoslyn said, although she would have given anything not to be there herself.

St. Claire and her grandfather entered, with Sir Baxter close behind. Rhoslyn pulled Andreana aside.

“Andreana,” her grandfather said, “this is your mother’s new husband, Sir Talbot.”

Something strange stirred in Rhoslyn’s stomach at hearing St. Claire referred to as ‘her husband.’

Andreana gave a pretty curtsy. “Sir Talbot.”

He acknowledged with a nod. “Andreana.”

Rhoslyn caught the appraising look Andreana gave him from under her lashes, and read the appreciation in her expression. St. Claire seemed oblivious to her inspection, but Rhoslyn had the feeling he simply pretended not to notice. That, she grudgingly admitted, spoke well of him. No doubt, Andreana had broken a heart or two in her absence, and it was no small matter for any man not to respond to a beautiful young girl’s admiration. So St. Claire wasn’t one to rob the cradle—at least not the one at home.

“This is Sir Baxter, Sir Talbot’s captain,” Rhoslyn’s grandfather said.

“Lady Andreana.” Baxter gave a slight bow.

Andreana’s eyes shifted onto the knight and Rhoslyn was startled to see a blush creep up her cheeks. Sir Baxter gave no indication he noticed Andreana’s reaction, but he wouldn’t. St. Claire wouldn’t allow it.

Muira stepped up beside Rhoslyn. “Mayhap Andreana would enjoy helping with preparations for tomorrow’s wedding celebration?”

Rhoslyn started. “Wedding celebration?” She swung her gaze onto St. Claire. “We only just agreed to have the wedding tomorrow. How can there already be plans for a celebration?”

“Once we decided, I asked Mistress Muira to make the arrangements.”

Panic started her heart to beating fast. “But a day is no’ enough time to plan a proper celebration. Surely, we need more time? What of your father?”

“I sent word to my father, as well as Edward, that we will say the vows tomorrow. My father can come at his convenience, if he likes.”

“Ye dinna’ waste time telling Edward,” Rhoslyn’s grandfather said.

St. Claire shrugged and Rhoslyn wanted to box his ears.

“He will want to know,” St. Claire said.

“Did you inform him of your brother’s actions?” Rhoslyn demanded.

“I did. It is best he is prepared in case Dayton pursues his claim that you and he are married.”

Rhoslyn’s heart fell, though she couldn’t say why. Whether now or a month hence, it made no difference when the marriage celebration took place. Except, she realized in a moment of honesty, that the celebration announced to the world that she was well and truly married to this man. And, he would claim his husbandly rights.

“Can I really help with the preparations?” Andreana said.

Rhoslyn nodded. “Aye. Though I canna’ think we can do much in less than a day.”

Andreana’s eyes lit. “I can do much.” She looked at Rhoslyn’s grandfather. “Can I plan as I please?”

“St. Claire is who ye must ask now, lass. Not me.”

Andreana shifted her gaze onto St. Claire and smiled shyly. “What would ye have me do, laird?”

“You and your mother may do as you please,” he replied.

“Dinna’ forget the hunt planned for the day after the celebration,” her grandfather said.

“Hunt?” Rhoslyn blurted. She looked at St. Claire. “Ye are planning a hunt?”

“It was your grandfather’s idea.”

She sent a narrow-eyed look at him. “You are full of surprises.”

“I havena’ been in a good hunt in too long. I hear your husband is a skilled hunter.” He looked at St. Claire. “Mayhap a wager would make things more interesting.”

“I never wager with my money,” St. Claire said, and Rhoslyn wondered how much of
her
money he would wager.

“I dinna’ need your money,” her grandfather said. “I saw that beautiful destrier ye rode when you came to Longford Castle. I could use a horse like that.”

St. Claire’s brows rose. “When have you need of a war horse?”

Her grandfather scowled. “I am no’ in my grave yet. I have a fight or two left in me. Are ye game or no’?”

“I am very attached to that horse.”

“Then ye are willing to admit defeat before the hunt even begins?” her grandfather said.

“I am willing to admit that fate is sometimes cruel. There are any number of challenges that could arise, none of which are a reflection of my skill.”

“Bah! Either ye have the bollocks or no’. Which is it?”

“Spoken like a true Highlander,” St. Claire said.

Her grandfather lifted a brow. “Aye, for we know what we are capable of.”

“What do you have that I could possibly want?” St. Claire asked.

“Ye already have what I value most.” Her grandfather cast a glance at Rhoslyn.

She rolled her eyes.

“Aye,” St. Claire’s eyes shifted onto her. “What more could I want?”

Rhoslyn startled at the intensity of his gaze, then something fluttered in her belly.

“There is Grandfather’s claymore,” Andreana said.

Everyone looked at her.

St. Claire crossed his arms over his chest and Rhoslyn forced her gaze from the sight of his muscles bulging against the linen of his sleeves.

“That idea has merit,” he said.

Rhoslyn’s grandfather scowled at Andreana. “Ye are no’ helping matters, lass.”

She blushed.

“Afraid?” St. Claire said.

“It is a bet,” her grandfather replied.

St. Claire nodded. “You thought you would marry your granddaughter to another man. You were wrong then, too.” With that, he strode from the room.

* * *

Talbot had insisted the vows be spoken, but he wished mightily they could delay a week. Lady Rhoslyn appeared pale as a ghost. She was well in body, of that he was sure, but her spirit had been damaged. However, she would be far more damaged if Dayton’s plans came to fruition.

Morning sun streamed through the chapel’s small window to the right of the Christ. Talbot stood alongside Rhoslyn in front of the dais, with Seward beside her—his determination thick enough to cut—and Baxter flanked Talbot—his distrust in equal measure
and
opposition to Seward. English and Highlander crowded the hallway outside the chapel to witness the final blessing, Ralf and Ingram in the forefront.

Father Crey instructed Talbot to place the ring on Rhoslyn’s finger. When he grasped her hand, the ruby wedding ring she still wore glinted in the sunlight. Her eyes flew up to his, apprehension and regret mixed in her expression. Talbot smiled gently and covered her hand with his while discreetly slipping the old wedding ring off her finger.

Compared to the ring Alec Harper had given her, the band Talbot placed on her finger was modest: blue topaz and green peridot inlayed on a thick silver band.

Rhoslyn looked up at him, eyes wide. “I have no ring for you.”

Her grandfather leaned close and whispered, “Of course ye do.” He took her free hand, placed a ring in her palm and closed her fingers around it.

She frowned. “Grandfather—”

“Put the ring on your husband’s finger,” he urged.

She seemed uncertain, then nodded and grasped Talbot’s left hand. Her cool fingers felt almost fragile against his larger ones, but he found them pleasant. Roped carvings decorated the gold band she fitted to his finger. Rhoslyn pushed it down, shoving the ring past the knuckle. 

Talbot grasped her hands with both of his and the priest pronounced them man and wife. To his surprise, Rhoslyn didn’t drop her gaze, but looked him directly in the eyes as he bent and brushed his lips across hers. Still, he detected a tremble in her body and tasted the salt of tears on her lips. Desire rose to fold her in his arms and assure her all would be well. But how did a man restore a woman’s trust?

Talbot slid an arm around Rhoslyn’s waist and turned. Cheers went up and the guests parted before them as they walked down the aisle.

At last, they reached their private chambers, and Talbot closed the door on the well—wishers in the hallway. Lady Rhoslyn crossed to the stool at the small table near the window where she kept her accounts and sat down. She absently fingered the wedding ring.

“This is not what I had planned,” he said.

She lifted her face to meet his gaze. “You come here at the behest of an English king, take possession of my home before meeting me—you even kidnapped me. What did ye expect?”

He studied her for a moment. “You want me to believe that had I awaited your pleasure at Dunfrey Castle you would have come to me of your own accord? Or perhaps I should have gone down on one knee to your grandfather and begged him to accept an English king’s decree to marry his granddaughter to an English knight?”

Her mouth thinned, but she shrugged. “At the very least, you could have gone to Dragon’s Lair instead of Castle Glenbarr.”

Dragon’s Lair. So she knew the name the Highlanders called Dunfrey Castle.

“Who knows what might have happened had you spoken with my grandfather?” she said.

“I did speak with him—though not on bended knee.”

Her brows dove down in a frown, then she shot to her feet. “So he tried to marry me to Jacobus. What did ye expect? Sweet Jesu, you took possession of my home before even meeting me.”

“That is not why Seward tried to marry you to Melrose,” he replied. “Nothing I could have done would have changed things for the better. You know as well as I that had I not reached you in time, Edward would have viewed your marriage to Melrose as a defiance that could not go unchecked.”