Highlanders (12 page)

“Aye, she can,” a woman rebutted. “That goat is always causing trouble.”

A murmur of agreement went up amongst the onlookers and Rhoslyn feared the crowd would recapture the goat and slaughter it on the spot.

“Leave the goat to me,” St. Claire said. “And Lady Rhoslyn will replace the dress.”

“She will?” Mary said, the surprise in her voice mirroring Rhoslyn’s.

“What say you, Lady?” he asked.

“Aye,” she said. “I will replace the dress, so long as ye agree to leave the goat be, Mary.” The girl hesitated, and Rhoslyn added, “I must have your word, else you will wear your work dress when you wed.”

The girl’s lips pursed, but she nodded.

“And the rest of ye,” Rhoslyn said. “Do you agree?”

A chorus of ‘ayes’ followed.

“Then I will speak with Christine. But she is old, and everyone know she loves that goat.”

* * *

One man’s loneliness was another man’s solitude. Talbot sat alone at the head of the largest table in the great hall. Laughter, music, and loud voices echoed off the walls of the great hall. The wedding celebration was a success—despite those that didn’t accept him as the new lord of Castle Glenbarr. His own captain harbored a grudge. Baxter haunted the large hearth while nursing an ale.

Yet, Talbot had never felt more at peace.

Rhoslyn chatted with Ralf, Ingram, and their two companions near the far end of the table. Color had returned to her cheeks and her spirits seemed higher than they had been this morning during the wedding ceremony. Her red mane blazed in a weave of braids that hung past her shoulders. Her olive green, velvet dress befitted her station, but he recalled her grimy face and the dusty dress she’d worn when she chased the goat, and thought her just as beautiful then as now. When she’d straddled him her exquisite weight on his cock made him wish the villagers far away. That memory would keep him awake tonight.

He reached for his mug and took a drink as he watched Rhoslyn’s mouth curve upward in a laugh. Ralf grinned back and her smile broadened. Talbot read no womanly wiles in the action, but couldn’t help wishing she would smile at him with that much ease. But why would she? In the four days she’d known him, she’d been kidnapped by him
and
his brother, and Dayton had done far worse than move into her home.

In truth, had he considered for an instant that he might feel anything more than and perhaps affection for his wife he might have...might have what? Begged Seward not to marry her to another man—then wooed her? Nothing Talbot could have said would have changed the old man’s mind. In fact, Talbot would have done the same were he in Seward’s place.

He took another long draught of ale. Rhoslyn now spoke animatedly with the four men. Talbot recognized the male appreciation in Ralf’s eyes. He couldn’t see the other men’s faces, but he wagered they found her just as enticing. Rhoslyn, however, seemed oblivious to their thoughts.

He half wished she had turned out to be the horse-faced woman he’d expected. A man had to choose his battles, and Lady Rhoslyn was the sort of battle he wasn’t accustomed to fighting. She had already proven to be a distraction—and not just for him, by the looks of things. He chuckled. If he were to leave tomorrow with Ralf and Ingram, he would have to worry as much about who might bed his wife as he would about Dayton showing up at Castle Glenbarr to abduct her a second time.

His mood sobered. Ralf and Ingram had others searching for Dayton in their absence. Tomorrow, they would return to Stonehaven to continue the search themselves. Talbot had reminded himself a dozen times that going with them was out of the question. Aside from ensuring Rhoslyn’s safety, he had yet to deal with consummating their marriage. A task that carried with it more than the weight of finalizing their union. He wanted her, and badly, but the taking would be far more perilous now that Dayton had wreaked his havoc.

The postern door opened and Talbot shifted his gaze to see Duncan Harper enter. Talbot expelled a slow breath. So the fox had returned to the henhouse. What kind of trouble might he stir up?

Duncan pushed his way through the crowd on a direct course for Rhoslyn as Baxter reached Talbot.

“You see Duncan Harper is here?” Baxter said.

Talbot nodded. “And he is going directly to Lady Rhoslyn.”

Baxter sat in the chair to Talbot’s right and refilled his goblet with ale from the pitcher in front of Talbot. Baxter hung an arm over the back of his chair and leaned into one corner.

“How are you enjoying your new home thus far?” he asked.

Talbot leveled his gaze on his captain. “If you cannot be civil to even me, then perhaps ‘tis best you return to England. Edward, no doubt, would be pleased to have you lead his men.”

Surprise flickered in Baxter’s eyes, then he studied Talbot over the rim of his goblet as he took a drink. He settled the goblet on his thigh. “You would not manage so well without me.”

“I am loathe to lose you, but I grow tired of your brooding.”

“I am always brooding and you never complained before.”

“But your foul moods never affected me directly—nor were they
directed
at me and mine.”

Baxter nodded. “Nay, they were not.” A moment of silence passed before Baxter said, “What do you think the weasel has in mind for your wife?”

* * *

When Duncan stepped up beside Rhoslyn, she hoped St. Claire couldn’t see the furrow of Duncan’s brow and grim set of his mouth. If the knight was as intelligent as she thought, he was sure to recognize the trouble that brewed in Duncan’s heart.

“I am relieved to see ye,” he said without preamble. 

Rhoslyn caught the raise of Ingram’s brows and the glance that passed between him and Ralf. It wouldn’t matter whether St. Claire had detected anything amiss. Ralf and Ingram would share their misgivings concerning her dead husband’s cousin. The two Highlanders had taken to St. Claire as if they were long-lost brothers.

She introduced them and their companions to Duncan, then the four men took their leave. Duncan pulled her from the crowded area near the table to a quiet section of wall near the kitchen. Rhoslyn cast a glance at St. Claire. He’d been sitting at his place at the table, but he now stood, his back to her, talking with Sir Baxter and two guests.

“Fourteen months, Rhoslyn,” Duncan said in a low voice masked by the revelry. “Have ye lost your mind?”

She probably had, and Duncan would be the one to point it out. “I lost a husband and child in a fortnight. I am only a woman. It was more than I could bear.”

He gave her an appraising look. “Are you well? Did that English dog harm ye?”

She wasn’t sure which ‘English dog’ he referred to, and had the distinct feeling his idea of harm wasn’t the same as hers, but said, “I am well.”

“I canna’ see how with that devil as your husband.”

“I am not the first Highland woman to marry an Englishman,” she said.

“Aye, but that doesna’ make it any less devilish,” he shot back. “God’s Blood, Rhoslyn, anyone would have been a better choice than him.
I
would have been a better choice.”

“You?” she blurted.

“Dinna’ look as if I sprouted horns. I may not be rich, but I managed Alec’s affairs for twenty years. I managed Castle Glenbarr in your absence, and made as handsome a profit as you do. I am as good a man as Alec.”

No, he wasn’t.

“Ye never said a word,” she said.

“How could I when ye ran off without a word. Why did you not tell me you were leaving—at least tell me where ye were going?”

A serving girl emerged from the kitchen and turned their way. Rhoslyn quieted. She glanced at St. Claire. He stood with two men, his back to her.

The maid passed, from earshot and Rhoslyn said to Duncan, “I didna’ tell anyone I was leaving.”

“Except your grandfather.”

“Of course,” she said peevishly. “If I simply disappeared, he would have turned the countryside over in search of me.”

Duncan’s mouth thinned. “And you think I didna’ want to do that? I begged him to tell me where you were.”

Rhoslyn was at a loss. This was insane. She had no idea he felt this way, and wanted to say it wouldn’t have mattered. She wouldn’t have married him, but good sense—and the strange fervor in his eyes—stopped her.

“It makes no difference. I am married.”

His eyes narrowed. “Ye almost sound glad.”

“‘Tis simply the way of kings and men. I had no choice.”

His gaze turned shrewd. “What would you do if ye could choose?”

“Sweet Jesu, Duncan. I willna’ torture myself with useless questions.”

He glanced around, then leaned closer despite the fact the nearest guests  stood too far away to hear them speak above the din, and said, “If ye are no’ happy, we can change things. Ye are married but a day. If St. Claire was gone, you could marry another man and no one would know—or care—if a babe was born nine months hence.”

Rhoslyn realized with horror that he meant. “Are ye saying murder—”

“For God’s sake, be quiet.” He glanced around, then cupped her elbow and urged her along the wall to the hallway. He stopped after a few paces into the hall and swung her around to face him.

“Do you want to be rid of him or no’?”

“Have ye gone mad, Duncan?” But she realized insanity wasn’t the sickness he suffered. “You would kill a man in order to be laird of Castle Glenbarr.”

His face reddened in rage. “I served Alec faithfully all these years. I have more right than does St. Claire.”

“More right to be my husband? Or more right to assume Alec’s place, take his land and possessions as your own?”

“Ye have no reason to accuse me of being a power monger.”

“Aye, I clearly have every reason, for a man who is willing to murder an innocent man—”

“Innocent?” he cut in. “St. Claire wasna’ born innocent.”

Rhoslyn scowled. “Sir Talbot has no’ lifted a hand against even a dog here at Castle Glenbarr. Why do you hate him so? Is it because he is English, or because he took what ye believe is rightfully yours?”

“Me hate him? Ye are the one who should hate him. He took possession of your home ‘er he met you. He took what was rightfully
yours
. He has no right to Castle Glenbarr, or any of Alec’s property—you included.”

Rhoslyn stiffened. Even St. Claire hadn’t treated her as mere property. “You go too far, Duncan.”

“Do I? Alec coddled ye. Before that, your grandfather.” He gave a harsh laugh. “He still coddles you, letting you run off as he did.”

“You forget your place. You are no’ my father
nor
my husband.”

“Nay, for if I was, ye would not have run wild as you have all your life.”

“Then I count myself fortunate not to be your wife.”

“You prefer that English bastard over a Scot?” he snapped “Edward will tax us into poverty. Why do ye think Edward gave him Dunfrey Castle? Edward planned all along to marry him to you.”

“Sweet God,” she breathed. “Ye are insane. Edward could no’ have known Alec would die. Edward has done what any king would have done by marrying me to one of his own. Our own leaders marry us to the English without thought for what we want—and some have taxed us into near poverty.” A fact she conveniently ignored when she sequestered herself in St. Mary’s. Duncan wasn’t completely wrong on that score.

“Is that so?” he said. “I wager the men Edward forced to hand over control of their royal castles would no’ agree that he is like any other king.”

“What are ye talking about?” Rhoslyn demanded.

“While you were in that convent, the high and mighty King Edward declared himself Lord Parliament of Scotland and, only two months ago, ordered every Scottish royal castle be put under his control. Temporary, he said, but he has yet to return the castles to their rightful owners.”

Rhoslyn stared, unable to speak.

“Ye think that was enough?” Duncan went on. “Nay.  Every Scottish official is to resign his office and be re-appointed by Edward. Two days later, the Guardians and our leaders swore allegiance to Edward as Lord Parliament of all the Scots. But even that wasna’ enough for the power hungry bastard. Only a month ago, he ordered all Scots to pay homage to him personally or at one of the designated centers. Your grandfather went.”

“Grandfather?” she whispered.

Duncan nodded. “Now do ye still think Edward is doing what any other sovereign would do?”

She could find no reply.

“He has no right to rule us,” Duncan hissed. “And St. Claire has no right to even a fistful of Scottish soil.”

The feverish light in his eyes snapped her from her shock. “None of that means I will countenance murder.”

His eyes narrowed. “Ye would side with St. Claire after everything I just told you?”

“I will side with honor,” she shot back. “And I will not have
you
interfere in my business. I warn you, Duncan.”

His mouth curved upward in disdain. “You pretend to be as hard as a man, but ye are still a woman.”