Medieval Ever After (96 page)

Her father’s eyes fell on her once again, and they were sharp with appraisal. “She’ll need a bath, and do your best with that nest of hair. Dress her in her finest gown. I’ll not present her to her husband looking like a servant.”

Though her father spoke firmly to Agnes, Rona didn’t miss the note of worry that laced his voice. No one spoke of it aloud around the castle or the village that sat on the western shore of the loch, but it was well known that Robert the Bruce was displeased with his castle’s keeper. Daniel Sinclair’s arrival meant more than just her impending wedding. Sinclair was also being placed in charge of Loch Doon, which meant that her father would be stripped of his authority and sent back to Dunure, the Kennedy clan keep.

The thought made Rona bristle, as it always did. It was easy for the Bruce to judge her father’s actions from afar. The King was so busy fighting his enemies in the north that she doubted he remembered how dangerous it was to live so close to the border—and how delicately one had to proceed to avoid being razed by either the English or the Scottish. Her father was still a loyal Scotsman—even if he had made an alliance with the English to prevent Loch Doon from coming under attack.

Rona was jerked from her thoughts when her father took her arms and gave her a little shake.

“You’ll not shame me, do you hear? I have been too lenient with you, girl, but that is over now. I expect you to be docile and obedient to your new husband. None of this talking back and demanding your way, as you do with me. Your husband will have none of it, and neither will I anymore.”

She felt her temper flare even as she tried to snuff it out for her father’s benefit. She knew he was right. A husband would expect a submissive and biddable wife. Her father had let her get away with much, but whatever sliver of control she’d had over her life would be gone now.

“Aye, Father,” she said, though the meek voice didn’t sound like her own.

He eyed her for another moment, a look of doubt on his face. Muttering a prayer, he turned and exited her chamber, closing the door behind him.

“Let’s see to your preparations, my lady,” Agnes said briskly. “You’ll want to make a good first impression.”

After several hours of scrubbing, cinching, combing, and adorning, Rona barely recognized herself in the polished silver plate that hung in her chamber.

Her red hair, normally wild and wavy, was smoothed and pulled back from her face in braids. The fine blue gown she wore was laced tightly, making it hard to breath. It also accentuated her breasts and waist in a way that the simple gowns she normally wore didn’t. The color made her eyes look even brighter blue and set off her red lips also. Though Agnes had placed a gold circlet on her head, she had taken it off as soon as the maid left. Carrying the circlet on her head made her walk funny, like she had to constantly glide just to keep the thing in place.

Agnes had departed more than an hour ago, judging by the weak winter sunlight straining through the clouds outside Rona’s window. The maid, following Rona’s father’s command, had given Rona strict orders to wait patiently until she was sent for. No one seemed to know exactly when her future husband would arrive, but she could tell from the noises outside her chamber and the activity in the yard below her window that the whole castle was abuzz in preparing for his appearance.

She stood from her desk and practiced her curtsy again.

“How nice to meet you, my lord,” she said sweetly as she bowed her head modestly. “A pleasure to meet you, my lord. An honor to welcome you to Loch Doon, my lord.”

Rona jerked upright, letting her practiced manners and honeyed voice fall. “How nice to meet the complete stranger I am ordered to marry, my lord. How kind of you to take over the castle my family and I have made our home for the last three years, my lord.”

She cursed to herself and began pacing her chamber like a caged cat. How could she possibly hide her true feelings and thoughts from her new husband? How could she learn to bite her tongue and be sweet and supplicating for the rest of her life? How could she simply stop being herself?

Without even realizing what she was doing, she reached behind her back and began untying her tightly cinched gown. She kicked off the thin indoor slippers Agnes had found for her as she shimmied out of the dress. When she was free of all the fine garments, she found the simple green woolen gown she had worn earlier stuffed in the back of her armoire. As the rougher, thicker material slid over her skin, she sighed with relief. She was herself again.

Almost.

There was one thing that always brought her back to herself, one thing that always eased her worries and soothed her temper. But how would she manage to sneak out of Loch Doon, cross the open waters of the loch, and travel through the Galloway woods to her destination?

She glanced out her window again. From high up in the tower keep, she could see the swarm of people moving hurriedly through the yard as they prepared for the arrival of their new lord. The portcullis at the castle’s main entrance stood open as people streamed in and out. Beyond the wall, she could see several boats, some moving toward the castle and others toward the mainland where the village lay to the west. She knew what to do.

Once she had donned a thick winter cloak and her heavier, fur-lined boots, she eased her chamber door open and glanced in both directions. The household staff must be too busy with preparations, she thought with relief. She made her way down the spiral stairs leading to the great hall at the base of the tower keep. Though a few maids passed her on the stairs carrying armfuls of fresh rushes or clean linens for the rooms above, none gave her any notice.

As she passed from the great hall into the yard, she pulled up the hood on her cloak, though everyone seemed too busy to pay attention to her. Without so much as a question or even a lingering look, she walked through the portcullis and to the small docks along the island’s shore where several boats were moored.

Just as she reached the docks, she caught sight of a man untying a small rowboat in preparation to depart.

“May I trouble you for a ride to the mainland?” she called out to the man. “I can pay you, of course.”

“Aye, mistress. I am going to the village anyway,” the weary-looking man replied.

He didn’t seem to recognize her, for which she was grateful. Though she was the lady of the castle, Rona didn’t like to make a spectacle of herself. Her simple attire was usually enough to keep her out of the center of attention, which suited her just fine.

The man extended a hand to her as she boarded the small boat. Then he took up the oars and began rowing toward the western shore.

“Have you made many trips today?” she asked as they hit the open water.

“Aye. The Laird of the castle is in a huff. Someone important is supposed to arrive today, and the Laird has ordered all the boats in the village to transport fresh rushes, extra food for a feast, and even an extra cask of ale from the village brewer. What I wouldn’t give to be inside the castle this evening.”

Despite the winter chill in the air, the man wiped sweat from his brow and sighed. Rona nearly opened her mouth to tell the oarsman that she would rather be anywhere
but
the castle tonight, but then thought better of it. She was one of the privileged few, and though she was unhappy with her current situation, she always tried to remind herself how lucky she was.

As the little rowboat glided into the village docks, she reached into the pouch she carried on her belt and dug out several coins. “Thank you,” she said as she pressed the coins into the man’s calloused hands. He opened his palm, and she heard a startled gasp followed by a protest that it was too much. But she had already leapt from the boat to the wooden dock, leaving the oarsman sputtering with surprise as she strode away.

Instead of entering the village, however, she turned south toward the forests that surrounded the loch. Though a cold wind whipped her cloak, her pulse hitched and she quickened her pace. She was almost there.

HIGHLANDER’S RECKONING

CHAPTER THREE

The winter sky
was transitioning from pale gray to deep charcoal, and though the sun was obscured behind clouds, Daniel guessed that it was near sunset. He’d made better time than he had expected—less than a week to travel from the Highlands to Ayrshire.

The southwest corner of Scotland might as well have been a different country, though. While the Highlands had been blanketed in snow when he left, the Lowlands had only patches of snow in the shadows. Compared to the rugged mountains of the Highlands, the softer, rounded hills surrounding Loch Doon looked more like the English countryside than what he thought of as Scotland.

That thought only served to sour his already foul mood. The journey had been hard and wearying, especially alone. Though he should be looking forward to taking charge of a strategically important stronghold, he stewed on the potential mess the castle might be in under Gilbert Kennedy’s control. And instead of warming to the thought of sharing a bed with the Kennedy lass who was promised to him, he bristled at being forced to marry some Lowlander whom he had never even seen.

Now he stood in a large, barge-like boat on the shores of the village that served the castle. Just as the boat pushed off, a weak beam of late sun broke through the clouds, hitting the island that rose out of the loch before him. In the sunbeam, he could make out the strong lines of the curtain wall, with the tower keep rising from within.

The castle looked imposing and impenetrable, an impression which only increased as the barge drew nearer and Daniel got a sense of the scale of the structure. The curtain wall now towered over him, and he could see that each stone had been placed with care and precision. Even though he was weary from his travels, hungry, and in a foul mood at the thought of meeting Kennedy and his future wife, Daniel nevertheless felt a stirring inside his chest at the sight of Loch Doon.

This place is under my care now
, he thought with a swell of pride.

The sun faded behind the clouds once again just as the barge reached the docks on the castle’s west side. A young lad who had been accompanying him on the boat ride bolted toward the castle even before the barge had been secured to the dock.

“The new lord is here! The new lord is here!” the boy cried out as he ran under the raised portcullis and into the castle’s yard. Suddenly everyone was running, trying to arrange themselves in orderly rows on either side of the yard for Daniel’s arrival.

Thank God he had sent word earlier in the morning that he would arrive today, otherwise he could only imagine the pandemonium he would be witnessing now. As it was, he frowned as he disembarked from the barge and strode toward the castle’s entrance. Already he could see that he would have a lot to do to get the castle in proper order.

Just as Daniel passed under the portcullis, a short, stout man dressed in the English fashion hurried out of the tower keep. His hair was streaked with gray, but his trimmed beard was reddish-brown. Daniel registered the man’s eyes widening as he took in the solitary, road-soiled, and kilted man before him. But the man quickly dropped into a bow, preventing Daniel from reading any more shock and horror on his face.

“Laird Kennedy, I presume,” Daniel said evenly. Let the man think what he wanted about him. He was the lord of this keep now.

“Aye, and you must be Daniel Sinclair, sent by King Robert the Bruce himself to serve as keeper of Loch Doon,” Kennedy said, loudly enough for all the servants who lined the yard to hear.