She Owns the Knight (14 page)

As for Royce, he stared at their now entwined hands. “Ah, well . . . ” Ignoring Kellen, he turned his intense gaze upon Gillian, managing to look both sincere and contrite. “Again I must apologize for any upset I may have caused at our first meeting, Lady Corbett. I fear my men frightened you and most humbly beg your pardon. Do not concern yourself. The miscreants have been severely punished.”

Gillian lifted her chin, her expression stern. “Tell me, Sir Royce. Have you been punished, as well?”

“Ah . . . ” As the fawning grin fell from Royce’s face, Kellen laughed.

Gillian elbowed him. “Because you know what? You did scare me. And it didn’t seem like you were prepared to help. All I can say is that it’s a good thing Kellen came along when he did, because who knows what might have happened otherwise.” She leaned back into Kellen and, pleased with the way this played out, he nodded toward an open-mouthed Royce.

“This is upsetting you, my dear. Would you like me to send Sir Royce and his men on their way?”

Royce straightened in obvious affront. A few of his men, having overheard, shifted uneasily. Gillian hesitated, then shook her head. “No. They’re our closest neighbors, after all. And I appreciate that he was willing to apologize.”

Kellen didn’t see this as enough of a reason and considered throwing him out, anyway. He had looked forward to seeing Gillian all morning and to come back and find Royce drooling in her presence was more than should be expected. But she leaned against him and Kellen didn’t want her to think him ill-mannered, or that he would keep her from company.

“Would you and your men like to join us for dinner, Sir Royce?” asked Gillian.

Royce, standing stiff, dipped his head. “Thank you, Lady Corbett. You are all that is kind and gracious. Your pardon only accentuates your inner beauty and makes me envious of Lord Marshall for having such a lovely and charming bride.” Royce’s slyly pleased gaze had Kellen’s jaw clenching as he looked to see how Gillian took the flowery speech. She looked skeptical and Kellen smirked at Royce.

As Tristan and Owen joined them, Kellen nodded toward the head table, led Gillian there and seated her. Tristan hurried to sit at her side, taking the place Royce so obviously wanted for himself.

Royce hurried around the table, but Owen quickly sat across from Gillian, forcing Royce to choose the next seat over, which offered Kellen some satisfaction.

“Lady Corbett,” Royce spoke loudly so as to be heard over the hall now filling with knights. “May I say you are all beauty, grace, and comportment? Being in your presence is the high-point of my week.”

Gillian didn’t look at Royce as she spread a cloth across her lap. “Thank you.”

Kellen, unable to think of better compliments, glared at Royce and, after a quick prayer by one of the boys, took a healthy swallow of wine.

“How are you settling as the new mistress of such a large castle?” asked Royce.

Curious to hear the answer, Kellen glanced at Gillian.

She grinned. “It’s great. I’m having the best vacation of my life.”

Kellen was not sure of her meaning. “Vacation?”

“Yes, you know, like a holiday, or time off.”

He wasn’t sure how to take that. He was glad she enjoyed herself, but did she somehow see this as a temporary arrangement? Or did he misunderstand her meaning? “Gillian—”

She waved a hand. “I know, once the marriage takes place it’ll be work, work, work. But for now, I’m just having fun.”

Kellen paused, then took a breath. “Gillian, I hope that after the marriage, you will continue to feel as if you vacation still.”

Gillian slowly set her roll down and turned to look at him with soft eyes. She smiled. “That is so sweet. You are going to make a really great husband, do you know that?”

Kellen’s chest swelled at her praise.

“’Twould be easy to spoil one such as yourself, Lady Corbett,” interrupted Royce. “One so lovely should enjoy each day to the fullest.”

Kellen barely heard Royce’s words as Gillian continued to smile and only the platters of food arriving turned her gaze and broke the contact.

Tristan leaned close to Gillian to whisper to Kellen. “Is your stomach turning? Am I mistaken or doth the beslubbering, weather-bitten weasel try to shift thy lady’s affection?”

Kellen barely glanced at Royce, and instead enjoyed Gillian’s embarrassment as she lowered her gaze and pressed a cloth to her lips. “Tristan, hush. He’ll hear you.”

Was she trying not to laugh? Kellen hoped so. And while he wished Royce
had
overheard, unfortunately the noise level was high thanks to the addition of Royce’s men at the next table.

Gillian buttered a roll while Kellen, feeling better by the moment, reached for the chicken.

“’Tis a beautiful ring you wear, Lady Corbett. It looks to be of exceeding value.”

Gillian glanced at it. “Oh. Thank you. It was my father’s, and I’m having a heck of a time getting it off.” She rubbed butter into the skin around the gold, then tugged, but the ring didn’t budge. “See?”

Kellen smiled at the frustrated tone. “What think you, Tristan? Sir Owen? We may have to cut off her finger to get to the prize.”

Gillian sent him a mock glare. “You just try it, buster, and see which of your own appendages goes missing.”

Kellen choked on his wine as Tristan and Owen laughed aloud. Kellen wondered if she knew what she implied.

Royce ignored the entire interplay. “Do you miss your family, Lady Corbett?”

“I do.”

“’Tis such a hard time when a woman leaves her home. It can be exceedingly lonely.”

Kellen sent Royce a hard look. “She will see them often enough and has a new home here, with additional family to call her own.”

Gillian smiled at Kellen once more, calming his jealousy. Royce seemed to be courting her. Trying to romance her. Kellen knew it was an accepted mode of treating a lady, but did not like it. Men should court their own wives. Or, if unwed, bother unattached maidens.

He ought to plant a fist in Royce’s pretty face and bash it up a bit. A crooked nose and a few missing teeth might balance out the comeliness nature had bestowed upon him, and keep him from romancing women not his own.

At one time, Kellen had even wondered if Royce could have seduced Catherine, but none had seen him at the keep when Kellen was away and it had been rumored Royce was abroad himself. It still rankled that Kellen could not find his wife’s seducer and mete out the justice the man deserved.

Again, Kellen considered the possibility that Catherine had lied. That the poison had warped her thoughts at the end.

Royce raised a hand to draw Gillian’s attention. “You have a different way of forming your words, Lady Corbett.”

Kellen glared at Royce. “She is all that is charming.”

“Of course. I meant no insult. Her voice is most pleasing. And her face so beautiful. The stars no doubt vie to glow upon her skin as the sun takes pleasure in lighting her path.”

Gillian smiled, and Kellen fumed. ’Twas obvious the lines were well-rehearsed, and had no doubt been uttered to numerous women, but would Gillian realize such?

Tristan leaned forward. “How fares the planting, Sir Royce?”

Royce’s eyes narrowed. “It goes well. But some of my livestock have been stolen recently.”

“As have some of mine,” said Kellen.

Royce studied him. “Any idea who raids us?”

“Nay, but I will catch the culprits and punish them.”

“In the meantime, where will you hide and guard your cattle?”

Did Royce think him a fool? “The northern parts of the estate.”

Across from him, Owen’s lips barely tilted as he reached for his goblet, well-aware Kellen was lying.

After a long silence Royce started up again, apparently unable to keep quiet. “Lady Corbett, have you been to London of late? What of the current fashions?”

Gillian shrugged. “It changes so often. It’s hard to say.”

“So true. But you would grace whatever you chose to wear.”

“Thanks. So, what’s your favorite fashion trend at the moment?”

As they spoke, Kellen glanced down at his clothing, feeling loutish and rough in comparison to Royce. Perhaps he should take an interest in such and have finer clothes made to please Gillian. He wondered if she would make him some. Her sister had not.

He gave her the best pieces of meat off their shared platter, but she did not seem to notice. He had a servant come forward to refill her goblet. Again, she continued to discuss fashion. Kellen glanced around and gestured toward his daughter’s nurse and she quickly brought Amelia forward.

His daughter held the ingenious flying toy Gillian made of paper and her conversation with Royce finally came to an end as she scooped up the child and placed Amelia on his lap, which panicked them both.

Gillian smiled as she looked between them. “She’s darling. She looks like you.”

Kellen, staring down into the child’s face, but did not see the likeness. Had never seen it. Amelia studied him, as well, her expression slightly wary.

Gillian fussed over Amelia before she was called by her nurse and taken for a nap.

Royce watched the child walk away before turning back to Gillian. “Will there be entertainment for Lady Corbett’s pleasure?”

There was none, making Kellen wish he had planned amusement for her. Did Gillian miss such from her father’s keep? He would get some minstrels to entertain on the morrow. But for today it was better there were none, as Royce would linger if given the opportunity.

As soon as the meal ended, Kellen stood, as did Tristan and Owen. When Kellen helped Gillian to her feet, Royce was finally forced to stand and follow them out, his men trailing behind.

At the door, Royce tried to capture Gillian’s hand, but Kellen snatched it first and held tight, giving Royce a fierce glare.

Royce’s laugh was stilted and uneasy. “I thank you for the meal. A good day to you all.”

Gillian smiled. “Thanks for stopping by.”

She watched Royce leave and Kellen shifted uneasily on his feet wondering at her thoughts. Had she been taken in by his flattery?

Gillian sighed and Kellen went from uncertain to murderous. Did she sigh after the man? As soon as Gillian no longer looked, he would follow and kill the misbegotten cur and she could sigh over his grave.

Finally, with a shake of her head, Gillian turned to Kellen.

“I’m sorry, Kellen. I know Sir Royce is your closest neighbor, but we simply can’t have him over too often. Not only do I question his sincerity, but he’s so much prettier than I am that my vanity can’t take it.”

Intense relief swept through Kellen. She did not want the other man? She had seen through him? Then he might allow Royce to live, after all. “That is fine by me. But before I leave for the training field, I must correct you.
None
is prettier than you.”

He gave her hand one last squeeze, dared a quick kiss on her forehead, and did not wait for her to respond as he headed out the door. Her stunned expression was reward enough.

The Scottish heathens melted out of the shadows, startling Sir Robert Royce. ’Twas the third night he’d waited and he’d not been sure they would come. He urged his horse out of the dark copse of trees and into the moonlight, three of his men following, five others waiting and watchful for any signs of aggression.

They stopped, English facing Scots, and Robert’s horse moved under him in nervous reaction to the huge animal the Scottish Laird rode. Robert fought the same feeling of intimidation.

The full moon shone on MacGregor, casting half his face in shadow, seeming to highlight a beast, feral and savage.

Not unlike Lord Marshall himself, if it came to that, only dressed even worse. The savage actually wore animal skins. Robert suppressed a shudder and tried to hide his distaste.

MacGregor smiled, if it could be called that. He seemed amused, but at the same time his expression expressed contempt.

Robert straightened in the saddle, his mouth tightening. He was English, and therefore superior. How dare this dirty heathen show disdain? He was fortunate Robert had sent for him. The savage was obviously not bright enough to know better.

Robert lifted his chin. ’Twas Robert who was wise. Kellen thought he was so clever, moving his cattle about under cover of darkness, when all along one of Robert’s own men helped guard the weedy beasts.

He liked feeling as if he moved players about a chess board. Determining outcomes. The thought raised his mood. The heathen was moving into exactly the position Robert wanted him. Robert was in charge. He would hurt Marshall, make him sorry, and eventually make him die.

“You sent for me,” MacGregor bowed his head mockingly. “And here I am.”

“It took you long enough. I sent word that I had information two days ago and I have not seen my man since.”

MacGregor shrugged. “I had to make some inquires. I like knowing who it is I do business with.”

“And my man?”

MacGregor shrugged again, then whistled loud and shrill. A yell and a smacking noise was heard inside the darkness of the trees and moments later a horse bolted out. The horse galloped past, a man bound, gagged and wearing only underclothing, tied across its back.

As Robert turned to gape at MacGregor, the barbarian simply shrugged again. “I did no’ care for his attitude. I hope I like yours better.”

Robert’s mouth snapped shut as he stared at MacGregor. How dare this savage threaten him? “Do you want the information I have or not?”

“You seem to want me to have it, so what is it you know?”

“Lord Marshall’s cattle are hidden on the north side of his property.” As MacGregor stared at him, Robert had to fight the urge to move in the saddle.

“Tell me, English. Have you no problem betraying your kinsman?”

“Lord Marshall is no kinsman of mine.”

“Your countryman then?”

“Why do you care?”

“Care? I do no’. I simply want my curiosity appeased for I have often wondered, does your type have any loyalties at all?”

Robert shrugged off the insult, determined now to get this meeting over with as quickly as possible. “I have relations aplenty and they are no concern of yours. Do you want the information or not?”

“Why no’? But I warn you. I do no’ like my time wasted.”

Again, Robert sensed a threat. The laird was a big man. Huge, in truth. Perhaps as big and powerful as Kellen, himself. And wild, too. Powerful and wild enough to bring Kellen down if it came to it?

One could hope.

The thought of the two powerful men coming together, clashing, perhaps dying, made Robert shudder. But beyond the physical threat of the man before him, Robert knew what would hurt Kellen the most. Kellen had stood guard over Lady Corbett like a dog with a stolen hunk of meat.

Robert hated the girl now. He had given her a chance and she had barely paid him any attention. She had seemed incapable of appreciating his finer qualities, and practically ignored him as she gazed at and fawned over Marshall.

Unlike her sister, she actually seemed to prefer that uncivilized, unkempt barbarian. Ha. Mayhap she would like the Scot, too. Ha. Perhaps Robert would do her a favor. “Then mayhap I should make sure your time is well spent with additional information. Lord Marshall has a new bride he guards like a precious treasure.”

“And this affects me how?”

The man really was stupid. “She would bring a bountiful ransom.”

“You would have me take his woman?” His tone was amused.

Robert thought for a moment, then sighed. “As if you could get to her,” Robert said sourly, realizing just how impossible that would actually be. A savage taking an English castle? Impossible. “So just dismiss it from your mind.” But Robert hoped he wouldn’t dismiss it. That he would take it as a challenge. The Scot was known to be relentless when roused. Perhaps the temptation would be too much for him to resist.

MacGregor studied him for a long moment. “It seems this grand gesture may be more about petty jealousy than any other motive, with me the knife you hope to stab in Marshall’s back.”

Robert’s fists bunched. “I am not jealous of him! I have my reasons and they are none of your concern. I’ve not asked you to kill Marshall, but merely humble him. Are you going to do it or not?”

That infernal shrug once more. “Oh, I will do it. For reasons of my own. I do not plan to overlook such a gift as this. My thanks.” He bowed his head.

Did the savage mock him? Robert wasn’t sure, but suddenly felt as if he were lacking somehow. But what did he care what a filthy, heathen savage thought of him? The brute likely was not capable of thinking overmuch, anyway.

“One more thing,” said MacGregor. “Just so we understand each other. I hope your information is correct. Because I would truly hate to be disappointed. It might make me feel I was played for a fool and that could make me verra, verra angry.”

Robert swallowed, and realized he was sweating. Could he be causing future problems for himself by turning this wild dog against Marshall? But mayhap Marshall would go after MacGregor and they would kill each other? That would be a perfect solution to his problem.

“’Tis all true. I heard it straight from his own mouth. At his own dinner table not two nights ago.”

“He fed you? And this is your repayment? Ah, a clever man, indeed.”

Sarcastic brute. If somehow the savage
could
get to Lady Corbett, so much the better. She did not like Robert? He would throw her to the dirty savages to be torn apart. She deserved it.

Signaling to his men, ignoring the chill it gave him to turn his back on the Scot, Robert dug his spurs hard into his mount and rode away, trying not to feel as if he ran. As if he had just tangled with the devil himself.

Robert glanced back once, but MacGregor and his men had faded away into the darkness.

Blasted creepy Scots.