The Rock (39 page)

Marry me . . . I can make you happy
.

Could he? Would it really be so horrible? Was she letting a difficult period in her childhood and what
might
happen influence her decisions too much?

Oh God, what was she going to do? She felt precariously close to tears as she thanked Simon for accompanying her and turned to leave him at the gatehouse.

She needed to find Joanna. At this time of day—close to dusk—her sister-in-law was probably still with some of the other court ladies embroidering in Lady Margaret and Matilda Bruce’s solar. The king’s young sisters had been given the largest chamber, and that is where they gathered when their duties allowed. The women staying at the abbey were working on a new banner for Bruce that would be carried into battle when the English came in June.

But before she could find her sister-in-law, her brother found her. He was storming out of the guesthouse where they were staying as she was about to go in.

“I was just going to look for you,” he said. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Running an errand for Jo.”

His face darkened. “That’s what she said. Where?”

“I can’t tell you,” she hedged. Drat, she knew he’d suspected something! “It’s a secret.”

“That’s what she said as well.” His eyes narrowed on hers. “But I’d bet my favorite sword that you are both lying.”

“It isn’t a lie,” she said, her mouth setting in a stubborn line.
Technically
.

“You went to go see MacGowan, didn’t you?” She didn’t say anything but just stared at him mulishly. “Should I go ask Simon?” he threatened.

Elizabeth knew she was caught; she wasn’t going to have Jamie intimidating poor Simon because of her. “Leave him out of this. He was only doing his duty.”

“I knew it! Damn it, Ella. What are you doing? And why the hell are you involving Jo and having her lie for you?”

“We weren’t lying, and I didn’t involve her in anything.”

He gave her a hard look. “Aye, if I know my wife, it was probably all her idea. She’s made no secret of her desire to see you and Thom together. No matter how many times I tell her it’s impossible.”

“Is it really so impossible?” Elizabeth asked quietly.

Her question seemed to take him aback. By the time he answered, much of his anger had faded. “Do you really need to ask me that? Randolph spoke to me earlier. He has offered for you, and I have given my permission. He will formally ask you tomorrow.” He paused. “This is what you wanted, El. I thought you’d be happy.”

“It is what I wanted,” she said. “At least what I thought I wanted.”

“And now you don’t?”

She gazed at him pleadingly, the big brother to whom she’d always looked up. “I don’t know.”

He folded her in his arms and held her, giving her comfort as he had so many times in their tumultuous war-torn youth—especially after the death of their father.

After a moment, he pulled back. “I don’t need to tell you how good this match with Randolph is—hell, it’s obvious. You’ll be wife to one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in Scotland. But that isn’t the only reason why I want you to marry him. Randolph is a good man, Ella. One of the best I’ve ever met—don’t tell him I said that,” he added as an aside dryly. “I wouldn’t see you with someone who I didn’t think could make you happy.” His ironic choice of words was not lost on her. “Don’t you like him?”

She shook her head. “It’s not like that. I like him very much.”
What’s not to like
. “It’s just that . . .”

His mouth tightened. “MacGowan.”

She nodded.

Something in his expression changed. For a moment she glimpsed the Black Douglas, the man who had struck terror in the heart of the enemy who whispered his name in the same breath as the Devil. “Has he touched you, El? If that bastard has compromised you in any way—”

Knowing there were some things her brother would never understand, she cut him off quickly, “He has not compromised me.” That was true. “Or touched me in any way that was improper.” That was maybe a little less true. His eyes narrowed, noting her careful language, and she added, “You know him, Jamie. Thom would never treat me dishonorably.”

He studied her face before relenting. Sitting back on the bench, he smiled. “Aye, MacGowan has always had a fierce streak of honor and nobility in him. At times when we were young, it was bloody inconvenient. You should have seen him when he found out about Jo.” He rubbed his jaw. “Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever been hit that hard.”

“Thommy struck you?” she said in an awed tone. Of course they’d been in brawls in their boyhood, but for Thom to hit his lord as a man . . . James could have had him punished severely if he’d wanted to. “Why?”

Suddenly, he looked uncomfortable—as if he regretted speaking so freely. “He thought I’d wronged Jo. He was right.”

Elizabeth held his gaze for a moment. She’d always wondered what had happened between her brother and Jo a few years back—right around the time Thom had left—but from the bits and pieces she’d picked up over the years, she had a fairly good idea.

Perhaps her brother would understand about compromising and touching more than she realized. Not that she’d chance confiding in him. Thom might not have compromised her, but she doubted Jamie would consider the distinction enough to prevent him from killing him.

“I should still kill him,” Jamie said, echoing her thoughts. “I told him to stay away from you. He has no business confusing you.”

“He has asked me to marry him.”

Jamie exploded off the bench beside her. “That overreaching bastard. He had no right! I told him I would never sanction a match between you.”

Elizabeth grabbed his wrist, stopping him from probably fetching his sword and going after him. “Even if I loved him?”

He stilled. “It isn’t enough, El.”

“It was for you and Jo.”

“This is nothing like Jo and me. Thom is the son of a smith. No matter how high he climbs in Bruce’s army, he can’t change that. Nothing will ever make him suitable for you.
Nothing
. Christ, by comparison Jo is a princess, and you’ve seen how difficult it has been. You’ve seen the derision, the scorn, and heard the comments. People like us marrying beneath us . . . it offends the community’s sense of place. Of right and wrong. Of honor and duty.”

“And do you regret it?”

He didn’t hesitate an instant. “Not for a minute. But make no mistake: the situations are not the same. Joanna was the daughter of a baron, and I am the Lord of Douglas—powerful in my own right with the ability to make myself more powerful with my place in the king’s army. The match with Thom will not just be seen as ‘unfortunate,’ it will be seen as an embarrassment—as something shameful. He will never be accepted. Many of the people who welcomed you into their homes will no longer wish to socialize with you.” Seeing her expression, he softened his tone. “I’m not saying this to hurt you, I’m trying to protect you. Right or wrong, I want to make sure you know exactly how it would be, what your life would be like if you marry so far beneath you. I cannot in good faith condone such a match. Without a tocher or land of his own, how will you live? I’d wager MacGowan doesn’t have more than a few pounds to his name right now. Will you go back and live in Douglas with his father?”

Elizabeth wished she could say she didn’t blanch, but she did. She remembered the small, dark house she’d visited all those years ago. The soot-stained wattle-and-daub walls, the rush-covered floors, the clothes strewn all about, the dirty dishes . . .

“I don’t need to tell you that there is nothing romantic about poverty—you’ve experienced it for yourself. How long do you think your love will last when instead of running a castle—a dozen castles—you are cooking, cleaning, and counting every penny?” She thought of the bags of coins she had hidden—counted pennies—and her stomach knotted. “Maybe MacGowan will become a knight, and earn some land along the way, maybe you’ll be able to afford a couple of servants in a few years. But it won’t be easy.”

She knew that. She’d been there before. Poor, shunned, and . . . miserable.

He gathered her hands in his and gave them a squeeze, undaunted by her continued silence. “I know you, El. You love the excitement of court, being surrounded by educated, accomplished people, the bustle of the cities and big castles, and all the luxuries of wealth because you know what it is like to be without them. Can you see MacGowan at a salon in Paris or sitting at the king’s table during a feast in one of the royal castles? He doesn’t even speak the same language.” French was the language of the nobles. “Being tucked away in a small village somewhere will kill you. Is that what you want?” He let the question linger for a moment. “Randolph will give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Do you really want to risk that for an uncertain future with MacGowan?”

The picture he painted had tapped into her darkest fears. Could she be happy like that? Would his love be enough?

It might . . .

Perhaps sensing her hesitation, Jamie dove in for the kill. He wielded the one blade that focused everything into sharp reality. “What about children, El? What kind of life would you want for them?”

Children? Elizabeth stared at him in horror. She hadn’t thought about children.

Or maybe she hadn’t wanted to think about them.

All of a sudden she felt ill. Jamie’s question unknowingly evoked painful memories. Memories of those dark days when no one would help them.

It must have been so difficult for her stepmother, alone with three children to protect—two of them barely more than babes—but she’d hid it so well. The formidable Lady Eleanor, who throughout their difficulties had never showed a hint of fear or vulnerability, had seemed the strongest person Elizabeth knew.

But even her seemingly indestructible stepmother had been broken by Hugh’s cries of hunger. Elizabeth would never forget seeing Lady Eleanor’s tears and worse, her helplessness and fear in the face of her baby’s empty stomach. She’d given up, and were it not for the bag of coins provided by the abbess that took them to her uncle at Bonkyl, they would have ended up in an almshouse.

A baby. Children. How could Elizabeth best protect them? What duty did she have to them?

She looked up at Jamie wordlessly, her heart feeling as if it was being squeezed in a vise. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but there had only ever been one answer.

T
HE NEXT DAY
when Randolph came to her with his proposal, Elizabeth accepted. The stark contrast between Thom’s heartfelt offer and Randolph’s businesslike one perhaps made it easier to bear. There was no confusion; she knew exactly what she was doing. This wasn’t romance, this was duty, security, and advancement. The things she’d always wanted.

Jamie had sent for her just before the midday meal. He was in the abbot’s private solar with Randolph, but as soon as she arrived, he left.

After offering her a seat on a bench, Randolph began in a formal, no-nonsense tone she’d never heard from him before. “Lady Elizabeth, I am sure it comes as no surprise that your brother and I have been discussing the possibility of an alliance between our families. As you know, my uncle has bestowed many new lands on me of late, and it is well past time that I had a wife to help me run them and to sit beside me at the high table.” He gave her a small smile, as if the concession to the impending doom of his bachelorhood should please her. “Your brother assures me that you have been trained well in your duties, and everything that I have seen bears this out. You are undoubtedly the most beautiful woman at court, charming, and will be an asset to my career and future. I can think of no reason why we will not suit.” She frowned. Had he been looking for one? “With your brother poised to hold much of southern Scotland, and my holdings in the north and midlands, the connection between our families will create a formidable alliance. Your brother has provided a generous tocher, with which I am very pleased. Indeed, all the important details in the betrothal contract have been worked out.”

All the important details but one, she thought wryly. Namely the minor little matter of her agreement. But why shouldn’t he take that for granted? Only a fool would refuse him, and he knew it.

“If you are amenable,” he continued, “we can sign the betrothal contract tomorrow.”

Amenable? For all of the gallantry and emotion in Randolph’s proposal, he might have been discussing the sale of cattle at market. Coming from one of Scotland’s most renowned knights, a man known for his courtly graces and chivalry, the proposal was almost ridiculously unromantic. Shouldn’t he be dropping down on one knee and spouting allusions to the heavens and her beauty?

Unable to resist, she found herself asking, “And what am I to receive in this bargain, my lord?”

She was mostly teasing, but he answered matter-of-factly, clearly appreciating her businesslike attitude. “You will become one of the wealthiest women in the kingdom, and gain a royal connection—as will your children. You will be chatelaine of five castles—at current count—and act in my stead when I am away. You will receive five hundred merks as part of your terce on our marriage, and on my death, you will receive the rest: one-third of our property at that time.”