He took her hand, his head bowed. “Your father was brave that day.”
“Mother said he was insane. Not everything was settled over a tankard of his ale.” A small snicker escaped her lips.
Reeve chuckled. “It did that day. I was amazed when they went alone to Wesley’s hunting lodge and came back two days later reconciled, almost happy.”
“Father swears by his ale. But even with that reconciliation, it was never the same.”
“When Richard brought him to his room, Harmon was barely conscience. What made them fight that night is beyond me. Richard told us they came to words and Harmon got the worst of it. Let’s not dwell on it. Harmon’s unfortunate death is in the past. I want to start our relationship anew.”
“Agreed.”
“Can you still sit a horse, let loose a blot, and make your target? I won’t admit this to anyone but you. I was jealous of your ability with a horse and bow. I could have used you as my secret weapon in my last campaign.”
“I ride, but my weapons training was cut short after I came to an evening meal bandaged from a mishap. Mother screeched at Father and demanded my training be switched from deadly weapons to courtly etiquette. She held my training could prove just as fatal.”
“Yes, Darla would say that. I have missed you.” He picked up her hand and kissed it.
Laura glanced at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. His touch was tender, his attention gallant, and his words gentle. A welcome diversion. Perhaps he could help her return to Glen Kirk.
The lower tables in the hall were being moved against the walls to make room for the night’s entertainment.
“Ah.” Reeve rose, and drew her up with him. “I convinced Duncan’s troubadour the audience is better here.”
“A song, m’lady?”
“Not now, Beneto.” Reeve tossed the man a coin. “Treat Lord Herbert to a song about King Kenneth MacAlpin. The one you sang last night.”
The minstrel gave them a graceful leg and pulled the mandolin that sat snug against his back around. He moved to Herbert.
Reeve poured Laura a goblet of mead, and together they listened to the tales of the king, then a long ballad about the Pictish kings from the fourth century and King Talorg.
The entertainment went by quickly, and the mead and ale flowed easily. Barriers that had taken years to build between Reeve and Laura seemed unimportant, and, over the course of wine and music, crumbled.
She clapped her hands to the beat and swayed as Herbert’s guests danced. Reeve got up and extended his hand to her.
She looked at it as if it were an odd thing. He didn’t wait for her to answer. He took her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor.
Lost in the music, she danced with Reeve and joined him singing old songs. He serenaded her with the most humorous lyrics that brought her to peals of laughter. Even Herbert smiled his approval.
“I must sit or I’ll fall down,” she told Reeve. He escorted her to a heavily draped window seat. He adjusted the curtains to block out the noise, then handed her a full goblet of mead.
“Comfortable? We’re more secluded here.” He tipped up her goblet and she took more than a sip. The sweet wine refreshed and soothed. She stifled a giggle.
“May I sing a song for you, m’lady?” Beneto appeared in front of her.
“I have no coin for you.” Laura laughed. Lightheaded in the congenial company, she hadn’t felt so free and joyful since... She let out a breath. Even thinking about Richard now didn’t seem as painful. She tipped up her goblet. To you, Richard.
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy his songs. I’ll play your banker.” Reeve took her hand, put a coin in her palm, then closed it up, his hand covering hers.
She laughed at his jest.
“But beware, m’lady. I may ask for payment-—with interest.”
She raised her head to say something clever, but got lost in his gray eyes. She never noticed the color before, or the warmth. Before she reacted, he leaned forward and brushed hair from her eyes. Laura froze at the intimate gesture.
Reeve guided her hand toward Beneto. She gave the musician the coin.
In the quiet corner of the great hall, Beneto sung about a beautiful maiden and her stalwart knight. How he pined for her. He sung about the knight’s dream of kissing lips that tasted of sweet berries, touching soft breasts, and how he longed to settle between her legs and make her his own.
She closed her eyes, swayed to the music, mesmerized by the pictures the rich baritone voice painted.
Soft tender lips covered hers. The beating of the drum, the seductive words, the soft breath and manly fragrance that surrounded her, held her in a place she didn’t want to leave. She was wanted and loved and that was all that mattered. She parted her lips.
“Laura,” Reeve whispered in her ear.
His warm breath sent chills down her back. She pulled away and opened her eyes.
“Beneto is long gone and the others are leaving the hall.” He signaled to someone behind her. “Mrs. Turner will help you upstairs.”
Without saying a word, she rose and went with the housekeeper.
“Laura.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Reeve.
“I’ll collect my payment soon.”
She turned and left humming Beneto’s song and seeing Reeve in a much different light.
Laura sat at her mirror as she finished her morning toilet. The tragedy of Richard’s death was tolerable, although her anger at him for dying still surfaced. But not this morning. This morning, she dwelled on the lightness of the prior evening and not the pounding in her head, her uneasy stomach or her parched throat.
Reeve’s attention was enjoyable. She touched where he kissed her. His kiss had been the last thing she remembered before falling asleep, and the first when she awoke. A knock on her door brought her back to the present.
“M’lady, The Maxwell is asking if you’re feeling well,” Mrs. Turner said, walking into her room with a steaming plate. “It’s well past the morning meal.”
She sniffed the air, and the odor of boiled cabbage hit her. Her stomach was unsettled and she was hungry, but not for cabbage.
“Lord Reeve suggested I bring this to help with your... headache and your stomach. I enjoyed your dancing and singing last night. You reminded me of Lady Darla.” She put down the plate.
“I hope I don’t regret it the rest of the day. But it was lovely.” She picked at the cabbage and ate it with a warm slice of bread. This wasn’t her choice for a morning meal, but she was well aware of the cabbage’s medicinal affects. She toweled off her hands and took one last look in the mirror before she walked across the courtyard to the great hall.
“M’lady.” Reeve met her outside the hall. His eyes twinkled. She couldn’t help but smile.
“Many thanks for your thoughtfulness. Cabbage isn’t my usual food for starting the day.” At least Mrs. Turner had a knack for cooking cabbage with little odor.
“I thought you would benefit from the vegetables’ medicinal attributes.” He bent close. “I did it for a very selfish reason. I wanted to ask you to ride with me today.”
Herbert and Jamie kept her a prisoner in the castle. She was familiar with almost every stone in the castle wall and the number of steps between the gatehouse and the great hall. Riding across the meadow with the wind in her hair sounded like heaven.
“I’d like that.”
He straightened to his full height. “Wonderful. I took the liberty of having Mrs. Turner prepare a basket for us, without cabbage. Our mounts are ready. Shall we?” He directed her to the stable.
For three weeks, riding with Reeve became a daily event. After breaking their fast, they visited the now abandoned old castle with its pools of water or rode through the woods to the Nith River and sat on the river bank to watch wild swans glide by. They even rode across Solway Firth and rested on the lowland hills to peer out at the Irish Sea.
The days sped by. After each excursion, she returne
d to Caerlaverock eager to see where he would take her the following day.
He didn’t kiss her again, although, his tender lingering touches assisting her on and off her horse had her wanting more.
By the end of the weeks, their relationship was re-established. They were comfortable and playful. Reeve was a surprise. The dark moods she remembered were history. His authoritarian manner that made him impossible was gone.
But dinners were difficult. Each night, she sat at the dais with Reeve to her right and Jamie’s empty chair to her left. Rumors of his liaison with Rhona had gone around the castle. She saw him in the courtyard from time to time. They acknowledged each other, but nothing more.
Intellectually, she realized her attraction to Jamie had been a part of her childhood. He would always be special to her. She had made her peace, and like him, she had to move on.
Dressed for her morning ride, she hurried to the great hall.
“Many are vying for Glen Kirk Castle because of its closeness to the border. That is what is driving me. Would you rather have an ally on the other side or someone less in favor of Scots?” Reeve said.
She started to barge in, but hesitated.
“You should speak to Wesley. Not me.” Herbert’s stern tone made her uncomfortable. Was Glen Kirk in trouble? “Without an heir, he would listen to your petition.”
“Time is of the essence. Money hungry courtiers are now conjuring ways to seek their fortune at Wesley’s expense. It doesn’t really matter. Edward sanctioned my petition as you call it. Acting now, will keep the peace and stability as well as everyone happy.”
“So, this is why you’re here.”
Reeve offered no reply.
“What petition to my father?” Laura said and walked into the room. The two men turned.
“You’re looking quite well this morning.” Reeve gave her a warm smile. “I hope you slept well. I, for one, did not.”
“It must be the mattress.” She held back a smirk.
He came up next to her and took her hand. He kissed her palm. “Yes, of course. The mattress. Several times I thought to seek you out to fill my wakeful night, but then thought better of it.”
She pulled away. “What petition, Reeve?”
He took a deep breath. “I wanted to spare you this. There are rumblings in London. Glen Kirk Castle holds a strategic position. Your father planned to give Richard his portion when he returned from Wales. Wesley is a good leader and soldier, but with these troubles, a younger man is needed. It’s time for him to step aside. It’s the natural order of things. With Richard gone, Glen Kirk and the entire border area is vulnerable.”
“Step aside? How ridiculous. A man doesn’t give up his home because of age. Father need only call up more soldiers,” she said.
“That won’t work. He needs more than men. The castle needs to be under strong leadership. Edward suggested me.”
“You? And what about my family?”
She felt like a rat caught in a trap. Reeve was bold and boastful, but not as good a leader as Richard or her father. Or Jamie for that matter.
“Edward suggested we marry. The solution will keep your family in residence and the opportunists at bay. Those that are inside England, as well as in Scotland.”
“Marry? That was what your attention was all about these last weeks?”
“Of course not. It was a bonus. But I have used up all our time.”
“Our time? What do you mean?”
“Edward wanted me secured at Glen Kirk by the end of October, next week. Tomorrow, you must give me your answer.”
She could only gape at Reeve and his proposal to marry her. She searched his eyes, but the soft gray she had seen these last few weeks was gone. It had been replaced with a hardness she remembered.
“There really isn’t anything to decide,” Reeve said. “We must do as the king decrees. I hoped we would be fortunate and like each other and possibly have more than that in time. That remains to be seen. For now, you alone can secure the well-being of Glen Kirk and your family. No one else.”
The idea should have given her a sense of power and duty. The reality of Reeve’s true intent didn’t cloud his recent attentions. He intentionally manipulated the situation and she, the rejected lover had been easy prey. Was he wrong to try and soften the blow? Was she so obsessed with Jamie that she couldn’t see Reeve’s thoughtful and kind actions?
“Yes. I understand. But I would like my father and mother with me.”
“Travel at this time for you or them is dangerous. I wouldn’t want to put any of you in jeopardy. We’ll marry here, and as soon as we are able, I will bring you home.”
“My family is in danger?” What had happened in the last several weeks? Glen Kirk was a formidable castle, not easily taken. Her father’s troops were some of the best, trained by the King’s standard. She couldn’t stay here, abandon them when they needed her most.
“Yes. Before I left England, I sent troops to secure Glen Kirk to keep your family safe. I’ll give you some time to yourself. We can be quite happy together, in spite of the circumstances.”
Stunned, she said nothing. She stared at his back as he left the hall.
“Oliver can secret you away to Glen Kirk,” Herbert said. “It would be dangerous, but you would—”
“No. I never thought of Glen Kirk as a strategic position, only my home. If I can keep my family safe and Glen Kirk intact, then marrying Reeve is a small price to play.”
“Is it? Living with a man as harsh as Reeve will not be easy. As a father, I would not let my daughter marry him, no matter who decreed it.” The words exploded from him in such anger that spittle flew everywhere. “What do I tell your mother? She sent you here to rid me of a ghost, not marry you to a fallen knight.”
“Reeve harsh? No, he’s not. I’ve spent the last weeks with him. He may be demanding in managing his business, but that’s to be expected.”
“Laura.” Herbert raised his voice, his face turning red. “He’s not what he appears. You’ve been aware of his true nature for a long time. Don’t let him fool you. He is out for himself and no one else.”
“Calm yourself. Mother and Father will intercede. I will find a way to convince him the wedding must be at Glen Kirk.”
“Where have you been? I sent Sean to find you hours ago.” Herbert threw the quill on his desk and bolted out of his chair, turning it over in the process. Maps with strategic markings went flying to the floor.
“I came as soon as I heard the rumors. Reeve is taking a wife. I pity the poor girl.” Jamie leaned against the door jamb. Now that he looked at Herbert, the man appeared unusually upset.
“The poor girl,” Herbert muttered. “I’ve sent a message. God knows how long that will take, and by the time we get a response, the deed will be done and sealed.”
Jamie stepped into the room. He picked the maps off the floor and tucked them into the leather binder on the desk. “Why are you agitated?”
“Reeve.” He slammed his hand on the desk, disturbing more papers. He sank into his chair. “He’s marrying our Laura.”
Jamie was too startled by Herbert’s statement to offer an objection. Finally, he found his voice. “She can’t marry him. Wesley would never permit it.”
“That’s the thing.” Herbert lifted his head and glanced at him with tired eyes. “It seems this is a decree from Edward. To hold Glen Kirk, Reeve said. I sent Ned with a message to Howard, the king’s man in London. He’s close with Wesley, and can be trusted.”
“Hold Glen Kirk? Reeve’s a man with poor judgment. His father left him a thriving earldom that he managed to piss away on war campaigns for Edward. Now he has nothing but an empty title and heavy debts. The man has no sense for politics, or strategy, for that matter.” Reeve taking Glen Kirk was one thing. The castle would always be recaptured, but Laura married to Reeve? Reeve was after something else. He needed time to puzzle it out.
“Reeve believes he understands both sides of the border argument,”
Herbert said. “He always has thought himself more capable then he actually is. His shortcomings are obvious to everyone, even his king, but him. That’s why I sent Ned to England. I don’t think Edward granted Reeve this petition.”
“He thinks his father’s name is all he needs. He hasn’t got half his father’s ability.” Jamie paced the small space in front of Herbert’s desk while he tried to think of ways to prevent the marriage, short of killing Reeve, although, that option wasn’t beyond consideration.
“What’s been going on between you and Laura?” Herbert asked.
The question brought Jamie up short. “Nothing.”
“Don’t tell me nothing. I have eyes. You two were mooning over each other and now all of sudden, Rhona?”
Jamie couldn’t tell The Maxwell what he’d been doing. Not now when he was so close.
“Ever since her brothers and husband died—”
“Killed,” Herbert said. “Don’t glorify them. They were murdering thieves, not heroes as she would like to believe. They didn’t only steal livestock. They brutally murdered farmers and left women and children defenseless. I know, because I picked up the pieces. No, not heroes at all. How can you think—”
“Laura is not for me. She never was. How can I marry her—” Thoughts long hidden came to the surface. Painful thoughts. Guilty ones.
“You still think you killed Harmon. You forget, I was with you and Richard. We walked in and saw Harmon attacking Laura while she lay unconscious. I don’t want to think about it. The picture is burned in my head. He was experimenting, he said.” Herbert righted his chair and sat.
“I pulled him off her,” Jamie said. He was back in the small room at Glen Kirk. “Harmon had a crazy look on his face and a bottle in his hand. I had never seen such a devil. After that, I didn’t see or hear anything.”
“I watched it unfold as if every step took minutes instead of seconds. You held back until he drew his knife and threatened Laura,” Herbert said to Jamie.
The Highlander’s English Woman (The Stelton Legacy) Page 16