Elen stared at the parchment in her hand, her heart beating in her throat. If her lands were returned to her, could she possibly reconsider Munro's proposal? She had wanted Dunblane to remain in her family, but if she had children of her own, if she legally retained the properties, couldn't she bestow the land upon her own sons rather than Rosalyn's? She had never considered the idea in the past because it had never occurred to her that any man would be willing to marry her and not take Dunblane to do as he would—sell it, even. But now her world suddenly opened with a thousand possibilities. But first things first. She had promised her father she would have the North Woods.
Holding her breath, Elen ripped open the royal seal. She read the script quickly, then a second time to be certain she understood the decision. The message had not actually been written by the Bruce, but by a secretary. The language was wordy, but the meaning clear. The Forrests were personal friends; they had served him well against the English. He did not wish to become involved in ancient land disputes. Her request was denied.
Elen crumpled the letter in her hand, fighting tears.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Rosalyn asked.
Elen stared at the dirt floor beneath her. "My request has been denied. Our king suggests I deal with Munro Forrest on my own," she said quietly.
"What request?" Rosalyn demanded impatiently.
Elen lifted her gaze, her eyes filled with tears. In a blink of the eye she had seen not only the North Woods slip from her grasp, but Munro as well. "The request to have the North Woods returned to us, Rose. Ye remember, our father's dying request."
"Oh. That. Well... I am sorry. But what would ye do with that bit of land, anyway? I'm going above for a drink to warm my bones. Finley, lead the way." Rosalyn passed him and entered the passageway.
"Elen," Finley said gently. He knew how important this was to her. Not the part about Munro, but about her father's last request. He was hurting with her. She could hear it in his voice.
"'Tis all right. Take her upstairs."
"I can—"
"Finley," she said firmly, fighting her tears, embarrassed by her emotions. "If ye could just get her out of my hair for a few moments..."
"Aye." He dropped one of the torches back into the ring on the wall. "I'll feed her and send her on her merry way if I can."
"Finley!" Rosalyn hollered. "Get that light out here. There could be rats."
Finley left Elen alone in the small dimly lit chamber to collect her wits... and cry alone.
* * *
"How was your visit to see your sister, love?" Cerdic asked, pulling up a stool beside his wife before the fireplace in Rancoff's great hall. She was cracking nuts and tossing the shells into the flames.
Munro remained where he was at the far end of the table, polishing his halberd. As he ran the soft linen cloth over the blade, he listened absently to his brother and sister-in-law. His exchange on the beach with Elen the day before had left him with a mixture of emotions. Part of him thought his cause hopeless. Elen wanted the North Woods, and Munro could not give it to her, not when men within these walls had fought for that land. Didn't she understand how it would look to his men? He could not sell them out, not even for the woman of his heart.
Of course she understood. She was in the same position. She had promised her father the return of the land. Her men expected her not to give up until she had it. Munro knew she was attracted to him. If she had her land, perhaps there could be some way to convince her of a marriage that would allow Dunblane to remain hers and under her command. Munro knew it was highly unusual—unheard of, even—for a woman to retain her lands after marriage, but Elen Burnard was a highly unusual woman.
If only Munro could come up with a way to save face with his own clan while giving her that damned woods.
"She was in a frightful mood," Rosalyn whined.
The wench was always whining—when she wasn't shrieking, that was. Munro was no longer angry with Cerdic about the kidnapping and subsequent marriage. After living with Rosalyn for barely a fortnight, he felt nothing but pity for his brother.
"Not hospitable at all. And then she received a letter from the king and she actually started to cry. My sister! Imagine Elen crying."
Munro glanced up. Elen crying? The thought made his stomach twist. What was it about this woman that made him want to protect her when she obviously could take care of herself?
"Whatever did the letter say?" Cerdic asked, taking the nutcracker from his wife's hand to open nuts for her.
With his brother there to ask the necessary questions, Munro remained out of the conversation, but listened intently.
"That silly North Woods matter again. The King told her no. Said to see Munro Forrest and take it up with him." She fluttered her hand in Munro's direction. "Honestly," she continued. The woman seemed to talk nonstop dawn to dusk. "I nae ken why she cares so much about that wee woods. A promise. How ridiculous. Da is dead. How does he know if she got it back?"
Her laughter made Munro grind his teeth. What a disrespectful little twit.
But her words had given him an idea. The King. Robert, of course. Why hadn't he thought of that before? He had not given Elen back the land because Rancoff had held it for years, but what if he himself asked the king to return the land—without Elen knowing about it, of course.
"Cerdic." Munro strode toward the door, already making plans in his head.
"Aye?" Cerdic looked up.
"See that mounts are prepared for morning. Ye and I are riding north to Aberdeen."
Rosalyn's eyes widened, but she didn't dare say a word in Munro's presence. She feared him, and well she should.
"A-Aberdeen?" Cerdic stumbled, coming to his feet. "Whatever for?"
"Because I say we go." Munro clasped the arched doorway, glancing over his shoulder. "Make the arrangements."
"If ye go to Aberdeen, whatever shall I do here?" Rosalyn demanded, piping up.
"Perhaps ye could take up a little housewifery, Rosalyn dear," Munro said impatiently. Every room she entered seemed to be in disorder. "And earn your keep."
He heard her loud cry of protest as he turned into the passageway, but he was too excited to care. He would petition Robert the Bruce. The plan was perfect. Elen would get her land back, marry him, and Munro's steward would be riding round the castle naked before Christmas Day.
Chapter 17
"Munro," Robert the Bruce greeted jovially. "'Tis good to see ye, Cousin."
"Your Grace." Munro went down on one knee in reverence. He and Robert were old friends, as his father and Munro's had been before them. In the war for independence, the men had fought side by side and over the years had formed a bond based not only on friendship, but also respect and admiration. "Cousin, aye, but only by marriage some time ago."
Robert laughed and mussed Munro's uncovered head. "Howbeit, cousin none the less. Now get up. What do ye think I am, an Englishman? Ye stood beside me with your father at Scone and saw me crowned. In younger days, ye held my head whilst I vomited my night's entertainment. Ye need not kneel before me."
Munro stood to consider his old friend. Robert Bruce, now King of Scotland, looked far better than last he had seen him at Bannockburn, when they had taken Stirling Castle. The patriot king had regained the weight he had lost during the last campaign of the Scots' fight for independence. His cheeks were no longer hollow, and his shoulder blades no longer protruded from his saffron linen shirt. His red beard and hair were neatly trimmed. His clothing, though simple, now befitted a king, rather than a common soldier.
"So how have ye been, Munro? Sit, sit." Robert, seated in a great padded chair at the end of the table, pushed a bench aside with his booted foot. He had already dismissed clansmen and advisors as well as servants so that they had the great hall to themselves for a moment. The home where he was lodging belonged to a mutual friend, Sir Archibald Randolph. "When last I saw ye, you were riding hell-bent for the Highlands. How has Rancoff fared?"
"She is good."
Munro, overly warm in the small room, pushed his green and burgundy plaid off his shoulders. A crackling fire, which gave off the sweet smell of applewood, warmed the oak-paneled hall that reminded him much of the one in his own keep. Before him had been placed a horn of good Scottish ale and a plate of bread and cheeses. "All was well when I returned, save my brother is up to his usual fatuousness."
The smile did not recede from the King's face, but his tone sobered. "Be thankful ye still have the mon to call brother," he said.
Robert had lost many of his family members in the fight for Scotland, and Munro lowered his head, rightfully chastised. "Aye, ye are absolutely right. I tell myself that each and every day, and yet there are still times when I could strangle the life from him myself." He gestured with both hands around an imaginary Cerdic's neck.
"So what has he done now? Surely not impregnated another blacksmith's daughter?"
"Long story, little time." Munro gave a wave. "There are others with more important matters than I waiting outside to see ye. Suffice it to say there was a hasty wedding at Rancoff a fortnight ago after my dear brother kidnapped the neighbor's daughter. Between the kidnapping and the marriage, I spent nigh on a fortnight in an oubliette with only rats to keep me company."
Robert slapped his thigh with a guffaw. "It does my heart good to hear he is keeping you on the toes of your boots. I do not like to think ye would grow lazy and fat after returning to your keep." He winked and lifted a cup to his lips. "I may need ye again someday."
"Ye know ye need only call and I will come, with bells tied upon my toes and a garrison of men at my heels."
Someone tapped on the hall door and the Bruce looked in that direction, irritated.
"I am sorry," Munro said, taking a sip of his ale. "I keep ye. Let me get to the business at hand. My neighbor Elen, daughter of Sir Murdoch Burnard, recently petitioned to have a plot of land returned to her possession, land our families have been fighting over for more than a century."
"Aye, I vaguely recall the request." Robert placed cheese on his bread and rolled it before taking a bite. "Have no fear, I denied it. I will take no land from ye, Munro. Not even for a Burnard, though I must say her father served me well, too."
"'Struth, that is why I come, Robert, to ask that ye reconsider and grant her the land. 'Tis only a small patch of woods, nonessential to my properties, a wood not nearly as important to me as to the lady."
Robert's red brows knitted. "Ye wish me to give the wench the land?"
Munro took a breath, trying to place his thoughts in order. He did not want to take any more of the king's time than necessary for such a trivial matter as his bed-mate, not when there were pressing matters of state. But he knew Robert was his best chance at convincing Elen to marry him.
"'Tis this way. I find I fancy this red-haired lassie. Nay," he corrected himself, "I am in love with her, but she and I have this wee disagreement over the land she calls the North Wood. She wishes to have it returned to Dunblane, but there are men in my keep who have fought for the land. I do not feel it is mine to give. 'Tis a matter of honor with men who have fought so bravely at my side, at the side of my father and his father before him."
The Bruce reached for another slice of nutty bread. "So marry the stubborn lass, and then the land willnae matter."
Munro exhaled in frustration. "I have tried that tactical maneuver, and she willnae have any part of it. She refuses to wed me. 'Tis a matter of principle in her eyes, I fear."
Robert peered over his chalice. "Let me be certain I understand. Ye want me to give the land to her so she will consider marrying ye?"
Munro nodded. "Aye."
Robert thought a moment and then shook his head. "Nay."
Munro was startled. "Nay, Your Grace?"
"Nay, I willnae grant the land to Dunblane. I am sick to death of this kind of bickering here in the Highlands." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Howbeit, if it is this wench ye must have, I can do ye one better than granting her the land."
Munro could not resist a smile. For a moment, he had feared all was lost. "Ye can?"
"I will make her marry ye." The king threw up his hands, obviously pleased with himself. "The two families will be joined once and for all and the owner of the land will no longer be an issue."
"Ye will order her to marry me?" Munro lifted a brow, not yet convinced this was the way to get Elen honorably into his bed. "She is a rather headstrong lassie, if I must say. She will not take kindly to someone telling her who she must wed. Even the King of Scotland."
"To deny my request, any request, even that she marry ye, would be sedition. Is she loyal to the crown of Scotland?"
"As loyal as I," Munro said with great certainty.
Robert nodded. "Then she will follow my bidding."
Munro could not stop grinning. He could only imagine the look on Elen's face when she was told she must wed him under command of the king. The only trouble was, if he was the one who gave the news, she might remove the manly parts he would need to consummate said marriage.
Munro glanced up hopefully. "And who will break the news to my fair lady?"
Robert chuckled. "I have never seen ye this way, Munro Forrest. Ye are indeed enamored, are ye not?"
"Enamored, I am."
"Wears well on the eyes, does she?" Robert questioned with interest.
"In my eyes, there is no fairer," Munro admitted. "Waves of red hair streaked with blond, eyes a stormy green, a mouth God of our heavens surely made to kiss. But 'tis more than that. Since her father's death, she has single-handedly run his keep and run it well. She speaks and her men stumble upon each other in the effort to accomplish the task. She is a woman like none other I have ever met or ever hoped to meet." He met his king's gaze as a man rather than a servant of the Scottish crown. "She is an equal."
"I have heard tales of Murdoch's daughter, though I recall 'she-devil' was used more than once in the conversation. I was saddened to hear of his untimely death. I meant to see the lassie wed, but I've had so many matters to deal with. 'Struth, it slipped my mind."
"I am glad ye didnae marry her off, because that man's blood would be upon my broadsword."
Again, a knock came at the door, this one more insistent. Robert glanced that way again, then back at Munro apologetically.
"I must go." Munro rose.
"Nae worry yourself over your blue bullocks. I will break the word to the strong-willed lady myself."
"Ye will?" Munro grinned. Now that would be a sight to see, Elen Burnard up against the King of Scotland. He would not lay a gold piece confidently upon the table to wager the outcome.
"Make your wedding plans, make your bed, but say naught to the lass," Robert told him with a wink. "I will send word I come to pay a visit as I pass south. Come Saturday next, ye will be wed in my presence. I shall even bring the priest."
Munro considered kneeling, but instead offered his hand in friendship. "Thank you, Robert."
"Ye are welcome." The king clasped his hand and then shooed him away. "Send the men who pound at my door in on your way out, will ye, friend? I shall see you in a few short days."
* * *
"Another message from the king?" Elen asked, shocked. She took the sealed note from Finley's hand. They stood inside the blacksmith's timber shed, where she had been discussing what household implements she needed made, such as buckles, wool-combing heckles, and other hardware. With the winter coming, there were so many details to attend that she was sleeping little these days.
Elen presented her back to the heat of the stone furnace and ripped open the seal. She glanced over the missive. "God's brittle bones," she exclaimed excitedly.
"What is it? Has he reversed his decision?" Finley asked.
Elen glanced up. "He's coming here. The king of Scotland is coming here!"
"To Dunblane?" Her steward appeared stricken. "When?"
"Saturday."
Finley's eyes widened. "Saturday come this week?"
Elen reread th
e note, unsure of what to make of it. Written by one of the king's aides, it informed her of Robert the Bruce's sojourn and requested she bid the Earl of Rancoff to be there upon his arrival.
Surely the king had changed his mind. Surely he meant to return the North Woods to the Burnard claim. Why he felt it necessary to tell her himself, she didn't know. Perhaps he was passing through to pay respects to Dunblane for their service in the war. Who was she to try and comprehend the king of Scotland's motives?
Elen glanced up at Finley, nearly as overwhelmed as he. "Aye, this Saturday. He plans to spend the night and head south the next morning after mass. God's teeth, Finley, we must make room not just for him, but his retinue as well. We must not only prepare the keep and grounds, but the old kirk as well."
"We cannae do it." Finley held his wiry beard with his hands.
"We must!"
"Elen, have ye any idea how many men he will bring? How many horses? Dunblane is small in comparison to what the king of Scotland—"
"I have heard tales from my father of how our Robert slept in swine sheds, and so have ye." Elen strode across the bailey, her mind already going in a thousand directions. She would place the king in her bedchamber. It had been good enough for her father, the Earl of Dunblane. It would be grand enough for King Robert. She would house what men she could within the walls of the keep, and when they overflowed, she would put up tents. Mounts would be sheltered in the stable, and when the barns were packed, she would place them in the cattle sheds or hobble them outside the castle walls—with guards, if necessary. "We will provide for him as best we can; we can do no more. Our king will expect no more."
"I dinnae understand how ye can speak so calmly," Finley panted, trotting beside her. "The king! The king will dine in our hall in five days' time and 'tis all ashambles."
"Then set it all aright," she declared, throwing her hands in the air. She was so excited that she was giddy. The king was coming here. He was returning the land to its rightful owner, and she would be fulfilling her father's dying wish. She could not even begin to think what possibilities lay beyond that. She could not think about Munro now. First the king and her blessed North Woods. Later she would worry about Rancoff.
Highland Lady Page 17