Stephen had started across the wall walk but paused when he realized she was not following. He turned to see her gazing out over the dying city with tears in her eyes. He retraced his steps, putting his big arm around her shoulders in a comforting gesture.
“Come along, sweetheart,” he murmured.
She blinked and the tears spattered. Quickly, she wiped them away. “There is so much destruction.”
“I told you there was.”
“I suppose I did not realize how bad it was.”
Stephen’s gaze moved out over the city. He was accustomed to the sight. “War tends to devastate all it touches. The city was not too terribly off after Halidon but the counter attack the past couple of days saw that particular aspect changed. The Scots did a good deal of damage.”
She turned to him. “But why?”
He studied her expression, wondering if she already knew the answer and was simply asking to see what his reaction would be. The truth was, no matter how wildly in love he was, he had only known the woman a few days. Before that, she had been his enemy. Stephen was not naturally trusting, not even with his wife. With him, trust was something to be earned.
“Because they would rather ravage the city than see it ruled by the English,” he explained carefully. “Surely you know that.”
She sniffled delicately. “But it makes no sense. Many of our kinsmen live here.”
“Kinsmen and rebels,” he muttered, his gaze moving out over the city again as he thought of Kynan Lott MacKenzie deep in the vault of Berwick. “I would not worry about it if I were you. Berwick will know peace again someday.”
She allowed him to pull her along the wall walk, lifting her skirts so she would not step on them as they mounted steps leading to a higher portion of the parapet. “What is the difference between rebels and Scots who simply fight for their king?” she asked.
He shrugged faintly. “Rebels are generally subversive and uncaring about who they devastate. They are so determined to destroy the enemy that they will even kill Scots who get in their way. That makes them particularly dangerous.”
She thought on that a moment. “My father was not a rebel. He cared very much for Berwick and her people.”
Stephen paused at the entrance to a corner tower. He still found it difficult to believe that after all her father had put her through, she still spoke kindly of him. “As I said, I would not worry about it if I were you,” he touched her face gently. “I have the situation well in hand.”
“What do you mean?”
He wriggled his eyebrows and took her hand, leading her into the dark and gloomy tower. “I have a rebel leader in my vault. Once he tells me what I need to know, I will do what needs to be done in order to quell these insurgents once and for all.”
They emerged from the tower onto another section of the wall walk. “Scots are a stubborn bunch,” she said dubiously. “I would not be surprised if he would die before telling you a thing.”
“It is possible.”
“Who is this rebel leader?”
He paused with something that sounded like a grunt; in fact, it was a pensive release. He was not surprised that she had asked the man’s name but he hadn’t decided whether or not he had planned to tell her should she ask. Drawing a long, deep breath, his blue-eyed gaze moved over the smoking landscape of the north side of the castle.
“A man of some influence.”
She waited for more of an answer and lifted her eyebrows expectantly when none was forthcoming. “Who is he?”
Stephen looked at her then, cocking his head as he did so. He released her hand, folding his massive arms across his broad chest.
“Does it matter?”
She shrugged, shaking her head. “I suppose not,” she said. “I was just curious, ’tis all.”
“You are also venturing into information that does not concern you.”
Her mouth popped open in surprise at the rebuke but she quickly shut it and averted her gaze. “I am sorry,” she moved around him, continuing their walk. “I was simply making conversation. I was not attempting to extract vital information out of you. And I thought that if perhaps I know this man, I could help you.”
He reached out and grasped her arm before she could get away. It was not a harsh gesture and she came to a halt, still keeping her gaze averted.
“Help me?” he was looking at her even though she was not looking at him. “How on earth would you do that?”
She shook her head, gently but firmly pulling her arm free of his grasp and continuing along their walk. “It does not matter,” she said. “Let us speak no more of it.”
He watched her take a few steps away from him before calling to her. “Jo-Jo,” he commanded softly, firmly.
His tone made her come to a halt and face him. “Aye, husband?”
His blue eyes were glittering, reflecting the magnificent colors of the sunset. Slowly, he closed the distance between them. His eyes remained fixed on her.
“I did not believe you were attempting to extract vital information from me,” he said quietly. “But there are certain things, especially pertaining to my command of Berwick, that do not concern you. It is better that you do not know.”
She gazed up at him openly. “Why? Because I am the daughter of your enemy?”
He almost looked amused. “Nay,” he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Because you are a lovely, delicate woman and things involving war should not trouble you. I would have you worry over things like the evening meal or the latest fashion, not rebels or a burning city. I do not want you to worry over anything serious and deadly.”
“So you would rather have me live in ignorance?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “I would rather protect you. You should not be burdened with the realities of war.”
She watched him kiss her hand gently. She could see that he was being sincere. “Although I appreciate your desire to protect me, the truth is that war is our reality,” she told him softly. “It is what brought us together. It is what constitutes our life. You must not worry about protecting me. I have seen much in life. I understand the realities of it.”
His smile faded. “But that was before you married me. As your husband, I should like to shield you from unsavory things. I do not want you to have a care in this world other than me and our life together. Does that make any sense?”
She put her hand up, touching his freshly shaved cheek. “Of course it does,” she agreed. “But you cannot put me in a glass house for the rest of my life. It is my nature to want to help, to do what I can for you and those I care about. I would feel useless and bored if my only cares were what to prepare for supper or what dress I will wear tomorrow. Will you not let me be a true partner to you and not simply a wife in name and body only?”
He gazed into her pale blue eyes, feeling her sincerity, seeing a stronger, deeper side to this woman he had married. There was a good deal of strength in the petite little body. It made him love her all the more.
“I never thought to have a wife at all much less one who wants to do more than simply carry my name,” he said, kissing her fingers again. “Where should we begin?”
She smiled, rubbing her hand against his smooth cheek. “You can tell me who you have in the vault. If I know him, perhaps I can tell you what I know of him. Perhaps it will help you.”
“You would betray one of your kinsmen?”
“I would help my husband. I told you, my loyalty became yours when we married.”
Time will tell, Stephen thought. But he would give her the benefit of the doubt until she proved otherwise. His heart told him to trust her even if his head was still reluctant.
“Kynan Lott MacKenzie,” he finally said.
Joselyn’s pale blue eyes widened and her mouth popped open again. “Ky?”
“He is your cousin, I believe.”
“How did you know that?” she demanded softly.
“He told me.”
Her mouth was still hanging ag
ape. She was struggling with her surprise. Stephen watched her carefully, analyzing her reaction. An unbridled response would tell him a good deal about the loyalties in her heart; Scots or her English husband. He prayed it was the latter, anything less would devastate him.
Joselyn closed her mouth and blinked away her surprised expression. “Aye, he is my cousin,” she concurred. “His mother and my mother were sisters. I saw much of him as I was growing up.”
She spoke without hesitation or reserve which made him feel better. He did not get the sense she was hiding anything so he moved forward.
“Tell me what you know of him,” he asked.
She tucked her hand into his enormous elbow and, pensively, they resumed their walk. “He is older than me,” she said. “He was my aunt’s only child and a brother of sorts to me.”
He shook his head. “That is not what I meant. I meant tell me what you know of him as a fighting man.”
She shrugged. “All I know is what I heard from my father,” she told him. “Ky commanded about five hundred MacKenzie and McCulloch men who my father used to attack the English on a regular basis. If you know anything about the Clan McCulloch, then you know they are aggressive and without fear. They will attack with rabid fury and were the most aggressive of my father’s men. If I remember correctly, they were at the battle of Halidon.”
His brow furrowed. “How would you know that?”
“I heard my father talking about them.”
Stephen fell silent, digesting what she had told him. Five hundred men. Since the rebels had been quite aggressive since Berwick surrendered to the English, it was possible that Kynan’s men were involved. But MacKenzie had not confessed to that, not even when Stephen had threatened to take his insubordination out on Joselyn. In fact, Kynan hadn’t been particularly helpful with anything. Either the man was particularly clever or he truly didn’t know anything, which Stephen found difficult to believe.
“Do you think he has been leading the rebel attacks?” Joselyn’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
He looked down at her. “It is possible that he has some responsibility for them. But he was bottled up in the vault during the siege yesterday and therefore had no direct involvement in that particular incident.”
Joselyn’s brow furrowed as they made their way to the northeast turret. Stephen could see Ian in the distance, standing tall and lanky near the dark tower, and he was distracted. But Joselyn’s thoughts were still on her cousin, down in the depths of Berwick’s vault. Kynan was no fool. He was a seasoned soldier. Her father had told her that the man was quite cunning.
“Have you asked him what he knows?” she asked.
Stephen’s focus shifted off of Ian and back to Kynan as he thought of the two days of interrogation and the sparse information it had brought forth in spite of their best tactics.
“Aye.”
“Has he told you anything useful?”
“I would not worry about that if I were you.”
It was his way of telling her that it was none of her affair. She had figured that out quickly. But she persisted.
“Would you like me to find out if he knows anything more?” she asked, so soft he barely heard her.
He came to a halt and peered at her as if she had lost her mind. “What?” It was all he could think to say.
She faced him with waning confidence. The look in his eye was not one of agreement. “I asked if you would like for me to find out,” she offered again. “He might tell me things he would not tell you.”
Stephen stared at her a moment before his brow furrowed in disbelief. “Jo-Jo, although I appreciate your offer, my answer is a resounding nay,” he told her, almost sternly. “I would not be so unscrupulous as to use my own wife for subversive means.”
Her mouth twisted with the rejection, thinking on how to explain what it was she was suggesting. “I know you would not,” she said quickly. “You are a wise and moral man. But if there is a chance my cousin will confide in me what he knows about the rebel activities, then will you not at least consider it?”
“No,” he said flatly, noticing that Ian had seen him in the distance and lifted an arm to him. “Come along, I still have rounds to make.”
“Stephen, wait,” she grabbed hold of his arm and dug her heels in. “I am not trying to anger you, truly, but please consider what I am saying. If there is a chance I can get information for you that will save lives, I am willing to do that. Berwick cannot take another siege. She is already shattered.”
He came to a halt but his jaw was ticking faintly as he looked at her. “Sweetheart, I appreciate your offer. I sincerely do. But I will not involve you in things that do not concern you.”
“Do not concern me?” she repeated, incensed. “Of course they concern me. Every time you lift your sword for a battle, it concerns me. Every time an innocent person dies as the result of men who do not know when they are defeated, it concerns me. Many men died as a result of this latest siege. If I can help you prevent another occurrence, you should at least let me try.”
“Is this what you meant by offering to help?”
Her lovely brow scrunched up and she half shrugged, half nodded. “Aye, I suppose it was. I have been offering to help you since practically the hour we were married. This is something I believe I can truly help you with. I know Kynan will talk to me.”
He grunted and turned away from her, unwilling to agree with her. But Joselyn remained fixed in place as he walked away, feeling her anguish rise, unable to fathom why he was being so stubborn.
“Do you not understand, husband?” she called after him. “It is your life I am trying to save.”
Her words were nearly shouted. Stephen came to an unsteady halt, sighed heavily, and turned around to face her. She was about twenty feet away, standing there with tears in her eyes. He could see them. With another sigh, this one of regret, he retraced his steps, watching her wipe away the errant tears before he came too close. He was staunchly, absolutely against what she was suggesting. He did not want her involved in the dirty dealings of war and politics. But her offer was both noble and brave. It impressed him. By the time he reached her, he couldn’t think of anything else to do but reach out and pull her against him. She threw her arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly.
“Jo-Jo,” he muttered into the top of her head, kissing it. “Sweetheart, you are very courageous and selfless to make such an offer. I understand you are trying to help. But I would keep you as far away from war and politics as I can. I do not want you involved in such things. Do you not understand that I am trying to protect you?”
She looked up at him, her pale blue eyes watery. “And do you not understand that I am fearful that the next raid might bring about your death? You are the Guardian Protector of Berwick, Stephen. It would be a great victory for the Scots to kill you and I simply cannot stomach the thought.”
He smiled gently at her. “They are not going to kill me.”
She shook her head and shoved her face into his chest. “You cannot know that. You cannot know the errant arrow or hidden dagger that would claim your life.”
He held her close. “That is true,” he agreed softly. “But I have managed to stay alive for thirty-seven years and have become quite good at it.”
She didn’t like his attempt at humor. “All my life,” she murmured against his tunic. “All my life I have been haunted with sorrow and bad fortune. I never even imagined I would ever marry much less marry a man who has accepted me as I am. I know happiness now that I never dreamed possible.” She lifted her head to look at him. “If I lost you there would be nothing left to live for. I would throw myself from the battlements and never doubt for a moment that it was the right thing to do. I could not live without you by my side.”
The smile had faded from his face as he gazed deep into her pure blue eyes. He gently cupped her face in his enormous hands, studying her, feeling her passion and sincerity that touched him deeply.
“You would
do me a greater honor by continuing to live your life in dignity and wisdom,” he replied. “For everyone to see that Pembury’s wife was a lady of strength and honor would do me the greatest glory. I could ask for no better legacy.”
As he watched, her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled. “I would not want to live without you.”
He kissed her nose. “But you would. I would ask this of you as a fitting tribute to our love.”
“Will you please let me help you?”
“I am deeply appreciative of your offer but again I must decline.”
She began to cry softly and he rocked her gently, cradling her against him. The sun was almost completely down and the city below was alive with cooking fires. He let his gaze settle on the city a moment as he held his wife, immersing himself in her warmth and softness. She was such a sweet, delightful creature and he was very sorry she was upset. But he would not, under any circumstances, grant her request, as difficult as it had been for him to deny her.
Soft footsteps came from behind him and he turned slightly to see Ian standing there, uncertain. The young knight cleared his throat softly.
“My lord,” he said timidly, eyeing Lady Pembury buried in her husband’s arms. “The posts have reported in. Will you hear the information?”
Stephen nodded, preparing to gently release his wife when she suddenly pulled free, turning her back on the men so she could compose herself.
“Go ahead,” she said. “I shall wait here for you and enjoy the views of the city.”
Stephen’s gaze lingered on her. “I will be a brief moment.”
She nodded, wiping at her eyes. As she took a few deep breaths for calm and focused on the city below, Stephen and Ian moved several feet away, locked in quiet discussion. The more they inched away, the more Joselyn inched in the other direction. She kept turning around to glance at her husband to see if he had noticed. He was quite a distance away, listening seriously to Ian’s report. When he turned his back on her completely, Joselyn silently made her way back towards the gatehouse. It did not matter if he had denied her or not. She knew she had to do as she must.
Lasses, Lords, and Lovers: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 15