Claimed

by Tarah Scott

  She introduced them and their companions to Duncan, then the four men took their leave. Duncan pulled her from the crowded area near the table to a quiet section of wall near the kitchen. Rhoslyn cast a glance at St. Claire. He’d been sitting at his place at the table, but he now stood, his back to her, talking with Sir Baxter and two guests.

  “Fourteen months, Rhoslyn,” Duncan said in a low voice masked by the revelry. “Have ye lost your mind?”

  She probably had, and Duncan would be the one to point it out. “I lost a husband and child in a fortnight. I am only a woman. It was more than I could bear.”

  He gave her an appraising look. “Are you well? Did that English dog harm ye?”

  She wasn’t sure which ‘English dog’ he referred to, and had the distinct feeling his idea of harm wasn’t the same as hers, but said, “I am well.”

  “I canna’ see how with that devil as your husband.”

  “I am not the first Highland woman to marry an Englishman,” she said.

  “Aye, but that doesna’ make it any less devilish,” he shot back. “God’s Blood, Rhoslyn, anyone would have been a better choice than him. I would have been a better choice.”

  “You?” she blurted.

  “Dinna’ look as if I sprouted horns. I may not be rich, but I managed Alec’s affairs for twenty years. I managed Castle Glenbarr in your absence, and made as handsome a profit as you do. I am as good a man as Alec.”

  No, he wasn’t.

  “Ye never said a word,” she said.

  “How could I when ye ran off without a word. Why did you not tell me you were leaving—at least tell me where ye were going?”

  A serving girl emerged from the kitchen and turned their way. Rhoslyn quieted. She glanced at St. Claire. He stood with two men, his back to her.

  The maid passed, from earshot and Rhoslyn said to Duncan, “I didna’ tell anyone I was leaving.”

  “Except your grandfather.”

  “Of course,” she said peevishly. “If I simply disappeared, he would have turned the countryside over in search of me.”

  Duncan’s mouth thinned. “And you think I didna’ want to do that? I begged him to tell me where you were.”

  Rhoslyn was at a loss. This was insane. She had no idea he felt this way, and wanted to say it wouldn’t have mattered. She wouldn’t have married him, but good sense—and the strange fervor in his eyes—stopped her.

  “It makes no difference. I am married.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Ye almost sound glad.”

  “‘Tis simply the way of kings and men. I had no choice.”

  His gaze turned shrewd. “What would you do if ye could choose?”

  “Sweet Jesu, Duncan. I willna’ torture myself with useless questions.”

  He glanced around, then leaned closer despite the fact the nearest guests stood too far away to hear them speak above the din, and said, “If ye are no’ happy, we can change things. Ye are married but a day. If St. Claire was gone, you could marry another man and no one would know—or care—if a babe was born nine months hence.”

  Rhoslyn realized with horror that he meant. “Are ye saying murder—”

  “For God’s sake, be quiet.” He glanced around, then cupped her elbow and urged her along the wall to the hallway. He stopped after a few paces into the hall and swung her around to face him.

  “Do you want to be rid of him or no’?”

  “Have ye gone mad, Duncan?” But she realized insanity wasn’t the sickness he suffered. “You would kill a man in order to be laird of Castle Glenbarr.”

  His face reddened in rage. “I served Alec faithfully all these years. I have more right than does St. Claire.”

  “More right to be my husband? Or more right to assume Alec’s place, take his land and possessions as your own?”

  “Ye have no reason to accuse me of being a power monger.”

  “Aye, I clearly have every reason, for a man who is willing to murder an innocent man—”

  “Innocent?” he cut in. “St. Claire wasna’ born innocent.”

  Rhoslyn scowled. “Sir Talbot has no’ lifted a hand against even a dog here at Castle Glenbarr. Why do you hate him so? Is it because he is English, or because he took what ye believe is rightfully yours?”

  “Me hate him? Ye are the one who should hate him. He took possession of your home ‘er he met you. He took what was rightfully yours. He has no right to Castle Glenbarr, or any of Alec’s property—you included.”

  Rhoslyn stiffened. Even St. Claire hadn’t treated her as mere property. “You go too far, Duncan.”

  “Do I? Alec coddled ye. Before that, your grandfather.” He gave a harsh laugh. “He still coddles you, letting you run off as he did.”

  “You forget your place. You are no’ my father nor my husband.”

  “Nay, for if I was, ye would not have run wild as you have all your life.”

  “Then I count myself fortunate not to be your wife.”

  “You prefer that English bastard over a Scot?” he snapped “Edward will tax us into poverty. Why do ye think Edward gave him Dunfrey Castle? Edward planned all along to marry him to you.”

  “Sweet God,” she breathed. “Ye are insane. Edward could no’ have known Alec would die. Edward has done what any king would have done by marrying me to one of his own. Our own leaders marry us to the English without thought for what we want—and some have taxed us into near poverty.” A fact she conveniently ignored when she sequestered herself in St. Mary’s. Duncan wasn’t completely wrong on that score.

  “Is that so?” he said. “I wager the men Edward forced to hand over control of their royal castles would no’ agree that he is like any other king.”

  “What are ye talking about?” Rhoslyn demanded.

  “While you were in that convent, the high and mighty King Edward declared himself Lord Parliament of Scotland and, only two months ago, ordered every Scottish royal castle be put under his control. Temporary, he said, but he has yet to return the castles to their rightful owners.”

  Rhoslyn stared, unable to speak.

  “Ye think that was enough?” Duncan went on. “Nay. Every Scottish official is to resign his office and be re-appointed by Edward. Two days later, the Guardians and our leaders swore allegiance to Edward as Lord Parliament of all the Scots. But even that wasna’ enough for the power hungry bastard. Only a month ago, he ordered all Scots to pay homage to him personally or at one of the designated centers. Your grandfather went.”

  “Grandfather?” she whispered.

  Duncan nodded. “Now do ye still think Edward is doing what any other sovereign would do?”

  She could find no reply.

  “He has no right to rule us,” Duncan hissed. “And St. Claire has no right to even a fistful of Scottish soil.”

  The feverish light in his eyes snapped her from her shock. “None of that means I will countenance murder.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Ye would side with St. Claire after everything I just told you?”

  “I will side with honor,” she shot back. “And I will not have you interfere in my business. I warn you, Duncan.”

  His mouth curved upward in disdain. “You pretend to be as hard as a man, but ye are still a woman.”

  “A woman who is capable of killing you. Dinna’ doubt it.”

  He sneered. “What would Alec do if he were here?”

  “He would kill ye for speaking to me this way—cousin or no.”

  “Alec understood the meaning of loyalty.”

  Rhoslyn nodded. “Aye, and you show no loyalty to me or Alec by threating my husband. I warn ye, Duncan, if so much as a hair on St. Claire’s head is harmed, I will not ask any questions. I will kill you. And, in case ye might wonder, my grandfather will bury your remains.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Rhoslyn whirled and hurried from the hallway into the great hall. Her mind raced. Her grandfather had said nothing about swearing fealty to King Edward—or any of the other recent political
changes. He had taken an even greater chance than she’d realized by trying to marry her to Jacobus. If Edward learned that Baron Kinsley had conspired behind his back, he would imprison him.

  She paused, scanned the crowded room, and spotted her grandfather near the small hearth on the left wall where a minstrel played a harp. She brushed through the crowd, but stopped when she came face to face with Lady Davina.

  “Lady Rhoslyn, at last we have a chance to speak with you.” She startled Rhoslyn by pulling her into a hug¸ then drew back and surveyed her. “Ye look drawn. Are you well?”

  Rhoslyn knew what she meant was, ‘What did Dayton St. Claire do to you?’

  She hadn’t missed the looks Davina and other woman had cast her way throughout the evening. The other three ladies in her group murmured their agreement that she looked tired, and Rhoslyn replied, “A wedding and celebration in less than two days is taxing.”

  “‘Tis more than the work.” A knowing light entered Davina’s eyes. “We heard what happened. For a man whose brother is challenging his marriage, Sir Talbot seems oddly at ease.”

  “Lies,” Rhoslyn replied. “If Dayton’s claim had any substance, he would be here under the authority of Edward. Sir Talbot has the written command from his king that he and I are married.” In truth, Rhoslyn was relieved to have gotten St. Claire instead of his brother, but to hear the words from her own mouth tightened the knot in her stomach. She couldn’t, however, let these women see her fear. She shrugged. “Dayton is jealous of his brother and thought to use me as a pawn.” All the truth, and easily deduced.

  “But he was alone with ye for a day,” Davina said.

  Spiteful bitch, Rhoslyn fumed. It wasn’t the villagers who spread malicious rumors, but those of her own social station.

  Rhoslyn frowned as if confused. “What are ye saying, Davina?”

  “I am saying nothing,” she replied. “I understand the way of things. King Edward betrothed you to Sir Talbot, and ye canna’ ignore his command, nor can Sir Talbot. But not everyone knows you as I do. If a child is born nine months from now—”

  “If a child is born nine months from now, that will only prove that St. Claire is a lusty man,” Rhoslyn cut in.

  The other women tittered and Davina lifted her brows. “He is a bonny man. I can well believe he is lusty.”

  A nervous flutter skittered across Rhoslyn’s insides. He was her husband in the eyes of the law and God, and could exercise his husbandly rights anytime he pleased, which meant she would soon learn just how lusty he was. She had known no other man save her husband. And Dayton St. Claire, she realized with a jolt. The weight of his body on hers as he shoved inside her suddenly pressed down on her as it had three days ago.

  “Rhoslyn?” Davina said.

  Davina’s face snapped back into focus.

  “Ye looked as if you were somewhere else.” Davina exchanged a knowing glance with the other ladies. “You were no’ by chance remembering how vigorous your husband is?” Heat flooded Rhoslyn’s cheeks and before she could form a response, Davina added, “In truth, no one will dare gainsay the Dragon’s word, so it will not matter when your babe is born. In fact, the sooner the better.”

  “Dinna’ call him the Dragon,” Rhoslyn snapped, then whirled, the sooner the better ringing in her ears. She steered around a crowd and halted when she nearly collided with Lady Elizabeth Broune. Rhoslyn blinked, startled to see her old friend.

  “Elizabeth,” she blurted.

  “Dinna’ look so pleased to see me,” Elizabeth said.

  Under normal circumstances, Rhoslyn would have been ecstatic to see Elizabeth. But she hadn’t seen her since Dougal’s birth. Aside from her grandfather, Elizabeth was the person who knew her best. There would be no hiding from Elizabeth what had happened with Dayton.

  “I-I am very pleased to see ye,” Rhoslyn said. “I am surprised, is all. What are ye doing in Buchan?”

  “Iain had business. I came so that my son could visit my parents.”

  “Son?” Rhoslyn repeated. A pang of sadness pierced her heart, but she said, “That is wonderful. How old is he?”

  “Almost six months now.” Elizabeth’s expression sobered. “I am sorry about Dougal, Rhoslyn. I never had a chance to tell ye.”

  Leave it to Elizabeth to address a mother’s concern before worrying about being married off by an English king. Might Elizabeth obtain the pennyroyal for her? Elizabeth had been her most trusted friend her entire life. If there was anyone she could trust... Nay. She loved Elizabeth like a sister, but this was a confidence that even a sister might betray.

  A whisper rose from the darkest regions of her mind, She will remind you that you are murdering your baby.

  Elizabeth’s attention shifted past Rhoslyn, and Rhoslyn started when she entwined her arm with Rhoslyn’s. Elizabeth cast her a curious glance, then led her past a group of guests. A serving girl passed and Elizabeth stopped her and took two mugs of wine from her tray.

  She passed one to Rhoslyn, then took a sip of hers before saying, “Why did ye leave without saying goodbye?”

  “Because you were far away up north and I was too grief stricken to think clearly.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “You could have told your grandfather to at least tell me where ye were. I would have written.”

  “I was no’ allowed correspondence. Only my grandfather could communicate with me.”

  Elizabeth dipped her head to take another sip of wine, but not before Rhoslyn caught the hurt in her friend’s eyes. “What would you have done?” Rhoslyn demanded. “Have ye any idea what is it like to lose a husband and a son in a fortnight?”

  “Nay.”

  “Then ye cannot judge me harshly.”

  Wasn’t that what everyone was doing, judging her? Andreana, Duncan, Elizabeth, probably even her grandfather. He must believe if she hadn’t stayed away so long, she wouldn’t now be married to St. Claire.

  “Forgive me,” Elizabeth said. “I didna’ mean it that way.”

  Guilt rolled over Rhoslyn. She’d known Elizabeth her entire life. They’d seldom had more than a childish squabble. Elizabeth was one of the kindest women she knew.

  “What of your new husband?” Elizabeth said. “I have yet to meet him.”

  Rhoslyn shrugged. “He is English.”

  “Is he terrible?”

  Rhoslyn looked toward the head of the table, where St. Claire and Baxter sat in conversation. “See for yourself.” She nodded in his direction.

  Elizabeth turned. “Sweet Jesu. He is very large and very...handsome.”

  Frustration pricked. “So everyone keeps saying.”

  Elizabeth’s attention returned to her. “Is he cruel?”

  Rhoslyn barked a laugh. “Do ye call kidnapping cruel?”

  “Are you speaking of his brother?” She laid a hand on Rhoslyn’s arm. “Did he harm you?”

  “I am well,” she said too quickly.

  It seemed as if Elizabeth would comment, but to Rhoslyn’s relief, she nodded.

  “I must speak with my grandfather,” Rhoslyn said.

  The hurt returned to Elizabeth’s eyes. “Mayhap we can talk tomorrow? I will be here for another week. ‘Tis fortunate I was here. I would no’ have known of your wedding celebration, otherwise.”

  “I told St. Claire there was little time for anyone to attend, but he was determined to hold the celebration immediately.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Men do like to have their way.”

  “Some more than others,” Rhoslyn muttered.

  Elizabeth frowned. “What has he done, Rhoslyn?”

  “Nothing.” And it was true. He’d done nothing—nothing terrible, that was. Aside from waylaying her when she’d fled the convent, he had been kind and even caring. She would rather he had been someone she could dislike. Someone like his brother, perhaps. A chill crept up her spine. Nay, not like Dayton. There was a difference in disliking a man and hating one.

  “I must speak with my grandfather. It was good to se
e ye, Elizabeth.” Rhoslyn turned and pushed through the guests milling about the middle of the room. Her grandfather still stood where she’d last seen him. When she reached his side, he stopped talking and turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

  She greeted his companions, then said to him, “Have ye a minute to speak with me?”

  “Aye.” He nodded to the men and they left.

  Rhoslyn drew him to the other side of the hearth, a little ways away from the musicians. With the music playing and the laughter and gaiety surrounding them, there was little chance of being overheard.

  She leaned close and said, “You didna’ tell me that ye swore fealty to King Edward a month ago.”

  He shrugged. “So?”

  “If he discovers you defied him, you will end up in an English prison.”

  Her grandfather snorted. “I did not succeed. He will warn me no’ to try such a thing again.”

  “What better reason to seize your wealth than because ye disobeyed a royal command?” She shook her head. “And you call me naive.”

  He released a heavy sigh. “Leave it be, Rhoslyn. What is done is done. I would have done it one way or another. I did no’ want ye to marry St. Claire.”

  “Ye certainly have accepted him,” she said.

  “Fate favored him. At the very least, he does protect his own, and ye are his. I can hope for the best.”

  “The best?” she repeated. “Has Edward returned ownership of Banmore Castle to ye?”

  “Aye. As well as all my other estates.”

  “What of our nobles? Duncan told me Edward has yet to return ownership of their castles.”

  “That is true of many,” he replied. “But Edward married you to St. Claire, and it was good business for him to ingratiate himself into my graces.”

  “He is only grabbing power.”

  “Aye, as are Bruce and Wallace.”

  “But they want power for Scotland.’

  “And themselves,” he said. She opened her mouth to rebut, but he stopped her. “Aye, they are our nobles and have Scotland’s interest at heart, certainly more than Edward. But they are working hand in hand with him. They fought amongst themselves like children. Someone had to step in and bring order. He made more progress in these last months than our leaders have in a year.”