The Bride Quest II Boxed Set

by Claire Delacroix

  Duncan’s lips quirked. “I think you will have few complaints of the gifts brought from the King of the Isles in recompense. Eglantine, for the love of God, trust me in this and make this pledge now.”

  He was so determined that Eglantine wondered what was at stake. She might have asked, but the tall man of regal bearing halted at Duncan’s side. His hair was a ruddy gold, his features lined, his flesh tanned. He looked to be forty summers of age, and his cold gaze flicked assessingly over Eglantine.

  Duncan gave her a sharp look, then took her hand, as though she were garbed in her finest. Gael rolled from his tongue, her own name and the appellation “countess” clear enough to Eglantine’s ears.

  The king took Eglantine’s hand and kissed its back with so cursory a gesture that she shivered. His gaze roved over their manor and his lips thinned.

  What was amiss?

  “My lady,” Louis croaked, his voice nigh indistinguishable. He hastened toward her, his progress impeded by a large matronly woman who seemed determined to enforce him to move slowly. Louis shook her off with an effort and waved to Eglantine. “My lady, I must have a word with you.”

  The king made another comment to Duncan, then snapped his fingers imperiously.

  “My lord king would have us make the pledge now,” Duncan informed her.

  “But I would speak with Louis....”

  “After, Eglantine. ’Twill take but a moment.” That light was in Duncan’s eyes again and Eglantine had a sense that she should not be so biddable in this.

  She looked to Louis who made great haste toward her. “You have but to agree, my lady!” he called hoarsely and the king’s head turned sharply.

  A crisp command fell from his lips and Louis’ progress was restrained. “Duncan, what is awry? What is the import of this?”

  Duncan glared at her anew, and gave her fingers a squeeze as he spoke through his teeth. “Eglantine, for the love of God, simply do this thing.”

  Something was sorely wrong. Duncan folded her hand within his and matched his step to the long strides of the king. Eglantine tried to extricate her hand from Duncan’s grip. His fingers would not be moved, though his grip was deceptively gentle.

  She watched as a matron pounced upon Louis, then held a wineskin to his lips. The two argued heatedly, then Louis rolled his eyes and took a swig of her offering as though he would be rid of her. He grimaced and coughed, doubling over with his efforts.

  Then Duncan tugged her around and Eglantine realized she stood with him before that great sentinel stone. Duncan took her right hand in his right hand, his left enfolding her left. The warmth of his touch coursed through her and she found herself staring into his eyes. His expression was resolute and so somber that she wondered anew at the import of this pledge. They faced each other, the king beside them, the household and king’s party gathered around.

  ’Twas a most odd pose for agreeing to a treaty.

  Eglantine opened her mouth to protest but the king began to speak and even though his was another tongue, she had been too well-bred to interrupt a monarch. He intoned a short pledge in Gael which Duncan repeated, his intense gaze burning into her own. Duncan squeezed her hands when ’twas her turn as though he would compel the words to fall from her lips.

  Eglantine hesitated.

  “Trust me,” Duncan mouthed silently.

  Eglantine might have chosen not to do so, but a trio of the king’s men took obvious note of her hesitation. They elbowed each other, one drawing his blade from its scabbard with undisguised delight. Eglantine looked to Duncan in horror, and noted anew the grim set of his lips. His grip was so tight on her fingers that turned numb, the force of his will undeniable.

  The king repeated the words, impatience tinging his tone and Eglantine made her choice. What power indeed could these few words hold? She swallowed, then repeated the pledge more haltingly.

  ’Twas only when the last word crossed her lips that the tension left Duncan’s features. He smiled down at her, evidently happy with whatever they had wrought, then to her astonishment bent and kissed her soundly.

  The king hooted loud, as did all of the recently arrived company, the fervor of Duncan’s embrace driving all else from Eglantine’s thoughts. This was no chaste touch to seal an agreement, this was a kiss more fitting of nuptials.

  Nuptials!

  ’Twas then that Eglantine remembered where she had heard that length of time dictated afore. Theobald’s letter spoke of Kinbeath being perceived as lucky for handfastings, a kind of heathen marital pledge lasting for a year and a day. God in heaven, it could be no coincidence.

  She pulled herself from Duncan’s embrace and glared at him. “Tell me that was not a handfasting pledge,” she demanded.

  “I cannot do so,” he admitted, his eyes narrowing. “For that is what ’twas, but Eglantine...”

  “You wretched cur!” she cried and pushed Duncan so suddenly that he was not prepared for her assault. The company laughed, though whether ’twas at her or Duncan, she did not care. Eglantine pushed him again, knowing full well she could not hurt him, but frustrated beyond compare.

  It helped naught that Duncan chuckled for the king. “A feisty bride, my lord king. She is naught but spirited.” He repeated the claim in Gael.

  The king replied coldly.

  Duncan roared too genially for the circumstance. He caught Eglantine against him and kissed her hard, lifting his head only for a moment. “Trust me, Eglantine, and cease your fighting for the sake of the greater good,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

  He would have kissed her again, no doubt to silence her, but Eglantine was infuriated by his audacity. She swung at him and again, forcing him to back away from her, his hands raised before himself.

  Still he tried to make light of her anger, jesting with the king, a response that did naught to win Eglantine’s cooperation.

  “Eglantine, perhaps you recall that ’twas your own idea to see our competing claims for Kinbeath settled with marriage.”

  “Oh! ’Twas my idea that you would wed Alienor, you vexing creature!” she cried and gave him a hearty shove. Duncan’s smile faded as he lost his footing. He teetered for a moment on the lip of the cliff though Eglantine knew she had not pushed him so hard as that.

  He began to fall and she snatched for him instinctively. His grin flashed briefly, telling her she had done precisely what he expected, then he caught her around the waist. She had the definite sense that he jumped from the lip of the cliff. Though ’twas not far to the water, Eglantine was no swimmer and would have screamed, but Duncan kissed her soundly as they fell.

  The water was cursed cold, the pool beside the point remarkably still. Eglantine came up sputtering. ’Twas shallow enough that she could stand and not so far a fall that either of them were hurt. Duncan surfaced not far from her, cast a glance over her and grinned wickedly.

  “There is naught to heat a man’s blood like a woman of spirit,” he cried, his cheerful words infuriating Eglantine. His yellow linen shirt clung to his flesh so lovingly that naught was left to her imagination, his muscles rippled as he closed the distance between them once more.

  “You wretched creature!” She grabbed a fistful of his hair and shoved his head under the surface so quickly that he sputtered in turn. “I cannot believe you would so deceive me as this!” The company laughed, but Duncan broke the surface with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

  Eglantine’s breath caught at the gleam of purpose in his eyes and she took a wary step back.

  Duncan shook the water from his hair, then appraised her slowly. “Are you cold, my Eglantine, or is your passion borne of something other than anger?” He reached and flicked a fingertip across her tightened nipple, his bold move before the entire company shocking her no less than his words. “Aye, she is willing enough!” he roared.

  Eglantine might have shoved him anew, but he caught her in his arms, the warm strength of him pressing against her from head to toe. Eglantine cursed her own traitorous
pulse for leaping at his touch.

  “I bade you trust me,” he growled for her ears alone.

  “Aye and where has it gotten me? In the midst of a pagan marriage, which mercifully is of no import in the eyes of God or the law.” She wriggled against him, which did naught but make her more aware of his lean strength. “I decry this match before ’tis begun...”

  His eyes flashed. The company roared as Duncan swung one leg behind her knees. Eglantine fell with a whoop and a splash, taking a mouthful of seawater even as Duncan tumbled with her.

  “How dare you?” she cried when she could.

  “How else am I to silence you?” he growled and wrestled when she might have fled. They both tumbled into the water once more.

  And when they came to the surface again, Eglantine found Duncan’s hand warm over her mouth. He sheltered her from the view of the company above, his eyes gleaming but a hand span from her own.

  “Now, listen Eglantine, and listen well. Dugall desires Ceinn-beithe secured as his own and meant to seize it with bloodshed. He has nigh a hundred men with him to make good his claim and he will kill all to see the matter done.”

  Eglantine’s eyes widened in horror, though Duncan continued to speak with low heat.

  “But I insisted there was another way, that I would handfast to you and we would both pledge all of Ceinn-beithe to him to secure his hegemony thus.”

  “You deceived me,” she charged through his fingers. Her words were muddled but he evidently guessed what she said.

  “Aye, for the greater good. I but thought to save the hides of you, your daughters and your vassals. All has nearly come untangled thanks to your quick tongue.” He shook his head, as though sorely burdened with the trial of her. “I knew you would decline, but also knew there would be no chance to discuss the matter.” His eyes flashed. “I should have guessed you would not merely put your trust in me.”

  “There is no reason for me to trust in you.” She pulled his hand away yet kept her own voice low.

  “Would you see your vassals slaughtered this very day?”

  “You know I would not.” She was in a corner and Eglantine knew it well. She did not have to like it, nor did she have to readily agree with the man who had squarely placed her there. If only his touch did not addle her thoughts so!

  If only she knew for certain whether he was guilty of destroying the stores and taking Alienor’s maidenhead.

  “Then do this thing. And feign some delight in the deed.”

  “’Tis but a temporary solution,” she complained. “In a year and a day, we shall be in the same predicament. What difference if your king takes his toll now or then?”

  “There is enormous difference and you know it well,” Duncan snapped. “All could change in a year—this king could be overthrown, you could decide against occupying Kinbeath, William could come to your aid.”

  He paused significantly and Eglantine’s gaze raised to meet his. His eyes had darkened to a stormy hue and his voice dropped low. “Or you and I might truly make a match of this.”

  A gull cried as she stared up at him and Eglantine nigh forgot all on the cliff above who watched them avidly. There was naught but Duncan, his conviction, his darkened gaze. Her heart began to thrum and she desperately wanted to believe in him.

  Even though Eglantine knew that she was not destined for the kind of loving marriage she desired for her daughters, Duncan had the power to tempt her faith.

  Duncan smiled crookedly and heaved a sigh as though he were sorely tried. “Now, use the wits with which you have been blessed, Eglantine, and make your choice before ’tis too late.”

  Aye, she would use her wits and remember her doubts. She would save her vassals, but cede no more than the pledge she had already made. Indeed, she had little choice but to agree with him.

  But she would never be fool enough to love Duncan MacLaren.

  Eglantine smiled slowly and twined her arms around Duncan’s neck. His eyes narrowed, as though he knew not what to expect from her, and Eglantine laughed in complete understanding of that sense. She pitched her voice so that it would carry to those above, yet low enough to sound intimate.

  “Ah, Duncan, forgive my anger,” she declared. “But what woman would not be vexed to have to wait all these days and nights for you?” She heard Duncan catch his breath before she arched against him and kissed him boldly.

  He hesitated but a moment before he caught her close and Eglantine sighed with satisfaction, her fingers tangling in his hair as he returned her embrace.

  God in heaven, but she had missed at least his kiss.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Duncan did not know precisely what he had said to persuade Eglantine and he did not care. He was too startled that she had agreed—’twas unlike the lady to readily reconcile herself to his will.

  It could only be a good portent. Eglantine was his woman—at least for a year and a day. And in that year and a day, he would woo her and win her, Duncan knew it to be so.

  For a fortnight from her side had done naught to diminish Eglantine’s appeal. Duncan had known the truth of it the first moment he spied her on that roof, and his heart pounded fit to burst.

  He had seen naught but Eglantine, slender, strong and struck by sunlight, her lips parted in surprise. She was tanned and glowing, more hale and more beautiful than he had recalled. There had been something in the depths of her emerald eyes when he halted below her, some measure of delight that persuaded Duncan that he did not love alone.

  Aye, Duncan was smitten for the first time in all his days and could have imagined naught better. Eglantine had agreed, and now she kissed him as though she would suck the very marrow from his bones.

  Duncan caught Eglantine around the waist and held her close, loving how her tongue tangled with his and her heart pounded against his own. If not for the catcalls from the men above, he might have forgotten their audience and sampled the lady’s charms without delay.

  Instead he reluctantly lifted his head, smiling at the flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. She smiled back at him, and his pulse leapt.

  “Did I feign interest well enough?” she whispered. Her eyes sparkled with a rare mischief that tempted Duncan to cast her over his shoulder and make for privacy.

  Instead, he cupped her chin in his hand and let his thumb slide over the fullness of her bottom lip. “Surely, ’tis not completely feigned?” he murmured. He brushed his lips across hers and she shivered in a most satisfactory way, then pushed away from him and averted her face, no doubt deliberately veiling her response.

  “’Tis cold,” she said, replacing playfulness with her usual reserve. “We should seek warmer garb before we fall ill.”

  Duncan caught at her hand and pulled her back against him, not liking her retreat. “Do not flee from me, Eglantine. I would have honesty between us, if naught else.”

  “And what is honest in the beginning of this?” she charged.

  “What is here.” Duncan tapped his heart. “’Twas you who said that one only finds treasures when they are sought no longer. Grant me the year and a day in honesty, Eglantine, this is all I ask of you.”

  She hesitated and his hopes plummeted, but still he argued his own case. “A man’s worth is in his deeds and I will prove my worth to you. Already I vowed to woo you and would take this handfast to do as much. I will find men for your daughters, Eglantine, men befitting your standards.”

  Duncan swallowed, his gaze locking with hers. “And aye or nay, my Eglantine, will always remain with you. I will take naught that you do not willingly offer, upon that you already have my solemn oath.”

  She studied him in silence, then averted her face. “Truly, Duncan, I would expect naught less.” She turned to make for the shore, her sodden kirtle hampering her progress so that Duncan easily caught up with her. He scooped her into his arms, to hearty approval from Dugall’s men, and strode for the shore.

  “You should not do this,” she protested, but Duncan cast her
a confident grin.

  “I but feign interest as you do,” he teased, intrigued when a blush stained her cheeks.

  “I do this for my vassals and their survival,” she said crisply, though she draped an arm around his neck, no doubt for the benefit of those who watched. She smiled up at him, though her tone was chilly. “You had best recall the truth of it.”

  “You protest overmuch, my Eglantine. This course is not without advantage to you and me.”

  She flushed scarlet and seemed again at a loss for words.

  “Honesty, Eglantine,” he murmured. “’Tis the least that should be between us for this time.”

  She heaved a sigh, finding her footing as he set her down, though he stubbornly kept his arm around her waist. They climbed the last of the rocks together, her hand clasped in his, and Duncan saw the assembly surging forward to congratulate them.

  In the last moment they might not be overheard, the lady slanted him an intent glance, then nodded once. “You speak aright in this, Duncan. And in truth, I do not feign pleasure beneath your touch.” She held his gaze steadily as Duncan’s heart nigh stopped. “I desire you, as you desire me, though there is naught but lust at root of it.”

  Eglantine desired him!

  “But desire is not enough. I will not couple with you, regardless of whether your king expects it, regardless of whether your own desire demands it. I choose nay, Duncan, for the sake of the issues between us. You had best reconcile yourself to that.” She watched him absorb this news, then turned to greet the company.

  Issues. Duncan blinked as he named them all. He would see Iain admit his crime and apologize, though he could not imagine how ’twould be done. And Alienor, the gods only knew how the truth could be had from that creature. He wished he might guess what had happened to that deed.

  For somehow, Duncan had to persuade Eglantine of his innocence. She required proof and he would find it for her.

  Her daughter Jacqueline fell upon her then, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks pinkening as she glanced from her mother to Duncan. “Oh, congratulations, Maman!”

  The girl, whom Duncan had not yet met, hugged Eglantine with enthusiasm and evident delight. She curtsied deeply when introduced to Duncan and blushed furiously when he kissed the back of her hand.