Ian shook his head. “You canna ken the atrocities he and my brothers committed.”
“Killing your dog?”
“Nay. Worse.”
“Tell me then.” She wanted to understand.
“His dealings with women have left a wake of despair. ’Tis all I shall say.”
Claire stared at the man before her. So tall. So proud. Yet, so full of hurt and anger. He reminded her of herself. She shut her eyes for a moment. She understood his pain as well as her own. They both had difficulties in their past to overcome. She with her hatred of Scots for killing her parents. He with his bitterness over how his family had treated him. Perhaps it was time they both dealt with those hurts and proceeded forward. To heal. To live for today instead of letting the past direct their future.
“Mayhap if you unburden your mind, you will be able to move past your pain and hurt.” She spoke to herself, as much as to him.
Ian pushed his shoulders back. “Enough! You know not what you speak.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the stairwell.
“Ian, wait!” Claire grasped at the wall with her free hand as he hurried down the stairs, dragging her behind. “Ian!”
Once they reached the landing, he tugged her down the corridor and swung her into her room. Without a word, he stormed out, leaving her winded and confused. What had she said? Nothing untoward, to be sure. She hadn’t pressured him to unburden his past, only asked. She hadn’t demanded, only suggested.
Claire moved to the door and shut it, resting her forehead against the rough grain. Marriage to the headstrong Scot was not going to be easy. Verbal jousting with the man was one thing, but his silence? That was altogether not to her liking. She must find a way to heal the rift between them.
Chapter 22
Ian sliced his sword through the air as he strode across the bailey toward the gate. After a fitful night reliving his conversation with Claire, he needed to work out his frustration and figure out a way to rid himself of Niall.
By the saints, had Claire truly suggested he talk about his feelings to move past his hurt? What man wallows in self-pity? What man pours out his sorrows like a maid? Not him. That sort of womanly thinking would be the death of him—or, at least, his manhood.
He left the castle grounds and walked to where Phillip and his men practiced their swordplay outside the castle walls. Low clouds hid the risen sun, and a gray fog blanketed the land in a dusty gray. A fitting tapestry for his mood.
As Ian approached, Phillip met him, sword in hand. “Are you ready for action?” The grin on Phillip’s face spread wide as he brandished his blade.
“I am in need of fierce competition. You will do.”
Phillip shrugged. “I am your only competition here.”
“You are going to wish you weren’t by the time I get through with you.” Sparring with his friend would relieve the tension gripping his body like a vise.
Phillip laughed and lifted his sword. “’Twould seem you are either having troubles with your brother or, as I am wont to believe, your lady.”
Ian swiped his sword horizontal as if to cleave Phillip’s midsection. “Both, if you must know.”
Phillip caught the blow, then swung his own sword high, bringing it down toward Ian’s head. “I thought as much.”
Ian blocked Phillip’s blade, and the two began to spar in earnest. He expended all his strength against Phillip, a skilled warrior—exactly what he needed. He dinna have to think about anything other than his sword and the opponent before him.
After a goodly amount of time, Phillip called cease. Ian thrust his blade into the ground, resting his hand on its hilt.
“Are you in better spirits now?” wheezed Phillip.
“Aye.”
Phillip dropped his sword, placed his hands on his knees, and gasped for breath. “I am happy to assist you.”
“Speaking of assisting, I couldna help but notice you assisting a bonny lass during the festivities last eve.”
Phillip straightened and grinned. “Aye, a bonny lass indeed! Her name is Rhoda.”
“One of the tenant’s daughters?” Ian remembered some of the tenants having older children.
“Aye, a couple of years shy of a score in age. She is a happy sort of woman, not like your she-devil of a bride.”
“I am pleased to report that my bride is softening quite nicely.”
“Truly?” Phillip shook his head. “I’m shocked.”
“So am I, friend. So am I.”
“Riders coming in from the west!” yelled the guard atop the barbican.
Ian heard the pounding of hooves before a group of armed men entered into view. Bardsley, with about five guards. Was he here regarding his injured man or the sheep? Had he come to retaliate?
Phillip picked up his sword and turned to Whitfield’s guards. “Men, line up!” The crew gathered behind Ian, swords at the ready.
Ian squared his shoulders, girding for a fight should the need arise. Bardsley pulled his mount to a stop about twenty paces from him.
“Sir Bardsley, what brings you to Whitfield so early in the day?”
“I believe you are in possession of something that belongs to me.” Bardsley horse pawed the ground.
“I beg to differ.”
“So you admit to taking my sheep?”
Had Bardsley’s injured man not discovered the sheep? “I admit to nothing.”
“Six of my flock are missing,” said Bardsley.
“Perhaps your shepherds lost them? Or an animal caught them?”
“There would have been signs had it been an animal. As for losing them, we searched the land and found nothing. They must be stolen. Though how, I cannot fathom.”
“Feel free to search the bailey. I dinna have anything to hide.” ’Twas a relief he could utter the words with all honesty.
“No need to search. I know where you are hiding my sheep.”
So Bardsley’s man had indeed found the sheep before the boar attacked him. Ian rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. Was Bardsley here for a fight?
Horse hooves echoed in the barbican, and Ian turned his attention toward the gate. Niall and his men rode through. Ian frowned. What was Niall up to?
Claire and Fiona followed close behind Niall.
By the saints! Could his life be any more wearisome? Where were they off to this morn?
“Brother, you have visitors.” Niall pulled up beside Ian.
“This is Sir William Bardsley. Bardsley, my brother, Sir Niall McGowan.” Ian ground his teeth, wishing everyone would disappear and just leave him be.
“And the lovely Maid Claire.” Bardsley smiled and nodded to Claire, who lifted her chin, her countenance that of stone.
Ian clenched the handle of the sword strapped to his side. “Maid Beaumont to you.” Would that he could slash the smile from his neighbor’s face.
“And who might this fair beauty be?” Sir Bardsley smirk was replaced with genuine interest as he looked at Fiona.
“My sister, Lady Shaw,” said Ian.
Fiona nodded, giving Sir Bardsley a smile.
“McGowan, you are fortunate indeed to be surrounded by such beauties as these two.”
“Indeed, I am.” In truth, both Claire and Fiona, while different in coloring, were beautiful women.
“What brings you to Whitfield, Sir Bardsley?” Niall asked.
Bardsley guided his horse a few paces closer to Niall. “Your brother has taken some of my sheep.”
“You were told to pay coin or remove your flock from our land.” Claire’s voice rose over the group.
Saints! His control over the situation was slipping through his fingers. “Bardsley, my lady reminds you of our final demand. You were warned. I suggest you leave.”
“You are outnumbered, Lord Bardsley, and I trust you do not want to come against Scottish warriors of our ilk.” Niall moved his horse forward, but Ian stepped toward him and grabbed at the bridle, forcing it to stop.
By all that is good, Ian would d
eal with this threat himself. Not Claire. Not Niall. “I will repeat my terms. If you continue to run your sheep on my land, I will expect coin to lease the land. If you dinna pay, more sheep will disappear over time as payment. Your decision.”
Bardsley tightened his hold on his reins, and his horse pawed the ground. “I know where you put my sheep, because my man told me their location.”
“A man who was trespassing on my land,” Ian said.
Bardsley gave a nod. “And yet you tended his wounds and safely returned him to me. Indeed, you saved his life.”
“As I would hope you would have done for one of my men.” Ian wished all men practiced such behavior, but many were used to brutal force to get desired results.
“Aye, but the man you saved is not just any man. He is the son of my dead brother and quite important to me.”
“I am thankful to be of aid,” said Ian.
“Because of your generosity toward my nephew, I will honor your terms and begin payment on the use of your land.” Bardsley dismounted and approached Ian, his hand outstretched. “I will send coin on the morrow.”
Ian shook Bardsley’s hand. “I confess I believed you were here to take revenge, not agree to a truce.”
“I like to keep the upper hand at all times, as you will come to learn, even during a truce.”
Ian wasna sure he looked forward to future dealings with Bardsley but gave his neighbor a smile. “Very well. I will return your sheep as well.”
“Nay. Keep the sheep. I’m sure you could use the mutton.”
Ian returned his neighbor’s smile. “Indeed, we could.”
Bardsley mounted his steed and motioned to his men, who followed him out the gate.
Ian breathed deeply. They were not only spared a fight; they had ended the feud over the sheep. The day might turn out better than he had thought. But then, his brother remained, an ever-present thorn in his side. He turned to Niall. “I need no assistance.”
“I was giving you support.”
Claire moved her horse closer to Ian. “Sir Niall and his men lent credence to your threat, though it turned out it wasn’t necessary. ’Twas kind of Niall to offer aid.”
Niall, was it? The use of his brother’s given name sent a thread of unease through him. Turning Claire’s head with pretty compliments and good behavior didn’t bode well for his desire to rid Whitfield of his brother. “Where do you go?”
Claire opened her mouth, but Niall spoke. “I asked Cl—Maid Beaumont—to grant me a glimpse of the land.” He shrugged. “You were busy training and dinna have time.”
“I have time. Wait while I get my horse.” Heat crept up Ian’s neck as he strode to collect his mount. His brother and his betrothed were on a first-name basis. ’Twouldna be untoward once Ian and Claire were married, but after two days? He dinna like their camaraderie.
By the time Ian rode out the gates, Claire, Fiona, and Niall had walked their mounts eastward, with Niall’s guards following behind. Ian galloped to catch up and then slowed once he reached the group.
“What were you wanting to see of Whitfield,” Ian asked Niall.
“All of it.”
Ian wasna about to show Niall the whole of the land. “Very well.” He would lead them through the southern fields and then the pasture, instead of traveling along the boundary lines. No need to reveal how large the land truly was. “Follow me.”
Cutting northeast, Ian led them across the slow-moving river and then through the fields. Claire drew up alongside Ian.
“Ian, why are you—”
“I’m showing him the fields first.” Ian gave a slight shake his head, hoping to deter further questions. He would explain his reason for the shortened tour after their return.
Claire frowned, but said no more. Perhaps she was considering ways to insult him later in private, for she dinna like her plans thwarted or being told what to do. She fell back even with Niall and Fiona. As much as he wished to force his brother away from Claire, he wouldna do so. ’Twould only drive them together even more.
Ian led them past the planting fields to the pasture, riding northward along the river. They came upon Bardsley’s sheep watering at the riverbank. A couple of Ian’s shepherds stood nearby. Ian drew up his steed, and the others followed suit.
Niall drew near to Ian. “This is Bardsley’s flock?”
“Aye.”
“And you were not able to gather your men and force the flock and Bardsley’s men off?”
“You havena seen the size of Bardsley’s garrison. Also, when I first confronted him, I hadn’t acquired the number of guards I employ today.”
“The guards that you have are—”
“In need of training, I ken.”
“But they've improved much under Ian’s tutelage. They will be proficient in short order.” Claire gave Ian a hint of a smile.
Ian was torn between his thankfulness for her praise, and indignation that she felt the need to defend him.
“Ian has always been disciplined and will be a fine leader of men,” said Fiona.
“Aye, no doubt my brother will see his men outfitted as best he can,” said Niall, with a smile aimed at Claire. “His eagerness to improve himself has always been one of his best qualities.”
Ian ignored his brother’s lies. Best qualities, indeed! His brothers had laughed at his attempts in training. He wasna given the opportunity to foster elsewhere, so he had to get his father’s guardsmen to take pity on him and teach him the proper ways to use weaponry. Niall had made sure to put Ian in his place at every turn.
His brother hadna changed. He was still the harsh, domineering man he’d always been, no matter how pretty his manners were in Claire’s presence. Ian urged his horse forward, refusing to continue the conversation. “Let us move on.” He rounded the large flock, and the group followed.
They rode east, crossing the river once more, and cut through the northern fields. Niall drew alongside Ian. “Where are the tenant homes?
Ian had hoped he’d not have to show them the homes. He didn’t want Niall to find out how many tenants he actually had. “They are more north. Still under repair.”
“I would see them.” Niall veered northward and his men followed.
Claire shot Ian a look of surprise, then shrugged as she guided her horse after Niall. Ian wanted to bellow his frustration and force everyone back to the castle so he could continue his work. He watched Claire ride off. Why did she follow Niall instead of staying with him? Whatever the reason, he dinna like it.
Fiona remained at Ian’s side. “You must know that Niall has his eye upon Whitfield.”
“Aye, I knew from the moment I laid eyes upon him outside the gate.” What else could Niall have meant by coming to Whitfield? Not to encourage him, ’twas certain.
“Please, be careful.” Fiona reached over and placed her hand on Ian’s forearm. “He canna be trusted.”
The warmth of Fiona’s hand lightened the heaviness of his burdened heart. Since her arrival, she had been nothing but kind and attentive. Had her God wrought the change in this woman now giving him comfort?
Ian placed a hand over hers. “My thanks, sister. I am well acquainted with Niall’s schemes. I willna let down my guard. Now let us catch up before he whisks my betrothed into his nefarious deeds.”
He kicked his horse’s flanks and gained upon the group, with Fiona close behind. Ian took up the lead. If Niall wanted to view the homes, so be it, but Ian would be in control.
They neared the cluster of houses, and Ian stopped about thirty paces away. The male tenants working on the buildings reminded him of ants scurrying around their queen’s mound. He was impressed by the amount of work accomplished thus far. All the roofs were newly thatched and fresh daubing caked the wattled walls.
Claire drew up next to Ian. “It won’t be long before the tenant families can live here,” she said with a smile.
“You are amenable to emptying the hall of its occupants?” Ian raised a brow, knowing her an
swer before she spoke.
“That I am,” she breathed.
“Even if it means losing help at the keep?” They hadn’t discussed keeping some of the women to serve at the castle. Surely a few extra hands would be desirable.
“I have already taken care of that. The women without children will give me aid. Four in all.” Claire’s face lit with joy, and Ian resisted the temptation to reach out and touch the corner of her mouth where a tiny crease dimpled the skin.
He cleared his throat. “Well done. ’Tis glad I am that you will have help.” Seeing Niall dismount, Ian did the same and escorted Niall toward the buildings.
“You have more tenants than I expected.” Niall opened the wooden door to one of the houses and peeked inside. He closed the door and stepped back to inspect the roof. “With this many tenants you could begin to see a profit in crops after a couple of years.”
“Perhaps, but there are many expenses in purchasing seed and livestock to do the plowing. There is no guarantee crops would grow the first year. It will take a long time, I’m sure.” Ian hoped to temper Niall’s belief in Whitfield’s success.
“But there is much potential.” Niall turned to Claire who, with Fiona, had been following silently behind them. “You’ve quite a grand piece of land here.”
“’Tis, indeed.”
“You’ve done well with it, for I’ve heard it wasna worth anything.”
“’Tis all of your brother’s doing.”
Niall shot Ian a look of surprise. “Pray tell how you managed all of this? How much coin do you have, brother?”
“As I have said before, only enough to repair the homes and a few places inside the castle walls. The money is all but gone.” There was ample for seed and livestock, but Niall need not be privy to that information. “I am as poor as the tenants I house.” That was stretching the truth, but it sounded pitiful enough.
Niall gave a nod, a frown creasing his brow.
What was his brother thinking? He hoped it was to leave and never return. “Have you seen enough?” Ian gestured toward the horses, hoping Niall would take the hint.
“Aye, I believe I have,” said Niall. “I must say, I’m impressed by what I’ve seen.”
His to Keep: A Medieval Romance Page 19