Submit to the Warrior

by March, Tatiana

  ‘Aye.’ He nodded, his head moving against the pillow. ‘I could die.’ His eyes sought hers. ‘It would ease the sorrow of parting if I knew that you’re carrying my son.’

  The frown on Lady Morag’s face eased, replaced by a hesitant smile. ‘I think so, but it is too soon to know for certain.’

  In his chest, a strange pressure expanded. The sight of his wife always brought a breathless feeling upon his senses, but the thought of her heavy with his babe...’I’ll leave William behind,’ he told her gruffly. ‘You can send a message with him when you know for certain.’ He rolled over on the feather bed, taking her with him, shifting their positions, so that his body covered hers. ‘Death will be easier to face if I know I’m leaving a new life behind.’

  One more time, he made love to his wife, lingering and gentle, wishing to leave her with a tender memory of him, in case he never came back and bedded her again.

  * * *

  Morag stared up at William, who sat straight and proud on a gray warhorse. ‘God be with you,’ she said, and blinked away the tears. ‘Tell Navarro that he must vanquish the English in time to get back to see his son born.’

  ‘I’ll tell him.’ Excitement glittered in William’s eyes. He signaled to the two village lads who had trained as men-at-arms so they could join him. All three touched their heels to the flanks of their horses and rode out of the bailey in an orderly procession.

  Morag watched them go. A faint smile touched her lips at how willingly she played along with her husband’s conviction that the child growing inside her would be male. She didn’t care. If Navarro lived, she could give him more children, and if he perished in battle, he would accept death more easily if he believed that he had sired an heir.

  Sometimes, worry niggled inside Morag over the passion with which Navarro embraced his position as the laird. She sympathized with the plight of his birth. Navarro had grown up a bastard, despised by those around him, but a longing filled Morag to be assured that he valued her for her own sake, not just for the lands she brought or the sons she could bear.

  For once, she would have liked to hear the words.

  How difficult could it be for a man to say I love you to his wife?

  * * *

  The spring had melted the snows, turning the roads into muddy tracks. Morag and Alice rode into Edinburgh along the High Street, an escort of four men-at-arms protecting them. Stinking heaps of trash by the roadside forced the travelers into the middle, where bustling markets blocked their way. The cries of hawkers praising their wares rang through the air. Already populated by ten thousand people, the city was growing at an alarming rate. While Morag guided her horse through the throng, she admired the wooden homes, some of which even had glass in the windows.

  A week ago, a parchment had been delivered by a royal messenger, calling her to appear in front of the Court of Parliament in Edinburgh alongside her husband. The summons had stated no reason. Stenholm had never gone. An Act of Parliament allowed the barons in each sheriffdom to appoint two representatives to attend on their behalf, and most preferred to remain absent.

  The only explanation Morag could think of was that King James planned to bestow a new title on Navarro, perhaps give him more lands and erect them into an earldom. News had reached Stenholm Castle about Navarro’s feats in building an army for the king for the oncoming battles against the English.

  Pride soared inside her at the prospect of witnessing her husband honored in public. Even with her pregnancy already showing and adding to the discomfort of the journey, she longed to share the occasion with him, to seize a few private moments with him.

  Upon inquiry at the Tolbooth, where the Parliament conducted the Court of Sessions, Morag was instructed to send her escort ahead to Edinburgh Castle. The suspicious glint in the eyes of the haughty Lord of Parliament to whom she spoke sent worry churning through her stomach, already unsettled after bouncing four days on horseback and eating poor food in the taverns that had provided shelter overnight.

  ‘Is my husband at the castle?’ she asked.

  ‘He’ll be at the court tomorrow morning.’

  Worry knotted inside her at the man’s terse manner. She must have been wrong in her assumption that her presence had been requested as part of the festivities to honor Navarro.

  ‘And today?’ she asked. ‘Where is my husband now?’

  ‘It is the instruction of the court not to allow you to speak to him.’

  Her sense of alarm intensified. ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ll find out tomorrow.’ The Lord of Parliament ushered her out, into the care of a waiting knight. Her taciturn guide, a lean man of advanced years, led her into Edinburgh Castle, where a guest solar had been prepared. Alice wasn’t allowed to follow her, but had to join the ladies-in-waiting in the drawing room.

  ‘My servants?’ Morag called out after the departing knight.

  ‘They’ll be provided with food and somewhere to sleep.’

  The door slammed shut, and Morag heard the key turning in the lock.

  She was a prisoner.

  * * *

  Morag stood on one side of the vast room with a high ceiling. Morning light filtered in through the narrow windows that punctuated the walls. She had lain awake all night, and the lack of sleep stung like grit in her eyes. On the way in, the forbidding gray stone facade and the soaring tower of the Tolbooth had made her shiver with dread, her legs barely steady enough to carry her into the building.

  Two knights had accompanied her on the walk from the castle, and now they flanked her like a pair of sentries. She scanned the rows of curious faces on the opposite side of the room but found no one familiar. Before her betrothal to Angus Stenholm, she hadn’t moved in such elevated circles, and during the three years of her married life, the physical signs of violence on her body had prevented her from appearing in public.

  The clatter of footsteps alerted Morag to newcomers and she craned her neck to look. Her heart slammed painfully in her chest as Navarro strode in, guarded by two more of the king’s household knights. His hair hung unwashed to his shoulders and, from his careless attire, Morag knew he’d been called away from the training field.

  He caught sight of her and raised his brows in question. Baffled, Morag shook her head. She followed her husband with yearning eyes as he was escorted past her to stand farther along to the right. Fear flexed its sharp claws in her belly at the realization that he had no more idea than she did of what the hearing was about.

  Another commotion at the entrance drew her eyes. As Morag surveyed the new arrivals, a cry of terror left her mouth, soaring into the ceiling.

  It couldn’t be.

  William had seen Stenholm fall to his death, and the servants had buried him in the frozen ground. As evil as the laird might have been, no man possessed more than one life. He couldn’t have come back. Morag stared at the shiny fair hair and the pair of cool green eyes, and an icy trembling seized her body

  Stenholm. Her monstrous husband.

  Fear stole her breath. Had she unwittingly committed adultery, a crime so severe that many clergymen were campaigning to make it punishable by death? Was Navarro not her lawful husband? What would become of her, and her child, if Stenholm lived?

  The Lords of Parliament marched into the room, the two most senior ones settling behind a raised dais. An official rose and shouted out a command for silence. The crowd hushed, and the official chanted, ‘Olaf Stenholm, state your complaint.’
/>
  Olaf?

  Relief flooded every bone in Morag’s body. She recalled the mention of a younger brother, banished from the Stenholm estates many years ago after a family feud.

  Not adultery. A complaint from Stenholm’s brother.

  The man with the fair hair directed an angry look at her. ‘I demand that the marriage of my brother to Morag Anderson be annulled, and the Stenholm lairdship returned to me as the legal heir.’

  Startled murmurs rippled around the room. A dull pounding filled Morag’s ears. She realized it was the sound of her own blood hammering at her temples. How could this be happening? Even from the grave, her tormentor had found a way to destroy her happiness. Navarro had married her for her lands. Without them, the powerful knight would have had no interest in taking her for his wife.

  The Lord President leaned forward to address the complainant. ‘What are your grounds for the annulment of her marriage to Stenholm?’ he asked in a formal, booming tone. ‘She was old enough to be wed, and there is no question of a blood relationship between the spouses.’ Sweeping a haughty glance over the audience, the tall, gaunt man added, ‘Was one of them insane at the time of marriage, married or betrothed to another, or did they not consummate the marriage? No other grounds can be considered.’

  ‘I have reason to believe the marriage was never consummated.’ Stenholm continued to stare at her, and with a start Morag realized his gaze prodded her middle, not her face. ‘My brother had a preference for men,’ Olaf Stenholm continued. ‘Years ago, I demanded that he should be disinherited and the estates given to me, since he couldn’t produce an heir, but instead of listening to the truth, my father chose to banish me.’

  He gestured at Morag. ‘When my brother married a slim woman and made her dress like a boy, I assumed he’d found a way to overcome his affliction. When no Stenholm heir was born, he claimed his wife was barren. Now that she has remarried, the evidence reveals his claim to be a lie. She is carrying a child for another man.’

  Instinctively, Morag pressed her palms to her belly as if to protect the new life within. In her confused thoughts, she could no longer see where the greatest threat came from—Olaf Stenholm, the Lords of Parliament, or the prospect that Navarro might abandon her. Nothing in her experience gave any guidance to how she might fight the dark currents that swirled around her in the room full of suspicious strangers.

  The Lord Justice Clerk scribbled down a note, while the Lord President turned to Morag. ‘Are you with child?’ He gave her a warning glare. ‘Speak the truth. If I doubt your word, I can order a physical examination.’

  ‘Aye,’ Morag said. She raised her voice. ‘I am with child.’

  ‘And is the accusation that your marriage to Stenholm was never consummated true?’

  Her mind froze. Mortal danger opened up like a chasm before her.

  Hell on earth or hell ever after?

  If she told the truth, she would lose her inheritance and could no longer give Navarro the estates he coveted. He would be tied to her for the rest of his days, never able to fulfill his ambition of possessing lands. How would he react to being deprived? Would he blame her? Turn against her? Gain his revenge through humiliation and cruelty? Might he even conspire to hasten her death so he could marry another woman who could provide him with the wealth and position he desired?

  If she lied, said her first marriage had been consummated, the Stenholm estates would be hers to bring into the marriage. She could give Navarro what he wanted. She could protect her earthly happiness by pretending that her marriage to Stenholm had been real, but in doing so she would forfeit her immortal soul. And, if the untruth were ever discovered, she might suffer a terrible punishment, most likely death by hanging.

  Morag swallowed. Her devout soul abhorred deceit, but her love for Navarro tugged at her like an unstoppable force. She had to lie. She couldn’t strip the man she loved of what he so desperately wished for, whatever the cost might be to her.

  She stole a glance to her right. Navarro stood with his shoulders rigid, his face a scowling mask of anger. Morag watched as he swept his gaze over the Lords of Parliament before turning to face her. His gray eyes burned so fierce that Morag could feel his fury from a few steps away. Her heart shriveled at the prospect that he would take his rage out on her, the way Stenholm had done.

  Morag raised her chin and prepared to speak. Such deep turmoil filled her mind that she couldn’t be certain the lie would form on her tongue the way she intended to.

  In the same instant, Navarro took a step forward. ‘She came to me untouched.’ His voice rang around the room, strong and firm. ‘I’m the only true husband she has ever known, and the child she carries is mine.’

  Morag gasped. Why had he not allowed her to lie? With a painful jolt, her heart raced back to life, her hands clenching to fists at her sides.

  Navarro had publicly declared that her marriage to Stenholm had never been. That meant she came to him without lands, without a dowry or inheritance, and yet he had claimed her and her child as if nothing between them had altered.

  Hope fluttered inside her, but she sought to contain the emotion as confusion robbed her of clear thought. She did not dare to believe, could not allow dreams of a safe future that might disappear again in the next words spoken.

  ‘Do you understand what this means?’ the Lord President of the Court asked Navarro. ‘If her marriage to Stenholm is annulled, Morag Anderson has no right to the Stenholm properties.’

  Navarro gave a calm nod. ‘Aye.’

  ‘Despite her changed circumstances, your marriage to her can’t be annulled. There are no grounds to consider.’

  ‘I don’t wish my marriage to be annulled. I am her husband. She is my wife, and she is carrying our son.’ Navarro pushed past the Lords of Parliament who separated them and came to stand beside Morag. He placed one arm around her shoulders and leaned down to press his hand on the slight curve of her belly. ‘Don’t fear, my love.’ He didn’t bother to lower his voice. ‘I can look after you. We may not be rich, but we won’t starve.’

  ‘You don’t mind about the lands?’ She contemplated him with fervent hope. ‘They seemed to matter so much to you.’

  ‘Aye. They did. But not as much as you.’ He reached out to touch her hair, now long enough to be gathered into a golden net decorated with pearls. ‘I’ve had some time to think, and it has weighed on my mind that I never told you what a man should tell his wife when he heads out to the battlefield from where he might not return.’

  ‘What?’ Morag tilted her face up to him.

  He leaned closer and murmured the words into her ear. ‘That I love you.’

  A touch of madness welled up in Morag’s chest as her mind flashed back to her irritated thoughts from a week ago. How difficult can it be for a husband to tell his wife that he loves her? In Navarro’s case, it had taken the Court of Parliament and having his titles and lands stripped away from him.

  ‘I love you too,’ she said, and sagged against him in relief.

  Chapter Six

  Spring sun shone from blue sky above Edinburgh Castle. Morag curled up beneath a linen sheet in the small solar, watching a sparrow peck at the crumbs she had scattered on the stone sill last night. Navarro had offered to use his influence to get them a better room, but she had not wanted to waste the time.

  His arm around her waist tightened, the sleeve of his rough doublet scraping against the side of her bare breast. ‘Are you
warm enough?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’ She exhaled an impatient sigh. ‘Why are they taking so long?’

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘Not really.’ She wiggled her buttocks against him.

  ‘To hell with food.’ Navarro jumped up and began to shed the clothes he’d kept on while they waited for a servant to deliver bread and cheese and a selection of cold meats. ‘Time is too short.’ Naked, he burrowed back beneath the covers and leaned over her.

  Eager to make the most of the few hours before Navarro had to leave in the early afternoon, they had rushed from the hearing at the Tolbooth to the castle. With some notion that pregnant women should not skip meals, her husband had insisted that they eat before doing anything else.

  She did not mind.

  To lie in the warm shelter of his body was enough.

  To be with him was more riches than the finest castle, and all the silk and lace and velvet in the world. Elation soared in Morag’s mind. He loved her, not only to speak out the words, but to declare in front of the highest court of Scotland that Stenholm had never possessed her body, had never made her his wife. Even at the cost of forfeiting the lands he coveted, Navarro had wanted the truth to be known, his union with her to be publicly confirmed. And yet, to know that he’d been robbed of his dream cast a shadow over her happiness.

  ‘I’m sorry about the loss of the Stenholm estates.’ She spoke softly, her lashes lowered to hide her concern. ‘I know how much you yearned for lands of your own.’

  He braced up on one elbow, and she could feel the heat of his gaze on her. ‘I wanted lands, but it was more. I wanted to belong. To have a home. Somewhere to return to from the battlefield, something to recall amidst all the bloodshed. Something to stay alive for.’ He lifted his hand and traced her features with one fingertip. ‘I realize now it wasn’t lands I needed. I needed a family. When a man takes a wife, he belongs to her for the rest of his life, and she belongs to him. I’ve got what I longed for.’