His eyes narrowed, the white lines around his mouth nearly making her want to take a few steps back. “This will not be a marriage in name only, if that is what you are thinking. I will not be barred from my wife’s bed.”
“Even if I don’t want you there?”
He gave her a long knowing look, and for a moment she feared he would prove her wrong. “Are you so sure of that, Mary?”
His voice was low and husky. Entrancing. Seducing. A temptation impossible to resist. Her heart squeezed. She wasn’t sure at all. Just the way he was looking at her made her stomach knot and skin prickle with heat.
But she couldn’t allow herself to be deluded. “So I shall be expected to breed your children, what else?”
Apparently, he didn’t like her cold, matter-of-fact tone. He took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Why are you acting like this, damn it?”
Her heart clenched. Because she wasn’t a foolish girl anymore. Because the only way to protect herself was to not have any illusions or unrealistic expectations. She wouldn’t go into this marriage like she had the first—blind and full of silly romantic dreams. This was an alliance born of necessity—a business arrangement—and she would treat it as such. “I am simply trying to be clear on what shall be expected of me. I’ve never been forced into marriage before.”
Clearly, he didn’t appreciate her sarcasm. His hands fisted. “Your duty and fidelity, damn it. Just like in any other marriage.”
Fidelity. How easily his arrow found its mark without even aiming. “And is the same required of you?”
She meant it to come off as sarcastic, but the way his eyes held hers, she feared he saw too much. “Do you wish it to be?”
She covered her embarrassment with a sharp laugh. As if such a thing were even possible. “You forget I’ve seen you at work, so to speak. I’ve also been married before. I know how an alliance between nobles works. I will turn a blind eye to your dalliances, and once I have done my duty in bearing your children, you will do the same. I merely meant, what am I to get in return for doing my duty in bearing your children?”
His mouth hardened, and his eyes glinted with a dangerous spark of steel. “You will have my name, my protection, and preside as chatelaine over any land the king returns to me. One day the child you are carrying will be the Earl of Sutherland.” He leaned closer. She could see the dark shadow of his beard along the hard lines of his jaw and remembered how it had felt rubbing over her skin. “And every time I take you in my bed, you will come. That is what you will get, my lady.” She flinched at his blunt crudity, ignoring the flicker of awareness that surged through her. “But know this—I don’t know what your experience may have been before, but I will never be blind.”
She flushed, not mistaking his meaning. Fidelity went in only one direction. He expected her to be faithful but made no promise in return.
Open eyes, she told herself. No illusions.
She hardened her heart. It was an alliance, nothing more. He’d made that clear. She had to remember it. “You will, of course, seek my son’s wardship and marriage?”
His brow furrowed for a moment, as if he hadn’t thought of it. “Aye.”
As her husband, it was only natural that he would seek control over the young Earl of Atholl. He might have switched kings, but the power and influence he would garner by marrying her had not changed. Indeed, she knew that had been the attraction for Sir John as well.
Sir John. She bit her lip. He would not be pleased. But it could not be helped. She could only hope he would understand.
Mary knew she was trapped. She had no choice. She would steel her heart and hold Sir Kenneth to his word.
“You will protect me and my children?”
He eyed her warily. “Aye.”
“And do nothing that will put us in danger without consulting me?”
His expression shuttered, his face utterly still. For a moment she thought she saw something flash in his eyes, but when his mouth fell in a hard line she realized it must have been anger. “We are at war, Mary. But you have my promise that I will do all in my power to keep you safe.”
“That is not good enough. I need your word that you will not make decisions that will affect us without telling me. I won’t have another marriage like the first.”
His mouth thinned. She could tell he didn’t like being pushed into a corner. Well, too bad. She didn’t either. And that was what he was doing by forcing her to marry him.
“I will do my best,” he agreed.
Their eyes held for one long pause. She sensed there was something more that he wanted to say, but she also sensed that he was telling the truth. What could she do but trust him? She just prayed he was more worthy of that trust than Atholl. Her life and that of her children’s she put in his hands. She nodded. It was enough. “Then I will await your return from London.”
She turned away. He hesitated for a moment as if he would say something, but then moved to the door. He was about to close it behind him when something made her stop him. “Sir Kenneth.”
He looked back over his shoulder. “Aye, my lady?”
Their eyes held again. Be careful. “Godspeed,” she whispered.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a boyish half-smile, and he nodded.
Her heart stabbed with a longing so strong it took her breath away. When he looked at her like that she could almost believe in faerie tales again, of handsome, gallant knights who made a young girl’s heart dream.
Dear God, how could she protect herself against that?
What was she going to do?
What she always did. Make the best of it. But when the door closed softly behind him, Mary sank onto the chair, covered her face with her hands, and cried.
Sixteen
Coldingham Priory Church, Berwickshire
One week later, Kenneth was standing under the chancel arch of Coldingham Priory beside Sir Adam and the Bishop of St. Andrews, who’d recently returned from Scotland, waiting for his bride.
The journey to London had been easier than he could ever have expected. He knew it was due in large part to one of the men standing beside him. Sir Adam had smoothed the way, first with Cornwall and Percy in enabling Kenneth to leave Berwick, and then, when he’d offered to accompany him, with King Edward.
Thanks to his old friend, he and Mary not only had their permission, but also a tale to explain the surprise announcement of their marriage. A chance encounter in Scotland of enemies, a secret betrothal, and a love so strong as to compel him to change allegiance. Ironically, their marriage would serve not only to legitimize their child, but also his motives for being in England.
If their story were true, they would actually already be married. A betrothal promise to wed coupled with consummation created a marital bond. But as the church frowned on clandestine marriages, they would have a ceremony—albeit a private one. As there had not been time to read the banns, at the king’s bequest, the Bishop of Durham—who had authority over both Coldingham Priory and the Scottish Bishop of St. Andrews while he was being kept in England—had granted them a dispensation to wed without them. Perhaps thinking of Mary and their recent trip, Sir Adam had suggested Lamberton as the officiant. Since Kenneth suspected the good bishop was still in league with Bruce, he knew he had better apprise the king of his marriage soon. A task he wasn’t looking forward to discharging.
About the only thing that could have made the journey a greater success was if Kenneth had been able to uncover any information that would help his mission. But the single nighttime foray into the king’s chambers that he’d managed under the watchful eye of Sir Adam and his men had yielded nothing of value. Indeed, so far Kenneth had done nothing more than corroborate what they already knew: the English were mustering at Berwick, and the king would follow in the spring. All he’d gained on this mission so far was an injured arm and, in a few minutes, a wife. Neither of which was likely to impress the king or his fellow guardsmen with his abilities. He might
be on the team, but until he proved himself he was going to feel like a recruit.
When one of the monks approached the bishop to tell him that the lady had arrived, Sir Adam pulled him over to one side. “Are you sure you wish to go through with this? If you are having any second thoughts—”
“No second thoughts,” Kenneth insisted adamantly. It was true. Although he was still angry at Mary for trying to keep his child from him, and he still had every intention of teaching her a lesson, he was thinking more rationally now. He regretted the threat he’d used to force her to agree. He’d lost his temper and wished he hadn’t put it quite that way. He wouldn’t have taken the child from her—he wasn’t a monster—but all he was thinking about was getting her to agree. That was all that had mattered. Which didn’t make sense. Whom he married—as long as she was acceptable—wasn’t supposed to matter to him. He’d like to think it was about the baby, but he knew it wasn’t just that. Part of him wanted to marry her.
God knew why. She gave him more trouble than any woman ever had before and didn’t seem to waste any opportunity to challenge him. She didn’t fit any of his prerequisites. Well, except for lusty.
With the considerably more pleasant thought of the wedding night to look forward to, he added, “I know what I’m doing.”
Not for the first time, he saw something in the other man’s face that gave him pause. The older knight had gone to a great deal of trouble for them, and though Kenneth was grateful, he’d also begun to suspect why. It wasn’t Sir Adam’s friendship with Kenneth or Atholl driving him, but his feelings for Mary.
“The lass has already suffered so much. The loss of her parents, both brothers and sisters—including her twin.” He hadn’t realized she was a twin. “Having her son taken from her when she was so young, and then Atholl …” Sir Adam’s voice dropped off as if he were struggling to find the right words. “Atholl broke her heart well before he embroiled her in his rebellion. Not even she knows how close she came to imprisonment.”
Kenneth felt an uncomfortable stab. He wasn’t sure whether it was the mention of a husband she’d obviously loved or his own guilt about his plans to do the same. Perhaps both. The promise she’d managed to extract from him didn’t sit well. He regretted the need to deceive her about his true purpose here, but even were he tempted to confide in her—which he sure as hell wasn’t—it was safer for her if she were in the dark in case anything went wrong.
She’d made her choice when she gave herself to him in the library that night. They would both have to live with the consequences.
How Bruce would react to the marriage, he wasn’t sure. Certainly, it complicated Kenneth’s mission, and he knew the king wouldn’t want her to be in any danger, but he also knew that if Mary could be persuaded to convince her son to change sides, Bruce would be thrilled to have the young earl back in the Scottish fold. Thrilled enough, hopefully, to overlook the fact that Kenneth had seduced his “dear” sister-in-law and managed to get her with child.
It wasn’t just stung pride driving him now, but his mission. He had every intention of making sure that when the time came, she was eager to go with him. Damned eager. Over-the-moon-in-love eager. But Mary was proving difficult. Normally women came to him. He had little experience in the pursuit. He’d never wooed a woman before, but how hard could it be?
She wasn’t as indifferent to him as she wanted to think. Godspeed. Her parting words had surprised him. She’d been worried about him. Aye, perhaps this wouldn’t be too hard after all.
For some reason the subject of Atholl bothered him. It seemed once again that he was coming in second, this time as a husband. But it was a chance to learn more about her. “What happened?”
Sir Adam hesitated again, his loyalty to Atholl obviously making him weigh his words carefully. “Mary was only a girl when they were married, and Atholl … well, he was in his prime. He was one of the best knights at court. Handsome. Charming. Everyone loved him. Including his young bride. But he was too busy lifting his sword for glory, and half the skirts of the women at court, to worry about a young girl’s feelings. He found the task of bedding ‘a child,’ as he’d called her, distasteful, but did his duty. After that, I don’t think he ever really saw her as any older. He had his pick of any of the ladies at court, and didn’t see the need to hide them from his wife. I’ll never forget her face when she learned the truth.” There was a far-off look in the older man’s eyes that couldn’t help but rouse Kenneth’s sympathy. But then Sir Adam turned and gave him a sharp look. “I hope you will have more care.”
Kenneth looked away, almost regretting having asked. He’d wanted insight, and he’d gotten it. Profligate. He understood now the source of her disdain and wariness.
But that didn’t mean he was going to bind himself to one woman for eternity. He would have laughed if he didn’t feel so much like frowning. Mary of Mar had certainly occupied his thoughts—hell, his dreams—for five months more than any woman before, but it wasn’t likely to continue much longer.
Still, he wasn’t a completely unfeeling arse—most of the time. He would take care not to flaunt his liaisons. “I will.”
Kenneth could see that his answer hadn’t pleased Sir Adam. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but at that moment Mary entered the priory and all eyes turned to her.
He forgot to breathe. The burning that had made his chest feel so tight a few moments ago intensified. She looked … beautiful. A fey creature. Something not of this world. A ray of sunlight caught her hair in its golden glow, casting a shimmering light around her. Her gown was of such pale, iridescent blue silk it almost seemed to be silver. It, too, shimmered with each step she took as she made her way down the wide aisle toward him.
He barely noticed David walking beside her. All he could see were big blue eyes gazing at him with wariness, and the paleness of her translucent milky-white skin. She loomed so large in his mind, he forgot how small she was. But in the massive church with its high cathedral-worthy ceilings, she looked very tiny and very vulnerable.
She was scared, damn it. And no matter how angry he was with her, it didn’t sit well with him. He strode down the aisle, crossing the distance in a few long steps. He held out his hand, offering for hers. “My lady.”
Her eyes widened a little more at his gallantry, but after a few moments of hesitation she placed her tiny fingers in his. Christ, they were soft—and cold. Tucking them firmly in the crook of his arm, he escorted her the rest of the way down the aisle to where Sir Adam and the bishop waited for them.
Wooing his bride, he suspected, wasn’t going to be as much of a hardship as it should be.
Mary had been more anxious than she could have imagined for word of a marriage that had been forced upon her. Would King Edward be angry? Would he agree? It wasn’t that she was worried about him.
At least that’s what she told herself. But when the note came last night for her to meet Sir Kenneth at the priory, and then when she’d seen him across the church, standing there …
The tug in her chest told a different story.
He looked so big and strong. So handsome. It didn’t seem possible that in a few minutes he would be her husband.
What was she going to do? How would she harden her heart against this surge of emotion every time she saw him?
No matter how open her eyes were, she feared her heart would always be blind.
His consideration only made it worse. When he came forward to offer her his hand—to offer her reassurance—she almost wished for Atholl’s indifference. It was far easier to fight against than kindness.
But she had to admit that the strength of the arm under her hand throughout the short ceremony was like a lifeline. Something solid to hold onto in the daze that threatened to overwhelm her. She might be going into this with her eyes opened, but it seemed to make no difference in the bundle of nerves twisting inside her.
She was doing it again. Putting her life in the hands of a man. Every instinct seeme
d to clamor not to go through with it. But what could she do?
It seemed to happen so fast. One moment they were discussing the terms of the agreement that had been worked out with the King—Edward had agreed to return some of her dower properties in Kent, which had been forfeit upon Atholl’s treason—the next they were outside the church door, going through the formality of reciting their vows in public (though no one but monks were around to object), and then he was sealing those vows with a chaste kiss.
At least it was supposed to be a chaste kiss. But the moment his lips brushed hers, a surge of desire sent a hot rush through her blood that was distinctly unchaste. One might even call it carnal. He must have felt it, too. His fingers lingered for a moment, softly brushing the curve of her chin.
When he finally lifted his head, their eyes met in the soft haze of morning sunlight. They might have been the only two people in the world. Everything around her seemed to slip away. She couldn’t put a name on what passed between them, except that it felt significant.
Still dazed—this time from the kiss—Mary was surprised to realize the wedding was over. Since she was a widow, there would be no blessing and mass by the priest in the church after the recitation of vows. Nor, given the circumstances, would there be a feast to celebrate.
Just like that, she was a wife, and their child was legitimate, no matter how “early” the birth.
She accepted the subdued congratulations of Sir Adam and the far more enthusiastic ones from the bishop, before turning to her son. If anyone was more stunned by the haste of this wedding than her, it was Davey. She was too embarrassed to tell him the truth. She would. She bit her lip. At some point.
“I know this has come as a surprise to you” she said. “I hope you are not disappointed.”
She knew Davey had thought—hoped—she might marry Sir John. But her son’s expression was impossible to read. His unusual ability to hide his thoughts made her chest squeeze with the reminder of how he’d learned such a skill. She cursed Atholl, the war, and the fates for her son’s stolen childhood.
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