by Tarah Scott
“We heard riders approaching from behind,” he replied.
“Surely, ye dinna’ expect your brother to follow us?”
“Nay, but that does not mean we will not encounter robbers.”
“Give me a dirk,” she said.
He snorted. “I have yet to recover from the last time you had a knife while sitting on my lap.”
“I do no’ intend to use it on ye.” She sounded genuinely affronted. “If we encounter brigands, I would like protection.”
“I am your protection,” he replied.
The words were barely out of his mouth when riders shot from the trees onto the road in front of them.
Talbot cursed, and drew his sword in unison with his men drawing their swords. “In Scotland less than a week and this is the third battle I have fought,” he muttered.
“Three?” Lady Rhoslyn said. “I will want to hear the other two tales. For now, give me a dirk.”
“Who goes there?” Baxter demanded as Talbot urged his horse toward the edge of the road and away from the newcomers.
“Prepare yourself,” Talbot told her in a low voice. “If I must push you from the saddle—”
“St. Claire,” someone called, and Talbot paused, “‘tis I, Ralf Wardwn.”
“Ralf?” Talbot nudged his horse past his men to the rider and saw that it was Ralf. “I should send you to your maker. What are you doing rushing onto the road like that?”
“I took a short cut to reach ye. Forgive me, Lady Rhoslyn. I hope we didna’ scare you. There was no other way. I did not want to shout and alert anyone along the way.”
“Including me,” Talbot said. “Who is that with you?” He nodded to the rider behind Ralf.
“This is Simon. Ingram and two other men are searching for ye on the road behind us. We broke up so that I could search ahead in case we had missed you.”
“You have news of my brother?” Talbot asked. He was sure he felt a tremble in Lady Rhoslyn’s body and tightened his arm around her.
“Nay,” Ralf said. “I wish it were so. I am here to tell you of a plot to accost ye on the road and kill you.”
“Friends of the men in the tavern?” Talbot asked.
“Aye, only meaner.”
“How fortunate,” Talbot muttered. “We are but an hour from Castle Glenbarr. Why wait so long?”
“The plot was hatched last minute, the result of ale and misguided passions.”
“Dayton?” he asked.
“‘Tis what we suspect, but we didna’ hear for ourselves. Once we got wind of the plan we set out after you.”
“You went to a lot of trouble to warn me.”
“Ye know how much I hate an unfair fight.”
“I believe this is a clue to one of the battles ye mentioned,” Lady Rhoslyn said.
“Too long a story for now,” Talbot said. “I wager Ingram is who Seward encountered behind us. Baxter,” he called, “send a man back to see what goes with Seward. I want to get to Castle Glenbarr as quickly as possible. If it is Ingram who caught up with them, invite him to Castle Glenbarr.” Talbot returned his attention to Ralf. “Will you ride with us as well? I can offer food and shelter, and we can talk.”
“Aye,” Ralf replied. “Glen will come, too.”
“Good.” Talbot started to turn his horse toward home.
“I should ride,” Lady Rhoslyn said. “We can ride faster if I am riding my own horse.”
She was right, but he didn’t like it. “You will do exactly as I say,” he said.
“Beware giving too many orders, English.”
“I will brook no argument, Lady Rhoslyn. You will do as I say or ride with me.”
“What is your command?”
Her voice was calm, but he heard the steel. He had steel of his own.
“At the first sign of trouble you ride with me and Baxter to Castle Glenbarr as fast as possible.”
“The last time I left a fight I was captured by you.”
“Then you need not fear,” he said, “for I am not the one chasing you this time.”
They reached Castle Glenbarr without incident, but Talbot knew the trouble had only begun. Seward knew it as well. He and Ingram arrived half an hour later, and they sought out Talbot in the great hall where he sat with Ralf.
“The vows are not yet said, and ye already have enemies,” Seward said in greeting.
“Sit down,” Talbot said, then ordered a waiting lad to bring ale before returning his attention to the old baron. “I had enemies before I ever set foot in Scotland.”
Seward sat down. “Is the wealth my granddaughter brings to the marriage worth living among enemies?”
“A few enemies is paltry in comparison to war campaigns,” Talbot replied.
The old man grunted. “Ye underestimate the Highland temperament. These men have a great capacity for hating you.”
Talbot shrugged. “I would find no less if I lived amongst my own.”
The boy brought two mugs of ale and a pitcher. He set them before the two men, then stepped back, awaiting further instructions.
“Then it must be your sweet nature that makes ye so loveable,” Seward said.
Despite the sarcasm, Talbot detected grudging respect. “About as loveable as you,” he replied. “Only yesterday, Aodh Roberts was ready to send you to your reward.”
“I should have dealt with Aodh years ago, but I grew up with his cousin. They wouldna’ forgive me if I killed him.”
“You are a fortunate man to be surrounded by so many relatives.”
“They are your relatives now, too,” Seward replied.
Talbot laughed. “Do they see me as a relative?”
“They will when they want something from ye. God help you when that happens.”
“I have a feeling that is exactly what is about to happen.”
“Aye. Ye can begin by telling me who your new friends are.” He nodded to Ralf, Ingram, and the other two men who set across from him.”
Talbot recounted the story, ending with, “They tell me that Dayton claims he and Rhoslyn are married.”
“Married?” The old man’s eyes narrowed in anger. “I will kill him for what he did to my granddaughter.”
So Seward had guessed that Dayton raped Rhoslyn. Talbot wasn’t surprised. The man wasn’t stupid. “You will not have the chance,” he said. “I claim the right to kill him.”
“Ye canna’ follow him to England. ‘Tis too dangerous to leave Rhoslyn unprotected.”
“I would think you could protect her while I am away,” Talbot said. “I would also think you would be happy to see me go.”
Seward grunted. “If I thought I could get rid of you and the rest of your kind, I would tie ye up, send you to the Far East, then marry Rhoslyn off to Melrose. But your brother’s actions give me pause. Edward will no’ so easily give up the taxes he’ll receive from the Kinsley fortune—and your brother knows it. I wager he gambled that Edward would overlook his methods in ensuring his part of that fortune. If anything happens to ye, Edward is likely to uphold your brother’s claim that he and Rhoslyn are married. If I must choose between two devils, I choose the least evil of the two.”
“I am flattered,” Talbot replied.
* * *
Rhoslyn looked up from the list of goods she was verifying against the wagon filled with vegetables and fruits from the village. Her grandfather and St. Claire approached with determined steps she knew meant they had come in search of her. She had risen early and thrown herself into work in an effort to put the last two days behind her. She didn’t like the united front the two men presented. It couldn’t bode well for her.
“This will do, Williame,” she said to the merchant standing beside her. “Have your men unload the goods in the kitchen.” She took a bag of silver from the pouch belted to her waist and handed it to him.
“Thank ye, my lady.”
The merchant climbed into the seat beside his son, but not before Rhoslyn caught the glance he cast at her grandfa
ther and St. Claire. His curt order to his son to go to the postern door told her that he, too, knew the men had something on their minds. The cart lurched into motion. Rhoslyn stepped back. Once the cart passed, the two men closed the final distance between them. St. Claire’s eyes narrowed on her face and she touched the tender spot on her cheek before checking the action.
His gaze sharpened. “Are you well?”
A strange tremor rippled through her. She hadn’t seen him since last night and had hoped to avoid him as long as possible. “I am fine,” she said. He continued to stare, and she added, “The bruise isna’ so bad.”
“Bad enough,” her grandfather growled.
“It is over and I am well. That is enough.” she said.
“You are a fool if ye believe that, and I didna’ raise a fool.”
Irritation surfaced. “I had no’ expected to see ye. I thought you would have returned home.”
“Nay, we need to speak privately with you.” He grasped her arm and started toward the castle.
St. Claire fell into place alongside her and she felt as if she were being escorted to the gallows. They reached the front door and, minutes later, entered their private solar.
She seated herself on the bench in front of the hearth and her grandfather said, “Ye and St. Claire will marry tomorrow morning.”
Of all the things she might have expected to hear come out of her grandfather’s mouth, this wasn’t one of them. “But why? Edward commanded we wed a month from now.”
“Dayton is claiming you and he are married.”
“Married?” It made perfect sense, but that didn’t stop the feeling that a horse had rolled across her. “Ridiculous,” she said, then cursed the tremor in her voice. “We didna’ see a priest, nor was there even the hint of a handfasting.”
“It isna’ as simple as that, and ye know it,” her grandfather said.
Rhoslyn looked at St. Claire. “You claimed Edward’s command that we marry was unimpeachable. We are, in effect, already married.”
“True,” he said. “But Dayton might use the fact you and he were alone to make a claim.”
“Is that how ye would have seen things if I had reached Longford Castle and been alone with Lord Melrose?”
“Nay. I would have razed Longford Castle, then brought you back to Castle Glenbarr.”
Anger tightened her belly. “Yet you fear your brother can claim me?”
“It is my duty to ensure your safety. The church’s blessing on our union makes his claims more difficult to pursue.”
“King Edward will never uphold your brother’s assertions.”
“Not as long as I am alive,” St. Claire replied.
Rhoslyn gasped. “Surely, your brother would no’ go so far as to kill ye?”
“I would not have thought he would dare kidnap you.” His expression was impassive, but Rhoslyn felt sure she read the thought, Neither did I conceive of the possibility that he would dare lay a hand on you.
“And what will ye do if you bear a child in nine months, Rhoslyn?” her grandfather asked.
Rhoslyn went cold.
“Dayton will say the child is his,” he went on. “Especially if there is any question that you and St. Claire havena’ lived together as man and wife.”
St. Claire remained silent, but Rhoslyn felt his stare. She wanted to argue, wanted to retreat to the solitude of her chambers—or even better, the convent—but could think of nothing to halt the inevitable. As much as she wanted to deny it, they were right. If she bore a child within the next nine months—especially a son—Dayton very well might rally his father and even petition Edward with the allegation that her child was his.
When she’d risen this morning, she had gone to the small chapel near their chambers and prayed to the Virgin Mary herself that she not be pregnant. Her stomach churned, for even while she’d knelt on the stone floor, she had planned how she might obtain penny royal and sage to induce bleeding before St. Claire lay with her.
Chapter Nine
Rhoslyn set the last egg in the basket, then recorded the total number of eggs on the small parchment she’d brought to the kitchen. Twenty-three eggs in this basket alone. She had always marveled at how Mistress Muira was able to coax so many eggs from her hens. In the past, they had surplus enough to share with the villagers. However, it was likely they would have to purchase more hens just to feed St. Claire’s men.
She stepped to the left where a fourth basket sat on the counter and began counting. Rhoslyn reached twelve before her thoughts turned to the wedding ceremony planned for tomorrow morning. A tremor rippled through her stomach. In less than a day, her marriage to Sir Talbot St. Claire, a man she’d known for two days, would be blessed by the church.
Nay. She met him two days ago, and had spent less than a day with him. She knew him not at all.
Perhaps, that wasn’t wholly true. She knew he was strong of body and mind. Physical strength was expected in a knight deserving of his king’s favors. Wasn’t that what she was, a favor bestowed upon a man for loyal service? Despite knowing such things were the way of the world, the thought galled her.
She’d married Alec because her grandfather believed he would be a good husband. His wealth, she had to admit, was no small consideration, but he’d been a good man who died too soon. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he had died before their son. He would have been devastated to know his son had lived only two months. Sadness poked at her heart and she ruthlessly pushed it aside. She couldn’t give into sorrow. She had retreated to the convent in sorrow, and look where that had gotten her.
Mistress Muira gave a small cry and Rhoslyn looked up from the eggs. Her stepdaughter Andreana entered the kitchen and stopped a few paces inside. Rhoslyn set the egg she held back in the basket and rushed forward. When she reached the girl, she threw her arms around her. Andreana stiffened. Rhoslyn’s heart squeezed. It had been too long since she’d seen her stepdaughter. Rhoslyn drew back and Muira crowded in to give Andreana a hug.
“Och, ye have grown in the two months since I last saw ye.” the housekeeper said.
The other half dozen women working in the kitchen crowded around and each hugged her as well, then Muira shooed them back to work and Rhoslyn grasped Andreana’s hands and looked at her. In the fourteen months she’d been gone, Andreana had gone from being a gawky girl to a young woman. Her hair had softened and grown lustrous, her face had lost its roundness, appearing longer, with more pronounced cheekbones, and her breasts accentuated a small waist.
“Ye are beautiful,” Rhoslyn said.
Andreana’s eyes fixed on her face and Rhoslyn detected uncertainty. Ah, so along with the woman’s body had risen a woman’s uncertainty. And Rhoslyn had been absent during this crucial time when the girl who had known her as her mother entered this new phase of life.
“Why just look at your hair,” Rhoslyn said. “So long and soft. I do believe ‘tis a darker shade of black than it was when I left.”
Andreana’s eyes brightened. “Grandfather says it is darker than a raven’s feather.”
Rhoslyn drew back and studied her hair more closely. “He is right.” Rhoslyn held her at arm’s length. “And ye have grown into a woman’s body.”
A blush crept up the girl’s cheeks.
“I am so glad to see you,” Rhoslyn said. “Who brought ye?”
“Grandfather.” She hesitated. “He said it was time I returned home.”
“He is right,” Rhoslyn said, although she would have given anything not to be there herself.
St. Claire and her grandfather entered, with Sir Baxter close behind. Rhoslyn pulled Andreana aside.
“Andreana,” her grandfather said, “this is your mother’s new husband, Sir Talbot.”
Something strange stirred in Rhoslyn’s stomach at hearing St. Claire referred to as ‘her husband.’
Andreana gave a pretty curtsy. “Sir Talbot.”
He acknowledged with a nod. “Andreana.”
Rhosly
n caught the appraising look Andreana gave him from under her lashes, and read the appreciation in her expression. St. Claire seemed oblivious to her inspection, but Rhoslyn had the feeling he simply pretended not to notice. That, she grudgingly admitted, spoke well of him. No doubt, Andreana had broken a heart or two in her absence, and it was no small matter for any man not to respond to a beautiful young girl’s admiration. So St. Claire wasn’t one to rob the cradle—at least not the one at home.
“This is Sir Baxter, Sir Talbot’s captain,” Rhoslyn’s grandfather said.
“Lady Andreana.” Baxter gave a slight bow.
Andreana’s eyes shifted onto the knight and Rhoslyn was startled to see a blush creep up her cheeks. Sir Baxter gave no indication he noticed Andreana’s reaction, but he wouldn’t. St. Claire wouldn’t allow it.
Muira stepped up beside Rhoslyn. “Mayhap Andreana would enjoy helping with preparations for tomorrow’s wedding celebration?”
Rhoslyn started. “Wedding celebration?” She swung her gaze onto St. Claire. “We only just agreed to have the wedding tomorrow. How can there already be plans for a celebration?”
“Once we decided, I asked Mistress Muira to make the arrangements.”
Panic started her heart to beating fast. “But a day is no’ enough time to plan a proper celebration. Surely, we need more time? What of your father?”
“I sent word to my father, as well as Edward, that we will say the vows tomorrow. My father can come at his convenience, if he likes.”
“Ye dinna’ waste time telling Edward,” Rhoslyn’s grandfather said.
St. Claire shrugged and Rhoslyn wanted to box his ears.
“He will want to know,” St. Claire said.
“Did you inform him of your brother’s actions?” Rhoslyn demanded.
“I did. It is best he is prepared in case Dayton pursues his claim that you and he are married.”
Rhoslyn’s heart fell, though she couldn’t say why. Whether now or a month hence, it made no difference when the marriage celebration took place. Except, she realized in a moment of honesty, that the celebration announced to the world that she was well and truly married to this man. And, he would claim his husbandly rights.