by Tarah Scott
“I take that to be a challenge,” Talbot said.
“I wouldna’ want to embarrass ye.” Angus’ grin widened.
“I do not embarrass easily. The first man to split the trunk?”
“I will even give ye a head start and let you continue with the scratch you made in the wood.” Angus lifted his brows in question.
“That will not be necessary,” Talbot said.
More men, a mixture of Highlanders and English, gathered around them.
“Unless you feel the need to have the head start,” Talbot said.
“That is good of ye, St. Claire, but I will manage.”
They took their places at opposite ends of the trunk.
“Malcom,” Talbot said, “if you would say the word.”
Talbot and Angus gripped their axes. Malcom glanced between them, then shouted, “Go!”
Both men swung their axes, hitting the wood with jarring force. Onlookers began to shout and, with each blow, Talbot noticed the crowd grew. Amidst their cries, bets passed as to who would win. He angled his axe first left, then right, and his gash deepened with every strike. Angus swung over and over, brute strength an advantage Talbot couldn’t match blow for blow. But it took more than brute strength to win a battle.
“God’s teeth, St. Claire, use some muscle,” Rhoslyn shouted.
He flicked a glance her way. She glared as fiercely as the men. But she cheered for him. As the blows fell faster, the shouts grew more intense. Finally, a large crack split the air and for an instant he feared Angus had beat him, but another blow to the wood and his end of the trunk struck the ground with a thud.
Cheers went up and he looked up to see Angus’ end had also fallen to the ground. The crowd surged forward, a chorus of voices arguing over whose log hit the ground first. Angus looked at Talbot, grinned, then shrugged. Talbot shifted his gaze toward Rhoslyn. She shook her head as if in reprimand, but he was sure he saw a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.
Angus elbowed his way through the crowd to Talbot and clapped him on the back. “Have ye any rope, St. Claire? We had best show these lads how to haul these logs away.”
“You do not wish to cut it yourself?” Talbot asked.
Angus gave a hearty laugh. “Ye have bollocks, lad. Nay, I think we should haul it away from the storeroom, then have a drink and discuss business.”
Talbot felt certain his wife would be pleased with that.
* * *
The door in the private solar opened behind Rhoslyn. “Ye may leave the wine on the table,” she said without looking up from the household rolls.
“I did not bring wine. I can fetch some, if you like.”
Rhoslyn snapped her head up and met St. Claire’s dark eyes. “I thought ye were one of the maids.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“Nay. I simply was no’ expecting you. Is something wrong?”
“Need something be wrong for a husband to visit his wife?”
Her treacherous heart beat faster. He was calling her wife. He’d begun to make a habit of it: When Elizabeth visited two days past. Yesterday afternoon in the kitchen. Last night in the great hall when she announced she intended to retire. And now today.
“Did ye finish your business with Angus?” she asked. “How many cattle did ye purchase?”
“He will deliver one hundred head over the next year. He has the best cattle in all the Crieff market.”
“I hope he didna’ demand a high price in revenge for ye beating him at tree chopping.”
“Did I beat him? It seems we were evenly matched.”
She snorted. “Clearly, your end of the log struck the ground first.”
“I am flattered you noticed,” he said, and embarrassment washed over her.
“Of course I noticed. I have eyes.”
“Aye, you do. Lovely eyes.”
Rhoslyn flushed. “Was there something ye wanted, St. Claire? As you must see, I am busy.”
He nodded at the household rolls. “Have you always kept the accounts?”
“Since I was seventeen.”
Surprise flickered in his gaze. “Where did you learn the skill?”
“Alec taught me.” She laughed. “Or I should say he gave into my pestering to teach me.” Sadness settled over her with the memory. “Mistress Muira ran his household so well that I was no’ needed. I cared for Andreana, but she had a nursemaid, which left me too idle for my liking.”
“Most noble ladies spend their days with a needle, or directing the servants, no matter how apt they are spending their husband’s fortunes. Do such things hold no interest for you?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Mistress Muira would no’ allow anyone to direct her. I was wise enough to know better than to make trouble in my husband’s house. As for sewing, I am ashamed to admit even the good sisters at Saint Mary’s could no’ improve my skill.”
“What of spending your husband’s money?” he asked.
Rhoslyn shrugged. “How much can a woman spend?”
“Some can spend a great deal.”
“Is that what you came to speak with me about, spending my money?”
A corner of his mouth twitched.
“I imagine you consider it your money,” she said.
“If it was necessary to pay my men to protect Castle Glenbarr, would you object?” he asked.
“Nay, so long as it wasna’ you who started the trouble that warranted the protection. Is there something ye wish to confess? An old enemy who may come calling?”
“I doubt any of them will venture into the Scottish highlands to avenge themselves on me.”
One already had. His brother.
His expression sobered, and she realized he was thinking the same thing. “There is a matter we need to discuss.”
Apprehension sent a chill through her.
“Would you sit with me near the fire?” he asked.
She rose and crossed to the bench. They sat down and she looked expectantly at him.
“You are looking well,” he said, though she knew he meant ‘you seem to have recovered from my brother’s violation.’
“Lady Rhoslyn, I believe it is time we consummate our marriage.”
Shock shot through her, followed by fear.
“I do not say this to force you to accept me as your husband,” he quickly added. “I say this because I do not wish there to be any doubt that I am the father of your children.”
She drew a sharp breath.
“I am sorry. There is no easy way to solve this problem.”
She stiffened. “Problem?”
“If a child is born in nine months, some will say the child is not mine. But if you are my wife in every sense of the word, the rumors will be little more than an annoyance.”
He had slipped into her bed the morning following their wedding. No doubt, the servants had noticed that they hadn’t seen him there since.
“I do not want you—or the child—to suffer that indignation,” he said.
Rhoslyn swallowed. “And if the child resembles your brother?”
“My brother looks very much like my father. Why would I care that our son favors him?”
Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Surely, he didn’t want to call his brother’s son his own. Then she realized the truth.
“It would not have mattered if Melrose had gotten me with child. You would have taken me to wife and called another man’s child your own.”
St. Claire shook his head. “Nay, it would not have mattered.”
She stared. “What manner of man are you?”
“The kind that is tired of war,” he replied.
“I have never known a man to tire of war.”
“Perhaps the ones you know have not had enough. I have.”
“Impossible. Ye are too skilled a warrior. A man such as you does not give up fighting.”
Amusement glimmered in his eyes. “A man such as me? What do you make of me, Rhoslyn?”
“Ye are a man
who, if your king commands you to fight, you will.”
“If I am of more use to him here than at war, he will not ask me to fight.”
Suspicion rose in her. “The only way you would be of more use to him in Scotland is if ye put his needs above Scotland’s.”
“Scotland and England have been at peace for some time,” he replied. “There is no reason for what we need to be at odds.”
“Now that your king is determined to rule us, that peace is sure to end.”
“I do not think William Wallace or Robert Bruce will allow that,” St. Claire said.
Had she heard correctly? Did an Englishman—a knight—say that a Scot would not allow the English to rule him?
“Do ye realize you speak treason?” she asked.
He laughed his deep, rich laugh, and said, “Edward knows well enough that Robert Bruce has no intention of letting him rule Scotland.”
“You speak as if Scotland will prevail over England.”
“Would it be the first time?”
“St. Claire, ye are a traitor.”
He shrugged. “I am a realist. Scotland has never willingly bowed to anyone, much less the English. Why should they start now?”
“They named Edward arbiter for the Scottish crown. That is a good start.”
“A business deal on the part of the Guardians, nothing more.”
She wanted so much to agree with him, to believe their leaders had the situation in hand and Edward would become nothing more than an annoyance. How easy it would be to trust this man. He would protect her—and their children. Their children. What would happen when the peace between Scotland and England ended—as it surely would? Who would their sons fight for? Who would their daughters marry? Perhaps they wouldn’t have children. If she couldn’t conceive, or if it took years to conceive as it had with Alec, that would allow for time to prepare, to see if...
“Whatever Edward does, I will not risk your happiness,” he said. “Any children born to you will be mine. But to ensure that no one challenges me, we must share a bed. You may hate me—”
“Hate you?” She felt heat rush into her cheeks when his brow lifted. “I do no’ blame you for what your brother did.”
“But neither do you want me,” he said.
What could she say? She could want him, and with little urging. But to admit that...to admit that, meant what? Edward could command him to kill Wallace and that would not change the fact he was her husband.
“You are loyal to Edward. I am loyal to Scotland. That fact alone can crush us.”
He placed a hand over hers. “I will not let it.”
Chapter Fifteen
The following evening, as they passed through the gates at Dunfrey Castle ahead of two dozen men, Talbot half expected Lady Rhoslyn to beg him to take her back to Castle Glenbarr.
“I still say it is convenient that ye allow me to leave Castle Glenbarr when it suits your plans,” she muttered.
He hid a smile. “Should we return there and you not be allowed even this small reprieve?”
She shot him a narrow-eyed glare. “And risk the ride back in the dark. I think ye wouldna’ agree even if I demanded it.”
“Not tonight,” he admitted, but knew she had no wish to return, at least not tonight. Once he realized the pain associated with the memories at Castle Glenbarr, he knew he had to bring her to Dunfrey Castle to consummate their marriage.
They passed through the archway from the outer bailey into the inner courtyard and were greeted by a groom. Talbot dismounted and went to Rhoslyn’s horse.
“Have you ever visited Dunfrey Castle?” he asked as he helped her from the saddle.
“Once, when I was eleven. Fordyce Galloway lived here. When he died, his wife married a lowlander whose only heir was English. Their son inherited Dunfrey Castle, but he lost the property to Edward.”
Talbot tossed the reins to the groom and commanded his men to come to the hall once they’d taken care of their horses, then pressed a hand to the small of Rhoslyn back urged her toward the door.
“He did not pay his taxes, I take it?”
“Nay. The property lay unused until you took possession.”
Talbot kept only a small contingent of men at Dunfrey Castle, which left the bailey empty this late in the day. He found he liked the quiet and wondered what Rhoslyn would think of living a more sedate life here.
“Do you like Dunfrey Castle?” she asked.
“I do. The buildings are in excellent condition. The forests support an abundance of game. I plan to build cottages and employ freemen to farm the land.”
She looked at him in surprise. “You, a farmer? I canno’ imagine it.”
“I hope you can imagine it,” he said. “How else am I to maintain the fields at Castle Glenbarr if I do not become a farmer?”
“You can leave the running of Castle Glenbarr to me,” she said.
“Or we could hire a steward,” he said.
“Are ye saying I canna’ do it?”
“I am saying you might have more important things to do.”
“Like raising your sons?”
He shifted his gaze to her. “They would be your sons as well.”
Her expression turned speculative. “How do ye feel about being banished to the Scottish Highlands by your king?”
Talbot repressed a laugh. “Buchan is little different from Kent.”
They had reached the castle and walked through the archway at the front door. He pulled the huge door open and Rhoslyn preceded him into the large foyer.
“Ye havena’ seen Buchan in the winter,” she said as he pulled the door shut. “It is bitter cold. Much colder than Kent.”
“I imagine we will find ways to keep warm.”
Her brows snapped down. “Are ye telling me you will bed me often in the winter?”
“As often as you let me.”
“Let ye?” she said. “You are my husband. You may bed me as often as ye please.”
“I am not my brother, Lady Rhoslyn. I do not force a woman, even my wife. I would hope you understood that by now.”
Her eyes flew wide. “That isna’ what I meant.”
“We have many years ahead of us. I would rather enjoy that time with my wife.” Talbot urged her forward and up the stairs. They climbed to the third floor where he took her to his chambers. “The rooms are smaller and the furniture not as opulent as Castle Glenbarr,” he said, “but I find it comfortable. Would you like a bath?”
She shook her head. “I dinna’ want to put your women to work at this hour.”
“I agree. I will go down myself and heat the water. The men can carry up the water for you.”
Her brows rose. “Ye and your men will prepare the bath? That I must see.”
An hour later, the bath sat before the fire filled with steaming water. The last of the men who’d carried up the water left as Talbot poured two goblets of wine. He gave one to Rhoslyn and she emptied it in several gulps. She returned the goblet, then went to the tub and began untying the laces on her gown. Talbot set his wine on the table and crossed to her. She looked up, then froze when he gently moved her hands aside and began loosening the laces. Once loose, he grasped the fabric at her waist and pulled the dress over her head. She stood before him in her shift.
His cock jerked at the glimpse of her breasts straining against the thin linen fabric before he turned. He returned to the wine and refilled their goblets. The rustle of fabric conjured a vision of the shift sliding across her breasts before Rhoslyn dropped it onto the floor. The gentle swish of water against the side of the tub told him she had lowered herself into the tub.
He waited a moment, then turned. She rested, back to him, facing the fire.
“Would you like more wine, my lady?”
“Aye.” She picked up a cloth from the table beside the tub, scooped soap from the small earthen jar sitting alongside, and began lathering her arms.
Talbot took the goblets to the tub and set her wine on the table wh
ere the soap had been. From the corner of his eye, he saw her slow in rubbing the soapy cloth along one sleek arm. Water lapped at the pink nipple of the breast not hidden by her arm. Talbot turned away and took a drink of his wine. He crossed to the bed, set the goblet down and began taking off his boots. His mail shirt, then shirt, followed before he finished off his wine.
Rhoslyn dipped down into the tub, then came up, hair dripping. She began lathering the long tresses. Talbot went to the tub and knelt on one knee behind her.
She stilled. “Is there something ye want, St. Claire?”
“Aye, but we will begin with your hair.”
“My hair?” She twisted, coming face to face with his chest, and jerked back. Water sloshed over the top of the tub.
Talbot grasped her shoulders and her head snapped up. “Unless you wish me to pull you out of this tub before your hair is finished, I suggest you face forward.” She frowned, and he lifted a brow and flicked a glance at her breasts.
A blush crept up her cheeks and she pulled free, turning her back to him.
He scooped soap from the jar on the table, then gathered her hair atop her head. She sat stiffly as he lathered the thick mane. Slowly, he worked his fingers through her hair and across her scalp, massaging until she released a slow sigh. He set the soap on the table then instructed her to rinse her hair. She dunked her head, rubbing her hair to remove the soap.
Talbot couldn’t tear his eyes from her breasts, swaying with the small waves of water created by her movement. She lifted her head from the water and he handed her a towel. She wiped her eyes, then cast him a quick glance and yanked her eyes back to stare down at the water as she dried her hair. Talbot grabbed the drying cloth from the table and handed it to her. He shoved to his feet as Rhoslyn rubbed her hair dry.
He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or worry that she took an inordinate amount of time to dry her hair. She finally rose from the water and quickly wrapped the towel around her. She rubbed her arms.