by Tarah Scott
“It could be him,” St. Claire said. “But to what end?”
“To draw you out, force you away from Castle Glenbarr. God only knows. The man is not in his right senses.”
“That is true,” St. Claire said. “But he is not a fool when it comes to warring.”
“Warring, aye, and ye brought it to us.”
“You are overwrought,” he said.” I understand your worry. But you know this was not my doing. However, I will find who is responsible and give you his head.”
She stared. “His head? What comfort will that be if my grandfather dies?” Rhoslyn turned away and returned to her grandfather’s side.
All was quiet for a few moments, then the tread of boots on stone told her St. Claire had left. Only then did she let the tears flow.
* * *
At the knock on the door, Talbot called, “Enter.”
Ross entered. Talbot noted his mud-caked boots and grimy hands and hair—and the blood crusted, gaping hole in his left shirts sleeve.
Talbot laid his quill on the parchment and rose. “Did you find Seward’s attackers?”
Ross glanced at his wounded arm and grunted. “We ran into a band of marauders. Fools tried to relieve us of our horses.”
“It seems Buchan is riddled with thieves and cutthroats,” Talbot observed.
“No more so than England, I imagine,” Ross replied without rancor. “I hear ye took one of Kinsley’s attackers alive.”
Talbot nodded. “He died before reaching Castle Glenbarr.”
“I suppose we should be thankful our enemies are no’ as hardy as we are,” Ross said. “Or mayhap we are better killers.”
Talbot grunted. “Did you locate Seward’s attackers?”
“Not exactly. There were about twenty men. They split off into three groups. On a hunch, I took Cullen with me and we followed the northernmost riders. Those men broke off and we were able to follow only two men into Elgean. We lost their trail there, but that village falls under the protection of Sir Jason Boyd. I canna’ believe thirty men could plan an attack without Boyd knowing.”
“Then you believe he is behind the attack?” Talbot asked.
“He at least knew of it,” Ross replied. “But beware. That will no’ be easy to prove.”
Talbot nodded. “If he sent the men but did not go with them, he can claim they were acting of their own accord. And you did not actually find any of the men?”
“Nay. We lost the tracks in the village.”
“I imagine that was the plan,” Talbot said. “What reason would Boyd have to attack Seward?”
Ross grunted. “Boyd has lusted after Castle Glenbarr since he was a boy. But he hasna’ the power to take it alone. His laird is Domhnall De Quincy, the Earl of Maddsen. De Quincy is a rival of our laird Eoghan Neachdan, the Earl of Lochland. De Quincy wouldna’ mind tipping the scales of power in his favor. If any of his knights managed to seize Kinsley’s power, well,” he shrugged, “all the better for him.”
“What a coincidence that one of his men chose now to attack.”
Ross nodded. “Ye find that odd, as well?”
Now Talbot understood what Dayton might have to gain by attacking Seward.
* * *
Rhoslyn refused to move from her grandfather’s side, and the following night, when the door quietly opened behind her, she thought St. Claire had returned as he had last night, to insist she come to his bed.
His bed. A mental picture flashed of lying safe and warm in his arms. Tears pricked, then guilt followed with a hard stab. How could she consider sharing the man’s bed who was responsible for her grandfather lying at death’s door? She placed a palm over her belly. How could she hate the father of her child?
She started from her thoughts when Mistress Miura appeared beside the bed.
“I am all right, Miura,” Rhoslyn said. “Ye need no’ worry about me.”
“I know well enough to worry about ye, my lady, but that isna’ why I come. I thought you should know that Lord Lochland is here.”
Rhoslyn looked up sharply. “Here? Now?” Fury rammed through her. “Grandfather is in bed but a day and already Lochland picks the bones.” She shoved to her feet, then hesitated.
“Go on,” Muira said. “I will sit with him.”
Rhoslyn still hesitated. If anything happened while she was away from his side. If he died... She shook her head. “Nay. I canna’ leave him.”
The housekeeper nodded. “I will let ye know if the men call for you.”
Rhoslyn started to sit down on the bed, then stopped. The men would not call for her. They would make their plans, then she would be forced to live with the consequences.
“Muira, wait.” Her heart was breaking. “Nay. I must go. If—when—my grandfather awakens and he learns I shirked my duty he will not forgive me. You stay. If you need me for anything—anything at all—you will call me?”
“Aye, my lady. But he is sleeping well. I dinna’ think you need worry. He is strong.”
Rhoslyn nodded and hurried from the room before she could change her mind. She reached the great hall and found Lord Lochland sitting alone at the table.
He rose as she approached. “Lady Rhoslyn.”
She reached him and dropped into a curtsey. “Lord Lochland.” She rose. “It is good to see you.”
“And you. How is your grandfather?”
“His breathing is strong. We are hopeful he will awaken at any time.”
He smiled indulgently and she wanted to scream. Instead, she said in a sweet voice, “Would ye like to come into the bower? We can speak in private there.”
“Nay, Lady Rhoslyn, I am here to see your husband.”
“Anything that concerns him concerns me,” she said.
“Aye, but I think it is better if he and I speak alone first.”
“If you fear that I will be upset when you speak of my grandfather, ye need no’ worry. I understand the situation.”
The postern door opened and frustration bubbled up when St. Claire entered. He strode to where they stood.
“St. Claire,” she said, “this is the Earl of Lochland. Lord Lochland, my husband, Sir Talbot St. Claire.”
St. Claire canted his head. “My lord, I am pleased to meet you.”
Lord Lochland gave a curt nod, then cast a glance at Rhoslyn. “I wish our meeting was under happier circumstances. Can we speak privately?”
“Aye. We can go to the bower.” He looked at Rhoslyn. “Will you have wine sent up?”
She nodded. “Aye.” Rhoslyn turned, and St. Claire led him toward the stairs.
She secured a tray of wine and two goblets, then took her time approaching the bower. As hoped, she arrived when the men were standing in front of the fire.
They turned as she entered, and Lord Lochland said when she crossed to the table near the hearth, “Lady Rhoslyn, as I said earlier, it is better if I speak with your husband alone.”
She set the tray on the table and began pouring the wine. “Why? He will only repeat to me everything you say.” That, she knew, was likely untrue. She looked up at the earl. “Surely, there is no need for that?”
Irritation flared in his eyes. “It will no’ be easy for ye to hear what I have to say. As much as I pray your grandfather lives, he may not, and I canna’ put aside my responsibilities because of sentiment.”
She angled her head in acknowledgment. “Of course not. I would not ask it of ye.” She picked up the two goblets, went to the men and gave them each a glass.
“Please sit, Rhoslyn,” St. Claire said.
He betrayed no anger in his manner, but she’d learned how apt he was at disguising his feelings. They hadn’t spoken since their argument. If he was angry with her wouldn’t he have ordered her from the room? She sat on the bench before he could change his mind.
The earl turned his attention to St. Claire. “As I was saying, I am hearing rumors that two of Kinsley’s enemies are plotting to take possession of his holdings.”
�
��They must know I would not allow that,” St. Claire said.
“Aye, they surely know, for anything they take is yours when he dies. But that doesna’ mean they will not try, and soon, for they will want to attack while he lies unconscious.”
St. Claire nodded. “They may try.”
Lochland gave a slow nod. “You can defend Seward’s people. Still, I would prefer to avoid a war.”
“Have you not the power to stop them?” St. Claire asked.
“I am no’ their laird, and their laird is no friend of mine. In truth, he would love nothing better than to gain a foothold in my territory.”
“Who are these men and their lord?”
“Their laird is Domhnall De Quincy, the Earl of Maddsen. He rules the land to the south. The two I suspect of plotting against Kinsley are Baron Balcaskie and Sir Jason Boyd.”
Something flickered in St. Claire’s eyes. “De Quincy would risk a fight with you?” he asked.
“Mayhap ye dinna’ understand how powerful Kinsley is,” Lochland said. “Within Buchan, he is second only to me. He commands fifteen hundred men-at-arms, and easily that many warriors amongst his tenants, if need be. If they were to gain control of his land, it would be no small matter for me to drive them out.” Lochland studied him. “You have the skill to defend his land, but can ye inspire his men to follow ye?”
“If they want to win, they will follow me,” St. Claire said.
A shiver snaked down Rhoslyn’s spine. St. Claire’s confidence recalled the memory of him slicing open the neck of his enemy. Would he view her grandfather’s death with the same dispassion as he did fighting an enemy?
Lord Lochland’s eyes rested on Rhoslyn. “I should have married De Quincy to your wife. That would have solved this problem.”
Marriage to Domhnall De Quincy? Sweet Jesu, that was worse than marriage to St. Claire. Though she would marry De Quincy if it meant her grandfather lived. But she couldn’t buy her grandfather’s life. God didn’t barter. She’d learned that first hand.
Rhoslyn said to Lochland, “If it is true De Quincy wishes to seize your power, then my marriage to him would only ensure war upon my grandfather’s death.”
The earl gave a slow nod. “Ye are right. Which is why I have decided to betroth Lady Andreana to him.”
* * *
Shock registered in Rhoslyn’s eyes, then was gone so quickly Talbot almost doubted he’d seen it.
“Ye canno’ marry Andreana to Lord De Quincy,” she said.
“I can,” he replied.
She shook her head. “Forgive me, I am not making myself clear. You canna’ marry her to anyone. She is already married.”
“Already married? To who?” he demanded.
“To my husband’s captain, Sir Baxter D’Angers.”
Lochland turned his hard gaze onto Talbot. “Is this true?”
“I am sorry, St. Claire,” she quickly replied. “This is all my fault. It was my idea to marry her to Sir Baxter. She is of marriageable age, and I felt it better she marry a man my lord husband knew to be of a good character.”
My lord husband? Talbot wanted to laugh. It seemed his wife wasn’t above stroking a man’s ego when it served her purpose.
“When did the marriage take place?” Lochland demanded.
“Four days ago,” she replied.
His gaze sharpened. “I heard nothing of the marriage.”
“We had a very small wedding,” Talbot interjected before Rhoslyn could reply. “Given the trouble with my brother, I decided against opening our doors to visitors. We had a small ceremony in the chapel.” He smiled at Rhoslyn. “After all, that is what Lady Rhoslyn and I did.”
The earl’s mouth thinned. “I imagine Edward will be well pleased at the progress you have made in so short a time.”
“As my wife said, Baxter is of the highest character. I betrothed them to please her, nothing more.”
Relief flickered in her eyes, then was gone when Lochland shifted his gaze onto her.
“I am surprised, Lady Rhoslyn, that you would agree to your stepdaughter’s marriage to an Englishman—even one of high character.”
“I am sure you have heard how St. Claire defended us against marauders,” she said. “He saved us. I have come to trust his judgment.”
Talbot was startled to read true gratitude on her face. Only last night she had accused him of being responsible for the attack on her grandfather.
“Marauders?” Lochland’s brow lifted. “I was told the men who attacked were employed by your brother.”
“That is what I believe,” Talbot said.
“Surely there must be some way other than marriage to Andreana to avoid fighting with De Quincy?” Rhoslyn said. “There is no guarantee he would have agreed to the marriage, anyway.”
“He would have agreed,” Lochland said. “But it seems your husband will have to deal with him.”
Chapter Eighteen
When the postern door closed behind Lochland, Talbot was ready for Rhoslyn as she rounded on him. He held up a hand to quiet her. “A moment, Lady Rhoslyn.” Talbot called to a lad waiting near the table. “Find Sir Baxter and send him to my private quarters. Look first on the wall. If he is not there, try the field where the men train.”
“Aye, laird,” the boy started to turn away.
“Lad.”
The boy stopped.
“Come with Baxter to my chambers.”
The boy’s eyes widened, but he turned and sped from the room.
Talbot turned back to Rhoslyn. “Where is Lady Andreana?”
Rhoslyn shook her head. “I do no’ know. She could be in her chambers, or mayhap she is sitting with my grandfather.”
“We had better find her and tell her she is married.”
Rhoslyn’s eyes rounded. “My God, St. Claire, what have I done?”
“Gotten us all hung, if your priest does not agree to forge marriage papers.”
“You mean ye really will betroth Sir Baxter to Andreana?”
“You were not sure I would?” He laughed. “If you had doubts, why did you tell Lochland they were married?”
“I could think of nothing else.”
“I suppose I should be glad you did not think of me killing him.”
“The thought crossed my mind,” she replied, and Talbot suspected it was more accurate to say that she considered killing him herself.
“Let us find Lady Andreana,” he said.
He strode to the kitchen and ordered one of the maids to find Andreana and send her to his chambers. He returned to Rhoslyn and they hurried to their private quarters.
When he closed the door behind them, she said, “What if Father Crey will no’ say they are already married?”
“He will agree if he wants any more contributions from me.”
Her mouth fell open. “Ye canna’ bribe a priest.”
“Aye, but I can.”
She shook her head. “He will do it to save her from De Quincy.”
“All the better. That will save me silver.”
“That is blasphemy,” she said, but he caught a hint of laughter in her voice, and relief flooded him. Perhaps she had seen reason and understood he wasn’t to blame for her grandfather being attacked.
“It is frugal,” he replied.
“We must have witnesses. Mistress Muira will surely agree. My grandfather. Perhaps some of your men as well, St. Claire.” Her brow knitted in worry. “Will Sir Baxter marry her?”
“He will do as I command.”
“I do no’ want him to hate her.”
“Rhoslyn, it is a good match for him. He will be pleased. Do not worry.”
She snorted. “Ye are a terrible liar. He hates Scotland. I believe he dreams of you and him returning to England.”
Talbot regarded her. “There was a time you dreamed of me returning to England. Now you have married your stepdaughter to my captain.”
“Your captain is preferable to De Quincy.”
“Hmm,” Talbot i
ntoned. “So it isn’t that you see our redeeming qualities, but simply that there is someone you perceive as being worse than we are.”
She stepped closer to him. “Nay. You are wrong. I...” Confusion washed across her features and Talbot read in her eyes fear for her grandfather’s life and anger that he had been hurt.
Talbot grasped her chin and tilted her face up toward him. “You...”
She reached for his shoulders, rose on tiptoes, kissed him, then drew back. “I am grateful that you are saving Andreana.”
He looked down at her. “Grateful?”
That was a start.
* * *
A knock sounded at the door and Rhoslyn jerked free of St. Claire’s embrace.
“Enter,” he called.
The door opened and Andreana entered. “Ye called for me, laird?”
“Aye, Lady Andreana.” He looked at Rhoslyn.
“Andreana, come, sit with me at the fire.”
The girl looked from Rhoslyn to him, brows drawn, but she did as Rhoslyn asked.
They sat and Rhoslyn took Andreana’s hand in hers. “There is no way to say this save directly.”
“What is it?” Andreana blurted. “Has Grandfather died?”
“Nay,” Rhoslyn quickly assured her. “Nothing like that. I am sorry. We didna’ mean to frighten you. Andreana, ye are to be married immediately.”
Andreana blinked. “Married?” She looked from Rhoslyn to St. Claire. “What has happened?”
“Lord Lochland wanted to betroth you to De Quincy,” St. Claire replied.
Andreana gasped.
“Your mother told him you were already wed to Sir Baxter.”
Rhoslyn squeezed her hand. “It was the only way. St. Claire says Sir Baxter is a good man. He is preferable to De Quincy, do ye no’ agree?”
“Aye,” Andreana said slowly. “It is just so...unexpected.” She looked again at St. Claire. “What does Sir Baxter think about being saddled with a Scottish wife?”
“He will consider himself fortunate,” Rhoslyn interjected.
Andreana gave her a gentle smile. “Sir Baxter has no more wish to marry a Scottish woman than ye did to marry an Englishman.”
“Andreana,” Rhoslyn remonstrated.
“Do not chide her for understanding the truth, Rhoslyn,” St. Claire cut in, then shifted his gaze to Andreana. “It is a good match for him, more than he could have hoped for at least another five years, maybe more. Aside from being intelligent and beautiful, you are an heiress. He will see the advantage in marrying you.”