Diana Cosby

by His Seduction

Lord Grey glanced at the fairy upon the sword hanging on the wall at his side, then slowly met her gaze. “Nay.”

  “And why is that?” Rois asked.

  Seathan exhaled. “We are a family whose past carries a tragic story, but one you should know.”

  A tragic story? Is that why had her da had never told her of their family connection, or the reason for their division? Anxious, Rois nodded.

  “When my grandfather, Trálin MacGruder, Earl of Grey, met my grandmother, Lady Catarine MacLaren, theirs was a love few experience.” Seathan stroked his finger along the sword’s hilt, paused when he touched the fairy. A faint smile lingered, then faded. “When Trálin brought her to Lochshire Castle, his brother, Faolan, Rois’s grandfather, was in residence. Upon their meeting, Faolan fell in love with Catarine. Regardless of her assuring Faolan she would always love Trálin, Faolan stated his intent to win her over.”

  Rois tensed. “Which started the conflict.”

  “Aye,” Seathan replied. “Furious, my grandfather warned Faolan away. They fought. My grandfather broke his brother’s sword arm, and swore if he came near my grandmother again, he would kill him.”

  “How awful,” Rois said. Griffin took her hand, gave a gentle squeeze. “Did my grandfather and yours ever try to put their troubles behind them?”

  “To try and make peace,” Seathan explained, “my grandfather gave Faolan their mother’s lands. For Faolan, his offer mattered little. He denounced the MacGruder name. Then, my great-uncle claimed the name of their mother, Brom.”

  “Brothers,” she said, saddened by the events. “How awful that jealousy tore our families apart.”

  “Aye.” Seathan lowered his hand to his side. “After Faolan rode away, and with the division between the brothers so bitter, none spoke of the other. Years passed. Except for the mention of the incident within the family journals, ’twas all but forgotten that a great-uncle did exist.”

  “But my grandfather did remarry,” Rois said. “One would believe that with a wife and children of his own, he would release his anger and rebuild a bond with his brother.”

  Seathan shook his head. “My grandfather learned through another lord who had drank one night with Faolan that Faolan never loved his wife, his marriage that of duty to procure an heir.”

  Sadness tightened Rois’s throat. “How tragic he nurtured his bitterness.”

  “’Tis,” Seathan said. “A resentment he passed to his son, Angus.”

  “Did you try talking with Lord Brom?” Griffin asked.

  “On several occasions,” Seathan replied. “Over the years, raising the topic has sparked only upset. So, I learned to leave the past be.”

  “It makes no sense,” Griffin said. “Angus is a rational man.

  Seathan nodded. “On most things, but ’twould seem being raised beneath his father’s kindled anger has soured Angus’s belief that our family could ever again be close.”

  “Still, I canna believe he kept my heritage from me over a feud so long ago,” Rois said, her anger gaining foothold. “But no longer. The gift of a family is precious. Once he is recovering, I will speak with him. ’Tis time long past for our families to heal.”

  “It is,” Seathan said, “but do nae expect a miracle. ’Twill take time for Angus to understand that the separation of our families lies in his mind, nay more. I, and my brothers, hold no grudge for his grandfather’s actions. Our wish is for our families to reunite. Above all, family should be coveted.”

  “Aye,” Rois agreed.

  The familiar ache of regret filled Griffin as he recalled his own past. He understood too well the struggles Rois now dealt with. How he wished his parents still lived, that he could erase the mistakes he’d made. But, as a flicker of torchlight, naught remained the same. Stability was but an illusion. ’Twas a person’s choice to grasp the moment, to decide if one but existed or chose to truly live.

  As had his sister.

  With Nichola’s marriage, Griffin had inherited the MacGruder brothers, men who he was honored to call family, men who he would do whatever to protect, including sacrificing his life.

  “Yes,” Griffin said, meeting Rois’s gaze, “family should be nurtured against all.” She nodded, but he caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “You worry for your father.”

  She nodded. “A-aye.”

  “Rois,” Seathan said, his face somber, “while within my home, your father will receive the best care.”

  A tear spilled upon her cheek. “I know. Still, I find myself afraid. His wounds are deep, and infection has set in.”

  Griffin drew her against him, her tears warm against his skin, and with each that fell, he ached to quell her distress. “Quiet now,” he whispered and pressed a kiss upon her brow, well aware of Seathan’s curious look. He could imagine the shock when Lord Grey learned that in addition to his family connection through Alexander, they were now connected on a second front, through his marriage to Rois.

  Rois withdrew from Griffin’s hold. “I wish to remain with my father. I must be with him in case he . . .”

  In case he dies, Griffin silently finished. He looked through the entry at Angus, relieved to find his friend’s breathing had slowed to an even rate. But, his pale skin spoke of fatigue, of his struggle against the agony, and Griffin prayed that indeed his life would be spared.

  He caressed the soft sweep of Rois’s cheek. “Go. I will join you in a moment.”

  Emotion-filled eyes met his, her fear evident, her desperation clear. “I am being foolish.”

  “No, you are a woman who loves her father.”

  Tears glittered in her eyes. “Thank you for understanding.”

  “Along with you now.” Griffin lifted her hand, pressed a kiss upon her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers. “I will be there shortly. That I promise.”

  A wisp of a smile touched her lips, and then she turned toward Seathan. “Thank you, cousin.” Rois hurried inside the chamber.

  An ache built inside Griffin as he watched Rois kneel beside her father’s bed. She was an amazing woman, one any man would be blessed to have in his life, one he found himself wanting to keep with every breath.

  A glint of light drew his attention to the wall-mounted claymore near Seathan. From atop its leather-bound hilt, a finely carved fairy peered down. Embraced in the flicker of torchlight, delicate wings lay open as if she was ready to ascend into the night. An impish grin framed her face, and her eyes shimmered with pure delight.

  The first time he’d seen this fierce weapon, he’d thought the fairy’s presence odd and out of place against the brutal weapon. On closer study, he found that somehow, the delicate carving completed the blade in an unexpected regal union.

  Fitting, as the weapon belonged to the MacGruders’ grandfather. The blade, a gift from a young King Alexander III in 1257 after Trálin had saved Scotland’s king from an abduction attempt by the families of Comyn. An attack where he’d met and later married Lady Catarine MacLaren.

  “’Tis a fine piece,” Seathan said.

  “It is,” Griffin agreed, finding life a curious mix. “Never would I have believed myself to become part of your family.”

  A smile played upon Seathan’s mouth. “When Alexander was sent to abduct you, and instead abducted then fell in love with your sister, ’twas a fine twist of fate.”

  “Indeed. Who would have believed it possible to find love with your enemy?”

  Shrewd eyes narrowed, softened. “Christ’s blade, you love Rois.”

  “I care deeply,” Griffin reasoned. He refused to acknowledge the words that would make their inevitable parting worse.

  His expression far from convinced, Seathan rubbed his jaw. “From the way you held Rois, cared for the lass, you are nae bloody immune.”

  “Immune?” Griffin gave a rough laugh. “Far from it, but then . . . how does one properly treat a wife?”

  Surprise flashed within Seathan’s eyes, and then laughter. “Christ’s blade, for a moment I believed you.” />
  “’Tis no joke.”

  His eyes widened. “You married Rois? I didna realize you had met her before?”

  “I had not.”

  With a grimace, Seathan glanced where Rois remained by her father’s side, then met Griffin’s gaze. “How could you have married her when you do nae even know the lass?”

  “An understatement,” Griffin replied dryly. In short, he explained the meeting as the rebels prepared for war, and his errand to deliver the request from King Edward and de Moray’s father to Lord Andrew. Finally, of how Rois, a woman who tended to act on impulse, had challenged him.

  “She accused you of taking liberties before a chamber of warriors at a rebel meeting?” Seathan gasped. “Is she daft?”

  The shock in his friend’s voice matched Griffin’s own at the bewildering event. “At the time I believed so.”

  “God’s teeth, ’tis a miracle you escaped unscathed.”

  “Unscathed?” Griffin arched a brow. “Is that what you call marrying the lass?”

  “Why did you nae confront Rois then and there?”

  “When the room calmed,” Griffin explained, “I caught a glint of fear in her eyes. Foolishly, I believed when faced with marriage she would admit the truth. I knew not Rois, her stubbornness, or her passion for those she loves.”

  “Why would Rois call attention to herself in such a volatile setting?” Seathan asked.

  “She believed my presence was a threat to her father, that I would expose his Scottish loyalties to King Edward. So, when I apologized for my untoward behavior before the rebels, then asked her to handfast, instead of admitting ’twas all a lie, she accepted and in the mayhem that followed, escaped with her father in tow.”

  Seathan chuckled. “Had another told me, I would have accused them of telling a bard’s tale. But, ’twould seem that however peculiar the beginning, you have found someone—”

  “No,” he said, wishing he could allow their marriage to remain, “we have found naught.”

  “Bloody hell, I saw you with her. You care for my cousin.” Seathan paused, his gaze shrewd. “Nay, I have known you for many a year. You love her.”

  For the briefest moment, Griffin allowed himself to consider the fact. His mind braced, he awaited the panic, the soul scraping fear of truly caring for a woman. Instead, warmth filled him, that of completeness, of having someone forever in his life.

  God in heaven, ’twas true.

  Heavyhearted, he blew out a rough breath. “I would be a fool to not want to keep Rois in my life. But I refuse to endanger her.”

  “Do you think you are alone?” Seathan demanded. “That I and my brothers didna face the same questions when we found women we loved?”

  Griffin cursed. “But—”

  “Nay excuses. You will hear me out,” Seathan stated. “Alexander married your sister, an Englishwoman. By rights they should be enemies. Now, they are wed, happy, and in love. Duncan reunited with a woman he believed a mistress to his enemy. I married an Englishwoman whose brother sentenced me to hang. And Patrik.” Seathan exhaled. “If any should claim a reason for nae marrying, ’twas him. Having watched his family butchered by English troops in his youth, never would any of us, much less Patrik, have considered he would fall in love with or wed an English lass. But it happened. Blast it, Griffin, we are at war! Do you think anyone is safe? That there is logic in whom we fall in love with?”

  “No,” he rasped, his heart aching, “but you and your brothers do not work for the English king. My position as King Edward’s advisor to the Scots exposes me to continued scrutiny. If any shred of proof could be provided of my work for the rebels, ’twould mean my death. And if I kept Rois with me, hers as well. Do you think I want her living in constant danger? When I depart on a mission under the guise of Wulfe, how could I leave her and not fear for her life?”

  “Never did I say it would be easy,” Seathan stated. “Many never find love. You have. And, with a woman who, if I judge accurately, cares deeply for you if nae loves you as well. You both need time. Once she comes to know you and you her, any doubts about your situation will fade.”

  “I—”

  “Regardless,” Seathan interrupted, “you are wed.”

  “We are.” Griffin gave him a wry smile. “After the convoluted mess that tossed Rois and I together, I admit I entertained the prospect of stowing her away within an abbey. But, Angus bade me to keep her with me, to protect her.” He grew somber. “Once he recovers, however much I care for Rois, I will procure an annulment.”

  “Impossible. You have traveled with her, slept—”

  “No.”

  Seathan’s mouth opened. Then closed. “You have nae . . . God’s teeth.”

  A muscle worked in Griffin’s jaw. “My decision is made.”

  “Decision? Aye, that you are a stubborn arse.”

  “A trait,” Griffin drawled, “’twould seem common within the MacGruders.”

  Irony flashed in Seathan’s eyes. “Common indeed.”

  Griffin refused to say more. ’Twould change naught and breed more upset. Still, he must face the remainder of the MacGruder family and his sister. For now, he and Rois would remain here until Angus healed, and prayed indeed his friend would recover. Then, he would leave Lochshire Castle.

  Alone.

  He shifted, and his fingers bumped against the bulky roll beneath his garb.

  The writ.

  Images of de Moray and his grave condition flickered to mind. White-knuckled, he withdrew de Moray’s writ. “Seathan, there is another reason I have come. Lord Andrew bade me to deliver this to you.” He handed his friend the writ.

  Worry creased Seathan’s brow as he broke the seal and unrolled, then scanned the rough-inked parchment. After a long moment, he glanced up, his face pale. “If de Moray dies, he requests I stand in his stead and act as Wallace’s advisor.”

  Griffin nodded. “He told me of his request. Though the English have retreated, we both know ’tis but to regroup. More so once King Edward learns of the Battle at Stirling Bridge and the catastrophic loss to his forces.”

  Seathan’s mouth thinned into a tight line, and he rerolled the writ. “Are Sir Andrew’s wounds so dire?”

  Emotion stormed Griffin. “I fear for his life.”

  Seathan swallowed hard and looked away. “God’s teeth.”

  A low pounding began in Griffin’s temple. He rubbed his brow. How could Seathan not be affected by the news? Sir Andrew was their friend.

  “Where is he?” Seathan asked.

  “Cumbuskenneth Abbey.”

  Lord Grey turned, his face composed, but his skin taut. “I will pray for a miracle.”

  “As I.” Somber, Griffin glanced inside the chamber where Angus rested. “’Twould seem we need many as of late.”

  “Indeed.”

  Silence fell between them, the normalcy of distant voices from the great hall below at odds with their fear, as the lives of many they cared for lay in jeopardy.

  “You will want to return to Rois,” Seathan said.

  Griffin nodded.

  “Before you go, why was Angus brought to Lochshire Castle? In his condition, to move him from the battle site could easily have killed him.”

  Anger stormed Griffin at the reminder. “I agree. Worse, ’twas done with ill intent.” He explained of how upon Griffin’s return from taking de Moray to Cumbuskenneth Abbey, he’d had to track her and Sir Lochlann down, only to discover Angus near death in a crofter’s hut. Then, he relayed Sir Lochlann’s intervention, the knight’s lies to Rois, and that the Scot wanted to wed her once she was free.

  Seathan clasped his dagger. “Sir Lochlann’s blood will spill beneath my blade.”

  “No,” Griffin stated. “He is mine.”

  Seathan eyed him hard. “And what of Rois when she learns of your intent?”

  Griffin held his hard glare. “’Twill be a blasted mess.”

  “Aye, ’twill be that.”

  “Griffin?”

>   At his sister’s voice, Griffin turned toward the turret. A slender woman hurried toward him, the warmth of her smile inspiring his own. “Nichola.” He drew her into a fierce hug. “I have missed you.” He stepped back, swept her with a critical eye, and then tugged the neat plait of her auburn hair. “You look content.”

  She laughed.

  With happiness beaming on her face, Nichola reminded Griffin of his mother, and a pang touched his heart.

  “I heard you had arrived with a party.” She glanced around, frowned. “Who?”

  “Lord Brom and his daughter accompany your brother,” Seathan explained.

  “Lord Brom?” Nichola asked. “Why have I never heard mention of him?”

  “He is a powerful Scottish lord who lives in Kincardan Castle,” Alexander said as he strode toward them. “Remember I told you about the feud between my grandfather and Lord Brom’s father?”

  She nodded.

  Griffin smiled at the warrior he now called brother, hair black as Seathan’s and of his equal height. But the similarities ended there. A scar angled down his brother-in-law’s cheek, the battle wound adding to his daunting presence.

  Cobalt eyes studied him with unapologetic interest. “I was surprised to hear Lord Brom would grant his permission to be taken to Lochshire Castle,” Alexander said.

  “I knew not of the discord before our arrival,” Griffin explained. “Had I known, I still would have brought them.”

  Alexander grimaced. “Mad as a badger Angus will be.”

  Griffin shrugged. “A worry I will tend to once he awakens.”

  “Griffin?”

  At Rois’s unsteady voice, he glanced over. She stood at the door to the chamber, her eyes wide, unsure. His heart tightened in his chest. Seathan was right. He loved Rois, which complicated everything.

  Rois glanced at the gathering group, then toward Griffin. “’Tis Da. He is calling your name.”

  “Who is that?” Nichola whispered to Griffin, curiosity rich in her voice.

  “My wife.” Ignoring the shock upon both his sister and Alexander’s faces, he turned to Seathan. “Rois and I will meet with you shortly in the great room.” He strode past. Time for explanations would come, but at this moment Rois needed him, and by God as long as he could, he would be there for her.