Rois pushed up to face him. Red slid up her cheeks. “We could be careful.”
Her shy smile lured him to forget the day, or her newly taken innocence, and make love with her again. The haphazard spray of the fallen bed around them tamped his yearnings. The splintered wood was a potent reminder of his family’s meddling. They meant well, but did not understand the full danger he exposed Rois to by living with him in England.
He shoved aside several strands of chestnut hair from her cheek. “We have many miles to travel. Already I worry you will be uncomfortable with the long ride ahead.”
“I will be fine.” Rois drew the hand-stitched coverlet around her body, paused, then ran her hand over the fabric. “Never have I seen such a blend of yellow and silver. ’Tis unusual.”
“It is.” Like the woman who once lived within the tower chamber.
She hesitated. “Do you think anyone will mind me borrowing the sheet?”
“No. Worry not, I will return it before we leave.”
“But—”
Griffin scooped her into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
He winked. “Carrying my wife to our chamber.” He strode to the door, the pleasure of holding her weighing against the challenges ahead.
At the entry, Rois’s face paled. “G-Griffin, the bed.”
He sighed. “I know,” he said as he stepped onto the top step of the turret. “I will inform the MacGruders of its fate.” And what a laugh they would have.
“Nay,” she whispered. “’Tis in one piece.”
It could not be. On a hard swallow, he turned. Inside the grandmother’s chamber, the bed stood intact. The sheet spread over the top without a wrinkle. ’Twas as if the heap of timbers and the tumble of bed linens they’d made love on moments ago was naught but a tale.
She trembled in his arms. “H-how can this be?”
Angst wound in Griffin’s gut as he stared at the bed, and then toward fairies woven within the tapestry. From across the chamber, one seemed to smile. He swallowed hard. God’s teeth, ’twould seem the stories of the MacGruders’ grandmother’s chamber and the magic inside were true.
“’Tis a long explanation.” Mind racing, he battled the impossible truth in the stories of the fey. Yet, how else could he account for the righting of the bed?
“But Griffin,” she said, “We both felt the bed crash to the floor.”
“It collapsed beneath us,” he conceded. Had destiny planned for him to break her maidenhood?
Destiny?
On edge, he glanced toward the table where his halved Magnesite lay inside the bowl. On a muttered curse, and with Rois in his arms, he strode inside and halted before the sturdy table.
“I thought we were leaving.”
“We are, but”—Griffin scooped up the halved stone, laid it within her palm—“this belongs to you.”
Surprise widened her eyes. She tried to return it to the bowl, but he wrapped her fingers around the halved gem. “’Tis nae mine. You must return it.”
Another tinkle of laughter echoed in the chamber, and he shot the fairy on the ceiling whose smile broadened, a cool look.
“Trust me, ’tis yours,” he said, his voice edged with sarcasm. “Of that I am very sure.” Before something else beyond his earthly control happened inside this chamber, he carried Rois from the room.
Laughter sparkled in Alexander’s eyes as he leaned against the wooden gate inside the stable. “So, you are taking your wife with you?”
Duncan arched a curious brow, and Seathan and Patrik glanced at each other before turning to face Griffin.
At his mount’s side, Griffin gave the cinch one last tug. “I am.”
“I take it you found Rois last night after you left us,” Duncan said, his dimples deep, and a smug smile plastered on his face.
Griffin lifted the reins, then shot the youngest MacGruder a hard glance. “’Twas it not your intent?”
“Aye,” Seathan agreed. “The lot of them plotted to ensure you and Rois were alone in our grandmother’s chamber. I told them to leave the both of you be. Your private affairs are just that.”
Alexander shoved away from the wooden gate. “Left alone last eve, he would have ridden halfway to Westminster Palace by now, and missing the lass fierce.”
“What I feel for Rois matters not,” Griffin said through clenched teeth.
“It does when you would have made a fool’s choice and left her behind,” Patrik charged.
Seathan raised his hand. “Enough. The deed is done.”
“Aye, it is.” Duncan winked at Alexander. “So proven since he is taking our cousin to England.”
“You have told Rois you work for the Scottish rebels?” Seathan asked.
Griffin patted his mount’s neck, shot the eldest MacGruder brother a cool look. “No.”
Alexander frowned. “Why nae? You must know you can trust her with the secret.”
“I do,” Griffin replied, finding comfort in the fact. “But ’tis not so simple. If Rois was ever questioned by the English about my association with the rebels, if she knows about my work as Wulfe, her reaction to their inquiries may expose the truth.” He shook his head. “As much as I wish to tell her, ’tis best she remains ignorant.”
“Do you think it wise to withhold something so important from the woman who loves you?” Patrik asked.
Of all men before him, Patrik, with his secret life of Dubh Duer, knew well the risks involved. More so, since Patrik’s wife was once a highly paid English mercenary.
“I do,” Griffin replied. “Rois’s emotions are often too easily read.”
“I think it is her right to know,” Duncan said, “but I see the wisdom of your decision as well.”
Seathan and Alexander nodded.
“There is one more thing,” Griffin said, aware his words would receive no welcome. “Once I return to Westminster Palace and finish this mission, Rois and I are moving to Scotland.”
Shock, pure and simple, paled each MacGruder face.
Alexander recovered first. “By God’s eyes, you are needed by the rebels. Your insights of King Edward’s plans have saved of our countrymen’s lives many times over.”
Griffin straightened the stirrup. “I will continue to serve as King Edward’s advisor to the Scots, but I refuse to allow Rois to live in a country where her every move could be suspect.”
“What of Rothfield Castle?” Duncan asked.
“I will continue to maintain my home and lands in England,” Griffin replied.
Seathan crossed his arms over his chest. “And how will you convince King Edward that such a move is prudent to his service?”
A smile edged Griffin’s mouth. “King Edward will believe the loss of his men at Stirling Bridge but a minor setback. Building on that assumption, I will inform him my residing in Scotland will be a sign to the rebels that England’s future is here.”
Patrik grunted. “I can see Longshanks arrogant enough to agree with your reasoning. Except, he and his troops will learn that Stirling Bridge is but the beginning of our reclaiming Scotland’s freedom.”
“Mayhap,” Seathan replied, his expression far from convinced.
“Ah,” Duncan said with a smile, “your wife.”
Griffin glanced toward the keep. His heart swelled as he watched Rois walk down the steps surrounded by the brothers’ wives. At her side, Nichola carried her and Alexander’s son, Hughe.
A vision of Rois cradling their babe came to mind, and pride filled his chest. Never had he thought of her pregnant. What if, after this morn, she carried his babe? Images of a son, with brown hair and hazel eyes, riding fearless across the glen warmed his heart. Or, a daughter, her laughing eyes as green as her mother’s, telling bold tales as they broke their fast. Mayhap over time, Rois would bless him with several children.
“How long will you be away?” Seathan asked.
Griffin set aside thoughts of children. “I am unsure.” Rois within enemy lines meant risk, but
she was safer with him than allowing her to return with her father and be in the presence of Sir Lochlann. Never would the bastard Scot be near her again. “Know that I shall not depart Westminster Palace for any length of time without her.”
“Wise,” Alexander agreed. “With King Edward away, the tension inside the palace should be a touch easier.”
“Aye,” Duncan agreed. “Thankful I am his attention is on Flanders.”
At Nichola’s laughter, Griffin smiled at the approaching party. Who would have believed their families would end up entwined? Or, his marriage to Rois would begin to repair a family torn? Fate, some would say. He glanced at the arched window of the grandmother’s tower, grimaced. Formerly a nonbeliever, well he’d learned this day that indeed magic existed.
Rois stepped inside the stable, and happiness filled her eyes when they met Griffin’s.
He walked to her, lifted her hand, and pressed a gentle kiss upon her palm. “We must depart.”
She nodded, her face pale; he suspected she thought of their crossing into England.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “All will be well.”
A brief smile touched Rois’s mouth. “It will be.”
“You said farewell to your father?”
Rois nodded. “I told him we would see him upon our return to Scotland.”
Neither would Griffin reveal he would travel to Scotland before then for brief communications with her father—under the guise of Wulfe.
Rois gave each MacGruder a hug, a few quick words of good-bye, and then she walked to Griffin.
Wrapping his hands around her waist, he lifted her upon his mount. Griffin nodded to Lord Grey. “My thanks for everything.”
Seathan nodded. “My home is yours, as it has been since your sister wed Alexander. With your marriage to our cousin, our bond is twice as strong.”
“Indeed.” Griffin turned to his sister, gave her a hug. “Take care.”
“I will.” A happy glow upon her face, Nichola stepped back to stand beside her husband.
Griffin swung up behind Rois. With a wave, he guided his horse from the stable. In the bailey, he kicked his steed toward the exit. Hooves clattered upon stone as he rode through the gatehouse. A burst of cool September air hit them as they cantered away from the formidable defenses of Lochshire Castle and rode toward the uncertainty awaiting them in England.
Rois strolled along the cobbled path in the courtyard of Westminster Palace. The numerous arched windows provided a magnificent backdrop to the countless, and priceless, statues, paintings, and pieces of art positioned inside. Across the neatly groomed lawns, the brown turf lay solemn against the late afternoon sun. Streams of sunlight pierced the cloud-ridden sky offering little warmth.
’Twas amazing to think that although she and Griffin had resided here a fortnight, she had explored but a fraction of the luxurious sights the royal palace offered.
“Lady Monceaux?”
At the deep male Scottish burr, Rois turned. A stately man boasting a groomed grey beard and a dignified face strode toward her. It was the Earl of Arthyan, a longtime family friend she’d come across the first night she and Griffin had dined in the palace.
A smile touched her lips at the memories of how in her youth she’d sat by the hearth and listened as the earl and her father spoke of Scotland’s affairs, and the mundane issues of daily life. A time that, when compared to Scotland’s current fight for freedom, seemed so long ago. She gave thanks for the earl’s presence as she worked to find a customary routine on English soil. His familiar face helped temper the adjustment.
She scanned her surroundings. Since her arrival at Westminster Palace, she’d met Lord Arthyan several times at formal events, but always in the presence of Griffin. Although a maid walked a short distance away and he was a family friend, she refused to invite any speculation of impropriety. Rois nodded to the earl, and started to turn.
“Please do nae leave, Lady Rois,” the earl said. “I saw you out enjoying the day, and found myself drawn to the fresh air as well.” Kind brown eyes warmed. “After the stuffiness of the chamber, I pray you do nae mind my joining you.” He cleared his throat. “My lady, if you think my presence is improper in any manner, regardless if you have your maid alongside, I shall depart.” At her hesitation, he stepped back.
She was being rash. He was a family friend and, since they’d come in contact at Westminster Palace, he’d offered her naught but kindness. “Wait.”
Lord Arthyan nodded. “My lady, I do nae wish you any discomfort.”
“I am being foolish. ’Tis nae as if we are alone, or are strangers.” In addition to her maid, several people strolled nearby.
His smile widened. “I found our conversation the last few nights engaging and refreshing. Long has it been since I spoke with someone from my homeland. I am sorry I missed visiting with your father during my last return visit to Scotland, but I had pressing matters needing my attention.”
Rois nodded. “I admit when I saw you outside Kincardan Castle almost a moon ago, I was surprised you didna visit Da before you left.”
The earl hesitated. “I didna realize you saw me? Where exactly?”
Confused by his question, she hesitated. “You were with Sir Lochlann. Near the forest where the river forks.”
“So you did see me,” Lord Arthyan said with a quick smile. “Aye. Sir Lochlann was pointing out the best spot to snare a few fish. Did you know he has mentioned you numerous times over the years? I admit, knowing how deeply he cared for you, I thought ’twould be him you would one day wed.”
She interlaced her hands before her and cleared her throat. “My lord, ours was never more than friendship.”
He arched a distinguished brow. “A belief ’twould seem only you held, but enough of such matters. You have made your choice and appear happy.”
“My thanks, I am.” She hesitated. “I will admit I was surprised to find you at Westminster Palace.” Rois shook her head. “Forgive me, my lord, if you think I pry.”
Mirth twinkled in his eyes. “Do nae worry. I understand. Are we nae both Scots whose lives have taken paths neither of us expected?”
Rois relaxed a degree. “We are.”
“We have a link, a connection between us the English will never understand. Their greed for soil nae their own blinds them to realize the people of Scotland will one day reclaim their land,” he stated, his last words lowering to a whisper. A flush stole across his face. “My lady, I should nae have spoken words so openly that could be interpreted as traitorous.”
Sadness for his struggles for a country they both loved, as well as her own worry, weighed on her. “You have sworn fealty to King Edward. Many a Scot has been forced to bend a knee and re-swear their fealty to King Edward to preserve the safety of their family and home.”
“Indeed,” he replied, his voice somber. “I, Sir Robert Bruce, and many Scots have been coerced to accept England’s dictate.”
Her initial distrust of Griffin flickered in her thoughts. “’Tis a complicated time.”
“My lady, you have great knowledge of our country and wisdom about those who swallow their pride and step in the shadows until time exposes an opportunity.” His smile erased the concern in his eyes. “I regret this talk of fealty and war. A topic you no doubt find boring.”
“I find the discussion far from boring. You caught me off guard, speaking of your passion for Scotland within King Edward’s walls.”
He nodded. “Our longtime friendship as well as your having grown into a beautiful woman loosens my tongue. I ramble like a common lad.”
“I—”
The earl chuckled. “’Twould seem I again overstep my bounds. Please, forgive me. I pray you do nae think me forward, but I and many others at the palace were surprised to learn of Lord Monceaux’s marriage. With your beauty, ’tis easy to see why he was smitten.”
Uneasy with his praise, Rois remained silent, unsure how to reply.
He shook his head. “God’s st
eed, I am forward. Forgive me, but when I heard Lord Monceaux had wed a Scottish lass, I found myself intrigued.”
“Intrigued?”
“As one of King Edward’s favorites, we expected your husband’s marriage to an English noblewoman approved by our sovereign. The baron’s actions are bold. However, when the king meets you, he will easily understand why his advisor to the Scots chose you as his wife.”
Nae wanting to discuss her future meeting with the king further, Rois stepped back. “If you will excuse me, I must return to several tasks that await me.”
The earl nodded. “Of course, my lady. ’Twas a pleasure to speak with you again. I have no doubt our paths will cross in the future. Fare thee well.”
She gave him a quick smile and hurried toward her awaiting maid. In silence they made their way inside. At her chamber, Rois turned to the younger woman. “I wish to be alone. I need naught for the rest of this night.”
“Yes, my lady.” With a curtsy, her maid left.
Alone, Rois closed her chamber door. She missed the simplicity of her life in Scotland, and yearned for her freedom to go about without inciting speculation from her peers. An adjustment she would weather.
With a weary sigh, she washed her face in the basin, then walked to the window where the reds entwined with yellows of sunset illuminated the sky with whimsical ease. However appealing the surrounding countryside, England held but a shadow of the rough beauty of Scotland.
“You look astonishing.”
Rois spun and found her husband closing the door, his eyes hungry. Her troubled thoughts of moments before fled, and she ran into Griffin’s arms.
“I love you,” he said, his gaze burning across her flesh. “I find myself starving, but not for food.”
Heat stroked her. “As I.”
Griffin arched a playful brow. “Let me not keep my fair maiden waiting.”
Rois laughed as he whisked her into his arms.
Claiming her lips in a heated kiss, he lowered her to the bed. With nimble fingers, he removed her gown. Griffin broke the kiss, and with reverence, ran his hands over her naked body.
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