by C. C. Wiley
* * * *
Dismounting, he handed the reins to the groomsman and raced up the stairs. His footsteps echoed in the great hall.
Raised voices came from the solar. Was that weeping? Meg? Afraid that someone had been mortally injured, he ran into the room.
The children huddled around Meg, consoling her as she wept into her hands. They froze in what they were doing and glared at him over her head. Their stares warned they would rip him apart if they had the opportunity.
Brother John lifted his head, then bent his neck. “Might as well join us, Sir Nathan.” He folded his arms behind his back and returned to his prayerful wandering about the room.
Meg’s pale face, mottled and puffy from tears, crumbled at the sight of him. “Yes, do come in, my lord.” She rose from the great chair. Her fingers curled against her palms. White lines formed around her mouth.
Nathan arched a brow. What had happened to the fine reception that had played out in his mind? What did she mean by calling him her lord? The warning itch crawled its way between his shoulders.
“You!” she said, pointing at him. “When did you do it? Before or after you were stealing kisses. And…” she twirled her finger, “worming your way into our lives.” She worked her way past Anna and Phillipa’s efforts to stay her wrath. “What did you tell our king? That the Lady Margaret was too weak to manage the property? Did you see the lands and rub your hands together and say, ‘Ah, a tasty morsel to steal out from under the people of Fletchers Landing’?” Her chest rose and fell, stretching the bodice to the point that he worried it would rip apart.
“You’re speaking in riddles.”
“How could you,” Meg growled like a feral cat protecting her property. She shoved a crumpled parchment into his hands. “I pray that you choke on it.” A sob ripped through her body, doubling her over.
Nathan reached for Meg to offer comfort. Phillipa blocked his way, shoving him away. “Do not dare touch her.”
“Come,” Anna soothed, pulling Meg away. “You will take ill if you do not rest.”
Their brother strode up to him. His blue eyes were filled with the pain of betrayal.
“Baldric, what—”
A single tear slid down the boy’s cheek. “I thought you and I were friends.” He ran out of the solar. The door slammed behind him.
“Let them go, son. Speak with them come the morn, when heads are clearer and hearts are lighter.”
Nathan stared at the missive that bore the king’s seal. The other set of tracks they had found must have been made by the king’s messenger. Was he still here? Waiting for a response. But to what? His stomach knotted. Had the king found someone suitable to marry the Lady Margaret of Fletchers Landing? Bile rose. The room began to bleed into red-filled panic. He turned to the friar. “Brother John,” he said. “What’s the meaning of this?”
The deep worry marring the old man’s brow made Nathan’s organs twist in pain. He knew Brother John had contacted those connected to the old knights but to what extent? The monk waved him to the antechamber. “You will want to read this in private. Then we will talk.”
Nathan forced his hands to steady, then slowly unrolled the king’s decree.
Chapter 13
Instead of the imagined welcome, Nathan trudged to his bedchamber. Crestfallen, he stood in the hallway, staring at Meg’s door, willing her to open it and let him in.
He, the newly appointed Lord of Fletchers Landing, had every right if he chose to wield it; to demand entrance. But what good would that bring if she could not bring herself to look upon him?
What had his king done to him? Henry may have given him a title and lands, but that act tore the heart out of him.
A heavy sigh pressed his feet deeper into the soles of his boots. He retraced his steps to his bedchamber. Once again, he was alone. After stripping off his clothes and splashing his face with the water from the washstand, he fell into the empty bed.
Visions of the fire licking up the wall slipped into his dreams. Screams from the children tore open his heart. Sweat dripped off his forehead. It hissed as it hit the fire, sizzling like meat on a spit. He fought his way into the rooms, one after the other, searching for something. For someone. His sword was no match for fighting the flames.
“Nathan,” Meg cried out. “Please! I need you.”
He awoke, shivering with fear. He yanked on his chausses and returned to Meg’s chamber door.
“Let me in,” he whispered as he scratched on the door. “Meg? Please I beg you. I ask only to ensure that you are safe.”
Greeted by the silence in her response, he increased his knocking. Worry shifted to anger. “Meg?”
The door swung open to an empty room.
* * * *
Meg walked the cavern on legs that felt more wooden than human. How could she have been so foolish to think that she might trust him? Earlier that day she almost shared the fears that weighed her down.
She gripped her hair. Whom could she trust? No one.
Duncan ducked his head to gain entrance to the chamber. “I suspected you might be needing to speak with me. Just not so soon. Heard you had a wee bit of trouble in your village.”
“The chandlery is burned to the ground and all that was stored within it.”
He drew up a chair, spinning it so that he straddled the back. “Spoke with your knight.”
“Tis not my knight. Ho, no, the man is now our lord. The king has not only torn my land away from me. He has also set my hand in Sir Nathan’s for marriage.”
“Ah then all is not lost. You’ll still live on the lands you’ve been born to.”
She shoved her braid over her shoulder. “All that I’ve done to keep us safe and now this. Mayhap he is the one who set the sheep loose. Started the fire.” She scowled at the behemoth. “Or was it your reivers?”
“No, lass, do not accept that lie. ’Tis another you should look to instead of me or your man.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Dinna your man tell you? They have the blacksmith barricaded in the smokehouse.”
Meg ground her teeth. “It starts already. He’s already keeping information regarding my people from me?” She picked up a ball of beeswax and returned to her pacing. “Why did they lock him up?”
“I’d say that be something you want to give your man a chance to tell you.” He shook his head. “Did you give Sir Nathan a chance to speak at all?”
“I…” Heat infused her cheeks. “Perchance I was a bit upset.”
“I’d wager you were a bit more than that. Mayhap it would be fair to say you were enraged.”
The warm wax rolled in her palm. How did Duncan gain his information? The man knew too much of the goings-on in her keep and village.
“There are worse people to be wed to.” He rubbed his chin. “Although, if you wish it, I can see that he is taken away to the hills in the north.” He rubbed his paws together. “Bound to be worthy of a hefty ransom.”
“And bring more of the king’s men down around our ears?” She shook her head. Tempting as it was, she could not bear the thought of Nathan injured and alone. “I beg you, do no harm to him.”
“As you wish,” Duncan said. “If you should have a change of heart, me and my lads will put the lad in a gunny sack and carry him away.”
“No. I’ll find a way to convince him that he will not want to linger. That the holding will manage without him as it has in the past. He has already so much as said that he planned on leaving for France as soon as he sends his report to the king.”
“Then why did you send for me? I was to be heading to my bed instead of riding out at night.”
Meg took a deep breath, repeating the message she had rehearsed earlier. “The fire has impacted the shipment of candles.”
“And why does this matter to me? Our women make our own.”
She had seen his clanswomen’s craftsmanship the last time she went to Carlisle to sell her own wares. Fletchers Landing’s candles were the finest. None were comparable. ’Twas why she could charge the smugglers the price that she did. “The loss impacts the timing of payment.”
He clucked his tongue. “’Tis a pity.”
“Duncan Graham, we paid you well. We’ll pay you again in time.”
“And you’ll receive your protection when we collect our money.” He splayed his empty hands. “In time.”
“I’m beginning to suspect that you are up to mischief. This fire isn’t the first difficulty that has visited our village. Mayhap we’re not getting the protection that you promise.”
“Spit it out! What are you saying, lass?”
“We had a shipment of ale stolen. I’ve allowed you knowledge of when these deliveries are to take place so that no one takes advantage of us.”
“Now why would we go and do that?” His Scottish brogue thickened as his temper rose.
“You’re a Graham. That’s reason enough to question where you were. Was it you or one of your men who stole our goods and set the fire?”
“I happen to enjoy your coin too much to steal from you.” He stood to tower over her. His nostrils flared his outrage. “And I happen to care for…” His lungs inflated with his deep breath. “Take my word as truth that I’ve had no hand in your problems. But I vow I’ll uncover who’s setting up my clan and me to take the fall. I won’t be facing a hangman’s noose for something I never took pleasure in doing.”
“Forgive me. It had to be asked.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Do you think it might be that knight of yours?”
“Of course not. He doesn’t know of our agreement. Nor of the arrangement with our merchants.”
“That’s a pretty way of saying smugglers, is it not? I warned you not to trust them.” He folded arms across his chest.
“Yes, you and Anna are a constant buzz in my ear about the dangers. But it has to be done.”
“Your sister’s a bright woman.” His blue eyes shifted as quickly as the direction of his suspicion. “But the fire might be another thing. The knight might want to gain your attention. To prove that Fletchers Landing needs a lord instead of a lady to lead them.”
Meg winced and shook her head. “We were together when the cry rang out.” The memory of Nathan’s mouth pressed to hers, moving together in want, brought a flush to her core.
His brows arched. “So that’s the way of it? Well then, we must take him off our list.” He sighed. “Since I’m to clear my good name before it is besmirched with lies I’ll give you some time until all this is settled.” He held up his hand. “Silence. You haven’t heard my terms.”
“You’ve already demanded plenty.” Wary, she asked, “What additional terms are you offering?”
“I’ll present my request when the time is right.” He sat down on the chair. “Tonight, I’ll stay and watch over what’s left of the shipment. Think of it as protecting what’s mine.”
His wolf’s grin should have been enough to make her run to the keep. Instead, she held out her hand. It was an answer to who should take first watch. “Agreed.”
“You have my word and now I have yours.” Duncan’s fingers tightened around her hand. “I’ll be certain to let you know what I desire when the time comes.”
* * * *
Meg slipped through the door. A form moved from the chair beside the hearth. She gasped, clutching her chest. “Who’s there?”
Candlelight created shadows across the intruder’s face. A boot heel struck the floor. The chair creaked as its inhabitant stood. “Where have you been, Lady Margaret?”
“You startled me!” she cried. “What are you doing in my bedchamber? Who gave you permission to enter?”
“It was unlocked.” He turned to light another taper. “And you did not answer my question.”
“You cannot be here,” Meg hissed.
“We are betrothed.”
Nothing was ever that simple. She took off her cloak, gathering her thoughts. How could she tell him? He serves only his king. He would never understand. Thanks to the troubles of late, Fletchers Landing was nearer to poverty than ever before.
“I could not sleep. The events of the day were too much.” She peered under the cover of her lashes. His firm mouth pressed into a thin line as he continued to scowl at the ends of his boots.
“Nor could I,” he said. “There is much I would have liked to discuss with you.” He shifted his attention to her. His gaze roamed over her body, then drifted to her face. “But you were not here.”
Meg steeled her trembling legs as he advanced forward. The gentle stroke of his finger swept down her cheek. “Were you…with someone?”
“No,” she whispered. Afraid to look at him lest he see her lie, she closed her eyes. Shaking her head, she pressed into his palm. “I like to walk along the gardens. To gather my thoughts.”
“I see,” Nathan said. “If we are to be married, we must learn to trust each other. Don’t you agree?”
Meg licked her lips. Her throat became as parched as a dry creek bed. “Yes,” she croaked.
“Look at me,” he pleaded. “I must know if there is another who has your heart.”
This was the opportunity for her to claim a lover. Someone who might send him away. She opened her mouth, but could not form the words. “There is no one.”
Nathan let loose a ragged breath. He cradled the back of her neck, pressing his forehead to hers. “Then there is still hope.”
A tear burned a trail down her cheek. His back was straight and strong under her splayed hands. The warmth of his body, his scent of leather and mint, called to her. A siren’s voice that she dared not listen to. “I fear there is very little hope for us.”
His muscles twitched against her fingers. “You cannot mean it.” He stilled. “’Tis because you believe I am broken. Because of the night terrors?”
“No,” she soothed, her heart breaking at the pain that she caused. “I do not fear your dreams. I know that you are a knight and have seen and endured many things. I think no less of you.”
“Then ’tis the king’s edict.” He played with the tendrils by her ear, distracting her from her mission. “I know ’tis unexpected. For both of us. Mayhap the king in his wisdom has created a union that will thrive.” He leaned in. Her core tightened as he ran his tongue over the shell of her ear. “There is something between us. Don’t you agree? A desire to discover one another. In each other’s arms.”
If only it could be so easy. “Only a fool lets passion lead them,” Meg said.
“On this, we greatly disagree.” He grinned at her; an air of mischief in his tormenting lips. “I shall make it my mission to prove you wrong.”
“You must listen to me.” She had to put a stop to the growing temptation. “Every day, I feared Sir Vincent would return and claim what was his. And deep in my soul, I knew that one day I would be called upon again to wed.”
“You’ve been wed before?” Nathan drew back.
“No,” she said, ducking her head. “I have dared to love but once. At least, at the time I thought it love. But I learned the truth of it. By then it was too late.”
He lifted her chin. “Tell me.”
Her heart ached as she forced her story out. “When I was but ten and seven years of age, I learned that I was betrothed to a young man of influence. My parents believed Geoffrey was the answer to Fletchers Landing’s financial difficulties.”
“They sold you to the highest bidder?” Nathan remained steady under her palms.
“I am but a lord’s daughter, ’tis expected. Most of our wealth had gone to Father’s travels and study of ancient history. ’Twas to be a wedding that fall. Instead it was a month of damp and cold. Sickness had run through th
e Northern towns and villages. I begged Mother and Father to allow me to travel to Newcastle.
“Geoffrey and I had never met and were impatient to get to know one another. We had shared letters of love.” She shook her head in disbelief. “As I look back on it, I have come to realize that it was I alone who wrote of love. He wrote of his passion for his horses and the land that he would gain through our marriage. He wished to know all about Fletchers Landing.”
The snap of a log in the hearth broke through the silence. Nathan pressed his lips to her forehead, then they traveled to her temple. She pushed at the tentacles of desire weaving through her veins.
“He had been a handsome man, but a recent illness had taken his weight and paled his skin. He swore that his health had returned. And as soon as the ink was dry, he pressed his need into my hands. I was flattered when he spoke of our wedding night. He begged for a taste of what our future held.”
She took a shuddering breath. “Although he’d looked unwell, I allowed him to kiss me. I wanted to taste desire. My curiosity led me to disaster.”
“Meg,” Nathan’s voice broke. “Tell me he did not force you.”
Her smile wobbled. “He did not. But his mouth had been demanding. He coughed and his hands shook as he demanded more. I thought it was desire that made him tremble.”
“’Twas the sickness.”
She nodded. “I tore away from him. He called me a bitch, unworthy of his name. He struck me. I cursed him for the bastard that he had become before my eyes. But the curse turned against me.”
“He raised his hand against you?” The fury radiating through Nathan was palpable. “I shall run him through.”
“’Tis no need.” She stroked the base of his spine. If only there could be another chance at love. “Word soon came that the illness had returned and was spreading through Newcastle. Days later, I contracted the coughing sickness and my parents soon followed. However, my precious mother and father never returned home. And I was left to raise my brother and sisters.”