The Warrior Bride

by Lois Greiman

  “I meant with the marquis. You do not know what you are dealing with. A man who would mistreat his own child has no soul.”

  The manor went silent. “Do you bed her, MacGowan?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “How could you believe that when 1 have had you?”

  She watched him closely in the darkness. “Because you refuse to believe she is to blame.”

  He tightened his grip on her arm. “Vow you’ll not do anything foolish.”

  She nodded finally, her expression solemn. “Aye,” she agreed. “Nothing foolish.”

  Chapter 22

  Though the night was long and fitful, morning dawned as usual. With help from one of the maids, Rhona dressed in an ivory gown she had taken from Nettlepath’s coffers. Perhaps it was well out of vogue, but Rhona was unconcerned, for the bodice was cut square and low and would surely catch the marquis’ eye.

  Dressed in a yellow and black doublet with puffed and slashed sleeves, Lord Robert was already seated on his ornate chair. His sister was some distance away, looking small and demure. A few inches from her, Edwina sat in her elevated chair, her eyes unnaturally bright. As for Catherine, she was there also, but her face was closed, her emotions unguessed.

  “Ahh,” said the marquis and rose to execute a graceful bow. His hose were a vivid green. “There is our bonny maid now. I trust you slept well, my lady.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Rhona said. Keeping her gaze off the children, she lowered her lids and willed a blush. She was certain it didn’t appear, but when she glanced up, he was smiling at her, so perhaps she didn’t appear too ferocious. “I slept well indeed.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” he said, and motioned for Colette to fill her goblet.

  Lady Norval remained silent as she tasted her watered ale.

  Edwina received the same, but Catherine’s cup remained empty, as did her plate.

  Rhona glanced at it, then at Colette. “You’ve forgotten the girl,” she said.

  The maid lowered her eyes. “Young Catherine asked to be allowed to fast this day.”

  Rhona’s heart clenched. “Fast?” she said.

  “Aye,” Lady Norval said, and shifted her gaze quickly to her brother and back. “In atonement for her sins. ‘Tis naught to concern yourself with. Do you fast, Lady Rhona?”

  Rhona ignored the question and managed a smile.

  “What sins has she committed?” she asked.

  The baroness glanced at the serving maid. “I am told she rent her gown during the night just past.”

  Anger and guilt burned in equal amounts in Rhona’s gut.

  “Have you any idea how that might have happened, Lady Rhona?” Lady Norval inquired, her voice barely a whisper.

  Colette dimpled as she offered the baron a platter of cold venison.

  “Me?” Rhona asked, and lowered her gaze from the servant. She lifted her knife. It felt lovely in her hand, but she forced her grip to remain light. “Nay,” she said, and hated herself with a burning scorn. “I know naught of any mishap.”

  “You are certain, Lady Rhona?” Colette asked, her bonny brow furrowed with concern. “I thought I heard a noise in the hall.”

  “I am certain!” Rhona snapped then lowered her eyes and softened her voice. “I fear I sleep far too soundly to be roaming about at night.”

  “The sleep of the innocent,” said the marquis, and patted her hand.

  Rhona managed a smile.

  “Indeed,” murmured the baroness. “Blessed are the innocent.”

  Lord Robert smiled at his sister. “We were all innocent once,” he mused, then seemed to pull himself from his reverie. “But what of you, Lady Rhona? I will be hawking this day. Would you care to accompany me?”

  “I am honored, my lord,” she said, “but surely I should see to the children.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “My sister thrives on the opportunity to see to my progeny. Hence we might as well take advantage of her presence here while it lasts.”

  Guilt pressed upon Rhona like a heavy weight. She could feel Catherine’s accusatory glare on her face, but she did not glance toward the child, for duty was also a millstone against her back, and she dare not toss it aside. Instead, she flitted her eyes up to meet the marquis’s.

  “Certainly,” she said. “If your lady sister will be here to see to the lasses.”

  “Of course,” said Lady Norval. “I will enjoy their -company, as always.”

  A myriad of worries nagged at Rhona. What was she to do about Catherine? Aye, it had seemed simple enough a few hours ago; she would demand the truth and right the wrongs, but after a sleepless night, she knew she could not risk such foolishness. Nay, she had come to garner information, and she could not risk being sent away. Thus, she must be cautious with her questions to the marquis, must learn if he knew the truth-or indeed, if he cared enough to be rid of his lover if it were she who caused the abuse. But he was easily distracted, and her questions regarding Colette went virtually unanswered. Still, perhaps her plan would work, for his gaze oft followed her, and he was wont to touch her whenever the opportunity presented himself. Maybe if she aired an ultimatum he would be rid of the girl.

  Finally the day was past, and they returned to Claronnfell. Behind them, the falconers brought the birds and the prey that had been killed.

  Evening was beginning to fall around them when they halted their mounts near the house. Sides addle was a foolish and dangerous way to ride, but her borrowed palfrey was a sleepy beast, and not one to challenge her ability.

  Lachlan exited the stable and strode up to hold her horse’s head. Beneath the foolish droop of his tarn, his expression was inscrutable. She avoided his eyes completely as the marquis strode forward to help her dismount.

  “Here you are, my dear,” Lord Robert said and, setting his hands to her waist, lifted her carefully down.

  “Well…” She cleared her throat and glanced to the side, but she was trapped between her mount’s barrel and the marquis. “It has been a lovely day.” Behind her, the palfrey cocked a hip and sighed sleepily.

  “It has indeed,” agreed Lord Robert. His hands remained on her waist. From the corner of her eye she could see Lachlan ‘s face darken.

  “There is no need for it to end so soon,” said the marquis and, relinquishing his hold on her waist, gently grasped her fingers. “I have not yet shown you my gardens.”

  There was slight movement behind Lord Robert’s back. Startled, the horse grunted and sidestepped away.

  Turpin scowled, and Lachlan smiled.

  “Daft beastie,” Lachlan said. “‘E was crowding the lass.”

  The marquis turned back to Rhona, who smiled demurely as she tugged her hand from his grip and escaped into the open space.

  “You have indeed been generous with me, my lord,” she said, “but I have left the children all day and-”

  “And a few minutes more will not harm them.” If only she were certain of that.

  “Come with me,” he said and, lifting her hand to his mouth, kissed her knuckles. “Humor an old man just this-”

  “I ‘ates to be worryin’ ye, lassie,” Lachlan interrupted. “But I fear one of yer steeds is not feeling ‘is best.”

  “Truly?” She raised her gaze to his, but if there was concern in his face, she could not tell, for since their arrival at Claronfell, his expression looked as vacuous as the air.

  “Aye,” he said. “‘E keeps cockin’ ‘is tail, but ‘tain’t naught ta show fer it if ye tek me meanin’. Perhaps ye’d best see to ‘ im.”

  “What’s this?” asked the marquis, and laughed. “If the steed is ill, my horse master will care for it. Go to the stable and tell Peter he is to give the lady’s steeds the utmost attention.”

  MacGowan stood unmoving for a moment. He was still slumped in the manner he had adopted for Claronfell, but there was something in his eyes that boded ill. Rhona held her breath.

  The marquis was not so astute. “Go,” he commanded, and with a brief b
ow, Lachlan turned away, taking her mount down the hill toward the stable with him.

  “Meanwhile,” said the marquis, and reached for her hand again, “I will be giving you my utmost attention.”

  “You are too kind,” she said.

  He laughed as he tucked her hand beneath his arm.

  “The face of a queen and the voice of a dove. ‘Tis easy to be kind to one so bonny.”

  “Surely you flatter me, my lord.”

  He stared down at her as they walked along. “If I didn’t know better, lass, I would almost think you believe your own words.”

  Her heart fluttered. “What?”

  He laughed, apparently at her abrupt tone. “It almost seems that you do not realize how striking you are. Tell me, sweet Rhona, how have you escaped the marriage block so long? Indeed, I would think you would wish for children of your own by now.”

  “Surely there is time yet for that,” she said. “But when I heard about your girls, left motherless at such a tender age…” She forced a shudder. It felt like the shiver of an aging cow to her, but perhaps he did not think it seemed odd, for he wrapped his arm about her back and pulled her closer.

  “You’re not to worry yourself about them, my dear. They have been well attended since their mother’s passing.”

  This was her opportunity then. A gift sent from heaven. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you about just that,” she said.

  His hand slid down her arm. “Have you now?”

  She stopped and turned toward him, hoping the movement would cause him to release her arm, but she was disappointed. “Perhaps…” She smiled tremulously. “I do not mean to offend you, my lord.”

  “Nay,” he said and, touching his fingers to her lips, traced the crease between them. “Lips so lovely could never offend me. What have you to say, my dear?”

  “Perhaps things are not just as they seem.”

  A light shone in his eyes and fear sparked in her heart.

  She hurried on, praying he did not suspect her of being aught but what she appeared-a mousy maid with naught to do but ply her pitiful hand at seducing a marquis.

  “That is to say, Catherine’s welts-”

  He shook his head, his brow creased. “It began the very day her mother died. She wanted a brother so badly.” He paused and closed his eyes for a moment. “Indeed, I myself yearned for an heir. I do not deny It, and mayhap ‘tis my fault. Mayhap she knew of my yearnings, and wanted it all the more to make me happy. I’m not sure. But this I know; she blames herself for her mother’s death.”

  “You truly believe she abuses herself?”

  His expression was anguished. “If I could change her thoughts, I would,” he vowed. “I am a marquis. Wealthy, powerful.” He tightened his fist. “Skilled with every kind of weapon. And yet…” His palm fell open. “I cannot seem to help her.”

  If he was acting he was very accomplished. “I am sorry, my lord,” she said, and was surprised at her own earnestness. She’d never had a father that truly cared, and seeing it in another made her heart twist.

  “Perhaps your gentle presence here will help her.” Guilt seemed to come from all directions these days.

  Perhaps she was a fool to be here. Then again, just because he cared for his daughters did not mean that he was not planning some evil against the crown.

  “In truth, my lord,” she said, careful now, and admittedly uncertain. “I am not altogether sure that Catherine abuses herself.”

  He stiffened. “What?”

  “Think of it,” she said. “It makes little sense for the girl to cause harm to herself. And she is so thin already. To miss another meal because of a torn gown…” She let her words fall away with a shrug.

  He smiled. “So sweet you are, and young enough to believe you can set things right,” he murmured, and touched her face. “Soft as a dream. Yet, not quite so, aye”!” Brushing his knuckles across her cheek, he propped his fingers under her chin and lifted her face so that her eyes met his. “‘Tis very touching that you would wish to defend the girl,” he said. “But to accuse my sister-”

  “Nay. Not your sister!” she said. “‘Tis Colette I suspect.”

  “Colette!” he gasped.

  She watched him closely and kept her tone carefully soft. “I understand she may be dear to you, but-” “Dear to me?” he asked, then sighed. ”Ahh, so you are not so naive as you seem, my lady.”

  She forced herself to be calm, to appear just as naive as she seemed. “She is a comely maid, my lord,” she said. “And you are a… charming master.”

  “I admit that I have been lonely since my wife’s passing,” he said, and shook his head. “But if she is mistreating my children-”

  “I am sure a gentleman like yourself will have no trouble finding a…” She searched wildly for the proper words. “Replacement.”

  She slanted her gaze up through her lashes toward him. Up ahead a stone archway frowned down at her. “‘Tis certainly good to hear,” he said and smiled wearily as he followed her. “But I can hardly dismiss the maid without proof.”

  “My lord- ” she began, but he interrupted her.

  “I will confront her this very evening. You have my vow, though I think you are far wrong.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “You are most welcome. I but wonder if you might do me a favor in return.”

  “A favor!” she said, then lowered her eyes and re-established her breathy tone. “You wish a favor, my lord?”

  “Aye,” he said, and gently pulled her to a halt in the archway. “If the truth be told, I wish many favors from you, Lady Rhona. But for now I only ask-”

  ”Your greatness!”

  Lachlan ‘s jarring voice seemed to yank the marquis away by his collar. He turned to glance over his shoulder. “What is it?” His tone sounded less than congenial now. “Master Unter bade me tell ye that yer dinner be ‘ ot.”

  “What?”

  “Yer dinner,” he repeated. He shuffled his feet. They looked strangely large and ungainly against the tight fabric of his hose. “‘Tis ‘ ot.”

  “Hot? Oh. Very well,” he said, and returned his attention to Rhona.

  MacGowan cleared his throat.

  The marquis scowled as he turned again. “There is something else?”

  “Aye.” MacGowan had removed his tarn and squeezed it between his huge hands like an uncertain lad before his master. “Beggin’ yer pardon, yer grace, but do ye ‘ ave an answer?”

  “What?”

  Lachlan jumped. “I be but wonderin’ when ‘tis that you’ll et?”

  The marquis stiffened and Rhona stepped away from the arch.

  “In truth, your lordship,” she said, and found it difficult to stifle a grin, for seeing the MacGowan rogue acting like a cowed lowlander seemed far beyond belief. But then, the marquis had not seen him with a short sword in his hand. “I am quite famished and would eat soon rather than late.”

  Lord Robert’s mouth softened slightly. “Very well then,” he said, and nodded curtly toward Lachlan. “Tell Unter we shall dine shortly.”

  “Aye, yer grandness. Aye, I’ll tell ‘im just that, I will,” MacGowan said, and without so much as glancing toward Rhona, bowed gracelessly and departed without another word.

  Lord Robert glanced at her sheepishly. “Is your Welshman always your staunch defender?”

  ”Always, my lord,” she admitted.

  He laughed, brushed his lips across her knuckles and escorted her to the dining hall. It took only a moment for Rhona to realize both girls were absent.

  “Shall I fetch the wee ones for dinner?” she asked, addressing Lady Irvette.

  “‘Tis kind of you,” said the older woman. “But that won’t be necessary. They were fatigued. Colette already put them abed.”

  Without another meal? Rhona could feel her spine stiffening. “Perhaps they are still hungry.”

  “You are sweet to worry on their behalf,” murmured Lady Norval, and smiled shyly. “But you
needn’t. Truly.”

  “In truth, sister,” said the marquis. “Lady Rhona thinks Catherine is not abusing herself.”

  The baroness’s eyes went wide, and when she drew her band to her throat, it trembled slightly. “Whatever do you mean?”

  The corner of his handsome mouth shifted slightly. “‘She thinks another is causing her injuries.”

  She turned her large, faded eyes on Rhona. “Who then?”

  “Lady Rhona thinks Colette may be the source of our troubles.”

  “Colette?” Lady Irvette gasped. “Nay. Surely, it can’t be.”

  ”I spoke to Catherine,” Rhona said softly. “I am certain someone has struck her.”

  “You spoke to her?” asked Lady Irvette. “And she accuses Colette?”

  Rhona drew a deep breath. “I am not certain-”

  “If I have been mistaken I shall never forgive myself,” Irvette whispered and rose awkwardly to her feet.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “I go to confront her this very moment.”

  Rhona awoke early, for worry had prevented her from sleeping well. She had checked on Edwina the previous night, and although the girl had moaned in her sleep, she had seemed well enough. Catherine’s door, on the other hand, had remained locked.

  She descended the stairs now, eager to talk to the girl. “My bonny maid.” The marquis stood at the bottom of the stairs. “You must have read my mind. I was just now thinking about you.”

  “Me, my lord?” She glanced past him toward the dinning hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of her wards.

  “Aye,” he said. “I was wondering if you would favor a bit of a ride. There is a fair outside the village and I would appreciate your company.”

  “I thought I would spend some time with your daughters this mom.”

  He took her arm. “I’ve given a good deal of thought to our discussion last night, and I’ve spoken to Colette.”

  “What did she say?”

  He shrugged. “She denied it.”

  “She lies!”

  He raised his brows at her sharp tone. “I am pleased that you have taken so much interest in them in such a short time, but Colette is a trusted-”

  “She is bonny and she is willing and-” She stopped herself abruptly. “I am sorry, my lord,” she said and calmed herself. “But I think you may not be seeing things clearly.”