“A man who swore to wreak vengeance on me. Can you deny that?”
“Of course not. We both know what I said, but you know I no longer feel that way. What I shouted then was as childish and ignoble as you said it was.”
“And now, you think you are behaving nobly by rescuing me?”
Simon did not pause to think but for once in his life said the first words that came into his head. “You are wrong about what I think and how I feel.”
“I do not—”
“There is nowt about this that a person of sense would call noble,” he interjected. Noting the resultant flash in her eyes, he added hastily, “I’m sorry to interrupt you again, but I must say this whilst the thoughts remain clear in my mind. The fact is that before I pulled you and young Kit from that river I’d have believed myself incapable of ever doing what I’ve done tonight. But since that day, I’ve done many things I never expected to do.”
She did not reply, but sparks still glowed in her beautiful eyes, diverting him because they were as lovely when she was angry as when she smiled. “I will never tire of looking into your eyes,” he murmured before he realized he was not thinking the words but was saying them aloud.
She shut her eyes. When she opened them again, her expression had not softened. “You seem to mean that,” she said. “But Fife will doubtless reward you well if you succeed in this.”
Anger flashed in him, but the words hurt, too, and he knew he deserved them, because she had begun to trust him. That she no longer did was his fault.
Had he been wise enough not to admit Fife had pressed him again to marry her . . . But she had guessed as much, and he could not have denied it without lying.
How could he expect her to trust a liar?
Her hand on his arm stopped this painful train of thought, and he realized he had looked away from her to stare blindly into space.
As he fought to suppress his warring emotions, she said quietly, “I should not have said that. I do see that you had no thought of Fife just now, whatever influence he may have had on your actions tonight.”
“I don’t suppose you will believe that he had none.” “Nay, for you told me yourself that he’d encouraged you to try again. At the least, I’d suspect his words had put the idea into your head. You will not tell me, I think, that you entertained any thought of marriage whilst we were at Elishaw.”
He remembered watching her wade into the forest pond with the moonlight blazing down on her, turning her beautiful skin to alabaster. He had thought briefly then that, had they married, he might have enjoyed her magnificent body for several pleasurable years. But regretting a loss of pleasure for himself hardly meant he had thought then of marrying her, for he had not.
“Tell me what you are thinking,” she urged gently.
“It was nowt,” he said in the same tone, meeting her gaze with more ease than he usually felt when she looked at him so. “I can tell you that, although I had no clear thought today but to protect you, my reasons were selfish and had nowt to do with Fife. They had to do only with my own desires . . . and my deep regret that actions of mine have caused trouble for you.”
To his surprise, he got a wry smile. “There were two of us in that room, sir.”
“Aye, sure, but a more sensible man, especially one who has prided himself on controlling his emotions, as I have, would not have lost his wits—as I did.”
“Did you truly lose them?”
“I did, aye. There can be no other explanation for such foolhardiness. We both know that men roam here as they please. Since I had taken note of your departure from the great hall, it was nowt but loss of good sense to think that no other man had seen you go. Still, when I get my hands on Thomas Colville—”
“Nay,” she said. “Do not blame him. Recall that I humiliated him, too. Mayhap you should have fellow feeling for him.”
“I don’t, nor will I develop any,” he said tersely. “I was as much a lackwit the day we nearly married as your sister’s chap, Denholm, is now. So much did I think of myself then that I thought you should feel honored by my suit. That you might cast me to the wind never entered my head until you did.”
“I was younger than you and terrified of what lay ahead,” she said. “My father took no heed of my tender years when he negotiated those marriages for me. Had I not seen for myself that you take greater care with Rosalie . . . Indeed, sir, it was only when I saw how kindly you treat her that I began to like you a little.”
He smiled. “Rosalie does not thank me. I just hope she won’t elope with the first callow youth who flirts with her.”
“A number of practiced flirts have already done so,” Sibylla said.
“I know, but despite my mother’s lapse, I do trust her to deal with them.” He looked into her eyes again. “I want you to marry me, Sibylla. I don’t think I have ever wanted anything in quite this way before. If you say no and then suffer for your refusal as we both know you will, I’ll never forgive myself for my part in it.”
Sibylla nearly agreed on the spot. She knew she was angrier with the situation than she was with Simon, and she had known it for some time. But with all that had happened, her temper had snapped the moment she faced him.
She did not know of any man other than Hugh who would have dared treat her so fiercely or so decisively with no apparent fear of consequence. And Hugh had been her brother, duty bound to protect her. Simon was not her brother.
“What say you, lass?” he asked again. “You know better than most that I cannot force you—in troth, that no one can. But I can say honestly that I do want more than anything to have you for my wife.”
“But why?” she asked. “You have said you want me, but what do you mean by that? Why do you want to marry me, Simon?”
“Because you make me laugh,” he said without thinking.
Indignation rendered her speechless for a moment before she said, “What a thing to say to me! Do you expect me to believe that you find me so amusing that you cannot bear to live without me, sir?”
“You know better,” he said, using two fingers of his right hand to tilt her chin up. “Look at me.”
Sibylla had never been shy in her life, but the gentle amusement in his voice made her feel shy now. His touch disturbed her in other ways, too, as it always did.
The hand on her shoulder was warm, as were his fingertips on her chin. He had taken off his gloves, if he had worn any. But simple warmth was no cause for the tingling sensations that shot through her body, warming her all through.
She licked her lips as her eyes met his and then, remembering how lustily he had reacted to that before, caught her lower lip between her teeth. His pupils were so large that his eyes looked black. The tingling within her increased.
“What did you mean then?” she said, sounding breathless even to herself.
“I meant that I like to be with you, that I like knowing when I wake up in the morning that I’ll see you during the day and that we’ll talk together. I’ve missed all that these past two days whilst I was making all my arrangements.”
“And avoiding me,” she said.
“Aye, but moments ago, you expressed doubt that I respect your opinions. You need not.”
“No?”
“No, for I don’t just respect them; I value them. I think we’ve become good friends, lass, more quickly than one might expect, given how we met. A marriage that follows friendship must be more likely to survive than one that does not.”
“I expect so,” she admitted, wondering why the thought of friendship with Simon did not delight her, then calling herself a fool. Men married women every day without a semblance of friendship between them, simply because the marriage would increase the man’s wealth and property. Marriage was much more often a matter of property or power than of gentler feelings.
“So I’ll ask you one more time,” he said, both hands on her shoulders again. “What say you, Sibylla? Will you marry me?”
She swallowed hard, knowing she was going
to say yes. First, though, she could not resist a small test of how much he valued her opinions.
“What of Kit, sir? I do still believe she may be the lost Catherine.”
“I know you do,” he said. “I doubt there is anything to such a notion, but one thing you said that we did not discuss much has stuck tight in my mind.”
“What?”
“Those men did try to drown her or, if Dand’s account is true, she was so afraid of them that she chose to fling herself into the Tweed rather than let them catch her. We must make it a point to get more answers out of the bairn this time.”
“Then, if I do marry you, may we leave at once afterward?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his lips twitched in the way that she had come to recognize as his expression of considerable amusement.
He said, “I promise you, we’ll leave first thing in the morning for Elishaw. We cannot go tonight without looking as if we are fleeing. As it is, our hasty marriage will stir more questions. But I can deflect most of them by saying I acted as I did because, after we’d stirred such a flap, you feared everyone would think I was marrying you just to save your reputation.”
“I don’t think much of that reason. You’re making me sound noble now.”
“Nay, I am using a bit of the truth and their own evil thoughts to persuade them,” he said. When she continued to frown, he added, “Or, we could say that I abducted you because just the thought of the grand wedding my mother would have planned made me quake in my shoes—which it would, lass, I promise.”
“I believe you, but that also would give us better reason to leave at once for Elishaw, would it not?”
“Nay, for my mother would have my head on a charger if I left without attending the supper she has organized for us. By the way, I hope you don’t object to a few guests at our wedding.”
Reaching automatically to smooth tendrils of loosened hair back under her beaded net and straighten the net, Sibylla exclaimed, “Guests! Who?”
He smiled, and she marveled again at how a smile lightened his features.
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll fetch them.”
He went only as far as the door, opening it and gesturing. Hearing a giggle that sounded distinctly like her sister’s and being sure that Lady Murray, Rosalie, and Sir Malcolm would be with her, Sibylla quickly shook out her skirts, kicked the dark blanket aside, and gave thanks for dim lighting that would conceal the worst of the wrinkles in the dress she had worn since midday.
She was glad she had done so when the four she had expected to see came in followed by Amalie, Meg, Westruther, Buccleuch, and two of Buccleuch’s lads whom she recognized as Meg’s devoted servant Sym Elliot and the large captain of Buccleuch’s fighting tail, oddly known as Jock’s Wee Tammy.
Amalie came to her at once. “I’ve brought you a present,” she said.
Sibylla smiled warily. “Did Simon tell everyone about this but me?”
“Aye, sure,” Amalie said, grinning. “He wanted proper witnesses, and he needed Garth and Wat to watch the stairway. And he knew he dared not marry you without us. Besides, you’re staying at Wat’s house tonight. We’ve plenty of room, and you’ll be much more comfortable than you would be in Simon’s room—or your own if you dared, and with my lady mother so near. But here,” she added, handing Sibylla a small vial. “You did this for me, remember?”
Sibylla took the vial, pulled out the stopper and sniffed. It was her own favorite fragrance. Giving Amalie a hug, she said, “Thank you. I’m sure I need to daub some on straightaway.”
“Aye, well, don’t use it all. Meg ordered a bath for you when we return.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” Sibylla looked around at the smiling faces, realizing how much she would have abandoned had she tried to endure the scandal.
The Bishop of St. Andrews entered then with a lad garbed as an acolyte following in his wake and carrying a prayer stool.
The prelate said serenely, “The hour grows late. Shall we begin?”
Sibylla looked at Simon, who smiled at her but said not one word.
She looked next at Sir Malcolm.
“Don’t look to me to decide, lassie,” that gentleman said bluntly. “Ye may be putting a hitch in my own rope with this match, but I cannot deny that I still think it an excellent one for ye.”
Glancing next at Lady Murray to see her looking uncharacteristically self-conscious and avoiding her gaze, Sibylla thought she could guess her father’s meaning. Suppressing a smile, she said calmly, “Aye, my lord bishop, let us begin.”
Chapter 17
The wedding ceremony was over so quickly that Simon could barely accept that he was marrying. Because of the late hour and the few witnesses, the bishop offered only two brief prayers in lieu of a nuptial mass. Then, blessing the bride and groom, he had them face their guests and presented them as husband and wife.
As he did, Simon saw Fife standing just inside at the rear of the nave.
“I must present you, my lady,” Simon murmured.
The bishop, overhearing, said, “Indeed, you must, my son. I should have told you the Governor would be here. He said he desired no ceremony and would come in quietly. But in troth, with such haste and informality, I forgot to mention it.”
Simon thanked him for marrying them. Then he escorted Sibylla to Fife and said with a slight bow, “You do us honor, my lord. May I present my lady wife?”
“Indeed, you may, although I have known the lady Sibylla for years,” Fife said softly. “Isabel will miss your companionship, my lady. She arrives in a day or two, though, so you will have good opportunity to take your leave of her.”
Rising from her curtsy, Sibylla said only, “Thank you, my lord.”
“She will be pleased to know that you can remain here with her for a time,” Fife went on. “That may appease your disappointment at learning that I have a task for your husband that will take him away from you for a sennight or two.”
To Simon, he went on, “I had not realized you meant to wed so quickly, sir. But I want you to go to Huntly, for we learned today that the lady Catherine may have gone home. I think it unlikely myself, but the Colvilles have returned to Oxnam to stir their searchers there to greater activity, so I need someone I can trust to search Huntly and its environs thoroughly, in the event that the rumor is true.”
“With respect, my lord, I have just this moment married,” Simon said. “If the lady Catherine is at home, she is safe and will stay for a time. If you permit, I would take a few days to get to know my lady wife better before I must leave her.”
“ ’Tis a reasonable request, especially as Isabel has not yet arrived,” Fife said, smiling again at Sibylla. “We may even receive word tomorrow that the Colvilles have found Catherine in Jedburgh or Kelso. I shall grant you four days as a wedding gift, Simon. I must also offer my felicitations, sir. This marriage pleases me well.”
Nodding to them both, he gestured to the bishop and left the chapel with him, the little acolyte hurrying after them.
Simon’s lips felt dry and his skin prickled. Knowing what Sibylla must be thinking, he did not want to face her. But he knew he must.
Turning to her, he said quietly, “Lass, we will talk of this later.”
She nodded, saying nothing. But two small lines had appeared between her eyebrows. He was sure Fife’s comments must have raised her doubts again. But he did not want to fratch with her in front of the others and was grateful for her silence.
To his further relief, she turned with a smile to receive their hugs and blessings, and they all trouped out together to collect their horses.
Half an hour later, they arrived at Buccleuch’s house in the Canongate.
Sibylla had chatted with Amalie, Meg, and the two younger girls on the way, but she had not said a word to Simon.
It was not, he thought, an auspicious beginning for a man’s wedding night.
Sibylla looked fondly around the table in Buccleuch’s house at the people gathe
red there for a light wedding repast. She smiled at the ubiquitous Sym Elliot as he hurried hither and yon and then saw Garth grinning at her.
“You knew something Sunday afternoon,” she said to him.
He nodded. “Wat and I went up to the castle Sunday morning to meet with Douglas before he left for Hermitage,” he said. “The rumors flying about the place dismayed us. When you came here to dine, I saw that you were tense and unlike yourself. We knew something must have happened, although we did not believe most of what we heard. Not about you, at all events,” he added with a twinkle in his eye.
Beside her, she sensed Simon stiffening, but he said, “I’d not blame either you or Buccleuch if you’d believed me capable of rape or worse, given what little you knew of me. But it is good that I won’t be at the castle for some time now. I’d likely lose patience and throttle someone.”
“Aye, sure, and it’s as well that you came to us before we looked for you,” Garth said. To Sibylla, he added, “He told us what happened and what he hoped to do. We’d meant to follow Douglas but agreed to delay when he said he would marry you tonight. However, he did not explain how he meant to get you to the altar until the last minute, when he needed us to watch the stairs for him.”
“I heard Fife say that he’s sending you to Huntly, Simon,” Buccleuch said.
“Aye, he did say that, but he’s given me a few days here first,” Simon said.
Words of protest leapt to Sibylla’s tongue, but she stifled them. Men always put duty first. But something had been troubling her about Fife’s behavior in the chapel. For a shrewd, clever man, and a ruthless one, his behavior had been odd.
The last, fleeting look she had seen on his face had been one of triumph.
She had thought he was gloating about having contrived at last to bring about her marriage to Simon. But he had directed that look at Simon. She wanted to talk it over with him, but it was hardly a suitable time or place for such a discussion.
Everyone at the table was a friend, and now a kinsman as well. But she dared not speak the words that had leapt to her tongue, not with Alice and Rosalie there.
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