Audric didn’t say anything more about it. It was clear that Troy was in a great deal of turmoil and, sometimes, a man had to sort such things out for himself. As Troy headed off to the livery to find his wife, Audric followed. He followed because William had asked him to keep peace between his son and his new wife, and Audric suspected this might be one of those times. He was determined to do what he could.
But Rhoswyn wasn’t in the stable when they got there, and neither was her horse. Realizing she had fled, Troy knew it was to either one of two places – either she’d gone back to Monteviot, which he highly doubted, or she’d run home to her father, home to Sibbald’s Hold where no one would become angry at her for starting a fight or for defending a man with all her heart. In truth, Troy had no doubt she’d gone back to Red Keith.
His nasty words had sent her right back to her father.
It was with a heavy heart that he realized what he’d done. He further realized what he had to do – he had to get her back. He had to apologize for his angry words, but beyond that, he wasn’t sure what more he wanted to say. Could he tell her that he adored her, too? Probably not. He wasn’t sure he could form the words, terrified that they were true words. All of it, true. But he knew he had to bring her back, no matter what. She was his wife and he wanted her by his side, where she belonged.
Troy sent his men back to Monteviot while he headed for Sibbald’s Hold, less than an hour’s ride to the east. He’d never been to Red Keith’s stronghold but he knew the general direction, and a confirmation from Audric told him that he would be heading down the right road.
Although he’d told Audric to return to Monteviot with his men, somehow, no one seemed to be obeying him today. Audric followed him and Troy was halfway to Sibbald’s Hold when he finally realized the priest was trailing him. The man did a rotten job trying to stay out of sight. Therefore, Troy came to a halt and waited for the man to catch up to him, and, sheepishly, Audric did.
Beneath the setting sun across a gloriously green landscape, Troy and Audric headed to Sibbald’s Hold together to try and salvage what they could of Troy’s marriage.
Troy knew he’d been wrong. But whether or not he could tell Rhoswyn was the key.
*
She wouldn’t talk to him.
Keith knew something terrible had happened when his daughter had come charging into the bailey of Sibbald’s Hold. In truth, he’d been expecting her much sooner and he’d been expecting to defend himself against a very angry young woman, furious that he’d married her off to a Sassenach. But the young woman that returned to Sibbald’s Hold didn’t seem angry; she seemed devastated. She’d dismounted her horse, run into the tower, and run to her chamber and slammed the door. No amount of coaxing from Keith or Fergus or even Artis or Dunsmore could get her to talk to them.
She sat in her chamber and wept.
They could all hear her.
It was a situation filled with mystery, not the least of which was how she’d been dressed; in a lovely cote and her hair had been washed and styled. She looked like a true lady, something none of them had ever seen before. That astonished them almost more than her abrupt return.
As the afternoon turned into early evening, Keith sat on the steps outside of her chamber and listened to his daughter weep. Eventually, the weeping faded and there was only silence.
Dark, uncomfortable silence.
“Rhosie, lass?” Keith called to her on more than one occasion. “What can I do for ye? Why did ye come home?”
No answer.
There was no answer for a solid hour after her return. The weeping had ceased, that was true, but that made Keith uncomfortable. Rhoswyn wasn’t the silent type. He could only hope she didn’t have a dagger in the chamber with her and had slit her wrists in her hysteria. Not that she was the dramatic sort, but stranger things had happened. She’d spent three days away from her family and her home, and there was no telling what had gone on. Finally, nearly two hours after she’d returned home, he knocked softly on the chamber door and called to her again.
“Rhosie, please,” he begged softly. “What has happened? Why are ye returned?”
Still no answer. Frustrated, and concerned, Keith was about to turn away when the door suddenly jerked open. He froze, waiting for Rhoswyn to come forth, but she didn’t. Timidly, he peered into the room only to find her over by one of several small windows that brought ventilation and light into the rather dark tower of Sibbald’s. The window faced west and she watched the sunset as colors of gold and pink danced on the stone walls. Hesitantly, Keith entered the chamber.
“Are ye all right, lass?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “What happened?”
Rhoswyn didn’t say anything for a moment; she had only recently regained her composure and wanted to keep it. She didn’t like to cry or suffer emotional outbursts, but that was exactly what she had done. She didn’t want to do it again.
“He says he doesna need me,” she said. “If he doesna need me, then I am home tae stay.”
Keith’s brows drew together. “And that was what drove ye home in tears?” he asked, incredulous. “Surely there is more tae it than that, lass. Did he beat ye?”
“Nay. And if he did, ye know I would beat him in return.”
Keith nodded. “That’s the daughter I raised,” he said proudly. “Was he cruel tae ye, then?”
Rhoswyn shook her head. “Nay.”
Keith scratched his head, confused. “If he dinna beat ye and he wasna cruel tae ye, then why did ye come home in tears? Surely it was somethin’ terrible.”
Rhoswyn sighed heavily. She didn’t want to share her deepest feelings with her father. But at the moment, she was emotionally battered. She’d just received the biggest disappointment of her life. It had felt so good to have someone to talk to, like Lady Sable or Troy or even the priest. She and her father didn’t have that kind of relationship but she found herself wanting to tell him everything.
She simply couldn’t hold it back.
“The marriage ye asked of de Wolfe was the best thing ye could have done for me,” she said, turning away from the window to look at him. “I canna describe how it was, Pa. All I can tell ye is that the past three days at Monteviot have been the best days of me life. They were kind tae me and Troy… me husband… he is the most wonderful man in the world.”
Keith was shocked to hear it. Truly, the man was at a loss. “He is?” he asked, astonished. “Then why are ye home, lass?”
The question was too difficult for Rhoswyn to answer. She began to tear up so she looked away from him, her gaze finding the sunset landscape beyond the window once again.
“Because I canna be what he wants me tae be,” she said, her throat tight with emotion. “He wants a wife, not a warrior, and I canna be a wife only. ’Tis in me blood tae fight. Ye taught me that. But he doesna like it when I do. He finds it shameful and… and I canna shame the man.”
Keith was slowly walking in her direction as she spoke, coming to stand on the other side of the window, his focus on her face as she watched the sun set. He wasn’t a particularly sensitive man, but he could sense a great deal of turmoil from his daughter. She was the strongest woman he had ever known. And now, he sensed that somehow, somewhere, the English had broken her. He didn’t like to see it.
“Ye are shameful tae no man,” he said, his anger turning towards Troy. “Did he tell ye that?”
Rhoswyn quickly wiped at tears that were threatening to fall. “He told me that I made a fool of him.”
“How did ye do such a thing?”
She hesitated. “Because we went tae Jedburgh and while we were there, wicked soldiers confronted him,” she said. “I went tae help him and he told me I shamed him.”
“How did ye help him, lass?”
“I defended him,” she said. Then, she turned to him angrily. “I put meself between me husband and the men who would hurt him. I couldna stand by and watch him become injured or killed, Pa. I had tae help him so I did. I adore the
man and I dinna want tae see him hurt!”
By the time she was finished, she was weeping again and Keith stood by, stunned, as he watched his daughter break down. But in that nearly-shouted explanation, he saw a good deal of the situation and it was far more than he’d expected. His daughter had tried to fight men off from her husband who, as a knight and a competent warrior, didn’t take kindly to his wife trying to fight off his enemies. But more than that, she said something very key to the entire situation – I adore the man. Shockingly, Rhoswyn had feelings for the Sassenach she was forced to marry.
Aye, Keith was seeing a good deal clearly.
“Oh,” he said, trying to digest what he’d been told. “I see. Ye love the man, do ye?”
Rhoswyn wiped at her face, tears dripping off her chin. “I dunna know!” she said. “I… I suppose I do. Aye, I do. But he is ashamed of me and I am never goin’ back tae him, do ye hear? Ye canna make me and if ye try, I’ll… I’ll run off and ye’ll never see me again!”
Keith held up his hands in a soothing manner. “No one is makin’ ye go back tae him,” he said calmly. “If ye want tae stay her and think on things, ye can.”
Rhoswyn stormed away from the window and over to the hearth, which was cold and full of soot. She began angrily throwing pieces of peat into the gaping, black hole.
“I have already thought on things,” she said. “He doesna want a wife who shames him and I willna go back tae him. It is finished.”
Keith shook his head as he watched her start a fire. “It is not finished, lass,” he said. “He’s yer husband. Ye canna simply walk away from him.”
“I can!” she insisted. “Now, go away, Pa. Leave me be.”
Keith was inclined to remain but thought better of it. She was agitated enough and his presence probably wouldn’t calm her. Perhaps after a night’s sleep, she might feel differently in the morning. But if she didn’t, Keith was going to take a trip to Monteviot and find out just how ashamed Troy de Wolfe was of his wife. If he was too ashamed, then Keith would have some harsh words for him. How a man could make a woman fall in love with him only after a few days and then profess to be ashamed of that woman was beyond his grasp.
“As ye wish,” he said, moving for the chamber door. “I’ll leave ye be. Shall I send ye sup?”
“Nay.”
“A drink, mayhap?”
“Nay.”
Keith reached the door and paused, his gaze lingering on his daughter. “Does he know ye’ve come here?”
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “I took me horse and left. I dinna tell him.”
“Surely he’ll figure it out,” he said. “What do I tell him when he comes for ye?”
Rhoswyn looked at him, angrily. “He willna come for me,” she said. “He told me he dinna need me. But if he comes… if he comes, tell him I willna go back with him. I willna live with a man who is ashamed of me.”
With that, she turned away, her soft weeping to continue. It angered Keith because he’d raised his daughter to be strong, to know that tears were a sign of weakness. Perhaps the marriage to de Wolfe had made her weak somehow, even in the short amount of time they’d been together. He hated that she seemed weak.
That wasn’t his daughter.
He was starting to regret his demand of a de Wolfe marriage; perhaps this was all his fault. He’d wanted an alliance too badly to think of the effect it would have on his child. He’d expected many things of that marriage, but Rhoswyn falling in love with her husband hadn’t been among them. It would have been much better had she not. Aye, he regretted his decision immensely now.
Come the morrow, he’d travel to Jedburgh to speak to the priests about an annulment.
Perhaps that would be best, after all.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“What has he done tae her?”
It was a soft question from Dunsmore to Artis as the brothers sat in the lord’s hall of Sibbald’s. It was dark but for the fire in the hearth, casting long shadows on the walls as the sun was nearly down outside. It was a lightless, haunting room as the brothers gathered around the single long feasting table.
“He must have beaten the woman senseless,” Artis rumbled. He had a cup of liquor in his hand, the biting and strong liquor that a local beer wife made from mashed barley and rye. It could get a man drunk quickly and Artis was very fond of it. “Why else would Rhosie come runnin’ back tae Sibbald’s? She’s been beaten beyond reason.”
Dunsmore was furious to hear that. They’d all been listening to Rhoswyn’s weeping and Keith’s soft pleas since the woman returned almost two hours earlier, an event that had upset the whole of Sibbald’s Hold. Rhoswyn Kerr was the strongest woman any of them knew and for her to run from the English, it was a certainty that something terrible had happened.
Something had to be done about it.
“Remember when she married him?” Dunsmore asked. “Remember how we said we had tae help her? For the sake of all of us, we had tae rid her of her Sassenach husband? Do ye recall?”
Artis waved at his brother irritably. “I remember,” he said. “I’m not a dullard, ye know. I remember exactly what we said.”
“Well?”
“Well – we’ll have tae talk tae Rhosie when she gets hold of herself and ask her what she wants tae do,” he said. “Mayhap she wants tae kill the man herself. If she does, then we’ll help her.”
“And if she doesna?”
“Then we’ll do it anyway. Our plans havena changed, Dunnie. If we want tae keep what we have, then the Sassenach has tae be eliminated. He represents those Sassenach grandsons for Keith that will take away our fortune.”
Dunsmore nodded, already hating those grandsons that hadn’t even yet been born. “’Twill be a pleasure,” he growled. “Any man who would…”
Footsteps stopped their conversation. They could hear them echoing in the stone stairwell, the one that led to the upper chambers of the tower where Rhoswyn was. Keith had been up there with her ever since her return, so Artis and Dunsmore assumed it was their Uncle Keith.
They were right.
Keith grunted with exhaustion as he came into the hall, heading for the table where his nephews were sitting, perhaps waiting for news of Rhoswyn. At least, that was what Keith assumed. The entire fortress was presumably waiting for word about Rhoswyn and her unexpected return. Keith made his way across the darkened room and sat heavily on the bench next to Artis.
“Pour me some of yer liquid fire, Artie,” he said, referring to Artis’ favorite drink. As his nephew poured, Keith ran his hand through his dirty hair in a weary gesture. “I dunna know what tae say about yer cousin, lads. She returned home, but not for the reasons I thought she would.”
Artis handed his uncle the drink. “Why did she come?”
Keith took a drink of the alcohol, smacking his lips because it was so strong. “It seems that she dinna mind being married tae the Sassenach,” he said. “According tae her, he was patient and kind for the most part, but he canna stomach her need tae fight, which is as natural tae her as breathin’. They had a quarrel and he told her he dinna need her, so she’s come home. Only he doesna know she’s come home, so I suspect he’ll come for her soon enough. A man simply doesna let his wife run home.”
Artis’ eyes were glittering with the force of that news; he didn’t dare look at his brother. Was it really possible that Rhoswyn’s husband would end up here?
“Then… then ye believe the Sassenach will come tae Sibbald’s tae claim her?” he asked.
Keith took another long drink of the strong alcohol. “Aye,” he said. “She ran off and dinna tell the man. If he’s smart, and I’m assumin’ he is, then he’ll know where she’s gone. He’ll come for her.”
And come right tae his death. Artis was beside himself with glee at the realization. He was coming to think that Rhoswyn’s return home was a most fortuitous event, better than they could have dreamed of.
“When?” Artis couldn’t help himself from asking.<
br />
Keith shrugged. “Soon, I would think. He’ll need tae claim what belongs tae him and, being a de Wolfe, I doubt he’ll wait.”
Artis hadn’t heard such good news in a very long time. Truly, it was the perfect situation – they wouldn’t have to go to the Sassenach; he would come to them. They would help Rhoswyn do away with the man who had not only made her miserable, but who represented a shake-up in their clan that would disturb them all.
God’s Bones, it was a God-given situation and it was difficult for Artis not to show his glee. To cover the smile that threatened, he downed a big gulp of his drink.
“How does Rhosie feel about it?” he asked casually. “I mean, does she want him tae come? If the man sent her back to Sibbald’s in tears, I canna imagine she’s very happy with the thought of him comin’ for her.”
Keith didn’t sense anything in his nephews other than sympathy for Rhoswyn’s plight. He couldn’t have known that every piece of information he gave them was being used towards the planned destruction of the de Wolfe son. He knew his nephews to be rash and, at times, foolish, but scheming wasn’t something they usually did. Had he only known that, in this case, they were fearful for their future and what they believed belonged to them, he might have handled them differently.
But he didn’t know. They were family, after all. And family didn’t scheme against family. But to them, Troy de Wolfe wasn’t family.
He was the enemy.
“She says she’s not goin’ back with him,” Keith said, draining the last of the fire water from the cup. “She may change her mind come the morrow but, for now… she canna live with a man who is ashamed of what she is. And mayhap that’s me fault.”
Artis cocked his head curiously. “Why would ye say that?”
Keith inhaled slowly, deeply. It was a weary and sad gesture. “Because I turned her intae a warrior and not a fine lady, as her mother wanted,” he said. “Mayhap… mayhap her mother was right all along.”
Artis put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Ye canna blame yerself,” he said. “Ye did what ye had tae do. Ye made Rhosie a good fighter.”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 235