The Warrior's Bride

by Amanda Scott

  Hoping to ease the shock he sensed in Murie, Rob put his hands on her shoulders. When he felt her press back against him, he hoped she was taking comfort from his presence but returned his attention to the King.

  Jamie was still frowning.

  Beside him, Andrew had turned white. Now, blood surged back into his face, and Rob knew that his good-father’s temper was fighting his attempts to control it.

  To his astonishment, Jamie put a gentling hand on Andrew’s shoulder as he said to Pharlain, “Ye’ve admitted that ye were involved with Campbell of Lorne in this business of collecting fees, sir. I’m wondering now what other schemes ye’ve shared with him, or others. Sithee, we uncovered a plot to undermine the work of this Parliament, which appears to have included this recent business of hitherto powerful chiefs breaking the King’s ward. My steward tells me that Lorne has fiercely cursed that plot’s failure. D’ye ken aught of such scheming, sirrah?”

  “I do not,” Pharlain said flatly, but Rob saw Dougal blanch and step back.

  “We will look further into that matter anon,” Jamie said. “I am surprised, though, to see that this charter ye’ve presented bears my name. I do not recall signing it, however. In troth, what I see by its date is that I could not have signed it.”

  “Your honored uncle, the first Duke of Albany, as Governor of the Realm at the time and thus your regent, signed it on your behalf, sir,” Dougal said smoothly.

  “Since my uncle had much to do with my capture and nowt to do with my release, I do not agree that he had the right to sign my name to any document,” James said. “I hereby declare your charter null, sir, and void. Since Andrew Dubh MacFarlan has shown me a royal charter properly signed by my father and has also shown me another signed by my grandfather, and has others, likely signed by their grandfathers before them, I declare Andrew Dubh MacFarlan to be the true Chief of Clan Farlan and entitled therefore to all the lands, estates, and so forth of Arrochar.”

  “By God, we should have finished you at Perth!” Pharlain exclaimed angrily.

  “I thank ye,” James said. “I expect I can infer from that outburst that ye were part and party to the assassination attempt in Perth and therefore also to the seizure afterward of the royal castle and burgh of Dumbarton. Will, arrest this man and clap him in irons until I decide if I’ll hang him or relieve him of his traitorous head.”

  Pharlain, stupefied, stared at the King in disbelief.

  Looking again for Dougal, Rob saw that he was whiter than ever, but he was still able to think, because he eased silently away amid the remaining onlookers.

  Will Fletcher motioned for two men-at-arms, who stepped forward at once and efficiently hustled Pharlain away.

  As they did, James handed Andrew’s charter to the scribe. “Confirm this in my name as of this date and place,” he said. “I’ll sign it forthwith.” Moments later, James added his signature, dusted it with silver sand, and handed the document to Andrew, saying, “Take this, sir, keep it safe, and look after our people at Arrochar.”

  Thanking him, Andrew accepted it with his left hand and extended his right. “I would shake your hand, your grace, if I may.”

  James, grinning now, grasped Andrew’s right hand with his and clapped him on the shoulder with his left. “You may, aye, my lord, now and whenever we meet.”

  “Before we part, sir, I would ask leave to present my good-son, Lord MacAulay,” Andrew said. “He has served your grace afore, I think.”

  “He has, withal,” James agreed, turning as Rob stepped forward.

  Sensing Muriella behind him, Rob put a hand back as he would to stop Scáthach. Murie did not as much as pause, though, and he could do nowt about it.

  Murie stopped when Rob did and stayed behind him. She had seen him flash his palm at her and recognized the signal, but she wanted to keep close enough to see and hear him swear fealty to the King. She was aware that her mother followed her, but she sensed that Lady Aubrey simply felt as she did about staying together.

  “ ’Tis good to see ye again, my lord,” the King said to Rob. “I thank ye for your timely warning, but I was gey sorrowful to learn of your lord father’s death.”

  “I thank your grace. I would swear my fealty and allegiance, if I may.”

  James nodded and extended his hands when Rob knelt before him.

  Resting his palms on the King’s, Rob said formally, “I, Robert MacAulay, Lord of Ardincaple, do swear fealty for that barony, which I hold and do claim to hold of your grace, High King of Scots, for myself and my heirs, heritably. Loyally will we serve you and your heirs, God helping, now and forevermore.”

  “I accept your vow in humble gratitude, my lord,” James said. “Now rise and tell me how your lord father died. We will miss him sorely.”

  “We will, aye,” Rob agreed as he stood. “I’ve no proof, but I suspect Lorne had a hand in it and mayhap Pharlain, too, due to that business of collecting fees. Father strongly opposed the notion. I believe Lorne has killed before, and whilst you may not know it, Pharlain killed Andrew’s three small sons when he usurped his chiefdom and Arrochar soon after your grace fell captive to the English.”

  “If your father did fall to those villains, he can rest in peace, for neither man will kill again, I promise ye,” Jamie said grimly. “Ye can see that for yourself if ye choose to be present in our courtyard at midmorning tomorrow.”

  Hearing Murie’s indrawn breath behind him, Rob met Jamie’s gaze.

  “The lady behind you is your wife, my lord, aye?” James said.

  “Aye, sir,” Rob said, stepping aside, “and gey forward withal.”

  His tone was as calm as ever, but easily sensing his uncertain mood, Murie quickly made her curtsy to Jamie, and let Rob draw her up beside him.

  “I have met your sisters, my lady,” Jamie said with a smile as she placed her hand lightly on Rob’s extended forearm. “ ’Tis a delight to meet ye, too.”

  “You are kind, your grace,” she said. Then, before she could lose what little courage remained, she added, “May I have leave to ask you a question?”

  “Aye, sure.”

  “When you make our laws the same throughout Scotland, will you keep just the sensible ones or must we still honor even the worst of the ancient Celtic ones?”

  The dark royal eyebrows flew upward. “Ye sound as if ye have experience with Celtic law, my lady, or do I misunderstand ye?”

  “I know of a daft one, your grace, because I was found guilty at Pharlain’s court of abducting his grown son,” she said. “ ’Twas not Pharlain who declared me guilty, though. That was a Brehon justice. He said that the person riding in front on the horse is, by Celtic law, the abductor—or, in my case, he said, the abductress.”

  She went on quickly to explain, aware the whole time of Rob simmering beside her, and thus doubly aware of her impudence in taking up the King’s time with her personal concern. Recalling only then that the Brehon had condemned her as much for ‘wasting his time and the court’s’ as for her so-called crime, she barely dared to breathe after watching James’s expression change, as she spoke, from polite interest to surprise, frowning displeasure, and then… amusement?

  “I see,” he said, his dark eyes brimming with laughter. “Forgive me, my lady. I ken fine that your situation must have seemed dire, and my Joanna will scold me for making light of it. But picturing a wee lassock like ye abducting any adult male on his own horse…” He collected himself, adding, “Even so, there cannot be any good reason to keep such a daft law. I promise ye I’ll do all in my power to see it and others like it abolished. Meantime, might a royal pardon ease your mind?”

  “It would, your grace,” Murie said firmly, not daring even a glance at Rob.

  “Then so be it; I absolve ye of all guilt in yon abduction and aught relating to it,” James said. His expression hardened then. “Is Dougal MacPharlain still here? I’m thinking he should be joining that lot for the hangings and such.”

  A voice from the back called out,
“He’s left, your grace. He looked sick.”

  “As well he should,” James said. “See if ye can find him for me.”

  Rob put his free hand over Murie’s on his forearm, gave her hand a squeeze, and began to back away. She could still sense his displeasure with her, although none of it showed in his face. How she wished she could conceal her feelings so!

  They had taken but a step or two when Andrew said, “By your grace’s leave, we would retire to our chambers now. We must return to Arrochar as soon as we can, for I have much to do to secure my lands and reunite my people. I promise ye, though, they’ll be gey willing to support their rightful King.”

  James gave his assent, wished them a safe journey, and turned away to summon the next man with a charter to present.

  “We’ll go right upstairs,” Andrew said. “I want to tell Sorley we’ll be leaving early, unless anyone here wants to watch the hangings.”

  Murie winced at the thought.

  Rob watched Murie as they crossed the chamber with her mother in Andrew’s wake. When Murie’s brow furrowed, he suspected she was worried that he might be angry with her for speaking as frankly as she had to the King.

  She glanced at him then, and although the lines in her forehead smoothed, her expression became speculative. He wondered what she was thinking, and his cock stirred at what he hoped that subject might be. He loved the fact that her beautiful face was so expressive. As that thought occurred to him, he realized that its animation was a large part of her beauty.

  Other men, less observant ones, might dismiss her as nobbut a wee dab of a woman, but Rob could as easily imagine her as she would look in years to come when her slender, curvaceous body grew a bit plumper after a child or six, and her flaxen hair grayed or turned white. He realized fondly that he looked forward to witnessing such changes and to growing old with her.

  To be sure, she had habits that would sometimes irk him, although she had proven that she could change. Even so, she was accustomed to going her own road, and he was sure she remained determined to become a seanachie. However, he was accustomed to commanding obedience, so if he had to lay down a law or two, she would learn when she had to heed him.

  In the end, he decided, although they would sometimes fratch, they would also talk, laugh, and enjoy each other’s company, in bed and out. In truth, he was rapidly coming to believe that the best day in his memory was the day she had declared herself his wife.

  She twitched his sleeve when a gillie held the door open for them and Lady Aubrey moved ahead to follow Andrew into the great hall. Looking into his wife’s somber face, Rob remembered her wincing when Andrew mentioned the hangings.

  Drawing her through the doorway and off the dais, he said, “Don’t fret, lass. We won’t linger here tomorrow.”

  “I know, but I must talk with you, sir, privately, before we go upstairs.”

  “Now?”

  “Aye, straightway, because we will all go to supper soon, so Tibby will be waiting for me. And I shan’t find another… Sithee, I’ve found out the truth about…” She paused, looking around as if to be sure that no one else could overhear her. Then, speaking so low that he barely heard her, she said, “… about your Elizabeth!”

  Grabbing her by a shoulder, he took her out of the hall to a nearby anteroom that he had noticed earlier. Finding with relief that it was empty, he hustled her inside, shut the door, and said harshly, “What the devil did you mean by that? What business is it of yours to be discussing my private business with anyone else?”

  “Don’t be a noddy, Rob,” she said, looking him in the eye. “I’ve done nowt o’ the sort, as you would say. So, if you will just listen…”

  Dougal’s emotions were in turmoil as he urged his garron to a faster pace. Grief warred with his fury, frustration, and deep sense of loss. The two men riding garrons behind him kept their distance, doubtless wary of his temper.

  He had gone from the disaster in the inner chamber straight out to the gate, so he had with him only his weapons and the plaid, tunic, cap, and boots he wore. Not, he reassured himself, that he needed more than that. What he needed was to reach Arrochar as fast as he could and prepare to keep Andrew at bay.

  Wasn’t it just like his father not to tell him about his damnable charter and to damn him instead for trying everything he could to protect their claim to Arrochar? So smug had Pharlain been, too, and so critical of aught that his long-suffering son did. And where had it got him in the end? Hanged or beheaded, at the King’s will.

  Grief washed over Dougal at the thought, and he castigated himself for it. What had he expected? What had he wanted? For the man to live forever or only long enough to say, just once, “Ye’ve done well, lad”?

  When he’d found their men and ordered them to depart at once, the captain of Pharlain’s tail had refused. “No without the laird’s say-so,” he said.

  When Dougal had favored him with the truth, that Pharlain would be dead before midday on the morrow, the man shook his head, making it clear that he did not believe it. So, Dougal took the two men in their tail who served him alone, and the three of them had set out together. After all, with Jamie so friendly to Andrew Dubh, Dougal knew that his own skin would be at risk if he lingered.

  He was not beaten yet, though. They had held Arrochar by right of the sword for many years before Albany had signed the charter that Pharlain had shown to the King.

  “And I’ll hold it by that same right,” he muttered. “If the Fates be willing.”

  Doubt surged in. The Fates had done nowt to help him so far, but by God, they would change their ways, or he would wreak havoc.

  Chapter 20

  Elizabeth Napier is alive?” Rob said, staring at Murie.

  She sensed shock and dismay in equal waves throughout his body.

  “Aye, she is,” Murie replied. “And living with her gillie in Ireland, poor dafty.” She felt no sympathy for Elizabeth, only gratitude for the girl’s stupidity in running away with an equally daft lover instead of marrying Rob.

  He was shaking his head as if he might thereby make sense of it all.

  She said, “How your parents could have thought that such a want-wit would suit you as a wife, I cannot imagine.”

  “Nor I,” Rob said, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I prefer my own lady, outspoken though she is. By my troth, lass, I’m glad she ran off, though.”

  “So am I,” Murie said with feeling. “Had she married you, I’d have had to marry Dougal. But what a dreadful tale for Lady Napier to have told your parents!”

  “I’d wager she told only my mother,” Rob said thoughtfully. “I cannot believe that Napier would be party to such a falsehood or that he knew aught of it, come to that. By begging Mam to keep the scandal of Elizabeth’s ‘suicide’ to herself, Lady Napier effectively stopped that tale from spreading.”

  “Lady Nisbet recognized the tale but claimed she never talked of it until she heard me say I had heard it at Ardincaple. She seems to enjoy gossip, but mayhap she spoke the truth about that. Still, Lady Euphemia must have told your father.”

  “Aye, sure, but he never spread any gossip. The most he would have said to the Napiers or anyone else would have been to express his sorrow and sympathy at the loss of their daughter.”

  “Your mother told me that Elizabeth’s father locked her in the tower as punishment and actually saw her leap out of its window,” Murie added. “Would your father not have said something to Napier about that?”

  “Nay,” Rob said dryly. “He’d have said, ‘A dreadful thing, Napier, dreadful!’ That would have been the sum of it.”

  Murie smiled, thinking that Rob was like his father in many ways.

  “We should go up now,” he said. “They must be wondering where we are.”

  “Before we go,” she said, “are you still angry with me for plaguing his grace about what happened to me?”

  “Nay,” he said. “If you had irked him…”

  “But I didn’t! He even granted me a
royal pardon, which must include what the Brehon said, don’t you agree?”

  “Lass, if you think his grace would ever interfere with a husband’s right to chastise a naughty wife or forbid a man to keep his word, you are much mistaken.”

  “But he said—!”

  Rob’s forefinger against her lips silenced her.

  “Sweetheart, much as I may want to keep my word to the Brehon, I do not want to punish you. I just want to take you to bed and make love to you.”

  “I wish you could, but it will have to wait until after supper, because everyone will be waiting for us now.”

  “Aye, they will, so let us make haste,” Rob said.

  They reached their landing without incident, but no sooner did they open the door than Tibby said, “Och, I thought ye were lost in this great castle. Quickly, m’lady, ye must—”

  “Be that ye, at last, Rob?” Andrew demanded, stepping into the open doorway. “I hope ye were giving our lass a scold for plaguing Jamie as she did.”

  As Murie turned toward her father, she caught Rob’s gaze and saw a warning gleam in his eyes just as he said to Andrew, “I did, sir, but I am not finished yet. I fear that your daughter is going to go without her supper tonight.”

  “Aye, well, it doesna be the first time, nor will it be the last,” Andrew said with a sigh and a twinkle. “Come along, Tibby. They won’t be needing ye now.”

  The journey back to Loch Lomond was as tedious as the journey to Inverness had been, and it passed in much the same blur for Rob. They saw splendid scenery and had fine weather, but each day of riding and walking was much like another. They stayed in many of the same places, and in none of them was he able to sleep with his wife. Murie shared rooms as she had before, with Lady Aubrey and Tibby, while he slept in the same room as Andrew, Sorley, Hamish, and others. Scáthach slept wherever Rob slept and ranged ahead of him when they traveled.

  Rob missed having Murie curled against him at night and in other ways, as well. What little conversation they did enjoy lacked privacy, so the nearer they grew to Tùr Meiloach, the more cheerful he became.