She looked at the sky, exhaling in a puff of moisture. “What do you expect from me?”
“Rhiannon.” His dapple-gray stallion danced to one side and William reined him back in. “Have you nothing else to say?”
Her eyes flashed. “It seems we are stuck together, for now. I will do my best not to shame you in front of your people. If we find my brother, then I shall leave you in peace. If we do not find my brother, then I shall still find some way to leave you in peace.”
Her guard dropped for just a moment, and he saw the fear in her eyes. This was all about her inability to trust.
“What if I dinna want peace?” he asked.
“You do not know what you ask of me.” Rhiannon turned the reins and cantered away, her hair flowing behind her.
William signaled to Connor. “Continue on. We will catch up with you.”
He came up behind her, and Rhiannon pulled back on the reins. Hooves skidded over stone as she came to a sudden stop. “Coming to take me back?”
“Say my name?” he asked.
Jeremiah, the smitten horse, pinned his ears at William. William shoved the stallion’s nose aside.
“William. Is that what you want?” She spun Jeremiah in a circle and yelled at the top of her lungs. “William!”
His insides recoiled as his name echoed in his own ears. Her rage, her pain, had become his. He wanted to rescue her from it, like he’d freed her from Geoffrey and Reginald, but there was nothing he could do.
“If we’d met before all of this began, it would have been perfect,” she said. “I can picture it in my head. A past that never happened. A future that can never be.” Her fingers trembled. “I am a fool.”
“You’re no fool.” He slid off his horse, then helped her down. “I canna make your parents come back. I wish I had known you before. I wish I was there that night and that I could’ve protected you from all of it.” He shifted closer, and she let him tuck her face against his neck.
“I failed my parents,” she said. “I failed myself. I failed you.”
“You failed me?”
She pushed away. “You think you want me, but you do not. Not really.”
“We are a lot alike,” he said.
“How is that?”
“We are both diminished in the eyes of men.”
“I . . . Oh . . .” She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “How long have you known?” she asked finally.
“All along.”
She winced, then brushed her hair out of her face with shaking fingers. “I am such a fool.”
“The fear in your eyes,” he said. “The nature of your bruises. There is no way I could not have known what had happened to you.”
“Yet you married me?”
“Aye, lassie.” William drew his claymore, holding it in his hands. “You do not have to judge yourself by what you cannot change.” Angling his sword, he drove it into the lumpy ground, stone scraping against the blade.
She shook her head, confused.
William slipped out of his sword harness and tossed it aside.
“William?” she warned, backing up a step.
He unbuckled his leather jerkin and pulled his shirt over his head.
“William!”
He turned his back to her.
And waited.
Rhiannon came up behind him, her shoes slowly crunching on browning ferns. He looked over his shoulder.
“Oh my.” Her hand covered her mouth.
“’Tis ugly, I know.”
“C-cauterized?”
“Aye.”
“The pain . . .”
“I didna ask for pity.” Vulnerable wasn’t his favorite position. Lives depended on his strength.
“I wasn’t . . .” She took a deep breath. “You lived.”
“Barely.”
“I am glad you lived.”
He straightened, watching her face. She was glad he’d lived. He didn’t know what else to say. “It happened in Sweden,” he managed. “I was working as a mercenary. My people, they are not wealthy. I wanted to help them.”
“I am sure you did.” She brushed moisture from her eyes. “I just wished you could have found me before . . . before he did.”
“We canna do anything about that.” He pulled his shirt back on, then donned his jerkin and sword harness. He yanked his sword out of the ground and sheathed it at his back.
“Why do you still carry your sword in your right hand?”
“So no one knows.”
“No one?”
“Connor, and a few others. Many remember when I was wounded, but they believe I have completely recovered.”
“But you have not.”
“Nay. I compensate for it in other ways. Swordplay is more than brute strength.”
“I’m not sure how that makes us alike. I am a lady. My value lies in my purity.”
William held out his hand. She hesitated, then placed her cold, slender fingers into his. He urged her closer. “You are more than you believe yourself to be.”
Rhiannon closed her eyes and swallowed. He didn’t dare touch her face, so he tucked his fingers into her hair at the back of her head and tipped her face back. Her eyes were still closed. Her lips parted. The stitch in her lower lip kept him from lowering his mouth over hers. He wasn’t sure how she would react if he kissed her face, so he tucked her close instead, his chin against her temple.
Carefully, as if unsure of herself, she felt her way up his sleeve, until her good arm was cradled around his neck. He didn’t dare move, lest she lose her nerve and back away. Her fingers worked into his hair, kneading the back of his neck. It would have been very bad form to groan, but any attention from her was ecstasy.
William wasn’t sure how long they’d remained like that. But he was aware of his new stallion wandering out of sight. He scooped Rhiannon up and placed her onto Jeremiah, then mounted behind her.
“We better go find my horse before he steps into a bog hole.” William turned the reins in the direction he last saw Jamie.
Aye, he was chipping away at the shell around Rhiannon’s heart, but it was slow going. He wanted so much more of her than she was able to give. All of her, actually.
With a fierce possessiveness that was beginning to scare him.
Chapter Ten
William scooped Rhiannon out of the saddle, turning with her in his arms so that she could look across the cobblestone courtyard of his cousin’s new stone hall. Its shadow was long in the afternoon sun. Tall gray walls boasted walkways with guardsmen in plaids. Towers with glass windows blinked in the sunlight and banners snapped, depicting allegiance to several clans.
Rhiannon looked at William’s face and noticed a spark in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. “You are glad to be home?”
“’Tis not my home.” His brow pinched. William spun her around again. “Nay, my home is much older than this.” He set her to her feet. “Decrepit, really. You will probably beg me to let you live here instead.” He looked over the grounds with pride. “Ronan was a mercenary and acquired no small fortune. I helped lay the cornerstones myself.”
Rhiannon felt the awe in his voice. “My home is nothing like this.” The modest Tudor buildings seemed insignificant. The reality of how far she was from Hanover was beginning to set in. Right in the pit of her stomach, making her nauseous.
Rhiannon glanced around for Alice, but couldn’t find her in the busy courtyard. She saw boys leading horses and women with striped arisaids wrapped around them like skirts. Children ran through, laughing.
“Where is Alice?” Rhiannon asked.
“Probably seeing that my chamber is prepared for us.”
Rhiannon clutched her stomach. His chamber? “I cannot . . . I think I might retch. I don’t belong here. I want to go home now.” She was aware of how ridiculous that sounded. She had no home to return to.
“William?” A young woman called from across the courtyard. She was wearing a yellow gown edged with green embroidery. A long blonde b
raid snaked over her shoulder.
“We will talk about this later,” William said, kissing the top of Rhiannon’s head.
Her face warmed. “I do not think I want to.”
“We were not expecting you,” the blonde woman said in Gaelic, embracing William. She wore a set of brass bells in her hair which tinkled gently as she moved.
“I was not expecting me either.” He smiled.
The woman’s gaze flicked toward Rhiannon, making her wish her arm was not in a sling and that she wore clean clothes. Or at least ones that were not torn.
“Who is your companion?” the woman said, her dark green eyes sympathetic.
William took Rhiannon’s hand, urging her up next to him. His expression changed, softened, and he looked into her eyes as if she were his most valuable possession. She understood the sentiment. Her father used to look at her mother like that. But she had no interest in being anyone’s possession.
“This is the Lady Rhiannon,” he said.
The blonde woman proceeded in English, cautiously, as if uncertain what language to use. “Well met, my lady. I will introduce myself, since I know we canna count on men to remember such things. I am the Lady Triona.”
“William’s cousin?”
“Aye.” Triona glanced at William, brows arched. “You both look exhausted, why do we not go within. My husband is in the lists, as usual, but I shall send for him.”
They crossed the courtyard and climbed granite steps into the hall, Rhiannon staying close to William. After months of captivity, followed by weeks in the wilderness, she was unaccustomed to moving freely among people.
They walked through a foyer, and then passed a wide spiral staircase. Finally, they made their way down half a story into a great hall that was three times the size of her father’s. Rush lights glowed from the walls and candles dripped sheep tallow from wrought iron holders. Fires roared in granite hearths, and a tapestry depicting a stag hunt lined the greater portion of one wall.
“I thought the Highlands were poor.”
“Some of us are.” The skin around William’s eyes tightened.
Triona touched Rhiannon’s arm. “I shall have food and drink brought to you.” She turned away to speak with a servant.
William led Rhiannon to a round table by a hearth and pulled out a padded chair. Rhiannon sank into it.
It was soft. So soft.
William slid out of his sword harness and took the chair next to hers. Hooking a stool with his booted-foot, he dragged it into position and propped his feet on it, crossed at the ankles. He laced his fingers over his flat stomach. “Finally,” he said.
“Finally what?”
“No more sleeping on the ground. Never liked it.”
Triona returned, sitting on Rhiannon’s other side. Rhiannon tucked a windblown lock of hair behind her ear.
“You have been gone all summer, cousin,” Triona said in Gaelic. “Did you find . . . success?”
“’Tis a long story, but nay.” William glanced at Rhiannon.
“How do you define success?” Triona asked.
“I was referring to the Lowland alliances.” William looked around Rhiannon to glare at Triona.
“I assume you will tell us about it when Ronan arrives?”
Rhiannon wondered why he didn’t tell Triona now. Did he want to keep their marriage secret? She supposed she hadn’t much reputation left to protect. Did it matter what they thought she was to him?
Her heart sank. It mattered.
“She is lovely,” Triona said, still in Gaelic.
It took him a moment to respond. Rhiannon’s heart dripped into her stomach while she waited.
“I know,” he said.
“You challenged the man who beat her, I presume.”
Rhiannon pretended to study her nails.
“You are as demanding as ever. I will tell you when Ronan arrives.”
“You walk into my hall with what could easily be the most beautiful woman in all of England, and you expect me to wait for answers?”
Rhiannon looked up. “The most beautiful woman in England?”
Triona blushed. “You speak our tongue?”
“She speaks our tongue,” William said.
“Why did you not tell me?”
“She can speak for herself.”
“My mother was from the Highlands,” Rhiannon said.
“What was her surname?” Triona asked.
Leave it to a woman to want to classify her. “MacDuffee.”
“And you never even asked, did you?” Triona clucked her tongue at William. “Men.” She turned toward Rhiannon. “What is your mother’s name?”
“Analyn.”
Triona’s brows creased in thought. “We’ll have to ask Laird Drew’s mother. She would know. You must have kin among them.”
Kin? Nay. They would be strangers to her. Just like everyone else, save Alice.
“I shall send them a missive.” Triona nodded, then she glanced across the room and stood. “There is my swordsman.”
Rhiannon followed Triona’s line of sight to a tall man, about the same age as William. He wore a dark green plaid and had black hair that hung well below his shoulders in waves. Triona went to him, tiny compared to her husband. He practically swallowed her up when he wrapped his huge arms around her. With no reserve, he tipped Triona’s face back, and kissed her.
Rhiannon’s skin warmed.
“I thought I told you never to show yourself around here,” Laird Ronan boomed in their direction a minute later.
Rhiannon nearly jumped out of her chair, her heart climbing into her throat. William stood, touching her arm as if to reassure her. Then he met Ronan halfway across the room. The two exchanged manly slaps. Ronan was perhaps a little wider than William, but not by much. They were close to the same height, but somehow Ronan seemed menacing to her.
She looked away, focusing on her breath in the hopes of not retching all over the table.
“Rhiannon?” William said from next to her.
“Can I go to your chamber now?”
He sighed. She somehow recognized his angst in that one puff of air. “Is that what you want?”
One bed and a door.
“Nay.” She whispered so the others wouldn’t hear. “I want to not be afraid of him.”
“Who?” He looked over his shoulder. “Ronan? There is nothing to fear.” He brushed her hair behind her shoulder. She felt exposed without it against her battered face. “My cousin keeps him on a tight rein.” William smiled.
“Can I leave?”
“Dinna leave. Not yet,” he said. Taking her hand, he urged her to her feet. Storm gray eyes searched hers. “No one is going to hurt you.”
Rhiannon looked at Ronan and reminded herself that he was only a little larger than William. It did not help. He seemed huge. A giant.
The giant smiled, deep blue eyes far more gentle than she had expected them to be. “Welcome, Lady Rhiannon.” He held out a scarred hand, then hesitated when she didn’t respond. He pulled it back again.
“I speak Gaelic,” she said, for no reason.
Ronan looked at William. Rhiannon looked at the flat, even pavers on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Triona slide her arm around her husband’s waist.
“Why don’t we sit?” Triona said. “My maids arrive with the food.”
Rhiannon gratefully took her padded seat, William holding her hand under the table, her forearm resting on his bare knee.
She’d come to like his hand. As long as she had that hand within reach, no one would be allowed to hurt her.
A plump maid set a bowl of lamb and onion soup in front of Rhiannon and she turned her attention to the basin. She always ate with care, worried she might become ill later if she ate too fast, or too much. William let go of her hand and took up the flagon, pouring her a goblet of wine.
“Thank you.” Rhiannon lifted it to her lips. The dark red wine was rich and it made her tongue tingle. She set it aside a
nd picked up her soup spoon. Her mouth watered, but the first bite made her stomach churn. She decided to take one spoonful, let it settle, then take a sip of wine. She would repeat the procedure until the bowl was almost empty.
“We are waiting.” It was Triona.
“You are making demands again,” William said.
“I am not.”
“Aye, you are.”
Rhiannon glanced between the two of them, frowning.
Triona waved her hand. “Get on with it.”
Rhiannon lifted her cup and watched William over the rim.
“I ran into some trouble,” he said. “Maybe we should start at the beginning.” William looked at Rhiannon. She had the impression he was asking for her permission to continue. She nodded. “Rhiannon’s parents were recently killed. She was left in the hands of a guardian.”
Rhiannon became hyperaware of her broken and disheveled appearance.
“She was to be sold to Geoffrey.”
Triona’s intake of breath made Rhiannon tense.
“Geoffrey always was an idiot,” Ronan said.
“May he rot,” Rhiannon whispered.
“Geoffrey’s dead, probably,” William said. “We didna remain long enough to find out.”
“We left Geoffrey in the Kirk with my knife in his gut,” Rhiannon said.
“We will have a new one made for you.” Ronan nodded. Triona poked him with a finger and he rubbed his ribs. “What? She has no weapon. She will need a new one.”
“Later,” Triona said. She turned to Rhiannon and William. “How did her knife find itself in his gut, and what were you all doing in the Kirk? Because if this tale does not end the way I hope it does, then we are having the two of you take vows posthaste.”
Ronan cleared his throat and bumped his wife with his shoulder. “Give them a chance,” he whispered.
“I have eyes in my head. I see the way the two of them look at each other. You know verra well how easy it is to-” She blushed. “Go on with your story.”
“I was to wed Geoffrey,” Rhiannon said. “But William bribed my guardian into letting us marry instead. We were going to wed in private, then leave immediately.”
“Geoffrey had us ambushed at the Kirk.” William’s jaw flexed. “He tried to force Rhiannon to marry him, but she had a knife hidden in a secret pocket in her gown.”
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