Love Above All

by Speer, Flora

  “Those Normans are my friends,” King Alexander stated coldly, his face growing hard at the implied criticism.

  “I do not question their loyalty to you,” Fionna said. “But Norman customs are very different from Scottish ways. My brothers are among the Scottish nobles who want the Normans expelled. They believe if there is enough trouble along the border with England, you will grow weary of dealing with constant uprisings and send your Norman friends away.”

  “They misjudge me, then,” the king said.

  “Yes, they do,” Fionna agreed, “and they are beginning to realize it. That is why they have resolved to cause a violent incident that will most likely result in a war between Scotland and England.”

  “With the agreement that Quentin and I recently concluded, Scotland and England ought to remain at peace for a long time,” the king said.

  “Not if King Henry’s personal ambassador, the same man who negotiated that agreement, is murdered by Scots while on his way back to England.”

  Immediately, Fionna was aware of the tense and absolute silence around her as Quentin and the others realized the gravity of the claim she was making. She knew she had to continue, to finish the story quickly, so Quentin and the king would understand how she had been driven by fear for the two people who were dearest to her in all the world.

  “After my brothers threw me into the river,” she said, “the current cast me up at the edge of the water, where Lord Quentin and his friends found me. Quentin offered to take me to England, where he was headed in some haste. As soon as he told me his name, I knew he was the man my brothers intended to murder. Because I owed my life to Quentin, I wanted him safely out of Scotland and beyond harm, so I agreed to travel with him. Once we were south of Carlisle, I left Quentin’s company and headed for Abercorn, to try to get Janet out of that dreadful place before my brothers did. Quentin came after me. Then Lord Royce found us.”

  “You didn’t simply leave my company; you ran away,” Quentin accused her. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this long ago?”

  “I was afraid for you,” she said. “Quentin, you should have continued on to Wortham. If you had, you’d be completely out of danger by now.”

  When Fionna turned back to the king, she realized he was no longer regarding her, or Quentin, either. Alexander was looking directly at Royce, and the two men were exchanging knowing smiles.

  “You must admit, my lord, it is a fascinating tale,” Royce murmured.

  “I’m sure I haven’t heard all the details,” the king said, “nor ever will. However, there are two questions I want answered promptly, before I make any decision in this matter. Why is Janet here in Edinburgh, and not still at Abercorn? And what, Lady Fionna, is this threat of a forced marriage that you mentioned?”

  “Janet is here because Quentin and Lord Royce and their friends helped me to rescue her,” Fionna responded.

  “There’s another story I’m sure I’d enjoy hearing,” said the king with a smile that quickly vanished into a frown. “On the other hand, perhaps it’s better if I don’t hear it. I have enough problems with the Church, without having to deal with young women being removed from convents without the permission of their male kin. Tell me about the forced marriage, instead.”

  “Murdoch’s best friend is Colum of Caithshiels,” Fionna said. “His family lands bordered Dungalash.”

  “I know that name,” the king said. “Colum plotted against me two years ago, then fled to France when I confiscated his lands.”

  “You gave those lands to one of your Norman friends,” Fionna added. “As a result of the confiscation, Colum hates you with a bitter hatred. Recently, he came back to the Scottish border. Together, he and Murdoch and Gillemore captured an English spy, a knight named Desmond.”

  “What!” Quentin exclaimed so fiercely that Fionna turned to stare at him.

  “Dear God!” muttered Cadwallon, his face pale.

  “The spy we could not locate,” King Alexander said to Quentin, “the man we hadn’t heard from for months, whom we decided was either dead, or safely returned to England.”

  “Sir Desmond may be dead by now,” Fionna said. “Colum, who is presently employed as a spy by the king of France, took him to France in chains.”

  “Of course,” said King Alexander, nodding his comprehension. “My dear cousin and enemy, King Louis VI of France, has his royal hand in the kettle. I should have known. But, Lady Fionna, what has all of this to do with your sister?”

  “Janet was to be Colum’s reward,” Fionna said. “That’s why we had to remove her from Abercorn. Murdoch planned to give his little sister to that brutal, perverted man. The very sight of Colum makes my skin crawl. The thought of him forcing Janet into his bed—” She stopped then, unable to continue.

  “Ewan,” King Alexander said, “find me two good men who will enjoy a dangerous adventure. And order a boat made ready to sail for France on the next tide.”

  “Aye, my lord. I’ll gladly be one o’ the men,” Ewan offered.

  “No, not you. I want you at my side in the highlands, where we face a greater problem.

  “Not that this matter of a captured spy isn’t important,” the king said to Quentin. “Since a band of Scotsmen seized Sir Desmond, it is my duty to rescue him. With the help of my agents in France, the men I’m sending will find him and return him to King Henry. You may tell Henry he has my word on it.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Quentin said.

  “Now, in regard to your request that I offer my protection to these two ladies,” King Alexander continued, “I regret to say I cannot do so. It’s all I can do to provide adequate security for my queen and her ladies. As you’ve heard, I am leaving tomorrow to deal with a serious uprising in the highlands. Therefore, when I depart from Edinburgh in the morning, you will leave, too. I will provide a letter of safe-conduct that includes all of your party, and I’ll send an armed escort with you, to see you safely to Penrith, in Cumbria, which is far enough from Dungalash that it’s likely Murdoch will give up his pursuit before you reach it. Lady Fionna and her sister will go with you,” the king finished with a quick look at Royce, who was grinning his approval of the arrangements.

  “My lord!” Quentin began to protest, but King Alexander cut him off.

  “You voluntarily undertook the responsibility for these two women,” the king said. “I feel certain they are perfectly safe in your hands.”

  “Sir!” Quentin exclaimed in open indignation. “I do not want them on my hands!”

  “This interview is at an end,” King Alexander said. “I’m sure you understand how busy I am. Ewan will find a place for you to sleep this night. The ladies may stay with Queen Sybilla and her women.”

  There was no way that Quentin could continue to argue with a king who refused to hear anything more from him. He had to be content with a baleful glare for Fionna, a look that promised a raging quarrel in the near future.

  Fionna didn’t care how angry he was. At the moment, she didn’t even mind his furious declaration that he didn’t want her. Quentin would be safe, and that was her chief concern. Her secondary concern, that as the sisters of a pair of traitors, she and Janet would be incarcerated in a strict convent for the rest of their lives, was also resolved by King Alexander’s decisions. She couldn’t begin to guess what the future would hold, but she had succeeded in what she had intended to do, and for the moment, that was enough. She’d deal with Quentin later.

  She couldn’t help feeling pleased with herself when she beheld the happy expression on Cadwallon’s face, and saw the way he smiled at Janet.

  Chapter 13

  The king’s residence was larger than it appeared to be from the outside, and the queen’s apartments were more spacious than Fionna expected. From the state of those apartments it was evident to Fionna that the queen was planning to travel north with her husband. While maidservants worked diligently at the packing, Queen Sybilla came forward to greet the guests. A slender, fair-haired lady, she was
not especially pretty, but her calm, regal air amid the chaos of her rooms made her seem most attractive to the two weary travelers.

  “You will want hot baths,” the queen said, offering the most immediate requirement of hospitality. After giving the order for bath water to be heated, she moved on to the next act of a thoughtful hostess. “What clothing do you have? We can provide fresh gowns for you to wear this evening. My ladies are of various sizes, so I’m certain we can find something that fits.”

  “I have an extra dress with me,” Fionna said, “but I’m sure my sister would appreciate a change of clothing.”

  “See to it,” Queen Sybilla said to one of her ladies, who hurried off to do her bidding. Another lady appeared with wine and small cakes for them to eat. They sat near a brazier for warmth and talked while the servants continued packing.

  Fionna regarded the queen with interest, recalling Braedon’s remarks about his birth and his assertion that the circumstances of his life were far better than a bastard had any right to expect.

  Like Braedon, Queen Sybilla was illegitimate, being a natural daughter of King Henry of England. Fionna knew about her birth, for the information had raised eyebrows and quite a few tempers among the Scottish nobles when King Alexander married her. Proud men like Fionna’s brothers called the marriage an insult, claiming Alexander ought to have wed a true princess. Privately, Fionna thought Alexander had made a wise decision based on the superior power of his nearest royal neighbor. Alexander’s older sister was King Henry’s queen; by marrying one of Henry’s daughters, Alexander had doubly insured the security of his realm. It was clear to Fionna that the king of the Scots did not want a war with England.

  That wouldn’t stop Murdoch and Gillemore and their friends from trying to start one.

  Fionna wore her green silk dress that evening, after one of the queen’s servants had ironed most of the wrinkles out of it. Janet went to the great hall in brilliant blue silk, with her bright red hair tumbling in unbound curls over her shoulders. Fionna noticed several of King Alexander’s nobles staring at her sister. Janet ignored all of them.

  “I am glad you will be living in England,” Cadwallon said to Fionna. He wasn’t looking at her, though. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Janet. “I expect you’ll be at Wortham for a while.”

  “For no longer than is absolutely necessary,” Janet said, interrupting Fionna’s attempt to respond.

  “Where else would you go?” Cadwallon asked.

  “That is not your concern,” Janet snapped at him.

  “Speaking as one of your rescuers, I think it is my concern,” Cadwallon said. He looked over Janet’s head to wink at Fionna.

  She didn’t care to listen to more of their constant bickering, so she moved away. Deserting her sister’s side proved to be a mistake, for a moment later Quentin’s fingers wrapped around her elbow. From the look on his face, he was ready to start his own argument, one to rival the ongoing contest between Janet and Cadwallon.

  “Why didn’t you warn me about your brothers’ plans for me?” Quentin asked in a low, angry voice. “More importantly, why did you never mention Sir Desmond, when you knew he had been captured?”

  “I didn’t know you’d be interested,” she said. “I had no idea you knew of his presence in Scotland. Actually, I almost did tell you, when you asked me why Colum was to be rewarded. If you will recall, I was somewhat distracted at the time.” She looked pointedly at his hand, but he didn’t release her. In fact, she felt his fingers tighten when she referred to the hours they had spent in his bed. That almost involuntary contraction of his bones and tendons gave her hope. Perhaps Quentin was only pretending to be indifferent to her.

  “I don’t think telling you about Sir Desmond would have made a difference,” she continued. “By the time we met he was already on a boat, and headed for France.”

  “Very well, I will concede that point,” he said. “But you should have told me about the plan to murder me. Why didn’t you?”

  “A life for a life,” she said. “When I first learned who you are, you had just rescued me. I feared if I revealed what I knew, you would go haring off to search for my brothers and challenge them to combat.”

  “So I might have done,” he admitted.

  “They weren’t going to let you leave Scotland alive, but they weren’t certain where to find you. I believed if you rode straight back to England without encountering them, you’d be safe and my debt to you would be paid. That’s why I agreed to go with you. Later, while you were helping me to get Janet out of Abercorn, Royce and all his men were there to protect you.”

  “Do you expect me to thank you for my life?” he asked, wondering if it was merely a sense of obligation that had made her try to save him.

  “You owe me nothing.”

  Quentin stared at her, impaled by her steady blue gaze. He had dared to think he’d be free of her if only he could turn her over to King Alexander. He was beginning to realize he’d never be free of her. He knew instinctively that, unlike other women, she’d make no claims on him based upon the night when he had taken her maidenhood.

  She had succeeded in snaring him, all the same, catching his formerly free and independent heart with the twin lures of her intelligence and her sense of personal honor that more than matched his own. Fionna paid her debts of honor. In doing so, she had left him owing a greater debt to her than she guessed.

  “I know you don’t want me traveling with you any longer,” she said. “I suspect you never did want to take me with you and only did so because you are a decent man who wouldn’t leave a half-drowned woman to fend for herself. But there’s no help for it now. You cannot disobey King Alexander’s direct command.”

  “Oh, I could disobey.” He saw the frightened look that came into her eyes at those words, and he noticed the way she glanced in Janet’s direction. She was still worrying about her sister; Fionna would likely worry about Janet until the day she died. “But I won’t disobey,” he said, to ease her concern.

  “How kind of you, my lord.” Fionna finally pulled her arm from his grip. The instant she was free she turned her back on him and went to stand among the queen’s ladies.

  “Damnation,” Quentin muttered as Royce joined him.

  “I must say, I am looking forward to the journey home,” Royce said with a roguish grin.

  Quentin was sorely tempted to make a sharp retort. He stopped himself just in time, for it suddenly occurred to him that while his sense of honor lay in ruins over his treatment of Fionna, he had managed to do one thing right over the past few weeks. He had wanted to coax Royce out of his long period of grief over the death of his beloved wife. The Royce who stood smiling at his side was a newly restored version of the noble knight who had first befriended him when Quentin was still a mere squire. Royce’s old sense of humor and his interest in intrigue were piqued by the danger and the excitement of their recent adventures. That accomplishment was an occasion for joy.

  “I am hoping it will be a quiet journey,” Quentin remarked with false casualness. Then he waited expectantly for Royce’s response. He was not disappointed.

  “You may hope,” Royce said, grinning like a naughty schoolboy, “but I doubt if you are right.”

  Janet was in an oddly pensive mood later that night, as the sisters prepared to share a bed in the women’s quarters. She fluffed up her pillow, then pulled the quilt up to her chin and lay staring at the opposite wall as if lost in thought. Fionna sat on the side of the bed, braiding her hair.

  “I saw you arguing with Cadwallon again,” Fionna said.

  “We always argue,” Janet responded. “This time he told me I was a fool to asume King Alexander would have any interest in finding a husband for me.”

  “Cadwallon is not mistaken. King Alexander has more important matters to consider.” She was about to expound on the king’s growing problems with the highland Scots who, according to what one of the king’s nobles had told her that evening, were in revolt against Alexander
’s Norman-style land reforms. Before she could say anything Janet spoke again.

  “He shook me so hard I feared he’d snap my neck,” Janet said, a soft smile curving her lips. “Then he kissed me.”

  “Cadwallon did?” Fionna stared at her, the king’s political difficulties vanishing from her mind at her sister’s words.

  “No man has ever kissed me before.” Janet’s fingers lightly traced the edge of her mouth. “When I told him so, Cadwallon said that’s because I talk too much, and constantly raise objections to everything a man has to say.”

  “It’s more likely because you’ve been at Abercorn, where there aren’t any young men.” With sudden concern Fionna regarded her sister’s pink cheeks and soft expression. “Janet, do be careful. Don’t allow Cadwallon too many liberties.”

  “Cadwallon is an honorable man.”

  “So is – so are they all,” Fionna said, sighing at the memory of Quentin’s naked body lying close to hers.

  King Alexander bid farewell to Quentin’s party while a misty dawn was breaking over Edinburgh. As he had promised, a heavily armed Scottish escort accompanied them.

  “Just to be sure we actually do depart from Scotland without further delay,” Royce said to Fionna. “Alexander plans to head north within the hour and he doesn’t want us lingering to cause trouble with your brothers. If the lowland Scots are roused into revolt, he’ll have to come south again to deal with them, which means he’ll need to split his army in two if he’s to fight the northern uprising at the same time. I don’t envy Alexander; I wouldn’t be a king for all the glory on earth or in heaven, either.”

  At the base of the fortress crag they paused just long enough to gather up Royce’s servants and the supply carts that were awaiting their lord’s return. By the time King Alexander’s banners were visible in the forefront of the royal cavalcade that was making its way through the mist and down the twisting path from the top, the Normans were out of the little town and heading south.