by Lynn Lorenz
No, the only course was to finish the journey.
He swung up into the saddle and spurred his mount to his sister’s side. The wagon’s driver sat next to her, and little Anne sat in the wagon behind them with Beth’s maid
Beth nodded to him as she adjusted her gown, and he waved to the child, who waved back. At the front of the wagon, Marcus joined six of his riders. Baymore’s other men would bring up the rear. The fact Basil, the wagon, and his men were surrounded wasn’t lost on him.
Basil gave the sign to Marcus to move out.
“To Baymore!” Marcus shouted, and with a wave of his arm, the entire column of men started out. The wagon driver cracked his whip over the team of four horses, and the wagon jolted forward, causing Beth to clutch the sides of her bench, and Anne to fall backward.
Instead of crying, she came up giggling, thinking this new way of traveling quite the sport, and the maid laughed also. Basil smiled at that bright moment, then his gaze met Beth’s, and the grin slipped from his face.
Her mouth was set in a hard line, her eyes somber, her brow furrowed. His heart ached at her unhappiness, but he told himself this was for the best. He’d done the best he could for her, made a fine match for his sister and her child, and he shouldn’t feel guilty in the least.
But if that were so, then why did he feel he was bringing her to what might turn out to be a prison?
»»•««
Marcus turned back to look at the procession he led. Two dozen armsmen, a huge wagon loaded with trunks and furniture, a child, and a bride-to-be. And her brother.
Right now, none of them, except the babe, looked happy to be there. He swung back around and stared down the road, as if that would make the journey go faster.
Or slower. He didn’t know which.
If he could see his own face, the list of unhappy people would probably include him. How had he let William Holcombe talk him into this disaster of a mission?
He knew how. He’d wanted it. Seen a way to make his dream of home and hearth come true, and he’d taken it. Wanted to protect and serve his duke, a man he owed much.
Only now, Marcus realized, he’d betrayed himself and his duke by taking the assignment and failing.
How could he have been so foolish?
No, not foolish. Desperate. It all boiled down to desperation—on all their parts.
What would William say when he saw that Marcus hadn’t won the woman’s heart or hand, he’d even forsaken the mission, and left Jackson with a bride?
Left William without Jackson.
Marcus stiffened his spine and his resolve. He’d faced worse situations, worse odds in battle, but this was a certain thing.
When William found out, he would kill Marcus.
»»•««
Beth rocked along with the swaying of the cart, her mind on her upcoming wedding. She’d packed the dress she’d worn for her first marriage. Why not? No one here had seen it, other than her brother and her maid. With their coffers running low, she didn’t want to burden Basil with any expenses.
Behind her in the cart, most of her possessions had come along with her and Anne. Even her bed had been dismantled and loaded up. It was for Anne, when it was time to set up her home. Perhaps Jackson Baymore would pay her wedding dowry when the time came. If not, at least Beth had something to give to Anne.
Anne reached over the boards and tugged on her mother’s hair.
“Aye, baby?” Beth cooed. The little girl looked up at her, happy as could be, her rag doll clutched to her travel gown. The maid, sitting on a cushion, held the child in her arms.
Anne held the doll out for Beth to kiss. Beth leaned down, gave it a quick peck on the top of its head, and then laughed. “Are you having fun, Anne?”
Anne nodded. The wagon hit a hard bump and Anne’s eyes flew wide open—she bounced as the maid’s grip slipped and the child’s backside hit the floor.
Beth held her breath, waiting to see if the child would cry or not.
Anne giggled, got back on her feet, and went back to her place behind Beth.
Well, she was fine, then. Beth exhaled, and she and the maid exchanged thankful glances.
In front of the wagon, past four soldiers, rode Marcus. Beth couldn’t help but be drawn to him, letting her gaze sweep over his strong broad back, to his ass as he sat in his saddle, to his thighs gripping the sides of his mount.
A perfect man in so many ways.
She sighed.
It was pointless to keep harping on it. She needed to set her mind and her heart to her new husband, Jackson. The sooner, the better, for all their sakes. He must never know of her feelings for Marcus.
She resolved not to look at Marcus again. Never again.
“Beth?” Basil rode beside her.
“Aye, brother?” She glanced over at him.
“You seem quiet.”
“Do I? I suppose I have much on my mind.” She shrugged. With the driver beside her and her maid behind, Beth and Basil weren’t free to speak openly.
“Excited? We’ll be to Baymore before midday.”
“That’s what I understand.” She thought for a while, then spoke, “I’ve been thinking about my arrival.” She looked down at her traveling gown. “I wish to stop before the castle and change. I should be wearing a finer gown than this.”
“Of course,” Basil quickly agreed. “Do you wish to ride your horse, also?”
“No, I think I’d like to have Anne up here beside me. I want him to understand from the very beginning she and I are not to be separated.”
“A good strategy.” He nodded. “It will set the tone right off.”
“Aye.” She thought again. “And I want you to make sure that all of the contract is in place and upheld prior to the wedding.” If she sold herself, she would be sure the agreed upon price was paid, down to the last coin, cow, and chicken.
She owed it to her brother and to her daughter to do her duty to them.
No matter what the cost.
»»•««
Jackson strode across the courtyard, his page at his side, and climbed the stairs to the walkway that ran along the top of the keep. Ever since this morning when he and Will had made love, possibly for the last time, a sense of foreboding had risen in him. Step by step, like a creek overflowing its banks, the dread flooded every part of him.
“Will we see her? Is she coming now?” The boy’s innocent excitement almost caught in him. Jackson clapped him on the back.
“Nay. Not yet. They won’t make the castle until midday.”
“Oh.” The boy frowned up at him. “I hate waiting.”
“Aye, waiting is hard, especially for one so young as you.”
“I’m not young. I’m almost a man.”
Jackson chuckled and reached out to tousle the boy’s black hair. “A man, eh?”
“Aye!” He grinned up at Jackson, then added, “Nearly the same age as when you left your home.”
Jackson should probably ask about the boy’s family, but right now, he couldn’t muster the interest. He had other, more pressing, things on his mind.
The sun stood high in the sky. At any moment, the caravan would crest the far hill, in sight of Baymore, and he would see them.
Not up close, but from a distance.
With only one eye, he’d have to settle for seeing her at a closer distance. Like when she came through the gates.
His stomach danced. Not even on the morning of his worst battle had he been this nervous. Those times, all he stood to lose had been his life.
Now he could lose Will.
He leaned over the wall, hands braced on the stones, as he stared down the long road. Minutes, hours, perhaps even a day, crawled past, and Jackson kept staring at the point on the horizon where his future would appear.
“Any sighting?” Will’s soft voice came at Jackson’s right side. If Jackson counted on anything, it was that Will would be at his side. Until now. This was a place Will couldn’t go, and Jackson had never
felt so alone.
“None. But then, my eyesight is not as good as yours, my lord.”
Will leaned out, his hand just touching Jackson’s. Jackson squinted into the harsh noon light and heard Will’s sharp intake of breath. Jackson stared down at Will’s hand, smaller than his own, yet strong, and he moved his hand to cover it.
“They come,” Will whispered, and his fingers tightened in Jackson’s grip.
A cloud of dust rose from the road, and the pennants of the first riders broke over the crest of the hill.
“Riders!” The call rose up from many of the men on the wall.
Liam spun around and shouted down to the bailey, “They’re here! They’re here!”
“God save us, Will.” Jackson swallowed and looked into Will’s blue eyes.
“If we’re counting on God, I fear we’re in trouble, Your Grace,” Will drawled. “Boy, go on, give us some peace from your yelling!”
Liam nodded, and still grinning, he ran back down the stairs to the bustling courtyard.
How could Will be so unaffected? So bland about it? Jackson wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him until he felt as flustered and panicked as he did.
As if he’d read Jackson’s mind, Will said, “There’s nothing to be done about it for now. We’ll wait and see. I have hopes something will change the course we find ourselves on, Jackson.” Will patted Jackson’s hand. “Come, they draw near. We must be down below when she comes through the gates.” Will turned away and headed to the stairs.
“Aye.” Jackson nodded and followed Will down to the courtyard.
Around them, everyone was skittering around. Last minute cleaning—shovels for scooping up the manure, buckets of water tossed out, brooms sweeping water over the cobblestones—drove the activity, like bees around a hive.
Liam ran up to Jackson, almost bouncing in his shoes.
“How do I look?” Jackson held out his arms. He wore what Will had picked out for him, some of his best clothing, but not the garments they’d chosen for the wedding, if it happened.
“Most handsome, Your Grace. She’ll fall in love with you at first sight,” the boy promised.
Jackson turned to his lover. “Will?” Their gazes met across the top of Liam’s head as fear, regret, sorrow, and anger flashed between them.
“Like a duke,” Will said.
»»•««
My duke. Will refused to add his emotions to Jackson’s already strained nerves. Surely, the big man would break if Will showed any signs of distress. Will had to portray confidence, had to be calm and poised, if only to protect them both.
But, by God, he wanted to crawl into a dark hole and hide. Wanted nothing more than to sneak under the covers of his bed, blow out the candles, and refuse to answer the door.
When this was over, no matter what happened, he would seek some solace, whether here or somewhere else. As he stood there waiting for the gates to open, Will knew he would never return to his father’s keep. He’d take to the road, travel the land, perhaps take passage on a sailing ship and go abroad.
“Open the gates! They’re here!”
Will froze, as if his feet were mired in muck, unable to go forward or run away.
Jackson, however, had no such trouble. He stepped forward, put his hands on his hips and bellowed, “Open the gates for my bride!”
Will staggered.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Baymore Castle loomed even bigger than Beth had dreamed and her heart thudded in her chest as if it wanted freedom also. Massive gray stone walls climbed high above them. The tall wooden and iron gates cracked open to swallow her and the wagon whole, as two men on each side pushed against them. Beyond the portal, a throng of people had gathered. Waiting for her.
Beth held onto the boards of the bench as if it were salvation.
Marcus rode under the lintel, and his men disappeared around the side of the wall, but he remained in the center of the bailey.
A huge man, sturdier than any man she’d ever seen, stood rooted like a tree and flanked by a younger man and a lad. He watched as her wagon rolled into the courtyard.
Around her, a cheer went up as it came to a stop in front of them.
Beth wanted to look around, but her gaze riveted on the man. He was handsome, in a rough way, clean shaven, but his hair stood wild around his head. To her, he resembled some kind of wild forest man, and the dark green velvet vest and black breeches and boots helped to add to the impression.
It could have been worse—he could have been short, fat, and repulsive. She stifled the shudder of the thought, kept her back straight, and her face serene.
Her gaze flicked to Marcus. She couldn’t help it, but it seemed he could. He swung down from his saddle, dropped to a knee in front of the man, and pulled off his helmet.
Her brother edged his horse closer, then he dismounted and strode forward to stand beside Marcus.
Marcus stood. “Your Grace, I wish to present Basil Clayton. Lord Clayton, this is Jackson the Duke of Baymore.”
The men postured and presented themselves, repeating titles and leaving Beth to wait her turn. To her it seemed all eyes except the duke’s were on her, and she found that most odd.
∙•∙
Basil kept from gawking at the duke, the largest and most powerful man he’d ever seen, no doubt, but there was no trace of danger about him. His outward appearance was jovial, and he had smiling dark eyes and a wide grin.
Once the introductions had been made, Basil presented his papers to the duke. The younger man on the duke’s right stepped forward to take the documents. He had to be the most handsome, nay, beautiful man Basil had ever beheld.
“I am Lord William Holcombe, the duke’s steward.” He bowed to Basil.
“Lord Basil Clayton, of Clayton Castle,” Basil returned the bow. “Then it’s you I must thank, for you drew up the terms of the agreement.” Basil gave him a brief bow.
“The terms were His Grace’s—I merely wrote them down.”
“I’m sure you did more than that,” Basil replied, his gaze flicking to the duke. The man was imposing, but one look told Basil that William Holcombe had planned and executed the contract. An air of competence and confidence surrounded the man.
The man had intelligence and beauty. A rare combination, one that pleased and excited Basil, and one he hadn’t seen in many men.
He wanted to know more about Holcombe, but there would be time for that. The wedding would be in three days. More than enough time for learning what sort of man the duke’s steward might be. Basil hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed.
“Your Grace, may I present my sister, Lady Beth Clayton.” He purposely substituted her married name, but no one called him on it. Perhaps they all wanted to forget her unfortunate first marriage.
The duke’s gaze shifted and landed on Beth, still seated on the wagon, and he smiled. “Lady Beth. Well met!”
“And to you, Your Grace.” She nodded. “This is my child, Anne.” She pulled the baby closer to her.
The duke cocked his head at the child. “She’s a beauty, my lady. Just like her mother.”
Beth found herself blushing at his words, not that he had said them or that she’d never heard them before, but that they had been spoken in so honest a tone. Despite her initial misgivings about his size and looks, she decided for now she liked the Duke of Baymore. He did not stir her loins, but she didn’t find him terrible.
Basil came to the side of the wagon and extended his hand for her to take. She took it and climbed down from the wagon. Her maid handed down Anne, and Beth took her in her arms. The little girl sighed, laid her cheek against Beth’s shoulder, and fell asleep.
“She’s weary from the journey, isn’t she?” Jackson Baymore smiled down at Beth and the babe. He reached out and ran his hand over her little head. “Now, you must be tired from your long time on the road. Tell me, Lord Clayton, did you encounter any bandits? Come, sit by the fire and tell me of it.” Jackson turned and walk
ed toward the keep, the men following him.
Basil turned to her. “Are you coming?”
“No, go on. I must attend to our things.” She waved him on, then turned to her maid. “Here, take Anne.” She gave the child back to her. “Once I get the wagon unloaded I’ll find where we are to stay and we’ll put her down for a nap.”
“Aye, milady. I could use a nap myself,” the old woman muttered.
Beth turned to one of the men unloading the wagon, who seemed to be in charge. She directed him about the luggage, trunks, and furniture. She was in no rush to sit with the men and pass the time, or anxious to learn more about her future husband. Mostly, she wanted to avoid speaking to Marcus.
“It’s a fine keep, milady.” The maid bounced the child on her hip.
“It is.” Beth halted and turned in a slow circle, surveying her surroundings. Clean, spacious, and the servants all well-dressed. Baymore certainly lived up to its reputation for wealth and size.
Beth chuckled. So did Baymore’s duke.
»»•««
The men sat on the chairs gathered around the hearth, a low fire burning in it. A servant brought tankards of ale and passed them around. Basil sipped from his, then rested it on his knee. The pleasantries done, time to get down to business.
“So, Your Grace, what do you think of Lady Beth?” Basil began.
Jackson shifted in his chair, Marcus jerked his head up at the question, and Lord Holcombe frowned. Very curious, those reactions.
“She’s a beauty.” The duke nodded and swallowed.
Lord Holcombe brought his tankard to his lips and drank deeply. Marcus stared into the fire, a small muscle in his jaw jerking. Very odd. Something was going on, something they knew, but he didn’t. He didn’t like that, not at all. For his sake and his sister’s he needed to get to the bottom of this.
Marcus’s reaction, he could understand. But no matter how Holcombe tried to hide it, he was angry. But at what? He’d drawn up the contract. And the duke? Uncomfortable, he’d say. Perhaps worried?
“I’d like to discuss the terms of the contract.” Basil leaned toward Lord Holcombe.
“Indeed?” Holcombe leaned away, an opposite move, as if in a mirror.