by Jill Barnett
Glenna didn’t argue, but paused to look at Lyall.
What Ramsey saw pass between them was too familiar to not cause him pain, and produced a moment that was uncomfortable enough to make him wonder what was best, rather than what was right.
She got up, giving Lyall, a wan smile before she left with Beitris, and he and Lyall were alone.
Ramsey knelt down and unlocked the manacles, then tossed them aside. Lyall winced and rubbed his ankles, while Ramsey fought with himself over what to say and chose silence. He rose and moved away, holding the cell gates open. “You need to prepare for meeting with Sutherland.” He gave a quick nod. “You can go.”
Lyall walked out of the gates, but stopped when he was next to him. They were of the same height and could look each other in the eye, which was a curse more than a blessing when it came to reading each other. “I want you to understand something, Donnald. I know what I have done, and I know what I did after you strictly forbade me.” He paused after this honest admission, then placed a hand on Ramsey’s shoulder. “I could say no to you, but I could not say no to her.”
33
The earl of Sutherland and his contingent approached Castle Rossi to the sound of heralds trumpeting their arrival and with all the pageant possible, pennants flying from lines of mounted squires in the earl’s colors, and so many troops that in the distance they looked like ants flooding down from an anthill.
“How many men do they believe it will take to keep your brother and I apart?” Glenna asked sarcastically.
But there was awe in Mairi’s voice when she said, “He is the most powerful earl in the land, chancellor and council to your father the king. A travelling contingent such at that one commands instant reverence.”
“Or fear,” Glenna said, fully prepared to dislike this man who represented her father, her father who she had already decided she did not care for despite their shared blood. She knew nothing about this great earl except that everyone seemed to grow quiet when his name was mentioned. “Can men not understand that respect is earned?”
“I suspect the earl does not worry over such things. And respect is due and required by men of rank and birth. You have lived outside the life you live now. You did not see such on your small island. But our land is wild, and there are men who would change the way of things, men who would be cruel and murder and take what they want. In your father’s stead, the earl alone is Scotland’s great protector.”
“Alone?” Glenna laughed. “He and his five hundred armed men?”
“Impressive, though it is to behold from here, that is but a travelling contingent. Were he coming for a battle there would be five times the number of riders, along with warriors on foot and a legion of archers.” She paused and turned. “I have never heard that he is a cruel or unfair man, Glenna.”
Glenna closed the shutters and said, “It matters not to me because I am prepared for battle.”
“Aye. You have fire in your eyes.” Mairi said and began to help her dress and braid her hair.
The earl and his men had long ridden through the gates when both women finished. Glenna stood fully dressed and coiffed, brushed and braided, decorated and standing in the center of the large chamber, her nerves growing raw, her heart beating too hard, a bead of sweat on her upper lip, and her mind thinking of a thousand possible answers.
A knock came at the door and Mairi answered it, saw Lyall and slipped out.
He stood there, tall and gloriously handsome, dressed in a rich, dark blue long tunic with gold design that was his own over dark hose and soft boots. His face was clean-shaven, his golden hair touched his shoulders, and heavy jeweled rings adorned his fingers on the hand he held out to her. His smile for her was clear. His love for her in his eyes.
Lud, how I adore this man.
“Come, love,” he said easily. “We will face them together.”
Without hesitation, Glenna reached for him. His warm hand closed over hers, and she was struck by a wonderful serge of power and sudden strength, and they walked toward the hall, and down the stairs side by side.
Before they reached the stairs, Lyall touched Glenna’s hand and she glanced up quickly and gave him a smile--one he could see did not quite reach her eyes--then she looked straight ahead, her mouth in a thin line of determination though he knew, she was frightened. Her back was straight. Her chin was high.
“You are so beautiful,” he said casually, not looking at her. “I am the most fortunate of men.”
He felt her glance up at him, and he gave in looked down at her sweet face, something he could do for the rest of his days. From beneath feather-thick dark lashes, her eyes were so ebony that they looked as vast and fathomable as the deepest forest under a midnight sky. She chewed on her lip, her guard down.
He gave her wink and she recovered quickly, a clear smile on her lips. She gave an exaggerated sigh. “I would argue I am the most fortunate of woman. Who is the more fortunate?”
“Let me think,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps we are both wrong and the most fortunate man in the world would be he who holds the heart of Old Gladdys.”
Laughter burst from her, hearty and honest, and for a moment he thought her fear might have subsided. Lyall patted her hand reassuringly before they reached the bottom of the stairs. She was a grand sight, breathtakingly lovely, the unforgettable kind of woman whose image was burned for an eternity in a man’s mind. Like the Canmore she was born to be, she was the image of the regal daughter of a king in the gown she had clutched to her chest as she slept—crimson and fitted of the finest velvet warped with silk, rare and woven with a discriminating Flemish skill and eye, expertly decorated with silver embroidery that hinted of his sister’s fine stitches, trimmed in royal ermine and girdled over her rounded hips with a heavily hammered silver belt set with rubies.
Her black hair hung in stormy waves down her back and past her buttocks, but the hair near her temples was drawn back in twists of thin braids decorated with red ribbands from which hung silver pendants in the shape of stars and drops of perfect white pearls the color of her pale skin. The pearls in her hair matched the wide necklace she wore around her throat: three tight stands of large, round pearls with a ruby set in the center, the necklace and the long jeweled belt gifts from his mother and the baron. He, too, had a gift for her, one he now wished he had given her, but ‘twas too late.
At the bottom of the staircase, the cacophony of voices in the room slowly waned as many curious eyes lit upon them. The sudden silence grabbed the room’s attention as quickly as the ringing of the supper bell. In the center of the great hall stood a tall, powerfully-built man with a stark white streak in his dark hair. Next to him were Lyall’s mother and stepfather, and all were surrounded by clusters of retainers--Sutherland’s contingent of knights along with the Montrose household knights and their ladies.
The great earl of Sutherland, Lord Chancellor, Valan de Carleone looked up, then faced them. His wide earl’s belt glinted in the light and his eyes immediately lit upon Glenna. His expression froze and the color drained from his face. “Cait?”
There was a frantic and sudden murmuring from many of the earl’s men. Glenna stopped and looked behind her, then back again, frowning, but Lyall merely ignored the strange reactions and murmurs, stayed calm, and moved them closer.
Ramsey stepped up with Glenna into the group. “My lady, may I present to you Lord Valan de Caleone, earl of Sutherland, Lord Chancellor of Scotland, and old friend and council to your father. Earl Valan, you remember my stepson Sir Lyall Roberson.”
The earl had been studying Glenna as if he were seeing a ghost, but made a quick bow to her and acknowledged Lyall with ‘Sir Ewane’s son.’ Lyall wasn’t certain if he meant to insult or not, or perhaps considering why they were there, he meant to remind him exactly who he was.
But Lyall quickly gauged there was no intent, in fact the earl barely paid attention to him because he was so busy studying Glenna.
When the earl took her han
d he said quietly, as if talking to himself, “’Tis uncanny.”
“What is uncanny, my lord?” Glenna asked.
And his look was assessing, then he gave a slight smile and shook his head. “Just fancy, Lady Glenna. An old man’s eyes play dark tricks. Come with me. I believe we need to speak privately.” He threaded her arm over his and gave Ramsey a nod, asked for two of his knights to accompany him. “And you Robertson.”
An urge came over him to tear her from Earl Valan’s arm, to place his body between them and shout that this was all his fault, but his stepfather was talking to him, asking a casual question and demanding his attention and walking close to his side. His guard? Lyall made a vague comment, but never took his eyes off of Glenna, watching her straight shoulders and stiff spine, her chin unduly high in the presence of her father’s most powerful ally and friend, attuned to her nerves, her every motion and look. Lyall did not want her hurt. She was trying to be his champion.
They all walked casually through the hall—a designed parade to keep tongues from wagging-- and went into a room off the main hall, where there were many candles lit, a table with benches and two tall heavily carved chairs at either end. A ewer sat at each end and a tray of goblets. Two squires in the earl’s colors were already positioned unobtrusively in the back corners, and the knights stood back as the earl led Glenna to a seat at his right, gestured for Ramsey to take the other end and for Lyall to sit on his left.
“Ramsey tells me quite a story about the two of you.” The earl raised a hand by the ewer and each of the squires moved swiftly to the table, pouring and serving the undiluted wine while the Earl Valan settled in and leaned back in his chair, fingers on one hand drumming on the table.
Not a good sign, though his voice was even and without animosity or anger, and Lyall wondered if that might be all the worse for them. The look Glenna wore was stubbornly intent and he loved her for it, but he rose and spoke before anyone else.“I have acted foolishly and have been driven by my past and my desires. Glenna was a victim.” Lyall gave her smile. “She has championed me, to save me from the consequences of my actions, and has forgiven the crack in good sense.”
Earl Valan gave him an arched look that questioned his choice of words and demanded plain speak.
Lyall raised his hand. “She calls it a crack. I know what I have done is most serious. I failed and betrayed my stepfather, you, and my king.” He paused. “And I failed her, the one who holds my heart, my today and my tomorrow.” The look Glenna exchanged with him sent a pang of meaning through him and the realization she was his reason for living. He did not take his eyes off of her as he continued. “She is my wife, in body and heart and mind, and I swear on my own black soul it is I who will defend her best because I will do so with my life. I would give everything I have, down to my blood and bone, to live out my time on this earth with her by my side, so I will not step away as I was asked.”
Her smile softened. Without her, there was nothing. He faced Sutherland. “Know this…there is no other man who will protect her as I will.” He tapped his heart with a fist. “So dear she is to me.”
The earl was an experienced diplomat and his face revealed nothing.
“Lady Glenna believes that she can save me, because I am now her husband and she is the daughter of the king.” He looked down, laughing in self-deprecation. “But the truth is: what is between us is my greatest gift and I would willingly hang tomorrow knowing that she has been mine for these few days.”
Her expression told him that his words troubled her, and she slightly shook her head, warning him to stop.
“You can take me away, Earl Valan,” Lyall vowed. “You can lock me up, shackle me to castle gates, stick my sorry head on a pike or draw and quarter me, but I will not deny her. Lady Glenna Canmore is my wife for my life.” He paused. “However long that may be.”
The thought of losing her, thus losing the man he could be, made his eyes burn and he looked away…unfortunately, right into the intense and thoughtful face of his stepfather.
Was that compassion he saw? If so, he deserved none.
Glenna stood abruptly and faced the earl. “You tell me I am the daughter of the king. Then hear me when I say we are wed. You harm my husband and you harm me.” She flattened her hands on the table and leaned forward. “He is my husband.”
Earl Valan laughed softly and shook his head. “Why do I think you want to add ‘you oaf’ to your last comment?”
Her brow creased but she said, “You think you know me that well?” She laughed without humor and moved to the window, leaned against the wall not looking at any of them.
“I know I saw a sudden gleam in your eyes, and you moved away to hide it from me. Know you this. I have been called such names many times, my lady. I understand you more than you can fathom.”
Glenna refused to look at the earl, but stood with her arms crossed, her shoulder against the open shutter.
Lyall spoke from his heart, but he was at a loss now of what else he could say, and he sat down and took a sip of wine, hoping to calm things somewhat while his mind searched for another way to persuade them.
“I would not condone what my son by marriage has done, my lord,” Ramsey interjected. “I would say that he has acted without thought and selfishly. But he has taken something valuable from all he has done. I believe I know Lyall, perhaps better than he knows himself. Consider this: there are those who would say he does not have the wealth or position due a man wed to the daughter of a king. I would petition now, at this moment, to make him my heir.”
Hearing that was like being hit in the head with a flail. Lyall expected to argue with Ramsey for him to not dissolve their marriage… not to hear defense and support for him, support he did not deserve and was difficult to hear. He stared into this wine goblet.
Anger he could defy. Kindness? He wanted to hang his head with shame at his actions, at how he had let bitterness consume him, and with that shame came a great regret. To be where he was now, so clear eyed and aware of what he knew he wanted, and aware of how he wasted it and risked his future, was strangely comforting. He had no doubts. He wasn’t fighting his conscience, perhaps because this time what he wanted was not about his pride. With Glenna, his pride was not all twisted up inside of his desires.
The earl gave his stepfather a direct look. “Well and good, Ramsey. However, we are not here to debate whether he is suitable.”
“Nay, you are here to dictate the validity of our marriage,” Glenna said quickly. “To twist and turn my life so that I cannot follow my heart but understand my worth is only to be bartered to assist the Crown. My marriage is sacred to me. A handfast is the law of the land.”
“That is true, were you not who you are. There is no royal marriage without witnesses. That, my dear, is the law as it pertains to you.”
“What would have happened, had I, Glenna Gordon, wed a sheep farmer before my father the king decided I could come out of hiding?”
Lyall had to look away. The idea of her wed to a sheep farmer almost made him laugh out loud.
“You believe that such was possible?” The earl looked amused. “You believe you were free to marry a pig farmer?”
“Sheep farmer,” she said tightly
“‘Twould never have happened, Lady Glenna, and I prefer not to waste words arguing over the impossible.”
“I did not think any of us was wasting words. But I would now question the truthfulness of the stories we have heard about the grand romance of my parents. Was it a grand romance? Is only my father allowed to marry for great love? And if I am my father’s daughter, is not fighting for my right to the man I love in my very blood?”
Now there, Lyall thought, was the best question.
The earl watched her for a long time. Glenna was trying desperately to make him angry. He did not bluster and order them about, a sign of how Sutherland had risen to his high position. The man was thoughtful, and Lyall had to admire him.
“Watching you, my lady, I wo
nder…” Earl Valan said quietly. “You are quite fearless.”
“Thank you.”
“That was not a compliment,” the earl said bluntly. “You are also quite willing to speak your mind.” When she started to speak he held up his hand. “Also not a compliment. It has been my experience that speaking out is not the best way for a woman to get what she desires.”
“Neither is becoming a mute, and I did not know you had experience as a woman speaking out, my lord earl.”
Lyall bit back a laugh but his stepfather did not and Ramsey shook his head, still laughing. “She has you there, Valan.”
The earl exchanged an interesting look with his stepfather that gave Lyall a heartbeat of hope. To Glenna, the earl said, “You might be better served with a husband to watch over you.” He turned his thoughtful eyes on Lyall and studied him, then sat back in his chair. “Speaking of blood relations, my lady, you are very much like your sister. “
“My sister?"
That had gotten Glenna’s attention.
“Aye. Lady Caitrin has been my ward for all these years.”
“Was she lied to also?” Glenna asked bitterly.
“Like you, she, too, recently discovered the truth, and she has made her thoughts known to me,” the earl said calmly, refusing to give rise to Glenna’s clear baiting. “Her new husband must deal with her opinions.”
“New husband? So she was pawned off for the sake of the Crown? She might easily accept that fate, but I will not be so meek and biddable.”
The earl choked on his wine and coughed and wheezed until one of his knights slapped him hard on the back, and he slowly recovered, his face going from bright red to a flush. He cleared his throat and said, “The choices your father made were difficult ones. I was there. I saw what he went through. His actions and orders were for your protection.”
“What you call protection, I call lies, Earl Valan. Why could we have not known the truth and still been kept safe?”