Not Mine to Give

by Laura Landon

  What does she have that you want? The crown?

  Katherine dropped her head to her folded hands, trying to forget the boastful tone of Regan’s voice, but she could not. Every bitter word screamed in the quiet chamber, a reminder of the chasm that separated her from her husband.

  When you tire of your wife… you will remember how good it was between us and beg me to come back.

  Katherine clenched her hands tighter and prayed with as much fervor as she’d ever prayed in her life. Then she began her search for the hidden passageway. The time would come when Duncan would demand she give him the crown. She had to be able to escape, should it become necessary.

  Chapter 9

  Duncan rubbed his temples to ease the throbbing in his head. His conversation with Regan had disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

  One by one the Ferguson warriors came through the opening and sat at one of the many long trestle tables, ready to eat the evening meal. Everyone was present except his wife. They would not start without her, and Kate knew it. It angered him that she was not already here, that she would make his men wait to eat.

  Duncan searched the room. He ached to hear her rich voice when she spoke. He wanted to stand close to her so he could smell the clean fragrance of roses and heather in which she bathed.

  He wanted to touch her, and hold her, and kiss her like he’d done before. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, and over her skin, and over the soft hidden parts of her body. He wanted to walk with her, and laugh with her, and hold her in his arms until the sun came up each morning.

  He wanted her to be something other than English.

  He couldn’t go on much longer the way he was. Every day he was with her, he wanted her more. Every hour he was without her, he missed her more. Every night he went without loving her, he cursed himself for being more a fool.

  He looked up again. Angus was there, but Kate was not with him.

  “Where is my wife, Angus?” he said when Angus came near him.

  The old warrior’s face wrinkled with a frown. “Malcolm came for her earlier this afternoon.” Angus turned to Malcolm. “Where did you leave her?”

  Tiny nerves prickled on the back of Duncan’s neck.

  Malcolm looked around the room as if she were hiding somewhere close and they’d missed her. “I brought her here from your cottage, Angus.” Malcolm turned back to Duncan. “We stopped to see Kevin on our way. He was in the kitchen with Anna and Margaret.”

  “Did anything unforeseen happen while you were there?”

  “Nay. Nothing any different than any other day. Our people are still not overly accepting of their mistress, Duncan. The air in the hot kitchen near caused a bit of frostbite.”

  Duncan sat forward in his chair. “Did the women offend their mistress?”

  “Nay. Not directly. It’s obvious, though, they canna forget she’s English.”

  “Where did you go after the kitchens?”

  “We came directly here. I left the mistress on the steps and went to the practice area. Marcus injured himself when he fell from his horse, and Balfour came for me to see if we should send for Angus. He was na injured so bad, and when I came back, the mistress had already come inside. I thought she was with you.”

  “Was the drawbridge raised after you came in?”

  “Aye, and there’s a guard at the postern. Neither would let her out. Not after what happened to Brandon.”

  “The lady Katherine would na go beyond the walls,” Angus defended. “She knows how it concerns you.”

  Duncan raised his eyebrows. Angus did not know how it was between them. Duncan didn’t think she would leave on her own, but maybe something had happened to her.

  He rose from his chair and walked to where Morgana stood, giving instructions to the new serving girl Irsa. “Have you seen your mistress?”

  “Not since earlier this afternoon, my lord. She came back and went to her room. She told me she was tired and wanted to rest.”

  Duncan turned to Angus and Malcolm who were both at his side. “I’ll check in our chamber. She has probably fallen asleep.”

  Angus and Malcolm shared a smile and watched their laird walk away. “Begin your meal,” Duncan hollered over his shoulder as he reached the doorway. He didn’t want his men waiting for Kate if she had fallen asleep, but he was not pleased with her for inconveniencing them either. Nor for causing him concern.

  He took the steps two at a time, pushing down the niggling fear that ate at him. Kate did not tire easily. It was not like her to sleep in the middle of the day. He hesitated with his hand on the latch, then opened the door.

  The chamber was bright. Lit with the flames of a dozen candles. He looked first at the bed, but it was empty. She stood before the narrow arrow slit that overlooked the empty practice yard. She did not turn to face him when he entered.

  “The men are awaiting their meal, Kate.”

  “I am not hungry. Have them begin without me.”

  He moved closer to where she stood. “It is a custom for the laird and his mistress to eat with the rest.”

  She spun around, the look in her bright blue eyes brimming with fire. “Then it’s time we began a new custom. From now on, their English mistress will eat her meals alone in her chamber and the Scottish Fergusons can eat in the great hall with their laird. There should be no problem with that, should there, my lord?”

  Duncan stared after her as she walked from the narrow window to the table beside the bed. She poured a cup of water then slammed the pitcher back on the table.

  “Did something happen today that you need to tell me?”

  Her gaze darted toward him, and he felt the stabbing of a thousand pinpricks on the back of his neck.

  “No, my lord. Nothing happened today that was different from any other day.” She took a sip of her water then focused the intensity of her anger on him. “I have decided that I will visit my sister while you are gone to get Brenna.”

  “Is that where the crown is hidden?”

  The cup froze midway to her mouth. “The crown is safe, my lord. You need not concern yourself with its whereabouts.”

  “You will na leave the castle while I’m gone.”

  Fire flashed from her eyes. “Why? Are you worried Bolton will come after me?”

  There was a hardness in her voice he didn’t like hearing.

  “He will not, husband. I am no longer a prize worth having.”

  “It matters not. You still have the crown and he will never stop wanting that. I will worry about Bolton until I have Brenna back with me and his blood drips from my sword.”

  “Even after you kill Bolton, your troubles will not be over. Have you thought of what my father will do once he finds out I have broken the king’s edict and married you? Have you thought of what our English king will do?”

  “Aye, lass. I have thought of that.”

  “And?”

  “It does na warrant the effort to worry about such an insignificant matter as your English king.”

  “You will not think him so insignificant when his army marches here with my father at his side.”

  “Enough. We will worry about your king when Brenna is home safe.”

  “I would like to visit my sister while you’re gone.”

  “And do you intend to return when I come back?”

  Her eyebrows raised in question. “Would you care?”

  Duncan stiffened. “Aye. I would care. You are my wife.”

  “No. I have never been your wife.”

  Her words created an unbridgeable gap between them. He fought to deny them, but couldn’t. He struggled to find something to say that would make the meaning of her words less despairing. There was nothing. He cursed the loud knock at the door that would not give him the opportunity to heal the wound separating them. “Aye.”

  Malcolm opened the door and stepped in. He shut the door tight behind him. “The McGowans are downstairs, Duncan. They’ve come for the crown.”

 
“Why do the McGowans want the crown?” she asked, her voice as timid as he’d ever heard her. The look of fear in her eyes.

  “Their lads stole it from the English. They think they have a right to it.”

  Duncan refastened the sheath and sword he’d just removed from across his back, and tucked another dagger into his soft, leather boots. When he finished, he turned to Kate. “Will you give me the crown, lass?”

  The look in her eyes held more pain than he wished to see in anyone’s eyes. Especially for someone who… He would not let himself finish the thought.

  “I cannot, Duncan. You know I cannot.”

  He gave her a brisk nod, then turned to Malcolm. “How many are there?”

  “Perhaps thirty.”

  “Is Fergus with them?”

  “Nay. He sent his oldest, Callum.”

  “Go back and tell them the laird and his mistress will be down presently. Seat them at the table, and give them plenty of food to eat, but do na be overgenerous with the ale. McGowans are hard enough to deal with when they’re sober.”

  “Callum seems peaceable enough,” Malcolm said, fingering the hilt of his sword, “but he brought his brother, Geordie, with him. The lad’s got a temper that bears watching.”

  “Get word to Gregor to take some men and secure the gates. Be sure he’s discrete. We wouldn’t want our guests to become concerned over their safety.”

  “Aye,” Malcolm said, and opened the door to leave.

  “Seat Callum on my left, Malcolm, with room for Kate on my right. Put Geordie opposite me, at your right.”

  Malcolm gave Duncan an understanding nod, then left the room.

  Duncan walked across the chamber, away from the hearth. The room was as chilled as the blood running in his veins. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone came for the crown. If it hadn’t been the McGowans, it would have been the MacDougall lords of Lorne and Argyll, bitter enemies of Robert Bruce. He did not doubt they thought possession of the crown would unite the English forces with their own to overthrow the Bruce’s power. They would not retreat until they had either the crown — or Kate’s head on a pike.

  Worse than that, Robert Bruce could have come for it. If Duncan’s king, or the king’s trusted friend and counselor, James Douglas, had come… Duncan wiped his hand across his jaw. How could he have refused to give the crown to his king?

  How could he even think to give up the wife he’d sworn to protect?

  “What is going to happen now, Duncan?” Her voice held a determined tone. She still faced each problem with the same dauntless courage she’d shown in Ian’s dungeon.

  “We will go down to eat with our guests, Kate. Are y’ ready?”

  She nodded, but her eyes were as large as trenchers when she looked at him, her face as pale as milk.

  “Ah, Kate,” he said, crossing the room to reach her side. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to him. He felt her tremble.

  “I did not mean for it to be this way, Duncan.”

  “But it is. The McGowans are but the first. You knew it would happen.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I can hardly give them something I do na have, can I, lass?”

  “What if they don’t accept your refusal, Duncan?”

  “Then it would be wise to pray that I am better with a sword than Fergus.”

  Duncan heard the muffled cry that came from the back of her throat. “Shh, lass. It’s too late for regrets. The time to wish for things to be different was when I first asked for the crown. Can you not give it to me?”

  “Oh, Duncan. You know—”

  Duncan put his finger to her lips to silence her. “We’ll make the best of what we have. I promised I would protect you.”

  Duncan absorbed the trusting look on her face and knew he was going to kiss her. How was it possible to be drawn so fiercely to someone you’d spent your whole life convinced you hated? Why couldn’t he control the desire he felt when he was near her?

  He lowered his head, and closed his mouth over hers. She held herself stiff in his arms as if she didn’t want his kiss, then breathed a shuddering sigh and clung to him. She held onto him and returned his kiss as if she was hungry for it.

  “Ah, Kate,” he whispered. “What is this power you hold over me?” He parted his lips and entered her warm, moist cavern. His tongue searched, then found its mate. He’d wanted to kiss her like this since he’d taken her as his wife, but had denied the longing. Now he could not get enough of her. The roar of a thousand claps of thunder echoed in his head, the drone of a mighty rumble building to climactic proportions.

  He moved his hands over her, touching her like he’d only dreamed of doing. Holding her like he’d prayed he could. He could no longer deny his feelings that raged out of control. He wanted her. Even without the crown, he wanted her. Even though she was English, he wanted her.

  He lifted his mouth from hers and held her in his arms. This was not the time. “Come on, lass. We canna keep them waiting too long.”

  She lifted her hand and touched her fingers to his cheek. “If the choice were mine, I would give you the crown, Duncan. But the choice was never mine to make.”

  Duncan cupped her face in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers. “In time, I pray you will find a way, Kate. Our lives may well depend on it.”

  He held her for a while longer, then released her to take her downstairs. “Kate,” he said, walking down the stairs to the great hall. He smiled at the bright red glow to her cheeks, and her kiss-swollen lips that showed the passion they’d just shared. “Mind your words, lass. Let me talk to the McGowans. It will only make things worse if you give them the sharp edge of your tongue.”

  Duncan almost laughed at the shocked look on her face. He knew she would try her best. He also knew he would be lucky if she lasted until they passed the first trencher of meat.

  …

  Katherine walked into the great hall at Duncan’s side and paused with him at the top of the stairs. She lifted her chin and looked out to the trestle tables filled with unsmiling warriors. Every McGowan face turned to study her. They wore the same disdainful looks she was used to receiving from the Fergusons.

  “Keep your gaze down, Kate. Do na let them think you forward.”

  Katherine focused her gaze on the rushes, but not before she noticed that each man had one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other on the dagger at his side.

  “Welcome to Lochmore Castle, Callum. Geordie.”

  Duncan greeted their guests in Gaelic, which was not surprising. Katherine doubted the McGowans understood English. Very few Fergusons, other than Duncan and Malcolm and one or two others, did.

  The McGowan whom Duncan greeted as Callum took a step forward. He stood almost a head shorter than Duncan, his bushy red hair framing a ruddy, flushed face. There was a ready smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes Katherine found appealing. If he would not have posed such a threat, she was certain she could have liked him.

  Not so his brother, Geordie. From his first leering stare, she felt a strong repulsion to the man. Although a good deal taller and broader than his brother, with blond hair and rugged good looks, the licentious glare in his eyes sent shivers up and down her spine. He stared at her as if he were undressing her, and almost drooled in anticipation of what he would do if he ever got her alone. Katherine lowered her gaze to the rushes again and ignored his stare.

  “We are glad you made it home from the fighting, Duncan,” Callum said in greeting. “There were many of our Scots who did na.”

  Duncan nodded in agreement. Geordie lifted his hand to his sword and boasted proudly. “But there were many more of the bastard English whose blood soaked the Scottish ground. I smile when I remember each one I sent to Hades.”

  Katherine kept her gaze lowered, willing herself not to react. She didn’t have to. Duncan reacted for her. He tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her closer. “There were enough on both sides who lost their
lives. Even one man is too great a sacrifice.”

  “Has marriage to the English woman softened you so much, Ferguson?”

  Duncan bristled. Katherine felt his muscles bunch beneath her hand. “Death and the loss of so many good friends has changed me. If you think to see if marriage has made me soft, Geordie, I will be glad to use my sword to prove you wrong.”

  An uneasy wave of friction seeped through the great hall. Each Ferguson warrior readied his stance, moving to guard his back and gain an advantage if a fight broke out with the McGowans scattered throughout the room.

  Geordie fingered the hilt of his broad sword, then slowly lifted his hand away. “I meant na challenge, laird. We have all lost friends and family.”

  Katherine listened but did not hear much regret in his voice.

  Callum gave his brother a disapproving look. then took a step forward. “We will miss your father, Duncan,” Callum said, the tone of his voice sincere. “He was a fine laird. Scotland will miss his good counsel.”

  Duncan nodded in acknowledgment. “The Ferguson fight is na finished. Bolton took Brenna with him. We will ride after her in two days’ time.”

  “You can count on the McGowans to be at your side,” Callum added. “We will meet you on our east border when you pass south.”

  Geordie fingered the hilt of his sword. “It will be a pleasure to send even more of the bastard English to hell where they belong. Would that we could rid the world of every one of them.”

  “Enough Geordie,” Callum warned softly.

  Katherine did not react. She didn’t want them to know she understood what they were saying, but Duncan must have sensed her anger. He squeezed her hand as a gentle reminder to remain calm. She clenched her teeth until the muscles in her jaw ached, and held onto her temper with the patience of Job himself.

  “Have you and your men had enough to eat?” Duncan asked, the tone of his voice strained and hard.

  “Aye,” Callum answered. “Malcolm made sure we were taken care of well.”