“You, a lady’s maid?”
“What? You doubt my skills and sincerity?” Ursula asked as if she’d been wounded.
That made Rosalyn laugh. “Well, I’ve not yet seen you braid hair or change a bed, but I can at least vouch for your healing skills.”
That made Ursula crack a smile again. But just as quickly, her expression turned serious. “Lachlan was in the kitchen early and as was I looking for some rosemary to aid an ailing stomach, I overhead his plans to travel to Fyvie with you this morn before the rest of the castle was up and about.”
Rosalyn sucked in a shaky breath. “Aye, my husband’s actions are no secret to me. I was given two choices, either consummate the marriage or give him the lairdship of Fyvie, complete with the chieftain status.”
Ursula’s brows drew together with concern.
Rosalyn gave her friend a reassuring touch on her arm. “I’ve remained a virgin so far.” Rosalyn teared up, but did not want her eyes red when Lachlan did come for her, so she held them back.
Ursula’s gaze softened and kindness glowed behind the concern. “I know you well, Rosalyn. You’ve given up control of Fyvie now to protect yourself, but I’m sure that will change once you’ve made it back to Aberdeen.”
Rosalyn gave her friend a big squeeze. “Are you sure you want to make this journey?”
“I need a home, too, and I wasnae going to beg, but I hoped you would take me in. And Joshua too.” She hesitated, but then said, “Once we are married. He is on good terms with your clan, and I believe he’ll take my surname as Lachlan did yours.” She winced. “Though I have nae castle or riches to offer him.”
“Nor does he need them because he loves you.” Rosalyn smiled at her friend and squeezed her hand. “Aye, come, be part of my family. I know my mother would welcome another healer and will be happy to invite you to be a sister of mine,” Rosalyn promised, giving Ursula a hug. “And send another missive asking Joshua to meet you near Fyvie,” she urged. “Perhaps this one will reach him.”
They broke their embrace when the door opened and Lachlan entered. He glanced about the room taking note of her packed bags by the entrance. “Good day, Wife. I trust you slept well?” He came to her side and gave her a gentle hug and a peck on the top of her head.
Rosalyn glanced up, ready to give Lachlan an earful, but before she could a Garter knight filled the doorway and cleared his throat before addressing them.
“My lady, are you ready?” the knight asked politely, taking her bags in hand.
Rosalyn nodded. “My maid is joining us and—”
“My things are already on horseback, my lady,” Ursula interrupted with a curtsy, followed by a wink only Rosalyn could see.
The knight bowed slightly. “Well, then, I shall escort you both to the horses,” he offered. “I am certain Sir Lachlan has much to prepare.” He gave her husband a nod and stepped back from the door.
The knight led them first to the great hall, allowing them to pack foodstuffs for the journey, then he followed them down the corridor while Rosalyn exchanged cheese and bread with her friend.
As they walked to their horses and readied their satchels, Rosalyn expressed her confusion over Lachlan’s actions to Ursula. “This morning, he’d appeared as if nothing unusual had transpired the night afore.”
When her confidante shrugged her shoulders without offering a rational explanation, Rosalyn decided to shake off her concerns for now, because love swelled in her heart for the new Highland sister she’d be bringing back to Aberdeen. And relief surged through her as they mounted their horses and readied for the road ahead.
Rosalyn glanced about the group Lachlan had assembled. Four Garter knights, four squires, and two cooks. She was grateful for the protection the king would provide and the charity he’d bestowed on her. However, she was distraught at not being able to say her formal goodbyes to those who had been so kind to her. But before she dug her heels into the palfrey, Rosalyn noticed a white-robed, curly-headed figure rushing across the bailey.
In an instant, she recognized Bishop Passarelli, delighted he must have received word of their early departure. But even as the holy man hustled across the king’s courtyard, Rosalyn couldn’t help but be uneasy about their abrupt escape and inappropriate manners. What guest left before thanking their host?
“Lady Rosalyn,” the bishop called to her as his curls tossed in the brisk breeze. “I must speak to you,” he shouted to her, slightly out of breath.
She was apprehensive as he approached. The bishop had become like an adoptive father to her since they’d met and she was embarrassed that it appeared she was rushing off without a final word.
She leaned low when he approached. He gave her an awkward hug as she sat upon her horse. “Bishop,” she said in her own breathless voice, “I’m so pleased you came to say goodbye.”
“Yes, my dear,” he said, keeping his voice low so only she could hear. “Goodbye with a warning.” His face clouded and his brows drew together in a hard line. “The Golden Rose is still missing, and the king believes either Ethan or Lachlan have stolen it. Perhaps they worked together?”
Rosalyn glanced at her husband, relieved to find him busy talking to the Garter knights. “Bishop, what can I do?” she asked, wanting to tell him what had happened with Lachlan, wishing she could prove her husband had the Rose and to ask the king to lock him up. That would solve all her problems, but of course she couldn’t.
The bishop put his hands together. “I will pray for you, for your path is not easy,” he said with compassion in his eyes, as if he knew everything she had been through. “But I cannot return to Italy until the Rose in the hands of its rightful owner. The king has invited me to stay as an assigned group of knights investigates the Rose’s disappearance. Although His Majesty insists that the pope’s Christian honor does not require a gift such as the Golden Rose, I’m certain the pope would not hear of it, nor would I want to abandon my duty.”
Then his face grew serious. “The king wants you to spy on your husband. And he will compensate you handsomely if you find the Rose.”
Wanting to solve both their problems with one solution she said, “Bishop, I promise I will be vigilant in my observations as I travel with my husband to Fyvie Castle. Ethan attended the wedding, but I’ve yet to see him since. As far as I know, his brother came only to report on his father’s death, and happened upon our wedding day. I imagine Ethan has returned to Somerset to handle his father’s affairs.”
But just as it appeared the bishop was about to say goodbye, an odd question popped into her head. “When the culprit is caught and proven guilty of the crime, what is the punishment?”
The bishop studied her for a few moments before he answered. “The crime has already been committed in the eyes of God, so for me, the guilty party asks for His forgiveness.”
“Yes, Father, of course, but what of the legal punishment?” she asked as her eyebrow twitched involuntarily making her reach and scratch it to hide her reaction.
“That would be the king’s decision of course, but I understand those who are found guilty of a high Scottish crime are hanged.”
“Hanged?” she said louder than she meant to and clapped her hand over her mouth.
“I hear beheadings happen over much less,” he said grimly. Then his gaze softened when he must have realized her concern for her husband.
“Now, as the ambassador to the Golden Rose, I’m certain the king will allow me to have a say in the matter.” He patted her hand. “Do not worry. The return of the Rose is more important than punishing the guilty party, I assure you.” Then he brightened. “And there will be a reward for anyone who aids in its return.”
Rosalyn had to admit that initially she had wondered if her husband had stolen the Rose and ratting him out could be beneficial to her in so many ways. But at the same t
ime, she did not want to be responsible for his death, nor his brother’s. Still, a reward from the king was another matter.
“A reward, bishop?” she asked, then realized she had asked out loud.
The bishop clapped his hands together. “You’ve heard the phrase, a king’s ransom?”
Rosalyn couldn’t help but smile as Lachlan called then for the group to roll out.
Chapter 26
While Lachlan paced in the maid’s cubbyhole, his mood matched the darkness. His stomach told him it was well past breakfast and he was not only starving for food, he was hungry for his wife. Patience had progressed to provoked anger. How could it be that not a single maid had come to retrieve the fresh linens and threshes for the morning duties?
Lachlan was about to pound on the door once more, when it was thrust open instead. Fortunately, he stopped or he would have punched the frightened woman on the other side. That did not seem to matter, for she started screaming like a banshee and the soiled bedding flew up and out of her arms.
He tried to make apologies, but it didn’t matter. The maid wouldn’t stay for pleasantries, nor did she collect items she’d come for. Instead, she ran past the dirty pile of linens without another word.
Lachlan wasn’t concerned about any of this at the moment. He raced down the empty castle passageway toward the wedding chamber. Bursting through the door like a barbarian, he came to a screeching halt just inside the door, startling yet another maid into a screaming frenzy.
“Now, now,” Lachlan said in his best soothing voice. “I’m Lord Macpherson, and this is my chamber.”
The frightened woman didn’t look any more assured that he wasn’t there to murder her. He could imagine how he appeared, with straw threshes sticking to his normally meticulous beard and hair.
As he began tossing off the straw, he tried to keep his voice soft and his demeanor calm. “Have you seen Lady Macpherson?”
The maid shook her head and gripped the linens in her hands like a protective shield against her chest.
“Well, then,” Lachlan said as he backed out of the room. “Carry on.” He spun on his heel and headed to the great hall. Surely, someone there would be able to direct him to Rosalyn.
When he entered the gathering room, he found a few courtesans at the trestle tables. Because it was late morning, only a couple unassigned knights and squires were there, too.
As he took a seat at the empty dais table, a serving maid approached with a trencher of hard-boiled eggs, ham, fresh bread, and a goblet of ale. “Bless, you, woman,” he said after she set the foodstuffs in front of him. She gave him an odd look, making him think he could still be wearing a stray straw or two, but he didn’t care at the moment.
After a few bites of the food, followed by a good wash of ale, Lachlan sensed someone approaching from behind and stiffened. A friendly pat on the back assured him there was no threat.
“What are you doing back at Edinburgh, my lord?” asked a familiar voice from behind him. “Where you not off for Fyvie this morn with your new bride?”
Lachlan spun from his chair to his feet, knocking it over as he turned to find a startled Bishop Passarelli.
“My bride off to Fyvie?” Lachlan asked, almost choking on the morsel of bread he’d been chewing. “What say you, bishop? I do not understand.”
The bishop’s calm demeanor returned, along with his complementary placid smile. “My son,” he said in a steady voice, placing a hand on Lachlan’s arm to steer him back to his seat, “let’s discuss this civilly and I promise I will help you.”
Lachlan drew in a deep breath, then reluctantly righted the overturned chair and returned to his seat. As the holy man took up one beside him, Lachlan downed the remaining contents of his goblet, then waved the server over to refill it.
“Start from the beginning, bishop,” Lachlan said, trying to keep his voice calm. “When I searched for my wife this morn, after being locked in the servant’s closet all night, thanks to my brother, she was not there, and you say she left with me this morn for Fyvie?”
Damnation. Lachlan felt the tension in the air grow. Ethan was pretending to be him and he had already deceived everyone, including Rosalyn. Although he didn’t expect she was in any immediate danger, he was ready to saddle up and chase after them when the bishop put his hand back on Lachlan’s arm.
“Si, your wife is with your brother, but she is also traveling with the healer, four Garter knights, and their squires. She is not alone with him.”
Lachlan yanked away from the bishop and pounded his fists on the head table. His chair knocked backward for the second time as he stood. “Bishop, I don’t want my brother anywhere near my wife. He killed my mother, the only other woman I’ve loved, and I’ll not let him do it again.”
The bishop nodded grimly. “I gave Rosalyn my blessing and God’s. That should provide some protection. Even if you are not a deeply religious man, Lachlan, you must take some comfort in that.” He gestured for Lachlan to sit and after he complied by retaking his seat, the holy man closed his eyes. “Let us pray,” he said in a firm voice.
“Dear Father, my son Lachlan is distressed over a deceptive act by his brother, Ethan, against his new wife, Rosalyn. Please keep her safe from harm until Lachlan is able to come to her aid. And Lord, please protect Lachlan from his brother. Amen”
“Amen,” Lachlan echoed, opening his eyes. “Thank you, Bishop. I will make haste, but cautiously and with God’s guidance. Now, I bid you arrivederci.”
Lachlan began to rise, but the bishop’s hand remained firmly on his arm. “Not so fast, young man, I’m going with you.”
Lachlan wasn’t about to yank his arm away from the bishop, but his renewed calm was starting to fray. The last thing he wanted was an elderly bishop and his entourage of holy men holding him back on the trail.
“With all due respect, I must refuse your assistance. You understand a posse of priests would slow my progress.”
The bishop grinned and his eyes danced with merriment. “No, my son, not a posse of priests, just me and more of the English knights. Remember, I’m an accomplished horseman and a trained swordsman. Besides, I have vowed to return to the king the missing Golden Rose of Scotland and I believe I can accomplish your goal and mine at the same time.”
Lachlan had forgotten he’d lost the challenge to the bishop on the trip to Edinburgh and weighed his offer. Perhaps the bishop would be a good negotiator when he joined his brother, but what was this about the Golden Rose?
“All right, bishop, you may join me and I thank you for your generosity, but please, pray tell, what news do you have of the Rose?”
“My spies have it under good authority that it is your brother who has taken the Rose. Someone who fits his description is suspect.”
That made Lachlan pause. “Someone who looks just like me, you mean?”
“I’m inclined to think, based on what I know about you, Lachlan, that it is your brother who may be guilty.”
“But many know, including the king, that I was the last to see the Rose.”
“True, but an innocent man would never volunteer that information,” the bishop said with knowing nod.
Lachlan was grateful for the holy man’s belief in his innocence. The bishop was proving more conniving than Lachlan had given him credit for.
He had spies.
~ ~ ~
Edinburgh to Aberdeen was a five-day journey. Rosalyn knew it well, having traveled it many times alongside her da. With only girls in the family, her father did not hesitate to help them learn the wool trade and she’d built up a tolerance for life on the trail.
Ursula, on the other hand, was struggling with the rigors of hours in the saddle. Her saving grace was her vast resources of herbs at the ready to help with everything from saddle sores to bee stings.
Luckily for Rosalyn, the first two days of travel had passed pleasantly enough. She had bunked with Ursula and avoided any intimate contact with Lachlan. She was grateful she’d hardly even spoken to her new husband.
And with Ursula at her side, the friendship grew as they had much to debate when it came to the foliage at their daily stops and campsites. Coming from different clans, each woman had her own secrets and antidotes for many of the same common herbs and everyday plants.
At first, Rosalyn had questioned the trail Lachlan had chosen, knowing it wasn’t the most popular with the merchants, but he’d insisted, although more rugged, it was more direct and would cut the normal travel time in half, allowing them to reach Fyvie before nightfall.
Now that she was within miles of the castle, the fringe of Aberdeen’s territory, she began to worry about being accepted back into the clan after having married English. Having married a Luttrell.
It had been four long years working the wool trade with her Uncle Angus out of a tidy manor in the hamlet of Blackdog, not far from Fyvie’s gates, biding her time ‘til this month, when she’d come of age.
Not that Rosalyn was any wiser now than she’d been at seven and ten, but the law was the law. For even though her da had bequeathed the castle and lairdship to Rosalyn at his death, Nicholas Luttrell had kept her away.
And that’s why after her twenty-first birthday and Nicholas’s sudden disappearance from Aberdeen, she’d risked everything with a stolen king’s seal and papers forged at Berwick. What judge would take the word of a lass even when she’d come of age?
Now with Nicholas dead and his sons, Lachlan and Ethan, warring over castle and the clan, was there even a Luttrell on guard?
Wild warrior-like cries, though, startled Rosalyn out of her worries.
The clan?
She screamed as a band of kilted Highlanders with mud-smeared faces charged them, hand axes high and swords drawn.
The Golden Rose of Scotland (The Ladies of Lore Book 2) Page 16