Border Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Stephen was staring at him fairly lucidly. “Kynan, I do not mean to be abrupt, but Joselyn has told me all of this and I do not want to hear it again. It feeds my anger like nothing else and makes me want to kill her father.”

  Kynan’s expression was dark as he regarded the fallen knight. “What did she tell ye about the child?”

  “That he was the result of a rape by an English soldier in repayment for a gambling debt.”

  Kynan stared at him, finally shaking his head and looking away. There was anguish in his features. “Still she protects him.”

  Stephen found himself forgetting all about his agony and injuries as he listened to Kynan’s hissed words. He shifted his big body, ignoring the screaming pain as he struggled to sit up. Kynan saw what he was doing and grabbed hold to assist. But Stephen was so heavy that it was like trying to prop up a horse.

  “Protects who?” Stephen demanded. “Who is she protecting?”

  Kynan was inches from the man’s face. In that instance, he could see that everything he had told him was true. He did love Joselyn with a deep and agonizing vengeance. Stephen was nearly beaten to death, but still, his only concern was for his wife. Kynan spilled the truth without regard to whether or not he should. He had a point to make and he would make it.

  “Her father,” he whispered.

  Stephen just stared at him, the agony in the blue eyes unfathomable. “She told me that the soldier raped her and fathered the child.”

  Kynan had a good grip on him. “He did rape her,” he murmured. “But she was already pregnant from her father.”

  Stephen suddenly couldn’t breathe. He stared at Kynan, his words rolling over and over in his mind, struggling not to go mad at the mere suggestion. It was fantastic, horrific and sickening all rolled in to one.

  “Who told you this?” he finally hissed.

  Kynan was trying to be kind, he truly was. He could feel the man’s pain radiating from his very pores, reaching out to infiltrate him and make him hurt, too. But Kynan’s hurt on the subject had dulled a long time ago. What remained was disgust and sorrow.

  “Julia,” he muttered. “Alexander had confessed that he had taken his daughter’s innocence in a drunken rage. He allowed the soldier tae rape Jo-Jo to cover up the resulting pregnancy.”

  “Then it was not in repayment for the gambling debt?”

  “It was. But it was a sickenin’ coincidence.”

  Stephen seemed frozen, unable to respond. The revelations were too overwhelming and he was struggling like a drowning man to keep his head above water, his mind sane in the face of madness. “She told me that she had her innocence taken when she was nine years old,” he whispered in a strangled tone. “She said she had been used by her father twice before the soldier raped her and… oh, my dear God… she said her father used her twice. It never occurred to me that she meant literally.”

  “She did,” Kynan replied. “Did ye not understand that?”

  Stephen couldn’t even think straight. He was filled with such anguish that it was spilling everywhere. “So Cade is her father’s child?”

  “Julia thought so, but I suppose we’ll never know for sure.”

  Stephen closed his eyes and collapsed back onto the floor. He was such a big man that Kynan couldn’t support his dead weight. But he leaned over Stephen as the man lay on the floor, half-conscious and reeling.

  “Listen tae me, Sassenach,” he lowered his voice, speaking urgently. “I dunna tell ye the ugly family secrets tae drive wedges between ye and Jo-Jo. I tell ye because the child has known no happiness in her life and if ye truly love one another as ye say ye do, then I canna be the cause of more pain tae her. Alexander Seton is a wicked devil who hurt a young girl and gave no thought tae what he did. I watched it. From the time I was a young lad, I watched it happen and could do nothing tae stop it.”

  It was a passionate speech, enough for Stephen to open his eyes and look at him. The blue eyes were dazed, but fire still burned within. Nothing Kynan could say would destroy the love he had for Joselyn. If anything, it made him more in love with her, fiercely protective over this woman who had known such shame. He blamed himself for not completely understanding what she had told him. He should have been more intuitive, asking more questions to make it easier for her to tell him everything. She had tried. He knew that. But he hadn’t understood clearly. His heart ached so badly for her that he could feel the physical impact deep in his chest.

  “Nothing you have said changes how I feel about her,” he muttered. “I love her more than I ever did. The child she carries is the result of a deep and abiding love that will never die.”

  Now it was Kynan’s turn to look shocked. “Jo-Jo is pregnant?”

  Stephen nodded weakly. “All the more reason to send her from Berwick. I want my wife and child safe.”

  Kynan puffed out his cheeks, digesting the news and realizing he was thrilled with it. Stephen watched him with half-lidded eyes, seeing a flicker of a smile cross the man’s lips. That was the moment he began to think that he might have an ally in Kynan Lott MacKenzie.

  “You told me once that I was not for the likes of Joselyn,” he muttered. “What made you change your mind?”

  Kynan sat back slightly, regarding the big English knight. After a moment’s reflection on that conversation long ago, he lifted his shoulders and averted his gaze.

  “The best thing that coulda happened tae her was marrying ye,” he said. “She came tae me before Berwick was retaken, beggin’ fer me help. She wanted me tae tell her what I knew and I wouldna do it. She told me that if anything happened tae ye that she would hate me forever.”

  Stephen watched the man’s profile. “And this bothers you.”

  He shrugged again. “Jo-Jo is like me little sister and I canna stomach her hate.” He finally looked to Stephen. “Ye offer her yer protection and love. I could see it in her face when she told me of her feelings fer ye. English or no, ye’ll always have my respect fer making the lass happy.”

  “Your family means that much to you?”

  “Doesna it mean that much tae ye, too?”

  He had a point. “So what are you going to do?” Stephen wanted to know.

  Kynan looked over at the tray of food on the table. He reached for it, setting it down on the floor next to them. Then he took the pitcher.

  “I’m gonna try and lift ye up tae drink this,” he indicated the pitcher. “After that, we’ll discuss yer future.”

  *

  Tate knew that Kenneth was furious with him. Although Kenneth was, more than any other man alive, able to control his emotions in any given situation, Tate knew simply by the look in Kenneth’s eye that he was beyond furious. He was livid. He further knew this because Kenneth stuck to Joselyn as closely as a mother hen, making sure she was comfortable, fed, not too hot or cold, and generally well taken care of. It got to the point where Joselyn actually had to chase him off. The man was as clinging as a shadow.

  Tate knew that Kenneth was reluctant to use Joselyn as an envoy to gaining Stephen’s release. But both men knew she was Stephen’s only chance, even if Kenneth was not ready to openly admit it. He was more concerned with protecting her for Stephen’s sake, while Tate, although protective, was willing to let her take the risk in order to save her husband. Both men were greatly torn. The closer they drew to the outskirts of Berwick, the more Kenneth’s fury turned to resignation. He was coming to accept the fact that Joselyn was, indeed, Stephen’s only hope.

  The party to Berwick consisted of Tate, Kenneth, Joselyn and about fifty men-at-arms. As they drew to within a mile of the city, Tate cut to the northwest and made his way to the River Tweed about a mile to the west of the castle. Whiteadder Bridge lay before them, an expanse of wood across the gently flowing river. They could see the castle from where they stood, a massive bastion poised at river’s edge. Joselyn in particular gazed longingly at the castle, a place where she had known some of her worst and best memories. She must have stood there for quit
e some time because it took her a moment to realize that Tate was trying to get her attention.

  He stood behind her, clearing his throat softly. Kenneth stood slightly behind Tate, still looking rather unhappy about the entire thing. The men-at-arms were gathering the horses and moving back through the summer grass to the trees that bordered the river, where they would hide until the venture was over. As the morning grew warmer and the insects from the river danced about, Joselyn faced Tate and Kenneth.

  “Do not worry so,” she said, more for Kenneth than for Tate. “I shall ride to Berwick and demand to be given my husband. It should not take long.”

  Tate hoped she was not truly so naïve. “We have discussed a course of action,” he reminded her. “It would be better if you do not show emotion where it pertains to Stephen. It could be used against you if they feel your loyalty is to him and not your kinsmen. You need to claim him as one would a possession.”

  She thought on that a moment, her long-lashed eyes turning to behold the castle once more. She was quivering with anticipation, the desire to discover what had become of her husband causing her heart to thump painfully against her ribs. It was a struggle not to become emotional but she knew that Tate was right. She had to show as little emotion as possible. She had to be strong and firm if this plan was going to work.

  “I would like to know where Kynan is,” she said as she turned back around, looking at Kenneth. “You said that you released him.”

  Kenneth cocked a blond eyebrow. “We released him so that we could follow him and hopefully discover the rebel plans. It was a gamble that did not pay off, one that I will take full responsibility for.”

  “Do you think he was part of the force that captured Berwick?”

  “I would stake my life on it.”

  Joselyn digested the information, increasingly eager to be on her way. She refused to believe that Stephen had been killed. She was convinced he was somewhere in the walls of Berwick and she would find him no matter what.

  “Very well,” she said, moving for her small gray palfrey. Tate took her arm and lifted her up into the saddle as Kenneth fussed with the stirrups. “I will return as soon as I can and I swear to you that Stephen will be with me.”

  Tate gazed at her, nodding his head after a moment. There was so much more to it than just her simple statement. I swear to you that Stephen will be with me. Since her initial breakdown at the news of her husband’s capture, he had seen a growth in courage fill the lady. She was not aggressive and bold like his wife, who was the bravest and strongest woman he knew, but she had a steely strength in her that he was coming to see. He had a feeling that, if cornered, the lady would come out swinging.

  “Ride to the castle and demand entry as the daughter of Alexander Seton,” he went over their plan one last time. “Once inside, you will ask to be shown your husband. You will further insist to whoever is in charge that you demand the release of your husband, which is well within your rights.”

  “But if they do not release him, what should…?”

  He cut her off. They had been over this several times. “You will tell them that the king has agreed to release your father from captivity at Alnwick in exchange for Pembury. It is a fair trade, one that I doubt they will refuse. Your father is very important to young David Bruce, heir of Robert. If they have a chance to bargain for his release, they will do it.”

  Joselyn listened seriously to his instructions. But when he was finished, she fixed him with an intense gaze. “You realize, of course, that if they refuse to release him, I will not leave him. I will stay in captivity with him.”

  Tate nodded slowly. “I understand completely.”

  Joselyn gave him a brave little smile, her gaze moving to Kenneth. “I will bring him back, Kenneth,” she said sincerely “You need not worry. All will be well.”

  Kenneth didn’t like it when the focus was on him. He made his way over to her, unable to voice the fears roiling in his chest. For lack of anything comforting or confident to say, he cupped her head in his two massive hands, kissed her cheek, and walked away. There was resignation, sorrow and helplessness in the gesture, something that touched Joselyn deeply. She knew how worried he was. She and Tate watched him go before looking to each other.

  “Go, now,” Tate encouraged her. “Stay calm and follow the plan we discussed. I am sure I will be seeing Stephen by supper.”

  Joselyn forced a smile at him as she kicked the little palfrey, urging the animal to the road and across the bridge beyond. Tate watched her cross the bridge and continue along the road, heading for the massive fortress in the distance. The closer she drew to the structure, the more his anxiety grew. Behind him, Kenneth had turned around to watch as well.

  Watch Joselyn ride straight into the jaws of the lion.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Kynan had Stephen on a makeshift bed in the solar of the keep. He was too injured to make his way up the steps, so after feeding Stephen a loaf of bread, old mutton and stale wine, he piled some old rushes against the wall and lay Stephen upon it. In less agony than he had been in days, Stephen fell into a heavy sleep.

  Kynan sat in a chair and watched the man sleep, eventually rubbing his eyes wearily as he wondered what in the hell he was going to do. The rebel force that had reclaimed Berwick consisted of many clans under the command of the Earl of Moray, John Randolph. Although Randolph was not at Berwick, several of his burly generals were. It was those men that Kynan worried about. The same men had been at the siege of Berwick and had seen the atrocities perpetrated by the English, particularly with the young Seton boys. Pembury had been involved in that travesty. Kynan had been hearing rumblings for a few days that Moray’s generals wanted to hang Pembury in vengeance.

  Kynan was not sure how he was going to prevent such a thing but he knew that he would do his best. Watching Pembury sleep, he thought on Joselyn’s words of how the man had overlooked all of the shameful things that had been heaped upon her. His love had been unconditional. Kynan wondered what kind of man could hang young boys but love a woman who had been seriously compromised. It was an odd paradox that he pondered, finally rising from his chair and hunting about for something to light the fire with. Even though it was mid-day outside and sunny, the room was cool. Finding no peat or charcoal, he opened the door with the intention of hunting for burning material when a faint female voice caught his attention.

  It was coming from the bailey. He could hear it through the lancet window just to the left of the entry door. Curious, he opened the door, assaulted by the bright light and shielding his eyes from the sun. His heart leapt into his throat as he spied the source of the sound.

  Joselyn stood in the bailey, clad in a pale traveling cloak, her luscious dark hair braided and draped over one shoulder. Holding the reins to a small gray palfrey, she was speaking to several large, dirty Scots, Moray’s men, and Kynan bolted from the keep, practically flying across the dusty bailey until he reached her. He had no idea why she was here or what she was saying to the guard, but it didn’t matter. Kynan didn’t want her around men such as this and he was terrified and angry as well as confused. As he came upon her, he reached out and grabbed her.

  Joselyn screamed at the swiftness of the action, terrified until she saw who it was. Then her face lit up. “Kynan!” she exclaimed softly. “I am so glad to….”

  Kynan didn’t let her speak further. He was yanking her away from Moray’s guard, pulling her with him towards the keep. His actions were indicative of an extremely angry man and Moray’s men looked both surprised and disappointed at her sudden removal.

  “Hoot, mon!” one of the guards spoke to Kynan. “We saw her first!”

  Kynan’s rage was boundless. “She’s me sister and if ye move against her, I shall kill ye!”

  That seemed to calm the amorous guard. They knew Kynan MacKenzie and the man’s reputation. He fought alongside the McCulloch and everyone knew that anyone involved with the McCulloch was crazy and blood-thirsty. Moreover, he was Se
ton’s kin. That reason alone was enough to garner some respect, so they let him yank the lovely woman away without another word. When Kynan was sure they weren’t going to challenge him, he looked at Joselyn.

  “You foolish wench,” he hissed. “What are ye doin’?”

  Joselyn fright returned as she stumbled after him. “I have come to get my husband.”

  “How did ye get in here?”

  Joselyn tripped on her own feet and almost fell to her knees. “I rode here from Forestburn,” she replied, annoyance mingling with her fright. “I came to the gates and told the guards that I was Alexander Seton’s daughter. They let me in. Stop pulling!”

  Kynan ignored her demand although his grip eased somewhat. “I cannot believe ye would chance yer life so foolishly,” he snarled.

  Joselyn was trying to pull away from him angrily. “I came for my husband,” she insisted. “Where is he?”

  Kynan came to an abrupt halt at the door to the keep, speaking through clenched teeth. “Ye were well away from here,” he growled. “Ye should have stayed away. It ’twas stupid of ye tae come back.”

  She scowled, bordering on tears. “Where is Stephen?” she was starting to break down. “I am not leaving without him and I will kill you if you stand in my way. Do you hear me?”

  She was yelling by the time she finished the sentence, so much for remaining unemotional. Kynan could see, in her expression as well as her words, that she was absolutely serious. With another growl, he yanked her inside the keep.