But Rodney might, if he learned about Isobel. With that thought, her course was set. Isobel would be safer with Kathryn and the knight.
“When will you accompany me to the abbey?”
He huffed a breath in exasperation. “If there is time, I will take you to say your good-byes before we leave. I can promise no more than that.” With a brusque “Good day” he stalked off toward the lists.
KATHRYN SPENT THE DAY IN THE GARDEN, weeding and cultivating the vegetables that provided welcome variety to their diet after the long winter. The sun was unusually warm and made for a fine day to spend in one of her favorite pastimes. And the repetitive work helped soothe her after her argument with Sir Bryan. Somehow she would find a way to see Isobel for her birthday, despite the knight’s heavy hand.
By late afternoon, satisfied with her work, Kathryn dismissed her helpers and walked the short distance to the small rose garden, sheltered in the southwest corner of the garden. It was too early for them to bloom though some of the earliest had buds that already showed color. She smiled as she envisioned what it would look like here in another week.
Years ago her father had built a stone bench in the middle of the roses. In her childhood Kathryn had sat there with her mother, learning how to care for these beautiful plants. Kathryn rested on the bench now, remembering those early years. Her mother had been regarded as a true beauty, of both countenance and spirit. Sadly, Kathryn realized she couldn’t remember her mother’s face. But she did remember sitting on this very bench with Rodney Carleton and falling for his charms. If her mother had lived, would she have taught Kathryn to know her heart, to resist a deceiver such as Rodney?
What would her mother have thought of the man Kathryn had married? Kathryn was at a loss to know how she felt about him. After his tirade this morning, she looked forward to the end of their disagreeable union. He was difficult and demanding and . . . altogether charming when he chose to be. He’d been decidedly irritable and less than charming this morning!
With or without his permission, she would visit St. Mary’s. She wanted to celebrate the first anniversary of Isobel’s birth with the nuns and then bring her to Homelea. If he hadn’t been so stubborn this morning, she’d have told him then. The snapping of a twig startled her. She jumped up and spun about to see who intruded.
Black Bryan halted. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”
Heart pounding with a combination of fright and guilt, she said, “No. Yes. I was . . . rather lost in thought.”
He gestured with his hand. “This is a pretty spot. May I join you?”
She hesitated, troubled by the need to talk to him about the child but unwilling to confront him yet again today. Glancing at her work-stained clothes and his dusty clothing, she said, “We are both in need of some water and clean clothes, so we can hardly offend one another in that regard.”
“No, and with some effort, perhaps we can converse without offending in some other manner.” His face conveyed no clue as to his feelings, and she resented his ability to keep his emotions so well hidden. How was she to deal with him when he could shut her out so effectively?
Sir Bryan followed her as she walked about in the early evening light, asking her about the different varieties of roses. “Do you have a favorite?” he asked.
“Yes, the white ones. They were my mother’s favorites, too.”
In a voice filled with genuine concern, he asked, “Were you very young when she died?”
“Four.”
“’Tis difficult, losing your mother so young.” At the unexpected wistful quality in his voice, she raised an eyebrow in question.
“I was twelve. Not so young, but it was still hard.” He looked away, hiding feelings she sensed he rarely allowed others to witness.
Touched by his sharing of something so private, Kathryn hesitated to question him more. But curiosity won out and she asked, “Do you remember her?”
“Aye. Some.” Apparently ready to change the subject, he reached out and touched one of the buds. “Isn’t the white rose the symbol of the Virgin Mary?”
She looked up at him, and her face must have betrayed her surprise.
His expression darkened. “Just because I was raised in the highlands doesn’t mean I am a heathen.”
She felt herself blush. “I never . . .” I never said as much but I certainly thought it. “I’ve never seen you in the chapel.”
“Nor are you likely to.”
“You don’t believe?” she asked, saddened by his attitude.
“I’m waiting for a miracle,” he said without a trace of amusement.
“You need a miracle to believe in God?”
“No. I think he exists. I just don’t happen to believe that he cares all that much about his creation.”
“Oh, but—”
He raised his hand. “Don’t, my lady. I get enough from Adam.”
The tentative warmth between them disappeared, to Kathryn’s regret.
He stared at the keep. “Perhaps we should go inside.”
“Yes,” she agreed, wanting to do just the opposite, to stay here and assure him of God’s love. But his stern face let her know he would not be receptive. Perhaps another time. If ever she were to give him her heart, he would have to believe. “Yes, I need to wash up before the evening meal.” She squared her shoulders and turned to leave.
“Lady Kathryn.”
The entreaty in his voice touched her. She stopped and swung around to face him. “Aye, my laird?”
He tugged at his plaid and squirmed for a moment like a small boy caught sneaking a sweet. “I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being so short with you this morning. For not explaining my reasons . . . for ordering you about like a servant instead of treating you with the respect due as my wife. This marriage that isn’t a marriage may prove more difficult than either of us expected.” He treated her to a small smile and she could feel her heart thawing against her will.
Bryan knelt and plucked some stems of the yellow heartsease that grew at will throughout the garden. The little heart-shaped faces of the flowers had always delighted her. He offered them to her, seeming sincere and somewhat embarrassed by his spur-of the-moment action. He didn’t look at all fierce just now with the tiny yellow flowers lying in his tanned, outstretched hand.
She took the flowers from him. “A peace offering, my laird?”
“Aye, I suppose. I have good reason to ask you to remain within the walls, Lady Kathryn. You must trust me on this.” He put his hands behind his back. “I hope you and Adam are right, you know.”
“About what?”
“That God cares about what is happening in Scotland. Because in a few short weeks we will either be living in a free country or we may very well be dead. Or wish we were.”
She laid her hand on his arm. “Surely it isn’t as grim as all that?”
“No. It’s worse.”
She shook her head. “How can you face such a battle without hope in God’s promises, my laird?”
He looked at her with a yearning that stunned her. “When I look at you, at Homelea, I am made all too aware of what may be lost.”
“Then I will pray for us both, Sir Bryan. And for a future that brings peace to those we love.” She looked down at the flowers in her hand, then back to the knight. “Thank you. This is a most thoughtful gesture.”
There were depths to him that she longed to know. But would they be given the time or would these days at Homelea be all they would have? Again she wondered what it might be like to be such a man’s cherished wife. She prayed that God would grant them time. She should tell him about Isobel now, even if it broke the accord they’d just reached.
But before she could do so he said, “I’m glad you liked them. But do not mistake the gesture for a lessening of my resolve to end our marriage. Or my decision to keep you safe within Homelea’s walls.”
A man who wanted no emotional ties would certainly not welcome the deman
ds of a small child. If she told him now he might make it impossible for her to slip away without him.
Reluctantly, she kept quiet about Isobel. “As you wish, my laird.” Fleeing his powerful presence she strode with purpose toward the keep. Her mind was made up. She would go to St. Mary’s with or without his permission.
BRYAN WATCHED HER HURRY UP THE PATH, her head bent to the flowers he’d given her. How he hoped she and Adam were right. Perhaps a prayer now and then on his part wouldn’t be remiss.
And while he prayed for victory at Stirling, he would also ask for time to know his wife. He’d never met any woman whose intelligence matched her beauty the way the two combined in Kathryn. How was he to protect his heart from such as she? Aye, even though they had agreed to a temporary union, he couldn’t stop wondering what it might be like to be truly married to Kathryn. She was a prize, and he wanted to win her.
But it would have to wait. A messenger had come an hour ago to tell him that tomorrow night Ceallach would arrive from the coast with wagons loaded with supplies and armament. The sooner they moved it to Bruce’s new headquarters, the less chance of Edward’s learning about it.
Bryan should have told her the rest of it. Delaying the news would not make it any easier on her. The peace he and Kathryn had found between them here among the rosebushes would soon be ruined along with the garden.
The time for Homelea’s destruction grew near.
THE NUMBER OF MEN GATHERED in Homelea’s hall increased each day and they spoke of Stirling and the battle to come. Kathryn spent the early morning among them, overseeing preparations to depart. She must question the knight on his plans for Homelea’s defense.
Somehow, despite all the activity and work to be done, she was determined to visit St. Mary’s tomorrow. Knowing she would need help in slipping from the castle, Kathryn asked Fergus to go with her to the stable to check on her mare’s newborn foal.
“How are your lessons with Adam going?” she asked as they walked toward the stable. She smiled, remembering Fergus’s demonstration of his new skills.
“Better than expected.”
“And have you seen Sir Bryan this morning?”
“Aye. He spends most mornings in the lists training the men. Did you need to speak with him?”
“No, what I need can wait.”
They entered the stable and stood in front of the mare’s stall. “Easy lass,” Kathryn crooned as she entered the stall. Keeping one eye on the nervous mare, Kathryn stroked the perfect little body of the chestnut filly.
“She’s a beauty,” Fergus observed as he entered the stall as well. Kathryn moved away to let him closer. He’d only taken two steps when the mare snorted and laid back her ears in warning. Aiming a lethal kick, she whirled and struck at Fergus, who made a hasty retreat, dragging Kathryn with him. She crashed into his chest and for a brief moment, his arm encircled her as she caught her balance.
At the look on Fergus’s face, she burst out laughing. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been spurned by a lady before.” Kathryn pulled away and held onto his hand.
“On the contrary, more often than I’d care to admit. But none have ever tried to disembowel me.”
They stood facing one another, and Fergus dropped her hand as if it scalded and walked several paces away.
He did not look at her. “We should return to the hall.”
Confused by his behavior, Kathryn thought to protest, then changed her mind. “I’m sure you will recover from my mare’s disapproval.”
He didn’t appear to share her lighthearted mood. “Aye, my lady, but Sir Bryan would not be pleased with me just now.”
His expression made his meaning suddenly clear to Kathryn.
She placed her hand on his arm. “Fergus, we did nothing wrong.”
He pulled away from her touch. Kathryn gazed at the floor before raising her head to say, “I would be deeply saddened to cause a breach between us or to lose the pleasure of your company.”
“Aye. We have long been friends and I’m glad to hear you say your marriage won’t change that. But we must take care not to provoke your husband with our friendship.”
“You think he’d be jealous?”
“Oh, yes. And unforgiving where you are concerned.”
Kathryn found that hard to believe, but let it pass. “Then I’ll give him no reason to play the part of jealous husband. Now, friend, perhaps you’d be willing to grant me a boon?”
THAT NIGHT THE VILLAGE OF HOMELEA lay quietly sleeping except for the revelers at the tavern. Most were far too intoxicated to note or take exception to the presence of a stranger. At any rate, he didn’t tarry long. Leaving payment for his drink, he left and wandered to the stable, all the while looking about as if searching for something.
Lachlan the Smith watched the stranger leave the tavern and make his way down the street. He followed, staying in the shadows, until they reached the appointed meeting place.
Inside the stable, the stranger faced him, although in the darkness Lachlan couldn’t make out his features.
“What news?” the man asked.
Lachlan glanced about nervously. “Yer time is come. I overheard Lady Kathryn talking in the stable today. She plans to visit St. Mary’s tomorrow—’tis the child’s birthday.” Aye, the blasted foundling child who kept his wife busy at the abbey, too busy to see to his meals and his home. Well, he’d soon put an end to that. It was all the lady’s fault. As soon as she was gone, Nelda would come to her senses and return home. “All ye need do is keep a watch on the trail and wait for her.”
“His lordship will be very pleased with this news.”
Lachlan stood taller. “To be sure, I can make myself very valuable in the future.”
“Good. Here is your purse. You remember how to contact me?”
“Aye.”
“Then do so if you learn more that would be of interest to his lordship.”
Lachlan scratched his chin. “You won’t harm the child?”
“No, we want the lady only.”
Lachlan breathed easier. His wife wouldn’t forgive him if something were to happen to the brat.
“Wait here for a few minutes before leaving,” the man ordered. Then he slipped into the night and was gone.
Lachlan waited as instructed then made his way back to Homelea. He approached the river crossing, tossing the coin purse from hand to hand and whistling at his good fortune. Had he been a truly competent spy, he would not have had the misfortune to stumble upon something Rodney Carleton would have paid even more dearly to know about.
But Lachlan barely glimpsed the heavily loaded wagons splashing through the water before his world went black.
“THAT WAS NOT WELL DONE,” Bryan said when he strode over to Ceallach and stared down at the body.
“No, it was not,” Ceallach agreed. “I only meant to knock him to the ground, not kill him.”
Bryan heard the remorse in the other man’s voice and said, “Looks like he struck his head when he fell. Perhaps ’tis just as well—how would we have explained our activities to him?”
“I’d have thought of something. Do you recognize him?” Ceallach asked.
Bryan pointed at the body. “Aye, he’s Kathryn’s blacksmith. A disgruntled sort I didn’t trust.”
Ceallach stooped to pick up the leather purse and pulled the strings open. He shook the contents into his hand. “There’s a year’s wages here. Where do you suppose he came into such a sum?”
Bryan took the purse Ceallach pressed into his hands. “I don’t like it—who paid him and for what? Did he know what’s in the wagons? I would have liked to get the answers from him.”
“So would I.” Ceallach walked toward the wagons, all of which had forded the stream by now and awaited the signal to move on. When Bryan joined him, the other man said, “We can’t take a chance on hiding them at Homelea now.”
Bryan considered the situation. They had intended to take the wagons north along with the inhabitants of Homelea
in a few days. That plan now must change. “You had best start for Stirling yet tonight. I will follow with Kathryn and the rest in a few days.”
“Have you told her?”
“Aye, she knows we must go north.”
“Nay, have you told her of Homelea’s fate?”
“There hasn’t been time.” He was definitely not looking forward to telling Kathryn they could leave nothing behind that would aid Edward in his trek through Scotland—no food or shelter for his army.
Ceallach shook his head. “I don’t envy you the task.”
“I told her from the beginning that Homelea is Bruce’s to do with as he wishes.”
“I don’t know much about women, Bryan, but ’tis likely she expects protection for her home as well as her person.”
“You may be right. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Mounting their horses, they moved to the trail and headed north, Ceallach bringing up the rear. At the edge of Homelea’s lands, they halted and Bryan drew his horse abreast of Ceallach’s. The men clasped hands.
Bryan said, “Go in peace.”
“And you also.”
Ceallach turned his horse and ordered the wagons to move out.
Bryan felt uneasy watching him ride away. Much as he hated to do it, he must ask Adam not to leave to see his family. He needed him close to help keep Kathryn safe from Rodney. The mystery of Lachlan’s purse and who had filled it added to Bryan’s unease. But he assured himself that Kathryn would be safe inside the castle’s walls for the short time until they would head north.
NINE
HOMELEA CASTLE SAT ATOP A RIVERSIDE CLIFF, commanding the best spot to ford the river Tweed on the road between Edinburgh and Stirling. To the north lay open land where sheep grazed peacefully in the pastures adjacent to the village of the same name. The ancient abbey of St. Mary’s rested in the forested hills just east of the village.
As they headed their horses to the river crossing, Kathryn smiled, anticipating the celebration of Isobel’s birthday. She would take the child back to Homelea with her today.
The Price of Freedom Page 13