Anna nodded. “Men came to the abbey yesterday asking questions. The nuns feared for her safety, my lady.”
Isobel turned, and on seeing Kathryn, put her arms out to be held. Eagerly Kathryn took the child, kissing her and holding her tightly. “Oh, Isobel, Isobel!” Her worst fears were realized. Someone knew about Isobel and might tell Rodney at any time.
Sir Bryan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, moving from Kathryn to the child. “Is this babe the reason for your trip to the abbey?”
“Aye, my laird.” She didn’t dare meet his gaze.
“Whose babe is she, that you would risk your life?” Sir Bryan demanded.
Laying her hand on the knight’s arm she pleaded, “My laird, as you said earlier today, we have much to talk about.”
“Aye, that we do.”
“Then come. We will eat and I will . . . I will tell you about the child.”
He studied her for a moment, then the child, then nodded and strode away.
She reluctantly passed the baby to Anna and motioned her away from Adam. “Where is Nelda?”
As they walked toward the keep, Anna answered, “Her husband was found at the river crossing during the search for you. He’s dead. Hit his head on a rock crossing the river.”
Kathryn stopped walking. “Oh no. How is Nelda taking the news?”
“She took it hard. Went to her mother in Berwick.”
Kathryn looked closely at Isobel. She seemed to be in good health. “Is Isobel weaned then?”
Anna huffed a breath. “She is now. Took to it well enough, don’t fret.”
Kathryn longed to take Isobel back from Anna’s arms and soothe her for this loss. But Kathryn suspected she was more upset than Isobel over Nelda’s departure. And Bryan waited for her, for answers.
Kathryn kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I’ll help you get her ready for bed when I’m done talking with Sir Bryan.”
Anna nodded and Kathryn walked away wishing she could stay with Anna and the child instead of dealing with the man who awaited her in the solar. The door was ajar, and a servant carrying food and drink followed her into the room. After setting down the tray, the girl quietly closed the door as she left.
Sir Bryan looked as weary as Kathryn felt, and she wished this meeting could be postponed. She sat across from him, broke off a piece of bread, and offered it to him before saying, “I have reason to believe there may be a spy at Homelea and I fear—”
“There was a spy, Kathryn, but he’s dead.”
He knew this already? “There was? Do you know who it was?”
“Lachlan the Smith.”
“Lachlan?” Her shoulders slumped and she set down the bread without taking any for herself. “The wet nurse’s husband.”
He frowned. “Wet nurse?”
“Aye, for Isobel.”
“Ah, the child in the bailey.” His facial features became severe. “Just whose child is she and what is she doing here?”
How to tell him, to plead her case? “If we are ever to have a true marriage there must be honesty between us.”
His expression was guarded, but he nodded.
Encouraged she said, “There is more to the story about Rodney’s suit for my hand in marriage, the best and the worst part.” She paused. “The reason I asked Fergus to take me to the abbey, the reason it was so important, was I needed to see my daughter, Isobel.”
He stared at her, clearly puzzled. “Your daughter?”
“Aye.”
“Your . . . daughter has been kept at St. Mary’s.” He stopped as realization struck. “Rodney. You have a child by Rodney Carleton?”
All she could do was nod in agreement. Her throat would not form words, so great was her fear of his reaction, so deep was her shame.
He jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over the table. “Carleton wooed you and got a child on you and didn’t marry you?”
The table had pushed into her stomach and she eased it away. “Aye.” His face was red with anger. She looked down, hung her head. She should have told him sooner, told him when he proposed a chaste marriage. He’d told her about his vow and she’d kept quiet, thinking to protect Isobel. But the time for secrets was past.
She looked up into dark eyes that were cold as a deep winter night.
“Why didn’t you marry him? Or did you? Is that why you agreed to a chaste marriage—you’re already married to him?”
“No! Never! I couldn’t marry him after what he did to Fergus. I refused him.”
She could see by his expression when he remembered the words she’d hoped he would forget.
“As you refused to marry me at first. You told me you would not marry a baseborn knight, and yet you have a child born just the same.” Fury and torment twisted his features. Gone was the gentle man who’d kissed her just this afternoon. In his place stood a wounded man. And she’d done this to him. God forgive me. She doubted Bryan ever would.
Could she somehow ease the hurt? “You may not believe this now, my laird. But I never, never meant those words. How could I, knowing of Isobel?”
He stared at her and maybe, just maybe he believed her.
“Will you let me tell you all of it?” she asked.
Here was the test. Did he care enough about her—about a possible future together—to listen, to try to understand why she’d said such an awful thing?
He straightened his chair and, to her relief, sat down. “I’m listening.”
Relieved, she stood before him. “I was . . . weak, easily tempted. And he was charm itself. I thought he loved me, and I certainly thought I loved him.” Slowly, carefully, she explained Rodney’s dishonesty, his deception over her father’s blessing on their betrothal, and her fall into temptation, leaving nothing out. She owed him the whole truth. Had owed it to him for weeks now.
“When Adam read Bruce’s decree that we must marry, I knew I couldn’t marry you or anyone else. To do so would have meant admitting to my shameful behavior and revealing Isobel’s existence. So to discourage you, I said I wanted to marry someone of my own rank. I am so sorry for any pain that caused you.” Tears filled her eyes and she willed herself not to cry.
He nodded, his expression softening somewhat, to her relief.
He said nothing, so she continued. “When you offered a chaste marriage, one that could be dissolved, it seemed an answer to my prayers. Isobel and I would have an able guardian, and I would not have to make this confession or endanger her.” Looking at him, knowing that the promise in his kiss might never be fulfilled, the tears fell and she swiped them with the back of her hand.
He stared at her for an uncomfortable length of time before he said, “While I am angry that you didn’t tell me this from the start, I think I can understand your reasons. For not telling and for trying to discourage me from the marriage.” Bryan blew out his breath, stood and paced away and back. “I’m more angry at Carleton. The dishonorable knave . . . I should have killed him when I had the chance that day in the bailey.” He stared at the stone floor for a long moment. “You were the one who was wronged, Kathryn.” The knight pushed his fingers through his hair, pulling some of it loose from the leather string that bound it. “Rodney doesn’t know of the child?”
“I kept her from him to protect her.”
“From her own father? Kathryn, that was unwise.”
“He might take her from me or harm her. He is obsessed with controlling Homelea. I fear he may have recently learned of her. Why else did men come to the abbey?” She weakened again, and tears welled in her eyes. She dashed them away, not caring that the knight saw them but not daring to weaken in her resolve to give Isobel Bryan’s protection.
She drew a steadying breath before rushing ahead. “I . . . am obviously no longer a maid, my laird. You will have no trouble obtaining an annulment under the circumstances. But until then, I beg you to keep Isobel with us here, at Homelea. Under your protection.”
His expression remained unreadable. “I haven’t done well in prote
cting my wife and you ask that I extend my protection, such as it is, to a child?”
“I thought you, of all people, would be inclined to help a kindred spirit. An innocent child, an outcast through no fault of her own.”
“Is this why you proposed to make our marriage binding? To soften me toward you for the child’s sake?”
“No, you must not believe that!”
“Why not?”
“It isn’t true. I truly believe I could come to care for you.” I already—
“Aye, especially if I take in Rodney’s brat.”
Kathryn hesitated, not liking his choice of words. Softly she said, “She is here. If you would just protect her—you needn’t love her.” Or me.
She’d hoped that because of his own birth on the wrong side of the blanket, Bryan would be more open to taking Isobel into his care. Surely his good relationship with his own father showed him just how impossible such a bond would be between a man like Rodney and Isobel. Somehow she must convince Sir Bryan to see the child as she did. Not as the child of his hated enemy, but as the child of his heart.
He walked to the window and stared out. “Kathryn, we leave for Stirling as soon as I can manage it. I’m not even sure I can protect you in the middle of a war, let alone a child.” His shoulders sagged. “You ask much of me.”
She stepped toward him and stopped. “I know I do. But I believe you are up to the task.”
He turned to look at her and she wanted to go to him but held back. He shook his head. “You should have told me all of this sooner.”
“Aye, I should have. You would not have had to create such a memorable wedding ceremony, for one thing.”
He grinned ruefully and shook his head. “Kathryn. What am I to do with you?”
“Nothing has changed, my laird. When the battle at Stirling is over, I can protest the marriage and we will go our separate ways, just as we agreed.” But everything had changed for her this afternoon in his arms. Tears threatened with the realization of what she had lost through her lack of honesty.
“Everything has changed. And you must know it.”
She hung her head, her heart hurting at the truth he’d spoken. “What are we to do?”
“Let me think on it.” He strode out of the room.
BRYAN STALKED TO THE MAIN HALL where a small fire took the chill off the evening. He’d kept his anger under control for the most part during Kathryn’s confession. But the more he thought of Rodney’s treatment of her and of her deception, the angrier he became. He took a seat next to Adam. At Adam’s raised eyebrow, Bryan produced a murderous scowl and Adam wisely remained silent. Bryan retrieved his dirk from his belt and began to whittle furiously on a piece of wood.
After several minutes Adam commented, “Don’t know what you’re carving, but it won’t amount to much the way you’re going at it.”
Bryan continued his agitated assault on the wood. Adam tried again. “If you keep that up, we’ll be calling on the wee lassie to sew a seam in your hide.”
Bryan glared at his foster brother. “If it comes to that, I’ll sew it myself.”
“Ah, so that’s the way of it then,” Adam said softly.
Bryan ignored Adam’s comment and kept on carving, but with more care. He was hanged if he wanted any more to do with “the wee lassie” this evening. He would stay clear of her until he regained control of his emotions. And figured out just what he was angry about.
Why did he hunger for this woman, whose eyes revealed fear or defiance far more often than they spoke of tender feelings? Why had she returned to him? Because she had feelings for him or because she thought he was her best protection from Rodney? Aye, and the best protection for the child.
Her pretty words about making this a true marriage had been spoken, not for his benefit, but for the child’s. Rodney’s child, born outside of wedlock just as Bryan had been. Except this poor child hadn’t been conceived out of love but in the midst of deceit and betrayal.
He barely registered Adam’s movements as the man rose and put more wood on the fire. Bryan stopped carving and stared into the fire. The erratic flames mirrored the chaos of his thoughts. He put his head in his hands. He wanted Kathryn to want him for his own sake, not for the protection he could provide the child. How had he come to this?
He looked up to see Adam watching him closely. Bryan didn’t want to share his thoughts. He sliced the knife across the wood, momentarily imagining it was Carleton’s white throat. He gouged the wood savagely and nicked his thumb with the knife. “Mother Mary.” He shoved the injured finger in his mouth and sucked on the wound.
He’d promised to release Kathryn from the marriage when Scotland was free. Yet the past few days when he’d thought he’d lost her had been horrible. For although he could wield the claymore better than anyone except his king, and he remained undefeated in tournament and battle, the thought of losing Kathryn made him feel weak as a babe. Could he let her go when the time came?
His thoughts drifted back to their kiss. Did she truly have feelings for him as the kiss had indicated? Or had she merely toyed with him to make him more biddable? And what of the fact that she was no longer an untried maid but the mother of a child?
Maybe the best course would be to see her through Stirling and then seek that annulment.
He turned over the piece of wood, examining it as if he could find the answers he sought. He made several savage thrusts, then gradually ceased his attack on the innocent piece of wood. He threw the mangled thing into the fire and put away the dirk.
The nick on his thumb had stopped bleeding, and he rested his elbows on his knees and stared into the fire.
Adam said, “What’s vexing you, Bryan?”
Bryan hesitated. “I failed to protect Kathryn from Rodney and nearly lost her. Only now do I truly understand Robert’s pain over Elizabeth’s capture. Kathryn is besieging my heart but I don’t understand her. Nor do I entirely trust her.” He looked at Adam. “The child is hers.”
Adam drew in a breath. “I feared it might be. And the father?”
“Rodney Carleton. She asks me to take in Carleton’s illegitimate child!”
“That is asking a lot,” Adam said.
Bryan shook his head. “I want no more people depending on me for their safety.”
“I’d trust you with my own loved ones, Bryan. The lady has made a wise choice.”
Bryan smiled ruefully. “You’re not much help.”
Adam rose and laid his hands on Bryan’s shoulder. “You’ll do the right thing. You always do.” He stretched his arms above his head. “Good night, then.”
Bryan retrieved another piece of wood and aimlessly carved at it.
Alone before the dying fire, Bryan decided the child could not go back to St. Mary’s. Bryan had seen his own father disregard the sacredness of a church, and he doubted Rodney would observe such conventions if they stood in his way. The nuns must have been clever in dissuading him that the child was there. Bryan would have to take on the responsibility for the child’s safety. Wasn’t it enough he had an unwanted wife to protect?
The dog Maggie laid her shaggy head on his thigh and he set aside the wood to pet her behind the ears. Animals made no demands other than this. Why couldn’t people be the same? He could swear the animal sighed in contentment, and he smiled. But the evening’s peace was shattered by the wailing of a child quickly hushed. The wailing began again.
He stood and followed the increasingly frantic cries. Although his trips to Adam’s home in Moy were infrequent, he’d spent enough time with Adam’s little ones to recognize a tired, anxious cry. His instinct was to find the cause for such distress and fix it. He found Kathryn and Anna in the nursery, trying in vain to comfort the toddling child.
Kathryn held the girl to her shoulder, patting the little one’s back and saying, “Hush. Hush now.” Kathryn looked up in apparent dismay when he entered the room.
“I’m sorry, my laird. ’Tis the strangeness of the surroundings.
She’ll need a few days to get used to the newness of things.” Bryan could remember similar trauma as a young boy. At least he’d been old enough to talk. This little one could only voice her distress by crying, and loudly enough that no one could dispute her unhappiness.
Here, in this unhappy bundle of innocence, was proof of Kathryn’s affair with Rodney Carleton. Just as Bryan himself had once been evidence of his parents’ illicit love. Robert the Bruce had been prevented by his family from marrying “beneath” him. But Rodney and Kathryn were equals and still she had refused him. Because Rodney had been dishonest and harmed her friend. Out of loyalty, and no doubt a sure sense of self-preservation, she had defied the man who had deceived her.
Bryan grudgingly admired such strength of character and conviction. Some more of his anger dissipated.
Just then the child—Isobel, Kathryn had called her—twisted in Kathryn’s arms and faced him. She ceased her cries and stared at him, and he feared the wailing would begin again in earnest. But instead, the child reached out her chubby arms to him. When Kathryn crooned, “Nay, lass,” the child squirmed in Kathryn’s arms quite forcefully, and fearing the girl would throw herself to the floor, he reached for her.
“I’ll take her,” he said, surprising himself. But once he had her he didn’t know what to do with her. She nestled in his arms and gaped at him in fascination as if he were some creature from a seanachaidh’s tale. Then it struck him that indeed, she may never have seen a man in her short life at the abbey.
They stared in mutual captivation until she placed a tiny hand on his cheek and rubbed it, pulling her hand back quickly when her skin rasped against his whiskers. She gave a wavering smile and then rubbed her hand on his cheek again. This time the smile lit her face. Adam’s youngest had had a similar fascination with his beard, as Bryan recalled. He smiled back.
He touched her wispy blond hair, fairer than Kathryn’s and very fine. The child’s sturdy little body and trusting eyes spoke to his heart in much the same way as did Cerin and Maggie the hound.
The Price of Freedom Page 17