The Thorn & the Thistle

by Julie Moffett

  “Damnation, Megan, you will speak of your sovereign with respect.”

  “He is no sovereign o’ mine. Don’t expect me to bend a knee to a man who has shown no compassion or fairness to my people.”

  “No compassion? By God, I’ve never met a group of people so stubborn, so bloody thickheaded as the Scots. I almost wish the king had permitted me to bring an army of men to beat some sense into you people. Have you already forgotten everything I’ve tried to do here?”

  Megan spread her hands wide in an angry motion. “Och, and just what have ye done? Raid our camp, kill several o’ the men who tried to defend it, and drag the rest o’ us to your dungeon. Then ye make promises to help us while behind our backs your fellow countryman bums our villages to the ground.”

  “For God’s sake, I am not Farrington and you know it.”

  “Well, how do we know that ye don’t secretly approve of his tactics? Did ye really think we would so easily trust ye?”

  Rolf took three long strides across the room, grabbing Megan by the shoulder with his right hand and shaking her once, hard. “I thought you would trust me, Megan. I foolishly thought we had established an understanding—a promise of good faith to each other. But you lied to me from the beginning, mocking my attempts at bringing a peaceful settlement to this dispute.”

  She struggled to free herself from his iron grip. “Don’t make yourself out to be all that honorable. Ye were only using me to trap the Wolf. Well, I’m no’ simpleminded. Ye tried to seduce and confuse me...use any method ye could to extract information so ye could destroy my people. Ye never once planned on keeping your end o’ the bargain.”

  Rolf’s fingers tightened on her flesh. “Blast it, woman, you are wrong. I had every intention on keeping my word. You were the one who wove a web of deceit, pretending to be nothing more than the Wolf’s whore. A part you played exceedingly well, I might add. Lord, what a jest.”

  Megan stiffened in his grip, a hot flare streaking across her cheeks. When he saw her expression, Rolf released her, stalking over to the window. With a hard yank, he shoved aside the heavy velvet drapery and stood staring out at the starlit sky. A chilly silence throbbed between them.

  When Rolf spoke, his voice was flat and emotionless. “I apologize. That last remark was unfair.”

  Megan’s teeth were clenched together so she could not open her mouth. Hot tears swam in her eyes and she held them back, not willing to let him see how deeply his words had shamed her.

  She jumped as he slammed the flat of his hand against the wall. “Damn it, Megan, I’m not a man who takes well to being made a fool. King George will surely roll with laughter when he hears how the daughter of the Black Wolf himself deceived his trusted lord. It will provide fodder for the court gossips for months.” Scowling, he returned his gaze to the open window.

  Megan felt a twinge of guilt that she had brought him such embarrassment, yet she reminded herself that she owed him nothing. He was her enemy and her actions had only been in defense of her people. Taking a small step forward, she lifted her chin.

  “Now that ye’ve discovered who I am, I wish to know what ye mean to do wi’ me and the other prisoners.”

  Rolf did not answer and kept his gaze focused on the night sky. His fingers drummed restlessly against the stone. “That man Kincaid, whom I held in the dungeon—he is not your father, Robert MacLeod, is he?”

  Megan stiffened as Rolf’s mouth twisted with exasperation. “I have only to ask the messenger for a physical description of your father for the answer.”

  “Then ask him,” she snapped.

  Rolf folded his arms across his chest, turning to face her. “I’d rather hear the answer from you. I want to know if it is possible for you to speak any words without employing deceit.”

  Megan jerked her head up, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. “I didn’t lie when I said I would present the Wolf wi’ your offer. Nor was I lying when I said I’d return wi’ his answer.”

  “Do you really expect me to believe that your father would let you walk back into the hands of his enemy?”

  “He would if he were convinced ye were an honest man.”

  “I sincerely doubt that, Megan.”

  “Then we have returned to where we started. Neither o’ us believes the other.”

  “All right then, answer me this. Despite the fact that I was forced to trap you in a raid and take prisoners, have I ever given you reason to believe that I would rescind my promises? Don’t answer with your anger, but think about what I’ve said and done since we have met.”

  Surprised by the bluntness of his question, Megan hesitated. Rolf St. James was her enemy, a man who represented everything she despised. Yet, in all the time since she had met him, he’d remained true to his word, permitting her to treat the wounded clansmen and refraining from torturing them when they were at their most vulnerable. He had also kept his word to provide food and medicine for the villagers, even helping them to construct shelter for the children. As much as it dismayed her to admit it, he had shown unusual compassion and justness for an Englishman.

  “Ye have been true to your word so far. But I don’t trust your motivations.”

  “Then you judge me unfairly.”

  “Unfairly?”

  “You have yet to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

  She exhaled in frustration. “Why do ye continue to pretend that ye wish to help us? Ye have a valuable hostage in your possession. Why no’ just torture me for information? Finish what ye came to do, Englishman. Beat me and the rest o’ my people into submission. ’Tis what ye do best, is it no’?”

  “Somehow I doubt that even torture would force you into submission.”

  A soft gasp escaped her. “Ye wish to jest?”

  Rolf sighed. “You have no need to fear torture from me, Megan. Despite my rather disreputable reputation among you Highlanders, I do not harm women or children. I genuinely want to find a way to settle this dispute peacefully. The offers I have given you in regard to your father’s people—they still stand. I intend to put a stop to the strife in this area.”

  “Wi’ the English as our conquerors,” Megan added, her voice bitter.

  “As your landlords...for now,” Rolf corrected her. “I do not dictate the forces of history and neither do you, Megan. Let’s simply do our best to see that another generation of children are not sacrificed because of this senseless feuding.”

  Surprised, Megan realized his words held no hint of triumph or vindication. She heard only the slightest tinge of sadness and weariness, as if the bitterness and deceit of their contention had touched him deeply. Her emotions in a jumble, she walked over to one of the chairs by the fireplace and sat down, folding her hands in her lap.

  After a moment, Rolf came up behind her, placing a hand on the back of her chair. “The man who called himself Kincaid. He is not your father.”

  Not a question, but a statement.

  She hesitated for a moment and then shook her head in resignation. “Nay, he is no’ my father.”

  “It’s a small admission—one I can easily prove or disprove. But to hear it come from your lips is a step forward, a tiny spark that might keep the doors open between our two peoples. For now, it’s all I can hope for. You also realize that now I cannot release you to take my offer to your father.”

  “Because I am too valuable a hostage.”

  “Yes. And because it is my duty to inform the king of your capture.” Exhaling, Rolf dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Megan. If there was any way to change things between us, I would do it.”

  She was silent for a long moment. “At least ye’ve been honest wi’ me. I am certain the Wolf—my father—will still consider your words. He would give more than just his life to save his people.”

  “Does that include
his daughter?”

  She looked up. “I would willingly sacrifice my life for the clan. He would understand that.”

  “Would he really?” Rolf murmured. “I’m afraid I don’t believe that.”

  “Because ye don’t understand us. And mayhap ye never will.”

  “I will capture the Wolf, Megan. But I won’t lie to you. The more I come to know you, the more the task of capturing your father has become damnably distasteful. But that is the way it must be. I have no choice.”

  “Ye are wrong, Englishman. We all have choices. But ye’ve already made your choices and I’ve made mine. Now we have but to live wi’ it.”

  * * *

  “What are we going to do, Da?” Robbie thrust his hands beneath his plaid and strode back and forth across the snow-covered ground. “We canna just sit here day after day while the Englishman holds her prisoner.”

  Geddes watched his son’s frantic movements, fighting to keep his own concerns from hindering his ability to think clearly. He arranged a calm expression on his face, holding out his hands to the warmth of the small fire. “

  “’Tis little choice we have and ye know it. The Englishman’s raid cost us. The men are in no condition to ride, let alone plot a rescue. We canna act rashly and besides, we’ve no evidence that Megan’s been harmed. The villagers said she appeared well and dared to stand up to the Englishman, even raising her voice to him. We both know that Megan is no fainthearted lass. She’ll no’ waste the time she has wi’ the Englishman. Instead, she’ll learn all she can about him and bring that information back to us. ’Tis her way.”

  Robbie stopped in his tracks, whirling to face his father. “Da, are ye listening to what ye are saying? Meggie is being held by a man who murdered his own wife.”

  Geddes closed his eyes. “I’m fully aware o’ that. But I still dinna think she’s been harmed. The Englishman thinks she is my daughter, naught more than kin to a simple man. As soon he discovers there is no information to be gained from her, I’m certain he’ll release her to the village like he did wi’ the other women and bairns.”

  Robbie looked aghast at his father. “How can ye expect him to act so honorably?”

  Geddes rubbed his temples. “Haven’t ye heard o’ his actions? The Englishman and his men have been in the village for the past several days distributing food and clothes and helping the villagers rebuild their homes. ’Tis even said that he confronted Farrington at his own home, warning him to leave the villagers alone.”

  Robbie spat on the ground. “Lies and deception, all o’ it. Ye saw what he did to our camp. ’Tis only some kind o’ ruse to lure us into trusting him.”

  “Mayhap ye are right, but we must consider that he might genuinely be seeking peace wi’ us.”

  “Peace?” Robbie spluttered. “Saints above, Da, I canna bear to hear ye talk so. When did ye become so soft? That English bastard holds Meggie captive—the woman who will be my wife.”

  “She’s a lot more than that, Robbie. By all rights o’ our law, that woman is still our laird until she marries or is replaced. Ye know that, son.”

  “By all the saints, I know that better than anyone. But most o’ the men think she is only acting as her father’s proxy, no’ as our laird. Haven’t ye heard the talk about the camp? The whisper grows louder wi’ each passing day that the Wolf is dead and we have no one to lead us. We canna keep up the deception much longer, Da.”

  Geddes sighed. “Aye, ’tis so. We’ll have to tell the rest o’ the men o’ Megan’s deception and soon. I dinna know what will come o’ it, other than ’twill make the men certain to seek her release at any cost.”

  “’Tis what I’ve been saying all along.”

  “Ye are speaking wi’ your heart and no’ your head, lad. The last thing we want to do is draw attention to her. Besides, ye know full well that we canna storm a well-fortified castle with men who can barely ride or lift a sword. ’Twill only cost more lives. Megan would no’ approve o’ that.”

  Robbie swore with frustration. His cheeks blazed and his fists clenched at his side. “Damned and be damned, Da, ’tis an intolerable situation. I should have never permitted her time to think o’er my proposal. By God, as soon as I see the lass, I’ll drag her before the kirk whether she is willing or no’.”

  Nodding, Geddes crouched in front of the fire, flexing his cold fingers out in front of him. “’Tis my fault as well for agreeing to go along wi’ Megan’s scheme in the first place. But she has a strong mind and the wit and cunning o’ her father. I should have brought the deception to an end a long time ago.”

  Robbie walked over to his father and put a hand on his shoulder. Snow swirled around them like a soft white cloud.

  “Dinna fash yourself, da. I’ll get her back somehow. Ye can rest assured that I’ll no’ leave her in the clutches o’ the evil Englishman for much longer.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rolf stood by the open window, letting the cool wind refresh him by lifting the unbound hair from his shoulders. The light in the library was dim and soothing. A single lamp burned on his desk and the flickering glow of the fire sent shadows skittering across the leatherbound books in the tall bookshelves. Earlier he had studied the titles, impressed by Robert MacLeod’s taste in literature. He wondered again about the clever mind of the Black Wolf and how unfortunate it was that ruin had come to this brilliant man and his family.

  As he thought of Megan, the muscles in Rolf’s jaw tightened and his fingers drummed on the windowsill. What an irony. He held his enemy’s most valuable possession in his hands, but found himself reluctant to use it to his advantage. Perhaps he was growing old or just weary of a challenge he had once relished.

  The shuffle of footsteps in the corridor interrupted his thoughts. Crossing the room, he pulled open the door just as Peter was reaching for the latch. Megan stood behind him and Rolf ushered her in, motioning with a slight glance of his head that Peter was to wait outside. The older man nodded and took up a stand outside the door.

  “Ye summoned me?” Megan asked as Rolf shut the door behind her.

  “Yes. I want to speak with you.”

  Concern flitted across her face, but she said nothing as Rolf guided her to a chair, indicating that she should sit. He did not join her, however, and began to walk across the chamber, his face drawn, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “I’ve asked you here because it is time to inform your father that I am aware of your identity as his daughter. However, I also intend to give him my word that you will not be harmed.”

  She pressed her lips together but said nothing.

  “Therefore,” he continued, “I need to know whether there is someone else other than your father to whom I should direct my message.”

  She glanced up at him in surprise. “Someone else?”

  “Yes, a man...um, someone who can speak for you.”

  “Speak for me? I don’t know what ye mean.”

  Rolf raked his fingers through his hair. “Hell and damnation, woman. You aren’t making this easy for me. I’m trying to ask you whether you are unwed or with husband.”

  Megan blinked, seemingly caught off guard by his question. “A husband? Why would such a thing be o’ importance to ye?”

  Rolf stopped his pacing and stood in front of her. “Because if someone held my wife captive, I would be beside myself with concern. It’s my duty to reassure your husband, if he exists, as well as your father, that I have no intention of harming you.”

  Megan searched his face, presumably to determine whether he was serious. Still she did not speak.

  This conversation was not going as he had planned. “Are you going to answer me? Or do I order my men to seek out every church in the area and search their records? I will do it, if it becomes necessary.”

  Megan shook her head. “’Twill
no’ be necessary, Englishman. I am unwed.”

  Rolf felt relief surge through him. Exhaling the breath he didn’t know he held, he sat down heavily in the chair across from her, his long legs brushing against hers. “Forgive me for asking. You cannot know how greatly it pained me to think I may have compromised you in some manner.”

  To his astonishment, she laughed. “Ye were no’ so concerned about my virtue when ye thought I was no more than a man’s mistress. Why should I believe ye now?”

  Rolf refrained from pointing out that it was she who had misled him in the first place. “Because I don’t want to see you harmed. Frankly, I’d like us to try to start over...with honesty this time.”

  “Why? Your actions are no’ those I expected from an Englishman.”

  “I know. We can’t keep behaving in this manner with each other, Megan.”

  “In what manner?”

  “Refusing to work together to end this matter without further bloodshed. We can’t keep making truces and then breaking them. Continuing the deceptions and mistrust between us.” Rolf took a deep breath. “I understand you have little reason to trust me. Generations of hatred cannot be eased in a few days, months or even years. For all we know, it may take a century or two. But by God, Megan, right here at Castle Kilcraig, I would like it to start with us.”

  “Ye expect me to aid ye in ending the life o’ my father and then speak o’ peace in the same breath?”

  “There is nothing I can do about your father, Megan, and you must know that. But I can protect his daughter and his men. Would he rather have it another way?”

  “Aye, I’d rather have it another way. I want the English to leave us alone forever.”

  Rolf sighed. “I’m sorry. But you also know that is not possible. Some things are beyond even my control.”

  Megan unclasped her hands in her lap. “I know. Ye are right, though. My father would give his life for that o’ the clans. So would I.”