The Thorn & the Thistle

by Julie Moffett

  “Nay,” she cried. “Don’t hurt him.”

  “Och, let the knave kill me.” Robbie never took his eyes off Rolf. “I’d rather be dead than see ye wed to the likes o’ him.”

  “As ye wish.” Rolf pressed the point tighter against his neck.

  “Don’t do it.” Megan pulled on Rolf’s arm. “’Twas ye who wanted an end to the senseless killing. If ’twas true, then show me that ye truly meant what ye said.”

  Rolf paused for a long moment before lifting the sword from Robbie’s throat. “Take him away. Then see to the injured and take the rest of the prisoners to the dungeon. We shall finish the ceremony now.”

  “Nay,” Robbie shouted. “Meggie, dinna wed him.”

  “God forgive me.” Megan bowed her head as her cousin was dragged away. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

  “Come, Megan, let us complete the matter at hand.” Rolf put his good hand beneath her elbow to help steady her.

  Megan took a deep breath, brushing the tears away from her cheek. She had to pull herself together and try to make some good of the spectacle that had just happened.

  “First, I want ye to know that even if I pledge myself to ye, I’ll no’ knowingly betray my people. Even for ye as my husband. ’Tis only fair ye understand that now.”

  “I understand.”

  “And what do ye mean to do wi’ Robbie, my uncle, and the rest o’ the men ye hold prisoner? I’ll no’ see them harmed.”

  “The men will be questioned, but I assure you they will not be hurt. When I am done, I will set them free.”

  “And those who are injured?”

  “They will be treated and then they will also be released. Does that allay your fears?”

  “It does.”

  “Then so shall it be. Now let us continue.” He took her arm, leading her to the base of the altar where the visibly shaken vicar and kirkman stood.

  “Where were we?” Rolf asked.

  The vicar, visibly upset, fumbled with his leather book and then asked them to recite their vows. A few tense minutes later, Megan found herself legally bound to Rolf. Her life as she had once known it was now over.

  Rolf turned to her, releasing his hold on her arm. “You will return to your room where you will be permitted to rest before the celebrating begins.”

  “Celebration?”

  “We have just been wed, have we not? It is a momentous occasion and we will celebrate it fittingly.”

  “Ye must be in jest. Ye can hardly expect us to celebrate after what has happened.”

  Rolf lifted her hand to his mouth, grazing her knuckles with his warm lips. “Oh, but I assure you that I do. Go on now, Megan, I have a few matters to settle before we begin.”

  Megan opened her mouth to reply, but Rolf pressed a finger against her lips. “For once don’t fight me. Just be ready when I come for you. For now, it’s all I’ll ask of you.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Megan sat at the banquet table, not even managing to summon a smile as the boisterous English soldiers lifted their goblets in toast after toast to the bride and groom. She suspected their good cheer was partly because Rolf’s trap for the Scotsmen had been executed so effectively, and partly because Rolf put no restrictions on the wine and ale that flowed into their cups. Whatever the reason, the noise in the room was deafening and the mood buoyant. Megan thought it to be little more than a nightmare from which she could not escape.

  For the hundredth time that evening, she stole a quick glance at Rolf. He also appeared to be in good spirits, despite the fact that he believed the Black Wolf to have slipped through his fingers again. He had changed his clothes and sipped his wine while talking with Peter and several of his men about the day’s activities.

  In fact, he had barely given her a glance all evening. Megan wondered if this was an indication of how their marriage would be. He had wooed and seduced her until he had what he had wanted, a legitimate claim to her and her lands in the eyes of the Scots. Now his bargaining position was stronger and more secure than ever. What he didn’t know was that she still had one more card to play. She was the Black Wolf, the quarry he so desperately sought, the prize he had promised to his King. She had not given up hope that she could still play that card. Once she had possession of the land grants and pardons, she’d reveal herself as the Wolf. But until then, she would have to make her moves carefully. She knew that deceiving an enemy was one thing. But she suspected that deceiving a husband was something else entirely different.

  Megan felt a tightening in her stomach. She could raise no suspicions about herself. This meant she had to do her best to play the docile wife of Rolf St. James—both in and out of his bed—until the time was right.

  His bed.

  Megan pressed her hand to her brow, feeling faint at the thought. How could she have been so foolish to think that his kisses were warm and exciting? Now that she understood there was nothing behind his ardor but cold, hard ambition, the thought of lying in his arms held no attraction. In fact, as she glanced around the table at the faces of the English soldiers, she began to feel ill. Had she made a terrible mistake by wedding this man? Should she not have had the courage to plunge the knife into his breast?

  She shook her head. No matter how distasteful the thought of lying with this man, it was a sacrifice she would make for her people. She had done the right thing. Now, she only had to pray for strength. The bedding act...it couldn’t be that horrible. After all, women had being doing it for centuries and still managed to survive. No matter how terrible, she’d just have to bear it order to save her people.

  Megan’s eyes were drawn to the door as Abigail stepped inside the chamber and stared at Rolf. Megan followed her eyes and saw Rolf nod at the older woman. At once Abigail moved to Megan’s side. She placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Come, my lady. It’s nearly time.”

  Megan started, almost knocking over her goblet of wine. “Time for what?” Her voice was hollow, her lips cracked and dry.

  Abigail bent down near Megan’s ear. “Come now, my lady. There is naught to fear.”

  Megan stole another glance at Rolf, but he spoke with Peter and did not even look her way. Swallowing hard, she stood and let Abigail guide her from the room, feeling like a lamb being led to slaughter.

  When they reached Rolf’s chamber, Megan stood on the threshold, feeling a sweep of bitter irony that she would spend her wedding night in the same chamber her parents had once shared. What a mockery that this night she would suffer in the bed where two people had once loved so deeply. God help her, could the humiliation go any deeper?

  “Let me help ye.” Abigail untied the back of Megan’s gown and lifted it off over her head.

  Megan did not resist or move, only stood staring at the hearth where a roaring fire blazed. The room was dark except for the glow of the fire and a few scattered candles. The scent of hot spiced wine wafted from two goblets on a small table near the fireplace. In any other circumstances she might have found it cozy and inviting, but now she wished with all her heart she were anywhere other than this room.

  “Well, that’s finished.” Abigail pulled the shift over Megan’s head and left her naked save only her stockings and shoes. “Sit down, and I will remove your stockings.”

  Megan walked over to the bed, where she perched on the edge. Abigail made quick work of her shoes and stockings before handing her a white woolen nightdress. Megan slipped it on, thankful the gown had a high neck and long sleeves. Fingers trembling, she buttoned it all the way to her throat.

  Abigail clucked her tongue. “I know that this is probably not how you imagined your wedding day. But Rolf is a good man and all will be well. You’ll see, my lady. Have faith.”

  Megan swallowed, fighting back the tears that had threatened to fall all day. “’Tis no’ just tha
t, Abigail. Rolf is an Englishman...the subject o’ a King who cruelly drove my family from our home and has the blood o’ my clansmen on his hands. He seeks to slay my father and took me as his wife only to further his ambitions. How can I participate in this marriage in good faith?”

  Abigail firmly took Megan’s cold hand in hers. “Now you listen to me. Rolf is a good man and he cares for you, no matter what you may think. He could have forced you to wed a brutal man the likes of Edwin Farrington, but he did not. Instead, he chose you for himself. I think he did so because he believes you both have a chance at happiness if only you would put the past behind you. ’Tis a lot more than many marriages begin with.” She squeezed Megan’s hand. “I wish for happiness for you both.”

  Her words were interrupted by a noise at the door. Megan went a shade paler as Rolf appeared in the entranceway, his arms folded lightly across his chest.

  Abigail rose. “The girl is readied, my lord.”

  Megan swallowed hard. She had to be strong to survive the night. She’d do it for her people, for Scotland, for the memory of those she loved. She had no other choice.

  * * *

  The first thing Rolf noticed was that Megan appeared terrified. He watched as Abigail gave Megan a final pat before she disappeared from the room. Rolf closed the door after her.

  Megan sat still on the edge of the bed, keeping her eyes trained on the floor. The silence in the room was deafening until he strode across the room, removing his jacket and neck cloth. Draping both over a chair, he sat down near the hearth and lifted the goblet of wine to his lips.

  “Come join me, Megan.”

  After a moment of hesitation, she rose from the bed and walked toward him. Rolf wondered how it was possible that her simple and demure nightdress seemed so seductive. He thought perhaps it was the way the soft fabric clung to her slender arms and waist, or the way her bare toes peeked out from beneath the hem. Whatever the reason, he found the effect erotically provocative.

  Now, though, she looked frightened out of her wits. Her blue eyes were round and afraid, her mouth drawn in a tight line, and her face as pale as a sheet of parchment paper. As she came closer, her hand clutched the material at the collar of her nightdress. God help him, but he would have to take this slowly. He did not want her so frightened. “Have some wine.” He pressed the goblet into her hand as she sat. When she held it to her lips, her hand trembled.

  He pretended not to notice. “To us.” He raised the goblet in a salute. “And to putting the past behind us. No more lies between us, Megan. No more deceit.”

  At his words, Megan lowered her gaze and the goblet, staring miserably into the wine. When she did not raise her cup in agreement, Rolf felt his hopes for an easy transition to the bed fading. Taking a large swallow of his wine, he stood up. Drawing this out would only make it harder on both of them.

  Holding out his good hand, he took her goblet and set it on the table. After helping her to her feet, he began pulling the pins from her hair. Thick dark strands tumbled down her back and around her shoulders.

  “Much better,” he murmured.

  She still didn’t move, so he slid his hand down from her hair to her cheek, lingering on her shoulder. When she shivered, he lifted his hand to her chin, nudging it up until she looked at him.

  “Are you cold, Megan?”

  “N-nay.” Her teeth chattered.

  “There is a draft in here. I think it best if we retire to the warmth of the bed.”

  “But I’m no’ yet tired.”

  “Hmmm...it wasn’t sleep I was thinking about.” Rolf fingered the top button of her nightdress and watching as a flash of panic shot across her face.

  “But why must I remove my gown when ye are still clad?”

  Looking down at himself, Rolf nodded. “So I am.” Pulling his shirt over his head, he cast it to the chair. “There, I’ve taken off my shirt. Does that make you more comfortable?”

  Averting her gaze from his chest, Megan shook her head. “Nay, no’ really.”

  He sighed. Sitting down in the chair, he pulled off his boots one by one, followed by his stockings. Barefoot and bare-chested, he stood in front of her, his hands on his hips. “Now?”

  “I...ah, would like some more wine. It might warm me.”

  “I can think of another and more pleasurable way to warm you. Come now, Megan, don’t you think it’s time to remove this gown?”

  She gasped as his fingers unfastened the top button of her collar and began to caress the skin at her throat. “I...I think ’Twould be better if I kept it on. Besides, as ye said, there is a wee bit o’ a draft in here.”

  Rolf’s dark eyebrow shot up in amusement. “Are you saying that you wish to conduct our lovemaking within the layers of this woolen gown?”

  “Aye.” She looked up at him with a questioning look. “I mean if ’tis possible to do so.”

  Rolf smiled. “All things are possible, Megan. But I assure you that your gown would only be in the way.”

  “Can ye...can ye be the first to undress?”

  Without comment, Rolf unfastened the ties at the front of his breeches and stepped out, leaving them on the floor. Spreading out his arms, he gave himself up to her inspection. “Better now?”

  Megan lifted her gaze, drawing in a sharp breath. “I expected ye to be rendered vulnerable by your nakedness. But ’tis exactly the opposite.”

  “I’m not ashamed to show you who I am, Megan. I don’t want you to be afraid.”

  “Thank ye for your consideration. Ye should know ’tis no’ the first time I’ve seen a man unclothed. I’ve long been responsible for treating the injuries of my clansmen. But for the first time in my life I’m looking at a man in a different light. You are my husband and in all truth, ye are a magnificent specimen of a man.”

  “You do understand there is nothing wrong with what we are about to do as husband and wife.”

  “I know. ’Tis just...” She fell silent.

  “Just what, Megan?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Well, I know ye married me to gain legitimacy in the eyes o’ my people and secure a stronger foothold for the English here in the Highlands. But ye could have just have easily seen me wed to Edwin Farrington without a stain to your reputation and still achieved your goals. So why did ye really wed me?”

  Rolf moved to wind a strand of her dark hair about his finger. “It’s true that was part of the reason I wed you. But I also married you because I wanted to. It’s the damnedest thing, but I’ve been attracted to you from the first moment I saw you huddled in the snow, wrapped in that black wolf pelt. You are not like any woman I’ve ever known, Megan. Somehow it became inconceivable that I might leave here, never really knowing what happened to you and what it would be like to share that remarkable spirit of yours.”

  “Then ye do care for me?” The words came slowly, as if she were afraid to speak them aloud.

  “Certainly enough to hand you a knife with which to kill me. I pledged my life to you today, Megan. If you wish to take it, there will certainly be a time when you would be able to do so.”

  “I would never willingly harm ye. But things between us are so complicated and tangled, that sometimes the truth is hard to find.”

  “I’m not going to let anything come between us anymore.”

  “I wish ye wouldn’t say that. There’s much ye still don’t know about me.”

  “I know that you are my wife. Right now, that is enough for me.”

  “I care for ye too. There may be things that will happen between us to give ye cause to doubt it, but ’tis true. I don’t know how it happened, but I do know that ever since I’ve met ye, ye’ve kept your word to me and acted wi’ honor.”

  “Is that really the only reason you care for me, Megan?”

  She exhaled a deep breath. “Nay, I
suppose ’tis no’ the only reason. Sometimes when we are together, I feel different. It’s as if I can’t quite seem to catch my breath and my stomach flutters like it is full o’ butterflies. But other times, like tonight at the banquet, I feel as if ye are a cold, aloof stranger.”

  “Tonight? At the banquet?” Rolf repeated puzzled.

  “Aye, ’twas like I was no’ there. I thought that mayhap now that ye got what ye wanted, ye no longer wished to bargain with the Wolf to provide my clansmen wi’ pardons and land grants.”

  “I gave you my word that I would.”

  “But those same men tried to kill ye today. No one would blame ye if ye decided to rescind your promises.”

  “I don’t go back on my word. Ever.”

  Megan sighed, tucking the wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “’Tis still hard for me to accept the word o’ an Englishman. Ye canna blame me for that.”

  Rolf placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. “I’m not just an Englishman anymore. I am your husband. And if you must know, the true reason I paid you scant attention at the banquet was to keep from sweeping you off to my bedchamber before an acceptable amount of time had passed. I’ve done a lot of thinking about this night, Megan.”

  She blushed at the implication of his words. “But I’ve no’ been wi’ a man before. What if I disappoint ye?”

  “You will not disappoint me, Megan. And I’ll not force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I want to make this a pleasurable experience, not a frightening one.”

  “’Tis why ye have disrobed in front o’ me. Ye wish to set me at ease.”

  He grinned. “Yes. Do you realize we’ve been standing here talking for some time and I am completely unclad? Are you comfortable yet with what you see?”

  Megan stepped back from him. “Nay. For I’ve no’ seen all o’ ye.” She glanced at his left hand, which was still gloved and hung at his side.

  Rolf followed her gaze, frowning. “I don’t normally remove it. It’s not a pleasant sight.”