Loving the Knight: Book 2: Eryndal & Andrew (The Hansen Series: Rydar & Grier and Eryndal & Andrew)
Page 21
Drew swallowed thickly. “I will.”
“Do ye think he remembers me fondly?” she whispered.
Drew took hold of her hand, stilling its frenetic action. Her pale and transparent skin was cold, in spite of her proximity to the fire. “Until his dying day, Mother.”
She nodded, her gazed fixed on the flames.
“We should go,” Maggie said.
Drew kissed the back of the skeletal hand laying limp in his. Then he placed it in her lap, where it reapplied its mindless purpose. He stood to follow Maggie from the croft.
His mother’s words hit his back like a mace. “I’m glad to see ye once afore I died, Drew.”
He spun to face her, but she stared blankly into the hearth. Whatever moment of clarity had transpired, it was only that—a moment. Drew felt rooted, unable to move, savoring the surprisingly longed-for benediction. Forgiven.
She looked at him again, and the emptiness had returned. “Where’s my boy Danny? The fire needs wood.”
February 8, 1355
“What do ye mean, ye are leaving?” Maggie blurted. “Ye only just arrived!”
Drew stood in the kitchen, dressed in his warmest travel clothes. Kennan was already outside with the horses. “And I will come back soon, I promise ye that. I’ll not stay away any more.”
Maggie’s lower lip began to tremble and she pinched it. “You are a cold man, Andrew Drummond. Heartless is what ye are.”
He shook his head. “I’m no’ Maggie.”
“Aye ye are.”
“If I was truly heartless, I would no’ be riding back to Castleton to stop a marriage.”
That stopped her. “Whose marriage?”
“The woman I love is about to marry another man. And being here with you has proven I’d be the biggest horse’s arse in Scotland if I did no’ go stop her,” he confessed.
Maggie’s jaw flapped wordlessly.
“No’ so heartless now, am I?” he taunted.
Maggie grabbed his shoulders, spun him around, and shoved him toward the door—hard. “Go, ye fool! What are ye doing wasting time here? Go win me a sister afore ye end up a useless and withered auld bachelor!”
“Wait!” Drew laughed at her sudden switch of temper. “I have a bit of business to give ye!”
He handed her the letter that he wrote the night before. Maggie read the letter aloud.
I, Andrew Allen Drummond, give control of my property, the Drummond lands south of Falkirk, to Laird Marcas Stuart Drummond, for as long as I remain absent from the property. All profits garnered during that time will belong to Laird Marcas Drummond, save one tenth to be held in trust for myself and my progeny.
Lord Andrew Allen Drummond
Knight and Courtier to King David II of Scotland
7 February 1355
“Ye ken what ye’ve done with his name and position is no’ exactly legal,” he explained. “This letter—and my seal—give ye backing, should anyone dispute it.”
“But one tenth is no’ much money, mind,” Maggie countered. “Ye can no’ live on it well.”
Drew smiled at his little sister. Apparently she did no’ consider that he received nothing at all from the estate for the past fifteen years. “As long as I remain in the service of His Majesty, I am very well provided for. Do no’ worry about me.”
“But the lady ye are chasing after?” Maggie pressed.
“She has income from a property which she is holding in trust until the young master comes of age.” Drew shrugged, feeling that was enough explanation for now. “It was the Death.”
Maggie carefully folded the document. “Aye. Well. Thank ye, Drew.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head; an action reminiscent of their childhood.
She looked up at him. “How far is Castleton?”
“Eighty miles or so.”
“And when is the wedding?”
“Tomorrow.”
Her eyes rounded like jade platters and she shoved him away from her again. “GO!”
February 8, 1355
Castleton, Scotland
Eryn sat by the fire in the Hall, answering questions about the next afternoon’s wedding supper, and stitching her gown. She had to pull out a row of stitches because she had done it wrong, and was rethreading her needle when she noticed the tremble in her fingers.
Stop that.
During her waking hours, she applied herself unceasingly to preparations for marrying Geoffrey. She conferred with Jamie for hours over the logistical plans for the wedding and its subsequent supper. The decision was landed upon to invite all of the tenants to the chapel for the wedding mass. As for the supper, Eryn didn’t feel she could afford to feed them all again so close after the Christmas banquet, but she thought setting up a barrel or two of ale in the courtyard after mass would be a nice gesture.
“Aye, my lady,” Jamie nodded. “They will understand.”
“And how do they feel about it, Jamie?” she probed. “Are they pleased to have Geoffrey as their lord until Liam reaches maturity?”
The steward cleared his throat, then said, “They can no’ see another Castleton resident more qualified to stand beside ye.”
It seems Jamie is doing some ‘qualifying’ of his own. “Another ‘Castleton resident’?” she pressed. “Is there another they have in mind?”
Jamie leaned toward her. The glint in his eyes was kind. “My lady, ye must do what ye must do.”
What did he think she should do? She told Drew to leave, and he did. He left. He left Castleton and he left her. He was gone. That’s the end of that.
“That’s a very enigmatic answer, Jamie,” she said, hoping he would explain.
He leaned back “No, Lady Eryn. It is no’.”
Shite.
She pricked her finger.
Eryn sucked the drop of blood off her fingertip and then pressed a scrap of fabric against it until it stopped bleeding. Mister McIntyre stepped into the Hall and asked about the next day’s schedule. Apparently he wanted to do some sort of scientific experiment with Liam and wondered if there would be time.
“I would wait until the following day,” Eryn counseled. “Plans never seem to unfold as simply as they are laid out.”
Mister McIntyre bowed. “Yes, my lady.”
Liam.
Now there was an entirely different set of problems.
Once Geoff agreed to marry her in spite of her outburst at Drew, Eryn denied his requests to see her for the rest of the day. She could not allow him to see her so distraught, so heartbroken. It wasn’t until the next day, when Jamie informed her that the knight really was gone—with no indication of return—that she put on a gown and met Geoff in her chamber.
“Are ye ill?” he asked when he first saw her.
“I’m only tired, Geoff,” she answered truthfully. “I don’t seem to be recovering from the catarrh as quickly as I hoped.”
He pulled a chair close to hers and sat. “I’ll help ye. Ye won’t have to do it all yourself anymore.”
For some reason, that thought irritated her. It pricked the sorest spot in her character and made her want to slap him. “I’m quite capable.”
He gave her a chiding look. “I ken ye are. Only a man can accomplish some things that a woman can no’ is what I’m saying.”
This wasn’t getting better.
Eryn clenched her jaw and weighed her responses. She could challenge him and start another argument. But what would that gain her? She was tired of fighting with men who thought they knew what was best for her. They didn’t listen anyway. And then they did foolish things—things they had no right to do—to make their point.
Better, then, to concede the position and do what all women did: appear to give in to the man’s way of thinking while working out their own purposes behind him.
“Perhaps you are right,” she murmured.
Geoffrey relaxed in his seat. “Have ye told Liam yet?”
“No.”
Because my heart is broken and telling the boy will make it real. “I thought we could tell him together,” she said instead.
Geoff grinned. “That’s a bonny idea. Shall I fetch him?”
Eryn nodded and arranged her face into a smile. “Yes. Do.”
Liam followed Geoffrey into the chamber and stood in front of them, his expression suspicious. Eryn realized that in the past whenever Liam was summoned to face the two of them, he was in some sort of trouble.
“You are not here because you did anything wrong, Liam,” she assured him.
His shoulders relaxed. He remained silent, but his curious gaze bounced between her and Geoff. The Roman coin Drew gave him rested against his tunic and glowed dully in the firelight.
I shall have to ask him to wear that inside his shirt, Eryn resolved. Or be forever reminded.
“We have news for ye,” Geoff began. “I think ye will be pleased.”
The boy’s eyes rounded. “Lord Andrew is coming back?”
Eryn exhaled, punched in the chest by his words. “No,” she coughed. “He’s not.”
Geoffrey’s expression tightened. “Lady Eryn and I are to be married.”
Liam’s brow twitched and furrowed. “But—”
“Tomorrow,” Eryn said before Liam could speak his objection.
Geoff grasped her hand and held it far too tightly. “We hoped ye would be as excited about this as we are, Liam.”
Young William Bell, future lord of the Bell estate, shot Eryn such a look of betrayal that she felt her heart momentarily stop its rhythm. Tears brightened his eyes, though they didn’t fall.
Neither did hers.
Her gaze asked his forgiveness.
His fell away and searched the room.
Then he ran to her bedside and took up the amber and silver rosary beads with the beautiful wooden crucifix—her parting gift from the nuns of Elstow Abbey.
“What are ye doing, Liam?” she demanded.
He walked to the chamber door before he turned around. He had an odd look on his face; somewhere between joy and triumph. Eryn glanced at Geoff. He didn’t seem to notice.
Liam slipped the rosary over his head. It hung a little lower than the coin. “I am going to pray very hard for your husband, my lady.”
Eryn gasped, his meaning exceedingly clear to her. “Liam…”
“That’s very thoughtful of ye, Liam,” Geoffrey said with a smile. “And I appreciate ye doing so, son.”
Liam left the chamber, his shoulders set and his head high.
Geoffrey faced her and gave her a little kiss on her cheek. “He took it very well, no?”
Shite.
She pricked her finger again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Eryn put the gown away before she stained it with her bloodied fingers, which were feeling tender and overly stuck now anyway. If she worked on it again after supper, the gown would be wearable by the morrow.
And if not, I’ll wear another.
She was not nearly as joyful as she thought she might be on the eve of her wedding. Before Lord Andrew Drummond darkened her doorway, she was satisfied enough with Geoffrey; he had been her friend and confidant for nearly twelve years. Then it was marriage itself she was uncertain of.
But now that Drew had warmed her bed and set her on fire, she knew what she would be missing in her marriage. Him.
“Enough of that, now,” she said to herself. “What cannot be, cannot be.” Now was the time to look forward, not back.
“And what can no’ be, Lady Bell?” Geoffrey asked. He walked across the room, his soft gray eyes pinned to hers. When he reached her side, he asked again, “What can no’ be?”
Eryn sniffed and wiped at non-existent tears, thinking quickly. “My mother and father cannot be at my wedding,” she answered. “Now that I know who they were, it feels I’ve lost them all over again.
Geoff moved behind her chair and rubbed her shoulders. “Is that it, then?”
“Aye,” she sighed.
“I thought it might be something else.”
Eryn tried not to tense under his touch. “What, Geoff?”
He stopped his ministrations and came around to kneel in front of her. “I love ye, Eryndal Smythe Bell.”
“I know you do.” She ran her fingers through his wiry brown hair. “I never doubted you.”
“But ye never say it back.”
Eryn’s fingers paused but she forced them back into action, hoping he didn’t notice. “Don’t be silly, Geoff. Of course I do.”
He pulled her hand from his hair and gripped it in front of his chest. “Say it now.”
Her heartbeat began to race. “What? That I love you?”
Geoff nodded slowly. “Aye. I want to hear it.”
“I love you.”
“Do ye?”
Eryn leaned forward. “Geoff, you have been my dearest friend—my only friend in fact—for the last dozen years. How could I not love you?”
He looked wounded. “Is that all? Friendship?”
“I—I don’t know that I ever understood what love is, Geoff. I never saw love between men and women growing up with the nuns,” she murmured. “I’m only now learning.”
Geoff nodded again.
Eryn squeezed the hand that held hers. “I ask you to be patient with me. I’ll be the best wife I can to you.”
“I suppose that’s all I can ask,” he conceded.
“And you?” she pressed. “Will you be a kind husband?”
A wry smile curled Geoffrey’s lips. “Aye.”
He stood then and pulled her to her feet. When his lips met hers, Eryn kissed him back with more than her usual enthusiasm. She searched desperately for a hint of the passion that Drew sparked and set aflame. If only Geoff would coax her more, draw her into his arousal, claim her as his.
Eryn opened her mouth a little. She pressed the tip of her tongue against Geoff’s lips. He grunted a little and allowed her tongue into his mouth. She tentatively stroked his tongue with hers.
Geoff roughly pushed her back. His fingers dug into her shoulders and his arms were stiff as swords.
Eryn felt her face flush and her lips tingled from the pressure of the kiss. Her heart thudded nervously; the last emotion she felt at that moment was passion.
Geoff gaped at her as if seeing the shade of someone long dead. He barely breathed. His eyes widened and his brow lowered. Then he whirled on his boot heel and strode quickly from the Hall without another word.
Eryn slumped back into her chair and stared at the stone flooring. What was that about?
“I only wanted to make him feel loved,” she said to the stones. “What did I do wrong?”
The manor was clean. The ale kegs were ready to be set out in the courtyard and tapped. The menu for the small wedding luncheon was set. The priest was paid in advance to come to the Bell chapel to perform the wedding mass the next day. The wedding contract was drawn up and only needed signatures.
Liam had a new tunic. Eryn finished her new gown. The linens in her chamber were washed and aired, ready for her to share her marriage bed with Geoffrey on the morrow. All that still required preparation was her heart. It was being singularly uncooperative. It demanded Drew.
Eryn ordered a bath. She decided to throw thrift out the window and poured a generous amount of her best scented oil into the water, hoping it would lift her mood. She soaked in the steaming liquid until her extremities paled and wrinkled like fresh summer raisins.
Her mood was, unfortunately, still wrinkled as well.
Climbing from the cooled water, Eryn absent-mindedly scrubbed her skin with linen towels until their chafing brought her attention back to the task. She put on an old and worn night dress, feeling the need for its soft comfort.
She sat in front of the fire and combed her water-darkened hair until it gleamed of gold and brass. And then she watched the flames, entranced.
Sudden violent pounding on her door sent a shock of terror prickling through her. She leapt to her feet. She ran to the bed before she wondered what good that might do.
“ERYN!” a deep voice bellowed. “OPEN YER DOOR!”
The pounding continued. Eryn tiptoed closer. “Who is there?” she called.
Silence.
“S’yer betrothed! Who the hell do ye think is at yer door?”
“Geoffrey?” she asked, surprised.
Another bang on the door made her jump back. “Open the damn door!”
Eryn weighed her choices. She didn’t think Geoff would hurt her, and certainly his ruckus had drawn attention from other members of the household—even if it was past the middle of night. She unlatched the door and cracked it open.
Geoff pushed the portal against her, nearly knocking her down. He staggered into the room, wrapped in a cloud of tavern odors: ale, sweat, and smoke.
“What’s the matter with you?” Eryn demanded.
He spun unsteadily and blinked red eyes in her direction. “I was celebrating’ our upcomin’ weddin’!”
“Shouldn’t that make you happy?” she snorted.
He poked the air in her general direction. “It would—if half the town wasna speculatin’ about ye and the knight!”
Eryn was struck dumb. Half the town? What had they seen? What was being said? She pushed the chamber door closed to hush his accusations while her mind worked furiously, trying to make sense of Geoff’s words.
Geoff swayed in the center of her room. “Ye kissed me like a harlot today!”
“Like a what?” Eryn yelped.
“A harlot!” He leaned forward from the waist and nearly toppled over. “I never kissed ye tha’ way afore!”
That’s your fault. “That doesn’t mean—”
“The hell it don’t!” He moved closer.
She backed up.
“I wouldna be surprised if ye spread yer thighs for him, and he was here!” Geoff shouted.