by Mary Wine
Liam looked confused. “Sodac can deal with Bronwyn.”
“I warned ye, boy. Don’t assume that she’s secure.” He stopped when heads turned toward them. Waving his sons toward the doors he covered the distance in quick strides. Once they reached the outer entry room, he stopped in an empty alcove well away from the main entrance.
“As much as I detest the fact that I have a daughter, there is no getting past the fact that she is my child. Have her watched by my lad. I’d no put it past her to strike out on her own to try her hand at surviving among the middle class. One of those merchants will jump at the chance to wed the daughter of a laird. You can set the men to watching her, but it is you and Sodac that have something to gain by making sure she doesna escape. There’s plenty of men who dinna have land to lose who’d help her out of pity.”
Liam scowled. “I dinna think of that.”
“Ye should have. I told ye last night that ye must keep yer sister tucked away or lose that land.” McQuade glared at his sons. “Make sure ye dinna forget again. We must take her back to Red Stone on the morrow and shut her away.”
“Maybe she should slip off her horse.” Sodac raised an eyebrow with his question.
“Nay. She’s a pair of hands that earns gold for our coffers. There’s another thing ye have to learn, boy…no to waste. Bronwyn can be as useful as any other servant. I would have smothered her when she was a babe if murder was on my mind. It would not have been hard to dispose of her while covering up my deed.”
“But the land…” Liam persisted.
“’Tis ours so long as she does not breed. Besides, my marriage to her mother might have been dissolved if we had no living children. I needed Bronwyn to keep her mother because she never gave me any sons.” McQuade eyed his sons. “Shaming Bronwyn in front of the court will see to keeping good offers from coming to my door. I can refuse them all by saying she’s soiled and I’ll no see any man saddled with a slut that bears my name. No man of mine will dally with her. Once she’s back at Red Stone, Scotland will forget that I even have a daughter.” McQuade suddenly chuckled. “And the best part is, I got to blame it on Cullen McJames. If what she says is true, he’ll wear the stain without ever having sampled the delights of knowing her. A fine revenge for all the trouble he’s caused me.”
Liam and Sodac joined their father in his amusement. But Erik sobered quickly.
“Get on with ye. Before she sets out for the Weavers Guild.”
Liam and Sodac rushed toward the door, eager to follow in their father’s footsteps by keeping their hands tight around every measure of land belonging to the McQuades. Erik watched them, satisfaction brushing aside the chill that had assaulted him. Most likely it had been the ghost of Bronwyn’s mother, trying to smite him for his actions, but the spirit had better get back to her grave because it was her own fault for giving him a daughter. He’d married the woman for the land and he intended to keep it any way he had to.
McQuade walked back toward the entrance to the great hall, but the guards refused him admittance. The king’s order to bring Bronwyn had seen him waiting every day that he did not bring her with him. It was the only reason that he’d brought her today, so that he could enter the main hall. Important men attended court and he needed to be viewed as a powerful laird who had the right to enter the royal hall. Appearances were everything.
“Ye saw my daughter this morning.”
The guards looked at each other. One of them gave a barely noticeable nod and the pikes uncrossed to clear the doorway.
Erik enjoyed the fact that the guards raised their pikes to allow him in. There was a ripple of annoyance from the men waiting that placed a smile on his face.
But what he didn’t see was the figure that emerged from the darker shadows of the alcove. Raelin McKorey shook her head slowly. There was no place private at court. She’d learned that lesson her first month attending the queen. A wise person guarded each thought, holding it carefully inside lest it be used against you. She waited for many long moments before approaching the entrance to the hall. The guards instantly allowed her into the hall, recognizing one of the queen’s maids. She thanked them with a shy smile; there was something else she’d learned the value of—always flirt lightly with the royal guard. It endeared a girl to them and made life so much easier. But there was a fine line to observe when dealing with men. Go too far and your reputation suffered. The gossips were vicious. They condemned without mercy any girl who even looked at a man too boldly.
Like Bronwyn McQuade.
It would seem that she should have listened to her brother after all. She was more than glad to hear it because Cullen McJames was a good man. It was just a shame that he was so interested in Bronwyn McQuade. She’d seen the truth of that with her own eyes. Envy bit into her as she threaded her way through the courtiers in search of Cullen. No man had ever looked at her with such a longing. Bronwyn was a lucky girl, to be sure. At least the gossips would be satisfied if the pair married. That was the only solution now.
“She’s her father’s daughter, all right. Nothing but a curse to every living McJames.” Cullen rounded on James Stuart. “I dinna touch her with anything more than me hand.”
“So she said.”
The king’s words deflated his anger. Cullen shook his head trying to make sense of the whole situation. “She did?”
“She did. It is her father who claims otherwise.”
Cullen snorted. “Well I suppose I might remind ye that the man lied to ye the last time ye summoned me to court because of a charge he made against my clan.”
“I’ve nae forgotten that.” The king sat down, indicating with a wave of his fingers for Cullen to take a chair. ’Twas a privilege to be invited to sit in the presence of his monarch, but he didn’t feel like taking his ease.
“But McQuade accused the girl in the middle of the hall. The gossips are taking it as gospel. He said she was yer whore.”
Cullen snarled. The sound erupted from his throat without any thought. The ashen pallor of Bronwyn’s face suddenly made sense to him. The court had been dining on her.
“That makes no sense. Why would the man want to ruin his own daughter’s name?”
“He’s a greedy pig. Daughters must be dowered if they are to wed well.”
Cullen stared at his king for a long moment. His temper flared and he left the chair behind to pace. He suddenly recalled just how sweet Bronwyn had looked that day on the hillside, her face full of delight. Her eyes had sparkled and at first he’d thought he was imagining her. The woman he’d seen this morning was nothing like the one he’d dreamed of. That idea sent his temper up a few more degrees. He wasn’t a man who hated, but McQuade was earning it. “McQuade is a menace.”
James chuckled. “Now that is something that I shoulder more than ye do, my friend. The McJames are no the only clan that McQuade raids. McKorey is shooting me daggers since I allowed McQuade and his sons back into the royal hall. McAlister is no doubt penning me a letter expressing his displeasure over McQuade being allowed the benefits of laird when the man raids his neighbors like a common thief.”
Cullen offered his king a shake of his head. “Did I mention that I’ve no desire to be king?”
“There’s many a day I feel the same.” Jamie offered him a tankard. Cullen refused it with a quick shake of his head. Jamie chuckled.
“Ye had better watch out, Cullen. It looks like that lass has ye hooked.”
Cullen scowled. “Can I no be angry because my name was dragged through the mud in this scheme?”
“Aye, but that’s no the only reason ye want to run the man through. Ye were undressing the lass with yer eyes.”
Cullen didn’t answer. Since he didn’t understand his thoughts on the matter there was no point in trying to explain anything to the king. “’Tis the truth that I thought her interesting when I met her. She denied me her name. Now I know why.”
Cullen forgot the king for a moment as he considered just how satisfying it wo
uld be to have Bronwyn in his hands without her father and brothers around. She’d blushed for him. All their family issues aside, he’d sparked enough interest in her to turn her cheeks scarlet. Beneath his kilt, his cock stiffened.
James waved his hand. “I dinna want to know what yer thinking. Just remember that murder is a high crime, man. Even I canna change that. Ye’ll have to find a way to deal with McQuade without running the man through. Yer free to leave court.”
Cullen inclined his head toward his king before turning around.
“I could order her father to place her at court.”
Cullen turned in a swirl of kilt pleats. “Do not.” His voice cracked like a whip, full of emotions he didn’t understand beyond knowing that he wanted to deal with Bronwyn personally. The royal guards standing silently behind the king moved their eyes to stare at him now. Jamie only grinned.
“Yer mighty defensive, lad. I’ve a mind to see what sort of daughter the man has raised.”
With a shrug, Cullen returned the grin. “Since everyone seems to think I’ve already had the lass, maybe I should keep those wagging tongues from spreading lies for once. Providing ye have no objection to such a match.”
The king’s face turned pensive. It was hard to tell what the man was thinking; he hid his emotions with the years of wearing a crown.
“Have a safe journey, Cullen.”
“Aye, yer Majesty.”
The king lifted one finger. Cullen stood still, his breath freezing in his chest while he waited to hear his monarch’s decision.
“Ye have my permission to wed the lass, providing she kneels at the altar of her own free will. She’s nae like her kin and I’ll nae see her forced to wed.”
“But I have yer permission?”
“Aye, and my blessing. But promise me ye will nae name yer first son after me. We’ve too many James in Scotland nowadays.”
Nae like her kin…
Well, that remained to be seen. Cullen ground his teeth as he covered the distance toward the doors. Fans opened and whispers rippled away from him like waves in a pond. His temper strained against his control, doubling his pace. One word made it clearly to his ears.
Blackguard…
He snarled softly, his pride stung deeply.
His honor demanded action now. McQuade had miscalculated if the man thought he might strike out without gaining McJames retaliation. The man had misjudged him greatly.
A McJames never took disgrace without a fight. Cullen was going to make a struggle McQuade would never forget. He strode from the royal hall, determination fueling his stride. There was no more to think about.
’Twas time for action.
“Yer daft.” Druce swirled the ale in his mug around for a long moment. “But I suppose ’tis my own fault for teasing ye about the lass.”
“I met her.”
Druce straightened up, surprise on his face. “Yer pulling me leg, lad. I dinna want to believe ye had her as her father said.”
“I dinna have her.” His voice was rough, but he’d heard his honor questioned one too many times in a single day to keep his sense of humor. “But we spoke and her brothers caught us.” Cullen didn’t care for the look his cousin gave him. Thinking about having Bronwyn in his bed was not the same sin as doing it. “I havena touched her.”
“Yet.” Druce was done teasing. There was no amusement lurking in his eyes now. The man was pure concentration, his mind considering the details of what needed doing.
“Aye, yet.” He was no liar. Cullen stared straight back at his kin. He wanted her, wanted her enough to steal her. Maybe men talked about such things often, but he’d never truly thought he’d find himself wanting any woman enough to kidnap her. Applying his charm to the art of seduction, now that was more his style.
“Is it just yer pride that is pushing ye to do what ye’ve been accused of, Cullen?”
Druce asked a good question. One Cullen wasn’t sure about himself. There was only one thing he was sure of and that was that he was going to take Bronwyn or die in the trying.
“There will be blood spilt for sure if ye take the lass.”
Cullen snorted. “There’s been blood spilled near every season I can recall in me life by her father and his insistence that my father stole his bride.”
“He’s going to be in a full rage when ye take his daughter as well.”
Cullen shot Druce a deadly look. “McQuade should have thought about that afore he accused me of deflowering her in open court. It is my right to take her to the altar now that her father has said I took her maidenhead. That is the only thing that will save me from being labeled a blackguard.”
“That’s a truth, sure enough, but ye’ll be the one that has to endure her as yer wife. Yer friends will understand if ye dinna shoulder that burden.”
“I do not hold all of Scotland’s nobles as my friends.” Cullen slid a dirk into the top of his boot. He was arming himself for battle and Druce knew it well. “There must be fifty letters being written by those at court talking about me and my lack of honor. I wager few will take the time to debate the reasons.”
He eyed the edge of his sword in silence, his full attention on the task of checking the blade for nicks. Druce held silent until Cullen sheathed the blade.
“If that’s yer decision, I’m going with ye.” Druce reached for his own sword. “McKorey mentioned that he and a few of his men would be waiting outside the McQuade town house tonight.”
Druce shrugged when Cullen gave him a confused look.
“McKorey has as much reason to want that family laid low as the McJames do. The McQuades raid his land as often as yers. I hear Alarik was thinking of pressing the king for Bronwyn’s hand himself.”
“She’s mine.”
And the rest of Scotland could just forget that Bronwyn McQuade was born to a father who was a lying bastard that could not recall that he’d lost his bride thirty-five years ago through nothing but his own actions. His mother never lamented it. She’d loved his father until the day a battle wound took his life. His mother had followed her husband before a year passed. They had loved each other so strongly that death was not going to separate them.
He refused to believe that he and Bronwyn couldn’t work out a decent marriage. His brother had married an English woman and managed to find love. Besides, Druce was right—his pride was stung. The sort of annoying pain that would never dull unless he did something about it. McQuade had called him a defiler of innocent maids so it would serve the man right if he did take Bronwyn to his bed.
It was no more than the greedy, scheming laird deserved for his words. As for Bronwyn…she would adjust. His pride demanded action and Cullen intended to see the matter settled in his favor. The vicious gossip would transform overnight into words of praise when he stole Bronwyn and married her. If he didn’t, finding a good match would become much harder with his own reputation painted black by McQuade’s lies. No decent family would take him for a son-in-law because they’d think he was a marauder and defiler of any lass he came upon.
As he’d come across Bronwyn…
Chapter Four
Locked away.
Bronwyn felt her mouth go dry as she considered the men watching her. It was so strange the way she noticed them. It had never been a burning need of hers to roam or escape her kin, but seeing the burly retainers set to keep her inside her father’s town home, she missed the choice keenly.
With a sigh she walked around the lower dining room. She was restless, so much so it was almost anxiety. There was no cause for her feelings but she could not cast them aside. Sleep felt like a torment best avoided as long as possible but she retreated to her tiny room to escape her brothers.
Their stares reminded her of hungry rodents.
But the room was too small to move around in. She could not even make eight paces before running into the wall and having to turn around. The shutter was open to allow fresh air into the house during the day. The fires used at night to warm the larg
er sleeping chambers left a thick haze of smoke in the hallways that the staff had to clear out each morning. Every shutter was opened to help the breeze sweep the house.
A large splash from somewhere below her window drew her attention. Standing up onto her toes she peered down at the back of the house. Water glittered in the torch light. Two iron basket torches were set on either side of the kitchen door. Instead of a step, there was a ramp that led to the back door. It was more practical allowing for wheelbarrows to deliver heavy casks. The ramp also made it simple to cast used bath water out of the kitchen to flow down the gutter. There was a thick wall surrounding the back door to add security to the house. A wooden gate set into it had a sturdy wooden bar braced across it. The flicker from the torches shimmered off the bell hanging on the gate. There would be a cord that ran through the gate to the alley behind the house. Merchants could ring when they wanted to bring their wares into the kitchen. Only the master and his guests used the front door. There were no retainers at the kitchen door because of the barred gate.
A bath sounded good. Bronwyn sighed. At least it would be better than trying to sleep.
Cullen would be waiting in her dreams…
A shiver shook her. She felt heat travel across the delicate skin of her face in another blush. It was absurd, the way her flesh responded to him when he was not even near. With a snort of distaste she picked up her hairbrush and began pulling the tie off the end of her braid. She needed to set her mind to forgetting the man. The men standing guard gave her all the information she needed. Her father was going to see her living under his roof until she died. Red Stone was set in the heart of McQuade territory. The walls had never been besieged much less breached.
Sadness washed over her as she brushed her hair free. It fell around her in a soft cloud of honey silk. As she slipped her fingers down a portion of it, two tears escaped her eyes. No bridegroom would ever see her with her hair unbound. Somehow, knowing that was a hard fact, made it hurt. Perhaps she had been guarding a secret bit of hope that she might in fact marry, but now that was gone. Swept away by her own father’s powerful hand. And there were girls who lamented the fact they were not born the daughter of a laird.