by Mary Wine
Ronchford cursed. His fist hit the table, making the coins bounce. He stared at the cards and cursed once more.
A second later he pushed back from his spot, his chair legs skidding on the floor. He scraped his remaining coins back into a purse. “I’m done with playing with Scots.”
“Oh, such a shame.” Keir pulled his winnings toward him and took another swallow of wine. Edmund was silent, his attention on the pile of money in front of him. Keir fondled it, sliding his hand into the coins and allowing them to slip through his fingers.
“Nothing sounds quite like that, now does it, laddie.” Keir announced.
Edmund looked across the room, but the loan merchant shook his head. Anger turned his face red and his gaze returned to the pile of gold and silver coins in front of Keir.
“What are ye going to do with that much coin? Buy sheep?” Edmund demanded
It was a common slur, one that Keir had heard before. The English nobility considered Scotland a barbaric place, devoid of modern homes and comforts. It was an attitude most of his fellow lairds enjoyed allowing to flourish. It kept the English out of their ancestral lands.
“Well now…I do enjoy knowing we’ve got sheep aplenty.” Keir rolled his head and lifted the wine tankard to his lips. Edmund leaned forward.
“You should set your sights on English land.”
Keir opened his eyes wide. “Now, where would I find a man willing to sell me land? Ye English nobles enjoy keeping that in the family.”
Keir allowed a thick brogue to settle over his words. Edmund reached into his doublet.
“My sister has a dowry that includes a rich parcel of land.”
“I thought ye didna care for me, laddie.” The lordling winced when he called him laddie once again. “Why would ye offer me the chance to marry into the family?”
“I like your money.”
“Och now. That’s the sort of thing I can be appreciating.” Keir took another swig of wine. “Let me see it.”
Edmund tightened his fingers around the parchment. “Do we have an agreement?”
“Nae afore I’ve looked at it, we don’t.”
Edmund hesitated. The parchment crinkled but he extended it. Keir had to control the urge to snatch it out of his hand. He made his movements slow and uncoordinated.
“Well now. Isna that a sweet document. ’Course, it wouldna mean anything unless it were signed and sealed.”
“My father’s seal is on it.”
“Och now, are ye saying that yer daddy is the one I need to be negotiating with, laddie?”
Edmund’s face turned red. He reached for a candle. “My father is no longer running his estate. Everything is mine to direct. And I want everything in front of you for the land. You get Helena for your wife but not a shilling more. Only the land that is her dowry.”
“Sounds better than sheep. Doesn’t it, lads?”
His men didn’t disappoint him. They slapped their thighs and chuckled, making a few heated jests along with it. Edmund saw exactly what he wanted to see—a bunch of ignorant Scots who were easily duped. That was something his fellow Scots had been using against the English for centuries—their own arrogance. Edmund smirked, his confidence in his superiority restored.
“Well then, sign it and we have a deal.”
Cold-blooded whelp…
The only sympathy Keir had was for the mother who had once rejoiced at Edmund’s birth. It was a shame that his father had failed to mold him into a man. He poured melted wax from the candle onto the parchment and pressed his own signet ring into it. Keir suppressed a shudder for the callous way he signed over his sister.
But he did nothing to stop the burning flow of satisfaction that filled him when the parchment was handed back to him.
His…
Such a powerful idea. Beneath his kilt his cock hardened.
“Och, well I think it’s time for ye to be heading home, laird.” Farrell patted him on the shoulder, a couple of other men helping.
“Is it now?” Keir played his part, smiling at his men while Edmund was absorbed with the pile of coins gleaming in the candlelight.
“So it is.” He tucked the parchment into his doublet while his men pushed him through the door. They laughed and staggered until they stepped onto the street. The second they did, every man straightened. Their pace increased tenfold on the way to the stable where they’d left their horses.
Keir swung onto his horse, his men only a breath behind him. “Let’s clear away from here, lads.” Before Edmund set some of the low-life scum hiding in the dark corners of the tavern after the document that would allow him to claim Helena.
By the time Edmund’s men gave chase, there wasn’t a McQuade kilt in sight, the night masking them and the drink the English had partaken of dulling their wits. They shrugged and looped their arms over the prostitutes, giving them their attention.
Scots. They were only Scots….
Edmund Knyvett smiled. He was pleased. Only a mild amount of annoyance interfered with his happiness when his men failed to return with the parchment. He was not concerned. The parchment meant little. Why, it might take years for him to decide that Helena was ready to take her marriage vows. Her dowry and its rents remained his until she knelt at the altar.
Gullible Scot. He needed to play cards with the man again.
“That bastard sold ye his sister?” Farrell asked the question for the third time.
Keir merely shrugged. “If I say anything, it’s bound to be something profane which would be a wee bit misplaced, considering I’m happy with the bargain.”
“Ah, but will the lassie be happy with it? Now there’s the question. What are ye going to do with an English noblewoman on McQuade land?”
Keir rubbed his chin. Tension knotted his shoulders. Helena Knyvett was everything he’d hoped to bring back in a wife. Even if her brother detested him, her family relations wouldn’t risk offending him. They’d all consider that Edmund didn’t have a son of his own and that fate might deliver the title he was set to inherit into Helena’s children’s hands.
Aye, that was what he’d set out to accomplish. But the tension tightened. He’d never been unkind to a woman before. Locking Helena into a marriage that might not please her left a bitter taste in his mouth. But his responsibilities as laird saw him riding toward court at first light. ’Twas a laird’s duty to bring home a wife whose dowry would add to his clan’s estate. He was locked into it as surely as Helena, whose own family would see her wedding for position. The only comfort was in knowing that she’d never feel his fist against her cheek.
For the moment, it would have to be enough.
“Keir McQuade.”
The royal chamberlain called out his name before noon. Keir wasn’t surprised. The gossips began feasting on the topic of his newly acquired bride the moment he arrived and his men spilled the information exactly as instructed. Edmund Knyvett scowled at him before the lordling even made it halfway across the great hall, his noble friends hurrying to whisper in his ear.
“Edmund Knyvett.”
The chamberlain sent his white staff into the stone floor with a single bang. It echoed through the abnormally quiet great hall. The king sat on his chair looking regal and angry. The royal guards on either side of him stared straight ahead but their eyes betrayed how much they were listening to everything that happened in the presence of the king.
“The pair of you have had a busy night.” Thick annoyance coated the king’s voice. He looked at Edmund. “Tell me ye didna settle a game of cards with yer sister’s dowry.”
“I hardly think that a game of cards is anything for Your Majesty to waste your valuable time on. The Scot and I simply found something we have in common.”
“Careful, Knyvett, I’m a Scot myself. Keep saying the word like a curse and I might take insult.”
Edmund narrowed his eyes. “Your mother was an English princess.”
“And my father was a Scotsman. Which is why I am yer king and McQ
uade’s as well. Now enough stalling. Half my nobles are fearing that their daughters might become the winnings of drunken no-goods while the other half are considering putting their own daughters up in exchange for debts that need settling. It’s a damned mess the pair of you started.”
Edmund chuckled. He didn’t seem to have any more self-discipline in the presence of his monarch than he did elsewhere. Keir was not so foolish. James kept them both standing to drive home their position compared to his.
Keir simply reached into his doublet and pulled out the parchment. James Stuart slapped the arm of his chair.
“And you want to swear yer fealty to me? What sort of man are ye to be accepting something like that?”
“I tracked down the bastard to beat him senseless. I settled for winning a fortune from him.”
“You have nothing but a parchment until I decide that my sister is ready to marry. I am her guardian.”
James rose, his guards instantly stepping a half step forward. “Why did you want to fight with him, McQuade?”
“Because he beat his sister for telling you the truth, and locked her in an attic for nae being willing to watch another girl’s reputation become stained. He left her there for days without food while he went gaming. He is nae a fit guardian. I say ye should give yer blessing to our union so that I can treat her appropriately.”
“I say you shall not have anything to do with my sister.” Edmund’s voice rose. “Even my king cannot order a peer to marry. Helena is a peer and you are beneath her! I’ll see her an old woman before kneeling at the altar beside you.”
Keir’s fist connected with Edmund’s jaw. He staggered backward, a look of stunned shock on his face. The royal guards lowered their pikes and Keir stared at the deadly ends of the weapons.
“Give me that parchment, McQuade.”
The king waved his guards away and took the document. He scanned it with a critical eye.
“Both yer and yer father’s seal’s are on this, Knyvett. McQuade can take ye to court and win.”
Edmund tossed his head. Hatred blazed from his eyes. “But that will still not get him a wife.”
“Ye would do that to yer own sister? Drag her through years of legal bickering while her chance to bear children is passed over by time?”
Edmund resumed his poised appearance, one foot placed in front of the other, while his face appeared bored. “Women are meant to be used to further their family connections. Helena is no different.”
The king considered his comment for a long moment. He lifted one thick finger. “Peers are meant to serve their king. I can think of several posts in Scotland that need an ambassador.”
“That is—”
“Is what, sir?” James Stuart gripped the arms of his chair but remained sitting while Edmund sputtered. “It is the will of yer king.”
“McQuade is nothing! My sister is pure nobility.”
“Ye’re the one who bartered her like a common whore,” Keir snarled through his teeth.
“You broke into my home. I don’t have to discuss anything with a thief.”
“But you do have to serve yer king.”
Edmund sniffed, disdain clear on his face. He shot a look full of seething hatred toward Keir.
The king raised his hand and pointed at Edmund.
“Ye’ll be my man on McQuade land, since the last laird was run through by my guards. Laird McQuade will give you accommodations and you shall remain there until I summon ye and yer sister back to court. My own royal guard shall escort ye north.”
Keir sent his fist into his opposite hand. The loud popping sound bounced off the walls of the receiving chamber. Edmund paled, fear showing on his face.
“Unless the man were to marry,” James continued, his voice as smooth as honey. “New couples need their privacy.”
“But he is…common!”
“Common? He is a laird, which is a title as old as yer own, Knyvett.” James Stuart rose. “The man came to court to kneel before his king while ye are here to further yer own schemes. I’ve had enough of this. Open the doors!”
Royal servants obeyed, pulling the doors wide to allow them to be viewed by everyone in the great hall. A hush instantly fell over the courtiers as they lowered their heads. Keir’s men stood right outside the door and took instant advantage of the chance to join their laird.
The king turned to face him and extended his hand. “I will hear yer vow of loyalty, McQuade. ’Tis clear to me that ye’re a man who will tell me the truth even when I don’t want to hear it.”
Keir knelt, every one of his men following. His heart was suddenly beating faster. He was almost grateful to Edmund for giving him the chance to prove himself to the king. But that wouldn’t keep him from giving the boy the beating he had coming once they reached McQuade land.
“My word, my strength, and my blood forever!”
He took the king’s hand and kissed it in a tradition that went back farther than the Roman Empire.
“Ye will rise and be acknowledged as Baron Hurst. I confer yer father’s third wife’s title onto ye. Yer sister Bronwyn doesna need it since her husband has his own title.”
“Sire…” Enraged, Edmund protested.
“Yer father petitioned me for it several times. Rise, Baron Hurst, Laird McQuade.”
Keir pushed to his feet, certain that his father was screaming in hell. The man had gone to great lengths to get what his third wife held in her name alone. He’d tried to soil his own daughter’s name just to keep the land and title that he’d never known was willed to her female offspring, and not her husband. Applause filled the great hall while Edmund stifled his objections.
Keir stared back at the man, the open door providing the perfect opportunity to press him.
“When is my wedding?”
Edmund pressed his lips into a tight line but the silence in the hall rippled with whispers. He ground his teeth, his lips turning white all the while the whispers grew in volume.
“Tomorrow.”
Chapter Six
Edmund slammed into the town house again. Helena simply shook her head. If her brother ever appeared happy, she was afraid she might faint dead away at his polished boot tips.
“You think yourself so cleaver.”
“What vexes you now, brother?” Helena refused to shirk in the face of his temper. Edmund could simply deal with the fact that she was restricted to the town home instead of the attic.
“You and your dim little view of the world. Unable to grasp the fact that I was doing you a favor by trying to disgrace that McKorey witch.” Edmund surprised her by looking down the hallway. She was used to him bellowing for wine the moment he arrived. Instead he shut the door.
“Well, you will be the one to suffer. Unless I help you. I shouldn’t.”
Dread crept down her neck. Edmund was sober, making his words harder to ignore.
“The king has decreed that I am not a fit guardian for you anymore.”
“Am I going home?” It would be too good a turn of fate, but she couldn’t help but hope.
Her brother smiled. It was a cold curving of his lips that sent ice through her heart.
“You’re getting married.”
Expecting such news didn’t make it easier to absorb. Helena felt the announcement hit her as solidly as Edmund’s fist had connected with her face. He watched her face, enjoyment lighting his eyes.
“Your little defiance in front of the king has netted you a change of authority by royal command.”
“Who?”
“Sir Ronchford.”
Helena gagged. She could not hold it back. Philip Ronchford might have been born into a good name, but the man was rotten. He was also old enough to be her father and some to spare. Keir’s face surfaced in her mind, just as she told Raelin it would, and tears stung her eyes.
“Tomorrow night you will be his wife.” Edmund leaned closer, sneering in her ear. “After all, the man really doesn’t have any time to squander. He wants an heir a
nd needs to get to deflowering you quickly. I understand he has quite a bit of stamina in spite of his age.”
“Don’t be horrible, Edmund!”
“Me, dear sister? The king has ordered you wed. I have done nothing save try to better your lot!”
And the details did not matter….
Helena turned and paced across the room. Her simple traveling dress was much easier to walk in, the wool skirts flipping away from her rapid steps. Which was good because her heart was pounding. Sweat popped out on her forehead and she could not keep her thoughts from racing. The image of Ronchford looking into her bed, leering at her with a mouth full of blackened teeth made her gag. She hugged herself, trying to fend off the idea of him reaching in to pull the bedding back and bare her for his possession.
“I don’t know why I’m even bothering to suggest helping you escape….”
Helena froze. Distrust shot through her, but the idea of avoiding marriage to Ronchford was too tantalizing to ignore, even if she suspected that her brother was scheming yet again.
“How?”
Edmund smirked at her, enjoying the fact that she was waiting on his whim. Her temper rose. She was suddenly so horrified she wanted to throw something at his mocking face. He had brought her to this terrible fate. She snarled at him, shaking with the need to exact vengeance. His eyes went wide but he whispered the words she was desperate to hear.
“Run away.”
He leaned in closer. “I cannot be suspected of assisting you, so you cannot be seen leaving.”
She swallowed, trying to gain a hand on her panic.
Edmund’s voice was suddenly so welcome because it offered her a solution that did not include spreading her thighs for Ronchford in less than one day. She wouldn’t be the first young bride that found herself at the mercy of an old man once the church blessing was given. She’d be Ronchford’s for the taking, and he would take. Ronchford was every bit as selfish as her brother.
“I am going out as I normally do. My driver is trustworthy. He will wait for you by the market and take you to Bride Dale.”
Bride Dale…their aunt Celia’s home. The woman was in her elderly years and never had anyone to visit. It would be a quiet place to remain out of the notice of nobles. Hope glittered in front of her like water to the parched. All she needed to do was reach for it.