by Jackie Ivie
“It’s na’ that,” Grant interrupted them.
“You have nae issue with the betrothal, then?” Henry asked.
“Are you mad? I was just given a title. A royal bride-to-be. A dowry beyond my dreams! I will be the son-in-law of England’s king! All without a hint of warning. I am simply...uh.”
“Overcome?” Henry asked.
“Unworthy,” Grant mumbled.
“You are a loyal clansman, Grant. I would na’ have put forth your name otherwise,” Rhoenne told him.
“Please! This is already difficult. You only make it more so. What I am about to confess will na’ only earn me your hatred, but you may wish to punish me. With banishment or worse! And I will deserve whatever you decide.”
“Wait.”
Rhoenne walked to the table and started pulling knives from his belt. He placed them one-by-one on the table. Then he lifted a foot, pulled the skean dhu from his sock, and did the same with the other leg. He placed those daggers next to the other blades. His short sword was pulled from its scabbard and positioned atop the pile of weaponry already on the tabletop. He didn’t wear his claymore. It leaned against a wall beside the fireplace. Once he had all his weapons removed, he moved to the door leading to the room Ida slept in, turned around, folded his arms and regarded his cousin. His mind reeled. His heart was in a pain-ridden vice, each beat sending fire through his veins. But his features were deadly calm.
Grant was the man who’d brought word of Cassandra. He’d been the one taking the ducati to the market place, supposedly to purchase the lock of hair and the jewelry piece. And no one had any information about any of it.
If his cousin had any part in her disappearance—!
Rhoenne couldn’t finish the thought. He was already trembling. He knew his reflexes. He didn’t dare have a weapon near. If Grant had anything to do with the loss of Cassandra, Rhoenne wasn’t certain even Henry could prevent what he would do.
“Verra well,” he said. “I am ready to hear.”
“I...fell in love at fifteen,” Grant began. “She was older...and so beauteous. So womanly. It was completely wrong. Dishonorable. But I couldn’t help it. My every moment was filled with thoughts of her. I wrote sonnets to her. And when I gave them to her, she’d smile and laugh. I composed songs. She told me how sweet I was.”
His voice took on a dreamy quality. Rhoenne straightened. Stared.
“And then. When I least expected it. She—. She told me she loved me, too. I was overcome. Ecstatic. And then...she even allowed me into her bed...oh! I cannot tell you how that felt. She...was my first. She made me a man. For eight days. Eight. I once thought them the most magical days of my life. We had to sneak about, of course. That added a thrill. Why once. Once! She let me tupp her...in the study. On the desk. When anyone could have interrupted.”
Aileen.
He knew it as if Grant had already told them. Rhoenne set his jaw and moved his gaze to the fire. It was better than watching his cousin as he described some of the same sensations Rhoenne had experienced, and it was much better than meeting whatever expression Henry displayed. It was Aileen the man spoke on. Nothing to do with Cassandra. The agonizing pressure about Rhoenne’s heart eased.
“And then. One night. We were uh. In bed. Fully...uh...you ken. Engaged. And the laird came back unexpectedly. I heard him on the landing just outside the chamber. I didn’t have time for more than a leap to the hall door. I barely missed ramming you.”
Rhoenne glanced at his cousin. Grant still looked down to the floor.
“Me?” Rhoenne asked.
“You did na’ see me. You were in the midst of that walking you used to do while asleep. I raced past you, down those cold halls. Naked. I heard her behind me, talking softly. Soothingly. I heard the laird’s shout of rage. It made me run even faster.”
Grant paused. A log fell in the fire as if on cue, sending out a burst of light. Grant pulled in another large breath.
“From that moment on, though...things changed. The laird took ill. Then he died. The household was silent. You’d gone missing. I did na’ ken that she’d placed you to take the punishment in my stead. I did na’ find out until you returned to the castle, all bruised and battered. That’s when I knew what she’d done. Mayhap she thought the laird would spare his favorite son and heir. I do na’ ken her thinking. But I should have confessed it to you. I should. That is where I wronged you. But I held my tongue. And as each day followed the next, it got harder and harder to speak. It has been a weight on my shoulders...for years now.”
Rhoenne met Henry’s glance again. Rhoenne sucked in his cheeks and returned to looking at the fire.
“Why didn’t you speak up?” Henry asked.
“I was in love! I told you! Or – what I thought was love. You do na’ ken what it is like. I thought—. I thought she loved me, too. It made me...special.” Grant’s voice lowered. It had a sobbed sound to it as well. “I thought...we might have a future. Once things settled down. And things got back to normal. But then—. Then—.” His words took on a hard, ugly note. “I went to her chamber. The door was locked. I waited in the hall. Hidden in a doorway. And she had a guardsman in there! They embraced in the doorway. I saw it. I felt such a swell of hatred. And disgust. And anger! You can na’ imagine.”
Oh yes, he could.
And that was the exact moment when Rhoenne realized the favor Grant had actually done for him. If it hadn’t been for the mental scarring inflicted from his father’s beating, Rhoenne wouldn’t have experienced a sick feeling whenever Aileen came near. Her manipulations could so easily have included him. And – if he was honest – they would have.
“I found her in the garden the verra next day. Spoke angry words. Ended with pleas. I am na’ proud of that episode. That’s when she told me she’d never be interested in a youth like me. She told me I was inept. I would never satisfy a woman. Because I was puny. And for years I thought it true.”
“Grant. You are a Ramhurst. There is nae way you are puny,” Rhoenne spoke up.
“I ken that...now! But back then, I was young. I had no one to speak to. What did I ken of it?”
“You’ve been around others your entire life.”
“I’ve na’ been around anyone when they’re uh...primed! I am na’ that dense. You do na’ ken what she is like. She can plant a thought...and make it believable. She did it to me a-purpose. To belittle me. To make me worry. To unman me. To make me impotent.”
“Your father should have counseled you,” Henry said.
“My da?” Grant gave a humorless snort. “He took to drink. You wish to ken why?” His voice lowered. “Because the guardsman was na’ the lone man I caught visiting her.”
“Uncle Tevin, too?” Rhoenne didn’t bother hiding the revulsion.
“And more. And then what happens? She up and wed Bhaltair? After calling me inept? He was na’ even auld enough to shave yet! You saw him. He changed. He started getting all mean. And angry. Vengeful. And...then he’s found with a knife in his chest? And no one knew what happened? Oh, Rhoenne. For all I knew, it had been my own da’!”
His voice broke on a sob then. Rhoenne tensed between his shoulders. A twinge went through the scarred flesh where he’d been shot in the back with an arrow. But he otherwise didn’t move.
“There was no one to trust. No one I could talk with. Everyone was suspect. You’d disappeared. Both of you. Nobody knew where. My da was drunk more times than not. And then—. Then.” He took another big breath. “She started anew with me. I’d find her blocking my path where I’d least expect. Wearing little clothing. Acting like I should na’ care that she’d broken my heart and treated me like offal.”
God damn Aileen!
“You did na’ take up with her again, did you?” Henry asked
“I confess. I was actually considering it. You do na’ ken what she is like. But we got the message to come serve you at King Louis’s court in France. Oh, Rhoenne. That saved my sanity....and my manhood. It was i
n France that I finally got up the courage to tupp a woman again. I discovered the truth. I’m nae slackard. And I’m na’ puny, either!”
Grant took a deep breath. Exhaled it sharply. That was so like himself, Rhoenne couldn’t help noticing again.
“Well, Cousin. That is the secret I was taking to my grave. And why I am na’ the man you think. You can na’ honor me with this title and the betrothal. I am unworthy of it.”
“I truly...was na’ with Aileen that night?” Rhoenne asked.
“Nae.”
“You swear to it?”
“Easily. I am the fastest runner in the clan and I barely had time to escape. I can na’ believe the laird did na’ see me. There is nae way you did anything. You were in the midst of a sleep-walk. You did it oft, you ken? You’d wander about, completely unaware. Sometimes we’d take your arm and set you on another path entirely. Once we put a ramp up to the dovecote to see if you’d actually walk it, and you did! And then you would na’ come back down! I tried everything to move you, but you were dead asleep up there. And then came the warning shouts that you were missing. So. What could we do? We hid the ramp. And ran.”
Rhoenne caught Henry’s glance again. Henry eyes were twinkling. Rhoenne cleared his throat and walked to the table. First he laced his scabbard and sword back onto his belt. He replaced the knives next. Then he turned back to his cousin. Nobody spoke the entire time.
“I thank you for your words tonight, Grant. I would have wished them earlier, of course, but I do thank you for them.”
“I ken ’tis too late to beg for forgiveness, Rhoenne, so I will na’ ask. I am the lowest of wretches. I accept whatever punishment you deem deserved.”
“Well. If I had na’ met Cassandra and discovered that there is such a thing as true love, and that it is the most powerful of emotions...well. I admit. I would probably be beating you into the floor right now, Grant Ramhurst. You’d be lucky to be banished. But I have to tell you. Hearing this na’ only lightens my heart, but assures me I have done the right thing in selecting you.”
“What?” Grant’s head went up, and for the first time he looked directly at his cousin.
“I can na’ think of another man better placed to take on that witch. You na’ only ken exactly what you are dealing with, you will na’ be swayed by her feminine wiles, soft touches, and manipulative ways.”
“Calling her a witch is generous, my laird.”
“She may try her wiles on you again, Grant. You are a viscount now. She may even wish marriage.”
“I’d sooner wed a snake,” Grant replied.
Rhoenne considered him for some time, while a smile played about his lips. “Good word choice,” he finally replied.
“Aside from which, she would na’ have the chance. If the missive to England’s king is successful, it will be too late. I will already be wed.”
Henry whistled. Rhoenne knew why. The man had just gotten more answer to why Rhoenne requested speed for the nuptials. Just then, someone knocked on the chamber door. Not quietly. They all looked that direction.
“Your chamber appears to be a much desired destination this night, my laird,” Henry remarked.
“Oh. That will be the others,” Grant said. “I asked for some time afore they sought their pallets.”
Rhoenne grunted. Grant opened the door a crack. Euan spoke from the hall.
“Grant. Apologies. We need entrance. Right now! I ken you asked for time, but—this can na’ wait. A lad’s just arrived.”
Grant looked over his shoulder at Rhoenne. He nodded. Grant opened the door. Euan brought a slight fellow with him into the room. They were followed by the Montvale men, Iain and Graham. The lad with Euan was spare. Lean, but muscled. He was almost Euan’s height. He wore Ramhurst gray and white plaid, with thin black and blue stripes. He had a shock of red hair. Blue eyes. He stared up at Rhoenne slack-jawed.
“This lad accosted us at the ale keg. Spotted the Ramhurst plaide. Claims Angus FitzHugh sent him. With an urgent message.”
“Angus FitzHugh? My cousin? Is he a relation to you, lad?” Henry asked.
“Aye. My da.”
“Oh. Of course. I remember you. LeRoy. Right?”
The lad nodded.
“You’ve grown. You must be...thirteen now?”
“I’ll be sixteen next month,” the lad replied.
Sixteen?
That sent a wash of anger. Rhoenne stiffened.
LeRoy looked so young. Not a lad. Not yet a man. Eager. Honest. And innocent. The same age he and Grant had been when Aileen came into their world, and upended it. LeRoy was a visual reminder of what had been done to them...and who was truly to blame. Grant may have had the same thought for he was watching for Rhoenne’s glance before they turned back to their visitor.
“What is the message?” Henry continued.
Euan answered. “He would na’ tell us. Says it’s to be delivered to just the earl.”
“Verra well,” Rhoenne said. “You have reached me, LeRoy.”
“You are him.”
LeRoy spoke with awe staining the words. Rhoenne considered him for a bit. Then nodded. “Aye. I am the earl of Tyneburgh.”
“The Dark One ’Tis said you never lose. You kill without regret. Or remorse!”
Rhoenne regarded him for a few moments. “I have been named such,” he finally admitted.
“You are the scourge of the east! And every ocean a-tween!”
Rhoenne grunted. “I have na’ heard those afore.”
“I was told the moment I asked for you! Is it true you vanquished an entire ship full of pirates? All by yourself?”
Rhoenne glanced up at the ceiling. Fought the smile.
“Euan,” Henry carried the tone of reproof Rhoenne knew so well.
“I only told one man! I vow.”
“While at a table-full of listeners,” Iain remarked.
“It does na’ matter,” Rhoenne told them. “The larger a reputation grows, the fewer challenges are tossed.”
“But those that are received will most likely be from worthy opponents. Men who wish to add to their own reputations,” Henry added.
“All of which is destiny, while an important messages waits undelivered. So. LeRoy? Speak up, lad. What is my message?”
“My laird.”
The fellow went to a knee before Rhoenne. There was a series of coughs and throat clearing happening from the others. Rhoenne looked down at the lad’s mop of red hair. Almost touched it before he caught himself. He spoke with solemn tones.
“Rise, Clansman LeRoy FitzHugh.”
The lad got back to his feet. He had a huge smile on his face. He received like expressions from all the others.
“And now. Please. Deliver the message.”
“You must come to the castle immediately.”
“I am but recent arrived to Scotland. What dire event could possibly have occurred that needs my presence forthwith?”
“The wife has arrived.”
“What wife?”
“Yours. The princess. I think her name is Cassandra. And she has a man with her.”
Rhoenne’s jaw dropped. His eyes went huge. His heart sent a lightning bolt through him. His throat closed off. His knees gave. He smacked his palms to his thighs for support. But nothing stopped the absolute joy. It was uncontainable. He sucked in a breath, shoved his head back, and roared with a combination of ecstasy and relief. The sound bounced off walls. Brought Ida to the door of the chamber. It ended with laughter. And then he sucked another breath in, and did it again. Tears blurred his eyes. Sparks flew his veins. Cords stood out in his neck before he finished.
“Henry!” he barked.
“Open the door!” Henry commanded. “Someone. Anyone! Go, my laird! Run.”
Rhoenne sprinted off.
“Grant? You’re the fastest. Get going, mon! Stay with him!”
Emotion demanded an outlet. Intensity fueled his limbs. He didn’t see stone walls. Any occupants. Guards. Any of the
courtyard. Not a hint of the large arched gateway. He was racing down to the valley floor before he even noticed it was a moonlit night. He slowed, but it was to gather breath, bellow another loud yell into the night.
And then he was racing again.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Grant caught up with him at the beginning of the marshy Nor Loch area. Rhoenne had taken to pacing back and forth, jumping from boulder to boulder, laughing whenever he fell. He’d never felt so amazing. Energized. Joyful.
Alive.
Grant stumbled to a halt beside him. Fell to his knees, which had to scrape. Rhoenne smacked his shoulder. “Cousin! I see you finally got here!”
Grant lumbered to his feet. “Well, I did na’ have a head start.”
“True.”
“And I did na’ just find out that my true love that I thought lost to me, is na’ only alive...but close!”
“I ken! Is na’ it grand?” Rhoenne rushed his cousin, wrapped his arms about him and jumped with him. Twice.
Grant shoved free. “There are few men can lift me. And few still I allow to do it.”
“Oh ho. That sounds like a challenge.”
“Later,” Grant returned.
“Why the glum face, Cousin? Is this na’ the grandest of nights?”
Rhoenne leapt atop a boulder, gave a loud whoop, and finished with a burst of laughter. Grant moved to an adjacent rock and sat, placing his forearms on his thighs. He blew a sigh.
“I am happy for you, Rhoenne. Truly. I have never seen you so...happy.”
“And it is wondrous!” Rhoenne flashed a grin.
“It must be. But...I admit. I am a bit jealous. Your love for her...’tis truly enviable.”
Rhoenne jumped down. Sat beside his cousin. “You were soured by Aileen.”
“Aye. Aileen.”
“You do na’ still harbor feelings for the witch?”
“Nae.”
“You swear?”
“If you want the truth, to me she resembles a mud puddle. Slimy. Dank. One I’d rather skirt than step into.”
“Better words could na’ be voiced. You obviously have the same troubadour in your lineage as I claim.”