Twenty-seven
Irony worked in mysterious ways. Two days after her conversation with Cliff in his solar, Rosalin had decided to keep herself busy by helping the nuns at the hospital at St. Mary’s Priory. On the first day, she met not one but two young women who were heavy with child. One had been abandoned by the man she thought intended to marry her, the other had been raped when rebels raided her village.
Rosalin discussed with the abbess the possibility of setting up a special home for women who found themselves in such circumstances. The abbess was immediately amenable to the idea. The need was great, but the hospital was equipped for travelers and the infirm, not as a sanctuary for women with child. With Rosalin’s patronage and financial support from her brother, the priory would have a place to send them.
The irony arose a few days later, when Rosalin realized she had missed her menses for the first time in the eight years since she’d begun them. Were it not for her brother, she might have needed one of those beds. Not that she relished informing Cliff of her condition. There would no longer be any question—if he had any—of what had happened between her and Robbie.
Once she got over the immediate shock and fear of what it meant—she would be disgraced and a harlot in the eyes of the Church—she felt a small glimmer of happiness kindling in the darkness of her despair over losing Robbie. A babe. His child. He had given her a family after all. Someone who needed her for love and protection. It might not be the family she’d dreamed of, but she knew better than anyone that they could make do. She was going to love this babe with all of her heart and be happy.
Nearly two weeks after she’d arrived at Berwick, Rosalin was at the hospital, finalizing the details with the abbess and trying to figure out how she was going to tell Cliff about her predicament without having him send an army to kill Robbie, when she heard the first whisper.
“Captured.”
She paid it no mind until about an hour later, she heard another. “Devil’s Enforcer,” one of the nurses said.
Rosalin froze. Trying to maintain as much dignity as she could—even though she’d clearly been eavesdropping—she asked the woman, “Did you say something about the Devil’s Enforcer?”
“Did you not hear, m’lady?” the young novice said. “They’ve captured Robbie Boyd.”
Her heart stopped and sank at the same time. “Who has captured him?”
The girl gave her an odd look. “Why, your brother, my lady.”
Rosalin barely heard the last word. She was already out the door on her way back to the castle. By the time she burst into her brother’s solar, she was out of breath, flushed, and her brow damp with perspiration. “Tell me it isn’t true.”
Cliff lifted his head from the document he was studying and sighed. “I guess you’ve heard.”
“So it is true? You’ve captured him?”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, not exactly? Is he here or isn’t he?”
“He’s here, but I didn’t capture him. The bast—man,” he corrected, “walked in here of his own accord.”
“He did what?” she screeched incredulously.
Her brother shook his head. “He walked in here demanding to see me.”
“And what did he say?”
“I don’t know. I thought I’d give him time to think about it for a while.”
Rosalin narrowed here eyes. “And where is he doing this thinking?”
As if she didn’t already know. Cliff could be every bit as ruthless as the “brigands” he complained about. “In the pit prison.”
“Cliff! How could you?”
His mouth hardened. “He’s lucky I didn’t string him up by the bollocks for what he did to you. One night in the pit prison won’t kill him. Unfortunately.”
“I want to see him.” Seeing his expression, she added, “And don’t think about refusing.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “Why wouldn’t I want my little sister within arm’s reach of one of the most dangerous men in Scotland?”
She stared at him until he relented.
“Very well, I’ll have him brought up to the guardroom. But I’m warning you, Rosalin, I’m not making any promises. I’ve waited too long for this day.”
What time was it?
Robbie blinked into the pitch-black darkness, wondering at the wisdom of his plan. He’d anticipated the possibility of spending some time in the Berwick pit prison; he’d just hoped to speak to Clifford before being unceremoniously dumped into a hole.
As he was alone, he assumed that meant Seton had convinced them of his earnestness. His mouth hardened, not wanting to think of his former partner.
How much time did he have left? He had no way of knowing precisely without the aid of daylight, but he suspected only an hour or two at most. If Clifford’s curiosity didn’t get the better of him soon, Robbie’s Highland Guard brethren would be here to break him out before he even had a chance to plead his case.
Assuming they could get him out.
At least they would know where to find him, he thought wryly. MacRuairi was intimately familiar with the place, having spent some time here a few years back after helping free his now wife from captivity.
Robbie was more relieved than he wanted to admit when he heard someone fumbling with the latch. A few moments later, the door was thrown back and a rope lowered. With his injuries, it took him longer than it should have to pull himself up the ten feet or so to the top.
Chained manacles were slapped around his wrists by two grim-faced but silent soldiers the moment he stood outside the opening. Without explanation he was dragged outside the small anteroom, through another room, and pushed through an arched doorway into what looked to be the guardhouse at the main gate.
He heard a familiar gasp the moment he stumbled inside and he jerked his head up with surprise. Rosalin! Their eyes met and all the fear, all the longing, all the love he had for her hit him with the force of a thunderbolt.
A moment later when she looked to her right with a scowl, Robbie’s expression hardened as he became aware of the other person in the room.
“What did you do to him?” she demanded to her brother.
Clifford—the bastard—shrugged with a smirk he didn’t bother to hide. “A few of my men were a little overzealous when he identified himself at the gate last night. After what he’s done, he should consider himself lucky.”
“Go to hell, Clifford.”
“If anyone is going there soon it won’t be me. I’m not the one in irons.”
Rosalin frowned. “Take those off him, Cliff. I told you he wouldn’t hurt me.”
Clifford met his gaze; they both knew the chains weren’t for her protection. “I don’t think so,” the other man said. “Let’s hear what he has to say first.”
Rosalin took a step toward him. She looked so damned beautiful it took his breath away. But there was a fragility to her in the paleness of her cheeks and dark shadows under her eyes that hadn’t been there before, and any punishment Clifford might have meted out couldn’t compare to the guilt he felt knowing he’d been the one to put it there.
He half hoped she’d rush into his arms and tell him that she’d missed him. But she didn’t, and he had no right to expect it. Not after their last parting.
For once, the expressive eyes that had always seemed a window into her thoughts were shuttered to him.
He couldn’t have lost her. He wouldn’t countenance it. She’d given him her heart, and he wasn’t going to let her take it back.
“What do you want, Robbie?” she asked.
“You.”
Clifford made a low growl and took a threatening step toward him, but Rosalin caught him by the arm. “Please, Cliff. I want to hear what he has to say.”
Clifford gave her a long look before moving back. “It had better be good.”
Robbie ignored him and looked at Rosalin. He would have preferred to say this without an audience, but he supposed he should be glad he was getting a chance to speak to her at all. He’d expected to have to plead his case to Clifford.
“I’m sorry. I should have trusted you. I made a mistake, and I’m here to try to make it right.”
He turned to Clifford and squared his jaw. “I want to marry your sister.”
“No.”
Robbie gritted his teeth together. The bastard was enjoying this. “Rosalin said you would do anything to make her happy. She asked me to trust her. I do. That’s why I am here.” She made a sound, and he turned to see her eyes widen with surprise, and then slowly start to shine with what he hoped was the first glimmer of forgiveness. He turned back to Clifford. “Was she wrong?”
Clifford turned to Rosalin. “Christ’s cross, Rosie-lin, why the hell did you tell him that?”
“I never thought he would do something so foolhardy.”
“Or romantic,” Robbie put in.
He wasn’t sure whether she heard him. “I did give him my word,” she said to her brother.
Clifford made a face, and then glared at Robbie. “She wasn’t wrong. I just don’t think you can make her happy.”
He crossed his arms and gave Robbie a smug smile, as if challenging him to convince him.
Robbie’s fists clenched. He felt the manacles straining around his wrists and thought it was probably smart that Clifford had kept him chained. But a glance at Rosalin took the fight out of him. If they were going to have any chance, he and her brother were going to have to find some way to put years of hatred behind them.
He took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can either, but I love her, and I swear to you I will spend every minute of my life trying—even if that means putting aside our enmity. She loves you, and I won’t do anything to get in the way of that. You protected her and looked after her when others in your position might not have, and for that you deserve credit.” His gaze met Rosalin’s. “I want you to be my wife because I love you—it doesn’t have anything to do with him or revenge. It never did. I was just too blind to see it. If you want to spend the next fifty years singing his damned praises, I’ll listen. I might not agree, but I’ll listen. Our children will call him uncle.”
“Oh Robbie.” Something sharp and tender sparked in her eyes, and the next moment she was in his arms—or at least as much in his arms as he could manage with the chains. The feel of her all soft and warm pressed against his chest released something inside him. He felt as if a dam had broken, and all the fear, all the longing, all the love he had for her came rushing out. He tucked her satiny head under his chin, pressed his lips on her hair, and let the warm scent of roses wash over him.
There was so much he wanted to say, but the emotion was too thick in his throat.
Clifford made a sharp scoffing sound. “I’m not convinced yet.”
Rosalin unwrapped herself from his chest to turn on her brother. “Cliff, what more do you want from him? He put his life in your hands because he trusted me, and I’ll not have you—”
Clifford held up his hand, cutting her off. “I have a few conditions.”
Rosalin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What kind of conditions?”
Clifford’s gaze softened. And at that moment Robbie knew he’d won. She was right: her brother her loved her more than he hated Robbie. He wanted her happiness, even if it was with the man he’d been trying to capture for years.
“That he promises to bring you to England as often as you like. I want my children to know their aunt, and I need to see for myself that he keeps his promise.”
Rosalin turned to Robbie.
“Agreed. As long as it can be done without putting Rosalin in danger.”
Clifford nodded.
“What else?” Robbie said.
“You name your firstborn son Clifford.”
Robbie froze. He looked at the other man as if he were mad. Rosalin laughed and elbowed him in the ribs. “He’s teasing you, Robbie.”
Christ, he’d probably permanently damaged his heart, it had stopped for so long.
Clifford smirked. “As it appears I’m going to have to suffer the humiliation of letting you escape again, your reputation is going to suffer as well. Whatever story I come up with to tell Edward, you aren’t going to dispute it.”
“I suspect I will play the dastardly villain in this tale?”
The other man smiled. “Of course.”
Robbie swore. “Agreed. I doubt my reputation can get any darker.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Rosalin scowled at her brother. “Bride abduction should suffice, Cliff. No embellishing.”
He made a face, but didn’t argue. “I assume you can find your way out?”
Robbie nodded. He should have some help soon. “Aye.”
“Then make good use of the time I’m about to give you.” He turned to Rosalin. “Give me a hug, sweetheart.”
Rosalin ran into his arms, and Robbie felt his chest squeeze as he watched them. The bond between the two siblings was strong, and he swore he would do his damnedest never to interfere with that again.
No matter how much it killed him.
After a long moment, Clifford let her go. He gave Robbie one more look. “Hurt her again and not even Bruce’s phantoms will be able to protect you.”
Despite the irony of that particular threat, Robbie believed him.
A moment later the door closed behind him.
Rosalin had been overcome with emotion since the first moment he’d been pushed into the room. It had taken everything she had not to run to him, especially when she’d seen the damage inflicted on him by her brother’s soldiers.
Then, realizing that he’d surrendered to show his trust for her…it was too much. But the breaking point, the point when she knew he really loved her, was when he’d vowed to let her talk about Cliff—even alluding to the children he didn’t know he was having.
She crossed the room, putting her hand on his cheek. “Your poor face.”
He grinned. “I’ll let you fuss over me all you want, once we are out of here. But first…”
He slid his hands onto her hips and brought her against him. The next moment his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her with passion that bordered on desperation.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and crushed her body to his, needing to feel his heat and strength.
He groaned, kissing her deeper, sweeping his tongue in her mouth with long, ravenous thrusts.
Her body ignited with heat, her skin drawing tight and prickly, her nipples hardening, and dampness gathering between her legs in a pool of molten need.
He cupped her bottom, holding her against his hardness. The desire became overwhelming. Her body started to move against his, seeking the sweet relief of friction.
He tore away with an oath. “God, you are killing me. But we need to be ready, and I doubt your brother left us here so I could take you in his guardroom with these.” He lifted his chained manacled wrists.
“Ready for what?”
“You’ll know it when you hear it. What time is it?”
She looked at him quizzically. “I don’t know. It was near sunset when I came in. They will be calling for vespers soon, I’d imagine. I forgot about the manacles. How are we supposed to get out of here with your hands chained?”
He smiled, stepped on the chain with his feet, and pulled until his muscles seemed strained to the breaking point—but it was the iron that snapped. He’d broken the chain in two. He laughed at her expression. “It’s a little trick I learned to impress the lasses.” Rosalin wasn’t even going to comment on that. “But we’ll have help.”
“The other phantoms?”
His expression went utterly still. He just stared at her.
“Did you not think I would figure it out?” She shook her head. “Really, Robbie, I’m not blind. I’ve seen you fight. I’ve seen the markings and the demonic-looking helm. I heard Sir Alex call you Raider once. I figured that was your war name. It’s appropriate, by the way.”
He was still stunned. “How long have you known?”
“A while. Sir Alex told me I shouldn’t tell you I knew.”
His expression darkened. “The traitorous bastard probably hoped you’d tell your brother. God knows it won’t be a secret much longer.”
From his expression, she could tell that he’d taken Sir Alex’s defection even harder than she’d anticipated. “He didn’t betray you, Robbie. He just stopped believing in the same things. He will keep your secrets, just as I would have kept them.”
“There are other ways—”
“You mean the tattoo? You need not fear discovery that way. He removed it—or obliterated it, really.”
The information didn’t have effect that she’d hoped. Instead of allaying his fears of betrayal, it only seemed to make the betrayal worse. As if the markings were some kind of sacred bond that Alex had just run a knife through.
“He’s in London,” she said, knowing he was too proud to ask. The sting was too raw right now, but she hoped over the years to help him understand and accept what Sir Alex had done. Years…
“Did you mean it, Robbie?”
“What part, mo ghrá?” He slid his hands around her waist again and drew her in tightly. His voice grew husky. “That I love you? Aye, I meant it. And I intend to do everything I can to prove it to you until you never have to ask again. You were right—I need you. I didn’t realize how much until I arrived at that village and knew how close I’d come to making a horrible mistake and realized how far I’d strayed from the man I used to be. I’m going to be that man again, Rosalin. And if I forget, you will be there to remind me.”
She smiled, tears of happiness filling her eyes. “I believe you. You must love me if you agreed to let me sing Cliff’s praises. I can be quite long-winded, you know.”
He shuddered, getting that sour-distasteful look on his mouth.
“And when you complimented him, I had no doubt of it.”
“The hell I did!”
She laughed. “I wish you could have seen your face when he said you would have to name our son Cliff. Although it does have a nice ring to it.”
He rolled his eyes with a groan. “Christ, Rosalin, don’t even jest about it. I still haven’t recovered.”
She took his hand and put it on her stomach. “I suppose there is close to nine months to decide.”
Robbie was an exceptionally smart man, but it took him a minute to realize what she meant. His face lost every drop of color. He stared at her with something resembling horror in his eyes. Then his face crumpled. If she’d ever doubted his ability to feel emotion, she never would again. He looked like a man who’d been shattered. He held her tightly, and she could feel his chest shaking.
“I’m sorry. Oh Christ, I’m sorry. I never thought…I should have thought. You would have paid the price, and I could have lost you both.”
She knew the way his mind worked, and he was probably twisting it in some way to think about his sister. She put her fingers on his mouth to stop him from saying any more. “I love you, Robbie. It’s not the same. And you came for me in time. In rather dramatic fashion, I might add.”
She jumped when she heard a sound like thunder.
“That’s our signal,” he said, taking her hand. “Time to go.”
Cliff had taken care of the soldiers at the door. Smoke was everywhere and people were running all over the bailey. It was remarkably easy to slip around the buildings unnoticed in the chaos. Near the pit prison Robbie let out a sharp whistle, and two men appeared a moment later.
Though she’d seen Robbie in his phantom garb before, the sight of two giant warriors in those faceless looking nasal masks startled her.
“It’s all right, mo ghrá. They are friends.”
“I see your damned fool plan worked,” one of the men said dryly, and then bowed to her. “My lady.”
Robbie hugged her closer to him possessively. “Aye, Chief.”
Rosalin gave him a secret smile. “I thought it was rather romantic.”
“Smart lass,” Robbie said with a grin.
“We’d better go,” the second warrior said. “This isn’t the first time we’ve used this particular distraction, and we don’t want to overstay our welcome. It was good of you to not make me go into that damn hole again, though.”
Robbie winced. “Aye, well, I did get a chance to sample Berwick’s finest accommodations for most of the last twenty-four hours. I can see why you aren’t anxious to return. I’ll need help with these,” he said, holding up his hands.
The second man removed something from the sporran he wore at his waist, and in seconds the iron manacles fell to the floor.
They made their way to the postern gate, where four other phantoms were waiting for them. The men exchanged a few gestures and Robbie shook his head. A few minutes later, Rosalin realized why, when the two men who’d stayed to guard the gate were knocked out by hard claps to their helms with the pommel of a sword rather than killed. A few moments later, she was whisked into a waiting birlinn.
She was helped in by another man wearing a bow across his shoulder.
“So this is your Englishwoman,” he said with a low whistle of appreciation.
Robbie wrenched her fingers rather forcibly from the other man’s gauntleted hand. “Stay the hell away from her, Arrow. I mean it. That face of yours won’t look so pretty when I’m done with it.”
Rosalin was surprised when the other man replied under his breath, “I should be so lucky.”
They took a seat on one of the wooden storage chests near the back of the boat.
In all, including Robbie, she made out ten shadowy figures. To a one they were big, muscular, and menacing-looking. Indeed, were it not for Robbie holding tightly to her waist, she would be terrified.
The man holding the ropes that controlled the sail looked to Robbie. He grinned, his teeth gleaming white in the moonlight. “Glad you could join us, Sir Robert.”
“Sod off, Hawk, and sail. Get us the hell out of here,” Robbie said, but there was something in his voice that sounded like embarrassment.
She looked up at him, her brows drawing together. “Sir Robert?”
Aye, he looked distinctly uncomfortable. Boyishly uncomfortable, like Roger had when discussing the girl from Norham. “It’s nothing.”
She waited patiently.
“It was a stupid idea.”
She continued to wait. As she suspected they had a long boat ride ahead of them, she had all night.
He sighed. “I was trying to think of ways to prove to you how I felt.” Their eyes met in the darkness. “The king has been offering to knight me for years. I finally accepted.”
For her. He’d done that for her. She knew how he felt about knightly codes and chivalry, but he wanted to show her that he was still the young warrior she remembered. He didn’t need a knight’s spurs to prove it to her, but she was moved nonetheless. “Oh Robbie, that is sweet.”
He cupped her chin, tipped her head back, and placed a tender, almost reverent kiss on her lips. Despite the cool sea air, a swell of warmth rose inside her.
But apparently, she’d spoken too loud.
“Aw,” the captain said from behind them. “That is sweet, Raider.”
Robbie swore.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“He’s never going to let me hear the end of this.”
“Is that so bad?”
“You have no idea.” He shook his head. “But it’s worth it. You are worth it. If I can make peace with your brother, I can put up with that arse’s prodding for a few hours. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. Anything.”
Rosalin couldn’t resist teasing him one more time. “Clifford Boyd. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
He shuddered, and then kissed the teasing words right from her mouth.