Chapter Eight
Talbot could scarce believe Dayton hadn’t fled Scotland. If what the man told Talbot an hour ago was true, he would find his brother at this Stonehaven port tavern. Talbot scanned the crowded room. His gaze snagged on a dark-haired man near the stairs. The man’s back faced Talbot, but he could be Dayton. Talbot still half-believed the messenger was lying in hopes of collecting the ten pieces of silver Talbot had placed on his brother’s capture. Talbot shouldered his way through the crowd. He got five feet when the man turned and looked straight at him.
Dayton.
Angry scratches across his brow bore testament to Lady Rhoslyn’s struggles against the rape. Rage howled through Talbot. He plunged through the men. Dayton whirled toward the stairs. He reached the staircase in three paces and bounded up. Talbot’s foot hit the first stair as Dayton swung around the second floor balustrade.
Talbot reached the hallway to see Dayton disappear into a room at the end of the hallway. A feral growl burst from Talbot. He yanked his sword from the scabbard and ran down the hallway. When Talbot burst into the room, he found it empty and the curtain blowing at the open window.
He raced to the window and swung over the sill. Air born for an instant, he tensed, then landed on soft ground in a crouch. The pounding of footfalls bounced off the buildings in the narrow alley. Talbot shoved upright. Visible in the morning gloom, Dayton raced toward the street. Talbot broke into a run. Dayton stopped at the other end of the alley and looked back at him, then dashed right.
Heart pounding, Talbot pumped his legs faster. Seconds later, he shot out of the alley onto a narrow street, veering right. After several paces, he slowed, drawing in heavy breaths while scanning the nearly deserted street. Two men stood outside a tavern across the street and sounds of male pleasure grunts echoed between buildings as he passed. Talbot sheathed his sword. His brother had to have ducked into one of the taverns or buildings on this street.
A door swung open to his right and bawdy laughter erupted as a man stumbled from the tavern. Talbot sidestepped him, then turned back and entered. Like the other tavern, kilted Highlanders and local Scots dressed in breeches filled the room. He scanned the crowd, but didn’t see Dayton. His gaze caught on a door in the back of the room. Talbot worked his way to the rear where a man behind the counter handed two ales to a barmaid.
“I am looking for someone,” Talbot said.
“Who?” the man asked.
Talbot pulled a silver coin from the pouch strapped to his belt. “My brother.”
“Is he English like you?”
“Aye.”
The man grunted. “I havena’ seen another Englishman tonight.”
Talbot detected no dishonesty and laid the coin on the counter. He made his way back toward the door. A hulking figure stepped in his path. Talbot sidestepped the man, but he followed suit, blocking Talbot’s way.
“Do I know you?” Talbot asked.
“Ye hear that, David?” the man said. “He wants to know if we are friends.”
Another man, almost as large, joined the first man. “Ye think we would be friends with an English dog?”
“I have not caused you any trouble,” Talbot said. “Stand aside and let me pass.”
“Ye cause trouble by coming here and marrying our women...then taking them off,” the large man said.
Talbot tensed. “I do not know you. But it seems you know me.”
“Sir Talbot St. Claire,” David said. “Bastard knight.”
“What do you want?” Talbot demanded.
The big man crossed his arms over his chest. “Leave on a ship tonight and we will not harm ye.”
“Move out of my way and I will not kill you.”
David reached for his sword, but Talbot yanked his sword from its scabbard and dug the point into David’s throat before his blade cleared its sheath. The room went quiet. The big man shifted.
“Move and I kill him,” Talbot snarled. Pent up fury strained against his control. “Remove your hand from your sword.”
The big man didn’t move.
“Do as he says, Morris,” David hissed.
David’s eyes shifted to something behind him. Talbot leapt aside, whirling in time to miss a knife slash through the air. David and Morris drew their swords. Talbot sliced his blade down the front of David’s shirt, drawing blood. He pivoted and blocked a blow from Morris’ sword and threw his weight into throwing the man off balance. Morris stumbled backwards. Talbot drove his sword into Morris’ shoulder. Blood gushed.
From the corner of his eye, Talbot glimpsed the flash of another sword and spun as the newcomer’s steel clashed with David’s sword. The newcomer parried, left, then right. Another sword swung toward Talbot’s head. He deflected the blade and drove his sword into the man’s belly. Another man lunged, but a third man jumped in and swung his sword, slicing the man’s hip.
Talbot turned. The first Highlander who had given aid was being attacked by two others. Talbot rammed his sword into the side of the closest attacker. The Highlander helping him forced his opponent back two paces before slicing a long cut along the man’s arm and wrist. His opponent bellowed, but the Highlander brought down a blow so heavy the clang of steel hurt Talbot’s ears. The blow broke the man’s grip on his sword and he dropped to his knees.
The onlookers nearest the fight stepped toward them.
“We must leave,” the first Highlander who had helped Talbot shouted.
The second Highlander backed up alongside Talbot, sword ready. Talbot retreated with his two comrades. When they neared the door, they whirled and burst through at a run. Men piled out of the tavern and gave chase. Talbot followed his companions down a zig zag of narrow streets until the shouts of their pursuers died. Talbot’s comrades finally stopped on a quiet lane in front of run-down cottages. The three men collapsed against the nearest wall and drew in deep breaths.
“Ye have a way of leaving an impression,” the man who had first helped him said.
“I was minding my own business when those brutes got in my way.”
The sun had lifted in the horizon, and Talbot got a good look at his rescuers. Both men were tall and broad shouldered. The one who had jumped into the fight first had red hair with a beard, the second was dark and clean shaven.
“I am surprised you aided me,” Talbot said.
“Ye mean, you are surprised we aided an Englishman,” the second man said.
“Aye,” Talbot admitted.
“I canna’ abide an unfair fight,” the first man said.
“‘Tis no’ sporting of them,” the second agreed.
“I am Talbot—”
“St. Claire,” the first man interjected. “Aye, we know.”
“It would seem the bounty I set on my brother’s head has made me more popular than him,” Talbot muttered.
“That is one way of putting it,” the first man said. “I am Ingram Berclay.”
“Ralf Wardwn,” the second said.
“I would offer to buy you a drink, but I fear it would be our last,” Talbot said.
Ralf laughed. “I know a place.”
Talbot followed them to a quiet inn farther from the docks. They sat in a corner of the inn’s tavern and when ales arrived, Talbot said, “My brother is just as English as I am. I would think my attackers would be glad to collect a bounty of silver on any Englishman.”
Ralf grunted. “If he was a dead Englishman, aye. Though, I suspect if those characters knew where your brother was they would collect the money, then kill ye both.”
Talbot nodded and took a draught of ale. “I suppose neither of you have any idea where my brother might be?”
They both shook their heads.
“Probably halfway to England by now,” Ingram said.
“So I thought,” Talbot said. “But I saw him tonight. That is what brought me to the tavern where I met you.”
“He was there?” Ingram said in obvious surprise.
“I lost him in the streets. I went into that tavern looking for him.”
“Are ye sure it was him ye saw?” Ralf asked, and Talbot detected something more than curiosity behind the man’s question.
“It was him.”
The two men exchanged a glance.
Ingram leaned forward on the table. “There are those who would prefer to see your brother wed the Lady Rhoslyn, instead of you.”
“What makes you think my brother wishes to marry my wife?”
“Ye put the bounty on your brother’s head because he kidnapped her. It doesna’ take much intelligence to know why.”
Talbot nodded. “Why is my brother preferable to me? He is less disposed toward Scotland than I.”
Ralf snorted. “Ye dinna’ expect us to believe that the Scottish mother ye never knew will sway your passions for Scotland.”
“No,” Talbot replied. “But Dayton never cared for anything save his own pleasures. I, at least, want to live in peace.”
“That will no’ make any difference to the lot out there,” Ingram said. “They are willing to sacrifice Lady Rhoslyn if it means King Edward’s interests are tied up in a family feud.”
“You realize Edward will uphold my marriage to Lady Rhoslyn, whether she is here or not?” Talbot said.
“Aye,” Ralf replied. “But that will no’ matter if ye are in England chasing after your brother and wife.”
Talbot realized they were right, and silently cursed. He had already considered how to secure Lady Rhoslyn’s safety before he left on what he believed would be at least a month-long journey to catch his brother.
“Ye do know he is claiming he and Lady Rhoslyn are married,” Ralf said.
“Married?” Talbot blurted. “God damn him to hell. I will gut him.”
Ingram grinned. “That would solve your problem.”
Talbot studied the two men. He liked them. Aside from their willingness to jump into a fight that wasn’t their own, they had a direct manner he appreciated.
“Would you two be interested in entering my service?”
“If ye are asking if we will find your brother and kill him, nay, I am not interested,” Ingram said. “I canna’ speak for Ralf.”
Before Ralf could answer, Talbot said, “Nay. My brother will die by my hand and no other. However, I would pay handsomely to find him.”
“I have no interest in going to England,” Ingram said.
Ralf actually shuddered and Talbot laughed. “I would not ask that of you. I only want to know if he is still in Stonehaven. I must escort my wife back to Castle Glenbarr in the morning. All I ask is that you make inquiries and keep your ears open—and, if you hear anything, send word.”
“Then your brother and Lady Rhoslyn are no’ married?” Ingram asked.
“It would be hard for them to be married when she and I were already wed,” Talbot said.
“Have ye said the vows?” Ralf asked.
Talbot took a drink of ale. “Nay, but that is a mere technicality.”
“Ye are in Scotland, man. ‘Tis more than a technicality. Your king may make all the commands he likes, but if Lady Rhoslyn says the vows with another man, ye will have a problem on your hands.”
“Edward is more than just my king,” Talbot said. “He is the Sovereign Lord of Scotland.”
Ralf laughed. “Let him come to Scotland and enforce his sovereignty. We will kick his arse back to England.”
“I have fought with Edward. You are mistaken.”
Both men grinned.
“Aye,” Ingram said, “but have ye ever fought a Scot?”
“I have been fighting Scots all night,” Talbot said. “I will fight more, if necessary, and will not be sent back to England.”
“Ye can thank your mother’s Scottish blood for that,” Ingram replied without rancor, and Talbot laughed again. So his Scottish heritage might work to his advantage after all.
“Do we have a bargain?” he asked.
“I have nothing better to do.” Ralf lifted his mug in a toast, and Talbot clinked his mug against Ralf’s. Ingram joined in. They finished their ale and called for another.
* * *
Rhoslyn was immensely relieved when she woke to find St. Claire gone from their room. A sky blue linen dress lay draped across the foot of the bed. She washed her face and donned the dress, then worked through the tangles in her long hair. At last, she went to the door and opened it. As expected, Ross stood guard.
“Ye look well, Lady Rhoslyn,” he said.
She nodded. “Where is St. Claire?”
“He received word that his brother was seen at the port and has gone to find him. Are ye hungry, my lady?”
Rhoslyn started to say no, then realized she was quite hungry. “Aye, perhaps a little bread and cheese.”
“We can eat downstairs, if ye like.”
She agreed, and they went downstairs where they were given a quiet table. The food arrived and she had taken two bites when St. Claire entered. He scanned the room. Her heart picked up speed when his gaze stopped on them. He stood for an instant, staring, then strode across the room. Rhoslyn was struck with how even his walk bespoke a man of action. She recalled his gentle touch, despite his barely suppressed rage, when he’d cut her bonds. She reached for her wine and realized her hands were shaking. St. Claire reached the table, and she carefully lifted the mug to her lips and sipped.
He sat in the seat nearest her. “You look well, my lady.”
Rhoslyn set her mug on the table. “I am much refreshed.”
He nodded but she noted the uncertainty in his eyes.
“You do no’ look like a man whose quest was fruitful,” Ross said.
“I did not find him.”
Rhoslyn found herself unable to speak. What was wrong with her? Dayton St. Claire was nowhere near her. But the knowledge didn’t stop the tremble in her limbs. A hand unexpectedly covered and squeezed hers. She yanked her hand back before realizing it was St. Claire’s hand.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I did not mean to startle you. I only wanted to assure you that Dayton will never again come near you.”
She nodded. “Thank ye. I know.”
“I am surprised he is still in Scotland,” Ross said.
“As am I.”
“Will ye remain to search for him while we return to Castle Glenbarr?” Rhoslyn asked.
She couldn’t decide whether she wanted him to stay or return. If he stayed, that gave her time to reconcile herself to the...kidnapping and her marriage. But she couldn’t deny the fear that edged through her at the thought of him not being present for the return trip. Stupid, he had a company of two dozen men, and her grandfather had brought men, as well. Nothing could possibly happen.
“I will return with you,” St. Claire said. “I have spoken with the sheriff. If they apprehend Dayton, he will notify me.”
From the corner of her eye, Rhoslyn saw her grandfather enter the tavern. He strode to their table. When he reached them, he pulled her up and studied her. His gaze lingered on the bruise that darkened her cheek before sending a penetrating glance St. Claire’s way. Then he pulled her into his arms and she relaxed into the warmth of his familiar embrace. It took all her will not to break down into blubbering sobs. She was thankful when he declined the morning meal and said he would rather start for home as soon as she was ready to leave.
A damp mist hung in the air all day, which fit Rhoslyn’s mood. They stopped twice at taverns for drink and food. She feigned fatigue, but feared her grandfather would guess the truth. As the day wore on, her fatigue became real.
“We should stop for the night,” her grandfather said when the sun dipped in the horizon. “There is a village up ahead. We can take shelter in a barn, if need be.”
Rhoslyn shook her head. “Nay. I want to reach Castle Glenbarr tonight.”
“Lady Rhoslyn,” St. Claire began.
“Tonight,” she said.
He stared for a long moment, then nodded.
Night fell and with it came a light drizzle. Rhoslyn wrapped her cloak more tightly about her, but as the darkness deepened, so did the chill. Her teeth began to chatter, which helped keep her awake.
Rhoslyn woke with a start when she realized she was falling. She cried out and grabbed for the pommel, but found instead that her fingers closed around warm muscle.
“You are safe,” came a male voice.
St. Claire.
His warm thighs beneath her buttocks reminded her of last night when he’d held her. She had fallen asleep and he had pulled her from her horse. Unexpectedly, panic swept her.
She shoved at his chest. “Release me. I can ride.”
“You nearly fell from your horse,” he said.
“I can stay awake,” she insisted.
“We’re two hours from Castle Glenbarr,” he said. “You will ride with me or we will stop and you will rest.” She didn’t immediately answer and he added, “We will rest until I am certain you can safely ride.”
“Do no’ think ye can order me about, St. Claire. I am a grown woman and I can think for myself.”
“Then use your brain,” he said. “If you fall and hurt yourself that will delay us.”
“Ye are no’ as logical as you believe yourself to be,” she muttered. But she couldn’t deny that she had already begun to relax in his arms.
“Take this,” her grandfather said.
Rhoslyn felt a cozy warmth settle around her and realized a plaid had been draped over her. St. Claire tucked the blanket more tightly around her and she burrowed closer to the warm wall of his chest.
* * *
Talbot snapped alert at the pounding of hooves on moist ground.
Seward’s horse let out a snort when the old baron pulled back on the reins. “Ye hear that?”
Talbot slowed beside him. “Two, maybe three riders.” He twisted and looked over his shoulder, but discerned only dark shadows beyond the darkness where their company of men ended.
Seward called out a quiet order for his men to face the riders. “Ride with Rhoslyn,” he ordered Talbot. “I will deal with these men.”
Talbot spurred his horse into a gallop and Baxter joined him with their men riding behind. Rhoslyn stirred in his arms. He felt tugs on the blanket that encircled her.
“What is happening?” she murmured.
The last hour with her rounded bottom pressed snugly against his cock had been torture. Now, her sleep-filled voice made the erection pulse with a vengeance.
“We are nearly home,” he said.
She pushed against his chest to straighten, the shift of her weight pressing down on his erection with such force he had to grit his teeth against the exquisite pain.
“Why are we galloping?”
The force of her body jostling against his groin with the gallop of the horse made him wonder—and almost wish—that he would spend himself in his braies. He hadn’t desired a woman this badly since the age of nineteen. Then again, he hadn’t denied himself having a woman he wanted as he had Lady Rhoslyn this last day
“St. Claire,” Rhoslyn demanded.
“We heard riders approaching from behind,” he replied.
“Surely, ye dinna’ expect your brother to follow us?”
“Nay, but that does not mean we will not encounter robbers.”
“Give me a dirk,” she said.
He snorted. “I have yet to recover from the last time you had a knife while sitting on my lap.”
“I do no’ intend to use it on ye.” She sounded genuinely affronted. “If we encounter brigands, I would like protection.”
“I am your protection,” he replied.
The words were barely out of his mouth when riders shot from the trees onto the road in front of them.
Talbot cursed, and drew his sword in unison with his men drawing their swords. “In Scotland less than a week and this is the third battle I have fought,” he muttered.
“Three?” Lady Rhoslyn said. “I will want to hear the other two tales. For now, give me a dirk.”
“Who goes there?” Baxter demanded as Talbot urged his horse toward the edge of the road and away from the newcomers.
“Prepare yourself,” Talbot told her in a low voice. “If I must push you from the saddle—”
“St. Claire,” someone called, and Talbot paused, “‘tis I, Ralf Wardwn.”
“Ralf?” Talbot nudged his horse past his men to the rider and saw that it was Ralf. “I should send you to your maker. What are you doing rushing onto the road like that?”
“I took a short cut to reach ye. Forgive me, Lady Rhoslyn. I hope we didna’ scare you. There was no other way. I did not want to shout and alert anyone along the way.”
“Including me,” Talbot said. “Who is that with you?” He nodded to the rider behind Ralf.
“This is Simon. Ingram and two other men are searching for ye on the road behind us. We broke up so that I could search ahead in case we had missed you.”
“You have news of my brother?” Talbot asked. He was sure he felt a tremble in Lady Rhoslyn’s body and tightened his arm around her.
“Nay,” Ralf said. “I wish it were so. I am here to tell you of a plot to accost ye on the road and kill you.”
“Friends of the men in the tavern?” Talbot asked.
“Aye, only meaner.”
“How fortunate,” Talbot muttered. “We are but an hour from Castle Glenbarr. Why wait so long?”
“The plot was hatched last minute, the result of ale and misguided passions.”
“Dayton?” he asked.
“‘Tis what we suspect, but we didna’ hear for ourselves. Once we got wind of the plan we set out after you.”
“You went to a lot of trouble to warn me.”
“Ye know how much I hate an unfair fight.”
“I believe this is a clue to one of the battles ye mentioned,” Lady Rhoslyn said.
“Too long a story for now,” Talbot said. “I wager Ingram is who Seward encountered behind us. Baxter,” he called, “send a man back to see what goes with Seward. I want to get to Castle Glenbarr as quickly as possible. If it is Ingram who caught up with them, invite him to Castle Glenbarr.” Talbot returned his attention to Ralf. “Will you ride with us as well? I can offer food and shelter, and we can talk.”
“Aye,” Ralf replied. “Glen will come, too.”
“Good.” Talbot started to turn his horse toward home.
“I should ride,” Lady Rhoslyn said. “We can ride faster if I am riding my own horse.”
She was right, but he didn’t like it. “You will do exactly as I say,” he said.
“Beware giving too many orders, English.”
“I will brook no argument, Lady Rhoslyn. You will do as I say or ride with me.”
“What is your command?”
Her voice was calm, but he heard the steel. He had steel of his own.
“At the first sign of trouble you ride with me and Baxter to Castle Glenbarr as fast as possible.”
“The last time I left a fight I was captured by you.”
“Then you need not fear,” he said, “for I am not the one chasing you this time.”
They reached Castle Glenbarr without incident, but Talbot knew the trouble had only begun. Seward knew it as well. He and Ingram arrived half an hour later, and they sought out Talbot in the great hall where he sat with Ralf.
“The vows are not yet said, and ye already have enemies,” Seward said in greeting.
“Sit down,” Talbot said, then ordered a waiting lad to bring ale before returning his attention to the old baron. “I had enemies before I ever set foot in Scotland.”
Seward sat down. “Is the wealth my granddaughter brings to the marriage worth living among enemies?”
“A few enemies is paltry in comparison to war campaigns,” Talbot replied.
The old man grunted. “Ye underestimate the Highland temperament. These men have a great capacity for hating you.”
Talbot shrugged. “I would find no less if I lived amongst my own.”
The boy brought two mugs of ale and a pitcher. He set them before the two men, then stepped back, awaiting further instructions.
“Then it must be your sweet nature that makes ye so loveable,” Seward said.
Despite the sarcasm, Talbot detected grudging respect. “About as loveable as you,” he replied. “Only yesterday, Aodh Roberts was ready to send you to your reward.”
“I should have dealt with Aodh years ago, but I grew up with his cousin. They wouldna’ forgive me if I killed him.”
“You are a fortunate man to be surrounded by so many relatives.”
“They are your relatives now, too,” Seward replied.
Talbot laughed. “Do they see me as a relative?”
“They will when they want something from ye. God help you when that happens.”
“I have a feeling that is exactly what is about to happen.”
“Aye. Ye can begin by telling me who your new friends are.” He nodded to Ralf, Ingram, and the other two men who set across from him.”
Talbot recounted the story, ending with, “They tell me that Dayton claims he and Rhoslyn are married.”
“Married?” The old man’s eyes narrowed in anger. “I will kill him for what he did to my granddaughter.”
So Seward had guessed that Dayton raped Rhoslyn. Talbot wasn’t surprised. The man wasn’t stupid. “You will not have the chance,” he said. “I claim the right to kill him.”
“Ye canna’ follow him to England. ‘Tis too dangerous to leave Rhoslyn unprotected.”
“I would think you could protect her while I am away,” Talbot said. “I would also think you would be happy to see me go.”
Seward grunted. “If I thought I could get rid of you and the rest of your kind, I would tie ye up, send you to the Far East, then marry Rhoslyn off to Melrose. But your brother’s actions give me pause. Edward will no’ so easily give up the taxes he’ll receive from the Kinsley fortune—and your brother knows it. I wager he gambled that Edward would overlook his methods in ensuring his part of that fortune. If anything happens to ye, Edward is likely to uphold your brother’s claim that he and Rhoslyn are married. If I must choose between two devils, I choose the least evil of the two.”
“I am flattered,” Talbot replied.
* * *
Rhoslyn looked up from the list of goods she was verifying against the wagon filled with vegetables and fruits from the village. Her grandfather and St. Claire approached with determined steps she knew meant they had come in search of her. She had risen early and thrown herself into work in an effort to put the last two days behind her. She didn’t like the united front the two men presented. It couldn’t bode well for her.
“This will do, Williame,” she said to the merchant standing beside her. “Have your men unload the goods in the kitchen.” She took a bag of silver from the pouch belted to her waist and handed it to him.
“Thank ye, my lady.”
The merchant climbed into the seat beside his son, but not before Rhoslyn caught the glance he cast at her grandfather and St. Claire. His curt order to his son to go to the postern door told her that he, too, knew the men had something on their minds. The cart lurched into motion. Rhoslyn stepped back. Once the cart passed, the two men closed the final distance between them. St. Claire’s eyes narrowed on her face and she touched the tender spot on her cheek before checking the action.
His gaze sharpened. “Are you well?”
A strange tremor rippled through her. She hadn’t seen him since last night and had hoped to avoid him as long as possible. “I am fine,” she said. He continued to stare, and she added, “The bruise isna’ so bad.”
“Bad enough,” her grandfather growled.
“It is over and I am well. That is enough.” she said.
“You are a fool if ye believe that, and I didna’ raise a fool.”
Irritation surfaced. “I had no’ expected to see ye. I thought you would have returned home.”
“Nay, we need to speak privately with you.” He grasped her arm and started toward the castle.
St. Claire fell into place alongside her and she felt as if she were being escorted to the gallows. They reached the front door and, minutes later, entered their private solar.
She seated herself on the bench in front of the hearth and her grandfather said, “Ye and St. Claire will marry tomorrow morning.”
Of all the things she might have expected to hear come out of her grandfather’s mouth, this wasn’t one of them. “But why? Edward commanded we wed a month from now.”
“Dayton is claiming you and he are married.”
“Married?” It made perfect sense, but that didn’t stop the feeling that a horse had rolled across her. “Ridiculous,” she said, then cursed the tremor in her voice. “We didna’ see a priest, nor was there even the hint of a handfasting.”
“It isna’ as simple as that, and ye know it,” her grandfather said.
Rhoslyn looked at St. Claire. “You claimed Edward’s command that we marry was unimpeachable. We are, in effect, already married.”
“True,” he said. “But Dayton might use the fact you and he were alone to make a claim.”
“Is that how ye would have seen things if I had reached Longford Castle and been alone with Lord Melrose?”
“Nay. I would have razed Longford Castle, then brought you back to Castle Glenbarr.”
Anger tightened her belly. “Yet you fear your brother can claim me?”
“It is my duty to ensure your safety. The church’s blessing on our union makes his claims more difficult to pursue.”
“King Edward will never uphold your brother’s assertions.”
“Not as long as I am alive,” St. Claire replied.
Rhoslyn gasped. “Surely, your brother would no’ go so far as to kill ye?”
“I would not have thought he would dare kidnap you.” His expression was impassive, but Rhoslyn felt sure she read the thought, Neither did I conceive of the possibility that he would dare lay a hand on you.
“And what will ye do if you bear a child in nine months, Rhoslyn?” her grandfather asked.
Rhoslyn went cold.
“Dayton will say the child is his,” he went on. “Especially if there is any question that you and St. Claire havena’ lived together as man and wife.”
St. Claire remained silent, but Rhoslyn felt his stare. She wanted to argue, wanted to retreat to the solitude of her chambers—or even better, the convent—but could think of nothing to halt the inevitable. As much as she wanted to deny it, they were right. If she bore a child within the next nine months—especially a son—Dayton very well might rally his father and even petition Edward with the allegation that her child was his.
When she’d risen this morning, she had gone to the small chapel near their chambers and prayed to the Virgin Mary herself that she not be pregnant. Her stomach churned, for even while she’d knelt on the stone floor, she had planned how she might obtain penny royal and sage to induce bleeding before St. Claire lay with her.