Chapter Fourteen
Rhoslyn opened her eyes and lifted them to the Virgin Mary in the nook of the small chapel. “Four more days have passed and still my flux has no’ come. Please, Holy Mother, beg your Son no’ to punish me in this way.” Desire rose to obtain the herbs to abort the possible pregnancy and guilt twisted her belly. “Forgive me,” she whispered while a voice inside her cursed her grandfather and St. Claire for imprisoning her in Castle Glenbarr. They were right, it was too dangerous to leave. Four of St. Claire’s guardsmen had died in yesterday’s attack. She couldn’t ask more men to die to protect her. But being confined meant she had no chance to find the needed herbs.
“Is it so wrong not to want this man’s child?” she asked, but silence was her only answer. “Have you also deserted me, good lady?”
Fear stabbed soul deep. She as much just told the Holy Mother she was beyond God’s grace. Sweet Jesu, God was sure to punish her further if he found her guilty of sloth. She racked her memory. What was the prayer for forgiveness for committing one of the seven deadly sins?
Rhoslyn prostrated herself on the stone floor and began to pray.
At last, Rhoslyn tore herself away from the chapel. If St. Claire noticed how much time she spent praying, he might ask what was wrong. She started across the bailey toward the storeroom and caught sight of her grandfather striding from the stables. He slowed and they met near the stables.
“We need to talk,” he said without preamble.
Unease prickled down her spine. “Is something wrong?”
He turned her back toward the castle and began walking.
“I was going to the storeroom,” she said.
“Later.” He waited for a group of men to pass, then said, “Ye are not living up to your wifely duties.”
Rhoslyn stopped short and stared. Two women passed carrying baskets and Rhoslyn started forward again, but waited until she was certain they were out of earshot before saying, “I wonder not only how you came to this conclusion, but what emboldens you to think ye have the right to speak to me of such personal matters.”
“I am your grandfather. That gives me the right. As to how I came to the conclusion, I have eyes. I can tell when a husband and wife are no’ sharing a bed.”
“If you doubt that St. Claire slept in my bed, ask Alana. She saw him there.”
“Sleeping in a woman’s bed isna’ the same as bedding her. The man doesna’ strike me as being anything like his brother. But if ye tell me he is cruel to you, I will kill him and face Edward’s wrath.”
“I think you have interfered enough, Grandfather.”
He barked a laugh. “Are ye saying that because I took you from the convent, your troubles are my fault?”
“Nay,” she grudgingly replied. “But you havena’ helped matters, either.”
“I disagree,” he said, “but that does not matter. What matters is now. Do ye despise him for what happened?”
“Nay.”
“Then why has he not bedded ye?”
“This is none of your affair,” she warned.
“Aye, it is. Since we are stuck with the man, I want great grandchildren while I am still able to teach them what it means to be a Highlander.”
Her heart twisted. She wanted that was well. What if it was Dayton St. Claire’s son she bore instead of Sir Talbot’s? Would her grandfather reject the child? They reached the postern door. He opened it and motioned her to enter. He followed and she veered right, toward the table at the far end of the great hall. He grasped her arm and steered her toward the stairs.
“We are no’ finished,” he said, and urged her up the stairs.
They reached the third floor and entered her private solar. “Why are ye doing this?” she asked when he closed the door. “You were the one who was most against the marriage. You even tried to marry me to Jacobus.”
“Aye, but that opportunity passed.” He met her gaze. “I know Dayton St. Claire did more than kidnap ye. I saw it in your eyes the day I met you in the inn.”
Rhoslyn startled, but managed to check the panic that shot through her.
“St. Claire has accepted you as his wife and he wants ye,” he said.
“What do you mean?” she blurted. “That is ridiculous.”
“Is it? I see the way he looks at ye.”
Her heart beat painfully fast. “All men see is lust.”
He grunted. “I am still vigorous enough to understand and recognize desire when I see it.”
“Grandfather!”
“Dinna’ act like a thirteen-year-old virgin. Ye were married eight years, and I made sure ye understood the reality of life from the time you were a child. He wants you, which is to his credit. Many men would blame a woman for what happened to ye and hold a grudge. ‘Tis not so with St. Claire. What will ye do if you find yourself pregnant with his brother’s child?”
Rhoslyn drew a sharp breath before catching herself.
Her grandfather’s eyes narrowed. “Ye are no’ already carrying his child, are you?”
“I am no’ pregnant,” she snapped.
“Have ye had your flux?”
She stared in horror. “That is none of your business.”
He gave a succinct nod. “Just as I thought. ‘Tis time ye got down to the business of bedding your husband.”
“Business? Is that how ye see my marriage?”
“In this case, yes. You did no’ marry the man out of love.” His expression softened. “I say this for your own good. You canna’ allow what happened to paralyze you. You could have done worse than Talbot. Ye could have gotten a man like his brother.”
She shuddered. Worse, his brother could have succeeded.
When Rhoslyn neared the stables that afternoon, male laughter coming from the side of the building caused her to slow.
“Go on, lad, you can catch her,” came a deep English voice she didn’t recognize.
Another round of laughter went up, even more boisterous than the last. She crept forward and peered around the edge of the building. St. Claire and several of his men stood facing the far side of the building. Sounds of a scuffle ensued, and St. Claire threw back his head and laughed. Rhoslyn startled at the sound of his rich laughter amongst the guffaws of his men. Although she watched him in profile, she noticed a softening of the normally hard lines of his face. He looked ten years younger.
His broad shoulders shook with laughter. “Have you not the bollocks to tame her, lad?”
“Is that how you let a female treat you?” a third said, and more laughter erupted.
“She willna’ obey me,” a young male voice replied.
Rhoslyn recognized John Forster’s voice, eldest son of the most prominent freeman who worked their land.
“You cornered her,” a large man said. “Now you must bring her to heel or she will never obey you.”
“Show her who is master,” another said.
“Give her a good swat on the rump,” one said. “That will teach her you mean business.”
“That never works,” another said. “Mount her, lad. Do not give her a chance to get away.”
A hard bump against the wall was followed by a woman’s cry.
“Ina, I didna’ mean to hurt ye,” John said. “Hold still, damn you.”
The sound of a body knocking hard against the wall came next.
Rhoslyn froze.
Some of the men darted from view around the building.
“You have her, John,” St. Claire said. “She cannot get past us.”
“Want me to hold her?” another said.
John grunted, then shouted, “I did it.”
Was he panting?
“You would think he cornered a lion,” one man said.
St. Claire chuckled. “She did put up a fight.”
Rhoslyn broke from shock and lunged forward, nearly tripping in her rush to reach them. St. Claire’s head snapped in her direction. Amusement seemed frozen on his face. In that instant, his unguarded expression confused her, and she couldn’t reconcile the man who had tenderly freed her from the bed where her rapist had tied her with the man who cheered on a wisp of a boy while he raped a woman. The look vanished and she jarred from her confusion when his eyebrows dove down in a fierce frown.
He started toward her. “What is it, Lady Rhoslyn?”
She pushed past him and around the building, then stopped cold at sight of John with—
Iron fingers closed around her arm and swung her around. “What is amiss?” St. Claire demanded.
“I—” She cut her gaze back to John.
“Rhoslyn.”
She looked back at St. Claire. “I—”
John halted in front of her, gripping the reins of the horse their stable master had recently broken. Ina sat astride the animal.
“Look, my lady,” Ina said. “John has given me this horse. He is teaching me to ride.”
The young man blushed, for he was sweet on Ina and everyone knew it.
No one laughed or teased him this time. They all stared at her. St. Claire’s gaze sharpened and she read understanding in his eyes.
He released her and said to John. “Lead the horse around the bailey for your lady’s first ride, John. Let them both grow accustomed to the saddle.”
The boy’s blush deepened and he started toward the courtyard.
When John had passed, St. Claire turned to her. “Will you walk with me, Lady Rhoslyn?”
Inwardly she cringed. But she nodded and they began strolling in the direction John had gone.
Once they were well out of earshot of his men, he said, “Do you really think I would stand by and watch a man abuse a woman?”
Shame flushed her cheeks. “I am sorry.”
“I have not gone in pursuit of Dayton,” he said.
The abrupt change of subject startled her.
“I wanted—want—nothing more than to look under every rock in Scotland for him. But I made the mistake of not protecting you as I should have and I feared...” His words trailed off, and Rhoslyn found she couldn’t speak. He looked down at her. “Mayhap my not going gave you the impression—”
“Nay,” she cut in. “I never thought that.”
“Until now.”
She lowered her eyes. “I truly am sorry.”
A group of men approached and St. Claire cupped her elbow and steered her around them. His gentle finger pressure sent a strange heat through her and she nearly snatched her arm away once they passed the men.
“I do know ye are no’ the kind of man to allow anyone to harm a woman,” she said.
Odd that he should be so gentle with her, and such a ruthless killer at the same time. She had known other warriors. Few men survived who had not killed in their lifetime. But St. Claire killed as easily as most men breathed. Yet she saw no cruelty in him. Not even brutality. He killed...efficiently—and without emotion. Was that how he made love? She startled at the thought and snapped her head up to meet his gaze. He stared down at her expectantly.
“I can do nothing more than ask your forgiveness,” she said.
His expression softened. “You need not ask forgiveness. You are allowed doubts.”
Hers had been more than a doubt, but she was grateful for his kindness. “I have no’ seen Ralf and Ingram today. Have they left?”
He nodded. “I sent them back to Stonehaven to continue the search for my brother.”
They were halfway across the bailey when a woman and three men rode through the gates.
“Elizabeth,” Rhoslyn murmured.
“Do you not wish to see her?” St. Claire asked.
Rhoslyn released a breath. “She is a childhood friend.”
He chuckled. “She is a rival, then?”
“Nay. She is a friend.” Rhoslyn said no more and felt his eyes on her, the question still hanging in the air. “I had better greet her,” she said.
“We might as well greet her together.”
She started to disagree, then realized a husband and wife greeting guests was natural. Her stomach began to churn. Husband and wife. Their marriage still seemed like a dream. St. Claire, however, was no dream. He was a flesh and blood man walking alongside her.
They reached Elizabeth as one of her escorts helped her to the ground.
“Rhoslyn.” Elizabeth embraced her and gave her a squeeze. She pulled back, brows drawn. “I heard what happened. Are ye all right? Andreana, she is unharmed? And Lady Isobel, she was with you, as well. What of her?”
“We are all well,” Rhoslyn replied.
Elizabeth turned toward St. Claire. “Sir Talbot, you look well. I assume you were not hurt, either?”
“Nothing serious, my lady.”
“I am relieved. May my escorts rest in the great hall while Rhoslyn and I visit?”
“Of course.” St. Claire nodded to a waiting groom. The men handed the reins to the boy, then followed St. Claire as he escorted Rhoslyn and Elizabeth to the great hall.
“Have you any idea who attacked you, Sir Talbot?” Elizabeth asked.
“I suspect my brother,” he replied.
“I assume you are searching for him?” she said. St. Claire nodded, and she added, “Perhaps you should speak with my father. He knows the countryside well, and I know he would be glad to aid in your search. Your brother must be nearby if he planned the attack.”
“I would be glad of your father’s help, my lady.”
They reached the postern door and St. Claire opened the door, letting the ladies enter first. He followed the women, with Elizabeth’s men trailing.
“We will go to the bower,” Rhoslyn said.
“I will have Mistress Muira bring food and drink,” St. Claire said, and Rhoslyn breathed a silent sigh of relief when he headed for the kitchen.
She led Elizabeth up one flight of stairs to the bower. She closed the door and went to add wood to the hearth’s smoldering embers.
When she sat down beside Elizabeth on the bench in front of the fire, Elizabeth said, “How are you really, Rhoslyn? Your eyes look drawn.”
“I am tired,” she admitted. “It has been a trying week.”
“And you are no’ pleased to be married to St. Claire?”
“How could I be? He is Edward’s vassal. He has no affection for Scotland.”
“Yours is no’ the first marriage between Scot and English.”
“These are particularly dangerous times, Elizabeth. Edward is determined to claim Scotland, even if he must take it a piece at a time. And St. Claire is capable of giving it to him. Perhaps even singlehandedly.”
Elizabeth laughed. “He is a large man and a skilled warrior, but he is no god.”
“I am no’ so sure,” Rhoslyn said. “You didna’ see him in battle. He must have killed half the enemy himself.” At the raise of Elizabeth’s brows, Rhoslyn added, “Think what ye may. I do not exaggerate. St. Claire is no small ally for Edward.”
“Edward would not trust a fool,” Elizabeth said. “It is true, he has his eye on the crown, and will pay for the fight from Scottish coffers. But we will no’ simply bow down to him.”
“He already controls our noble’s castles,” Rhoslyn said.
Elizabeth waved a hand. “A political tactic. If he dares march an army across the border those same nobles will meet them with drawn swords.”
“While St. Claire attacks from the rear.”
“He does no’ strike me as fool enough to fight a losing battle,” Elizabeth said. “At worst, he will encourage the nobles to follow Edward. You must admit, many already favor Edward.”
“They are only looking out for their interests in England,” Rhoslyn muttered.
“True,” Elizabeth agreed. “But we speculate. The most important thing is that Sir Talbot seems kind, and he protected ye against your attackers during the hunting party.”
And his brother, Rhoslyn heard the thought. Rhoslyn could hide nothing from Elizabeth.
“He knows how to protect his own,” Rhoslyn said, and wished she could accept him based on that fact alone.
* * *
“‘Tis good to see ye, Lady Rhoslyn,” Malcom said.
Talbot swung the axe down against the tree that had fallen in front of the storehouse door, then yanked it free. Boyd stood opposite him and swung his axe onto the same spot. Talbot flicked a glance at Rhoslyn as she halted beside Malcom, then again swung his axe. This was the first he had seen her since the yesterday’s evening meal.
Rhoslyn nodded. “I see last night’s wind did some damage. Why was I no’ told?”
Talbot swung the axe again. “I was told.”
“That doesna’ mean I should no’ be informed,” she said. “Even when Alec was alive I was aware of all that went on in Castle Glenbarr. Why are you chopping the tree, St. Claire? Should you no’ have the lads do that?”
He laughed. “Are you saying I am too old to chop up a tree?”
“I am saying ye might have more important things to do, like no’ keeping Angus Gair waiting.”
“Angus will have plenty to drink while he waits,” Talbot replied.
“Alec never made him wait.”
Talbot brought the maul down on the tree again. “Perhaps he did not keep as much ale on hand as I do.”
She opened her mouth to reply, then her attention fixed on Malcom, who was busy studying the ground, and she closed her mouth. So, the lady was accustomed to having her way. And, Talbot thought with no little surprise, Harper had sheltered her as much as he could. She was strong and courageous. He wouldn’t have thought her naive, especially in regards to men. Her gaze shifted past him and a moment later Angus Gair came strolling into view.
Angus stopped beside her and crossed his arms over his massive chest. “I might have known.”
Talbot glimpsed a smirk on Rhoslyn’s face before he slammed the axe into the tree trunk. “A man must prioritize, Angus,” Talbot said as he worked the axe free.
The big man grunted. “Aye, but ye need a real man to do the job.”
Talbot planted his axe head first on the ground and met his gaze. “I assume you mean yourself.”
Angus strode to where Boyd stood opposite St. Claire. “Lad, ye are no’ doing it right.” He took the axe from the younger man, waved him aside, and stepped up to the tree. Half a dozen men on their way to the practice field stopped to watch. “Put your back into it.” Angus swung the axe with such force that a large chunk of wood flew from the trunk. “I am surprised your laird didna’ teach ye that.” He looked at Talbot and grinned.
“I take that to be a challenge,” Talbot said.
“I wouldna’ want to embarrass ye.” Angus’ grin widened.
“I do not embarrass easily. The first man to split the trunk?”
“I will even give ye a head start and let you continue with the scratch you made in the wood.” Angus lifted his brows in question.
“That will not be necessary,” Talbot said.
More men, a mixture of Highlanders and English, gathered around them.
“Unless you feel the need to have the head start,” Talbot said.
“That is good of ye, St. Claire, but I will manage.”
They took their places at opposite ends of the trunk.
“Malcom,” Talbot said, “if you would say the word.”
Talbot and Angus gripped their axes. Malcom glanced between them, then shouted, “Go!”
Both men swung their axes, hitting the wood with jarring force. Onlookers began to shout and, with each blow, Talbot noticed the crowd grew. Amidst their cries, bets passed as to who would win. He angled his axe first left, then right, and his gash deepened with every strike. Angus swung over and over, brute strength an advantage Talbot couldn’t match blow for blow. But it took more than brute strength to win a battle.
“God’s teeth, St. Claire, use some muscle,” Rhoslyn shouted.
He flicked a glance her way. She glared as fiercely as the men. But she cheered for him. As the blows fell faster, the shouts grew more intense. Finally, a large crack split the air and for an instant he feared Angus had beat him, but another blow to the wood and his end of the trunk struck the ground with a thud.
Cheers went up and he looked up to see Angus’ end had also fallen to the ground. The crowd surged forward, a chorus of voices arguing over whose log hit the ground first. Angus looked at Talbot, grinned, then shrugged. Talbot shifted his gaze toward Rhoslyn. She shook her head as if in reprimand, but he was sure he saw a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.
Angus elbowed his way through the crowd to Talbot and clapped him on the back. “Have ye any rope, St. Claire? We had best show these lads how to haul these logs away.”
“You do not wish to cut it yourself?” Talbot asked.
Angus gave a hearty laugh. “Ye have bollocks, lad. Nay, I think we should haul it away from the storeroom, then have a drink and discuss business.”
Talbot felt certain his wife would be pleased with that.
* * *
The door in the private solar opened behind Rhoslyn. “Ye may leave the wine on the table,” she said without looking up from the household rolls.
“I did not bring wine. I can fetch some, if you like.”
Rhoslyn snapped her head up and met St. Claire’s dark eyes. “I thought ye were one of the maids.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“Nay. I simply was no’ expecting you. Is something wrong?”
“Need something be wrong for a husband to visit his wife?”
Her treacherous heart beat faster. He was calling her wife. He’d begun to make a habit of it: When Elizabeth visited two days past. Yesterday afternoon in the kitchen. Last night in the great hall when she announced she intended to retire. And now today.
“Did ye finish your business with Angus?” she asked. “How many cattle did ye purchase?”
“He will deliver one hundred head over the next year. He has the best cattle in all the Crieff market.”
“I hope he didna’ demand a high price in revenge for ye beating him at tree chopping.”
“Did I beat him? It seems we were evenly matched.”
She snorted. “Clearly, your end of the log struck the ground first.”
“I am flattered you noticed,” he said, and embarrassment washed over her.
“Of course I noticed. I have eyes.”
“Aye, you do. Lovely eyes.”
Rhoslyn flushed. “Was there something ye wanted, St. Claire? As you must see, I am busy.”
He nodded at the household rolls. “Have you always kept the accounts?”
“Since I was seventeen.”
Surprise flickered in his gaze. “Where did you learn the skill?”
“Alec taught me.” She laughed. “Or I should say he gave into my pestering to teach me.” Sadness settled over her with the memory. “Mistress Muira ran his household so well that I was no’ needed. I cared for Andreana, but she had a nursemaid, which left me too idle for my liking.”
“Most noble ladies spend their days with a needle, or directing the servants, no matter how apt they are spending their husband’s fortunes. Do such things hold no interest for you?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Mistress Muira would no’ allow anyone to direct her. I was wise enough to know better than to make trouble in my husband’s house. As for sewing, I am ashamed to admit even the good sisters at Saint Mary’s could no’ improve my skill.”
“What of spending your husband’s money?” he asked.
Rhoslyn shrugged. “How much can a woman spend?”
“Some can spend a great deal.”
“Is that what you came to speak with me about, spending my money?”
A corner of his mouth twitched.
“I imagine you consider it your money,” she said.
“If it was necessary to pay my men to protect Castle Glenbarr, would you object?” he asked.
“Nay, so long as it wasna’ you who started the trouble that warranted the protection. Is there something ye wish to confess? An old enemy who may come calling?”
“I doubt any of them will venture into the Scottish highlands to avenge themselves on me.”
One already had. His brother.
His expression sobered, and she realized he was thinking the same thing. “There is a matter we need to discuss.”
Apprehension sent a chill through her.
“Would you sit with me near the fire?” he asked.
She rose and crossed to the bench. They sat down and she looked expectantly at him.
“You are looking well,” he said, though she knew he meant ‘you seem to have recovered from my brother’s violation.’
“Lady Rhoslyn, I believe it is time we consummate our marriage.”
Shock shot through her, followed by fear.
“I do not say this to force you to accept me as your husband,” he quickly added. “I say this because I do not wish there to be any doubt that I am the father of your children.”
She drew a sharp breath.
“I am sorry. There is no easy way to solve this problem.”
She stiffened. “Problem?”
“If a child is born in nine months, some will say the child is not mine. But if you are my wife in every sense of the word, the rumors will be little more than an annoyance.”
He had slipped into her bed the morning following their wedding. No doubt, the servants had noticed that they hadn’t seen him there since.
“I do not want you—or the child—to suffer that indignation,” he said.
Rhoslyn swallowed. “And if the child resembles your brother?”
“My brother looks very much like my father. Why would I care that our son favors him?”
Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Surely, he didn’t want to call his brother’s son his own. Then she realized the truth.
“It would not have mattered if Melrose had gotten me with child. You would have taken me to wife and called another man’s child your own.”
St. Claire shook his head. “Nay, it would not have mattered.”
She stared. “What manner of man are you?”
“The kind that is tired of war,” he replied.
“I have never known a man to tire of war.”
“Perhaps the ones you know have not had enough. I have.”
“Impossible. Ye are too skilled a warrior. A man such as you does not give up fighting.”
Amusement glimmered in his eyes. “A man such as me? What do you make of me, Rhoslyn?”
“Ye are a man who, if your king commands you to fight, you will.”
“If I am of more use to him here than at war, he will not ask me to fight.”
Suspicion rose in her. “The only way you would be of more use to him in Scotland is if ye put his needs above Scotland’s.”
“Scotland and England have been at peace for some time,” he replied. “There is no reason for what we need to be at odds.”
“Now that your king is determined to rule us, that peace is sure to end.”
“I do not think William Wallace or Robert Bruce will allow that,” St. Claire said.
Had she heard correctly? Did an Englishman—a knight—say that a Scot would not allow the English to rule him?
“Do ye realize you speak treason?” she asked.
He laughed his deep, rich laugh, and said, “Edward knows well enough that Robert Bruce has no intention of letting him rule Scotland.”
“You speak as if Scotland will prevail over England.”
“Would it be the first time?”
“St. Claire, ye are a traitor.”
He shrugged. “I am a realist. Scotland has never willingly bowed to anyone, much less the English. Why should they start now?”
“They named Edward arbiter for the Scottish crown. That is a good start.”
“A business deal on the part of the Guardians, nothing more.”
She wanted so much to agree with him, to believe their leaders had the situation in hand and Edward would become nothing more than an annoyance. How easy it would be to trust this man. He would protect her—and their children. Their children. What would happen when the peace between Scotland and England ended—as it surely would? Who would their sons fight for? Who would their daughters marry? Perhaps they wouldn’t have children. If she couldn’t conceive, or if it took years to conceive as it had with Alec, that would allow for time to prepare, to see if...
“Whatever Edward does, I will not risk your happiness,” he said. “Any children born to you will be mine. But to ensure that no one challenges me, we must share a bed. You may hate me—”
“Hate you?” She felt heat rush into her cheeks when his brow lifted. “I do no’ blame you for what your brother did.”
“But neither do you want me,” he said.
What could she say? She could want him, and with little urging. But to admit that...to admit that, meant what? Edward could command him to kill Wallace and that would not change the fact he was her husband.
“You are loyal to Edward. I am loyal to Scotland. That fact alone can crush us.”
He placed a hand over hers. “I will not let it.”