Chapter Twenty-Four
Derek surprised Talbot when he gently laid Taresa back on the ground, then rose and stepped into his saddle. He kicked his horse’s ribs and said not a word when Talbot and Seward caught up with him. What was there to say? Derek was right. Taresa was under Talbot’s protection. She’d been in his home, where she should have been safe.
They rode twenty minutes in silence when a curl of smoke came into view, rising from the wooded hills ahead.
“Whose land is this?” Talbot asked. They had left Glenbarr’s property half an hour ago and now rode through unfamiliar territory.
“The far eastern edge of my land,” Seward replied. “The cottage belongs to David Morrison. He tends cattle for me. It is another four-hour ride to Davey’s. Mayhap your brother stopped to rest.”
“If he did, he will have killed your man. Does Morrison have a family?”
“His wife, Diana.”
Guilt washed over Talbot when he realized he hoped Dayton had stopped there.
They crested the next hill and Talbot glimpsed a cottage amongst the trees. Three horses stood before it, heads hung low, reins tied to a nearby tree.
A low growl emanated from Sir Derek’s chest and he leaned low in the saddle in readiness to ride hard.
“Hold,” Talbot commanded.
The knight’s head snapped in his direction.
“They have not seen us,” Talbot said. “When they do, Dayton will threaten Morrison and his wife. We have the element of surprise.” Talbot recognized the cold fury in Derek’s eyes and said, “I will slay you where you sit, Sir Derek.”
Defiance flashed in the man’s eyes, but he said, “As you say, laird.”
They left the horses out of sight below the crest of the hill, topped the ridge, and crept downhill, keeping to the trees. At the side of the cottage, Talbot motioned for Seward and Derek to stay, then he inched around to the front window and peered through the window frame. Inside, a woman pulled a kettle off the fire. She appeared at ease. Had Dayton presented himself as a friend? Rhoslyn might not sound the alarm for fear of causing harm to the man and woman. A man came into view at the hearth and Talbot recognized Carr.
Where was Rhoslyn? Where was his brother?
He returned to Seward and Derek.
“They are inside. I did not see Rhoslyn or Dayton.”
Seward glanced past him and Talbot saw in his eyes the same impulse to storm the cottage.
“If we wait until they leave,” Seward said, “We may avoid harm to the women.”
Talbot nodded. “Is there another window in the cottage?”
“The other side. Where the bed is.”
“Stay here.”
Talbot crept around the cottage to the other side. A fur covered the window, but the shutters stood open. He reached in and slid a finger between the curtain and frame. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end an instant before the cold steel of a sword point pricked his neck.
“You should have gone with Sir Roland.”
Dayton.
His brother’s voice carried not a hint of emotion, which meant Dayton would kill him without thought, without remorse.
Talbot spun. The sword point drew a line from the back of his neck to his jaw. He ducked. Dayton brought his sword down in a wide arc. Talbot yanked his sword from its scabbard and swung upward. Steel clanged against steel an instant before Dayton’s blade would have cleaved his skull.
Dayton swung and lunged, forcing Talbot back. His shoulder crashed into the cottage wall, but he jabbed. Dayton leapt back. Talbot pressed him into retreat. Dayton parried.
“The child is mine,” Dayton said.
Talbot feinted left, then swung right and pierced the skin between arm band and chain mail. Dayton cursed. A man appeared around the side of the cottage, sword in hand. Carr.
Talbot slid right to keep the man away from his back.
“Get him, fool,” Dayton shouted.
“You cannot face me on your own, craven,” Talbot snarled at Dayton.
Carr charged Talbot’s left side.
Boot falls pounded and, an instant later, Seward and Derek burst into view. Both men held swords at ready. Carr whirled to face them. Talbot blocked a left, then right parry from his brother.
“This one is mine,” Derek shouted. The knight brought a hard blow down on Carr, who blocked, but fell back a pace.
Talbot sidled forward, jabbed low, then parried left. Dayton dodged the blow, but Talbot saw the opening and rammed his sword tip into Dayton’s collarbone. Dayton leapt back, narrowly dodging the sword, and Talbot swung a sideways arc that sliced the top of Dayton’s sword arm.
Dayton howled, a wounded animal’s cry, then brought his sword down in a bone-jarring blow that cut a gash in the sleeve of Talbot’s chain mail. From the corner of his eye, Talbot glimpsed Rhoslyn and the woman standing beyond the fighting. Seward hurried to the women.
Dayton swung his sword low. Talbot deflected the blow as Dayton spun and brought his sword around to Talbot’s left. He dodged the weapon and skittered back several paces. Talbot thrust, ripping a hole in Dayton’s leg below his chain mail. Blood spurted, but Dayton pressed his attack. Talbot blocked a heavy blow and dodged behind a tree as Dayton’s sword narrowly missed his midsection and split a gash in the wood.
A man’s shriek broke through the clash of steel, but Talbot’s focus didn’t waiver. Dayton rushed him, swinging left, then right, then left and right. Talbot gave one mighty push and shoved back with the next blow. Dayton stumbled to the side, but regained his feet, then brought a heavy blow down across Talbot’s left arm. His chain mail protected his arm, but the shock of the blow reverberated through his arm. He gritted his teeth against the pain as Dayton landed another hard blow. Steel slid against steel until the hilts collided and they strained nose-to-nose.
“You are not a St. Claire,” Dayton said. He breathed heavily, but his voice still held no emotion.
Talbot shoved him away, then allowed his sword to falter, as if the blow Dayton had landed on his arm had weakened him. Dayton lunged, and Talbot thrust his sword into the opening at his brother’s jugular. Dayton’s head snapped back, then his eyes riveted onto Talbot’s. Talbot yanked his sword from his brother’s neck and he fell face down onto the ground at this feet.
Talbot leaned a palm against a tree, breath coming in heavy gasps. Dayton’s blood pooled around him like thick syrup. Talbot felt nothing. Not even relief.
What would his father say?
* * *
Rhoslyn shook like a leaf, but managed to dig her heels in and stop her grandfather from forcing her back into the cottage.
“Help St. Claire,” she ordered.
His brother was driving him back toward the trees.
“Your husband can handle himself,” her grandfather said. “After all, he is—was—Edward’s favorite knight.”
Rhoslyn looked at him in horror. “You wager with his life? He is the father of your grandchild.”
“If I interfere he will only kill me in punishment.”
“She is right, Kinsley,” Diana said. “Ye must help him.”
Rhoslyn’s heart leapt into her throat when Dayton’s sword swung perilously close to St. Claire’s face. “Sweet God, Grandfather, I beg you.” She grasped his arm and yanked.
“Have faith in your husband, Rhoslyn.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “He might die. At least help Sir Derek.”
Her grandfather snorted. “Carr is no match for him. See,” he said when Sir Derek’s sword slashed through the flesh on the man’s wrist.
A wave of pain washed over Rhoslyn and she jerked.
Her grandfather looked sharply at her. “What is it?”
She shook her head.
“Granddaughter,” he said in a stern voice.
Steel clashed in a succession of blows as St. Claire and Dayton disappeared behind a tree. St. Claire stepped into view, retreating in quick steps as his brother drove him backwards with quick parries of his sword.
“Rhoslyn.”
She jerked at the harsh note in her grandfather’s voice.
“Is it the babe?” he demanded.
“She was in labor when they arrived,” Diana said.
Brent Carr cried out and Rhoslyn’s gaze snapped onto him in time to see him fall to his knees, blood gushing from his leg.
He threw his sword down. “I yield.”
“Yield?” Sir Derek snarled.
He reached down and yanked something from the man’s left wrist. Sunlight glinted off red jewels. The ruby bracelet Lady Taresa had worn. Sir Derek rammed his fist into the man’s face. Rhoslyn started. Brett dropped to the ground and Sir Derek drove his sword through his neck.
Bile rose in Rhoslyn’s throat as another wave of pain washed over her.
* * *
Talbot walked from the trees and he took in Carr lying on the ground face up, blood trailing from the wound in his throat. Sir Derek had killed him in almost the same fashion Talbot had Dayton. Derek hadn’t severed Carr’s head as Talbot had Dayton’s, however.
He caught sight of Rhoslyn leaning against Seward with the woman, Diana, clutching her arm. Rhoslyn’s gaze met his and her mouth parted in surprise. There was something else in her eyes. Was it relief? He crossed to the group.
When he reached them, he saw Rhoslyn’s tears. Before he could assure her he was well, she gave a deep groan and stumbled. Talbot lunged and caught her close to him.
“All is well, my lady,” he started to assure her. Then she tensed in his arms. He looked sharply at Seward. “What is wrong?”
“The babe is coming,” the woman said. “Quickly, bring her inside.” She hurried around the cottage.
“The babe is coming?” Talbot repeated.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her inside. Diana stood beside a bed separated from the rest of the room by a thin curtain.
He crossed to the bed and gently laid Rhoslyn on the mattress. “Why is the baby coming now? It is too soon. She is not yet eight months pregnant.” Unless he counted the two weeks between when bedded her and Dayton’s rape.
Diana pulled the blanket up over Rhoslyn’s belly. “Sometimes that is long enough.”
“How long has she been in labor?”
“An hour, maybe longer,” she replied. “She was laboring when they arrived. That is why they stopped.”
Talbot whirled to face Seward. “Why did you allow her to stay outside?”
The old man snorted. “Do ye know my granddaughter at all?”
“She might have—” Talbot broke off, suddenly at a loss.
Seward’s brow rose. “Might have what?” Talbot didn’t reply and he added, “Birthed the babe then and there while still ordering everyone about?”
“Sweet Jesu, St. Claire,” Rhoslyn said in a strained voice, “cease bullying my grandfather.”
Sir Derek appeared in the cottage doorway. “Keep a watch, Sir Derek,” Talbot ordered. “And bring our horses around. I do not want any unwanted visitors.” The knight nodded and Talbot sat on the mattress beside Rhoslyn. He took her hand and clasped it tight. “Are you well, my lady?”
She lifted her free hand and touched his jaw where Dayton’s sword had cut him. “You are bleeding.”
“‘Tis a scratch,” he said.
Diana appeared at the bed, a basin of water in hand and clean clothes slung over her shoulder. “Go on now,” she ordered.
“Have you birthed a child?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said. “Twice before.”
“Have you a midwife?” he asked. “We can fetch her.”
“She would only arrive to see your wife suckling the babe at her breast.”
“Are you sure—”
“Laird,” she cut in, “unless ye plan to bring this baby into the world, let me be. Now, shoo.”
Rhoslyn tensed again and gave a deep grunt.
“I will stay,” he said.
The woman’s mouth fell open in shock. “A man doesna’ stay in the birthing room.”
“Midwives always have help,” he said. “You may have need of me.”
She glanced at Rhoslyn, indecision in her eyes, when Rhoslyn began panting heavily. Diana’s attention came back onto him. “As ye say. I may have need of you. But you will do as I say, and willna’ move from her side unless I tell you otherwise—no matter what. Do oue understand?”
“Aye.”
Talbot soothed Rhoslyn, fetched more water and clean cloths as Diana ordered. When Sir Derek came to report that a company of men had arrived, led by Ross, Talbot had to admit relief. He had expected his child to be born surrounded by the protective walls and fighting might of Castle Glenbarr. Here, only the flammable walls of the cottage separated them from the dangers of the world. He ordered Sir Derek to secure the bodies and have the men surround the cottage to keep watch until they left for Castle Glenbarr.
The day wore on toward evening as Rhoslyn labored. When the sun set, Talbot heard the door creak open beyond the closed curtain.
“Diana,” the man called. “Kinsley, what are ye doing here?”
Seward quietly explained to Morrison what had happened.
Morning came and Talbot feared Diana would collapse from exhaustion. He and her husband had forced her to lie down, but she had slept little more than an hour before she returned to Rhoslyn’s side.
“Are you sure we do not need the midwife?” Talbot asked.
“Why would we need a midwife?” Rhoslyn demanded.
He looked at her. “Rest, my lady.” The labor pains were coming too quickly and he could see the fatigue in the droop of her eyelids. He wanted to ask Diana what was wrong, why the baby was taking so long to come, but feared worrying Rhoslyn.
“Mayhap ye should get some rest, laird,” Diana told him.
He shook his head. “I will stay.”
“Ye look tired,” she insisted.
“Not as tired as my wife. Should not the babe have come by now?”
“Ah, so that is it,” she said. “Ye fear something is wrong because the baby hasna’ rushed into the world to meet you.”
Frustration wore jagged on his nerves. “You need not worry, my lady wife.”
“Lady wife, is it?” Rhoslyn croaked a laugh.
Diana wrung out a cloth with cool water and mopped her brow.
“Your lady wife is well enough,” Rhoslyn said. “St. Claire, ye know nothing about birthing babies. He will come when he is ready. Some come quickly.” She stiffened and groaned with another contraction. When the pain passed, she said, “Some take their time.”
This child took another four hours. But at last Rhoslyn could no longer resist the urge to push, and Diana told her it was time.
What seemed eons later, Diana cried, “I see the head.”
Talbot jerked his gaze in her direction and froze at sight of his son’s dark hair peeking out from the sheets that covered Rhoslyn’s midsection and thighs.
“Push again, my lady,” Diana ordered.
Rhoslyn’s jaw tightened.
“Harder,” Diana cried.
Rhoslyn groaned with effort. In the next instant, the baby came free with a wail that brought a tightening in Talbot’s chest as Rhoslyn collapsed back onto the pillows.
“Well, well,” Diana said. “It seems ye have a daughter, laird.”
Talbot broke from the spell. “What?”
Diana held up the baby. “A daughter.”
A daughter.
Diana cleaned the baby, then wrapped her in a small blanket and lay her in Rhoslyn’s arm. “Ye must feed her.”
Talbot sat on the bed beside Rhoslyn. He watched transfixed as Rhoslyn guided their daughter’s mouth to her nipple. The babe fumbled for an instant, then latched on as if starving.
Diana laughed. “There is a lass who knows what she wants.”
A few minutes later, Talbot became aware of Diana cleaning up the bedding and cloths. He lifted Rhoslyn and the babe and held them while she spread clean bedding. His chest tightened when Rhoslyn leaned into him and fell asleep with the baby at her breast.
A daughter. He had expected a son. It only made sense they would have daughters, but he had been so sure their first child would be a son. What did a man do with a daughter? Would she always be so...fragile?
Diana finished and he gently laid Rhoslyn and their daughter back on the mattress.
Rhoslyn woke and looked at him. “I know ye wanted a son, St. Claire.”
He tore his gaze from the small bundle and sat on the mattress beside her. Had she been reading his mind? Nay, he never thought he didn’t want a daughter. What in God’s name did a man do with a daughter?
He shook his head. “I wanted our child. Nothing more.”
“But ye talked of nothing but a son.”
“As did you,” he said.
Rhoslyn shifted and held the baby out toward him. He didn’t move.
“Ye should hold your daughter,” she said.
Suddenly, his heart quaked and it seemed every fiber of his being shook. He allowed Rhoslyn to cradle the baby against him, the small head resting in the crook of his arm. He didn’t move.
The women laughed.
“She willna’ break,” Diana said.
“She is so tiny.” He smoothed a tiny lock of hair away from her face. “She has my father’s dark hair.” He looked at Rhoslyn and was startled to see tears in her eyes. “What is amiss?” He sat on the bed beside her, then stood again and looked around for Diana.
Diana rolled her eyes. “Sit beside your wife.” She gave him a gentle shove and he sat down.
“What is wrong, my lady?” he asked Rhoslyn. “Are you ill?”
She shook her head, her eyes on the baby. “She doesna’ have your fair hair.”
Then he understood. Talbot leaned forward and brushed a kiss on Rhoslyn’s sweat soaked forehead, then whispered, “I see a hint of your red hair. She is beautiful.” He placed the baby in Rhoslyn’s arms and was reminded of Lady Taresa’s words. “Have you ever been so in love, that you would have thrown all caution to the wind for her?”
And he understood.
“If ye dinna’ let me see my grandchild, I will kill you, St. Claire,” Seward called from the other side of the curtain.
Diana pulled the curtain back and Seward entered. Sir Derek stood beyond, near the hearth, staring into the fire as if none of them existed. Something he held glistened in the firelight and Talbot realized it was a length of gold and ruby jewelry.
Seward stopped beside Talbot. “A daughter?” he said.
Talbot shifted his gaze to the baron. “Aye.”
“Give her to me,” Seward said. “She needs to know her grandfather.”
* * *
Rhoslyn awoke to a squalling baby.
“She is hungry again.” Diana laid the baby at Rhoslyn’s breast.
Rhoslyn tugged down the top of her shirt and the baby latched onto the exposed nipple.
“She is a lusty one,” Diana said. “Have ye named her yet?”
Rhoslyn looked at St. Claire. He stood at the side of the bed, staring down at the baby with the same dazed look he’d had since she placed the baby in his arms. It seemed that becoming a father had reduced the mighty warrior to mush.
Rhoslyn unexpectedly remembered her intention to ask St. Claire about Abbess Beatrice. What would have happened had the abbess not told him of Rhoslyn’s flight from the convent? She would be in Longford Castle married to Jacobus and waiting for their child to be born. No, St. Claire said he would have razed the castle, then brought her home.
She smiled. “What say you, St. Claire? Have we a name?”
He shook his head.
“Mayhap we should name her after your mother.”
“Aye,” he said, but she knew he wasn’t really listening.
“Peigi,” she urged.
His eyes shifted to her face and understanding glimmered. “I did not know her. Perhaps Taresa? Taresa Peigi?”
A lump formed in her throat. Beyond the alcove, Sir Derek stood near the table at the hearth. She had seen him come and go earlier, seen the sorrow that haunted his dark eyes. She understood that sadness. When Lady Taresa had fallen after Brett Carr’s sword pierced her midsection, Rhoslyn had raced to her side and dropped to her knees beside her.
“Be safe, Rhoslyn,” she had said. “Love him. He is a good man.” Rhoslyn thought those were to be her last words, but she added in a whisper. “Tell him I love him. Tell them both.”
Rhoslyn shifted her gaze to St. Claire. They both had to know Lady Taresa was gone, for she was not with Rhoslyn. But they didn’t know what had happened.
“I did no’ tell you. Taresa—” Sir Derek took a step toward the alcove. Tears choked her throat.
St. Claire sat on the bed beside her and covered her hand with his. The baby’s mouth fell from her breast. She had fallen asleep. Rhoslyn pulled her shirt up over her breast and nestled the baby in her arm, then looked at him.
“She loved ye.” Rhoslyn looked at Sir Derek and said in a louder voice, “She loved you both.”
“What happened?” St. Claire prodded.
“Come closer, Sir Derek,” Rhoslyn urged. He hesitated, then came as close at the invisible line created by the curtain. “Taresa gave her life for us. For all of us.” It took a moment for Rhoslyn to be sure she could speak. Then she said, “Lady Taresa could see the hard pace Dayton set was taking its toll on me. It was clear your brother had no intention of stopping for anything short of death. Lady Taresa rode with Brett Carr. The bastard,” Rhoslyn added under her breath.
“We approached a small forest and she insisted she had to relieve herself. At first, Dayton refused to stop, but she told them she had no qualms about soiling herself and Brett in the bargain. We stopped and they allowed me to dismount. Under the guise or her helping me—which was no lie—we went behind a bush where she showed me a dirk hidden in her boot.”
“She had a blade?” St. Claire said. “Why did she not use it before you left the castle?”
“Because Brett threatened her with a knife to my throat.”
Fury flared in St. Claire’s eyes. “I would kill Dayton twice, if I could.”
“And I would watch.” But that wouldn’t bring Taresa back.
“Ye will have to reattach his head first,” her grandfather said.
Rhoslyn stared at her husband. “Ye severed his head?”
“I promised you his head.”
“And you keep your promises. I assume ye plan to send the head to Edward—once I have had a look?”
“Aye.”
“I wish I could deliver is myself,” she said, then quickly added when St. Claire’s eyes darkened, “Never mind. So, Lady Taresa told me to cry out as if I was in labor. I didna’ want to do it. But she insisted. She had a way of getting her way.”
Sir Derek smiled the first smile Rhoslyn had seen from him.
“I did as she commanded,” Rhoslyn went on, “and the two men hurried over to us. Lady Taresa stepped back and drove her blade down onto Brett when he faced me. I wish it had been Dayton instead, but Brett was closer. He turned in the last instant and deflected the blow. Your brother was furious. He was nothing like the first time he kidnapped me.”
“Dayton can be unstable,” St. Claire said. “Even as a boy he would lose his temper for something small, while maintaining an unnatural detachment.”
“His fury died as quickly as it came,” she said. “He was almost emotionless when he told Brett to kill Lady Taresa.”
Sir Derek cursed.
“Forgive me,” Rhoslyn quickly put in. “I...” She slumped against the pillows. “There is no easy way to tell this story.”
“Would you rather leave?” St. Claire asked Sir Derek.”
He straightened. “Nay. I would hear it all.”
St. Claire gave her a nod.
“There is little else to tell. Brett obeyed.” Rhoslyn grasped his arm. “St. Claire, we must find her. She must have a Christian burial. I remember where they left her.”
“I have already commanded that to be done.” Sir Derek looked at St. Claire. “I assumed you would want her cared for, laird.”
“Aye. I am grateful,” St. Claire replied.
“You know where she is?” Rhoslyn asked.
“We found her.”
“Sweet Jesu,” Rhoslyn whispered.
“She was alive,” St. Claire said. “We were with her until the end.”
Gratitude rushed through Rhoslyn. God hadn’t completely deserted her. “Then she told you.”
“Told us what?”
“That she loved you.” Rhoslyn looked from St. Claire to Sir Derek. “And you, Sir Derek. She wanted you to know that she loved you.”
“She said the words?”
Rhoslyn’s heart wrenched at the hoarse plea she heard in his voice. “Aye, she said the words.”
His gaze shadowed, as if far away. “She never said the words.”
“Her last thought was of you.”
His eyes focused on her. He nodded. “Just as her last words to me were of you and the babe.” He took three steps to the bed, then came down on one knee. “She commanded me to take this from her killer and give this to her great grandchild.” He held out the gold and ruby bracelet Lady Taresa had been wearing.
Rhoslyn gave a small gasp.
He laid the bracelet on the blanket beside the baby. “Her last command was that I should ensure the safety of her great-great grandchild. If you will accept a humble knight’s service, I will protect the new Lady Taresa with my life.”
“Just as your Lady Taresa commanded,” Rhoslyn murmured. She looked at St. Claire.
“This was what she whispered to you in those last moments?” he asked.
“Aye,” Sir Derek replied.
St. Claire gave her a small nod, and she said to Sir Derek, “I appoint you our daughter’s protector. She will be your Lady Taresa.”
Startlement shone in his eyes. Then gratitude. He bowed his head once more. “So long as I breathe, you need never worry for her safety.”
To Rhoslyn’s surprise, St. Claire picked up the baby and rose. She voiced a small cry, then quieted in her father’s arms.
“Rise, Sir Derek, and meet Lady Taresa Peigi St. Claire,” he said.
The knight rose and gave a stiff bow to the baby. Both men stared down at her, and Rhoslyn was reminded of St. Claire’s words when he’d first brought her to Castle Glenbarr. “What man knows peace when he takes a wife?” Yet he looked perfectly at peace now. Was this what he had sought?
He looked up from the baby and met her gaze. Then he smiled a dazzling smile that said all was right with the world. He looked back down at their daughter and Rhoslyn realized her daughter needed a brother to complete the trio.
* * *
When the door opened behind her, Rhoslyn looked up from the rolls she was reading. St. Claire entered. He crossed to the table where she worked and stopped beside the cradle that sat beside Rhoslyn’s bench. At six months old, Lady Taresa Peigi St. Claire had finally begun sleeping through the night.
“It has begun to rain,” he at last said.
“Does that mean John Comyn will be staying?” she asked.
“Aye. We were the last he was to visit.”
Rhoslyn lifted the quill from the parchment. “Are you going to tell me what he said?”
“Edward appointed John Balliol as king.”
She closed her eyes. God help them.
“I am commanded to appear before him.”
Rhoslyn looked sharply at him. “Before John or Edward?”
He stared down at her and her heart began to pound wildly. What would Edward do to St. Claire if he was forced to return to England?
“You say there is no difference between the two men,” he said.
“You cannot return to England,” she said.
“You told me I must obey my Scottish king.”
Sweet God. And he would obey.
Would their new king—or his liege lord—force St. Claire from their home? Rhoslyn placed a palm over her belly. Would he be present for the birth of their son?
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