Chapter 14
Aiden damned the flare of anger in Gwendolyn’s eyes, the disdainful resignation as well. Nonetheless, soon the deed would be done. How he and Gwendolyn fared after their marriage would be another matter.
Still, an urgent issue remained. “Your Grace, to prevent the English from gaining a foothold in the Highlands, ’tis imperative that we reclaim Latharn Castle posthaste.”
The Bruce gave a solemn nod. “Once the marriage vows are said, meet with your men and devise a strategy.”
Eyes blazing, Gwendolyn took a step forward. “Sire, I must be included in the plotting. ’Tis my home, one I intend to fight for.”
Aiden faced his king. “Nay! I have familiarized myself with the stronghold; ’tis unnecessary for Lady Gwendolyn to return. I willna allow her to be placed in danger.”
She rounded on him. “A concern you didna raise while we burned the homes and fields of my people.”
“However regrettable the damage,” Aiden said between clenched teeth, “’twas an action necessary to remove resources the English could use.”
She scoffed. “And what of my skills with a knife or as an archer? Are they nay longer of value?”
Blast it! “I didna have the luxury to keep you safe before. Now I do. You will stay here with my king,” he stated. “I know the location of the secret entry. There is little more you could offer.”
“You know of only one.” Fierce eyes held his as if on a dare. “But you are ignorant of the others. Passageways I know like the back of my hand and, if necessary, could navigate in the dark.”
“Details,” Aiden said with cold precision, “the hidden ledger will reveal.”
She gave a cold laugh. “If you believe you could find my father’s journal without my assistance, you are a fool.”
“Enough,” the Bruce bellowed.
Furious he’d allowed her to draw out his anger before his king, Aiden bowed to his sovereign.
“Knowledge of the castle’s secret passageways is imperative to ensure the mission’s success.” Palms flat on the arms of the chair, the Bruce leaned forward. “As we dinna have the secret journal, and given Lady Gwendolyn’s skill with weapons and knowledge of the stronghold, she shall be involved in the planning and will accompany you to the castle.”
Triumph flared in her eyes.
“But”—the king’s gaze leveled on her—“once you have revealed the location of the other tunnels, for your own safety, you will remain hidden during the attack. And, after Latharn is recaptured, you will turn over your father’s ledger to Lord Lenox.”
Jaw tight, she nodded. “I agree, Sire.”
The tent flap opened. The outline of a lean man donned in a vestment shadowed the entry. He stepped inside, bowed. “Your Grace.”
“Father Morref.” The Bruce stood. “I appreciate your haste.”
“’Tis my pleasure, Sire.” He nodded toward Aiden and then Gwendolyn. “When I received the king’s writ earlier this day regarding one of his noble’s betrothal, I was honored to be asked to perform the sacrament of marriage.”
Betrothal? Aiden shot his sovereign a cool look, understanding the satisfied gleam in the royal’s eyes. After he’d briefed King Robert this morning, ’twould seem the Bruce had decided their fate. The ploy of moments to gain both their agreements to wed was naught but a formality. From the ire in Gwendolyn’s eyes, a fact she realized as well.
“Your name?” the cleric asked.
“Aiden MacConnell, Earl of Lenox.” Emotion stormed him as he stated his father’s title, a designation now his. The moment felt like a dream, except the priest’s presence left Aiden dredged in reality.
Father Morref’s gaze shifted to her. “And yours, lass?”
For a long moment she remained silent, and then she lifted her chin. “Lady Gwendolyn Murphy.”
The Bruce withdrew a ruby pouch from within his garb, walked over, and placed the sack in Aiden’s palm.
Aiden unwrapped the velvet folds, stilled. Inside lay a small gold band, the delicate circle forged with a Celtic weave embracing a large emerald along with several smaller rubies. On a sharp breath, he met the king’s gaze. “I thank you, Sire.”
With a nod, the king stepped back.
The priest slid his finger beneath the silk ribbon marking a page and opened the Bible. “Lord Lenox, please move closer to your betrothed.”
Aiden glanced over.
Face ashen, she stared straight ahead.
A sense of doom settled over him as he stepped to her side. The priest’s words blurred in his mind, echoing those he’d heard at Latharn Castle. When asked, he, as Gwendolyn, gave the appropriate response.
The priest lay her icy fingers on Aiden’s palm. “The ring.”
On an unsteady breath, Aiden slid the ornate ring in place.
The priest smiled and made the sign of the cross. “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
A satisfied smile curved the king’s lips. “I congratulate you both.”
“I thank you, Sire,” Aiden replied, the weight of the responsibilities ahead fisted in his chest. Their marriage was but the first of many challenges ahead. After their castles were reclaimed, another, greater battle stood between them, this one personal.
Gwendolyn curtsied, her movements wooden. “I thank you, Your Grace.”
Warmth shimmered in the priest’s eyes as he stowed the Bible beneath his vestments. “I wish you both every blessing.” With a bow to the king, he departed. As he exited, for a moment the camp beyond came into view; knights sparring, pots hanging over cookfires, and warriors tending to their weapons as if this were an ordinary day when ’twas anything but.
“Lord Lennox,” the Bruce said, reclaiming Aiden’s gaze. “Once you, Lady Gwendolyn, and your men have devised a plan of attack, report to me. I will address any concerns.”
“Aye, Sire. Given the urgency of the situation, we depart at first light.”
The Bruce nodded. “A decision I anticipated. I sent instructions earlier to my master-at-arms to ensure the men are ready.”
Aiden bowed. “I thank you, Sire.” After Gwendolyn curtsied, he took her arm.
“Lady Gwendolyn.”
At the king’s voice, she paused, and Aiden turned at her side.
“Your Grace?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion.
He withdrew a deep purple velvet bag, sealed by a gold filigree cord, a carved Celtic cross on each end. “’Tis from your father.”
What little color that had returned to her face fled. “My father?” Her eyes clouded with confusion. “What has my father to do with this?”
“He was loyal to my cause,” the king replied, his voice solemn.
Disbelief filled her eyes, and she glanced at Aiden before facing the royal. “L-loyal to you?”
Robert Bruce walked to her, placed the bag in her palm, then curled his fingers atop hers. “When your father was dying, he arranged to have this sent to me. In the writ he wrote, ‘Give this to my daughter. When the time comes, she will know what to do.’”
Her mouth opened and then closed, her cheeks tinged with red. “He never told me,” she whispered, her words thick with hurt. “Why?”
The king’s sage eyes held hers. “Given the unrest in Scotland since King Alexander’s death, of your father’s numerous travels, and how he often left you at Latharn Castle alone, he felt ’twas best.”
Gwendolyn’s throat worked. “H-how long had he been loyal to you?”
“Years,” he replied without apology.
“Years?” The brittle word collapsed into a strangled whisper. She stiffened. “I see.” She gave a cold laugh. “And I was fool enough to believe he loved and trusted me.”
“You are wrong,” the king said, his words soft. “You were everything to him.”
Outrage flashed in her eyes. “If I mattered, if he had trusted me, he would have informed me of his alliance with you. ’Twould seem, as with you, I am naught but chattel.” Her hand crushed the velvet. “I thank you, Sire, for restoring my home.” After another deep curtsy, head held high, she strode out.
God’s teeth! Aiden glanced at the king.
The Bruce’s brow lifted. “She is your greatest challenge, Lord Lennox. Dinna fail her.”
Challenge? An understatement. “Aye, Sire.” He bowed, then hurried out.
Late afternoon sunlight beat down upon him as he caught up to her as she entered the path into the woods, frustration rushing his words. “We must come to an agreement to make our marriage work.”
She shot him a scalding glance before hurrying down the slope. “With your having been granted both castles, I find little left to discuss. You have what you want.”
“Blast it—”
Eyes narrowed, Gwendolyn whirled at the bottom of the incline. “Did you know of my father’s loyalty to the Bruce?”
He sighed. “I learned of it this morning.”
“And like the king, found such critical information unnecessary to share. ’Tis what men do, is it not? Decide what to tell or keep from women.” She glared at the crushed velvet clenched in her palm. With a hiss of disgust, she hurled it into the woods. The sack landed within the ferns with a soft thud.
“Gwendolyn—”
She stepped back. “Leave me.”
How he wanted to respect her request. “Do you not wish to help plan the assault?”
Gray eyes narrowed. “I will be there.”
With their future sealed beneath a marital vow, ’twas imperative to find a compromise, a way to work together. He smothered the words. There would be time to talk later. “I have an errand I must attend to. Once I am finished, I will escort you to the meeting.”
Cool eyes held his, and then, with a curt nod, she left.
Scowling at her departing figure, Aiden rubbed the back of his neck. That went bloody well. He glanced toward the ferns, then pushed aside the leafy stems until he spied the glint of the gold filigree cord. He retrieved the sack.
However upset, once she calmed she might want her father’s gift. Securing the pouch within his garb, he headed toward where his men were caring for their weapons.
* * * *
“Married?” Cailin asked.
Aiden lifted his dagger from the whetstone, noted the amused expressions that crossed his men’s faces. “’Twould seem when I lauded Lady Gwendolyn’s attributes to the king earlier this day, I sealed my own fate. Unknown to me, once I departed, King Robert sent for a priest.”
In brief, Aiden explained how the Bruce had evoked their agreements to wed a short while before the priest’s arrival.
“You know how the Bruce admires strong, intelligent women,” Cailin said.
Aiden wiped his blade, remembering the fate of his Templar brothers, Stephan MacQuistan and Thomas MacKelloch, too well.
“Though not your choice,” Rónán said, “she isna a stranger.”
As the men chuckled, Aiden scowled at them. “Never did I wish for Lady Gwendolyn to be entangled in this blasted mess.”
“Mayhap,” Cailin agreed, but at least you care for her.”
At the truth in his friend’s words, Aiden paused, unsure how much to admit. “Aye, she has become important to me, but the way I deceived her, she is furious with me. Nor was she pleased to learn of her father’s loyalty to King Robert.”
Quentin grimaced. “What will you do now?”
Other than sharing a bed? God’s sword, now wasna the time for thoughts of her body naked beneath his, assuming he could ever breach her icy defenses.
“What I intend to do is to think of the mission, as will all of you,” Aiden stated. “The king has instructed me to lead a contingent to recapture both Latharn and Thorburn Castles, and has ordered us to design the attack. One I will brief him upon this night.”
His friends nodded.
“But,” Aiden drawled, aware his men wouldna be pleased, “a plan he insists Lady Gwendolyn help us create, along with allowing her to travel with us to the stronghold.”
Rónán’s brows narrowed. “The king granted her permission to be part of the assault?”
“Nay, she will remain hidden during the attack,” Aiden explained. “In return, she agreed that, once the stronghold is seized, she will give me her father’s hidden ledger.”
“Which solves our having to find the Templar journal.” Cailin grimaced. “Given the king’s allowing Lady Katherine to sail with Stephan when we attacked Avalon Castle last year, you shouldn’t be surprised by his decision this day.”
At his friend’s reminder, Aiden grimaced. “Indeed.” Nor could he change the way of things now. “I will get Lady Gwendolyn and meet you at our tent.”
* * * *
Chest tight, standing at the edge of the forest, Gwendolyn slowly exhaled. With the plans for the upcoming attack to reclaim her home made and the king informed, she’d needed time alone. She stared at her wedding ring, the cold weight resting on her finger with macabre finality. A glint of the setting sun reflected off the emerald and rubies, as if mocking her plight. Numb, she ached to rip off the ornate band and cast it deep into the woods.
Except, unlike the gift from her father, disposing of the ring would change naught. She’d given her vow and was wed to a man she couldn’t trust.
Footsteps upon grass had her hand clasping her dagger as she turned. Aiden came into view and she released her blade.
He halted before her, his expression tense. “Walk with me.”
The sincerity of his words made her hesitate, then, at last, nod her agreement. Despite how betrayed she felt, she remembered their many days of being hunted, how her welfare had been his first priority. Out of respect for that, she would at least listen to what he had to say.
In silence, he led her away from where the knights practiced near an open field, the scrape of blades a violent setting against the soft breeze rustling through the leaves. In the forest, he followed a well-trod path moving well away from camp.
Disquiet rippled inside as she glanced around the sweep of trees and clumps of brush and ferns. “Are you not worried that Lord Comyn’s men may be near?”
“If any of the guards see danger, they will sound the alarm. And with the number of troops filling the king’s encampment, I doubt Lord Comyn’s men are foolish enough to take such a risk.”
She prayed so.
A gust of wind sent the leaves overhead into a frantic dance. The breeze settled, and shimmers of fading sunlight sprinkled the path ahead, like fairy dust tossed.
No, ’twas naught magical about this day.
The gurgle of water sounded. Through the breaks in the trees she made out the stream meandering below.
The path angled down.
At the bottom, Aiden halted on a flat rock covered in moss, the churn of water tumbling past.
The subtle scent of ferns, the fragrance of pine, and the tang of moisture filled the air as she halted paces away, the weight of the gold band on her finger like a chain upon her heart.
Brow furrowed, Aiden glanced at her. “I wish to reiterate my regret. You didna ask for any of this, a fact I well understand.”
His sympathy far from eased her anger. “The king bestowing upon you my castle along with your ancestral home, once both are recaptured, along with your father’s title and mine, is quite a boon.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “Never did I intend for us to wed or seek your home or your father’s title.”
From his surprise as the king had announced his intention, that she believed.
“Neither,” he said, his voice dry, “did your challenging the Bruce to reclaim Latharn Castle help your cause.”
“Challenging?” The flare of anger was sharp and quick. “’Tis my legacy. Nor did I expect him to make the condition for my return that we marry. Condition.” She scoffed. “An ultimatum.”
“One you could have refused.”
“And if I had, I would have lost any claim to my home.”
Green eyes darkened, but he remained silent.
Frustrated, she turned, watched a leaf caught within the churn as it floundered down the rock-laden current.
A chill rippled through Gwendolyn, and she rubbed her arms. “Now what?” With her fealty sworn to King Robert, they shared the same loyalty. One her father had given to the Bruce years before, a fact he’d kept hidden.
On a rough sigh, Aiden picked up a flat rock. With a flick of his wrist, he skimmed the thin wedge over the surface of a nearby pool, where twigs spun lazily in the breeze. Droplets splashed into the air as the stone skipped across the surface several times before sinking into the depths.
He glanced at her, his gaze solemn. “We are wed. However unwanted by either of us, ’tis a situation we can make work to favor what we each desire.”
Far from convinced, she arched a doubtful brow. “How so?”
“Once Latharn Castle is recaptured, you will remain there. I will leave behind a force large enough to ensure it remains protected. The rest of the men and I will depart to reclaim Thorburn Castle. Once seized, I will rejoin the Bruce.”
It sounded so simple, yet life had taught her to trust little. And this was war… Regardless of how furious she was at him, concern edged through her at the possibility of his never coming back.
Mouth tight, he selected another rock, flipped it in his palm. “If ever you need anything, you have only to call upon me.”
“But you will visit?” she asked with caution, assuring herself that she was pleased by his generous offer, yet for an unexplainable reason, emptiness clattered inside.
“Not unless you send for me. Or, if I receive news that the situation warrants such.” He paused. “From this day forward, I will be your husband in name only. You shall have the freedom you desire, or as much as I can give you.”
Heart pounding, she swallowed hard, the unexpected emptiness within swelling to a fierce ache. “You would sacrifice an heir?” she breathed.
His fingers tightened around the stone. “Unless you wish otherwise. Nor is my lineage the only ancestry affected,” he said, his words tight. “Upon our deaths, both our lands and titles will be seized by Scotland’s king to bestow upon another.” He hurled the rock into the middle of the stream. It landed with a loud splash. “The choice of how we proceed is up to you.”
How could he place this upon her without notice, then expect her to decide? “Why are you proposing this?”
For a long moment he held her gaze, the sadness within easy to read. “I offer naught but to return a portion of your old life. As I stated earlier, never were you to be involved or hurt.”
“Yet there were intimacies,” she said, furious he would treat their moments in the cave with such disregard when, during that time, a transformation of what she’d felt for him had occurred. “We were together, some nights more than others.”
“In the cave,” he said, his voice tight, “if I hadna pushed you away, we would have made love. My touching you was wrong; making love to you considering the circumstance would have been unforgivable.”
Heat stroked her face, adding to her bedevilment. And now, a king’s dictate had tossed his life, like hers, into chaos.
Guilt at his unselfishness collided with lingering hurt.
After they had wed, he could have brought her to his tent and taken her. Instead, he’d left her untouched.
The words of agreement to his bargain lingered on her tongue.
As if sensing her confusion, Aiden nodded. “You have time to decide. Once Latharn Castle is seized, I will ask you again. I brought you here so we could have privacy for me to explain my intention.”
Her pulse racing, she stared at him as the rumble of water echoed in the fading light. “Why are you doing this?”
“I explained.”
“You did, but ’tis odd that at a time when women are rarely given any choice, you would sacrifice not only the intimacy of marriage, but a castle, along with any chance for an heir.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “I am a man of honor.”
Indeed, he had more integrity than any man she’d ever met. So why did she not accept his offer? ’Twas not as if she wanted this marriage, or that he held a place within her heart. Still, she hesitated. Though his decency was a strong reason for his proposal, something did not make sense.
“Aye, you are a man of honor,” she agreed, “but there is more behind your offer than mere duty to your king.”
Green eyes narrowed, assuring her that she had the right of it.
For a moment, Gwendolyn thought he would walk away. When Aiden continued to stare at her, she stepped closer. “Whatever that reason is, ’tis causing you great distress.”
Body tense, he turned away.
Undeterred, Gwendolyn stepped beside him, waited.
The rumble of water sliding past filled the silence as the waning light sifted through the leaves, laying a mottled pattern across his broad shoulders.
Despite all that had happened between them, she couldn’t resist the genuine concern that something had left him in such anguish. She lay her hand upon his arm. “Let me help you.”
Aiden’s throat worked as his fingers unfurled, his hands lying limp at his sides. “Naught can be done. The time to repair the horrendous injustice has long since passed.”
Mary’s will, what had happened to have caused him such despair? “Why not?”
“Because a life I and many others loved, one chosen to serve Him, has been lost.”
Air rushed out in a gasp as the pieces fell into place, explained his chivalry, why he had fought to keep his distance from her, and his offer of moments before. Yet his actions did not explain the heat of his kiss. Or did it?
“I-I am so sorry,” she breathed.
“You have done naught wrong,” he growled.
“But I have, I pushed you… Then, I didna know.” She shook her head. “Forgive me.”
“For what?”
Gwendolyn stared at him, swallowed hard. “I didna know you had intended to become a priest.”