Chapter Seven
“I beg your pardon?” Rosamond tried to keep her face void of emotion, but the incredulity rising through her was too hard to keep from appearing blatantly on her visage. She feared it showed in her face, and by the narrowing of Tierney’s eyes she was almost certain.
Marry him? What an absurd notion, and what could possibly have made him think such was a solution to their current situation?
“Lady Rosamond.” Tierney reached for her hand, gripping it tight. The warmth of his grip was inviting.
Still, she wanted to snatch her hand back, but then he brushed his thumb over her knuckles and she was momentarily caught up in that feeling. Saints, but how was it possible with a simple brush of his finger on her skin she was so easily able to forget the preposterous suggestion he’d just made?
Nay, not a suggestion—a demand.
She shivered.
The ship rocked gently, swaying their bodies back and forth and for a moment she felt like laughing. Cackling madly and letting herself be carted off to wherever it was they took people who’d lost a grip on their sanity.
“Marry me.” He’d said it again. No pretense or even a hint of it being a question. His eyes implored hers, and determination was evident in the set of his jaw.
No matter. Rosamond wasn’t going to capitulate, simply because he said so. Straightening her shoulders and jutting her chin forward with her own dose of determination, she said, “Nay.” She swallowed hard against the tightening knot in her throat, forging ahead before she lost her nerve. “While I appreciate your suggestion, I cannot.”
Tierney barely blinked, his dark eyes locked on hers. “Aye, ye can.”
What could he possibly be thinking? Rosamond narrowed her eyes, baiting him. “I am ruined. You cannot want a ruined wife. An English wife at that.”
The muscle in the side of his jaw ticked. “Ye’re not ruined. Not because of what your sister did, and not because I kissed ye. English or not, I would have ye.”
“My mother was Scottish, so I’m only half English.” She chewed her lower lip. “You’re not simply asking to marry me because you feel obligated?” Asking such a question was bold indeed, but she couldn’t not ask. She had to know. She did not want to be tied to someone who didn’t want her for herself.
“Obligated?”
“For having taken me from the cave. The cruel, horrid prison my father put me in. For having saved me just now from an English captain sent to make certain I stayed in there, or the pirates who threatened to overtake us? Perhaps it is simply that your blood runs hot from so much danger and you feel the need to be close to someone.”
Tierney’s scowl darkened with each of her subsequent words, until she feared she’d said too much. But he might as well know her for who she was: outspoken, independent, and apt to argue.
“Lady Rosamond, I never do anything simply because my blood is running hot as ye say. I have had much time in the last ten years to contemplate my future, and even if I had not come across ye, I would have wanted a wife every bit as full of fire and brimstone.”
She gasped. “Fire and brimstone! You might as well say I was bred in the bowels of Purgatory.”
“The way ye fight me I’m beginning to think ’tis a possibility,” he murmured.
Rosamond yanked her hand away, stood and paced the room. “I need more than your simple demands, Tierney. While I am most grateful you would see me protected, I cannot simply marry you. That would be unwise. I have only just now gained my freedom. I would not want to thrust it away without thinking.”
“Tell me then, my lady, what were ye going to do in Scotland?”
She ran her fingers through her tangled hair and nervously started to braid the ends together. “I would have found an abbey, I should think. I would send for my sister and her babe to come to Scotland where we could live out our days together.”
“Ye dinna wish for children of your own?”
She huffed a breath, imagining herself cuddling a child who looked so much like herself and then the traitorous mind that she had, imagined chasing a wee lad who looked so much like Tierney. Was that what he was promising her? A future with a family of her own?
“I do. But I am not willing…” She bit her lip, for to say more would be to offend him, and what little she knew of him was nothing like what she wanted to say.
He stiffened. Reading into her thoughts. She ceased her pacing and flicked her gaze over him, the frenzied braids falling apart.
Tierney was fierce and brave. He was kind and goodhearted. Honorable and full of power and heart. What other traits would have him rowing a skiff from his ship to the cave, and then climbing up bare handed? What other kind of man would still save her after she brandished a burning log at him? None she was aware of. And when the English had pulled alongside and demanded he show what precious cargo he’d taken from the cave, why had he not simply shoved her across the gangway or tossed her in the water, thinking her too much trouble?
“Is that why you saved me? Because you want a wife?”
Tierney scoffed. “Lass, I’ve been imprisoned by the English for ten long years. Before that, I struggled in a prison of my father’s own making, warring between what was right for my country and for my own honor. Do ye honestly think I would align myself to another institution after only just getting free myself? Ye were housed in a cave for a day or two at most. Ye know nothing of prison, not like what I’ve seen.”
His words were spoken with such passion and anger that they resonated deep in her chest, making her belly thrum and her throat constrict.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I should not have compare my brief captivity to yours…”
Tierney sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Aye, ye should have. For ye suffered long before then, from what ye told me. And I’d not have ye feel anything ye experienced is less than I, for we have each suffered in our own ways. Besides, I like when ye question me, even if it rankles.”
She smiled softly, and eased her way closer. “Then tell me why, Tierney, why imprison yourself for life with me?”
“There are many reasons.” He reached inside the sporran at his hips and pulled something shiny free. “’Tis a luckenbooth. The Brooch of Lorne.” He approached her, pinning it to the shoulder of her gown, his fingers brushing her collarbone, sending a shiver coursing through her. “Consider this my promise to wed ye. I will honor and protect ye, and treat ye with respect. But know this, ours will be a marriage of convenience for us both, lass. A joining of two souls thrust aside by our fathers.”
Rosamond watched his long, manly fingers fasten the silver brooch, uncertain how she felt about a marriage of convenience. She ran her finger over the central ruby stone. Eight turrets surrounded it, each topped with a freshwater pearl, as though they were the guardians protecting the stone. The edges were filigreed and the turrets carved with Celtic symbols. ’Twas beautiful. And too substantial a gift to give her.
“I have witnessed many foul English, your father one of them, lass.” His gaze on hers was serious.
“My father?” She wrinkled her brow.
He drew in a heady breath. “He was my jailor.”
All the air left her lungs, her limbs suddenly heavy. This was no marriage proposal, but an act of retribution. She reached to rip the brooch from her gown, but his hand stayed hers.
“Trust me, lass, I am not proposing marriage out of revenge. I couldna do such to ye. Ye have my word, which right now, along with this brooch, is all I have left.”
“How did they not take the brooch from ye?” Knowing the greed of her father, he would have relished a prize like this.
“They would have, but I left it in safekeeping before I was taken from my sickbed at Dunstaffnage.” He told her the story of how he’d saved his king and was subsequently named a traitor. “When Samuel came to get me, once we were aboard, he presented it to me along with the men of my ship, so I would know they were aligned with me.”
Suddenly dizzy, she sat down on the bed. “I’m so sorry… I had no idea.”
“I know.” Scrubbing his hands over his face, he reached for a jug of wine sitting on one of her shelves and poured them each a cup. “My clan, as long as I am laird, will no longer be traitors to our country. We will support the Bruce as King of Scotland. The first step toward rebellion will be marrying the daughter of the English bastard who wanted her dead. The same English blackguard who arrested me, tormented me and kept me from my people for the past decade. Outwardly, ’twill look to the English like a direct insult. But ye and I both know the truth—we run from the same nightmare.” He tapped her nose. “We must wed before we arrive at Dunstaffnage.”
Rosamond took a deep breath, letting everything he’d just told her sink in. A nightmare indeed. Her heart constricted. This man who offered her protection and marriage… they truly were on the same side. “Why?”
“So that we come back as a united front. So, they know I mean what I say. My clan has been at odds with the Bruce since just before I was imprisoned. This brooch,” he tapped it, “was taken from the Bruce that day.” He told her the story of how John “Red Comyn” had been murdered on the altar at Greyfriars and how his father had felt in order to avenge his wife’s family, who were the Comyns, he would need to join forces with them. “At Dalrigh, I saved the Bruce’s life, and he gave me this brooch as payment for having done so. When I was arrested, I gave it to my cousin for safekeeping. He is at Dunstaffnage now, and will know I mean to return honorably to my country. Ye will wear it proudly and we shall show the king I keep it still, and that we pledge our fealty to him.”
He spoke as though the deed was already done, the vows exchanged and she no longer bore the name Rosamond de Warenne, but Rosamond MacDougall, Lady MacDougall. The thought made her shiver with anticipation. She certainly wouldn’t mind being his.
“I said I wanted to leave England and my father. But I did not say I would swear allegiance to the Bruce.”
Tierney looked shocked she’d said it, and in truth, she did believe Robert the Bruce was the rightful ruler of Scotland. She abhorred Edward II and his lackeys—including her father, but, she wouldn’t be ruled by her husband. ’Twas best if he knew that now.
“I want to make my own decisions, Tierney.”
He drew in a deep breath and then swallowed a healthy gulp of his wine. “Truth be told, I’d not thought of that. I dinna seek to rule ye, Rosamond, but I must have a wife who is aligned with me and with my king. I wanted that to be ye.” His gaze slid over her body. “But if ye canna swear it to me, then we are at an impasse.”
Rosamond fingered the brooch. “Well, as I told ye, I am half Scots. ’Haps ’tis time I embraced that. If I were to marry ye, what would become of my sister and her babe?” she asked.
“We will bring her to Dunstaffnage if that is your wish.”
“It is.”
“Then what say ye, lass?”
“Aye. I will marry you.”
Tierney grinned and reached out his arm to her. Tentatively she put her hand in his and he slid his fingers up her forearm to grip her. “We are shaking on it. And now we shall find the priest aboard the ship for a quick ceremony. Followed by making it official a different kind of way.” He winked. The sensual look he gave her left little to the imagination at what he meant.
Sparks snaked their way over her limbs, her body pulsing in remembrance of his touch. Already, she felt nude, exposed and utterly entranced. If making love to him was anything like the way he’d kissed her and touched her before, then… Her face heated. Breath caught. Aye, they would need to find a priest soon, so she could confess her sinful thoughts.
While she’d never thought to be married to a Highlander, she was soon to be just that—Lady MacDougall.
She’d be a traitor to her father, her country, and there would be no going back. The thought made her smile. For the first time in her life, she was going to be doing something just for herself.