Chapter Fifteen
They arrived at Writtle, Robert’s manor in Essex, a fortnight after leaving the king’s castle. The journey had been long and made even longer by the queen’s need to halt often because of the babe she was carrying. It was growing dark when they arrived, the carriages rattling over a bridge that led from the road into a little village.
Elizabeth stared out her window, seeing Robert’s figure outlined near her by the last of the light in the sky. He had ridden close to her carriage every day. As they rode into the village, she blinked in surprise at all the people lining the road.
“Word has preceded us that the king comes to the village, and the people rejoice,” the queen said.
Elizabeth nodded. When they pulled up in front of a large castle that stood near a pond with another castle set back from it—the manor, she assumed—and she was being helped down from her carriage, it was Robert’s name the people were crying out, not the king’s.
She bit her lip, fearing her godfather would become angry, but he strode to Robert, who had dismounted and was already surrounded by villagers, and the people immediately parted and bowed. They did not love Edward, if the wary looks on their faces were any indication. They were there for Robert and were glad to see him returned. Pride swelled in her chest.
The king surely sensed it, too, as for the next week, he had Robert accompany him into the village to show the people that Robert was Edward’s man. Elizabeth cringed at how it had to make Robert feel to pretend to want to serve a king he hated. The humiliation he was gladly enduring to save his country awed her.
At the end of the week, wedding preparations were all complete, and Elizabeth and Robert feasted with his villagers and the courtiers, as well as the royal party. She was led to her chamber by the queen and her ladies-in-waiting, and then the door was shut on her so that no one would see her until the morning when she came out to be wed.
After readying for bed, she lay there staring at the ceiling and thinking of Robert, her father, and the king. Her father and the king had seemed so jovial as of late, and though that could simply be because Robert had paid Edward homage, Elizabeth’s gut told her it was not. A sense of impending doom niggled at her, yet she could not pinpoint exactly why. It took her hours to drift to sleep, and when she finally did, she did not sleep well. She had a horrid dream about Robert. He was in a church, and Comyn was there. She knew the man was Robert’s enemy because he called him by name. She awoke screaming after Comyn tried to stab Robert. For a long while she sat, staring in the darkness, telling herself it was simply a dream, but when morning arrived, the dream was still in her mind, even as she was being prepared for her wedding by the ladies-in-waiting.
No women in her family had ever been seers, and she had never met a woman with the gift of sight. Her Aunt Kara had long lost her gift by the time Elizabeth had been born and met her, and besides that, her aunt had only been related to her through her marriage to Uncle Brice. Still, Elizabeth could recall once when her aunt had visited, and she had been holding Elizabeth’s hand and suddenly shivered. She had said to Elizabeth’s mother, loud enough that Elizabeth had heard, that she thought Elizabeth might have a special power within her. Elizabeth’s mother had become angry, and Elizabeth had all but forgotten that day, until this moment. It was but a dream, she reminded herself, but still…
The dream plagued her as she walked from the manor to the church, and when she stepped inside the church and saw Robert at the altar with the king and Bishop Lamberton, who was to marry them, she trembled terribly with relief. Robert turned toward her, instead of keeping his back to her as was customary, his gaze finding hers, and calmness washed over her. People packed the small church, but a cool breezed swirled freesia in the air and hundreds of candles had been lit, filling the space with the smell of wax.
As she walked toward Robert, everyone disappeared but him. The inherent strength of his face and his powerful body filled her with surety that he would protect her, but she would protect him, too. His dark hair had been tied back at the nape of his neck, accentuating his strong jaw. His lips broke into a smile as she approached, and he stepped toward her and drew her close. Her heart pounded at the realization that soon she would belong to this man. Never had she thought she would want to belong to someone, but she did. And Robert would be hers, as well.
Before they turned to face each other, he leaned close and whispered, “Ye are the light that guides me home.”
Tears sprang to her eyes as they faced each other and the ceremony started. She said the words the bishop told her to, and then Robert’s deep voice washed over her as he repeated the words that would bind them, too. She blinked as Bishop Lamberton pronounced them wed. And then, to her surprise, Robert turned her to him, cupped her face in his hands, and claimed her mouth in a kiss that announced she belonged to him. She heard gasps, and a chuckle from the king, who stood near, but then the thudding beat of her heart in her ears drowned out all other noise. Heat moved through her veins like fire and desire sprang up to consume her. When Robert broke the kiss and gave her the dimpled grin she loved so much, her knees trembled.
“That,” he whispered, pressing his mouth to her ear so that only she would hear, “is how a Scot claims his wife.”
He took her hand then and led her from the chapel, with the king falling into step beside them. He clasped Robert on the shoulder. “See how well pleased you are now that you have paid me homage!” the king crowed, as if he were personally responsible for Robert’s happiness.
Elizabeth tensed, but Robert squeezed her hand. “Aye, Your Majesty. I’m well pleased,” he agreed, giving her a secret look as they entered the lavishly decorated great hall for a feast. They made their way to the dais and sat as trenchers of food were placed before them. Yet it was not time to eat. Courtiers immediately lined up to pay their respects, and when at last that long line was exhausted, the feast began.
Throughout the feast, she caught her father and the king watching her and Robert. Even at her wedding, her father plotted how best to use her to gain information from and control Robert. So when her father rose and came to her, asking her to dance with him for a turn, she was not surprised that instead of wishing her good fortune, he gave her a cold look and said, “The king wishes you to discover if Bruce has had any correspondence with William Wallace.”
Disappointment filled her, and anger bubbled within. She knew better than to expect any tenderness, any indication of affection from her father; yet, somehow, she had hoped that today, of all days, he would have shown her some sign of care. But her father had no love for her. She thought of Lillianna, and a longing for her cousin rose within her. Where was Lillianna? Had she made it to the MacLeod clan with Angus as her guide?
“Elizabeth?” her father said sharply.
She forced her mind from her cousin to her father. “Robert does not discuss politics with me,” she lied without even a trace of guilt.
“Use your wiles,” her father growled, “and coax him to do so. Commit to memory all that he tells you.”
She clenched her teeth on her rage and managed to say in a reasonably calm voice, “I do not think he has anything to reveal. He’s the king’s man now.”
“Scots have no honor, Elizabeth,” he snarled. “The king knows this and wants to be assured that Bruce is now on his side as he claims to be. You are a beautiful and intelligent woman. Bruce appreciates both of these things. I see, as the king does, the way he looks at you, and I am confident you will be able to get him to reveal what we need to know.”
“And if I cannot?” she asked, deciding it was better to know now the exact threat she still faced.
“You are my daughter,” her father said. His lips pressed into a thin line before he continued. “But I cannot protect you from the king’s wrath if you fail him.”
“It is a good thing, then,” she said, her heart twisting and her throat suddenly aching with the need to cry, “that I don’t need you to protect me. I’m married now, and Robert will protect me.”
Her father arched his eyebrows. “Elizabeth, you have been cooperative thus far, but I will be severe if you think to not do as you have been told. I could, if I wished it, make Bruce believe you have betrayed him somehow.”
Her heart squeezed with fear. “He would not believe it,” she said, hearing the worry in her tone.
Her father’s mouth twisted into a cruel smile. “You are a fool if you think he could not be led to see you as a traitor. If you prove of no use to me, I will ensure this happens. For I know if you bring me nothing of value, it will be your own choice.”
Her heart stuttered as she stood there, and the room spun. She would never betray Robert, and that meant one day in the future her father would do all he could to make Robert think she had. She did not think he would believe her father, but her father was the most cunningly deceptive man she knew. She suddenly began to tremble with fear.
“You seem now to understand me more clearly,” he father said, studying her. She was certain, by his words, that her fear must show. “That’s good. I’d hate to see you eaten by the wolves as your cousin must surely have been.”
The mention of Lillianna startled her and set real terror in her chest. Her tongue seemed unable to form a reply.
Her father’s gaze flicked past her. “Here is your husband now.”
She sagged with relief as she turned toward Robert.
“Bruce,” Father murmured, “we were just speaking of you.”
“Aye?” Robert asked. “I hope ye found some good things to say about me.”
“I’d not gotten that far,” her father responded. “But certainly, you must have many good merits or I would not have permitted my daughter to wed you. I think I most greatly admire how important loyalty is to you.” Elizabeth tensed, wondering where her father was going with this. “Likely because I, like you, value devotion above all else. I’m lucky because I have that sort of fidelity from Elizabeth.” Her father’s eyes came to her, and an undeniable warning shone there, making her suck in a sharp, fearful breath.
“Elizabeth?” Robert prodded gently as he led her into his bedchamber. Well, she supposed it was their bedchamber now. “Talk to me. Please.”
His beseeching tone broke through the terror gripping her. “It’s my father,” she admitted, unable to keep from wringing her hands. “He told me I was to find out if you had spoken with Wallace, and when I suggested that I’d not be able to, he threatened me.”
A lethal look came to Robert’s eyes. “How?”
She swallowed hard, pushing her hair out of her eyes with shaky fingers. Robert grabbed her hand, splayed her palm against his chest, and then placed his own hand over hers. The strength he gave her with his presence filled her. “He said he would hate to see me eaten by the wolves as Lillianna most certainly was, which I vow was his way of telling me that he either suspects I aided her escape or knows how she did escape and is waiting to use the information against me. But it is not even just that. He says he will make you believe I have betrayed you!”
“Nay, Elizabeth,” Robert said in a fierce tone. “That is something he could nae ever do. Do nae fash yerself—about his twisting my mind or his veiled words regarding Lillianna. We will learn in time what he knows, and we will face it together.”
She nodded, and while Robert’s words did make her feel slightly better, she still had a niggling fear in her head. She did not voice it, though, for this was their wedding night, and her father was the last thing she wanted to think upon.
“Let us be the only two people in this room tonight,” Robert said.
She startled at how much his thoughts matched her own. She nodded. “I want that, too.”
“Ye are now my wife, and I am yer husband, but I fear there will be long months when we will be separated, so I’d cherish the moments we do have together.”
“I’ll not be left behind when you ride off to battle,” she said, her chest tightening at the mere idea.
Robert did not comment, but the suddenly tense set of his jaw told her that he did not agree. He took her hand and led her past the large bed in the center of the room and toward the tub in the corner. She could see steam rising from the water.
“Are you bathing?” she asked, remembering vividly how he had said he wanted to bathe her.
“We are bathing,” he replied, his fingers deft at her back to undo her laces. Her gown loosened, and his warm skin brushed her shoulders as he slipped his fingers under the layers of her clothing. He drew her gown slowly down her arms, over her hips, and to her feet. Then with a gentle touch, he lifted one foot to slide the gown out and then the other, and then he tossed it to the side and stood.
The anticipation of his hands on her, soapy and slippery, made her mouth dry. She had to swallow repeatedly before she could speak. “Robert, I know you heard me about wanting to ride to battle with you.”
“Battle,” he said, kissing each of her shoulders before divesting her of her shift, “is nae the place for a woman. Even,” he added before she could protest, “one as capable as ye.”
“I will prove I can be useful,” she insisted, pushing him away with the back of her hand when he tried to kiss her neck. She found herself turned immediately to face him and his hand cupped the back of her neck before she knew he’d even moved.
Devil take it! Her mouth gaped at how fast he was.
He brought his face close to hers. “If ye are with me in battle, I’ll think only of ye and protecting ye, nae the men I must kill. That distraction will likely be the end of me. Would ye want that?”
She jerked back from him. The need to assert that she had a voice, that she was not merely his woman, surged in her. “I would guard you with my life.”
“Aye. I know it well, mo chailin chalma.”
She scowled. “You call me your brave one, yet you treat me like a weak fool.”
He grinned then, deep dimples appearing in his cheeks. He looked so carefree, so happy, that her anger slid out of her like sand through her splayed fingers. “Mo chailin chalma,” he said, whispering as his mouth grazed hers and answered the question she had not even posed. “Sometimes the greatest bravery is in doing what we do nae want to do.”
She stared at him and started to tremble. His words swirled in her head. He had not wanted to pay homage to Edward, and he likely never would have done it if not for her. A wave of gratitude crashed over her. She licked her lips, then spoke. “I will wait wherever you ask me to—always. I will find bravery in letting you go. But you must vow to me here and now that you will come back to me every time, and if you find yourself too wounded to do so, somehow, someway, you will get word to me so that I may come to you.”
“I vow it, Elizabeth, with all I am and all I ever will be.” His mouth captured hers in a long, sensuous kiss that stoked the flame within her. When he pulled away and tilted his head toward the washbasin, she nodded.
Now it was her turn to answer his unasked question. “Let me undress you first,” she said.
She removed his clothing bit by bit, quietly and with reverence, until he had nothing on. Then she stepped back, awed by this man who was now her husband. His shoulders were so broad and well muscled, and she could not help but wonder if they ever tired of the enormous burden he carried. She stepped toward him, slid her hands over his shoulders, and then pressed a kiss to each one, glorying in the shudder her touch elicited from him. Her hands roamed down his arms, toned and taut, to his hands, fisted at his sides. He held himself in control for her. He would eventually release himself, she knew, only for her, as he had done in the summer cottage. The prospect made her dizzy with expectation.
“I want you,” Robert said, voice husky.
He swept her weightlessly into his arms and stepped into the hot water before setting her feet down and pulling her into a sitting position between his powerful thighs. Water sluiced over them both and splashed over the sides of the tub. Behind her, he started to hum as he had done in the woods during their journey to Writtle, then his hands were on her back, slippery and exploring, gentle and massaging, until the yearning for him was a live, gnawing need inside her.
“Robert,” she groaned, grabbing his hands. He slid them over her breasts and held them there. “You are torturing me.”
“Aye,” he admitted with a chuckle and then started to apply the same teasing torment to her front as he had to her back. “This way, I will have ye so ready for me ye will be willing to do anything I wish.”
“Foolish man!” She gasped as his fingers on her flesh caused tremors to course through her body. “I’m already more than willing to do whatever you ask of me. In fact,” she said, clenching her teeth on a wave of ecstasy as his fingers expertly brought her to even greater heights, “I may beg soon.”
“Ah, my fair, bonny lass,” he cooed, his breath warm against her ear, “there is nae a need for begging.”
With that, he stood and brought her with him. The water in the tub lapped over the edges to splash on the floor, but it was nothing compared to when he turned her around, hoisted her up, and fiercely whispered, “Wrap yer legs around my waist.”
She did so without hesitation, but she gave a little yelp as he sat one more, positioning her on top of him. Confusion threatened the pleasure for the space of a breath, but when he entered her and began to move them both, his hands clutching her hips, she instinctually started to move of her own accord with him. All thoughts fled her but that of giving to him and reaching some height she could not see yet knew was there.
They were like two storms colliding, fighting for who would rage the greatest, and eventually combining to bring devastation. But what they destroyed was themselves as two separate people. What was left in the aftermath of their joining hours later was one couple by the heat of the fire, of like mind, full of love, and determined to defy all the odds against them. They lay in the orange glow on the cover Robert had spread on the floor, facing each other.
“Have ye thought upon what the future holds for us?” Robert asked after a long time of silence.
“I have thought mostly that my future holds you, and that is all I need.”
He reached out and closed the distance between them, his fingers brushing her lips, her chin, her neck, then sliding to splay against her belly. He nodded, as if she had said the words he had been seeking, and then his eyes closed. Sleep claimed her husband with such swiftness that she knew he must have been exhausted, yet he had not shown it, not in the slightest. She stared at him in fear and awe, wondering just how much of himself he kept hidden from her so that she would always feel she could draw from his strength.