CHAPTER 19
“You have only one husband, Johanna.”
Gabriel’s tone of voice didn’t suggest she argue with him. She took hold of his hand and nodded.
“You listened while I was telling your husband about Raulf, didn’t you, Johanna?” Nicholas asked.
“I did,” she admitted.
“That wasn’t proper conduct, lass,” her husband decreed.
She shook her head. “It wasn’t proper conduct for you to think you could keep this important news from me.”
“I’m trying to get this straight in my head,” the priest interjected. “Are you telling me Baron Raulf’s alive?”
“We are,” Nicholas answered.
“Good Lord above,” the priest muttered. “Where’s he been all this while?”
“Locked away in a dungeon an ocean away,” Nicholas answered. “He was sent halfway across the world to act as King John’s representative to negotiate a trade agreement. Raulf left England before John started feuding with the Church. The king doesn’t give a damn about placating the pope now.”
After finishing his explanation, he turned to his sister. “How much did you overhear?”
“All of it,” she lied.
“Damn.”
She ignored the blasphemy. “Please explain the mess I’m in the middle of to Father.”
Nicholas picked up his goblet and drained the contents in one long swallow. Johanna suddenly felt the need to get closer to Gabriel. She stood up and moved to stand next to him. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side. She put her arm around his neck and leaned against him.
“Baron Raulf fell from a cliff and everyone believed he died.”
“I was in England when word came,” the priest reminded Nicholas.
“Yes, well, he didn’t die,” he muttered. “He’s back in England and mad as a hornet because his wife and his lands have all been given away. The king wants to appease the bastard, though only God knows why. John has ordered Johanna to return to Raulf, and in an attempt to pacify MacBain and avert war, he has agreed to let him keep this holding.”
Father MacKechnie muttered something under his breath. “It makes no difference what your king wants, son. Johanna’s marriage was annulled and that’s a fact. The pope himself signed the decree. Isn’t that what you told me, lass?”
Johanna nodded. “It is so,” she said. “I didn’t realize I would really need an annulment. I requested it only to stall the king from making me marry again.”
“John has decided to make himself pope. Since he started fighting with the Church, practically all ties with the Holy Father have been severed. Priests have already fled to the Lowlands in anticipation of the interdict. John’s sure to be excommunicated.”
“So your king believes he can switch husbands as easily as snapping his fingers?” Gabriel asked his brother-in-law.
“He does,” Nicholas replied. “He won’t listen to reason. I tried to talk to him, but he remains stubbornly determined to keep Raulf happy. I wish to God I knew why.
“What happens when our laird refuses to give up Johanna?” the priest asked.
“John will assign troops to Raulf.”
“For what purpose?” the priest asked.
“War.”
Nicholas and Gabriel said the word together.
“I can’t let that happen,” Johanna whispered. “We have only just rebuilt, Gabriel. I will not have it all destroyed.”
“I don’t think there’s anything you can do about it, Johanna,” her brother said.
“Have you seen Raulf?” Johanna asked.
“If I had seen him, I would have killed him because of what he did to you. No, I haven’t seen him.”
Johanna shook her head. “You cannot kill him. The king would turn his anger on you.”
“Listen to her, son,” the priest advised. He let out a weary sigh. “We’ve got quite a problem on our hands.”
“How long does Gabriel have before he must give his decision?”
“Johanna, you cannot believe I would consider giving you up,” her husband muttered.
“Two messengers and four soldiers riding escort will be here tomorrow or the day after to give your husband King John’s demands.”
“And where is Raulf?” Johanna asked.
“I gained my king’s promise Raulf would be kept in court with him until this is settled.”
Johanna sagged against her husband. Gabriel immediately moved his chair back so he could lift her onto his lap.
“That doesn’t give us much time to form a plan of action,” the priest said.
“Yes, it does,” Gabriel argued. “The messengers will have to return to England with the report we’ve denied the demand. That will give us enough time.”
“Time to do what?” Johanna asked.
“Prepare,” Nicholas answered.
Johanna changed the subject then. “What have you heard about Arthur? We were told the king’s nephew was murdered. Have you heard anything more?”
Nicholas frowned over the switch in subjects. Johanna looked exhausted, however, and he decided she was trying to turn the conversation to a less distressing one.
“There have been several conflicting reports,” Nicholas replied. “Baron Goode has vowed to find out what happened to Arthur. He’s turning over every rock in his search. More and more believe Arthur was murdered. He was a contender for the throne,” he explained for Father MacKechnie’s benefit, “and a true threat to John’s position. Goode wasn’t the only one backing the nephew. Arthur had quite an army supporting his bid.”
“What does your king say about this mystery?” Johanna asked.
“He vows he has no knowledge of how his nephew died,” Nicholas answered. “The most common belief is that overzealous supporters of King John captured Arthur and threatened to castrate him, and he died of fright.”
“That would do it,” Gabriel muttered.
“Speculation is still running high,” Nicholas said. “I’ll tell you this. If any of the barons had proof John was involved in his nephew’s death, England would be thrown into rebellion. The barons would hang John by his . . .” Nicholas caught himself before he said something Johanna was certain to take offense to and quickly substituted another more appropriate word, “... feet.”
Johanna let out another loud yawn. She begged the men’s pardon and then said, “And that, you see, is why King John wants to keep Raulf happy.”
Gabriel guessed what Johanna was about to say before she spoke another word. It all snapped into place now. Johanna not only knew Arthur had been murdered; she also knew who had killed him.
“Johanna, explain what you just meant,” Nicholas asked. “Do you know why John wants to appease Raulf?”
She was about to answer her brother’s question when Gabriel gave her a gentle squeeze.
“He’s one of his most favored barons,” she said.
Gabriel loosened his hold. She guessed her answer pleased him. She would wait until they were alone to ask him why he didn’t want her to tell Nicholas anything more.
“John doesn’t want to keep Raulf happy,” Gabriel said then. “He wants to get him killed. And that, you see, is why he’ll eventually send him to me.”
The discussion heated up, but Johanna was too exhausted to stay downstairs and listen to her husband and her brother argue about what was to be done.
Father MacKechnie requested the honor of accompanying his mistress up to her chamber. His real goal was to get her alone, and as soon as they had left the hall, he clasped her hand in his and asked her if she was going to fret about this nasty bit of news or if she was going to place the matter in God’s hands and get a good night’s rest like any intelligent lass would.
Gabriel was also concerned his wife would worry until she made herself ill. He was fully prepared to try to soothe her fears but found it wasn’t necessary. He couldn’t even get her to wake up long enough to kiss her good night. She was dead to the world and sleeping like an innocent without a care to concern her.
Johanna awakened in the middle of the night. A weight rolled onto her feet, startling her. As soon as she moved, Gabriel sat up. He spotted his son at the foot of the bed and immediately ordered him to go back to his own bed.
“Don’t wake him,” Johanna whispered. “He’s been in our bed for over an hour. Just scoot him off my leg, please.”
Her husband let out a sigh loud enough to wake the dead. Alex didn’t stir, though. He slept through the transfer from one bed to the other.
“Does he have enough covers?” Johanna whispered. “It’s cold in here,” she added with a nod.
Gabriel got back into bed and hauled his wife into his arms. “He’s my son,” he said. “The cold doesn’t affect him.”
She thought her husband’s remark was most illogical. She was going to tell him so, but he turned her attention with his gruff command to kiss him.
He thought only to give her a quick kiss, but she tasted so good to him and she was so wonderfully responsive, he decided he wanted a little more. He kissed her again, long and hard. And then he decided he wanted it all.
It was agony making love without making any noise, and Gabriel’s last coherent thought before his wife drove him beyond the limits of his control was that he was going to be damned happy when his son moved into the other chamber.
He liked the way his wife snuggled up against him afterward. Hell, he liked everything about her, he thought with a smile.
“Gabriel?”
“What is it?”
“I would like to tell you something,” she whispered in the darkness. “I know why King John wants to be rid of Raulf.”
“Rest now, Johanna. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“I want to talk about it now.”
He gave in. “All right,” he agreed. “But if you begin to get upset, you will put the worry aside until tomorrow.”
She ignored his qualification. “I wanted to tell you earlier,” she began.
“You were going to tell Nicholas, too, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Why did you stop me?”
“Because Nicholas isn’t just your brother, he’s also an English baron. If he were to hear unsettling news regarding his overlord’s behavior, he might be forced to act upon it. No one’s going to unseat John now; and if Nicholas tries, he’ll get himself killed.”
She hadn’t considered the possibility that Nicholas might feel compelled to challenge the king. She was thankful now Gabriel had stopped her from telling what she knew.
“How did you come to guess—”
He didn’t let her finish. “I have but one question to ask you, Johanna. Your answer won’t leave this chamber.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Did the king kill Arthur or did Raulf?”
She didn’t hesitate in giving him her answer. “I believe Raulf killed him, but the order came from King John.”
“You’re certain?”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered. “I’m certain.”
She was so relieved to finally share the burden she’d been carrying around, tears came into her eyes.
“How did you come by this knowledge?”
“I heard the king’s messenger reading the order,” she explained. “Raulf didn’t know I was listening, but the messenger spotted me in the doorway. I don’t know if he told my husband or not. I’m certain he told the king. Raulf left shortly before Easter. He didn’t come home until the middle of the summer. A scant month later I heard the rumor that Arthur had disappeared. Years later, after I’d been told of Raulf’s death, I was ordered to London and kept under lock and key. The king came to see me several times, and during each audience, he would deliberately bring up Arthur.”
“He was fishing to find out what you knew,” Gabriel speculated.
Johanna nodded. “I pretended ignorance, of course.”
“Who was this messenger the king sent to Raulf with the order to kill Arthur?”
“Baron Williams,” Johanna answered. “John certainly wouldn’t have trusted a court messenger. Williams and Raulf were the king’s closest confidants. Yet the two barons didn’t trust each other.”
“You were damned fortunate the king didn’t kill you. He took a chance letting you live with the knowledge.”
“He wasn’t certain I knew anything,” she argued. “Besides, he knew I couldn’t give testimony against him. Women aren’t allowed to make any accusations in court against anyone but their own husbands and then for only a very few offenses.”
“Baron Goode believes you know something, doesn’t he? That is why he tried to talk to you.”
“Yes,” she answered. “All the barons were aware of the relationship between John and his two favorites, Raulf and Williams. As we now know, Raulf left England just before Arthur disappeared. Goode is guessing there might be a tie between the two. He probably wants to question me about the dates involved. He couldn’t know I overheard anything”
“I want you to listen carefully,” Gabriel commanded. “You will not tell anyone what you overheard, not even your brother. Give me your promise, Johanna.”
“But there is one person I really must speak to,” she whispered.
“Who?”
“King John.”
He caught himself before he shouted, “It’s out of the question.”
“I believe I can make him listen to reason. It’s the only way, husband. I don’t want a war.”
Gabriel decided to use logic to make her understand her jeopardy. “You’ve just told me you can’t testify against the king. If you think you can threaten him with the promise you’ll tell the barons what you know and ignite a rebellion against the crown, John will simply silence you before you can carry through your plan.”
A long minute passed in silence. Gabriel believed Johanna was finally realizing the foolishness in her wish to speak to the king.
“I hadn’t considered that plan of action,” she whispered.
“Then what in God’s name was your plan? Did you think you could gain John’s sympathy?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I just thought I would mention the message he sent Raulf.”
“And how would your reminder help?”
“He sent a written message, Gabriel, in his own hand. Raulf believes he burned it.”
Gabriel went tense in anticipation. “Didn’t he?”
“After Williams read the order to Raulf, he placed it on the table and took his leave. That is when he spotted me. I nodded to him and continued on across the entrance and then went down the back corridor. I wanted Williams to believe I had only just gotten there, you see.”
“And then?” Gabriel prodded, impatient to hear the rest of the tale.
“Raulf accompanied Williams outside. When he returned to the hall, he picked up the scroll and tossed it into the fire. He stood there and watched until it had been completely destroyed.”
A hint of a smile changed Gabriel’s expression. God, he was married to a clever woman.
“What did he burn?”
“One of Bishop Hallwick’s important sermons on the inferiority of women.”
“Raulf didn’t know you could read, did he?”
“Oh, no, he didn’t,” she rushed out. “He would have beaten me if he’d known I’d deliberately proven him wrong, for he told me again and again I was too ignorant to learn how. Of course, he beat me because I was ignorant, too, so I don’t suppose . . .”
It was the very first time she’d spoken so openly about the beatings, and although he’d known the truth for a long time now, it still shook him to hear her say the words.
“Don’t suppose what?” he asked, his voice gruff with emotion.
She squeezed herself closer to him before she answered. “I don’t suppose he ever needed a reason to beat me,” she whispered.
“He’ll never touch you again,” Gabriel promised.
The fury in his voice was chilling. “I know you will keep me safe,” she said.
“Damned right I will,” he countered.
She wasn’t upset by his harsh reaction but comforted. He was outraged on her behalf.
“You took a terrible risk when you switched the scrolls,” he said then. “What if Raulf had decided to reread his king’s command?”
“I believed the risk was worth it,” she replied. “It was an important paper to save. John’s signature appears at the bottom, and his seal is affixed.”
“He was a fool to put his name . . .”
“He believes he’s invincible,” she said. “And I think he knew Raulf wouldn’t believe Williams without a written order. Time was important, though I’m not certain why, and surely that was the reason King John didn’t summon Raulf to London and tell him what he wanted done.”
“Where is the scroll?”
“I wrapped it in soft cotton cloths and hid it inside the altar of the chapel Raulf had just had built for the bishop. It’s wedged between two marble squares.”
Gabriel felt her shiver and tightened his hold on her.
“Do you know I almost destroyed it just before I was told Raulf was dead. Then I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“I wanted someone in future to find it and know the truth.”
“I’m more interested in keeping you safe, Johanna. I will not allow you to talk to King John.”
“I don’t want war,” she whispered.
She sounded close to tears. He kissed her forehead and demanded she quit worrying.
“I’ll convince England’s king to leave us alone.”
She tried to argue with him. “You can’t think to go to England?”
He didn’t answer her. “It’s late, Johanna, and time you went to sleep.”
Exhaustion won. She decided she would have to wait until tomorrow to talk some sense into her husband. Of only one thing was she certain. She wasn’t about to let him confront King John or Raulf without a foolproof plan in mind. She would demand he take at least a league of Highlanders with him.
Morning proved to be too late to demand her husband be reasonable. When Johanna dressed and went downstairs to find Gabriel, Nicholas gave her the news that he’d already left the holding.
She didn’t become hysterical, but it took every bit of strength she possessed to control herself. She spent the day pacing and worrying. By dinnertime, her nerves were flayed.
Father MacKechnie sat at the head of the table at Johanna’s insistence. She sat on the priest’s right, next to Clare, and Nicholas took his seat across from her.
The thought of food turned Johanna’s stomach. She could barely stand to watch anyone else eat. She didn’t say a word until the trenchers had been cleared from the table.
“Nicholas, why did you let him go?” she cried out.
“Let him? Johanna, I made a sound argument, but your stubborn husband wouldn’t listen.”
She tried to calm down. “Then you, too, realize the jeopardy . . .”
Nicholas shook his head. “I didn’t argue against his going. I tried to talk him into letting me go with him.”
“He didn’t take enough soldiers with him.”
“He knows what he’s doing,” Nicholas defended.
“He hasn’t had enough time to think of a plan. He can’t go barging into John’s court and demand a hearing.”
Nicholas grinned. “Aye, he can,” he replied. “Your husband can be very persuasive when he wants to. He’ll get his audience all right.”
“You should have gone, Nicholas,” Clare blurted out. “You’re a baron. Your king would have listened to you.”
Nicholas turned his attention to the beautiful woman frowning at him with such obvious indignation.
“That was my argument,” he told her.
Johanna shook her head. “Only Gabriel can make the king listen to reason,” she said.
Nicholas leaned back on his stool. “Why is that, Johanna?”
She was immediately sorry she’d made the remark. “Because he’s my husband,” she replied. “Besides, last night you said you had already tried to talk to John and he wouldn’t listen to you.”
“I still should have gone with him,” her brother said.
“Why didn’t you?” Clare asked.
“He asked me to stay here,” he answered. “Gabriel made me responsible for you, Johanna, and he’s going to be damned unhappy when he comes back and finds you’ve made yourself ill with your worry.”
“If he comes back,” Johanna whispered.
“You shame Gabriel by making such comments,” Nicholas said. “You should have confidence in his ability.”
Johanna burst into tears. Father MacKechnie dropped the piece of bread he’d been nibbling on and reached over to pat Johanna’s shoulder.
“There, there, lass. It’s going to be all right.”
While the priest tried to comfort his mistress, Clare attacked Nicholas with a defense of Johanna’s conduct.
“She loves her husband,” she cried out. “How dare you criticize her? She’s worried about his safety, and she certainly doesn’t need you to make her feel guilty or ashamed!”
Clare was shouting by the time she finished her speech. She’d bounded to her feet and folded her arms across her chest while she glared at Nicholas.
He showed no reaction to her behavior or her words. In truth, he wasn’t offended. Nay, he found Clare’s defense of Johanna admirable.
“How did you become so loyal to my sister in such a short time?” His voice was kind and soothing. The bluster seemed to leave her all at once. She collapsed back onto her stool, straightened her plaid across her shoulder, brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, and then looked at Nicholas again.
He was smiling at her. He was a handsome man, she thought to herself, and the look of tenderness in his eyes made her feel warm inside. She shook her head against such thoughts and tried to remember his question.
“Your sister saved my life.”
Johanna mopped at her eyes, thanked the priest for his concern, and then turned to Clare.
“You saved yourself, Clare.”
“You had a hand in it,” Father MacKechnie announced.
Alex appeared at the entrance. He was hopping from one foot to the other while he waited to get some attention.
Johanna spotted her son and immediately excused herself from the table. “I must tuck him in,” she explained.
“Will you come back down?” Clare asked.
“I’m very weary tonight,” Johanna answered. “I believe I’ll go to bed.”
“I’ll go up with you,” Clare announced. She stood up, bowed to the priest, and then turned to Nicholas. “I didn’t mean to shout at you.”
Nicholas had stood up when his sister did. Clare walked around the end of the table to leave the hall but stopped when she reached his side.
He towered over her. She tilted her head back so she could look into his eyes. They were beautiful, she thought to herself . . . for an Englishman.
“I have apologized, Baron. Have you nothing to say in return?”
“And catch hell again? You seem to take exception to everything I say, Clare MacKay.”
“I haven’t,” she defended.
He grinned. Father MacKechnie snorted with his laughter. “He’s got you now, lass. You just proved him right.”
Clare didn’t know if Nicholas was jesting with her or not. She could feel herself blushing and didn’t understand why. She certainly hadn’t done anything to feel embarrassed about.
She decided she’d wasted enough time trying to understand the strange Englishman. She turned to the priest, bid him good night, and then muttered the same to Nicholas.
“Sleep well, Clare.”
The caress in his voice shook her. She glanced up to look at him.
He winked at her.
She didn’t run out of the hall. She walked at a ladylike pace. She didn’t smile until she reached the entrance. Then she smiled all the way up the stairs. She did a lot of sighing, too. Baron Nicholas was a thoroughly unacceptable man, and heaven help her, she was beginning to like him.
Nicholas watched her leave the hall. Father MacKechnie asked him to sit back down. “Don’t leave just yet. Share some brew with me. None of us is going to get much sleep tonight, worrying as we are.”
Nicholas reached for the jug and poured a drink into the priest’s goblet.
“Clare intrigues me,” he remarked.
“Of course she does,” Father MacKechnie agreed. “She’s a bonny lass, isn’t she now?”
Nicholas nodded. “Were you here when she arrived?”
“I was,” Father MacKechnie said.
Nicholas waited for the priest to tell him more. Father MacKechnie didn’t seem inclined.
“As long as Clare is here, I’m responsible for her safety, too, Father,” he said.
“Aye, you are.”
“MacBain told me her father will be coming to collect her tomorrow or the day after.”
“I hadn’t heard that,” the priest replied. “What are you going to do? Will you let her leave?”
“You’re going to have to tell me what happened to the woman. I can’t make any kind of decision until I know her history. Clare seemed upset over the news.”
“Do you mean upset because her father’s coming to get her?”
Nicholas nodded. The priest let out a loud sigh. “You’d best hear what happened to the poor lass. Clare MacKay arrived here so bloody and torn apart it looked as though the wolves had gotten to her. It’s a miracle her face wasn’t scarred. It’s a miracle she even lived. I gave her the last rites,” he added so Nicholas would understand he wasn’t exaggerating.
He took a long swallow of his drink and then told Nicholas the full story. He was pleased with the baron’s reaction. Nicholas was properly outraged.
“So she’s carrying a MacBain?” Nicholas asked when the priest finished his explanation.
“Nay, son, she isn’t carrying. She made it up, you see, and confessed the full truth to our laird only last night. Clare told me this morning, though not in confidence or in confession, so I am at liberty to talk about it,” he hastily explained. “She said she was feeling relieved. She’s a proud woman. She doesn’t like to lie.”
“Then why did she?”
“It was the only way she could think of to get away from the MacInnes men. She went to an extreme. She could have gotten herself killed.”
“From what you’ve told me about her injuries, she damned near did get herself killed,” Nicholas remarked.
The priest agreed with a nod. “Clare’s father is the only one who doesn’t know the truth yet. He’s expecting to meet the father of Clare’s babe and set a marriage date.”
The bizarre conversation of the night before was suddenly making sense to Nicholas. “The MacBain kept asking me if I recognized Clare. He thought I was the man responsible.”
“No one’s accusing you now, son. It would have been convenient if you had been the one, at least I imagine our laird thought it would have been convenient.”
Nicholas shook his head. “Son of a . . .”
He stopped himself from saying the blasphemy just in time. “What will Clare’s father do when he finds out she lied?”
“No telling,” the priest replied. “I will of course try to intercede if he loses his temper. ’Tis the truth I’m afraid for her. Laird MacKay’s a hard man. He loves his daughter, but when he finds out she lied, he might marry her off to the first unattached clansman he spots. She’s got a hard future in front of her.”
Nicholas thought about what the priest had told him for several minutes.
“I wasn’t able to save Johanna.”
Nicholas’s voice was whisper soft, as though he was in confession. The priest put his goblet down and turned to the baron. “You cannot blame yourself for what happened to Johanna. She told me she kept the truth from you because she was ashamed.”
“I should have known what was happening,” Nicholas muttered. “Raulf kept her hidden away, and I should have been clever enough to realize his reasons. He didn’t want me to see her bruises, of course. Dear God, how I want to be the one who kills him.”
The priest decided to turn the baron’s thoughts. “You’d best be deciding what to do when Laird MacKay gets here. Johanna doesn’t want Clare to leave. I’m warning you now, son. You’re going to have to contend with your sister as well as Clare’s father. You’ve also got the king’s messengers coming here with their demand to take Johanna back to England.”
“John assured me he would send only the messengers and four escorts,” Nicholas said. “It will only take a few minutes to give them Gabriel’s answer and send them home.”
“My laird believes he’s going to be able to change your king’s mind, doesn’t he?”
“He does.”
“I wonder how he thinks to accomplish his goal,” Father MacKechnie said.
Nicholas shook his head. “He was damned confident he would get the king to withdraw his support from Baron Raulf, but Gabriel wouldn’t tell me what he planned to say.”
“You’re caught in the middle, aren’t you? You can’t call up your own vassals to fight by your side, for you’re in the Highlands now and the battle might very well be waged against your own king.”
“We’re living in difficult times,” Nicholas said. “It is unthinkable for a vassal to lose his faith and trust in his overlord. Most of the barons in England have had their fill of John’s antics. There’s constant talk of rebellion.”
“I can understand why,” the priest remarked. “Your king’s made more enemies than allies.”
“That is true,” Nicholas agreed. “He has even turned the holy pope against him. Change is in the air, Father, and if John doesn’t mend his ways, he’ll eventually be forced to hand over his power just to remain king.”
“A king without power? How is that possible?”
“John will be forced to give over specific rights to the barons,” Nicholas explained.
The priest had never heard of such a thing. Yet in all of his considerable years he’d never seen such an inept leader as John. The stories he’d heard over time regarding King John’s behavior couldn’t all be exaggerations; and if only a few of them were true, then England’s leader would certainly have quite a bit of explaining to do when he stood before his Maker.
“Do you trust your king?”
“I will continue to serve my overlord until he breaks the bond. I am his vassal.”
“But do you trust him?”
Nicholas didn’t say another word. He pushed his chair back, bid Father MacKechnie good night, and then left the hall.
His silence was his answer.