Chapter Three
Rhoslyn hurried through the solar door into Alec’s bedchambers and stopped short at sight of the secret passageway’s open panel. She had closed the panel. She crossed to the bed and pulled back the curtain. The blanket still covered the pillows. Rhoslyn released the fabric and turned. Who had been here? She shifted her gaze to the door. She had no key to Alec’s room, so had returned through the hallways and solar so that she wouldn’t have to detour to the far side of the west wing through the passageway. Was the hall door locked?
She crossed to the door and eased it open a crack. Her heart pounded. Whoever had entered the room found the secret entrance and—Did St. Claire know of the secret passageway? Why leave her here if he knew? Because, she realized, he hadn’t known, but had discovered her gone, then deduced the truth and found the panel.
Her heart fell. She had hoped to be gone before she was discovered missing. Should she leave without the dagger? Nay, traveling without a weapon was foolish, and she had to see if St. Claire had raided their savings.
Rhoslyn went to the left corner of the room near the window and knelt at the wall. She wiggled the bottom left stone free from the wall and breathed in relief to find the key lying in the dust. She took it and replaced the stone, then hurried from the room.
When she at last neared the bottom of the stairs leading to the kitchen, she slowed her descent. Light bathed the half dozen remaining steps. The housekeeper kept a low fire banked in the kitchen hearth, but this was more than the meager dance of light from embers. She crept to the last stair and peeked around the corner. Light spilled into the kitchen from the great hall. Two men stood at one of the work tables.
She glanced at the scullery, which lay ten feet straight ahead. The men’s backs faced her. Could she reach the room without being noticed? Rhoslyn drew back and waited a long moment, then peeked around the corner again. The men were still there. They couldn’t tarry long. Shouldn’t they be searching for her instead of foraging for food?
Another man appeared in the doorway. “Baxter awaits us at the gate.”
“I plan to run a sword through Roberts myself,” one of the men at the table said.
His companion grunted. “After I shove my blade up his arse.”
“I imagine Sir Talbot will do that for us,” the first replied as they started toward the door. “He is not pleased the bastard is threatening Lady Rhoslyn’s grandfather.”
Rhoslyn barely stifled a gasp. Were they speaking of Aodh Roberts? How could he—understanding flashed lightning fast, followed by a fury so hot she envisioned thrusting a dagger into Aodh’s gutless heart. He hadn’t forgiven her for refusing his offer of marriage, and now that King Edward had married her to an English knight, he believed she would have no way to avenge her grandfather’s death. The coward must believe St. Claire would welcome her grandfather’ death, for that meant he would take possession of all his land.
A thought stopped her. The warrior had said that St. Claire wasn’t pleased that Aodh was threatening her grandfather. Was the knight going to help her grandfather? There had to be something she didn’t know. The man who had sent the brute that kidnapped her was not an honorable knight. But—she shook her head to ward off confusion. None of this mattered. She had to get to Longford this night. Not Longford Castle, she realized with horror. If Aodh was there and St. Claire was on his way, it was too dangerous for her to go there. She would go to her grandfather’s castle. She would be just as safe there as Longford.
Rhoslyn eased forward and peeked around the corner. The men had gone. Lifting her skirts, she hurried down the last few steps and pulled a torch from a wall sconce. She held her breath as she quickly lit the torch from the small flame in the hearth, then hurried into the scullery. Along the far wall, she pressed a panel that opened to steep, narrow stairs. Rhoslyn took the first few steps, turned, and pulled the panel closed behind her.
Carefully, she descended the stairs to the first level where she turned left. A lone door was located on the far wall. Rhoslyn grasped the door handle and held her breath as she pressed the latch. Locked. She closed her eyes and released the breath while sending up a prayer of thanks to Saint George for protecting their valuables.
Rhoslyn pulled the key from her belt pouch, quickly unlocked the door, then slipped inside. A cupboard stood against the far wall near the left corner. Swords, axes, crossbows and shields were mounted on all visible walls. Additional weapons leaned in corners. A chest sat against the left wall, filled with larger valuables, including the dagger she sought. The coin, however, lay hidden in a smaller chest inside a secret panel.
She crossed the room to the wall on the right and knelt. Deftly, she ran her fingers along the bottom of a stone until she felt the latch. She pressed and the stone clicked open. Relief flooded her when she found the chest unmolested.
“I wondered if there was a hiding place where more coin was hidden,” said a male voice behind her.
Rhoslyn shot to her feet and whirled. The beast who had kidnapped her stood, shoulder leaning against the cupboard. Where had he come from? She had closed the door behind her. He couldn’t have entered without her knowledge. She cut her gaze to the corner behind him. It was the only place he could have possibly hidden. How had he wedged his broad shoulders between the cupboard and wall? How had she missed him there?
His eyes dropped to the chest. “Is that money entered into the accounts?”
“Ask your laird,” she retorted.
His gaze jerked up to meet hers, surprise in his dark eyes, and Rhoslyn realized her mistake. Her eyes flew to his right arm, covered with a linen shirt and chainmail, where was rumored to be painted a picture of St. Claire’s sister who had died as a young girl.
Rhoslyn lifted her gaze to his face. “You.”
He didn’t reply, only stared at her with intense brown eyes. A strange flush of heat reached her cheeks. She startled upon realizing his attention lingered on her mouth.
“You murdered my grandfather’s men—then kidnapped a defenseless woman,” she said.
His gaze lifted to hers. “Defenseless? You stabbed me.”
“Ye are a common thief.”
“Have you counted the coin?” he asked.
She frowned. “What?”
“I wonder that you can call me thief when you have yet to confirm that a single silver coin is gone.”
“It matters not if every piece is here. Ye will spend it when and how you please—despite the fact the money is mine.”
“It was your husband’s, I wager,” he replied.
“As much mine as his,” she shot back, remembering the countless hours spent buying and selling goods, saving, counting, hording money and valuables against the storm that had brewed in Scotland. But her efforts had been in vain. The storm had come to her. She suddenly remembered the dagger she’d come for—and her grandfather. “What has happened with my grandfather?”
“Aodh Roberts intends to settle a score.”
“Aodh is a bitter man, who takes what he wants rather than work for it.”
“I have yet to meet him,” St. Claire replied in an even voice, but Rhoslyn was certain she detected a hint of amusement.
“You will meet him tonight at Longford Castle.”
“Who said I was going to Longford Castle?”
“I overheard your men say so, and your chainmail tells me ye plan for battle.”
He nodded, but said nothing. Rhoslyn realized he didn’t appear surprised that she had escaped from his bedchamber, and he had clearly known where to look for her.
“You have made yourself comfortable in my home,” she said.
“My home,” he replied.
Anger knotted her stomach. “King Edward is not a priest, and our marriage has no’ been officiated or consummated.” Sweet Jesu, she must sound like a madwoman.
He straightened. “You are right.” He reached her side in three steps. She was forced to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. He grasped her arm, but she pulled free and retreated a step.
“What are you doing?”
“Do you plan to stay here the night?” he asked.
She glanced at the chest.
“Never mind the chest,” he said. “We will lock the door when we leave.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, but grasped her arm again and drew her toward the door. She wanted to protest, wanted to return the small chest to its hiding place—more than anything, she wanted to grab the dagger from the larger chest—but wants would not help her at this moment.
He stepped into the hallway, then pulled the door shut and waited.
She lifted her chin. “You must have a key. Lock the door yourself.”
He shrugged.
Rhoslyn cried out when he pulled her against his side. “What are ye doing?”
“I have no wish to be conked over the head or stabbed in the back while I lock the door.” His tone was mild as he opened his palm to reveal the key he’d been holding.
“For pity’s sake, release me,” she said. “I dinna’ plan to kill you by stabbing ye in the back.”
His arm tightened around her waist as he inserted the key and she was suddenly aware of his fingers pressing into her stomach and her arm wedged against the hard muscle of his chest. Her heart picked up speed. He turned the key in the lock and his fingers flexed when he withdrew the key and straightened.
“So you intend to look me in the eye when you kill me?” he asked.
“Aye,” she replied.
He drew her down the short corridor without loosening his hold. “I am gratified my wife has some honor.”
“I am no’ your wife.”
“Aye, you are.”
They reached the stairs and he urged her up ahead of him. In the kitchen, he grasped her arm and led her into the great hall. Men stood in half a dozen clusters about the room. Rhoslyn caught sight of a priest sitting with his back to them at the table nearest the hearth.
“Why is Father Crey here?” she demanded, but knew the answer. Her head whirled. What was she going to do? How could she stop this? Could she stop this? “Were ye no’ on your way to help my grandfather?”
“Aye.”
“Then how can we have a wedding?”
He looked down at her. “Even by your Scottish law we are already wed. I am willing to say the vows simply to please you.”
Rhoslyn understood. “Ye will help my grandfather only if I say the vows. Along with being a murderer and kidnapper, you are an extortionist.”
“You forgot thief,” he said.
“I have forgotten nothing.”
They neared the priest and he rose.
“I will help Seward because he is your grandfather. Is that not enough?” St. Claire asked.
“And if I do no’ say the vows?”
He shrugged and she wanted to scream.
“Then you can await me in my bedchambers until I return—or your bedchambers. I imagine there is no secret passageway in the lady’s room as there is in my chambers. I will bring your grandfather back with me and then come to you.”
Rhoslyn stared openmouthed.
“Fear not, lady. I am not so uncouth as to come to your bed straight from the battlefield. I promise to bathe first.”
“If ye dare come to my bed I will cut off your bollocks,” she snapped.
His brows rose. “I see you have been talking with Mistress Muira.”
* * *
Lady Rhoslyn was not what Talbot had expected. She was beautiful. A fact that might be more pitfall than windfall. Auburn hair hung to her waist in a thick braid that begged to be unraveled and spread in a halo atop white sheets. He would never wonder what this woman thought. Every emotion appeared in her dark eyes like a rolling tide. And in this instant her eyes conveyed distrust. But he didn’t read in them that she would refuse the vows.
“I will not repeat the vows,” she said.
Leave it to a woman to prove him wrong.
Talbot shrugged.
“Sweet Jesu, shrug one more time, St. Claire, and I will drive a blade through your heart.”
He started to shrug again—a habit he had to confess his father’s wife disliked as much as Lady Rhoslyn seemed to—but he managed to check the action.
Talbot looked at the priest. “You have read the contract, Priest?”
“I have.”
“It is binding?”
The man’s mouth thinned. “Aye, it is binding.”
Talbot looked at Lady Rhoslyn. “As far as the law is concerned, we are man and wife. If you care nothing for holy blessings, then you may go to bed.”
She cast a helpless appeal to the priest.
“I am sorry, Lady Rhoslyn. It is true, you are legally married. King Edward has decreed it.”
She cut her eyes to Talbot. Anger had darkened them. “Then I imagine we have no need of a priest.”
“But ye do,” Father Crey interjected. “For when the bairns come.”
Her cheeks reddened, but it was the anguish in her eyes that caught Talbot’s attention. He recalled the newest headstone in the family cemetery. Dougal Harper. The child had been two months old when he died.
“There is always the chance your husband will not survive the battle tonight,” Father Crey said. “If you have my blessing, should he die, then no one can dispute that his lands are yours.”
Lady Rhoslyn glanced at Talbot.
“Beware what you wish for,” he said. “The next man Edward marries you to might not be as generous as I.”
“Generous?” she retorted. “Ye have taken over my home, your men eat my food, burn my wood.”
“I have paid for my men out of the money I brought with me. I will spend none of Castle Glenbarr’s money until I have studied the household rolls.”
“Ye will deal with me and my grandfather if you take anything that doesna’ belong to you. And lest you wonder, he will deal with you concerning the slaughter of his men.”
“That he will, for he is responsible for the death of one of my men.”
“One of your men? By God, you have bollocks. Ye slaughter his men, yet have the audacity to be affronted when one of your men dies in the battle?”
“There was no slaughter,” St. Claire said. “Only three of Seward’s men were lost. The rest are on their way here.”
“What? I do not believe ye. I heard the fighting.”
“When they arrive, Lady Rhoslyn, you may see for yourself.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Three were killed?”
“Aye.”
She pursed her lips. “You feel no’ one wit of regret for killing those men.”
“You may speak with your grandfather concerning their deaths. It is he who chose to defy law and secret you away in order to perform an illegal marriage. I merely protected what is mine.”
Surprise flitted across her face, quickly replaced by ire.
“Do no’ delay,” the priest urged. “If Sir Talbot dies and your union hasna’ been sanctioned by the church, Edward can seize Sir Talbot’s land, as well as yours.”
The truth of what he said flared in the lady’s eyes. She looked at Talbot. “I will no’ marry ye unless you bring my grandfather back safe.”
Talbot canted his head. “I vow to deliver him tonight. Until then, you will await me in your chambers.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I will wait where I please.”
“Nay, lady. My men are well trained, but I will no’ risk your safety while I am gone.” Talbot shifted his attention to Father Crey. “We will need your services tomorrow.”
“The wedding is a month hence,” Lady Rhoslyn said.
He shrugged. “As you wish. We can repeat the vows now or a month from now, but when I return, we will live as man and wife.”