CHAPTER SEVEN
“I will not do it.”
William had been listening to those same five words since Troy’s humiliating defeat that morning. It was nearing sunset as he and Paris and Kieran tried to ply Troy with enough wine to make the man more malleable and receptive to the idea that he was to have a new wife. Not just any wife; the woman who had defeated him in full view of his men.
A woman who had humiliated him.
Perhaps that was part of the problem. Troy was being forced to marry a woman who, for a split-second in battle, had been smarter than him. The shame of it was more than he could bear. In fact, the shame was so bad that Patrick sent his army back to Berwick without him, instead choosing to remain behind to comfort his embarrassed brother. James, too, had sent the bulk of his men back to Wark while he, too, remained at Troy’s side.
The brothers were sympathetic; perhaps too sympathetic. That was why William had sent them away to prepare a bedchamber for the soon-to-be-married couple. He didn’t want Troy feeding off of the sympathy from Patrick and James, so it was important that he separate the brothers. William had made a bargain and Troy was expected to fulfill it, no matter how supportive Patrick and James were.
“Troy, I understand your reluctance, but we have been over this,” William said patiently. “The terms of your defeat were set forth and marriage was the term. You were specifically requested. It is important to the peace of this entire stretch of border and you will comply, like it or not.”
In a corner of the big great hall, Troy was literally backed against the stone. He sat with his back to the corner while his father and brothers tried to talk sense into him. At the table behind them sat Paris and Kieran and Michael and the rest of them, because no one was leaving while Troy was in such turmoil. More than that, they wanted to witness the wedding to the warrior lady who had kneed Troy in the groin and then pushed him to the ground. There was great morbid curiosity in their presence.
Troy knew that. He, too, would have had some morbid curiosity about the situation, if only it wasn’t happening to him. At the moment, he was beside himself with frustration and angst. He didn’t want to marry and he certainly didn’t want to marry a woman who had humiliated him in front of his men. But his father had made the bargain and he couldn’t refuse.
And he hated the very thought of it.
As Troy raged and the English formed a sympathetic cushion around him, Audric had been watching the entire happenstance with great interest. He would have quite a tale to tell when he returned to Jedburgh; Red Keith Kerr had come forth to confront de Wolfe for taking Monteviot and had cleverly had his daughter fight an English knight, the outcome of which would decide the fate of Monteviot.
But it wasn’t Monteviot that Keith had been interested in; it had been an alliance and a marriage for his daughter, who would now marry into inarguably the most powerful English family on the border. It had been a brilliant move by Keith and Audric had to admit that he was impressed. He was also vastly glad to see that the House of de Wolfe would be allied with the Clan Kerr.
If they could get the bride and groom together long enough to conduct the ceremony.
William had already asked Audric to remain and perform the mass. The best they could do was have it take place at the entrance to the hall instead of the entrance to the church, but there were over a thousand men still at Monteviot to witness the merger of the two houses. Audric was more than willing to conduct the wedding mass and as the day went on, he waited patiently, drinking and eating anything anyone would put in front of him. As evening fell and William tried to convince his stubborn son that a contract marriage was the right thing to do, there was some commotion over by the hall entry.
There was a fight going on.
They could all hear it. Some kind of brawl that even stopped the conversation between Troy and William. In fact, as Troy looked at the hall entry with some curiosity, a Scotsman suddenly hurled through the door as if he’d been punched or kicked. But the man regained his balance quickly and raced outside again, only to reemerge back into the hall carrying the legs of a trussed-up body. Two other men had the head and torso of the body, but the person wrapped in hemp ropes was struggling against them violently. It took Troy, and everyone else, a moment to realize that Rhoswyn Kerr had been brought to her marriage ceremony in bondage.
Troy’s jaw fell open in shock. As he watched, Rhoswyn bent up her knees, kicked out, and rammed the man who was carrying her feet again. The man faltered but he didn’t let go this time. He held firm. Behind the men carrying her, in came Keith Kerr, instructing his men not to hurt his daughter.
It was the most astonishing thing Troy had ever seen. He forgot all about his own reluctance as he watched Rhoswyn brought in like a prize. Or a prisoner. In disbelief, he went to stand next to his father as they watched a host of Scots carry in a gagged lady who was wrapped up tightly. She could hardly move, but move she did, and she was still giving them a fight. Troy looked at his father.
“Are you serious?” he demanded. “This is to be my wife? Are you mad?”
William had to admit he was rather taken aback by what he saw. If Troy was resistant to this marriage, then the lady was clearly hysterically opposed to it. He was coming to wonder what he’d committed his son to, but he didn’t back away from the bargain. A deal was a deal, and Troy could handle himself even in the face of a wild new wife. But he tried to remain calm, if only for Troy’s sake.
“Clearly, she is reluctant,” he said, looking at Troy’s reaction to his understatement. “Lad, if she walked in here happy and eager to marry you, then you would know it was a lie. At least this way, you know what you are dealing with.”
Troy’s mouth was still hanging open as he looked at the Scots with the lady between them, only he caught a glimpse of James and Patrick, Apollo and Paris. As he turned his head, he could see that they were all trying very hard not to burst out into laughter. Paris in particular; the older knight had a twisted sense of humor so he undoubtedly found a reluctant Scottish bride to be humorous. Anything that irked William and his sons was funny to Paris. That infuriated Troy but, in the same breath, the situation was so unbelievably ridiculous that he, too, fought off the urge to laugh.
He’d never seen anything like it.
“Papa, you cannot be determined that I should go through with this,” he said. “Would you really saddle me to a wife who is so violently opposed to this union?”
It was a legitimate question William could no longer deny. His confidence in the matter took a hit when he saw the lady twist so hard that she virtually threw herself from the arms of the men who were carrying her. She hit the hard-packed earth of the hall with a thud and when they tried to pick her back up, she simply squirmed and twisted so they couldn’t get a grip on her. He looked at Keith, several feet away.
“So you would marry a wild animal to my son?” he asked, sounding quite unhappy. “I did not make a bargain that my son should marry this… this she-devil.”
Keith met William’s gaze, unsurprised by the man’s reaction. “She is not a wild animal, I assure ye,” he said. “She is smart and compassionate when she wants tae be. But she is unhappy that I have made this bargain for her.”
“As I am,” Troy said. He was finished being silent about the situation. Pushing past his father, he came to stand over Rhoswyn as she lay, bound and gagged, on the ground. When men tried to pick her up again, he shoved them away, one of them so hard that the man ended up on his arse. Troy crouched down next to Rhoswyn and pulled the gag out of her mouth. “I mirror your reluctance, my lady, and it is unfortunate that our fathers have conspired against us as they have. This is not my doing.”
With that, he began to untie her, unwinding the bindings that had been all but cutting off her circulation. As the ropes fell away and Rhoswyn sat up, quickly, to pull the bindings free, Troy chased away all of the men that were standing over her, including her father. The Scotsmen didn’t want to move so quickly, but a glare from the big knight sent them falling back.
“Get back, all of you,” Troy commanded. “Get back before I throw you back.”
He had the de Wolfe air of command about him, one that men naturally complied with, English or Scots. In fact, it was a sense of command and control that Rhoswyn, pulling the ropes from her ankles, hadn’t heard before. Not even her own father had that same booming presence that all men naturally succumbed to. And that voice…
She’d never heard anything like it.
Like steel wrapped in silk, soft on the surface but hard and powerful beneath. She’d heard it at a distance when he’d been speaking angrily to his father earlier in the day, but the quality of it had been lost on her. Now that he was speaking directly to her, chasing men away from her, the rich timbre was evident. Moreover, his innately chivalric move to free her from her fellow Scotsmen had her attention.
It shouldn’t have; she shouldn’t have cared in the least. She was ripping the ropes off with every intention of running out of the hall, but something… she didn’t know what… was holding her back. She wasn’t leaping to her feet as fast as she should have been. In fact, she wasn’t moving swiftly at all. She heard the English knight threaten her uncle, who moved to tie up her feet again, and that had her looking at the man like he was the first man she’d ever seen in her entire life.
That voice had her attention.
What was his name again? Her father had told her but she couldn’t remember. But she did remember him as the man she’d kneed in the groin and then smashed in the chest with her shield. He was tall, at least a head-and-a-half taller than she was, and he was broader than her by twice. He had shoulders that were impossibly wide.
But it was his face that had her attention – as she’d noted before, he was darker than the pasty-faced men she’d come to know. He had an olive-skinned quality about him, something she’d seen once when a merchant from a land far away had stopped at Sibbald one night on his way south from Edinburgh. That swarthy man had the same darker quality to his skin that de Wolfe’s son had, but he hadn’t possessed de Wolfe’s eyes – they were probably hazel but they looked gold. And he was handsome… so very handsome. She’d noted that from the first, too, and that hadn’t changed. He was even more handsome when he was pushing men away from her.
She rather liked it.
That very foolish reaction to him had her dumbfounded. She was in the process of looking at him with a rather edgy expression on her face when he suddenly began pushing everyone far back from her. It wasn’t just giving her room to breathe; it was moving them several feet away from her. He pushed those who didn’t move fast enough, and suddenly, other English knights were moving in, pushing the Scots out of the way, and abruptly it became a big shoving match that had the older English knights jumping in to break it up before it turned into a brawl.
It was rather chaotic, in fact. Rhoswyn lurched to her feet, rubbing her hands where the ropes had chafed her, watching the man she was supposed to marry chase everyone away from her.
…why in the hell wasn’t she running, too?
“Clearly, you did not know what your father had in mind, did you?”
The man she was supposed to marry was suddenly standing in front of her, speaking to her with that delicious voice. A voice that could move mountains. Rhoswyn looked at him, feeling her heart leap strangely.
God, what was wrong with her?
“Nay,” she said, staying out of arm’s length so he couldn’t touch her or grab her.
Troy watched the woman as she moved away from him. She wasn’t running, as he had expected, but she was obviously unnerved by him, by the entire situation. To her credit, however, the hysteria seemed to have faded. Now that she wasn’t being treated like an animal, she wasn’t behaving like one. But he wondered if it was only temporary. He scratched his head, glancing back at his father and the other English who were mostly keeping the Scots at bay. But some were watching him.
An idea struck him.
“Would you be willing to have a private word with me, please?” he asked her. “It is impossible for you to run out of here and not be caught, so if you give me a moment of your time, mayhap we can come to an… an agreement that will not involve wrapping you up in ropes.”
Rhoswyn was still rubbing her wrists where her skin was chafed, eyeing him. “What could ye possibly have tae say tae me?”
There was both curiosity and defiance in that question. Troy wasn’t sure he could get her to come with him, to a quiet corner, so he simply spoke where they were standing even though there were men within earshot. It was a crowded, chaotic situation at best but, being a rational man most of the time, he knew they had to speak. Something had to be done and he wondered if he was the only one who could do it.
To calm the woman who was to be his wife.
“I have this to say,” he said. “My father has made this bargain with your father. You and I, unfortunately, are to be the pawns in their greater game. I do not wish to marry you any more than you wish to marry me, but to refuse would reflect badly on our fathers. My father would be a man who could not hold his word, and your father would be a clan chief who had no control over his own daughter. Do you agree with this so far?”
That voice. Rhoswyn was having difficulty not openly admiring what was music to her ears. Even if he did speak with a Sassenach accent…
“Me pa dinna consult with me,” she said. “I have every right tae refuse.”
Oh, but she was stubborn, this one, Troy thought. He could see it in her expression as she spoke, in a voice that sounded rich and silky. It was rather beautiful. Even if she did speak with a Scots accent…
“You have no rights at all and you know it,” he said, trying not to sound cruel. “Nor do I. Much as your father is your chief, my father is mine. It is the hierarchy of command – my father commands and, ultimately, I do as I am told. So do you. If men did not do as they were told, then there would be chaos. Everyone must take orders from someone. Is that a fair statement?”
Rhoswyn’s jaw ticked faintly; she sensed what he was driving at and even though what he said was correct, she wouldn’t agree to it. She couldn’t. But if she continued to refuse and dispute him, she would sound like an idiot in denial, an animal who did what she pleased, any time she pleased. It was, therefore, with the greatest of hesitation that she nodded her head, ever so slightly.
“Me pa is the clan chief,” she agreed.
“And he is in command?”
“Aye.”
Troy was surprised she conceded the point. “As my father is in command of the House of de Wolfe,” he said. “Let me ask you, my lady – if one of your father’s men was to refuse him as you have refused him, what would you do to the man?”
She snorted. “He would be beaten and sent away.”
Troy was quick to pounce on that. “Do you want to be beaten and sent away? Because you were close to that only a few moments ago when they brought you in, bound in rope.” He watched an expression of doubt ripple across her face and he took a step towards her, lowering his voice. “I do not want to marry you. I do not ever want to marry again. But I have no choice. And you; you do not have any choice, either. All you are doing now is embarrassing your father much as I am embarrassing mine. We are showing little honor in our fathers by denying their wishes. I love my father and I want to show respect to him; I hope you feel the same way about your father. With that said, we may as well let them have their marriage and get it over with.”
Rhoswyn eyed him nervously before looking to her father, who was standing about fifteen feet away with William. Both fathers were looking at their children with varied degrees of apprehension. All you are doing now is embarrassing your father. It took Rhoswyn a moment to realize that he was correct. But she couldn’t help it, so great was her resistance to this marriage. She didn’t want to marry a Sassenach; she didn’t want to marry anyone. But, as her father had pointed out, if she didn’t, then his title and lands would pass to Fergus and his worthless sons. The next chief of Red Keith’s clan wouldn’t have his blood. Or hers.
God… her father had been right.
Rhoswyn’s gaze returned to the English knight; big, handsome… if she had to marry, then she supposed she could do much worse than him. Perhaps he would even teach her the Sassenach warring ways. She forced herself to look on the bright side; perhaps it wouldn’t be all bad.
It wasn’t as if she had a choice. But in that understanding, she could feel the distinctive spasms of defeat.
She hated it.
“And then what?” she asked. “I marry ye, and then what? What happens then?”
It was a good question. “What do you want to happen?” Troy asked. “Do you want to go home with your father? You know he will make you remain with me. A wife remains with her husband.”
Rhoswyn was starting to lose her defiance. She was tired and upset, and the trials of the day were getting to her. She was a strong woman but even she had a limit. The thought of never going home again brought tears to her eyes, tears she angrily blinked away.
“Will… will we remain here?” she whispered tightly.
Troy could see that she was breaking down and he had to admit he was relieved. He sincerely did not want to marry a woman who might possibly put a dirk in his back while he was sleeping. Perhaps she would still try, but he had a feeling that if he could calm her down, and talk to her pleasantly, then maybe they could at least come to some civil coexistence. At this point, that was really their only hope as well as their only choice.
“For now,” he said. “Mayhap in time you could even go home and live with your father if you wanted to. I would not wish for you to be unhappy living here or at Kale Water Castle. That is my other holding. My lady… since neither of us has a choice in the matter, then let us get on with this and decide what is best for both of us after the fact. I promise that I will let you do whatever makes you happy so long as whatever it is does not shame me, my father, or your father. Is that agreeable?”
It was perhaps the nicest way to make a truly upsetting situation feel comfortable. Rhoswyn had to admit that she was surprised by the amount of compassion and reason the knight displayed. She had no idea that the Sassenach were capable of such a thing. But beneath all of her resistance and anger, she had to admit there was also a good deal of fear. Truly, she was afraid to be married, afraid of the Sassenach stranger.
Afraid of an unknown future.
But her father had set her on this path and there was nothing she could do. After a moment, she nodded her head, once, but it was enough of a gesture that Troy turned to his father and Keith. He lifted a hand.
“Bring the priest,” he boomed. “Do it now before the lady and I change our minds.”
Pulled away from the table and his fourth cup of cheap wine, Audric had never been forced to move so fast in his entire life.