THE CONFRONTATION IN THE STABLE had frightened Kathryn. Sir Bryan’s size and strength spoke more eloquently than even his words. He could take what he wanted—indeed he would take what he wanted. She had been warned.
In despair, she sought out Fergus. Kathryn found him with Lachlan the Smith, who was trimming the hooves on one of the donkeys used to pull the wool carts to market. Lachlan’s sullen expression and the donkey’s loud braying did little to improve Kathryn’s spirits. But Fergus’s face lit up when he spied Kathryn, making her feel welcome and special as he always did. With a nod toward the noisy donkey he said, “Come, let us find a quieter spot.”
They walked toward the keep’s entrance, and Fergus guided them toward Homelea’s chapel, a small room on the second floor of the keep. The altar stood on the eastern wall, and soft morning light filtered through the stained glass window behind it, creating a rainbow on the polished stone floor.
The room was plain and simple, the only adornment being the embroidered cloth and a pair of pewter candlesticks on the altar. Homelea had no priest in residence since Father Munro’s death six months ago. Services were held sporadically, whenever a traveling priest showed up. But castle residents came to the chapel each morning for prayers before breaking their fast.
Although they had no priest, Homelea’s chapel did boast two rows of wooden benches, and Kathryn sat down on one of them. Fergus joined her and Kathryn asked, “What ails Lachlan? Seems he’s in a sour mood every time I see him lately.”
“Lachlan isn’t happy with the amount of time his wife spends as a nursemaid at the abbey.”
Alarmed by this revelation, she said, “Nelda has never mentioned anything to me. She seems content to earn extra coin this way, although she did ask why I’d taken such an interest in a foundling child.”
“Was she satisfied with yer explanation?”
“Aye, I think so.” No one had questioned her desire to retreat to St. Mary’s after that disastrous confrontation with Rodney. Indeed, she’d gone there before she’d had any idea she carried his child and had simply remained in seclusion. Her heart and soul had truly been shaken and she’d used the time to right herself with God while she awaited Isobel’s birth.
Fergus nodded. “How soon can Isobel be weaned?”
Although it was hard to believe so much time had passed, Isobel’s first birthday was next week. Kathryn returned her thoughts to Fergus’s question. “Isobel could drink from a cup if she had to.”
“It might be wise to release Nelda from her duties as soon as ye can, then.”
“Sir Bryan said I could go to the abbey in a few days.” Remembering their confrontation, she said, “Unless he changes his mind.”
“Is that all that’s troubling ye this morning? Isobel?”
“No. I have been unwise.” She stood and paced the short distance across the room and back and as she did, she confessed to Fergus her conversation with the knight about their potential wedding, her dismissal, and his anger.
“Ye insulted him, Kathryn. Of course he’d be angry. Lucky for ye he is a man who can control his emotions.”
“Oh, he’s very good at that. Anger is the only emotion I’ve seen him feel since he came here.”
Fergus looked at her acutely. “Then ye don’t watch him closely enough.”
“Why would I watch him at all? Nothing he does interests me.”
Fergus smiled and quickly hid it. “But ye’ve seen him with the dogs and now with his horse, haven’t ye?”
She didn’t care to answer; to do so she might have to admit that, yes, she had observed the knight and her observations unsettled her.
“There is more to the Black Knight than meets the eye, Kathryn.”
“You are quick to defend him.”
“Aye, he has treated me as a man, not an injured pet.”
“How can you say such a thing?”
He stood up and faced her. “It’s true, though I’m sorry to phrase it so bluntly.”
She stared at him, controlling her irritation at his accusation. Finally, realizing he was right, she said, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Fergus. ’Twas not my intent.” She sighed. “We aren’t children anymore, are we?”
“No, those days are behind us, Kat. And we must also accept the fact that our country is at war. Homelea has been spared until now, but we’re going to have to do our part if Scotland is to defeat her enemy.”
“You won’t fight, will you? Please, tell me that you won’t!” Her strident voice echoed in the small room.
He took her hands in his. “I may have no choice, Kathryn.”
“But I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt again.”
“Perhaps it will ease ye to know that I’ll be better prepared next time. Adam is teaching me sword play.” He moved away from her, left arm held up behind his head, right arm swishing an imaginary sword in the air between them. “Did ye know he was wounded at Dalry Pass?” He parried and stepped neatly aside, apparently dodging his opponent’s thrust.
Kathryn hid a smile behind her hand.
“Nearly died. And he thought he’d never fight again but he learned new strategies. He’s teaching me how to make up for my lack of vision—I may never be a great swordsman but,” he stabbed at her playfully, “he thinks I can become adept despite my injury. He’s even teaching me how to use that to my advantage!” He crossed his chest with his imaginary weapon and bowed to her.
Kathryn clapped her hands and chuckled. “Well done!” She looked at him with new understanding. “You are happy, Fergus. For the first time since Rodney’s blow to your eye, you are happy.” She stood and hugged him. “I didn’t realize how difficult it must have been to be unsure if you could defend yourself.”
He sat down again and pulled her down beside him, taking her hand in his. “And ye, sister of my heart. To be helpless when ye need protection, it tears at me. But no more. Thanks to Adam and the Black Knight.”
“Ah, we are back to him.” She pulled her hands away from Fergus.
“I saw him leave Homelea in haste.”
“I told you he was very angry with me. Which is just as well. He should have no trouble persuading the king to free us from this marriage neither of us wants.”
Fergus looked thoughtful.
She didn’t like what Fergus wasn’t saying. “What? You think it is only I? I can assure you Sir Bryan is just as unhappy with the situation.”
“Perhaps so.” They sat in silence, the distant noises of the castle folk bustling about their work muffled by the stone walls. “Have ye prayed on this?”
Kathryn twisted her hands in her lap. “I fear the Lord isn’t listening.”
“God always listens, Kat. Perhaps ye just can’t hear the answer.”
“More likely I don’t like the answer I hear.”
“Even if Bruce doesn’t insist on the marriage, I sincerely doubt he’ll take the earldom from Sir Bryan. Have ye thought of that?”
Kathryn rose to her feet and paced in agitation. “You are saying I have no real choice if I want to keep Homelea.”
“Aye.”
She stopped pacing as an idea came to her. “There is one possibility. I could send a messenger to Cousin Richard. Perhaps he could intercede on my behalf.”
“If I’d thought he could help I’d have suggested him when the knight was pounding at the gate. But Richard is not in favor with Bruce,” Fergus reminded her.
“Perhaps they’ve come to an agreement. Then Bruce might allow Richard to be my protector,” she said in desperation.
“Not very likely.”
She frowned.
“Aye, it’s worth a try if ye are truly so set against marrying Sir Bryan.”
“I am. Oh, Fergus. Why are women treated like chattel, as if we have no feelings or . . . or the intelligence to handle our own affairs? Doesn’t the Bible say we are all equal in Christ?”
“Equal before the Lord, Kat. Yes, we are all equal before him. But we each have earthly duties to perform the best we can. Even Sir Bryan has duties he must perform in obedience to his liege laird, whether he likes them or not.”
She grimaced. “I’m not sure that makes me feel any better, Fergus. Either he is marrying me for my inheritance or because it is his duty.”
“Ah, lass, ye were hoping to find love, weren’t ye?”
“Aye. Love. Or at least mutual affection.”
“Come, Kathryn. Ye would have found little of either with Sir Rodney. Edward of England will come north and Carleton will come with him. Ye made your choice when ye yielded to Sir Bryan and Scotland’s king. Be fully truthful with Sir Bryan. And see if love will bloom.”
“It will take a very special man to overlook what I’ve done, won’t it?”
“Aye, it will.”
“And you think Black Bryan is such a man?”
“Only time will tell.”
“Perhaps. But I would still like you to send for Cousin Richard.”
“All right. But it will take some time. If the king insists on a wedding, ye’re going to have to delay it as long as ye can.” They walked out of the chapel and down the steps. “Surely Sir Bryan has some redeeming qualities that ye could admire if ye tried.”
“You may judge for yourself. Thus far I have found none.”
KING ROBERT insisted on sending his priest with Bryan so the ceremony could be held without delay. Bryan returned to Homelea the next day resigned to the marriage. And mindful that Ceallach would arrive in a matter of days with the arms shipment. Bryan had sent word to Kathryn that the wedding would take place the next day. They must marry and prepare to leave within the week so that the inhabitants of Homelea could accompany Ceallach and the wagons north to Stirling.
Bryan asked for his evening meal to be served in the solar, which opened off the great hall at the end farthest from the kitchen. Apparently the old earl had used it as his office, for it boasted a large table and sturdy benches.
He pushed the food around his trencher with a knife as he considered his conversation with the king. A conversation with his father. How strange it seemed to freely think of Robert the Bruce as his father. He’d always known of the relationship, and nothing had really changed. Still, he was gratified at the man’s admission and by his praise.
But the conversation had ended with Bryan’s agreement to wed Lady Kathryn.
A shadow graced the doorway. “Would you care for some company, brother?”
“No.”
Adam walked in and sat down.
Evidently Adam’s question was not a sincere request for information. Bryan smiled. He found it difficult to be angry in the man’s presence.
Without preliminary, Adam asked, “When do you plan to tell her that we must leave?”
“First we must marry.”
Although they spoke French in the company of others, Adam now conversed in their native Gaelic. “Am I to be your witness, then?” He took a drink.
“Aye, if there’s a wedding.”
Adam coughed and sputtered.
Bryan pounded his back. “Are you all right?”
“Aye, no thanks to you.” Adam took another sip of water. “What do you mean, if there’s a wedding?” Adam managed to croak.
Bryan examined his food, then spoke quietly. “She made it clear that I am not suitable for her station. I’m not noble or even a landed knight.”
“Well, someone needs to talk some sense to her. Once we desert Homelea, she will have a difficult time reclaiming it as a single woman.”
“The fact is, she’d be better off as my widow.”
“Aye, but do try not to be killed, Bryan.”
“At least as a widow no one could force her to marry, not even Rodney.”
“Aye.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes before Bryan spoke. “We are to accompany the arms to Stirling and leave nothing here for Edward when he marches through.”
“That isn’t going to endear you to your betrothed, Bryan. She expects you to protect her home. Though she may not be happy with you, she does seem relieved to be rid of Carleton. Why didn’t you kill the man when you had the chance?”
“If he’d challenged me, I would have tried. But I’d given the lady my word not to harm anyone within the castle.”
“Then you should have followed him outside the walls,” Adam stated with fervor.
“Perhaps you’re right, but it’s too late now.”
“I’m sure you’ll meet up with him again. In the meantime, you will have the joys of marriage to occupy your mind.”
Bryan wasn’t about to admit to Adam or anyone his decision to have a chaste marriage. “I’m not so sure this marriage is in the lady’s best interest. My enemies become hers . . . and Edward of England is a formidable enemy.”
“Don’t let Robert’s troubles unsettle you.”
“Curse it, man. Even he couldn’t protect his wife. Our queen remains in Edward’s prison, and Robert is helpless to release her. I’ve seen how it tears at him.”
Adam put a hand on his foster brother’s shoulder. Somberly, he replied, “We will win this fight and free our queen, God willing.”
“Yes, and in the meantime I’m supposed to marry and protect this woman. And I don’t know if I can.” The admission clawed at Bryan’s innards. “Adam, promise me you will look after Kathryn if I cannot.”
Adam’s expression grew more solemn. “I will guard her with my life, Bryan. Not only because she is deserving, but because you ask it.”
A load lifted from Bryan’s heart. With both of them seeing to her welfare, Kathryn would be safer than if Bryan alone was pledged to her. “You should return home before the battle. See to your wife and bairns.”
“I will if there’s time.”
“Good. And you’ll stand with me at the ceremony tomorrow evening?”
“Of course. The event promises to be interesting.”
Bryan grinned. “Aye, she’s a spirited lass.”
They stood, and Adam clapped him on the back. “Mayhap she’ll save us the trouble and refuse to marry you.”
IN THE HOUR BEFORE VESPERS, Bryan waited with Bruce’s priest at the altar of Homelea’s tiny chapel, Adam and Thomas at his side. His thoughts weren’t on the forthcoming ceremony as much as they dwelt on his encounter with Kathryn. He rolled his shoulders as if to shift a weight. Perhaps with time she would come to accept the circumstances of his birth as he had done long ago. Somehow, they would make the marriage work despite their differences.
After months of wearing trews and his small plaid to accommodate a life spent on horseback, the great plaid kilted about his hips felt strange. But he’d dressed for the occasion, hoping to appease Kathryn with his effort, because he regretted his behavior in the stable. Kathryn’s defiance had fueled his temper, and like a fool he’d tried to conquer by force. He certainly knew better—even on the battlefield it was sometimes necessary to retreat to gain an advantage.
Adam leaned toward him. “You’re sure you want to go through with this?”
“Yes.” His terse response in no way told his true feelings. He was not sure at all. The late afternoon’s dark clouds reminded him of the cave in Carrick and his vow not to marry. Yet here he stood about to pledge himself to a woman. A woman who was at least half an hour late for her wedding.
Tugging at his plaid, he growled, “What keeps her?”
“She made it plain the thought of wedding you makes her swoon. Perhaps she’s had another fit.” Adam wisely said this without a trace of a grin, because Bryan was in no mood for levity.
“Aggravating woman. Go see what keeps her.” As he waited for Adam to return with his reluctant bride, Bryan glanced about at the few people in attendance. Dressing in his finest clothes was the least he could offer to the woman in return for this pitiful ceremony.
As an earl’s daughter, she had probably expected to have a fine wedding. She would have ridden on a white horse to the steps of the village kirk while the many distinguished guests lining the way wished her well. Somehow, he would make it up to her, for although she did indeed aggravate him, he’d certainly given her cause to return the sentiment.
When Adam returned shortly, Bryan feared his foster brother would choke on the grin he was obviously trying to suppress. “Well?”
Adam stopped several arm-lengths away and drew a deep breath. “The lady refuses to leave her chamber. She has barred the door.” Adam struggled to keep a straight face. Thomas was less successful at withholding a loud guffaw and Bryan turned and cuffed his arm. “See to your duties,” he growled.
“What—”
“Go clean out Cerin’s stall!”
Thomas smirked but hurried off.
Bryan’s jaw tensed as his temper rose, good intentions sinking rapidly to the bottom of his priorities.
Adam hurriedly continued. “She bade me tell you that she will bring the castle down with screams of protest if you force her to wed.”
Clenching his teeth in what he hoped passed for a smile, Bryan muttered, “Bring the castle down? She has gone too far.” He strode to the stairway, taking the steps two at a time until he stood outside the obstinate woman’s chamber.
Pounding on the door, he demanded entrance. Silence. Not a sound from within.
“Is this the only exit?” he demanded of a cowering servant.
“Aye, my laird.”
“And she remains inside?”
“Aye. This chamber, ah . . .” The young boy swallowed deeply.
“Out with it.”
“The door has been heavily fortified, my laird. I fear it would take a battering ram to open it.”
Despite that warning Bryan drove his shoulder against the door with all his considerable might. Neither door nor hinge nor lock gave way in the slightest.
Rubbing his bruised joint, his temper on a very short rein, Bryan bellowed for the edification of the silent room’s occupant. “My lady will marry me if I must starve her into submission.”
Adam cleared his throat. “Is this a good idea, Bryan? Surely there are better ways to subdue a headstrong woman.”
“She has insulted me, defied me, fainted to get her way—now she shall taste my dislike of this marriage. She will not eat until she opens this door and takes the vows.”
He stormed away, leaving orders that his wishes best be obeyed unless Adam wanted to share her fate.
Bryan ranted against his king, England’s king, and his unwilling bride as he marched to the solar, slamming the door behind him. He went directly to a table that held uisgebeatha, wishing with all his strength that he was a drinking man. Still he poured himself some whiskey but only stared at the glass in his hand.
Why had he made such a foolish threat? How could he in all good conscience starve a woman to gain acquiescence? Again he wished he could just get drunk and forget war and death, kings and royal decrees, and a pair of bewitching, defiant brown eyes.
Aye, drink himself into oblivion. He hadn’t done so in years, having promised Adam not to give in to the temptation. But tonight he didn’t know where else to turn.
Just as he was about to raise the glass to his lips a knock came at the door. Carrying the glass over to it, he opened the door to admit his foster brother. “Ah, Adam. Come to tell me of the folly of my ways, have you?”
“As if you’d listen.”
“Just say what you came to say. You’ll not leave me be until you’ve said your piece.”
“Are you going to drink that?” Adam asked, pointing to the glass.
Bryan shrugged. “It will do about as much good as praying, which is what you’re about to suggest, isn’t it?”
“Have you even tried it? Honestly tried prayer?”
Bryan had attended church and prayed as a child. But he’d become a man that day in the hills of Carrick and he’d put away childish things. He stared at Adam. “Nothing has changed. I simply can’t give myself up to a God that deserts the innocent when they most need him.”
“God didn’t desert Bruce’s women or his brothers. He has taken the dead to be with him in heaven and stands beside the living through their trials.”
“Aye, so you’ve said.”
Adam just looked at him for a minute. “What would it take for you to believe, to trust God?”
“Something miraculous, Adam.”
“You see miracles everyday but you don’t recognize them.”
“Like what?”
“Laughter; the beauty of a sunrise or a woman’s face; the joy of riding a magnificent animal like Cerin. Life is full of small miracles if you aren’t too blind to see them.”
Bryan set the whiskey down, untouched. “I’ve given up whiskey. Don’t expect more of me.”
Adam stood before Bryan. “Good. You’re going to need a clear head to deal with her.”
“I’m still tempted to strangle her as well as starve her.”
Adam shook his head. “You can’t mean to follow through with either of those threats.”
“I’ll be forced to, unless you have a better idea.”
Adam smiled wickedly. “Aye, I do at that.”
“Well, out with it.”
“Nay, you need to come with me. There’s someone you should meet.”
Shrugging, Bryan gestured toward the door. “All right, then. Lead on.”
Bryan followed Adam through the main hall to the entrance to the dungeons. The sounds of a bagpipe playing a lively tune could be heard as they descended the narrow steps. “What is that—”
“You’ll see, or rather hear, in a minute.”
The piper’s tune ended, then the drones filled again and the tune was repeated. At least Bryan thought it was the same tune. He shook his head to clear his ears but it didn’t help.
By now they had reached the lower level, deep beneath the castle, where the castle piper and his young pupil stood. And as the boy continued to struggle with his playing, Bryan understood why the lessons were held in such a remote spot.
The sounds coming from the pipe were . . . awful. Either this was a very new pupil or a horridly inept one.
Seeing Bryan, the boy quit playing, much to Bryan’s relief. Adam introduced everyone and Bryan made polite inquiries before he and Adam returned to the solar.
Puzzled, Bryan asked, “What was that all about?”
“The lady did threaten to bring the castle down with her screams.”
“Aye, well she better hurry before that boy beats her to it.” He chuckled. “He’s bad but he’s loud.”
With a knowing wink, Adam replied, “Yes, he is.”
Bryan furrowed his brow but by the time Adam explained his plan, Bryan was laughing and pounding the man’s back. “It could just work, Adam. It’s certainly worth a try. Come, let’s put your fiendish idea to the test.”
BY THE NEXT MORNING Bryan was having second thoughts. Denying her food and water had seemed reasonable yesterday in his anger, but he probably would have capitulated by now.
However, Adam argued that he must make it seem as if he truly meant to stick with his threat if their plan was to work.
Now that she was good and hungry, Bryan could send a tray to her along with a note of apology.
And a surprise.