LATE AFTERNOON SUN washed Homelea with a warm glow as the weary travelers approached. Kathryn couldn’t take her eyes from the view. Home. A beautiful sight, one she had despaired of seeing again. She made the sign of the cross and recited a silent prayer of thanksgiving for her safe homecoming and for the newly discovered affection between her and her husband.
Bryan rode beside her, and his page held aloft the colors of the Earl of Homelea. A loud cheer arose from the walls as the sentries recognized the pennant and ordered the portcullis raised. The clanging of the gate mixed with the cries of the castle occupants as they rushed to meet Bryan and Kathryn. Soon noise and joyful confusion surrounded them, and she slowed her horse as servants and men at arms alike surged toward her, touching her skirt or the horse’s trappings.
“God be praised, my lady, for your safe return.”
“Our prayers are answered, Lady Kathryn.”
“God bless the earl for returning you to us.”
They surged so close, Kathryn was forced to halt her mount for fear of running someone over. Though she appreciated their eager welcome, she was anxious to talk to Bryan. Kathryn dreaded the telling but she would beg if she had to. She was convinced the child was no longer safe at St. Mary’s. Bryan dismounted and made his way to her side, stopping several times to accept the thanks and praise of those crowded about him.
He raised his arms to help her get down from her horse. When his hands touched her waist, her people cheered anew, and Kathryn felt her face grow warm. He swung her to the ground and standing close, grinned down at her until her heart began to flutter. All around them her villeins cheered. Evidently they had accepted Bryan as their laird, as she did. Aye, after what he had risked to rescue her, she had been right to offer to make the marriage a true one. Now all that remained was to tell him of Isobel and convince him to raise her.
Her smile faded. How she dreaded the need to confess her lack of virtue to this man. Shame coursed through her and she had second thoughts about her offer, about her growing affection for him. And his slip in using her given name earlier today gave evidence that his feelings were becoming engaged as well. But he would not want a less than virtuous wife—she must resign herself to the very real possibility that they would end their marriage just as they’d agreed. But no matter what they decided about their relationship, someone must go to St. Mary’s yet today; tomorrow might be too late.
In the crush of people, she and the knight became separated. Kathryn shook hands and accepted her people’s joy at her return until her anxiety overcame courtesy and she pushed through the crowd, searching for Sir Bryan. Finally she saw him standing next to Adam and Anna. She hurried toward them. Anna held someone’s squalling toddler over her shoulder. A girl child. “Isobel?” She looked from the child to Anna.
Anna nodded. “Men came to the abbey yesterday asking questions. The nuns feared for her safety, my lady.”
Isobel turned, and on seeing Kathryn, put her arms out to be held. Eagerly Kathryn took the child, kissing her and holding her tightly. “Oh, Isobel, Isobel!” Her worst fears were realized. Someone knew about Isobel and might tell Rodney at any time.
Sir Bryan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, moving from Kathryn to the child. “Is this babe the reason for your trip to the abbey?”
“Aye, my laird.” She didn’t dare meet his gaze.
“Whose babe is she, that you would risk your life?” Sir Bryan demanded.
Laying her hand on the knight’s arm she pleaded, “My laird, as you said earlier today, we have much to talk about.”
“Aye, that we do.”
“Then come. We will eat and I will . . . I will tell you about the child.”
He studied her for a moment, then the child, then nodded and strode away.
She reluctantly passed the baby to Anna and motioned her away from Adam. “Where is Nelda?”
As they walked toward the keep, Anna answered, “Her husband was found at the river crossing during the search for you. He’s dead. Hit his head on a rock crossing the river.”
Kathryn stopped walking. “Oh no. How is Nelda taking the news?”
“She took it hard. Went to her mother in Berwick.”
Kathryn looked closely at Isobel. She seemed to be in good health. “Is Isobel weaned then?”
Anna huffed a breath. “She is now. Took to it well enough, don’t fret.”
Kathryn longed to take Isobel back from Anna’s arms and soothe her for this loss. But Kathryn suspected she was more upset than Isobel over Nelda’s departure. And Bryan waited for her, for answers.
Kathryn kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I’ll help you get her ready for bed when I’m done talking with Sir Bryan.”
Anna nodded and Kathryn walked away wishing she could stay with Anna and the child instead of dealing with the man who awaited her in the solar. The door was ajar, and a servant carrying food and drink followed her into the room. After setting down the tray, the girl quietly closed the door as she left.
Sir Bryan looked as weary as Kathryn felt, and she wished this meeting could be postponed. She sat across from him, broke off a piece of bread, and offered it to him before saying, “I have reason to believe there may be a spy at Homelea and I fear—”
“There was a spy, Kathryn, but he’s dead.”
He knew this already? “There was? Do you know who it was?”
“Lachlan the Smith.”
“Lachlan?” Her shoulders slumped and she set down the bread without taking any for herself. “The wet nurse’s husband.”
He frowned. “Wet nurse?”
“Aye, for Isobel.”
“Ah, the child in the bailey.” His facial features became severe. “Just whose child is she and what is she doing here?”
How to tell him, to plead her case? “If we are ever to have a true marriage there must be honesty between us.”
His expression was guarded, but he nodded.
Encouraged she said, “There is more to the story about Rodney’s suit for my hand in marriage, the best and the worst part.” She paused. “The reason I asked Fergus to take me to the abbey, the reason it was so important, was I needed to see my daughter, Isobel.”
He stared at her, clearly puzzled. “Your daughter?”
“Aye.”
“Your . . . daughter has been kept at St. Mary’s.” He stopped as realization struck. “Rodney. You have a child by Rodney Carleton?”
All she could do was nod in agreement. Her throat would not form words, so great was her fear of his reaction, so deep was her shame.
He jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over the table. “Carleton wooed you and got a child on you and didn’t marry you?”
The table had pushed into her stomach and she eased it away. “Aye.” His face was red with anger. She looked down, hung her head. She should have told him sooner, told him when he proposed a chaste marriage. He’d told her about his vow and she’d kept quiet, thinking to protect Isobel. But the time for secrets was past.
She looked up into dark eyes that were cold as a deep winter night.
“Why didn’t you marry him? Or did you? Is that why you agreed to a chaste marriage—you’re already married to him?”
“No! Never! I couldn’t marry him after what he did to Fergus. I refused him.”
She could see by his expression when he remembered the words she’d hoped he would forget.
“As you refused to marry me at first. You told me you would not marry a baseborn knight, and yet you have a child born just the same.” Fury and torment twisted his features. Gone was the gentle man who’d kissed her just this afternoon. In his place stood a wounded man. And she’d done this to him. God forgive me. She doubted Bryan ever would.
Could she somehow ease the hurt? “You may not believe this now, my laird. But I never, never meant those words. How could I, knowing of Isobel?”
He stared at her and maybe, just maybe he believed her.
“Will you let me tell you all of it?” she asked.
Here was the test. Did he care enough about her—about a possible future together—to listen, to try to understand why she’d said such an awful thing?
He straightened his chair and, to her relief, sat down. “I’m listening.”
Relieved, she stood before him. “I was . . . weak, easily tempted. And he was charm itself. I thought he loved me, and I certainly thought I loved him.” Slowly, carefully, she explained Rodney’s dishonesty, his deception over her father’s blessing on their betrothal, and her fall into temptation, leaving nothing out. She owed him the whole truth. Had owed it to him for weeks now.
“When Adam read Bruce’s decree that we must marry, I knew I couldn’t marry you or anyone else. To do so would have meant admitting to my shameful behavior and revealing Isobel’s existence. So to discourage you, I said I wanted to marry someone of my own rank. I am so sorry for any pain that caused you.” Tears filled her eyes and she willed herself not to cry.
He nodded, his expression softening somewhat, to her relief.
He said nothing, so she continued. “When you offered a chaste marriage, one that could be dissolved, it seemed an answer to my prayers. Isobel and I would have an able guardian, and I would not have to make this confession or endanger her.” Looking at him, knowing that the promise in his kiss might never be fulfilled, the tears fell and she swiped them with the back of her hand.
He stared at her for an uncomfortable length of time before he said, “While I am angry that you didn’t tell me this from the start, I think I can understand your reasons. For not telling and for trying to discourage me from the marriage.” Bryan blew out his breath, stood and paced away and back. “I’m more angry at Carleton. The dishonorable knave . . . I should have killed him when I had the chance that day in the bailey.” He stared at the stone floor for a long moment. “You were the one who was wronged, Kathryn.” The knight pushed his fingers through his hair, pulling some of it loose from the leather string that bound it. “Rodney doesn’t know of the child?”
“I kept her from him to protect her.”
“From her own father? Kathryn, that was unwise.”
“He might take her from me or harm her. He is obsessed with controlling Homelea. I fear he may have recently learned of her. Why else did men come to the abbey?” She weakened again, and tears welled in her eyes. She dashed them away, not caring that the knight saw them but not daring to weaken in her resolve to give Isobel Bryan’s protection.
She drew a steadying breath before rushing ahead. “I . . . am obviously no longer a maid, my laird. You will have no trouble obtaining an annulment under the circumstances. But until then, I beg you to keep Isobel with us here, at Homelea. Under your protection.”
His expression remained unreadable. “I haven’t done well in protecting my wife and you ask that I extend my protection, such as it is, to a child?”
“I thought you, of all people, would be inclined to help a kindred spirit. An innocent child, an outcast through no fault of her own.”
“Is this why you proposed to make our marriage binding? To soften me toward you for the child’s sake?”
“No, you must not believe that!”
“Why not?”
“It isn’t true. I truly believe I could come to care for you.” I already—
“Aye, especially if I take in Rodney’s brat.”
Kathryn hesitated, not liking his choice of words. Softly she said, “She is here. If you would just protect her—you needn’t love her.” Or me.
She’d hoped that because of his own birth on the wrong side of the blanket, Bryan would be more open to taking Isobel into his care. Surely his good relationship with his own father showed him just how impossible such a bond would be between a man like Rodney and Isobel. Somehow she must convince Sir Bryan to see the child as she did. Not as the child of his hated enemy, but as the child of his heart.
He walked to the window and stared out. “Kathryn, we leave for Stirling as soon as I can manage it. I’m not even sure I can protect you in the middle of a war, let alone a child.” His shoulders sagged. “You ask much of me.”
She stepped toward him and stopped. “I know I do. But I believe you are up to the task.”
He turned to look at her and she wanted to go to him but held back. He shook his head. “You should have told me all of this sooner.”
“Aye, I should have. You would not have had to create such a memorable wedding ceremony, for one thing.”
He grinned ruefully and shook his head. “Kathryn. What am I to do with you?”
“Nothing has changed, my laird. When the battle at Stirling is over, I can protest the marriage and we will go our separate ways, just as we agreed.” But everything had changed for her this afternoon in his arms. Tears threatened with the realization of what she had lost through her lack of honesty.
“Everything has changed. And you must know it.”
She hung her head, her heart hurting at the truth he’d spoken. “What are we to do?”
“Let me think on it.” He strode out of the room.
BRYAN STALKED TO THE MAIN HALL where a small fire took the chill off the evening. He’d kept his anger under control for the most part during Kathryn’s confession. But the more he thought of Rodney’s treatment of her and of her deception, the angrier he became. He took a seat next to Adam. At Adam’s raised eyebrow, Bryan produced a murderous scowl and Adam wisely remained silent. Bryan retrieved his dirk from his belt and began to whittle furiously on a piece of wood.
After several minutes Adam commented, “Don’t know what you’re carving, but it won’t amount to much the way you’re going at it.”
Bryan continued his agitated assault on the wood. Adam tried again. “If you keep that up, we’ll be calling on the wee lassie to sew a seam in your hide.”
Bryan glared at his foster brother. “If it comes to that, I’ll sew it myself.”
“Ah, so that’s the way of it then,” Adam said softly.
Bryan ignored Adam’s comment and kept on carving, but with more care. He was hanged if he wanted any more to do with “the wee lassie” this evening. He would stay clear of her until he regained control of his emotions. And figured out just what he was angry about.
Why did he hunger for this woman, whose eyes revealed fear or defiance far more often than they spoke of tender feelings? Why had she returned to him? Because she had feelings for him or because she thought he was her best protection from Rodney? Aye, and the best protection for the child.
Her pretty words about making this a true marriage had been spoken, not for his benefit, but for the child’s. Rodney’s child, born outside of wedlock just as Bryan had been. Except this poor child hadn’t been conceived out of love but in the midst of deceit and betrayal.
He barely registered Adam’s movements as the man rose and put more wood on the fire. Bryan stopped carving and stared into the fire. The erratic flames mirrored the chaos of his thoughts. He put his head in his hands. He wanted Kathryn to want him for his own sake, not for the protection he could provide the child. How had he come to this?
He looked up to see Adam watching him closely. Bryan didn’t want to share his thoughts. He sliced the knife across the wood, momentarily imagining it was Carleton’s white throat. He gouged the wood savagely and nicked his thumb with the knife. “Mother Mary.” He shoved the injured finger in his mouth and sucked on the wound.
He’d promised to release Kathryn from the marriage when Scotland was free. Yet the past few days when he’d thought he’d lost her had been horrible. For although he could wield the claymore better than anyone except his king, and he remained undefeated in tournament and battle, the thought of losing Kathryn made him feel weak as a babe. Could he let her go when the time came?
His thoughts drifted back to their kiss. Did she truly have feelings for him as the kiss had indicated? Or had she merely toyed with him to make him more biddable? And what of the fact that she was no longer an untried maid but the mother of a child?
Maybe the best course would be to see her through Stirling and then seek that annulment.
He turned over the piece of wood, examining it as if he could find the answers he sought. He made several savage thrusts, then gradually ceased his attack on the innocent piece of wood. He threw the mangled thing into the fire and put away the dirk.
The nick on his thumb had stopped bleeding, and he rested his elbows on his knees and stared into the fire.
Adam said, “What’s vexing you, Bryan?”
Bryan hesitated. “I failed to protect Kathryn from Rodney and nearly lost her. Only now do I truly understand Robert’s pain over Elizabeth’s capture. Kathryn is besieging my heart but I don’t understand her. Nor do I entirely trust her.” He looked at Adam. “The child is hers.”
Adam drew in a breath. “I feared it might be. And the father?”
“Rodney Carleton. She asks me to take in Carleton’s illegitimate child!”
“That is asking a lot,” Adam said.
Bryan shook his head. “I want no more people depending on me for their safety.”
“I’d trust you with my own loved ones, Bryan. The lady has made a wise choice.”
Bryan smiled ruefully. “You’re not much help.”
Adam rose and laid his hands on Bryan’s shoulder. “You’ll do the right thing. You always do.” He stretched his arms above his head. “Good night, then.”
Bryan retrieved another piece of wood and aimlessly carved at it.
Alone before the dying fire, Bryan decided the child could not go back to St. Mary’s. Bryan had seen his own father disregard the sacredness of a church, and he doubted Rodney would observe such conventions if they stood in his way. The nuns must have been clever in dissuading him that the child was there. Bryan would have to take on the responsibility for the child’s safety. Wasn’t it enough he had an unwanted wife to protect?
The dog Maggie laid her shaggy head on his thigh and he set aside the wood to pet her behind the ears. Animals made no demands other than this. Why couldn’t people be the same? He could swear the animal sighed in contentment, and he smiled. But the evening’s peace was shattered by the wailing of a child quickly hushed. The wailing began again.
He stood and followed the increasingly frantic cries. Although his trips to Adam’s home in Moy were infrequent, he’d spent enough time with Adam’s little ones to recognize a tired, anxious cry. His instinct was to find the cause for such distress and fix it. He found Kathryn and Anna in the nursery, trying in vain to comfort the toddling child.
Kathryn held the girl to her shoulder, patting the little one’s back and saying, “Hush. Hush now.” Kathryn looked up in apparent dismay when he entered the room.
“I’m sorry, my laird. ’Tis the strangeness of the surroundings. She’ll need a few days to get used to the newness of things.” Bryan could remember similar trauma as a young boy. At least he’d been old enough to talk. This little one could only voice her distress by crying, and loudly enough that no one could dispute her unhappiness.
Here, in this unhappy bundle of innocence, was proof of Kathryn’s affair with Rodney Carleton. Just as Bryan himself had once been evidence of his parents’ illicit love. Robert the Bruce had been prevented by his family from marrying “beneath” him. But Rodney and Kathryn were equals and still she had refused him. Because Rodney had been dishonest and harmed her friend. Out of loyalty, and no doubt a sure sense of self-preservation, she had defied the man who had deceived her.
Bryan grudgingly admired such strength of character and conviction. Some more of his anger dissipated.
Just then the child—Isobel, Kathryn had called her—twisted in Kathryn’s arms and faced him. She ceased her cries and stared at him, and he feared the wailing would begin again in earnest. But instead, the child reached out her chubby arms to him. When Kathryn crooned, “Nay, lass,” the child squirmed in Kathryn’s arms quite forcefully, and fearing the girl would throw herself to the floor, he reached for her.
“I’ll take her,” he said, surprising himself. But once he had her he didn’t know what to do with her. She nestled in his arms and gaped at him in fascination as if he were some creature from a seanachaidh’s tale. Then it struck him that indeed, she may never have seen a man in her short life at the abbey.
They stared in mutual captivation until she placed a tiny hand on his cheek and rubbed it, pulling her hand back quickly when her skin rasped against his whiskers. She gave a wavering smile and then rubbed her hand on his cheek again. This time the smile lit her face. Adam’s youngest had had a similar fascination with his beard, as Bryan recalled. He smiled back.
He touched her wispy blond hair, fairer than Kathryn’s and very fine. The child’s sturdy little body and trusting eyes spoke to his heart in much the same way as did Cerin and Maggie the hound.
Enchanted with the little mite, he placed his lips on her soft neck and blew air against it, creating a sound he hadn’t heard since he’d played with Adam and Adam’s cousins years ago. And just as they’d found the noise outrageously funny, Isobel giggled and squirmed. He did it again and peals of laughter filled the room, some of it his own.
With a grin he walked the child about the room, talking in a low voice and now and then blowing upon her skin to the delight of them both.
KATHRYN STARED IN RAPT AMAZEMENT as the fearsome knight made loud, wet noises against her daughter’s skin. Both child and man seemed delighted with the effect, and Bryan laughed aloud. Kathryn stood spellbound by the sight and the sound of the huge warrior and the tiny girl laughing together. Nay, giggling together.
He walked about the room, carrying Isobel as gently as she’d seen him pet Maggie the dog, and crooning as he’d done with his horse.
Gradually, the exhausted child’s head began to nod, and Kathryn walked to him. “Shall I take her?” she whispered.
“No, let her rest.” He continued to pace quietly back and forth until Isobel was quite asleep.
At his silent, questioning nod, she showed him to the girl’s bed. He gently laid the sleeping child there, then pulled the covers over her. Kathryn watched as he looked upon the tiny sleeping form. Then as if nothing unusual had taken place—as if this were a normal nightly ritual—he looked at Kathryn with his usual mask and said, “Good night, my lady,” and strolled from the nursery.
Kathryn sat in a chair by Isobel’s bed and gently stroked the wisps of fair hair from her face. Seeing her husband and daughter together had done something strange to her heart. She fell a little in love with the Black Knight as he cradled her sleeping child.
Assured that the babe slept peacefully, she left for her own chamber to prepare for bed. She would return to spend the night in Isobel’s room.
In her chamber, Kathryn began to undress in anticipation of washing off the day’s dust. But the basin and jug were empty of water. Tired as she was, it was tempting to just ignore the grime and the smell of horse. But she knew she would sleep better if she felt refreshed.
Perturbed with the servant who’d failed to see to this chore, she considered waking the thoughtless girl and making her fetch it. But that would take longer than just doing it herself, so with a sigh, she picked up the jug and headed down the steps. She would have words with her maid in the morning.
Thankful that Anna kept water in the kitchen so she didn’t have to trudge all the way to the well, Kathryn went to the large crock, filled the jug and headed back to her room. Halfway across the main hall she heard Isobel crying again and hurried up the steps. Isobel’s door was already open—Anna must have heard and come to calm the little one. But it wasn’t Anna bending over the bed and picking up the little girl. Bryan, shirt untucked and bootless, held her close as he crooned comforting words. Isobel quieted and snuggled into his strong arms.
Kathryn found herself wishing she could join her daughter in the safety of the knight’s embrace.
AS THE CHILD QUIETED, the sweet, innocent smell of her assailed Bryan and he breathed deep of it. For perhaps the first time, he held in his arms the very reason for his chosen profession of arms. To him God had given the gifts of physical strength and courage in battle in order to protect the innocent and the defenseless. Such as Isobel. And Kathryn.
Bryan walked with the child and thought about God’s plan for marriage. His mother’s lessons came back to him. She’d taught Bryan that man was ordained to seek a wife and to rule his family with God’s own love and devotion as his guide. God didn’t expect Bryan to be perfect, only to do his will the best he could. By loving as Christ loved.
And by denying his marriage, by not allowing his heart to be engaged, Bryan defied God. And he denied himself the sweetness and the comfort woman was ordained to give to man.
Why hadn’t Kathryn told him sooner of the child? But then why should she? When he’d offered her a chaste marriage and the promise to set her free, she had no need to explain her past.
Bryan stared down at Isobel, now sleeping in peace and safety in his arms. Who will love her if I don’t? Certainly not Rodney Carleton. His only interest would be Isobel’s usefulness in controlling Kathryn. And look at how Rodney had injured Fergus in a fit of temper. Thinking of Rodney and his seduction of an innocent maid, Bryan’s anger was redirected. Yes, Kathryn’s lack of honesty and her words had hurt. But that paled in comparison to what Rodney had done to her. Would still do if given the chance.
Bryan’s throat tightened and he prayed a fervent prayer, the first heartfelt prayer he could remember offering in many years. God, please let us be victorious at Stirling so this little one may live in peace. And if victory is not your will, help me to protect the ones I love.
KATHRYN WILLED HERSELF TO BE STILL in the doorway, drinking in the picture of the dark knight with his head bent over the golden-haired child in his arms. Isobel had quieted, yet he still held her. His back was to Kathryn, and she could only see the top of the child’s head as it lay supported in the crook of his arm. He stared into Isobel’s face and gently pushed back the wisps of hair much as she had done earlier.
The jug of water grew heavy, and when she moved into the room to set it down on the stand, he must have heard her, for he turned to face her. She stepped forward, hands outstretched. “I will take her, my laird. You must be tired.”
He seemed somewhat reluctant to give Isobel up. “And you also, Kathryn. Will you spend the night here with her?”
“Aye. I only left to fetch some water.”
He cleared his throat. “Kathryn.” Silence.
“Aye?”
“Perhaps I should lay her down.”
Kathryn smiled. “Of course.”
His expression held a softness she’d never seen before, and she didn’t want to take her gaze from his face. He placed Isobel in her bed once again and pulled the covers over her. Then he took Kathryn’s hand and drew her to the doorway.
Looking back at the small shape in the bed he said, “She’s a lovable mite.”
He looked away, as if the habit of guarding his heart was not easily abandoned, and she hardly knew how to answer him. But what she did know was that watching him this evening with Isobel had shown her clearly that the heart he guarded was full of love. The passions and vulnerability she’d guessed resided in him had made themselves visible. Here was a man worthy of love and loyalty. Her love and loyalty. But would he accept them?
Could they overcome the obstacles in their way—Rodney, her own deception, the looming threat of war?
“You needn’t fear for her, Kathryn. I will protect her.”
Relief and gratitude filled her. “Thank you, my laird.” She could rest easy now because she knew him to be a man of his word.
His mask returned, but seemed much less forbidding.
“Now pray I live long enough to keep that promise.”
THE NEXT MORNING Bryan and Thomas sat together breaking their fast. Bryan said, “We will leave for Stirling as soon as I can get the household organized for the trip. We should have been there a week ago.”
“Well, ye couldna go without the lassie, nor the supplies, now could ye? Stop fretting. The war will still be waiting for us when we get there.”
“I wish I could leave her and the child here.” His head spun with all the possible calamities that could befall one or both of them.
“So, yer taking the child too.”
“Aye. They won’t be safe here. I can’t spare the men to stay here when they are so badly needed elsewhere.”
And still he hadn’t told Kathryn of Homelea’s imminent destruction. Knowing it couldn’t be delayed any longer, Bryan excused himself from Thomas and sent for Kathryn to join him in the solar.
She entered the room with a smile. His decision to protect Isobel evidently pleased her. What he was about to tell her would not.
KATHRYN FELT HER SMILE FADE when she saw Sir Bryan’s grim visage. She had hoped that last night’s exchange would soften him, but apparently not. Disappointed, she took the chair he indicated and waited for whatever bad news he obviously wanted to tell her.
He stood before the fireplace, hands laced behind his back. “You must know that I carry out my liege laird’s wishes, no matter how I may feel about them. I do not disagree with his military tactics or solutions, even now.”
Bryan walked to her and stood before her chair, his expression controlled, his eyes filled with what she could only name as regret.
She nodded, afraid to speak.
“My king asks me to do something I have done before without hesitation.”
Kathryn was alarmed at his intensity and started to rise, but his hand upon her shoulder stayed her. “My laird, what troubles you?”
“Outside of Lothian, only one stronghold remains in English hands. Stirling.”
“Aye, the war goes well. What has this to do with us?” His unswerving gaze and troubled voice only increased her anxiety. And her worry for his well being. His request last night that she pray he would live to keep his promise of protection scared her. Although some of that fear was for her and Isobel, most of it was for him. She found herself becoming rather fond of him and hoped they would create a lasting marriage.
“You know that we must depart for Stirling?”
She came back to the conversation and nodded.
“And you know the fate of castles surrendered to Bruce?”
Of course she did but she repeated it nonetheless. “Once captured, they are razed to the ground.”
Bryan gazed steadily at her, acknowledging her words. Slowly the impossible dawned upon Kathryn. She jumped to her feet, nearly bumping into him in her haste. “Nay, my laird. Surely there is no need to destroy this castle. Homelea is yours now.” Her distress increased at his implacable expression. “You promised to protect me and mine.”
“And so I have. But from the start I told you Homelea belonged to Bruce, to do with as he sees fit.” His shoulders sagged, his remorse palpable. “I cannot garrison Homelea with enough men to protect the castle or its people. I have already given the order for preparations to be made—”
“How dare you?” Kathryn gave him no time to finish. “It isn’t necessary to raze my home, your home. I will not turn traitor. I won’t, I give my word.” Tears came easily as anger and anguish merged and she turned her back to him.
“Neither my king nor I think you will betray us, Kathryn.”
“How can he ask this of you?” she whispered.
“He doesn’t ask, he demands.” Bryan’s voice softened as he circled to stand in front of her. “Kathryn, you know of the army Edward is assembling. The fight for Stirling Castle will decide Scotland’s fate. And ours. We must sacrifice in order to weaken Edward’s forces on their march north. We must do all within our power to ensure Scotland’s victory and our freedom. Isobel’s freedom.”
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Knowing he was right didn’t alleviate her despair. “So that is why you agreed to accept Isobel? Knowing you must give me this news?” A heaviness settled around her heart. “Did you think I would be more forgiving when you tore down my home if you took in the child?”
“No! That had nothing to do with my decision concerning Isobel.”
“You should have told me.”
“Just as you should have told me about Isobel!”
She had the good grace to look abashed and yet she said, “I trusted you to keep Homelea from harm.”
He reached for her and she resisted, but he held fast. “And you can trust me still. The child is safe, is she not?”
Was that pleading she heard in his voice? “Aye, she’s safe.”
“Please Kathryn, let it go. Do not ruin what we have so painfully gained these past two days.”
She’d thought that yielding to Black Bryan had safeguarded her home. Maybe given time she would see this more clearly. He might be right. But his delay in telling her felt like a betrayal, and forgiveness dwelt a long way from her heart. Head bowed, she stepped around him and left the room.
BRYAN STARTED AFTER HER, the warrior in him ready to do battle. He halted in midstride, realizing confrontation was not the answer. He should have told her about Homelea’s fate right from the start. But she did not tell him of Isobel! Still . . .
He was at a loss to justify his actions to himself, let alone explain them to an angry, distressed woman. He watched her storm away, the stiffness of her shoulders telling him she would not listen did he try to explain. Bryan returned to the room and sank listlessly onto a bench.
He had razed many castles for Robert, had even known the occupants of some. But he dreaded what must be done this time, because this time his life would be disrupted. His home would lie in shambles, along with his marriage. A marriage with which he was fast becoming reconciled despite Kathryn’s not telling him of Rodney’s child.
Knowing Rodney as he did, it was easy to forgive the innocent girl Kathryn had once been for her transgression. Rodney’s fame for deception and treachery was as widespread as his success with the sword. What chance had the lass had with a man such as he?
Hadn’t Bryan avoided wedlock all these years to spare himself this kind of turmoil? Yet his weakness for Kathryn had tempted him beyond good judgment. Now, in withholding Robert’s order from Kathryn, he had damaged her fledgling trust in him, and he might not have the time to regain it.
He rose to his feet and began to pace the room. Why must he put country and king ahead of his wife? Would it never end, this denial of his needs and desires? When would he be allowed to sit quietly in the sunshine and enjoy life?
And love.
He stopped abruptly, brought up short by such a thought. Since when had his warrior’s heart come to desire a quiet spot in the sun? And love? Bryan shook himself. Love. The realization that he’d hoped to find affection in his marriage startled him. Had this hope always been there, or had it been born when he first took Kathryn in his arms?
He sat down, resting his hands on his knees. Kathryn, so beautiful, so vibrant and alive. Now they might never have the opportunity to deepen their feelings. His actions, his lack of honor in dealing with her—this is what lay between them. That and the looming battle with England. A battle that would seal the fate of Scotland as well as the fate of his marriage.
A knock on the door interrupted Bryan’s musings. Pushing himself to his feet, he set aside the weariness that threatened to overwhelm him and growled, “Come in.”
Adam stood in the doorway. “You ruin more than a fortress with this deed, is that not so?”
“Leave it, Adam,” he warned. “If this were any other castle, neither of us would question the necessity of destroying it before Edward arrives.” He stood, and placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “I take no joy from carrying out this order. See to the packing and give what comfort you can. I will take care of the rest.”
“’Tis you who should give her comfort. She’s your wife.”
Bryan slammed his hand against the doorpost. “You think it necessary to remind me which of us is her husband?” He looked away, his anger receding as quickly as it had erupted. He bowed his head. “She won’t accept my solace nor anything else I offer. Now go, see she is ready to leave by the morrow.”
Adam looked at him for a moment as if he had more advice. But all he said was a quiet, “Aye, my laird.”
Adam was right. More than stone, wood, and possessions would be done away with the destruction of this castle, and Bryan’s heart twisted with the awareness of what Scotland’s freedom would cost him.
I should have kept my vow not to marry.