Claimed by a Scottish Lord (24 page)

The hiss of Sheffield steel against metal silenced the room as Rose drew Colum‘s sword from its sheath and with one violent move closed the distance between the blade tip and her father‘s throat.

He fell backward against the table, momentarily blinded by shock and an overconfidence that failed to allow him to perceive the danger to him. Rose tightened her grip on the hilt, her palms sweaty as she held the weight of the sword. ―Do not tempt me,
Father
. I care very little about you. Even less than what might happen to me should I run you through.‖

A hint of color shaded his ruddy face to a darker hue and his eyes narrowed to slits. ―I swear you will pay for this, Roselyn.‖

―Pay? With what? Something has to matter to me first. You have seen well and good to strip me of all that was ever important.‖

―Tell me the life of every man in this room does not matter to you then? For if anything happens to me . ‖

The sword began to grow heavy in her hand. She had lost the momentum of an attack that came with surprise, and she knew if he fought her, he could escape before she did too much damage. Still, even a little blood would make a terrible mess of his fine clothes.

Ruark laid his palm against the blade. ―Not this way, Rose. He is here under a flag of truce.‖

Tears blurred her eyes. ―Men speak such fine words of honor,‖ she said, ―when it suits their interests to do so. Your truce. Not mine.‖

―Wanting to kill is not the same as killing,‖ he said softly. ―I promise you nothing said today is worth the price you will pay for that deed. And I am not speaking of the consequences that will befall every man here. There is not a man who does not wish Hereford dead and who would not defend your actions.‖

She swallowed against the increasing tightness in her throat. Ruark cupped his palm over her face, forcing her to look at him. His eyes embraced hers. ―You will have to trust that I can take care of us both.‖

She saw him through a blur of tears. A hand at her elbow tugged her. ―Come,‖ Friar Tucker urged. ―Let us be gone from here, Rose.‖

Ruark‘s eyes told her in more than words to trust him. She did trust him. He was the only man in her life who had ever truly been honest with her.

Finally, she lowered the sword and returned it to Colum.

Not a man around her moved. Her eyes passed over one bearded countenance, then another. A pin dropped could have been heard in the room. Without a word, Rose strode from the hall, leaving Friar Tucker and Colum behind. Once in the corridor, she lifted her skirts and ran. She didn‘t stop until she reached her chambers, slammed shut the door and slid the bolt home.

Chapter 14

“C
ome now, my lady. Open up. The good abbot will not appreciate the loss of a door should we have to break it down.‖

Ruark heard pounding on the door before he rounded the corner and saw Colum coaxing the panels.

―She has barricaded herself inside her chambers,‖ Colum said, stepping aside. ―I didn‘t reach her in time. She is fast.‖

She was also capable of eluding them all.

Ruark stood glaring at the door as if his will alone would unbolt it. Three other men milled behind him. He‘d passed two others on his way here. The door was three inches thick and solid oak. Short of using an ax to break it down, no one would gain entry until Rose opened the door.

Ruark turned to two of his retainers behind him. ―Find the abbot and make sure there is no other way out of the room.‖ He gestured to the third man behind him to follow before returning his attention to Colum.

―Who is inside with her?‖

―Only Anaya, the maid with whom she arrived.‖

―Where is Tucker?‖

Colum shook his head. ―If you were a priest, where would
you
go after what just occurred?‖

Ruark‘s gaze found the lancelet window that overlooked the inner courtyard outside. A light cold drizzle fell on the garden. He saw a gate in the exterior stone wall and the chapel beyond. He hadn‘t set foot inside any church in years.

R
ose found the chapel dark except for the soft red glow of the sanctuary lamp. The air smelled thickly of incense and wax. A small table beside the door was covered by a cloth and bore the stoup of holy water. A few clear white votive candles burned near the back beneath a shrine of the Blessed Mary.

―I was expecting you.‖ Tucker‘s even voice pulled her around.

A scarred wooden railing divided the chancel from the rest of the chapel. She walked forward and saw the brown-robed figure rise from where he had been kneeling at the front and slowly turn toward her.

―How
could
you?‖ she demanded. ―How could you not tell me you and my mother were lovers? Is it true?‖

It was far easier to escape her room that it was the questions she needed answered.

― ‘Tis not that simple,‖ Friar Tucker said.

―Then make it simple.‖

For a heartbeat, the lines of age softened before he looked away. ―I loved her.‖

Tears burned behind her lids. They scalded. Then she grabbed his hands. ―Are you . Does he hate me because you are my father?‖

He raised his gaze and she thought tears touched his eyes, and for just a moment, she hoped. ―Nay, lass. I am not your father. He hates you because you are hers. You are Elena‘s.‖

Rose covered her face with her hands. Why could he not lie?

―Your mother, we grew up together at Kirkland Park. I lived every day watching her,‖ he said into the silence, ―with her fiery hair and love for life. How could I not love her,‖ he said simply. ―When she was eighteen, she met your father and fell in love. He was dashing and titled and all the things she thought she wanted in a husband. All he wanted from her was an heir and Kirkland Park.

―In the beginning, your mother and I shared only our friendship. In time, it became more. I am making no excuses for us. Hereford was not a kind man on the rare occasion he came home.

―It was a relief the months he was away at sea. One night after he had returned, in a fit of melancholy, Elena told him we were lovers and that she wanted to leave him. She never told me what Hereford did to her that night, but afterward, she was desperate to get you out of England. She thought she could take you to France and you would be safe. A storm that night delayed the ship, so she sent you and Anaya to me to care for you both until she could return.‖

Tucker lowered his head. ―The rest you know. Today presented him with the perfect opportunity upon which he could not pass. By wedding you to Roxburghe, he wanted me to know that despite everything, his is the final word over your future. And unlike my agreement with him, because he holds Jamie Kerr, he knows he can ask for and will receive anything he wants from Roxburghe.‖

Rose could only shake her head. She didn‘t understand any of this.

Tucker folded his hands. ―Upon your marriage all that you have will go to Roxburghe. He will then deed Kirkland Park to Hereford.‖

―And Ruark? What of him and his life? What of his
Black Dragon
?‖

Tucker lifted his head and looked over her shoulder toward the door. The wooden beads at his waist clattered softly. ―Tell me that she is not equal to any bride worthy of your title and your ship, my lord.‖

He stood in the shadows backlit by the gray light coming through the corridor‘s window. She could not see his face, only the shape of his shoulders, the swing of his cloak, his sword beneath. He had not removed the weapon before stepping into the inner sanctum, which said more clearly than words he did not trust in a higher power to protect him even on holy ground.

She wanted to run to him.

―My lord,‖ she said.

―Lady Roselyn.‖ His gaze turned on Tucker. ―I would have a word with her,‖ he said.

―Alone.‖

Tucker turned to Rose and tried to take her hands. But Rose did not want him to touch her. Not yet. She felt too raw. Betrayed by everyone close to her.

―Very well, Rose,‖ he said.

After he left, she turned to Ruark. They stood still and looked at each other, though what flowed between them like a fast-moving river current remained unspoken.

―I feel . I feel nothing,‖ she said. ―Not even anger. Do you think that is bad? I suppose in time, I will feel a great deal more than indifference and a great deal less than anger at my mother.‖

He had walked to where she stood and she looked up and saw him through a sheen in her eyes. ―You cannot mean to give him the
Black Dragon
?‖

He looked momentarily startled that her worry was for him and not for herself. ―Aye,‖ he said. ―I was thinking of retiring from the sea, anyway.‖

―Truly, you lie.‖

He said nothing.

―I am sorry—‖

He touched a fingertip to her lips and stopped the words. ―Do not apologize to me for anything. Do you understand?‖ Their gazes held for a heartbeat and his touch softened. ―You have nothing for which to be sorry.‖

Seeking refuge in the shadows, she folded her arms over her chest. ―When I was a little girl I had a fascination with the stars,‖ she said, raising her eyes to gaze at the painted golden angels on the ceiling. ―The constellation Andromeda was my favorite because she gives the appearance of a female warrior holding a sword. Or other times a maiden held by chains. The dichotomy intrigued me. I told myself I would always be the warrior who held the sword. I don‘t believe in anything anymore.‖

He leaned against the scarred wooden railing that enclosed the chancel and sat his hands on solid wood to brace himself as if he didn‘t trust himself to touch her. Then Rose moved in front of him, so close, the fabric of her gown brushed his thighs, and he did touch her then, pulling her nearer to him. She laid her head on his shoulder. ―We do not have to do this my father‘s way. I cannot be the woman you were forced to wed to save your brother.‖ Her chest rose and fell. ―I would have you promise . ‖

He placed his forehead against her temple. ―What?‖

―If we manage ourselves correctly, the marriage can be annulled. Or you can divorce me,‖ she said. ― ‘Tis been done before, by England‘s own monarch. You and I then can be free to live our lives as we choose.‖

He held her casually imprisoned between his legs, his fingers splaying her cinched waist.

―Aye. ‘Twould be a simpler matter severing the vows than merely removing your head.‖

She pulled back. ―I am trying to be logical about this.‖

―No sane Scot would dispute that you are an unsuitable wife for the Roxburghe laird, Sassenach.‖

She frowned at his jest. ―Then you understand,‖ she said. ―Right?‖

―Aye, but you are foolish to think either of us has any choice in the matter,‖ he said, his growing anger more refined than hers but no less visible in his eyes as he spoke. ―If Hereford wants to drag you back to Kirkland Park, he can. He can marry you to any man he chooses, and you will have no say. The fact that he even allowed Tucker to raise you speaks to something inside him at least.‖

―Aye, it speaks to his greed.‖ She stepped away. ―I am trying to give you an honorable exit.‖

He silenced her with a look. ―Where is the honor in divorce, Rose? And there can be no consideration of an annulment. When we leave Jedburgh tomorrow, there can be no question in anyone‘s mind as to my claim on you. You will be wedded and bedded well and good. My wife in full.‖

She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. ―But this is only a game to my father? Is it to you as well? Check and checkmate?‖

He came to his feet and she fell back a step and bumped the bench. Her melodrama might have been amusing coming from another, but she truly did believe something inside her would perish if she wed him. She
was
frightened, just as he said. Not of him, but of what she perceived of her future as his wife. She did not wish to marry him. She was not standing before him under any pretense of nobility. She stood before him with the intent to bargain her way out of an intolerable situation.

―Please . do not touch me. I do not think I can bear any more of this.‖

When he felt her trembling, he silently cursed. He used his arm to pull her to him. ―I am not the ogre you wish me to be in this.‖ He tilted her chin, then held her to him and some intangible part of him flowed into her. ―Where else do you have to go, lass? I will no‘ treat ye unkindly. You have my word on that.‖

She sniffled and leaned her face against his sleeve, forgetting that he was Scots sometimes. ―The word of an outlaw?‖ she asked.

He sensed more than felt his smile. ―The word of a border lord, Lady Roselyn.‖

―A privateer.‖

―A Scots.‖

They both laughed for this brought them back to her first morning at Stonehaven, familiar camaraderie. Then tension of a different sort returned to fill the void.

He put his hands on her shoulders. ―I have learned that what is spoken in a moment of heated passion holds more truth than that which is spoken deliberately and with calm. We can agree that ours is not an optimum marriage. But it will begin with a modicum of honesty between us.‖

He lifted his gaze to a point over her shoulder and she saw two men standing at the door. Rose backed away through a circle of sconce light. She was a wreath in the darkness no longer able to hide. And suddenly she did not want to.

R
uark watched Rose turn on her heel, the wordless action indicative of the uncertainty in her heart, and as she left the chapel, Ruark realized what these last few weeks had cost her in pride and in the loss of her independence forever and the total betrayal of those she loved. Yet, when she had looked up into his face, he had seen the unwavering trust and commitment to him in her eyes.

Ruark understood her reticence. He understood her feeling of helplessness spilled from her erroneous perception of his own reasons for marrying her. He allowed that she had a right to own those feelings.

What she did not know—what she did not understand—was that no one could have forced him to wed. No threat or bribe would have been large enough to sway him had he not
wanted
her.

He leaned his head against his hands, resting the weight of his thoughts in his palms, before he pulled out the special license he held in his shirt, the license he had gotten in Hawick weeks ago. He had received special dispensation to wed her from the authorities there.