Arsenic and Old Armor (4 page)

Beatrice motioned, but he didn’t follow. She
then took him by the arm, but Iain stood where he was, staring at
his betrothed.

“
Good morning,
Marion.”

She remained silent. The bowl didn’t cover
her eyes. They were open, watching him. There was defiance there,
but interest, too. The long lashes were speckled with flour, as
were the bridge of her nose and her cheeks.

“
The food must be getting
cold, m’lord. You must be starving,” the nun persisted, tugging on
his arm again.

“
In good time.”

Sister Beatrice shook her head. “Really,
m’lord, after such a ride, you—”

“
Leave us!” His bark had
the desired effect. The older nun let go of his arm as if she’d
burned herself. Immediately, she scurried past him and out the
door. Iain decided she’d be back with her superior in no
time.

The eyes of twenty workers were on them.
Everyone in the kitchen had stopped working.

Marion took a step back, glancing quickly at
another door beyond the baking ovens. She looked like a doe about
to bolt. Iain approached, determined to mount a chase if he needed
to. They would settle this nonsense right now, and he didn’t care
who witnessed it.

“
Am I to receive any kind
of greeting?” he said in a gentler tone.

“
No!”

Another feeling of relief washed through
him. She lacked the high-pitched voice of her aunt Margaret. “And
why is that?”

“
Today is my day of
complete seclusion,” she said, taking a couple of steps backward
and glancing toward the door again. “I cannot entertain any
company.”

“
Seclusion…with a score of
kitchen workers.”

“
I have duties. I am still
in seclusion.”

“
Excellent. Well, it
happens today is my day of seclusion, too.” He followed her as she
again backed away a step or two. “I will be in seclusion with my
future wife.”

“
I am serious.”

“
So am I.”

She moved quickly around a table toward the
door. With a few long strides, he crossed in front of the ovens and
reached the door at the same time that she did. She hurried through
and started along the path. He was beside her in a moment.

“
If you recall, lass, our
stars were made and matched in heaven. So many similarities exist
between us. I’ve heard your aunts say so a hundred
times.”

“
That is a lie. We have
nothing in common.”

The morning sun was shining through the
clouds. As they turned a corner of the building, Marion nearly
barreled into two nuns coming toward them on the path. The two
women gasped loudly.

“
What have you done to
yourself, child?” one of them asked in distressed tones.

“
The prioress wants to see
you, Marion,” the other chirped immediately. “But you cannot go to
her looking like that.”

“
Why is that? You
disapprove of her hat?” Iain asked, moving next to her.

The two women exchanged glances.

“
It is quite lovely,” the
first nun croaked, biting her lip. “And you must be the laird we’ve
been expecting.”

“
Lady Marion’s betrothed,”
he corrected, taking his intended’s arm. She tried to shake him
loose, but he tightened his hold on her. “Did you say the prioress
is looking for her?”

“
She is, m’lord,” the
second woman answered. “She was hoping to greet you, too. She’s
asking that both of you go to the chapter house.”

Marion sneezed and the bowl tipped forward
on her head. Iain took off her disguise and handed it to one of the
nuns. “You can advise the prioress that my fiancée and I will join
her as soon as Lady Marion has cleaned up.”

“
Kindly take the laird
there
now
,
Sisters,” the imp on his side said pointedly as she tried to wrench
her arm free again. “I shall join everyone later.”

Iain held on. “I cannot stand our separation
any longer, lass. I simply cannot let you out of my sight.”

“
You tolerated our
separation well enough for twelve years,” she blasted at him. “Now
let me go, villain.”

Iain smiled confidingly at the nuns.
“Lovers’ quarrel. Please tell the prioress her charge and I shan’t
be too long.”

He didn’t see the blow to
his shin coming.
She must have rocks in
the tips of her shoes
, Iain thought. He
hid his grimace, not wanting to give Marion the satisfaction of
knowing that she had inflicted pain.

“
On second thought,” he
said to the wide-eyed nuns, “my beloved demands some private
attention. She has missed me far too much. We may take a wee bit
longer than I intended. Which way to her chamber?”

The second nun pointed
weakly to one of the buildings. The first woman, though, quickly
pushed her companion’s hand down. “Perhaps, it would be best if you
let
us
help
Marion. You do not know of her disposition.”

“
Indeed, I know her
temperament very well.” He looped an arm around Marion’s waist and
drew her tightly to his side. “Let us go, sweetness.”

She refused and dug her heels into the dirt.
Scooping her into his arms, he began to carry her toward the
building the nun had indicated. Half a dozen steps were all it took
before she started fighting him in earnest.

“
Let me go,” she cried,
battering his face and squirming to free herself.

“
You’ve sprouted extra
hands and feet in the past few years.” He tossed her across his
shoulder. “Much easier this way.”

“
I am not six years old
anymore, you barbarian. Villain. Put me down right now. You are
embarrassing me.”

“
You asked for
this.”

“
I did not.” She landed a
sharp elbow to the back of his head and grabbed his hair. Iain
tilted her backward, and she gasped and clutched at his tartan. “I
dare you to drop me on my head. When I am free of you, I shall take
out your eyes, tear every lock of hair from your head. I shall use
your own dirk and cut out your ruthless heart and feed it to the
dogs. If you even have a heart, that is. You’re an ill-bred cur.
Vile and disgusting. You have lived too long.”

A lengthy string of threats and epithets
continued to pour out of her. priory workers and nuns and some of
his Armstrong warriors were beginning to line the path ahead of
them, watching them with amusement. No one approached or tried to
stop him. They all knew. There had been plenty of warning. The men
he’d sent ahead had been here nearly a month. Iain nodded and
smiled as he passed them all, ignoring Marion’s tirade. At the door
to the residential building, he asked an older woman who was coming
out which room was Marion’s. She didn’t hesitate to answer.

Iain climbed the steps three at a time to
the second floor. The building was old, the hallway narrow and
dark. As he shifted her weight on his shoulder, her head
accidentally hit the wall a number of times. He had to give her
credit, though. She didn’t complain about that even once. At the
same time, the curses and threats never stopped.

Her room was at the end of the corridor. He
pushed the door open and walked in. Marion tried to raise herself
on his shoulder and banged the back of her head hard as they
entered the cell. Iain felt a fleeting moment of remorse as she
actually did quiet down.

The room was small, but not uncomfortable.
At the end, sunlight came through a narrow window that he figured
she could slither through if she was given the chance. The shutter
was open and the air wafting in was fresh and warm. A narrow,
tidily made bed sat against one wall, and the red-and-green plaid
of the McCall tartan spread across it brightened the chamber. A
chest and a table and stool completed the furnishings. He kicked
the door shut with his foot and dropped her on the bed. She
immediately sat up.

“
I am sorry about the
bruises to your head,” he said, seeing her rubbing a few of the
spots and looking around in a daze. He crouched before her and
lifted her chin. “But such blows can only leave a bruise…not incur
madness or loss of memory or forgetfulness or the inability to
speak. In so many words, lass, I am on to your sly
tricks.”

Her eyes cleared, and she pushed his hand
away.

“
I hate you.”

“
You don’t,” Iain said
calmly. The white veil she had been wearing had dropped back onto
her shoulders and for couple of moments, he found himself staring
at the dark curls dancing around her face. Most of her hair was
pulled back in a thick braid and bundled in a knot at the back of
her neck. Her face was still covered with flour, her black eyes
glaring beneath thick lashes. He realized he was very eager to see
her cleaned up.

“
You do not trust me nor
care for me,” she said in a low, husky voice. “There is no reason
for us to wed. Why don’t you just gather your men and leave me
here?”

On his route here, he’d been tempted a
number of times to do just that. He was fourteen years her senior.
His taste ran to older women who brought some experience of
lovemaking to his bed. Iain did not think he had the patience to
deal with even a fraction of the trouble Marion had been as a
child. Temperamental, stubborn, loud. He had hoped the convent life
had beaten some of it out of her. Obviously, it hadn’t. He was
here, though, and it was too late to walk away.

“
We can do this the easy
way or the hard way,” he explained. “You are coming back with me to
Fleet Tower.”

“
Not as your
wife.”

“
As my
wife
,” he stated.

“
Why?”

“
Because our fathers and
their fathers wanted it that way. Because it is best for our
people. And because it is in the best interest of Scotland to do
so.”

“
That is a lie.” She shoved
at his chest and tried to get up.

He pushed her back onto the bed. She landed
hard on her buttocks. “Why are you being so difficult? You were
ready to marry me at the age of six. Why not now?”

“
I was a wee, blind
simpleton at the age of six. I have grown, seen the world, learned
about people.”

“
All from inside the walls
of a convent in Skye?” he asked mockingly.

“
Yes. And what I see now is
that
you
are the
simpleton, and I do not wish to marry you.”

“
My apologies, lass, but it
is too late for such antics.” He smiled smugly and put a hand on
Marion’s shoulder, forcing her to stay put. “Now, here is the plan.
You may wash your face and change your clothes and pack whatever
you need to bring in the same small trunk you brought with you when
you came. Then, you and I are going to say our farewells to the
prioress and whomever else you please. We shall be on the road by
noon and if the weather remains clear, we shall be back at
Blackthorn Hall in a week, just in time for our wedding. Is that
all perfectly clear?”

She shoved his hand off her shoulder. “And
here is my plan—”

“
I am not interested in
hearing your plans.”

“
You arrogant bully. How
dare you—”

“
My schedule is simply
derived from plans already in place…plans your troublesome delays
have jeopardized,” he said seriously. “The date, the time, the list
of invited guests…all of that…was decided by those at Stirling and
Westminster. Both the Stewart and Tudor courts believe our little
union shall help put an end to all the troubles in our part of the
Borders.”

“
By his wounds, what have
you been doing all these years, marauding and pillaging helpless
crofters? Why is there suddenly such interest in our wee patch of
countryside?”

Iain crouched before her, trying to get
through to her…hoping she would hear him and put an end to her
foolishness. There was duty involved here. Responsibility.

“
I have been trying to
provide a peaceful existence for my people…and for yours, as well.
The troublemaker in the Borders region has been your dear
cousin.”

“
Jack
Fitzwilliam?”

“
The same.”

“
I cannot believe it. He
was always a little wild, but—”

“
Well, believe it. Your
uncle William’s illegitimate son has been raiding farms and
attacking travelers. He has gathered other outlaws to his band and
avoided capture by terrorizing Border folk. They have even hidden
him out of fear of his ruthlessness. You probably don’t remember
him well.”

“
I remember him. He used to
come and visit sometimes…when my father was away.”

Marion shivered slightly. In her eyes, Iain
could see she didn’t like the memories of her cousin that were
coming back to her. After a moment, her eyes narrowed. “What are
you, a coward? You cannot take care of one outlaw without the
intervention of two royal courts?”

Iain fought his temper as heat rushed into
his face. “I am no coward, but a considerate man who too many times
listened to two old women’s tearful pleas about sparing the life of
their only nephew. Jack would have been dead a dozen times by now
if it were not for your aunts.”

Marion considered his words.

“
He comes and goes,” Iain
continued, “preying on one part of the Borders and then traveling
south into England, only to return later. He is rarely in one place
for too long. He is a creature of darkness, striking wherever he is
least expected.”