Arsenic and Old Armor (5 page)

She frowned and shook her head. “My dear
cousin has hated my very existence from the moment I was born. I
hid from him whenever he came to visit Fleet Tower. What makes you
think this marriage would have any effect on him?”

“
He has been spreading it
across the countryside that he himself is the true heir to the
McCall title and lands,” Iain explained. “He has told your people
that you are really dead. If they do not support him and shelter
him, they shall face his wrath. As it is, I am now just a steward
of your land, and that makes Jack more dangerous. Our marriage at
Blackthorn Hall will put an end to his claims and also assure the
Crown that there is to be continued stability in the
lineage.”

She shook her head again. “No matter how
grand a ceremony you’ve planned for this wedding, it will mean
nothing to Jack. He will not change. So what are you going to do to
him afterward? Kill him?”

“
Drive him off,” he said
shortly.

Iain knew he would surely kill him if need
be. But not before dragging Jack Fitzwilliam before a judge for his
many crimes. After all, this was 1525 and not the age of
barbarians. Modern Scotland had laws. He would be tried fairly his
claims heard.

Then Jack would be hung from a gallows and
his head placed on a pike at Fleet Tower.

All Iain wanted was justice and peace for
himself and his people. He had seen too much blood shed needlessly
at Flodden Field. No more. Iain wanted a calm life. A wife,
children, and the clans McCall and Armstrong living in peace and
putting their disputes behind them.

“
Enough of that.” He stood
up and grabbed Marion’s hands, pulling her up to her feet. “You
need to get ready to leave.”

She shook him off and sat back down on the
bed. “You have not convinced me.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Marion, you
are trying my patience for no reason. What is it that you do not
understand? Your people are being abused. They need you. Your aunts
and uncle are advancing in age and are in poor health. They want
you back, as well.”

“
They never said any of
that in their letters,” she protested.

“
How could they? And why
would they, when the last thing they want is to worry you? And what
could you have done from here?” Iain saw the look of doubt creeping
into her face.

She rubbed her forehead, but then stared in
horror at the pasty flour falling onto her lap.

“
And what do you have to
lose by marrying me, anyway? It is not as if you have another
suitor.”

She was too transparent. Iain shook his head
as he could see on her face the thoughts that were already forming
in her head. He was out of his mind to give her ideas.

“
In fact, there…there is
someone else. A man closer to my age. Not old like you.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Will you wash
your face, or would you have me wash it for you?” He reached over
and wiped the flour from the tip of her nose. “How about the dress?
I’d be happy to help you change.” He touched the coarse fabric at
her neckline and let his finger brush against the silky soft skin
of her neck.

As if she’d been burned, Marion slapped his
hand away and jumped to her feet. Stepping off the bed, she moved
to where a pitcher and bowl sat on the table. “You must leave my
chamber. I shall wash and change.”

With her words, Iain smiled at her back.
“You shall soon be my wife. There is nothing about you that I shall
not soon see or touch.”

She poured water on a small towel and
started wiping her face with it. “‘Soon’ is your word. I want you
to know that ‘soon’ may never come.”

“
I beg to differ.” Iain
moved behind her.

“
What are you doing?” she
asked nervously, looking over her shoulder.

“
Helping you clean up this
mess.” He took the towel out of her hand and dipped it in the
water.

“
I can manage perfectly
well without your help.”

“
I know you can.” Iain
turned her around so that she faced him.

Marion took a fistful of the veil and held
it tight at her throat.

He shook his head. “This thing is covered
with flour, lass. You are just making it worse.” He tugged it
gently from her hand and dropped it to the floor. He brought the
towel to her face.

She stepped back but came up against the
wall. He closed the distance until their clothes were touching.
Iain used the towel to swab lightly at her brow and nose, and then
her cheeks. Her eyes stayed open, watching him. He dipped the towel
in the water again and ran it across her full lips, causing her to
take a sharp breath.

“
This is very unexpected,”
Iain said.

Her eyes fixed on his. “What is
unexpected?”

“
How beautiful you have
turned out to be.”

Color bloomed in her newly washed cheeks. “I
wish I could say the same thing about you.”

He laughed out loud and wiped at a spot on
her chin. “You were not obligated to return the compliment.”

“
If you are looking for a
compliment, then I would say you are ugly and venomous as a
toad.”

“
A toad, you say?” he
asked, lifting her chin, and studying every aspect of her face. It
really was perfect, except for a tiny white scar near the point of
her chin.

It was a blessing that she’d been locked
away in this convent for her years of growing up. Iain could only
imagine all the men he would have had to fight to keep them away
from her. Her eyes were so dark that they were almost black. Her
skin, the texture of silk. Her high cheekbones and straight nose
were perfectly proportioned, and her lips, rose-colored and moist
and…well, her lips simply looked delicious.

He leaned toward her.

“
What are you doing?” she
whispered.

“
I’m going to kiss you,” he
whispered back.

“
I shall not kiss a
toad.”

His lips were inches away from hers. Iain
realized that her breathing was unsteady. The blush had spread down
her neck. And she had not turned her face nor tried to push him
away. She was definitely affected by his nearness and he liked
that.

“
I take nothing that is not
offered.”

“
Is that the
truth?”

He nodded.

“
Do you promise me that’s
the truth?”

“
Of course,” he asserted,
focusing on her lips.

Her voice was a vague whisper. “Then there
will be no marriage.”

“
Our union was determined
when you were but three, Marion. You shall be my wife.”

“
Then I am offering you no
kiss,” she said quietly. “And when it comes to the other…uh, duties
that go along with being a wife, I shall not be doing any of those,
either.”

He rested a hand on the wall beside her
head. Laughter rose up in him. “What duties are you talking
about?”

Her face flushed scarlet. “All of them.
Whatever they may be.”

“
Such as sharing my
bed?”

She nodded. Red as it was, he could see in
her face a look of confidence for the first time. She was a
fighter.

“
And I remind you of your
honor, laird. Taking what I do not offer would break your promise.
And what honor is there in a laird who cannot keep a
promise?”

“
You will share my bed, and
you do so willingly.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “You
are quite wrong about that, and I know you shall soon see how
mistaken you are. But after a fortnight or so of travel to Fleet
Tower, you shall have ample time to consider the attractiveness of
such a marriage. For I promise you there shall be no heirs. No
legitimate ones, at least.” She smiled up at him for the first
time. “And what tragedy for your clan, considering you were the
only son.”

Iain smiled back at her. “Talk as you will,
my sweet. I have no worries that you will share my bed…and
happily.”

Marion placed her palm squarely on his chest
and pushed him backward. “You may live your life in a fantasy
world,” she said, moving past him to the window. “But that is as
far as it will go.”

Iain crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder
against the wall, watching her. Turning her back on him, she let
her hair down and shook the flour from it. The waves of dark locks
hung nearly to her waist. Without a glance back at him, Marion
picked up a brush and began to run it through her hair.

He felt the tightening in his loins. Making
a fantasy real would certainly make the journey to Blackthorn Hall
very entertaining.

“
You will obey the wishes
of your future husband and prepare yourself for leaving
today.”

Marion squirmed but bit back her objection
to the prioress’s command. The Armstrong laird had gruffly and
reluctantly agreed to wait outside while the two women exchanged
some private words, and Marion had felt a moment of hope.

The moment had been short-lived, however.
The truth was that there had been no exchange of anything. The
older nun had not even paused for breath in her lecture on Marion’s
responsibilities as the McCall heir. The younger woman figured
Brother Luke, who was also waiting outside with his nephew, had
whispered a thing or two to the prioress before Marion and Iain
arrived at the Chapter House.

To Marion's thinking, the prioress was the
wrong person to make this decision, since the nun’s entire life had
been about sacrifice and responsibility. The prioress had been the
undisputed overseer of these lands for more than forty years. From
the time she had proved herself able at the age of twenty-two, no
one had ever thought of challenging her authority. She had always
been fair but strict in her administration. Over the years, she had
earned the respect of those around her, but had demanded obedience
as her due. Through times of turbulence and times of peace, she had
drawn a straight line, and almost all had followed where she led.
She liked the life in the priory orderly and serene.

Twelve years of insubordination on Marion’s
part had not made anyone’s life easy. Without a doubt all the
trouble she’d caused had made the prioress’s decision simpler.
Marion and the prioress had had many differences of opinion over
the years. And it had all led to this. Marion now had to pay for
her transgressions by leaving without further dispute.

“
Go ask the laird and his
uncle to come back in,” the prioress said.

Over the years, experience had taught Marion
that becoming emotional or throwing a tantrum would have no effect
on the old woman. The prioress was at least a head shorter than
Marion, but she had the force of personality that made others feel
she towered over them, especially when she was displeased. Right
now, Marion did not want her displeasure, for that was not the last
memory she wished these people to have of her.

“
Everything shall work out,
daughter. God’s will be done,” the prioress said in a gentler tone,
seeing Marion’s hesitation. She motioned toward the door. “Now
bring them in.”

Balls and chains dragged at each of her feet
as Marion went to open the door. The laird was standing beside it,
his expression arrogant. She wondered if he had overheard any of
the lecture she had received.

“
You may enter,” she said
in as condescending a tone as she could muster.

It was impossible to maintain a sour
attitude toward Brother Luke, as he seemed genuinely happy to see
her. And from the letters Marion had received from her aunts over
the years, she knew the cleric was a frequent visitor to Fleet
Tower. They exchanged a few pleasantries again at the door.

Marion was relieved to see Sister Beatrice
join them, as well. The old nun was perhaps the most devoted friend
she had at the convent.

“
Marion and I have spoken,”
the prioress announced to the others once the door was closed
again. Favoring a bad knee, the old woman limped around her desk to
a chair and sat down. “She will be ready to leave
today.”

“
But I cannot travel alone
with a group of men.” The idea came out of nowhere. Marion figured
it had to be a divine intervention.

The prioress paused over her concern for a
few short seconds before turning to the Armstrong laird. “Marion is
correct, m’lord. It would be completely improper for her to be in
the company of all your men for such a lengthy journey.”

Iain thought for a moment, then glanced at
Brother Luke and Marion before looking back at the prioress. “May I
have a moment to speak to Brother Luke…by the window?”

“
Of course,” the older
woman said.

As the two men moved away to exchange a few
hushed words, Marion strained to hear what they were saying. She
didn’t like the look on Iain’s face as they came back toward
them.

“
Perhaps,” she suggested
quickly to the prioress, “I can have couple of the nuns accompany
us on the trip south. Maybe Sister Beatrice would not
mind…”

She glanced at Iain. He was looking at
Beatrice, and the pained look on his face was precious. The old nun
was nodding enthusiastically.

“
That is out of the
question. Sister Beatrice’s health would never withstand so long a
journey, complicated by the fact that she would need to travel
right back before the winter storms set in.” The prioress shook her
head adamantly. “Perhaps some of the younger nuns.”

“
I might suggest a more
reasonable solution to Lady Marion’s concerns,” Brother Luke
offered in a gentle tone.