English, Elizabeth (41 page)

She
no longer cared that he was to be wed that very day. Nothing mattered but the
joy of hearing his words, and when he bent to kiss her she closed her eyes and
held him close. He slipped his arms beneath her knees and carried her to the
narrow bed. But after a moment she pulled away, saying breathlessly, "No.
Even now they're waiting for you."

"Damn
them all," he said roughly. "I care nothing for any of them—"

"No,"
she repeated, though her voice wavered as his lips moved against her neck.
"We cannot."

He
pulled her against him so suddenly that she cried out in surprise.

"Stay
with me. Please. I swore I wouldn't ask this but I will, I must, I can't just
let you go—"

"How
can I stay?" she cried. "As what? Aye, I know I'm not fit to be your
lady, but I will not be your whore."

He
flinched and drew back a little at the harshness of her tone.

"Oh,
I know what you're thinking. I came to your bed before—and you're right, I did,
but—oh, I knew it was all a lie, but I believed—I wanted to believe—"

"That
it was real," he finished softly. "And it was. That's why you must
stay here—"

"No,
'tis all different now. You'd be married to her— my half sister—and 1 would be
your leman for everyone to see. How long do you think we could be happy like
that?"

"Forever,"
he whispered, brushing the tears from her face. "I swear it, there would
never be another—"

"Save
for your wife," she said flatly, turning her face away. "There would
be her. No, Jemmy, I won't. Please don't ask it of me." She spoke firmly
but was a little frightened by the expression in his eyes as he rose swiftly to
his feet.

"So
this is farewell?" he said. "You go to your kin and I to Maude? That
is what you want?"

"It
isn't what I want, you know that. But think of your people, Jemmy. Think of
Malcolm. You don't want him to end like his father, do you? Like Stephen? This
is the chance—the one chance you'll have to make terms with Darnley and end it
all forever."

He
looked at her sharply, then his teeth flashed in a smile that chilled her to
the heart. "That's what it's been about, hasn't it? Me making terms with
Darnley. Well, perhaps it's time that Darnley began to worry about making terms
with
me."

"What
are you going to do?" she asked anxiously as she followed him to the door.

He
grasped her wrist and pulled her through the doorway. "Why don't you come
see for yourself?"

By
midafternoon Sir Robert was so exasperated he could easily have shaken his
niece until those lovely teeth rattled in her head. He'd explained to her a
dozen times why this marriage must be made. Patiently—and then not so
patiently—he'd recounted the long list of the dead, including many of her
relatives and the families who had served at Aylsford for generations. He'd
appealed to her in the name of duty, of pity, of justice—and always she had
made the same reply. "But I want to go to London. I will go, too. I won't
stay here."

"Lord
Jemmy might take you to London—if you ask him properly," Robert said,
looking at Laird Kirallen with appeal.

"That
might be arranged," the nobleman said with distant courtesy.

"There,
you see? He's a good man, Maude, widely traveled—he'll treat you well enough if
you—"

"Good?
He's a monster, carrying me off like he did— bringing me to this dreadful
place—I won't do it, I won't!"

She
wept, she screamed, she stamped her foot like the spoiled child she was.

Darnley
was no help at all. He acted as though his beloved Maude was going to the grave,
not simply fulfilling the vow he himself had sworn. His behavior alternated
between blinding rage and abject apologies to his daughter. If only he'd held
firm, Robert thought, she would have been brought to some realization of her
duty. As it was, Robert was ashamed for both of them.

Kirallen
sat straight in his chair, hands lightly resting on the arms, and stared into
the distance. Haddon huddled in a corner and beside him was Kirallen's
grandson, Malcolm, who was muffling his laugher behind one hand. The boy broke
off at a sharp look from his grandfather, though his bright blue eyes continued
to sparkle with amusement as he watched the Darnley family make utter fools of
themselves.

And
on top of everything else there was a light-haired man standing by Kirallen's
chair, one hand laid protectively on the hilt of his sword, his face taut with
anger and distaste.

"The
devil take them!" he burst out at last. "For Christ's sweet sake,
Laird, let me slit their throats and be done with this!"

"Peace,
Alistair," Laird Kirallen said, but Robert thought the old man looked
tempted by the offer—and who could blame him? Robert was half tempted himself.
Anything to stop this arguing! His temples were pounding and he greeted Jemmy's
arrival with profound relief which quickly changed to pity when he saw Alyson
slip into the room behind him and join Malcolm by the window.

Poor
man, Robert thought as Jemmy stared about, frowning at the noise. What a dance
he'd been led—married, unmarried, now to be wed again. Robert understood that
he was trying his best to make peace, but there was no denying that his
position was more than a bit ridiculous. He looked grim as he perched on the
corner of a table, staring thoughtfully at Maude as her fury rose to a
high-pitched shriek.

"Will
no one shut her up?" Sir Alistair cried.

Darnley
rose and started toward the knight, his fists clenched. Robert sighed and
prayed for strength but just then his mind took a little sideways skip and he
realized how ridiculous this situation was, better than any comedy he could
invent. He had the most absurd desire to burst out laughing—

His
eyes met Jemmy's and he managed to compose himself, but the Scotsman must have
seen, for he grinned suddenly in return and lifting one hand, he brought his
palm down sharply upon the table.

Everything
stopped. All eyes turned toward Jemmy as he rose to his full considerable
height. What a sensation he would make at court! Robert thought. With that
height and those dark good looks, he'd rival even the Duke of Lancaster himself.

"Enough,"
Jemmy said. "This has gone far enough. Alistair, stand back. Lord Darnley,
sit down. I said
sit down,"
he repeated when Darnley didn't obey at
once. Then he walked over to Maude and stood looking down at her. "Be
quiet," he said simply and Maude shut her mouth with a snap.

"Now,
my lord," he continued, turning back to Darnley. "I suggest you give
some serious thought to your situation. You are entitled to precisely nothing
at our hands. I could kill you here and now in payment for my brother's murder
and give your daughter the same treatment you gave to Clare McLaran. Don't
think I haven't thought of it. Believe me, there is nothing I'd like better
than to run a dirk into your heart."

"Jemmy—"
the Laird cried.

"Let
me finish," Jemmy said evenly. "I'm not going to kill you, Darnley. I
could, but I won't. Because this has to end somewhere. If you were a reasonable
man, instead of the backstabbing, murdering bastard that you are, we could work
this out between us. But you can't be trusted."

"Why,
you young—" Darnley snarled, half rising.

"I
suppose I could simply toss you into the dungeon and keep you there,"
Jemmy continued as if Darnley hadn't spoken. "But would it be enough? No,
we would have to keep your children—and certainly Sir Robert. And that would
be... tiresome for us all."

"Quite,"
Robert said with feeling, though he was fairly sure that Jemmy didn't mean to
keep him at Ravenspur. What exactly he did intend to do, Robert didn't know,
but he suspected that Jemmy had some plan that he would divulge when he was
good and ready.

"As
for you, my lady," Jemmy said to Maude. "You've made your feelings
about this marriage very clear. Very well, then, perhaps another husband would
suit you better. Sir Alistair, my nearest kinsman, would be the likely choice.
After all," he added, turning to Alistair, "you always had such
interesting notions on how Lady Maude's husband should behave."

"How
dare you?" Maude cried angrily, though for the first time she looked
genuinely frightened as she stared at the light-haired knight.

"Are
ye mad?" Alistair snapped. "Do ye think that I would ever—"

"Well,
perhaps not," Jemmy said. "Although the idea does have certain
merits."

Robert
bit back his laughter as Jemmy caught his eye. The man was thoroughly enjoying
himself here, and Robert didn't grudge him a single moment of his pleasure. As
for what he meant to do next, Robert could not quite decide. Perhaps he merely
meant to frighten Maude into some understanding of the helplessness of her
position. But Robert thought there was some other motive behind his words.

"Well,
if Maude won't have me—and I won't have Lord Darnley—then where does that leave
us?"

His
eyes flicked to Haddon and then to Sir Robert. And all at once Robert felt as
if he was performing in a masque and had been given his cue to speak.

"There
is one way," he said and all eyes turned to him. "My lords," he
bowed slightly toward Laird Kirallen and then turned to Darnley. "If
Haddon was to stay here for a time, I'm sure Laird Kirallen would train him for
a knight."

Fine
words for what amounted to the boy being held hostage for his father's good
behavior. But still better than if Jemmy had suggested it himself.

"Why,
Sir Robert, I believe you've hit upon the perfect plan!" Jemmy said
quickly, before anyone else could speak. "We would be pleased to foster
Haddon. And, of course, to pledge his safety."

What
is
the man up to? Robert wondered again. Why go to all this trouble when
it would be so much simpler to marry Maude as planned?

"Never!"
Darnley cried, just as Robert had expected that he would.

"Shut
up," Robert ordered. "Would you rather end your days in the
dungeon?"

"He
wouldn't do it."

The
words had scarcely left Darnley's lips when he stumbled back, almost falling
over his chair, the point of Jemmy's sword against his throat.

"Would
you care to try me, my lord?"

Before
Darnley could answer, Malcolm stepped forward, neatly taking up his part.

"Grandfather?"
the boy said. "I think
everyone
would feel better if we took an
oath on Haddon's safety."

Malcolm
glanced meaningfully at Haddon, who was standing very small in a corner of the
room.

"You
first, Uncle Jemmy," Malcolm said.

"I
give my solemn word," Jemmy said, sheathing his sword, his eyes never
leaving Darnley's face. "Before God and all the saints, I'll guard Haddon
Darnley like my own kin."

"Now
you, Alistair," Malcolm prompted.

Alistair
turned away. "I will
not.
I don't make war on children, but nor
will I pledge protection to a Darnley."

"But
Alistair, you have to," Malcolm insisted. "Else the other knights
willna do it, either. You know they willna."

Alistair
shrugged without answering and Robert saw the ruin of Jemmy's plan in the
knight's steel-gray eyes. But then Jemmy spoke again.

"Do
it, Alistair," he said in a voice all the more threatening for its quiet
tone.

Alistair
folded his arms across his chest. "Or what?" he asked with studied
insolence. "Will ye draw on me again? I thought ye dinna want my blood
upon your hands."

"I
don't. But you're the one who told me that a man fights for what matters. This
is it, Alistair. You're my foster brother, so I'll warn you one more time:
don't get in my way, or before God, I'll cut you down."

Malcolm
came forward and put one hand on Alistair's arm. "Go on, for my
sake," the boy said. "Please, please do it."

Robert
was astonished at the effect these words had upon the knight. His face wrenched
with sorrow as he looked down at the boy.

"I
canna," he said. "Not even for you, Malcolm."

"You
will!" Kirallen thundered and everyone jumped a little. "Kneel. And
swear to guard young Haddon's life."

"No."

"Get
back, Jemmy," Kirallen snapped. "Put up your sword. Now,
Alistair," he said quietly. "I call upon the oath ye took and command
ye as your Laird."

"Nay,
Laird," Alistair replied formally. "Not even for that."

"Do
ye ken who ye are talking to? Kneel and do your duty!"

"I
canna do it," Alistair said, hands clenched at his sides. "I took
another oath, if ye remember. To Ian. There is a debt of honor here," he
said, gesturing toward Darnley. "He bears a blood curse and he must pay
it, at my hands if not at yours. I will
not
so shamefully dishonor Ian's
memory."

Darnley
jumped to his feet, his eyes gleaming. Robert forced him back into his seat.
"Wait," he whispered. "Let the Laird speak."