Malcolm'S Honor (Historical, 519) (19 page)

Malcolm closed his eyes. “The question remains. Who would kill for my barony and wants your throne?”

Edward joined him at the window. “Ever since your lady wife first sliced Caradoc's belly years ago, none save my greedy nephew have asked for her hand, even for so great a barony. It is not the barony Rees wanted, nor was it revenge. It was only money he desired. If I were murdered, what would you do?”

“Hunt down the men responsible and destroy them.”

“Aye. 'Tis the reason they want you dead.”

Malcolm rubbed his brow and stared again at the peaceful gardens. “So, now you believe Elin did not poison me?”

“Aye, although come the morrow, she will be banished from this court forever.” Edward's jaw tensed. “If you are not happy with her, I can find you another more suitable—”

“Nay.”
The thought of losing Elin drove pain through his chest. “I'm pleased enough with the wife I have.”

“A delicate flower of a woman would be easily crushed by you, but Lady Elinore is not delicate.” The king paused. “Is this your motive?”

“Lily is gone from my heart, Edward. I have forgotten her.”

“But not forgiven.”

“Elin is like any woman, and in time she will learn I cannot return her love. I hope that will not turn her against me.” Regret pummeled him. And he wished—how he wished—he were a different man.

“Does she please you?”

Malcolm remembered the blaze of her passion, bright and pure, the grip of her gloving tightness, the cries of her release. His blood heated, and tenderness glowed within his chest. “She pleases me better than any other.”

The king shook his head, disapproving but resigned. “Then if you want the harridan, perchance a babe might keep her loyal to you.”

“Mothers have strong bonds to their children.” Malcolm would consider it. “Such a bond turned a trusted and respected healer into a would-be killer.”

“A mother will do aught for a child, including not hand the father over to his enemy.” Edward turned. “Tell me what you wish done with the healer who nearly killed you.”

Malcolm rubbed his sword arm, which was numb and lethargic, an effect of the poison. “I would rescue her son.”

The king shook his head. “'Tis as I suspected—love would soften you.”

Soften him?
Nay.
No woman could ever change him that much. “I cannot deny any warmth for Elin, but that is all.”

“We shall see, friend. Come, call your men. Mayhap the boy lives. I've kept silent the news of your improved condition. There could still be a chance to catch the traitor.”

 

When Malcolm threw open the chamber door, he found her there, calm and quiet and beautiful. Even looking at Elin brought him pleasure. His chest tightened. Nay, he could not deny his soft feelings for her.

Lost in thought, she perched on the floor in front of her herb basket. Her reddish-gold tresses curled gracefully down her slim back. Her gown of blue swirled around her. She sat with her chin propped on the heels of her hands.

Starlight graced her in silvery shadows, and she appeared lost in thought.

“Contemplating your next poison?”

She jumped, hand flying to her dagger. “Malcolm! What are you doing lurking in the shadows?”

“Watching you.” He knelt to replace the burned out stub
in the holder with a new candle. “Look how disaster reigns in this world. I do a serving wench's work while a woman sits and thinks.”

A wry humor sparkled in her eyes. “Now I regret destroying those oakwood berries. 'Tis always good to have a way to threaten an insolent husband.”

Her teasing lightened his heart. She burned with a brightness that warmed him, and remembering Edward's offer to find him a different wife, his chest ached. Truly ached.

He grabbed his bag and tossed it on the bed, preparing to pack. “What weighs upon your mind so heavily, Elin?”

Silence answered as her gaze returned to the many leather pouches and crocks within that woven basket. “My herbs.”

“You're a woman with much knowledge of them.”

“Aye.”

For all her ferocity, she was a tiny woman, more bone and muscle than generous womanly curves. More character than substance. She looked so troubled. What would she debate so seriously? “I know there are ways to prevent conception. Is this what you are busy pondering?”

“I have not decided.” Her chin jutted forward. Her shoulders slumped. “Are you angry? A new baron wants for sons.”

“I am not angered.” He could not stay the urge to reach out, and his fingers curved around the fragile bones of her neck. “I do not blame you for your uncertainty. Many a woman would not wish to have a babe with a man who can never love her.”

Her chin dipped another notch. “I know not what to do. You possess a kindness well hidden behind your fierceness, but I've not seen you with a child. There is much I do not know about you. For instance, would you punish your
daughter by locking her up in the dungeon for nights upon end?”

“Ah, dove.” His conscience bit like a dog with sharp teeth. 'Twas a sensation he'd not felt for more years than he could count. “Is that how you knew to force the lock on the chains?”

She nodded, the bones of her spine feeling delicate beneath his palm.

Warmth swept through his chest. Where was this tenderness toward her coming from? It crept up like a silent wave and flooded him with an affection he could not claim. “I would like a son with you, Elin. Think what a great knight he would make.”

He meant to tease a smile to her lips, but her frown remained. She cleared her throat, and her eyes shimmered with vulnerability. “When a wife becomes a mother, she is more bound to her husband than before. If he treats her ill, she cannot fight or flee.”

“Still, after all we've shared, you are afraid of me.” He hauled her against him and saw the anguish upon her face. How it saddened him. “Much has been forced upon you, and quickly. Marriage to a stranger, battle and intimacy. But we've spent time enough together for you to see the man I am inside.”

Her eyes brimmed with silvered tears. They did not fall. “I know the manner of the man, but not the husband.”

“You know both.” How he wanted to drive her doubt away. He slanted his lips on hers in a kiss both tender and claiming.

She opened her mouth and her tongue brushed his. She did not hold back her affection. The warmth of it beat in his thickening blood and flamed within his chest. Why he felt this for her, he did not know. But he was glad. Very glad.

“I want a son. I want our lives bound to one another, Elin, for I do not want to lose you.” A better man would command, not ask for an heir. But he knew well how this marriage might end. He caught her mouth with his in a kiss both ardent and sizzling.

She arched against him, and it was all he needed. He carried her to the bed, burrowing beneath her clothes as he went. He laid her upon the mattress and climbed over her. She welcomed him with a heat that drove him beyond all control. He set a fast grinding rhythm and too soon she cried out. His release gripped the base of his spine and radiated outward. She clung to him as pleasure tore through him, sharp and pulsing.

He held her afterward, pressing kisses to her face and breasts. She chased away the darkness within him—for just this moment.

 

They left in the depth of night, when rain cloaked the sound of their movements. None save Malcolm's most trusted men knew he was strong enough to leave. Elin had sheathed an extra dagger at her waist. They could not summon attention with a large party of knights for protection. Just four accompanied them—Ian, Giles, Hugh and the mercenary Rory, freed from Edward's dungeons.

The rains blew against their backs during the fast dash through the night. Malcolm led them north, and Elin rode at his side. Only she knew that he still suffered with weakness, but his weakness equalled another man's strength. He sat in his saddle with spine and shoulders straight, invincible.

When a castle's silhouette rose against the landscape, Elin recognized the shape of tower and parapet. “'Tis my aunt Elizabeth's keep.”

“Aye. I am allied to her through marriage, so I have decided to use her knights on my quest.”

“See what a convenient wife I am?”

“Elin, in all the years ahead of us as man and wife,
convenient
will never be a term I use to describe you.” Affection stirred in his husky laugh. “Can I trust you to stay with your aunt and cause no trouble?”

“I thought I would accompany you.”

“Nay, 'tis too dangerous.” He drew his stallion to a halt in the shadows of the castle walls. “I would have you safe, so I can give all my concentration to the task ahead.”

Love flashed in her heart, bright enough to rival the largest of stars. He wanted her safe. He cared about her far more than he would admit. She drew her mare to a halt before him. “I will stay with my aunt.”

“Well chosen.” He pressed a kiss to her brow. Moments passed as he studied her without words and without breath, as if to memorize the shape of her face. “Guard! What lazy scoundrel is on watch this night?”

“Who goes there?” A sleepy-faced youth peered from the battlements of the tower above.

“Malcolm le Farouche, Baron of Evenbough, and my wife, Lady Elinore. I request an immediate audience with the baroness.”

“'Tis impossible. She's abed.”

“I come with an edict directly from the king. You will open this gate and gather fifty of your strongest men. Now, ere I climb up this wall and do it myself.”

“Aye, my lord.” The bridge creaked into place.

“Ian, aid in selecting the knights. Giles and Hugh, see that the men are ready to ride at my command. The boy must be rescued before dawn's light.” Malcolm wheeled his stallion across the lowered bridge and through the castle gates.

Elin followed him, heart pounding. How could a man so fierce ignite such a softness within her?

“Elin!” Elizabeth dashed through the bailey, her nightclothes gleaming silver in the shadows. “Are you all right? What horror brings you to my castle at this late hour? Did your husband…” Her eyes widened at the sight of Malcolm astride his loyal destrier.

“I fare well, Aunt.” Elin jumped from her mare and raced into Elizabeth's arms. “Malcolm comes from the king. He needs—”

“Edward trusts you will aid us.” The great knight once more, her husband reined in his agitated stallion and presented a parchment bearing the king's seal. “Elin shall stay here in your care.”

He wheeled his destrier toward the front gate, his orders lingering in the cool air. He was as fierce as the night and looked twice as menacing.

“Malcolm!” Elin called into the darkness. “You cannot leave until I say good luck. I shall miss you.”

“I'll not be gone long enough to miss.” But affection warmed his words and he did not look intimidating as he gazed upon her one last time. “Get your rest, dove. I shall need you when I return.”

Her heart fluttered like leaves in a welcome breeze as he charged his stallion into the shadows. Darkness claimed him, but his armor glimmered faintly as he galloped across the bailey.

Elizabeth's arms wrapped her close. “Oh, Elin. I'd heard of the marriage. I wrote to beg the king to reconsider, but he refused.”

“You pleaded upon my behalf?”

“Aye. Le Farouche may be the greatest knight in the realm, but he is feared, with good reason. He came at the king's command last summer to fight those who tried to
take my castle.” Elizabeth shepherded her into the keep. “How has he harmed you?”

“Not at all.”

“He has humiliated and shamed you. I know how that is.” Elizabeth brushed at the curls along Elin's brow. “But you must tell me.”

“Truly, he has been good to me.” Elin shrugged out of her wet mantle. A servant appeared to accept the garment, while another rushed to the hearth to feed the fire. “I thought a man's touch would humiliate, but his did not.”

“He has bedded you.”

“Aye.” Elin knew she blushed, and turned her hands toward the flames, which radiated a welcome heat. “He is not harsh.”

“By the saints, I do not believe it.” Elizabeth took a steaming tankard from a servant's tray and pressed it into Elin's hands. “You love him?”

“I am not sure.” Her heart fluttered when she considered it. “Mayhap.”

“Then you are blessed.” Elizabeth drew a chair close to the hearth and gestured for the page to leave. “Few arranged marriages burn with affection's light. Often they are brutal and cold.”

Like Mother's. Like Elizabeth's. “You chose not to give your husband children.”

“Thanks to a cup of tea I drank with every dawn.”

“When did you decide to never carry Barthel's babe?”

“When he beat me near to death for not conceiving the first month of our marriage.” She stared hard into the flames, face shadowed by the dark fall of her hair. “Glad I am that he is gone from this earth.”

“I wish I can erase the hurt he caused you.” Elin hung her head. “I am now more grateful for my husband.”

“'Tis good that le Farouche treats you well. He wishes for an heir. What man does not?”

Elin remembered Malcolm's words, and her throat ached with sweetness. “He told me he wants a child to bind us closer.”

“There is a greatness in conceiving with love. To nurture that life within your body and bring that babe into the world.” Elizabeth's slender fingers traced the proud wax seal on the rolled parchment. “'Tis a bond unparalleled. If you love your fierce knight, then do not be afraid of it.”

Love for him burned in Elin's heart, her weak and sentimental heart. Other women had shared Malcolm's bed; he made no secret of that. But she was the one he trusted not to harm him, not to let an enemy into his chamber or lift a dagger to his back while he slept.