Malcolm'S Honor (Historical, 519) (7 page)

“Stand, traitor's daughter.” Edward towered overhead, fiercely determined.

Malcolm's armor jangled as he approached. “Lady, the king ordered you to stand.”

She scrambled to her feet, but the knight's grip curled around her arm. His hold was one of steel and male strength, and trapped her obediently at his side. He was big and mighty. A calm horror filled her, and her gaze strayed to the wide doors across the hall, then back again.

“I've given this much thought.” Edward reached for her hand. “Lady Elinore, I will grant you the greatest knight in all the land for your husband.”

Malcolm's heart skipped a beat. He heard the incredulous gasp from the audience, but it could not compare to the icy shock pumping through his veins. “Edward, nay, I beg you—”

“'Tis too late. My decision has been rendered.” The king smiled, actually
smiled,
as if he found some amusement in this horror. “This is a match that greatly pleases me. I will hear no arguments, Fierce One.”

“No arguments?” Rage tore through him, and he heard his own voice echo in the elaborate stonework overhead. What had happened to his steely control? Ashamed, he bowed his chin. “Your highness, I cannot accept such a position.”

“You can and you will.”

“You well know I am no farmer.”

“'Tis not farming I require from you. The villeins will work the land. You shall protect them. And you will honor your king with your silence and trust. I know what I do.”

Was the king blind? “I cannot. Choose another of your knights. Giles or Ian are more suitable to a barony.”

“I want you, Malcolm, and you alone.”

Fury raged in his chest, but how could he show that to his king? “'Tis folly, Edward. 'Tis disaster you are seeking.”

“I know my course, Malcolm. There is no other I can trust. These are treacherous times.”

“So, you would condemn me to a hell I cannot bear? And this baron's daughter to God knows what?”

“I do not believe you would harm the girl.”

“Of that I can make no vows.” He thought of the long line of women who'd sworn love to him, and how those liaisons had ended. Every one of them. Except for Lily, who'd paid with her life.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elin's eyes widen, for she'd heard his words. Her beautiful face donned an expression of silent horror. She looked over her shoulder, again judging the distance to the door. The girl clearly wished to escape. Well, 'twas far better that she betray him now by fleeing than with secrets later.

The king scowled. “I care not about the girl, Malcolm. Only that you hold my most powerful barony. If you refuse, then I will have her executed and you banished.”

“But sire—”

“Choose.” Edward stood taller, seeming more fearsome with this demand. “Obey me or face dishonor. Of all men, I thought you were the one I could trust.”

“I would lay down my life to defend yours, and well you know it.” Malcolm's heart was torn. Like a cornered lion, he felt ready to explode with fury and lash out ruthlessly. But he could never cause his ruler harm by word or deed. He hung his head, feeling the greatest of losses. “I will obey you, my king.”

“Well chosen. You are a man of duty, if not one of heart.” The king patted Malcolm's shoulder. “Fear not, for I trust you are strong enough to gentle this spirited filly. Lulach, fetch the priest. He must perform the wedding immediately. I would have this great barony secure from treacherous men.”

I
care not about the girl.
The king's words were not forgotten as Elin faced the priest. She smoldered, but found solace knowing the great le Farouche also took no pleasure in the prospect of their marriage.

She fought to stay her panic. Surely, after Edward was satisfied, the vows would not be hard to annul. For in truth, the king only wanted his trusted knight to hold the barony of Evenbough.

The priest began with a prayer, but the familiar Latin blurred in her mind as she studied Malcolm out of the corner of her eye. Not even in the forest after he'd threatened to haul her out of the tree had he looked this enraged and threatening. Veins stood out beneath his sun-browned skin, and the muscles in his jaw were locked and rigid, a testimony to the fury he controlled.

What a fury it must be. He trembled with it, like grass in a wind, and his chain mail jingled faintly but musically. She could hear his shallow breaths and the snap of his jaws when he clenched them.

'Twas comforting to know she did not suffer alone.

Malcolm answered the priest with a terse growl that left no doubt of his true feelings.

“My lady?” the priest prompted.

She blushed and said her vows. The words felt strange upon her tongue. They tasted of anger. They tasted of rebellion. She heard the catch in her own voice and knew Malcolm heard it, too.

She hated that he knew how she feared him. She'd learned long ago the only way to stay safe was to be stronger than her enemy, be it family or stranger.

The priest pronounced her Malcolm's bride, binding her with holy blessings to this man of war. To Malcolm le Farouche. To the one man she could not defeat by thought or word or deed. To a man who would not even kiss her at the end of the vows.

'Twas his only saving grace.

“Sire, I wish to leave immediately. I seek to make Evenbough secure in your name.” Malcolm turned as if she did not exist, and focused his attention on the pleased king.

“I approve.” Edward stood, clapping his hands. Guards and servants responded. He barked out orders.

Elin's gaze strayed to the door.

“So, you have whored yourself to the fiercest knight in the land.” Caradoc's damp fingers encircled her elbow. “I ought to curse you for spreading your thighs for le Farouche when you would not for me.”

Fie, but his foulness offended her. And his arrogance. She turned her back on him. “I would rather spit on the both of you.”

“Then you kept your maidenhead?”

Bile spilled across her tongue as she remembered. “You are bold for a man who nearly lost his head today.”

“Aye, but sentimental foolishness saved it. Praise be that my father is Edward's favorite. Such family ties were enough for me to keep my life, but not good enough to win
the sweetest prize.” He wrapped a curled lock of her hair around his forefinger.

She struck his hand away. “Would that I had my dagger! You would be missing one whole hand.”

“Save your threats for le Farouche. You will need them.” Caradoc's smile twisted his face. “Surely you know of the tales. He drives women to their deaths.”

“What man would not?” She shook with fury. Caradoc had her trapped against the wall, and she could not escape him. How she wished for her dagger.

“Look at him.” A smirk twisted his boyish face. “Mark how violent he is. Le Farouche makes me appear like a harmless kitten.”

“A kitten? None I've ever seen.” Her fingers itched for a weapon.

“Jest all you want and deny the truth, Elinore of Evenbough, but you
are
afraid. I can see it in your eyes. Remember this, we can work together, you and I. We can defeat the fierce knight and keep him from taking your life.”

“Says one murderer of another.” He was a handsome blackguard, there was no doubt about it, but she looked at him and saw only ugliness. “I wish to hear no more of your plan.” Loathing soured her stomach. Wanting distance between then, she caught his arm and gave him a hard push. She rushed past him.

His grip spun her around. “Help me, and I will ensure the Fierce One never hauls you to his bed. Look at the strength in his arms. Think of how brutal his mating would be. Think upon it, 'tis all I ask.”

“Fie on you!” She fought to free her arm—and won.

“What's this?” Malcolm's voice boomed above the din in the hall. “Caradoc, touch my wife again and I'll separate
your head from your neck. With or without Edward's approval.”

Elin took her place beside her husband, not behind. She set her chin and refused to look away when Caradoc's gaze raked hers with disgust. She saw anger darken his peacock's face, and looked up to see a more powerful anger on Malcolm's.

He laid his hand upon his hilt, warrior still.

Caradoc paled, but the hatred in his narrow eyes did not diminish. “Watch your threats, le Farouche. My uncle may have granted you a powerful barony, but beware. You may not survive to bear the title long.”

“Now who threatens?” Malcolm's eyes flashed, dark and deadly. “Go ahead and hide behind the robes of the king. Soon you'll see that Edward's good nature extends only so far. Elin, come!”

'Twas the way he said it that angered her. “I'm no dog to jump at your bidding.”

“Aye, but you are my wife.” He held out his hand, his big palm spread wide, awaiting her touch.

She felt the heat of many curious gazes and the censure. She knew Edward's courtiers saw a traitor's daughter, dressed in a gown now in rags. She sensed they did not approve of her hatred toward the greatest knight in the land.

It was doubly difficult to place her hand in his. She felt the calluses first, for there were many of them, rough and ridged from wielding a sword, and then the sizzling heat as his fingers closed around hers.

“We leave for Evenbough without delay.” He refused to look at her as he crossed the room with his long-legged stride, keeping her hard at his side. He tugged her down one corridor after another. The strength in his arms bound her to him more thoroughly than dungeon chains.

Caradoc's words taunted her.
Think of how brutal his
mating would be.
Malcolm's strength was thrice hers. And there was no escape as he pulled her into the grayness of a cloudy morning. Wind flapped the hem of her gown against her ankles. Malcolm barked orders as he went, but did not release her. He held her tight, as if he expected her to escape to make further plans with Caradoc.

“Ian!” Malcolm's voice boomed through the bailey, where knights gathered on horseback and carts were piled full of gifts from Edward. “Ian, I am pleased to see you among my men.”

A handsome warrior broke through the crowd. The smile on his thin mouth looked shallow. “I would be nowhere else, my lord.”

Such flattery. Elin turned her back on it. Anger burned in her chest.
At least I am not married to Caradoc.
If she thought it over and over again, then perchance it would make the panic disappear.

“Your lady's horse.” Ian presented a white palfrey. “Shall I assist her?”

“I need no assistance.” What did she look like? A woman too feebleminded to mount a horse? Elin swung herself up, adjusting the hem of her ragged dress. She needed no aid from a friend of le Farouche.

Malcolm caught hold of the mare's bit. “I am pleased to see you are eager to head home.”

Home.
Her stomach fell to her knees. She sealed her lips tightly, knowing the king watched. She knew she'd been granted a miracle this day, being found innocent of her father's crimes and escaping a hard fate as Caradoc's wife. But what would become of her now?

Her gaze fastened on the man who now controlled her fate. Astride his great stallion, he towered at her side. Sunshine glittered off his armor and emphasized the stunning
width of his shoulders. “We've a hard ride ahead, and I expect no trouble from you, Wife.”

Fie, but she still did not like his tone. It took all her willpower to look away from his masculine beauty and summon a cordial manner. “I am naught but obedient.”

“I'm well aware of your character.” He released her palfrey's bit, but the threat in his voice was unmistakable. “I well know you are capable of great deceit. Your life has been spared this day, but do not think I argued for it.”

It did not surprise her. “I rather suspected you did not know Edward's intentions. You looked ready to burst a vein during our vows.”

“Aye, I married you because I will not deny my king any request. I am a knight, and I'll always be so, regardless of a title.” His gaze traveled over the bustling courtyard. “Edward in his wisdom has granted me a hundred knights, and I have retained as many.”

“Two hundred knights. You fear me that much?”

“I'm not blind to your flaws or your skill with a dagger.” Wry humor played along the curve of his mouth. “'Tis my opinion you should learn obedience, and so I will teach you. Even if I need the protection of every last one of my knights.”

“Obedience?” How she hated that word. 'Twas what her father claimed he'd taught her, when all he'd done was inflict abuse. “What do you want? A syrupy, mewling wife who preens all day? Who hangs on your big strong arm? Whose greatest achievement is cowering in the corner?”

“Aye, but the king gave me you.” That flicker of a smile broadened.

“Fie! Stop teasing me.” In truth, she wasn't certain if he teased.

Malcolm's hand caught hers, and the brief connection felt as searing as a brand. “Edward married me to a traitor's
daughter, a woman with suspicious connections to Caradoc, a man I believe wants Edward's throne. Tell me what you two plotted today in the hall, and I'll not punish you.”

“What? You think me guilty?” His insult came like a blow to her stomach. She put her hand there, wondering who else thought the same.

“If you do not tell me now, and I discover your treachery later,” he threatened, “then the fury you've seen thus far will be naught in comparison.”

Fie, but he was no better than Caradoc. Hopelessness battered her heart. “It takes a big strong coward of a knight to threaten an unarmed woman. But fear not, le Farouche, if I were to plot against you, I would never seek Caradoc as my ally.”

“Plot against me, and you will pay.” He let his threat linger.

She shivered. This man who distrusted her and expected her to betray him had complete control of her life. Hatred grew in her heart as she watched him ride to lead the knights, so certain of his superiority.

The wind turned cold, and rain scented the air. They rode two miles ere the first drop fell, but it was not cold enough to cool her fury.

 

Malcolm could taste the danger like wine upon his tongue and hear it like the flicker of the wind in his ears. He rode at the lead, his senses honed, and trusted the instincts that had served him well.

Men were out there, he had no doubt, even if he could not hear man or beast hidden within the woods. Gray rain fell in heavy sheets from sky to earth, diminishing his view of the long road ahead.

Bandits, mayhap. Thieves lying in wait. There were many valuable treasures in the carts, gifts from the king,
and not just weapons. He heeded his instincts and remained vigilant.

Evening slipped away and there was still no sign of attack. Malcolm did not like the eerie feeling of danger, however, so they rode without a break until the rain stopped and midnight neared. Only once had he turned in his saddle, to see Elin glaring at him, riding alongside Giles, who watched her with suspicion. The knight had not forgiven her for the poisoning.

“Do you feel it, too?” Ian rode close.

“Aye. We're being watched.”

“An ambush, then?”

“Worse.” Bandits would wait in the road for a traveler, hide, then strike. They would not follow this long. “Edward said he sent Caradoc straight to Ravenwood, under armed guard.”

“I saw him leave with Sir Matlock and Duncan the Brave.” Ian, too, kept his gaze vigilant.

“Fine knights.” And steadfastly loyal to Edward. That gave Malcolm some consolation. He'd prefer not to have a second battle with Edward's nephew. “Mayhap I have made other enemies.”

“'Tis certain.” Elin spoke up, riding at his flank. “But I would wager my freedom that Caradoc's men are the ones who wait to attack.”

Suspicion clamped hard around his guts. “You admit knowledge of his plans?”

“I admit to knowing his vindictive nature.”

His teeth clacked as he clamped his jaw shut. She could feel his anger like the hot lick of a flame. Though the waxing moon was hidden behind low clouds, the veil of night did not seem to touch Malcolm.

He rode ahead of her, gleaming in the dark, as lethal as
the sword at his hip. And still his displeasure lingered. He did not like taking her as his wife.

Good.
Then perchance they need not make this marriage real, after all. If she worked with him against any threat from Caradoc, then mayhap he would let her go. Her heart warmed with embers of hope.

“There!” Malcolm's voice rose with a call to arms the same instant the clouds above parted and the heavens illuminated the approaching enemy.

Elin heard the strike of hooves upon the rocky road, the rasp of steel unsheathed and the terrifying blood cries of warriors launching into battle. Her palfrey shifted beneath her, suddenly nervous. She tightened the reins, putting pressure on the bit. All around her, the night came alive with moving shadows in the forms of lunging men and beasts.

“Death to you, le Farouche!” A threat rang above the noises of battle.

“And to you, villain,” the great knight answered, without a fleck of fear in his voice.

Well, she was afraid. Steel swords rang with each impact, and sparks flared. The faint flicker briefly illuminated Malcolm's face. Hard as stone he was. And astride his giant destrier, he fought two men who challenged him. He blocked two blows and then felled one enemy with a swift, skilled strike.