Only For A Knight (36 page)

 

To Robbie’s surprise, rather than stating his business, the giant looked down and began shuffling his feet on the bailey’s rain-slicked cobbles.

 

“Come, my friend,” Robbie said, clapping the guardsman on the shoulder. “Would you have us standing here in the rain and wind when the day’s work is still before us?”

 

“You will not be wrath—”

 

“Wrath?” Robbie blinked. “We have ne’er exchanged a word. Why should I—”

 

“’Tis wrath with the lady Euphemia, I be a-mean-

 

ing,” Big Red said, his face beginning to glow a brighter red than his hair. “I care not if I incite your fury onto myself—there are few names I haven’t been called in my time. And the saints know, I’ve deserved the most of ’em. But my Phemie—”

 

“Your Phemie?”

 

Robbie blinked again, comprehension flooding him . . . the heavy odor of strong masculine musk, sharp, and reeking of a man in rut, the unmistakable smell blended with the equally penetrating reek of the lady Euphemia’s own arousal.

 

This man had to be her lover.

 

Mayhap even the father of the child Robbie was certain she carried. An innocent bairn Robbie suspected she meant to use to shame him, perhaps declaring the babe his, then glorying in knowing he knew otherwise.

 

An icy shiver ripped down Robbie’s spine as realization tore the fog from his mind and all the pieces fell into place.

 

“You!” He stared at the guardsman. He was half torn between pulling him into a comradely embrace for providing him a reason to rid himself of an unwanted bride, and half seized by the urge to laugh at the incongruous image of his thin-bodied betrothed writhing in lust beneath such a bull-necked stirk of a man.

 

“You were with the lady just before I spoke with her not too long ago, were you not?” Robbie asked, hoping none of his true feelings colored his tone.

 

“I was with her, aye. A-hiding beneath the bed the whole time you were in her chamber,” Big Red admitted. “God aiding me—’tis sorry I am, and begging your pardon, but I heard all you said to her and I would make you a third proposal—for I love the lass and would have her.”

 

Robbie cleared his throat, tried to summon his most earnest mien, and feared he’d fail badly.

 

Too great was his mounting excitement.

 

His pleasure in this unexpected development.

 

“Then you heard the two offers I made her?” he asked, swiping a raindrop from his brow. “To return her to her father’s Castle Uisdean with her dowry intact and a boon to sweeten the broken betrothal? Or marriage to a Douglas in the south?”

 

Big Red nodded, began twisting his large hands.

 

“And what is your proposal?” Robbie asked merely from curiosity, for he was sore tempted to fetch the maid now and deliver her single-handedly into her lover’s arms.

 

Regardless of what the man offered for her.

 

“I would ask you to grant her both of the proposals you made her. In part, at least,” Big Red said, speaking so quickly the words almost ran together.

 

“Both? Havers, man, how can she have both?” Robbie’s eyes widened. “I thought you wanted her for yourself?”

 

“Och, but I do,” Big Red answered promptly, nodding his red-bearded head. “’Tis only that I am not deep-pursed, see you?”

 

“So you want her dowry and the boon to take her off my hands?” Robbie began to comprehend. And did not mind at all.

 

Indeed, he rocked back on his heels, almost enjoying the exchange. “If you swear to wed her so her child, and yours, I presume, has a name, the two of you can have her dowry and the boon I meant to give old Hugh Out-with-the-Sword for his trouble,” he said, feeling more than generous.

 

But the giant was still staring at him, his broad face bitter-earnest and looking even more discomfited than before if such were possible.

 

“I thank you, sir, you are more than kind.” Big Red inclined his head.

 

“Then we are in happy accord,” Robbie agreed, his tone congenial. “I wish you both well.”

 

But Big Red made no move to take his leave.

 

Robbie arched a brow. “You have something else to discuss?” he asked, remembering the man said he desired the lady Euphemia to have
both
proposals. “Since you claim to love her and have planted a child in her belly, I canna believe you would see her wed to a Douglas?”

 

As he’d suspected, the giant shook his head. “Nay, for truth, I would not—I’d rip the head off any sprig of that house or any other who dared try to take her from me—were she well and truly mine.”

 

“But . . . ?”

 

“But I would go
with
her to the south—to the Douglases. If you, in your goodness, might be inclined to impress one of your southern friends of that ilk to employ me.”

 

“Employ you?”

 

The big man shrugged, clearly having no need to flex his muscles or prove his worthiness as an able guardsman. “I would give my loyalty and best sword arm to whate’er Douglas might accept me as his own true man. And I give you my vow ne’er to make you regret having helped me.”

 

Robbie eyed the man, his good sense telling him not to risk ruining his friendship with so mighty a house as Douglas. Yet his heart sensed the other’s sincerity, making him want to help him indeed.

 

“Why do you not just return with her to Castle Uisdean?” He had to ask. “Or take her monies and settle hereabouts . . . in peace?”

 

“Because,” Big Red began, flushing again, “I will tell you true . . . I have a dark past in these parts. See you, I was once leader of the broken men who dwell on the Isle of Pabay. And now, I wou—”

 

“You would put that past behind you,” Robbie finished for him, not surprised when the man nodded.

 

Robbie, too, would be hungry to put such a dubious career behind him—all knew of the men of Pabay. The raids and other dark deeds e’er launched from that wee isle’s heavily wooded shores were legend, the men greatly feared.

 

“I have shocked you.” Big Red sighed. “You have changed your mind.”

 

“Nay, far from it,” Robbie reassured him, not quite certain himself why he sympathized with the man. “But I would ask a boon of my own—”

 

“There is one more favor I would beg of you,” the giant cut him off, reaching to clutch Robbie’s arm, clearly not intending to let go until his piece had been heard. “If you will allow?”

 

Robbie glanced at the huge fingers circling his arm. “Speak your concern,” he said, looking back at the lout. “But pray stop cutting off my blood.”

 

“The old man . . . Phemie’s father,” Big Red began, lowering his voice, “he is not the blackguard the prattle-mongers claim. I’ve kenned him nigh all my days and swear to you, ’tis not he who lowered his chain in the Kyle in recent years, wrecking galleys and charging tolls . . .”

 

Robbie cocked a brow. “But the MacLeod’s
Girt of Strength, has
been lowered—I have spoken to enough seafaring friends who’ve suffered damage, lost their ships, good men.”

 

“Aye—but the old chief ne’er knew . . . leastways not in recent times.”

 

“And this favor you would ask of me has to do with Hugh Out-with-the-Sword?”

 

Big Red nodded. “He was good to me when no one else would even look me in the eye,” he said, shuffling his feet again.

 

He glanced up at the scudding rain clouds, blew out a quick breath. “Ach, I have ne’er felt more like a gowk!” he said, looking back at Robbie. “See you, he was once a most notable man and I would know him in better cheer, once Phemie and I are gone. I will honor you all my days if you swear you will send someone to look after old Hugh until the effects of the sleeping draughts he’s been given wear off. He will ne’er lower his chain again, that I grant you—he requires naught but his ale and a lusty wench once a fortnight and he is happy as a lamb.”

 

“And why did the lady Euphemia stoop to such treacheries? Why would she lace her own sire’s drink with sleeping herbs?” Robbie asked, seeing the correctness of his guess in the giant’s eyes. “How do I know she will not return and have her minions raise havoc in these parts again?”

 

Big Red flexed his muscles . . . and winked. “I will keep her too busy birthing my bairns to think long on old grievances and her fool plans for avenging them.”

 

“Old grievances?”

 

Somehow Robbie knew
he
was meant.

 

“Ach . . .” Big Red ran a large hand through the tangle of his red mane, “it will be no little surprise to you that the lass reviles you?”

 

Robbie dashed the rain from his brow again. “I have noticed, aye.”

 

Big Red nodded. “My own self, mind, I see shame in bearing grudges so long, but Phemie . . . you cost her the great love of her life, see you? A young man she loved above all else and who, if she told me true, loved her with the same fervor.”

 

“A man she could not wed because her father and mine pledged her to me?” Robbie asked, understanding at last.

 

The big man shrugged again, his gaze flickering to the dark and quiet tower across the bailey where they both knew the lady would still be sleeping at this early hour.

 

“That would be the way of it,” Big Red admitted. “Mayhap her spleen toward you would not have grown to such poison o’er the years if the young man had loved her less. But he was as shattered by the betrothal as Phemie. Soon thereafter, he ran off to join the wars against the English. If the stories be true, he was felled by the cloth-yard of a Welsh longbowman in some skirmish too insignificant to bear a name.”

 

“And the lady Euphemia ne’er forgot or forgave?”

 

Big Red MacAlister shook his head, but as quickly, he thrust out his hand. “You will not speak poorly of her? Not besmirch her good name?”

 

“Nary a word.”

 

“Even though she sought to ruin you?”

 

Robbie clasped the other’s hand. “I learned long ago to look forward, not backward, my friend.”

 

“’Tis agreed then? All of it?”

 

“I keep my word, MacAlister,” Robbie assured him. “See that you keep yours.”

 

Big Red pumped Robbie’s hand, nigh crushing the bones in his enthusiastic grip. “To be sure, and I will, good sir,” he said, a broad smile stealing across his face. “And I thank you, I truly do. But what is your boon? What would you have of me?”

 

“Naught that you will find too difficult, I am thinking,” Robbie said, looking across the bailey to the lady Euphemia’s window again.

 

“Only that you take your lady and be gone from here by the morrow’s setting sun. Do that, and I promise a ready ear and helping hand if hard times e’er befall you.”

 

 

Three days later, Duncan MacKenzie snapped. His famed black temper finally besieged the better of him as he paced about his solar, cursing beneath his breath. Gone were his cold looks and withering silences. The piercing glares he’d fastened on anyone bold enough to breach his self-imposed solitude.

 

Fury blazed inside him, hot anger burning in his eyes as he whirled on his son. “You have made your greatest mistake,” he said, frowning. “Bursting into my privy quarters without so much as a knock—and with such fool contrive on your tongue!”

 

Robbie stood still, restrained himself with effort.

 

“Your blessing and goodwill is not required, Father,” he said, speaking straight. “Such benevolence is only . . . desired.”

 

“Desired.”
The Black Stag gave a stern shake of his dark head. “’Twas suchlike that started this—” he broke off, rammed a hand through his hair. “God save us, this is no piddling matter. ’Tis beyond all, is what it is!”

 

His scowl darkening, he went to stand before the fire, stared into the crackling flames. “Nay, nay, laddie, just because you’ve rid yourself of an unwanted bride-to-be does not mean you can take another so soon,” he rapped out, his displeasure seeming to throb all through the solar.

 

The blessed sanctum where he’d sequestered himself for the past sennight, seeing no one and not even allowing his lady wife or the good Sir Marmaduke entry.

 

Only his favorite hound, old Roag, was granted such privilege and even he kept his distance, having claimed a comfortable spot of warmth near the brazier to stretch his shaggy self and sleep.

 

Stealth-by-dinner-tray had worked for Robbie, the ploy functioning beautifully this time . . . even if he was getting absolutely nowhere in gaining his father’s favor.

 

“And you especially cannot take the maid Juliana to wife,” the Black Stag declared, pacing again. “I forbid it and shall order her gone from here by the morrow. Highland hospitality or no!”

 

“Say you?” Robbie crossed the solar with great strides, coming up beside his father just as he paused at the table to pour himself a cup of morning ale. “And I say there is more to your spleen than meets the eye. You e’er relished having bonnie, strong-hearted women around you—why do you turn such a cold eye to this one? Especially knowing how much she pleases me?”

 

Duncan gulped the contents of his ale cup in one great swallow.

 

“It will do you nary a jot of good to keep dogging my heels and peppering me with nonsense,” he snapped, slapping down the cup with an overloud
clack.
“I will not change my mind. You cannot wed the lass. You are heir to a great and chiefly house—”

 

“Even so, I fail to see why you dislike her.” Robbie’s chest tightened with indignation, but he tamped down his own rising temper, fixing his gaze out the window on the rainy, torch-lit bailey far below. “You would do the better to be of greater heart,” he said, biting his tongue before he’d added how much he knew of his father’s generosity to Juliana’s mother.

 

Instead, he gestured to the discarded and half-eaten victuals piled on the table, the scatter of emptied wine jugs and ale cups. The mound of rumpled plaids and furred skins near the hearth, where Robbie knew his father had been making his bed for some days.

 

Much to his lady wife’s disapproval and concern.

 

Determined to get to the bottom of it, Robbie strode over to the table, picked up a dried crust of brown bread with two fingers, and waved it at his father before letting it fall again to the litter-strewn table.