The Scotsman (45 page)

“Yea, so you sound.” Warfield looked irritated. “Curse it, I will accept your terms, Fraser, but I will not yield to you her dower lands.”

“’Tis done, for I want the lady more than I do her lands. In this, my lord, we are in accordance, for you want the lands more than you do the lady.”

The earl did not look at her again and Catherine did not speak, even after Adam de Brus and Jamie Fraser were delivered into the hall, and Alex rose from his chair at last and left the dais to take his brother in his arms.

Then did she look at Nicholas, and with a heavy heart said softly, “I will miss you most sorely, Nicky.”

To her surprise, he met her gaze, and a faint smile curved his mouth. “Yea, kitten, I think you will.”

Then they were gone, Nicholas and her father—who had neither glanced at her nor spoken to her—departing the hall and Castle Rock.

As the tension drained from her body, she braced her hands on the table, and then Alex was there, his arms around her as he drew her to him. “I want you to meet Jamie, catkin.”

A thin young man with a shock of black hair and a striking resemblance to his brother stepped forward and swept her a courtly bow. When he straightened, he said, “Your brother oft spoke of ye, m’lady.”

“Did he?”

“Aye, most kindly.” He smiled, and her heart clutched as she saw Alex in this young man, in the direct gaze and angular features that still bore traces of youth.

She thought then of Tarn, who had been brought back to be laid to rest in the church yard with all honor as a fallen hero, and of the fees that his mother would receive in lieu of her son. These were people she liked, people she respected, and suddenly she knew that she would be content here. The animosity that had ignited after her father’s assault had faded now that she was Alex’s wife and bearing his child, and she thought she had Robbie to thank for diluting much of the village’s resentment of her. While she did not know what he had said to the people, it seemed to have helped.

“Come with me, catkin.” Alex pulled her with him, his arm around her shoulders, and walked her across the hall to the circular stairs that led up to their chamber.

When they were alone in the second-floor corridor, he took her in his arms, and his voice was rough with emotion. “I have never loved you so much as I do at this moment.”

She toyed with the crest on his gilt-trimmed soutane, and looked up at him with a faint smile. “Have I told you how handsome you are dressed as a lord, my love? Though I think I much prefer the convenience of your tunic and plaid at times….”

Soft laughter came from him, and he leaned against her to press her into the wall. “That can be easily remedied, catkin. Shall I show you?” His mouth found her throat, lips working against her skin.

“Alex … here?”

“Here. The hall. The kitchens. Wherever you like. Ah, wait….” He kissed her mouth, and his hands slid down the velvet gown she wore to gather her skirts into his hands and lift them. She gasped, but it was swallowed
by his mouth over hers. And then he was lifting her, his hands bracing her as he pulled her legs around his waist and entered her with slow, luxurious sensuality. She arched against him, and lost herself in the familiar, sweet sensations.

Never had she dreamed she would be so blessed, or that she would find the love she had once thought lay only in romantic tales. It was more than she had hoped for, more even than she imagined could exist. And it was not just a romantic poem or knightly tale of love, but real.

“I love you,” she said in a husky whisper that brushed past his ear, and his arms tightened as he shuddered against her.

“Ah, catkin, I love you more than you will ever know.”

She only smiled, for she knew well how much he loved her. And it was enough.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I have tried to stay true to history, while incorporating my characters within the confines of the times and historical figures. Most of the incidents took place as described, or as legend dictates. A contemporary account,
The Lanercost Chronicle
, recorded many of the deeds, as well as the words attributed to the Bruce and James Douglas, as written in this story. Another contemporary source was John Barbour, who wrote the epic
The Brus
.

James Douglas was indeed the romantic, dashing figure he was portrayed as here, reckless and ruthless and boon companion to the Bruce. The incidents attributed to him in my story are recorded in history and legend. Alex, of course, is a fictional character, but could well have existed in very similar fashion. Men of that time were dangerous and intent upon victory, and hostages were frequently captured and exchanged.

For details of the Battle of Bannockburn I must thank an excellent source, a video by Castle productions, entitled
The Battle of Bannockburn
. It was informative and inspired. For the ballads, I used a book entitled
Scottish & Border Battles & Ballads
, which was very useful. As
nearly as can be determined, these ballads were sung during the time of my story.

And finally, as always, I took liberty with the language of the times, incorporating it into a readable format for modern readers. For those purists who prefer the lyrical “thee” and “thou” or Scottish dialect, I apologize, and for those who cannot bear any kind of dialect, I apologize again. I can only say, you should have seen the first draft!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J
ULIANA
G
ARNETT
is a bestselling author writing under a new name to indulge her passion for medieval history. Always fascinated by the romance of
knights in shining armor
, this Southern writer is now at liberty to focus on the pageantry and allure of days when chivalry was expected and there were plenty of damsels in distress.

Ms. Garnett has won numerous awards for her previous works, and hopes to entertain new readers who share her passion for valorous heroes and strong, beautiful heroines.