CHAPTER SIXTEEN
S TANDING OUTSIDE the buttery, Riona crooked her finger for Polly to join her. “In here a moment, Polly,” Riona said quietly. “I want to talk to you.”
Her eyes wide with curiosity, the maidservant put down her bucket and came without hesitation. “What’s going on?” Polly whispered.
“It’s about Lady Eleanor and her turn at running the kitchen tomorrow.”
Polly shrugged. “She can’t be any worse than that Lady Joscelind, or Lady Lavinia. A more scatterbrained woman I never saw. O’course, if she’d not spent half her time in here with that Audric, she might have done better.”
Riona momentarily forgot what she wanted to say to Polly. “Lavinia was in the buttery with Audric?”
Polly grinned. “Yes—a lot. But it’s all right, my lady. Seems they’re going to be married. Lady Lavinia’s maid told me, and she’s that thrilled, you’d think she was the bride. Audric lives in London and Sally’s always wanted—”
“I’m delighted for her,” Riona said, cutting off what was likely to be a long recitation of Sally’s desires. “And that means, you realize, that Lady Lavinia won’t be Sir Nicholas’s bride.”
“No, and God save us, not that Lady Priscilla, I hope, neither,” Polly said. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, that laugh of hers! Like a horse with the wheezes.”
“So you’ll agree with me, then, Lady Eleanor would be the best choice for Sir Nicholas.”
“No, I don’t,” Polly said stoutly. “That’d be you. Lady Eleanor’s a sweet girl and all, but—”
“While I appreciate your compliment, Polly, Sir Nicholas is never going to choose me. I don’t have a large dowry. Lady Eleanor does, and she’s pretty and gentle. I think she could even mellow Sir Nicholas a bit.”
“You really think she has a better chance than you?” Polly asked, a look of dismay on her pretty face.
“Yes, I do, and you have to agree she’d be a better mistress than Lady Joscelind.”
“Anybody’d be better than her. God love you, my lady, I’d rather have Alfred back than her. But I still say it ought to be you, and if it’s not…well…I never took Sir Nicholas for a fool before.”
“He’s not a fool. He’s a man who’s worked hard for what he has, and must marry well in order to…Well, like any nobleman, he must marry with an eye to the future. So if you prefer Lady Eleanor for your chatelaine, you must do your best to help her tomorrow, and persuade the other servants to do likewise. I’ve tried to teach her as well as I can, but you and I both know that a fine meal really depends on the servants.”
Polly frowned, and reluctantly nodded. “All right, since you’re asking.”
Riona smiled with genuine relief. “Good. And thank you. Eleanor will thank you, too, I’m sure. Now I’ll leave you to get on with your work.”
“Do you want us to ruin Lady Joscelind’s meal tonight?” Polly asked as Riona started to open the door. “It’d be our pleasure and it’d serve Lady Joscelind right.”
Riona shook her head. “No, no sabotage, Polly. All I ask is that you do your best for Eleanor.”
Riona left the buttery and continued out in the courtyard. The air was warm, with a slight breeze that had a hint of the tang of the sea in it. Overhead, white clouds moved slowly across the sky, with darker ones on the horizon threatening rain. Lady Marianne and her husband were to leave for Lochbarr in the morning; perhaps rain would keep them in Dunkeathe another day or so.
Not sure what she ought to do, Riona strolled toward the gate. She hadn’t seen Uncle Fergus since mass, but that wasn’t so unusual these days. If he wasn’t trying to get the recalcitrant Fredella to speak to him, he was riding about the valley helping Thomas select sheep.
“A moment if you please, Lady Riona!” a woman’s voice called out in Gaelic.
She turned to find Lady Marianne hurrying across the courtyard toward her. “How fortunate to find you! I was hoping for a chance to speak with you before we went home. I have a little time before Cellach will need me. Will you walk with me to the village?”
To refuse would be blatantly rude. “If it pleases you, my lady.”
“Excellent.”
Riona fell into step beside Nicholas’s sister, who had the most graceful walk and perfect posture Riona had ever seen.
“The village is growing all the time,” Lady Marianne noted. “I think at least five new families have come since I was here last, before Cellach was born. And there’s another smithy, too, and soon another tavern, Nicholas tells me. We’ll have to keep an eye on Roban next time.” She slid Riona a smile. “He’s quite a fellow to drink with, or so I understand.”
“I think my uncle would agree.”
Lady Marianne laughed softly. “So would my husband. I hope you weren’t too upset with them.”
“No,” Riona prevaricated, wondering if she should say anything about the aftermath and her uncle. She decided against it.
They reached the gates, and the Saxon guards dutifully and respectfully came to attention as they passed by.
“I see they’re still here,” Lady Marianne remarked as they walked down the road that led through the inner ward toward the massive gatehouse. “Nicholas had his doubts about them at first, for they’re not the smartest of men, but he claims they’re good fighters.”
In the ward, a group of soldiers were practicing with a quintain, a dummy mounted on a moving circular platform. It taught men to be quick to react, before they got hit with the arm of the dummy.
A familiar thrill of excitement wove its way through Riona as she tried to see if Nicholas was among them without revealing any particular interest in the activity.
“My brother still believes in training, I see,” his sister remarked.
“Apparently,” Riona replied, thinking some answer was called for.
“I feared he was never going to finish this castle,” Lady Marianne said, gesturing at the walls. “It was only half-built when I first came here five years ago. How I hated Scotland then! It was so wet and dreary, and I knew little about the Scots. And of course, I hadn’t yet met Adair.”
Riona was tempted to ask about those days, for she’d heard some of the gossip about that strange courtship, but it was really none of her business.
“I must confess I didn’t like Adair much at first. I thought he was quite rude. And arrogant. I believed I already knew the most arrogant man in the world—Nicholas. He can be very arrogant, don’t you think?”
“Sometimes, my lady, but he deserves to be proud, after all that he’s accomplished.”
Lady Marianne smiled. “Indeed, he does. Just how much he’d accomplished, I never appreciated until I came here. In fact, it wasn’t until I was arguing with him over my betrothal that I found out that after my parents died, our family was left with nothing. Nicholas promised my mother that he would always look after me and he spent many a year saving all the money he could so that I could live in comfort and happiness, and Henry, too. Yet he never said a word about it, or gave any sign, or asked for our thanks—until I refused to marry the man he chose for me. He was furious and the truth came out as we quarreled. He was even more angry when I married Adair. But he came to our aid when we needed him most, and for that, I’ll be forever grateful.”
They passed through the second gate and continued toward the village. In the distance, Riona could make out the tavern, and the place where Percival had accosted her. At the edge of the green, the archer was being locked back in the stocks. He seemed to have accepted his fate with resignation, just as she had.
“Nicholas gave up a good deal for Henry and me, yet in spite of that, he succeeded where plenty of other men have not. His castle and his reputation are proof of that. But I don’t think Nicholas feels that he’s done enough, even now.”
Riona knew he didn’t, and why, but it was for Nicholas to voice his concerns to his sister, not her.
They came to the first few stone cottages. Lady Marianne turned down an alley that led to the river. “We can sit on the bank, if the grass is dry,” she proposed.
Riona silently agreed and followed her to the stony bank.
“The grass is too wet,” Marianne observed. She gestured to some large stones near the water’s edge. “These rocks aren’t. Not the softest seats in the world, but I can’t linger long anyway.”
She sat on a large one and Riona did the same.
When they were settled, Marianne gave a deep sigh. “Oh, it’s lovely to have a few moments to myself.”
“I know how you feel, my lady. That’s one reason I came here with my uncle. I wanted to get away from my responsibilities for a little while.”
How long ago it seemed since she’d had that conversation with Kenneth, and Uncle Fergus had come home with his news. How much had happened, and how her world had altered since.
“You have many responsibilities in Glencleith, I understand. Your uncle was telling me about you and all the things you do for him and your cousin and your clan.”
Riona looked away. “He shouldn’t boast so much. I do no more than any other woman would.”
“Perhaps not, but I can appreciate what he doesn’t say, because of what I’ve observed myself since I’ve been here. You may do your duty, and so might many another woman in your place, but you do it with love and cheerfulness.”
“Uncle Fergus is a very lovable fellow.”
Marianne laughed softly. “Aye, that he is. Quite a joy to talk to—and he loves you very much.”
“Yes, he does,” Riona answered. “That’s why we came here even though I was sure your brother wouldn’t want me. Uncle Fergus was so insistent, I didn’t have the heart to disappoint him.”
“You believe Nicholas won’t choose you?”
Riona saw no point denying the inevitable. “Your brother has already told me that he has no intention of marrying me.”
Lady Marianne frowned. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”
She sounded genuinely disappointed, which made that reality a little harder to bear.
“Your brother has been very frank about why we’re still here although my family has no money or power,” Riona replied. “He doesn’t want to risk any Scot saying he wouldn’t consider a Scots bride. I am but a representative of my country.”
Lady Marianne’s disconcertingly intense gaze seemed to grow even more so. “Do you not care for Nicholas then?”
Riona tried to keep her face expressionless, beyond mere mild interest. “I admire and respect him for all that he’s accomplished.”
Lady Marianne’s scrutiny was nearly as hard to endure as her brother’s, although the lady’s eyes were blue, not brown. “Perhaps you don’t think it’s any of my business, but I dearly want the brother who sacrificed so much for me to have some happiness and contentment in his life. I know what it is to love and be loved, Riona, and I want my brother to know it, too. Without love, his great castle might as well be a tomb, just a resting place for his body.”
“You should speak of these things to Eleanor,” Riona said, “for I believe she’s going to be his choice, and she should be. She’s a wonderful girl, and she’ll make him a fine wife.”
“That’s something I never thought I’d hear—a woman praising a rival.”
“We’re not rivals, my lady, since your brother will never choose me. We’re friends.”
“If you truly are her friend, you wouldn’t want her married to my brother.”
Riona couldn’t believe she’d heard aright.
“Oh, he’s not an evil man,” Lady Marianne hastened to clarify. “And I like Lady Eleanor, too. She’s a lovely young woman and quite charming, in a quiet sort of way. And well connected, of course. I simply don’t think she’ll suit my brother at all.”
Riona thought she could guess why. “To be sure, she’s young and a bit ignorant of some things about running a household, but she learns quickly, and I’m sure she’ll manage well, in time.”
Lady Marianne’s brow furrowed as she studied Riona, who desperately tried not to betray anything in her face. “Do you think she can make my brother happy?”
“Yes.” Eventually. Some day. And then she would be forgotten, or no more than a pleasant memory of a lover from days gone by.
“You mean that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Lady Marianne rose. “Then there is no more to be said, except that I’m sorry you feel that way. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should get back to my children.”
Riona was sorry she’d upset Lady Marianne, but there was no help for it. What good would it have done to tell her how she truly felt about Nicholas? That she would give nearly anything to be his wife? Nicholas couldn’t marry her. Love would not pay taxes. Love would not protect everything Nicholas had worked and suffered for. Love meant sacrifice, as well as joy, and she would not be responsible for the loss of Dunkeathe. She wouldn’t risk their affection turning to bitter resentment, perhaps even hatred. She would take what happiness she could with him, and be content.
And if she got with child…
She abruptly got to her feet and walked along the river bank, away from the castle.
A sound reached her ears from around a bend in the river shielded by a grove of willow and alder trees—a little boy’s gales of merriment. A man was laughing, too. She instantly recognized that laugh, although it was rarely heard, and then softly, when they were alone.
Eager to see Nicholas, sure the little boy must be Seamus, she rounded the bend, to behold the mighty Sir Nicholas of Dunkeathe prostrate on the ground, seemingly held there by the foot of a happily triumphant four-year-old Scot waving a small wooden sword.
“I won, I won!” Seamus cried.
“I cry you mercy, valiant knight,” Nicholas answered, throwing his arms out in complete surrender. “Allow me to rise before my tunic is ruined from the damp.”
The little boy removed his foot. “Very well,” he said with another flourish of his sword. “I give you back your life.”
Nicholas rolled over and got to his feet. “Thank God,” he said as he brushed bits of twig and grass from himself. Then he raised his eyes and saw Riona.
His smile of recognition made her heart sing. The glow in his eyes for her alone filled her with joy and made her quicken her pace, and his low obeisance made her feel like a queen.
“I fear I’m interrupting a tournament,” she said when she reached them.
Seamus looked as if he agreed.
“We’re finished, and alas, not too soon, for I was soundly beaten,” Nicholas admitted. His smile disappeared as he addressed his scowling nephew. “Sir Knight, where are your manners?”
Seamus bowed. “Greetings, my lady,” he muttered.
She bowed low in response. “Greetings to you, Sir Knight. I perceive you are a fine and valiant swordsman if you can triumph over your uncle. Although alas, I fear he’s getting old.”
When Nicholas shot her a disgruntled look, she tried to stifle her smile.
“Uncle Nicholas once beat twenty knights in a single day in a tournament,” the lad said, rushing to his uncle’s defense.
“I was much younger then,” Nicholas grudgingly admitted, “and by the end of that day, my arms were so tired, I thought they’d drop off.”
“You won anyway,” Seamus declared, obviously not willing to allow his uncle to be criticized, even by himself.
“I was lucky,” he replied. He looked at Riona with another devilish smile that played havoc with her heartbeat. “What brings you here, my lady, beyond seeing a demonstration of fine swordsmanship? Were you looking for me?”
“No. Your sister wished to speak to me.”
Nicholas’s grin disintegrated and his eyes narrowed a little. “What about?”
Riona wondered how much she should say to Nicholas about his sister’s views. She had heard enough to know that their relationship had not always been a smooth one; it was now, and she didn’t want to ruin it.
“I bet I know,” Seamus piped up before Riona could answer. “Mama thinks Uncle Nicholas doesn’t know how to find a wife.”
Having been forewarned by her conversation with the lady, Riona wasn’t nearly as surprised as Nicholas by this observation.
“She said that to you?” Nicholas asked.
Seamus’s face turned red. “Noooo,” he mumbled, digging his toe into the dirt and not meeting his uncle’s eye. “To Father. They didn’t know I was still awake.”
“I see,” Nicholas said in a tone that sounded interested, not annoyed. “And how does she think I ought to go about it?”
“I didn’t hear that part. They started whispering and laughing and I fell asleep.”
“I’ll have to ask her what I’m doing wrong.”
The little boy looked up at him with a stricken countenance. “You won’t tell her I said, will you?”
“Of course not. We’re brothers-in-arms, sworn to be loyal forever, and such an oath means that if you wish me to keep a secret, I will until the day I die.”
Seamus’s eyes widened, and well they might, for there was no mistaking the firm sincerity of Nicholas’s words.
“Now run along, young man,” he ordered, “or your mother will be angry at me for keeping you so long.”
The lad did as he was ordered, and scampered off toward the castle.
Nicholas reached out and took Riona’s hand. His touch was warm and welcome, intimate and friendly. Wonderful. Achingly, heartrendingly wonderful.
They strolled toward a large willow on the riverbank, its slender branches like long, flowing hair. He parted the natural curtain and led her inside. “And now, my love,” he said softly as they stood together beneath the branches, “what did Marianne really want to talk about?”
“You,” Riona answered, leaning against the willow’s trunk. “She wanted to be sure I knew your history and that you deserved to be happy.”
She reached up to brush her fingertips across his wrinkled brow. “She was disappointed when I said you wouldn’t marry me. I don’t think she realizes that everything she told me only made me better understand why you can’t.”
He regarded her with such tenderness as he caressed her cheek, it was hard to believe he was the powerful lord of a great castle. Now, he was simply the man she loved. “Riona, perhaps I should forget marrying Eleanor.”
She put her finger to his lips to silence him and shook her head. “If you lost Dunkeathe after all your efforts and suffering because of me, you might come to resent me. I won’t hazard that. Let’s enjoy what we have now, for the few nights we have left.”
“Once I’m wed, that will be the end, Riona,” he said, his voice low and mournful. “I will be faithful to the vows I make before God.”
“I would expect no less. And when you announce your choice at Lammas, my uncle and I will leave.”
Afterward, she would never see him again.
In spite of that, she gloried in the strength and warmth of him as they held each other, basking in his affection. Not afraid of the future, whatever it held. And yet…“Nicholas, if I should be with child when I go home, should I send word to you or would you prefer not to know?”
Taking hold of her shoulders, he held her away from him, and in his face, she saw the answer even before he said it, and was glad. “Of course you must tell me. Girl or boy, any child of ours will be known as mine, and proudly so.”
She smiled at him, loving him. Respecting him. Proud to have been his lover, come what may.
“But what of you, if that should be?” he asked, concern in his dark eyes. “How will your family treat you?”
“Uncle Fergus will be shocked, and disappointed, I’m sure. Kenneth…?” She shrugged her shoulders. “The same. But they won’t abandon me or force me from Glencleith. They are too kind and generous.”
“For your sake, I’m glad, but if you ever need anything, whether you bear my child or not, you mustn’t hesitate to come to me.”
“I will.” She stroked his arms and her body warmed as she leaned closer to his. “So we won’t worry about a child, but accept it as a gift, one to the other, if that should come to pass,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms about him. “Now kiss me, Nicholas, and love me, while we can.”
His eyes flared with exciting intensity as he took her in his arms. He kissed her fervently, while her tongue invaded the heat of his mouth, seeking that slick intimacy that foreshadowed the other.
Her upper back and shoulders against the tree, his fingertips glided over her bodice, then his palm cupped her breast. His hips pressed against hers, reminding her of what they’d done every night since she’d gone to his chamber the first time, as if she needed it. All the reminders necessary had been in his eyes when he looked at her, the smile she’d never seen him give another, the fierce passion in his kiss. And now his touch.
How she loved the strength of him, the power, the resolute will that had kept him alive for so long. She even admired the toughness he had acquired to survive.
She had to feel his naked skin, the heated flesh. Eagerly she thrust her hands under his tunic and over his flat stomach. One went higher, to brush lightly over his hardened nipple in a way that made him break the kiss to gasp, while her other hand went lower, to stroke the hardness there.
He closed his eyes and groaned as she aroused him further, delighting that she could make him feel such pleasure. Licking his neck. Kissing his jaw. Nibbling lightly on his earlobe as he stood still, powerless to move.
Until suddenly his eyes flew open—his desire-filled eyes, wild with a primitive hunger that took her breath away. “I want you now, Riona,” he said, his voice husky and urgent. “Right now. Right here.”
She said no word, but reached for the drawstring of his breeches and pulled the knot undone.
With a low growl that made her burn with passionate yearning, he grabbed her buttocks and lifted her. Her arms about his neck, she wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt and shift bunching about her thighs. His breathing ragged, he moved forward so that her back was full against the tree.
Holding herself steady with one arm, she reached down and guided him into her, muffling her moan of welcome against his neck as he entered. She held tight as they loved, biting her lip to keep from crying out with the sheer pleasure of having him hard inside her, filling her anew with every thrust, his breath hot on her cheek. The tension, wondrous, delicious, seeming never ending, built and built until she could stay silent no longer.
“Faster,” she begged, panting. “Harder.” She had to feel that moment of shattering ecstasy. She couldn’t wait. “Please…”
And then the tension snapped. Throbbing, she couldn’t stifle the groan that arose deep in her throat, a primal cry of release, echoed by her lover as he, too, climaxed, there against the tree.
Afterward, he stood still, his chest rising and falling as he breathed deep while she kissed his cheek and stroked his hair.
When he eventually withdrew, she unwrapped her legs and lowered them until she was standing. He adjusted his breeches as she brushed down the skirt of her gown.
Taking a deep breath, he raised his dark eyes. “Riona, that was…” He shook his head, and his wonderful, rare smile reappeared. “You simply astonish me. I’ve never met a woman like you in all my life.”
“I’ve never met a man like you,” she said, fixing her disheveled hair.
He took hold of her upper arms and kissed the tip of her nose. “You look beautiful—like a goddess of the forest.”
“I think I probably look a mess, and if I don’t fix my hair before I return to your castle, everyone will guess what I’ve been doing, if not with whom.” She cocked her head and ran her gaze over his magnificent body. “If they could see you now, they’d have their suspicions about you, too.”
“You think so?” he said, sidling forward and pressing her back against the tree.
Her breathing quickened. “I know so.”
“You think I have the look of a man who’s just made love?”
“I think you have the look of a man who’s been doing something that gives him pleasure and dishevels his clothes and makes his long hair need a comb.”
“Perhaps I should cut my hair.”
She reached out and ran her fingers through it, marveling at its thickness. “That would be a pity, my lord.”
“Then you like my hair this way, my lady?” He grinned and brushed it back over his shoulder with his hand. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s how the Scots wear it.”
“I am a Scot,” she replied, loving it when they spoke like this. Did anyone else ever hear that tender, teasing, yet incredibly arousing, tone in his voice?
Would his wife?
She pushed that thought away. “You should braid it at the sides the way Adair Mac Taran does,” she suggested. “I think that would look quite fetching.”
He laughed softly. “Fetching? Why the devil would I want to look fetching?”
“Because you are,” she pertly answered as she tucked a stray lock of his hair behind his ear. “Very handsome and thus, very fetching.”
“I don’t care what other women think of me.” He put his arms about her waist and drew her close. “Only you. What do you think of me, Riona?”
“That you’re a very vain fellow who blatantly seeks compliments.”
He frowned like a petulant little boy. “And here I thought you liked me.”
“Sir Nicholas of Dunkeathe, if I didn’t care for you a very great deal, I would not have made love with you, now or ever,” she said with mock severity.
His frown dissolved to a wistful expression. “I would give nearly anything…” he began, the words trailing off.
Nearly anything was not everything, and she accepted that. “I think we had best quit dallying underneath this tree, lest we be discovered.”
He nodded, becoming again the resolute, stern overlord. “Will you return first, or should I?”
“I will,” she replied. She kissed him once more lightly on the lips. “Until later, m’eudail,” she whispered before she hurried on her way.
O NCE R IONA reached the village, she slowed to a more leisurely pace. Although there were few people about, it not being market day, she didn’t want it to appear that she was running from anything, or anybody.
She strolled toward the stall of the man with the beautiful fabric. The indigo, she noticed, was gone.
“Good day, my lady,” the merchant said, nodding a greeting.
“Did my friend’s cousin buy the blue fabric?” she asked.
“No, it was another lady. Very beautiful she was but…” He gestured for her to come closer to hear. “Losh, my lady, she was the haughtiest Norman you ever did see.”
That had to be Joscelind.
“I’ve got some pretty blue ribbon, my lady. It’d be lovely on you.”
She shook her head. “Not today.” She turned to go and saw the archer in the stocks, head bowed. “How much longer does he have remaining in his punishment?” she paused to ask the merchant.
He thought a moment. “About a fortnight, I reckon.”
“That must seem like an eternity,” she noted before she walked away.
For her, time was flying by. Only three more days until Lammas, then Nicholas would announce his choice, and she’d be going back to Glencleith and what would surely be a lonely life there. Always, she would feel a loss.
“Greetings, my lady. What brings you here, I wonder—and all by yourself, too.”