Chapter Nine
The soldiers weren’t sure what to do at first.
An aggressive woman identifying herself as Lady Pembury was demanding to see one of the prisoners and, not knowing the true identity of the woman with the slight Scottish burr, they grabbed her and threw her in the nearest cell because she would not leave when they told her to.
But the cell they tossed her into also fortuitously contained Kynan Lott MacKenzie, who was beside himself with astonishment when his well-dressed and lovely cousin was thrown unceremoniously into the cramped vault with him and nine other men.
His mouth flew open at the site of little Jo-Jo Seton.
Everyone in his cell was chained to varying degrees so no one could make a swipe for her.
Her safety was not truly in jeopardy. Somewhat terrified but wildly happy she had ended up in Kynan’s cell, Joselyn made her way over to her cousin against the far wall.
She put her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.
“Ky,” she pulled back, looking into his dirty and bruised face. “Are you well? Have they injured you?”
Kynan shook his head, his still-astonished gaze moving over his cousin. “Jo-Jo,” he breathed. “Are ye well, lass? What have they done tae ye?”
She shook her head as his rant gained volume. “They have not done anything to me. I am uninjured,” she added for effect, “for the moment.”
Kynan studied his beautiful young cousin, a look of extreme sorrow on his face. “Oh, Jo-Jo,” he moaned softly. “The big English knight told me he’d married ye. Is it true?”
Joselyn’s smile faded somewhat. Once Stephen noticed she was missing, she knew he would suspect where she had gone.
Time was therefore limited and she was determined to find out what she could before Stephen found her and dragged her out by the feet.
She was willing to risk his wrath in order to help him. And she was willing to betray her kin.
“’Tis true,” she crouched next to Kynan, playing the part of the fearful Scot.
She hoped the performance was good enough.
“King Edward forced me to marry him to form an alliance between the English and the Scots. They sent my father to the dungeons of Alnwick Castle. You must help me, Ky. I must get away from here.”
Kynan rattled his chains. “I canna help ye, lass. They have me caged like a beast.”
Joselyn grabbed his arms desperately. “Then tell me where I can go, who will hide me. I must get away from my husband where he cannot find me.”
Kynan looked as stricken as she sounded. “Jo-Jo, would that I could help ye, lass. I canna do anything tae help ye.”
Joselyn was becoming caught up in her act. Tears popped into her eyes. “They killed my mother,” she began to weep. “They will kill me next. Please tell me where to go. I must flee!”
Kynan’s expression slackened. “Julia,” he repeated, shocked. “The English bastards killed her?”
Joselyn nodded, her hand against her mouth in a dramatic attempt to hold back the sobs. “Aye,” she whispered. “Please help me, Ky.”
He stared at her, feeling helpless and furious at the same time. “I dunna know what I can do,” he muttered. “There was a battle last night. I dunna know where me men are now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I dunna know where they were holed up. I canna send ye out into the world if I dunna know where they are, tae take ye in tae a safe haven.”
“But I must escape to them. Please help me, Ky. You must tell me where to go.”
Kynan was torn. His young cousin was truly distraught and it never occurred to him not to believe her.
He was simply afraid that her husband, the big English hound, would track her and by doing so, find his men.
She would lead him right to them. But he could not refuse to help his cousin, not when she had suffered from such a terrible life now made worse by a forced marriage.
Aye, he knew about the life that Uncle Alexander had put her through.
It was a deep family shame. He found he was desperate to aid her, to help her break free.
“Go south on the main road towards the cemetery,” he hissed at her. “There’s a church. Find the priest. He’ll tell ye where tae hide.”
Joselyn squeezed his arms gratefully. “Thank you,” she murmured with great relief. “To know that I can escape to safety means the world to me.”
They could suddenly hear banging and voices coming from the entry to the gatehouse.
Men were calling to each other and voices were being raised.
Someone was calling someone else an idiot.
The man sounded angry. Eyes wide, Joselyn remained crouched next to Kynan, still clutching the man’s arm.
It did not take long before Ian appeared at the cell door.
His dark eyes fixed on her, at the far end of the cell.
“Lady Pembury,” he motioned angrily to the jailer to open the door. “What are you doing in here? Your husband is searching for you, my lady.”
“I was visiting my cousin,” she told him.
Ian was beckoning to her. “This is no place for you, my lady. Please come with me immediately.”
With a heavy sigh that sounded to Kynan like a sob, Joselyn rose and went to the cell door that was now opening. Kynan watched her pass through it, into the possessive grip of the same English knight who had beat him.
God help her, he thought grimly.
*
Joselyn and Ian ran into Stephen just as they were exiting the vault. Stephen’s eyes fixed on his wife with great relief and a shadow of irritation. Ian had her by the arm, leading her towards her husband.
“She was in the vault, my lord,” Ian handed her over to her husband. “She said that she was visiting her cousin.”
The relief in Stephen’s eyes cooled as he gazed down at her. “I see,” he rumbled, focusing on his wife. “I went to our chamber to see if you had returned there. I sent Ian to the vault on the chance that you might have disobeyed me. I see that you have.”
Joselyn made the only tactical move she could make, considering he was correct to be angry with her. She didn’t like the look in his eye. She threw her arms around his waist and buried her face in his tunic.
“Forgive me,” she begged softly. “I had to try. I felt strongly that I had to try. I cannot see you fight another battle that might result in your death. Please do not be angry with me.”
She was prattling and Stephen’s annoyance faded.
He was simply glad she was safe, whether or not she had disobeyed him.
If he was honest with himself, he knew she had gone there all along.
She had, if nothing else, great determination.
With a sigh, he put his big hand on her head, buried against his chest, and turned her for the keep.
“Alright, sweetheart, alright,” he shushed her gently. “I am not angry. But I am disappointed that you would not respect my wishes.”
“I am sorry,” she repeated, genuinely contrite. “But I was sure he would tell me things that he would not tell you and if I can prevent another battle, Stephen, I feel very strongly that I must do so. Would you let me die if you could prevent such a thing?”
They were approaching the dark, towering keep. “I already do,” he said quietly as they entered the door. “Everything I do, I do to keep you safe. Yet you seem intent on fighting me at times.”
He helped her up the steep spiral stairs. “It is not my intention to fight you,” she said as they reached the landing. “But if I can help you create peace for Berwick, why do you not let me?”
They reached the chamber and Stephen opened the door. “Must I go through this with you again?” he sighed.
Joselyn entered the room, realizing that Mereld or Tilda must have come in because the fire was stoked and there was food on the small table. She went over and sat on the bed. She suddenly didn’t feel like arguing with him any longer.
“Nay,” she said with defeat, averting her eyes. “You do not.”
He watched her dark head, his blue eyes glimmering at her. He removed his big leather gloves and set them on the table.
“Shall we eat?” he asked. “Someone has gone to the trouble to bring us food.”
She shook her head, still looking away from him. “I am not hungry.”
He went over to the bed, took her by the hand, and pulled her to stand. Leading her over to the little table, he sat in the oak chair and pulled her onto his lap. He began ripping the bread apart, handing her the soft white middle.
“Was disobeying me worth the effort?” Stephen asked softly as he shoved a piece of bread into his mouth.
Joselyn looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Did he tell you what you wanted to know?”
She pondered his question with a sinking heart.
If she told him the truth, then Stephen would take a battalion of men to the church that Kynan had described.
All he would succeed in doing would be scattering the rebels and possibly getting himself killed in the process.
The thought sickened her. It sickened her more that she was about to lie to him, convinced she could do what he could not.
Kynan’s men would trust her. Perhaps she could convince them to surrender.
It was a foolish thought but the idea of Stephen lying dead with an arrow through his heart made her think foolish, desperate thoughts.
“He told me that he was caged like a beast,” she said, forcing the soft white bread to her mouth and chewing slowly. “He wanted to know how I was. You told him that we were married?”
Stephen moved for the hunk of warmed-over mutton with just a hint of his wife’s marvelous sauce from the day before. “I did,” he took a big bite. “I wanted him to know that I was now his kin.”
“Why?”
He looked at her. “Because it will give him pause, knowing he is related to me, before trying something foolish against me.”
She lifted a dark eyebrow at him. “Scots fight whomever they choose, whenever they choose. It matters not if they battle kin or strangers.”
His blue eyes twinkled. “Perhaps,” he agreed, chewing the mutton. “But I wanted to give the man something new to consider next time he orders his rebels to attack.”