Thistle and Roses Collection: A Bundle of Scottish, Irish and English Historical Romance

by Eliza Knight

  “Where is Lady Alexandra?” he demanded, entering the room and sweeping back the curtains to see if she hid behind them.

  “She usually leaves in the wee hours.”

  Alaric grunted. Skulking about the castle no doubt. Hiding her booty. He dropped to his hands and knees to check under the bed, then opened the wardrobe sifting through the gowns.

  “Sir, please, she is not here,” the woman pleaded.

  Indeed she was not and he’d frightened the poor lass. Alaric nodded, grunting again in frustration. “Keep my intrusion from her.” He didn’t want Alexandra to know he was looking for her, that would only give her a chance to come up with some excuse and to hide the missing jewels.

  “Aye, sir.”

  With that, he left the chamber and stormed down the stairs to the Great Hall. Just where would a traitorous Scot run off to each morning?

  The crown jewels? Alaric headed in the direction of the crown room, growing angrier with each slam of his foot on the stones. How dare she lure him with her sensual body, her heady kiss, her cunning mind? The lass had drawn him into a trap and now she’d taken advantage of him being off his guard. But how had she done it? If anything, since crossing Scottish soil, he’d been more on guard more alert for foes in their midst.

  He’d been looking in the wrong direction.

  Besides the guard who eyed Alaric suspiciously, the crown room was empty. And the jewels were still there.

  Alaric marched back in the direction he’d come, only thinking at the last minute to go up to the ramparts. If she were standing in the spot he showed her, where he’d kissed her the night before, he was going to go mad.

  At the top of the ramparts, her beautiful head was surrounded by the glowing pink and orange light of the sunrise.

  “Alaric,” she said, a cheerful smile on her rosy cheeks. “What a wonderful surprise.”

  Her face faltered when she took note of the fury evident in his features. Bloody hell, he wanted to throttle her. Wipe the cheer from her face and demand to know why she had betrayed him.

  “I gather you weren’t expecting to see me,” Alaric said, barely containing his fury.

  Her smile fell and she grimaced. “As a matter of fact, I had hoped to.”

  Alaric stormed toward her, gripped her by the shoulders his face coming within inches of her. Anger burned through his veins. “Stop playing these games.”

  “G—games?”

  Oh, the lass was good, she even sounded frightened.

  “You broke your promise to me. You lied to me.”

  Her brows scrunched with confusion. “I have done nothing of the sort! What do ye speak of?”

  “More lies. Where did you hide it?” he demanded.

  By God, if he had to throttle her, he would. But even the thought of marring a miniscule part of her flesh sent his gut into twisting knots of guilt.

  “Alaric, ye’re scaring me. What have I hidden?” Then her face blanched white and her mouth formed an O of surprise. “The necklace,” she stated.

  “Aye, the bloody necklace!”

  Alex closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them, they glistened. Would she try to use her tears and feminine wiles to trick him some more?

  “Your sobs will gain you nothing. Best tell me where the necklace is before I drag you to the dungeon.” Even the threat itself left him feeling sour. What would she do in the dungeon? Her silky skin nibbled on by rats.

  “Alaric, I swear to ye, I did not take the necklace. I did not.”

  Her limbs trembled under his grip. He let go. The thought of her being afraid of him was unbearable. He was not a monster. Their gazes locked, her eyes entreated him, hands outstretched to him, faltering and falling back to her sides.

  Alex’s words sounded genuine, but how could he believe her? Every time he drew near to her his mind became a jumble of thoughts. This treachery he could not forget. And yet, looking at her, studying her honest face and her imploring eyes, his gut told him to trust her. But his mind… In his mind the skeptic raged.

  And his heart—why did it feel like it was ripping out his chest?

  “You know how important Queen Margaret is to me. That I am honor-bound to protect her and her property. How could you do this to me, Alex? I cared about you.”

  Alex reached for him, her hands brushing his arms, but Alaric took a step back, out of her range.

  “Alaric, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. When I told ye how I felt, I meant it. When I told ye my allegiance was to the crown, I spoke the truth. It wasn’t me. Ye have to believe me.”

  Alaric frowned, growling, “I wish I could.”

  He left her there on the ramparts, the memory of her honeyed kiss bittersweet to her treachery.

  Devastated didn’t begin to describe the heart wrenching sensation laying havoc to Alex’s heart. What had happened? Who could have set her up this way? All she’d wanted was to be with Alaric. To make him proud. To do the right thing by the new queen and her king. And now, someone had sabotaged that.

  Angry tears burned in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

  She stormed down the stairs, fists clenched, intent on finding out, however she could, who had taken the necklace. She had to clear her name.

  As Alex reached the bottom of the stairs, a statuesque woman slipped inside a tower door. Dressed in peach-colored satin, and the same color ribbons woven through her curls. She was a familiar figure. Too familiar.

  What in…?

  Alex couldn’t believe her eyes. Was that her eldest sister, Agnes? She must have come to court with her husband to celebrate the king’s marriage. And that meant…

  Holy Mary Mother of God.

  Alex raced after her sister, catching up with her in a darkened corridor within the castle.

  “Agnes,” she blurted out, not sure exactly how to accuse her sister of duplicity.

  Agnes turned around, the sneer she’d been wearing on her face most of Alex’s life still solidly in place. Her features were much like their mother’s. In fact, all of her sisters had the look of their mother, save for Alex. She took after her mother’s sister, and if she were to listen to the talk of the maids, she had also inherited the only pretty face. When Alex had sobbed to her governess growing up about how badly her mother and sisters had treated her, the sweet, old woman had often said they were merely jealous of her beauty, for they had nothing but bitterness in their blood.

  “I see ye found me,” Agnes said, bored. She waved off a fly that buzzed around her head.

  “When did ye arrive at court?” Alex asked, trying to sound normal, but her voice was just a little too rushed.

  “Yesterday.”

  Alex frowned. “Why did ye not send for me?”

  “What for?” Agnes rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot as if counting down the seconds before she could rush off.

  ’Twas obvious her sister held no warm feelings about her or their reunion and only sought to make this exchange most unpleasant. Alex refused to be cowed. She’d found an inner strength since coming to court. A will to stand up for herself like she’d not had before.

  “Did ye take the necklace?” No sense beating around the bush with Agnes.

  Her sister laughed, head falling back and the peeling sound echoing painfully in Alex’s head.

  “Take the necklace? Why ye little whelp, wasn’t that yer duty?” She sneered, her arms coming uncrossed as she leaned closer, obviously looking Alex up and down and finding her wanting. “Mother knew ye wouldn’t do it.”

  “Did ye take it?” Alex asked again.

  “Go back to Caerlaverock where a ninny like ye belongs.” Agnes did not answer the question, but whirled on her slippered heel and stormed away.

  Agnes had to have been the one to take it. She never confessed, but she didn’t deny it either. The truth had been written on her face. Alex had to find Alaric. She had to tell him. Had to make sure he knew it wasn’t her responsible, but her sister.

&nb
sp; But… Then her sister would be arrested. Punished. And it would have been Alex who snitched on her. Despite how her family treated her, like a black sheep, Alex still didn’t want to give up her sister’s name right away. There was still a chance it wasn’t Agnes… though it was highly doubtful. If pressed, Alex would tell Alaric it was her sister, but beg him to keep that part a secret, even though she knew he’d likely deny her.

  Alex chewed her lip the entire length of the grounds and back looking for Alaric. The castle had come to life and the sounds along with it. At this rate, she was likely to only find him in the Great Hall at supper that evening.

  After an hour, with one last ditch effort, she headed toward the stable, in hopes of finding him there. But she wasn’t prepared for what she saw upon pushing open the door.

  Alaric stood without his shirt on, in only a pair of breeches as he brushed his horse, then led it to the center aisle before tying his reins to the walls.

  For a few blessed seconds she memorized every rippling muscle of his back and the powerful corded strength of his arms and shoulders. The line of his spine was one she’d use to measure all else.

  But her moment of admiration was quickly doused when he turned and glared at her once more. Her heart hurt seeing him stare at her that way. She didn’t want him to hate her. Wanted to be back up on those ramparts where nothing existed but the two of them and the light of the stars and moon.

  Alaric flicked his hand to the servants present, sending them out the door, leaving the two of them alone.

  “Go back to your chamber, my lady. I will be with you shortly to deal with your disloyalty,” he growled.

  Alex rushed forward, shaking her head. “Nay, Alaric, ye must listen to me.”

  He turned slowly, crossing his arms over his glorious, muscled chest and leaned against his horse. A sprinkle of hair danced over the sinew of his torso and she couldn’t stop staring. She’d not seen a man in such a state before. At least not a man that made her heart pound.

  “Listen to you? I need do no such thing. Leave it for the king to decide.”

  She pressed her hands together, holding them to her heart. “It wasn’t me, I swear. And I know who it was.”

  Though he didn’t move, his eyebrows lifted with interest. “Do you now?”

  “Aye,” she rushed out, praying he wouldn’t ask her to give him a name and knowing all the while that thought was silly.

  “Tell me who could have possibly stolen the necklace that you so desperately wanted to take for yourself?”

  Alex chewed her lip, her excitement faltering. “I cannot tell ye, only that it wasn’t me.”

  Alaric let out a frustrated growl. “More lies. Have you not had enough? For I have.”

  He moved to turn back to his horse, but Alex reached out. “Wait. I’ll tell ye, but ye must promise to keep it quiet.”

  Though he kept his gaze on her, he said nothing. Made no promises to her, not like he had before. Alex either had to accept that, or walk away now and wait for the castle guards to collect her for something she didn’t do. Once again she was in the same position of protecting her family or following her heart. Her heart that led to Alaric.

  Alex whispered a prayer for forgiveness and then confessed what she knew. “My sister.”

  “Your sister?” Alaric studied Alex, praying what she said was true.

  He’d been walking around with an immeasurable pain in his chest since earlier that morning when he’d found her on the ramparts and he knew there was only one way to alleviate it—to find her not guilty.

  “Aye,” she whispered. Though her gaze was steady on his, he could see her demeanor cracking.

  “I believe you.” Alaric held out his arms and Alex all but rushed into them.

  “Oh, Alaric, ye have no idea how much I needed to hear that.” Her arms circled around his waist and her warm, tear-stained cheek pressed to his chest.

  Alaric held her tight, nuzzling the top of her head and breathing in the floral scent of her hair. “I’m sorry, love. I beg your forgiveness for the boar I acted today.”

  She shook her head, the softness of her hair tickling his skin. Hell, but he knew he couldn’t live without her. Holding her in his arms felt so right. Just the few hours since he thought she’d betrayed him left him nearly broken.

  “I do not blame ye. How could ye have known?” Alex’s voice wobbled.

  “But I should have. You’ve been nothing but honest with me from the moment we met, even if you didn’t share your parents’ directive right from the start, you did eventually tell me. I know you, Alex. I know you wouldn’t have been able to go through with it. I just… I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you told me before.”

  Alex turned her face up to him, emotion shining within the depth of her eyes. “I would never do anything that I knew would disappoint ye. That would have me losing respect for myself.”

  Brushing the tears from her cheeks, Alaric smiled. “Even when I thought you might have, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, caring about you. Couldn’t stop the rush of sentiment that clouds my mind every time I envision your face or hear your name.”

  A soft smile curved her lips and he couldn’t help but brush his thumb over her bottom lip. Velvet, sweet.

  Alex tucked her head against his palm. “The great warrior knight talking words of sentiment?”

  “Oh, aye, love. You, Lady Alexandra Maxwell, have bewitched me. I would crawl to the ends of the earth for you. Fight every battle. Leap from buildings. Face a boar with no weapons.”

  “Ye needn’t do any of that. I’d not ask it of ye. Besides, what if one of yer acts of love proved fatal? Or maimed ye in some way?”

  “Would you not love me if I were maimed?” He grinned and tickled her chin.

  Love. He’d just said the word out loud without having ever confessed it, or even admitted it to himself. His stomach leapt to his throat and he found himself without breath.

  Alex’s eyes widened, her lips half open on a gasp. “Do ye love me, Alaric?” she questioned quietly.

  He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers, staring into the one eye both of hers had become. “I love you very much.”

  “The truth is,” she started, licking her lips, her grasp tightening around his middle. “The thing is I would love ye the way ye are, maimed or even beyond the grave.”

  His chest swelled. “I’d never hoped to hear those words from anyone. But the day we met, when I caught you in my arms, and you stared up at me with a mixture of hope and panic, I wanted you to be mine for the rest of my days.”

  Alaric gently brushed his lips over hers. He kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead, then went back to her lips to kiss her with all the love he felt. Wrapped tightly in his arms, just where he wanted her to stay all of his days.

  “How can we?” she asked, arms circling around his neck.

  “I want to marry you, Alex. Say you will.” He pulled back, staring into her eyes, suddenly feeling as though his life would be over if she said no.

  How had he gone from being a confident knight of the realm to a nervous, green lad still tugging at his leading strings? He’d laughed at men before him, his brothers, when they’d felt the same way, swearing he would never endure such. But here he was, getting down on his knees, holding onto the hands of the woman who held his life in her grasp.

  “Marry me,” he said again, eyes up toward her.

  “But I am Scottish.” She shook her head.

  “That does not matter. I’d not have you any other way. You see your sovereign has married an Englishwoman. Throughout the de Garde line, we English have married Scots. I want you for my wife. I cannot live without you.”

  “What of the law? Of permission? My parents will surely deny it.”

  “I will gain permission from the king myself. Queen Margaret will be in favor of the match. And if they deny us, I will whisk you over the border before anyone can stop us.”

  Alex got down on her knees, scooting close to
Alaric on the dirty, stable floor, their thighs touching. “I do not want to live without ye in my life. I am certain I’d be miserable the rest of my days.” She smiled crookedly. “Ye know, I’d not had much, if any, confidence before I met ye.”

  “Bah, I’ve only known you to be filled with fire.” He brushed his lips on hers.

  Alex cupped her hands on his cheeks, stroking his cheekbones. “A spark of a flame that grew into a blaze.”

  “That is how I feel about you. Answer me, please. You torment me with the waiting.” He drew her hands to his chest, letting her feel the beat of his heart.

  “Aye, Sir Alaric de Garde, I will marry ye.”

  Epilogue

  Ravenshelm Castle

  Northumbria

  3 weeks later

  “Welcome home, my love,” Alaric whispered into Alex’s ear as he tugged her down from his massive mount.

  When their wish to marry was propositioned before King James and Queen Margaret, they’d readily agreed, and Queen Margaret had quickly written a letter to her father, begging his agreement on yet another alliance between thistles and roses. Henry VII’s reply was quick and affirmative, and within that hour, they’d been married in a simple, small ceremony at St. Margaret’s Chapel—though not without plenty of complaints from Alex’s father. Her mother, on the other hand, was quite silent.

  And Agnes? She and her husband disappeared from court shortly after the queen’s prized necklace was mysteriously returned to her little, wooden chest.

  As soon as the ceremony was over, Alaric had whisked her onto his horse, ordered his things sent to England and they’d been off. Just shy of a week they’d traveled, stopping at inns to sleep.

  They’d not yet consummated their marriage due to Alex’s more personal matter, which Alaric was very accommodating to ignore. But now that was over and they were here!

  “I have never been so happy to be on English soil,” Alex teased, wrapping her arms around her husband’s neck.