Of course, there was his pleasing visage to consider. Truth be told, she liked his handsome face and fine form. She could do much worse. A pleasing countenance plus a compassionate heart was a heady combination.
Claire shivered. She did not want to care for him. She pulled her hatred for all Scots over her like a shroud over a decaying body. No matter if her heart became diseased from bitterness. No matter if the hatred caused disharmony within these walls. No matter if God watched or not. She wouldn’t care for—or bed—the man willingly.
In honor of her dead mother, she would stoke her hatred for her betrothed.
No matter how nice he acted.
Chapter 11
Ian strode into the bailey. The crisp breeze hitting him in the face cleared his foggy brain after a deep sleep. After feasting and seeing Claire to her chamber last eve, Ian had bedded on the lumpy straw mattress he’d been provided his first night at Whitfield—the one he’d abandoned in search of his escaped intended.
Now he was handfasted and didn’t need to watch over his lady. He had abided the king’s decree. She could now run away, and he’d still have Whitfield. He halted in the middle of the bailey, as chickens clucked all around the yard. She wouldna attempt to leave now that she was bound, would she?
Nay. He shook off the thought and continued on toward the stables. He had much to accomplish today. First, a tour of Whitfield, and then he must prioritize all the repairs. Claire hadn’t appeared at breakfast, so he’d see about getting horses ready for their excursion.
Phillip drew alongside him. “I say, for all of Whitfield’s lack, it boasts a fine cook.”
“Alma does well with the little she has to work with.” While the food had been delicious, there hadn’t been much of it—and not a large variety.
“As for the keep itself …” Phillip shook his head.
“I ken. There is much to do.” The mental list in Ian’s mind kept growing, and his shoulders tightened. How would the ever-expanding list be completed?
“’Twill take us years to rebuild it all,” said Phillip.
“Aye, but we must or else live among ruins. Think you a ghost or two inhabits the keep?”
Phillip crossed himself. “Blessed saints! I hope not! I support you fully, but if the castle turns out to be haunted, I shall return to Ramslea straightaway.”
Ian laughed. “Are you afeared of a wee ghostie?”
“I shall admit to the fear and not be ashamed of it.” Phillip crossed himself once more and then rubbed his hands together. “So, what work do you have for me this day?”
Ian could use some of Phillip’s enthusiasm in the face of his fear. “I want you to begin training the guards while I—”
Phillip came to a stop. “Have you seen Whitfield’s men?”
“Aye.”
“They need more than my help.”
“You are my head guardsman and are capable of seeing to their training. I have complete faith in you.”
Phillip stepped closer. “In truth, Ian, you require more guards. Able men that will add not only numbers, but strength as well.”
“I ken, and I shall find them. Meanwhile, we must work with what we have.” He turned and headed for the stable, motioning Phillip to follow.
“What will you do whilst I make the guards weep?”
“Claire and I will tour the land. I want to see the full scope of Whitfield.”
“I should go with you for protection.”
“I am more than capable of protecting my lady.” His lady? He shot a look at his friend.
Phillip smirked. “I was thinking to protect you from your lady.”
Ian laughed. “There is some truth in your words.”
Ian met Toly at the stables and ordered mounts saddled for himself and Claire. Turning back to Phillip, “See to it my maidenly guards are turned into warriors.”
“That I shall,” said Phillip.
As Phillip left, Ian turned his attention to the keep. The gray stone structure seemed sound, not pitted like the outer walls surrounding it. Though small, it did house one tower with a room above the circular stairwell. Three stories tall, the great hall, kitchen, and cellarium were situated on the first floor, the lord’s chamber, solar, and two extra rooms on the second, with the third floor left as rooms for the servants. Once bairns arrived, the servants would have to sleep in the great hall.
Bairns. Wee ones to carry on his name. ’Twasn’t something he’d considered while serving as a guard at Ramslea. He knew he would wed at some point, but never had he dreamed he’d marry an unwilling lass or be saddled with a broken-down castle. Never had he examined the possibility of family. The thought of bedding Claire—well, he had considered that part—but producing bairns? How could he be a good parent when he had been given such a poor example in his own?
The subject of his thoughts exited the keep, and Ian blinked, shaking off the past. Claire wore a plain, dove-gray gown, her hair plaited into a long braid hanging over her shoulder. The breeze whisked wavy tendrils about her face like butterflies flitting around a flower. She walked toward him, carrying a cloth sack. Her limp was not as pronounced as it had been yesterday.
He met her in the middle of the bailey. “Your foot is improved?”
“Much better, as you can see.”
“’Tis good. Toly is getting the horses readied. Shall I carry you to the stable?”
“Nay!” She skirted around him.
Ian fell into step beside her. “I was only offering my services.”
Claire didn’t respond. “Alma sent food and ale for us.” She held up the sack.
“We need provisions to view all of Whitfield?”
She shook her head. “I know the castle itself is not impressive, but there is a good amount of land.”
“I am surprised, but glad to hear it.”
Toly had their horses ready. Ian walked Claire to her palfrey and slid his hands around her waist and set her on her saddle. His hand lingered as the scent of lavender clung about her, arousing his senses.
She raised her brow, and he snatched his hand away. What was he doing? He dinna need to raise her temper. He’d promised he would try to get along, though ’twas rather enjoyable, the feel of her. There was the fire in her emerald eyes to consider as well. Increasing her ire with a touch now and then could prove entertaining, but if he wanted to win her trust, and ultimately her acceptance, he would act honorably, as a nobleman would. He might even consider wooing her to hasten the process. The corners of his mouth lifted.
“What do you find humorous?”
“Nothing.” Ian mounted his steed. He smiled as they rode their mounts to the gate. Ralph opened the heavy doors, and they rode through the barbican and outside the castle walls.
“You lead the way.” Ian bit back a smile at the fleeting look of surprise that crossed Claire’s face. Her eyes lit up as she kicked the horse’s flanks and was off.
Ian pressed forward, chasing after her. The cool wind made his eyes water as they raced down the road. By the saints, she rode as if demons nipped at her heels. Perhaps ’twas how she saw him, a demon come to steal her home.
They galloped past the woods to their right and into an open space with a few thickets of trees scattered here and there. They crested a hill, and she pulled to a stop once they reached two merestones, one on each side of the road.
“This is the southern border. We shall go east until we hit the eastern boundary.” She guided her horse along the crest of the hill. As it began to slope, they came to a small valley where a good-sized stream ran through, flowing from north to south.
“This is the stream that runs close to the castle.” Claire veered southward a few paces and led them across the water.
“I noticed a well in the bailey behind the keep. Does it provide all your water?”
“Mostly. In dry seasons, we haul water from the stream.”
The water level rose to his feet as Ian reached the middle of the current. “Does it deepen further?”<
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Claire glanced over her shoulder. “Are you fearful of getting wet?”
“Nay, only curious.” In truth, he disliked water sloshing in his boots.
The horses stepped onto dry ground and moved eastward through a tree line. Once out in the open, Claire pointed to the left. “You can see the land used for planting.”
Ian peered across the wide expanse of fallow soil. “There are no crops this year?”
“There is no one to work the fields.”
“No tenants? Serfs?”
“Whitfield had no serfs. We had tenants who took a portion of the harvest for their own. When Lord Whitfield wouldn’t repair their homes or demanded more of the harvest to pay for his lack of funds to pay his taxes, they left to find work elsewhere.”
“Are the tenant homes near here?” asked Ian.
“Nay, they sit on the northwest piece of the property. There are more fields there.”
Ian drew a deep breath, relieved there were actual homes tenants could live in. They moved on, and after a while they came to another merestone close to the edge of a forested area to the east. Claire pulled up her horse.
“The forest lies on Bardsley’s land. As we travel northward on the borderline, everything to the east belongs to Bardsley.”
Ian nodded. The fallow fields to the left stood in stark contrast to the rich forest on the right. There was much work to be done to get the soil tilled and crops planted. “Let’s move ahead.”
Claire spurred her horse northward. He drew up beside her, and they rode quickly, passing merestones every so often. They crossed the road that led from the south and skirted the castle by half a mile, veering northeast through Bardsley’s land.
After they left the road, the land opened up to a large expanse of green grassland, vibrant with new spring growth. Dotted with clumps of trees, the view spread for miles on both sides of the merestones along the eastern border.
A flock of sheep appeared ahead, spreading over Whitfield’s land. There had been no mention of livestock of any kind. “You have sheep?” asked Ian.
“Nay,” she called, slowing her mount as they neared the flock. “These must be Bardsley’s.”
A pounding of hooves sounded, and Ian turned to see a couple of men riding from the west on Whitfield’s land. Ian’s hand went to his sword. “Do you recognize the men?”
“I do not, but with the sheep here, perhaps they are Bardsley’s men watching the flock.”
Ian moved his horse between the riders and Claire, keeping his hand on his sword hilt. Claire pulled up beside him.
Daft woman. Once again, he moved ahead of her. “Stay behind me.”
“I am not afraid.”
“Do as I say, woman.”
He heard her gasp, no doubt considering ways to do him in. Now wasna the time to placate her. Though he expected her to defy his order, she remained where she was.
The riders slowed and stopped several feet away.
“You are on Whitfield land,” said Ian. “Who are you, and what is your purpose?”
The bigger man on the right raised his hand in greeting. “Borth, from Bardsley Castle. We tend sheep for the lord.”
Ian glanced at Claire. “Did you give Bardsley permission?”
She shook her head. “Nay. He did not ask.”
“You need to move your sheep off my property immediately.”
“Lord Bardsley will not take kindly to your interference,” said Borth.
“He has his own land to run sheep on.”
“You do not want to cross Bardsley.”
“You dinna want to cross me.” Ian tightened his grip on his sword. “Remove the flock and tell your lord I shall pay him a visit on the morrow. Perhaps we can work out an agreement.”
Borth glanced at his companion and then gave Ian a small nod. “Very well. But know that you risk much in crossing Bardsley.”
Ian met Borth’s gaze unwaveringly but didn’t respond. The man finally turned his horse around, and the two herded the flock westward.
“Come, let us continue.” Ian clicked his tongue, and his steed moved forward.
“You don’t want to wait and make sure they leave?” Claire frowned. “What if they move the sheep back once we are out of sight?”
“If they do, I shall find out tomorrow when I meet with Bardsley.”
“Do you truly think he will agree to anything you say?” Claire shook her head.
“I doubt it, but I shall propose he rent the land to graze his flocks.”
“And if he does not?”
“He can either pay, or I shall take some of his flock as payment.”
Claire’s eyes grew wide. “You would steal his sheep?”
“Not steal. It would be for payment instead of coin.”
“What if they force you to give the sheep back? With so few guards, we couldn’t withstand a fight with Bardsley and his men.”
“I’m working on that.”
“Truly? I want to know how.”
By the saints, the woman was persistent with her questions. How could he respond in a way that would satisfy her? He had a sinking feeling anything he said would be met with laughter—or worse, derision. Though he should be used to such reactions from her, he dinna care for his future wife to think more poorly of him than she already did.
Slanting a glance at Claire, he replied, “I’m going to bribe.”
Chapter 12
Claire’s mouth parted at the Scot’s words. Had she heard him aright? He would bribe? Her brows furrowed, suddenly worried about their future. “You are going to bribe Bardsley?”
“Not him, woman,” Ian growled. “I shall find more guardsmen for Whitfield, bribing them if necessary.”
Claire relaxed in her saddle. “What will you bribe them with? Whitfield’s hearty food? Its fine lodging?” What did he have to offer? Mayhap the amount of coin he had hidden away was more than she suspected.
“There are a number of things I can offer.” The Scot sat tall in his saddle.
“Such as?”
“The promise of a good future.”
Claire shook her head. “’Twill take a long time to complete Whitfield’s repair. Between the castle walls, the tenant homes needing repair, and the fields, it might be years before we earn a profit.”
Ian shrugged. “We shall see. I need to see the extent of the work needed first.”
We shall see? That was all he had to say? Claire wanted to … to … she didn’t know what she wanted. His refusal to share his thoughts stirred her ire. She wanted to take charge, demand a better answer, a better plan. Rather than speak her mind, she spurred her horse into a sudden flight across the pastureland. The wind on her cheeks cooled her rising temper.
Hooves pounded behind her, yet she kept her lead, passing boundary markers one by one. After a while, her horse showed signs of tiring, and Claire reined in her mount to a walk.
McGowan came alongside her, his smile wide. “Was that the quick tour of the pastureland?”
Claire laughed, momentarily forgetting her frustration. The man had a sense of humor. “’Tis so. On this corner of the land, there’s nothing much to look at but pasture.”
“Did your guardian ever run sheep on the land?”
“Aye, when I first came to Whitfield, there was a small flock. But over the years, as my guardian shirked his responsibility, we ate the sheep for sustenance.”
“No one hunted for game instead?”
“We had lost many workers by that time. Our best hunters had gone.”
“You have guards, plus Toly and Noah.”
Claire stiffened her spine. “Lord Whitfield was lazy and did nothing but drink all day, so I took over. We’d already lost our flock, so I had the men hunt in the woods, and while they didn’t bring in an abundance of game, it kept us fed.”
Ian reached out and briefly touched her shoulder. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have criticized. I know you love Whitfield and care for its people. You have done well, for they are
loyal to you.”
Claire’s shoulder tingled where he’d touched her. ’Twas rare to receive compliments—even more so to be touched with compassion from someone other than her female servants. She didn’t understand this man. One minute he was lording his power over her; the next he was praising her care over Whitfield. She reached out and patted her horses’ neck—anything to assuage the uncomfortable feelings the man stirred. “I wish I could have done more.”
“If you had the funds to do whatever you wanted to Whitfield, what would you do?”
Claire pursed her lips. “I would first fix the tenant homes so people would actually want to live in them and work the land. I would repair the castle wall, but I would build an outer wall and fill the outer bailey with a large guard house, a larger smithy, and put the stables there instead of inside the bailey.” She gazed over the pasture, so wide and free. “I would add sheep. A large number of sheep. A traveling merchant said wool is selling well. We could use the manure to fertilize the fields. Perhaps grow wheat or barley.”
Stopping her mount, she looked at Ian. “I’m afraid I have many dreams for the land.”
He pulled his horse to a stop. “You do, but I like your ideas.”
“Do you?”
“Aye, they are not far off from what has been running through my own mind.”
“Truly?” Claire breathed in, hope brewing within her breast. “So how much coin to do you have? Enough to do all I desire?”
He threw back his head and laughed. Claire’s flesh tingled at the sound, his deep voice resonating through her like thunder on a stormy night.
“I wish I had enough coin to do all you envision, but alas, I do not. I must prioritize what needs to be done and go from there.”
Disappointment washed over Claire. She had hoped Ian’s coin would usher them well into prosperity. At least he had some funds to begin. ’Twas a start. “I look forward to the day when the land becomes profitable once more.”
“I, too,” Ian said, with a smile.
Claire pointed to a merestone up ahead. “There is the northeast corner marker. The peak just north is part of the Cheviot Hills.” She loved the view of the craggy summit from the castle. Sometimes in the evening it would light up golden from the sunset, statuesque in beauty.
His to Keep: A Medieval Romance Page 10
