An Earl for an Archeress

by E. Elizabeth Watson

  He chuckled and settled both his palms over her cheeks. “Will you quit being so keen?” She conceded a smile at his backhanded compliment. “There’s always a chance that your observations will come to pass, love, and believe me, I’ve been considering all my odds, but at least I would die knowing that in the afterlife, my wife would join my side once more. And they won’t come to pass. Like I said, Nottingham knows Richard would never overlook my death. It’s a risk I don’t think he’s willing to take. He’ll stay your father’s murderous hands.”

  She chewed her lip, gauging his relative calm. Was he actually confident that he could marry her and not face consequences? Or was his easy demeanor only a cover-up for the torrent of warnings raging through his mind? Did he truly want to marry her? Or did he do it as yet another charity for her? And would the stream of flirting women cease if he came off the market as England’s most eligible bachelor? Likely it would only increase, as women began vying to be his prized leman instead. She would be forever plagued by her suspicions, insecurities, jealousy, and heartache. She chewed her lip harder.

  “What is it?” he asked, tipping his head to get a better view of her worried expression and lifting her chin with his fingertip.

  And why were they conducting such a serious conversation in a treetop, for heaven sake? She took a deep breath for confidence, something she had thought she had in spades, though now realized she might be lacking.

  “In the crofter’s hut, you did not answer my question about marrying me, should my father pursue it, and by all means, you thought you could do nothing to protect me. But now you want marriage?”

  “Mari,” he replied, giving her the full attention of his eyes. “I’m scared off easily by the idea of marriage, yes. But I care for you. You’re the first woman I’ve ever offered for. I offer only after careful thought. I was still trying to figure out where my heart was that night by the fire, but as soon as you left Huntington, I knew that whilst I still don’t like the idea of marriage, you’re the only woman I would allow to wear my wedding ring. It’s a special ring. I’ve had it for years. Not just any woman can have it.”

  His words stilled, as if he was embarrassed to say his next thought out loud. And embarrassment was a curious sentiment to see on Robert’s brow, considering he was cocksure and lighthearted enough to laugh off any embarrassment. His hands busied themselves by picking up her braid and toying with the frayed ends.

  “And you would be the only woman I would ever, what I mean is, go through to completion with…” She scrunched her brow, confused. “You know, em, follow through to the end with…give my seed. For I’ve always been careful to pull away… Does that answer your question?”

  No, she realized, it didn’t. As heartfelt and hard as it had been for him to express something so personal, he had still refused to say he wanted to marry her. His explanation was flowery but did nothing to confirm that matrimonial jesses was something he wanted tied about his ankle. What he meant was that he would settle for her if he had to marry someone. Because he cared for her safety, he would set aside his principles and take her to wife. He would make her the mother of his heirs, and he would seat her beside him at board each day. And likely bed his mistress du jour on the side whenever the whim suited him.

  She knew she ought to feel honored to have captured his attention in such a way when no other woman had, but an ache in her chest began to throb. A marriage built on a man’s lack of desire to be so tethered would only lead to resentment crumbling their union as time went by. He would then stray, as all men did, and her heart would break. And if he fathered sons on his lemans and all she could produce were daughters, it would be up to him to decide if he recognized them or not, possibly usurping her own children’s place.

  “But would you be true to me?” she whispered, her words unsure. That, and she could no longer look at him.

  At first he didn’t answer. A foreboding sign, she thought. And then his lips came down to press against hers. His kiss was sweet this time, chaste, innocent, respectful, belying the sinful torrent they had spiraled down minutes before.

  “I would do my best to offer the same fidelity I would expect from my wife,” he replied.

  Still not a definite yes. I will be faithful to you and only you until the moment of our death. But it was the right sentiment. Could a woman actually hope for more?

  She weighed his offer. Give up her freedom and bind herself to him? Refuse him and take her chances running from her father? He was serious right now, but he had put her on the spot. She didn’t know what to say. Taking her hands, he pecked the knuckles on each and smiled, though he seemed unable to look her in the eyes.

  Did he think she was rejecting him?

  “We return to Huntington, Mari. Think on my offer and tell me your answer sooner rather than later. It’s only a matter of time until your father realizes you’re in my charge. I would prefer to greet him with a legal claim on you rather than watch you dragged away by his brutal hand.”

  With that, he let her go and began descending the tree. She followed. Right now she would be returning to Huntington with him, and would sort out the answer to his proposal as best she could.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Descending from the tree, Robert pulled his hood back in place, covering his face. He could hear Mariel behind him but didn’t look at her. Her lack of enthusiasm stung, but right now, he had her back in his care, an initial victory. He dared not press her and cause her to push him away again. He walked up to the old man now stooping to sift through his meager pile of belongings. A tear rolled down his wrinkled cheek. He picked up the sewing basket. Turning to see Robert, shock had turned his face pale and he showed no fear.

  “This was me wife’s.” He offered, holding out the basket. “She made it herself. I used to watch her stitch me shirts by the fireside with the needle and thread from this basket…” He lost his string of thought and turned back to the fire. “How can a man be so cruel to another man? I was no trouble at all.”

  But Mariel walked past Robert before he could answer, leading her horse behind her, and took the old man’s arm. “I’m sorry such cruelty befell you. You offered me kindness when you had naught to give. Allow me to offer kindness now to you.” She held out the reins to her mount. “He is well-trained and gentle. You’re welcome to him if it will help you go where you might find aid.”

  The old man, eyes widening, shook his head. “My girl, I cannot take your beast. ’Tis an expensive animal, and I hardly think a meal of broth and bread is a fair trade—”

  “I’ll accept no rejection to my offer. Consider going to the Earl of Huntington for help—”

  “The Earl of Huntington is a cruel old man as well,” the man said. “Rumor has it he killed his own wife.”

  “But that earl is dead,” Robert said, taking the reins to Mariel’s mount and seeing them into the resistant grip of the woodsman. “His son is now the earl and has been for three months. He is a benevolent sort who would welcome you.”

  The old woodsman seemed to weigh the merit of the suggestion.

  “Indeed, I think it’s your only option,” Mariel said. “Rumor has it the earl offers kindness to strays.”

  “Take the lady’s horse, good man. She offers it in the spirit of kindness, and to refuse her would be an insult,” Robert said.

  “The lady?” questioned the man, more surprise registering on his face.

  “Indeed, a wealthy noblewoman fleeing her brutish father,” Robert clarified, nodding to Mariel. “Though her story remains her secret.”

  “I insist you take it,” she insisted. “I head in that direction myself. This, eh, mysterious man has offered to take me there now,” she added, nodding back at Robert.

  Robert pulled loose the coin purse he had lifted from Harold Crawford hours before. “And for good measure, when you get there, you’ll need coin to purchase your basic needs. Take this,” h
e said, pulling loose several coins and pressing them into the shocked man’s palm.

  “My lord, whoever can you be,” the old man gasped, “to give away coin so freely? You rob from the likes of Nottingham in your hood of green, and then you share your spoils with an old crippled man?”

  Robert nodded. “I rob from the likes of Nottingham so that the people he makes unfortunate are given another chance. Good day, man, and consider the lady’s suggestion. Going to Huntington holds merit.”

  They turned to walk away, moving in silence over the rocks and dips until the fire was no longer visible. Weaving through the trees, they came to Goliath, right where Robert had left the beast.

  “You appear to be on foot, my lady,” he remarked, dropping his hood once more.

  “You’re a good man.” She smiled as she seemed to come to a conclusion. “A thief who steals from the ruthless to lift up the downtrodden… I was wrong about you.”

  His face flushed at her admission. “Ah, no doubt the bards will spin tales of me for years to come.” He jested, attempting to deflect her attention.

  “I mean it,” she replied, looking down. “I apologize for all of my rudeness toward you.”

  He lifted her chin, caressed her hair back, and brought his lips to hers in a sweet kiss, then parted from her and ran his thumb across her mouth.

  “And you’re a good woman. You have nothing, yet give away your only horse. I know not many others, man or woman, who would ever do such.” His smile turned mischievous. “And now, Lady Crawford. You seem to be in quite a conundrum. How do you plan to travel to the benevolent Earl of Huntington?”

  “By sharing your mount, of course,” she replied with a grin of her own.

  Robert ’s mouth split into a broad grin. “Shall I mount you first, then?” Her jaw dropped at his vulgarity. “Indeed I don’t mind if I do,” he said, taking advantage of the easy access to her mouth and delivering a burning kiss, wrapping his hands about her waist. After hefting her onto the horse’s rump, he swung up in front of her. “Hold tightly, woman. I deliver a rough ride.” He teased her over his shoulder.

  She laughed. She actually laughed a carefree laugh, sliding her hands onto the planes of his waist. “Have a care, man, that I don’t enjoy myself overmuch.”

  He laughed a laugh to match hers and kicked Goliath into a canter to catch up to his men.

  …

  Dismounting near a stream as night settled in, Mariel stretched, though she was still unable to look at the other men. They had seen Robert with his hands down her bloody trousers, for God’s sake. Embarrassment coursed through her even now after several hours, though Robert, the rake, seemed wholly unburdened by the situation. In fact, he didn’t seem to even remember there had been an issue.

  “I’ll be a minute,” she muttered, heading for a cluster of underbrush near the water. “Need a privy moment.”

  The men dismounted and unharnessed their horses as she slipped away. David wandered around the periphery of their campsite to collect kindling. She pattered down to the water and unbuckled her trousers behind a rock. Taking care of business quickly, she refastened her clothing, letting her tunic billow out untucked, and went to the stream where she dropped to her knees and rinsed her hands, then splashed the cool water on her face.

  Hands snatched her arms and pulled her up.

  “Come on, now, can’t I have a wee break from you?” she complained, feeling herself being whirled around.

  A hand clamped over her mouth. She looked up into the unassuming eyes of Teàrlach MacGregor, her father’s head guardsman, dressed as a peasant in coarse trousers and tunic. Her eyes widened. She writhed to get away, trying to scream. Only a muffled sound came out. There was no undermining his steely grip. He was as big as Jonathan. But her feet…

  She splashed her boots in the edge of the stream, hoping it would sound unnatural and Robert would find it curious enough to investigate.

  “Wheesht. I’ll nay hurt you,” Teàrlach said, his eyes boring into hers. “If I remove my hand, do you agree to keep quiet?”

  She shook her head violently no.

  “You’ve an arrow trained at your back,” said Robert.

  Teàrlach whipped around so that he now stood in the shallow water, the clear sky allowing enough light to illuminate Robert and his men.

  “And at your side…both sides,” said John.

  Mariel’s eyes darted around until she saw all of the men in their group, hoods donned, and bows and arrows drawn taut.

  “Let her go, man, and no one needs be shot,” Robert said. “I found the woman fair and square in the forest. She’s my spoil and I take her back to our lair.”

  Mariel furrowed her brow at Robert’s lie, until it dawned on her that he was protecting their identities. Yet little did Robert know, Teàrlach already knew who she was and dressed as a peasant, Robert didn’t know Teàrlach to be her father’s man.

  Teàrlach took a moment to respond. “Do you know the woman you claim for your own is actually the daughter of His Lairdship, Harold Crawford of Ayrshire?” replied Teàrlach, easing his hands away from her mouth and body.

  Mariel sprang away from him and dashed up the bank to stand behind Robert, his bow still drawn, his eyes through his hood narrowed into cold squints.

  “I didn’t know,” Robert lied. “Woman?” he asked her. “Do you wish to return to your father? Or would you rather remain with me—”

  “Remain with you,” Mariel said.

  “Your faither thinks you’re nearby, Lady,” Teàrlach said, his eyes assessing the arrows around him. “Sooner or later, he’ll realize where to find you. ’Tis only a matter of time. You caused him great embarrassment running away and eluding him for so long. He does nay plan to be merciful.”

  Clearly Teàrlach had not witnessed Robert’s band attack Nottingham for his coin and watched her shoot her father. Because punishing her for running away would now be the last thing on Harold Crawford’s mind. He would punish her for shooting him.

  “If you know her father’s ill will, then why would you return her to him?” Robert asked.

  Teàrlach’s mouth curled up into a slow smile, and Mariel couldn’t help but feel it was a shame he was connected to her father. He was an attractive man, one she could never recall being forceful with any woman. He remained unwed, a sword for hire. Rumors were that he was the fourth son of a highland chief and stood to inherit nothing, neither title nor land, and had therefore taken to his own means of employ—training soldiers. Born and raised the son of a chief, his manners had been better than many of the others in Ayr, and his education had been cultivated as a lad. He wore the surcoat and trousers of a more “civilized” lowlander instead of the great kilt, but the times she had seen him train his men, taking them to the ground in a feral way, he seemed to still be a highlander deep down.

  “I never said I wanted to take her back,” Teàrlach answered. “That’s an assumption you made. I wanted to give her a warning, but I knew she’d scream and bolt away from me.”

  “What’s your warning, man?” Robert asked. “So we may all hear it.”

  Teàrlach’s smile didn’t fade. “I’ve been tasked by Laird Crawford to spy on Huntington. He sensed you lied about Mariel’s whereabouts and bid me remain behind to observe.”

  Robert bristled as Mariel withheld a gasp. Teàrlach knew who Robert really was?

  “Get to your point, man,” Robert ordered, keeping his arrow trained.

  “I watched Mariel leave yer very gates, Robert—”

  “Can we end him now?” John interrupted. “He’s as good as dead, in my opinion.”

  Robert didn’t say anything.

  “But do nay fret, man,” Teàrlach said. “I’ve no plan to rat on you. I planned to tell Lady Mariel of my task so she could get away.”

  “You lie,” Robert said evenly. “If you send her flee
ing, you’ll have Crawford waiting to catch her.”

  “No. I wish nay to see the heartbroken Madeline’s older sister returned to Ayr.”

  Madeline? What a curious person for Teàrlach to reference. Just mention of her sister’s name made Mariel’s throat thicken. Madeline was heartbroken? Had she done that, running away as she had? Perhaps she should have taken Madeline with her, but her sister was much safer in Ayrshire than Mariel had been. Their father had saved the full force of his wrath for Mariel. Her meek sister who clung to the shadows would never have been able to run away and keep up. A morning on the hills surrounding their castle on the firth was enough to wind her, being the cloistered and uneducated lady of breeding that she was. They never would have made it beyond the Scottish midlands, let alone all the way to southern England, and would have been captured and punished together. And there was no doubt in Mariel’s mind that her sister could never withstand the full force of their father’s wrath.

  The expression on Teàrlach’s face was difficult to read in the dark, but the one obvious sentiment he wore was that he was serious. And he was scrutinizing her.

  “What does Madeline mean to you?” she asked.

  “Consider yourself warned, Lady Mariel.” He deflected. “I have to report back to your faither and tell him what I’ve found. Unless you, Robert, kill me now. In which case, my failure to return would rouse Laird Crawford’s suspicions further and he would watch Huntington more closely.”

  No one did anything, though all arrows remained poised to shoot.

  “I can see you’re in quite the conundrum, are you nay, Laird Huntington? Kill me and rouse his suspicion further, or let me go and risk my report to him,” Teàrlach said. “Either way, you might lose grandly.”

  “What do you plan to tell him?” Mariel finally asked, stepping forward and breaking the silence.