Circle of Honor

by Carol Umberger

  “Scotland. The country whose king has taken everything from us. You would betray me, betray our rightful king—”

  “You don’t believe in Balliol’s ability to take back the throne any more than I do. And to support his plot to overthrow Bruce will only increase the likelihood of more war, and death and destruction. I have seen far too much of it. Is that the legacy you wish to leave?”

  She was suddenly too aware of the highland warrior standing there listening to this conversation. He would not take kindly to discussions of intrigue to regain the crown of Scotland.

  As if to seal her doom, Adam said, “On this your cousin and I are in agreement. This is no game we are playing now. I’ll have no more lies, woman.” Pointing to her hand, he argued, “You willingly donned that ring, insisted on wearing it as a sign of your loyalty to me. ’Tis time to give what you so pledged or bring the wrath of Bruce down on all of us.”

  Gwenyth felt her shoulders slump. She realized in her heart that Daron and Adam spoke the truth. Her dreams of peace and safety with Edward were nothing but illusions. Illusions born of desperation when her home and loved ones had been destroyed.

  Still she clung to them, for they had sustained her, had continued to do so through the ordeal of the past weeks at Moy.

  Adam lifted her chin with his fingers, and the tenderness in his eyes nearly undid her. They were on opposite sides, yet he put his anger aside to concern himself with her well-being. Some of the fight went out of her, as it always did when confronted with his generous nature.

  She shrugged away his offer of comfort and turned to Daron. Perhaps he would listen to reason.

  But Daron didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Look what has already befallen you. The next time it could be death or imprisonment.”

  “You are safe at Moy,” Adam promised.

  “Aye, it’s a pleasant enough prison,” she retorted. “So long as you remain laird.”

  ADAM’S STOMACH CHURNED. The only way this plot to have Gwenyth mingle her royal blood with that of Balliol could succeed was if Robert the Bruce were dead. Adam must hold Gwenyth at Moy, and Daron must be persuaded to swear his loyalty to Bruce.

  Daron looked at Adam. “Mayhap we can be of service to one another, Laird Mackintosh.”

  “Indeed.”

  Daron indicated Adam’s injured arm. “I’ve heard there is resistance to your leadership?”

  “Some.”

  “Then additional warriors could be useful.”

  Adam tipped his head to one side. Perhaps Daron wouldn’t require persuasion after all. “What do you suggest?”

  “I will pledge my sword arm to your fight, my laird.”

  Gwenyth sputtered, “What of your pledge to me?”

  “By serving your husband, I also serve you.”

  “You would serve me better by doing what I ask of you. This marriage is only temporary. What will you do at its conclusion?”

  Although it pained him to bind himself to a woman who didn’t love him, Adam knew what must be done. “We will stand before a priest. You will not sail for England and betray my king. Not today. Not ever, as long as I have the means to stop it.”

  “You would force me to wed.” Her voice sounded wooden, and all trace of animation left her face.

  Adam took her limp hand. “Aye, for my only other choice is to send you to Bruce for imprisonment or worse. You once saved me— now it’s my turn. We will wed, but I’ll do naught else against your will.” He lifted her chin until their gazes met. “You have my word.”

  Even as he said it and meant it, Adam knew he was marrying a woman who would reject him in the most fundamental way of a husband. But he would protect his king, no matter if he and Gwenyth never shared the intimacies of marriage.

  Aye, he’d marry her, and then guard his heart like a miser shielded his gold from view.

  Then he remembered her response as they’d lain sunning on the rock, and the growing accord between them. She had enjoyed his touch then, and somehow, he would teach her to do so again. God willing. He smiled, and she withdrew her hand.

  For now there were other matters to be dealt with. And until she had time to resolve her anger with him and Daron, thoughts of lying next to her and sharing kisses would have to wait.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked Daron, her voice devoid of emotion.

  Adam hated to see the look of despair revealed upon her features.

  Daron backed away and brushed a hand through his burnished hair. “I am going to see that your honor is avenged.”

  “I don’t want revenge for that, but for my father’s death.”

  At her look of pain and disappointment, his voice softened. “Tell me, do you trust Mackintosh? Is he a man of his word?”

  Adam stiffened, caring more than he wanted to admit that she might still trust him.

  “Aye.” The single syllable sounded very begrudging, but Adam relaxed. Trust was a good place to start a marriage.

  “Then marry him truly, stay with him where I can be certain of your well-being. Do this for me, for I cannot bear the thought of what you’ve already suffered.”

  His voice cracked, and Gwenyth’s face was stricken as if only now did she realize that her valiant cousin had suffered his own hell these past weeks.

  “You ask much of me.”

  “If I thought Mackintosh would harm you, I wouldn’t ask.” Daron pulled her forward. He placed her hand in Adam’s.

  DARON’S ACTION showed her more clearly than words that his need for revenge, his need to make up for failing to protect her, his unreasonable love for Scotland, were more important than her desire for safe haven and departure.

  Blast men and their wretched pride.

  Now she would be forced to a binding marriage—would they try to compel her to swear loyalty to Bruce as well? She would not. Never.

  Gwenyth hated the tears she couldn’t hold back, her weakness made evident. They must think she wasn’t in control of her emotions. Unfortunately that was too true. And along with her emotions, she’d lost all control of her life.

  She refused to accept Adam as husband. With his promise of chastity she had hope, for the union could be annulled—annulments more often than not had more to do with politics than theology. Then she would find a way to escape Moy. And Scotland.

  Aye, that was what she wanted above all else.

  Wasn’t it?

  SIXTEEN

  ADAM FOUND HIS MOTHER in Angus’s chamber. He pulled two stools beside his father’s bed and held one until his mother was seated. Angus looked pale today and more frail than ever. Time was running out. Adam regretted the new turmoil he was about to reveal as he ignored the stool and paced instead.

  “What are ye fashing yerself with now, son?” his mother asked.

  “ ’Tis Gwenyth.”

  He did not miss the glance shared between his parents.

  “What of her?” Angus asked.

  Adam tugged at his plaid, suddenly feeling more like a bairn caught filching a sweet than a laird. “I’ve found her kinsman—he and his warriors are in the hall.”

  “Ye’ve captured them or given sanctuary?” Angus asked.

  “Sanctuary.”

  Neither parent asked why, and Adam was grateful for their trust in his judgment. “Gwenyth Comyn was on her way to England and a marriage with Edward Balliol when Leod captured her.”

  Eva raised her fingers to her lips. “She would betray our king?”

  Angus didn’t give him time to answer. “Does King Robert know of this?”

  “Aye. He says I must not allow them to leave Moy, especially the woman.”

  “Will you imprison her?”

  Adam recoiled at the thought. “That is one possibility. She hasn’t done anything to deserve such treatment. Yet.”

  Eva huffed. “Neither did our good Queen Elizabeth, yet she languishes in an English prison.”

  “Aye, well. Marriage can be a joy or a punishment.”

  Angus looked
up sharply at Adam’s words. “You’ll punish yerself more than her, if that’s what yer thinking to do.”

  “You may be right, Da. But if the marriage is permanent, she cannot further threaten the crown.”

  “Either way, ye go against her will and give her cause to hate her jailer.”

  “ ’Tis a chance I must take.” He would cling to the hope of eventual reconciliation with her. To the hope that taking her to wife was indeed God’s doing. For now, he saw his duty, and would not shirk it.

  “Why, Adam?”

  “It ends the threat to Bruce—he even suggested marriage as a possible solution. Balliol will lose much of his support without Gwenyth to give him a royal heir. And Gwenyth may well hate me, but at least it won’t be because I’m crippled.”

  Eva drew in a loud breath, and Angus patted her hand.

  Adam’s words hung there, and no one spoke. Taking a seat beside them, Adam broke the silence. “ ’Tis a fact I’ve come to accept, this damaged arm. Gwenyth, for all her other faults, sees past it. I’d accept her as a wife for that blessing alone.”

  “Then we’ll say no more of it. Do what ye must do.”

  Eva nodded, and Adam felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Now, one other thing remained. “Daron Comyn will pledge his loyalty to me today.”

  Alarm showed on his mother’s face. “What will the council say to that?”

  Adam rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know, but frankly, I’m tired of worrying about it. I am Da’s chosen successor. I can’t sit back and wring my hands—I must make decisions as I see fit and live with the consequences.”

  Angus nodded in approval, and Adam continued. “If they want Leod to lead Clan Chattan, then I’ll withdraw the Mackintosh warriors from the federation.”

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that, but yer plan is wise.”

  Eva asked, “Do ye trust this Daron?”

  “He’ll not betray me so long as I have Gwenyth. Nay, that isn’t fair. I believe the man is honorable, without such a threat.”

  “Bring him here so I may take his measure.”

  When Adam returned a few minutes later with Daron and Gwenyth, her stormy scowl said all there was to know about her disapproval. Avoiding her, Adam drew Daron forward.

  “Da, this is Daron Comyn, come to swear allegiance to Clan Chattan. And to me.”

  Angus gave the young man a careful look before speaking, directing his question to Adam. “Ye trust the man, then?”

  “I have Gwenyth’s life as surety.”

  Daron bristled at this. “You never said . . . ’twas not our agreement at all. This is an insult. We agreed man to man, brother to brother.”

  “Will you go back on the agreement now?”

  Daron looked mad enough to chew stirrup leather. “Nay. My word is good.”

  With a pointed look at his father, Adam reassured Daron. “As is mine. Your loyalty was freely given earlier this day, and I’ll not force you now with threats against Gwenyth. My father required proof of your worth as a man, and you have given it.”

  Daron’s shoulders relaxed. “Will you require continued proof, or can I say the words and expect them to be binding on both of us?”

  Adam smiled at Daron’s quick wit. “From this day forth, we are bound as laird and vassal. You are welcome here unless you prove yourself unworthy.”

  Adam handed his own jewel-handled dirk to Daron. Last-minute doubts assailed him. Was this wise? How would the council react?

  Enough. This was only the first of many decisions he must make as laird. He refused to spend his life questioning himself.

  Daron knelt, holding the beautiful and deadly weapon before him. “I swear fealty to Adam Mackintosh and acknowledge him as my rightful laird. May this very blade put me to death if I break my vow.” So saying, he kissed the blade and handed it back to Adam.

  Daron rose to his feet and Adam clasped his arm in a firm handshake.

  Angus did likewise from his bed. “Welcome. See ye serve my son well.” He scanned Daron from head to foot. “Get yerself something to eat, man. Ye look like a scarecrow.”

  Daron grinned. “I will, my laird.” He turned to Gwenyth, who looked more bristly than a hedgehog.

  “What have you done?” she hissed as Daron approached her.

  Adam defended Daron. “What any man of worth would do.”

  “You.” She jabbed her finger in his chest. “You stay out of this.” She returned her anger to her cousin, but Eva barged into the fray.

  “Out of this chamber with yer yelling and yer anger. Out. Spare my husband—”

  “But Eva, this looks to be an interesting discussion,” Angus said.

  With a glare at her spouse, Eva insisted everyone leave the room and then shut the door firmly.

  Trying to diffuse the tension, Adam relied on good manners to pretend nothing was amiss. “Mother, I don’t believe you’ve been introduced to Daron Comyn.”

  “I am pleased to meet you, Lady Mackintosh.” With perceptible patience, he said to Adam, “I would like to see to my men now, my laird. And I think, perhaps, you may have need of a private word with my cousin.”

  Gwenyth sputtered, but Adam tightened his grip on her arm.

  DARON WATCHED as Adam and Gwenyth disappeared into the solar and closed the door. Daron felt sorry for her, for them both, knowing she and Adam must work this out between them. He was tempted to stand outside and listen, but Adam’s mother saw his intent and scowled.

  “Aye, my mother did teach me better, Lady Eva.”

  “I suspect we wouldn’t have to stand very close to hear this conversation.” She pursed her lips. “Come, we’ll leave them to shout at each other and get ye something to eat.”

  GWENYTH SAT DOWN HARD, propelled onto a seat by Adam’s grip on her arm. A fire burned brightly in the fireplace, but at Adam’s cold visage, Gwenyth rubbed her arms. She dreaded this argument, wanted only to flee him, to flee this place. But his actions a few minutes ago foretold only too clearly that she would not leave Scotland in the foreseeable future. If ever.

  She’d like to consign to the netherworld the entire male gender with their pride and love of a good fight. “Aye, every last one of them,” she muttered to Adam’s stiff back.

  He turned. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” With relief Gwenyth noted that she was so angry she wasn’t even tempted to cry. “Why did you force Daron to swear allegiance? He and I were to start a new life. Why do you bind us to this place?”

  “You know why. Daron and I can be of mutual benefit to each other. He is determined to find the beast who dishonored you as am I.”

  “I don’t want to stay here.” Especially now that Adam was threatening her with a priest.

  Adam ran his hand through his hair. “And you think I don’t know that?”

  “Why can’t you just let me go?”

  “I can’t. This daft bargain you made with Balliol—Gwenyth, it will only bring bloodshed. And your involvement will bring further wrath upon what’s left of your clan. Surely you don’t want that.”

  She scowled. “Why must men fight to settle their differences? Why can’t you settle disputes some other way?”

  “Because men like Leod Macpherson and his ilk don’t understand the meaning of such an action. Nor will they be bound by an agreement not made through a show of force.”

  She flinched, her memories of Leod’s methods only too clear in her mind. One more reason to leave Scotland. “Like Edward of England and Robert the Bruce.”

  “Aye, and your own father. John Comyn betrayed Bruce, didn’t keep his promise. ’Tis your father who brought shame and poverty and homelessness upon you, not Bruce.”

  “My father had a legitimate birthright to the throne.”

  “Aye, and despite his enmity with Bruce, they made a pact, an alliance in order to oust Edward of England from the Scottish throne. An alliance your father chose to betray. Bruce and his wife barely escaped with their lives.”

  “You don�
�t know what was said between them that day.”

  “I was there, Gwenyth. I heard and saw what happened.”

  “Bruce stabbed my father.” She held back tears.

  “Aye, he did. After your father drew his dirk.”

  She stared at him, silent in the face of the awful reality Adam dared to voice.

  “I am sorry for your father’s death and that my king was the means to it. John Comyn’s death set off the events that may well take our country to the brink of destruction.”

  He came to stand before her. “One thing you should have learned from your family’s painful lesson. A man’s word—or a woman’s—is his most important possession. ’Tis all I have, and I will not go back on it. Ever.”

  Adam’s passionate words stirred Gwenyth. “You would die to keep your word?”

  “Aye. And if I should die, Daron will protect you.” He paused for a moment. “I will make a good husband, if you let me.”

  “I’d rather join a nunnery.”

  He looked as if she’d slapped him. “You don’t mean it.”

  “I do. I have seen enough. I want no part of being a wife to any man.” Even one as handsome as the laird of Clan Chattan.

  He paced away and back again. “It grieves me to hear you say that, Gwenyth. But your talk of nunneries is naught but idle chatter. Bluntly put, your value as a breeder of future kings would overrule your delicate sensibilities.”

  “How dare you speak to me thus?”

  “I dare it because it’s true. If I let you go to Edward, the minute you present him with an heir, he will have what he needs to muster an attack on Bruce’s crown.” Holding his hand before her, he used his fingers to enumerate his reasoning. “Firstly, the pope will be on Edward’s side, for there is no love lost between Rome and Bruce. Secondly, your child will have legitimate claims through both parents, and thirdly, the English will back Balliol in hopes he’ll prove as incompetent a king as his father. Then Scotland will be under England’s thumb again.” He ground his thumb into the opposite palm to illustrate.

  “But I gave my word to Edward.”

  “You have not willingly broken that vow, Gwenyth.”

  Ah, but she had, in Leod’s keep. To save her life and that of an innocent man. A man who was slowly stealing her resolve and her heart.