The Intended

by May McGoldrick

  “A most fortunate match for you, from what I can see,” Catherine continued. “When I first heard news of it—at court—all I could think of was what a clever, young girl you turned out to be, after all. You don’t show that you are carrying his child. How did you convince him? Or his father, the duke, for that matter?”

  “That is a vile thing to say, Catherine,” Jaime responded in a whisper. If this was the tack her cousin chose to take, Jaime decided that—no matter what Catherine said—she would let nothing provoke her into revealing the truth.

  “Oh, spare me that!” Catherine sneered, walking around the motionless Jaime. “We both know this marriage will give you every right to remain in England. How suitable for one who despises her own native land!”

  “Despises?” Jaime said quietly. “I’ve never despised Scotland.”

  “Nay? But here you are, isn’t that so? For over a year, now, and apparently staying!” Catherine’s slow smile made Jaime curse her own judgment in remaining at Kenninghall so long. “And tell me, how many times have you been back to your beloved Scotland during this time? Or visited any of your kin? But nay, that would be difficult, would it not?”

  Jaime stared at her cousin’s golden brown hair, at the haughty look on her face. There was no point in explaining. Not to Catherine, anyway.

  “A most interesting match,” the king’s intended pressed. “A new life. And then, not to mention the name and title you’ll gain by marrying Edward.”

  Jaime folded her arms across her chest, digging her fingers into the flesh of her arms, restraining herself to remain silent.

  “And with one blow,” Catherine continued, “ridding yourself of an accursed Scottish name and replacing it with the noble...Howard!”

  “You’ve said enough, Catherine!” Jaime said shortly. “I will not stand here, only to listen as you attempt to belittle me, and my home, and my family. Is this why you sent for me? To use me as a target for your warped arrows of vanity and pride? Whatever have I ever done to you, Catherine, to deserve this treatment?”

  Catherine never so much as acknowledged her questions. The two women glared at each other, and though Jaime’s first thought was to turn and leave the chamber, something inside balked at the thought of letting Catherine drive her from the field. So she stood her ground and weathered the withering gaze that her cousin was directing toward her.

  “When did he come to you first?”

  Catherine’s question plummeted like a fireball from the sky, and Jaime started, her heart pounding with fear. How could she know about Malcolm? Jaime’s voice wavered slightly as she answered. “I...I don’t know what you mean!”

  “Spare me the innocent drivel, cousin. You forget I am an expert in the art of appearing blameless!”

  “I have no idea...” Jaime frowned. “Who...who do you mean?”

  “You’re wasting my time. When?”

  “And I might say the same of you, Catherine” Jaime shot back, her temper again beginning to flare up. “I have no time, either, for standing here and listening to your vicious riddles. I’ll not be trifled with, cousin! I’ll take my leave.” But she hadn’t taken a step toward the door, when her cousin’s voice spun her around.

  “Halt, headstrong slut! You know I mean Edward. Now tell me when he first came to you.”

  It took great restraint, but Jaime succeeded in hiding her shock. “You are asking if Edward...” She shook her head. “When he came to me first? To my bed?”

  Catherine nodded, an unpleasant smile plastered on her face. “He generally likes them younger. I think he likes children, really. So I was wondering if you—being past the age that he likes...” She waved a hand nonchalantly in the air, but Jaime was not taken in by the charade. There was a look of desperation in her eyes as her questions became more pointed. “I want to know if he took you when you first arrived here a year ago. I want to know if he’s been having you all this time. I want to know...”

  “You want to know what doesn’t concern you,” Jaime snapped. “I assure you that Edward’s foul interests are of no interest to me, whatsoever. And as far as whether he and I,” she felt herself blushing deep, “have ever shared...have ever been intimate...”

  Jaime cut her words short. Why was she letting this woman fluster her? There was no reason to explain anything to her. Catherine had no right to know.

  “This discussion is finished, Catherine,” Jaime announced, moving quickly toward the door. Pulling the door open, she stood and gazed back at the young woman. “And, in future chats, be so kind as to spare me such ‘pleasantries’!”

  “You are no virgin!” Catherine muttered under her breath as the door slammed shut behind Jaime. “That bastard has already taken you to his bed. Aye, poured his seed into you, he said. And you couldn’t even deny it!” It has to be so, she thought. If Jaime were innocent, she would have denied the accusation. She would have shed tears over the questioning of her virtue. That was the way women are, Catherine thought, nodding. So many fools...thinking of their virtue like it is some pot of gold, the jewels of Suleiman, as if—untouched—it were something to brag about! And to weep over, when lost! But Jaime hadn’t done that. Nay, the slut hadn’t done that!

  Pushing the silk shawl off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, she walked to her bed, a smile working its way onto her face. This was going to be easier than she’d thought. Jaime had become rattled with so little probing, Catherine was certain that with just a bit more effort, she could drive the foolish girl away in shame. And then there would be only Edward remaining. Arrogant, insufferable Edward!

  Chapter 28

  “Fly, beauty,” Surrey called as he released the black falcon, and the three mounted hunters watched the bird soar higher and higher in the brilliant azure sky. When the bird was circling far above the open meadow, the earl turned to his falconer. Evan stood a dozen yards or so from the mounted party, and Jaime could see the group of men and boys beyond him. On the horse beside her, Malcolm sat watching the preparations of the hunt. It did her heart good to see him out in the air, though a pang of sadness struck her with the falseness of the scene. He was less free than the falcon that circled above. But like that noble bird, when the day had worn into evening, Malcolm would be returned to his cage. Her eyes met his, and her heart leaped at the exchange that told her his approval of her decision to join them at the last moment.

  “Very well, Evan,” Surrey called. “Have the lads drive out some game.”

  The riders urged their horses on and the men and boys spread out, moving slowly across the field, and down a small incline to the edge of a small brook, all the while beating the long grass and the brush with their thick sticks. A clump of willows and birch that overhung the bank of the bubbling water looked to be an ideal hiding place for the pheasants they were after, and Jaime kept her eyes trained on the spot.

  The stag, strong and swift, bolted from the grove with a suddenness that took away Jaime’s breath.

  As a cry went up among the men, Surrey took a lance from one of them.

  “Bring down the falcon,” he shouted to Evan, spurring his horse after the running deer. In an instant, the men—and the falconer, as well—were running across the field in pursuit of the earl and his prey.

  The rush of men, the shouting, the confusion that surrounded them, inspired Jaime with the thought that this was the moment to act. Now, quickly, in the light of this blessing that fortune had bestowed upon them. Digging her feet into the side of her horse, she urged him forward, galloping quickly to Malcolm’s side.

  “You must go now, Malcolm! You can escape.”

  Seeing the look of disbelief on his face, she leaned over in his direction and practically shouted her plea. “Go, Malcolm! We must seize Opportunity by the forelock! They won’t even know you’re missing till it is too late. And even then, when they do, I’ll tell them that I sent you back to the palace...for some...for something. I’ll think up a lie to tell them.”

  Malcolm still sat on h
is horse, as if rooted to the spot, and Jaime looked anxiously across the field at the men straggling along in Surrey’s wake.

  “They could come back at any moment. For heaven’s sake, Malcolm, there may never be a better time than this! Just ride north. Go, Malcolm!”

  Malcolm shook his head.

  “But why?” she pleaded. “Don’t you see? Surrey wants you to escape!”

  The Highlander shook his head again, and as she stared with amazement into his face, she knew that he would take no action in response to her plea.

  “Are you so eager to be rid of me, lass?”

  “By His wounds, Malcolm, this is no time to be questioning my motives!” Jaime’s temper flared. “What I am telling you to do is for your own good! You must go! There is no way to know when Edward will return. I fear if he finds you so...” her words trailed off in a feeling of helplessness. Frustrated by his unwillingness to seize the moment, she turned her face into the westerly breeze and dashed away an angry tear as she tried to subdue the turmoil within her.

  Malcolm turned his horse around, and Jaime watched as he urged the mount forward until the Highlander was nearly face to face with her. When he reached for her hand, she thought he was reaching for the reins, and her eyes flashed at him. His hand was warm and strong as took hold of hers.

  “What is it you fear, Jaime?”

  His eyes seemed to claim her with a power she could not withstand. It took her a long moment before she could gather her thoughts to answer. “I cannot see you hurt again,” she whispered softly. “And I fear you will feel the weight of Edward’s wrath when I tell him that I have no intention of accepting his offer...of marriage.”

  “Don’t you, lass?”

  “Nay Malcolm. I’ll not be his intended. I’ll never be his wife.”

  The increased pressure of his hand and the flash of excitement that lit his eyes made Jaime’s face burn with pleasure. Malcolm obviously did not share her fear. But he was clearly pleased with her response. She watched almost shyly as he drew her fingers to his lips.

  “Jaime, there is something I need to speak with you about.” Malcolm turned his gaze across the field. “I don’t suppose, though, that this is the appropriate time.”

  Her heart pounded as he turned back to face her. His face was clouded with uncertainty, but as he looked into her eyes, she saw his face clear.

  “Well, lass,” he continued with a smile, “as you say, Opportunity is bald behind, so we’d best take hold of him before he passes!”

  Without another word Malcolm swung his leg across his horse’s neck and dropped lithely to the ground. Reaching up, he helped her down, as well. Jaime went willingly into his arms.

  There might have been only the two of them in the meadow, since most of the men were long gone in pursuit of the fleeing stag, and the few who remained were so distant, skirting the far edge of field, that they presented no threat to the two lovers.

  Shielded by the two horses’ great bodies, Jaime was slow to remove her hands from his shoulders after being lowered from her steed. And Malcolm never eased his grip on her waist as he held her to him.

  “I love you, Jaime,” he whispered as his mouth tasted her sweet lips. “I know I am a base and undeserving scoundrel, and hardly worthy of your love or your hand. I admit that I have done you wrong and caused you pain...on the Isle of Skye and here in this godforsaken place. I readily accept your condemnation if you think me a rogue and a villain. A good-for-nothing Highland beast of a man who has done nothing else but bring ruin into your life.”

  Jaime smiled brilliantly and shook her head, the tears that now ran freely down her cheeks glistening in the sunlight before soaking into the black velvet of his tunic. Resting her cheek against his heart, she slipped her arms around him and hugged him tightly to her.

  “Will you marry me, Jaime?” His voice was hoarse. “Will you be my wife?”

  Jaime looked up into his handsome face, the difficulties of their position swept away by the joy of his question.

  “Malcolm, I have waited my entire life to hear you say these words.”

  He smiled mischievously and cocked his head to the side. “Do you mean, that I am a villain, a rogue, and a beast of a man?”

  She laughed as she planted her fists on his chest. “Aye! Though I believe I’ll cherish the ‘base and undeserving’ part most of all.”

  “Oh, you will?” he said with a half smile. Then he drew her tighter to him, all humor suddenly gone from his face. “So will you marry me?”

  “Aye, Malcolm. That I will,” she whispered, raising herself on her toes and bringing her mouth closer to his lips. “I’ll love you and I’ll marry you and I’ll cherish you for the rest of my life.”

  Her words wrapped themselves caressingly around his heart—they warmed his life’s blood. As they stood together, Jaime felt her soul pour out of her body, only to meet with his somewhere between them, and she felt their spirits entwine.

  No longer able to hold back, Malcolm’s mouth seized hers, stealing her breath as his hard body backed her into the horse’s side. With a moan deep in her throat, she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back, welcoming the thrusting rasp of his tongue, glorying in the crush of his lips as he kissed her harder, yielding with pleasure to the loving press of his hips.

  Nothing can stop us now, she thought.

  No one will ever come between us again, he vowed.

  And in the sky far above them, once again the falcon circled, searching patiently for her prey.

  Chapter 29

  “Catherine!” The suddenness of the earl of Surrey’s voice startled the young woman, and she whirled to face her elder cousin. “Have you any idea why my father would make such a request? Why, in God’s name, should His Grace want Jaime sent to court on such short notice? After all, he and Edward are planning to return soon enough to Kenninghall. Why now, Catherine? And why in such haste?”

  Catherine shook her head as she pondered her response, for she, too, wished to know the answer. She had been quite careful in her private talk with the king. She had needed to make certain that Edward and the duke would never guess the identity of the Edward’s accuser. But now, hearing this news of Jaime’s summons, Catherine wondered if the two had somehow found her out. For a long moment she stared at the duke’s letter as it dangled from Surrey’s hand. But how could they have learned anything? She was certain that Henry would not betray her and ruin her relationship with her own family. Or would he? she wondered. Nay, she decided quickly. The king was still quite enamored of her, and she planned to keep it that way.

  But what purpose, Catherine mused, turning her thoughts back to the letter, could be served in bringing her Scottish cousin to Henry’s attention.

  “Perhaps Edward is pining over his separation from Jaime,” Mary suggested, drawing all eyes to where she sat with a piece of needlework across her lap.

  Catherine stifled her laughter with a cough.

  Mary nodded with conviction. “Perhaps His Grace believes this is the best way to soothe Edward and Jaime’s aching hearts. If you ask my opinion...”

  “Which no one did ask,” Catherine put in shortly.

  Mary glanced in her direction, disconcerted and blushing. But upon seeing the sudden awkwardness of her position, Surrey stepped over to her, encouraging her to continue as Catherine turned away. “You were saying, Mary?”

  With a quick glance in Catherine’s direction, the younger woman started again. “Well, it seems to me that having Jaime summoned to court is, in many ways, a blessing for her. And she has been so forbidding in her attitude since Edward left. I for one have been praying for his speedy return and an end to her misery.”

  From her chair by a window, Frances looked up from her own needlework and entered the discussion for the first time, coming to Jaime’s defense. “I don’t think Jaime has been visibly upset nor miserable. She has certainly been busier than any one of us in seeing to what goes on in the palace. So if she seems a bit distant, I s
hould think she’s entitled. I am quite certain she has a great deal on her mind.”

  Mary shook her head and turned her gaze downward. “I am not being critical, Lady Frances. I’ve just never seen her so irritable before now, and I think it must be...” Mary chanced a peek at the earl who was once again perusing the contents of the duke’s letter. She continued, but this time in confidential tones directed toward Frances. “Well, lovesick or just busy, I don’t care for the way she is treating us.”

  “Treating us?” Frances returned with a kindly laugh. “Are you certain you are not imagining all this, Mary?”

  “I am not,” she returned petulantly. “Why, just this morning—knowing that I would be greatly interested in joining the men on their hunt—Jaime left our bedchamber without awakening me or even leaving a message for me.” She stared round-eyed at Frances. “She never so much as gave a thought to extending Lord Surrey’s invitation to ride to any of the other ladies.”

  “There was no invitation for her to extend,” Surrey put in bluntly, looking up from the letter.

  Mary’s startled face blushed scarlet and then subsided into a pout as she turned to Frances in embarrassment and a touch of temper. “Is he saying that you were not invited, either? That Jaime Macpherson is the only woman in Kenninghall worthy of joining the men in their sport?”

  Frances turned away from Mary, only to find her husband’s smiling eyes looking directly into her own.

  “Oh, my love!” Surrey interjected with a look of feigned surprise. “I had little thought that you were interested in riding...well, I just thought that after last ni...”

  “That will do, Surrey!” Frances ordered, fighting down the rising blush in her cheeks.