The Intended

by May McGoldrick

  “How long, Welshman!”

  The physician pulled off his coif and ran his hand over his bald head. “These medicines have been making her sleep for days now. It might take her at least that long to come out of it. But then again...she may never awaken.”

  Malcolm looked away for a moment. When he looked back, his face was a mask. He glanced over at Caddy, who was now busily working on the other side of the room, too far to hear their words. “I am taking her with me.”

  The physician looked down at the empty cup in his hands. “Mistress Jaime told me as much herself. But I have to warn you that ‘tis best for you to wait until she has her legs back under her, before you drag her overland to some ship...”

  “You know better than I that we have no time left.” Malcolm’s eyes were piercing. In three nights he would meet the ship. This meant Jaime had to be well enough to travel in two days. “If she is still unwell when the time comes, I will need your help again.”

  The physician turned and placed the cup on the table. “Even if she has awakened, ‘tis doubtful she will be ready to travel. And you must consider the great danger you are putting her in. Traveling with a sick, or weakened woman...with the duke’s men sent after you. How far do you think you will be able to get before they overtake you? What do you think will happen when they drag you back? What do you think will happen to Jaime when they do?”

  “Don’t waste your words, Master Graves. I am taking her with me.” Malcolm’s tone carried the power of his conviction. “You have already helped us a great deal, but let me assure you there are others who will help us find our way to the coast.”

  “Then what more do you need of me?”

  “If she remains ill,” Malcolm replied, “I will be needing you.”

  The older man stared at the Highlander and then placed his coif back on his head. “Ah! Well, a fool’s life is a merry one.”

  The torture of each step threatened now to kill her. Jaime had been running for her whole life. Down the steps, forever downward.

  And Edward was not giving up on her. She heard the sound of steel as she reached another landing. As she glanced over her shoulder, she could see the long, broad sword in his hand. Plunging headlong into the darkness, she pushed on against her pain.

  “You will never escape me, whore!” His voice pounded in her brain. “You are mine. Mine! And you’ll pay with your blood.”

  When Jaime moaned and stirred, Malcolm—holding her securely in his arms—shook her slightly, but to no avail. The young woman fell silent and still once again.

  The Highlander glanced up at Caddy, who had been hovering nearby, and who again took her seat by the end of the bed. He cleared his throat and looked for the right words.

  When she glanced up at him from her sewing, he nodded to her. “I haven’t been very kind to you in the past. And yet you’ve treated me very decently. Better than I’ve deserved, I would say.”

  “Aye, m’lord.”

  Malcolm nodded again with a gentle smile. “You have been with Jaime since she left Scotland for England?”

  “Nay, much longer, m’lord,” the woman answered. “I first came to my mistress when she was being sent to France. She was just a lass, though a bonny one...as you know.”

  “I do not think I knew...” Malcolm’s eyes rounded in surprise. “So you were with her when she came to Dunvegan Castle?”

  She nodded. “Aye.”

  Malcolm shook his head in disbelief. “Then it truly amazes me that you just didn’t kill me instead of taking care of me when I was wounded.”

  “I could never do that,” the woman said simply. “My mistress has always cared for you far too much.”

  “Aye,” Malcolm whispered softly, looking at the sleeping woman in his arms. Since he had lifted her in his lap hours earlier, she seemed to be fretting less.

  “I am staying here with her if you want to go after your supper.” Malcolm looked up encouragingly at the older woman.

  “Perhaps I might bring you something, m’lord?”

  He shook his head. “Just go, Caddie. I’ll look after her.”

  The older woman nodded in response as she lay aside her sewing, and rose from her chair. Pausing by the door, she turned and looked at the Highlander and her mistress.

  “I know you will, m’lord,” she said. “Look after her, I mean.” With a curtsy she scurried out of the room.

  “Jaime! Can you hear me, lass?”

  “Help me, Malcolm.” She ran toward the sound, suddenly aware that she was calling out. She felt for her mouth, lips, teeth. She cried out again, stumbling over her torn skirts as she moved on toward his voice. “Where are you, Malcolm?”

  Edward answered from behind her. “You can never get away from me, wench. Never!” She heard the whistling sound, felt the cold wind of his sword cutting through the air. The blade tore through her hair, nicking the skin at the base of her neck.

  “Here, Jaime. I am here. Just reach out, lass. Take my hand.”

  “I cannot, Malcolm!” she screamed in fear. The feel of blood trickled down her back. “MALCOLM!”

  “You must be punished, adulteress. Whore!”

  “MALCOLM!”

  She saw the pane of glass straight ahead, and through it, the outline of a man beyond. It was his shadow. Malcolm’s shadow waiting, his hand out stretched.

  The image changed. All she could see was her torn dress, a weary face framed by wild and ragged hair, a bleeding body staggering forward, carried on by exhausted legs that dragged onward toward the looking glass.

  “Where are you, Malcolm?” In the reflection, she saw the sword lift behind her, above her. The sharpness of its edge gleamed like amber in the darkness. Like a weapon forged in the fires of hell.

  “You’ll be used, wench. By me. By my men. And then you’ll die!”

  She reached the glass. Spreading her fingers, pinning her body against it. Pressing her face against the warmth of the pane, she cried out his name once more. “MALCOLM!”

  Her heart ceased to beat in her chest. Right over her shoulder, out of the darkness of her terror, Jaime watched in the mirror as Edward advanced in the murky gloom. With nowhere to go, no way to fight, she watched him draw the dagger from its sheath as his other hand reached for her hair.

  She half turned. She would not die. She would not yield.

  “It is finished,” Edward said, his eyes glowing like coals.

  The hand came through as if the glass were water. Jaime looked at it a moment, then at Edward. His mouth hung open, his dagger dangling limp at his side.

  Jaime reached out, grasped Malcolm’s hand, and melted into the surface. She moved through a mist, borne on a cloud, the sound of Edward’s frustrated threats growing ever fainter as she moved through the silver and into the light.

  Chapter 39

  “Have you seen the king?”

  “Nay, lass. Nor do I care to.”

  The early-afternoon sun was shining down on the gardens and the meadows beyond, and Malcolm sat in the window-seat trying hard to concentrate on the view. It was quite difficult feigning indifference to the sound of the splashing water behind him. At the far end of the chamber, discreetly hidden by a screen, and with Caddy standing guard looking as ferocious as a she-lion, Jaime bathed happily in the wooden tub that had been brought up for her use.

  Never mind the king, he thought. Fancies of throwing Caddy bodily from the chamber and seeing to Jaime’s bath himself were wreaking havoc with his imagination.

  “But they are not even watching you?” Jaime’s voice, still sounding weak from her ordeal, conveyed her excitement, nonetheless. “No guards? No one at all?”

  “Nay. And Surrey tells me that as long as I stay out of sight—preferably in my own chamber—he will not put me in chains, either.” Malcolm glanced out the window as a large party of courtiers, Surrey and Lady Frances among them, came out from the palace. The king did not appear to be with them. Nor did Catherine. As they moved out across a strip of greensward,
the Highlander decided the party was heading down to the meandering river at the far end of the flower-studded meadow. “With King Henry arriving at Kenninghall as unexpectedly as he did this morning, Surrey thought the best thing was not to draw attention to the fact that the Howards are holding a Scot for ransom. Especially when it appears Edward never declared he had such a prize in his possession.”

  Caddy came out from behind the divider, shot a look of suspicion at Malcolm, and then carried a stack of towels back to her mistress.

  “Frances came in for a short visit this morning, while you were with Lord Surrey,” Jaime called, though Malcolm found his attention distracted by the sound of her standing and stepping out of the tub. “And after giving me news of the king’s arrival, she told me you were brawling with Surrey.”

  “‘Twas hardly a brawl, lass,” Malcolm challenged. “I simply needed to remind him of his responsibilities as earl.”

  “Which, Frances said, included looking after my welfare.”

  “Aye. ‘Tis only right!” Malcolm sat back in the window seat and spread his legs before him, his eyes locked on the carved wooden screen, imagining what exactly she was doing on the other side. “My precise words to him were that he had proven himself a worthless host, and had failed miserably in looking after you. Considering what Catherine almost got away with...well, in so many words I made him understand that from now on I would be looking after you, myself.”

  “And he agreed to that, Malcolm?”

  “Aye. After our wee bit of brawling, he did!” Malcolm, finding himself no longer able to remain seated, got up from his seat and began pacing the room. There was something that he hadn’t told Jaime, though, for fear of sounding too hopeful. In the course of their argument, Surrey had given him a brief summary of what was happening to his brother at Nonsuch Palace, hinting at the charges that could be leveled at Edward. And, to Malcolm's surprise, the earl had admitted to him that he was happy that Jaime had not been well enough to make the journey.

  “Do you think he’ll ever do anything about Catherine?”

  Jaime’s question stopped Malcolm cold. He looked up and watched as Caddy retrieved a dress from the bed. “Nay, she is beyond the judgment of mere mortals, now. And with the King here, I’m quite certain nothing will even be said...by them. Any public reprimand would only bring more disgrace on the Howard family. And that they will never risk. Surrey’s feelings were that we should try to guard you and keep you safely...”

  “...away from Catherine.” Jaime finished his sentence from the other side of the wall.

  “Which shouldn’t be too difficult, with Henry here.” Malcolm stopped once again before the window. The company of men and women were just dropping out of sight across the meadow.

  He considered telling her his plan, but he didn’t want her to be overly burdened while she was still so weak. Seeing her awaken last night, courageously fighting off the effects of the drugs, the Highlander had rejoiced, although he knew that she needed time to recover. But time she didn’t have, for they would be leaving here tomorrow night.

  For days now, Malcolm had sensed Surrey would not be sorry to see him escape, and their conversation this morning had confirmed that. Whether it was in defiance of his father and brother, or as a token of the friendship that they shared, Malcolm could not tell. Perhaps it was a combination of the two, but it didn’t really matter. What did matter was the added complication of the king and his entourage roaming about Kenninghall. These were problems which he needed to consider.

  “You don’t think the king is here because he has learned something about me, do you?” Jaime stepped from behind the wooden screen.

  The words he had formed in answer melted away, forgotten on his tongue as he gawked helplessly at the vision before him. His eyes drank her in as if desperate to quench some inexorable thirst.

  “Have I changed?” she asked, looking down nervously at the creamy linen of her dress. “I am much thinner, am I not?”

  “Nay, Jaime. You are perfect.”

  “But you look at me...”

  He nodded as he walked toward her. Lost for words he pulled her into his arms and held her tight. The rush of emotions that crowded his heart, the sense of relief he felt at seeing her beautiful face, awake again and bright, all made him foolish with the desire simply to hold her.

  “I think I have changed,” he whispered into her ear at last. “I would never have thought it possible, but my love for you has managed to grow even more...far more than I had ever thought possible. I ache at the thought of you.” He threaded his fingers into her still wet hair and tilted her head back until their gazes locked. “I am a madman without you, Jaime. A howling, crazed fool. Seeing you now, finally knowing that you are well again, makes me want to fall to my knees and...”

  She raised herself on her toes and silenced his words with her lips.

  They drew apart as Caddy coughed politely, each shaken with the power of their love. But Malcolm would not let go of her hand as he walked her to a chair beside the window.

  “So do you think, Malcolm, that Henry’s visit here might have something to do with me?”

  “Surrey didn’t think so, and I asked the same question of him.” Malcolm's eyes watched Caddy as she worked diligently on the other side of the room, obviously trying to give them their privacy. “He thought that the king’s visit was purely a whim on his part to see Catherine. Apparently, Henry was hunting and never even took the time to tell the duke he was coming here.”

  The look of relief on Jaime’s face was all too apparent, but her face quickly clouded over with concern. “What of our plans?”

  “Actually,” he said, stroking the smooth skin of her hand, “having had a wee bit of time to think this through, I believe his visit here might prove to be a blessing to us.”

  “Is it?”

  “Aye.” He smiled. “At least now we know where Catherine will be as we prepare for flight.”

  “Our flight,” Jaime repeated, her face glowing once again. “Tell me what I should do.”

  Henry VIII, King of England, ignoring the tumblers entertaining in the center of the hall, turned the huge emerald ring over in his meaty palm as Catherine looked on impatiently. A moment later, after the king had studied the ornate setting of the large jewel carefully, he took hold of the chain that passed through the ring and let it dangle before his eyes.

  “Well, my great bear?” Catherine asked, petting the king’s knee and trying not to sound overly eager. “Is it yours?”

  Henry ignored her question as he continued to study the swinging chain, a frown furrowing his brow. “You say this was in the possession of a cousin, Cat?”

  Catherine glanced in Mary’s direction. The blond-haired woman sat across the Hall, her face flushed with anger. Her gaze had not lifted once toward the king—or toward Catherine—since she’d entered.

  Sick of Mary’s whining ways, Catherine had already taken care of her. This afternoon, Henry had agreed to send Mary Howard north, to join the entourage of his sister Margaret, the ailing Queen Mother of Scotland. This was sure to be the end of all of Mary’s dreams of grandeur, Catherine thought. But let it be a lesson to her. To think, the little fool wanted to attend her!

  “In truth, sire, my cousin Mary, whom you know, tells me she came upon this by chance. So she brought it to my attention. I recognized it, of course, as a ring almost identical to the one that already adorns...”

  “By chance?” Henry asked shortly. “The woman came upon an emerald as precious as this by chance?”

  Catherine felt herself becoming flustered under the piercing glare of Henry’s eyes. “Well, Mary was being removed from a chamber which she has been sharing with a distant cousin, a Mistress Jaime. And this ring...well, it has somehow has been in the possession of this distant cousin. And I suppose it was misplaced...these things happen, sire...and by mistake the ring fell in with Mary’s things.”

  Henry’s cold eyes moved slowly from the swinging chain, softenin
g only slightly as they came to rest on Catherine. “Who is this Mistress Jaime?”

  “As I said, my love. A distant cousin!”

  “And she lives at Kenninghall?”

  “She has for the past year,” Catherine answered quickly.

  Henry looked about the crowded tables. “She hasn’t been presented to me.”

  “She has been sick in bed for a few days, but I just heard she is mending, at last.”

  Henry’s eyes again returned to the dangling ring.

  Catherine did her best to hold back her satisfied smile as the king’s brow knotted. At last, it seemed as though he was taking the bait. Though she didn’t know what would come out of Henry knowing that Jaime was Thomas Boleyn’s granddaughter and a half-Scot at that, Catherine’s instincts told her it would be worth the trouble. And the fact that Jaime had been clearly hiding one of Henry’s rings seemed to hint at something underhanded. At least, so Catherine hoped. She had tried to pay the wench another visit today, but that ill-mannered servant of her had blocked her entrance.

  “Whose daughter is she?”

  Catherine smiled demurely at her intended. “She is a granddaughter to Thomas Boleyn.” She didn’t miss the rounding of Henry’s eyes as they flashed back to her in surprise. “Her mother...”

  “Bring her to me,” Henry ordered, cutting her off.

  “But she, being ill...”

  Henry stood at once and turned to bark at the earl, who was watching from a short distance away. “Send this Mistress Jaime to my chamber, Surrey, at once.”

  “Sire,” Thomas Culpepper, a gentleman of the King’s Privy Chamber approached. “Those three you wished to see have arrived from Norwich, and the jailer Reed is on his way.”

  The king grunted and turned away as the gentleman bowed and smiled handsomely at his future queen.

  Catherine watched, smug and satisfied, as Henry, with his entourage in tow, marched from the hall with the chain and the ring clasped tightly in his fist.