The Intended

by May McGoldrick

  Furtively, she made her way down the stairway back toward her room, pausing in every shadowy corner, alcove, and window seat. As she padded along with stealthy steps, dead Howards leered down at her from the paintings that hung on the walls. The long corridor stretched out before her, lit only by the moon that shone softly through windows lining one side. Anyone could walk these halls at this time of night, Catherine thought. But then, suddenly, the whole idea amused her, thrilled her even.

  Catherine stepped up into a window seat, and pressed her warm flesh against the cool panes of the window. Perhaps she needed to expand her circle of...friends. She was already attracting better-looking men than she had in the past, Catherine reminded herself. In her position, she deserved men who would respect her, men she could teach to satisfy her every need. Men that she could control.

  Catherine brightened at the thought, recalling the handsome face of Sir Thomas Culpepper and that other one, Sir Francis something. They were both gentlemen of Henry’s Privy Chamber, and neither had taken his eyes off of her—even once—during dinner.

  Aye, that was what she needed, Catherine decided, chills racing through her. Stealing back the way she had come, she turned down the corridor to where she knew the two men shared a bedchamber. It was always worth knowing where the young gentlemen resided.

  Reaching their door, Catherine once again ran her fingers through her hair, arranging it carefully to display just the right amount of her ample breasts.

  Her soft knock on the door was answered by the shuffle of sleepy steps, and then the shocked gaze of a man, standing in his shirt at the open door and staring with his mouth agape at her naked body.

  “Sir Thomas,” she whispered sweetly, sounding almost surprised that he had found her standing naked in the hallway at this time of night. “I don’t know how...I wonder if you might help me with something.”

  The man glance anxiously over his shoulder as another man approached.

  “Ah, Sir Francis,” she drawled. “I was just telling Sir Thomas that I was hoping you two gentlemen might not be too tired to help a poor maiden in distress.”

  Both men shook their heads as if dreaming.

  “I am so glad,” she said happily, taking the two men by the elbow and leading them toward the bed.

  Chapter 43

  She could not breathe.

  Edward’s fingers were wrapped around her throat, pressing hard. She pried at his hands, trying to fight him off, loosen his grip on her. But he was too strong. Feeling the last of her breath burning in her chest, Jaime fought him with all her might. Her hands scratched at his face as her feet tried to kick free of his weight.

  But she could not breathe.

  Gasping for air, Jaime Macpherson sat bolt upright in her bed, her sweat-soaked shift sticking to her body. Filling her lungs with great gulps of air, she nearly wept at the wonderful sensation of breathing again.

  She shuddered at the vividness of the dream, at the horror of coming face to face with Edward. At the hate that oozed from him as he strangled the life out of her. It was so much like those other dreams, the ones she had experienced as she lay in that terrifying slumber, drugged and dead to the waking world. She felt the tremors run involuntarily through her frame.

  These were only dreams, she reminded herself, glancing at the open window. The moon, bathing the chamber with a pale glow, was sinking in the western sky, and darkness still reigned over the earth. Soon, though, she thought. Soon enough, she would be leaving here and put her fears behind her. Put behind her any chance of facing Edward. Soon enough.

  Feeling cold from the breeze coming in the window, Jaime shivered again and reached down to pull up the bedclothes that she had kicked off during the restless night.

  And then she saw him.

  Out of the darkness, like a slow-moving fiend coming to possess her soul, his dark form approached with evil intent. She stared at him in disbelief, thinking that he was just a specter, a shade, created in her dream-clouded mind, but when he drew his dagger from its sheath, she knew he was no shadow.

  “Edward,” she managed to utter, staring at him in terror.

  “That is all you have to say?” he asked, coming ever closer. “After all the time I’ve been away, that is all the greeting I get from my bride?”

  She scurried back toward the head of the bed. His eyes swept over her hungrily, fixing on her breasts through the clinging shift, and Jaime snatched a pillow from the bed, shielding herself from his malicious scrutiny.

  “What are you doing here, Edward?” she asked, her voice quaking slightly. “No one expected you...”

  Reaching the side of the bed, he snatched the pillow away and threw it across the room. Like a wounded bird, she scuttled further from him.

  “No one expected me to escape what? My prison?” He snarled. “My fate? But you were all wrong, my raven.” With a quick grab, he took hold of her wrist and dragged her across the bed. “I am a pirate far more than I am a courtier. Escaping those fools was no more than a mere nuisance for one with my...desires.”

  She fought him, twisting away, but stopped as her eyes riveted on the dagger that now pointed at her face. She had no doubt he would use the weapon on her. She looked up into his face and saw the evil curl of his lips.

  “Why are you here?” she whispered.

  “Much better,” he hissed. Dropping the dagger on the table beside the bed, Edward grabbed her other wrist and dragged Jaime up against his chest until her eyes were at the same level as his.

  “She asks me why I am here.” He smiled malevolently, bringing his mouth down, giving her a bruising kiss on her lips.

  Jaime felt the bile rushing to her throat as she twisted her head to the side.

  “I am here, my intended, to escort you to a priest.” He shook her hard, forcing her to look again into his face. “I am here to make you go through with our betrothal—to make you live up to your promise of becoming my wife.”

  “I never made that promise!” She shook her head. “We never...”

  Edward released one of her wrists, and in a single motion, took hold of the front of her shift and tore the front of it away, exposing her flesh to his lascivious gaze.

  “And I am here to consummate our marriage,” he sneered, grasping her breast brutally as he shoved her down onto the sheets. “In fact, I like this order of things better. A marriage will follow. After I am done with you. Stay where you are.”

  Straightening up, he unbuckled his sword-belt and dropped the weapon onto the end of the bed. Seeing her chance, Jaime tried to twist away, but Edward grasped her ankle and dragged her roughly to the edge. She opened her mouth to scream but his hand clamped down hard on her lips. She felt his leg shove between her legs. With his weight on her, he fumbled with the ties of his codpiece.

  She bit on his palm with all of her might. She tasted blood.

  “Slut,” he shouted, drawing his hand back to his mouth.

  She opened her mouth again to scream, but this time his hand closed around her windpipe, strangling her cry in her throat. Jaime found herself gasping for the air.

  “So I am not as good as your filthy Highlander, is that it?” His blazing eyes bore into hers. “Aye, I have heard.”

  She shook her head, lights beginning to flash before her eyes.

  “After I am done with you, you’ll think different.” As he again yanked at his codpiece, his grip on her throat eased a bit, allowing some air into her burning lungs. “And if you don’t please me, wench, we’ll take a little trip to Norwich Castle. There, I’ll have you whipped by my man Reed. Do you know what he does to women while they are being beaten?”

  Jaime started thrashing in terror as she felt his member swing free, scraping hard against the inside of her thigh.

  Edward reached down to guide himself into her. “He has one of his men drive into the slut while...”

  Jaime saw the flash of the dagger above his shoulder, and before he could finish his words, she saw it sink into his back.
r />   Edward contorted in pain, lifting himself and trying to turn to face his attacker. It was all the chance Jaime needed, breaking herself free from beneath him and rolling to the side. A look of horror was etched on Caddy’s face as she stepped back, and Edward staggered to his feet, the hilt of the dagger protruding from his back. As he lurched toward the older woman, Jaime sprang into action.

  She jumped from the bed, reaching for the closest thing she could find. His unbuckled sword lay beside her. Jaime grasped the sheathed blade and, with all her force, swung the hilt at the attacker’s head. Edward’s knees buckled under him, and he dropped like a stone to the floor.

  Staring down at the motionless form at her feet, the sword hanging in her hand, Jaime pulled together the front of her torn shift. Dropping the weapon, she stepped back and wiped away a tear that was running down her face.

  “He is dead!” Caddy announced, pushing at him with her foot.

  Jaime looked up and, unable to hold back any longer, rushed into the older woman’s arms. “You saved my life!” she cried. “And I would have preferred death to what he was about to do.”

  “I’m so sorry, mistress. He must have come right by me. Lord Malcolm asked me to stay close to you tonight. I was sleeping in the alcove just outside of your room when I heard your cry. I know I should have called for help, but I...”

  Jaime shook her head. “There wasn’t time, Caddy. If you hadn’t come when you did...” She couldn’t continue.

  As the tears began to flow freely now, the older woman held her tight in her arms and stared down at the demon sprawled at their feet.

  “Who should I go to first?” Caddy asked finally. “The earl himself, or...”

  “No one.” Jaime pulled back, shaking her head adamantly. “Edward is dead. There is no reason for us to call upon them now. They’ll find him soon enough, and by then we’ll be gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Aye, Caddy, we are leaving here tonight. We are going to Scotland.” Suddenly chilled to the bone, she gave the woman’s hands a squeeze and stepped around Edward. Pulling a blanket from the bed, she wrapped it around herself, but it did little to stop the quaking that had settled into her body. “Malcolm intended to come after us at first light, but I want you to go to his chamber and tell him that he is to meet us outside the south entrance right away. Then you must go and ready yourself for the trip.”

  “You are taking me with you, mistress?” the older woman asked with a tremulous voice.

  “How could I go without you?” Jaime choked on her tears again. “But please go. We don’t know if anyone saw...him...arrive at Kenninghall.”

  With a quick nod of her head, Caddy wiped her hands at her skirts and rushed from the room.

  Left alone with Edward, Jaime continued to shake as fear and shock battled from control of her body. She never took her eyes off of him as she hurriedly dressed in her traveling clothes and slipped out of the chamber.

  Nell, Evan’s wife, held the sleeping infant in the crook of her arm as she handed Caddy the basket of food. Malcolm stood by the horses beneath the trees and talked privately with the falconer and Master Graves.

  Jaime, crouching before the young Kate, tried desperately to hold back her tears as the little girl tied her pink ribbon around Jaime’s thick ebony hair. “‘Tis for good luck, mistress, and also for you to remember me by.”

  “But when I gave this to you—it was for keeps,” Jaime whispered.

  “And I kept it, mistress, and it brought me luck,” Kate answered, coming around Jaime and hugging her lovingly. “Now I want you to have it...to bring you luck, and keep you safe.”

  Jaime placed a gentle kiss on the young girl’s soft cheek and reached inside her cloak. From around her neck she removed the long chain. Opening Kate’s little hand, Jaime placed the emerald ring and the chain in her palm. “You give this to your mother to hide and to keep safe for you. And someday, when you are older, it may bring you more luck.”

  Kate’s large eyes stared in an awe at the ring as Jaime, placing another kiss on the young girl’s fiery hair, pushed herself to her feet.

  Nell’s eyes were teary when they met Jaime’s. When Jaime opened her arms to embrace her, the woman nodded and hugged her fiercely. Words were meaningless in expressing the abundance of emotions that they both felt. Pulling away, Jaime caught Malcolm’s gaze.

  In his face she could still see the remnants of rage that had nearly swept him over into the grip of savagery. Only by begging had she kept him from going back to her chamber and hacking Edward’s dead body into a hundred pieces. Caddy had told him the truth of what occurred, and Malcolm, wild with fear and worry, had rushed to Jaime, only to find her gliding silently toward the stairway. As Malcolm had drawn her into his arms, she had made him promise to take her out of the palace without a moment’s delay.

  And now they stood, gazing lovingly at each other beneath the trees at the edge of the meadow, freedom in their grasp.

  Chapter 44

  Jaime had thrilled at the very sight of her cousin.

  Alexander Macpherson, the eldest son of Alec and Fiona, sat in the best cabin of the armed merchantman, master of the ship that was carrying them northward. His presence had been a surprise even to Malcolm, who had expected a Flemish ship to rendezvous with them.

  “You don’t expect me to sit aside and let someone else take care of family, now, do you?” Alexander, following in the steps of his seagoing forefathers, had already established himself, at twenty-three, as a force to reckon with in the German Sea.

  As Jaime watched Malcolm’s handsome face relax in the presence of Alexander, a man he had grown up loving as a younger brother, her mind wandered back over the flight that had brought them to safety.

  Their daylong ride along the winding roads to the fishing village north of Harwich had been hard, but mercifully uneventful. And once there, Malcolm had been able to hire a longboat and the men to row it, in no time. So they had sat at the stern of the boat, Malcolm with a sword on his lap, eyeing with suspicion the swarthy rowers, and they had met Alexander’s ship under the light of the full moon. But it was not until they’d boarded the sleek Elizabeth, and the wind had filled her sails, that Jaime had felt the tension begin to melt out of her body.

  “We’ll have to move off the coast and tack northward,” Alexander said, leaning back, a cup in his hand and his long legs stretched out before him. “The wind is coming from the north—so be prepared for a slow journey home.”

  “Thanks, lad,” Malcolm said. “We’re planning to make good with any idle time on our hands.”

  Jaime felt herself blushing crimson at Malcolm’s suggestive words and mischievous glance. Hiding a smile, she tore her gaze away from her intended—the rogue—and looked innocently at Alexander. But her cousin’s raised eyebrows made her blush even more.

  “So when is the wedding?” the handsome young Highlander asked with a grin.

  “As soon as we arrive,” Malcolm answered.

  “Will it be at Benmore Castle?” Alexander probed. “We haven’t put on a good wedding there since...”

  “Nay, Alexander. On the Isle of Skye,” she corrected quietly. Jaime looked steadily at Malcolm. She had to slay the demons of her past. She would stand at that Priory altar as Malcolm’s bride.

  “Well, then, we’ll just have a nice summer voyage around the Orkney’s and drop anchor in Loch Dunvegan, if that suits you.”

  Alexander’s blue eyes twinkled with mirth as they traveled from Malcolm’s loving expression to Jaime’s matching looks. Putting his cup down on the table and folding his hands over his flat belly, he jutted out his lower lip and took on a fatherly pose, frowning at the two sitting across from him.

  “Now, mind me, you two,” he said sternly. “You mustn’t forget that you are under my safekeeping. So as master of the Elizabeth and all who sail on her, I am telling you now that I’ll be glad to help you two keep your distance from each other. I’ve already given my dearest cousin Jaime the use
of my chamber, and you, Malcolm—foul beast—will sleep with the rest of my scurvy, pox-infected sailors in the forecastle.”

  In response to Malcolm’s growl, Alexander raised a hand. “I know. You appreciate my looking out for you. But that is not all that I will do for you. When you two meet while aboard this ship, I’ll make certain that a chaperon, preferably myself, will oversee your visit.”

  Seeing Malcolm come to his feet, Jaime fought back a giggle.

  “Of course, you’ll want to stay away from any kisses—any fondling—any act that...”

  Alexander’s chair splintered beneath him as Malcolm kicked out one of the legs, and an instant later the Highlander stood with a boot on the younger man’s chest.

  “If you’re thinking that because you have grown to be as tall as me, I’ll be treating you any different from before, then you are in for a great surprise,” Malcolm snarled. “You might be master of this ship, and feared from the Shetlands to Calais, but I can still handle you with the same ease that I have since you were a wee bairn.”

  “Jaime.” Alexander turned his blond head to face her. “How could you marry a man this old?”

  But before she could answer, the young mariner grasped Malcolm's ankle firmly with one hand and upended the MacLeod laird with the other. In another moment the two warriors were locked in combat on the floor.

  “Some things never change,” Jaime said in disgust, coming to her feet and backing away to a safe distance. “You two remain the ruffians and rogues you were when we were young.”

  As the two turned their heads to look at her, she extended a hand toward Malcolm. “A person would think one of you, at least, would grow up.”

  Alexander bounced to his feet first and extended a hand to help Malcolm up. But the Highlander instead accepted Jaime’s outstretched hand. The ship’s master turned to her, as well.