by Tarah Scott
* * *
A hard rap to the door brought Talbot fully awake.
“What is it?” Rhoslyn demanded in a sleepy voice.
He threw aside the thick bed curtain. Early morning sun seeped in the window.
Another knock. “St Claire,” Ross called.
Rhoslyn started to rise.
“Stay in bed,” Talbot ordered. He scooped up his tunic from the floor and slipped it over his head, then went to the door and opened it.
“Fifty of Lochland’s men wait outside the gates,” Ross said without preamble. “They expect to escort ye to England to bring back Lady Andreana.”
“Men-at-arms are in the trees as I ordered?” he said.
Ross nodded. “One hundred, as ye said.”
Rhoslyn stepped around the bed. A dress haphazardly covered her body. “Tell Lord Lochland that the Earl of Baliman doesna’ take orders from him.”
“Rhoslyn, I will not—”
“How long will ye fight the truth, St. Claire?” she cut in. “What do you think will stop Lochland from making war on you, if no’ this?”
“I can deal with Lochland,” he said.
“Mayhap. But ye also have your brother and Sir Boyd to deal with. And dinna’ forget you promised me the head of my grandfather’s attacker. I expect you to keep that promise.” She didn’t wait for his answer, but said to Ross, “Off with ye, Ross. Deliver the message as I said.”
“I will be down in a moment to speak with them,” Talbot said.
Ross nodded, then started to turn, but stopped. “If ye ignore Lochland’s command he will challenge ye. It might even mean war. At least think about what Lady Rhoslyn said.”
He left, and Talbot crossed to the bench near the window where his mail shirt lay.
Rhoslyn tugged a sleeve to straighten it. “Why are ye so stubborn?”
He paused in slipping the mail shirt over his head. “Is being an earl’s wife so important? Or is it that you want your son to have the title?”
She snapped her head up and met his gaze. “I come from a proud line of Highlander’s. I do no’ need your title—neither does our child.”
He pulled the mail shirt over his head. “Then why are you so insistent?”
“Because it is so obviously true.”
“The likeness between Lady Taresa and my sister—”
“Is too coincidental to be coincidence,” she cut in.
He sat on the bench and began pulling on a boot. “I remember my mother only vaguely. I was five when she died.”
Talbot paused in putting on his boot. He was five when his father told him she had died. But if she died when he was twelve as Lady Taresa said... Why would his father lie? If Lady Peigi was Talbot’s mother, why not simply marry her after Dayton’s mother died? A chill coiled in his belly at the vision of Dayton’s tirade when he grew old enough to understand that his father’s wife—Dayton’s stepmother—was Talbot’s mother.
His father couldn’t bring Talbot’s mother home.
Neither could he marry Lady Kelsi Emory while keeping a long-time mistress Talbot realized with a flash of insight that he recognized as truth. Lady Kelsi tolerated her husband’s bastard children, but she wouldn’t tolerate her husband having—loving—another woman. Talbot’s father told him that his mother had died giving birth to Lilas. Did he tell his new wife the same lie? Talbot finished pulling on the boot. Would his father truly dishonor a high-born lady in such a manner? Would he take a woman’s children from her? And lie to all those he loves?
“Write to your father.” Rhoslyn’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Mayhap he will admit the truth.”
“I have written, but do not get your hopes up.” He grabbed the other boot, pulled it on, then stood. “He prizes honor above all.” The words came out of his mouth an automatic reaction.
“Honor has a way of disappearing when a man wants a woman,” Rhoslyn said.
Talbot’s chest tightened.
“You, a bastard, can say your father is always honorable when it comes to women?” she said.
Talbot imagined Rhoslyn as a maiden of fifteen and wondered what he would have done had he met her before she married Alec Harper. He would have married her. No, he wouldn’t have. Her grandfather wouldn’t have allowed Talbot within a hundred feet of her. Just as Talbot’s father wouldn’t have been allowed near Lady Peigi. Just as Talbot hadn’t allowed his men near Andreana.
In truth, a king’s decree was all that had stopped Seward from killing Talbot when he married Rhoslyn.
* * *
When Rhoslyn woke two days later, her stomach roiled. She made a dash for the jakes, reaching it just in time to fall to her knees and wretch into the basin. Warm fingers on her shoulder caused her to jump and she jerked her head up to see St. Claire kneeling beside her.
“Go away,” she croaked.
He was sure to avoid her bed after seeing her like this. Her first few months while pregnant with Dougal she had slept half the time in her own bed for fear of waking up in need of a jakes. Alec had been solicitous, but she’d known he was relieved not to witness her bent over the jakes for half a day.
“Drink this.” St. Claire lifted a cup to her lips and tilted it up.
Cool water met her lips and she took a large sip, then pushed the cup away. She swished the water around in her mouth, then spat it into the pot.
“Take more,” he urged, and wrapped her fingers around the cup.
Rhoslyn drank slowly, allowing the water to soothe her throat and belly. When she finished, he pulled her to her feet. He was dressed, she noted, and the morning sun was bright in the room.
“I overslept,” she said. “Why did ye no’ wake me.”
“Why wake you?” he replied. “If you are tired, you should rest.”
“I am not ill,” she said, though the way her stomach tilted to one side, she wasn’t so certain.
“Perhaps you should rest more,” he said.
Rhoslyn shook her head. “This will pass.” Though with Dougal she had suffered months of nausea.
She had thought she might escape the nausea with this pregnancy. She had been sick within the first month of carrying Dougal. This was her fourth month. If not for missing her flux, she would have thought she wasn’t with child, for she felt no ill effects.
St. Clair stared at her, brows drawn.
“This is what happens when a woman is pregnant,” she said. “Go about your business. I have work to do. Lady Saraid is returning today.”
“I am surprised her father allowed her to return. He is not afraid one of my enemies will attack?”
Rhoslyn snorted. “I wager he wants to say his daughter is under the protection of the Earl of Baliman. Ye will have many new friends, St. Claire.”
“They will be disappointed.” His brow furrowed. “It might be best if Lady Saraid does not return to Castle Glenbarr for a while. I recall that she tried your patience.”
Rhoslyn grimaced. “The girl is irksome. But it isna’ her fault.”
He lifted his brows. “Nay?”
She gave him a recriminating look. “She is a child. Her father allowed her to run wild. It is no wonder she needs training.” He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. “Go away, St. Claire. I want to wash and I must fortify myself for Lady Saraid’s arrival.”
Amusement appeared in his eyes and he surprised her by placing a kiss on her forehead and leaving without argument.
The day wore on, and Rhoslyn began to wonder if St. Claire were right. Perhaps she should have waited to allow Lady Saraid to resume her training. Her stomach was fine—so long as she didn’t smell food—and the girl was trying her patience more than usual. Saraid clearly thought that being sent home meant her training was over, and she snatched every opportunity to demonstrate her displeasure at being forced to return.
They now sat on a bench beneath a tree in the corner of the bailey nearest the castle, studying a list of herbs. Saraid dawdled and stumbled through the list. Rh
oslyn sighed. The day had been long. The gate began to open. Rhoslyn tensed before realizing the guards wouldn’t open the gate to Lord Lochland’s men. She had been on edge since St. Claire had sent the earl’s men back to him with the message that he wouldn’t leave Castle Glenbarr until his brother had been apprehended.
St. Claire emerged from the stairs leading up to the wall. Rhoslyn’s heart warmed with the memory of how he had tended her this morning at the jakes. Three riders entered and Rhoslyn stiffened at sight of the figure in the lead.
* * *
Talbot often thought that women had second sight when it came to female matters. Lady Isobel’s visit confirmed that suspicion. He also couldn’t help wondering how she timed her arrival to catch him as he exited the wall. He would have melted back into the stairway but, of course, she’d seen him.
“Poor Rhoslyn suffered terribly during her first pregnancy,” she said as he escorted her across the bailey. She slipped a hand into the crook of his arm and turned her head against the wind that whipped at her cloak. “I will be happy to help in any way I can.”
His mind snapped to attention. Was that an offer to warm his bed?
“I am but a twenty minute ride away, Sir Talbot. Ye can call upon me anytime.”
Yes, she was letting him know she would bed him. He hadn’t forgotten her open appraisal of him during the games.
“I will keep that in mind,” he said.
She slowed, forcing him to slow with her. “Rhoslyn had nausea for three months,” Isobel went on. “Poor thing. Alec was at a loss as what to do with her.”
Talbot wondered if Isobel had made the same offer to Harper she had made to him.
“She did continue with her duties, however,” Isobel said. “But that is Lady Rhoslyn, she canna’ stay still for more than five minutes.” Isobel laughed, and he noticed the sultry note in her voice—for his benefit, no doubt.
She confirmed the suspicion by leaning in close. The side of her breast brushed his arm. The woman had no shame.
“It is kind of you to ride all the way here to visit my wife,” Talbot said.
She looked up at him through her lashes. “We have known one another since childhood. I would do anything for Rhoslyn. This is an especially difficult time for a woman. She needs much rest and should no’ be overexcited.”
The way he had overexcited her last night? Since she had returned to his bed, she had been insatiable. Her belly had yet to show signs of the babe growing inside, but her breasts were heavier and her nipples had turned a darker rose. Talbot felt himself rousing with the memory of her hard peaks in his mouth. Maybe tonight—No. He cut off the thought. She was ill this morning, and wouldn’t be in the mood for lovemaking. Lady Isobel was right. Rhoslyn was entering a difficult time. He would have to curb his desire until...until when, after the babe was born? Months after the babe was born. He glanced down at Lady Isobel. She was a shrewd woman.
* * *
Talbot watched as, for the third time since they’d sat down to the evening meal, Rhoslyn excused herself and hurried to the kitchen.
“Lady Rhoslyn is no’ quite herself this evening,” Isobel said. She sat to Rhoslyn’s left. “Perhaps it would be best if I stay the night. I can attend to her if she does no’ feel well.”
Talbot knew Isobel intended to wheedle her way into his bed, but truth be told, he was concerned about Rhoslyn. She seemed in a worse state of mind than she had been this morning when he’d found her leaning over the jakes.
“Women grow moody as their time approaches,” Seward said. “This is natural, St. Claire.”
“So true,” Lady Isobel agreed. “But a woman likes to have another woman around.”
“Rhoslyn’s time isna’ close,” the old baron said. “When her time draws near, she may want your help. I canna’ see that it is of much use now.”
Lady Isobel laughed. “Spoken like a man.”
A few minutes passed and Rhoslyn didn’t return. Talbot rose and went to the kitchen. Rhoslyn was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is Lady Rhoslyn?” Talbot asked Mistress Muira.
“In her bed by now, I imagine,” the housekeeper replied. “She wasna’ feeling well.”
Talbot glanced at the stairs.
“Dinna’ worry,” Mistress Muira said. “It is common for a woman to want rest while pregnant.
“I should not have allowed Lady Saraid to return,” he said more to himself than to Mistress Muira.
“Dinna’ be silly,” Muira said. “Lady Rhoslyn can no’ do nothing for the next few months. As time goes on, she will need more rest, but she will know when that time comes.”
Talbot wasn’t so sure. He returned to the great hall and sat at his place. “Rhoslyn has retired for the evening.”
Lady Isobel nodded. “Just as I thought.”
“You are welcome to stay the night, if you like, my lady,” Talbot said.
“Of course,” she said, and Seward shot him a speculative glance.
* * *
At a soft knock to the solar door, Talbot looked up from the rolls he was studying. He rose, crossed to the door and opened it to find Lady Isobel standing in the hallway.
“Lady Isobel. Rhoslyn is abed,” Talbot said.
“You are no’ asleep.” Lady Isobel slipped between him and the open door.
She passed so close that Talbot got a whiff of rose water. She stopped two paces away and faced him.
Hand still on the door bolt, he nodded toward the hallway. “You may return in the morning when my wife is awake.”
She faced him. “Ye are working yourself too hard. I know how difficult things must be for you.”
“Put your mind at ease,” he said. “I am well. Rhoslyn sees to my needs.”
Isobel stepped close and put her arms around his neck. “You need no’ worry, Talbot. Alec was discreet. We can do the same.”
Talbot reached for her hands—the door to Rhoslyn’s chambers burst open. She stumbled forward, pushing through the door and into the room.
“Ye bastard,” she said, her voice shaking.
St. Claire grasped Isobel’s arms and pulled them from his neck. “You should go, Lady Isobel.”
“Aye,” Rhoslyn spat. “And dinna’ come back.”
“Lady Rhoslyn,” Isobel began.
“Leave,” Rhoslyn said between gritted teeth.
Isobel seemed to consider, then shrugged and left.
Talbot closed the door behind her, and Rhoslyn said, “Three months we have been married and already ye are taking a mistress—and in the room next to mine. Alec never treated me thusly.”
So Rhoslyn didn’t know her husband’s indiscretion. That didn’t surprise him.
“Things are not quite how they look,” Talbot said. His chest tightened when she swiped at a tear that slid down her cheek. He started toward her.
She backed up. “Stay away. Stay away and never come near me again.”
She whirled and he lunged, catching her arm. He swung her into his arms. She beat on his chest. Talbot hugged her close.
“Shh, Rhoslyn, listen to me.”
“Release me.” Tears streamed down her face unchecked.
Talbot lifted her into his arms.
“Nay,” she cried, but he strode into his room to the bed.
She twisted in an effort to break free and he crushed her to him.
“Cease fighting,” he commanded. “You will harm yourself and the babe.”
“Release me.” The words were filled with venom, but she stilled.
He pulled aside the curtain and laid her on the bed. “Do not move,” he said. She started to scoot to the far side of the bed. “Rhoslyn, I warn you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Ye promised no’ to force me.”
“I do not intend to force you. But I will not allow you to injure yourself. Now, stay still.”
She didn’t move and he went to the table near the window and poured a goblet of wine then returned.
“Drink this.” He extended i
t toward her. She lifted her chin in defiance. “Rhoslyn, do not be foolish. Please, drink.”
She didn’t move for a moment, and he thought she intended to defy him, then she took the goblet and drank a heavy swig.
Talbot sat on the edge of the bed. “Yes, Isobel had her arms around me.”
“You were no’ resisting her,” Rhoslyn interjected.
“I was, in fact, resisting. Think about what you saw. I was reaching for her hands when you entered the room.”
“I saw you earlier in the bailey,” she said. “You were walking with her arm-in-arm. Ye were mighty cozy.”
“Should I run from her?” he asked.
Rhoslyn snorted. “A man doesna’ run from a beautiful woman.”
“You are the only beautiful woman I want, love.”
Her brows dove downward.
“If I intended to bed a woman, I would not do it in the room next to yours,” he said. “I am not that foolish, nor would I disrespect you in that manner.”
“That only means ye have a woman I do no’ know about, and Isobel wasna’ willing to wait.”
He shook his head. “It means I did not invite Lady Isobel here. There is no one else, Rhoslyn. I would not have the energy—even if I had the inclination. You please me.”
“Until I grow fat with child, then ye will find someone else quickly enough—if you havena’ already.”
Talbot took the goblet and set it on the table beside the bed. He pushed his braies and hose down his hips and tossed then aside, then got into bed.
“I will sleep in my own bed,” Rhoslyn said, but he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, her back against his chest.
“Your cock is hard as a rock, St. Claire,” she said. “Ye canna’ tell me ye did not want Isobel. I have no wish to be in bed with a man who prefers another woman.” She tried to scoot away from him, but he held fast.
Talbot buried his face in her hair. “It is you I am in bed with, not Isobel.”
“Because I interfered,” she said.
“Because I choose you,” he countered. “Now go to sleep.”
He wondered how he would sleep with his bollocks so tight with need they felt as if they would burst. And his cock—he didn’t want to think about how good it would feel to fit himself more snuggly against Rhoslyn’s arse and slip inside her wet passage.
