by Tarah Scott
“I am.” The man riding a dark palfrey urged the horse forward a step.
“What do you want?” St. Claire demanded.
Niall narrowed his eyes. “I want to speak with ye.”
“You want to tell me that you are the rightful Earl of Baliman,” St. Claire shot back. “I have no time for family squabbles.”
“Then ye ought not to have joined our family.”
“Lady Taresa appointed me her heir,” St. Claire said.
Niall gave a derisive snort. “Taresa is an old lady who will do anything to recover a trace of her lost daughter. She isna’ capable of making such a decision.”
“And you mean to help her make a decision that names you Cailan’s heir,” St. Claire said.
“He has more right than an English knight,” a young man to Niall’s right interjected.
St. Claire shifted his gaze onto the man. “Not when that English knight is her grandson.”
“Even if ye are her grandson, ye are a bastard,” Niall said.
“You may debate my legitimacy with King Edward.”
“Ye mean to make war with us?” Niall demanded.
Rhoslyn didn’t like the nasty tone of his voice. Apparently, neither did St. Claire
“Lady Taresa made her decision. It is you who will not accept it.”
“She is no’ Scottish.” Niall spat the words. “The title belongs to a Highlander.”
“If you wish to discuss Scottish law, speak with your lord. He will explain your error.”
“‘Tis no’ I who err, Knight.”
“Leave now,” St. Claire said, “and do not return until you are ready to swear fealty to me.”
“Sweat fealty to Edward’s puppet?” Niall sneered. “Never.”
“Then never return.”
For an instant Rhoslyn thought Niall might draw his sword. Another of the men shifted and St. Claire said, “Beware, Kenzie. If any of your men make the mistake of drawing a sword, I will kill you first.”
Niall cursed, then yanked on his horse’s reins.
The beast started to turn and St. Claire said, “Kenzie.” the man’s head jerked in his direction. “Do not harass my grandmother or I will make war on you.”
The man stared for an instant, then kicked his horse’s flanks. The warriors moved aside as the palfrey lunged forward, and Niall’s men followed.
When the last man passed through the gate, St. Claire dismounted and strode to Rhoslyn. “My lady.” He grasped her arm and started toward the castle.
“You have accepted Lady Taresa as your grandmother?” Rhoslyn said.
“What?”
Rhoslyn nearly trotted in order to keep up with his long strides. “You called her your grandmother. St. Claire, are ye in a hurry?”
He looked down at her. “In a hurry?”
“You are practically running.”
“Forgive me.” He slowed, but his hold on her arm didn’t loosen.
“You called Lady Taresa your grandmother,” Rhoslyn said. “That means you have accepted her as your grandmother.”
“It means I had to make sure those fools did not try to coerce her into doing what they want.”
“You mean you only said that to frighten them.”
They reached the castle and he opened the door, then urged her in ahead of him.
“The Kenzies are gone,” she said. “Are you no’ going to return to Dunfrey Castle? Surely your work there isna’ finished. You were gone for only a few hours.”
He closed the door behind him and stopped, “What were you doing in the bailey? Those men intended trouble. If a fight had broken out you would have been in the middle of it.”
“They were six men, guarded by a dozen of your men. A hundred more are about the castle at all times. I was in no danger.”
“Men like Kenzie cannot be trusted. He easily could have reached you before one of my men could stop him.”
Rhoslyn heard genuine concern in his voice, and the furrow in his brow deepened. “I didna’ come down until you arrived, St. Claire. I was on the wall watching for you.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why were you on the wall watching for me?”
“I thought it odd that they arrived during your first absence in a month. I thought they...”
Her answer seemed to catch him off guard and she thought he might relent, but he shook her and said, “You thought they might have laid a trap for me, then come here so that no one would accuse them of attacking me?”
That was very much what she’d feared.
“Then you understand how dangerous they are,” he said. “When there is trouble—of any kind—you are to stay in your room.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, but released her and pushed through the door without a backward glance. Why had he gotten so angry? Surely he knew she was perfectly safe? Alec had never gotten angry with her. He had never so much as raised his voice. But St. Claire wasn’t Alec.
* * *
Merrymakers celebrating the marriage of one of Castle Glenbarr’s knights to a baron’s daughter filled the great hall and spilled out into the bailey. Talbot had furnished wine, ale, and food for the festivities. With the ceremony barely two hours past and the men well on their way to inebriation, he received word that Lord Lochland waited in the bailey with a dozen men. Enough men to protect him on the road, but a small enough number to assure him that Lochland had not come to fight Still, as far as Talbot was concerned, they’d had too many visitors in the two weeks since he’d accepted the title.
Talbot caught the glance Rhoslyn sent his way when the warrior delivered the message, but didn’t stop when he passed her on his way to the door. He reached Lochland, who still sat astride his horse.
“Good evening, my lord,” Talbot said. “Have you come to join in the celebration?”
“There is no need to pretend that I am your lord,” Lochland said. “I am well aware you are the new Earl of Baliman.”
Everyone kept reminding him of that. Talbot canted his head. “I am still growing accustomed to the title. Will you join the party? Your men are welcome as well.”
“Come on, then, lads,” he said, and dismounted.
The men gave their reins to waiting warriors and Talbot led them toward the castle.
“I suppose ye know this means I canna’ enforce Lady Andreana’s marriage to De Quincy,” Lochland said without preamble.
“Yes,” Talbot replied.
“Will you hold against me that I betrothed her to De Quincy?”
Talbot appreciated the man’s straightforward manner. “Nay, my—Lochland. You only did what you thought best. You must know that Boyd marched against Castle Glenbarr as you predicted.”
Lochland nodded. “I understand Kinsley rose from his bed and dealt with him.”
“Aye.”
“Ye would be a fool to think that is the end of things with Boyd,” Lochland said.
Talbot wasn’t fool enough to think that Boyd was finished with him any more than Lochland was. “I expect to see him again.”
They reached the castle and Talbot opened the door. Laughter and music poured from the room. Talbot allowed Lochland to precede him, then followed the earl, with the earl’s men close behind.
Talbot caught sight of Rhoslyn standing with the bride and several other women near the hearth. Her gaze followed Lochland. Talbot read the obvious satisfaction in her eyes and wondered how long it would take before she vocalized her feelings.
“Will you sit with me?” Lochland asked. “I would like to talk further.”
Talbot considered inviting him into the bower where it was quiet, then realized Rhoslyn would follow. Talbot nodded, and Lochland gave his men leave to do as they pleased. Talbot led him to the table and secured drink for them both.
“Comyn paid ye a visit,” Lochland said, and Talbot had to wonder if straightforwardness was a Scottish trait. If so, he liked it. “He wants you to advise Edward to appoint Balliol as King of Scotland.”
&nb
sp; “He did not speak of it to me,” Talbot spoke loud enough to be heard, and hoped to guests were too busy enjoying themselves to pay attention to his conversation with Lochland.
“He will,” Lochland said, voicing Talbot’s thoughts. “It doesna’ much matter. Edward plans to make Balliol king with or without Scotland’s support. But you will make that decision easier.”
“You do not like Balliol?” Talbot said.
“Nay. Neither does your wife. But if Edward supports him, you will follow suit.”
“He is my king,” Talbot conceded.
“A king who will no’ support you if ye find yourself surrounded by enemies,” Lochland said.
Talbot gave a short laugh. “I am surrounded by more enemies in peace than I was in battle.”
The earl chuckled. “Aye, I imagine you are. However, ye are in a position to make good friends who will stand by you when Edward will no’.”
“You, for example?” Talbot asked.
He gave a nod. “I am one, but there are others.”
From the corner of his eye, Talbot saw Rhoslyn approach. “We can speak more of this later.” He knew Lochland would want to discuss it at great length.
The earl’s gaze caught on Rhoslyn and a speculative gleam appeared in his eyes.
“I advise you not to involve my wife in this debate,” Talbot said. Lochland looked at him and Talbot read his indecision. “I make no decisions based on my wife’s political views. I will not consider anyone a friend who uses her in any way.”
“She doesna’ like me anyway,” Lochland said.
“No,” Talbot agreed, “she does not.”
To her credit, Rhoslyn was gracious to Lochland. Talbot detected an underlying desire to throttle him, but instead she took delight in speaking gaily of Andreana and Baxter—and their soon return. It was a fabrication, they hadn’t discussed the couple’s return, but Talbot allowed her this small satisfaction. He had just begun to relax when Lady Isobel entered the great hall.
Rhoslyn shifted her gaze onto her before the door fully closed. Lady Isobel seemed oblivious to the scrutiny, though Talbot suspected she simply pretended not to notice.
Rhoslyn said nothing. They still sat with Lochland and Talbot guessed she didn’t want the earl to know that she had caught her husband in an embrace with the woman. But Talbot wasn’t foolish enough to think Isobel would remain unscathed. He considered asking Isobel to leave, but any attention he gave her would be looked upon unfavorably by Rhoslyn. She confirmed the suspicion by turning an accusatory stare onto him.
“I did not compose the guest list, Lady Rhoslyn,” he said.
Lochland glanced curiously at her and a faint blush crept up her cheeks.
“That minstrel of yours seems to know only two songs,” Lochland said. “Did ye bring him from England, St. Claire? He sings only of your exploits in Wales.” The earl rose. “I think I will see if he knows any Scottish ballads.”
He left and Talbot braced himself for Rhoslyn’s fury, but was saved—if saved it could be named—when Lady Isobel approached.
“I willna’ have that woman in my home,” Rhoslyn said under her breath.
“Is she a friend to the bride and groom?” Talbot asked.
Rhoslyn snorted in derision. “If she is a friend to the groom it is for one reason only.”
Talbot privately agreed.
Isobel reached them and he feared Rhoslyn would leap out of her chair and pummel the lady.
“What are ye doing here?” Rhoslyn demanded.
Surprise flickered in Isobel’s eyes. “I am here to celebrate the happy couple’s marriage. I have known Lady Sine since she was a child. It would be rude not to come.”
“Ye didna’ think it was rude to seduce my husband.”
Isobel gave her a curious look. “Are ye that naive, Lady Rhoslyn?”
Rhoslyn shoved to her feet. A group standing nearby stopped talking and looked at her.
Rhoslyn said to Isobel under her breath, “Are ye saying my husband is the guilty party?”
“He was a complete gentleman.” Isobel looked at him. “To my disappointment.”
Rhoslyn took a step closer to her. “Then ye admit ye intended to bed him in the room next to mine.”
“It was a kiss. Nothing more.” Isobel glanced at him. “I suppose I can understand why ye would complain about sharing St. Claire and no’—”
Talbot came to his feet. “Lady Isobel that is enough.”
She lifted her brows, and Rhoslyn looked from her to him. Talbot saw the wheels turning in her mind.
Elizabeth appeared at her side. “Rhoslyn, where did ye find your new cook? The deer stew is delicious.”
Everyone looked at her.
She lifted her brows. “I am sorry, am I interrupting?”
She was, and knew it, and Talbot would later express his gratitude.
“Lady Isobel, I have no’ seen you in some time,” Elizabeth said. “Things are well with you?”
“Things are very good,” she replied.
Elizabeth turned her attention to Rhoslyn. “Have you met Lady Sine’s cousin Raleigh?”
Rhoslyn frowned. “Who?”
“Lady Sine’s cousin. He has come from the Isle of Lewis and brought wool as a wedding present, which he says is the finest is all of Scotland. He is wearing a jerkin made of the wool, and it is magnificent. You must come see.”
“What do I care about wool?” Rhoslyn said.
“Ye might be able to talk Sir Talbot into purchasing some of the wool.”
“I can purchase my own wool,” she answered with a dark glance his way.
Elizabeth laughed. “All the better. Come, you must see the jerkin.”
Rhoslyn sent a last dagger-filled look Isobel’s way, then allowed Elizabeth to lead her away.
Isobel’s eyes remained fixed on her. “She doesna’ know.”
“Nay. And I would like it to stay that way,” Talbot said.
Isobel shifted her gaze onto him. “It is in your interest for her to know that Alec bedded me and you would not.”
“It would hurt her,” he replied.
“But it would benefit you.”
“I do not need to be compared to Alec Harper.”
She studied him. “I would say there is no comparison, and if Lady Rhoslyn can no’ see that, she is a fool.”
Chapter Twenty Two
Rhoslyn spent too much time in her private solar. At a little over five months pregnant, she felt excellent. But St Claire fussed like a mother hen, and constantly ordered her to rest. She had installed Lady Saraid in the kitchen with Mistress Muira in order to have a moment to review the list of goods they had received two days ago. With the addition of St. Claire’s men, they had doubled their supply purchases and she seemed always to be working on the rolls.
Now, however, she stared out her window at the rider entering the courtyard. His shaven face and dark brown hair told her he was English, even without the absence of a kilt. This didn’t bode well. She rose from the stool and hurried downstairs. Rhoslyn stepped from the stairs into the great hall as the man entered the postern door ahead of St. Claire.
St. Claire’s gaze met hers and she read in his eyes the knowledge of her anxious curiosity. Rhoslyn caught sight of the folded parchment in his hand and her fear mounted. King Edward had sent a missive.
To her relief. St. Claire led the man toward the table set up near the hearth. She crossed the room and met them at the table.
“It has been a long ride for Sir John,” St. Claire said. “He would like food and drink.”
Rhoslyn nodded. “Go to the kitchen and tell Mistress Muira I sent you. She will feed ye near the fire there, where you may warm.”
He bowed, then left them.
“I imagine you want to know what is in this missive,” St. Claire said.
“It is from Edward?” she asked.
He nodded and lowered himself onto the bench beside the table. Rhoslyn sat beside him as he slid a finger between the
folded edges and broke the seal. She was sure he was intentionally taking his time and had to refrain from snatching the parchment from him and tearing it open. He unfolded the letter and she read over his arm.
Sir Talbot,
My congratulations upon your new title as Earl of Baliman. I could not be more pleased. In the interest of keeping positive relations, I command that you appear before me and, as the Earl of Baliman, swear fealty. As my faithful servant, you will leave with Sir John and come to me immediately.
Your King,
Edward
“The bastard.” Rhoslyn shot to her feet. “How dare he command fealty from ye. As the Earl of Baliman you owe him nothing.”
St Claire looked up at her. “He is my king. He has every right to demand my fealty.”
She stared in shock. “You are the most powerful man in all of Buchan. It is to you that men should swear fealty. Ye demanded that Kenzie bow to you.”
“Aye, but I still have a lord. All men have a lord.”
“Not Edward,” she said bitterly.
“Even him,” St. Claire replied.
“St. Claire, I didna’ know you were a religious man.”
“I am not, but that does not mean I do not believe we all serve someone. It is within Edward’s right to demand my loyalty, and you should not be surprised that he wants to control my power. And lest you forget, I am not king. If I do not swear fealty to Edward, then I must pledge loyalty to the king of Scotland.”
“Ye live in Scotland. You are a Scottish nobleman. Swear fealty to the king of Scotland.” His gaze shifted back to the letter and her blood chilled. “Sweet Jesu, ye mean to return to England as he commands.” She couldn’t believe it.
“I have never disobeyed his command,” St. Claire said.
Her mind raced. She wasn’t surprised that Edward was tightening his hold. So what were the consequences within her family of Edward’s grab for power? He would insist her sons train in England under English tutors; that they marry English women. Her daughters would become political pawns, married to noblemen selected by Edward to strengthen English alliances.
She hadn’t considered any of this when she’d learned that St. Claire was the new earl. Her first thought had been of his strengthened ties to Scotland. Anger whipped through her. Edward would tear him away to prevent that, if necessary.
