Medieval Ever After

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Now Kennedy was out, to be replaced by…

  If he let himself finish the thought with Gordon in the room, he very well might strangle his hapless captain of the guard.

  “Double the number of scouts in the northwest,” he said to the man instead. “I want daily reports on Loch Doon. Can you manage that, Captain?”

  Gordon nodded quickly. At Raef’s wave of dismissal, he slipped out the study door.

  A Sinclair. A Sinclair now ruled Loch Doon instead of Raef’s lackey. A Sinclair was now holding the nearest castle to Dunbraes. A Sinclair was now no doubt plotting against Raef.

  And yet, a Sinclair was also now within striking distance.

  Raef bent to pick up the red and white chess pieces that littered the floor. His father had given him this fine set, each piece carved carefully out of walrus tusk. Half of the pieces remained tusk-white, while the other half were painted blood red.

  His father had taught him how to play on this magnificent set. Of course, within a matter of months, Raef was besting him at the game. Likewise, it had been Raef’s strategic mind and clever maneuverings that had distinguished him among the English nobility as a tactician and military wit. Such skill had earned him Dunbraes and granted him the opportunity to lead a campaign all the way into northern Scotland for the Battle of Roslin.

  And if it weren’t for those bloody, barbarian Sinclairs, he would have won that battle and secured himself a position at the King’s side. But somehow they’d managed to outflank him, sending him and what was left of his men back to the Borderlands like whipped dogs.

  And then…

  Raef ground his teeth as he placed the white queen back on the board.

  And then, Robert Sinclair had stolen his intended bride, Alwin Hewett. She was an English virgin, meant for him, but that filthy savage had soiled her, rutting with her and turning her into a debased Scot like Sinclair himself. And he had even thwarted Raef’s efforts to have her murdered so that her death could be used as a rallying cry for the English. Instead, Raef was made to look the fool, his bride married to a Scotsman who plowed her, ruined her, sullied her with his savageness.

  Then there was his sister. If he were honest with himself, he cared less about the loss of Jossalyn than he had about the Hewett girl. Jossalyn had always been an annoyance at best, though she did serve well as a bargaining chip for him to gain wealth and position. But another Sinclair snatched her away before Raef could marry her off for his betterment.

  Being unburdened of his cowering sister, who insisted on interacting with the sickly and ill in her foolish attempts to heal them, was something of a relief. He no longer had to share a roof with someone who could bring disease and death everywhere she went. But to be bested again by a Sinclair—he nearly spit on the floor of his study at the thought.

  That made three times the Sinclairs had embarrassed him. But it wouldn’t happen again. Those Highland barbarians were clearly thick as thieves with the Bruce. To defeat this Sinclair at Loch Doon would not only soothe his ego, but it would also be a blow against the rebel pretender-King.

  A thought skittered across his mind as he righted the last piece on the board. Kennedy had a daughter. Perhaps she had something to do with the appearance of a Sinclair at Loch Doon. A marriage alliance, perhaps?

  If those bloody Highlanders could use his women against him, perhaps he could return the favor. He would have to get word to his man inside the castle though, which was always a delicate and time-consuming business. Not even Gordon knew about him. Raef always liked to keep a few surprises tucked away.

  He picked up the red rook from the board and examined it, contemplating his next move. This rook was carved differently than the white one. The rook’s eyes bulged wildly under his helm. Though he brandished a sword like his white counterpart, this one’s teeth sank into the shield he held in front of his chest in a look of utter battle lust and madness. The red rook was called the berserker rook for a reason.

  As a boy, Raef had always loved this piece. His father had told him to identify with the king piece, for he must protect it as he would protect himself. But Raef’s style wasn’t as conservative as his father’s. Instead, he had sent his red berserker rook out relentlessly, overpowering and outmaneuvering his opponents with a combination of the berserker’s wild-eyed bloodlust and his own calculated assault.

  Setting the piece back down, Raef went to his desk and withdrew a piece of parchment and a quill. With a quick dip of the quill into his ink pot, he began writing a coded message to his man inside Loch Doon.

  HIGHLANDER’S RECKONING

  CHAPTER TEN

  Daniel pressed his seal into the hot wax on the fourth and final letter in front of him. One was for the Bruce, informing him that he had safely arrived at Loch Doon, had married Rona Kennedy—Rona Sinclair, he reminded himself as he blew on the wax to harden it—and had sent away Laird Kennedy in order to bring the castle fully under his control.

  The other three letters were going to his brothers and cousin, asking them to join him at Loch Doon for a wedding celebration. Of course, they all knew the real reason for the Sinclairs to gather at Loch Doon. They were needed for a strategic meeting on the Bruce’s plan to lay siege to Dunbraes Castle to the southeast.

  The Bruce had communicated his plan to each of them individually, sending only his personal messenger to carry each letter himself. It was too dangerous, especially in the Lowlands, to do otherwise.

  As much as Daniel was looking forward to seeing his two older brothers and his cousin Burke, a combination of worry and dread filled him as he stacked the letters on the edge of his desk. The business of sieging a castle was lengthy and dangerous. His whole family would be at risk—including Rona, who would have to stay at Loch Doon while he was away. And he didn’t trust her to be alone.

  She’d finally returned to the castle yesterday as twilight was setting in. He’d pretended not to notice her absence and hadn’t questioned her about it at the somber evening meal, but all the while he’d seethed inside.

  Perhaps she was just quiet because her father had been sent away a few days before. Or perhaps she only appeared evasive because she was shy.

  Daniel immediately rejected that thought. He’d seen the fire in her bright blue eyes and heard the barbs on her tongue frequently enough to know that she wasn’t simply a shy, maidenly sort of lass. Nay, she was far too bold—perhaps from experience that no maiden should have.

  She’d complained of a headache and had retired early—again—last night. She was deliberately delaying their consummation, sneaking away, and either lying about what she was doing or simply refusing to explain herself.

  He’d made up his mind about what to do as he tossed and turned in his cold bed last night.

  “You sent for me, my lord?” Malcolm said in the study’s doorway. Daniel had been so wrapped up in his thoughts about Rona that he hadn’t even heard the slight man enter. He cursed himself silently but beckoned Malcolm in.

  “See that these get delivered,” he said, gesturing toward the stack of letters on the desk.

  Malcolm nodded silently and stepped forward to retrieve the letters.

  “And Malcolm,” Daniel said reluctantly. He’d already made up his mind. Now he just had to follow through.

  Malcolm turned back to him, a questioning look on his face. “Aye, my lord?”

  “When Lady Rona takes a boat to the village today” —Daniel didn’t even bother saying “if” she went out, so common had her little trips been in the few days since he had sent Kennedy back to his clan at Dunure— “follow her.”

  Malcolm’s eyes widened slightly. “Follow her, my lord?”

  “You heard me,” Daniel ground out. “I want to know where she goes.”

  Malcolm closed his mouth quickly, wisely realizing that to ask more questions would only make things worse. “Aye, my lord.”

  “Keep your distance. I don’t want her knowing you’re there.”

  “Aye, my lord.”

>   “And Malcolm?”

  “Aye, my lord?”

  “Tell no one of my orders.”

  Daniel ignored the stab of shame he felt at his words, and at the fact that he was asking one of his servants to follow his wife. But he couldn’t force her to explain herself, nor could he expect to earn the trust and respect of the castle if he was being cuckolded. He could only hope to learn the truth about her activities in as inconspicuous a way as possible. He just prayed that this mess could be contained without scandal or further embarrassment.

  Malcolm bowed wordlessly and took his leave from the study.

  Daniel hated using the man for such a task, especially considering that only a few days ago he was more loyal to Kennedy than Daniel. But Malcolm could at least be discreet.

  He hoped.

  The only warning Rona had was the little extra tilt upward of Bhreaca’s wings. Then the peregrine falcon went into her stooping motion, and Rona felt her stomach flip with excitement. Bhreaca folded her wings tight against her body in mid-air, and then dove straight at the ground. The bird fell like a stone, though Rona knew Bhreaca was in control.

  At the last possible moment, Bhreaca’s wings popped out. Instead of crashing headlong into the small clearing in the Galloway woods, Bhreaca’s talons scrapped the ground, closing tight around a pheasant. With one swift flick of her beak, the falcon broke the pheasant’s neck. Then Bhreaca flapped a few times, gaining the air once again with the pheasant locked in her talons.

  The falcon circled Rona, swinging lower and lower until she dropped the pheasant and came to light on Rona’s outstretched, gauntleted forearm.

  “Wonderful, Bhreaca,” Rona crooned as she reached into a pouch at her waist and extended a scrap of meat to the falcon. Bhreaca ate eagerly. With all the extra hunting and flying of late, the falcon’s appetite had grown.

  “She returns to you more quickly than she does to me,” Ian said as he emerged from the forest into the small clearing. Fionna, the snowy-white gyrfalcon, rode comfortably on his arm. Ian, though simply clothed, looked like a man emerging from a legend. Or like a king.

  Rona shuddered at the thought, her excitement from Bhreaca’s high-speed dive replaced with foreboding. If anyone saw them out here…

  “I’m glad you fly her when I can’t get away from the castle,” Rona replied sadly. “I fear these frequent visits of late may be coming to an end.”

  Mairi appeared behind Ian and the two of them strode side by side toward her. When they reached her, Mairi bent down and plucked the dead pheasant from Rona’s feet, tossing it in a canvass bag she carried in one hand.

  “What makes you think so, dear?” Mairi said, concern in her eyes.

  These two had been so good to her. They treated her with more warmth and love than her parents ever had. Though both Mairi and Ian were nearly two decades older than she, they’d never had children of their own.

  God didn’t bless us with children, Mairi always said in her most cheerful voice, but he blessed us with you. Rona was somewhere between daughter and friend to them both. They had taught her the traditions of falconry as they would have to their own children if they’d had any.

  Rona sighed and turned in the direction of Ian and Mairi’s cottage.

  “Daniel is growing suspicious. If I’m not careful, he’ll find out about us.”

  Rona could feel the weight of Mairi’s penetrating stare. “And you still don’t trust him?”

  Though she knew Mairi had a way of seeing straight to the truth, Rona was still startled at the blunt words.

  “Aye, I suppose I don’t.”

  “Why not? Surely two people who share a bed can share a few secrets as well,” Mairi said with a sweet smile. As they walked, she interlocked her fingers with Ian’s free hand, and Rona didn’t miss the heated glance that passed between them.

  She averted her eyes quickly, feeling a blush rising up her neck and into her cheeks. Instead of fumbling for words, she remained silent. Unfortunately, that didn’t save her from Mairi’s keen-eyed observation.

  “You two have…haven’t you? You were married more than a week and a half ago!”

  “I’d better get the birds back into their mews,” Ian said almost on top of Mairi’s words.

  All too willing for Ian not to be a part of the conversation, Rona sent Bhreaca up into the air with a raise of her arm, then slid her leather gauntlet onto Ian’s free hand. Bhreaca lighted on Ian’s other arm across from Fionna, and Ian hustled back to the cottage to leave the women to talk.

  “Rona,” Mairi said when Ian was barely out of earshot. “Should we talk about what normally goes on between a husband and wife?”

  “Nay!” she said, coloring even more than before. “I mean, I know the basics. It’s not that…it’s…”

  Mairi patted her hand, waiting.

  “It’s…I don’t want to lose my head.”

  Mairi frowned. “You really believe he would have you beheaded for practicing falconry in secret?”

  Rona sighed. “Nay, I mean, I don’t want to lose control of myself. Daniel has a…strange effect on me. When he touches me, or even just when he’s near, I can’t seem to think straight.”

  Mairi stared at her for a long moment. Then she threw her dark head back and erupted into uproarious laughter. By the time Mairi was wiping her eyes and catching her breath, Rona had her arms crossed over her chest and her jaw was set in annoyance.

  “Forgive me, dear,” Mairi said, catching Rona’s glare, “but that sounds like a wonderful problem to have. How fortunate you are to have a spark between you, especially considering you’d never even met before you were married.”

  “It’s not a wonderful problem to have when you are trying to protect the lives of your two best friends,” Rona retorted.

  Mairi sobered at that. “I know you want to protect us, but—”

  “But I can’t very well do that if I am turning moon-eyed over the suspicious Highlander I’m supposed to be sharing a bed with!”

  Rona knew her anger was misdirected at Mairi, but she was beginning to feel desperate and cornered.

  “I know I can’t keep putting him off forever, but I don’t see an alternative. I can’t trust him with our secret. I still barely know him. He sent my father away, and he grows more watchful of me, and—”

  “There, there, Rona dear.” Mairi reached up and wrapped an arm around Rona’s shoulders, which were shaking. Rona tried to take a few calming breaths but had to bite her lower lip to hold in the panicked sobs.

  After a long moment, Mairi spoke quietly. “I don’t know what you’re going through, so I probably shouldn’t try to advise you. But I believe and trust that everything will work out. You’ll see.”

  Rona nodded numbly. “Thank you, Mairi.”

  “You take too much onto yourself, dear.” Instead of motherly chastisement, Mairi’s voice conveyed a deeper concern. “Perhaps you can trust more—trust him more.”

  The image of Daniel’s hard jawline, covered in dark stubble, his stormy blue-gray eyes, his firm, enticing lips, and his towering, muscular frame floated into Rona’s mind. Trust him. But she had no reason to.

  Her body warmed as his ruggedly handsome visage continued to swim in her mind. Perhaps she did have one reason. Her body seemed to be drawn to him, to inherently trust in his strength, his command, and his returned desire for her. Could she put her trust—and her life—in such a visceral, intangible knowledge?

  Daniel shoved another stone in place, with perhaps more force than was necessary. Despite the fact that he had been working on the weakened spot in the curtain wall for more than two hours, he still had extra energy to burn. Every time he thought about Rona sneaking off with some farmer or baker or blacksmith, a surge of rage tore through him.

  He hefted another stone onto his shoulder and carried it a few yards to the crumbling portion of the wall. When had he become so possessive of the lass? He told himself that it was only the dishonor of being cuckolded that rankled so much,
but deep down, he knew the truth. He wanted Rona for himself.

  He had never wanted one particular lass so badly before. What a laughable irony that the lass in question was his wife, and yet she repeatedly denied him. What was she hiding? Or, whom was she hiding?

  And what was it about her? Certainly she was bonny, though she wasn’t the type he thought he was drawn to. She was tall and slim rather than buxom, and that hair of hers seemed to lead a life of its own, sometimes flying wildly around her face, other times flowing in sensuous unbound waves. She had a temper and a sharp tongue, not unlike himself, though she was less controlled and calculating. Her thoughts played out on her face, and yet she kept secrets from him. And damn it all, she responded to his kisses and touches in a way that only fired his blood more.

  Just as he flung the stone from his shoulder onto the ground in front of the curtain wall, Malcolm appeared in the corner of his vision.

  “What?” he barked. Christ, thoughts of her were even causing him to lose his grip on his self-control.

  Malcolm shrank back slightly, but spoke. “I did as you asked, my lord. I followed La—”

  Malcolm’s voice cut off suddenly as Daniel closed the distance between them lightning-fast.

  “Quieter, if you please, Malcolm,” he said tightly.

  “I followed Lady Rona,” Malcolm said, barely above a whisper. “She went to the village, but then walked south into the Galloway woods. I saw her approach an isolated cottage, and…”

  “And?”

  “…And a man emerged and hugged her.”

  Daniel’s heart squeezed, and a stab of jealousy and rage pierced his stomach. “Who was this man?”

  “He looked to be several years older than you, my lord. He was dressed simply, like a peasant, though he appeared to be tall and able-bodied.”