by Laura Landon
His back stiffened and his hands tightened to white-knuckled fists.
“I thought not,” she answered, daring him to respond. “Perhaps you feel an obligation to me for retrieving your precious medallion and marriage is in some way payment for what you feel you owe?”
His eyes narrowed and the muscles in his jaw worked with inflexible harshness.
She shook her head. “I thought that was not the reason either,” she countered, the tone of her voice bitter. “Perhaps you would marry me for no other reason than because you think I have the crown, and you wish to take me away from William Bolton. You would do anything, even take an English as your wife, as revenge, because she was promised to the man who killed your family. Especially if you thought she possessed the crown.”
His eyebrows arched high. Katherine could see her words had affected him. “I would ask one more question, my lord. Even if I were to become this pawn you wish to make of me, are you sure you can live with English blood forever tainting the blood of every Ferguson from this day forward?”
No one moved. He didn’t flinch as he glared at her. For just one small moment Katherine prayed he would deny her accusation; that he would assure her it didn’t matter to him that she was English; that he didn’t want her just because she had the crown.
The moment passed. He looked away from her and focused his gaze on Ian. “Find the priest. We will wed in one hour’s time.”
Katherine had to try one more time. “Your hatred for William Bolton is that great? You would sacrifice the lives of your people to keep me from him?”
“You do na know the half of what I would sacrifice, milady.”
He turned his back and stormed from the hut.
The air she needed to breathe left with him and she leaned her head against the cold stone wall and closed her eyes. “I cannot marry him, Ian,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I cannot let him use me to feed his hatred for Bolton.” She didn’t have the strength to look her sister’s husband in the eye. She didn’t want him to see the fear she couldn’t hide.
“You must. He will na let Bolton have you.”
“He only wants the crown.”
“Aye, lass. He wants the crown. It’s a matter of honor. His father died keeping the crown from Bolton, and Duncan will na rest until Bolton is dead and the crown is in Ferguson hands again.”
Katherine closed her eyes to shut out the confusion that washed over her. “But I can never give him the crown. I vowed I would not.”
“Leave that decision in God’s hands, Katherine. He will show you what to do when the time comes. For now put your life in the Ferguson’s hands. It’s for the best.”
Elizabeth rushed to Katherine’s side and placed her arm around her shoulder. “It will be all right, Katherine. The Ferguson laird will not let anything happen to you.”
“And how many of his people will die to make that so?”
“Every Ferguson will protect you,” Ian said as if she should take comfort from that fact.
Katherine turned to face Ian. The tears that threatened to spill from her eyes were no longer of importance. “But is there a Ferguson who will accept me?”
The dark foreboding in Ian’s eyes told her he didn’t have an answer. She did not doubt that Duncan Ferguson would make whatever sacrifice was necessary to take her away from Bolton and keep the crown for Scotland. Marriage to her would assure him of both.
…
The MacIntyre priest fumbled with the open book in his hands. Katherine understood his discomfort. Even though the fire in the hearth blazed warmly, the air in the room was as cold as the Highland winters were reputed to be. The look on the face of the groom was not much warmer.
God help her. She did not know what to do.
The edict to marry Bolton had come from the king himself. Yet, she could no more give herself to the man who had beaten her than she could give the crown to the Scot who had saved her.
Katherine bowed her head and prayed for the courage to refuse Duncan. She prayed for the courage to endure a life of seclusion if she was lucky enough to escape Bolton. She prayed for the strength to face her father’s disappointment, no matter what her choice.
Katherine raised her head just as Duncan slammed his fist on the table.
“Enough!” he bellowed. Every person in the great hall jumped with a start. “We’ve wasted enough time, Father. We’ll get this marriage over.”
The priest rushed to stand on the dais before the window on the far side of the hall, and Ian took his place at Duncan’s side. Elizabeth moved to the other side. Only the spot where the bride would stand was empty.
Katherine sat on a wooden chair before the fire and let the warmth seep through her body. She couldn’t walk across the great hall and take her place at Duncan’s side.
She turned her head away from him when he looked at her, and waited. He would come for her. She had no doubt that he would. Soon his massive frame stood before her. “Do na make this any harder than it need be, English.”
She added a special plea for courage at the end of her prayer, then raised her head. The unyielding determination she saw caused her heart to jump in her breast. She steeled her shoulders and spoke with a bravado far greater than she felt. “I have decided I cannot marry you, Laird Ferguson.”
Her statement brooked no reaction other than an arched lift to his brows. His voice showed no emotion other than a deadly hint of warning. “You would rather give yourself to Bolton?”
“I will not give myself to him, either. I have decided to seek sanctuary where Bolton cannot touch me.”
His mouth lifted in a most mocking grin. “If the kiss we shared in the dungeon is any example of what you intend to deny yourself, Lady Katherine, you are hardly suited for a life of seclusion.”
Katherine’s cheeks burned as if he’d set them on fire. “That kiss was but the first mistake I made where you are concerned, my lord. I do not intend to add marriage to the growing list.”
“Perhaps you think it would be more agreeable to share your kisses with Bolton. Mayhap the touch of his whip is not such a painful memory now?”
“Bolton will never touch me again,” she hissed. “I will go where he cannot find me.”
He crossed his arms across his chest and leveled her with his most penetrating glare. “There is no place on earth where you will be safe, English. Bolton will seek you out no matter where you go. Even your father will not be able to save you.”
A cold hand gripped her heart. What if she failed? What if Bolton found her and forced her to marry him? As if she needed a reminder of Bolton’s cruelty, every place on her back where Bolton’s whip had torn her flesh burned. Katherine wiped her damp palms against the folds of her gown and wadded the material in her fists.
“Bolton is no longer your concern. I alone am responsible for whatever decisions I make. I alone will suffer the consequences.”
His back stiffened. “You are wrong. Anything related to Bolton became my concern the minute the bastard crossed our border and took his sword to the first loyal Ferguson.”
The Scot took one step closer until his legs almost touched her knees. His nearness forced Katherine to lift her head at an uncomfortable angle to gaze into his face.
“No matter how confident you are,” he said, his voice a soft, deadly whisper, “you have neither the might nor the ability to protect yourself. We will wed so that I can protect you from Bolton.”
She lifted her shoulders defiantly. “You wish us to wed so you can take the crown from me,” she hissed. “That’s the only reason you would take me as your wife.”
He did not deny it. He clenched his teeth until the muscle in his jaw knotted. When he spoke, his deep voice rumbled in anger. “Do you think the walls of a convent can protect you when Bolton finds you? You’ve already experienced his cruelty. How long do you think you will survive when he finds you?”
Katherine felt the blood rush from her face. She was a fool if she thought she coul
d protect herself from Bolton. She was a fool if she thought she wouldn’t put those she sought refuge from in danger. But the Fergusons were already at war with Bolton. And the Fergusons would not rest until Bolton was dead.
“Choose, English, and do it now. I will not ask again. You can marry me, or you can sacrifice yourself to Bolton.”
Katherine held still as stone for several long seconds, her gaze never leaving the penetrating glare in his eyes. The mind-numbing truth hit her with the force of a battering ram. She did not have the stomach to follow her king’s edict. She did not have the courage to face Bolton on her own.
Katherine fisted her hands in the folds of her skirt to block out what her defiance would mean. She set her spine straight and matched his cold stare without flinching. “Then know this, Scot. It will never be as you wish. You will never possess the crown. I will not give it to you.” She stood and faced him with more willfulness than his expression told her a woman should possess. She could see it in his eyes. “Nor will you ever possess my heart.”
His lips pressed to form a thin, hard line. His hands fisted tight at his side. The anger she read was near the surface, hidden behind the hooded darkness in his eyes. His eyebrows raised in question. “Never is a long time, milady. As impossible to predict as tomorrow.”
“Not in this, my lord.” Katherine held her ground. She could not weaken. “You will never have what you want.”
He stared at her a long time, his countenance darkening even more. A deafening silence stretched interminably between them, and when she could bear his scrutiny no longer, she lifted her chin and curved her lips into a humorless grin. “Has marriage to me lost its appeal, my lord? Is tainting the blood of every Ferguson from this day on too great a sacrifice to make?”
She sat down in her chair and relaxed against the back as if what he decided next did not matter to her one way or the other. “Now the choice is yours, my lord. Do you still want me, knowing you’ll gain nothing from your ill-conceived bargain?”
The blazing fire crackled in the silence and she waited for him to say the words that would end this farce. The words that would condemn her to an uncertain, perhaps even tortured existence.
She said a silent prayer that his decision and God’s will would be one and the same. All the while, keeping her gaze locked onto the unreadable coldness in his eyes.
He pulled back his outstretched hand and folded his arms across his chest. Dear Lord, but he was intimidating. The dark scowl on his face did not show a hint of softness. She braced herself for his response.
He stood before her with his feet angled wide and his broad shoulders locked in place. Without emotion, he said, “Let us get this over.”
She did not react other than to release the long breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. The Scot would marry her only so Bolton could not have her. And take her to live where she would never be accepted because she was English. He would take her as his wife to repay a debt.
He would take her because he wanted the crown.
Her only other choice was a lonely existence, hiding in fear that Bolton would find her.
If only she would not have kissed her Scot that first time. If only she would not have let him hold her in his arms and comfort her. If only she had not been so willing to trust him. She couldn’t think of that now. She couldn’t think of that ever again.
She stood at her chair and faced the man she would take as her husband. “There is one thing more, my lord.”
He tilted his head and waited.
“You will never again from this day call me ‘English’.”
“You are not proud that you are English?”
“I am not proud to be called it when you speak it. You say the word as if it were bile in your mouth. I would rather be nothing.”
“You can be Scot.”
“I will be nothing.”
He nodded. “You will be my wife. From this day on, you will be my wife.”
It was decided. She crossed the large room and stood beside him while the priest began the sacrament of holy marriage. Duncan’s foreboding presence obviously made the poor man take notice. Katherine understood that. Even after all the hours he’d spent at her bedside, his dark, brooding dominance still affected her.
“Will you, Duncan Ferguson, laird of clan Ferguson, take the Lady Katherine Downing for your wife?”
“I will.”
The priest breathed an audible sigh and rushed to his next question. “Will you, Lady Katherine Downing, take Duncan Ferguson, laird of clan Ferguson, for your husband?”
She could not answer. There was one more matter.
The silence seemed endless and uncomfortable. One or two of the Ferguson warriors cleared their throats. Elizabeth, turned to her, waiting for her answer. Ian turned to her.
Duncan turned to her.
She looked up and faced him. “The laird of clan Ferguson has not yet asked me if I would consent to be his wife.”
A loud gasp came from Elizabeth. The priest wiped again at the perspiration on his forehead. Ian smiled.
Katherine looked again. Maybe she was mistaken and it wasn’t a smile on Ian’s face. Maybe it was only a reaction to the pleasant wish that he could wrap his hands around her neck and choke the air from her.
It was the same look she saw on Duncan’s face when she looked up at him.
The incredulous expression on his face did not hide his mounting frustration. “You are sorely testing me, woman,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I need to be asked, my lord. It’s important to me.”
For a long time, he said nothing.
She must be asked. When her father came for her, he needed to know that she had not been forced, but had given herself willingly. It might save the Scot’s life in the end.
No one in the great hall moved while they waited for the Ferguson to react. She could hear the murmurs behind her as they anticipated his response.
“I would ask you, Lady Katherine Downing. Will you consent to become my wife?”
Katherine closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “I will.”
The priest quickly pronounced them man and wife, then wiped at his forehead again.
Katherine turned around with her husband at her side. The Ferguson men Duncan had not sent back to Lochmore stood before their laird, the warrior Angus in the front. There was not a happy face amongst them. Not one.
Even Angus, the Scot who had cared for her, wore a mask of resigned acceptance. Katherine read the sadness in his eyes. The regret.
Angus stepped forward and placed a fist over his heart. “We pledge to you our loyalty, Lady Ferguson. Know that we will protect you with our lives from this day on.”
Every Ferguson there placed his clenched fist over his heart, and Katherine bowed her head as she accepted their oath of protection. For that was what it was. All it would ever be. No welcome; no congratulations; no wishes for a long life filled with happiness and the blessing of many Ferguson heirs.
They had promised to protect her, but nothing more. She would be given nothing else. She would never ask for more.
…
Duncan checked the saddles on their horses again and waited for his wife to come. She was such a confusion to him. What did she think she would do if he didn’t marry her? Fight Bolton on her own and defend the crown from all of Scotland?
He leaned his arm on the saddle and paused for a moment. It was the first time he’d allowed himself to think about his decision to marry her. Damn her willful stubbornness. Her accusations refused to go away. Her vow that she would give him neither the crown or her heart echoed in his head.
No matter how hard he tried, he could not deny he was using her as revenge, but…
In time he would win her trust. He had to. Her trust was the key to gaining the crown.
The fact that she understood exactly why he had taken her as his bride did not give him comfort. He wasn’t sure he was pleased his new wife possessed such keen perception. B
ut he’d be damned if he’d let Bolton touch her ever again. How could he let her go after she’d sacrificed so much to give him back the Ferguson medallion? How could he let her go, knowing what her future would hold? How could he let her go, knowing she had the crown?
He pulled on the strap and walked over to the horse she would ride to do the same.
“If you cinch those straps any tighter, Duncan, neither of your horses will have enough air to walk as far as the drawbridge,” Ian said.
Duncan looked down at the strap drawn far too tight and loosened it. Then he walked around Ian to loosen the strap on the other horse. “Is my wife almost ready?” Duncan asked, checking the steps to the keep and finding that she still had not emerged.
“Almost, I think, Duncan. She went into the chapel again to pray. Elizabeth went in to get her.”
“If hours spent in prayer give her an advantage, Ian, I fear I do na stand a chance.”
Ian smiled a broad grin. “You worry your fair wife is enlisting God’s help against you?”
Duncan picked up a smooth, round stone from the ground and turned it over in his hand while he checked the steps again. “I doubt she is praying for my good health and fortune.”
Ian laughed out loud. “She is indeed a verra brave lass, Duncan. I’m glad. She’ll need more than her strong will to secure a place in your keep.”
Duncan laughed a shocked burst of disbelief. “That I would like to see. She will na doubt walk in and demand it. Instead of only sending word that I had married, I should have sent a warning for the Fergusons to prepare themselves to be invaded by one small, infuriating female.”
Ian clasped his hand around Duncan’s forearm, his penetrating gaze filled with warning. “Do not only see the bravery she shows on the outside. Katherine can be hurt, Duncan. On the inside, where she’s most vulnerable. I fear it will na be easy for her to live among so many Fergusons.”
Duncan hurled the stone in his hand to the dirt. “Do na fear for her, Ian. The lass I married has a will of iron. Nothing will be much of a challenge to her.”
