Claimed By a Scottish Lord

by Melody Thomas

  Duncan rode beside him now. She had not liked the way his uncle had looked at her in the glade. There had been no gentleness or kindness in his hazel eyes, and the humor briefly glimpsed in his manner had been rooted in something dark and angry. She would not want to be alone in the same room with him, a born-and-bred Scotsman and inherently dangerous to the English.

  The troop soon divided and Roxburghe rode with a dozen others into an embellished stone courtyard away from the main entrance of the estate. Within minutes retainers poured outside to meet the heavily armed men. Roxburghe dismounted as two grooms rushed to take the reins of his horse, and after that, she lost him among the confusion and noise as a dozen barking dogs joined in the chorus of male voices.

  The man with whom she‘d ridden helped her dismount. Barely able to stand, she clasped the edges of the cloak tightly against her as she looked around and awaited instruction. Men were still mounted, armed with swords in their belts, all laughing and in high spirits, and casting her an occasional glance that caused a stab of apprehension in her chest.

  ―I am to bring you inside, Lady Roselyn,‖ the young man she had ridden with said after speaking to a servant. ―If ye can no‘ walk . ‖

  The thought that anyone would put his hands on her brought her up. ―I can walk. You are Jason, correct?‖ she asked, remembering the name Roxburghe had called him.

  ―Aye, mum. Lord Roxburghe‘s third cousin on our grandfather‘s side.‖ He executed a brief bow. ―This way if ye will, my lady. We are to go through another less-used entrance.‖

  She might be a guest, but she was an unwelcome one.

  Once inside, Rose felt the warmth of the entrance hall. She swept her gaze over the tall archway and wood beams that braced the weight of the ceiling and saw it magnificently decorated with flags and the Roxburghe coat of arms, which, ironically, was the mythical beast Chimera, a fire-breathing dragon with the head of a lioness and the tail of a serpent. The room was a three-story half-timbered hall with lead windows. Flemish tapestries covered the stone walls. A stairway carved from heavy oak led to a second level where a forest of horns, antlers, and stuffed boars‘ heads glared back at her from amid the aged weaponry on the walls.

  Someone came up to Jason and told her he was to take her to the dining hall. ―But his lordship told me to take her to her quarters . ‖

  ―Duncan said to bring her . ‖

  She was taken from Jason and escorted through doors down a corridor. The curious unnatural silence that preceded her was worse than the noise in the courtyard. Her breeches were damp where the injury had opened, but she couldn‘t think of that right now. Her gaze took in the walls and doors as she desperately sought to memorize her surroundings.

  The man delivered her into the dining hall. Tall windows reflected back the torchlight flickering on the walls. Dozens of men were there sitting at planked tables as if waiting—for what she didn‘t know, and she was more frightened because it seemed they awaited her. Hounds lounged around the great hearth and, as if sensing the sudden tension in the room, came to their feet. She took a startled step backward. One command would send them loping across the room and at her throat. But the men, though fierce-looking, did not seem brutal to her as their eyes fell on her—merely hardened. Their voices rose around her.

  She tightened her clammy hands in her cloak. She did not see their laird among the men, but she knew he must have come up behind her, for the men‘s gazes went to the door and a terrible quiet came over the hall.

  She stopped her knees from buckling. She stopped herself from stepping near him as if he had the power to protect her. Indeed the only thing that stopped her from turning into his arms was the contemplation of that thought and the realization that she would not be at Stonehaven at all if not for him.

  ―You had better have a bloody good reason for bringing her in here, Duncan.‖ She heard the quiet fury in Lord Roxburghe‘s voice.

  His uncle stepped forward. He still wore his leather trews and plaid that she had seen him in. Mud caked his boots and woolen hose. He looked even larger in the room that seemed more filled with shadows and ice than warmth from so many bodies. ―If this is Hereford‘s daughter, then we will know it tonight. If no‘ then some of us are finished with negotiations.‖ His eyes pierced hers. ―If ye are innocent, we‘re no‘ here to hurt ye, lass.‖

  ―Innocent?‖ she heard herself whisper in panic.

  What were her crimes, she wanted to shout at them.

  An older woman was brought to stand before Rose. ―Do you know who this is?‖ Duncan asked the woman, and his voice was surprisingly kind, as if he spoke to a child.

  A black shawl covered the woman‘s head and shoulders. She wore black muslin. But her eyes were a kindly blue and did not look as if she meant her harm. Rose did not know the woman. She had never seen her before.

  ―My name is Anaya Fortier, mum,‖ she said, tears in her eyes. ―I was the Countess Hereford‘s handmaiden.‖

  Rose didn‘t understand. ―My mother? You knew my mother?‖

  ―Aye, mum.‖ Mrs. Fortier looked first at Ruark, then Duncan. ―She is the image of her mam. The very image. There is no mistakin‘. Beautifil like her, she is. No mistakin‘.‖

  Behind the woman, the murmurs grew to a low din. ―And her holdin‘ the Lancaster wealth.‖ Someone shouted something about riding to Alnwick Castle tonight with new terms of trade. ―She will no‘ be any good to Hereford dead. Aye, I swear he‘ll trade now.‖

  Roxburghe moved behind her. ―Are you finished?‖

  His words effectively shocked the men to silence.

  His hands dropped on her shoulders. ―You‘ll swear that Lady Roselyn should pay for her father‘s sins? With what? Her life?‖ He moved her behind him. ―Aye, we have cause to celebrate tonight. We also have much work to be done.‖

  Roxburghe turned and placed a hand at her arm. ―Now, if you don‘t mind, we can save the questions for later tonight, I need to get our guest to her room.‖

  ―Aye, she‘s a comely lass,‖ a voice called. ―Ye can take her to my room.‖

  The men laughed and some of the tension broke. A man in the front raised a mug. ―To our laird,‖ he said into the lull. ―And to his success.‖

  A sober toast followed, and no one seemed to recognize the tension inside Roxburghe as he took Rose by the elbow, his touch firm yet gentle, and pulled her into the corridor, where Jason was awaiting him.

  Roxburghe said nothing to her. What could he say? What could she say?

  They had reached the entry hall. A woman stood on the bottom stair tread, her hands at her side, her eyes a turbulent blue. She wore burgundy silk trimmed in black lace. Even with red-rimmed eyes, and her hair hanging down her back as if it had not been properly brushed, no one could mistake her for less than a lady. ―Then ‘twas no rumor . ‖ the woman‘s trembling words stumbled out of her mouth. ―Hereford‘s daughter lives.‖ Her eyes glared accusingly at Roxburghe. ―How could you bring her into my house as if she were a guest?‖

  Rose startled. The woman must be the dowager countess, though she looked too young to be the mother of a twelve-year-old son. Not even the swish of beautiful silk overshadowed the hatred in the woman‘s eyes as she strode toward Rose, and she stood motionless, saying nothing.

  ―She is not to be here in my house. Do ye understand?‖

  Two steps more and Roxburghe was suddenly between them, catching the woman in his arms. ―Enough, Julia.‖ He held the woman with gentle strength all the more apparent as she struggled. ―Lady Roselyn is my concern, not yours.‖

  ―Have ye lived among the Sassenach for so long that ye do not see the grave offense to me?‖ She clasped her fist against her breasts. ―Does my son sleep on a soft feather bed with warm blankets, food, and servants to do his bidding? Will he live better now that we have that woman beneath our roof? Where is my justice that you dare bring her into this house?‖

  ―This is not about justice. This is about retrieving Jamie alive. Do not dictate
to me again who I can and cannot bring into my house.‖

  ―Your house! You have never cared about Stonehaven . or this house! Why would you care for my son?‖

  For a moment, Roxburghe said nothing. Then his hand went to Rose‘s arm as he handed her over to Jason. ―Help Lady Roselyn to her quarters in the east wing. McBain will be by later to tend to her leg. Then bring Anaya Fortier to me. And Jason . I am the only person here from whom you receive your orders.‖

  The lad nodded. ―Aye, my lord.‖

  Rose felt dizzy and sick, but as Jason‘s hand came to her elbow, she drew her arm back with as much dignity as she could manage in her state of exhaustion. She neither wanted nor needed kindness from Ruark Kerr or his minions, and could ascend the stairs on her own.

  Ruark waited until Rose was out of sight of the hallway before turning to face Julia. With tears in her eyes, she took a step back as if he would strike her. The action sobered him, perhaps because his father had been known to own a heavy hand on matters of emotional discourse. He was nothing like his father.

  ―Do you think I am going to hit you, Julia? Is that what you think?‖

  ―Oh, Ruark . ‖ She buried her face in her hands. ―I don‘t know what I am thinking or saying any longer. I . I don‘t know. Truly, I am sorry . ‖

  ―For what? For a mother‘s anger and frustration? For something that was not your doing to begin with?‖ He pulled her into his arms. ―Christ, Julia . ‖

  ―I am lost. I thought I was strong. I am not . My son is all I have in this life.‖

  She continued to weep. Closing his eyes, Ruark remembered a time in his life when he had always held her thus. She had once been his closest friend . before life had changed them both as abruptly as a summer storm changed the landscape after a flood. Yet, thirteen years suddenly did not seem so long ago.

  He held his palm to her head. Julia dabbed a tear from her eye with the tip of finger. ―Do you trust me?‖ he asked.

  ―I have always trusted you.‖

  He tilted her chin and looked into once-familiar blue eyes. ―Except when you are frightened.‖

  She pulled away from him. He had not meant the words to be more than what they were, an attempt to give her hope. But the past lay between them, a memory of the last time he had come to her when she had asked for help.

  Aye, they both remembered well enough what she had once cost him, but he felt guilt to realize how soon he had put aside her fate after being banished from Scotland. She had changed much from the girl she had been. He saw the circles beneath her eyes, but he also saw strength in a mother‘s determination to protect her son.

  ―There was a time your da would have killed ye for touchin‘ her as ye are,‖ Duncan said from behind them.

  He stood leaning in the entry-hall doorway, a chalice of wine in his hand. Julia stepped around Ruark. ―Duncan, please . ‖

  Ruark stopped her with his hand on her arm. Then gentled his grip. ―Go upstairs, Julia.‖

  She nodded, then, tearing her eyes from Ruark‘s, looked past him at Duncan before walking up the stairs. When she was out of sight, Ruark faced his uncle. ―If you have something on your mind, tell me now, because you and I have had this argument before.‖

  ―Jamie is on my mind.‖

  ―As he is on mine.‖

  ―As long as we are clear aboot your priorities, lad. You‘ve been a mite distracted since ye put that Sassenach wench on the back of Jason‘s horse.‖

  ―Her name is Lady Roselyn.‖

  ―I do no‘ care if she is the good Queen Mary herself come back from the dead. As long as ye remember her purpose here.‖

  Ruark held Duncan‘s probing gaze. ―I do not take my responsibility lightly. Never question my priorities or loyalty to this family again.‖

  ―Then while you‘re fookin‘ that bonny lass upstairs, do no‘ be forgettin‘ her father has been none too kind to those who call themselves Kerr.‖

  For a moment, as Ruark set his hand on the balustrade, he thought he could kill Duncan.

  ―Tell me, Uncle,‖ he said with quiet menace. ―Why was Jamie with your crowd, raiding cattle on Hereford‘s land in the first place? A little bit of mischief and larceny could have been had much nearer without forcing a confrontation with a battalion of English dragoons.‖

  Duncan wiped a sleeve across his mouth, his eyes momentarily shuttered. He set the goblet on the breakfront next to the doorway. ―The lad is old enough to learn a Kerr‘s ways.‖ He walked to the bottom of the stairway. ― ‘Tis my sworn oath to make a man of him, just as it was mine to do the same of you. I‘ll no‘ be apologizing to ye or any man.‖

  ―Know this now, Uncle! Lady Roselyn is under my protection.‖

  He turned and took two steps up the stairs.

  ―What has got in your craw?‖ Duncan carefully asked from behind him. ―When ye left here ye were ready to tie the chit to a stake. No man would have argued your right to do so.‖

  Ruark descended a step. ―You were about to take raiders over the border today . against my explicit order to wait one week. The last I looked, five days does not make a week. Hereford deserves a place in hell for many crimes, but I do not intend to send the rest of this family with him. And that includes Jamie and the two lads with him.‖

  Ruark stared down at his uncle from his place on the stairs, a man he had both loved and hated for most of his life. But Ruark had come to believe of late that it was too simple a thing to throw blame at another for one‘s ails. Though most would claim the skirmishes started with the English, all of them seemed to forget that it was a bout of cattle raiding that got Jamie caught in the first place.

  ―A new letter of terms will be drawn up for Jamie‘s release. You will leave tomorrow to dispatch the terms to Hereford.‖

  Ruark wasn‘t asking, a fact his uncle recognized and fully appreciated. ―I would have gone without your telling me, Ruark. I do not take my responsibility lightly either,‖ Duncan said.

  ―I know that boy is there because of me. Do ye think I would no‘ trade places with him if I could?

  With any of those two lads with him? Do ye no‘ think I blame myself every bluidy day?‖

  Some of Ruark‘s anger dissipated and his mind seemed to momentarily clear. Jamie‘s life needed to be the most important thing between them for now.

  Then at the sound of merrymaking in the dining hall down the long corridor, Duncan‘s mouth tightened, as his eyes revealed a less subtle sentiment. ―There‘s family and friends in the dining hall willin‘ to give their lives for ye, Ruark,‖ he said. ―Do no‘ be forgettin‘ that.‖

  Duncan left the entry hall, and watching his uncle go, Ruark swore beneath his breath.

  ―Duncan means well,‖ Julia said on the landing above him. ―He loves this family, and has practically been a father to Jamie, as he was to you. You of all people know the kind of man your father was.‖

  Ruark did not intend to discuss Duncan or his father with anyone. What was between him and his uncle would remain that way.

  She reached out her hand to his arm as he ascended the stairs and passed, turning him.

  ―You have risked much bringing Hereford‘s daughter here . ‖

  ―Did you think I would do less because the boy is your son, Julia?‖

  She shook her head. Her wet eyes took in the gallery at the top of the stairs, where nine generations of Roxburghe earls stared down at her from their various places of honor up and down the long antechamber. His father‘s portrait stood at the other end. With an effort, she finally straightened, her gaze darting to the shadows where Duncan had disappeared.

  ―He has no‘ been the same since your father died. Duncan blamed Hereford from the beginning. Duncan was not taking the Kerrs across the Borders for a bit of cattle lifting when Jamie was captured. He was taking them to burn Kirkland Park to the ground. They ran into dragoons.‖

  She wrapped her hand around Ruark‘s forearm. ―Make no mistake, Ruark. Ye may hold the Roxburghe title, but ‘tis D
uncan‘s fealty that makes you laird. Or you would no‘ be so.‖

  Ruark smiled, his eyes softening briefly, for she had meant the warning sincerely. ―I know, Julia.‖ Noise from the dining hall drew her up. ―Now go to your chambers,‖ he said.

  ―Downstairs is no place for a woman right now.‖

  She nodded. She turned in a swish of silk and expensive French perfume, and he found himself thinking of lilacs and springtime instead.

  Turning away to go to his own chambers to wash and change, he sought to unravel emotions that were becoming increasingly complicated in his mind.

  Julia had been only partially right when she said that Ruark might hold the Roxburghe title but ‘twas Duncan‘s fealty to him that made him laird.