And when Ruark had learned from Rose that Hereford knew of her existence, he had set this day in action. He‘d even made a contingency plan for the Black Dragon.
Check and checkmate.
He could read Hereford‘s black soul because in many ways they were the same. Ruark was not nice. He was not kind. Or gentle. Especially to a man who would abuse a twelve-year-old boy.
Ruark had not come to be known as the Black Dragon because he hosted teas and picnics on the deck of his ship. He may not have been chasing the East Indiaman that fateful day she crossed paths with Hereford‘s ship but he was guilty of piracy on the high seas.
And then something had happened to him that afternoon Rose had come to him in the chapel. He knew instinctively what battle did to a soul, and he‘d seen the pain in her eyes. He remembered it himself at seventeen. He had taken her to the lodge because he had wanted her. And then he had tried to do something unselfish. He had wanted to find a way to set her free. Truly he had.
Ruark didn‘t know how long he was alone in the chapel. One minute. Five. He sat back, crossed one hand over the other in his lap, and his gaze fell on the ring where he sensed the low hum in his body. Pulling his thoughts.
A week ago, when he‘d left Stonehaven, he thought he‘d been prepared for this day. But when he had seen Rose in the hall facing her father, he knew he was not.
He had not been braced against the slam of his emotions, or the realization that he was trapped by an emotion he had sedulously avoided for thirteen years and had fancied himself immune to. Even less prepared for the violence of his own reaction to it, all the while, as he was working over in his mind how he was going to manage to save Jamie if he took Rose.
And then Hereford had granted him his greatest desire in a move so spectacularly executed that he could not have planned it any better had it been more premeditated.
Tell me that she is not equal to any bride worthy of your title, Tucker had said when Ruark entered the chapel .
Aye, she is of great worth.
She was beautiful and spirited. Equal to him in every way. Ruark did not want her handed to him trussed up like some fabled sacrifice.
But he wanted her.
Now that the shock had worn away, Ruark wondered if he could be dreaming, so perfectly had everything transpired.
Then he wondered why he felt as if he had just stabbed Rose through the heart when she had lost everything, and he had lost nothing at all.
Chapter 15
Rose‘s marriage to Ruark was arranged to occur before the sun set on a day that was as gray and damp as her mood.
There was no dearth of qualified persons to perform a wedding ceremony, even on short notice. But somehow, Ruark had a special license. All that Scottish civil law required was mutual agreement between partners followed by consummation.
And witnesses to both.
But English law required the special license. Her father was not present. Two of his representatives were. On the morrow, Ruark‘s brother would be delivered to a field just across the river, and Ruark would ride outside the stone walls of this abbey and retrieve him.
No one seemed to consider that nothing would prevent her father from reneging after the exchange. Forty men, even Scotsmen, were no match against three hundred.
Still, she stood with Ruark in the same chapel they had been in earlier as a strip of white linen was wrapped around their hands linking them together. She wore a froth of lace that her maid, Anaya, had turned into a beautiful veil when pinned to her hair and topped with a wreath of pearls. The lace was beautiful and Rose felt beautiful wearing it.
She listened as Ruark said two sets of vows, the litany of Gaelic interspersed with English and Latin. He knew the language and his fluency surprised her for she had so rarely heard a brogue in his voice, and hearing one now reminded her of their differences.
She looked up at his face bathed in the pale amber light of the chapel, his dark lashes framing his eyes. It was the first time since she had entered the chapel, carrying a small bouquet of pale roses, that she had even looked at him. She felt something stir deep within her.
More than the vivid memory of his possession pressed on her mind.
He was not some farm boy or simple layperson who had never ventured beyond the boundaries of his village she was marrying.
She was marrying the laird of clan Kerr, and the earl of Roxburghe. Then a ring was placed on her finger. A delicate band of silver. Its very simplicity drawing her gaze to her hand, for the circlet held more meaning to her than the grandest of jewels. She wondered how Ruark had managed to come up with both a veil and a ring in so short a period.
Then again, she should not have wondered, for Ruark Kerr showed much ingenuity in all that he did. What was a wedding to him when compared to battles he had fought?
Now facing him, she quietly repeated something in Gaelic, something about the spirit and union of souls bound until death.
She felt her senses reeling, heightened by his closeness, the heat of his body, and the clean masculine scent of him. He‘d combed his hair into a queue at his nape that swept off the collar of a fine lawn shirt with a lacy jabot. The small earring in his ear so opposing to the scant civilized mien of his attire.
And in that moment, she had eyes only for him.
Aye, I could easily love him, she thought, more afraid of what her own vulnerability would do to her.
She held still as the linen cloth was removed from around their wrists and he was told he could now kiss the bride.
As he lowered his head to kiss her, without realizing, she moved instinctively toward him. The touch of his breath, which carried the sweetest taste of wine, was still warm on her lips as he slowly pulled away.
The ceremony was over and she was now his wife.
Moonlight threw shadows on the floor around where Ruark stood against the wall. God only knew his impatience, as the faint sounds of feasting came from the empty corridor behind him.
―Dammit, McBain. Where are you?‖ he mumbled.
The last place he wanted to be at this moment was standing outside looking out upon a mist-shrouded courtyard.
Ruark had not expected this night to be filled with joviality, but ale and the promise of Jamie‘s release tomorrow did much to lift spirits. It didn‘t seem to matter to anyone that Hereford had an army camped across the river. Ruark liked that about the Kerrs. None of them lacked for courage. Their skills, honed by generations of border raiding, made them all at ease with the long odds.
Surprisingly, most of these same staunchly fierce clansmen had accepted the Sassenach Rose as his bride. But as Ruark considered that fact, he suspected their acquiescence to his circumstance had as much to do with the flow of abundant drink as it did with Rose‘s willingness to skewer Hereford like a kabob that afternoon. After witnessing that event, many of his men would have lain down their lives for her.
Rose had not spoken to him all evening except to say her vows and an occasional polite thank you as he handed her wine. He had managed to slip her from the noisy hall, and now she was on her way to the chambers they‘d be sharing this night.
The crunch of pea gravel alerted him to someone‘s approach, and he straightened. He recognized McBain‘s elfish form as he rounded the corner. Three taller men walked behind him. Ruark could not make out who they were. When they passed through the torchlight and into the corridor, Ruark stepped out of the shadows.
―Lord Almighty!‖ McBain blasphemed, a hand pressed to his chest. ―I‘ve a mind to die of heart failure. ‘Twould serve ye bloody right for all the trouble you‘ve put me through this night.‖
As the most circumspect of his men, McBain had been the logical choice for arranging the witnesses needed for tonight. Ruark assessed the three men standing uncomfortably behind McBain, two distinguishable by their priestly robes. They belonged to the kirk in the village. The third man was the mayor‘s brother-in-law, a solicitor and known English sympathizer. Many of the borderland families cham
pioned the king, so finding such an individual had not been difficult.
―Hereford rode out of the abbey this afternoon and is encamped across the river as he said he would be,‖ McBain said. ―Jamie is there.‖
―You have seen him then?‖ Ruark asked the three men.
The shorter robed priest answered for the three. ―Aye, my lord. The boy be in . temperate spirits and is ready for ye to fetch him home.‖
―What of the two men who were taken with him?‖
―Rufas and Gavin Kerr will be turned over along with the boy in the morn.‖
A cold unsettling gust fluttered the torchlight, and Ruark glanced up at the clouds rolling across the moonlight. The night had turned waspish. ―You have been apprised of the entire situation then?‖ he asked, pushing right to the point.
McBain sniffed, insulted that Ruark had to ask. ―They have. And trust me, they would rather be anyplace else, which is why I picked them.‖ He rocked back on his heels and laid his palm across the hilt of a wicked-looking short sword at his waist. ―They will confirm that consummation took place and will make an oath of it afterward. The marriage has already been properly recorded.‖
The shorter robed man cleared his throat. ―We are preparing papers now as per Friar Tucker‘s instructions. Mr. Colum will have the necessary documents drawn up by morn, my lord.‖
There would be no doubt as to the legality of this marriage, Ruark thought. Tonight was a necessary path to that end.
With McBain‘s curt order that the three were never to gossip about anything witnessed tonight on threat of slow torture and death by dismemberment, they shuffled away, properly horrified by McBain‘s threat.
Ruark was momentarily amused by McBain‘s protectiveness. ―Are you going soft on me, McBain?‖
― ‘Tis not for ye I‘m thinking,‖ he said with a disapproving sniff, ―but for that girl. She has been through enough.‖
―Any word yet from Duncan?‖ he asked.
The word had gone out as Duncan rode west and north to bring more men into Jedburgh. Ruark had been expecting the arrival of more clansmen by that evening. Duncan had not come.
McBain seemed to think over his next words carefully. He scraped his palm over his bewhiskered jaw. ―No one has dared say anything . ‖ he said after a moment. ―And no one would be sayin‘ anything to me. But there are some who believe Duncan wouldna‘ mind if somethin‘ were to happen to you and Jamie tomorrow.‖
Ruark might believe Duncan held a certain animosity toward him, but not toward Jamie.
―Then I will have to make sure nothing does.‖
―Will ye really be givin‘ him the Black Dragon? You‘ll no‘ be returning to sea?‖
―Is Tucker off?‖ Ruark asked, avoiding discussion of his future plans.
―Aye. But he oughtn‘t to have left without telling the lass good-bye.‖
Tucker would not take an escort, though Ruark would have spared him one. Ruark had agreed it best he leave as well but for different reasons than he told McBain. ―If tomorrow does not go well, I cannot guarantee anyone‘s safety. Least of all Tucker‘s.‖
McBain sniffed. ―Aye, and who does Tucker think he is to think only of himself at a time like this?‖
―He is someone who has loved and cared for Rose for most of her life. He did not make the decision easily, McBain.‖
Dear Rose,
By the time you read this letter, I will already be on my way back to Hope Abbey. Lord Roxburghe and I both agreed that it was best to leave tonight.
You and I were not able to speak much today, and I did not want to depart with discord still between us. Before leaving for Jedburgh, I went through your room at Hope Abbey. I knew that, after tomorrow, you would never be returning, and I wanted you to have that which you had always held close to you. I wish I could have given you more. In time, you will decide if the years at the abbey were happy ones.
Now I will tell you in writing what I should have told you in person today, my precious Rose. Since the moment God saw to bless me with you, there has not been a time that you have not brought joy to my life. Never a moment you have not brightened the lives of all those you have touched here at the abbey. I wish I could have always kept you safe. But know that I have always held your best interests in my heart.
You may not agree with your choice of husband, and you may find what was done to you unjust for you both. I wish you could have had more time to prepare, but someday you will come to know Ruark Kerr as I know him. I truly believe that fate brought you together. Now it is up to you both to open your hearts.
The letter in Rose‘s hand had neither wafer nor wax. He signed the letter only as Father.
Friar Tucker rarely went by Father, though many called him such. She looked down at the box delivered with the letter earlier in the evening.
―Is there anything more ye need me to do, my lady?‖ Anaya asked Rose.
The maid stood in the doorway that separated the small sitting room from the bedchamber. Rose absently smoothed a stray wisp of hair from her face as she turned from her place on the stool.
Anaya folded her hands in front of her. ―I have added a feather tic to the bed.‖
Rose forced a smile. ―Do you have a place to sleep tonight?‖
The woman dipped slightly in reply. ―Lord Roxburghe said I was to stay in Friar Tucker‘s room, now that he is gone. He said Mr. Colum will fetch me when ye are ready to leave in the morn.‖
―Did he say anything else? About Friar Tucker, I mean.‖
―Nay, mum. All his lordship said was that I am to be prepared to leave here with ye before dawn, my lady.‖
Anaya looked about her as she worried that she had forgotten something. The woman had helped Rose remove her dress and comb out her hair. She had packed Rose‘s one small trunk and laid out tomorrow‘s attire, which was the same traveling dress in which Rose had arrived. The blue-and-yellow beribboned garment was a bright spot on the droll seventeenth-century settee.
Rose had no idea the time that had passed since Mr. Colum had left her at the door that evening, but she wanted to be alone now. ―You have done enough for me, Anaya,‖ Rose said, liking the woman but uncomfortable with her over-willingness to please, and unused to servants.
―Go seek your bed and hopefully some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day for us all.‖
―Yes, mum.‖
Before she could leave, Rose stopped her. ―Anaya . thank you.‖
―Yes, mum. Thank you. His lordship asked if I wanted to stay with ye once we returned to Stonehaven, my lady. I said ‘twould be an honor. I will see you in the morning.‖
Rose heard the door shut behind Anaya in the other room.
Wearing a simple nightdress and robe, she had been awaiting Ruark‘s onerous arrival in a place of warmth. A single candle on the table and the coals in the brazier provided the only light and warmth in the room.
Returning her attention to the plain wooden box on the floor, she rose from the stool where she had sat to read Friar Tucker‘s letter. She folded the letter and laid it aside, then knelt and worked the lid off the box.
It contained her mother‘s threadbare purple-and-green plaid wrap. The one Rose had worn most every day of her young life. A palm-sized Bible Friar Tucker had given her when she was five, various silly trinkets collected over the years. Her entire life contained within a plain wooden box the size of a turnip basket.
Nothing was as she had once imagined it would be.
With a false sense of bravado, she left her place beside the warm brazier and walked to the table, where she poured sweet red wine into a goblet. She nursed the rim of the cup, unable just to tip it back and drain the contents. Her stomach would not allow it, any more than it had allowed her to eat that evening.
She did not want to be intoxicated tonight. However unplanned this marriage had been, ‘twas still her wedding night. She wanted to remember it.
The door opened a crack, as if someone had turned the latch but was not yet rea
dy to enter. She heard Ruark speaking to someone outside the room, probably Colum. He entered the room, not seeing her at first. He hesitated, then shut the door behind him, and slid the bolt home. He carried himself with ease.
His leather boots, turned down at the cuffs, gave him unnecessary height. Whoever had built these rooms had not had tall men in mind. Her new husband‘s head was mere inches from the wooden beam that braced the ceiling. His gaze wandered over the room before finally coming to rest on her.
Her white dressing gown afforded her little protection from the heat of his gaze. A blue ribbon closed the robe and tied beneath her breasts. Anaya had seen to her appearance. She didn‘t have to look at herself to know the low décolletage revealed the soft rounding of her breasts above its scalloped lace. Her hair, falling softly to her waist, had been brushed to a sheen. She had not the least doubt that she was beautiful. She had wanted to be beautiful.
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