The Price of Freedom

by Carol Umberger

  “No. I wrote that I’d asked the king to reconsider the marriage. Which I did in person. Two days ago.”

  Furious at this deception, she restrained herself from flinging the nearby water pitcher at his head. How dare he twist his words so? But the note held a more incriminating promise. Triumphant, she accused him. “You said you wouldn’t force me. Here.” She fumbled for the note, opened it and pointed. “Here, in your own handwriting it says so.”

  “Nay, lady.”

  The regret in his voice confused her.

  “The note very clearly states that I don’t want to force you. But I will if I must. ’Tis up to you.”

  She stared at him dumbfounded. “I won’t marry you.”

  “Will you dare to throw my birth in my face again?”

  “It isn’t that.”

  “What then?”

  The man was menacing, even without his weapons. “My cousin Richard. I . . . sent word to him, asking him to be my benefactor.”

  “Who is this cousin?” His voice sounded disbelieving, as if she’d conjured a cousin out of the air somehow, just to thwart him.

  “Richard of Badenoch. A distant cousin but acceptable to be my guardian, if he agrees.”

  “Acceptable to whom? Why would you think Bruce would allow such a thing—the Comyns of Badenoch are traitors.”

  “Not Richard! He has sworn allegiance to Bruce.”

  “Aye, he had no choice—it was that or the gallows. There is no love lost between Bruce and any of the Comyn clan.”

  “Still, what harm can there be to wait until this possible solution—”

  “I don’t have time to wait for your cousin’s reply, especially knowing that Bruce almost certainly will not agree. I must leave for Stirling and you will go with me.” He took hold of her arm.

  She pulled free of his grip. “But—”

  “You cannot stay here. I can’t spare enough men to defend the castle and keep you safe. Now, let us proceed with the ceremony.

  Shall we adjourn to the chapel and have a civilized wedding or—”

  “I will not marry—”

  Bryan signaled the piper and he began to play again. Apparently Sir Bryan had no intention of listening to her reasons for opposing the marriage. Someone in the hallway pounded on the door, but their words were drowned by the sounds coming from the bagpipe.

  The priest opened his prayer book and began to speak—she shrieked louder. The piper played louder—she hadn’t known the pipes could be played at such a volume. Or so poorly.

  Her back pressed against the solid stone wall as she faced the smiling priest and a grim Sir Bryan. She could barely hear the priest’s words.

  Sir Bryan said something and nodded, then the priest looked to her.

  “I do not,” she screamed. The priest cupped his ear with his hand, shrugged, and then made the sign of the cross.

  Abruptly the noise ceased as the priest said, “I now pronounce you man and wife. Go with God.”

  Kathryn bowed her head and hid her face in her hands. She wanted to weep. The grim-faced warrior was her husband, despite her protests. Protests that could not have been heard outside of this room. Probably hadn’t been heard even within the room over the noise of those awful pipes. The witnesses could honestly say they’d heard no objection on her part.

  She lifted her head and looked at the traitorous priest, the young piper, and the well-guarded door. No escape—not from this room, and not from the man who stood before her.

  Sir Bryan took her hand and moved to the table by the window, towing Kathryn with him. He signed the marriage agreement and handed the quill to Kathryn. She refused to take it.

  Glowering, he whispered, “Sign the contract. ’Tis a marriage in name only, I promise.”

  Anger gave way to surprise as she struggled to grasp his meaning. So, the marriage was to be a sham in every way? She shook her head and hissed, “Why should I trust you after this farce of a ceremony?”

  Moving closer, he spoke in an undertone. “Shall I tear up the parchment and send you to Carleton?”

  She recoiled physically from his suggestion, shaking her head. “You gave your word to protect me from him.”

  “Aye. And making you my wife seals that promise, Kathryn. This farce of a ceremony will enable you to claim you were forced and thus you can be released from the vows.”

  He would release her? “Released? When?”

  “When Scotland is free.”

  The sincerity of his voice and expression could not be denied. What choice did she have? It was still Black Bryan or Rodney. And a chaste marriage freed her from the necessity of admitting her lack of maidenhood.

  “You may kiss the bride,” the priest said helpfully.

  Before she could react, the rogue took her hands and bent his head. He brushed her lips with a gentle kiss. Kathryn jerked away. Kissing Rodney had led to her downfall. She would not make the same mistake again.

  “Leave us,” Sir Bryan ordered, and the others made a hasty exit, closing the door behind them.

  Now what? What further mischief did he intend?

  HER ASHEN FACE AND CLENCHED FISTS betrayed her fear and confusion, and he hastened to reassure her. “This is a marriage in name only, I promise. I only meant to show you respect by heeding the priest’s request to kiss the bride. Nothing more, I swear.”

  Her chin came up. “Then there will be no more kisses.”

  Good. He preferred defiance to fear. “No. No more kissing, with or without witnesses.” Her look of relief both wounded and amused him. His constant state of confusion toward the woman was wearing thin, and they’d only been married a few short minutes. “Will you sign the contract?”

  She made no move toward the pen and parchment. “You will agree to a loveless, chaste marriage. Why?”

  “I have pledged to keep you safe and to keep you and your wealth for my king. But neither of us wants this union. Am I correct in that?”

  She nodded.

  Relieved at her answer, he replied, “So, as I said, a marriage in name only will give us both our freedom, eventually. In the event I don’t survive the upcoming battle, you will have far more control over your life as my widow than you would as an unmarried maid.”

  She hadn’t considered that he might die. The thought of his death saddened her, because despite her anger with him, she couldn’t wish any harm to come to him. “How can you face death so calmly?”

  “’Tis the price men of honor pay for freedom. I don’t welcome it, but I am willing to die for what I believe in.”

  In that moment, she glimpsed the man beneath the cool exterior, because she understood the willingness to sacrifice for others. She was willing to make any sacrifice that would keep Isobel and Homelea safe. Even a sham marriage to this man.

  “I will pray for your safe keeping, my laird.”

  She walked to the narrow window slit, staring out of it, lost for a brief time in her own thoughts. He barely heard her next question. “And what do you derive from such a marriage?”

  His answer was quick. “My king’s gratitude. And if you are agreeable to this arrangement, I will fulfill my duty to my king without having to break an earlier vow.”

  She spun to face him. “What vow was that?”

  He shifted his weight. “I have no desire to encumber myself with an emotional attachment so long as Scotland is at war.”

  She said nothing for several seconds. “I see.”

  “I ask only that you put aside your animosity toward me so that we may give the impression of resignation to a marriage neither of us wants. As my wife, you receive not only my protection, but also the enmity of the English.”

  She straightened her shoulders and held her head in an imperious pose he was beginning to recognize. “I alone am to put aside my feelings?”

  Her bravado delighted him and he stifled a grin. “We will both play our part.”

  She took a backward step, and held up her hand as if to ward off an evil spirit. “And yo
u will fore go your husband’s rights?” Despite her rigid posture, her voice quivered.

  Looking at her lovely face, it was the last thing he wanted to promise. Yet something about her demeanor told him his promise meant more to her than met the eye. “I will not touch you. Aside from the reasons I’ve already told you, I would not endanger you with conceiving a child when the future is so uncertain.”

  Her features relaxed in obvious relief, and Bryan wondered why.

  “Thank you, my laird.” She dipped the pen in the ink and signed her name next to his. “My laird, husband.”

  It was done. Bryan didn’t know how to feel or what to think. Married and yet not. How would they get through the next weeks? Best just to get on with it, he supposed.

  “I took the liberty of arranging a meal and entertainment I hope you will enjoy.”

  “And if I refuse to join you? What then? Will you starve me into submission?” A tentative smile accompanied her words.

  Relieved that she was no longer angry but apparently resigned to make the best of the situation, he considered that perhaps now they could at least be cordial. “Nay, I think locking you in this room with that piper would be far more effective.”

  She laughed, and the enchanting sound overwhelmed the warning signals his brain tried to send his way. Bryan’s resolve to remain detached slipped a notch. He offered his arm. “Will you join me?”

  She stared at him boldly. “Aye, but I need a few moments to prepare. I wasn’t planning on a wedding when I dressed this morning.”

  The reminder of their forced nuptials dulled the accord between them. He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I’ll send your maid to help you and will return for you within the hour.” He closed the door gently behind him.

  KATHRYN BREATHED A DEEP SIGH even as she fought against the softening of her opinion of the dark knight. Where had her anger fled? She sank to the stool by the fireplace, shaking her head in amazement. At first, his assurance that he would not seek the marriage bed relieved her.

  Then perversely, she wondered if his heart were engaged elsewhere. But she didn’t think his sentiments were involved with another woman. More likely, from what she’d learned about him, he held his duty like a shield before his heart. A warrior’s spirit, no doubt torn between his needs as a man and the demands of his profession. Kathryn sensed that here was a man of deeply felt emotions and deeply held beliefs. One who would love as powerfully as he hated. She shuddered. What would it be like to be cherished by such a man?

  Deep within her own heart, she yearned to know.

  His thoughtfulness concerning the risks of childbirth had touched her deeply. As she changed into her best dress, she gave thanks to God for the admirable champion he’d sent her.

  Bryan came for her just as her maid finished arranging her hair. Perhaps it was her earlier musing that made Kathryn more aware, but only now as he stepped into the room did she realize the effort he’d taken to look his best on his wedding day.

  His broad shoulders and deep chest strained the seams of his saffron shirt. And the plaid kilted on his lean hips—the excess draped across his shoulder and pinned in place—gave an impression of wildness, lent boldness to his movements.

  Aye, he was fearful, even frightening at times. But she was drawn to him, to the loneliness she sensed in him. Taking a deep breath, she vowed to pray daily for a swift end to the war with England before she did something foolish. She dare not fall in love with this man.

  But when she tried to remember why not, her mind went blank. Isobel, that was it. Who knew what he would do when he discovered she had a child?

  “My lady?” He offered his arm and for a moment, his face betrayed his approval of her appearance. But just as quickly his mask returned. Kathryn laid her hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her to the great hall.

  “You arranged this?” she asked as she stared at the small gathering of people and the food that awaited them.

  “Aye, I asked the cook to prepare a modest meal. A troop of traveling minstrels will provide music and entertainment.”

  Resentment of his highhanded actions conflicted with pleasure at his thoughtfulness. “You must have been certain we would marry today to have made such arrangements ahead of time.”

  “Not certain; determined to carry out my king’s wishes.”

  AS HE LOOKED ABOUT at the handful of guests, Bryan thought of the chapel at Castle Moy, home of the Mackintosh clan. He remembered a similar ceremony last year when one of Adam’s many cousins and her bridegroom had taken their vows. For a moment, Bryan wished his foster family could be here to celebrate this important occasion. Thomas and Adam’s familiar faces reminded him he wasn’t completely alone.

  He led Kathryn to the table on the dais, where Adam awaited them. None of Kathryn’s social circle had been invited to this hasty gathering. The company consisted of the two knights who served with Bryan as well as various castle residents. Thomas sat with Fergus, a common sight these days, as they were very close in age.

  A woman of Kathryn’s social standing certainly deserved more than this, but it was the best he could contrive on such short notice. They arrived at their places and greeted Adam. Bryan assisted Kathryn into her chair as the musicians sounded a fanfare. Bowls of water and towels were brought to each table. Bryan took up the towel and attempted to dry his wife’s hands, but she pulled away from his touch.

  Gently, he reclaimed her hand, determined to reconcile her to the role they each must play. “I will not bite.”

  “I’m not so sure,” she retorted.

  “Am I so frightening?”

  “Aye, you are that.”

  He would have to let down his guard enough to allay her fear of him. He smiled; at least he hoped it was a smile. “We are being watched, lady wife.”

  She seemed taken aback. But he had to admire her quick wit and composure.

  She allowed him to dry her hands. “Do our guests know about the piper—about how this marriage came to be?”

  He said, “No one outside of Adam, Thomas, and the priest . . . And Anna, of course. Will she tell tales?”

  “No, she can be trusted. I had a word with her as I dressed.”

  Bryan laid down the towel and washed his own hands in the bowl. “Then it is our secret until we choose to make it public.”

  Lips pursed, Kathryn dried his hands. With the ceremony completed, a great cheer went up from their audience. He gave her hand a squeeze.

  “You are kind, my laird. Perhaps this play-acting will improve your temper.”

  “Am I such a bully you thought I’d beat you in front of the wedding guests?”

  She rewarded him with a smile—a warm smile—and his heart twisted at the beauty of it. The accord they’d reached earlier returned, and they acted as any agreeable couple might, feeding each other from a shared trencher. Her fingertips brushed his lips when she fed him a morsel and his hand skimmed hers as they both reached for the goblet.

  And Kathryn’s blushing face told him she was aware of him, too. Here, then, was one of Adam’s miracles—the way of a man and a maid. Aye, looking at her lovely face and hearing her laughter could go a long way toward making a man believe.

  For the first time in many years, Bryan prayed to a God he wasn’t sure existed. He prayed for an end to the war; but he feared his heart would surrender long before England did.

  KATHRYN’S CHURNING EMOTIONS nearly overwhelmed her. She cast about for an excuse to leave Sir Bryan’s presence, to escape from his touch and his flashing dark eyes. These fluttery feelings were exactly what she’d felt with Rodney and could not be trusted.

  She was about to give her attention to Adam when a servant hurried to Sir Bryan and bent close to speak privately.

  The knight sprang to his feet. “The devil you say.” Pivoting to her he said, “Excuse me, Kathryn, but we have unexpected guests. I will return shortly.” He strode to the hall’s entrance, which was at the opposite end of the room. She asked Adam, “Who can i
t be to agitate him so?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Kathryn heard uneasiness in his voice and she feared trouble was afoot. Adam evidently shared her apprehension because he moved off to stand between her and the new arrivals.

  A burst from the minstrel’s trumpets announced the arrival of the visitors. She heard Adam chuckle but he stood too far away to ask what he found so amusing about the situation.

  She stood in order to see better but the visitors had their backs to her. Still she didn’t think she’d ever seen either of the two men before. She watched as Sir Bryan paid obeisance to one of the men. He was nearly the same height as Sir Bryan and had the same broad shoulders and powerful chest of a soldier. The three men clasped hands and greeted one another. Sir Bryan obviously knew them well.

  Even from a distance Kathryn could discern the fine cloth of their traveling clothes. The knight nodded toward the dais and the man and his companion turned to face her. Only then did she notice the golden circlet on his hat and the red lion on his surcoat. Her face drained of blood. Somehow she managed to stay standing as Sir Bryan led the king of Scotland toward her.

  When they stood before her, Bryan said, “Your Majesty, may I present my bride, Lady Kathryn Mackintosh, Countess of Homelea.”

  The king brought her hand to his lips and brushed the back of it lightly as Kathryn contrived a curtsy. “Your Majesty,” she said coolly, unsure how she felt about the man who’d freed her from Rodney Carleton only to impose a marriage to Black Bryan upon her.

  The king didn’t release her hand, and she dared not withdraw it. He stared at her and she feared she had offended him with her tone of voice. “Forgive me, Countess,” Robert said as he let go of her fingers. “Your beauty reminded me of my own wedding and how lovely my wife was on that day.”

  A look of sadness crossed his face, and Kathryn recalled that the king’s wife was held captive. Clearly this pained him, and Kathryn’s hostility toward him felt out of place in the face of his obvious devotion.

  “I hope your wife will be returned to you soon, Sire,” she said with reluctant warmth. She reminded herself that because of this man, she was now wed against her will. And she was not happy about it. Truly, she was not.