by Sherry Ewing
“Husband of worth? I do not need someone of such ilk, but a man who will love me!” Lynet groaned, knowing she did not like where this discussion was heading. “Please, Dristan, my situation is not so dire as yet. There is still time for─”
“Nay!” he interrupted her by halting her words in mid-sentence with a raised hand. “I will no longer cater to your wishes to find a suitable mate on your own nor sit idly by watching you become a spinster. I know I promised Amiria I would allow you time to find a man you could come to love, but I will be damned if I continue to let the two of you twist me around your fingers so I concede to your wishes!”
“’Tis not like that, my lord.” She watched as one black brow lifted to mock her words. “Well, mayhap, ’tis a little, but, ’tis no reason to rush into the matter of seeing me wed,” she protested, stamping her foot for good measure. She could tell by his stance she would not win this contest of wills between them.
“We shall host a tourney and invite those whose suit is worthy of you,” he continued speaking as though he had not heard her complaints. “At the end of the games, the winner shall have your hand in marriage, and Father Donovan will perform the ceremony. My mind is set. Resign yourself to your fate, little sister.” He left her abruptly.
She stood in numb silence with her mouth hanging open. Completely stunned, she realized ’twas the first time she could remember that Dristan had not listened to the import of her opinion, as though he valued her thoughts. Rejected, she slumped down on the bench, barely feeling the cold stone beneath her. Her world quickly crashed down about her, whilst her worst fears became a harsh reality. She promised herself she would not cry, but ’twas almost an impossible task, knowing she had just become nothing more than a useless pawn played in a game ruled only by men.
Chapter Four
Rolf flinched as Kenna finished tying the bandage about his injured arm. He flexed his fist testing the strength of his limb. Satisfied ’twould not become a useless stump, he rose from the ground and held out his hand to assist Berwyck’s healer.
He was amazed at the firmness of her grip, for such a slight woman, but more surprised when she did not release his hand. He made a quick grab for her as she swooned into him. Others may have thought the woman merely fainted but he knew better. Kenna had the sight, and he feared what she would tell him of the vision she was having concerning his future. Was it just his imagination, or did he feel as though his fate was just sealed as it unwillingly pounced across his soul?
Keeping his hold securely upon her, he lowered her down onto the ground. Her eyes, hidden behind closed lids, moved rapidly as her vision played afore her mind with images only she knew for certain. Rolf knew she would reveal what she thought was of import, once she came back to him. Though he was not sure he would care for her words. Already his heart felt heavy with what he feared she would foretell.
The sound of running footsteps signaled Rolf of Kenna’s husband Geoffrey coming to her aid. Geoffrey was followed closely by Dristan, who came to stand afore him. The scowl his lord tossed in his direction did not bode well.
Geoffrey knelt at his wife’s side, not daring to touch her. Years of living with her had brought with it the knowledge that for her husband to do so would vault Kenna into another direction she was not meant to take. Geoffrey had interrupted her visions several times in the past, and the outcome had been worse than her merely being tired after her ordeal. Rolf was not sure he could be as patient as his friend had been over the years. To watch Kenna sometimes in agony whilst her visions haunted her was not something he would ever get used to.
She began to rouse as her eyelids fluttered open. With a shaky breath, she looked around her and gave her audience a weak smile. “All is well,” she whispered softly.
Geoffrey shook his head as he helped her rise unsteadily to her feet. “Are you sure, Kenna?” He placed a kiss upon her temple causing her to smile.
“Aye,” she replied. Her gaze roamed over Rolf’s face and he could see the sorrow fly fleetingly across her green eyes. “We must have speech.”
Rolf nodded his head and took hold of her arm. Dristan waved Geoffrey off to the lists afore he turned his attention to the pair afore him. “You will see to her ’til she is recovered,” he muttered between clenched teeth.
“Aye, my lord.”
Rolf stood there in silence whilst he watched Dristan take his leave. Unwilling, he at last looked down upon the woman who would ruin what little hope he had held for his future. He knew what she would say even afore the words left her lips.
“She is not for you,” Kenna said placing her hand on his forearm. “I am most sorry.”
He felt, more than saw, her touch as she patted his arm, he supposed, to show some form of comfort. He laughed inwardly. He should have known his feelings for Lynet and his desire to make her his wife would not come to fruition. But he had held such hope.
“There is no reason you must needs be sorry, Kenna. ’Tis hardly your fault you confirm my worst fears.”
“Lord Dristan would never allow such a union anyway, Rolf. I hate to say this, but even if he agreed to your suit, the king would not be pleased you wed above your station in life.”
“King Henry would have no reason to believe I would not remain a loyal subject if Lynet and I were to marry.”
“Perchance ’tis so, but what compensation to his coffers would it gain the crown if he were to accept your petition?” she asked softly.
Rolf raised his eyes heavenward. “I have enough coin to see Lynet would never want for anything she desires, if this is what you ask. If I must beggar myself afore the king, then ’twould be worth any price I must pay for Lynet to become my bride.”
“Then, mayhap, all will work out after all. ’Twill be up to you to change your future, Rolf. My visions are just those…visions. On occasion, although rare, they have been known to be wrong.” She gave him a despondent sort of smile afore she picked up her satchel containing the supplies she generally stood in need of to heal Berwyck’s people. He followed her gaze as it swept across the lists to the lone young lady sitting forlornly on a bench. “Go to her,” Kenna said as if reading his mind. “I think she is in need of you.”
He felt as though his boots were filled with a hundred stones, for his tread was heavy with trepidation. Every step drew him nearer to her side, and yet the closer he came to her, the further he felt her slipping from his grasp. Lynet must have felt his presence, for, when he came to stand in front of her, she raised her tear streaked face to his. His breath caught in his chest to see the anguish she was feeling. ’Twas obvious her meeting with Dristan had not gone well.
He held out his hand to her and she took it with no hesitation. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, as she began drying her face with her sleeve.
“Anywhere…as long as we can have a private word together,” he ordered roughly, still feeling the effects of Kenna’s premonition that Lynet would never be his.
Her hand in his, Rolf’s mind flew in a hundred directions where he might find some form of concealment for them and still ensure Lynet’s reputation remained unscathed. There were not many choices in a castle the size of Berwyck. The best place would be her chamber, but his sense of chivalry surpassed the need for discretion. He settled for the stable, although, ’twas hardly the optimal location for the discussion he had in mind.
The moment he closed the door, he immediately turned to her, placing his uninjured arm upon the wood so she could not escape his reach. He was daring much, but he was tired of watching her from afar.
“What is amiss?” he finally demanded of her when the silence continued to stretch on between them.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she stifled back a cry. “Everything!” she answered hotly. “My life, as I have known it, is over, Rolf.”
“Surely you exaggerate. It could not be as bad as that, Lynet.”
She looked at him with startled eyes. He realized he had at last
spoken her given name, as if the two of them had already come to an understanding between themselves.
“You have no idea what has happened,” she declared, clearly miserable with whatever was tormenting her.
“Then tell me what has you so upset. I do not like to see your tears,” he said softly. Her lips parted, and for the briefest of moments, Rolf thought of bending down to taste her kiss. Their eyes met and were held to one another. He began to lean forward, but she must have known where his thoughts were taking him.
She ducked underneath his arm, and, sadly he watched whilst she distanced herself from him. She went to a nearby stall and supported her arms against the door. “Where do I start?” she cried out in her misery as she laid her head down on her arms.
“You start at the beginning, my lady, where every story commences.”
Anger flashed in her tear filled eyes. “He means to auction me off to the highest bidder, Rolf!”
He was surprised at her words, for they were so unexpected. He closed the space between them ’til he stood behind her. He took her arm and turned her. She refused to look at him, ’til he took his fingers and raised her face. “What nonsense is this you speak of?”
“’Tis Dristan. He proposes a tourney, and the winner will become my husband. How can he do this to me?”
He swore. She did, as well, ’til her face fell in frustration. Throwing herself into his arms, she began to cry in earnest. ’Twas the last thing he expected, and yet, it seemed the most natural thing in the world when he gathered her into his embrace. She fit there so perfectly, or so he thought, whilst he began whispering words to comfort her.
“Would you favor my suit?” The words left him in a sudden sense of urgency to hold on to the hope, as long as he was able, that Lynet could be his. He felt her jerk against his chest. She began to hastily disengage herself from his arms.
“He has already said he would not grant you permission to pursue my hand, Rolf.”
“Could you come to care for me, Lynet? I have enough coin and you would want for nothing I assure you.” Her mouth moved wordlessly whilst she seemed to try to find some form of response. Mayhap, Kenna was right, and Lynet was not for him. “Forgive me. ’Twas unfair for me to ask such of you, especially when I bear no title.”
She shook her glorious mane of blonde hair, and he watched as it swirled around her head. “’Tis not that I do not care for you, Rolf. ’Tis just that, ’til most recently, I never thought of you in any way other than as my captain.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” she almost begged him with her eyes to recognize what she was going through. “It matters not how with time I may have come to form some affection for you in my heart, Rolf. Our Lord Dristan will never allow our relationship to be other than what it is, a captain to guard his lady. Nothing more…nothing less.”
“I will make him see reason─”
She held up her hand to silence his words. “’Tis impossible, and I dare not give even the smallest measurement of hope you could steer Lord Dristan from his course regarding the path my life will now lead. I will wed, and ’twill be to a man not of my choosing. ’Tis not for me to find true love and a knight to call my own.”
Lynet sobbed, and, afore he could halt her with a kind word, she ran from the stables. Rolf let her go, but in doing so, he pledged to himself he would do all in his power to change Dristan’s mind. ’Twas either that, or run away with Lynet. Even as the thought fleetingly swept across his mind, Rolf could feel the scorching heat from the Devil’s Dragon leveling on his form. Dristan would follow him to hell and back for daring such an offense. He would not be lenient for taking such a liberty with his charge, no matter the feelings Rolf had for her. There must be another way than to infuriate his liege lord and still have Lynet as his bride, he mused. The alternative would not be a good way to die.
Chapter Five
Ian reined in his horse and took in the sight afore his eyes. He never thought he would miss a place as much as this fortress he had called his home for many a year. He felt his companions come abreast of him as they awaited him to move on, yet still, he bided his time and drank in the view in front of him.
Berwyck Castle…mayhap, ’twas not the physical place he had yearned for, but rather, those who resided within its protective walls. He rested his forearm on the pommel of his saddle like some melancholy lad in his youth. But he cared not what the other men thought of him whilst he took a moment unto himself.
Memories assaulted his senses of a beautiful lass he had had no right to fall in love with, but fall in love with her he had. She was beautiful beyond measure to any other; strong willed and stubborn to a fault; a fiery temper along with a calming demeanor, if she so wished it; and she could wield a sword better than most men of his acquaintance. Yet, her affection went to another, and he did not fault her for that. Nay, she was happy with her choice in a husband, and he was glad Amiria had found love.
As he put his horse into motion, his thoughts wandered to the youngest woman of the MacLaren clan. She had been a docile young girl of only ten and four summers when last he had seen her. Ian still remembered sitting in Berwyck’s garden after Amiria and Dristan had wed. He had been filled with despair of losing the one woman he would have taken to wife if circumstances had been different. Lynet had been so young that day when, with pleading clear blue eyes, she had spoken her heart to him. Her childlike kiss, given so freely afore she had fled his side, had surprised him.
Memories continued to assault him as he remembered Berwyck being under siege, yet again. Many a knight had fallen, but one had been felled by Ian’s own hand who had dared to touch the lass Lynet. He had saved her that day, and he had then foolishly given in to the moment by kissing her most thoroughly. By doing so, he had given her some measure of hope he would return for her, although such an act had never crossed his mind. He had not seen her since, except briefly, as she had waved farewell when he had left Berwyck, he thought, forevermore.
Crossing a river, they entered the village adjacent to the castle grounds. ’Twas a flurry of activity, more so than the usual happenings of its inhabitants.
“Berwyck must be preparing for a celebration,” Thomas proclaimed. “I wonder what the occasion is.”
Taegan gave a look of longing at the nearby tavern. “I just want a cup of cool ale in my fist to take the taste of the road from my mouth.”
Turquine laughed cheerfully. “So what else is new, brother?” You always want ale to meet your undying need to quench your unending thirst!”
Ian laughed with the men ’til they came to the outskirts of the village. Any further thoughts of merriment left him as he observed the sight afore him. Although the distance from the village to the walls of the keep was some ways away, the usually empty space was filled to capacity. ’Twas not hard to miss the tents set up surrounding the castle walls. From the looks of it, he would say Dristan had gathered all from near and far to partake in whatever event they were to socialize. Perchance his timing of returning to Berwyck was not at its best, and yet he had no alternative. He must needs return north immediately to assume his rightful position of laird of Urquhart, afore his Uncle and others usurped his inheritance…at least whatever was left of it.
They reached the barbican gate amid cheers from the guards high above, who stood at their posts. Word quickly spread of their return, and as lads came to take their mounts, Ian saw Killian making his way to their side. ’Twas good to see the man who had been an integral part of his training ’til he was appointed captain of Amiria’s guard.
They greeted each other with a hearty pounding of each other’s back in welcome. If the truth must be told, Ian had missed the older man, and his counsel, these many years.
“’Tis good tae see ye, laddie!” Killian beamed.
“Laddie?” Ian chuckled. “Will you never think on me as anything other than a boy, Killian?”
“Nay! Since I taught ye everything ye know about wielding that claymore o’
yers, I earned the honor o’ calling ye anything I wish, me boy!”
“Eh gads! ’Tis no wonder I stayed away so long.”
“Ye have been missed, Ian, along wit’ the rest o’ ye,” Killian stated looking over the group. “We are a might tight fer lodgings, but I am sure we can squeeze ye in somewhere in the Garrison Hall. Who is this wit’ ye?”
Ian gave a muffled laugh. “It seems my fate has changed, my friend, and I have become laird of Urquhart, now that my brother has met his demise. Angus and Connor of Clan MacGillivray found me and my company in Edinburgh. I am to head north once I leave here.”
“Well…’tis interesting news and good fortune, Ian. Have ye been issued an invitation from Lord Dristan tae come compete in the tourney, now that ye own yer land?”
“An invitation? Nay, I have not received such an invite, nor has there been time for information of this nature to be known to only but a few,” Ian laughed. “’Tis not as though I have not proved my worth in other competitions over the years without need of having permission to enter games of this sort. What is the difference in this contest over any other when there is gold to be won, along with the favor from a pretty lady?”
Killian stroked his beard and perused Ian over his bushy brows. “Then ye have not heard what yer prize will be.”
“I have heard nothing, Killian, since I did not even know Dristan was holding a tourney.”
Killian threw his arm over Ian’s shoulder and began steering him towards the Garrison Hall. “Then ye may find it in yer best interest not tae compete, lest ye wish tae find yerself wed at the end o’ the games, laddie boy.”
Ian’s step faltered, and he turned to look into the amused face of his longtime friend. He knew the answer afore he even voiced his question. “And just who, may I inquire, will be the lucky bride?”
