“They arrived two days after you left,” Connor began immediately. “They demanded to see you and I offered them hospitality to stay until your return.”
“The guards?” Duncan did not ever remember seeing armed guards at the doors to Broch Dubh before.
“We were caught unaware as were they. Marian walked through the yard and into the hall and they saw her. Things were said….” Connor’s words drifted off then, no need to explain what the words were. “Their soldiers are now housed in the stables, under guard. Only Beitris’s father, two brothers and sister are in the keep.”
“And Marian?”
Connor let out a breath that lingered in the cold air around them. “She has a guard at her door. Ciara has been staying with the other bairns in the nursery, out of their sight.” Connor stared up at the tower where his wife was. “And Jocelyn is none too happy over this. Margriet is the only one who has been able to spend time in their company without wanting to rip off their heads.”
“Her many years in God’s service taught her patience then?” he asked. Rurik’s wife had been raised in a convent and had many years’ experience in dealing with difficult people.
“Some, but she carries no weapons when she is with them.”
Duncan smiled at the fierceness of Marian’s defenders. Connor faced him then, meeting his gaze and asking him the question he did not want to answer.
“They claim the lass is theirs. They claim that Beitris died giving birth to her.”
With what Connor had witnessed when Jocelyn was giving birth and what Jocelyn might have shared, Duncan knew that Connor shared their suspicions. But to say the word, to speak it aloud, would damn them all.
They stood in silence for a moment, one long enough to tell Connor so much. Duncan could not ever remember lying to Connor, whether by intent or omission, and he tasted the sourness of it though the words had not passed his lips.
The sound of footsteps crunching on the freshly fallen snow stopped their conversation and they turned to whoever approached. Marian stood at the corner where the wall met the tower.
“I gave her leave to walk the walls when she needed to,” Connor explained. “Jocelyn and I have no need of them for now.” Connor took a step away and then turned back to him. “You have choices to make, my friend. Choices I have faced and I do not envy you them.”
He watched as his laird and friend passed Marian with a word and then disappeared down the stairs into the keep.
Duncan stared at her across the distance that separated them and waited. The fear in her eyes and in her stance was clear even from there. He hoped the love in his was as well. Then he opened his arms to her and she ran to him.
Tugging the last layer of plaid loose, he drew her close and wrapped her in it. Leaning down, he smoothed the loose hairs out of her face and kissed her as he’d longed to do. One led to another and another until, between the kisses and the cold winds swirling around them, they lost their breath.
“Come, we must talk,” he said.
They walked to the tower where their rooms were and climbed down the steps. Soon they were in their chambers and, as he peeled away their plaids, he resumed the kisses he had missed so much. If there was time, he would have done so much more, but the call for him would come very soon and then…well, then everything would be forever changed.
When he faced her and saw the grim expression, he knew the changes would begin now.
She had not slept in days. Not having his warmth around her was part of it. Not having his love to keep her strong was another. And knowing that she would never have him again was the larger part that plagued her nights and her days.
It was his welcome into his arms that confirmed her plans. Marian realized he did not believe she would leave him. And that the truth she could tell him would bear out the need for him to let her go. He was caught in a situation where he could not win and neither could she. She’d come to accept the conundrum and its only possible solution months ago, but Duncan had not yet. He would now, though.
She reached up and touched his swollen lip and noticed the bruise over his eye. “Iain?” she asked.
“He looks much worse,” he answered with a certain amount of pride in his words. “I suspect he will be here once he can sit a horse.”
“Sit,” she said, pointing to the bench. She poured wine for them and she watched as he drank his. “You must be exhausted.”
He drank the cup dry and then spread his hands on the table, rubbing its surface. The glint in his eyes told her that he was thinking on the last time he’d been at that table. She smiled, remembering every moment of it. Then she shook her head, realizing that it was all in the past.
“Just tell me, Marian,” he said softly. “Speak the words.”
“Beitris and I fostered together, both with her family and then mine,” she began. “I was the one to first suggest her marriage to Iain. I was a selfish girl who loved her brother and did not want to lose him or my friend. If they married, I could have them both.”
“Did they not wish to marry then?”
“Beitris had loved Iain for years, but Iain did not seem intent on marrying. He enjoyed all the pursuits that young men did and seemed uninterested in marrying at all. Of course, my father began to pressure him since he was heir and would need a wife. ’Twas I who convinced my father and mother that Beitris would be the perfect woman for him.”
There was more, but she could not share that.
“They were married and seemed happy together, but as they tried to conceive a child, things changed between them. They argued. There were fights and accusations. My father stepped in, to push and prod them along, but it helped not. Then after two years, Beitris was with child.”
Marian sat down now, unsure of how steady her legs would be through the rest of it. “Instead of finding joy in her condition, there were more angry fights. Although I think they still loved each other, something had changed between them and I did not ken and could not guess why. Beitris’s health was precarious through the whole time she carried and the midwife warned of an early birth.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, reliving the beginning of that horrible night. She’d been asleep when she heard Beitris calling out for Iain in the hallway outside her door. Pulling on a chemise and a robe, she opened the door to find Beitris gasping for breath and blood pouring down her legs.
“She stood in front of Iain’s chambers, staring and moaning at what she saw inside until she fell to her knees there.”
“What did she see, Marian?”
The thought of exposing Iain’s secret to anyone and exposing the lengths to which her friend went to please her husband in his need for an heir, an heir he would never produce, had troubled her the most. But Duncan’s word and honor would be questioned because of this and he had already been held up to ridicule because of her, and he deserved to know the truth. Deciding to tell him and saying the words were two different things, neither one an easy task.
“Iain did not like women,” she said. Such simple words and such a terrible price paid for them. “I do not doubt that he loved Beitris, but he could not…”
Duncan’s hand covered hers then. “I understand. Go on.”
“Beitris was having pains and went to find him. She discovered him with two or three other men and witnessed them…” She did not really understand it, so it was difficult to accept and tell what Beitris had told her. “I do not think he realized her condition. He must have thought she walked in on them and was shocked and backed out of the chamber. He closed the door and locked it against further interruptions.”
“Good God!” Duncan whispered. “And you were left to help her? Where was your father?”
The tears flowed down her cheeks now as she thought of Ciara’s birth and Beitris’s death. “I called for my father and helped Beitris to her rooms, expecting he would call for the midwife. Instead he broke into Iain’s rooms and saw them…”
She stopped and took a breath. When she clos
ed her eyes, she could see it all again.
“Come, Beitris, the midwife will be here soon,” she’d told her friend. “Get on the bed and try to let go of the pain.”
When Beitris managed to get on the bed, Marian gasped in horror at the amount of blood pouring out of her. Then Beitris moaned and drew her legs up and pushed from deep within herself.
“Nay, Beitris. Nay!” she urged. “Wait for the midwife.”
Looking at Duncan, she saw his tears. “My father came in then with Iain. They’d reached some agreement about his…preferences and he said that only a true son of a Robertson would sit on the high chair.”
“He said that?”
“Aye. He meant to kill the child if it was a boy, but when he saw it was a girl, he had no use for her. He pointed at me and said my screaming had brought others so ’twas my duty to keep everything quiet.”
“Bastard,” Duncan said. “But why did you agree, Marian?”
“She was my friend, Duncan. If I had not pushed the matter so, she might have married elsewhere and lived a long and happy life. She would be alive if I had not convinced her to marry my brother.”
“Even you do not ken that. ’Twas not your fault.”
“Still, my father said that if I agreed to take the disgrace in order to spare Iain and serve the clan, he would make certain that none of the truth came out. He swore that Beitris would remain blameless. If I did not, the babe would disappear and Beitris, whose only crime was loving my brother, would be shamed even in death.”
Tears flowed now making it difficult to continue. Duncan moved over and sat at her side, taking her in his arms while she cried out her sorrow. “I could protect Beitris and her bairn by accepting his plan. I had to, Duncan.” She lay quietly in his arms, thinking back on that night with the wisdom she’d gained in these last years. “He played on my guilt that night. He played my love for my friend and my brother against my need to keep them from harm.”
She rubbed her eyes clear of tears and sat back. “He made all the arrangements and then, without telling me what to expect, he threw me into Iain’s chamber and began screaming insults. The men must have been paid or threatened to take part for they threw me on the bed, tore at my robe and poured wine and ale on me to make it seem that we were…”
“You do not need to tell me the rest, Marian. I think I ken what happened.”
She could not stop the telling now that she’d begun it.
“All I kept thinking was that I was protecting Beitris and her baby. She was discovered dead, with Iain at her side, and my father said she’d died trying to give birth. He ranted about his disgraced daughter who celebrated while his daughter-by-marriage died trying to carry out her duties. Those below stairs heard it, believed it and when I was flung naked into the great hall, they beat me and cut my hair to punish me for my sinful ways. The only thing he stopped was when someone screamed out to mark me as a whore with a hot iron.”
“Holy Mother of God!” Duncan exclaimed. “I had no idea he was capable of such things.”
She shook herself from the past. “So now you ken the truth and are bound by it.”
“Bound by it?” he asked.
“Sir Thomas is here to ask you if Ciara is mine or Beitris’s babe. Now that you ken the truth, what will you say?”
“Marian, there has to be a way out of this,” he said, not giving her the words she wanted to hear.
“Think on it, Duncan. You have two choices—to lie or to tell the truth. And now when you ken the truth, when you are called upon to make that choice, I ken that you could no more lie for me than you could live without breathing, and I ken that. I have always known. Your honor is more important to you than your life.”
She stood then and stepped away from the table and from him, preparing in a small way for the bigger separation to come.
“So, when the Laird Erskine asks you for the truth…”
“They already have most of it, Marian. They have suspected all along that the story told by your father was not the whole truth.” He stood now and came to her side, but she backed away.
“Marian, do you love me? Would you stay my wife?”
“Aye, Duncan, I love you. Enough to understand that something is more important to you than I am and not to damn you for it.”
“I want no other woman, Marian. We can find a way.”
“There was a time during Jocelyn’s labor when Ailsa thought they might have to choose between her or the bairn. She was losing so much blood and the bairn seemed stuck. When Ailsa put the choice to Connor, he did not hesitate for a moment. He told her that he could not live without Jocelyn and that Ailsa must do everything in her power to see her safely through the birth.”
She paused and wiped her eyes once more. “He said it while gazing at Jocelyn with such love in his eyes that I had to turn away. He loves her so much that, while making such a horrible decision as that one—one against Church law, one against even nature itself—he chose her.
“That’s what I want in my husband, Duncan. I want a man who will choose me above all else.”
She looked at him and saw the love in his eyes, a love that could simply not erase their problems or withstand the challenge that faced them now.
“What about your daughter? What about Ciara?”
“We both ken she is not mine, Duncan. Ciara will be returned to her family and they will raise her as her mother would have. She will be surrounded by those who want her and who will treat her with love and kindness. ’Tis better this way.”
Could he hear her lie now? A large part of her was dying inside even now as she spoke the words about Ciara’s fate. Once Beitris’s family heard the words Duncan would speak, her life would be ripped apart at its very seams. All because she could not leave well enough alone. All because she pushed two people, neither one ready for the other, together all those years ago. All because her father thought her dispensable and his son not. All because…
She found that the reasons mattered not now. Iain’s secret would remain so—Duncan’s word would only reveal Ciara’s true mother and the rest could still lie quietly buried in the past. The treaty between the clans would stand as Connor’s assurance to her guaranteed it would, so all that would be left was to finish out their year and she would move away. Soon, there would be no trace of Marian, the Robertson Harlot, left here or in the Highlands for she planned to move far, far away.
“So, I will release you from our bonds as soon as the time comes so that you will not have to do it. You can keep your honor and your name and protect your clan as I ken you must. I only thank you for the time we had together. You have shown me another side to marriage that gives me such hope, hope for both of us.”
“This is what you want, Marian?”
“I see no other choice for you or me. If we honor the promises made then…”
Marian was out of words and out of the ability to speak them. The knock at the door startled them, but it signaled an ending for them. Duncan walked over and pulled the door open a crack.
“The laird calls for you, Duncan,” Rurik said. “In the solar.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The guard standing next to the solar door opened it for him and he entered. The chamber, though the largest room in the keep other than the hall, was crowded with people. Connor and Jocelyn sat next to each other in the two largest chairs and then several others he did not recognize sat around them. Unfortunately this was now a matter of honor—the clan kenned it and so did their laird—and there must be many witnesses so that no questions would be raised later. He walked forward until he caught Connor’s eye and then approached and bowed before them.
“Laird, I have come at your call,” he said formally.
Connor stood and came over to him. Turning to the older man seated next to Jocelyn, he said, “Sir Thomas Erskine, this is Duncan MacLerie. Duncan, this is the baron of Dun.” Duncan bowed to the baron. “And these are three of his children, Rory, Munro and Elizabeth.” Duncan gree
ted each of them and waited for Connor to take his seat.
“There is a personal matter that they seek your counsel on,” Connor said. “A question involving some private information they have received and they thought it best to come and speak with you directly.”
He noticed that Jocelyn appeared to be in pain. She gripped Connor’s hand now tightly enough that her fingers blanched.
“Laird, is the lady needed here? With her coming so recently from her childbed, mayhap she would rest more com…” He never got the rest out.
“I thank you for your consideration, Duncan. I am well enough,” she said. Apparently Connor’s efforts to keep her away amounted to what his did—nothing.
“I think that with these issues under discussion, a lady’s presence can soften and mitigate any harshness caused by the emotional nature of such concerns,” she continued, smiling at him. There would be hell to pay for his attempts to get rid of her. “Or so my husband tells me.” She batted her eyelashes at Sir Thomas who muttered something about wives obeying their husbands under his breath.
“I bow to your will then, countess,” he said. Turning to Beitris’s father, he said, “Tell me how I can be of service to you?”
“My youngest daughter was married to Iain Robertson some years ago and she died in childbirth,” he began.
“I have heard this,” Duncan said.
“We were not present when Beitris died, or her bairn with her, but we were told of that terrible night by the old laird before he died. A terrible night,” the man said.
His sons looked at Duncan with open speculation and he could tell by their expressions they were thinking of Marian and not their poor dead sister.
“Rumors persisted after that…”
“About my wife?” he asked, putting it in front of them.
“Nay! Nay, sir, about my daughter’s death. You see some who were in the keep that night heard things that do not follow what the old laird told us. Some spoke of hearing a bairn’s cry. Some spoke of Beitris calling out and damning her husband.”
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