by Sherry Ewing
Douglas laughed, holding up his hands in defeat as though he could still feel the pinch on his earlobe when he had disobeyed her. “I yield, Mother.”
“Then ye shall take Freya with ye tae Caen,” Myra said with a grin of satisfaction while she left him standing there and made her way from the parapet.
“I said no such thing,” Douglas called out.
“I was not asking but telling ye, Douglas.”
He grumbled under his breath knowing he would obey his mother’s every command. Not that he minded. He loved Freya dearly and ’twas well past time he made some attempt to find her a husband worthy of her. Not that any man would ever be good enough. Oh, they came in droves to Berwyck bragging of their accomplishments and wealth, but Douglas could see them for what they truly were. Freya had a substantial dowry, and they coveted it above knowing the woman who would become their bride.
Douglas left the battlement walls and made his way down the turret stairs, through his great hall, and out the door of the keep. Several clansmen bobbed their heads, wishing him a good day. As he neared the lists, he heard his men training. Swords clanged, battle axes met shields, and arrows hit targets. Aye, he was more than pleased with their efforts.
He made his way to a stone bench beneath a large oak tree. Raising his hand, he beckoned Killian to join him. He watched as the man gave instructions to another knight before he began making his way toward Douglas. Killian was more like the brother he never had and he treated him as such. They were near the same age and had been raised together.
“What ails ye, my laird?” Killian called out with a chuckle. “Ye look as though yer morning meal is about tae come back up!”
Douglas snorted. “Ye laugh now but ye will share my fate.”
The smile left Killian’s face. “I am not certain I like the sound of that.”
Douglas handed his friend the missive. “We travel to Caen to appease the Duke of Normandy. He has wed Eleanor of Aquitaine and we must pay homage to them.”
Killian spat in the dirt. “Why should we care who the English marry? Sounds like we take sides between Normandy and France if we make such an effort.”
“Ye may have that right, Killian, but we are on their border. As such, we will compete in their tournament in the hope they will leave us in peace. Let Henry have his celebration. I am certain with the ruckus he has caused by marrying the duchess, he will be heading back to Aquitaine in no time to defend the right to that lady’s lands.”
“If ye say so, Douglas,” Killian replied, forgetting all formality of address. He swiped his hand beneath his shoulder-length hair to rub his neck, looking worried.
Douglas studied his friend before he stood and took Killian’s arm. “Travel with me and have my back if nothing else. We shall take a small contingent of men and leave the rest tae watching over Berwyck in my absence.”
“I will see tae it, my laird,” Killian said while his gaze traveled back to the lists. “They are more than capable of keeping Berwyck safe.”
“Of course they are! We have trained them well, have we not, my friend?” Douglas beamed in pride as his own gaze watched his knights.
“Aye, that we have,” Killian agreed. “Who shall ye leave to manage Berwyck?”
Douglas watched one clansman in particular. The knight could be troublesome but he was also one of his most seasoned warriors. “I suppose Cathal would be my choice since he is next-in-command when ye are absent.”
“Are ye sure?” Killian asked with an apparent look of concern.
“Ye may not like one another but he is a good fighter. How much trouble can he get into during the time we are gone?
“Plenty!”
Douglas stood before he grasped Killian’s shoulder. “All will be well, my friend. Let us see tae packing.” Douglas turned to leave and to see to the preparations. “Oh, and Freya shall be joining us.”
“Yer sister?” Killian asked.
“Is there another?” Douglas heard Killian mutter a curse.
Douglas laughed at his friend’s outburst. Then a thought struck him. Mayhap if Douglas put Freya under Killian’s care while they traveled, they might find a common accord between them. ’Twould end Douglas’s dilemma of finding his sister a husband, and nothing would please him more than to see the two wed.
Chapter Three
Catherine was so bored she could scream to the heavens! Would this endless wagon ride never end? Not that Padraig hadn’t seen to their every comfort. ’Twas most luxurious as far as wagons went, with cushions aplenty and linen above their heads to keep the sun off their faces. The fact her brother had insisted she keep his wife company while they traveled to Dover, where they would take a ship to Caen, was driving her insane. She preferred to ride her own horse, not to be confined to a cart.
She gazed at Nicola dozing again, causing Catherine to wonder if her sister-in-law was with child. She remembered her sleeping a lot while pregnant with Patrick. A smile cracked her lips for the first time in hours while thinking of another nephew or niece gracing their lives.
One of Nicola’s ladies was busy with her needlework while Catherine’s maid, Winifred, was reading. Winifred had been a dear friend for many years. She considered the woman her sister rather than a servant. She wondered why her pretty maid with her golden hair and blue eyes hadn’t attracted a husband yet. Catherine would have certainly given Winifred permission to wed.
She must have felt Catherine staring at her, for Winifred looked up and smiled. “He will not be pleased if you disobey him, Lady Catherine,” she murmured.
She is a wise one, Catherine thought before she gave a short laugh, causing Nicola to stir. Catherine leaned toward her maid.
“If I ride in this wagon much longer, I will go mad. What was Padraig thinking?”
“You know the answer,” Winifred returned softly. “You are to help keep his wife amused with your wit.” Her eyes twinkled in merriment at her own jest.
“Bah! I cannot have a conversation with someone who prefers to sleep rather than converse with me,” Catherine said. “Besides, Nicola needs her rest.”
“Aye, I understand completely.” Winifred blushed.
Catherine watched her suspiciously. “What has come over you?”
Winifred shook her head and gazed out the wagon. Catherine returned her attention to the knights riding by. Ah… One of the knights accompanying them had caught Winifred’s attention, but which one? ’Twas hard to tell given there were several handsome men to choose from. Whoever he was, he obviously was no longer in sight, for Winifred leaned back and once more opened up her book.
Catherine gave a weary sigh. So much for engaging in meaningful conversation with Winifred to help pass the time. Then, a leather-gloved hand reached inside, resting on the edge of the frame of the cart.
’Twas Sir Charles de Grey. He wore no helmet and his blond hair waved in the breeze. His blue gaze suggested he was in a good mood. Aye, he was handsome and would be easy to love if she did not already think of him as another brother. He was her friend who had seen her at her best…and her worst.
“Lady Catherine,” he said before giving her a nod in acknowledgement.
“Good day, Sir Charles,” she replied in kind, wondering what he would propose to ease her discomfort of being enclosed in this infernal contraption.
“Mayhap, you would care to ride?” he inquired with a knowing grin that transformed his rugged appearance to one of boyish charm. Aye… Charles could easily win any woman who crossed his path with the exception of her.
“My brother would not approve,” Catherine declared, feeling crestfallen.
He chuckled. “I have already gained his permission.”
“You have?” she gasped, causing Nicola to shift in her seat.
He waved his hand, and the wagon came to a halt while he called out to have Catherine’s horse brought forward. “You are hardly being held captive, my lady.” He dismounted and opened the door for her. Holding out his hand, he assisted her down
the steps.
“You have no idea how long I have been praying for this boredom to end!” She sighed in relief.
“Then let us ride before we reach the ships to Normandy and before your brother changes his mind.”
The wagon began to move on without them, and Charles took the reins of his own horse. He tugged on the leather straps, his horse clearly not willing to cooperate as he grazed on some nearby grass.
“Come along, Devil,” Charles urged, frustration evident in his tone.
Catherine laughed. “Why ever did you give him such a name?”
Charles gazed at her. “Because he is the very devil, and his purpose is to vex me!”
“With such a name, I am not surprised.”
Catherine made her way over to his horse. He was a massive beast and black as sin. She easily took hold of Devil’s bridle, encouraging him with a few kind words. “Come along, my beauty,” she cooed. “We will go to Night Star so I might enjoy my freedom.”
Devil shook his glorious head and obediently followed her as though as docile as a lamb.
Charles took her arm as they began making their way to her steed. “You have a way with animals.”
“They just need love like anyone else.” She regretted her words the moment they escaped her lips. She should never mention the word love in Charles’s presence. She knew he held feelings for her that went beyond friendship.
“Even you?” he asked quietly, gazing at her.
“I suppose love will find me someday,” she replied as they came up to her horse. Night Star was black with a white star on her forehead.
“Your brother will no doubt expect to find a husband for you at the games,” Charles said, his tone suddenly serious.
“Aye.” She stroked Night Star’s mane, hoping his next words were not ones she would come to dread.
“If you want a husband, you need not look to the tournament to find him,” he declared.
Catherine quit giving Night Star her full attention. “Charles…please do not do this,” she begged.
“If not now, when? Mayhap you think I should ask for your hand when you are already standing before a priest while marrying a stranger after the tournament is over?” he growled, running his hand through his hair.
How she wished she could return his affection. “’Tis not appropriate to have such a conversation on the side of the road.” What if someone overheard them?
He watched as several knights turned to look at them as they rode past, kicking up dust. “Aye, how right you are, Lady Catherine,” he replied tersely. “Such a conversation should be held in the comfort of a solar after I have spoken with your brother to gain his permission first.”
“Charles—” she began, only to have any further words dismissed when he held up his hand.
He let Devil’s reins drop and came to her, lifting her onto her horse’s saddle. “We shall discuss our future later, my lady,” he murmured before he offered her a pair of gloves. “I know how you always forget them.”
Catherine watched him return to his horse, once more appearing carefree. Yet Catherine knew better as they began to ride. ’Twas only a matter of time before she had to face the truth. No matter how much Charles cared, she would never marry him. God help her, for if she broke his heart while finding a man she could love, she’d likely lose Charles’s friendship.
Chapter Four
Douglas’s brows furrowed as he muttered a curse under his breath. This was not going the way he expected. Nay… Not at all.
Freya’s laugher rang out in the morning air while she conversed with one of the many knights surrounding her. She kept her horse well under control even as her reins were barely grasped in her hands. Not that any of the men riding beside her would let Freya come to harm. They appeared too enraptured with her to allow such an occurrence.
’Twas as though the woman was holding court and attempting to gain the attention of the entire company, with the exception of one man who appeared immune to her charm. Douglas glanced at Killian who rode next to him.
Killian looked behind him. “Ye should have left her at Berwyck, my laird,” he grumbled. “The men are worthless when she is around.”
Douglas snorted. The moment his sister had learned she was to travel with them to Caen, she had been overjoyed. ’Twas pleasing to see her so happy, and he hoped if nothing else, he would arrange a marriage for her if Killian would not offer for her.
“Ye know Freya as well as I do,” Douglas finally said. “Once she knew about the missive we received from the duke, how could I ask her tae stay home?” Douglas didn’t mention that their mother had demanded he take his sister with them. He dinnae want Killian to think him weak.
“God’s bones, Douglas!” Killian swore. “Could ye not put her in a covered wagon so she would not be such a distraction?”
Douglas chuckled at his overreaction to his sister’s popularity. “Are ye mad? If I were tae even suggest such a thing, she would be reaching for a dirk tae cut out my heart.”
’Twas Killian’s turn to laugh. “Aye. I suppose ye have that right. Yer sister is a most stubborn lass. She should be wed with bairn’s at her feet.”
That was Douglas’s opportunity to hint at a possible union between them. He gave his friend a hopeful glance. “Aye…she should.”
Killian’s brow lifted. “Ye cannae be thinking what I believe ye are hinting at, are ye?”
“Ye do not care for Freya?” Douglas asked.
“Ach, Douglas!” Killian muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He took another look at Freya, then turned back to Douglas. “Did I say I dinnae care for her? Of course I do, but not as a wife. She is like a sister tae me, as much as ye are my brother. Ye know ye have my fealty, my laird, and I am yers tae command.”
A sigh escaped Douglas’s lips. “I had hope…” He would never demand Killian and Freya wed. “Never mind. I will need tae find a husband for her soon, for she is getting too old.”
Killian laughed. “Ye best not let Freya hear ye call her old!”
Before Douglas could reply, Freya rode up behind them. “What are ye two conspiring about?”
“Nothing,” Douglas and Killian replied in unison, causing them to burst out laughing.
“Bah! I can see for myself ye willnae let me in on yer jest. ’Twould be nice tae have someone to amuse me.” She stared up the endless road they travelled.
“Have ye not been entertained by the soldiers who keep ye laughing?” Douglas asked. “I should think ye would pick one as yer husband.”
Freya studied the warriors for a long moment before returning her attention to her brother. “They are our clansmen, Douglas,” she replied with a heavy sigh. “I have grown up with them. How could I think of them in such a manner?”
Beautiful with her brown hair streaked with shades of gold, her aquamarine eyes were as brilliant as the sky. She was a younger version of their mother, and for that, he was grateful. He’d never do anything to hurt her.
Freya began conversing with Killian in hushed tones, leaving Douglas to his own thoughts. He and his sister were more alike than he had thought, for there was no one in their clan he could marry. Mayhap the answer for both he and Freya was to find someone at the tournament. Making an alliance with an English family would be advantageous. Such an arrangement would ensure Berwyck’s survival for the day when the two countries were once again at war.
Aye… Douglas was not a fool to believe that war would never reach the gates of his castle again.
Chapter Five
Caen, Normandy
Catherine placed her woolen cloak around her shoulders to help protect her from the cool ocean breeze that was sure to meet her the moment she left her tent. Opening the flap, she knew Winifred was sure to follow after she finished dressing. Not waiting for her maid, she stepped out into the bright sunlight and ran straight into what surely must have been a tall oak that had suddenly sprung up overnight next to her temporary dwelling.
As she started to fall,
someone grabbed her about the waist and steadied her. She reached for the front of the stranger’s tunic and found a massive chest. Her breath hitched as she slowly gazed upward, finding the amused face of a stranger.
His reddish-brown hair hung just above his shoulders and his blue eyes caressed her with a warm look. A day’s worth of stubble peppered his cheeks and chin. His smile suggested the sort of arrogance that appealed to Catherine, but she mustn’t seem to be admiring the handsome stranger, he might get the wrong impression of her.
He tightened his hold on her, and she wondered why her body was reacting in such an unnerving way. She had never met anyone before who caused her body to tremble in excitement from just one touch. Who was he? She would certainly know him if he were in service to her brother. But she’d never seen him at the garrison or on the practice field back home. And considering she was encamped in a place full of tents for the tournament, he could be anyone.
One of his hands slid up her back, his thumb making a small circular motion as though to offer her comfort. No man had ever held her this closely, and Catherine was at a sudden loss to explain the fluttering inside her belly. And then he smiled, and she swore her heart flipped. By the Blessed Virgin…what was coming over her?
“Pardon me,” she said. “I didn’t see you.”
“Are ye hurt?” he asked, his Scottish brogue apparent.
“Nay. Are you?” How could she ask such a silly thing? The man was bigger than a tree.
A woman laughed, and ’twas the first time Catherine noticed her. Was she his wife?
“She actually thinks she has injured ye, Douglas,” the woman said, amusement evident in her tone.
The man she called Douglas turned in the woman’s direction. “Hush, Freya, if ye know what is good for ye.”
“Bah! Ye would never hurt me, and ye very well know it.” The woman called Freya tugged at the arm of another knight standing with them. “Come, Killian. Let us go break our fast.”
