by Diane Darcy
The doors to the chapel were open and both Dinsdales were speaking with a priest.
From this distance she couldn’t tell what was being said, but hoped it had something to do with a meal, and a bed to sleep in.
As long as she was fantasizing, she might as well make it good. A hot steaming bowl of stew, with a homemade roll, and a piece of cake for dessert.
The mattress would be stuffed with feathers, all decked out in white, with a thick bedspread and a fluffy pillow that smelled like it had just come out of the dryer.
“Lady Cara, come here, if you please.”
Lord Dinsdale’s supercilious, arrogant tone cut through her imaginings and she sighed and stepped forward. “I’m coming, I’m coming, can’t you see that I’m walking in your direction?”
Somebody really needed to feed her.
When she was close enough she yelled out, “Help me! I’ve been kidnapped!”
Dinsdale came forward, grasped her arm, and yanked her to stand before the startled priest.
“That hurts!”
He squeezed her arm harder. “Ow!” She jerked away and glared at him, rubbing her upper arm so everyone around them would know he was abusing her. “Thug!”
He ignored her, facing the priest once more. “As I was saying, I need you to marry Lady Cara to my son, Sir Rupert Dinsdale.”
Cara sucked in a breath. “What? No. No way.”
A large crack of thunder exploded overhead, and lightening flared across the sky.
Cara instinctively hunched, as did almost everyone else. A few of the horses whinnied, one jumping up to paw at the air.
“Oh, ho, ho! Did you see that?” She turned to the priest. “I’d say that was a big fat no on my getting married tonight!”
The priest was short, thin, and pale with fright. He wore a long, black gown that must have been hastily donned, because he was belt-less, and wore a sleeping cap on his head.
Probably in his thirties, he lifted a candle-lantern as he tried to get a look at their faces, and seemed to gather his courage. “And as I was saying, my Lord Dinsdale, I cannot do this thing. The banns have yet to be read, and should not be read here regardless, but in your own respective chapels so any objectors might come forth!”
“And what you don’t understand, is that Lady Cara has been compromised and must marry forthwith.”
The priest looked between Rupert and Cara before shooting her a disapproving look.
Cara straightened her shoulders. “Seriously?” Cara asked. “Not that I’ve actually been compromised by Sir Dinsdale here, because I haven’t. But if I had, I’m the one who gets the dirty look? What about him?” She pointed with her thumb.
The priest shared a glance with Lord Dinsdale, something along the lines of … I see what you mean …
“I will not have my grandchild born out of wedlock, so I will have to insist you marry them now.”
The priest looked uncertain. “My lord, I cannot …”
“You can, and you will! Over thirty years ago, the priest here had no such compunction,” Lord Dinsdale’s voice had risen with every word and spittle flew into the priest’s face, causing the other man to flinch.
“You married my betrothed to another man and if you can do that to me, then you can do it for my son!”
Oh, wow. Cara glanced around the wooded area to the nearby village.
Lord Dinsdale had literally taken them to the very place Lady Helena had almost married him.
A new display of psycho.
Come to think of it, they’d traveled for a long while, passed through villages, and there’d probably been other chapels along the way. There had to have been.
But he’d pushed them hard all day, to get to this chapel.
Oh, just wow. The guy needed therapy.
Lord Dinsdale was still spluttering at the priest, having let go of her, and taken a step forward so he could poke the other man in the chest, allowing Cara to look at Rupert.
He looked as horrified as she felt.
Was there a chance he wasn’t all right with this? That he might actually be an ally wishing to escape?
“Excuse me, I’d like to talk to Rupert by myself.”
Lord Dinsdale’s tirade shut off, and he looked at her. “What for?”
“Well, if I’m going to marry the man, I’d like to have a conversation with him first.”
Lord Dinsdale opened his mouth, shut it, and he studied her with suspicion.
The torch Gargantuan now held lit his face, showing his indecision, and finally his acceptance.
He gave a quick nod. “Rupert, take the female over there by the tree and have a conversation. If she protests the marriage, get her with child.”
He glanced at the priest. “Again.”
“Ew,” Cara said, and then shoved past Gargantuan as she headed for a tree, Rupert trailing behind her.
Chapter 40
When she had Rupert alone, she glanced around. If they kept their voices low, his dad wouldn’t be able to hear them.
“My lady?”
The man was bigger than she’d realized. With Wallace around, other men seemed smaller in comparison, but the guy was over six feet, and built. She let out a deep breath. “This is sure something, isn’t it?”
Rupert, his bruised face barely visible from the light of the few torches the men held, looked at a loss.
“How you doing, anyway? You and Wallace sure got into it earlier today. Or was that yesterday?”
He gave her a nod. “I am well, thank you for your concern.”
She was obviously going to have to take the lead in this. Lightning flared again, followed by a rumble and she glanced around.
The air felt heavy. They probably shouldn’t be under a tree.
“Oh, come on. What are we doing here? Your dad seems bonkers, but you seem all right. Are you down with this?”
He glanced at the ground. “My lady?”
She gave another heavy sigh. “Look, Amelia has a pretty big crush on you. That was pretty obvious to anyone after the joust.”
At his continued blank expression, she said, “Amelia has strong feelings for you.”
He glanced over his shoulder to where his father stood by the priest, both men watching them. “Has she spoken of me?”
“Oh, yes. You are just about all she can talk about.”
She could feel emotion thrumming off the man. “She saved my life, you know. I saw death in Wallace’s gaze and knew I was finished. And then her voice rang out.”
His voice was soft, and touched with awe. It seemed Rupert might have a crush as well.
In the circumstances, that was a good thing.
“So, here’s the deal, I am in love with Wallace. You are in love with Amelia.”
“I am?” he said, as if she was the one who knew the answer. She rolled her eyes, starting to wonder if the man was a simpleton.
“Of course, you are. You and Amelia are in love and if you marry me then you’ll be sad because you won’t be married to the love of your life.”
His lips quirked at one corner. “’Tis true I do have feelings for Lady Amelia. She’s beautiful, lively, and she saved my life. If it were only up to me, she is the lady I would choose.”
“Exactly!” Cara said, satisfaction weaving through her. She knew if she could just get Rupert on her side, they could get out of this mess.
“That being said, I think you and I would get along exceedingly well together. You are also beautiful, lively, and high-spirited. All qualities I admire, and I feel that were we to marry, we should do very well with each other.”
Gah!
“But what about Amelia?”
“Now that her family has regained their lost titles and properties, she will be much in demand. Without the king nearby to insist, ’tis doubtful her family would allow me to marry her.”
This was not what she expected. “Wallace won’t go against the king. I’ll make sure of it.”
He drew in a breath. “My lady, there is too much di
scord. He will not welcome me into his family. Besides which, I will not oppose my father.”
“Fight for her! Fight for what you want!” Was the man an emotionless robot?
He reached out and took her hand. “I can see this is not a marriage you might desire. You don’t know me, but I swear I will do right by you. I will not beat you, and will be faithful. We will raise our children together, and I suspect have a happy life, once you’ve settled.”
“But I don’t want this,” Cara said plaintively. “I’m in love with Wallace.”
Rupert raised his other hand to capture hers, and held both hands.
His were warm, he was tall, strong, competent, and, somehow, even with a father like Lord Dinsdale, gentle.
She could feel panic rising. Cara hadn’t even been sure she could endure this life for Wallace.
She certainly wasn’t going to for Rupert.
He squeezed her fingers gently. “My lady, you’ve been taken by our family, traveled through the night, and thy reputation will not stand, should you not marry me. If for no other reason, marry me to avoid scandal, before you end up with naught.”
“Your father stole my necklace; did you know that?”
Rupert glanced back at his father. “I wish I could say I was surprised, but I am not. He would do whatever necessary to harm the Wolfsbane family. Yet another reason for me to release Amelia.”
The guy was so calm, gentle, and understanding.
She entertained the notion of marrying him for a moment. It would just be words over an altar. It wasn’t like she’d intend to honor a forced marriage. It wouldn’t mean a thing to her. She could insist on her necklace as a wedding gift.
A honeymoon at Marshal Keep with her dear friend, or to Stirling Castle for a Scottish retreat.
And she’d disappear forever.
Leaving her new husband alone and confused.
Leaving Wallace angry and vengeful.
Her heart clenched. He’d probably think they’d buried her in a ditch somewhere and would try to avenge her, causing him even more trouble.
She really did love that man.
Rupert waited for her response, seeming to will her to choose him.
What did she do?
Agree to marry Rupert?
Refuse, and what? Lord Dinsdale suggested Rupert impregnate her immediately, but she didn’t think of him as the molester-type, though he did seem awfully invested in doing whatever his father wanted.
Holding her breath, trying to see a way out of this, her eyes landed on a stone marker outside the church.
Her breath released in a rush, and her eyes widened.
If this was where Lady Helena eloped with Lord Dinsdale, then this was where her husband chased her down.
This was where some saint or other, what was his name? The same one Gillian told her about.
Cartwright? Cahill? Cuthbert!
Her eyes landed on the priest and she called out, “Saint Cuthbert?”
“What?” Rupert asked.
The priest’s mouth dropped, and even from the distance, in the torchlight, she could see he was shocked.
That made two of them.
She wrenched her hands from Rupert, a feeling of disbelief or maybe it was inevitability, sweeping through her.
“What is that, my lady?” The priest started toward her and Lord Dinsdale grabbed his arm.
“Stay here.”
The priest shook him off and walked across the hard-packed earth. “My lady, what did you say?”
“I said, Saint Cuthbert,” she repeated, not knowing whether he actually was Saint Cuthbert, or simply knew the name.
At this point she figured almost anything was possible.
“My lady, he is our patron saint. Do you know of him?”
“I do. He blessed the chapel at Marshall Keep. He also blessed the touching stone near Stirling Castle, and I believe he blessed this one here, as well.”
“Are you on a pilgrimage?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer that, wasn’t sure what it meant to him, and finally said, “I started at Stirling, went to Marshall Keep, and now I’m here. Does that sound like a pilgrimage to you?”
“Oh, most assuredly, my lady. Is there some way I can assist you?”
Lord Dinsdale, apparently fed up with waiting, came toward their little group. “Enough of this delay! Let us marry the two of them, immediately.”
She ignored him and said to the priest, “I believe history is about to repeat itself. Lord Dinsdale eloped here, and his bride was taken from him. Now, I am eloping with his son, and I believe the wedding will be stopped once again, by the younger Lord Wolfsbane.”
She looked up the road, almost expecting Wallace to appear.
“Not this time,” Lord Dinsdale said. He grabbed Cara by the wrist and dragged her toward the chapel. “This time ’tis the Dinsdales that will have a bride.”
Cara dug her heels in and tried to stop their forward momentum, but Lord Dinsdale was stronger, and she didn’t fight as hard as she could have, because she had no intention of saying I do, whether he stood her inside a chapel or not.
This whole thing felt too mythic for her hero not to ride to her rescue.
What would he say if he arrived and she was married? She wouldn’t do it. That just wasn’t her part to play.
She would consider the marriage a farce, but Wallace might not.
When Lady Helena had married Lord Wolfsbane, Lord Dinsdale hadn’t tried to change her mind, or go after her, considering her a lost cause.
There was no divorce in the thirteenth century. Once married, it was final.
Which probably really sucked for some couples.
There was a bubble of hysteria growing inside of her, spewing one ridiculous thought after another.
Lord Dinsdale wrestled her into the chapel, and she grabbed the door and held on. Another yank wrenched her inside, hands smarting.
Candlelight revealed an altar about ten feet inside the building, and small stained-glass windows, a fireplace, and rough wood flooring gave the place an old-fashioned feel.
Oh, right, because it was the thirteenth century! Under other circumstances she might appreciate the charm.
She wrenched away from Lord Dinsdale and he caught her around the waist and lifted her from behind.
She gasped, losing her breath, scratching at his forearm. “Let me go!”
This entire situation, which seemed so ridiculous earlier seemed dead serious now.
Lord Dinsdale wrangled her to the altar and dropped his arm.
When she turned around, three of his men blocked the door, Sir Goodwin among them, and Rupert took his place at her side.
“This is absurd!” she screeched. “You can’t make someone marry you! And if you did, how would it count?”
“It will count,” Lord Dinsdale assured her, and she was afraid he was right. It might actually matter to Wallace.
“My dear,” Rupert said, his tone calm. “This may not be a worthy beginning,” he shot his father a dark look. “I am sorry we’ve not minstrels, a procession, or swordsmen. But that is not to say we cannot make the best of it.”
She shot him an incredulous look. “That’s not what I was hoping for in a marriage.”
“Priest, get over here,” Lord Dinsdale demanded.
The priest scuttled to the side of them and stood behind the altar. “I cannot marry this couple if the bride will not agree.”
Lord Dinsdale grabbed Cara by the back of the neck and squeezed. “She will agree, right enough.”
“Ow, ow, ow!” Cara fought against him, and Rupert’s hand shot out to grip his father’s wrist.
“Let her go.”
It was the first time she’d heard Rupert stand up to his father.
“Now.”
The two men must’ve had some sort of gazes-locked war going between them from the way the priest’s eyes moved back and forth, watching them.
Lord Dinsdale gave her one last shake, let go of h
er and stepped back.
“Ouch,” Cara said, her tone angry, as she raised both hands to rub her neck. She shot a glare at Lord Dinsdale, and then looked over at Rupert, who had one hand in the air as if to touch her, but didn’t quite dare.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Marry them now!” Lord Dinsdale insisted.
Rupert’s hand finally lowered and he rubbed a couple of circles into her back, reminding her of Wallace. “Lady Cara, I know this is not what you want, but I promise that years from now, you shall look back and decide ’twas a good decision. I will make sure you have no regrets.”
She couldn’t help compare Rupert’s hopeless, dead-eyed stare to that of Wallace.
Wallace studied her, alert, fascinated, as if she was a puzzle he was determined to solve, or as if the moon, stars, and sun shone from her.
It was like Rupert was going through the motions.
He’d been willing to marry Amelia because the king said so.
He’d been willing to face Wallace on his father’s behalf. To die, even.
He was willing to relinquish Amelia even though it seemed he’d really ended up liking her.
Now he was even willing to marry a woman he barely knew to satisfy his wacko dad.
Good, grief.
Well, if Rupert wouldn’t speak up, she would.
She straightened her shoulders and faced the priest. “Go ahead and try to marry us. See what happens.”
Lord Dinsdale made a sound of fury, a bellow that was half temper-tantrum, half fury.
She swung around, hoping the fact Rupert hadn’t wanted his father to hurt her meant he’d protect her.
She wanted that necklace.
“I don’t know what your deal is anyway. I’m dirt poor, and have no money. Wouldn’t you rather Rupert marry Amelia?” she asked, throwing the other girl under the bus. “I have nothing to bring to this marriage except that you think it will upset Wallace. Is that really worth giving up a dowry for?”
“Oh, you have a dowry.” He reached into the pocket of his long, black coat and pulled something out.
Holding it with just finger and thumb, he let it drop, and a necklace dangled there, glinting and flashing with every hit of candlelight.
And there it was.
When she instinctively reached for it, Lord Dinsdale jerked it away from her.
