In the Warrior’s Bed (6 page)

She could thank the maid for such niceties. It was for certain that her father knew nothing of it, else she’d be fetching her own.

With a sigh she poured water into the basin. There was no point in being bitter. Life was not fair, and men were greedy. Her mother had taught her that. The Laird McQuade did not part with his gold, not even for a daughter. Done with washing her face, she enjoyed the feel of clean skin. The soap was plain with only a hint of rosemary for good luck, but it cleansed the dirt away, leaving her refreshed. Picking up the brush, she tended to her hair. When it was neat and braided once more, she reached for the door. She would not linger in the room. Her father might say many things about her, but Bronwyn McQuade was not a coward. She knew the truth of her own virtue, so she would hold her chin steady.

Cullen didn’t waste time. He stopped at the McJames city house just long enough to wash the road dust from his body. The servants scurried to heat water and pull a clean doublet out of a chest for him. Neither he nor Brodick had any true liking for court so the staff dinna expect him, but they were always ready. A good wool doublet, made to his measurements, was kept on hand along with a shirt and clean kilt. It was constructed of smooth, russet wool and set with silver buttons. There were boots that didn’t have the dirt from the road clinging to them A new bonnet, and pinned to the side was a broach with the McJames arms. He shaved his three days of beard off with the aid of a mirror.

When he entered the royal hall he remembered why he didn’t care for court. Nobles watched him, their lips moving as they muttered some cutting remark to the man standing beside them. He didn’t even bother to give them the benefit of the doubt, they were no saying anything kind. That was court, full of intrigue and suspicion. Gossip fueled the ambitions of most of the velvet-clad men. They looked like actors on the stage in their slashed silk hose and puffy pants that no real Scot needed. Most of the men had more jewels sewn to their court costumes than the woman wore in their jewelry.

He was quite content in his kilt and wool doublet. Pretty trimmings and shinny baubles were for women, not a man who often had to use a sword to defend his land. Some of the pants worn by the court men were so overstuffed, they had to stand in carefully posed positions. A few even had lace-edged handkerchiefs dangling from their gloved fingertips.

Fops. Half of them had boy lovers.

The ladies were just as repulsive to him. White powder covered their faces until one couldn’t see what color their skin was. Thick red rouge colored their cheeks and lips. Some wore black “patches” on their skin in the shape of tiny stars or crescent moons. Their dresses were huge piles of lavish fabrics strapped to them over steel and wire so everything that he found pleasing about the female body was pushed into another shape. The only thing he did see was their breasts. The necklines of their court dresses were low and square cut. Their stiff corsets pushed their soft breasts up until the flesh looked hard and ready to burst from their bodices.

He far preferred Bronwyn as she’d looked riding…

The thought made him clench his teeth. No woman should be able to take command of his thoughts when he had not even tasted her kiss.

Yet…

He snorted in frustration. ’Twas becoming irritating, it was. There were other lasses who would make fine brides for him, too. Since he was at court, maybe he should take a look at some of them.

“Young McJames, I did no expect to see ye back this year.” Alarik McKorey offered his hand in greeting. Neighbors on the southern side of McJames property, the man was a long-time ally against the McQuades. He also wore good Scottish wool without the elaborate trim and jewels. It was a welcome sight among the sea of presumptuous status seekers.

“I decided that both yer lovely sisters were too far away from me.”

McKorey’s sister Raelin peered over her lace fan at him. Her face wasn’t painted, only a touch of color on her lips. It made for a refreshing sight that earned her a smile from his lips. Aye, here was a woman who would bring a good connection if he married her.

“Good day to ye, Raelin.”

Her eyes narrowed in distaste before she gripped her sister’s arm and tugged her away from him. Alarik shot them a hard look.

“What goes on here, Alarik? I dinna know I’d offended yer sisters.” And it appeared that whatever his sin was, everyone around him knew it because there were whispers aplenty.

“I told them to reserve their judgment until yer side of the tale was voiced.” Alarik offered him a hard look. “I know the McQuades have been a thorn in yer side too long.”

“What are ye talking about, man? I’ve no done anything that I need my friends to make excuses for.”

Alarik didn’t answer. He looked past Cullen as another wave of whispers rippled across the courtiers. Turning around he gazed at the face he’d seen one too many times in his memory. A flare of satisfaction burned through him as he confirmed his suspicions. She stood next to McQuade, confirming that she was his daughter.

But her face was pale.

Cullen stared at the ashen shade and her bloodless lips. She held them tightly clamped together. Her chin trembled but only a tiny amount, so small he’d have missed it if he wasn’t staring at her so intently. It was a stark contrast to the memory he held of her. His temper stirred as he watched the way her brothers looked at her; it was far from kind.

She wore no powder or paint. Only a good wool dress that buttoned up to her neck. There were creases where it had been folded back when it warmed up in the afternoons. At court such ware was misplaced almost as much as her somber expression. Even his own doublet had been pressed so that it didn’t look like he’d appeared in front of his king fresh from the road.

The whispers in the room became louder as people noticed his attention on her. Bronwyn turned and found him. Her eyes widened when she saw him. Heat erupted throughout his body. It was instant and undeniable. The only thing that made it endurable was the small flicker he watched emerge in Bronwyn’s eyes. The whispers in the hall increased, cutting through his fascination with her.

“Maybe the king will force them to wed…”

“She’s soiled…”

“Why marry what he’s already had…”

Cullen shot a look at Alarik. “What nonsense goes on here?”

McKorey leaned in closer. “McQuade accused ye of using his daughter.”

Cullen’s gaze shot back toward Bronwyn. His temper erupted but it was laced with desire so thick he wasn’t sure what he felt. It took every shred of self-discipline he owned to remain standing still. Every fiber of his being wanted to close the distance so that he could hear Bronwyn tell him with her own lips what he’d done.

Like father…like child…

Did she really hate him enough to blacken her own reputation with such a lie? Her brothers would, he believed that without a doubt.

“Make way for the king!”

The whispers ceased abruptly. Cullen turned to find Jamie striding toward him. The courtiers all lowered themselves. When his king halted in front of him, he inclined his head in deference as well.

“Cullen McJames, my friend. I am pleased to see ye.”

The tongues didn’t start wagging until the king and Cullen McJames made it far enough down the carpet not to hear what was being said clearly.

Bronwyn did.

She set her mind to not caring but her pride refused to obey her wishes. Pain slashed through her. Her father offered her no mercy. He stood steady as she was forced to endure the public display. He finally turned to look at her.

“Ye may return to the town house. I’ll see ye sent home to Red Stone on the morrow.”

May God forgive her, but even if the scriptures said she should ask for his blessing, every inch of her refused. She did not see a father before her, only the man who legally owned her. And he did. There was no one who would intervene, no one who would challenge his charge against her. The very clothing on her back was his by law.

“Yer greed knows no boundaries.” Bronwyn lowered her voice so that only her sire and siblings heard her. There was a flare of outrage in her father’s eyes, but she shot a look full of loathing back at him. “Deny it and label yourself a liar, sir. Ye blacken me falsely to avoid dowering me. I’m no so simpleminded as to not understand that.”

A rare look of uncertainty entered Erik McQuade’s eyes. “I’m laird and I’ll do what’s best for the clan. Yer place is to mind me. Dinna be laying any curse on my head, Daughter.”

“Yer greed is yer curse and I dinna have anything to do with casting it on ye. ‘Tis something ye have shackled to yerself.”

With another scathing look, Bronwyn turned her back on her father. Heads turned as she walked proudly from the royal hall. She held her chin level and steady.

She was not soiled. All the gossip in the world would not change that.

Erik McQuade shivered. A chill swept over him like an icy winter wind. He looked at Sodac. “Go with her.”

A prickle of fear shot through him, making his voice shake. Erik shook his head, attempting to dislodge the feeling. He pointed at Liam. “Follow her and make sure she stays in her room. Use a few men to ensure it.”

Liam looked confused. “Sodac can deal with Bronwyn.”

“I warned ye, boy. Don’t assume that she’s secure.” He stopped when heads turned toward them. Waving his sons toward the doors he covered the distance in quick strides. Once they reached the outer entry room, he stopped in an empty alcove well away from the main entrance.

“As much as I detest the fact that I have a daughter, there is no getting past the fact that she is my child. Have her watched by my lad. I’d no put it past her to strike out on her own to try her hand at surviving among the middle class. One of those merchants will jump at the chance to wed the daughter of a laird. You can set the men to watching her, but it is you and Sodac that have something to gain by making sure she doesna escape. There’s plenty of men who dinna have land to lose who’d help her out of pity.”

Liam scowled. “I dinna think of that.”

“Ye should have. I told ye last night that ye must keep yer sister tucked away or lose that land.” McQuade glared at his sons. “Make sure ye dinna forget again. We must take her back to Red Stone on the morrow and shut her away.”

“Maybe she should slip off her horse.” Sodac raised an eyebrow with his question.

“Nay. She’s a pair of hands that earns gold for our coffers. There’s another thing ye have to learn, boy…no to waste. Bronwyn can be as useful as any other servant. I would have smothered her when she was a babe if murder was on my mind. It would not have been hard to dispose of her while covering up my deed.”

“But the land…” Liam persisted.

“’Tis ours so long as she does not breed. Besides, my marriage to her mother might have been dissolved if we had no living children. I needed Bronwyn to keep her mother because she never gave me any sons.” McQuade eyed his sons. “Shaming Bronwyn in front of the court will see to keeping good offers from coming to my door. I can refuse them all by saying she’s soiled and I’ll no see any man saddled with a slut that bears my name. No man of mine will dally with her. Once she’s back at Red Stone, Scotland will forget that I even have a daughter.” McQuade suddenly chuckled. “And the best part is, I got to blame it on Cullen McJames. If what she says is true, he’ll wear the stain without ever having sampled the delights of knowing her. A fine revenge for all the trouble he’s caused me.”

Liam and Sodac joined their father in his amusement. But Erik sobered quickly.

“Get on with ye. Before she sets out for the Weavers Guild.”

Liam and Sodac rushed toward the door, eager to follow in their father’s footsteps by keeping their hands tight around every measure of land belonging to the McQuades. Erik watched them, satisfaction brushing aside the chill that had assaulted him. Most likely it had been the ghost of Bronwyn’s mother, trying to smite him for his actions, but the spirit had better get back to her grave because it was her own fault for giving him a daughter. He’d married the woman for the land and he intended to keep it any way he had to.

McQuade walked back toward the entrance to the great hall, but the guards refused him admittance. The king’s order to bring Bronwyn had seen him waiting every day that he did not bring her with him. It was the only reason that he’d brought her today, so that he could enter the main hall. Important men attended court and he needed to be viewed as a powerful laird who had the right to enter the royal hall. Appearances were everything.

“Ye saw my daughter this morning.”

The guards looked at each other. One of them gave a barely noticeable nod and the pikes uncrossed to clear the doorway.

Erik enjoyed the fact that the guards raised their pikes to allow him in. There was a ripple of annoyance from the men waiting that placed a smile on his face.

But what he didn’t see was the figure that emerged from the darker shadows of the alcove. Raelin McKorey shook her head slowly. There was no place private at court. She’d learned that lesson her first month attending the queen. A wise person guarded each thought, holding it carefully inside lest it be used against you. She waited for many long moments before approaching the entrance to the hall. The guards instantly allowed her into the hall, recognizing one of the queen’s maids. She thanked them with a shy smile; there was something else she’d learned the value of—always flirt lightly with the royal guard. It endeared a girl to them and made life so much easier. But there was a fine line to observe when dealing with men. Go too far and your reputation suffered. The gossips were vicious. They condemned without mercy any girl who even looked at a man too boldly.

Like Bronwyn McQuade.

It would seem that she should have listened to her brother after all. She was more than glad to hear it because Cullen McJames was a good man. It was just a shame that he was so interested in Bronwyn McQuade. She’d seen the truth of that with her own eyes. Envy bit into her as she threaded her way through the courtiers in search of Cullen. No man had ever looked at her with such a longing. Bronwyn was a lucky girl, to be sure. At least the gossips would be satisfied if the pair married. That was the only solution now.