The Intended (29 page)

Catherine’s voice was low and insinuating. “I
hear you yourself are to be congratulated. I heard news of your own
upcoming wedding.”

As Jaime just stared at her cousin, every
last vestige of the joy that had filled her soul while she’d been
with Malcolm, drained out of her. What was she to do? How could she
argue and set the record straight with these Howards? How could she
speak her peace to this woman, when she still had not had a chance
to talk to Edward, himself?

“A most fortunate match for you, from what I
can see,” Catherine continued. “When I first heard news of it—at
court—all I could think of was what a clever, young girl you turned
out to be, after all. You don’t show that you are carrying his
child. How did you convince him? Or his father, the duke, for that
matter?”

“That is a vile thing to say, Catherine,”
Jaime responded in a whisper. If this was the tack her cousin chose
to take, Jaime decided that—no matter what Catherine said—she would
let nothing provoke her into revealing the truth.

“Oh, spare me that!” Catherine sneered,
walking around the motionless Jaime. “We both know this marriage
will give you every right to remain in England. How suitable for
one who despises her own native land!”

“Despises?” Jaime said quietly. “I’ve never
despised Scotland.”

“Nay? But here you are, isn’t that so? For
over a year, now, and apparently staying!” Catherine’s slow smile
made Jaime curse her own judgment in remaining at Kenninghall so
long. “And tell me, how many times have you been back to your
beloved Scotland during this time? Or visited any of your kin? But
nay, that would be difficult, would it not?”

Jaime stared at her cousin’s golden brown
hair, at the haughty look on her face. There was no point in
explaining. Not to Catherine, anyway.

“A most interesting match,” the king’s
intended pressed. “A new life. And then, not to mention the name
and title you’ll gain by marrying Edward.”

Jaime folded her arms across her chest,
digging her fingers into the flesh of her arms, restraining herself
to remain silent.

“And with one blow,” Catherine continued,
“ridding yourself of an accursed Scottish name and replacing it
with the noble...Howard!”

“You’ve said enough, Catherine!” Jaime said
shortly. “I will not stand here, only to listen as you attempt to
belittle me, and my home, and my family. Is this why you sent for
me? To use me as a target for your warped arrows of vanity and
pride? Whatever have I ever done to you, Catherine, to deserve this
treatment?”

Catherine never so much as acknowledged her
questions. The two women glared at each other, and though Jaime’s
first thought was to turn and leave the chamber, something inside
balked at the thought of letting Catherine drive her from the
field. So she stood her ground and weathered the withering gaze
that her cousin was directing toward her.

“When did he come to you first?”

Catherine’s question plummeted like a
fireball from the sky, and Jaime started, her heart pounding with
fear. How could she know about Malcolm? Jaime’s voice wavered
slightly as she answered. “I...I don’t know what you mean!”

“Spare me the innocent drivel, cousin. You
forget I am an expert in the art of appearing blameless!”

“I have no idea...” Jaime frowned. “Who...who
do you mean?”

“You’re wasting my time. When?”

“And I might say the same of you, Catherine”
Jaime shot back, her temper again beginning to flare up. “I have no
time, either, for standing here and listening to your vicious
riddles. I’ll not be trifled with, cousin! I’ll take my leave.” But
she hadn’t taken a step toward the door, when her cousin’s voice
spun her around.

“Halt, headstrong slut! You know I mean
Edward. Now tell me
when
he first came to
you.”

It took great restraint, but Jaime succeeded
in hiding her shock. “You are asking if Edward...” She shook her
head. “When he came to me
first
? To my
bed
?”

Catherine nodded, an unpleasant smile
plastered on her face. “He generally likes them younger. I think he
likes children, really. So I was wondering if you—being past the
age that he likes...” She waved a hand nonchalantly in the air, but
Jaime was not taken in by the charade. There was a look of
desperation in her eyes as her questions became more pointed. “I
want to know if he took you when you first arrived here a year ago.
I want to know if he’s been having you all this time. I want to
know...”

“You want to know what doesn’t concern you,”
Jaime snapped. “I assure you that Edward’s foul interests are of no
interest to me, whatsoever. And as far as whether he and I,” she
felt herself blushing deep, “have ever shared...have ever been
intimate...”

Jaime cut her words short. Why was she
letting this woman fluster her? There was no reason to explain
anything to her. Catherine had no right to know.

“This discussion is finished, Catherine,”
Jaime announced, moving quickly toward the door. Pulling the door
open, she stood and gazed back at the young woman. “And, in future
chats, be so kind as to spare me such ‘pleasantries’!”

“You are no virgin!” Catherine muttered under
her breath as the door slammed shut behind Jaime. “That bastard has
already taken you to his bed. Aye, poured his seed into you, he
said. And you couldn’t even deny it!” It has to be so, she thought.
If Jaime were innocent, she would have denied the accusation. She
would have shed tears over the questioning of her virtue. That was
the way women are, Catherine thought, nodding. So many
fools...thinking of their virtue like it is some pot of gold, the
jewels of Suleiman, as if—untouched—it were something to brag
about! And to weep over, when lost! But Jaime hadn’t done that.
Nay, the slut hadn’t done that!

Pushing the silk shawl off her shoulders and
letting it fall to the floor, she walked to her bed, a smile
working its way onto her face. This was going to be easier than
she’d thought. Jaime had become rattled with so little probing,
Catherine was certain that with just a bit more effort, she could
drive the foolish girl away in shame. And then there would be only
Edward remaining. Arrogant, insufferable Edward!

“Fly, beauty,” Surrey called as he released
the black falcon, and the three mounted hunters watched the bird
soar higher and higher in the brilliant azure sky. When the bird
was circling far above the open meadow, the earl turned to his
falconer. Evan stood a dozen yards or so from the mounted party,
and Jaime could see the group of men and boys beyond him. On the
horse beside her, Malcolm sat watching the preparations of the
hunt. It did her heart good to see him out in the air, though a
pang of sadness struck her with the falseness of the scene. He was
less free than the falcon that circled above. But like that noble
bird, when the day had worn into evening, Malcolm would be returned
to his cage. Her eyes met his, and her heart leaped at the exchange
that told her his approval of her decision to join them at the last
moment.

“Very well, Evan,” Surrey called. “Have the
lads drive out some game.”

The riders urged their horses on and the men
and boys spread out, moving slowly across the field, and down a
small incline to the edge of a small brook, all the while beating
the long grass and the brush with their thick sticks. A clump of
willows and birch that overhung the bank of the bubbling water
looked to be an ideal hiding place for the pheasants they were
after, and Jaime kept her eyes trained on the spot.

The stag, strong and swift, bolted from the
grove with a suddenness that took away Jaime’s breath.

As a cry went up among the men, Surrey took a
lance from one of them.

“Bring down the falcon,” he shouted to Evan,
spurring his horse after the running deer. In an instant, the
men—and the falconer, as well—were running across the field in
pursuit of the earl and his prey.

The rush of men, the shouting, the confusion
that surrounded them, inspired Jaime with the thought that this was
the moment to act. Now, quickly, in the light of this blessing that
fortune had bestowed upon them. Digging her feet into the side of
her horse, she urged him forward, galloping quickly to Malcolm’s
side.

“You must go now, Malcolm! You can
escape.”

Seeing the look of disbelief on his face, she
leaned over in his direction and practically shouted her plea. “Go,
Malcolm! We must seize Opportunity by the forelock! They won’t even
know you’re missing till it is too late. And even then, when they
do, I’ll tell them that I sent you back to the palace...for
some...for something. I’ll think up a lie to tell them.”

Malcolm still sat on his horse, as if rooted
to the spot, and Jaime looked anxiously across the field at the men
straggling along in Surrey’s wake.

“They could come back at any moment. For
heaven’s sake, Malcolm, there may never be a better time than this!
Just ride north. Go, Malcolm!”

Malcolm shook his head.

“But why?” she pleaded. “Don’t you see?
Surrey
wants
you to escape!”

The Highlander shook his head again, and as
she stared with amazement into his face, she knew that he would
take no action in response to her plea.

“Are you so eager to be rid of me, lass?”

“By His wounds, Malcolm, this is no time to
be questioning my motives!” Jaime’s temper flared. “What I am
telling you to do is for your own good! You must go! There is no
way to know when Edward will return. I fear if he finds you so...”
her words trailed off in a feeling of helplessness. Frustrated by
his unwillingness to seize the moment, she turned her face into the
westerly breeze and dashed away an angry tear as she tried to
subdue the turmoil within her.

Malcolm turned his horse around, and Jaime
watched as he urged the mount forward until the Highlander was
nearly face to face with her. When he reached for her hand, she
thought he was reaching for the reins, and her eyes flashed at him.
His hand was warm and strong as took hold of hers.

“What is it you fear, Jaime?”

His eyes seemed to claim her with a power she
could not withstand. It took her a long moment before she could
gather her thoughts to answer. “I cannot see you hurt again,” she
whispered softly. “And I fear you will feel the weight of Edward’s
wrath when I tell him that I have no intention of accepting his
offer...of marriage.”

“Don’t you, lass?”

“Nay Malcolm. I’ll not be his intended. I’ll
never be his wife.”

The increased pressure of his hand and the
flash of excitement that lit his eyes made Jaime’s face burn with
pleasure. Malcolm obviously did not share her fear. But he was
clearly pleased with her response. She watched almost shyly as he
drew her fingers to his lips.

“Jaime, there is something I need to speak
with you about.” Malcolm turned his gaze across the field. “I don’t
suppose, though, that this is the appropriate time.”

Her heart pounded as he turned back to face
her. His face was clouded with uncertainty, but as he looked into
her eyes, she saw his face clear.

“Well, lass,” he continued with a smile, “as
you say, Opportunity is bald behind, so we’d best take hold of him
before he passes!”

Without another word Malcolm swung his leg
across his horse’s neck and dropped lithely to the ground. Reaching
up, he helped her down, as well. Jaime went willingly into his
arms.

There might have been only the two of them in
the meadow, since most of the men were long gone in pursuit of the
fleeing stag, and the few who remained were so distant, skirting
the far edge of field, that they presented no threat to the two
lovers.

Shielded by the two horses’ great bodies,
Jaime was slow to remove her hands from his shoulders after being
lowered from her steed. And Malcolm never eased his grip on her
waist as he held her to him.

“I love you, Jaime,” he whispered as his
mouth tasted her sweet lips. “I know I am a base and undeserving
scoundrel, and hardly worthy of your love or your hand. I admit
that I have done you wrong and caused you pain...on the Isle of
Skye and here in this godforsaken place. I readily accept your
condemnation if you think me a rogue and a villain. A
good-for-nothing Highland beast of a man who has done nothing else
but bring ruin into your life.”

Jaime smiled brilliantly and shook her head,
the tears that now ran freely down her cheeks glistening in the
sunlight before soaking into the black velvet of his tunic. Resting
her cheek against his heart, she slipped her arms around him and
hugged him tightly to her.

“Will you marry me, Jaime?” His voice was
hoarse. “Will you be my wife?”

Jaime looked up into his handsome face, the
difficulties of their position swept away by the joy of his
question.

“Malcolm, I have waited my entire life to
hear you say these words.”

He smiled mischievously and cocked his head
to the side. “Do you mean, that I am a villain, a rogue, and a
beast of a man?”

She laughed as she planted her fists on his
chest. “Aye! Though I believe I’ll cherish the ‘base and
undeserving’ part most of all.”

“Oh, you will?” he said with a half smile.
Then he drew her tighter to him, all humor suddenly gone from his
face. “So will you marry me?”

“Aye, Malcolm. That I will,” she whispered,
raising herself on her toes and bringing her mouth closer to his
lips. “I’ll love you and I’ll marry you and I’ll cherish you for
the rest of my life.”

Her words wrapped themselves caressingly
around his heart—they warmed his life’s blood. As they stood
together, Jaime felt her soul pour out of her body, only to meet
with his somewhere between them, and she felt their spirits
entwine.