BRYAN STARTED AFTER HER, the warrior in him ready to do battle. He halted in midstride, realizing confrontation was not the answer. He should have told her about Homelea's fate right from the start. But she did not tell him of Isobel! Still . . .
He was at a loss to justify his actions to himself, let alone explain them to an angry, distressed woman. He watched her storm away, the stiffness of her shoulders telling him she would not listen did he try to explain. Bryan returned to the room and sank listlessly onto a bench.
He had razed many castles for Robert, had even known the occupants of some. But he dreaded what must be done this time, because this time his life would be disrupted.
His
home would lie in shambles, along with his marriage. A marriage with which he was fast becoming reconciled despite Kathryn's not telling him of Rodney's child.
Knowing Rodney as he did, it was easy to forgive the innocent girl Kathryn had once been for her transgression. Rodney's fame for deception and treachery was as widespread as his success with the sword. What chance had the lass had with a man such as he?
Hadn't Bryan avoided wedlock all these years to spare himself this kind of turmoil? Yet his weakness for Kathryn had tempted him beyond good judgment. Now, in withholding Robert's order from Kathryn, he had damaged her fledgling trust in him, and he might not have the time to regain it.
He rose to his feet and began to pace the room. Why must he put country and king ahead of his wife? Would it never end, this denial of his needs and desires? When would he be allowed to sit quietly in the sunshine and enjoy life?
And love.
He stopped abruptly, brought up short by such a thought. Since when had his warrior's heart come to desire a quiet spot in the sun? And love? Bryan shook himself.
Love.
The realization that he'd hoped to find affection in his marriage startled him. Had this hope always been there, or had it been born when he first took Kathryn in his arms?
He sat down, resting his hands on his knees. Kathryn, so beautiful, so vibrant and alive. Now they might never have the opportunity to deepen their feelings. His actions, his lack of honor in dealing with herâthis is what lay between them. That and the looming battle with England. A battle that would seal the fate of Scotland as well as the fate of his marriage.
A knock on the door interrupted Bryan's musings. Pushing himself to his feet, he set aside the weariness that threatened to overwhelm him and growled, “Come in.”
Adam stood in the doorway. “You ruin more than a fortress with this deed, is that not so?”
“Leave it, Adam,” he warned. “If this were any other castle, neither of us would question the necessity of destroying it before Edward arrives.” He stood, and placed his hand on the other man's shoulder. “I take no joy from carrying out this order. See to the packing and give what comfort you can. I will take care of the rest.”
“'Tis you who should give her comfort. She's your wife.”
Bryan slammed his hand against the doorpost. “You think it necessary to remind me which of us is her husband?” He looked away, his anger receding as quickly as it had erupted. He bowed his head. “She won't accept my solace nor anything else I offer. Now go, see she is ready to leave by the morrow.”
Adam looked at him for a moment as if he had more advice. But all he said was a quiet, “Aye, my laird.”
Adam was right. More than stone, wood, and possessions would be done away with the destruction of this castle, and Bryan's heart twisted with the awareness of what Scotland's freedom would cost him.
I should have kept my vow not to marry.
K
ATHRYN ENTERED HER CHAMBER and slammed the door. The impact caused the wooden bar to fall into place on its own accord, securing the door and insuring her privacy. She stalked to the bed and threw herself on it. The affection she'd thought was growing between them had been naught but a ruse to subdue her. And he claimed she had used their kiss, her offer to make their marriage real, to accomplish the same goal! What kind of man would do such a thing?
Even his agreement to protect Isobel was nothing more than appeasement, knowing he intended to raze Homelea.
He can't be trusted.
Not with her home, certainly not with her heart.
In a fit of pique she refused to pack a single thing. He must change his mind. She would wait here for his return from Stirling. He would leave a suitable number of men behind to guard their home. Then they could end this union and be done with each other. A knock on the door startled her, causing her heart to pound. Did he come to her already? She strode to the door as she composed her expression to erase any sign of her recent anger. When she opened the door, Anna entered the room carrying a saddlebag. “I am to help ye pack.”
Frowning, Kathryn watched Anna make her way to the trunks where her clothing was stored. “That won't be necessary. We are not leaving, Anna.” At the sound of a footstep, Kathryn looked up, and Adam stood in the doorway. Hope filled her. Perhaps he had come to tell her of Sir Bryan's change of heart.
“Gather your belongings and prepare for the journey.” His voice was kind, but he was as unyielding as the knight.
Disappointment flooded her. “Why, Adam? Can't you make him see reason?”
“I'm sure Sir Bryan has already explained. He does what he must, my lady. For whatever else you may believe, he is a soldier, bound to his duty and his king.”
“But Homelea is his home now,” she whispered.
“Aye, and you can be sure this pains him, even if he doesn't show it.”
“Why doesn't he show it?” she said, allowing her frustration free rein.
“I cannot say.”
“Why do you defend him?”
“Because he is all that stands between you and Rodney Carleton. Because he will risk his life so that you might live under a Scottish government ruled by the king of our choice.”
In her heart she knew that Adam was right, that her sacrifice was small compared to the warriors who would face death or a maiming wound. Reluctantly she took the saddlebag from Anna but could not lift a hand to fill it.
Adam pointed to the bag. “Take only what the beasts can carry. All else will be left behind.”
“What about the wagons?”
“We must travel quickly, my lady. We'll take no wagons. And we leave at first light.” He gave her a remorseful frown. “I'm sorry, but those are my orders. Please excuse me, I have other preparations to oversee.”
He bowed and left the doorway. Kathryn and Anna stood stunned as his words took hold. Nothing but what they could fit in a saddlebag . . . the castle was filled with treasures from generations gone by . . . treasures that made it what it was . . .
home.
Kathryn's voice quivered. “Even Adam has deserted me. How can I leave it all behind? How can he ask it of me?”
Anna shook her head. “I don't know, lass. I suppose we should count our blessings this war hasn't touched us before now. But I don't understand the rush. The English haven't begun to march north yet, have they?”
“I'm sure they have. They must reach Stirling by Midsummer's Day or forfeit the castle.”
A deep sadness enveloped her. “Anna, go pack your own things and get Isobel ready. If we must go in the morning, then I will save the most precious of my belongings. I shall stuff these saddlebags full,” she said with determination.
The women embraced before Anna left Kathryn standing there, agonizing over what to leave behind. She walked to the corner and opened a trunk. Inside were cherished mementos, reminders of her family, now gone. Gently, she fingered a small, smooth stone. Her sister had given it to her after an argument when she was but five. Jean had died of the flux five winters past. The stone wasn't valuable, but other than a few pieces of her jewelry, it was all Kathryn had of Jean. She placed the stone into a cloth sack along with the necklaces and rings. The sack went into the saddlebag.
Next she fingered a tiny christening gown, lovingly embroidered by her mother. Kathryn and Jean had both worn it, as had Isobel. Kathryn would take it with her in the hope that her other children might wear it one day.
If I ever have another child.
She folded the precious garment and laid it atop the bag of jewelry, pushing aside any thoughts of children and husbands.
Returning to the contents of the chest, Kathryn retrieved a large, silver crucifix on a sturdy chain. The cross was much too heavy for her to wearâit had been worn by the de Lindsay knight who'd accompanied William the Conqueror to England nearly three hundred years earlier. Her father had worn it every day as a symbol of the God he worshipped. Papa had once told her that without his faith, he would never have survived the death of his wife, her mother. She wrapped the cross in a scarf and laid it in the bag, praying that God would strengthen her own faith amidst this upheaval.
Kathryn filled the rest of the saddlebag with clothing. It made a meager pack, and as her tears fell, she raged silently against the man who had taken her love one day and broken her heart the next.
She blew out the candle and crawled into bed. Anger and grief formed a knot in her stomach and her prayers sounded self-pitying to her own ears. God seemed far away. The sleep that finally found her was shallow and plagued with distressing images.
BRYAN SCOWLED AT THE HUDDLED GROUP before him the following morning in Homelea's bailey. They'd broken their fast with a cold meal in a cold main hall and now Kathryn, Anna, and Fergus stood beside their horses, awaiting the order to mount. Fergus held his mother close with one arm and wiped Kathryn's tears with his free hand. Kathryn held Isobel while Anna stood beside her. Bryan heard Fergus murmur, “Hush, lass. All will be well. Perhaps we will return one day. Have hope.”
Bryan pivoted from them and inspected the sling the child would ride in. He'd had a crude frame constructed and a cover of oiled cloth procured for protection. To her credit, Kathryn hadn't asked him to take a wagon with goods and supplies, nor packed more than her given saddlebags. She hadn't spoken to him at all, in fact.
Bryan gave the order for them to mount up even as he stifled the urge to shout his frustration. Instead, he held Kathryn's horse as she mounted. “Be safe, wife.”
Her features were stony as she asked, “Will you see to the welfare of the nuns at St. Mary's?”
“Aye, they are coming with us.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “To Stirling?”
“Aye.” He was chagrined himself at the admission. Black Bryan Mackintosh, the man who'd vowed to remain unencumbered until Scotland was free, was headed off to war. With a wife, a child, half a dozen nuns, and a village full of peasants.
She might have thanked him for that small favor, but she steered her horse away, her silence lashing his soul like a well-placed punch.
He watched as Kathryn followed the others away from Homelea and all that was familiar. She did not look back until they neared the curve in the road that would end her sight of the castle. Then he saw her twist about for a last despairing look. When she faced forward once more, her shoulders were hunched over.
He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms and soothe her, but knew she wouldn't allow it. The thought chafed him, and he busied himself with the task at hand, pushing thoughts of Kathryn to someplace less painful.
He divided the men, sending some into the village with orders to make sure all the villagers had left with Adam earlier this morning. They would meet up with Bryan at St. Ninian's kirk near Stirling. A small force, under Bryan's command, remained to burn the huts and cottages and destroy any grain and food left behind as well as any livestock that may have been overlooked. When Edward passed through here, he would find nothing to supply his troops and their beasts.
Bryan set about the destruction of the castle. Although he'd been determined to travel without wagons, he relented, deciding to take just one with several items that would make life easier for Kathryn in camp. It would travel more slowly than he and Cerin, so he would leave a few men to stay with it on its slower journey while he and the rest rode ahead to catch up with Kathryn. It was a small price to pay for Kathryn's comfort. And perhaps the gesture would return him to her good graces.
Then instead of burning everything, he ordered the men to remove the tapestries and household furnishings. The furnishings not going to Stirling were hauled a mile from the castle and buried in the pits he'd had the men dig this past week for this very use, then covered with oiled cloth for protection. He didn't know how long the articles could stay underground and still be usable, but he felt he had to make some effort to preserve them. He had to believe someday they would return to Homelea and live in peace. God willing, Edward would be driven back to England to remain there once and for all.
Bryan watched as his men began the process of tearing down the great castle and the protective curtains of stone surrounding it. His men were more than capable of tearing down the walls without his supervision. Nor did he need to stay while they burned the wooden buildings along the perimeter of the bailey. He mounted Cerin and rode away knowing he'd feel more at ease with Kathryn and the child under his direct protection.
God willing, the Scots would be victorious and Bryan could return and rebuild his home. The village too, could be rebuilt. But for now, Bryan had made sure Scotland's enemies would find no welcome at Homelea.
BY MIDDAY OF THE SECOND DAY of their journey, Kathryn was miserable. Although she was an excellent horsewoman, she was somewhat out of practice and her body protested with the horse's every step. She and Anna took turns carrying Isobel, but even so her back ached from the unaccustomed posture.
A shout went up from the men in the rear of their formation and Fergus gave the order to halt.
“What is it, Fergus?”