“My father had personal and business connections with England,” she replied stiffly.
The knight tore off a piece of bread and chewed it. “Your father declared for England to save his English lands.”
“Apparently, Papa expected England to succeed in the current conflict.”
“Aye, and with such loyal retainers as the Earl of Homelea, Scotland's cause is jeopardized.”
She could see his disdain for her father written in the hardness of his gaze. His accusation stung, though she knew it to be true. “My father is dead, sir. Am I to be held accountable for his actions?”
“In truth, lady, your allegiance will be decided by your husband.”
“I do not wish to marry, my laird.”
“Indeed.”
He stared at her, and his ability to hide his emotions vexed her. How was she to deal with someone whose expression remained so stoic? Was he incapable of feeling or had he built a wall around his emotions to protect himself? And if so, why? An altogether intriguing man.
Her father's favorite hunting hound rose from under the table and laid its head on the warrior's thigh. Kathryn gently scolded, “Off with you, Maggie.”
But the dog ignored her, and the man idly petted the beast's head, gently fondling the ears. “How do you plan to hold Homelea without a husband?” he asked as he slipped a morsel of cheese to the now devoted hound.
“Perhaps the king would appoint Fergus as castellan to see to the estate's affairs.”
“And allow you to remain unmarried? Not likely.”
The dog licked his hand clean; was that a smile she spied on Black Bryan's face? He was smiling at the dog? Kathryn stared at the way the smile transformed his face and instinctively raised a hand to cover her heart.
He patted Maggie's head, and by the time his gaze reached Kathryn's, the smile had disappeared and the stoic warrior had returned. Kathryn's hand dropped to her lap. “I would be happy to spend my days at the abbey at St. Mary's.”
“You would take the veil?”
“No, simply live there in peace.” Until Isobel was safely grown and married. Or Rodney was dead.
Sir Bryan took a drink and wiped a hand across his mouth. “'Tis more likely the king will reward some deserving fellow with your wealth and person.” His gaze roved over her, and she felt herself blush.
Kathryn sat in stony silence. The man's frank appraisal reminded her she was powerless to affect her own future. In such discussions, her wishes would not be considered.
Black Bryan's lips softened into what Kathryn was beginning to recognize as the man's attempt to smile. It wasn't much of a smile, not nearly so bright as the one he'd bestowed on the dog. His eyes warmed briefly, from inky black to rich brown.
“Rest easy, Lady Kathryn. Bruce is a reasonable man. He will find you a good husband. Until we hear from him, you will remain inside the walls of Homelea.”
“Oh, but I must visit St. Mary's.” Her last visit had been two weeks ago and the child's first birthday was next week.
“Why?”
Stunned by his question, she struggled for an answer. “I visit every week.”
“And again I ask, why must you risk your safety by going there?”
“My safety?”
“The English need access to the river crossing on your lands as much as Bruce does. Do you think they won't try to regain control of Homelea? Of you?”
“I care nothing for your plans for war. I simply wish to visit the abbey as I'm accustomed to. There is an elderly nun of whom I am very fond, and I take her food and other items to give her comfort.” It wasn't exactly a lie, just not the whole truth, Kathryn assured herself.
“Very well. I will provide you with an armed escort and you may go.”
“When?”
“In a few days.”
Kathryn didn't want to wait, but from his forbidding expression, she knew better than to argue with a man who liked dogs better than people.
R
ODNEY CARLETON, newly named Earl of Fairfax, looked about the room at those Edward had hastily summoned to attend a war council. The Earls of Pembroke, Ulster, and Dunbar were in attendance. Edward seemed barely able to conceal his glee at whatever news he planned to share. The king quickly called his noblemen to order.
“Gentlemen, Bruce has finally given us the means to subdue the rebel Scots once and for all.”
“What is the news, Your Majesty?” asked Ulster.
Ulster remained a valued member of the inner circle despite his daughter's imprisonment at the manor of Burstwick-in-Holderness. Edward's own father had arranged the marriage of Ulster's daughter, Elizabeth de Burgh, to Robert the Bruce in an effort to wed the Scotsman's loyalty to the English king. Only her father's continued loyalty to England had saved Elizabeth from being tried as a traitor.
Rodney returned his thoughts to the present as Edward continued. “We are still in command of Stirling. Our commander there, Sir Philip Mowbray, arrived here in London last week under a grant of safe conduct. It seems Bruce's impatient brother has committed Bruce to the capture of Stirling Castle.”
A murmur arose among the gathering and the king raised his voice to be heard. “A bargain has been struck whereby, if I do not rescue Stirling from Bruce's siege by Midsummer's Day, then Mowbray will yield the castle to Bruce.”
“And is Bruce bound by this agreement?” Dunbar inquired, his voice incredulous.
“Yes, he is. Mowbray and Edward Bruce pledged their sacred honor. Robert must see this through and meet us, at last, in a pitched battle he cannot win. No more must we abide his irregular warfare. He will meet the might of England and be vanquished.”
Edward pounded the table in front of him. “We shall assemble a mighty army and defeat these vexing Scots once and for all. The relief of Stirling shall be our battle call and will cause all of England to rally to our cause.”
“Here, here,” shouted a chorus of voices.
At this, Carleton spoke up. “We shall prevail, Your Majesty. The Scots have seen much of war these past years, and it has taken a toll. How soon do we begin preparations?”
Edward smiled in malice. “Immediately. I have sent writs to eight earls, including the four of you here today, and eighty-seven barons, summoning you to appear with your forces at Berwick by June tenth.”
Heads nodded as Edward continued. “I have also issued an open summons to any knight from any country who may wish to join our cause and so reap the fame and spoils of fortune.”
“Here, here,” the others shouted in excitement.
“I shall await you at Berwick, my lords. See to your duty.” Edward dismissed them, all but Carleton.
As the others filed from the room, Lord Rodney Carleton straightened his sleeve and perused his finely tailored clothing, admiring this latest fashion from Paris. The new style suited his elegant body to perfection. In this, Rodney thought, he and the king of England had much in common. They both paid particular care to their appearance.
Indeed their mutual delight in the pursuit of life's pleasures was the glue that held their friendship together. His association with Edward provided prestige, privilege, and the opportunity to acquire the wealth needed to obtain life's finer possessions.
The young king, blond and fair of face, resembled his Plantagenet ancestors. Indeed, he favored his father physically, as Edward I had also been a towering man of great strength.
The similarities ended there; where the father had ruled with an iron fist, even Rodney would admit that the son was weak and surrounded himself with advisors of questionable character. Himself excluded, of course. The single idea the two Edwards held in common was a hatred of the rebellious Scots. In particular, Robert the Bruce and the baseborn knight, Bryan Mackintosh.
When they were alone, Rodney bowed and said, “Your Majesty, how good of you to see me privately.”
“Nonsense, Rodney. Your message intrigued us, as you knew it would. We found the news quite interesting. It seems the Scottish rebel has stolen another jewel from our crown. And from you.” He snickered. “Come, pour yourself some wine and let us sit.”
Alerted to Edward's bad mood by the use of the royal pronoun, Rodney nervously filled a goblet from the side table, then sat in the chair next to his king.
Rodney waited for Edward to begin the conversation, reminding himself he didn't care one way or the other if the Scots were subdued or not. Politics only interested him in so far as it affected his ability to accumulate wealth and power. However, he did want revenge against Bryan Mackintosh for taking what was his.
Edward eyed him over the top of his goblet. “I expected you to convince Lady Kathryn, by force, if necessary, to yield her Scottish lands and wealth to England.”
“Yes, my lord.” He'd had plenty of time to dread Edward's reaction in the six days it had taken him to return to London. So far Edward's behavior was more reasonable than he'd hoped.
Edward slapped the arm of his chair. “Confound it. How did Mackintosh take the castle?”
Rodney swallowed. “Lady Kathryn yielded to Mackintosh, not to me. Her people are loyal to her and they refused to obey me.”
“Perhaps the young countess has not yet had time to take note of your numerous attributes.”
“Perhaps not.” Rodney refused to rise to the bait and give the king more reason to be angry with him. Kathryn's refusal of his marriage proposal had caused quite a stir among his social set. He'd been biding his time, waiting for the aging earl to oblige him by dying. But Mackintosh had spoiled his plans.
Given another chance, Rodney would make Kathryn pay for her most recent behavior. Her treachery might cost him the king's favor unless he thought of some way to make amends.
“Well, Rodney, what are we to do? Her Scottish estates are worth far more than those she holds here. The wealth will only be used against England's cause if it remains in the hands of that Scottish rebel.” Edward brushed at his sleeve. “She must be punished to prove to my detractors that I can be ruthless when necessary.”
Rodney stiffened. “Punished how?”
“Use your imagination, can't you, Rodney?”
“Of course.” Best to change the subject quickly before Edward used his. “And what of my desires, sire?”
“You will be rewarded according to your success in getting me what I want.” He leaned forward. “I want Homelea and its river crossing.”
“And the woman?”
“Why must you have the one woman in my kingdom who doesn't want you?” He leaned back again. “There are others just as wealthy as Lady Kathryn who would willingly grace your arm, you know.”
“No doubt. But 'tis her I want.”
She will bow to my will.
Edward speared him with a look. “In all likelihood, Bruce will give the woman to one of his nobles. We probably cannot stop such a marriage, but time is running short for Bruce and his rabble army.” He made a quick decision. “You will accompany me north to Stirling.”
Rodney felt ill at the suggestion. “I'm a swordsman, not a warrior.”
“You can sit a horse while you wield your sword, can't you? If you want the countess, you will seek out Mackintosh and kill him.”
“But what if she's already married?”
“We will seek an annulment. Nothing is impossible when one has money and the ear of the pope.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“As to Mackintosh, it shouldn't be hard to find him on the field of battle after we tear Bruce's army into shreds. Indeed, Black Bryan is always in the ranks that protect his nefarious sire, and I want
him
dead, too.”
Edward stood and Rodney followed suit, replacing his goblet on the table. “My liege, perhaps we can use Kathryn to lure Mackintosh, and even Bruce himself, into a trap and thus avoid a battle at Stirling altogether.”
Edward clapped his hands together. “Yes, just the thing, Rodney. Your devious mind is always working. See how it can be done. One way or another, I will rid my kingdom of that trumped up king.”
KATHRYN SAW LITTLE OF HER GUARDIAN the next week. From Fergus she learned that the knight's squire was named Thomas and his man at arms was named Adam. All three were recruiting men for the Scottish army. When she saw them enter the hall on Saturday evening, she quickly sent a servant to invite them to join her at the high table.
She awaited them by the fireplace, Fergus at her side. She wasn't surprised to see Maggie the hound at Sir Bryan's heels.
“So that's where the dog has been all day,” Fergus said.
“Aye, she's taken to Sir Bryan, it seems.”
She feared her distrust of the knight must have shown in her tone of voice and Fergus defended him. “A man who inspires such canine loyalty can't be all bad, can he?”
Kathryn frowned. “Don't trust a dog to judge a man's character, Fergus. Will you join us for the meal?”
“I will stay in the hall, aye. But not at table with you.”
Sir Bryan and the blond man walked to where Kathryn and Fergus stood. The men nodded curtly to one another before Fergus took his leave while the squire went to sit with Sir Bryan's soldiers. She saw Fergus give orders to several of the castle guards before finding an empty spot at a table near the kitchen doorway.
Her attention was soon captured by Sir Bryan's man at arms. His smiling face certainly contrasted with the dour knight's. Bending over her proffered hand, he said, “We have not been properly introduced, my lady. Adam Mackintosh, at your service. I have the misfortune to be this brute's foster brother as well as his master at arms.”
He straightened and clapped Sir Bryan on the back. The smile that accompanied such impertinence assured Kathryn the men were the best of friends, despite the difference in age. Adam looked to be at least five years older and was as fair as the other man was dark, their coloring presumably mirroring their dispositions.