“Good evening, Lady Kathryn,” Sir Bryan said as he offered her his arm and led her to the dais. They took their seats, one man on either side of her and she said, “Are you cousins, then, Sir Bryan?”
“No. My mother married a Mackintosh. I lived at Moy until her death.” Bryan cut the meat on the trencher they shared and gave her the first bite on the end of his knife.
At least he has good table manners.
She finished chewing and asked, “And how did you come to train as a knight?”
“I was sent to Lochmaben to train as a page with the Earl of Carrick.” The Earl of Carrick, who now reigned as Robert the Bruce of Scotland.
Without thinking, she asked, “Your father sent for you?” For a brief second some emotion raced across his face and she quickly said, “I'm sorry, my laird. I should not have spoken so.”
He calmly resumed cutting the meat and offered her another piece. “The only father I have known was William Mackintosh. And he is dead.”
Adam cleared his throat and said, “'Tis hard to lose a parent under the best of circumstances.”
“You have shared my experience,” she replied, glad to move the conversation to a safer topic.
Bryan filled their glasses. “He has.”
“Aye,” Adam said. “My father died six years ago. But as I've often said, the love of a good woman can soothe all manner of heartache.”
Kathryn smiled at Adam's declaration. “And you speak from experience again?”
Bryan said, “Adam is disgustingly happily married. And how many bairns have you and Gwenyth now? I can't keep track.”
“There's only the three, Bryan.”
Kathryn relaxed in their company, enjoying the banter she had always imagined flowed between siblings. The awkwardness caused by her reference to Bryan's parentage seemed forgotten, thankfully.
As the table was being cleared for the serving of sweets, Adam's tone became more somber. “Ceallach should arrive any day and we'll be called to Stirling. In the meantime, let's enjoy good food and warm beds while we can.”
“Aye, we'll be eating army food and sleeping on the ground once we leave here.”
Somehow Sir Bryan didn't sound as unhappy at the prospect of leaving as Adam did.
“And there won't be such a lovely lady to grace our meals, either.” Adam grinned and Kathryn felt her face blush at his compliment. Adam continued to jest with her and rib his foster brother until a traveling troubadour carrying a harp walked over to their table.
“Gawen,” Adam said, “it's good to see you again. Lady Kathryn, have you ever heard young Gawen sing?”
“No, I haven't.”
“He has the voice of an angel.”
The man bowed over her hand. “Your servant, my lady.” He indicated his harp. “I know of your father's recent death. Would you prefer not to have song this evening?”
“How thoughtful of you to ask, Gawen. My father loved a well-sung tale, and I'm sure your song would be an appropriate remembrance of him.”
“With your permission, then?”
Kathryn inclined her head and smiled at his courtly manners. “Of course, Gawen. Tell us a fine tale this evening.”
Conversations gradually halted throughout the hall as Gawen took a seat before the great fireplace and strummed the harp. His clear tenor voice enchanted them. Kathryn leaned over and asked Bryan if he would interpret.
“Do you mean to tell me you don't speak the Gaelic?” he asked.
“I do, but not well enough to follow in song.”
“Very well, then.” He moved closer to her on the bench. She glanced to where Fergus sat, and saw him scowling. Now what? The man seemed constantly cross with her lately.
Sir Bryan bent down closer to her ear. Kathryn felt his breath stir her hair. She detected the fragrance of mint and a musky, masculine scent that, coupled with his chest touching her shoulder, she found disconcerting. She forced her thoughts back to the singer and his tale.
“Scotland's current troubles began over the love of a woman,” Sir Bryan spoke softly. “For hundreds of years, royal descendants of
Ceann-Mor
ruled our fair land. Gawen is now listing each of those kings. Shall I repeat them for you?”
She shook her head, content to listen to Gawen's strong, clear voice as he counted the great, and not so great, past kings of Scotland.
“Come, Bryan,” Adam said. “'Tis my turn to regale the lady.” Adam picked up the story. “All through these times, England and Scotland were good neighbors and friends. Tonight we hear the tale of Alexander III, well beloved king, whose wife bore him two sons and a daughter. None, alas, who outlived their sire. Upon his first wife's death, Alexander took a second, much younger wife. He was quite delighted with her, and took every opportunity to attempt to create an heir.”
Kathryn heard the mirth in Adam's voice and looked at him to confirm it. He made a comical face and she felt herself blush. Black Bryan did not join in the frivolity, and Kathryn wondered that such a stern man could be a friend with a man such as Adam.
She brought her thoughts back to Alexander, the king who had found delight in being a husband. Would Kathryn ever elicit such devotion from a man?
Bryan shifted in his seat, and now his thigh touched hers. Deliberate or not, it made her uncomfortable, and she pulled away.
Seeming not to notice her retreat, Sir Bryan interrupted Adam and continued with the story. “One winter night, the king met with his advisors some distance from his home. The meeting ended well after dark, on a cold, blustery evening. His squire and others tried to persuade Alexander to wait until morning, but visions of his lovely young wife rose in his head, and he started for home.
“When the king's riderless horse arrived at the castle later that night, a search party set forth. But it wasn't until morn that they found his body lying at the foot of a cliff. He had apparently urged his horse forward, but the beast, sensing danger, had stopped suddenly and Alexander tumbled over the animal's head to his death.”
“And how did this lead to our present difficulties with England?” Kathryn asked, as Gawen sang the final verse.
“Alexander's heir, an infant granddaughter, died before taking the throne. With the monarchy in chaos, the nobles fought amongst themselves and are still trying to regain control a quarter century later.”
“And I take it you blame all this on the love of a woman?”
Black Bryan's scowl returned. “Aye.” The tone of his voice cooled dramatically. “If Alexander hadn't been so besotted over his wife and her charms, perhaps he would have listened to reason and lived long enough to father a suitable heir.”
“So, duty comes before love? Or do you not approve of a man loving his wife?”
Bryan answered, “A house divided cannot stand, nor can a man see to his duty if his loyalties are divided.”
Adam said, “Come, brother. Kings have a duty to produce heirs.” At this a look passed between the two men that Kathryn couldn't unravel.
“So they do,” Sir Bryan agreed.
Kathryn knew that Bruce's only legitimate heir was a young daughter about Kathryn's age. Was Bryan her older half brother? Did he entertain hopes of inheriting Bruce's crown? If he did it would create as much instability as had the death of King Alexander's granddaughter.
He had moved to the other side of the bench and turned his back to her, deep in conversation with Adam. She glanced at him and wondered if he ever laughed in the company of people or if he was only so forbidding around her.
Returning her thoughts to the night's entertainment, she saw many of those present had now joined Gawen in another song.
Kathryn stifled a yawn just as Sir Bryan turned to face her, emotions masked, as usual, beneath a scowl. “You are tired, my lady. Do you wish to retire?”
“Aye, my laird, if it please you.”
His face remained expressionless. “I have enjoyed your company this evening.”
His confession surprised her. “And I yours, my laird.” Though the polite response came automatically, she realized the words were true. Were his words more than required etiquette as well? His stoic countenance made clear that he desired no further conversation. She rose, bid him goodnight, and retired to her chamber to a restless night's sleep.
KATHRYN SPENT THE NEXT MORNING with her steward and her chief shepherd, tallying the lambs born this spring. Homelea's wealth derived mainly from the fine wool produced by its flock of sheep, and Kathryn had much to learn about their care. If she had hoped her protector would also oversee the estate, she was doomed to disappointment.
Over the past week Sir Bryan and Adam had been far too busy to attend to the day-to-day decisions of managing a castle and its occupants. Messengers arrived at all hours and often Sir Bryan had ridden out with them.
As the time for the noonday meal approached, the sound of horses on the drawbridge startled her. By the time she crossed the hall, she saw Fergus usher a man into the solar, which Sir Bryan now occupied as a temporary headquarters.
Fergus closed the door and Kathryn inquired, “Do you know who sent him?”
“King Robert, my lady. Most likely the man has news of the war.”
“He doesn't look like a messenger.” The man had been as large as the Black Knight and carried an unusual number of weapons.
Kathryn went to see to refreshments for the man, whoever or whatever he might be.
Curiosity aroused, Kathryn returned to the hall and lingered about the doorway of the solar for several minutes. Something was brewing, something more than the confrontation at Stirling. And their plotting seemed to put Homelea and its inhabitants directly in the middle, making her fear for their safety.
Twice she walked toward the door intending to knock, but voices raised in anger could clearly be heard from behind the heavy oak door. Actually, only one voice sounded angryâSir Bryan's. The other voice was pleading.
The sound of crashing furniture sent Kathryn scurrying to the other side of the hall. Whatever the messenger had told Sir Bryan had obviously not pleased the knight. The door would no doubt open soon and disgorge the hapless messenger. Rather than risk being near the angry knight, she hastened out of the hall to the stable. She had just begun to groom her mare when a servant found her. “My lady, Sir Bryan would like a word with ye.”
Reluctantly Kathryn set down the brush and walked back toward the keep, entering through the kitchen. She crossed the hall and hesitated outside the solar. Finally, she pushed the door open, barely concealing a gasp when she spied the scowl on Black Bryan's face.
Adam stood next to him, and only the kindness in his smile kept Kathryn from retracing her steps to the stable. A fast ride on a willing horse appealed to her far more than facing the grim-faced man in front of her. The messenger had already left the room.
Recovering her composure, Kathryn asked, “You sent for me, sir?”
“Aye, come have a seat.” He averted his gaze.
Why wouldn't he look at her?
He brought his gaze back to her and something in his eyes made her shiver involuntarily.
She sat in the chair Adam offered as Sir Bryan picked up a parchment from the table. Her heart hammered in her chest. She could see the muscle work in his jaw as he clenched and unclenched it.
“The king has chosen a husband for you.” The knight's voice sounded strained.
“But I don't wish to marry, my laird. You said you would make that clear to His Majesty.”
The fierce warrior stared at the document in his hands. After clearing his throat, Sir Bryan spoke. “I am instructed to assure you His Majesty King Robert is not insensitive to your person or your position. But he feels it is in your best interest to have the protection of a husband. Therefore he has chosen . . . It seems he wishes to strengthen his claim to Homelea by wedding you to one of his knights.”
He raised an eyebrow and regarded her intently. For once his face divulged his emotions only too clearly and he didn't look any happier about the situation than she felt. Who had the king chosen and how would it affect her and Isobel? Fighting panic, Kathryn prayed that this was somehow part of God's plan.
What does that parchment say?
Sir Bryan averted his gaze. Obviously at a loss to continue, the dark-haired knight faced her again, then turned to his man at arms with an imploring look. Such hesitation was so out of character for the man that she caught herself biting her thumbnail in agitation.
Adam stepped forward. “The rest of our king's message concerns my foster brother, which is why he's stumbling about. King Robert is aware of your youth and praises your beauty. An opinion, by the way, which I share with our sovereign.”
Adam's grin was infectious and Kathryn found herself amused by his efforts to put her at ease. The warmth of his expression and the kindness in his voice gave her hope that he, at least, approved of the king's choice. But the scowl on Black Bryan's face told her he didn't share his brother's opinion.
She could only hope that whomever the king had chosen, he would protect her and Isobel from Rodney Carleton. Her breathing became shallow. Her heart raced.
Please God. Send someone kind who
will love Isobel and cherish me. A man who knows you and your son.
Despite the coolness of the room, moisture beaded on her forehead.
“Perhaps you should hear what the king has to say.” Adam took the parchment and opened it, and Kathryn's future unfolded as Adam smoothed the pages.
The knight appeared as uneasy as she felt. Then Adam said, “My lady, you will retain one third of this estate as your dowry, all rents and payments to remain under your control. There is a complete listing of those paymentsâ”
Black Bryan erupted. “Adam, for the love of heaven, get on with it.”
“Yes. My apologies to both of you.” With a nod to Sir Bryan, lips twitching, Adam continued. “In the name of King Robert the Bruce of Scotland, Sir Bryan Robert Mackintosh is hereby named as the new Earl of Homelea.”