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If It Takes Forever
by Donna MacQuigg
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Romance

Linden Bay Romance, LLC
www.lindenbayromance.com

First published in www.lindenbayromance.com, 2006

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

IF IT TAKES FOREVER

DONNA MACQUIGG

IF IT TAKES FOREVER

Published by Linden Bay Romance, 2006

Linden Bay Romance, LLC, U.S.

ISBN Trade paperback ISBN # 1-905393-93-8

ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-905393-92-X

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

PDF, PRC & KML

The work is protected by copyright and should not be copied without permission. Linden Bay Romance, LLC reserves all rights. Re-use or re-distribution of any and all materials is prohibited under law.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

Cover art by Dan Skinner

To my mother—

my best friend, confidante, and proofreader

Chapter 1

Scotland 1328

“Aughhhh.” Morgana threw herself at her mistress’ feet and pounded the cold stone floor with her bony fists. “All is lost. We are doomed."

Elise diverted her gaze from the battle below to glance at the old woman who had ruled her for three long years. “'Tis true then. My lord Ranulf has fallen,” she replied, hardly recognizing the hollow tone of her own voice.

“Aye, aye,” the old witch wailed.

Elise braced herself on the ledge of the balcony as a mixture of emotions washed over her. Ranulf was gone—gutted by the Scots, or so the messenger said. Though she would have spared him such a hideous death, she had her freedom at last.

The old woman dragged herself up and pulled a small vial from the deep pocket in her long black sleeve. She grabbed Elise's hand and pressed the tiny bottle into her palm, folding her fingers over it. “'Tis painless. The hereafter awaits. Drink it and spare yerself from being raped by the Scottish savages. Ye will join yer husband in death."

Aye, mayhaps soon, Elise thought, but certainly not with poison and definitely not in heaven. She had the morbid urge to smile, but knew if the old witch saw it she would turn what was left of their servants against her.

“Nay,” Elise began, “'tis against the will of God and I will not bring any more dishonor to my lord's noble name. I needs speak with Henri."

“Ha. Dishonor indeed,” the witch cackled. “Ye have no honor to have called our soldiers back. So easily ye surrender. ‘Tis to every last man we should fight. Even now, the Scots breech our gate, and nary a man is called upon to stop them. Where is your god now, whence you needs him most?"

He has delivered me from Ranulf, Elise silently defended. She rounded on the old woman, unafraid for the first time since coming to Castle D'Auvergne. “Do you see any of ours who are standing? Nay. Only the wounded are left. Most have fled, no longer oppressed under my lord's heavy hand. To send what's left of our knights to their deaths will not stop the barbarian's advance. Look you below. The ground is wet with blood. And at what cost? All they wanted were a few fists-full of gold and a sack of bread. Nay, I will not see D'Auvergne ravaged to the ground because of my lord's greed."

She turned her back on the angry old woman, watching carefully as torches flamed to life while the sun died dismally on a smokey horizon. “I have enough widows to mollify. What is done is done. ‘Tis time to atone for Ranulf's sins.

“And what am I to do?” the old witch shrieked. “Am I to serve the animal that killed my beloved master?” She spat on the floor. “Never, never."

Deathly calm, Elise turned. “Poor Morgana. I fear the Scottish Chieftain will torture all who defy him, and surely you must ... defy him ... that is if you are as loyal to Ranulf in death as you were in life."

“Aye. I will never serve the savages. I would sooner die."

Elise opened her outstretched hand. “Then take this, Morgana. Join your beloved master. Join Ranulf."

* * * *

Henri shuffled into the master's chamber, pausing for only a moment to catch his breath. He glanced at Morgana's body lying in a heap on the floor. “Elle est morte?” the old man asked Elise in his thick French accent.

She wished she could share in the relief that showed in her old friend's face, but she could not. She felt empty, as if she had watched someone else do and say the things that had just transpired. “Oui. She is dead. She drank poison.” Elise touched a taper to a thick saffron candle then to several others in different places around the room. “Has MacDarrin entered the bailey?"

“No. Our knights still hold, but not for much longer, I fear.” Henri joined Elise by the window. “'Twas Ranulf who took the fight to the Scots. Little did he know William MacDarrin knocked at our door. The man is a barbarian.” He heaved a long, tried sigh. “What will we do, mon agneau? Out of the clutches of one apostate into another's."

Elise smiled sadly and cupped the old man's weathered cheek. “Ah, dear, sweet Henri,” she said softly. “No more am I your lamb.” She looked deep into his pale blue eyes almost as if she hoped to catch a glimpse of the innocent child he saw. “I have a plan, but for it to work, we must move quickly. Have you sent away all of Ranulf's servants and advocates? And, are all the wine pitchers full from the keg I gave you?"

“Oui."

“Good. Now, take yourself to the tower and hide. I will come for you soon."

“No, mon petit agneau, I cannot, for they will kill you. You should be the one to take refuge, not an old man like me."

Elise turned and looked at her dear friend. “I will not be able to think clearly if I fear for your welfare. We were able to keep you safe from Ranulf, but I know not what the Scots will do if they find you.” She took the old man's hand and after kissing the back, held it to her cheek. “If anything happened to you, I would not want to live. Now go. Godspeed, Henri, I hear the battering ram at our door."

The old man looked as if he wanted to protest, but she shook her head and gently pushed him toward the door steeling herself against the tears that welled in his pale blue eyes. She waited until he left, then took off the jewelry Ranulf had given her as if in removing it she dismissed him from her memory. She quickly changed out of the hated black robe into a simple grey-green gown with long sleeves and square neck. Over that she donned an emerald green over gown and a plain leather girdle. She lifted a tiny gold crucifix from its hiding place under her clothing and let it hang boldly around her neck.

Earlier, a maid had placed a ruby and gold coronet on top of her head. She removed it now, and carefully loosened her hair, preferring to feel like a maiden again. She quickly glanced in the polished looking glass she had brought with her from France, hardly recognizing her own reflection.

Gone was the innocence of youth though she was barely nineteen. She was pale, colorless. Her green eyes appeared grey next to the ivory hue of her skin. Without the sparkling jewels that Ranulf insisted she wear, she thought she looked plain—unimportant.

The sound of splintering wood, made her jump.

“I will not lose D'Auvergne,” she said to her defiant reflection. She squared her shoulders just as the door crashed open. She spun around, closing her fingers around the hilt of a small dagger. A young warrior, dressed in plaid, stormed toward her. Elise fought with every thing she could muster, but she was no match for brute strength. Her dagger clanged loudly on the floor when the Scottish soldier wrenched her arm behind her back. She dug her nails in to the back of his hand a moment before he slapped the side of her head, making everything spin as she was shoved forward onto the bed.

Memories of Ranulf and the way he sought his pleasure with her body twisted in her mind. Would she suffer the same fate now with this wild warrior? Too proud to scream, she went limp, clearing all but the sound of her own pounding heart from her thoughts. If he ravished her, he'd get more satisfaction from a dead woman. The young warrior rolled her over, but she did not meet his angry gaze. Instead, she stared past him as if he wasn't there.

Her hands were roughly bound and she was jerked to her feet. A leather collar was tied around her neck, but still she willed herself not to display the terror that made her insides quake. The Scottish soldier took a leather leash and after attaching it to the collar, dragged her out of Ranulf's chamber and down the steps into the great hall.

“William. Look what I found.” The soldier tossed the end of the leash to a shorter, unkempt guard before he strolled to a table and filled a goblet with wine. “I thought you might like her tae warm your bed tanight."

Elise glanced at the hour-marked candle on the wall. Only a short time had passed. She quickly took an accounting of the men that had raided her home. D'Auvergne's hall—the once grand hall of her home, was filled with rough-looking men wearing battle soiled clothing and carrying bloodied claymores and axes. One large warrior had what appeared to be a collection of human ears on the end of his spear. When the warrior caught her looking, he grinned from behind a braided red beard, showing yellow teeth. Her stomach rolled.

The leader sat in Ranulf's chair, drinking from her lord's jeweled tankard. Avoiding the man's eyes, Elise stared at his boots, not at all surprised to find them caked with dirt and splattered with blood. Her gaze cautiously traveled upward to his bare calves, over his knees, to the red, green and black plaid kilt, then to the wide black belt cinched around his waist.

“Who's this?” The leader asked, causing Elise's heart to pound harder. Cold dread seeped into her breast.

“I dinna know, but the chamber I found her in was rich. I suspect she's,” the young soldier paused and it almost sounded to Elise that he was hesitant to say the words. She looked more closely at the younger warrior, realizing now that he stood amongst seasoned men, he was many years younger. A mere boy had wrestled away her only defense. She silently cursed that she'd been born so small.

“I suspect she was Ranulf's woman,” the young man finished.

Though her hands were bound and the leather strap around her neck bit into her tender flesh, Elise lifted her chin and tossed her hair out of her eyes before she met her captor's cool gaze. Much to her surprise, he was fairly young too. Mayhaps ten or more years younger than Ranulf. His eyes were the color of a polished blade and sparkled as if made of blue silver.

Other than a thin white scar along the right side of his jaw, he wasn't hard on her eyes. His teeth seemed unusually white against the soot and grime on his square chin. Where she had expected to see a painted face and flaming hair, his locks were long and as black as night, his face free from the usual Scottish warrior's markings. She remembered being told to be silent, but this was her home, her possessions, and Satan curse the man who thought he could take them from her now.

“I am Elise D'Auvergne, wife of Ranulf Le Fawtier, and mistress of this keep.” The frumpy guard yanked the leash, choking her. She grabbed at the leather strap around her throat, but to no avail. She sank to her knees gasping for a breath.

“Speak only when yer spoken to, bitch,” the guard ordered in heavy Scottish brogue.

“Easy, Titus, lest you bruise that lovely neck.” As soon as she heard the leader's deep voice, the pressure on her windpipe ceased. When she glanced at his face, he smiled. A burst of hot color scorched her cheeks, but she would not let herself look away, lest he thought her a coward. He rested his forearms on his knees and leaned forward. His shoulders were wider than Ranulf's and she had thought her husband to be a big man. This one was large indeed, yet he did not appear feeble as Ranulf had grown. Nay. He looked as if he were tempered from steel.

“You were Ranulf's woman,” the chieftain said. “He's dead. I had the pleasure of killin’ him myself after he murdered one of my friends. Now D'Auvergne Castle is mine, and you,” he paused to take a drink, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth then setting the tankard down on the arm of the chair. “Mayhaps, if you please me, you will be mine also?"

Elise regained her feet and squared her shoulders. “I am mistress of D'Auvergne. I am no man's whore, nor will I ever stoop so low as to bed a pig such as—” The guard tugged sharply on the leash. Again she grabbed the strap with both hands, gasping as she landed on her knees once more. When at last the pressure eased, she opened her eyes and found the Scottish barbarian staring at her again. This time he wasn't smiling.

“'Tis no passive wench we have here, Robbie,” he said. The youth agreed as did the others with lewd remarks and guttural laughs. She blanched when he rose from the chair, but could not find the strength to stand.

Un geant, Elise thought, fighting the urge to cower as he stood over her. The monster knelt down on one knee and grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, surprisingly gentle. His gaze flicked to the cross around her neck, then snapped back to fuse with hers.

“Methinks I see a spark of fire rekindled.” His voice divulged a Scottish lilt, but sounded more English compared to his companions. Strange silver-blue eyes bore into her. She trembled, yet lifted her chin from his grasp and met his gaze, calling on the last of her courage as she spat in his face. Instantly the strap tightened, but much to her surprise, he caught it in his fist before it took her breath.

“Enough. I would have her spirit as well as her neck intact.” He dragged his hand down his face then glanced at the moisture on his palm. When he looked at her, so intense were his eyes, she felt as if he could see into her soul. Saint-Esprit, but did she see concern flicker briefly across his face? A chill, unlike any she ever felt before, slithered down her spine, but she squared her shoulders again and slowly got to her feet. He stood with her, dwarfing her by his height.

“Elise,” he said slowly as his eyes slid down the length of her before he met her gaze. “I like that name. ‘Tis French. Are you French, Elise? I don't hear an accent. Mayhaps only your ancestors came from France?"

She nearly bit her tongue to keep from telling him what she thought of his ancestors. Instead, she diverted her eyes to stare at the huge knife sheathed behind his belt. It took several moments, but then she realized it was streaked with dried blood. Was it Ranulf's?

“I asked you a question. Are you deaf, lass?” The Scot's baritone voice broke into her reverie. She jerked her head up and found his vivid eyes on her once more. He smiled, but she didn't think it friendly, more an arrogant smirk. When she didn't look away, he winked. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt her cheeks heat with color again.

“Well, have you nothin’ tae say?” He resumed his seat in Ranulf's great chair. Saint-Esprit, she couldn't remember what he had asked. Her knees grew weak and her palms began to sweat.

“I—I beg your pardon, my lord,” she said, inwardly cursing the mewling sound to her voice. Where was her courage when she needed it? Be patient, she scolded herself, trying to remain calm.

“Aye, so you should beg my pardon. If I were you I would get back on my knees and beg for my life.” He glanced around at his men. “Or at the very least, a merciful death.” She felt his gaze like an ox might feel the yoke.

“I asked, are you from France?"

“Aye, my lord."

“I dinna hear an accent."

“Nay, my lord."

“Why is that, Elise?” His voice was cool and clear.

“It was not permitted.” The Scottish warrior seemed puzzled by her brief confession, making her wonder why a man of his mettle would care.

“Do you know who I am?"

“Aye, my lord. You are William of MacDarrin, bastard son of Donald the Terrible, or so some say. No one knows for sure, he had so many ... bastards."

He caught her off guard when his bark of laughter seemed to bounce off the thick stone walls. She took a deep breath and began again, his mirth fueling her courage. “You are known in northern England as the Barbarian."

He threw his head back and laughed again as did some of his men. “Am I now?” he mused. “Well, so be it.” His features grew more serious. “So small, yet so bold. I like that trait in my women, but this land belongs tae Scotland and nary a man alive would call me that name tae my face and live tae brag about it."

“Our King says D'Auvergne belongs to England. And, I am not your woman,” she said calmly. “I am Lady Eli—"

“Please, not again,” he said shaking his head. “Spare me. I know, I know.” He took another drink then mimicked her voice, “I am Lady Elise of D'Auvergne.” His antics brought a round of robust laughter from his men. He put down the goblet and leaned toward her. “Know this, lass. Edward is not, nor will he ever be king over a Scotsman. Now, repeat after me,” he said. The sparkle in his eyes unnerved her. It was as if she were looking into the palest sapphires.

“I ... come on, say it, lass."

“I am not your lass."

He raised one dark brow. “Very well, if you will'na play along, I'll have tae do it myself. You are Elise, whore of William the Barbarian.” He laughed with his men, retrieved the goblet and drained it. She checked the candle once more.

“'Tis I who will laugh last, William,” she shouted over his men's laughter. “The wine you drink...” she glanced around the room waiting until most of the men looked at her including the young, blond soldier. “The wine you all drink is poisoned.” She lifted her chin a little higher when his smiled faded. “You see, my lord barbarian, Ranulf is dead. If I cannot be mistress of this keep, neither you or any of your men will be master."

The room grew deathly silent. William glanced down at his cup before dropping it on the stone floor as if it suddenly burned his hand. He jumped to his feet when several of his men groaned, clutched their bellies then fell to the floor. The young soldier stepped around the chair and when he collapsed, William caught him and eased him down. He cupped the young man's cheek for a moment, then fastened his icy gaze on her.

“What have you done, wench,” he growled. He stood and took a step towards her. The guard that held her leash, swayed then sank to his knees, sprawling face down before his master. “Titus, get up, damn you. Get up."

Elise gathered up the leash, fearful it could still be used against her. “He cannot hear you. Look around mighty William. Soon, only the devil will hear your insults.” She smiled for the first time since the attack began, even though her heart felt as if it would crash through her breast.

William stopped in his tracks. Now that he was glaring at her, he was bigger than a giant, she thought. She prayed the potion was strong enough.

“What have you done?” he repeated. He shook his head as tiny beads of sweat began to dot his brow.

“'Tis nothing more than you deserve,” she said, yelping when he reached for her. She took a step back as he advanced and then another. Suddenly, the color drained from his face and his eyes lost their disturbing sparkle. He dragged his dagger from its sheath. Her mouth grew dry as he took another step.

“Witch,” he ground out, sinking to his knees. “Daughter of Satan.” She watched as he collapsed face down in the rushes.

“Nay,” she said, raising herself up to her full height. “I am Elise, mistress of D'Auvergne."

Chapter 2

William groaned and tried to roll over. His arms and legs felt weighted down, yet no shackles held his wrists. A throbbing pain slammed into his skull each time he tried to raise his head. “Satan's curse,” he grumbled. He rested on the straw for a few moments then thought of his brother. “Robbie, lad. Robbie can you hear me?"

“'Tis time you woke,” came a feminine voice from afar.

William forced his blurry eyes open. A woman, slight and slender stood over him. He stared at her golden slippers which peeked out from under the hem of a pale cream-colored gown. As his gaze drifted upward, he tried to remember where he was and how he got to be on a bed of straw, but soon found himself more interested in the face that went with this angel's body.

A gold and pearl girdle rested on her smooth hips, accenting a narrow waist. Crowned with a golden circlet, her wheat-colored hair cascaded down her slender shoulders, curling over full breasts. The gown clung to her womanly curves, bringing a smile to his lips. “I've died,” he rasped, closing his eyes once more.

Elise shook her head in disgust then flashed a sideways glance to her steward who stood quietly in the corner by the cell door. “You may wish you had if you do not wake up.” She took her foot and nudged her prisoner none too gently in the ribs. “Wake up or suffer a fate far worse than what I have to offer."

“For an angel, you're rather rude.” Except for his head, he felt no pain. Mayhaps he wasn't dead, but only near death, and she a novice angel like a novice nun, not fully in heaven yet. That would explain the absence of wings, wouldn't it? He opened his eyes once more finding it easier each time. But moving was different. When he raised up on his elbows, the ugly little man with the club reappeared in his skull. He sank back down, closed his eyes, then grunted when the woman's toe poked him sharply in the side. “Damn it, wench. Stop that,” he growled. “Let me finish dyin'."

“Get up you big oaf. I've a matter of most importance to discuss with you.” She leaned closer and raised her voice. “Are you deaf? Get up."

“My hearin’ is fine. My head is not, and your shoutin’ isn't helpin’ a'tal. Speak your mind, then go away and leave me tae die in peace."

Elise sighed irritably and glanced over at Henri who raised his shaggy brows and shrugged. If her situation weren't so serious she could almost find the big brute's determination to die amusing. “You are not dying. But you will if you do not open your eyes."

“Nay. The light from your halo makes me head hurt worse,” he said in a fine Scottish brogue. “And how would ya know?"

“How would I know what?” she asked, punching her fists on her hips.

“How would ya know if I'm dyin’ or not. ‘Tis not your head that's splittin'. Now go away, and if I canna pass on tae the next world, then let me sleep a bit more in this one."

“I prefer you awake.” When he still didn't open his eyes, she went to kick him again, but he caught hold of her ankle and yanked her off balance, ignoring her squeal as she landed none too gently on her bottom in a pile of dusty straw. Coughing and spluttering, she uttered several oaths of vengeance, before she realized her prisoner had somehow gotten to his feet and was now standing over her.

Furious, she looked up to see him looking down. Had she not seen him before, she would have been terrified, but the effect of the potion she had given him had not completely worn off. The giant swayed once, then again. He raised his hands to his head, staggered back against the stone wall then slid down, landing hard on his knees. His painful grunt made her wince. Head pain from her special mixture of corn cockle rendered most men helpless. But, that wasn't the case with William the Barbarian. He had been able to stand, if only for a few moments, without drinking the cure.

“What, in the name of our Savior, did you give me?” he groaned, closing his eyes against what she knew had to be agonizing pain. She scrambled to her feet and quickly dusted off her bottom and then her hands.

“The pain in your skull will ease when you drink what my steward holds in that cup."

William opened one eye. “What steward?"

She pointed at the elderly man.

“What cup? I don't see any cup."

She walked to Henri and took the goblet. She shook her head when the old man went to speak, then turned back to her prisoner. “This cup."

Using the wall to help his balance, her prisoner slowly stood. He took a swaying step and reached for it, but she held it back—just out of his grasp.

“Only after we have come to an agreement,” she said firmly.

“What are you talkin’ about?” William asked through teeth clenched in pain. His accent now sounded more English, making Elise wonder where this Scot had been raised. Though she had not know many Scots, she knew that the Highland brogue was much more difficult to understand than that of the Lowlander—most likely true because the Lowlander's often mingled their blood with the English—sometimes without their consent.

“You killed my husband and most of our men. Those who are not dead are wounded."

“Aye,” he hollered angrily, “and I'd do it again if given half the chance.” He pressed his palms to his temples, growled like a wounded animal, and then sank down until he was sitting on the straw once more.

“Shouting at me will only make the pain worse,” Elise stated flatly.

Henri touched her arm and whispered despairingly, “Mon agneau."

She leaned forward. “What is it?” she asked softly.

“Please, reconsider."

“Nay. The potion will render him too weak to harm me. I am safe. Now hurry and see that the others are still locked up and secure.” When Henri hesitated, she put her hand gently on his shoulder and pushed. “Make haste. In due time he will recover without the special mixture in this cup. If he does not cooperate, my plan will fail. He must believe that I, and I alone, cured him."

“But—"

“Go. I do not want any of them to die. Someone has to see that they are securely confined and given fresh water.” She waited until her loyal servant reluctantly left the cell. Why were all men such mule-headed fools, stubborn beyond reason? She sighed impatiently then turned back to her captive. “Here,” she held out the goblet, “drink. You are no use to me dead."

The Scottish Chieftain took the cup, but didn't immediately drink even though she knew him to be in great pain. “How do I know it's not poison,” he asked in a hushed voice.

She matched his soft tone. “Because, ‘tis as I just said, you are no use to me dead.” She motioned to the cup. “Drink. It will take away the pain."

He took several swallows, then scrunched up his nose. “It tastes burned."

“Do not complain. ‘Tis the taste of life restored."

She watched as her prisoner slowly dragged his fingers through his long tangled hair. He had been unconscious all of the night, lying in a pile of straw wearing battle stained clothes. Though there were no candles with the hours marked on them, she knew it to be late morning.

In an effort to ease the dragonflies that jumped nervously in her stomach, she tried to vision what he would look like after a bath and a set of clean garments. But, still her knees grew weak with fear at what surely was the largest man she had ever laid eyes on. Dieu qui est une delivrance, she prayed. “Are you feeling better?” she asked after he took several more swallows.

“Aye."

“Good.” She waited until he finished the wine, then took the cup and placed it on top of an old wooden barrel used as a stool in the far corner of the cell. “Do not grow too bold, milord. At any time I can poison your men and they will never know it. I have potions that are totally without taste or smell—that kill quickly or slowly—painlessly or otherwise. Only I know which ones have cures."

“What of my men?” Her prisoner looked up at her, his features expressionless. A battle tactic she assumed. A warrior couldn't afford to reveal his emotions to his enemies.

“They too, are only drugged ... for now. Do anything to harm me or my steward will kill every last man, starting with the fair young soldier you called Robert.” She couldn't help notice that her remark had caused a tiny little muscle above his jaw to jump.

“So,” he began in his lilting Scottish accent once more. “The rumors are true. You're tellin’ me you're a witch?” He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes still fastened to hers. “So what. I'm a devil. Pleased tae make your acquaintance, Lady Elise, mistress of D'Auvergne."

The icy tone in his voice unsettled her. He had gone from angry and in pain to indifferent and cynical. He seemed to be able to change his accent with his moods. And those eyes. She felt as if he had pierced her with his unemotional gaze. “Your sarcasm is not appreciated. I was not the one who intruded. You attacked my home. You killed my husband, and now you must pay for what you've done."

“Revenge?” he asked, bemused. “I would never have guessed it of a wee lass like yourself. Nay. Surely you were made for much more pleasant tasks."

Elise shivered. Once again his gaze made her feel small and insignificant. She had to keep reminding herself that he was her prisoner, under her control—not the other way around. For a moment she doubted the wisdom of her plan, but fate had given her no choice.

“I came to D'Auvergne three years ago when my father arranged my marriage to Lord Ranulf. The union of our families made my new husband a very wealthy man, and in turn my father's holdings in France were to remain safe from English attacks."

“And what about you? You're no more than a child. Did your father know Ranulf worshiped the devil?"

His question took her completely off guard. “Of course not."

“Then you loved Ranulf?” the Scot asked.

Why would this type of a man care? Surely he was used to taking what he wanted just like every other man. “I was young. I loved my father and would have done anything required of me to please him."

“I see. And, of course, that included marryin’ a man like Ranulf D'Auvergne? Why won't you tell me? Did you love him?"

She raised one light brow. “Why is it so important for you to know?"

“Because a marriage without love is like being in a prison, only there's no hope for escape."

How true, she thought, staring at her prisoner for a long moment. “I had hoped for love, but when it did not happen, like many maidens who are married to strangers, I learned to adjust—to survive."

“And you say your father loved you?” he asked skeptically.

Elise heaved an exasperated sigh. “Aye, very much, and I him."

“And you say he dinna know about Ranulf?"

“Are you calling me a liar, my lord?"

William scratched the shadow of whiskers on his unshaven chin. “Ranulf Le Fawtier was a fearsome warlord who enjoyed killin’ almost as much as he enjoyed the darker side of life, lass. Not many men dinna know that."

Elise licked her suddenly dry lips. Saint-Esprit, did all of Scotland as well as England know about Ranulf and his penchant for witchcraft? “My lord's reputation and his beliefs, whether accepted nor not, kept D'Auvergne safe from her enemies."

“Did it, now?” He smirked and folded his arms over his broad chest.

Her captive's tone irked her. How dare the man gloat whilst sitting in her dungeon. “D'Auvergne was part of my dowry and nearly barren when Ranulf brought me here. He built her into the richest castle in Northumbria. Neighboring lords soon caught the scent and became troublesome. My lord sought the advice of an old sorceress who lived in the forest. ‘Twas said she could see the future. If my lord bemused himself with ungodly pleasures, who was I to stop him?"

“A mere child given tae a mad man, I suspect."

Elise rounded on the Scot. “Do not patronize me, MacDarrin. Before she died, Morgana taught me much. I warn you, do not under estimate my skills. It could cost you and your men their lives.” She took an impatient breath. “D'Auvergne is highly sought after by our less than friendly neighbors."

“Aye, that's why I came, lass—tae see if your husband would like tae share a little of his wealth.” She ignored his mocking tone.

“Ranulf's death will spread like the plague. ‘Tis only a matter of time before other warrior lords come to test their skills against what is left of my army. As you well know, our army suffered greatly. I am not a fool. D'Auvergne will not be able to withstand another attack. Spring is nearly upon us. There will be fields to make ready, crops to plant. This is why I need your help."

“My help? My men and I are hardly farmers. Could you be a wee bit more specific?"

“Without Ranulf, I fear for my life."

“And Good King Edward, your English monarch, will he not protect his loyal tax-paying subject?"

Again, his tone kindled her anger, but used to keeping her emotions well controlled, she forced herself to remain calm. “The king has much to tend to with the war in France, and I can ill afford to purchase mercenaries to protect me."

He snorted in disbelief. “Tis said that Le Fawtier has more gold hidden than the king has in his royal treasury. I can hardly believe he left you a pauper."

“Rumors, I assure you, for though we live in comfort compared to some...” unknowingly, her gaze slid down his length before returning to his face, “...my lord Ranulf was a tight-fisted master. He squandered away any excess there may have been in his relentless pursuit to conjure up an unholy creature that he hoped would challenge God, Himself.” She continued to stare at the Scot, but turned away from his unsettling gaze to stay focused on her plan. Did he not believe her story? Could he see her hand shake, her knees tremble? She quickly shoved her hands into the pockets of her over gown. “I have no place to go, and will not lose what is rightfully mine."

“Under your precious English law, women canna inherit."

“There is a way.” She looked at the Scot over her shoulder. “A husband's written consent proclaiming his wife as his heir."

The Scot's dark brows snapped together. “I suspect Ranulf dinna give you written consent."

“Correct. That is why you and I must marry."

“We what?"

“Are you deaf?” she snapped, his constant questions fraying her wavering control, “You and I must marry."

“That's what I thought you said.” He was silent for many long moments, watching her the whole time. “Why would you want tae marry a man like me?” he asked.

“As you said, a woman alone cannot inherit. Even if D'Auvergne is left untouched by our neighbors, I will be forced to forfeit her to the crown or lose her to another overlord not of my choosing."

“And if I refuse?"

She caught her lip between her teeth, but only for a moment. She hadn't expected him to refuse. She scolded herself for letting down her guard. After all, she wasn't a homely wench and even half the revenues from D'Auvergne alone, could keep a man in comfort for the rest of his life.

“If you refuse, you will never leave this cell. Your men will undoubtedly be more agreeable to join me after they witness your execution. I am sure one of them will accept the arrangement I am offering to you—perhaps the one you called for ... I believe you said the name ... Robbie?"

“Then it's any man that'll have you?” William watched her closely and got the reaction he wanted. She clamped her jaw so tightly he wondered if she'd chipped some teeth.

“A-aye. Any man that is willing to fight for a rich holding and take me as his wife."

“A witch for a wife,” he corrected. She glanced at him, and he knew by the slight quivering of her chin his words had wounded her. “This marriage, would it be performed by a priest, bindin’ in the eyes of God? You do believe in God?"

Her gaze filled with daggers. “Of course—to both your insolent questions."

“And will you give the man you marry the rights he'd be entitled to as your husband?"

“I would, with the condition that you and your men rebuild what you have destroyed. You will protect the villains and the stock. Your army must protect D'Auvergne against the many enemies that will come. An agreement will be written and both of us must sign our names. Should you die in bed or be killed in battle, D'Auvergne is mine."

“You're a comely wench. A bit on the scrawny side, but not hard on the eyes.” He scratched his chin. “Every night?"

“If needs be,” she forced out.

“Most of my men have wives. But then there's Titus. He's not much to look at—you saw him before, he's the one that held your leash. He's missing some teeth and has a few extra stones under his belt, but he brags that he's good in bed."

William hid his mirth behind a thoughtful scowl. The Lady Elise swallowed hard and if her chin rose any higher, he knew he'd hear her neck snap. From the shade her cheeks turned, she looked as if she were about to retch.

“Not a good choice, hey? Nay, probably not. You'd most likely want someone a bit younger. Well don't fret, lass. Mayhaps you'd like me tae line up the unmarried ones and you can take your pick.” He folded his arms over his chest and tried to look thoughtful. “But, I must warn you. Most of them aren't as, shall we say, tolerant, as I am. They'll be fumin’ mad about the wine."

When he heard her stifled gasp, he knew he'd pushed her enough. But, his pride wanted her to say she preferred him, and if he had to describe each and every man down to the way he used his sword, he'd do it just to see her reaction. “Then there's Angus Campbell. He's the one who likes to collect ears off—"

The lady Elise shuddered. “I'll have no bargain with any other than yourself."

“But you just said—"

Elise glared at the Scot. Why did she feel she had lost the war with this simple, pointless battle of wits. Nevertheless, she had chosen her path, and come fire or flood, she would save her home. “I have changed my mind. You, or no bargain."

“Well then, why dinna you say so in the first place."

His arrogant smile should have riled her, but instead, she found it challenging. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear."

He leaned back against the wall and once again, folded his arms over his chest and laughed. “As mud, lass, as mud."

Chapter 3

Henri met Elise on the stairs leading down to the dungeon. “You have only just buried Ranulf. I am sure there is time to be more selective. Mayhaps we should send word to your fath—"

“How could I face father with the news that I am on the verge of loosing D'Auvergne and Mama's final resting place? It would break his heart as it is breaking mine now. Nay, Henri. There is no time. It would take months to solicit father's help. I hardly have enough plants left to keep the water tainted for another day. What am I to do when William's men wake? Our few are no match for a bunch of savage Scots hell-bent on freedom.” She climbed the steep wooden steps toward the scullery.

“But he is the one who killed—"

“Henri, please. I would rather not address that again."

“But, mon agneau, I saw him fight. He is truly barbaric. I fear for your welfare more than when you were married to Ranulf."

“Aye, he is fearsome enough for two men, but I have spoken with him and I think he will be reasonable.” Elise patted the old man's shoulder in an effort to ease his distress. “We both know there is no other way."

“But he is Scottish and, and a landless bastard."

“Aye, and greedy. I pray greedy enough to want to protect what is his as long as he is alive. There is nothing else I can do. His army is all that stands between me and Lord Baynard.” She didn't try to conceal her repugnance. “I cannot turn back now. Ranulf's child grows in my belly. My son is entitled to his birthright, yet he must first be born and then survive until old enough to rule it."

“But how can you be sure the Scot will claim the child?"

“I cannot be sure, but I have no choice. I did not expect Ranulf to die, nor did I expect to have my home ravished by William MacDarrin. But all of these things happened, Henri, and I was forced to think of a way to survive. Mayhaps I am a fool for thinking so, but if my plan is successful, he will never suspect the babe is not his.” She sighed loudly then faced her old friend. “See now why I must hurry? I would wed the devil himself to protect D'Auvergne for my son."

Henri blew his nose. “It is not fair,” the old man said, shaking his head again. “Out from under one tyrant and wed to another. So young, so young."

Elise blinked against the sting of tears. How true, she thought as she opened the heavy door and stepped into the scullery. “Mayhaps William will be kinder than Ranulf."

“He is a butcher in plaid,” the old man grumbled.

“He has the muscle and the men to protect us."

“Aye, but will he have the brains not to squander all you have suffered for?"

“He outsmarted Ranulf and Morgana.” She led the old man into the great hall to check the smoldering coals in the hearth. March spared them many a warm day, but when the sun sank, so did the temperatures. She tossed on several logs and waited until they caught fire. “He says he will abide by my terms."

“Can you trust a Scot? No. And what about after the vows are said? What then? In God's eyes you'll be his wife—his propriete."

Elise squared her shoulders as she turned and looked at her faithful retainer. “Nay, Henri. The Scot may claim his right to my body, but he will never own my heart for it is no longer here in my breast.” She put her hand lovingly on the polished wooden mantle. “'Tis here in D'Auvergne. Look about you, my old friend. This keep is solid stone—built to last a lifetime, and with the right master, invincible. Nay, I must accept my fate, and I would ask that once more, you do the same."

“Aye, mon agneau. If you wish it, I will serve him as I have served you. I give you my word."

* * * *

William sat on a pile of straw, resting his back against the rock wall of his cell. Two days had passed and still he waited. He glanced at the wooden bowl filled with sweet oat porridge. It was better food than what he had been able to find for his men when they were free, but he had no appetite. He sighed, wondering how long before he learned their fates. Finally, he heard a door squeak open, then Elise's old steward appeared, fumbling with a large ring of keys.

“I am Henri,” the old man began in his thick French accent. “Lady Elise sent me to fetch you to lord Ranulf's chamber where you are to bathe and dress for the ceremony."

William found it rather comical the way Elise's servant emphasized the word bathe, but decided to keep his mouth shut and let the man do his duty. After all, he had no bones with the ancient retainer. It was the woman he wanted to get even with and knew if he'd just bide his time, he'd have his chance. But for now, a hot bath sounded good.

“Can you stand, milord?"

“Aye, I can.” William stood, put his hands on his hips and raised one dark brow. He towered over the little man.

The steward's mouth dropped open for a moment then he quickly collected himself. “I think it is only fair to remind you that my lady still has your army confined. And, if you do not cooperate, they will suffer the consequences."

“Aye. I understand."

“Uhh, good, then follow me, milord."

They went up the steps and into the scullery. A plump cook pressed herself into a corner when she caught sight of William. He smiled at her then snatched a warm round of fresh baked bread cooling on a long wooden table, planning to munch on the tasty staple while bathing. No sooner had he tucked it under his arm, when the steward sighed loudly and shook his head.

“There is no need to steal, milord. You will be fed soon enough. My mistress is planning a feast after the ceremony."

“Really now,” William said over a mouthful of bread. “That's very generous of her, but what about my men?"

“Your men, also.” The old man gave William a stern look, never missing a step as he led them into the great hall. “If they behave themselves, they will dine with us. My lady told me they were to be treated as our own would be treated."

William nodded his approval. Elise was obviously a woman of her word. They entered the great hall, and he stopped to admire the changes from when he had taken the keep a mere two days ago. Gone were the rushes off the floor, replaced with braided rugs. A massive D'Auvergne coat of arms was mounted over an enormous fireplace. The silver and gold shield hung between two crossed swords on the left and two crossed battle axes on the right.

“My lady brought these things with her when we came here. Only now can she display them. The master refused all things except for those of a darker nature to be hung on the walls.” The old man motioned to the colorful tapestries decorated the stone walls. “They are beautiful, are they not?"

“Aye, they are.” Aware that the steward impatiently waited, William inspected the room more closely. He strolled to where a full set of armor stood erect as if a man wore it. Polished to a mirror finish, it was fine, German armor, the likes he'd never been able to afford. Yet here it stood in Ranulf's hall. “A man's house is no place for the likes of this,” William stated flatly. “His home should be a place where he can forget about the horrors of war."

Henri cleared his throat. “Forget, milord?"

“Aye. I canna speak for Ranulf, but I've only killed tae protect myself. Had he not refused tae give us what we wanted, he'd be alive taday.” William looked at the old man. “A mon's home is no place for battle weapons tae be hung about for the little ones tae see."

“My lady has no children."

William frowned. “None a'tal?"

Henri shook his head.

“Well no wonder she wanted tae marry so soon. I'll soon remedy that for her, I will.” William winked at the old man. Henri's eyes grew round. He swallowed hard, then quickly turned around.

“We should not keep the priest waiting."

“Aye,” William said absently, admiring another tapestry. “Then lead on, Henri, lead on.” He followed the steward up the winding stone steps that had been built into the wall of the square tower. At the top of the staircase, a long, highly polished wooden walk-way joined the first tower to a second, much larger tower.

“This room was the master's chamber,” Henri said as he unlatched the lion-headed handles on the heavy wooden door then pushed it open. “I assume you will find it suitable."

William could hardly believe his eyes. The chamber was larger than his cottage in Scotland. Thick gold and blue carpets lay on each side and at the foot of a huge four-poster bed that sat squarely on a raised dais. A dark blue canopy with matching bed curtains blended well with the earthy color of the wood. Burnished gold-colored cords, held the curtains aside to reveal a thick quilted blue-velvet coverlet. He imagined King Edward would be envious. “I think I can make do."

A large brass tub, filled with steaming water sat invitingly before the fireplace. Two young boys, holding towels, stood by wooden buckets. When William looked at them, their eyes opened wide as if they were looking at a wild bear.

“These boys will see to your needs,” Henri said. “Is there anything you require before you bathe?"

William glanced at the typical English clothing neatly laid out on top of the bed. “Aye. There's a black leather trunk in my wagon. I'd like it sent up here.” Much to his surprise, the old man just nodded and turned to leave. “Before you go,” William began. “What about my men? The young, fair one is my brother. Is he—"

“Alive? Oui. As with ours, your dead have been buried. Those that live have been informed of the impending nuptials. I assume your brother was also informed."

“Aye. I assume so,” William answered, not too sure if he felt any better. He frowned, then pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose, deep in thought. The old man was almost to the door before William looked up. “Ah—one other thing..."

“Oui, milord?"

“What did they say?"

“Who, milord?"

“My men. How did they react when you told them?"

“My lady Elise spoke to your men. She told me they were quite agreeable."

William's brows snapped together again. “Aye, I'm sure after talkin’ with her they would be."

Chapter 4

Elise paced before the fire in her chamber. The closer the candle burned to the mark, the more the dragonflies flitted and dived in her stomach. She looked at her reflection in the large oval looking glass. One of the servants, who had returned after the battle, had done wonders with her hair, painstakingly weaving strands of pearls into the flaxen braids. They were then coiled above her ears under a gold circlet encrusted with sapphires and rubies that had once belonged to her mother. To this, the maid attached a diaphanous wimple in the palest shade of rose.

She smoothed her over-gown of crimson velvet, thankful that they still fit her perfectly after three years of being stored in a hidden trunk. She adjusted the gold and ruby girdle, another keepsake of her mother's. Glancing at her old wardrobe against the wall, she shivered. No more would she wear dark colored robes. Nor would she be cursed to wear silver serpent pendants that had diamonds for eyes. She shivered again, remembering the way Ranulf had made her dress. Tomorrow, she would burn them all.

She fluffed the long sleeves of her deep blue gown then slipped a small jeweled dagger into the scabbard on her hip. After adding a touch of rose water behind her ears, she squared her shoulders and went downstairs. Upon entering entered the chapel, the priest looked as if he were about to officiate over her beheading. Father Marcus had never tried to convert Ranulf. He had preferred to live quietly in a tiny hut in the village. Even though he knew Ranulf was dead, it had cost her dearly to get the spineless man to enter D'Auvergne. But, she couldn't think of a better way to spend Ranulf's precious gold.

The modest room was filled to overflowing with Scottish warriors clad in clean, but simple garments—all bearing green, black and red tartans. She avoided their eyes as the air felt thick with resentment. Much to her relief, they had complied with her wishes to bathe. She would have to remember to ask Henri how he accomplished such a task. Some of them had even taken the time to shave and brush their longer than average hair.

All but one. The one they called Angus, stood like a large bull in the far corner, his beard still braided into dozens of little braids. The way his beefy arms folded over his chest foretold of his contempt.

She nodded to the priest then to Robert who stood before his brother's men. Robert had been easy to talk with, confessing that he and William were only half brothers. In the short time she had conversed with him in his cell, she had learned much about her choice for husband. As she had suspected, William's mother was English. She also discovered that young Robert was as innocent and full of dreams as she had been before her marriage to Ranulf.

Though she hadn't asked William, she assumed he would like his brother to bear witness. And since she felt a friendship had sprouted with the younger Scot, it helped to ease her anxiety a little to know he'd help keep the others in control if needed.

Robert had also bathed and changed, but to her discomfort, wore his claymore into the chapel. Glancing around, she noticed most of the soldiers carried weapons. No wonder the poor priest looked so pale. She was just about to speak to Robert and ask him to have the men remove their arms, when Henri led William into room.

The groom-to-be, Elise thought as she watched her steward escort the Scot to the alter, looked every part the lord of the keep—the Scottish keep. He had forgone the garments Henri had chosen, wearing a black velvet tunic which contrasted nicely with his plaid tartan. Like his men, he wore no hose, only his Scottish kilt, white stockings up to his knee, and black shoes that laced around his ankles and calves.

White lace peeked out of his cuffs and at his neck. In his Highlander finery, he looked strikingly handsome. By the way his black hair glistened from the candles in the chandelier, he had even agreed to bathe, lifting her hopes that the evening wouldn't be as unbearable as she believed it would be.

“Mon petit,” Henri whispered when they were standing before her. “Are you sure there is no other way?"

Elise smiled at the old man who was more a father than a servant. “Nay, good Henri. ‘Tis the only way."

She looked at William. He had stood quietly while she spoke with her steward and now she wondered what he was thinking. She wished she could pretend that this giant Scot loved her—wanted her for his wife, but she knew it was a foolish, childish dream. “Has Henri has informed you that the other half of your army will be released, after the marriage agreement is sealed?"

“Aye. He has."

“Very well, shall we begin?” Elise asked, taking a deep breath and turning to face the priest.

“You look stunnin',” William said in a low voice.

Elise's mouth dropped open. She couldn't believe her ears. “Th-thank you,” she stuttered. “You—you look nice too.” She swallowed and quickly looked away feeling foolish for returning such a silly compliment.

“Nice?” he repeated in a harsh whisper. “Only nice? I went tae a lot of trouble tae look this good. You could at least acknowledge it."

Elise glared at him. He was arguing with her in front of the priest, not to mention fifty or so of his men. “I did. What more do you want me to say?"

“You could have said that I look very...” he paused as if searching for the right word. “...handsome."

She rolled her eyes and sighed impatiently. “Very well. You look very handsome. Much better than the last time I saw you.” Her expression was murderous when she glared at him.

He smiled.

“Shall we begin?” she asked through gritted teeth, more angry at her body's reactions than at the arrogant Scot.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I've nothin’ better tae do. But there is one more thing."

“Saint-Esprit help us,” Henri muttered.

“What is it?” Elise snapped.

William gave her a patronizing glance then looked at his brother.

“Robert,” William said sternly. “What in the name of our Savior are you doin’ with that claymore in a chapel?"

Elise watched as the younger Scot turned a bright red before he spluttered something in such a heavy brogue, she couldn't make it out. He quickly unbuckled his sword and dropped it, pushing it behind himself with his foot. The sound of it hitting the polished marble floor bounced off the rafters.

William turned and frowned at his men. “I'm ashamed of all of you. This is my weddin’ day and I will'na have you share it dressed for battle.” One younger man hurriedly unbuckled his claymore and began to collect others until he was so weighted down with steel, he could barely walk. The only man who refused was Angus. For a moment Elise sensed a war of wills between William and the repulsive red head, but after what seemed an incredibly long time, Angus wrapped his thick fingers around the hilt of his huge claymore and left the crowded room. The man William had called Titus left with him.

William turned back to the priest. “You can begin, Father.” The priest tugged at his collar, pulled out a small cloth and dabbed at the beads of sweat on his brow and upper lip. After a quick drink of wine, the poor man began the vows, shaky at first, but with each pause for another swallow of wine, his voice grew stronger.

But, Elise didn't have any sympathy for the priest's lack of nerve. Her thoughts were far away from his discomfort, focusing more on her own. The wedding was only the beginning. There was a bedding ceremony ahead, and one she dreaded more than she had her first night with Ranulf. At the tender age of sixteen, she had been filled with a young bride's hopes and dreams. But, not this day. Nay, this day she knew exactly what to expect.

She cast a quick glance at the man kneeling beside her, grateful he seemed at ease before the priest. How different he was from Ranulf. Where Ranulf had been twenty years older than she, William was young, robust, and, she had to admit, rather attractive with his long hair tied back with a leather strap.

Hope fluttered to life in Elise's breast, but she quickly dashed it. Had she not felt the same way the day she married Ranulf? Did he not soon smother the love she had hoped to kindle? When Ranulf brought in Morgana to keep his rebellious bride under control, Elise had only pretended to be obedient.

Now Ranulf was dead, and so was Morgana. Yet her fear had not died with them. She would pretend again to be acquiescent and become the wife of a Scottish warrior. Aye, she would pretend and live the rest of her life behind a facade if it meant she could keep D'Auvergne.

She repeated what the priest asked her to, sneaking sideways glances at the Scot in between. Even clad as a gentleman, he couldn't hide the fact that he was a warrior, and it was well known that men who loved war seldom lived to see their children grow into adulthood. Or for that matter, see them born. She swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable with the thought that she could be widowed again so soon.

She soothed her uneasiness by thinking of the agreement that waited in Ranulf's room. She inwardly cringed. She should have had the Scot sign it before they were married. Saint-Esprit, she silently prayed. If he refused, all was lost. She glanced at him once more. Could he be trusted? Would he keep his word? He seemed intent on listening to the priest drone on, almost as if he were enjoying the Mass. His hands were folded together and his head bowed respectfully. He must have known she was watching, because he turned ever so slightly and winked, the twinkle in his eyes, bright and mischievous.

Elise quickly looked back at her hands. Where she had been cold, now she felt unusually warm. How could this Scot have integrity, he certainly had no shame. They were, after all, in church, before a priest. God help her. How would she be able to hold her heart safely away from this man if he kept being so ... so benevolent?

And, how could she have been so foolish to forget the agreement? Again her thoughts turned to the night that lay ahead. She would use the signing of the agreement as the price he would have to pay for his pleasure. She shuddered. The nights Ranulf eased his need with her were the worst of her life.

She raised her chin a little higher. William was watching her again. It was foolish, she knew, to hope he'd be a good husband. Living with Ranulf had proved she could live without love—without hope. So why was she hoping this man would be different?

It was his muscle—his strength to protect D'Auvergne that gave her hope now. She would not require his love. Nay, she would remind herself every day, if needs be, that she could live without it. She glanced at the small wooden cross and silently promised that she would never give away her heart. The priest cleared his throat and when she looked up both men were waiting for her to reply.

“Aye, I will,” she said, thankful her voice sounded strong.

“Then in the eyes of God, child, you and William MacDarrin are husband and wife."

“But you dinna ask for a ring,” William said with a perplexed frown.

“Ring?” Elise and the priest repeated in unison.

William nodded smugly. “Aye. A ring—a little circlet made of gold with precious stones in it,” he replied sarcastically. “A ring.” He reached into the small leather purse on his belt and pulled out a ring with a small sapphire nestled between two rampant lions carved in gold. A diamond marked the eyes of each lion. Their tails curled downward forming the band.

Elise held her breath as he took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. A crest of some sort, she thought, but whose?

The simplicity of the ring made it appear far more beautiful than the more elegant rings she had received as gifts from Ranulf. The band bore traces of wear declaring it to be quite old. “'Tis lovely, milord,” she murmured. She glanced at him cautiously, surprised to see a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The priest quickly blessed them both and hurried to the rectory, grateful, Elise thought, to have the marriage over even though he had forgotten the communion. Perhaps he too, wondered of what faith the Scottish warrior was. She took a long calming breath and started to rise. Half way up, William took hold of her elbow and assisted her the rest of the way.

“Now what?” he asked, the twinkle in his eyes a sharp contrast to the calmness of his voice.

“A feast,” she said, even though the thought of food made her feel ill. “A feast to seal our bargain and to make sure your men and what's left of mine, do not kill each other before this day is over.” She jumped when William leaned close to her ear.

“Don't count on it, lass."

* * * *

Her new husband had been right. For the most part, the feast went well. She even smiled when she saw that someone had put a kilt and tartan on Ranulf's prized suit of armor. Surely Ranulf would roll in his grave if he had witnessed the insult.

Henri had paid some peasants from the village to help serve the men. Baskets of fresh, warm bread, as well as platters of roasted pig, swan and pheasant were barely served before being devoured by the Scottish warriors. They ate with such vigor that Elise's few men watched in disgust as the food disappeared before they could get their share. It wasn't long before one rude remark led to another and a brawl broke out.

“Are you going to stop them?” Elise asked William.

He took another bite then shook his head. “Leave them be, they're just havin’ a bit of fun."

“Fun? That man, the one with the red hair, just broke a chair over that man's head. And there, see over there, your men are wiping their filthy hands on my tapestry.” Elise jumped up. “Stop that. Stop that this instant."

The men totally ignored her.

William put down his food, took hold of her hand and pulled her down. He stood, but when not a man looked his way, he took his fist and pounded on the table, nearly upsetting her goblet of wine. “Listen up lads,” her husband bellowed. “I've a little announcement tae make."

A hush fell over the crowd. “Most of you are lucky tae be alive after what happened.” They grumbled their agreement. “Angus,” he shouted. The red headed man turned around and once again, Elise felt the tension between her husband and the overly large warrior swirl around her like thick smoke. Angus held a small table over his head ready to crown another man. “Put that down where you found it."

Angus threw William a dark look, and then put it back against the wall.

“All of you, listen.” William waited as they resumed their places on the benches.

“This is my home now. You'll respect it as such. Damage it and I'll take it out of your hides.” He slipped his hand under Elise's arm. She resisted, but he easily hauled her to her feet then held her hand in his, to keep her from leaving. “This is my wife. You will honor her as you have honored me. Anythin’ that happens tae her happens tae me. If she wants anythin'—if she asks you tae do somethin', ‘tis the same as if I asked you tae do it. Do you understand?"

Elise blinked back her surprise. She turned and stared at her new husband as if he'd suddenly grown wings and a halo. To have him instruct his men to honor her made her feel jubilant and suspicious all in the same breath. Husbands used their wives, they did not honor them.

Most of his men readily agreed. A few mumbled then reluctantly nodded their heads. “Gude,” William continued, “because if there's any among you that dinna agree, you're free tae leave."

“What about our families?” one man asked.

“Your families will be sent for as soon as we've prepared a place for them."

“And what of the English? What's going tae happen when they learn a Scotsman holds D'Auvergne?"

“D'Auvergne's north of Hadian's Wall. I say this land belongs tae Scotland. We'll fight as we've always done, only this time, we'll be fightin’ for ourselves as well as our new home."

“And what if old Edward finds out we're here?” another man shouted.

“I don't plan tae tell him, do you?"

The men laughed and shook their heads.

Elise looked around the room. The fearsome warriors of just two days hence had turned into men with worries and misgivings not unlike her own. They were fearful for their families—families that they wanted to bring to D'Auvergne. She watched in awe as William addressed each and every one of their concerns, openly and honestly.

How unlike Ranulf he was, indeed. Ranulf ruled his men with not a care to their welfare. But, William expressed genuine interest in his men and their problems. “We've a lot of work tae do. But first we have a more serious problem on hand. Baynard's bound tae hear we've taken D'Auvergne. He'll be gatherin’ his men.” William paused while his men groaned, obviously unhappy about the impending confrontation. The more he spoke, the more in admiration Elise listened. He had said we. Never, in all the times she had attended Ranulf's conversations with his men, did he ever include anyone but himself.

“That means we've only got a month tae make ready,” Angus stated gruffly.

“Aye,” added William. “But, I don't want tae fight him here. Nay, lads. I intend tae attack him first."

Again his men grew rowdy, this time nodding their heads and grinning. Elise assumed they already knew what their leader had in mind. Now, she knew why Ranulf had fallen. He had underestimated his enemy's strategic prowess. Her desperation subsided, leaving her feeling more and more secure. Mayhaps William the Barbarian was a savage warrior, but he used his head as well as his muscle.

“Aye lads. We'll take him by surprise and run his arse back to his wife and children where a man of his years belongs.” William turned to Elise and squeezed her hand as the room erupted with laugher. “My wife and I have a lot tae talk about.” Once again he had to wait as his men shouted their approval, mixing in lusty remarks with toasts of fertility and manly endurance.

Elise's mouth grew dry. His men were right. William was a lot younger than Ranulf and much more fit. She glanced at him, her hopes for a quick bedding dying a bitter death.

“Lads,” William began, his voice tinged once more with the tone of a chieftain. “I'll not have you botherin’ us. There's plenty of wine and more than enough food. Leave the servant women alone unless they're willin', and if anythin’ or anyone is hurt or broken, I'll personally crack the skull of the man responsible."

Chapter 5

William led Elise from the room. At first she thought to resist, but quickly decided it was best to leave whilst the men were still somewhat sober. As she glanced over her shoulder she realized that the servants were having a hard time keeping the pitchers of mead and wine full.

She jumped when she heard the sound of splintering wood. So be it for the table that Angus had reluctantly replaced, she thought sadly. Her husband's men continued to shout and roar with laughter, always at someone's rude remark. But, as subtly ordered, they did not bar their retreat. The few men left of Ranulf's gave her a disgusted look before they left the hall. The only one in the room that gave her a gentle smile was Henri, and his thoughtful gesture caused a lump to form in her throat.

Before she knew it, she stood in William's chamber and waited while he bolted the door. Did he intend to keep his men out, or to keep her in? She clasped her hands together so he wouldn't see them shake, watching cautiously as he went to the hearth, and placed another log on the dwindling fire. His clothing didn't conceal the fact that he was a very muscular man, and she swallowed, trying not to picture him naked, but failing miserably.

“I took the liberty to have Henri place our agreement on the table,” she said a little desperately, anxious for him to sign. “Once it is completed, you will be a very wealthy man."

“Will I now?” her Scot said calmly. He stood and faced her. She couldn't tell if he jested, or if he smiled because he was pleased. He dusted off his hands and came closer to look over her shoulder. Would he balk when he read the part that gave her full ownership over D'Auvergne in the event of his death? She dipped the quill into the ink pot, quickly wrote her name, then offered it to her new husband. He took the quill from her shaky fingers. “Do you want to read it first?"

He shook his head. “Nay. I canna read. I'm a man of my word, and I could tell that first day, by the way you stood up tae me and my men, that you're a woman of your word too. But, I suppose being married tae an English lord made you a bit skeptical. The paper's for you, not me. I trust you, even though I can tell you don't trust me.” He drew his mark under her pen strokes.

She stared at him, amazed as much as she was relieved. “It has nothing to do with trust."

“Aye. It has everything tae do with it.” She flinched when he leaned closer. “Why are you so jittery? I will'na bite."

She scooted away, took a deep breath and expressed what had been on her mind ever since she'd presented her bargain. “My lord...” she closed her eyes against the surge of embarrassment. “About the bedding ceremony..."

“That's an English custom, lass. Personally, I find it offensive. What happens between a man and his wife is between a man and his wife and no other.” He picked up the pitcher of wine and filled two golden goblets. He placed one in her hand. “Drink. It'll relax you a bit."

Elise shot him a look. “Relax me? For what?"

He leaned across the table and whispered, “For later.” He laughed when his bride turned a flaming red. “Ah lass, has anyone ever told you just how beautiful you are when your cheeks turn bright as two sweet apples?"

When she didn't answer, he continued. “No. I reckon Ranulf was too obsessed with himself and his old witch. I saw the clothes you wanted me tae wear tae our weddin'. I've seen the likes before, but only at funerals.” He lifted his goblet, but noticed that she hadn't taken a drink. He raised one dark brow. “Is there somethin’ in this wine I should know about?"

For the first time since entering the chamber, Elise smiled then shook her head. “Nay my lord. See?” She took a sip and then gave him her cup and took his.

William grinned, clanked his cup to hers then took a long drink. “The old man had good taste in wine, I'll say that much for him. A toast. Tae us, and tae a long life together,” he said.

Her smile faded and the color left her cheeks. When she didn't immediately comply, he placed his finger on the bottom of her goblet and pushed it toward her mouth. “Drink,” he repeated.

When she finished, he took her cup and placed it on the table with his. “Are you worried that you'll be a widow before you're a wife?"

A clap of thunder sounded in the distance. His wife jumped, but didn't respond. He sensed a change in her—caught a glimpse of fear flickering in the depths of her eyes. She looked and acted like someone else, not the brave woman he thought her to be.

“I think it might rain,” he said matter-of-factly. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman, but he was a patient man. His young bride appeared as shy as a virgin, but he knew with Ranulf's reputation, that was highly unlikely. Why then did she tremble so? And, at what point did he forget all about seeking revenge? Mayhaps when he saw her hand shake when he took the pen, or felt her tremble when he held her hand. “I like the rain, don't you?"

“Aye. Sometimes,” she answered a little too quickly.

“I don't like it when I'm forced tae sleep in it, though.” He smiled. “But I don't have to worry about that anymore, do I.” He took her hand again and led her to the bed, sat and pulled her down to sit beside him. When she wouldn't look at him, he put his knuckle under her trembling chin and turned her to receive his kiss. She was stiff and unyielding.

He increased his ardor, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Still, it was as if he were kissing a statue. Determined, he became more aggressive, playfully tugging at her lips and teasing with his tongue. She clamped her mouth tightly closed and shoved him back with both her hands.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a harsh whisper, covering her lips with her fingers as if she were protecting them from attack. William smiled. The night promised to be interesting, if not a bit frustrating. If she'd only relax, he knew she'd enjoy it.

“I thought I was kissin’ you.” He frowned and looked at her sideways. “What did you think I was doin'?"

“I knew you were kissing me,” she snapped defensively. “That is not what I meant.” She tried to stand, but he caught her wrist and pulled her back down. When he bent his head to kiss her again, she dodged him, slid off the bed and nearly ran into the table in her haste to get away. He sighed, then stood and walked toward her. She moved to the other side of the table. When he feigned left, she went right. When he moved right, she scurried left, always keeping the table between them. In exasperated amusement, he made a mental note to burn the damn table. “Dinna Ranulf ever kiss you?” he asked.

“Must we speak of my dead husband?” she retorted, refilling her cup now that she was safe on the other side of the table.

Marriage tae this woman, William figured silently, will be much like doin’ battle. If he wanted to consummate their union, he needed a strategy. He realized that if he moved around one end of the table, she'd just scoot around the other, so to throw her off guard, he turned and went directly to the hearth where he threw another log on the fire and pretended to watch it burn. As he hoped, she dropped her guard and used his absence to take a drink. Seeing his chance, he quietly came up behind her and slipped his arm around her waist. She choked.

William grabbed her cup and patted her back. “There, there lass. Don't be so greedy. The pitcher's full and there's plenty more where that came from,” he teased. When she scowled at him over her shoulder, he smiled. Their eyes fused for a moment until she looked away. He lifted the sheer wimple and placed a kiss on the back of her neck. She shivered. He did it again, and then again. He unhooked a ruby necklace and kissed the spot where it had rested, idly dropping the jewels on the table. At the same time, thunder rolled as the storm came closer.

He took a moment to look at his bride. She had closed her eyes, but he knew it wasn't in bliss, more in an effort to ignore the tingling sensations he knew his kisses invoked. Each time his lips brushed her skin, she shivered. He removed the gold circlet and slowly undid her braids, dragging his fingers though her long, silky hair. Her sweet lavender scent washed over him at the same time desire ignited into raw hunger. Lightening momentarily brightened the chamber.

Not at all disturbed when she resisted, he turned her to face him then kissed her directly on the mouth. She didn't kiss him back. She will soon enough, he thought to himself. He tried again, but when she tried to move away, caught her chin and covered her languorous protest with a long, intoxicating kiss. His free hand stroked her back, inching ever so carefully downward to rest on her firm round bottom.

“Saints be, but you're a comely wench,” he breathed against her mouth. The first sounds of rain began to beat softly on the balcony doors.

Slowly he untied the laces of her overgown, slipping it over her head. He removed her gown much in the same manner, letting the garment float to the floor. Though he didn't think it possible, she grew paler. He knew the room was warm from the blazing fire, yet still she trembled. Her expression was bland, her eyes fixed on the floor. He had wanted to see her naked, examine every inch of her beautiful body, but decided his pleasure could wait. Instead, he scooped her up and carried her over to the bed, sat her down and gently took off her slippers and stockings. “Are you cold lass?” he asked, speaking softly to ease her anxiety. She shook her head, nearly jumping off the bed when lightening flashed and thunder vibrated the balcony doors.

Being so close to her made it difficult to go slow. Every fiber in his body cried out for more, but her expression reminded him of a young fawn caught in the hunter's snare. Gone was the bold young woman who, while bound and surrounded by his men, had spit in his face. Nay, this timid girl didn't look as if she could shoo a fly away. He pulled down the thick quilt and ushered her in. Like a child she obeyed.

“What is it, lass?” he asked as he tucked her in. “You look as if you about tae meet the grim reaper.” His smile only lasted a moment. When she lifted her gaze to meet his, he knew. He'd seen it in battle when a man had seen too much death. Her eyes were glazed and she lay nonresistant. Anger, hot and potent coursed through him, forcing him to turn away before she thought it directed at her. “I am not Ranulf,” he said gruffly trying to keep his voice calm. “You've nothing tae fear from me, lass."

He rose and began to undress, careful to keep his back to her, yet feeling her eyes fastened on his every move. Stripped down to his kilt, he blew out all the candles before he spread the logs to cool into coals. The room slowly grew darker. Frowning, he tried to decide what to do. He walked to the other side of the bed. As he expected, she quickly looked the other way when he unwrapped his kilt and tossed it aside.

Careful not to upset her, he slipped under the covers. He sighed as he stretched his long, naked frame, and folded his fingers under his head, staring up at the velvet canopy. “I hav'na slept in a real bed for months,” he said.

His wife lay as quiet as a mouse being watched by a cat.

“This is a fine bed, long and wide. A bit soft, but I could learn tae like it."

Again there was no sound, just the pelting of rain and an occasional pop from the dying fire.

“In the Highlands a man and his wife sleep a bit closer.” He rolled over on his side and rested his head on his hand. “I think because it's colder there.” His beautiful young wife turned and looked at him for the first time—her expression one of required submissiveness. He felt as if he'd been speared. He wanted to punch the wall—to pretend it was Ranulf's head. Instead, he forced his dark thoughts to the back of his mind and gave her a compassionate smile.

“Are you still cold?” He didn't wait for her answer—knew full well she wouldn't. He just rolled her over to face the other way and snuggled against her. He tucked his knees behind hers, drawing her back tightly against his chest. He liked the way she felt pressed so close to his body. “I know you're a bit uncertain,” he whispered. “But, I swear tae you, there's nothin’ tae fear.” He nuzzled her ear, kissing her temple.

Another bolt of lightening brightened the room, followed by a loud clap of thunder. He felt her heart pounding against his hand as it rested seductively close to her breast. “You're a bonnie lass,” he murmured. When she didn't move or make a sound for several more moments he sighed inwardly and began to implement his strategy. “Here, roll over and look at me."

He was somewhat surprised when she obeyed. “There, now. See. I'm just a man, Elise. I'm not a monster.” He smiled again and searched her face. “I'm William, your husband, and taday I took an oath before God tae protect you and honor you. You're my wife and you have certain duties too, but that's not what I want from you tanight.” He paused, touching her cheek gently with his fingers. “Nay lass, tanight I want us tae be lovers.” He bent his head and kissed her, moving his lips ever so slowly over hers.

“There, see? That was'na bad a'tal, was it?"

She shook her head, yet he knew she was still frightened by the way her eyes glistened with unshed tears. He nearly groaned with rage. What horrible things had Ranulf done? “I've been as scared as you are now,” he said patiently, nodding when she lifted her eyes to meet his. “Aye, I know it's hard tae believe that a strapping brute like me can know paralizin’ fear, but I have. When I was but a wee lad of two or three, I dinna remember for sure, my father came and took me from my mother. I dinna know at the time that he did it because he had no choice. I only knew that I was goin’ tae a strange place far away from the only family I knew. I lived with him ‘til I was almost seven, then he sent me away."

He brushed his thumb against her cheek, then kissed her forehead. “So there I was. A Scottish boy fostered to an English lord in an English keep. Lord Simon was fair enough, but the little English lads hated me, and I them. I learned quickly tae stay on my toes. Then one day I was'na paying attention, and before I knew it there were five of them and only one of me. Some of them had sticks. They wanted me tae go down on my knees and beg them tae let me go, but I couldn't.” He took a long deep breath and let out slowly.

“Were you too proud?” his wife asked, her voice barely over a whisper.

He smiled and feigned a shiver. “Nay, lass. I was too scared. I could'na move."

She smiled. His strategy was working.

“What happened?"

Before he answered, he stole a kiss. “They beat the stuffin’ out of me. I could'na walk for two days.” He laughed with her, watching as she grew serious again.

“Why would Lord Simon not stop them?"

“I wondered that myself for a time, but I think he thought it was the only way I'd ever learn tae be a man. I suppose that's why he never taught me tae read and write. He used tae tell me it was a waste of his time and that all I'd ever be good for was fightin'."

Elise's smile faded at the same time she frowned—the most emotion she'd shown since going to bed. “He sounds as if he were a cruel man. Surely there were other ways to accomplish the same task."

“Aye. There were. But the next time those lads surrounded me, I decided that I'd get in a few blows of my own. That I'd never let them have that much power over me again."

“You did?"

“Aye. I vanquished my fear, lass, by confrontin’ it."

“What happened?"

“I flattened three of them before either of the other two could get in a good punch. By the time it was all over, I had them on their knees beggin’ for mercy."

She smiled so sadly, that he couldn't resist kissing her again. Much to his delight, she timidly kissed him back, accepting his gentle assault on her mouth, even resting her hand passively on his bare chest. Her touch sent a jolt of primal need straight though him. Taking a breath, he cupped her face and looked into her big green eyes. “There are many ways tae do things, lass. ‘Tis a fact, some ways are better than others. Tanight I want you tae forget the past. I want you tae close your eyes and listen tae the thunder and the rain."

Again, her eyes grew moist, but not a single tear trickled down her face as she put her hand on his cheek. He caught it and placed a kiss in her palm. “You're a brave lass, and I will'na disappoint you."

He moved the covers aside and eased the straps of her chemise off her shoulders, pass her slender hips and off her long shapely legs. Heedless to the increasing intensity of the storm, he carelessly dropped the garment over the side of the bed as lightening arched, illuminating the perfect vision before his eyes.

The sight of her firm breasts brought him to full erection. Her eyes flew open and she flashed a frantic gaze toward the balcony doors as if a demon instead of the rain pounded to get in. William soothed her with softly spoken words, caressing her cheek, coaxing her back from her dark thoughts. He traced her lips with his finger, then dragged it down her chin, over the rapid pulse beating on her ivory neck, and finally to linger between the soft swell of her breasts. Hot shards of desire sliced through him as his heart thudded against his chest. When he bent his head to take a taunt nipple into his mouth, she sucked in her breath.

Deftly, he ran his tongue in circles, teasing first one rosy peak and then the other. She moaned softly in her throat, yet didn't try to move away. Encouraged, his hand skimmed lightly over the satiny plane of her stomach. He stroked the soft curls at the junction of her legs, inching lower, taking care to move slowly until she arched against his probing fingers.

“Saints, lass,” he said gruffly, his arousal nearly painful. He nuzzled her neck then kissed her chin and finally captured her mouth in a ravenous assault, teasing and tasting until she opened her mouth and kissed him back. When he lifted his head, she slowly opened her eyes.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered gruffly as he nibbled the delicate lobe of her ear. “You're wet and ever so hot. Let it happen, lass—let me love you.” He rolled on top of her, his weight braced on his elbows. Thunder cracked directly overhead while the rain continued its frenzied cadence.

“I want you,” she whispered without emphasis.

Something inside William died when he heard the submissive tone of her voice. He steeled himself against the dread that had returned in her eyes. “I want you too, lass, but, only willin'” Though it was torture, he waited, kissing her cheek, moving slowly to her temple. With each kiss, he pulled back, watching the multitude of emotions flicker across her pale features. As if in answer to his silent prayer, she visibly relaxed.

Elise closed her eyes tightly. How in God's sweet name could she deny this man when he so gently aroused so many erotic sensations? In the back of her mind she knew she needed him—needed to be able to convince him that the child growing in her belly resulted from this night of passion. But, she couldn't deny that she needed him in a different way—a way that she had never needed a man before. Her body felt warm and tingly and she very nearly ached to feel him inside.

Convinced that she could do as he asked and still remain detached, she entwined her arms around his neck and pulled him down. He folded her into his arms, entering her at the same time he growled her name in carnal pleasure. He fit her perfectly as if he'd been meant to be hers from the beginning. She grasped him tightly, her heart thudding in harmony with his. Slowly he withdrew, then thrust deeper, again and again until she cried out his name and nestled her face into the crook of his neck.

“Let it happen,” he breathed, matching the rise and fall of her hips. She arched her back, pressing herself closer. Raw with the need to bury himself fully inside in her, he thrust deeper, skillfully escalating her ever closer to her release.

“Aye, my sweet little lassie,” he breathed against her ear, encouraging her. She raised her face to his and he nearly drowned in the untamed passion that glittered in her emerald eyes. “Go with it.” A fine sheen of sweat dampened his hard muscular body as he increased his momentum, driving deeper with his own need for fulfillment. When she finally dug her nails into his back, reaching the apex of ecstasy, he soared with her, spilling himself into her warmth. The rapid pounding of their hearts joined, then slowly calmed as their bodies cooled in the crisp night air. Carefully, so as not to rend the magic of the moment, he rolled over, holding her securely in his arms—safe from the storm.

Chapter 6

William smiled, grateful the darkness shielded it from his wife. The last thing he wanted now, was for her to see his smug satisfaction. He glanced down where she rested her head on his chest, her face hidden by a veil of tousled gold hair. “Are you a bit warmer, lass?” he asked.

Elise didn't think she could draw a proper breath. Never before in her years with Ranulf had she felt such raw power and gentleness combined into one. Her head swam with confusing thoughts. She had yielded to William for only one reason, hadn't she? Then why now, wasn't she so sure?

“Aye,” she said breathlessly, her voice tinged with awe. “Aye. But, I do not know what happened? It ... it felt..."

“You confronted your fear, lass. What you felt—that's what's supposed tae happen. Don't question it. Just lay back, like me, and enjoy the warm feelin’ it leaves in its wake.” He smiled again and knew if she could see it she would most likely call him an arrogant cur.

She raised her head. He quickly looked serious. “Do all women...” she asked hesitantly.

“They should if their men have any sense.” He slipped out from under her, got up unashamed of his nakedness and threw a log in the hearth. He blew on what was left of the coals until it started to burn. When the flames danced up the rough wood, he climbed back into bed. In the flickering light from the fire, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Her lips were full from his kisses, pouting a little as she blinked innocently up at him. The fear was gone, but so was the passion.

A jolt of longing constricted his chest as he pulled her close even though she tried to move to the other side of the big bed. They rested peacefully for several moments, listening to the popping of the fire. In the throes of passion she had submitted and he was grateful, for he had meant to have her, and having her willing made it pleasurable for both of them. But now, lying in a too soft bed next to her, he felt differently. He wanted her to want him.

“Is it harmful?” she asked, drawing him from his thoughts.

He grinned again, but knew better than to laugh. “Nay, lass. You'll live tae experience it again, I promise."

“Then I can expect to have it happen the next time?” Her voice held a hint of anticipation that sent a shard of desire straight to his loins and an arrow of hope to his heart. He looked at her, delighted when she gifted him with a small smile.

“I promise.” He pulled up the quilt. “Here, let's cover up. ‘Tis gettin’ cold in here."

“There's no need.” She started to rise. “I'll go now.” He caught her hand and pulled her back down.

“You'll what?” he said, bewildered. “Go where?"

“Back to my chamber, of course. My lord Ranulf always dismissed me after he sated himself with my body.” She tried to leave again, but once more, her new husband pushed her down, a scowl darkening his features.

“But this is your chamber. Yours and mine, lass."

“Nay,” she said innocently. “I have my own."

“Not any more. We'll have your belongin's moved over here,” he said firmly.

She stared at him as if he'd gone mad. “I cannot."

“Aye, you can and you will.” He yanked the quilt up over them, pulled her into the crook of his arm and yawned.

“But—"

He pushed her head down to rest on his shoulder. “There's no but. Fact is, you're my wife, and where I sleep, you sleep.” He flopped his leg over hers, pulled her even closer and nuzzled her neck. He liked the way she smelled and how she fit so perfectly next to him. They were married, after all. Though he doubted she'd agree, he felt far more satisfied than he had ever felt before. Aye, he confirmed, their marriage would be a good one. And, in time, she would come to recognize it too. The last rumblings of thunder drifted over the crackling fire, and the comforting sounds filled him with a strong desire to share himself with his new bride. Perhaps in sharing himself, she would share herself. “The night's still young, we could talk a spell, if you've a mind to."

His suggestion took her totally by surprise. Suddenly she didn't want to leave. It had been a long tiring day yet there was so much she wanted to know about this unusual man. After all, he was her husband. They were bound before God to spend the rest of their lives together. Earlier, that thought had started her knees to quake, now it made her feel ... safe.

She sighed contentedly and relaxed on his shoulder. What would they talk about? She didn't want to speak of Ranulf nor Morgana. Nay. She didn't want to spoil the moment nor conjure up nightmares. Instead, she tried to think of something that would give her some knowledge. “Robert told me he is your half brother."

“Aye. We share the same father."

William answered her so easily, she decided to push on. “He also said that your mother was English. He is younger than you, is he not?” she asked, yawning herself.

“Aye. Nearly eight years."

“Then your father married again?"

“Nay, lass. He's been married to Robbie's mother all along. There's seven other children. Robbie's the oldest. When our father dies, he'll be the new laird. That's why Donald sent him tae me. I'm supposed tae make a man out of the boy."

Suddenly she remembered. While Ranulf dressed for battle, he had vehemently called the Scot a bastard, stating that even the own man's father won't claim him. She sat up, keeping the quilt modestly over her nakedness. When she looked at her husband, a shadow flicked across his face, but he didn't seem angry. “Forgive me,” she said softly. “I did not mean to—"

“There's nothin’ tae fret about.” His voice washed over her like a warm breeze, chasing away the cold memories of Ranulf. “'Tis a well known fact that my father dallied with my mother. You were right when you called me a bastard—,” she cautiously met his gaze, relaxing when he smiled. “But callin’ me a barbarian, now that's a bit far fetched."

She matched his tender smile. Why was it so easy to return this simple action between them? Ranulf rarely smiled and when he did, it was a sinister smile that filled her with foreboding. Yet when William smiled, it chased away all her darkest fears. “Is your mother still alive?” she asked.

“I suppose. I hav'na seen her since I was a wee lad. I was told she married an English nobleman a few years after I was born. Laird MacDiarmid shared her bed whilst she still lived with her father."

“Laird MacDiarmid?” Elise asked. “I thought your father's last name was MacDarrin."

“I can see where you'd think that, but I dinna take Donald's name, though it's said the old man canna deny me for we look much the same.” William shook his head. “Nay. If he could'na find it in his heart tae claim me as his son by his own free will, then who was I tae force him? I took my name from an old widow woman who was kind tae me when I came home from my training. She had nine other children. I was strong and homeless. She needed help with the young ones, so I guess she dinna mind havin’ me around. If she did, she never told me. Over the years she treated me like her son, so when I took out on my own, she said I'd bring honor tae her family if I'd use her name."

“Do you like children?” Elise asked, immediately regretting her foolish question. Heat warmed her cheeks. “I mean, did you like living with such a large family?"

“I do and I did. In Scotland a man lives with his clan so he gets used tae bein’ around folks of all ages. Over the years, I've come tae learn that a man's nothin’ without a wife and children. His children live on after he's dead and gone. In the meantime, his wife is his life's companion. Her love can sustain him in battle and bring him home alive. I don't think what my father did with my mother whilst his wife lived was right. I don't think he loved her, but rather lusted for her. But, a man can get lonely when he's away from home for long periods of time."

Life's companion. Though she had never thought of a husband being a companion, to do so now was engrossing. Did she dare let herself think a man with William's reputation could actually grow to love her? Nay, she told herself fiercely. William was like any other man—in love with coupling, not with whom he coupled. “So Donald was in England when he met your mother?"

“Aye. As a baron he often traveled tae England tae tend tae politics and other matters."

She thought of her own father fondly. “My father prefers to stay out of politics. I have no brothers or sisters,” she volunteered, sensing no harm in sharing a little of herself with her new husband. “My mother was born here in D'Auvergne and lived here as a child. She had hoped to live all her days within these walls. But it was not to be. She died when I was eleven. My father truly loved her more than life itself. Their marriage was like no other. He was never the same afterwards. I suppose that is why he loves D'Auvergne so much. I know it is why I can never leave."

“Aye. I can imagine."

Could he? Elise wondered. Could a man of his ilk really understand? She doubted he could, but decided for now it was not important to voice her thoughts. Ranulf had taught her long ago, a woman's opinion didn't matter. “When the war threatened to take all that my parents had built, my father was forced to make a pact with King Edward. My marriage to Ranulf was part of that bargain."

“So even though your father agreed to Edward's terms, ‘twas you who paid the highest price."

She glanced over at him to see if he mocked her, but instead, she saw a man who would not be swayed from his opinion that she had been sorely used. “I do not understand."

Her husband rolled over and looked at her. “You, lass. Your father may have made the bargain, but ‘twas you who was made tae suffer. I asked you once before, did he know about Ranulf?"

She looked away refusing to think for even a moment that her father would have encouraged the marriage if he'd known, yet she could not lie about it either. “I do not know, for sure. I could never bring myself to ask him. When Henri learned about Ranulf, he begged me to tell Father about Ranulf. But, I could not burden him with my shame."

“There's no shame in hopin’ tae have love in your marriage. ‘Tis a hope of my own."

She stared into his eyes for several moments stunned by his revelation. She had learned that love and marriage were as far apart as the moon and the sun. But now, the way William took her hand into his and held it as a gallant knight might hold his fair maiden's, her certainty wavered.

Finally, too tired to try to figure out why her husband would care if she had love in her marriage or not, she yawned, pulled her hand away then rolled over onto her side feeling as if she'd shared too much of herself. Several moments passed, then her husband moved closer. He slipped his arm around her waist, molding her to his hard body.

“Do you miss France?” he asked, his breath warm against her ear.

She steeled herself against the dragonflies that stirred to life in her stomach. “I miss my father. Occasionally he sends word that all is well.” Her husband tightened his hold as if he had to shield her from some unknown foe.

“And is everythin’ well with you tanight, lass?"

She knew what he meant, and it revived her wariness. “Aye, my lord. All is well ... for now.” She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the soft kisses he seemed intent on placing all over her bare shoulder. “'Tis late,” she scolded trying not to move when a strand of his long, soft hair tickled her neck.

“Really? And how do you know it's late? I blew out all the candles, even the one with all the funny lines on it."

She shot him a glace over her shoulder. “The lines are there so we can tell what hour it is. It was late when we came in. It must be past midnight by now."

Again his lips brushed over her shoulder, inching upwards to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. She didn't dare turn. Was it possible that a man could couple more than once a night? The way he pressed his hard frame against her, she was almost sure he wanted her again.

Impossible, she reassured herself. Ranulf never mated with her more than once every sennight and then only after hours of trying to arouse him. Surely William would be satisfied for at least a few days. She slipped out from under his arm and tried to place a conservative distance between herself and her new husband.

The bed dipped under his weight then she felt his warm breath upon her neck, yet didn't dare move less she encourage him. But her indifference didn't daunt him either. He simply slid closer, wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her back, acutely close to his hard muscled chest, pinning her to the bed with his heavy thigh.

“It's never too late, lass,” he whispered warmly in her ear.

Chapter 7

The next morning, Elise stretched then opened her eyes. The chamber was delightfully warm, not cold as the rooms in the castle were at such an early hour. She glanced at the still burning remains of what must have been a large pile of logs. As she stared into the cavorting flames, vivid memories of the night spent in her new husband's arms brought a wave of heat up her neck and into her cheeks. He had kept his promise.

Twice more he had made her feel as if she had suddenly sprouted wings and taken flight into the warmth of the sun, the last just before dawn when afterward he had said something about getting some horses saddled.

Had he left at dawn? She couldn't remember. She placed her hand on the indentation of his pillow. It was still slightly warm, a sign that he hadn't been gone long. Too drowsy to wonder what he might be about doing, she rolled over on her stomach and snuggled deeper under the quilt. Moments later, she heard the door open. Not until she felt the bed dip, did she slowly open her eyes.

“Good mornin', lass."

She groaned and turned her head away, but apparently she hadn't offended him as he began to rub her back, drawing his rough, calloused hand across her bare skin. He was quiet for several long moments, yet his hand kept to the task of relieving all her tension, moving up to her shoulders, sliding down her spine. Why didn't her mother teach her about the ways of men? Was this touching, and the sensations it aroused, normal? A burst of hope flared to life deep in her heart.

“What did you put in my wine that first day?” her husband asked.

“I beg your pardon?” Elise asked softly, ashamed that she had let her mind wander and had not properly heard what her husband had asked.

“The wine, lass—the poison you used on me and my men. What was it?"

She lifted her head and after bunching the pillow under her arms, rested her chin on her fists. “A mixture of corn cockle. It grows wild near the wheat fields. The villains know how to find it. Morgana purchased it from them."

“Have you more?” he asked, never missing a stroke as he made his way down to the small of her back.

“Aye,” she murmured. “I've plenty.” She suddenly realized she had slurred her words as he did. “I mean, I have plenty.” She cast him a wary glance over her shoulder. His grin was contagious and she found herself smiling with him. “See what you've made me do?” she scolded. “Your savage accent is becoming more than I can resist."

“And what of me, lass. Do you find me irresistible too?"

She looked into his eyes. He was teasing, she could tell. Yet his question made her wary. Did she dare tell him she savored the feel of his warm mouth against her skin—the easy way her called her lass? Nay, she silently vowed. Never would she reveal this new vulnerability. Not if there was a chance he'd use it against her as Ranulf used her ignorance against her.

“I would not choose the word irresistible to describe you, my lord. Mayhaps persistent is a better term.” His laughter brought another unwilling smile to her lips.

He frowned even though his eyes twinkled with mirth. “Where were we before you strayed from the topic?"

“I did not stray. ‘Twas your hands that wandered, my lord."

His amusement helped to alleviate her apprehension much as a poultice eases the pain from a wound. “I believe you were asking me about corn cockle,” she reminded.

“Oh, aye,” he said thoughtfully. “Is it always fatal?"

Narrowing her eyes, she smiled brazenly. He still thought she had saved his life. Good. Until she knew him better, his doubt could serve a purpose. “Not always, but it can be if given in strong enough doses."

“Good. We'll use it on Baynard."

Her eyes flew open as she twisted in his arms to face him. A mistake realized too late. He kissed her then, not at all disturbed when she didn't kiss him back. “What did you say?” she demanded, pulling the covers up protectively. He paused then helped her tuck them around her breasts, the smile that tugged the corners of his mouth unsettling.

“I said, we'll use it on Baynard. Not enough to kill, just enough to render his men useless, like you did to us.” His hand moved to her bare arm, stroking ever so softly.

Elise's head was spinning. In between kisses and caresses, William carefully laid out his battle plans. He explained that he did not want to kill the man as he was well past his prime, and did not want to be responsible for Baynard's wife growing old alone. As if pouring water from a bucket, Elise's worry for her home slowly drained away. When next he bent to kiss her, she accepted his kiss, even allowed herself to enjoy it—a little.

But, she could not concentrate. When he touched her, she melted as if she were a candle too close to the sun. Yet, his plans were most important to her. After all, D'Auvergne was at stake. She grabbed his hand and firmly held between hers, somewhat amused by the look on his face.

“Baynard has a large army,” she said. “You will need every man to defeat him."

“I canna take all of my men. I will'na leave you and D'Auvergne defenseless. But, I'll need one of your villains tae help so we can slip your little potion inta Baynard's water supply."

She dodged his persistent mouth, sighed irritably then shoved him aside and sat up, mindful to keep her nakedness well hidden. “Impossible. Baynard will kill the poor man on sight."

“Nay, lass. Not if he thinks the man means tae help him."

“But why would he believe that? Ranulf and Lord Baynard were enemies for years.” She cast her husband a skeptical glance, but found herself impressed by the confidence in his eyes.

“Because lass, we'll send him inta their camp under a white flag. He'll tell Baynard that William MacDarrin has killed his master and taken D'Auvergne.” He cupped her cheek. “My reputation will stay intact and Baynard'll think he's comin’ tae rescue a bonny maiden. My plan will buy us time."

Elise's mouth dropped open. “This—this is all to save your reputation, is it not?"

“Nay, lass. Not all of it. But surely you cannot blame me for wantin’ rumors stopped before they're started."

“Rumors? I did capture you and your entire army."

“Aye. And a fine job you did at that.” He stood and filled a goblet with left over wine. “But, what do you suppose would happen tae D'Auvergne if word got out that me and my band of savages were duped by a wee lass like yourself. I'll tell you what. Why, we'd be the laughin’ stock of all of Scotland and England.” He took a sip then gave her a knowing nod. “'Tis my reputation that sends most men runnin’ before the battles begin."

Elise opened her mouth to speak, but then clamped it shut. Though she wanted to deny it, her new husband's logic made perfect sense. She resigned herself to the fact that he knew it too and sighed loudly.

All her questions vanished as he grabbed her hand and forcibly pulled her from the bed, wrapping her in his arms for a moment, before turning her towards the pile of clothes he had removed the previous night. To her mortification, he even patted her bare behind as he gave her a gentle shove.

“Though you're a sight tae behold, you'd better be gettin’ dressed before I decide tae stay abed this fine day."

She scooped up her chemise and quickly pulled it over her head. Is that what lovers did? Tell lies and ignore the other's shortcoming, even though she knew she must look a fright with her hair all tangled?

William's actions almost made her believe the things he did to her were things that two people did that cared for each other and wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. The rest of their lives. That phrase didn't scare her as much anymore. Last night he had proven to her that he was an impressive lover. Just when Elise thought he had forgotten about Baynard, he spoke, his voice strong and confident.

“Nay lass. Remember what we said. Not a wee word can leak out."

She blinked at him. Obviously, while she had been thinking of him, he had been thinking about Baynard. “Aye, milord,” she murmured, feeling a little lethargic. She gave a resigned sigh. Her warrior Scot was like a dog with a bone, refusing to give it up until all the meat was chewed off. “But what if someone sees you before the potion can be mixed in their water?"

“They will'na. But we'll not be able tae trick him twice. He's no fool. He'll lick his wounds and gather his men tae try again. I figure that will take him several months, probably near harvest time. We'll have tae hurry tae build the burgh for—"

“The what?” She yawned loudly.

“The burgh—the wooden palisade around the village tae protect your people, and tae protect our crops. If the fields get trampled in battle, our people with starve this winter.” He placed his goblet on the table.

Elise shrugged on her wrinkled gown, wishing she'd had the foresight to bring a robe. Her husband seemed to know all her fears before she expressed them. He talked as if her people were already his. Odd, but she felt as if they'd been married for much longer than just a day.

He turned her and began to fasten the laces as if it were an every day occurrence. “'Tis imperative tae keep any battles outside the wall. And, if we arm the villains, they'll be sure tae want tae help."

“My people are not warriors,” she said with cool authority. “They will not know what to do."

“Aye, lass, I suspected as much, but we'll remedy that. You and your English lords think only knights can fight. But in Scotland, things are different. Women and children fight along side their husbands and fathers. Your people are no different. They'll want tae save their stock and crops as much as you and I do.” He crossed the short distance to the balcony and pushed open the doors. A cool breeze ruffled his long hair. “How many villagers do you have?

“I do not know for sure."

He turned, his dark brow knotted together. “What do you mean, you're not sure? Have you never gone out tae see?"

Elise ignored his surprised tone. “Ranulf would not permit me to mingle with them. He said they were below our status."

“And did you agree with him?” William asked in mock severity. She didn't have to look to know he had that skeptical expression. Damn his stubbornness. How could she explain that she was sure most of the villains assumed she was a witch and because of this, she was afraid to go out among them?

She shrugged her shoulders. “I have not given it much thought. But, if I disobeyed my lord husband, I was punished."

By the way she tossed her long hair over her shoulder, William sensed she didn't want to go into details. There would be time for that later—later when she realized nothing bad would ever happen to her again. At least, not while he lived and she was his wife. “Then who comes tae help you? Other than the old man you call Henri, I've only caught a glimpse of a single maid."

Elise gathered the rest of her clothing, slipping on her shoes without her stocking. “The woman you saw has many talents. She is very good at fixing my hair, but she is an even better cook. I sent the others far away when Ranulf was killed. Do not concern yourself with them, as my lord Ranulf surrounded himself with pagans."

“And what about the old man?"

Elise looked at William. “Henri is my loyal retainer. His home is with me for the rest of his life and I will never, even if you wish it, send him away.” When William didn't seem disturbed with her outburst, she inwardly heaved a sigh of relief.

“Well then,” he said softly after several moments of silence. “You canna expect our people tae want tae help us if they don't even know us."

“Nay, I suppose not,” she said absently.

“It's gude you agree, because I plan tae start taday. You might want tae change inta somethin’ more comfortable to ride in. I'll have a horse waitin’ as soon as you're ready."

In her own chamber, Elise changed into a fresh gown, a young girl came in insisting that she would surely be killed, if Elise didn't hurry along to meet her husband. The fear in the girl's eyes reminded Elise that just a short time ago, she had known such fear. The girl, though not a child, still had freckles on her nose. Her long auburn hair was neatly plaited and hung in two braids down her back.

“'Tis barely past dawn,” Elise complained, sitting on the edge of the bed to put on the stockings that had been dropped in her lap. She gazed longingly at her own bed. How inviting it looked. When the girl shifted nervously, Elise asked, “What is your name?"

“Annie.” The girl stared at her, looking as if she'd bolt if Elise moved too quickly.

“I will not bite,” Elise said softly.

“I beg your pardon, milady,” the girl said quickly, diverting her gaze to the floor. “'Tis just that ... that my mother told me you were a—"

“A witch?"

The girls eyes opened wide and she looked once more as if she had just seen a ghost. “A-aye.” She licked her dry lips. “They also said that your husband is a—"

“Barbarian?” Elise smiled when the girl nodded. She had been just about this age when she was given to Ranulf. She knew that a fear stemmed from ignorance was nothing to laugh at. “Come here, Annie,” she asked. When the girl stepped closer, Elise took hold of her hand. “See? My touch is as warm as yours. If you were to cut me, I would bleed, just like you. I am not a witch. My lord husband, the one before William, forced me to wear black and to learn the spells of Morgana.” She leaned closer and whispered, “I hated it."

Annie seemed to relax a little. “But what of the barbarian?"

“I assure you that William is not a barbarian. He is a Scottish Chieftain and, I must admit, a little frightening to look upon dressed as a warrior. But as I, he has been falsely accused."

Annie looked as if she didn't completely believe what Elise has told her. Instead, she flashed an anxious glance toward the door. “The master wants you to hurry, mistress."

Elise stood then quickly sat back down as a wave of sickness washed over her like a bad smell. “Annie,” she said slowly. “I left my brush in the master's chamber. Please fetch it for me."

The girl dashed out the door as Elise hurried to the garderobe to be ill. Afterwards, she filled the basin with cold water and splashed it on her face. She felt a little better, but her stomach still rebelled. She had barely recovered when Annie came back without the brush. Elise forced a stiff smile.

“I forgot. ‘Twas here the whole time.” She sat and let the girl remove the tangles from her hair then braid it. “Leave it down,” she said when Annie began to arrange it on top of her head. “My head aches this morning."

Clad in a gold velvet riding gown, Elise finally made her way down the steps, pausing when she felt too dizzy to continue. She managed to paste a smile on her face by the time she entered the great hall. Her husband raised his gaze to meet hers when he heard her footfalls on the steps. He spoke quietly with Robert and several other men then came to her and offered his arm.

He wore a muslin shirt with his tartan draped over his shoulder. The laces of his shirt were untied, giving her a glimpse of his muscular chest. Her heart quickened its pace. Where Ranulf's had been covered in coarse black hair, William's was bare. Bare, but a deep bronze that looked as if he were carved from the finest marble. Why hadn't I remembered that from last night? she wondered. She realized she had been staring and quickly glanced up to meet his mischievous gaze. He grinned, but then his brows came together in a concerned frown.

“Are you ill?” he asked. “You're as white as new born lamb."

“Nay, my lord. Just a little tired."

His arrogant smile caused heat rise to up her cheeks. She covered her embarrassment with a stern frown. Lately she found herself in a constant flush when ever her husband flirted with her, giving her cause to wonder if she'd ever get used to his roguish ways?

“I've oatcakes and cider waitin',” he said.

“Nay, my lord. I do not usually eat so early,” she lied, willing her stomach to settle. Once again, he looked at her with a guarded expression, covering her cold hand with his own warm one. He led her outside and down the steps to where two palfreys were saddled and waiting.

“Do you ride, lass?"

“Aye. My father insisted I learn."

“Good. Then mayhaps after we're through visitin’ the village, we'll take us a little ride and see what this fine land has tae offer."

Chapter 8

Several deep breaths of the rain-washed air made Elise feel much better. The sunshine began to chase away the morning's chill, lifting the trepidation from her heart as she accepted William's help to mount the horse. After he had adjusted her stirrups and handed her the reins, he mounted and led the way through the gate.

“I've been thinkin',” he began once they were riding side by side. “Baynard will be gatherin’ his men."

“So soon?” she asked. “My lord Ranulf has only been dead less than a week. Surely word has not yet reached Lord Baynard.” She glanced at William and frowned, old worries creeping back. He was, indeed, a strong man, and had easily defeated her husband.

But Reginald Baynard was the strongest of the neighboring warlords with the gold needed to keep his army loyal. She had seen the Scots fight, and though they knew well how to wield a claymore, they owned little or no armor and would be easy prey for Baynard's knights and archers if William's plan failed.

Her brows knotted even more. Before, when she had chosen to bargain with the huge Scot, she hadn't given a thought to his welfare, solely concerned with her own. But now—now she felt her heart twist with rekindled fear and something else—uncertainty. Did she fear losing William because D'Auvergne would be at risk again, or did she fear losing William because she was beginning to care for him? Surely it has to be for D'Auvergne, she told herself adamantly.

“We might take a few horses while we're at it,” he said calmly, breaking into her unsettling thoughts.

Flustered, Elise glanced at her husband. Had she heard him correctly? While she had been offering a small prayer for his safety and that of her precious home, the object of her misplaced concern had been scheming ways to fill his purse. “Did you just say that you are planning to steal Baynard's horses?

“Aye. Ranulf killed mine.” William nodded, but before she could say anything, he added, “I was fond of that horse."

Elise slowly turned in the saddle to stare at her new husband. He seemed genuinely upset over loosing a beast of burden, yet she couldn't understand why a man, proclaimed to be a barbarian, would care. She felt the need to ease his loss. “Take Ranulf's,” she blurted out.

“Oh, I would, but I killed him. Had ta. Ranulf was tryin’ tae run me down with the brute. ‘Twas a terrible waste. A fine big bay he was too.” William positioned his horse where every so often his leg brushed against hers. She sensed that he did it on purpose for each time she moved away, he nudged his horse closer, persistent as a young lover trying to stay close to his fair maiden.

Each time they touched, she felt the dragonflies in her belly jump to life. She shot him a cautious glance. When he left to do battle would he miss her as much as she would miss him?

“Is there somethin’ else you want?” he asked

“Nay,” she said, agitated by the sudden rush of heat that surged though her limbs as she realized she had a lackadaisical grin on her face. She toyed with her horse's mane, forcing herself to look more serious. “I suppose my lord husband had other war horses in the stable. He prided himself on owning only the best. You can have one of them ... all if you choose."

“Con I now? Why that's very generous of you.” William's tone had changed. It now held an unfamiliar icy edge.

Confused, Elise's head snapped up. “I did not mean to offend you, my lord."

“Well you have,” he said tightly. “You've a habit that's got tae go if we're tae have a happy marriage."

“I beg your pardon, my lord?” Had he just said happy marriage? She couldn't look away, meeting his intense gaze, unaware that she held her breath.

“That's it. That damned my lord, lass. Which one of us are ya talkin’ about now?” His Scottish brogue had grown stronger with each word—a warning that his anger was in full feather.

She expelled her breath, disappointed, but not sure why. “You're not making any sense,” she said with a sharp edge, trying to keep her frustration in check. She was almost sure he had said the word happy. And, Saints-Esprit save her, she was sounding more and more like a Scot, rolling her r's and slurring her words.

“Let me see if I can clear it up a bit for ya. When you're referrin’ tae my lord husband, just which husband are ya talkin’ about, Ranulf or me?"

She suddenly realized why he had become angry. “Oh,” she said, angry herself. “How petty you are, William MacDarrin. I have only just been widowed. Forgive me if I made a mistake and referred to my dead husband, whom you murdered, as my lord. It was only out of habit. And, I assure you, I will not make the same mistake with you, for as I covered him with dirt, I swore on his grave that no man will ever be lord over me again."

She pressed her heels to her horse's flanks, but her Scot caught her reins before she could make good her escape.

“Is that what ya think I want from this marriage?” he nearly shouted. “Tae be your master?"

“A-Aye,” she cried with a rebellious toss of her head. “'Tis perfectly clear, all men are the same. Ranulf was nice to me too, at first. But soon, he changed, as you will when you learn that I will no longer be made to feel like a common whore."

“Common? Nay lass, you're far from that,” William stated in a cold, hard voice. “I dinna think what we shared last night was common a'tal. But, I'll tell ya this, I'll not touch ye again, ‘til ye beg me for it.” He turned her horse loose. “And that's a promise, lass.” Without preamble, he galloped his horse toward the village, leaving her to stare at his departing back.

More afraid to be outside the wall than she was angry at her husband, Elise urged her mount to catch up. Once along side, she raised her chin, ready again to do verbal battle with him. Damn him for making her lose control so easily. She cursed her uncertainty. Three years ago, she would have brazenly ridden into her father's village unafraid, confident that she could win their love and respect.

But not now. Now, she wondered to what extent they knew of Ranulf and his penchant for witchcraft. Would these simple, God-fearing people think her a witch and demand their new master to cleanse her with fire? For a breath of a moment, she thought how easy it would be for William to have everything she promised in their bargain as well as D'Auvergne, and she was powerless to stop him.

William pulled his horse down to a walk. He had planned to spend the day with his bride and not let anything dampen his pleasure in getting to know her better. But not like this. Now, he had let his pride make a promise he didn't want to keep, but he knew that same pride would force him to do so.

As he suspected, Elise stopped several lengths before reaching the first cottage and cast a wary glance over her shoulder at him before looking back at the first few villains who had spotted their approach. By the stiff set of her back, and the tight hold on her reins, he knew she was afraid, even though she held her head high. Her insecurity bit into him like an annoying insect.

A beautiful young woman as she, should have been allowed to experience life, not be shut away behind stone walls and abused. Ranulf mush have been an ogre as well as perverse to treat such a delicate flower so badly.

“Saints be damned, but you're a fool, William,” he muttered under his breath, angry with himself for letting his jealousy get the upper hand. The fact that he admitted to the emotion, surprised him, but then ever since he'd met Elise, he been in a state of amazement.

He was amazed that he had agreed to wed a stranger who had tried to kill him. Even now, he was amazed that he was out riding about the countryside when Baynard was most likely gathering his army.

And another thing caused a cloud to darken what William wanted to be a perfect day. His men were used to sharing the spoils of their successful raids and moving on to the next keep. How long would their loyalty last knowing that their leader had so easily been duped by a woman?

Yet from the moment he'd seen his brother drag her into the hall, his heart had taken control, over-riding his normally good sense. He felt much like an untried youth, panting after his first love. Love? He brushed the possibility that he was falling in love with his young bride quickly aside. Lust, mayhaps, but love?

Love was never mentioned in the terms of their bargain. His services were needed to protect D'Auvergne and, in doing so, see to his wife's safety. Taking care of someone and loving them were two different things, were they not? William gave a disgusted snort, of course they were.

He cast a sideways glance her direction as he dismounted, her apprehensive expression tearing into him. When she thought her home in jeopardy, she had possessed the courage of a great warrior—willingly sacrificing herself for her home and her people by marrying a Scottish Chieftain. Now, faced with meeting the villain's who depended on that courage to protect them, she faltered. Shoving his hurt pride aside, William's anger died as quickly as it had escalated. He also made himself another promise. His wife would never be afraid again.

Elise glanced at the villagers. Some were openly scowling, while others, holding staffs and pitch forks, mumbled among themselves. So intent on watching the villains, she never noticed that William had dismounted. She hated the way she jumped when he put his hand on hers, drawing her attention. She swallowed hard and looked down at him.

“Ridin’ inta the village is the English way, not the Scottish way,” he said so only she could hear. “We'll walk in together."

Their eyes met, but she couldn't bring herself to lean into his waiting arms. “Nothin’ bad will happen.” The tenderness in his voice made her realized she was far safer with him than being left alone. She quickly accepted his help and dismounted.

On the ground, she felt even more threatened, but conjured up the courage to follow her husband as he strode directly up to the villagers. Obviously intimidated by his size, the few in front took stumbling steps backwards.

“Good marnin',” he said, nodding at the men. “My name is William MacDarrin. I imagine that you're all a wee bit curious tae see the new master of D'Auvergne."

Some of the villagers nodded. A few of their women poked their heads around their men, relieving a little of Elise's anxiety. Certainly they wouldn't try to harm their master and his lady before their women and children, would they? His arm came around her waist as he hauled her up close to his side. For a moment she thought to protest his brazen behavior in front of these strangers, but quickly dashed it. To her, they all looked hostile, and wasn't it part of their marriage bargain—for him to protect her?

“You can put down your weapons,” William's strong voice didn't quite scare away all her concerns, but she certainly felt more secure so close to his side. “I'm not wearin’ a blade. I've come tae speak tae the men, face tae face, and let you all know that you're safe for the time bein'."

Elise's mouth went dry. How did he expect to protect her without a sword or a dagger? She fought the urge to grasp the small knife she always carried on the girdle around her waist.

A little boy broke through the crowd holding a baby pig. He looked up at William and smiled. Much to Elise's surprise, William ruffled the boy's hair, then bent down to tell the child he had a fine piglet. When he turned the boy around and gently pushed him toward his very frightened mother, a surge of pride shot through Elise. She listened as he told the men what he planned to do, carefully explaining the burghs and the part they would be expected to play in guarding their homes. Some of them continued to frown, but most of them relaxed and moved closer to ask questions.

Although she tried not to let it bother her, Elise felt the women watching as if they expected her to sprout dragon's wings, spit fire and fly away. She wanted to make eye contact, but couldn't find the courage to do it.

By the time her husband was ready to leave, the men of the village had much to discuss. The fact that William the Barbarian walked into their village on foot with not a single weapon was only a small part of what she was sure would be discussed. The other thing that she hoped would keep the men talking long after the master had gone was that he had only brought his wife with him, and she looked like any other woman, not the witch most thought her to be.

William chose to lead the horses away from the village, rather than to mount and ride. The winter-dry grass was thick, dotted with grazing sheep and oxen. Occasionally a meadow lark dashed from her nest, squawking her annoyance at being disturbed. “This land is rich,” William said, scooping up a handful of soil and letting it sift through his fingers. He glanced over at his wife. “What crops do you plant?"

She shrugged. “I do not know for sure, but mostly wheat ... some barley, rye, and oats, and—"

William smiled. “I thought you dinna know?"

She smiled back. He reached for her hand, but she moved it. He tried again, this time capturing her hand in his and lacing his fingers through hers before she could slip away. Hand in hand, they walked through the fields toward the river. When her husband stopped and looked at the castle rising majestically on the mound, he shook his head and sighed like a man looking at a beautiful woman.

Elise followed his gaze. D'Auvergne rose above the land as majestic, she thought, as Edward's Windsor. The morning sun shown gold against the stone walls—the stone so smooth, not a handhold could be found, declaring to all who opposed her, that she would not be easily scaled. The two large towers thrust their crowned heads upwards to staggering heights, dotted with deadly arrow slits.

“She's a sight,” he said softly.

“She's that and more.” Elise slipped her hand free and took a step forward, her eyes fastened on D'Auvergne. “Someday, my son will rule her as she deserves to be ruled.” She realized what she said, but too late. She cautiously glanced over at William to see if he caught her mistake. When he looked at her, he raised one dark brow.

“I thought you wanted D'Auvergne for yourself?"

She nodded. “Aye, I said that, but I meant that I did not want her to fall into the hands of my enemies.” She swallowed when he still didn't look away. “I assume it is only logical to expect children from our union."

“Aye, logical indeed."

“Well, then. ‘Tis not unlikely that someday our son will rule D'Auvergne.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder. “Shall we ride, my lord?"

Chapter 9

Elise accepted William's help, and adjusted her reins while he mounted his own horse. “You ride well for a Scot,” she said matter-of-factly. He gave her a side-ways glance.

“Do I now?"

She sighed. By his tone, they were about to have another confrontation and she really didn't feel up to it. Her head still ached, and she was dreadfully tired for doing nothing most of the morning. “I did not mean anything by saying so,” she defended. “I merely thought that most Scottish warriors went about the countryside on foot."

“Aye, some do,” William stated suspiciously.

“And yourself, my lord? Did you always gallivant about on horseback?"

“Nay, lass. Not until I killed my first English lord, did I acquire a horse.” He smiled smugly. “It was a bit difficult runnin’ up tae him ... seein’ that he was ridin’ a horse and all, but bein’ a Scotsman, used tae runnin’ up mountains without breakin’ a sweat, I caught him easily enough."

She tried hard not to smile, but when she glanced over at her husband and saw the roguish twinkle flickering in his silvery eyes, she burst out in laughter. “Ran right up to him, did you?"

“Aye, but only after his horse wore out a bit. ‘Tis crossin’ the rivers that really tires them beasties down."

She could hardly contain herself. The pictures he painted in her mind were so vivid. She shook her head. “You, my lord, are a scoundrel and surely you are well on your way to hell for telling lies."

William rode up next to her, leaned over grabbed her and kissed her soundly. “Who's lyin', lass? Me? Or you?"

They stared at each other for several long moments before he released her and cued his horse into a slow canter, laughing as she urged her mount to catch up. His question dulled her enjoyment. Did he suspect something?

She tried not to think about it as he led her across the meadow and into the forest. The deeper they road, the more the sun struggled to shine down through the trees. Elise kept the mare close on William's trail, feeling a little foolish that the denseness of the forest made her feel uncomfortable. Mayhaps her anxiety was due to the knowledge that Morgana had lived in the forest before she had bewitched Ranulf.

Elise glanced back from whence they had come. The thick grass and ferns covered their tracks almost as soon as the horses hooves left the earth. She swallowed past her dry throat. If William were to lead her into the woods with the intent to loose her, he would easily accomplish it. She seriously doubted she'd be able to find their tracks. She shook the thought aside, yet cued her mare to quicken her pace.

They rode silently for about an hour when at last they came to a lush clearing. William pulled his mount to a halt and helped Elise down, dashing her dark thoughts with his warm smile. He escorted her to a large oak and bid her sit upon the bed of last year's fallen leaves.

To her surprise, he didn't immediately let go of her hand. Only when a roguish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth did she feel compelled to slip her fingers from his grasp. A tiny bit flustered, she adjusted her skirt to cover her shoes, but at the same time her stomach rumbled loudly.

“Are you hungry, lass?” William asked, his smile now a mischievous grin.

Elise felt her cheeks heat with color. “Aye, my lord, yet I fear that I did not have the forethought to bring anything to eat with us. Mayhaps we should return to D'Auvergne."

“You don't ride out too often, do you?"

She couldn't pull her gaze from his, even though her good sense told her to beware. “Nay, my lord, it was not permitted."

“Aye,” he said with a tinge of disgust. “Well, we've ridden too far tae return without first havin’ a little somethin’ tae eat.” He rested his hands on his hips for a moment as if deep in thought, then reached around his back, and from under his tartan, pulled out a very nasty looking knife—too long to be a dagger, yet too short to be a sword.

“You were armed the whole time?” she asked.

He gave her a perplexed frown. “Aye. Only a fool would ride out without a weapon."

“But you told the villains—"

“I told them what they wanted tae hear—tae ease their fear. I'd have never put you in danger, lass.” He winked. “Wait here. I'll be right bock."

Elise watched as he walked away, wondering what he was about. When his form became difficult to discern from the thick brush and tress that surrounded the little clearing, old fears began to surface. Wild animals lived in the forest. Ranulf had told her that boars often charged without provocation and could tear a man into pieces. William was no longer visible, nor could she hear his footfalls crunching in the dead leaves and needles on the forest floor.

Several moments later, a bird burst from its hiding place atop a tree nearby. Elise jumped—her heart racing. She cast a frantic glance at the horses. They grazed quietly, unaffected by the bird's sudden flight. Taking a calming breath, she stood and dusted off her gown. If she had to make a quick departure, it would be much easier if she were already standing.

She carefully approached William's big warhorse. The saddle had no sword tied to the pommel, only the usual leather bags draped over the horse's rump. She opened the flap and looked inside. Other than a small wooden box and a coil of string, she didn't see anything of any interest.

She moved around to the other side and found a round loaf of bread wrapped carefully in a clean white cloth. More hungry than scared, she tore off a small chunk and popped it into her mouth. It tasted wonderful and she began to nibble on little pieces plucked from the loaf as she waited for William to return.

A stick snapped behind her and she spun to find herself face to face with her husband. Had he been a robber or worse, one of Baynard's men, he would have captured the Lady Elise as she devoured, single handedly, a loaf of bread from a saddle bag. The thought made her face burn, as did the bemused grin on her husband's face.

He held a dead hare by the ears, but how he had killed the animal was a complete mystery as there were no traces of blood on the fur. One other thing puzzled her too. How had her husband been able to approach her without making a sound?

“Why did you sneak up on me?” she demanded, after she was sure her voice wouldn't betray the fact that he had frightened her nearly to death.

William raised one dark brow. “I dinna sneak lass. I walked out of the forest as normal as any man could. Had you not had your head buried in my saddle bag, you would've noticed."

“I was hungry. You left me alone. How was I to know if you were coming back?” she said defensively.

William's expression changed before her eyes. Gone was the sparkle of amusement. His brows snapped together and he took a step toward her, but she took one back, afraid she had overstepped her bounds.

“'Twas, indeed, careless of me, lass,” William said softly, gazing deeply into her eyes. “I'm sorry. I dinna realize you'd be afraid to stay with the horses."

“'Tis I who should apologize, my lord,” she began in what she thought was a forgiving voice. “As a man of your word, I should have known you would honor our agreement and not leave me unprotected."

“Aye. ‘Twas only the agreement that brought me back,” he said sarcastically. “And the fact that you have tae keep your part of our bargain and sleep in my bed again tonight."

He turned away before she could respond and walked over to where a log had fallen. The sting of his mockery made her wonder what she could have said that wounded his manly pride. Sorely tempted to voice her irritation at being dismissed, she decided against it. Instead, she chose to see what he intended to use to gut and skin the hare. The blade he'd shown her before was much too large.

She had only taken a few steps, when he pulled out a short dagger from his boot. She shook her head. The man had more hidden weapons than a sorceress had secrets. When he speared the animal with the knife, she quickly looked away, preferring to picture the hare roasting over a fire.

While William worked, she strolled around the clearing and gathered wild spring flowers. The birds chirped from the tree tops and butterflies darted from one flower to another, dodging bees. Listening to the sounds of the forest, no longer did she see evil fairies hiding behind every rock.

The smell of smoke caused her to turn around to see William adding twigs to the smoldering pile of grass he had placed in a ring of stones. He had jammed two forked sticks into the soft ground and upon them placed a thicker stick bearing the hare. There wasn't time to think of the poor creatures demise, for as William added wood to the fire, the smell of roasting meat wafted over the air and soon had her mouth watering.

“Will it take long to cook?” she asked standing beside him as he sat by the fire and turned the stick ever so often.

“Nay. ‘Tis a small hare.” He glanced up at her and she found herself gazing into the most splendid eyes she'd ever seen. The sunlight danced on his hair, turning it into the color of raven's wings. His eyes fused with hers in a fashion that caused her heart to skip a beat. When he held out his hand, she took it and he pulled her into his arms.

His mouth was on hers in an instant, and unlike before, she responded, tasting his mouth, then tentatively touching his lips with her tongue as he had done to her. In her quest to be a little more aggressive, she leaned slightly forward, pressing her breasts intimately against his chest. She thought she heard him groan. When she pulled back to see why, the passion smoldering in the depths of his eyes answered her question—just as the smell of singed meat wafted over them.

“Our meal is burnin', lass,” he said, setting her away. A few moments later, he sliced off a hunk of meat. It was an uncivilized way to eat, but nevertheless she looked forward with great enthusiasm to tasting the food. This time when her stomach rumbled, she didn't try to cover the sound, she only reached for the leg William held out to her.

The earthy smells of the forest mixed with the savory smells of their feast made her feel as if she could eat the whole hare by herself, however she managed to eat slowly so as not to appear too ravenous.

She glanced over at her husband and found him watching. She nodded and licked her fingers. “'Tis delicious, my lord."

“I can tell,” he said easily, tossing a bone into the bushes and wiping his hands on his kilt. Their meal was over too soon, and while he fetched the wandering horses, Elise marveled how well the man fit in this untamed land. She must have had a silly grin on her face, because when he returned, he had that mischievous twinkle dancing in his eyes once more.

“Did you miss me whilst I was gone?” he asked, unashamed of his arrogance.

“Did I miss you?” She placed her finger on her chin and pretended to ponder his question, before shaking her head. “Nay."

He grinned as he placed his hands on her waist and bent his head as if to kiss her. She leaned slightly forward and closed her eyes, eager to accept—yelping in surprise as he whisked her up into the saddle instead.

Once again he led the way through the forest, the silence between them more comfortable now that Elise was no longer afraid. “How is it, my lord, that you know your way so well through D'Auvergne's forest?"

He turned in the saddle and raised his brows. “This is your forest?” He faced forward. “My men and I have spent many a day huntin’ in your forest, only we dinna know it was yours. We thought it belonged tae Scotland."

“This land, these trees, why even the hare you killed, belongs to D'Auvergne. When you camped here, you were trespassing. When you hunted, you were poaching."

“Nay lass,” he said flatly, never pausing to look back. “We were survivin'."

“Survival,” she scoffed. When he didn't respond to the taunt, she thought about what he said. The truth in his words settled over her like the shade from the tall trees. She wished she could retract her assertion. Even though she had not said it with any malice, it was a selfish, uncaring remark. In the future, she decided she would take more care in choosing her responses.

The day had proved too pleasant to ruin it with foolish words. She pressed her heels to her mare and shortened the distance between herself and William's stallion.

Chapter 10

Each day for the next five, William awoke Elise with a back rub and the promise of another day spent outdoors. At first, she thought to argue, but remembering how pleasant it had been to converse with her new husband, and in doing so, learn more about him, she would ask him to leave her under the pretense that she needed some time to dress, using the excuse to subdue the sickness that plagued her most every morning. When at last, she could force a smile and descend the stairs he would greet her with a kiss and eagerly take her to her waiting horse.

This time as they rode through the fields, men were busy plowing and planting, and though she was glad to see them working, the looks they tossed her made her glad when they finally entered the shelter of the forest. It seemed only a short time later, when William led them down a ravine to the river. He stopped and easily swung down from his horse.

In spite of his size, the man moved gracefully, barely making a sound. He caught her horse's reins, then lifted her down, slowly, deliberately sliding her down the full length of his muscled body, awakening the woman in her once more. She searched his languid gaze wondering if he felt it too.

“Do you fish, lass?"

Lost in her lusty thoughts, Elise blinked several times before she could answer. “Fish?"

“Aye. Fish. Why is it, I always say somethin’ and you repeat it?"

“Repeat it? I do not.” She closed her eyes, instantly annoyed with herself. “Nay, my lord. I do not fish, nor do I care to.” She raised her chin and pushed away from him. Surely, she could think more clearly standing farther apart.

“Well,” he said. “'Tis a good day tae learn.” He dug around in his saddle bag then pulled out some string and the little wooden box she had seen before while looking for food. He glanced her way, but she quickly looked the other.

When he started to hum a little toe-tapping tune, she bent and using the guise of picking up a fallen pine cone, watched him find a long skinny stick. When he looked her way, she pretended to examine the pine cone.

Curiosity, she decided, is a terrible thing. She could hardly bear not to look, but knew the moment she did, he'd catch her. He was far too arrogant as it was.

Apparently he knew she was interested, because it seemed to her that he was going to great lengths to do what ever it was he was doing. Annoyed, she pitched the cone into the babbling, fast-running water.

“Don't do that, lass,” came her husband's voice closer than she expected. “You'll scare away the fish.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along as he made his way down the rocky bank to the water's edge. In his right hand, he grasped his stick. To the end of the stick, he had tied the string.

“You expect to catch fish with that?” she said, her voice light with barely concealed laughter.

“Aye, I do."

“Then perhaps I should ride back and bring us some more bread, for surely we will starve if we must depend on that contraption."

“So you don't think this will work?” he asked, raising a dark brow in a challenge she could not refuse.

“I would wager two gold pieces that it will not."

“Just two?"

She caught her lip between her teeth for a moment in thought. Everyone knew fish were caught with nets in waters far larger than this paltry stream. “Mayhaps three, but no more."

“How about three pieces for each fish I catch?” His expression was delightful, so full of confidence that she could not resist.

“So be it,” she said, smoothing her skirt as she sat on a flat rock. “Please,” she motioned to the water, “do not let me disturb you. Begin."

He nodded, then pulled out his dagger and dug in the muddy bank. Soon he found what he'd been looking for—a big fat worm. She grimaced as he speared it onto a hook he had tied at the other end of the string. He turned and winked at her before tossing the worm into the sparkling water. Sitting on the grassy bank, he held his stick like a little child might hold a pretend sword.

Elise rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her palm, preparing to wait. She had barely settled when he skillfully flipped a wiggling fish to the ground near her feet. She yelped and threw him a dark look, finding it difficult not to smile when he laughed.

“That is disgusting,” she said, sticking her nose up in the air so she didn't have to watch the poor thing flop around.

“Nay, lass,” her Scot said smugly in a low voice, “that's three pieces of gold."

He pulled out another, thicker string from the small leather purse he wore on his belt and ran it through the fish's mouth and out one of its gill, tying it off. After removing the hook, he held up his catch by the cord. Once again, he reminded her of a small boy showing off something wonderful he had done. Elise could not help smiling. Only when he held his finger up to his mouth to keep her quiet, did she have to fight the urge to laugh out loud.

William, the man Ranulf had referred to as the barbarian, dug in the mud again, and brought up yet another fat, juicy worm. It seemed to Elise that the moment he threw the hook back into the water, he flipped out another large fish.

“Six gold pieces,” he added.

By the fourth fish, Elise had lost her distaste for the sport, and found herself wishing she could try in spite of her husband's deep voice calling out, “Twelve pieces of gold."

Rising from her rock, she inched closer, watching over her husband's shoulder. She looked down at him when he raised his head and grinned. When he patted the grassy spot beside him, she accepted his invitation and sat, unmindful of getting dirt or grass stains on her gown.

“Do you always use a stick?” she whispered.

“Aye, but we Scots call it a rod.” The vibrant sound of his rolling “r's” made her want to smile. Before she could object he placed the rod into her hands.

“How will I know if I have one,” she asked, leaning close to him so her voice wouldn't carry and scare away her prey.

“Just watch your line and when it jumps around, pull it up as fast as you can, but don't jerk it or you'll pull the hook out of its mouth."

No sooner had he warned her, when she felt the rod bob in her hands. She gasped, and threw her husband a fearful glance. “Help me,” she cried, trying to remember what he had just said.

“You can do it,” he encouraged, hauling her up to her feet, yet staying behind her. His warm hands never left her waist.

“Pull ‘em out, lass, pull ‘em out."

Elise flipped out a large, wiggling bream. She squealed with delight as it flopped around in the grass. “Look, William,” she cried excitedly, “I did it. I did it."

He laughed with her as he tried to catch the elusive fish. “Do not let him get away,” she warned.

William quickly added her prize to the others. Both he and Elise had bits of dirt and grass stuck to their hands, but he still pulled her into his arms and gave her a hug. “I'm proud of you, lass. You'll be a fisherman yet.” He held up the largest fish, even though she was almost sure hers was the one next to it. “Look at the size of this brute. Why he'll practically feed my whole army."

She smiled proudly, not caring which fish was hers, only caring that the man she had married made her feel wonderful and free. Never in her days with Ranulf had she ever shared such a common pleasure. Fishing, she decided, was splendid.

By the time the sun started to sink on the Chevoit hills, she had caught three more.

“Well now, “William began. “Shall we clean them?"

Her smile faded. “Clean them?"

“Aye. I've got a better knife in my saddle bag. Here,” he thrust the heavy string of fish into her hand. “Hold these, and I'll be right back.” She watched him climb up the ravine.

Elise raised the fish and looked at them. How would one clean a fish? She glanced at the river, then smiled knowingly. By the time her husband got back from the horses she'd have the task done. She knelt down and carefully dipped the dead fish into the water, over and over again until all the bits of grass and leaves were washed away by the swift current. Satisfied their catch was clean, she stood just in time to see her husband coming back with his dagger.

“Come with me,” he said, “and I'll show you how tae clean a bream."

“But I already know.” She held them up. “See. I washed them in the river.” When he looked as if he wanted to burst out in laughter, her bright smile dwindled. “What is it?” she asked with a perplexed frown.

“Nothin', nothin’ a'tal.” He took the fish and inspected them thoughtfully. “Aye, now that I look a wee bit closer, I can see that you've washed them clean as can be, for certain.” He tucked the dagger into his belt. “You'd better wash your hands, lass. We've got tae get back soon.” When she was done, he gave her back the string of fish while he washed his hands.

“This is a good spot,” he said, rising. He dried his hands on his tartan. “We'll come back when it's warmer and take a swim."

Her husband led her back to the horses and once seated securely in the saddle, handed her the string of fish. “You'll be the envy of every man who sees you with such a fine catch.” He patted her leg affectionately before he mounted his horse. Together they rode back to the castle.

* * * *

Just as William had said, his men turned to look at her, but it was not envy that she felt. It was something far different and far more frightening. Their faces held no amusement at seeing her with a string of fish, nay, they held the scowls of resentment, and the intensity of them made her shiver.

None too soon, she thought, they were at the steps with two young lads waiting to take their mounts. She handed the fish to William and in turn, he handed them to Robert who came over at his brother's call.

“What do ya want me tae do with these?” Robert asked.

“Hush,” William whispered harshly. He cast a glance over his shoulder at Elise who had paused to speak to the boys. “Take them and gut them."

“But, why dinna you do that at the river?” Robert protested.

William threw his brother a dark look. “Because I dinna, that's why, now go, and Robbie,” the young man turned, “not a word about this tae my wife, understand?"

“Don't worry, brother, my lips are sealed."

William grinned, then took Elise by the elbow and started up the steps. Angus and Titus sat on the stone balustrade, Titus cleaning his nails with the tip of a large, ugly knife. Both men gave her a disgusted look then stood, placing themselves between her and William.

“We'd like a word with you William,” Angus stated flatly.

“Later, lads,” William said, he nodded to Elise, encouraging her to finish the last few steps to the door.

“We want tae talk now,” Angus replied.

Elise turned to wait for her husband. His features had grown stern. Gone from his eyes was the twinkle she had grown fond of, replaced by cool authority.

“Can it not wait ‘til later?” he asked, sighing impatiently. “'Tis nearly supper time. We can talk then.” His voice was tinged with something she couldn't quite ken. He started to step around them, but Angus placed his hand on William's shoulder, blocking his way. Tension crackled in the air like lightening in a stormy sky.

“Now, William.” The big man jammed his meaty finger against William's chest, openly hostile. “It'll only take a moment or two, if'n you can pull yer nose out from under her skirts."

Angus was not only rude he was also vulgar, Elise thought. Had he been a soldier of Ranulf's he would be missing his head, but the Scots were different. A savage breed, she assumed William saw nothing offensive in his captain's speech.

She fixed her cool gaze on her husband, but when he did nothing to admonish his man for his behavior, she squared her shoulders, and left him with his men.

“Mon agneau,” Henri said, looking up from filling a pitcher with wine. “You were gone for such a long time. I was beginning to worry."

Her annoyance forgotten, Elise hurried over to her friend. “Henri. I had a most delightful day. William taught me how to catch a fish using a branch from a tree and some string."

Henri smiled with her. “'Tis so good to see you smile again.” He glanced at the door. “Where is Master William?"

Her smiled turned into a frown. “He is busy with his men. The one they call Angus spills insults each time he opens his mouth. I do not understand why William tolerates the insolent cur.” She lifted her skirts and began to climb the steps, unaware that Henri's smile had faded. “Would you find Annie and have her fetch water for my bath?"

* * * *

William gave Angus and Titus a hard glance. “All right, lads, we'll talk now.” He led them into the hall, glad that Elise had already gone upstairs. He sloshed mead into three goblets and after giving one to each man, grabbed one for himself. He took a long draught then faced Angus. “I can tell somethin's wrong,” he stated, narrowing his eyes. “Let's have it."

“We think yer growin’ soft.” Angus tossed his head toward Titus as if speaking for the smaller man. “We should be sharin’ the loot, but instead of takin’ it and headin’ home, ye went and married a witch."

“We don't like the way she has ye around her lit'le finger,” Titus added. “Most of us think she's been putin’ somethin’ in yer drink to keep ya under her spell."

William frowned as if in thought, a slight smile evident on his lips, but not in his eyes as he examined the contents of his cup. When he finally chose to look at Angus, his voice was soft, but deadly. “I don't like the way ya call her a witch. But since I'm a reasonable man and I can understand your concerns,” his smile faded, “I'll give ya the chance tae take it back."

Angus's features twisted into a dark mask of fury. “I've been wit’ ye fer a long time, Will. I've never doubted ye a'fore, but I'm seein’ things here I dinna see a'fore, and I can tell ye, I dinna like it one wee bit."

“Then what is it you want? A fight?"

“Ye canna fight us all, Will."

William glanced briefly at Titus then turned his attention back to Angus. “Mayhaps not, but I canna stand here and have ya insult my wife, either.” William shook his head. “I have tae say, I'm disappointed in ya. Are ya bellies not full? And your purses, do they not jingle with gold and silver aplenty?"

“Aye, but they could jingle louder,” Angus answered. “There's a village full of widows needin’ a good screw, but we ain't tae touch ‘em. We're fightin’ men and livin’ off the land is fer farmers and women."

William ignored the insult. He glanced at Titus remembering the man had left his wife and children behind and most likely missed them. “'Tis your women I'm thinkin’ of. After we deal with Baynard, we'll bring our families here tae live. We'll build a burgh and sod houses and with the game aplenty in the forest, we'll be warm and our bellies with be full all winter."

“Ya tell a fine story, but ye're thick in rut with the wont of the witch—"

William grabbed Angus's collar. “She's your mistress now, and I'd thank ya tae remember that.” The icy edge to his voice gave reason for Titus to step back. Angus jerked free, but knew it was because William chose to let him go. The two men stared at each other for several tense moments then Angus slammed down his goblet, growled another insult under his breath and left with his dog-like companion in tow.

William finished his mead, and after placing the cup next to the others, started up the steps, unaware that Henri had witnessed the confrontation.

“Your men are unhappy?” the elderly man asked, his pale blue eyes filled with concern.

William jerked his head up, just now noticing the old man. “And why is that a concern of yours?” He inwardly cursed when Henri blanched, straightened his bent shoulders and nodded stiffly.

“Your pardon, my lord,” the old man said softly.

William sighed heavily and dragged his hands down his face, causing Henri to pause. “I am not your lord. I am William, unlikely master of this keep, but lord over no man. I'd thank you tae remember that and tell any others who serve here.” He spotted Annie. “Where is my wife?"

“Lady D'Auvergne is upstairs in her chamber, my lo—master MacDarrin,” she said, her eyes wide and her hands clenched tightly in the material of her apron.

“My name is William.” He looked from Annie to Henri and then back to the young maid.

“How old are you, lass?” William asked, making an effort to keep his anger from his voice.

“Fourteen summers, master W—William, my lord.” She blushed hotly, making him feel like a beast for being so blunt. She was a pretty child, not yet a woman, but woman enough to stir the blood of a more callous Scot.

“'Tis not safe for you tae be here. Go home tae your mother, Annie. My wife will'na need you no more this eve.” William tossed a disgruntled look at Henri. “Fetch Robbie and tell him to escort this lassie tae her home."

“Oui."

“Then go and tell your mistress that my men are hungry.” The old man raised one grey brow as if to question his orders, but then thought better of it. “And after, have some men help move her things into my chamber. She's my wife now,” he muttered, “and it's high time she accepted that fact, as unpleasant at it ‘tis."

William refilled his cup then emptied it again before rounding on the old servant. “And while you're at it, tell her she's no longer the grand lady of D'Auvergne, but merely the wife of a poor Scottish Highlander, and as such, she should stand behind him and not run away in fear."

William turned away, feeling the old man's gaze hotly on his back as he climbed the stairs. He entered his chamber then kicked the door shut. He and his men had been together a long time, trusted each other with their lives, and now, because of his weakness for Elise, all he'd gained was dangerously close to being destroyed.

Weary, he leaned back against the door, closing his eyes against the pain that had started in his head. Saints, but he knew better than to drink so much mead. It always made his head pound. When he felt the latch move, he jerked the door open only to find his brother standing on the other side with a silly grin on his face.

“William, I—"

William cursed under his breath. “Get in here,” he growled, grabbing the young man's shirt.

“What happened? Angus is as hot as a smithy's forge, and now you're as mad as a cornered boar."

“Never mind."

“Well, you should know he's out stirrin’ up the men. He's tellin’ them that Baynard is on the march and if'n we don't pull our heads out of our arses and start actin’ like warriors instead of farmers, we'll be plantin’ bodies and not seeds in the ground."

William went to the table and poured himself a cup of wine. It seemed that getting drunk was, at the moment, an excellent idea. To hell with the pounding in his head. Robert filled a cup for himself and took a drink.

“Since your wife's not here, I've got tae tell you, the men aren't too happy about the marriage either. They think you've gone soft.” Robert winced as his brother slammed down the cup and threw him a black look. He took a step back, but not before William grabbed his collar and jerked him up close, face to face.

“Do they now? Well, tell them for me that I'll be more than happy tae ease any doubts they have. Tell them that if after we beat Baynard they want tae try their luck with me, I'm willin’ as I'll ever be tae crack their heads."

He shoved Robert toward the door. “Go now, Robbie. I've got a poundin’ headache and in no mood for such idle threats."

“I'm sorry William. I dinna mean to make you angry."

William closed his eyes for a moment. “'Tis not your fault, lad, I know better than tae drink too much. Now go and leave me alone for awhile."

“But William, what about goin’ home? You've gone a married an English woman—"

“She's no’ English—she's French and don't forget that."

“French or English, she pledged her fealty to their blasted king. For God's sake. How will you explain this tae our father? He's too old to understand your reasons. Hell, I dinna even understand them."

“Your father, Robbie. Not mine. I never had the pleasure of sittin’ on his knee whilst he told me how much he loved me.” William inwardly winced at the shadow that flickered across his brother's blue eyes.

“You know he's sorry for what happened in the past. He wants tae make it up tae you. He tried tae tell you so himself when you came for me."

“He can shove his—” William tossed what was left in his cup down his throat in one gulp. “I'll worry about that after Baynard too. Now what did you do with the fish?"

“I took the bream tae the river tae clean them, then I gave them tae the cook.” Robert glanced around the room. “Where's yer bride anyway?"

“How the hell do I know,” William said gruffly, refilling his cup. “I sent her man tae find you and—” William glared at his brother. “Why are you here and not takin’ Annie home?"

“The pretty little maid?"

“Aye,” William growled.

“I asked Jacob tae do it."

“Jacob's only a boy—"

“He's as old as I am.” Robert sighed put down his cup. “When are you goin’ tae realize I'm a man now?"

William cast him a hard look. “If anythin’ happens tae that little lassie, you'll find out damn fast what it's really like tae be a man."

“And what is that suppose tae mean?"

“It means I gave you the responsibility of seein’ to her welfare. Not Jacob. I give the orders around here, not you, not Angus, me. Do you ken?"

Chapter 11

Elise glanced at her image in the looking glass, satisfied that she had washed away the traces of her outing with William. If only she could wash away the uncertainty his touch awakened. His nearness threatened her determination to remain aloof. “Men are all alike,” she whispered to her reflection. “I will not give my heart so easily this time."

The deep lavender gown she chose, along with its purple over gown added color to her cheeks. The long tight sleeves were embroidered with tiny silver roses that matched the heavily jeweled girdle resting on her hips. Now all she had to do was summon Annie to braid and coil her long blond hair and she'd be ready to show all those who doubted that she was truly the mistress of D'Auvergne.

Someone knocked at her door, and she silently condemned the way she jumped. Mistress, aye, she thought, but still very much alone and afraid.

“Enter,” she said confident her voice sounded strong and commanding. “Henri, why such a scowl? Come in."

“My lady, Master William—"

“He is your lord now, Henri. Please try to be more respectful. Remember, we are more civilized then they."

“Aye, my lady, but he told me not to address him as his lord just a few moments ago. Nor are any of the servants to do so. He was most strict about the order, too, mon agneau."

Elise couldn't help the smile that tugged at her mouth. “I imagine he was. Very well, do as he wishes. It matters not to me how you address him as long as you are respectful.” She glanced at his face. “What else troubles you?” she asked, smiling softly when he looked up.

“Master William's men are growing restless,” he began. “Whilst you were away, I overhead several of them saying things that bode ill."

“William is a strong leader. I do not think he will allow his men to openly challenge his authority."

He shook his head. “The one they call Angus is more savage than man. I do not trust him. He has already spread rumors to divide Master William's forces. And earlier, while you were up here in your chamber, the big brute confronted the master."

Elise frowned. “Aye. I fear William will have to banish Angus from D'Auvergne if we are to live in peace."

“Angus will not so easily be dismissed,” Henri muttered.

“And you feel that this is our concern?” She took the old man's hand. “Henri, I was there. Though Angus is repulsive, they are well matched. The sooner my lord husband punishes the cur for his rude behavior, the sooner the others will settle. Tonight, when I see him, I will remind William about our agreement. Worry not. We will have nothing to fear. As I have come to know and you must realize, is what we French see as aggressive, they see as routine."

She sat down before the looking glass again and turned her attention to arranging her braid on top of her head. “Will you find Annie for me? I cannot seem to manage my hair."

Henri tugged at the collar of his grey tunic. “Master William sent Annie back to the Village."

Once again, Elise met Henri's gaze in the mirror. “He did? But, why would he do that without asking if I needed her services anymore tonight?"

“I do not know. I only know that he told Annie to go back to her family and—"

“And what?” She frowned at Henri. “Feed the pigs? Does he not realize that she is much better cared for in my home and the coins I give her help to feed her brothers and sisters?"

“Perhaps not. Perhaps he thinks she will be safer away from his men.” Her friend and steward looked down at the toe of his shoe.

“Did he say anything else?"

“Oui."

Her brows rose in question. “Do you intend to tell me or is it a secret?"

“Perhaps ‘tis only my own perception, Mistress, but I believe Master William desires you to see to the preparation of our meals."

“Did Master William specifically say that I should do it myself?” Elise smiled to encourage her friend to be honest. If William thought he could order her as if she were his servant, he would rue the day he decided to become her master.

“O-Oui. But I believe he only means to prove to his men that you are as capable as their own wiv—"

“Where is you master now?"

When Henri raised his brows as if he didn't understand her question, Elise's anger took flight. How could a man as uncouth as William win over such a refined gentleman as her dearest friend? “Well?"

“He is ... I—I assume he's in his chamber."

Elise chewed her lip, deep in thought. “Very well. Run and tell him that his meal will be on the table in one hour.” She put her hand on the old man's shoulder. “And one more thing before you go."

“Anything, mon petit agneau,” the old man said, happy to be on her side once more. “Find Myrtle and have her start several large kettles of water to boil. Tell her I will need some vegetables peeled and meat diced."

“Consider it done."

Elise tossed her braided hair over her shoulder then slipped out of her elegant gown into a dingy grey one. She threw on her oldest overgown and a plain white wimple. The overgown had a torn pocket and, being on the bottom of the trunk, was terribly wrinkled.

She glanced at the looking glass, pleased that she now looked the part of a peasant instead of the lady of a grand keep. The only thing left to do was find the right herbs she needed for the stew.

She poked her head out the door. Everyone was gone. She hurried down the corridor and disappeared through a stone entry. Morgana's old chamber smelled dank and moldy. Elise felt strangely calm as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Everywhere she looked vivid memories of the old witch haunted her. Many a day she had spent in this chamber learning spells and potions.

The meager light offered by the tiny window made her feel as if she couldn't draw a proper breath. When she accidentally bumped against an old stool, a frightened mouse scurried across the dusty floor. Elise gasped and jumped back, momentarily startled. She'd forgotten Morgana liked crawly things.

She walked carefully across the room to a large bookcase void of books, but filled to overflowing with jars, small wooden boxes and string-tied cloth sacks. “If Master William wants me to feed his men, than who am I to go against his wishes?"

* * * *

“Master William,” Henri's muffled voice came from behind the door. William raked his fingers through his tousled hair. He had never reached the state of drunkenness he had hoped for. The only thing he'd done was to increase the pounding in his head. He slowly rose from the bed, and opened the door. Henri hesitated a moment then stepped inside. “My lady says that your food will be ready within the hour."

William thanked him and turned away, but before he could close the door Henri timidly tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, master, but may I have a moment of your time?"

“Of course. Speak your mind."

“Master William, please try to find it in your heart to be patient with my mistress.” The old man's cheeks filled with bright color. “For her tender years, she has been sorely used."

William put his hand on the old man's slender shoulder and waited until he met his gaze. “You're a good man, Henri. Fear not. Your mistress is safe with me. But now, I have a favor tae ask of you. Keep a close eye on her when I am not around."

The ancient steward appeared to agree by a subtle softening of his wrinkled features. He nodded once then turned, opened the door and disappeared down the long corridor, pausing only to nod at Robert as they passed.

“What do you suppose your wife is cookin’ up for us?” Robert asked his brother. “I'm starving."

“I shudder tae think,” William said. He took a few moments to tuck in his shirt and drag a comb through his hair.

“If she canna cook, then why did you have her learn on us?” Robert protested.

“Aye, good point, but it'll keep her mind off Angus and Baynard. And, as my wife, she should know how tae cook and clean and keep house. Maybe it will help the men see that she's not a threat—that she's just a like their wives."

“But why, William. I thought you'd only be staying around until the burgh is built and we've scare't away all her enemies."

William couldn't give his brother a honest answer. He couldn't tell the boy that after spending a sennight with Elise, he never wanted to leave her side. Instead, he found something closer to the truth. “Robbie, you're too young tae understand, but a man canna go back on his word. I swore before God tae protect her—"

“But, you were forced.” Robbie winced at his brother's expression.

“Mayhaps, but nevertheless, that's what I intend tae do. I'm goin’ tae send for our families so they can help with the plantin’ and reap the rewards of a rich harvest."

“Harvest? But by then it could snow and we'd be here all winter."

“Aye, it could happen.” He sincerely hoped it would.

“But why risk it, William?"

“You dinna see the villains, lad? They're no better off for living on this fine land than we are. Ranulf's stripped them of their dignity as well as enough food and good clothing. No wonder they didn't come tae help him when we attacked."

“They're no’ our problem, William. We've got our own worries.” Robert shook his head. “I know you've been thinkin’ about settlin’ down, but no’ here, for God's sake. This is too close tae England—we're no’ Lowlanders. Our home is in the Highlands."

William looked at his brother. “Aye, and thank God for it too, but if we don't help these people learn how tae defend themselves, we're no better than Ranulf, are we, lad?” He put his hand on his brother's shoulder. “Now you can see why I want you tae stay a while longer. There's land enough for our people and it's fertile and free of rocks. They can make a good livin’ here."

Robert sighed then nodded his agreement. “I hope you know what you're doin',” he grumbled, opening the door. He lifted his nose and sniffed, turning to give William a surprised smile. “Somethin’ smells good."

* * * *

William entered the great hall two steps behind his brother. The two men were surprised to see the trestle tables had been erected and set with wooden bowls and spoons. Large iron pots of steaming, savory stew squatted on the tables as well as platters piled high with bread. Jars of honey and tubs of thick creamy butter were scattered between the pots. “Robbie, go and tell the others ‘tis time tae eat."

Robert hurried outside where William heard him shout. Soon the room was filled with the rumbling sounds of male voices and laughter as the men took their places and the food was divided. One glance around the hall told him Angus and Titus had stayed away. Elise sat at her usual place. Even dressed like a peasant—a very wrinkled peasant—pride filled him. He'd have to remember to tell her that she didn't need rich gowns to look beautiful.

“Wash day, is it?” he asked.

She only blinked her eyes as if she didn't understand, but he knew by the spark that flared in her green eyes, he had rekindled her anger. He filled a cup with hot spiced cider, choosing to forgo the offering of ale. In the light that filtered from the high torches, the long braid that hung down her back resembled a thick golden rope. He longed to undo it, to run his fingers through the soft silky mass and prove once more he could turn the look in her eyes to one of passion.

“The stew smells grand,” Robert said before he took a huge mouthful. “Did you make it yourself?"

Elise glanced at her husband, only slightly vexed by the way one dark brow seemed raised in doubt. She turned her attention back to Robert. “Aye, all but the bread. ‘Twas made this morning."

William served her then filled his bowl. She buttered a chunk of bread, but rather than dip it into the gravy, she slathered honey on it. He looked at the stew, lifted a spoonful and dribbled it back into the bowl. “I thought we might be havin’ the bream tanight."

“Perhaps tomorrow. Myrtle said we should salt them. Are you not famished from riding all day?” She offered the small jar of treasured pepper.

He declined. Instead, he smelled the stew then tasted a small portion. His brows snapped together in a fierce frown.

Elise's humor vanished.

“What did you put in this, lass,” he demanded in a low voice.

“Shallots, peas, carrots ... a dash of pepper ... a touch of salt.” Her courage faltered. She suddenly felt wicked when all she meant to be was clever.

“Salt is it?” William put down the bowl. “I've eaten a lot of stew in my day, most of it without the pleasure of fancy spices, and it's not salt I taste.” He gave her a disappointed shake of his head. “Elise,” he grated out, making her feel even worse.

“Lads,” her husband shouted. She tried to get his attention, to tell him it was just a purge, that in an hour or so, all would be forgotten, but he jerked his arm from her grasp and pounded his fist on the table. “The food is tainted."

The clanging of dishes and the rumble of voices died. Robert's head jerked up and after glancing first at his brother, then at her, then back to his brother, he spat his mouthful back into the bowl. He seemed to grow pale immediately. Gone was the friendly smile he had given her just a few moments ago. His eyes were as dark as the day he captured her. Ashamed, she did the only thing she knew to do to hide her mounting fear. She sat straighter and held her head a little higher.

Men immediately spat out whatever was in their mouths, slamming down their spoons. Too quickly, their shock turned to anger and when they started to stand and advance toward Elise, William blocked their path. “We'll have none of that,” he said tightly. Robert joined his brother even though he still looked a little peaked.

One man kicked a bench out of his way and shoved past his companions. “Angus was right. She's a witch an’ deserves tae burn.” He pointed a crooked finger at Elise. Icy fingers of fear inched up her spine as her husband grabbed the man's shirt.

“Hold your tongue or lose it,” he said in a cold, hard voice. “Go back tae your places. All of you.” A tiny muscle twitched above his jaw as he stared long and hard at several men then finally turned back to the one who quoted Angus. “Go back, Ian.” The man curled his hand around the hilt of a long jagged dagger, and then stormed from the hall with several others.

Elise felt her knees begin to tremble when others grumbled their disgust. If more joined Angus, would William be able to protect her?

“Eat the bread,” William said flatly. “I'll be back with somethin’ tae fill your bellies.” William looked down at Elise. “Come with me,” he ordered.

She sat frozen to the bench. He grasped her upper arm and nearly dragged her into the scullery. Myrtle stood before the stove, stirring a steaming pot. Upon seeing William, she jumped back and pressed her hand to her heart.

“Has my wife put anythin’ in that pot?” her husband asked through clenched teeth. The woman frantically shook her head. “Then divide it amongst the men, and be quick about it."

The cook wrapped a thick cloth around the handled then scurried away so fast, Elise was reminded of the frightened mouse in Morgana's chamber.

William let go of her arm, then turned, angrily raking his fingers through his hair. She accidentally glanced at the salted fillets of bream. Pain lanced through her. Only hours ago she had enjoyed fishing, and now her foolish antics had spoiled everything.

“Your men will be fine. ‘Tis simply a purge, nothing more,” she said, hoping he would accept her explanation. “I meant no harm. Tomorrow they will have forgotten about it."

She blanched when her husband rounded on her, suddenly fearful that her jest would end in a savage beating. She had cowered from Ranulf, but she was older now, and more determined than ever to save what little pride she had left. “If you would have asked me yourself instead of sending Henri to do it,” she blurted out, “I would have told you I do not know how to cook.” She inwardly winced at the defiant sound of her voice.

“You know well enough how tae poison a man,” he growled.

Elise pulled herself up to her full height, yet still felt dwarfed by her husband's intimidating size. Though she tried hard to be brave, she saw him as she had first seen him—a threat.

“I canna fathom why you did what you did, but know this. As long as I am master of this keep—"

“You overstep yourself,” she snapped. “You are only master because I chose you to be. You had no right to send away my maid, nor to have my steward reiterate your orders to me. I've gold enough to pay villains to prepare my meals as well as clean my house and wash my clothes. I will not lower myself to cook for a bunch of uncouth, ill-mannered Scots."

What she thought a straightforward statement appeared to do more damage than she had intended. A tiny muscle jumped on her husband's cheek, and his eyes grew dark as a storm. When he slammed his palm down on the table she flinched.

“You—you're the one that has no right,” he warned. He turned his back and swore under his breath. Again she felt as she had the night he attacked her home. She had watched helplessly as her soldiers were slaughtered and now her mouth grew dry with fear. Her husband was a Scottish Chieftain—a savage warrior, and she had shamed him before his men. Surely for her crime, he would be forced to punish her.

“'Tis your duty to protect me,” she said a little desperately, nearly sick with regret, but at the same time, so frightened her heart thudded painfully against her breast. She caught a glimpse of the small knife the cook had used to peel the vegetables and took it up, hiding it in the folds of her apron. When her husband finally turned, she unconsciously took a step back.

Her eyes defied him, but her features held the look of a trapped animal. William wanted to get her safely to his chamber before his men decided to take matter into their own hands. She'd be safe there and he could talk to her more privately. He took a step forward. “Come with me,” he said curtly.

She shook her head. “Nay. I will not be led up to your chamber and beaten when you let a pig like Angus treat you so badly. It is he who needs to be punished, not I,” she said, trembling.

Something inside William snapped. Gone was the need to talk some sense into his wife, replaced with scalding desire to avenge what Ranulf had done to her. He died a little inside; trying not to picture Elise bloodied and bruised. He took a step closer. “I'm not goin’ tae hurt you, lass."

He reached for her, but she slashed his arm with a small knife. “Damn it,” William ground out, his voice harsher than he wanted. “Give me that.” Reflex made him reach for her again, and again she struck out with the blade, but this time she missed. Her face lost all its color and her eyes held a hunted look that warned him to move slowly.

As blood seeped through his sleeve, he covered it with this hand. “Elise. Put down the knife. I will'na hurt you,” he repeated softly.

“William?” Robert called as he walked in. “What the hell—"

“Get out,” William ordered.

“But you're bleedin'."

William rounded on his brother. “Aye. I had a little accident, Robbie, now get out.” By the time William turned back to his wife, her expression cut into him. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears and her chin quivered as if she wanted to cry.

“I-I will not be beaten by any man ever again,” she whispered, her voice catching. She couldn't take her eyes off of his wounded arm. Dear God, had she really cut him? She felt her knees begin to quake. “I did not ... I did not mean—"

“I know, lass. I know."

She slowly opened her fingers and the knife fell to the floor. When she raised her gaze to meet his and saw the tender promise in his eyes, her composure crumbled and several tears trickled down her cheeks as she sank down to sit on a stool.

He grabbed a cloth from the table, wrapped it around his arm then knelt before her and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Elise,” he began, lifting her trembling chin, “I'd never let anythin’ or anyone hurt you, no matter how angry you make me.” We'll go upstairs tae our chamber. You'll be safe up there."

More tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them back. “Oh William, what have I done?"

“Nothin’ lass. It'll be all right."

She wanted to tell him how Ranulf had beaten her—to confess the horrors she had been forced to endure, but she couldn't speak pass the lump in her throat. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed trying to forget, but the images were still there. “Nay,” she moaned, covering her face with her hands.

William stood and pulled her up into his arms. “Tell me lass, tell me what it is you see."

“I-I cannot,” she whispered brokenly. She leaned against him, grateful her limbs had stopped shaking. His warm hand stroked her back until finally she could draw a proper breath and the ache in her throat subsided. Back in control, she took his arm, examined it, carefully rewrapping the wound. “'Tis deep. I'll get my sewing box,” she murmured softly. Before she could leave, he caught her arm.

“I don't know what my men are thinkin'. We'll go tagether."

Chapter 12

Unlike the master's room, Elise's chamber was small and cozy, much more inviting, William thought. Done in shades of pink and burgundy, the smaller bed was just as elegant as his larger one. Two burgundy velvet chairs sat before the hearth. There was wood in the bin, but with no fire, the room felt cold.

While she looked through a trunk, he built a fire. Soon the flames spread warmth throughout the chamber. His arm throbbed now, and cradling it, he sat in one of the two chairs near the hearth.

Elise gathered her needles and thread then carried them over to the small table between the chairs. When she glanced at her husband, he didn't look up, but instead just stared into the fire with a troubled frown. Once more her stomach twisted with regret. She filled a basin with water and found some clean cloths.

It was no easy task to carry the too-full basin without spilling the water, but she walked slowly, watching it the whole time. Had she looked up, she would have seen the way his gaze followed and the sad smile he gave her as she set the basin down. She pushed the other chair closer then sat. “Let me see,” she said.

The wound had stopped bleeding, but this time the sight of it made her stomach roll. Picking up a cloth, she dipped it in the water, then dabbed at the smudges of blood. Satisfied the wound was clean; she threaded a needle then hesitated. The room grew unusually hot and white dots appeared before her eyes. She took a long, deep breath and forced her thoughts from her stomach, then started the first stitch.

William watched her carefully, trying not to move as her shaky fingers thrust the needle into his flesh. He clamped his jaw against the pain, mindful not to make a sound. How lovely she looked—her head bent to the task, her hair like spun gold in the light from the fire. She pulled the thread through and began again, but he stopped her. “Nay, lass,” he said softly. “Tie it off, then take another. ‘Tis not a gown, ‘tis my arm."

With each stitch, his child-bride grew whiter and whiter. “Are you well?” he asked when she tied off the last one. She lifted her ashen face, blinked once, then smiled weakly before she fainted.

He caught her in his arms, carried her to the bed and laid her down. He returned to the table, found another clean cloth and dipped it into the water then squeezed it out. By the time he finished, her eyes fluttered open.

“Lie still,” he said softly, sitting beside her on the bed. He placed the cool wet cloth on her forehead. When she tried to sit up, he pushed her back down. “Rest,” he ordered. “You're still a lovely shade of green.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, smoothing several strands of hair from her face. Her eyes fused with his.

“How did one so gentle come to be called the barbarian?” she asked, wondering why his smile wasn't arrogant as she had expected it to be.

“You're the only one who calls me that, lass."

Her heart clenched. Until now, she never realized the term wounded him. “My lor ... Ranulf told me that was your name ... your title."

William picked up the cloth and refolded it before he placed it back on her forehead. “Did he, now?"

“Aye. He told me you chopped full-grown men in half with a single blow from your battle axe. And that you raped young mothers then killed their babies whilst they watched.” She gazed up at the man she had been told was a monster, seeing someone far different.

“I suppose I'd deserve tae be called a barbarian, if I killed innocent young women and helpless wee babies.” He took her hand. “Surely you don't believe I could do somethin’ like that? I shudder tae even think of it.” He smiled then, and she knew he was trying to put her at ease. What a mystery this handsome Scot was.

“I know now that you could not. But, that first day, I saw that horrible man ... Angus holding a spear with,” she swallowed, “what appeared to be ears on it?"

Her husband's smile faded and a muscle twitched above his jaw, a signal he wasn't as lighthearted as he tried to portray. “Aye, Angus and his disgustin’ collection of ears. I've tried tae talk tae him about it, but the man is as stubborn as an ox. The brute's got his reasons. But, know this. He's too valuable a fighter tae loose over a few dead men's ears."

William walked to the fire and stared into the flames, recalling the looks on his men's faces. Trouble was brewing and he felt at a loss to stop it. His authority had never been questioned as they had always trusted his good judgment—believing that he had their best interests at heart. But had he? Did he marry Elise to better his men and their families, or to satisfy the lust he felt when first he had laid eyes on her? He pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes against the annoying pain that had lingered in his head.

Elise stood. She held on to the post of her bed, not sure if she were using it as a support or a shield. “I can finish dressing your wound now,” she said softly.

William glanced down at his arm. “'Tis nothin’ more tae be done."

“What will your men think when they see I have wounded you?” She wished he would look at her so she could try and read what he was thinking, but he would not.

“They'll think I'm a fool for trustin’ you, lass. What else?” The words were said without malice, but the cold edge to his voice did not go unnoticed. For a moment she put herself in her husband's place and knew his shame rested much deeper than her own.

“Then let me come down with you and—"

“And what? Get killed?” He crossed to the door. “So far you've tried tae poison my men, twice. What do you expect me tae do, line them up so you can tell them how sorry you are? And I suppose you'd want them tae pledge their fealty tae you after it's all said and done?” He raked his fingers through his hair, cursing at the reflex movement of his wounded arm.

“Nay, lass. Unlike your lord Ranulf, I don't own those men. They fight with me because I've earned their respect and because we want the same things—our freedom from taxes so high, we're forced tae steal tae feed our families."

He looked at her for a long time, yet she could see there was neither anger nor hatred in his eyes. There was something far worse—disappointment. Finally she could bear no more and looked away. She heard the door open then close. Too late she thought of something to say that would perhaps excuse her behavior, but he was already gone by the time she threw open the door to call him back.

* * * *

William stepped outside to try and clear his head. He saw several men gathered around a fire, but when he descended the steps to speak with them, Angus stepped out from the shadows. He was joined by several other men that William knew by name. “Titus,” he acknowledged. “Sean, Ian."

“We want ya tae do what's right,” Angus growled.

William momentarily closed his eyes, then met Angus’ angry scowl. “And what would that be, pray tell? Not a man here would publicly punish his wife."

“We want ya tae run that bitch out of this castle so we can claim what's rightfully ours.” Angus's men nodded their agreement. Some of the others moved closer, slowly forming a circle around Angus and William, sensing as William did, that Angus wouldn't be satisfied with a few empty words. When Robert appeared, William gave him a quick shake of his head.

“Stay out of this, lad.” He shoved his brother back into the growing crowd of men, where Rupert clamped his hand on the boy's shoulder.

“'Tis best if'n yer brother handles this on his own, son."

Angus spat in the dirt at William's feet oblivious to the sudden muttering of the men. “Are ye deaf? I said, ya should run that bitch—"

William spun and plowed his fist into Angus's middle, dropping the big man to his knees. Those loyal to William roared their approval at the same time they took a step back, giving the two room when Angus clambered to his feet. “Take ‘em Will,” someone hollered from the crowd.

“Watch yerself, William,” Robert warned.

Bear-like, Angus circled his prey. William dodged his first punch, planting one of his own across Angus's bearded jaw. Pain shot up his arm as the knife wound tore open. Angus shook his head, barely affected.

“What's that,” the big redhead snarled, pointing at the fresh blood running down William's arm. “Did the bitch cut ya when ye tried tae mount her?"

William ignored the sporadic laughter, ready when Angus charged like a seething bull, knocking William to the ground. Angus’ bunch shouted their support, moving out of the way of the two fighting men.

William rolled to his feet and jammed his elbow into Angus’ chin. For his size, Angus was agile, and quickly regained the advantage. He took a swing and missed, but caught William in the ribs with a powerful right. Doubled over, William had no time to avoid the hammering blow to his back. The force sent him back into the dirt with a painful grunt.

Winded, Angus used the moment it took William to recover, to catch his breath. When William got to his feet, the big red-head charged again. But, William was ready. At the last moment, he jumped aside. Angus lunged, catching only air in his arms. William planted his foot on Angus’ backside and sent him sprawling. The crowd roared their approval. Angus clambered to his feet, drawing a double-edged dagger from his belt. “She's a witch, and has cast her spell on ya."

“Nay,” William countered, draggin his hand across his cut lip to wipe away the blood. “She's my wife and ya'll respect her as such. Now, put your knife away before someone gets hurt."

A savage smile twisted across Angus's mouth. “Come and take it from me, lad—if ye think ye can.” The words were barely spoken before he lunged.

William felt the blade slice though the material of his shirt, but felt no pain. He watched Angus closely, staying out of his reach each time he struck out, but Angus’ movements were rapidly becoming sluggish and careless. In a last effort to run William through, he stumbled forward.

William easily avoided the deadly blade, ramming his fist into Angus’ jaw, snapping his head back, causing his eyes to roll up into their sockets. With a loud groan, Angus sank to his knees. William wrenched the dagger from his meaty fist then shoved the enormous man head first into the dirt.

Breathing hard and covered in blood and dirt, William faced the others. “Is there any one of you that wants tae call my wife a witch?” The men backed away, shook their heads, some muttering their reluctant compliance. All, but Titus. Although he didn't openly challenge William, he went to Angus and helped the dazed man to his feet.

“'Tis a black day when a Scot turns against a Scot tae protect the English,” Titus said contemptuously.

William tossed the dagger at Angus’ feet. “You're no longer welcome in my home.” He watched as they left, then turned his cold gaze on the men who stayed. “Do any of you want tae challenge my right tae command?"

Not a word was spoken. William turned and limped toward the manse.

“William,” Robert called, catching up to his brother.

“I'm in no’ mood tae talk, Robbie,” William hissed through clenched teeth. He wrapped his arm around his middle, wincing when he tried to take a deep breath.

“You're hurt and bleedin'. Let me help you to your chamber.” He lifted William's arm and hoisted it over his own broad shoulders. Too weary to care what the others thought, William accepted his help. Once inside, Henri rose from a chair near the fire, but never said a word. When they reached the stairs, William pulled away, placing his hand on Robert's chest.

“I can manage from here."

“Shall I fetch the mistress?” Henri asked softly.

William shook his head, taking each step slowly.

“'Tis a sin what she's done tae him,” Robert muttered once William had left.

Henri glanced at the young warrior. “She has done nothing."

Robert raised his tawny brows. “How can you say that? Look at him. He's all bloodied up because of her spells and potions."

Henri's grey brows snapped together as he filled a goblet with wine and gave it to Robert. “She casts no spells. As for her foolish potions—she was only trying to prove a point.” The old man filled a goblet for himself and took a long drink.

“Well, all she proved is that she canna be trusted,” Robert grumbled. He tossed the wine down his throat, dragged his hand across his mouth and banged the goblet down on the table. “He cares for the wench, but she's too high and mighty tae notice. William's a good man and deserves better, and I've a mind tae tell her so."

Henri watched the young man leave. He shook his head, sighing as he returned to his seat before the crackling fire to sip his wine. “As do I,” he murmured.

* * * *

Most of the next day, Elise stayed in her chamber. She had slept alone in her own bed. Another time, she would have been glad for it, but not now, not after sleeping so soundly in her husband's strong arms. A cold wind rattled the mottled glass in her window, giving her a headache and making her restless.

So many thoughts had come and gone. After yesterday's supper, she made the decision to stay in her chamber away from William and his Scottish army. Now it was growing dark and though she was reluctant to admit it, she missed her husband. She placed another log on the fire and put a taper to several candles, almost afraid to be alone in the dark.

“Mon agneau,” Henri called from the other side of the door.

“Enter,” she said, waiting until the old man put down a tray of food. “I thought you might be hungry. You must keep up your strength, now more than ever."

“Merci.” She knew by the way the old man lingered, he had more to say. She motioned to the chair for her friend to sit. “Pray tell, why such a grave expression?"

“Master William prepares to leave on the morrow."

Elise sat straighter. “Did he tell you this?"

“No. I have not seen him, but I overheard his brother speaking with several of their men this morning."

“I see,” she said, hoping her voice didn't betray the rush of emotions that fell over her. “'Tis good he takes the fight away from D'Auvergne.” She fell silent for several moments when Henri only nodded his agreement. “I have no doubt he will be successful. He uses his head not just his muscle."

“Oui, he does for sure ... unless he cannot avoid it."

Elise flashed Henri a worried glance. “Do not play words games with me. I can tell by the worry on your face something has happened."

“His men are near mutiny. There was a fight. Angus and another they call Titus left with a dozen others."

Elise felt relieved yet terrible at the same time. The news that Angus had left lifted a great weight from her shoulders, but that he had left with others, only revived her shame. It was her fault that William's men left him.

She bent her head, unwilling to let her steward see the pain and sorrow she felt. “It was only a matter of time before Angus infuriated another to the point of going to blows. I am glad and must thank who ever sent that awful man away. Is my husband in his chamber?"

“Oui."

“Good. I've much to discuss before he embarks on his journey."

“Elise, mon amour,” Henri said. She stopped immediately, aware that Henri only used her name when deeply troubled.

“Master William fought Angus."

Elise took a calming breath. “That is most unfortunate. I have thought about it all day, and I now believe William was right to ignore the man's worthless insults.” She shook her head. “We will need every man to defeat Baynard."

“Angus can not be trusted."

“Can any Scot be trusted?” she scoffed.

Henri frowned. “How the tables have turned. When you first told me of your plan, it was I who told you a Scot can not be trusted."

“Aye, and I agreed then as I do now."

“But, no more do I believe, mon petit. Master William is a man I hold in high esteem."

Elise glanced at Henri. “Is there more?” she asked when her steward continued to watch her.

“Only that you should hold him in high esteem too."

“I do, but unlike you, I am not blinded by it. Do you not see our plight? Baynard is the strongest lord of all. If we defeat him, the others will be too afraid to try. Petty grievances must be put aside for the greater cause.” She sighed then smoothed her skirts. “Stay here if you like, but I needs speak with William."

Elise stepped out into the corridor then slipped into William's chamber without knocking. The heavy draperies covering the balcony doors were drawn and the room was cold with no fire in the hearth. The meager light from one half-melted candle allowed her to see that the bed was a mess as if someone had purposely dragged off the velvet coverlet and tossed it on the floor.

“What are you doin’ here, lass?” came her husbands deep voice from the shadows. His tone was unlike any she'd heard so far.

“I—I came for my brush,” she stammered, wondering why her courage fled the moment her husband failed to step out of the darkness. “I believe I left it here."

The prickly fingers of fear crept up her spine. Angry with herself for letting his unusual behavior frighten her, she snapped, “Show yourself or I shall leave."

William stepped into the meager light. She gasped then quickly recovered. He looked terrible. One eye was nearly swollen shut and his cheek was scraped and badly bruised as were the knuckles on both hands. The corner of his lip was inflamed and there was a small cut over his left eye.

His hair was loose, reminding her of a lion's mane. He wore Ranulf's black robe and the sight of it brought back old terrible memories. She knew she should take a step toward him, but his expression was so grave, she dared not move.

“My lord?” she murmured cautiously. When he didn't answer, she crossed to the table and poured some wine into a cup. She held it out to him, but then she realized he had a drink in his hand.

“A-are you hungry?” she asked softly, frantically trying to think of something to breech the rift between them.

“I'm not in the mood tae eat.” He went to the pitcher and refilled his cup. “I'm in the mood tae drink."

His “r's” were greatly exaggerated. Elise glanced at the door, then at him. Something in the dark places of her mind told her to leave and leave quickly, but she raised her chin and pushed her trepidation aside.

“Henri told me you fought with Angus. He and his followers are pigs, and though I am loathe to admit it, me thinks we cannot afford to lose even a single warrior.” She blanched at the dark look he threw her.

“I had no’ choice. I had tae teach my men a bit of a lesson."

His Scottish brogue was in full feather—a warning to her, but one she chose to ignore. He pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose.

“'Tis rather late to instruct them, is it not?” she asked, “Surely you have grown accustomed to throwing insults at each other. I would think you'd be used to it by now."

“'Twas not me they slandered, lass. ‘Twas you."

Elise felt her cheeks grow warm. She turned away from his piercing gaze, feeling as if she wanted to cry. Strange, she thought, she deserved their rancor, but hearing it cut more deeply than she had expected.

She walked past her husband to the opening of the balcony and stared out over the rampart, breathing deeply until she could trust her voice not to betray her bout of weakness. As in the past, she smothered her feelings with the only emotion she could count on to make her strong—rebellious indifference. “I care little if your men respect me. Do not feel obliged to defend my honor at risk to yourself, my lord. I need you and your men whole to protect D'Auvergne."

“Aye. I'll keep the terms of our bloody agreement, lass, rest assured. But there's somethin’ I want in exchange."

She faced him, squaring her shoulders. “Henri was right. One can not trust a Scottish savage."

Again something flickered in her husband's eyes that made her think she had hurt him, only deeper this time. “I've been more than generous. I will not wavier from our agreement,” she said firmly.

“This has nothing tae do with our agreement. It has everythin’ tae do with my men and how you're tae be treated by them. Like it or not, you're my wife. And as my wife, I am obliged tae honor you as such. But, as your husband, you are tae honor me as well. In this room, or anytime when we're alone, I don't care if you take you're little blade and try tae carve out my heart. But, down there in your grand hall ... when my men or any of your servants are near us ... from this moment on, you'll pretend you're still the wife of a English nobleman, and conduct yourself like a lady."

She felt as if he'd slapped her. “How dare you speak to me thus,” she fumed. “You are the savage, not I. I did not ride into Scotland and attack your home. You killed my hus—"

“Aye,” he nearly shouted. “I killed the bastard. But, by what I've seen in your eyes, I did you a bloody favor."

She clamped her mouth shut. Saint-Esprit, ‘twas true. She should be on her knees thanking this warrior, instead of throwing insults at him. She took a shaky breath, picked up the goblet she had filled then took a sip to steady herself. She watched him over the rim of her cup as he took a drink, wincing as the wine burned his cut lip. She winced with him. “I have a salve that will—"

“That's kind of you, but no thank you.” He looked at her for a moment, then walked to the table by the bed and poured some water into the basin. He picked up a coarse towel and dipped in a corner. He dabbed it against his lip, then tossed it aside.

Their eyes met and once again she wished she could tell what he was thinking, but, like her, he hid his feelings well, yet this time, his dark scowl didn't frighten her. She picked up a clean cloth from the table. “Come. Sit down and let me dress your wound,” she bid him softly. “The bandage is stained."

For a moment, she thought he'd refuse, but he followed her to the chairs and eased down as if his ribs were sore. She sat across from him and untied the strips of cloth that held the makeshift bandage in place. “Do you and your men fight often?"

“Why would you think so?” he snapped.

She inwardly sighed. It seemed that each time she tried to show concern, she said something foolish. Her confidence wavered. “Just that you and your men are Scots. I just assumed all Scots enjoyed a good brawl."

She shrugged her shoulders inwardly wincing at the look in his eyes. She quickly diverted her gaze to his arm. “I am not your judge, my lord. Only God can do that."

“Well then, I know a lot of Englishmen who think they're God."

She refused to bristle at his barb. After all, she told herself, I am French, and this man is drunk and hurt, hardly responsible for his unruly tongue.

“Have you ever been to Scotland?” he asked.

By his tone, he was still angry. She shook her head and pressed the wet cloth to the red, swollen wound. “Nay. But one does not have to put their finger in the fire to know that it is hot. ‘Tis common knowledge, both in France and in England, that Scots have quick tempers. Look at your hands. They're bruised because you got mad at your men for saying a few things you did not want to hear."

She felt his gaze heavily upon her, but didn't dare look up. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she had learned to be more submissive like other women. Did she always have to blurt out her first thought? Why didn't she just keep them to herself as she had with Ranulf? Complete freedom to speak her mind was not always a good thing, she decided. She swallowed, hoping to relieve her dry throat. “Henri told me you will leave on the morrow. I know you will need every man. I would assume you will also need a level head. If you let anger decide your actions, my lord, than I fear all will be lost."

Her husband stood so quickly, his chair fell over backwards. She swallowed again, then looked up and met his gaze. “My lord?” she asked meekly. “I—"

“If you call me that one more time, I swear I'll—” he didn't finish, he couldn't for he feared he'd say something he'd regret. He stormed to the table and slammed down his cup. “Elise,” he began, keeping a tight rein on his temper. “Did you no’ just say tae me, moments ago, that you refuse tae pass judgment on her fella man?"

The brogue was back.

“Aye."

“Then what do you call that?"

“Call what?” she asked, forcing a compliant look on her face as she stood.

“What you just said?” His expression was comical yet fearsome at the same time. “Well,” he demanded.

“I did not pass judgment, I merely stated a few facts. Some that are well known, I might add. If you do not believe me, then I suggest you take a good look at yourself this moment."

“Do you believe us tae be barbarians?” he asked, his tone more threatening that she cared to admit.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps, uncivilized is a better term."

He crossed the short distance between them. “If it's a bunch of savages you think us tae be, then who am I tae prove you wrong?” With that, he pulled her roughly into his arms and kissed her hard. She struggled against his chest for a moment.

Mortified, she shoved him back then slapped him with all the strength she could muster. A red welt from her fingers appeared over the bruise, on his left cheek. Her stomach clenched with the knowledge that she had added to his pain, but she quickly convinced herself that he deserved it.

“How dare you,” she hissed brokenly. Stunned, she stared at her husband. He turned away, his eyes tightly closed. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.

“I'm sorry, lass,” he said in a softer tone, inwardly cursing himself—the way he acted made him no better than Ranulf. “Leave,” he said harshly, praying she'd go before he begged her to stay.

Chapter 13

Elise glanced at the marked candle in her chamber. It was well past two in the morning. Though her heart felt as if it would break, she refused to cry. Hours after leaving William's chamber, her throat ached with unshed tears. Restless, she paced before the fire unable to sleep.

Over and over again she replayed what had happened between her and William. Was she so afraid of love that she would destroy her only chance at ever having it? If she could only dismiss her responsibility to her father—her mother's memory. It would be easy to surrender her heart to William. She knew he had already given her his. “I am unworthy,” she murmured, shaking her head.

He would leave at dawn to face her enemy and to protect her home as agreed. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold. William's plan was nothing more than a temporary solution. Baynard would come again, and both she and William knew it.

A soft rain pelted her window, reminding her of her wedding night spent in the safety of William's arms. He had made her feel like a new bride, expertly bringing her to fulfillment. Had he not held her in high esteem, wouldn't he have taken what he wanted?

She shivered, then before she could change her mind, she made a decision. Moments later, clad only in a long white gown, she tried the latch to William's chamber. It opened and she silently stepped inside.

* * * *

William heard the door squeak open. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of a dagger and rose, quietly stepping into the shadows near the wall. Elise leaned back against the door. The moonlight washed over her giving him a grand view of her slender figure through the diaphanous fabric of her gown. Several moments passed before he realized she wasn't going to move. Did she know he was there? His anger doused hours ago, the thought brought a smile to his lips. Slowly, he approached her, stopping when she looked his direction.

“William?” she whispered.

“Aye, lass.” When she looked past him, he realized she couldn't see in the darkness. With this knowledge, he took another step toward her.

“Why is it so dark in here?” she asked. “I cannot see. And, you let the fire die completely."

“I dinna notice. I had my eyes closed.” He continued his advance, now nearly upon her.

“But ‘tis cold in here,” she protested.

With the help of the moonlight drifting in the open balcony doors, he could see his wife perfectly. Yet, he knew with the balcony door behind him, she could only see his silhouette. He smiled, as he didn't have a stitch on. “Would you like me tae start a fire?"

“Aye,” she answered. “That would be nice."

“Aye, it will, I promise."

“William?” she asked.

“Aye, lass."

“I came to apologize. I was foolish and should have chosen my words more carefully,” she said softly, searching the darkness. When he grazed her cheek with his knuckles, she gasped and inadvertently pressed a little closer to the door. “I said some things I did not mean—"

“As did I.” He stepped back until she relaxed again.

“Are you really leaving on the morrow?"

“Aye. I canna wait any longer."

“Mayhaps you could light a candle. I do not see very well in the dark."

“Don't be afraid, lass,” he said softly, taking her outstretched hand and placing it on his bare chest. Her touch ignited his passion. Inches away, he stared down into her eyes as she finally found his face and lifted her gaze to meet his.

“William,” she whispered. “I fear for you."

Her softly spoken confession sent a spark of triumph though his body. She was weakening, yet still proved a formidable foe. But, now he knew there was hope. He captured her mouth in a slow, languorous kiss that quickly grew more demanding. Heedless of the pain it brought his sore mouth, he tasted each craves, each contour of her sweet mouth. He opened his eyes and saw that hers were closed. Her lips glistened with moisture from his kiss. Saints help him, but he was going to lose this battle of wills too.

“You should'na be here, lass,” he said when he pulled back to let her catch her breath.

She took a long breath and let it out slowly at the same time she slipped the gown off her shoulders and let it float to the floor. Determined, she pressed closer, praying he wouldn't send her away. “Nay, I had to come. I tried to stay away, to forget how your touch makes me burn, but I could not. If you want me to beg—"

He died a little inside, remembering his foolish promise. He silenced her with his mouth, kissing her lips, her cheeks, and her neck. His rough calloused hands cupped her breasts, caressed her flanks. Each time he touched her, she yielded. He growled deep in this throat as she kneaded the muscles of his shoulders, pulling him closer as if she could fortify herself with his masculine strength.

“Fill me,” she whispered when his thumbs grazed her nipples, driving her mad with need. He lifted her and placed her down on his shaft, pressing her back against the smooth wooden door. She moaned in pleasure then curled her legs around his waist. She gave of herself freely and without restraint, reveling in the untamed force of his body driving into hers. His lovemaking was primal, savage. So glorious was her release, that she threw her head back and cried out his name.

William held back for as long as he could. Her body closed around him, pulsated, urging him ever closer to his climax. His release was explosive as he curled his fists into her hair. Slowly, as if climbing down from the tallest cliff, every taunt muscle in his body began to relax. He smiled smugly—triumphantly. His young, shy bride had her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms tightly around his neck, and her face nestled against his shoulder.

They stayed there until their passion cooled. When at last he could move, he cradled her in his arms, kissing her once more before placing her on the bed. “You're right, lass. ‘Tis cold in here."

She smiled at the way she was growing to love the sound of his Scottish brogue, when before she had been impervious to it. “A long time ago, I made a robe for Ranulf. He hated it—'twas not black. He put it in the trunk by the doors."

“I was wonderin’ what was in there.” She heard the lid lifted and the rustle of clothing. A moment later a small fire shuddered to life. As the flames grew higher, her husband stood and ran his hand over the rich burgundy velvet robe.

“This is grand."

“Aye. I spared no expense. I was too young to know of his preference in clothing,” she said. “I remember when I gave it to him he looked at me as if I had insulted him with my gift. He never wore it. Mayhaps you will want to go through his things and see if anything else pleases you?"

“Later perhaps."

She slid off the big bed, wrapped William's plaid around her nakedness, and came closer to the fire, noticing for the first time the pallet he had made on the floor near in front of the balcony doors. “You were sleeping there?” she asked.

“Aye, I was."

“Buy why? Ranulf's bed is made from the finest materials. ‘Twas made especially for a large man. I would think you would be most comfortable."

“Aye. ‘Tis a fine bed."

She shook her head, confused more than she wanted to admit. “Then why—"

“If you must know,” he began. “'Tis a wee bit too soft. I'm not used tae sleeping on a cloud. I prefer something solid under my backside. I suppose I'll have tae learn how tae be a gentleman and sleep in the bed now that you've come back tae me."

“Back to you? I see,” she mused. She had never guessed a bed could be too soft. She turned to stare at the dancing flames. Vivid memories of Ranulf staggering into her chamber and climbing on top of her flashed before her. She closed her eyes, refusing to let somber thoughts chill the warm feelings William had so tenderly stoked to life.

“Come here,” William ordered softly, drawing her back from the darkness. He sank down in the chair.

“I should go,” she said.

“Nonsense. Come here.” He patted his knee.

She inwardly smiled at the sparkle in his eyes. Was it only from the fire? She hesitated for a moment, and then took a step closer, still unsure of how to behave around this man. He made it easy. He took hold of her hand and pulled her down on his lap, tucked the plaid around her knees, then wrapped his arms around her. She felt wonderfully safe and protected.

“Now,” he said, his breath warm against her ear. “Is this not better than standing in your bare feet on the cold floor?"

She nodded. Soon she grew warm and sleepy. “If it pleases you, I will have Henri move my things into this chamber whilst you are gone."

“'Twill please me indeed,” William replied. “I canna understand why Ranulf let you have your own chamber."

She sighed, then raised her eyes to look at her husband. “After we were wed, I begged him. I could not bear to sleep beside him after—"

She turned away from William, preferring to stare into the fire, afraid of what she might see in her husband's eyes. He was quiet for a long time, but she knew her confession had affected him by the way he tightened his hold. “I never felt with Ranulf what I feel with you. I realize how foolish I was to believe all men are the same,” she said. “But, he was also a very strong man. At times, when he was near me, it was as if I ... who I am ... ceased to be. I will never loose myself like that again."

“Who are you, Elise?” her husband said quietly.

His question took her completely by surprise. “Perhaps I am many women,” she shrugged her slender shoulders, “or perhaps only a frightened child trapped in a woman's body."

William put his finger under her chin and turned her face to receive a tender kiss. “Don't fear, lass, I will protect you."

“Aye. I need your strength,” she murmured, snuggling closer.

A comfortable silence fell over them. Soon her steady breathing told him she slept. He stared into the fire thinking about what she had said. Somehow her words fell flat. He knew she had married him for protection, that was a certainty, but he wanted something far different from their marriage than the need of their bodies to join. He wanted her love and devotion—for if she entrusted those precious gifts to him, he would spend a lifetime returning them. He feared he'd have a long wait.

“If it takes forever,” he murmured, kissing her hair.

* * * *

Morning dawned damp and with a chill that had many a fire burning. Thunder rumbled in the distance. William rose, dressed quietly then woke Elise with a kiss. “Arise, lass. ‘Tis time."

She opened her eyes and blinked up at him. He was dressed and armed, and for a moment she had to push aside the spark of fear his battle attire rekindled. She glanced at the balcony doors as her stomach churned.

“'Tis still dark,” she protested, sinking down deeper under the warm quilt. She silently prayed that she would not be ill in front of her husband.

Though still feeling sickly, she smiled when he moved aside the coverlet and planted sensual kisses on her neck and shoulder. By staying abed, she felt better. She turned and stretched, curling her arms around his neck. He braced his knee on the bed and captured her mouth, groaning when he finally pulled back.

“One more like that, and Baynard can wait.” He stared into her eyes for a long time. “I canna stay,” he said softly, cupping her face between his rough palms. “I need your potion. Now arise, and fetch it. My men grow impatient below."

“Very well,” she grumbled, dragging herself up and out of the inviting bed. She shrugged on the burgundy robe he held for her, feeling like a child playing in her father's clothes. She shoved the sleeves up so she could free her hands to lift the hem before she tripped. She stood for a moment waiting until her troublesome stomach settled.

“Are you coming?” William asked as he opened the door.

“A-aye,” she managed to say, hiding her sickness behind what she hoped was a cheerful smile.

William followed her down the corridor to a chamber that made him feel as if he'd stepped back in time. “So this is where the witch Morgana concocted her spells?"

“Aye.” Elise picked up a small dusty jar and hastily pressed it into his hand. “Sprinkle this into the water, but be careful to use only a small handful to each barrel. Too much and their deaths will be on your soul."

“Then some of the others will hav'ta move over tae make room.” William slipped it into the leather pouch at his waist, then pulled her against his chest and gazed down into her eyes. “Take care, wife. Robbie will stay here tae protect you whilst I'm away."

His next kiss was short, but thorough. He grinned then disappeared down the dark corridor.

Elise ran for Morgana's chamber pot.

* * * *

A fortnight later, Elise stepped from the large copper tub, delighted that she did not feel ill. Her bouts of sickness had begun to come less often. She wrapped her hair in a large coarse cloth, and slipped on a soft velvet robe. Strolling out onto the balcony, Elise gazed out over the fields. Since William had taken only a handful of men, the work on the burgh continued, and at last it started to look like a long wooded wall.

A gentle breeze soon had her long hair completely dried. She rose and searched for something to wear that didn't feel too snug. She slipped on a silk chemise that had fit just a few weeks before, sighing when it clung uncomfortably to her growing belly. She turned sideways and stared at the slight bulge in the looking glass. Her heart leapt for joy and at the same time sunk lower than the bottom of the mote.

How would she tell William she carried a child?

She rubbed her belly, turning to the side, all the while wondering if William would notice. She remembered when Myrtle carried her fifth child. The cook grumbled, saying that her husband complained more and more about her thickening waist until she wanted to hit him over the head with a big wooden spoon. When Elise has inquired as to why, she stated he thought the babe got in the way of his pleasure.

A wave of despair washed over Elise. Would lying with William harm the babe? Her shoulders sagged with yet another new worry. First it had been the morning sickness, then the soreness of her breasts, and now, how she wished she had a woman with whom she could confide her fears.

She turned away from the mirror, took off the too tight chemise and slipped back into her soft robe. Her only hope in finding a chemise that fit would be to go back to Morgana's room and dig through her clothing. Pray they weren't infested with lice.

* * * *

It wasn't as bad as she had imagined. The old woman had been despicable, but she kept herself and her clothing clean. Although the color was the offensive shade of black, the width was much more comfortable. Elise wrapped herself back in the robe and hurried to their chamber.

She found a rose colored gown that had a generous gathering of material at the waist. One snip of her sewing scissors loosened the fabric enough to allow it to fall in gentle folds from just under her breasts. She added a straight over gown of a deeper shade of rose. It was easy to adjust a soft leather girdle by tying the laces a little less tight. Satisfied that she had successfully concealed her pregnancy, she decided to seek our Robert and have him take her for a ride.

* * * *

“William told me not tae let you out of my sight,” Robert protested, as he followed his brother's wife out the massive gate and over the draw bridge.

“And you have not,” Elise replied acquiescently. “You are very good at following me around.” Truth be known, Robert was fast becoming a nuisance. “'Tis a glorious day. Perfect for a ride.” She nodded at the men who had stopped their work on the burgh as she rode by. “I cannot fathom the necessity of this great wooden wall,” she said with a perplexed frown. These men have been working for weeks and only a small portion is done."

“Aye. A proper burgh can take years tae build, but William only wants the outermost part completed before winter."

“Why is it so important to risk injury to his men pushing them so hard?"

Robert nudged his horse alongside Elise's mare. “Tae keep out your enemies, of course."

“He thinks a wooden palisade will keep out Baynard?” she scoffed. “He will simply burn it down, but no matter, for Baynard will never get this close to D'Auvergne.” Robert's horse tried to bite Elise's mount, causing Elise to turn her attention to calming the animal down. “I like this mare. She is gentle and has a sweet nature even when bothered."

“Aye,” Robert said reluctantly. “'Tis good somethin’ around here as a sweet nature. If only you'd listen and stay in the keep. William's sure tae have my head for lettin’ you outside the wall."

Elise looked at Robert and smiled. Though his size and the thickness of his muscular arms proclaimed him a man, his comments reminded her of her a child—one afraid of getting into trouble.

The more time she spent with him, the fonder of him she grew. In that last sennight, she had discovered Robert to be as kind and gentle as William although her husband had told her otherwise.

She smiled, remembering. Had William merely said those things to make sure she chose him? The thought filled her with pleasant warmth. Strange, she thought, that just a month ago, she hated all men, and now—now she got dragonflies in her belly every time she thought about her Scot.

“Do you know how to fish?” she asked, anxious to be out in the beautiful weather. She had spent the first week after William's departure in her chamber. Partly because she had been too ill to be out, and partly because she hadn't wanted to face William's men.

“Aye. William taught me when I was a wee lad."

“Wonderful. I know a place where we can catch our supper."

“Speaking of fish, your cook ruined all those fine bream by curin’ them in salt. Bream are best when eaten fresh, roasted whole over a fire."

Elise's mouth watered thinking about it. “Then that's what we shall do,” she said unmindful of the way she ran her words together. “You can teach me how to cook them so when William comes home I can surprise him."

Robert cast a shy grin her direction. “If I dinna know better, I'd say you missed him."

Elise felt her cheeks heat up, but she couldn't bring herself to openly admit that Robert was right. “I am merely anxious for him to return to his duty of protecting D'Auvergne."

A pair of doves took flight then settled in a nearby tree. Strange Elise thought, watching the two as they huddled close to each other, in the past, all she ever prayed for was to be left alone. Now she asked God every night to send William back to her safely.

It was only a short ride to the stream. Robert cut rods for both of them, and baited her hook when she refused to touch a worm. She found a quiet spot and sat upon a fallen log that lay near the water. Robert fished several feet away. Soon they had caught a fair amount of bream.

“I think we should go back. The sun is high and they will'na bite if it gets too hot."

“But, I thought we were going to roast some over a fire?” She tried not to sound disappointed, but by the way Robert's eyes filled with compassion, she knew she'd failed.

“Aye. I did say that, but—"

A stick snapped just over the rise. Robert put his finger over his lips to signal for her to be quiet. He hurried to his horse and retrieved his claymore. When he returned, he took her hand and led her to a formation of rocks. “Stay here,” he whispered, “and keep your head down."

Elise retrieved her dagger and crouched behind the rocks. Her heart hammered against her breast as she moved ever so carefully to watch Robert. He cautiously crept up the ravine, staying low to the ground. He had just disappeared over the crest when she heard his voice carry over the rush of the river. “Damn you, Jamie. You nearly scart us tae death.” She leaned back against the boulder and gave a relieved sigh.

“Lady Elise,” Robert called. She glanced up to see him towering over her, his expression filled with worry. “Rupert fell off the rampart. Jamie thinks he's busted his leg."

Chapter 14

“He's over there,” a man called as Elise and Robert cantered their horses into the bailey. She accepted help from Robert to dismount, and then hurried to the injured man's side.

“I dinna want her help,” Rupert grumbled. He shifted his weight and his reluctant mutter turned into a painful groan.

“Be still,” Elise ordered as she knelt to examine his leg. Rupert was a small man, much older than the others, and fiercely loyal. Though small in stature, he was as ornery and feisty as two men twice his size.

She took her dagger and cut the laces of his shoe, then slit his stocking to expose the area above his ankle that was bruised and swollen. “'Tis broken for sure and has to be set. Bring him inside."

“I'll no’ have a witch set me leg,” Rupert protested, trying to scramble away. The men standing over her, who had come to watch, nodded their support.

She glared at them and then at Rupert. “I am no more a witch than you are a troll,” she spat at Rupert.

His friends laughed at her insult, then good naturedly added a few of their own comments mostly about Rupert's looks.

“And as for you,” she said to Rupert's antagonists, “make yourselves useful and hold him still or the broken bone could cut through his flesh.” She leaned closer and glowered at Rupert who shrank back. “Be still. The wound could become poisoned and you could die."

Rupert's eyes grew round and he clamped his mouth shut. When Elise glanced at Robert, he had a skeptical grin on his face.

“Have these men carry him inside. Then fetch two strong, but narrow sticks. I'll need several leather strands to bind them to his leg."

Robert caught one of the younger boys by the arm and repeated her instructions. “What else can I do tae help?” he asked, following her up the steps as the four men who carried Rupert trailed behind.

“I'll need your strength and that of one of your men to hold him whilst I align the bone or otherwise he could be crippled for the rest of his life.” She said the last loud enough for Rupert to hear, and when their eyes met, she gave him a smug smile. “Setting a bone is very painful, but I'm sure, to a seasoned warrior like you, ‘twill only be a mere inconvenience."

“Seasoned?” one man scoffed. “Old is more like it.” The others laughed even though Rupert called them unspeakable names.

“I can take anything you can do and more,” Rupert boasted to Elise, cursing loudly when one of the men carrying him stumbled. “Watch yer bloody feet, ya blasted idiot."

Much to Elise's surprise, Henri met them at the door. “What is it, mon agneau?"

“How did you know we were coming?” she asked as she stepped into the hall.

“I could hear that man's,” Henri motioned with his head toward Rupert, “obnoxious voice all the way from where he fell."

Elise smiled at the haughty way Henri looked down his nose at the hot-headed Scot. “His ankle is broken. I'm afraid he will need bed rest for a few weeks."

“Very well,” Henri said to Robert. “Bring him this way. He led the men up the stairs and down the corridor to a small, but neat chamber. “He will be comfortable in here.” Henri stood aside as they carried Rupert to the bed. “Wait,” Henri hollered, then hurried and removed the velvet coverlet to protect its beauty.

They placed him on top of the bed, glancing around the room approvingly. Henri opened the wooden shutter that covered the small narrow window, filling the room with fresh air and light.

“Dinna leave me,” Rupert moaned, looking more like a trapped animal than an injured man. “I canna stay here. In God's good name, I'll be scart tae eat or drink—I'll fade away tae nothin'."

Henri rolled his eyes then sighed loudly. “You are free to leave, if you wish.” He motioned to the door and was about to say more when Elise put her hand on his sleeve. “Go and bring some hot water and clean cloths."

“The leg is not bleeding,” Henri stated matter-of-factly.

Elise reached up and whispered, “The water is not for his leg, but so one of his friends may bathe him.” She scrunched up her nose when Henri looked at her. “Hurry."

Two boys entered, one with two sticks and one carrying the leather straps. They cast a wary glance at Elise, then dropped their possessions on the table and fled, nearly bumping Henri as he carried in a kettle of steaming water.

Elise smiled sweetly at Henri, then at Robert and finally at Rupert. “Shall we begin?” she asked in her nicest voice, pulling a small vile from her pocket. Rupert eyes grew wide before rolling back into his sockets. His head hit the soft feather pillow like a rock.

* * * *

Another week passed and still there was no sign of William. Elise sighed then turned back to her sewing. The subtle flutters in her belly filled her with joy, yet still she worried about telling her husband about the babe. She eased her anxiety with the hope that he would probably brag to his men how quickly he had gotten his wife with child.

“Mon agneau,” Henri called as he came up to the solar. “Master William has successfully roused Lord Baynard."

Elise smiled up at her steward. “Wonderful. I never doubted he would not.” She put her sewing aside and stood, eager to greet her husband. “Is he inside or still in the bailey?"

Henri shook his head. “Neither. He has not returned, but has sent a messenger to master Robert. Shall I fetch young master Robert? He will know when the master is due to return?"

“Please do,” she said stiffly as she sat and resumed her sewing, thrusting the needle into the fabric harder than necessary.

Henri went back to the top of the stairs. He spotted Robert and lifted his hand to catch the young man's attention. “Master Robert, may I have a word, if you please?"

Robert extracted himself from the crowd and took the steps two at a time. “Mistress Elise wishes to know when your brother is expected to arrive."

“I dinna know for sure. In a month or two I expect."

Henri's grey brows shot up. “So long? But why?"

“He's gone back tae Scotland tae fetch our kin—tae bring them back to live here at the castle."

Henri pursed his lips and nodded. He was not looking forward to breaking this bit of news to his mistress, but then it was his duty to do so. “Thank you, milord,” he said softly.

* * * *

Elise glanced up from her sewing. “Well?"

“Master William is on his way to Scotland.” Her indifferent expression faded, replace by anger.

“It has been nearly three weeks, and now he chooses to stay away even longer? I have been expecting him to walk through the door at any moment. How dare he?” she fumed, jumping to her feet and pacing. “Does he think he is fulfilling the terms of our agreement by placing so much distance between himself and D'Auvergne?"

She didn't let Henri speak before continuing on. “Nay. He most definitely is not. Baynard is only temporarily thwarted. If Lord Darrow or Lord Tharinger learn that William has trotted off to Scotland, what is to stop them from taking D'Auvergne?"

“I do not think—"

“William cannot do this to me,” she interrupted, bitterly disappointed.

“I believe he is only—"

“What could he possibly be thinking?"

“Mistress, a moment,” Henri nearly shouted. Elise spun around and stared at him. He swallowed then cleared his throat. “I believe the master has only returned to his home to collect his family. Young Robert said he will be gone about a month."

Elise blinked several times as she felt her cheeks heat with color. What was happening to her? First she wanted to cry, then she wanted to strangle William with her bare hands. Her emotions were in turmoil. “Forgive me, Henri,” she said softly. “I—"

“There is no need, mon agneau. I will miss him too.” Henri's smile made her feel worse. She had ranted like a mad woman and for what reason? She felt hurt because he had not informed her of his intentions?

I should be stronger than this, she silently scolded. She sighed. Or did she feel so terribly disappointed because it would be longer yet ‘til she slept soundly in his wonderfully strong arms—awoke to the taste of his kisses on her lips?

“What are a few more weeks,” she said nonchalantly, not yet willing to admit that she was beginning to yearn for her husband to be at her side as a woman who is in love might yearn. Henri smiled sympathetically then left.

Alone, Elise wandered to the narrow window and gazed out across the fields. A month or more. Loneliness engulfed her. She wrapped her arms around herself, closing her eyes against the threat of tears.

“Godspeed,” she said, her voice barely over a whisper.

* * * *

The weeks drifted by slowly. Each day the baby moved more and soon Elise found it impossible to wear anything tight around her waist. When a merchant stopped by, she bought bolts of soft linen and yards of colorfully dyed wool.

Sewing gowns would help pass the time, but it was the new shirts she wanted to make for William that gave her the most pleasure. She gave the merchant an extra piece of silver, assuring that on his return trip, he would bring velvet and satin and skeins of soft yarn to make garments for the babe.

Wearing a new pale yellow gown, she stood before the looking glass to view her changing body. Though still slender, she worried that William would find her fat. She frowned then ran the tips of her fingers over the pink smudges of color that had recently come to her cheeks. Taking walks and being out in the sunshine had agreed with her.

She was still busy studying her reflection when there came a knock on the door. “Enter,” she said, turning to smile at Henri as he came inside. She stood perfectly straight and squared her shoulders. “Do you notice anything different about me?” she asked.

“Only that there is a light in your eyes that I had thought extinguished forever, mon petit."

Elise walked to him, accepting the bouquet of wild flowers. She kissed his wrinkled cheek before closing the door. “Henri, your words are always as sweet as honey, and these flowers are beautiful. But, I want the truth. My husband will be home soon. Do I look much different? Has the babe made me obese?"

The old man chuckled and shook his head. “No. You look like a young woman who is finally happy.” He lowered one bushy brow. “Are you, mon petit agneau? Are you filled with joy because of the child you carry or that the man your child will call father is on his way home?"

She was quiet for a long time then smiled sadly. “I love the life that grows inside me. Yet when I think of Ranulf and his wicked ways, I am afraid.” She painstakingly arranged the flower in a vase on the table. “I pray my child will be nothing like his father, but I also pray that I will be a good mother—strong enough to save him from his father's evil."

* * * *

Robert's hand stopped just inches from the door when he overhead Elise. He pressed his ear against the wood. I pray my child will be nothing like his father ... Robert's chest tightened painfully. “Ah, William,” the lad moaned under his breath as he shook his head. He glanced down the corridor then at the door once more, undecided as to tell his brother's wife that her husband was nearing the gate. Sadly, he turned and walked away.

* * * *

“Welcome back,” Robert shouted over the commotion of husband's and wives being reunited. “I missed you."

“And I you, lad.” William swung down from his horse and clasped hands with his brother. He glanced past Robert, scanning the faces of the people gathered in the bailey. “Where's Elise?” A shadow fell over his brother's serious features, causing William's wide grin to falter. “She's well, isn't she?"

“Oh, Aye,” Robert said hurriedly. “Well enough."

The last was spoken in a tone that made William's dark brows snap together. “And what do you mean by that? Is she sick? Out with it,” he ordered.

“She's carryin’ your child, but I dinna think she's none too happy about it."

William stared at his brother for several moments. “What did you say?"

“She's pregnant, William, but that's no’ what bothers me. She's scared tae death of you and,” he raised his voice to mimic Elise, “your evil ways."

Robert didn't have time to say more, William grabbed him and pulled him away from the crowd. “You're no’ makin’ any sense."

“Aye, I am. I over heard her and that silly old man that follows her around like a pet hound. They were talkin’ about a babe. You're wife's carrying your bairn, William, but she scar't because she thinks you're a bad man."

William felt a fist close around his heart. From the very beginning, he had tried to be kind and gentle. With each mile that passed he had played out this moment in his mind. His return would be a memorable one. Elise would be waiting on the rampart, watching for him, her long silky hair softly blowing in the breeze. On seeing him, she would wave then hurry down the steps into his waiting arms. Their kiss would have been long and demanding, proof to all those who watched, of their love.

Instead, he had been given news that whilst he had been gone, Elise's fears had returned tenfold. Tired and dirty, he accepted several words of gratitude and praise for seeing his people safely to D'Auvergne as he glanced around once more for his wife.

Did she find him too repulsive to welcome back to her precious castle? Sorely disappointed, he ordered a few men to unload the supplies from the wagons and see to the horses. He then mounted his horse and rode out the gates toward the river. Mayhaps a cold bath would cool his rising temper.

* * * *

Cheerful voices carried up, interrupting Elise as she was about to chide Henri on becoming soft toward her husband. Although she realized that her old friend thought dearly of his new master, she dared not let Henri see how much she, herself, had missed the fearless Scot. Nay, it would never do. William was arrogant enough. If he wanted her to openly declare her love, he would have a very long wait.

“What is all the noise?” Henri asked, striding over to the balcony.

Elise followed. “'Tis William,” she said cheerfully, fighting the urge to run out of the room and down the stairs. Instead, she lifted her skirts, and like a lady, made her way to the door. “Come, we shall greet him."

“I fear we are too late,” Henri said, shaking his head. “Look there. Master William is riding out the gate as we speak."

Elise was by Henri's side in a breath of a moment. “Aye. But, he only just arrived. Where do you think he's going?"

“I do not know, mon petit, but he seems to be in a hurry. Look how the grass flies from his horse's hooves."

She couldn't help the sigh, but she managed to control her voice enough to speak past the sudden rush of disappointment. “Mayhaps Robert knows of his brother's destination."

She turned and left Henri to follow or be left behind. On the step just outside the main entrance, Elise looked for Robert. It seemed as if hundreds of men, women and children mingled in the bailey, hugging and kissing, laughing and crying.

Surely William had a good reason for leaving without a word? Had his vow to return not held a subtle promise—one that he sealed with his warm mouth and wandering hands? She felt her cheeks grow warm with her thoughts. Ladies did not stand before strangers thinking lusty thoughts of their lords. She watched as one plump woman scolded her husband for staying away so long, then opened her arms and welcomed him with a rib-crunching hug.

Nay, Elise thought, still watching. It would not be proper to appear too eager. She would return to her chamber and wait. William would come to her if only to ease his wont of her. He must never know how deeply she missed him.

* * * *

“Henri,” Elise called, peeking from behind her door when she had heard his shuffling footsteps going down the corridor. “Still no word?"

“You worry too much."

“But ‘twas hours ago that you said he had gone to the river. The evening meal is near over. Where is he now?"

“I'm here, lass,” came William's deep voice from behind her servant. The old man jumped and turned, facing his master with a wide grin.

“Welcome, welcome, master William,” Henri said happily.

Elise looked past Henri. William's dark hair shone blue in the light of the torches in the hall. The laces of his clean white shirt were loose, exposing his muscular chest. The familiar weakness of her knees, as well as the sudden fluttering of dragon wings in her stomach served to remind her once again how much she longed to be with him.

“Leave us,” William said firmly after placing his hand affectionately on the old man's shoulder. “I'm wantin’ a few moments alone with my wife."

His smile seemed strained, but Elise assumed it was due to the miles he had traveled. She hurried to the table and filled a goblet with wine as the door closed behind her. She turned, expecting to see a warm smile, only to be unsettled by his cool aloofness.

“Milord,” she said, holding out the wine. “Welcome home."

William took the cup, his warm fingers brushing against hers. Her fingers tingled, causing her to look shyly away from his piercing gaze. “I pray your journey was uneventful?"

“Aye.” The silence that fell between them caused her to look up. His eyes were dark, unreadable. She swallowed against the dryness that threatened to close her throat.

“You must be weary,” she hurried to the platter of meats and cheeses she had Henri bring earlier. “Are you hungry?” When William didn't answer she faced him, yet chose to look at her hands lest she see something awful in his expression.

“Robert told me about the bairn."

Her head snapped up and their eyes fused. “He told you?” she said in a breathless whisper. Her heart felt as if it would burst through her ribs. Dear God, how had Robert found out? If he knew, did others? Her head swam. She had planned to tell William, but not like this. She suddenly felt cheated. “He had no right,” she said hotly.

“Aye. He's loyal and my brother—that gives him the right tae keep me informed when no one else will.” He was acutely aware that his indifference had hurt her, yet he couldn't find it in his heart to go to her. He had wanted her to come to him—to face him and tell him the truth. “This ... this news of the bairn pains you?"

She spun around. “Nay, milord.” There was neither anger nor happiness in her voice. “'Tis only ... ‘tis only that I had wanted to tell you myself.” She walked toward him, stopping only inches away. She gazed up into his eyes for a moment then reached up and on tip-toes, placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Welcome home."

The warm touch of her soft lips on his skin drew out all the longing he'd held in check. Without warning, he pulled her into his arms and claimed her willing mouth, ignoring her gasp as his hands roamed over her firm bottom, pressing her intimately close to his awakening manhood. “I missed you, lass,” he breathed against her mouth.

His words were a balm on her hurt feelings. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her and carried her over to the bed. His kisses were urgent, imploring—and without restraint, she gave herself to her husband.

Their lovemaking was primal. She tugged at his clothes when she felt him tear the gown from her shoulders, baring her breast. His hot mouth lavished her bare skin with kisses, drawing from her a moan of pure pleasure. Her skirts were pushed up around her waist, but she dared not protest the barrier of material between them, afraid to break the magical spell of the moment. He entered her swiftly and with such a savage growl she instantly found her release.

He quickly gave himself to her, and she pressed herself closer, drawing him deeper into her body. It was over almost as quickly as it begun, but she was so thoroughly satisfied, she lay back against the pillows and smiled blissfully.

The welcome weight of his body on hers made her feel safe. Aye, he had lusted for her as she had for him, and the thought made her smile triumphantly. It was a strange feeling, she mused, this power, she as a woman, held over such an imposing man.

She ran her fingers idly through his soft hair, savoring the lingering taste of him on her lips, the scent of him in her nostrils and the feel of him between her legs. She closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. She covered a yawn with her hand.

“We should think of a name,” came her husband's deep voice, causing her to glance down. He hadn't moved, resting his head on her breast. “I'm rather fond of Elizabeth if it's a lass."

Elise smiled. “Nay. It will be a boy. I feel it."

William lifted his head to look into her eyes. “Then I think James is a good name. What say you?"

“Philip is better. ‘Tis my father's name."

“That's a French name, lass. He'll be born in Scotland. He'll need a good, strong Scottish name."

“D'Auvergne is on English soil, milord. And you are forgetting that I am French.” She yawned again. “Philip is a noble name."

“For a French lad, born in France.” He rolled off of her, stood and adjusted his kilt. He then rolled her over and undid the laces of her ruined gown, pulled it over her head and tossed it on the floor. His eyes feasted on her perfect form pausing on the slightly rounded mound of her belly. He grinned when her cheeks turned bright red and she quickly pulled the covers up to her chin. “'Tis rude to stare,” she scolded.

“You're beautiful, lass. Don't be ashamed of your womanhood. ‘Tis a gift from God that you're made to nourish a new life."

His smile was unlike any she'd seen and filled her with such warmth that it matched the blaze of a fire on a cold day. Yet when their eyes locked, she felt a twinge of guilt. Did he know? Or was she being foolish to constantly wonder? Her doubt evaporated, as he bent down and kissed her gently, thoroughly, then gazed deeply into her eyes.

“'Tis happy I am tae have you...both of you.” He looked at her for several long moments, making her feel as if she should return the compliment, but something inside caused her to remain silent. Her husband must have sensed her dilemma for he cupped her cheek in what she thought was an understanding gesture and left her to fill a goblet with wine.

He took a drink then put it on the table. Afterward, he pulled a heavy quilt from Ranulf's old trunk and folded it in half, dropping it on the floor.

“Do you intend to sleep on the floor tonight, my lord?"

“Aye, lass, for a time. You rest. I've some thinkin’ I need tae do."

Chapter 15

Elise awoke the next morning to find herself still alone in the big bed. She quickly glanced at the floor, disappointed to see that William was gone. Stretching, she rested for a few moments remembering. Though a night of few words, his passion proved to her that he had missed her as much as she had missed him.

She smiled, cuddling her pillow. The light that peeked from under the balcony doors roused her enough to make going back to sleep difficult. She rose and noticed a little leather pouch sitting on the table next to the pitcher of wine.

She assumed that it had to be filled with gold, but when she picked it up, it was much too light. She quickly untied the leather thongs and turned it upside down. A single ring fell into her hand—man's ring, yet a perfect match to the one she wore. Although much too large, she couldn't resist the urge to try it on the middle finger of her left hand to make the comparison. The stones in the man's ring were appropriately larger—the lions more fierce. She admired it for several moments, wondering why William didn't wear it. She took it off and slipped it back into the pouch as a hundred questions came to mind.

She found his plaid and wrapped it around her shoulders. The soft warm garment held his scent, and for a moment she closed her eyes and remembered. Feeling a little foolish, she went to the balcony and looked down to see if he were anywhere in sight.

Below, men were busy at work. Sounds of their voices drifted up, but were too faint, and too heavy with Scottish brogue for her to understand much of what was said. She searched for her husband, scolding herself again for acting like a love-struck maid. Raking her fingers through her tangled hair, she was just about to leave for her own chamber when William walked in.

“Good marnin', wife.” He stole a kiss before she could protest. “You look bonnie this fine day."

Elise wanted to straighten her hair—had the urge to pinch her cheeks, but instead raised her chin and met his bold gaze. “'Tis a sin to lie, my lord."

“'Tis a sin tae look so bonnie so early in the marnin'” He walked around her, making her feel as if she were a prized mare being examined for purchase. When he spoke, he was so close to her ear that she jumped a little, then silently scolded herself for being so, what had he said so long ago? Jittery?

“Had I known you wanted tae wear my colors, I would have brought you a tartan. I have some down in one of the wagons. I'll have that little maid of yours fetch one when I see her."

Elise swallowed. “Oh, this? I can explain. You see—"

“Aye, I see, and I approve.” He turned her around, took her into his arms and kissed her. She felt herself lean toward him, but then remembered it was broad daylight. When she pulled away, she could hardly catch her breath. Curious, she thought, until she met this Scot, had she ever, really been kissed? She rearranged his plaid to cover more of her bare shoulders.

“Much has happened since you have been gone,” she began, wishing she'd thought to dress. Her nakedness made her feel vulnerable, a feeling she'd grown to hate under Ranulf's dictate.

“Robert did a good job whilst I was away. I saw the burgh, or at least the beginnin’ of the burgh as we rode in yesterday. The crops are startin’ to show their wee heads too."

“We are sure to have a bountiful harvest. Your men worked hard, as did my villains. I have gained a new respect for them."

“And they of you."

She raised one light brow. “What say you?"

“I saw old Rupert hobblin’ around on a crutch, one you had made for him. He insisted I take a closer look at it, even try it out. He spoke of drinking a potion that took away the pain and let him sleep more peacefully. He sang your praises long and loud, so much so, I thought he was talkin’ about someone else."

His grin told her he was teasing. Elise felt the warmth of a blush creep up her neck. “He speaks too soon. His leg has not yet held his full weight. The test of my ability will come in due time. Then we will see what the knave has to say."

“I heard some of the villains tell of the potions you've concocted tae ease their discomforts. Seems they don't mind me having a witch for a wife as long as you cure what ails them.” His eyes had lost some of their usual humor when she met his gaze. She pulled the tartan a little tighter.

“Does my lord think me a witch?” she asked, raising her chin a little.

William faced the challenge. “Aye, I do. A beautiful witch who's cast a spell over me, too.” He pulled her close. “I've no will of my own any more. I've become a mindless man who canna get his fill of the pleasures you're tryin’ tae hide under my plaid."

He pulled her close, smothering her protest with a long kiss. His hand slipped under the folds of the tartan, brushing against her breast for a moment until they slid lower over her belly.

Elise sucked in her breath. “What are you doing?” she demanded, jerking out of his grasp.

William's dark brows snapped together. “I just wanted tae say good marnin’ tae our bairn."

“Oh,” Elise said in a small voice. She tried to think of something to say that would excuse her behavior, but a knock sounded on the door and Robert burst in.

“William, I'm—I'm sorry, but I...” Robert's face turned red and he quickly turned his back. Mortified, Elise scurried behind William, feeling her own face heat up. It was several moments before she realized her husband was trying hard not to laugh. Angry, she poked him in the back. He grunted then cleared his throat.

“What is it, Robbie?"

The lad kept his back to them. “The women are fightin’ over who's goin’ tae get the best of the cottages. I think they're gettin’ ready tae do battle.” He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. “Can you come and settle them down?"

William frowned. “What are their husbands doin'?"

“They're the ones that asked me tae come."

“Very well. Tell them I'm on my way.” William shook his head as the young man nodded then fled the room as if he were being chased by a wild boar. William turned to his wife. He drew his finger down her check, stopping under her chin. “If you've a mind tae stay in bed a wee bit longer, I should'na be too long.” His eyes held a promise. He kissed her quickly before she could object then left.

* * * *

Elise hurried to dress, anxious to be out and see how her husband handled this latest crisis. She opened the door of the chamber and instead of leaving, found Henri begging entrance.

“Mon petit, a word if you please."

Elise sighed. “Now?"

“Oui.” His serious expression dissolved her plans.

“Of course. Come in.” She stepped aside.

“There has been much ado this morning. It seems some of the Scottish women have very different ideas of who will live where."

“So I've been told.” Elise strolled to the balcony to see if she could get a glimpse of the goings on near the unfinished burgh. “I assume William will settle things to their satisfaction."

“Oui, I mean no. He has invited them, the older ones, to move into the castle."

“He's what?"

“He's invited the elders to move into the other tower. He said there is plenty of room and that they can stay there until more cottages are built."

“But on who's authority?"

Henri cleared his throat. “His own, mon agneau."

Elise folded her arms over her breasts. “His own?"

“Oui. I am sure he is only thinking of their welfare and that it is not a permanent situation."

Elise sighed. “Did Master William suggest that I join him?"

“No. He made no mention of it to me."

“I see.” She turned to gage her friend's reaction as she spoke. “He knows I carry a child."

Henri didn't blink. “So he told me."

Elise gave an exasperated snort. “Were you going to tell me that he told you?"

“I did not think to do so.” Henri shook his head and raised his bushy brows. “Why would I tell you when I thought you were the one who told him?” he added defensively.

Elise heaved an annoyed sigh and threw up her arms. “Saints Esprit. Men. I cannot begin to understand any of you."

“If you did not tell him, who did?"

“His brother.” She nodded at Henri's shocked expression. “Oui. His brother told him, though I've yet to figure out how he knew. Has anyone else said anything to you?"

“No."

“She smoothed her hands over her belly. “Does it show?"

Henri quickly looked the other way, red-faced and obviously embarrassed. “No."

Her relief was short lived.

“But, I am an old man, what do I know about pregnant women?"

“Nevertheless, I do not think he is as happy about the child as I. Of course,” she gave a weak laugh, “why should he be?” Several moments after she turned away, she felt Henri's warm hand on her shoulder.

“He has only just arrived. Give him time to become accustomed to the idea. Fatherhood is a great responsibility not to be taken lightly."

Elise took a calming breath and squared her shoulders. “No matter. I have come to believe that William is a good man. He will keep our bargain. He will keep us both safe."

“Is that all you want from him, mom petit, for him to simply keep to your bargain? Do you not want to give him your love and to be loved in return? Surely you must think of these things when you think of him?” His expression was filled with fatherly concern.

Not particularly upset by his question, Elise sat on the edge of the bed. “When I think of William, I feel safe. When he is near me, I know I will never have to be afraid again.” She glanced at Henri. “That is as good as love, if not better.” She ignored the shadow that flickered across his eyes.

“Perhaps it is enough for you, but what of him?"

She met Henri's intense gaze. “Men love war. They lust for women. William is a man, a warrior. As long as he is satisfied in bed, and his purse is full of gold, he will be content."

Henri shook his head and added sadly. “No, mon agneau. You are sorely mistaken. A man such as William is successful because of his passion. He feels strongly about what is right and fights savagely for it. But to expect him to live without love, without passion in his marriage,” he shook his head again, this time adding a warning finger, “No. Take my word for it. He will never be content until he has won your heart."

“You are a foolish old man,” Elise said gently. “Too old to remember so much about love. Ranulf taught me that a man and a woman can be bound in marriage without love. William did not marry me because he loved me. Nay, Henri. He married me because of the gold I offered him."

She placed her hand protectively over her belly. “I have resigned myself to live without love. In time, William will come to terms with it too. Meanwhile, I will cherish the love of my child. It will be enough to make me happy."

“No Elise,” Henri said, walking toward the door. “It will not be enough, and shame on you for condemning a man like William to a hell of your own choosing."

Her head snapped up. “Look about you. There is a fine bed on which he can rest—carpets at his feet, food in his belly. Hell? Certainly not. How can you say these things to me? You know I have come to ... to care for him."

Henri raised his chin and gave her a stern look. “Take care, mon petit. William is not a man who will be so easily appeased with paltry comforts. Why can you not see it, when it is before your very eyes?"

She dared not think about it—could not allow herself such thoughts. “I have given him all I can. As I told you before, I will not surrender my heart."

“You must, for he will not settle for less."

“Then he will be sorely disappointed."

“Oui, and so will you."

“You have over stepped your bounds, my friend."

“No. Unlike you, I have faced the truth. Master William will accept your child as his own, this I know,” Henri tapped his crooked fingers against his chest, “I feel it in my heart. He will protect you both or die trying.” Henri crossed the short distance and opened the door. “What sacrifice will you make for him? Hmm?"

Elise watched as Henri walked out into the corridor. She ran to the door. “Henri. You have no right to make such demands on me.” The old man continued slowly down the hall. “I cannot. Henri, hear me. I cannot give him my heart so easily."

When her steward only shook his head and descended the stairs, Elise turned and slammed the door. Her throat ached, but she willed the annoying pain away. She would not cry. Not for Henri, not for William, not for any man.

* * * *

“May I sit down?"

Elise looked up from her sewing to find an attractive woman standing by the vacant chair in the solar. The woman looked to be in her late fifties with silver-grey hair coiled atop her head.

“Of course,” Elise managed to say, even though she didn't feel like company.

“My name is Molly MacDarrin.” The plump woman sat on the bench and gave Elise a warm, friendly smile. “We,” she cleared her throat and began again. “We, the other women and I, want tae thank you for your kindness in sharin’ your home with us."

Elise met the woman's piercing gaze, acutely aware of the deep laugh lines etched in the corners of her nut-brown eyes. “Forgive me, but I did not quite catch your name."

“Molly. Molly MacDarrin."

“MacDarrin? William's name is MacDarrin."

The woman smiled proudly. “Aye. His like my very own son. Made me as proud as can be when he took it."

Elise felt her mouth go dry. The woman who served as William's mother sat before her and all she could do was stare. Her heart started to thud against her chest.

“William told me that you're expectin'.” The older woman beamed. “He'll be a fine father. He was always good with the wee ones, helpin’ me raise my brood."

“I—I see."

“There's no’ need tae be so nervous. I don't bite. After all, we're practically family.” The woman's smile faded into a concerned frown. “I canna fathom why he waited so long tae tell me about the bairn?"

“He did not know,” Elise blurted out. She tried to swallow, but it felt as if her throat had closed.

“Is this your first?” Molly asked.

Elise nodded.

“By the looks of you, the babe's sure tae be as big and strappin’ as his father."

Elise forced a weak smile. “Aye."

“I've had ten wee ones in my day. Eight that lived. My youngest dinna come with us. He stayed to squire with Laird MacDiarmid, even though I was'na in favor of it.” Molly sighed wistfully then changed the topic back to the babe. “Mayhaps, when your time comes, I can be of help."

“Uh, aye. I suppose so, when my time comes.” Too many questions made her feel uneasy, yet what she really wanted to do was ask this kind woman a thousand questions about babies and child birth. Instead, Elise stood. “Your pardon, my lady.” The older woman stood and gently grasped her arm, halting Elise's retreat.

“Lady MacDarrin."

Elise met her gaze, yet could not quite return the woman's accepting smile. “Lady MacDarrin?"

“Aye. That's your name now.” By the confused look on the woman's face, Elise realized that Molly had used her married name.

“You can call me Molly,” the older woman added. “I'm no’ a highborn noble woman, nor am I the blood mother of your dear sweet husband, but I love him with my whole heart, and if'n he loves and honors you, then so will I ... gladly. I have'na much, but I pledge it all tae you."

Elise blinked several times as Molly hugged her tightly. She couldn't respond. The honesty in which Molly spoke, left her feeling guilty for the indifference she had shown the women of William's clan every since their arrival. She had left them alone, feeling as if they were invading her home, when actually all they had done was add their plaids and meager comforts to the great hall, enriching her home with the laughter of their children and interesting stories of their journey.

“You probably think I'm a foolish old woman,” Molly said when Elise could only stare. “But you see, all the while we traveled, William told me about his beautiful bride. He told me how clever you were tae have captured him...” Molly leaned closer, “but, I swore an oath not to tell a livin’ soul."

The older woman winked at Elise. “And, how he fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you. Why I feel as if I've known you forever, when actually we've only just met.” Her plump cheeks turned red. “Forgive my boldness, my lady."

Love? Elise's breath nearly caught in her chest. Didn't men usually keep such things to themselves? She looked away, partly because so many thoughts raced through her head and partly because of her shame for acting so aloof to this kind woman and her kin. “'Tis I who should beg your pardon. I have yet to welcome you and your people properly to D'Auvergne."

She took the woman's hand and pressed it between her own. “But there is still time to remedy my impolite behavior. If you and the other ladies will honor me, I will have a feast on the morrow to celebrate."

“'Tis a wonderful idea,” Molly cried. “We'll celebrate the impending arrival of William's bairn. I'll get the others and we'll start preparing the food."

* * * *

Angus swung down from his horse and tossed the reins over a fallen tree branch. He slung a sheep's bladder over his shoulder to take it to the river to fill as Titus followed close on his heels.

“I'm hungry and tired of wanderin’ aimlessly around, stealin’ bread from those who are no better off than we are,” Titus grumbled. “We should'a gone home. It's been weeks since we left William and still ya hav'na told me why we stay."

“Shut yer gab,” Angus said, dragging the back of his hand across his brow to wipe away the sweat and grime. “If'n ya dinna know my plan, then ya canna spill it to the first beggar ya see."

“Then tell me this,” Titus demanded, flinching when Angus turned to face him. He lowered his voice just a little. “Tell me why we come tae be on Baynard's land?"

“I've a need tae talk with the old man.” Angus squinted as he looked at the sun. “'Twill be dark soon. We'd best get our fill of that water. We've a long ride ahead of us.” He knelt by the river and splashed water over his face then drank.

“What makes ya think old man Baynard will listen tae yer plan without first tryin’ tae gut ya?” Titus knelt by Angus and wet a rag, washing the sweat off the back of his neck.

“He'll listen if'n he's as greedy as they say he is."

Titus glanced around cautiously. “We've been on his land for nearly a day and I dinna see any—"

At that moment a dozen armed men stepped out from behind the trees. Titus nearly fell into the river scrambling away from a too close spear.

Angus slowly stood, keeping his hand well clear of the hilt of his claymore. “We pose no threat. We've come tae speak tae Lord Baynard."

Chapter 16

The great hall of D'Auvergne was filled to capacity. Every corner, every nick and cranny had been set with benches and tables piled high with wine and food. The women made good on Molly's promise to help. Elise had nothing to do, but sample stews as they bubbled over the fire and taste pastries fresh from the ovens. Nor did William's people deplete the stores of D'Auvergne, using many of their own supplies as well as several of their own sheep brought with them from the Highlands.

Mutton, a staple for the Scots, did nothing to awaken Elise's appetite, so she had the men slaughter two fat hogs and six geese. Apples were brought in from the cellar as were half a dozen barrels of wine and ten kegs of mead.

Lads and young girls from the village were brought to the castle and given new clothing to wear as they were instructed by Henri on how to serve food. “All is ready,” he said proudly to Elise as she stood on the landing to overlook the busy scene below. “It has been a long time since anything so festive has come to D'Auvergne, Oui?"

“Oui,” Elise said, aware that her tone lacked the enthusiasm of Henri's.

Henri clasped his hands together. “Master William will be nicely surprised. He will be very pleased that you have welcomed his family in such a manner. It will show him that you are trying to be a good wife."

Elise stared at her steward. “I am simply doing my duty as mistress of D'Auvergne in making these people feel welcome. I have nothing to prove. I am keeping my part of the bargain, even more so, by letting his people move into my home."

Henri didn't appear ruffled by her irritated tone. He merely looked at her in his fatherly way and shrugged. “Is D'Auvergne not your husband's home too?"

Elise refused to let her old friend anger her further. “We spoke of this before. D'Auvergne is mine. I will share it with William as long as he is my husband."

“Share it?” Henri made a clicking noise then shook his head. “You are married to him. By law, he could claim D'Auvergne, petition the Church to overrule your agreement and take everything you own."

She could only give him a cool stare, acutely aware that what he said was true.

“I say these things to you, mon petit, because I love you and do not want to see you spend the rest of your young life miserable and alone."

“Look about you,” she snapped. “I am hardly alone. There are women and children aplenty in my home. I would relish a moment alone."

“Then tell me. Why were you so unhappy when master William left?"

Elise squared her shoulders. “I was not. I-I was merely experiencing the sickness that comes with carrying a child, not unhappiness. If anything, I was relieved. You are growing dim-witted with age, or you would have known."

Henri laughed. “Oui, perhaps, but I know what I see and I see the way Master William looks at you. He has the look of a man in love. What say you to that?"

Elise gave an unlady like snort and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I say that Annie will have my bath ready.” She lifted her skirt and walked away.

“Because it is not in your agreement, mon agneau, does not mean it cannot happen.” He watched her disappear down the long corridor.

“Foolish child,” Henri muttered under his breath, smiling. “She would not know love it was dangled from a hook before her nose."

* * * *

Left alone to soak away the worries of the day, Elise lay back in the hot water and closed her eyes. Why did life have to be so confusing? She never asked for William's love. Their lives would be so much simpler without it. She sighed loudly and sank deeper, relishing the warm relaxing moments alone.

And what of William's plan? She sighed again, but this time it did not ease her tension. She was sure William's scheme would fail. He had taken Ranulf by surprise. Baynard would be prepared. He had already tasted one defeat at William's hands; he would not make the same mistakes.

“'Tis a fool's game,” she muttered. Too quickly, the water cooled. Begrudgingly, she opened her eyes and reached for the thick cloth on the stool. The precious moments she had to think were gone. Ahead lay what she hoped would be a pleasant evening, yet the guilt she felt because of her inability to return William's love, had the potential to tarnish her enjoyment. And now, she was vexed with his strategy, too.

She dressed slowly, preferring to do it by herself without Annie's assistance. She chose a dark blue gown that puffed at the shoulders, but fit snugly in the sleeve to the wrists. The puff was held in place by two golden bands, allowing a separate section to fall from the elbow and hang nearly to the floor. Over this she wore a gold and blue embroidered overgown.

The deep armholes allowed the elaborate sleeves of the undergarment to be seen. She slipped on a pair of gold slippers. Rather than braid and coil her hair, she captured the length of it in a gold crispinette studded with tiny pearls, held securely by a gold and sapphire circlet. She decided to forego the wimple, choosing instead to wear her mother's sapphire necklace.

Standing on the landing above the great hall, Elise searched the faces of the men and women below, acutely aware of the way the many husbands and wives shared a provocative glance, or a subtle smile as they strolled amongst the throng of people.

“Love is for fools,” she whispered to herself, yet in the back of her mind she wondered who she was trying to convince. The heavy door of the hall opened and she knew without looking that William had entered. His people turned and cheered. Many rushed forward to slap him on the back and speak in a language she could not understand.

Were Ranulf's people to be so brazen to place their hands on his person, they would have been tied to a post and whipped. Yet Ranulf called the Scots savages, she thought to herself.

“Master William must have bathed and changed at the river, mon petit.” Henri joined her at the balustrade. “See how handsome he looks, and how his people love him."

“Of course they love him. He has delivered them out of poverty and brought them to D'Auvergne."

“Is that all you see?” Henri asked calmly, clasping his hands behind his back. “I do not see greed in their faces, nor do I see their palms lifted to receive gifts."

“For one so old you see with the eyesight of a hawk.” She ignored his chuckle. “Perhaps they think of him as Moses."

Henri laughed out loud at her comparison. “'Tis time. I must see that the food is served."

She sighed, but made no move to follow the old man down the stairs. “Are you coming?” Henri asked.

“In a moment.” She gave a tremulous smile.

Her old friend came to her side and rested his hand on hers. “What is it, mon agneau? You look like a princess. Your appearance will knock the breath from your husband."

Elise shrugged her shoulders. “'Tis not that."

“Then what? Tell me."

“Nothing."

Henri leaned closer and looked deep into her eyes. “You cannot fool me. Something is amiss. Come. Tell me. Are you still angry with me?"

“I was never angry with you.” She cast him a sideways glance. “Well, perhaps a little.” She smiled to soften her words. “You are like an annoying priest, always making me confess, even when I have done nothing wrong.” She laughed with him this time, and then stared at her hands as she opened her heart to the only one she could trust it with.

“What you said before ... about love."

His bushy brows snapped together. “Of love? Those were silly words from a silly old man, nothing more."

“No,” she answered quickly in French, aware that he was trying to make her feel better. “With age has come wisdom. Your words awoke in me a truth I must face. Months ago, when William attacked my home, I hated all men. I married him for only one purpose, to protect D'Auvergne. Now you tell me he loves me.” She paused to gather her thoughts. “I know now why I am as I am. I have come to the conclusion that I am incapable of love,” she said firmly.

“What do you mean?"

“Today, before I spoke with you, I spoke with the woman William thinks of as his mother. She too told me William loves me, and ... and as with you, I could not respond in a way that convinced her I could return his love."

“Why not? To love someone ... ‘tis such an easy thing to do."

She gave Henri a despairing glance. “I have done a lot of thinking and have faced the fact that I have no love to give, no heart that is my own. Ranulf destroyed all that I had. William must be satisfied with the knowledge that I have great affection for him."

“If you think he will, you are fooling only yourself."

“Then look you below. Will not the love of his people be enough? See? He appears happy."

Henri nodded. “Perhaps for the time being, mon agneau. But do not confuse happiness with tolerance. He has honor enough to keep to your bargain, and patience enough to wait for your heart to change the stubborn thoughts of your mind.” Henri patted the back of her hand and left. “God did not intend for women to think so much."

Elise took no offense to her friend's simple statement. She watched for several more moments as Henri joined the others. The proud steward bowed stiffly as William introduced the old man to his many friends. Just when she thought no one had noticed her standing on the top step, William looked directly at her. He left the person he was speaking with and climbed the stairs to stand before her.

“You are beautiful,” he said softly, placing a kiss on her temple. “Come, they're anxious tae meet their mistress."

She hesitated, then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. William's title strengthened her resolve. She was the mistress of D'Auvergne and must greet her guests or be considered rude. With her hand resting on his, Elise let William lead her down to the great hall.

“Friends,” he called out proudly. “May I present my wife and your mistress, Elise MacDarrin."

When the last name was spoken, a cheer went up amongst the crowd of well wishers. Women's faces beamed and even the men smiled and nodded as Elise followed William toward the head table.

It seemed as if each step they took, a well-wisher blocked their path. William introduced his people; amazing Elise that he could remember all their names. He stopped often to allow his wife to accept a wild flower, a branch of pine or a sprig of heather with words of greeting laced in heavy brogue.

Her bouquet grew large, its pungent fragrance mingling with the succulent smells of the feast. William pulled out the velvet chair to his right, but before she could sit, Molly stood up from her place on his left.

“Oh no you don't,” she said. “I'll have her sittin’ next tae me, if'n you dinna mind.” The stern look she gave William made Elise smile as William gallantly stepped aside and assisted her with what was to be his chair.

“We'd best do as she says,” he whispered near Elise's ear, but in a voice she knew was meant to carry. “She's the one that taught me how tae swing my claymore."

The mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he took his seat helped Elise to relax. She watched proudly as Henri ordered in a loud voice for them all to be served.

Conversation became difficult over the clanging of dishes and rush of voices and laughter as the variety of food was placed before the diners. William filled the trencher they shared with sliced pork and leeks, and then spread brown gravy and mushrooms over the roasted pork. He added a good measure of sugared apples and a huge portion of hot bread, slathering butter over the top. Piled high with food, he pushed the trencher toward Elise then reached for another.

“Eat. You're feedin’ two."

Elise stared at the mountain of food. “I cannot eat all of this,” she said, her mouth agape.

“Why not?” he asked, stabbing a thick haunch of pork for himself.

“Because I'll ... I'll..."

“She'll burst, you ninny,” Molly finished. The older woman shook her head. “William, watch what you're doin’ and dinna be so silly."

He flashed Elise a quick glance before he gave in to Molly's reprimand. He shoved his half-filled trencher toward Robert, who readily accepted it. “Very well,” William said, picking up a small eating dagger, “we'll share."

Elise ate and listened to William as he told amusing stories from his past. Robert added several interesting tales of his own, drawing William into a rather heated discussion on who could toss stones farther. The savory food and the heady wine made Elise feel as if she were back in France, enjoying the company of family and friends. “Lady MacDarrin,” she began, stopping when the elderly woman shook her head.

“Just call me Molly, dear."

“Aye, I shall remember to do so.” She took a sip of wine and began again. “Pray tell, what was William like as a boy?"

Molly's features filled with warmth. The older woman scooted a little closer and lowered her voice. “He was lost and lonely when I found him. His father had tossed him out, the worthless blackheart, tellin’ the boy he needed tae be a man.” Molly shook her head. “I dinna think the lad ever knew his mother. When I first saw him, it tore me heart in half. He was'na more than a wee lad himself, barely older than my own son who died two years before."

Molly dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron, keeping an eye on William. Each time he turned their direction, she smiled as if nothing were amiss. “'Twas a rainy day—the poor lad standing in the rain. I asked him if he'd come and take shelter with my family. He accepted, but the next marnin’ he insisted in paying for his keep by choppin’ a mountain of wood. Praise be tae God, that he stayed, for without him, I dinna know what I would have done."

“He is a very skilled man, in many ways,” Elise added.

“He'll never let you down, lass, that you can count on."

“What are you two up tae?” William asked. “You've been whisperin’ over there like two maids at milkin’ time."

Molly looked past Elise then smiled brightly. “Nothin'. Now mind your manners and quit your eavesdroppin'."

“I was'na eavesdroppin'. You've a voice louder than what's proper for a woman.” His grin was filled with boyish insubordination.

Molly put down her cup of cider and raised one grey brow. “Now tell me, how a man like yourself, can know what's proper and what's no'?"

Several of William's men lifted their cups and cheered Molly on. William gave them a mocking scowl then raised his cup. Instantly, cups lifted all over the room."

“Tae me muther,” William shouted in heavy brogue.

“Tae yer muther.” His men repeated in unison. The roar of male voices verily bounced off the rafters. The cups were drained and hit the table all at once sounding like a loud rumble of thunder. Laughter drowned out the shouts of encouragement and agreement as Molly nodded triumphantly.

“'Tis a good thing, William, that you know when tae quit.” Molly smiled at her son, and then took a sip of cider.

Elise turned in time to see William wink at Molly. He had obviously played this game with the older woman before by the joy and pride in Molly's voice. Elise's guilt resurfaced, yet this time jealousy made it smart worse.

“Do you dance?"

Engrossed in her thoughts, she wasn't prepared to hear William's deep voice so close to her ear. He stood and gazed down at her. Gone was the boyish arrogance he had used when taunting Molly, replaced with the flirtatious allure she'd seen in his eyes just before he claimed her body.

“Aye,” she managed to say. She accepted his assistance and stood.

“Good. Then come along. You can teach me.” His confession startled her.

“Teach you?” she repeated, trying to keep her voice low. When he tried to curl her arm through the crook of his elbow, she resisted.

“Aye. I'm a quick learner.” He firmly grasped her hand before she could slip it from his arm. The music seemed to start on some unspoken command, dissolving any hope of retreat. As if he were a gallant knight, her husband bowed then said in a loud booming voice, “May I have this dance?” He looked deeply into her eyes for a moment before smiling and releasing her hand.

Her first thought was to deny his bold request, worried that they would be laughed at if he didn't know the steps, but the determined twinkle flickering in the depth of his silvery eyes, warned her against it. He had already proven himself a capable sparring partner with his mother. As his wife, she had no desire to be on the receiving end of what she was sure would be a grand exhibit of heartbreak on his part if she refused.

Tables and chairs were hurriedly shoved against the walls and the men and their ladies, scooted aside to let the couple have room to dance. Undaunted by the fact the he had professed his lack of skill, William followed Elise through the simple steps without too much difficulty.

The others let them have the first dance, but when the pipes and drum struck up a more lively tune, they joined in on the fun. Elise had no idea how to dance a Scottish jig. After several attempts to continue with William's instruction, she finally succumbed to his persistent tug and allowed him to twirl her around until she was flushed and breathless.

“Nay,” she protested cheerfully when he tried to get her to dance to another spirited melody. “I cannot. I must catch my breath.” She sank down on a bench, smiling when he sat beside her. “You lied to me, William. You should be ashamed of yourself."

“Aye, but for a good reason,” he defended. “I dinna want you tae be shy. I figured you could'na resist the chance tae teach me a nobleman's duty, and I was correct in my thinkin’ wasn't I?"

She laughed at his challenging expression. He was a clever man, as good at outsmarting her as he was his enemies. The thought reminded her of the impending conflict with Baynard and dampened her enjoyment. She spotted Molly sitting alone on a nearby bench. “You should let me rest whilst you dance with Molly. Methinks she would enjoy a little of your noble attention."

She sighed with happy relief, watching as he crossed the short distance to take his mother's hand. She bounded up; laughing with glee as together they twirled into the midst of the other dancing couples.

“Mon petit?"

Elise looked up to see Henri standing before her with a cup of cool cider. She readily accepted and took a long drink.

“You are having a good time?” Henri asked, taking a seat next to her.

“Aye. ‘Tis pleasant to see so many smiles."

“So many happy couples,” Henri added.

Elise cast him a sideways glance. “Aye.” She continued to watch while Henri occasionally tapped his foot in time with the drum.

“Such lively music,” Henri said.

“The Scots are known for it."

Henri nodded. “Oui. There are a passionate people, so full of life. It is as if they must live each moment to the fullest, hum?"

“Aye, one could come to that conclusion."

“Indeed. Though they appear gentle enough, we must not forget that they are a savage bunch, prone to warring and doing battle, and...dying young. Look there. See that man and his lovely wife? See how they stare at each other? Why it is as if they are the only ones in this room.” Her steward heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Ah amour, how special it is."

“Henri, you are beginning to bore me. You have taken to badgering as a hound takes to the scent. If you are so lonely, ask Molly to dance when William is through, and leave me in peace."

She frowned when Henri put his hand over his heart. “Mon petit, you wound me. I was only trying—"

“I know what you were trying to do. ‘Tis the same with you day in and day out. Why must you insist that I stand on a bench and proclaim my love for William, when I have told you, I love D'Auvergne, I love you and I will love my son."

“You seem convinced that the child is a boy. Have you given any thought to the possibility it might be a girl?"

“Oui,” Elise confirmed in her native tongue. “If it is a girl, then when I die, D'Auvergne will be without a master. Is that what you wanted me to say?” She took another drink, glaring at him over the rim.

“There could still be a male child born another day."

She continued to scowl. “'Tis possible provided William—how did you so cleverly put it? Provided he lives long enough?"

“I meant nothing. ‘Twas a foolish comment.” Henri shrugged his shoulders. “'Tis well known that young men love to wage war."

“My husband, as do all men, think of battle as nothing more than a child's game."

“He has said this to you?” Henri asked, concern darkening his pale eyes.

“Not exactly. But, Robert told me of his plan to secure us all behind the burgh whilst our enemies lay siege."

“Humm, I see.” Henri scratched his chin. “It makes good sense to me."

Elise stared at Henri. “No,” she said tightly in her native language. “It is not good sense. ‘Tis impetuous and will be the ruin of D'Auvergne."

“How can you say so?"

“Henri, you are most annoying. Were you not listening? If our enemies lays siege, they will simply wait until we run out of food. We will starve to death whilst they simply unlock William's silly burgh and let themselves in."

“But will we not have our harvest to feed us?"

Elise cast Henri a sideways glance. “I suppose, but with this many mouths to feed, it will not last forever."

“Mon petit,” Henri said with a perplexed frown. “How long do you think Baynard or any other warlord can survive in a tent in the middle of winter? He will freeze to death long before we deplete our supplies."

She shook her head impatiently. “What if they join forces? They will stop at nothing to see D'Auvergne destroyed. Wood burns and the burgh is made of wood."

Henri shook his head. “So little faith you have."

“Faith? This has nothing to do with faith. I can trust no one to care for D'Auvergne as I do. I will not stand by and see her ruined."

“You have a better plan?"

“Oui. William must keep the terms of our agreement. Battles, all battles must be fought far away from D'Auvergne."

Henri stood then stared down at her for several tense moments. “To send him out to do battle on some field could mean sending him to his death. Is that what you want?"

Hurt by Henri's accusations, Elise dropped her gaze to stare at her hands. “No, of course not."

“Then I beg you. Reconsider before you speak with Master William about this."

She looked up at her friend then caught sight of William approaching and quickly stood to intercept him, pausing only to whisper to her steward, “Henri, do not judge me so harshly. ‘Tis not for myself that I want D'Auvergne safe. ‘Tis for my child."

Chapter 17

Rain fell steadily for the next few days confining Elise inside the castle. In the weeks since William's return, the hustle and bustle of the women in the south tower kept her busy as did finishing the burgh keep William and his men occupied, even in the rain.

On the beginning of the fifth week, his obsession with the burgh began to give her cause for worry. He came in every night exhausted, but never complained. To her surprise, he asked her to teach him to read, and by the light of a dozen candles, he would painstakingly go over the written words. When he would finally come to bed, he'd pull her into his arms and tell her of his day, often falling asleep before their conversation finished.

In the darkness, she'd let herself wonder what it would be like to return his love, freely and without restraint. She often fell asleep wishing she could. Yet with the dawning, a clarity rose with the sun that left her feeling restless and unsettled.

The smell of danger hung in the hot humid air as surely as the cook fire's smoke that wafted in through the balcony doors. As if performing a ritual, she'd touch William's side of the bed, knowing beforehand she'd find it cold.

The weeks blended into months. The hot days of summer faded into the crisp days of fall as the fields of wheat ripened. Fruit trees were braced with long boards to keep their branches from snapping. Leeks, carrots, beets and turnips were carried to the cellar in huge baskets to be stored for winter.

Sugarcane and precious spices were purchased from the merchant, as were other items needed for the long cold months ahead. The work on the burgh continued, weaving around the village and the fields like a giant serpent. Sod houses were built and thatched, two new wells were dug, and pens and cages were constructed for the many animals.

Elise filled a cup with hot cider, joining William who sat and studied the book she had given him the night before. “'Tis a good story, is it not?” she asked. His gaze fused with hers and once again she noticed the tiny lines of fatigue around his mouth and eyes.

“Aye, but I canna understand why the young man feels he is less than a man because he killed his lover's father."

“'Tis a poem. He is a gallant knight and feels that he must repent for his sins."

“But why? The old man needed killin'."

She shrugged. “Because he fears he will lose his lady's love.” She looked at her husband's skeptical expression, and frowned. “How can a man need to be killed?"

William matched her serious frown. “If a man does evil things tae his wife, he needs tae be killed."

She cast him a sideways glance. “Well done, but still you are missing the point to the poem."

William closed the book and stood. “Then we'll have tae discuss it later. I've got tae go. ‘Tis gettin’ late."

“'Tis barely past dawn,” she protested. “Why must you labor so hard when there are others that can do the work?” She sensed she had said something wrong.

“I don't ask of them what I am unwillin’ tae do myself.” He pushed the book toward her then left.

Elise sighed and finished her cider. Each time she tried to question her husband about important matters, he was illusive, telling her only bits and pieces of the truth, always in a hurry to leave before she could press farther.

She reached for a piece of bread just as the door to the grand hall opened and Robert's tall frame momentarily blocked out the sun. Finally, she thought as Robert came to eat, she'd learn the reason for her husband's urgency to finish the burgh.

“Baynard,” Robert mumbled over a mouthful of food.

“I assumed as much,” she muttered.

“Aye. When William put the potion in Baynard's water, it worked and worked well. He told me the whole lot of ‘em doubled over and lay in their own filth for two days ‘til they could muster the strength tae pack up and head for home."

Elise tried not to picture what Baynard and his men must have looked like as she listed to Robert talk. For a moment she pitied the nobleman's wife as she sipped the hot cider.

“William hoped we'd have more time, but Baynard and his bunch of misfits are gatherin'. William got a message sayin’ the old man's planning tae lay siege on your home at harvest.” Robert's face lit up. “He read it himself, too. I thank you for teaching him."

Elise didn't hear the last part of what Robert said. She almost dropped the cup of cider she held. “But why? What will he accomplish? His own crops will rot in the fields if he has no one to bring in the harvest."

“Aye,” Robert said over a mouthful of food. “One would think so. But, William thinks he's only goin’ tae bring half his army to D'Auvergne. He's thinkin’ the other half will stay behind tae tend tae it."

Elise took another sip of cider. “Has William divulged his battle strategy to you?” When Robert didn't answer, she continued. “Surely he has a plan?"

Robert raised his brows. “I thought he'd have told you."

“Nay. He has not,” Elise said, feeling left out.

“My brother's a smart man,” Robert boasted proudly. “But, Baynard is no fool either. William thinks he'll spend some of his gold and hire Irish mercenaries."

Elise choked. After several pats on the back from Robert, she finally caught her breath. “Irish mercenaries? Saints Esprit, how we will defeat an army twice our size fighting against men who have no honor?” She looked at Robert as he finished his meal like nothing was amiss. “Irish mercenaries,” she cried in horrified disbelief.

The young man nodded. “Aye. ‘Tis dark news for sure, but nothin’ you should worry about. The burgh will keep Baynard and his mercenaries out."

“William cannot let him come to D'Auvergne.” She looked at Robert like he'd lost his mind.

“Aye. ‘Tis the best way. We'll be safe and sound inside. ‘Tis Baynard that will have to spend the winter in tents, laying siege on us. He canna pack enough food to feed an army for long. If he stays, he'll starve.” Robert took another drink then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “William told me no’ tae upset you because of the babe. In fact, he told us all tae keep our mouths shut and tae leave you in peace."

“Not to worry?” she repeated, flustered with Robert's cool manner in light of such grave news.

Robert shook his shaggy head. “William will take care of us. He's sensible when it comes tae battle. There's none better. He'll have the burgh done in a few more weeks, even if it kills him."

“His death will hardly protect us,” Elise snapped.

“'Twas just an expression,” Robert defended softly.

She sighed as the young man got up and left. Her appetite ruined, she stared at the untouched food on her trencher.

* * * *

Angus glared at the two men who stood behind him with a spear pressed against his backside. He'd come to make a pact with Baynard, yet all he'd gotten for his trouble was four weeks in a dank and dirty cell. Scratching at the vermin that had infested his beard and hair as he slept on the moldy straw, he kept walking, anxious to finally meet the infamous Lord Baynard.

The Scotsman squinted at the man who sat in the huge red-velvet chair. His hair was nearly as red as his own, but cut short. Although well into his fifties, he was well-built, with dark eyes and a thin moustache.

“Lord Baynard, I presume?” Angus waited until the man slowly nodded, feeling much like a bug under the man's close inspection. “I've come tae make ye a little bargain."

“And, why would I want to bargain with the likes of you?” Baynard asked, twisting the end of his thin moustache.

“Cause I'm thinkin’ ye want the witch's castle, and I can help ye get it.” Angus scratched his head then stared at his fingernail for a moment. “Ye've no chance tae take MacDarrin without my help."

“Why is that?"

“I know how the man thinks. He's defeated ye once,” Angus fixed his dark eyes on Baynard, and nodded. “He'll defeat ye again ... unless you throw in yer lot with me and mine."

“And what assurance do I have that MacDarrin didn't send you to spy on me?"

“Ye've my word as a Scotsman.” Angus’ face twisted in a snarl as Baynard threw back his head and laughed.

“I'd sooner trust the devil to promise me a place in heaven."

“Ye'll be laughing oot the other side of yer mouth when William slices yer head off with his claymore.” Angus didn't blink when one of the guards stepped closer with his spear.

“So, I'm to take your word that you will not betray me, yet here you stand, a traitor to your own countrymen?"

Angus shrugged his massive shoulders. “My allegiance to MacDarrin fled when he married the witch."

“I see,” Baynard mused. “And now you want to declare your allegiance to me?"

“Aye. For a price, of course."

Once again Baynard laughed, but the sound held no humor. “Of course. And what price would that be?"

“A fair price—gold, horses, and safe passage back tae Scotland."

“And all of this to listen to what ... a plan?” Baynard shook his head and motioned with his hand for the guards to take Angus away. “I've already got a plan."

Angus grabbed one of the spears and wrenched it free. He growled deep in his chest and charged at Baynard, stopping just inches away from the man's chest. “Stay back, or he's a dead man,” he said through clenched teeth. The guards and retainers held perfectly still. Confident they wouldn't attack, Angus turned back to Baynard. “I'm thinkin’ a man in yer position should listen tae what I've tae say."

Baynard nodded, motioning for the guards to back away. Angus lowered his spear. “William is twice the warrior I am. Never underestimate yer enemy. I'd a thought after what happened tae ye before, ye'd know that. But, no matter. With my plan, ye'll have D'Auvergne in yer grasp once and fer all."

* * * *

Elise managed to hold her tongue until the Burgh was finally finished. The massive structure encased the entire village, a goodly portion of the fields, as well as the stock yards. It was as if the outside were a different world from their little city inside.

William urged her to tour the grounds with him so he could show her the defense mechanisms built into the walls. “Tar and burnin’ manure can be poured over the walls from this rampart, but as you can see, by looking down over the side,” he motioned for her to take a look, “the outside of the wall is too smooth for them tae get a good handhold. Baynard's men will'na be able to climb very high. Nor will they be able tae start any fires that we canna douse."

“William,” Elise began, “I needs speak with you about your intentions.” Her husband grinned and wrapped his arm around her thickening waist.

“I can see that you're worried, lass, but ‘tis for nothin'. My plan will work even though it sounds a wee bit daft."

Elise put her hand on his chest to stop him from moving her toward the stairs. “I do not believe hiding behind these walls will frighten Baynard away.” She knew by the slight stiffening of her husband's back and the change in his expression that he had taken offense to her choice of words.

“I was'na plannin’ tae hide from the man. From atop these ramparts, we have the advant—"

“Baynard will simply make ladders to scale your walls and use arrows wrapped with burning cloths to burn your burgh down."

William's dark brows snapped together. “He canna burn us down. We've a bloody river runnin’ under us. Our wells will'na go dry. I've water barrels at every point. Look about. Do you see any brush or trees close enough tae burn? No. ‘Tis all cleared away.” He pointed at long narrow holes in the tops of the walls. “See these? They're arrow slits. My men will stop any man tryin’ tae set a torch tae the wall."

Elise silently fumed, and she knew by his brogue that he was furious too. She turned on her heels and started to descend the steps. “'Tis apparent you are not willing to listen to reason."

By the time William caught up to her, she had left the outskirts of the burgh and was picking her way through the wheat field. Instead of using the path, she had chosen the shortest distance to the great stone wall that enclosed the inner bailey of D'Auvergne.

“I'm not finished talkin’ tae you,” he said angrily, matching her swift steps. She refused to look at him.

“I will hear no more. You gave me your word. You agreed to protect D'Auvergne. ‘Tis your duty to do so."

He caught her arm and turned her to face him. “Aye, and I have, and I will."

She shook her head and placed her hands on his chest. “Then take the battle to Baynard as you did before,” she pleaded, wincing as a shadow darkened his features. “You are a warrior—a Scottish Chieftain. You defeated Ranulf and he was the most powerful lord in Northrumbia. You can defeat Baynard."

William looked at her long and hard for several tense moments. His gut twisted with the realization that she would willingly sacrifice him and his men for the sake of saving D'Auvergne. He had been a fool to think she wouldn't. His anger died, replaced with a cool resolve to do what she had called his duty.

“When I married you,” he began in a calm voice, “I agreed to protect you, partly tae save the lives of my men, and partly because I saw in you a young women who beneath her hard shell, was afraid and hopelessly lost. I wanted tae change that for you. I betrayed my own kin tae conquer your fears, I forgot my own dreams tae make yours a reality. I dinna count on losin’ my heart as well."

He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her closer. “I love you, Elise. But, now I want somethin’ in return. I want you tae say you lost your heart too—that you love me—more than this blasted castle. I want you tae say you'd leave this all behind tae be with me."

Elise felt her throat tighten, yet she couldn't bring herself to speak the words he needed to hear, the words she herself ached to speak. She could not lose D'Auvergne. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed hoping that when she opened them again the pain and hurt in his eyes would diminish. “I-I care for you very much,” she whispered, hating the way her voice quivered.

Her confession closed around his heart like cold steel, cutting painfully into his chest. He met her gaze for a fractured moment. Pain—remorse, as strong as his own, glistened in her eyes.

“Do you?” he challenged stiffly, wondering why his voice sounded so calm when his insides felt as if they'd been torn out. “That's bloody generous of you.” He pushed her away. “I'm stayin’ here. You'll see. The burgh will be our best defense."

Anger replaced the sorrow in her eyes. “You signed the agreement accepting my terms. Now I suggest you read it,” she said in a strained voice. “It clearly states that all confrontations will be conducted far away from D'Auvergne."

Her icy gaze froze hin to the spot. He stared at her for a long uncomfortable moment. He had to turn away or give in to the impulse to shake some sense into her. “Our time tagether, this lifetime is ours for only a short time. Don't waste it, lass. Don't lock yourself away from it, for it'll slip away and be gone before you've realized it."

He turned abruptly and strode away.

* * * *

A small child ran up to Robert, tears streaming down her face. “Milord,” the little girl cried. “My brudder tossed me dolly over the side, see?” She pointed her pudgy little finger to a boy playing on the rampart. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as Robert knelt down.

“Can your mother make you a new doll?” He winced as her cries grew louder and more miserable. “Nay,” he grumbled. “I dinna think so. Well, no matter. If'n you stop your wailin', I'll go an fetch your doll.” After telling the guard what he planned to do, Robert slipped out the gate, and holding the little girl's hand worked his way to the far side of the burgh, unaware that they were being watched.

* * * *

William missed supper that night, choosing to stay outside with his captains gathered around a fire discussing battle strategies. He was listening to Rupert's idea for a new forge to make weapons when Thomas ran up.

“William, they've got Robbie,” the young man gasped, trying to catch his breath.

William grabbed his friend's arm. “What are you sayin'? Who's got Robbie?"

“Baynard.” Thomas pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket. “A little girl gave me this."

* * * *

“You canna go,” Molly wailed as she paced before the huge fireplace in the great hall. “Tae leave the burgh, ‘tis suicide. You know Baynard won't kill the boy. He'll have all of Scotland breathin’ down his neck if'n he does. Donald will no’ let his son go un-avenged. Baynard's just usin’ Robbie tae get you."

“I canna leave him, Molly, nor can I let Baynard milk Donald for a king's ransom. ‘Twas my responsibility and ‘tis my duty tae get him back. Most of my men feel the same way. If we meet Baynard like he wants, at least on the field we'll have a chance tae save what we've worked so hard tae build."

“Then give him this drafty old castle. What good is givin’ up your life for a pile of stones.” Molly rounded on Elise. “Tell him. Tell him, lass. We'll all go back to Scot—"

“Nay. I have heard enough,” Elise said a little desperately. “To give up so much for one man is foolishness. There must be another way.” She inwardly winced when her husband turned his cool gaze her direction.

“Nay lass. Seems you've gotten your wish."

* * * *

Robert sat on the rickety cot, resting his back and head against the cold stone wall of his cell. He dragged the edge of his manacle across the wooden frame. Had it been eight or nine, days he wondered? Time had no meaning. He wasn't sure how many days he'd been unconscious before he awoke.

A single torch continually burned, and with no windows came no way to tell if it were night or day. He lifted his chained hands and dragged them down his face. “Ah, William,” Robert whispered hoarsely, “I should'na have been so stupid."

The chains jingled loudly as he tried once more, in vain, to squeeze his hand through the manacle, cursing under his breath as the rough edge cut painfully into his raw and tender flesh. Completely engrossed in his struggle, he never heard the heavy door of the dungeon open.

“'Twill do no good to further injure yourself."

Robert's head snapped up. Standing at the cell door was a tall, elegant woman who could pass for the queen herself had he not known better. Clad in a dark green velvet gown trimmed with ermine and a bejeweled girdle, he guessed her status to be that of Lady Baynard.

Silver strands streaked her jet colored hair and glistened in the light from the torch. “Even if you removed the chains, your cell is locked and two of my lord's best warriors stand guard beyond that door."

She strolled over to the bench near a massive support post and after dusting the seat, gracefully sat down. “My husband, Lord Baynard told me your name is Robert MacDiarmid."

Robert scowled, refusing to give this woman any information. “I'm surprised your husband would allow you down here,” he said matter-of-factly. “After all, we Scots are nothin’ but murderin’ savages."

To his surprise, Lady Baynard only smiled. “I did not come down here to anger you."

“Then why are you here?” He watched as she rose and came to peer at him through the bars. Her inspection was bold and unnerving, not at all what he would have expected from a lady of her noble standing.

“I knew a MacDiarmid once. A long time ago."

Robert eyed her suspiciously. “Indeed. There's a lot of Scots with that name."

“The man I knew was a wealthy man—a baron, tall, dark and the laird of a mighty clan."

Something about her looks unsettled him. She was a rare beauty even though she was near as old has his own sweet mother. She was nearly too tall for a woman, and very slender with broad shoulders. Caught staring, Robert quickly looked away from her piercing grey eyes.

“My lord Baynard told me you are Donald's son, yet Donald's hair was as black as the night. Yours is quite fair."

He met her steady gaze. “How observant you English are."

Again she smiled. “Mayhaps my lord husband has made a mistake and captured the son of a different MacDiarmid.” She gave a humorless laugh. “'Twould serve him well if he did.” Her sigh was loud enough for Robert to hear. “I see that your wrists are raw.” She glanced at a bucket tied in the corner of his cell. It was half full of stale water. “I will have the guards bring fresh water and send someone to tend your wounds."

“Dinna bother,” he nearly shouted at her departing back. She left without responding. For several moments he sat perfectly still, going over their conversation, unsure if he had somehow disclosed information she could use against him. Angry and confused, he lay down and crossed his arms over his chest to ward off the damp and cold. “Bloody English,” he muttered.

* * * *

Catherine left the dungeon, casting a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't followed. She hurried to the scullery and after giving instructions to the cooks, found some salve and bandages.

“Is someone hurt?"

Catherine spun around. “Mary, you startled me,” she said, turning back to what she had been doing. Her daughter came to peer over her shoulder.

“Who are the bandages for?” she asked."

“Someone you're not supposed to know about, my dear.” Catherine smiled at her daughter's perplexed expression.

“Then the rumors amongst the servants are true. We have a man in the dungeon.” Mary's face brightened. “May I see him?"

Catherine looked at her young daughter. The girl had the same dark hair, but had her father's eyes. “I suppose there's no harm.” Catherine reached for a small jug of wine. “Come, you can assist."

* * * *

A week later, Elise watched from the balcony as William, mounted on a large grey warhorse, gathered his men in the outer bailey. Pride mingled with remorse as the deep timbre of his voice drifted upwards. The men exchanged and adjusted their weapons as the jingle of harness mingled with the occasional whinny of their horses.

She sighed and turned back, her gaze falling on the rumpled sheets of the bed. Memories flooded her eyes with tears, but she quickly blinked them back. She had lain in William's arms wondering why he still held her after all that had been said between them. He held her, forgoing the lusty words he usually whispered. Nay, it was as if he felt words would ruin the moment.

Yet the actions of his body and hands spoke louder than any love words he could have spoken. He loved her though he didn't say the words. She knew it by the tender way he rubbed her back, and then pressed his hands against her belly only a moment before he rose to dress. Her heart tightened with the knowledge that he longed to hear she loved him too, but when he left at dawn, and their eyes met on this the last morning before he left to rescue his brother, she knew she had failed him.

She took special care dressing, choosing a cream colored overgown, accenting the bronze tones of her loose gown. She left her hair down, refusing to admit to herself that she did so because William liked the way it sparkled in the sun. A matching gold and white scarf lay on the table. Upon seeing it, she snatched it up thinking to give it to William for good luck.

Moments later, she came down the stairs to join the other women who had come to bid their husbands and lovers farewell. She picked her way through the crowd, trying not to notice the softly spoken words of endearment, the desperate embraces, the long, lingering kisses of husband's and wives. As she passed by, she felt the stares of their people on her back as if she were a queen walking amongst her subjects.

“All is well, husband?” she asked formally as William rode up to her. An uncomfortable hush fell over those standing closest to them.

“Aye. I've sent a message tae Baynard. We'll meet on Rover's bluff. I'll try tae send word every few days.” Aware that his people were watching, William leaned down. “Will you give me a kiss for luck?” She quickly held out her hand to keep him from dismounting.

“Godspeed husband,” she said loud enough for those closest to hear, as she pressed the scarf into his hand. A shadow fell over his serious features and a muscle jumped above his jaw.

“Fare thee well, wife,” he answered. His hold on her hand lingered for a moment before he released her, glancing at the scarf as he gathered up the reins. He turned his horse toward the gate, where he stopped and waited alone for his men to finish their goodbyes.

Elise felt ill. She wanted to weep, but instead she kept her chin raised. Her heart aching, she couldn't ignore the sobs and pleading whispers from the other women, begging their husbands and lovers to return safely. Men and women, unashamed, embraced all around her, yet all she had done was give William her hand. Emptiness encased her heart.

She heard his strong voice order the gate to be opened, but when she turned, he had already ridden out. The bailey slowly emptied of Scottish warriors, some mounted on horses, others on foot. The women walked with them, parting only when they were well past the burgh. Her heart as heavy as the stares of the other women, she carefully gathered her skirts and made her way back to D'Auvergne.

“And so it begins,” Henri muttered as she approached the top step. “Pray he will be victorious."

Elise could not bring herself to look into the face of her old friend. Instead she rubbed an annoying ache in her back. The weight of the baby was fast becoming debilitating. “We must post guards at every rampart."

“Tis done. Master William saw to it himself early this morning."

“Then close the gate when the villagers are safely inside the burgh."

Henri nodded. “They have received instructions should Baynard manage to defeat William's army and choose to attack. Each man and each woman has a responsibility."

Elise cast one more glance over her shoulder just as William and his Scottish army disappeared over the rise. “Then all is well,” she said flatly, resting her hand on the top of her swollen belly. Henri's silence caused her to finally look up at her faithful steward.

“For you or for him?” Henri gave her a sad smile. “Ah, mon petit agneau, I fear you will never truly know what you have done."

Elise shook her head, hesitant to continue their conversation lest Henri should say something she already knew, but was afraid to admit. “Unlike you, I am confident. He will return triumphant. Of this I am sure."

Her steward rubbed his chin. “Was it written in your agreement?"

She looked at him, hurt and slightly confused.

“That he should return victorious,” Henri continued. “Was it put down in writing that he must win every battle?"

Tears welled in Elise's eyes. “No,” she said in a broken whisper.

“Then I beg you, pray hard for his success."

* * * *

Two days passed before the first young messenger arrived at D'Auvergne with news that their army had made camp near the place William had chosen. Elise rested her chin in her palm and her elbow on the table only half listening to the boy brag of his leader.

Talk of war and battle strategy dominated the rest of the evening, leaving Elise feeling cold and empty. The baby kicked and moved, causing her to sit straighter to ease the discomfort. By her estimation, she should deliver about the same time as winter's arrival. A good time to have a child, she thought. Winter was a time to stay inside and tend the fire. This winter she would have a little babe to care for and all the time in the world to do it—providing William was successful.

She shook her head, annoyed that she let the thought that he might not be enter her mind. Not a day went by that she didn't relive their parting. At night, she'd see the hurt in his eyes; feel the beseeching squeeze of his hand on her fingers. Her throat would ache, but her eyes would remain dry.

“'Tis late,” she said, standing. Most of the men stood except the very old ones. They simply nodded. Elise climbed the stairs and left them to their drink. In her chamber, she shed her clothes, donned a soft warm gown and slipped between the sheets. She rolled over and placed her hand on William's pillow. As if holding it would ease her loneliness, she pulled it close and snuggled against it. Her baby kicked and moved inside her, finally settling down as it, too, drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 18

William stared into the fire holding a cup of warmed wine. A thin stream of smoke drifted up and mingled with what was left of the stars. Most of his men were still abed, but he could not sleep. He had awakened early, sat on a fallen log before the fire and sipped the wine.

At dawn, they faced Baynard. His gut tightened recalling the multitude of men he had seen making camp on the other side of the bluff. God would truly have to be on their side if his plan were to work. He took another drink then tossed the contents on the ground. He rose slowly and dragged his hands down his face seeing, as he always did, Elise's face as she bid him farewell.

Saints, but how he had wanted to swing down from his horse and take her in his arms. He wanted to feel her soft curves pressed against his chest, taste her sweet lips, and savor the scent of her hair. But, most of all, he wanted her to not be ashamed of him—wished she would show his people that she loved him.

The fire popped, drawing him back to brutal reality. It was still too early. He cursed under his breath and sat down on the log once more to ward off the frosty chill. He lifted his claymore from where it rested on the log and ran his fingers along the hilt.

Waiting was hell.

* * * *

Aware of a nagging ache across her lower back, Elise rose early and slipped on William's robe. It was still dark outside, but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep anymore. She added a few small pieces of wood to the glowing coals and watched as they slowly caught fire. When the flames were high, she threw on several logs, anxious for the new day to begin.

When the sun rose, she would go to Morgana's chamber and fetch the supplies needed to make camphor salve for wounds. There was ivy to grind for blisters from wielding Claymores, and dried marigolds to mix with barley and make into a fever reducing tea. She picked up a tiny gown she had been knitting, and began again.

Staying busy kept dark thoughts away.

* * * *

William and a small band of his warriors gathered on the hillside and watched from their hiding place as Lord Baynard assembled his army. Nearly fifty mounted and armored knights took the lead, followed by as many archers and foot soldiers. In their pompous English style, they lined up and brazenly stood ready.

“You'd think they'd learn,” William stated flatly, looking at the horizon behind his men. In less than an hour the sun would rise, sure to blind Baynard's men, or so he hoped. Thirty men hid in the trees to the north, while another thirty took cover behind rocks and hid in deeply carved gullies. Forty horsemen stood ready on the other side of the hill, out of Baynard's sight, waiting for the signal to ride down then quickly retreat in the hopes of enticing Baynard's knights to give chase.

William guided the big grey horse down the slope to where Thomas, Garrick, and several loyal men waited. “As always, lads, we want tae take them at the right moment. Keep your weapons ready and watch for my signal.” They nodded.

“'Tis not the knights I fear,” Thomas replied tightly.

“The archers are the worst. I've heard it said the Irish paint the tips with poison."

“Then best keep your head down and your eyes open,” William stated, his voice calmer than he felt.

“Aye, and our shields up,” Garrick added.

William turned to Thomas. “Baynard will send in his knights first. Let them come up the rise to you, then put your spurs tae your horses and retreat, but make sure you toss enough insults tae get them tae follow. Once in the trees, Jamie and his men will use their spears and scatter as many as they can. That's when you'll come around and try tae spook their horses. English knights canna fight without them."

William glanced at the horizon for a moment, and then continued with his strategy, looking at Garrick. “Baynard's archer's will'na attack until his knights fall back or are out of range. That's why we must keep our shields ready, and charge when the sun is in their eyes, but only half way down the hill. By then, his men will have tasted Scottish blood. They'll charge. Let them run uphill to you."

“'Twas good you picked this place, William,” James said. “With the weight of their armor, the climb will wear them down a bit."

“Aye, I'm countin’ on it. Now listen carefully. Sean will lead our horsemen straight down the middle, so be sure tae watch so you don't get trampled. He'll engage what's left of the knights before they can regroup and come around. In the commotion, I'm goin’ tae stay tae the trees and come around behind Baynard's camp. If the bastard's a man of his word, Robbie should be in one of his tents. When I find him, and make sure he's safe, I'll give the signal and we'll make a hasty retreat to the safety of D'Auvergne."

The captains had no sooner joined their men, then Baynard's trumpeter sounded the first attack.

* * * *

“I need more water here,” Elise called to Annie as she stirred a thick paste of sorrel. Annie carried over a pitcher.

“Did it frighten you to learn spells and potions from the witch Morgana?” Annie's innocent question caused Elise to pause. Dark Memories filtered back to become vivid pictures in her mind.

“Aye. At times it did. But I gleaned the bad from the good, and thank God now, that I did. These salves and potions will ease the suffering of our warriors."

“'Tis good that you are so prepared,” Annie added, grinding poppy flowers in a stone bowl. “I have folded mountains of bandages and gathered every spare quilt from the village."

“Do not breathe too deeply of the powder,” Elise warned. “Though a beautiful flower in the garden, Morgana called it the flower of eternal sleep. The dust from the seeds will have you sliding from your stool and onto the floor."

Annie held it away. “Then why do we grind it?"

“When mixed with water, it eases pain and lets the sick sleep more soundly."

* * * *

A trumpet sounded and William knew another wave of Baynard's soldiers had been dispatched. He crouched low over his horse, keeping to the trees until he found Baynard's tent. He slipped from the saddle, and gripping the hilt of his claymore, crept up to the rear of the tent and slowly cut the canvas open. “Why you snivilin’ traitor,” he growled.

Titus turned and shouted, “Guards."

William hesitated for only a moment, torn between running Titus through or making a break for his horse. The latter proved the best plan, as the front flap opened and armed men rushed in. Swinging into the saddle, William put his spurs to the animal's flanks, bursting to top speed as he charged into the middle of the fighting men to sound the retreat.

“Fall back,” he shouted over the din of the battle, but none seem to hear. Men swarmed around his horse. An Irishman attacked, but William ran his claymore into the man's chest. He spotted Baynard in the distance, behind a shield of armored men. If he could get to him, then maybe Baynard's men would retreat. A man on foot charged. William shoved him aside with his booted foot, but the sea of men between himself and Baynard seemed endless. The going was slow, too many men chopping and hacking at each other to allow the big grey horse an easy path.

“William. Here.” William recognized Garrick's voice. He twisted in the saddle to see—directly in the path of an arrow. It sank into his shoulder. “Saints damn them,” William growled through gritted teeth as he quickly snapped the shaft and tossed it aside. “Fall back,” he shouted again, dispatching two more swordsmen. “Garrick, ‘tis a trap,” he hollered. Sound the retreat."

“Behind you,” Garrick yelled.

William didn't hear his captain's warning. Angus suddenly appeared in his path. The ugly man raised his claymore, grinned then swiftly sliced the grey's windpipe. Both horse and rider fell.

* * * *

Angus plucked an apple from the bowl on a nearby table. “I thin’ ye're a fool,” Angus growled, glaring at Baynard. “Wit yer army we could have finished them off. By now they'll be back behind William's burgh. Those he left tae guard her, will cut ye and yer Irish army down a'for ye'd get within a hundred feet of her.” He took a large bite and let the juice run down and into his filthy beard.

“'Tis not Scottish lives I want, but D'Auvergne. If I allow MacDarrin's army to return with only a sound thrashing, they'll soon rethink their situation. I've dispatched another messenger. This time with a bribe no good Scot could refuse if they'll return to Scotland with their wives and children—unharmed. Once the lady's army has abandoned her, she will have no alternative, but to marry my son—that is if she wants to keep her precious D'Auvergne. In the meantime, we'll ransom the lad to MacDiarmid. He's enough gold to make us all rich men. Are you sure MacDarrin is dead?"

“Aye. He took an arrow in his shoulder” Angus took another bite, then seeing only half a worm, tossed it back in the bowl. “I kilt his horse. William was trapped under the beast. No man, not even the kin of the old laird can lose that much blood and survive."

Titus nodded. “If'n word gets out that we betrayed our own kin, our lives will'na be worth the price of that apple."

Baynard raised one dark brow. “Who's to tell them?"

“It'll be the first words out of Robbie's mouth,” Titus warned, shifting nervously.

Baynard stood and with his hands behind his back, glanced out the window. “I rather doubt the young laird will live long enough to cry foul to his father."

* * * *

Catherine Baynard held perfectly still, concealed behind the heavy drape that separated her husband's meeting chamber from the great hall. She offered a small prayer that the man they spoke of was dead before he hit the ground—to die slowly beneath a dead animal was more than she wanted to think off.

She took a deep breath and stepped around the drapery. “My lord—” She stopped in mid sentence, pretending to be embarrassed. “Forgive my intrusion. I did not know you had...” she paused, glanced once at the dirty red-haired man and his unkempt companion, and then looked back at her husband, “guests."

Angus and Titus nodded once, both looking as annoyed as her husband. “You are Scots?” she stated, smiling to soften her declaration. “I thought we were at war with the Scottish."

“These men are my allies. They helped us defeat William MacDarrin.” Her husband smiled smugly. “Soon D'Auvergne will be Matthew's."

“Really? What say you? How will this ... this William's defeat help us acquire D'Auvergne?"

“'Tis simple. MacDarrin was killed in battle, leaving D'Auvergne without a master, and the Lady Elise is without a husband—a man to protect her."

“I see,” Catherine said coyly. “What makes you think she will accept Matthew as her lord and husband ... and protector. Surely she is in mourning. The King will allow her a full year before she will be required to remarry."

“That is the beauty of it,” Baynard said. “My accomplice,” he nodded toward Angus, “has assured me that Lady Elise's marriage to the Scot was forced. I have sent a missive to the King explaining that with all the hostilities in the area, it is for the lady's best interest that she be married immediately to Matthew. In doing so, we will rouse the few remaining Scots from D'Auvergne, and reinstate her to English control under my banner. None of our neighbors will be so bold to challenge me with King Edward's blessing, will they?"

Catherine raised one dark thin brow. “How clever you are. By insisting on the lady's protection, you have insured your son a wife, and a wealthy one at that.” She raised her cup in salute. She watched as the two Scots clanked their tankards of mead and guzzled them down. “If you will excuse me, I shall see to the preparation of the evening meal."

* * * *

Henri looked down from his window where he could keep an eye on Elise. For nearly an hour she had not touched her knitting, instead she sat and stared out over the harvested fields looking very much alone. His heart went out to her. He hurried up to her chamber and returned with a small quilt.

“'Tis a cold day, is it not?” Henri asked as he joined Elise on the bench near a large oak tree and covered both their knees.

“Aye. There is the smell of rain in the air yet there are no clouds.” She sighed, and picked up her knitting. They sat quietly for a few moments, enjoying each others company. Finally Elise broke their comfortable silence. “I have been thinking about what you said ... about love and the way that I have treated William. I have come to a decision."

“Good. Tell me."

“I have decided that perhaps what I feel for William is love ... only that I am uncomfortable showing my affection in public. When he returns, I will wait until just the right moment and try to tell him of my feelings."

Henri smiled. “As long as you show it to him when you are alone, mon petit, that is what truly matters."

She nodded, pleased that Henri didn't question her further. “'Tis getting too cold. Come we will—” she started to stand then quickly sank back down.

“What is it?” Henri cried in alarm. “Is it the babe?"

“Nay. For a moment my whole body felt as if it were on fire.” She cast Henri a puzzled glance. “'Tis gone now."

Henri stood and helped her to her feet. “Can you walk?"

“Aye,” Elise said with a perplexed frown. Together, they walked toward the manse. “Has there been word from William?"

“No. But as soon as the messenger arrives, I will send him to you."

* * * *

Elise threw open the balcony doors and breathed deeply of the crisp fall air. She rested her hands on the small of her aching back. After a night of tossing and turning, she was relieved to see that everything appeared normal below. Men stood guard on the ramparts on both D'Auvergne's wall and William's burgh. His people hustled about their morning chores as smells of freshly baked bread wafted over her. Her stomach growled.

She crossed to the door and pulled it open. Annie still slept on a pallet that she had placed on the floor. Since William's departure, the girl had taken the roll of her protector. Elise smiled, and quietly closed the door, deciding to dress by herself.

Through the open balcony doors, the cries of women reached her ears. She ran to the opening and glanced out at the land surrounding D'Auvergne. At first she couldn't see anything, then as if the guard saw them at exactly the same time she did, an alarm was sounded. There were only a few, but their numbers grew stronger as many were helped by others, some on horses pulling litters.

A soft knock at her door caused her to turn. Henri stepped inside. The look on his ashen face was almost more than she could bear. She tried to say something, then stopped as her throat tighten painfully.

“Mon agneau,” Henri murmured.

“Nay,” she whispered brokenly, then shook her head. “If you have come with bad news, I do not wish to hear it.” She clutched the back of a chair to keep from falling. “There is so much to do. I am sure there are many wounded to care for. William will be here soon and he will want food and a hot—"

“Mon agneau,” Henri repeated, crossing the short distance to place his hands gently on her shoulders. “Master William has fallen."

Elise placed her hands over her ears. “Nay, do not say he is dead, because he is not.” She spun to glare at her faithful retainer. “Do you hear me? He is not dead.” She met Henri's gaze for a fractured moment before collapsing in his arms. Ice closed around her heart as she wished she were dead, too.

Chapter 19

Elise rose from the bed and slowly opened her eyes. The moment she stirred, Henri stood wearily from the chair and came to her. “Mon petit agneau,” he rasped, “What can I do to help you?” The tears in his old eyes nearly brought the same to her own.

“Find Rupert,” she whispered, when at last she could speak.

“Are you sure you are well?” Henri asked with a worried frown.

“Oui. Now hurry and bring Rupert to me."

Elise sank down into the chair before the fire, staring blankly into the flames. When she heard footsteps she flew to the door and pulled it open. Rupert stood before her, his eyes red and swollen. A lump formed in her throat.

“I need your help,” she said with cool authority, afraid he would refuse.

“Anythin, anythin a'tal,” Rupert said, lifting his head high and sniffing loudly.

“Take the swiftest horses and find two others that will ride back to Rover's Bluff with you.” When the seasoned old warrior went to speak, she put her hand on his shoulder to stop him. “I beg you,” she continued. “If my lord husband—if William is dead, I must know. If he is alive, then he will need your help to return home. Have others follow in wagons. I would have our dead buried on our own land."

She stared into Rupert's watery eyes for several long moments, until she could not bear to see his sadness any longer. She turned back to the fire and clutched her hands tightly together. “Go and Godspeed."

* * * *

Hours of helping the wounded, sewing wounds, and changing bandages had left Elise drained, but sleep wouldn't come easily this night. Nay. She could not rest thinking William might be alive and lay bleeding in some barren field. And what of Robert? Like William, he had not returned. She had to know their fates.

She closed her eyes for a moment and prayed Rupert would arrive in time. She stared out at the stars, yet didn't see their beauty. Alone in the dark, she held steadfastly to a tiny flicker of hope that her savage Scotsman was too stubborn to die. Although several men told her they had seen him lying motionless, pinned under his great warhorse, she still refused to accept his death. Other women had wept openly as the survivors gave them their husband's plaids, but when they placed William's in her lap, she only stared at them.

“You should have left it,” she had said, not really recognizing the hollow tone of her own voice. “'Tis cold at night. He will have wont of it."

The muffled sobbing that came from Molly only intensified Elise's resolve to be strong. The soldiers looked at one another then sadly shook their heads before walking away.

Now, outside on the balcony, Elise pulled his plaid tighter about her shoulders. This time when tears sprang to her eyes, she didn't try to hold them back. She wept openly, covering her face with her hands for a few moments before looking back up at the stars. “Please God,” she prayed, “please spare him and send him back to me ... to us."

* * * *

Thick fingers of fog crept along the ground as darkness spread over the valley. Slowly, William forced his eyes opened. A dull steady pain gnawed at his left shoulder and right leg like a hungry beast. But, it was his thirst that kept him from slipping back into the comfort of sleep. He longed for a cool drink of water.

Lying on his right side, he raised up on his elbow. Searing pain took his breath and made the stars swirl madly in the sky above. Frustrated, he raised his good leg and braced it against the back of the horse he was pinned under. He shoved with all his might, crying out as a fresh wave of pain shot through his body.

He gulped in several deep breaths, willing the agony to stop. It was cold and growing colder. He felt around for his plaid, but to his despair, could not find it. He gritted his teeth and moved his left arm, feeling a warm gush of blood trickle down his chest. He pulled his dagger from his belt and after resting a moment, braced himself on his right elbow. He cut away the saddle straps, until at last he could drag a portion of the blanket off the horse and over his own body.

Trembling from the revived pain of his wound, and the damp cold, he forced his thoughts from himself to Elise. He tugged the white and gold scarf free from inside his gambeson where he had kept it safe and close to his heart, saddened to see it stained with his blood.

Elise. Would she think him a failure? His last coherent thought was wondering if she would mourn his loss. He let his eyes drift closed. “Elise,” he whispered faintly before sinking back into unconsciousness, “I'm sorry, lass."

* * * *

Dawn broke over the top of the burgh as Elise stood at the balcony doors and watched the sun struggle to rise. She had tried to nap during the long lonely night, but sleep was elusive, her dreams filled with memories of her husband. Long grey fingers of clouds to the north caused her to close her eyes and for the hundredth time, pray for William's safe return. The baby moved causing Elise to place her hand over her belly. Guilt and pain sliced through her heart, remembering when William had tried to touch her, wanting, as he had said, to get to know his child. Would he live to do so?

* * * *

The inky blackness of a starless night, made it difficult to see, but William's thirst had become more and more unbearable each time he awoke. His right side was numb, the weight of the dead horse no longer painful. He dozed fitfully, always dreaming of lakes and rivers, and Elise, waking with a start that brought with it a jolt of agonizing pain from his shoulder.

He knew he'd have to rise if he were to live. He groped around with his good arm, closing his eyes in relief when his fingers curled around the cold hilt of a claymore. Lightening arched savagely across the sky illuminating the white lifeless faces of the dead left on the battle field.

Male voices mingled with the thunder. They came closer and closer, yet William could not hear them clearly—there was too much fog in his head. He tried to open his eyes, but found the task too difficult. The Claymore was lifted from his feeble grasp.

“English bastards,” he whispered hoarsely. Ready to die, he forced his eyes open only moments before the claymore came crashing down.

* * * *

Catherine placed the key into the lock. “I have come to bind your wrists and I have also brought food and drink. But, first I will have your word that you will not try to escape?"

“Mother,” Mary whispered, “Look at him. He's filthy and—and he's a Scot. You cannot possibly trust him."

Robert glanced at the young woman standing beside Lady Baynard. The girl wore a hooded cloak, but from what he could see, she looked an awful lot like her mother.

“I will have your word.” Catherine glanced at the dirty water in the bucket. “Or leave you to ponder your fate alone."

Robert hesitated, feeling foolish for being so caught up in watching the girl, that he forgot to answer. “Aye. On my honor,” he agreed.

“Scotsmen have no honor,” the girl said. She removed the hood. Her beauty nearly took his breath. Her hair was so black that it shown blue in the dimly lit chamber. Long black lashes accented eyes greener than any he had ever seen. So enthralled by her appearance, he ignored her insult until she let him have another.

“Scots are unkempt savages."

“Aye, we are. And you're a bonnie lass ... that is until you open your mouth.” He met her angry gaze then smiled. The young woman went to speak, but her mother held up her hand, halting any further confrontation.

“I will not have a war here in my home,” Catherine said as she unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Robert didn't move from his cot, aware that if he did, he might scare the two women away. “I dinna suppose you'd have a key tae these?” He held up his shackled wrists.

“You are too bold, sir,” Mary stated flatly. “I must warn you, that under this cloak, I have a very sharp dagger, and should you decide to try and trick us, I shan't hesitate to use it."

“I'll try tae remember that.” Robert glanced at Lady Baynard. She seemed to be trying hard not to smile, instead, she sat next to him while Mary placed a clean bucket of water close by. Catherine reached for his left wrist. He drew back, staring at her hand.

“Where did you get that ring?” he asked tightly.

“That is none of your affair,” the girl snapped.

“Mary, please.” Catherine looked at the sapphire ring and then back at the Robert. “'Tis my family's crest.” She took her daughter's hand and placed hers next to it. “The lions were my father's and the sapphire was my mother's favorite stone. I had Mary's, and the one I wear made. They are exact duplicates to the one my mother made for me. I lost mine a long time ago."

She took his wrist and bathed the raw and torn flesh, then did the same with his other. Except for the tightness of his jaw, the young Scotsman didn't make a sound or try to pull away.

“My husband plans to ransom you back to Lady Elise and to your father."

“Good luck tae him."

“By your reaction, I suspect you think they will not pay?"

“My father will bring his army and slaughter you and yours before he opens his purse. As for the Lady Elise, she's hardly fond of us Scots. I doubt she'll give you a single coin to save my hide.” Robert smiled arrogantly at the girl each time she glared at him. She was stunning and if he weren't their prisoner, he'd enjoy teasing her.

“Aye that is why I am confused. Do you know anyone named MacDarrin, William MacDarrin to be exact?” Catherine asked, drawing his gaze from her daughter.

“Why do you want tae know?” He looked at her suspiciously.

“I over heard my husband speaking with a large red-headed man—"

“Angus Campbell, that traitor,” Robert grated out.

“MacDarrin apparently forced Lady Elise to marry her. But now he's dead."

“I say good riddance,” Mary added, drawing the lad's narrow gaze.

Catherine watched carefully. Something dark flickered in the depths of his vivid blue eyes. She waited until she had his attention then began again. “Was MacDarrin, in some way, related to you?"

“William was my brother,” Robert stated glumly.

“Then why would father kill the Laird's heir?” Mary asked, looking first at Robert and then at her mother.

Robert glared at the girl. “He dinna kill his heir."

“I am sorry then for being the bearer of such grievous news,” Catherine said softly. Though her fingers trembled, a soothing salve was next applied, covered by a thick bandage that both protected and padded his wounds against the iron manacles.

When she was done, she turned her daughter and gently pushed her toward the door. “If I may ask one more question?” When the prisoner didn't resist, she took a steady breath. “Why did your brother refuse his father's name?"

“My father dinna want a half-English bastard to rule the clan."

Lady Baynard seemed to grow pale. Without another word, she locked the cell door and hurriedly ushered her daughter out of the dungeon.

“Mother, what vexes you so?” Mary asked indignantly once they were on their way to the great hall. She had rather enjoyed sparring with their prisoner. Not only was he the most handsome man she had ever seen, he was truly the most savage, clad in his kilt and tartan. She inwardly hoped Lady D'Auvergne would be a long time in paying the ransom.

Catherine pulled her cloak tighter, and walked faster casting a quick glance at her daughter. “'Tis only that I am sorry for his loss."

Mary caught her mother's arm and turned her so she could gently touch her mother's cheek. “And these tears? You never cry. Are they also for the prisoner's dead brother?"

Catherine tried to move away, but Mary tightened her hold. “Father told me that the man for whom you weep had forced the Lady D'Auvergne into a marriage she did not wish. I would think you'd be happy that she is released her from her bondage."

“Mary you do not understand."

“Then tell me, Mother. I will keep your secret—I swear."

* * * *

Elise sat straight up in bed. Thunder exploded overhead and rain and wind beat against the balcony doors. Then she heard what had disturbed her sleep. Someone knocked, and then again. A quick glance at the candle told her it was nearly dawn. “Henri?” she called, staring at the door.

“Oui, let me in."

Elise flew out of the bed, wrapping William's robe around her shoulders as she unlocked the latch and flung open the heavy door. “What is it? Have they found him? Is he alive?"

Drops of water trickling down Henri's wrinkled face. He nodded quickly. “He lives, but he is badly wounded. His men are bringing him up as we speak. We must hurry and prepare the bed."

Her steward jerked aside the covers and spread an old quilt over the sheets. Four men carried William in and placed him on the bed. He was soaked through, rainwater mixed with blood dripping from his clothes and onto the floor. The broken shaft of an arrow protruded from a dirty bandage at his shoulder. His right leg was broken below the knee, but splinted with two rough branches from a tree.

“My God,” she whispered, grabbing the bedpost for support.

Rupert dragged his wet sleeve over his face. “We had tae quarter his horse tae get the beastie off his leg. We did the best we could tae stop the bleedin', but he was burnin’ with fever when we found him and he's not opened his eyes more than twice in three days now."

Elise pressed her knuckle to her mouth and stared at her husband. He was so still—his skin so grey. “Fetch some clean cloths and hot water. There is a potion for his pain, and—"

Henri saw the panic rising in her eyes. He put his arm around her. “Master William needs you strong, not sick with worry. You must calm yourself and think of the child. I've sent someone to bring Molly. She will know what to do. For now, stay by his side, lest he wakes."

Elise nodded, then took a calming breath. When the men moved aside, she sat on the edge of the bed, gently brushing wet hair from William's forehead. He felt hot, when he should have been cool from his wet clothing and the moisture on his skin. His arm hung limply over the side of the bed and when she took it and rested it on his chest; she noticed he clutched her scarf tightly in his hand. A sob caught in her throat.

* * * *

“How fares he?” Henri asked Molly as he came to stand by the fire where the older woman folded some clean bandages. Henri glanced over where William rested. He had been bathed and they had applied clean bandages, but he muttered in his sleep as if he were still fighting Baynard. Elise slept curled up in a chair by the side of the bed.

“Still alive, thank God. We've cleaned and dressed his wounds. He's lost a lot of blood.” She raised her watery eyes to look at Henri. “He's strong, and a fighter."

“Aye, my dear. He is strong for sure.” Henri replied. “He will live—"

“Aye, he will, Henri,” Elise confirmed. She stood when her steward and Molly turned. She pulled the coverlet up over William's chest and gently caressed his cheek. “I have not asked God for many things. I was unworthy to do so, but this time ... this time I asked Him to spare my husband so that I can be a better wife."

Henri left Molly to go to Elise. “No, mon petit agneau, you are a good wife. God already knows that."

Elise raised her chin, remorse glistening in her eyes. She looked at Molly and then back at Henri. “Nay. I have been selfish and unkind, thinking only of my wants.” She tried to swallow against the pain in her throat. “I was too proud to kiss him goodbye when he left.” She looked past Henri to Molly. “I could not even tell you, the woman who raised him, that I loved him."

“'Tis not the nobility's way,” Molly said softly, dabbing at her tears. “He understands that, lass."

Elise shook her head then stared at her husband. “Nay. How can he understand when I cannot understand it myself?” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I no longer want to be a noble woman,” she whispered harshly. “I only want to be this Scotsman's wife if he'll have me after all the terrible things I've done."

“Of course he will,” Henri chided.

“Do you think so? I wonder?"

William stirred, causing her to take his hand and sit on the side of the bed. His eyes fluttered open and he seemed intent to speak.

“Save your strength, my love,” she urged.

“Where am I,” he rasped.

“Home—at D'Auvergne.” She forced a smile when his gazed fused with hers.

“Elise ... ah, lass, I failed you ... and Robbie. I'm sorry."

Elise placed her fingertips against his lips. “Nay,” she whispered. “Say no more. ‘Tis I who failed you."

He feebly lifted his hand and grasped hers. “I canna protect you ... Baynard ... will be safe in the burgh ... stay in the burgh.” His expression grew more urgent, his hold on her fingers more intense. He winced when he shifted his weight, but he didn't let go of her hand. Surprisingly strong, he pulled her closer, staring at her. “Angus ... Titus...” His strength depleted, his eyes closed and his head rolled back on the pillow.

Elise swallowed past the tightness in her throat as she gently laid his hand back on his chest. She rose stiffly, bracing her hand on her back as she walked slowly to stand before the fire.

“The men will be arriving soon with our dead,” she said flatly. “I asked Father Marcus to bless a plot of land for a new graveyard.” She turned and faced Molly and Henri. “Our fallen Scottish warriors will be buried here at D'Auvergne in hallowed ground, close to their wives and family."

She turned back to the fire, unable to speak for several more moments as she thought of the widows and their fatherless children. Robert came to mind, and she offered a quick prayer that he would not be found among the dead.

Chapter 20

The sun was high on the second day before William awoke. He shifted his weight then groaned. Elise had been talking with Molly by the fire and now hurried to the bedside. “I am here, my love. Be still lest you open your wounds."

“Water—I need some water, lass."

Elise quickly filled a cup with barley water. She placed her hand under William's head and raised it enough so he could drink. He was burning with fever and ravenous, draining the cup.

“More,” he rasped, wincing as he tried to grab the cup. She refilled it and let him drink his fill.

“Too much isn't good,” Molly warned.

“Nay, ‘tis what he needs to replenish the blood he has lost.” She turned her attention back to her husband. “You must rest now and save your strength."

“How ... how did I come tae be here?"

“Rupert brought you home two days ago."

“Have you word of Robbie?"

“Aye. A messenger came this morning. He is still Baynard's prisoner,” Elise answered.

William closed his eyes again, either too weak to keep them open or because he couldn't bear to hear such grievous news. “If he ... Baynard demands a ransom, you canna pay, not yet. Angus,” he murmured, fighting to stay awake. “Titus and Angus have joined Baynard. They will'na hurt Robbie as long as you don't give them the gold."

“But, what if he's—"

William shook his head. “They'll kill him once the gold is in their grasp. Swear you'll not pay ... swear."

“I swear,” Elise replied reluctantly.

* * * *

Elise used the back of her hand to wipe the beads of perspiration from her forehead. She paused and glanced around the great hall. It was barely recognizable as the grand hall of her home. Women carried cups filled with her potions to the sick and injured men lying on pallets everywhere. Others tended the fire and hauled water, while many more sat with their loved one and kept a silent vigil.

Henri came down the stairs carrying a tray of soiled bandages. “Mistress,” he said, forgoing his pet name in front of so many men and their wives. “I have placed a tray of food in the master's chamber. ‘Tis time you rested and had a little something to eat."

Elise looked up from where she had just helped a wounded man by fluffing his pillow. She stood and rested her hands on her back, then glanced at the large marked candle on the wall near the mantle. Henri was right. She was tired and the thought of putting her feet up near a warm fire sounded too tempting to resist.

When she entered their chamber she went directly to her husband's side and sat down, tenderly brushing a lock of black hair from his forehead. His fever was better, but he was still very weak. Weary, she tucked her legs under her and rested her head on his chest, careful not to disturb his shoulder. Yawning, she didn't realize that William was awake. Nor did she realize that having her so close and not being able to find the strength to hold her caused her husband more pain than his wounds. He slowly lifted his hand and caressed her hair.

She raised her head and gazed at him."

“I must be dyin',” he began with a slight smile.

“Nay, you are not,” she scolded softly.

“Then why do I see an angel?"

Several tears trickled down her cheeks. “William,” she whispered brokenly.

He forced a weak smile. “More tears,” he whispered. “I must be I dyin'. Are you sure you're no’ an angel?"

She frantically shook her head even though his tone told her he was teasing. The fact that he chose to tease her, even as sick as he was, sent a jolt of pride and fondness to her heart that brought a smile to her lips. How like it of him to forgive her so soon. “Nay. I am not an angel."

He gazed at her sleepy-eyed. “Aye, you are tae me. Ever since that time in your dungeon when you saved my life.” Her guilt for never telling him the potion wouldn't kill resurfaced. Elise felt her cheeks turn pink.

“You would have recovered without my cure, my lord."

His dark brows snapped together. “'Twas not poison?"

She shook her head. “Nay, ‘twas only a draught to make you sleep and to cause a terrible pain in your head.” His eyes closed, but after a moment he raised his heavy gaze to fuse with hers.

“Now, tell me,” he continued, barely over a whisper. “I remember takin’ an arrow, but I canna remember breakin’ my leg."

When he shifted his weight, his hold on her hand tightened.

“Rupert said that they found you trapped under your dead horse. They had to quarter the beast to free you."

“Ah, no,” he groaned. “Not another one."

She would have smiled, but it was clear by the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead that he was in pain, and doing everything he could to hide it from her.

“That explains why I keep dreamin’ that there's someone standing over me with my claymore ready to strike."

“William, you must rest” she urged softly. “Try not to think of it for now. You need to save your strength."

“Aye, but there's so much tae do."

She met his smoky gaze. “Rest."

* * * *

Robert looked up from his cot as the door to the dungeon opened. He watched the hooded figure come to stand before his cell. She pushed the hood back from her face. “I was'na expecting tae see you,” he said, recognizing Lady Baynard's daughter. “Have you come because you found me irresistible?"

“Do not flatter yourself, knave. I have come because my mother cannot. She has asked me to deliver a message."

Robert rose and came to the door, wrapping his long fingers around the iron bars. “Speak."

Mary stared into his eyes for several long moments. She was as innocent as a fawn. His fingers brushed hers before she yelped and jumped back.

“You take too much on yourself, knave,” she spat, slapping his hand. A tiny pulse beat rapidly on her neck, betraying the calmness of her voice.

“Knave is it?” Robert scoffed. “Nay, lass. I'm a Scottish savage that canna be trusted, remember?” He smiled when bright color stained her cheeks. She unconsciously drew her cloak more closely about her slender shoulders.

“If you want to live, you must cooperate.” She slipped her hand into her pocket and drew out a dagger and a key. “Take these and hide them from the guards. Do not use them until my mother comes for you."

Robert put them inside his shirt, and then grabbed the bars in his fists, frustrated. “But when ... how soon?"

“A few days, maybe more.” Something made a noise from the other side of the door, and both Robert and the girl looked in that direction. “I must go, so listen carefully,” she said, pulling her hood back over dark hair.

Long after she had left, Robert lay back on the hard cot and covered himself with his tartan. This time when he closed his eyes, visions of black silky hair and brilliant green eyes invaded his thoughts.

* * * *

By the eighth day, William had recovered enough to become restless. He insisted that his leg be properly splinted so he could try to stand. Elise filled a cup from the kettle near the fire and took a sip of hot spiced cider, patiently watching Rupert show William how to use the crutch he had made. William praised Rupert's workmanship then clasped hands with his friend, all the while ignoring the dark scowl Elise shot at them both.

“You are not well enough to be out of bed,” she said glumly.

“Oh, ye canna keep him down,” Rupert advised. “He's a Scot and a Highlander tae boot."

“I do not care if he is a Highlander or a Lowlander or—"

Rupert gasped, casting a horrified look at William. “Are ya goin’ tae lay there and let her insult ye?"

William grinned. “Leave us and I'll see that she's properly reprimanded in private."

She shot William a dark look over the rim of her cup. She waited until Rupert slipped out the door, then put the cup down and filled a goblet with wine from a different pitcher.

“Drink."

His dark brows snapped together. “I dinna want tae sleep. I want tae try out my new crutch.” He tried to push the coverlet off his naked body, but Elise pulled it back, afraid he'd take a chill. “I can understand that you're concerned—"

“Concerned? William you nearly died. You were trapped under a dead horse with an arrow in your shoulder. You lost a lot of blood. To try and walk, even with that ... that poor excuse of a crutch Rupert made, is madness. I am too heavy with this child to try and catch you if you fall.” She stood by the bed and punched her fists on her hips. “What about your shoulder?"

“'Tis my right leg. I'll use my right shoulder."

“Do not treat me as if I've a simple mind. You're lucky to still have a leg. Rupert told me the horse was beginning to rot."

Her husband made a face. “He said that tae you, did he?” She nodded. “I thought I taught him better than to be so gruesome around a woman."

“Never mind Rupert. I will not stand here and let you further injure yourself."

William took her hand in his and grew more serious. “Elise. I have tae fetch Robbie a'fore they gut him.” William's brogue was heavy. Though he kept his voice soft and his touch gentle, his anger always became apparent by his brogue.

“William, do not be vulgar. Listen to me. Robert is safe for now. Baynard holds him, true, but he will not harm your brother. If anything happens to Robert, half of Scotland will come down on Baynard. Laird MacDiarmid is a powerful baron. And though Baynard is a fool, you must believe that he would not risk a full blown war."

“And what of Angus? If Angus has cast his lot with Baynard, Robbie is'na safe."

“You do not know that for sure."

“Aye. I know that Angus will no’ take the chance that Robbie will tell his father. I also know he'll kill Robbie tae get tae me.” William took a long deep breath. “Now, be a good wife and help me,” he said tightly, trying again to get out of bed.

“I will not,” Elise nearly shouted, placing her hand on his chest and shoving him back against the mattress. “You are not leaving this room."

His exasperation was evident by the way he clamped his jaw shut. “Then fetch us some wine."

She held out the goblet.

“Not that. Fresh wine and you take the first drink. I'll not be lulled tae sleep with any more of your potions. We've a lot to discuss."

“Discuss? You need to rest. You may feel better, William, but trust me, ‘tis only temporary. Your body has much blood to make. To move too quickly will only place you back in the sick bed. I will rest with you if you like."

He grinned slyly. “Ah, now I know why you wanted tae keep me abed. You're eager tae welcome me back tae the land of the livin’ like a good wife."

“Do not flatter yourself, milord,” she said coyly. “You are not strong enough to satisfy my needs."

William laughed. “Would you like tae try me?"

She leaned over and kissed him tenderly, pulling back to gaze deeply into his eyes. “Aye, but not until you're better, and Molly says it is too close to my time for you to be so ... so aggressive.” Disappointment shone clearly in his eyes, but he didn't respond, he only patted the side of the bed.

“Then sit and rest your sweet head on my shoulder and listen. I've a plan.” Instead, she filled a cup with wine, took a sip in front of him then gave him the cup.

“I assume Baynard thinks me dead.” She nodded, unable to tell him that the man asked the king to declare her marriage invalid and has petitioned the Church to allow her marriage to Matthew Baynard.

“If that's so,” William continued, “then we must let him believe it."

Elise's raised her head to met his gaze. “I will not. If he thinks you dead, he will bring his army to finish what was started on the battle field. I have buried enough of your warriors, I shan't have you killed, William MacDarrin, lying defenseless in your bed.” She slipped away even though he tried to grab her. She began to pace at the foot of the bed.

His grin cooled her temper. Why was it, one arrogant smile from this man could turn her inside out? “Do not look at me like that,” she ordered, realizing his intentions. “William,” she nearly shouted as swung his legs over the side of the bed. She grabbed his plaid and hurried to cover him as the covers fell to the floor.

He stood—shaky at first, but nevertheless, he managed to stand on one leg, still towering over her as she quickly wrapped his plaid around his waist. He swayed, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. “William,” she pleaded, but he only bent his head and covered her protest with a long, intoxicating kiss.

“Elise,” he breathed against her mouth—the arrogance gone from his eyes, replaced with unbridled passion. She couldn't look away. He lifted his hand and gently caressed her cheek. She pressed against it, closing her eyes in pure pleasure. His touch—the hungry look in his eyes filled her with both longing and remorse. “William ... there's so much I need to tell you."

“Aye lass, and I you, but you must listen now, and do as I ask. Will you?” he asked.

She pushed her confession aside. “'Tis foolishness for—” He covered her mouth with his warm fingers.

“Will you?” he asked again.

“Aye, but ‘tis against my better judgment."

Chapter 21

“I knew she'd come around,” Baynard boasted to the messenger. He waved the man away and looked across the table to where Angus sat, toying with a tankard of ale. “Lady D'Auvergne wishes an audience.” He lifted his goblet, took a drink and put it down. “I told you there was little cause for worry."

“Ye've fergot one lit'le detail,” Angus added.

“And what would that be?"

“She's soon tae drop William's heir. I'm no’ well versed on English law, but if'n the brat's a boy, it seems tae me, even if ye take D'Auvergne from her, in time she'll get it back—through the child."

Baynard's good humor vanished. “Aye,” he said, rubbing his chin and leaning his elbow on the highly polished table. “That is a little problem I hadn't thought of. But nevertheless, one which I do not think will be too difficult to solve."

“How so?” Angus asked.

“The child may not live long enough to inherit.” Baynard took another drink.

Catherine hesitated outside her husband's door. Had she heard correctly? Had Reginald become so obsessed with wanting D'Auvergne that he would kill an innocent little child?

She pressed her hand over her stomach. Of course he would. Hadn't her own dear father wanted to kill her son when he learned the babe was the son of a Scottish laird? She leaned against the door, feeling ill. A deep sorrow froze her heart as the memories of her little son flooded back with the bitter news that he was now dead, by her husband's hand.

“Mother?” Mary whispered. “Are you well?"

Catherine jumped then sighed with relief. “Aye. But we must move faster than I had planned. Did you do as I asked?"

“Aye."

“Good, I will sneak down tonight after your father falls asleep. You must see Alfred and make sure he has our horses ready.” Catherine took Mary's hand and pressed a small pouch into the girl's palm. “Give him this for his silence."

* * * *

Heavy clouds hung ominously in the sky. A cold wind battered the closed doors of the balcony waking William. Through heavy lids, he glanced at the other side of the bed, disappointed to see that Elise wasn't there. On further inspection, he saw her sitting in a chair close to the fire.

“Sounds as if a storm is brewing,” he said softly.

“Aye.” Her voice seemed strained, almost as if she forced the word out. Alarmed, he threw off the covers and reached for his crutch. Wrapping his plaid around his nakedness, he carefully took a step, relieved when his heavily splinted leg held some of his weight without too much pain.

Very carefully he made his way to where Elise sat. She was hunched over, her arms around her middle. Beads of perspiration glistened on her forehead and dampened the hair around her face. When she looked up at him, fear glistened in her eyes.

William cupped her cheek. “'Tis the babe?"

She nodded before she turned to stare into the fire.

“When did your pains start?” He tried to keep his tone calm, aware that she was too near panic to hear it in his voice.

“They woke me at dawn. I did not want to worry you so I've been here ever since."

He smiled and shook his head. When she still wouldn't look away from the fire, he touched her shoulder. “Come. ‘Tis your turn tae take tae your bed.” He gently grasped her arm and helped her to her feet. At that moment another contraction racked her body and she cried out and leaned against him for support.

“Breath easy, lass,” he crooned, rubbing her back until she could stand more upright. She let him guide her to the bed, walking slowly as he hobbled along side. After he pulled the covers over her and bent to kiss her cheek, he went to the door and bellowed for help.

Elise jumped as did several other servants that were up and about in the hall. Moments later, Henri came into the chamber tying a knot in his long velvet robe. One look at Elise and the way she drew her knees up in pain, sent him flying in search of Molly.

William filled a goblet with wine and carried it over to the bedside. “Here take a drink.” He could tell by her face that the pain had eased a little. She obeyed and took a few sips, resting back against the pillow as he put the cup on the bedside table. He shoved her over and sat down beside her.

“Did I tell you that I helped Molly birth her youngest?” he asked, placing his hand on Elise's belly to gently feel the babe's position. He grinned at her look of shock. “Aye. Our babe is good and ready tae meet his mother, that's a fact.” His tender smile melted some of the fear that gripped her heart.

“William,” she groaned as another contraction made her twist the sheets and coverlet into knots. “I cannot do this,” she cried, suddenly afraid again. William brushed his knuckles against her cheek before he tucked a stand of wayward hair behind her ear.

“Sure you can. You're a strong lass. Why, you captured me and my army single handed. You mended Rupert's broken leg and you healed my men and me.” He tried not to show his concern. She was so small, yet by the size of her swollen abdomen, he knew the child would be a large one.

“I had help,” she hissed between clenched teeth as another contraction washed over her.

“And you'll have help again.” He pulled the covers down and gently bent her knees, ignoring her protest. “Now, lass, when the next pain comes, breathe through your mouth and try not tae push till I tell you.” He shoved her gown up over her knees. She resisted when he spread her legs, but when the next contraction came, she forgot all about her modesty. He watched her closely, keeping an eye on her and the babe.

With each contraction, she became more and more terrified. “William,” she ground out frantically. “The pain. It hurts too much."

William cast a hurried glance at the door. There was no sign of Molly. He dipped a clean cloth into the water and pressed it against Elise's forehead. “Breathe,” he urged when she held her breath.

“Help me,” she whimpered as yet another pain coursed through her body. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard William's soft curse. She felt him push her knees farther apart, but she didn't care. Her body felt as if she were being torn in half.

“Push, lass,” she heard him say.

“Nay, it will kill me,” she moaned.

“Push,” he ordered harshly and this time she obeyed. She squeezed her eyes tight and bore down.

“Again,” he nearly shouted, yet it was his whispered prayer she heard above the rush of blood in her ears. Her legs trembled and she clamped her jaw so tight, she thought it would break before the agony was over. As if God heard William's plea, the baby gushed from her body, leaving her exhausted and panting for air.

“Is he well?” she gasped as she collapsed back on the pillow. William was silent for several moments, but the babe began to cry, enough of a sign to tell her the child lived.

“Is he well?” she said louder, demanding William's attention.

William dragged a large clean cloth from the pile Molly had beside the bed, wrapped the tiny infant then cradled it against his chest. His face was filled with a tenderness Elise had never seen before. “William,” she said breathlessly. “Is he—"

“She.” William smiled at her then turned his attention back to the bundle in his arms. “You've a girl, lass. A bonnie baby girl."

Elise couldn't believe her ears. Through her entire pregnancy she had though of the babe as a boy. To change now, was more difficult than she expected. “Are you sure?” she asked, resting on her elbows for a better look.

William handed her the babe, then stuffed a pillow behind her back. “Quite.” He reached for his crutch and dragged himself up; weary from the delivery and his still healing wounds. At the same time the door burst open and Molly rushed in.

“Good heavens,” she wailed, pressing her hand to her plumb cheeks. She glanced once at Elise and seeing that mother and child were doing well, rushed to William's side. “Come and sit before you fall down,” she ordered, helping him to the chair. “I suppose you're proud of yourself?"

Elise watched, wondering what would happen.

“Aye,” William said softly, resting his head on the back of the chair. “There was no time tae waste."

“Well, you should have sent for me sooner. You're in no condition tae be playing midwife. Now dinna you move whilst I see tae your lovely wife and your wee little bairn."

* * * *

Several hours later, Elise sat propped up on some pillows nursing her infant daughter. Molly had insisted William go back to bed, and he napped next to her. When the baby fussed, he awoke, rolled to his side and rose up on his elbow. He touched her downy head before kissing the infant's mother. “You did a fine job. Look at her; she's the image of you, lass—beautiful."

“Aye, I gave no thought to names, so sure was I she would be a boy. My mother's name was Matilda."

“Matilda,” William repeated. “Matilda MacDarrin.” His brows came together as if he were deep in thought. “Aye, I like it. Matilda it is then."

Elise blinked back the sting of happy tears, and then remembered she had made a promise to not tell any more lies, and she meant to keep it. Slowly, she raised her eyes to fuse with his.

“William, there is so much I needs speak to you about, but first ... this child—” He covered her mouth with a gentle finger, his eyes neither filled with anger nor disappointment—only love. Unconditional love that spilled her tears over her cheeks.

“I know,” he whispered, brushing away the wetness from her cheeks. “I knew months ago when we went ridin’ and took the time tae fish. Do you remember?"

She nodded, loving him even more when he took the babe into his strong arms and held her up to his shoulder to burp her.

“She may not be of my body, but she's of my heart. The moment she was born I willingly gave it tae her.” He kissed the babe's cheek then gave the sleepy little bundle back to Elise. “Just as I gave it tae her mother that first night."

“Oh, William,” Elise whispered. “I am so ashamed."

“Of what?” he said defensively. “She never has tae know different. From this moment, I'll be her father. I'll give my life, if needs be, tae protect her, but mostly, I'll love her and never stop lovin’ her."

Elise looked from her daughter to William. “There's something else I needs tell you,” Elise murmured. She never got to finish, for Rupert knocked loudly on the door then poked his head inside.

“I'm sorry mistress, but there's trouble brewin'. Baynard and half his blood army's beatin’ on our gate."

* * * *

Rupert muttered under his breath all the while he assisted William into his clothes. But, as he tied the repaired gambeson over William's heavy wool shirt, he cursed out loud, finally not able to keep quiet any longer. “'Tis a fool ya are,” Rupert grumbled. He cast a pleading glance to the bed were Elise watched quietly as William prepared to meet Baynard. “Talk tae him. Tell him tae let me handle this."

“She has no say in this,” William answered. He sat stiffly on the bed and growled in pain as he forced his healing leg into a tall black boot that had once belonged to Ranulf. “'Twas good your first husband had such big feet,” William teased, trying to relieve the tension in the room. He winced as he tested his weight. The pain was too much and he would have fallen if Rupert hadn't been there to catch him.

“This will never do,” Rupert mumbled angrily. “'Tis suicide tae face him alone."

“Give me that blasted crutch,” William growled, “then leave me tae say my good byes whilst you go and see if Ranulf has another horse in his stable."

Rupert started to argue, but one dark look from William told him otherwise. He mumbled something under his breath and left, closing the door with a loud bang. The baby woke and started to fuss. Rupert poked his head back in and gave Elise an apologetic look. “Sorry mistress, forgive my rudeness.” He was gone before she could respond.

“Rupert is right,” she said as she cuddled the child to her breast. “'Tis madness to expect Baynard to be reasonable."

William limped to the side of the bed with the help of his crutch. By the smoke that seemed to cloud his grey eyes, Elise knew he was laboring to keep his pain a secret. He eased down on the edge of the bed and watched the babe suckle. He was quiet for a long time before he lifted his gaze to fuse with hers.

“I'm not doin’ this tae keep the terms of our bargain, Elise. I'm doing’ this tae protect my home and my family.” He leaned over and kissed her, exploring her mouth as he had so long ago. When he pulled away, he left her breathless. He draped his plaid over the gambeson then fastened his broad belt about his waist. He shoved a long jagged dagger into the sheath. Finally, as he hoisted his claymore over his shoulder and leaned on his crutch, Elise called out to him.

“William wait.” She placed the infant in the middle of the big bed, rose and shrugged on a robe. Their eyes fused together. “I should have told you long ago that I love you, but I did not know how.” He took a step toward her, but she stepped back. She had to finish, had to tell him how she felt. “The day you went to war with Baynard, the other women kissed their husbands and their lovers and bid them farewell. But I, as I have done over and over again, denied you.” She took a shaky breath.

“Don't do this tae yourself, lass,” he pleaded softly.

“Nay. You must let me finish or you may never know the depth of my feelings for you. I should have kissed you and let those who wanted to, watch. I should have whispered in your ear that you are my heart and that without you I am nothing.” She pulled the white and gold scarf from her pocket and stared at it.

“And now you are leaving again,” she said in a suffocated whisper. She raised her head and squared her shoulders. “You said that my child belongs to you. I want to belong to you too.” She walked to him and tied the scarf on his arm above his elbow, then looked deeply into his eyes. “Heart and soul."

William took her into his arms and buried his face into her hair, nearly lifting her off her feet. He crushed her to his chest, as if he never intended to let her go. Together they held each other, no more words needed to express what was in their hearts.

The baby fussed. Slowly, as if letting her go was the hardest thing he had ever done, William released her. She looked at the infant and then back at her husband.

“Godspeed, husband,” she said as tears trickled down her cheeks.

His broad grin told her he understood. “Fare thee well, wife."

* * * *

As soon as the door closed, Elise hurried to dress. She opened the door and when she was sure her husband had left, she called for Henri.

“Find Annie, my old friend,” she said sternly. He started to speak, but she kissed his cheek and stopped him. “Nay, do not advise me anymore. ‘Tis my heart that speaks to me now. It says for me to go to William—to take my place by his side."

Henri's eyes filled with tears. “Then go, mon agneau, go. I will do as you ask.” He nodded stiffly, took her hand and pressed it between his own, then left as quickly as he had come. Soon Annie stepped, white-faced into the chamber.

“Take care of Matilda,” Elise asked as she kissed her daughter's head and placed her in Annie's arms. She met Henri on the landing, and he helped her with her cloak, donning his own. Together, they hurried through the bailey and out to the burgh where they climbed the steps and stood on the rampart.

It took Rupert, Garrick and two others to get William seated on the last of Ranulf's huge warhorses. The young stallion pawed the ground impatiently as William gathered the reins.

“We should be goin’ with you,” Garrick said.

“I'll have no man step outside the burgh,” William ordered. “If Baynard attacks, you're only chance is to lock the gate and stay inside."

Rupert mounted his horse, swearing under his breath. The mare danced around, bumping into the roan. The stallion jumped to the side. “Can you keep that blasted beast under control?” William growled, obviously in pain. “You should'na be goin’ a'tal, Rupert."

“Will,” Rupert muttered. “'Tis foolishness. Look at yerself. ‘Tis all ye can do tae keep upright. Baynard will see what I see."

William scowled at his trusted friend. “And what do you see?"

Rupert knew by William's tone that there was no changing his mind. “I see a man willin’ tae die for his lady. An honorable way tae go, I suppose.” Rupert nudged his horse out the stable door. “As fer me, I've a notion tae take a ride."

The season's first snow dusted William's shoulders as he waited for the huge gate of the burgh to open. Baynard sat on a black destrier, flanked by Angus and Titus on the right and his son on his left. “MacDarrin?” Baynard acknowledged, frowning. “I was told you'd been killed—by your own men."

William ignored the intended insult, looking from Baynard to Angus. “As you can see, I'm alive and well."

Baynard shifted in the saddle. “You should have died at Rover's Bluff, but no matter. You will die today. Now, I will ask this only once. What have done with my wife and daughter?"

William frowned. “I don't know what you're talkin’ about."

“That,” Baynard roared, “Is the wrong answer."

William wrapped his fingers around his claymore. “Perhaps, but now it's my turn tae ask you a question. Where's my brother?"

* * * *

Elise strained to hear, but could only catch a few words, but enough to send a jolt of fear arching through her. By the stiff set of William's back, his wounds were still too fresh, his pain to great. She licked her suddenly dry lips and glanced frantically around for a weapon. Upon seeing a claymore braced against a corner of the rampart, she picked it up, having to use both hands.

* * * *

“Robert MacDiarmid is here,” a woman's voice called out. Three riders rode out of the forest. One of the riders pushed back her hood and long black hair spilled down her shoulders.

“Catherine,” Baynard gasped. “Praise God, you're safe."

Catherine stopped her horse between her husband and his enemy, waiting as Mary and Robert rode up next to her. “I have done what needed to be done before you destroyed yourself, Reginald."

“You do not know what you are talking about,” her husband snarled. “Give the prisoner to me, now."

“Nay. I stood by whilst you plotted against D'Auvergne. I let myself think only of the structure and not of the lives inside. Then you killed someone I loved and captured his brother.” She cast a disgusted glance at Angus and Titus. “When I heard you speaking with these traitors, plotting to kill Laird MacDiarmid's son and an innocent babe, I knew I could not let you become like them."

* * * *

Elise hurried down the steps as best she could with the heavy sword, unaware that many of William's men picked up their weapons and followed. “I saw two women and a man,” Elise said breathlessly, trying to tell Henri what was happening as she hurried along, dragging the heavy sword. “They seem to have come between Baynard and William. The man—'tis Robert,” she puffed, hoisting the sword over her shoulder. “Praise God, he appears unharmed, but we must hurry and help them."

* * * *

“Matthew,” Catherine challenged. “Do you want to marry the Lady Elise?” She turned her stormy gaze on her son.

“Nay. I've no desire to do so, Mother."

“Then take your father's army back to Black Rose.” When her son hesitated, she raised her chin and spoke again. “Now, Matthew, or take up your sword and chop these innocent men down.” Her son nudged his horse toward the buttress of English soldiers.

“Hold,” Baynard shouted. “No one leaves unless I give the order. Foolish woman,” he growled.

“Matthew,” she said firmly. “Do as I say.” She raised her head defiantly, waiting as her son and her husband's army slowly retreated into the forest.

“'Tis at his mercy you have placed us,” Baynard growled, scowling at the man mounted on the large roan stallion.

“And who is he?” Catherine asked, following her husband's gaze. “Robert is master of D'Auvergne now, and he is here with us and willing to negotiate for peace."

“Nay, you foolish woman. Robert has no authority. ‘Tis William MacDarrin. He lives."

Mary tried to stop her mother, but Catherine brushed her hand away, and dismounted. She couldn't take her eyes of William. “Let Robert go, Mary.” Slowly, she started to walk toward her son. “William?” she called. “Is it really you, my son?"

William froze. He tried to remember, to conjure up a face from the past that matched the voice, but he couldn't. The woman stopped a few yards away, tears wetting her cheeks as William's horse danced nervously, pawing the muddy ground. “Fetch your woman,” he growled at Baynard. “I'll no’ have her blood on my conscience."

* * * *

The distance to the gate seemed endless. Determined to reach William in time to help, Elise never looked back as villain after villain picked up rakes, pitchforks and spades. Henri cast a quick glance over his shoulder and nearly gasped at the horde of men, women and older children that followed. With each house they passed, the crowd grew larger. An old woman tossed Henri a staff at the same time the gate opened.

* * * *

Baynard dismounted to retrieve his wife when Angus spurred ahead raising his claymore. Catherine turned and screamed, but William was there in a blink, blocking the deadly blow. The sudden impact sent shards of pain through his wounded shoulder, but he managed to deflect another swing of Angus’ claymore before the untried roan shied and slipped in the mud, unseating his rider.

Elise screamed. She tried not to, but the sound crept up her throat and before she could stop it, she screamed as Angus lunged at William. At the sound, Angus's head snapped up, giving William the chance to send the man sprawling with a well placed punch. Angus landed on his back, shook his scraggly head, and then bolted to his feet, bellowing for Titus as they made a hasty retreat with a dozen of William's warrior on their heels. William closed his eyes and collapsed, too weary to protect himself any longer as Catherine ran to his side, lifting his head to rest in her lap.

Baynard stared at the misfits approaching. A pale young woman held an oversize sword that she could barely hold off her shoulder. Men and women, young and old, all with spades and sharp sticks joined with William's seasoned soldiers. “'Tis over,” Baynard growled, “do not harm my wife, I surrender."

Elise knelt down by her husband, pushing Catherine aside. “Leave him,” she hissed, prepared to do battle with the women.

“He is my son,” Catherine cried.

“You? It cannot be. You—you're Baynard's wife."

“Aye. And William's mother. Fear not. I will not let any more harm come to him."

“Tis true,” Robert said, stepping down from his horse as another woman rode up. “Lady Baynard is his mother.” Stunned by this news, Elise could only stare as Robert helped a pretty young woman down from her horse.

Catherine glanced down at William. “Why does he not wake?” she asked, fear dancing in her silvery-grey eyes.

“He has been very ill,” Elise said defensively, pulling him into her arms as she glared up at Baynard. “He was nearly killed by your husband."

“Nay,” Baynard said gruffly. “I admit I wanted him dead, but, thank God, ‘twas not by my hand that he sustained his wounds.” Baynard took his wife into his arms. “I did not know, my love. I swear I did not know."

Robert gently moved Elise out of the way. “My God, you've had the babe,” he exclaimed. Elise blushed hotly, while Robert and Rupert lifted the unconscious William and carried him toward the burgh. Snow dusted them all in white.

“You poor dear, take my horse,” Catherine offered, pressing the reins into Elise's hands. Baynard stepped forward and lifted her into the saddle.

“Come Lord Baynard,” Robert called over his shoulder with Mary by his side. “The weather is too miserable for you and your family tae travel safely. We'll wait out the storm by the warmth of my sister's fire.” Robert smiled at Elise. “And I needs see my new ... what?” he asked with a perplexed frown as they entered the burgh.

“Niece,” Elise said wearily.

“A girl?” Robert scowled and shook his head. “A girl."

Mary nudged him in the ribs. “Pray tell, what is so distasteful about a girl child?"

Robert shrugged his shoulders. “They're no help with fightin’ battles, they—"

“Then explain what just happened, my lord. Then say again to your sister and I what good is a female child."

Epilogue

“I am well,” William stated for the fourth time. “It has been four weeks. See?” He tossed the coverlet aside and would have stood, but Elise pushed him back down. She had awakened him with tender caresses and he had found her ready and willing to take him fully inside her. And, as a noble Scot, he eagerly complied, expertly taking her with him to the very center of ecstasy. Now, only moments after their lovemaking, his wife fingers teased the hair around the nipples on his chest.

“I see,” she murmured.

He caught her hand. “My shoulder is healed, and I can walk without the crutch."

“Aye. I know,” she said calmly, placing a kiss where her fingers had been.

William swallowed down the urge to take her again. It was too soon after the birth of their child, he told himself. He didn't want to make her sore.

“The snow is gone, the mud is finally dryin', and Baynard and his family can return tae their own home—none too soon,” he muttered under his breath.

Elise snuggled up to her husband. The feel of his hard, naked body pressed so intimately close to hers made her wish that morning would wait. She couldn't get enough of him, wanted him again, but knew it was too soon after his injuries. She didn't want to make him sore.

“Robert is none too happy about Mary's impending departure. I think he's in love with the girl,” she said, gliding her fingers over the hard, flat plain of her husband's muscular middle, then, not being able to stop herself, let her hand drift lower. She smiled when he sucked in his breath, growling low as he rolled on top of her. She tipped her head back to accept his hungry kiss on her neck.

“Aye. The lad's in love.” He kissed a path down her throat then back to capture her willing mouth. “And with an English woman tae boot,” he said mockingly. “Oh, but tae be a fly on the wall at Donald's house when he finds out."

Elise laughed with her husband. “They could always live with us if Donald disinherits him."

“No’ a chance,” William growled, bending to place a kiss below her ear. “Robert's the eldest and entitled to be Laird someday, with or without Donald's blessin'."

“And what about you?” Elise asked just before she returned his kiss. “You are really his eldest. Your mother is a wealthy noble woman. ‘Tis Donald's loss that he rebuked you. You would have been a great leader."

The baby fussed, drawing Elise's attention. William groaned then rolled over on his side as his wife leaned over the edge of the bed and lifted the infant from the cradle, placing her in the center of the bed. William stroked the downy head with his thumb, leaning down to kiss the baby's cheek. She instantly stopped crying and blinked up at her father as he placed his finger in the child's tiny grasp.

“Robert is a good lad. He'll make a find laird. He'll have a title grand enough tae win the hand of the lady he loves. I've no need for grand titles or gold or any of the rich things in life."

Resting on her stomach, Elise raised up on her elbow to gaze deeply into her husband's eyes. “And why is that, William MacDarrin?"

“Because, lass, I have you."

The End

About the Author:

Donna MacQuigg is a multi-published author of historical and contemporary romance. Her Scottish and Medieval romances were published through Kensington in mass market paperback, distributed by Wal-Mart. Their success resulted in releases to the European market. Her current western romance, The Price of Pride, will be published in hardcover by Thomson-Gale/Five Star in May 2006. An interview of Donna and her current release will be featured in OFF THE SHELF, distributed to approximately 8,000 libraries. Her latest contemporary romance, It's Never Too Late, placed fourth in the Great Beginnings Contest.

As Vice President of her local RWA chapter, Donna chaired and promoted LERA's first romantic writers conference. She published a research article with the LERA's handbook for writers, THE LERA WRITER'S GUIDE. She has shared her expertise in research by conducting classes for her local RWA chapter in medieval weaponry and costumes, archery, castles and swordplay. Her experience in raising Arabian horses, and her marriage to a police officer, resulted in classes in western weapons, gunfights and costume.

She currently lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico, with her husband and one little dog, and writes full time. In her spare time she enjoys tending to her horses, writing children's stories for her daughter's first grade class, and brainstorming with her best friend and multi-published critique partner.

Learn more about her books by logging on to www.geocities.com/donnamacquigg.com, or you can email her at: donna.macquigg@lindenbayromance.com

Other works by Donna MacQuigg:

Trust and Treason

Young and naïve, Elizabeth Rothwell always dreamed that she would marry for love and live the rest of her life in Thornhill Castle. When Elizabeth is given in marriage to the fearsome Scottish Chieftain, Robert MacDairmid, those hopes are dashed.

Robert is a man filled with the need for vengeance. To obtain the means to destroy the man responsible for the death of his wife and child, he agrees to marry Elizabeth, his enemy's beautiful niece.

Although Elizabeth fears she will never be able to compete with the memories of Robert's past, she is determined to try, and surrenders herself completely. The powerful warrior, with his gentle caresses and breath-stealing kisses, awakens in her an explosive passion, and earns her heart.

Elizabeth is put to the test when Robert's plot to free Scotland from English rule unfolds. When Robert is sentenced to death for treason, Elizabeth is faced with a choice. Does she dismiss everything that's happened between them and believe that she was nothing more to Robert than a political pawn? Or, should she trust once more in her feelings, forgive Robert's act of treason, and fight to save the man she loves?

Forever and Always

Errolyn Carlisle, faithful companion of the fair Lady Ann, secretly longs for some adventure to come along and disrupt her boring life. Errolyn may be spirted, but not even her wildest dreams prepared her to cope with being mistaken for Lady Ann and abducted by the fierce knight, Stone Grenville.

Stone Grenville, battle hardened, but intensely handsome, is out to revenge the death of his younger brother, Thomas, killed delivering a betrothal agreement to Lady Ann Carlisle. Stone's plan is simple, abduct Lady Ann, force her into marriage, unit their armies, and in the process find his brother's killer.

But as Stone takes the lady he thinks is Ann farther away from her home, he discovers something unexpected. The determined warrior finds himself hoping to win the lady's heart.

When Stone learns that he's fallen in love with Errolyn and not the Lady Ann, his plans are threatened. Will he force himself to deny the feelings he's developed for his captive? Or, will he pledge his love—Forever and Always?

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