His to Keep: A Medieval Romance Read online

  “Nay!” she said. “They—”

  “Their complicities canna go unanswered,” McGowan insisted.

  Claire couldn’t let them suffer for her failed plan. “But you do not lock up Ralph.”

  “He put away his sword.”

  “Those two guards are senseless and cannot submit to your authority as Ralph did.”

  The Scot did not answer; he only stared into her eyes, his face a mere handbreadth from her own. She resisted the urge to squirm out of his arms, knowing he would only tighten his grip.

  “They will receive the same opportunity to affirm their loyalty. Until then, they shall remain in custody.” He glanced at his man. “Have them thrown in the dungeon.” He turned and carried her to the keep.

  Claire bit her tongue to keep her thoughts to herself. The resulting pain only fanned the fire burning within. To be a woman with no power—no authority to stand up against a king who with a word changed the course of her life—’twas monstrously unfair. Only one thought gave her any comfort. There were no priests nearby. ’Twould take days to summon one. Perhaps in that time she could think of another plan to free herself. A traveling priest had been at Whitfield a se’ennight past and wouldn’t return for another month. She closed her eyes, letting the corner of her mouth lift in a smile.

  “Do you find humor in the situation?” The Scot gained the door of the keep, fumbling with the handle.

  Claire wiped the smile from her face. “Nay.”

  He pushed open the door and entered the great hall. “I viewed a wee smile.”

  “You saw nothing.” She would let him find out about the lack of a priest on his own. Then she would smile indeed.

  Leticia met them at the stairwell clutching a shawl around her slim shoulders. “My lady, are you hurt?”

  “Only my ankle. Go on to bed.”

  “I could get you something to ease the pain.” Leticia stepped away, pressing her back against the wall as the Scot carried Claire up the winding stairs.

  “Nay, I do not need anything.” Claire glanced over Ian’s shoulder at Leticia, and gave her a slight smile, hoping to reassure the frightened girl. “Are the others still abed?”

  “Aye, though they await news of you.” The girl followed them upward.

  “Tell them all is well. Now to bed with you.” Claire wished she could ease their minds, but ’twasn’t easy when her own mind whirled with thoughts of the future. Or the lack thereof.

  The Scot reached the second floor and walked down the short corridor to her chamber. ’Twould be their bedroom once a priest was found. She shuddered at the impending doom.

  “Are you cold?” Ian pushed open the bedroom door with his foot.

  She wasn’t. Not with the heat emanating from his body. “Aye, I am chilled.”

  “’Tis good your fire still burns.” He walked across the room and set her upon the large bed. “Shall I send for the girl to help you out of your clothing?”

  “Nay, I can manage on my own.”

  “Shall I at least get your bedclothes for you?”

  Claire hesitated. She didn’t want his help, but to walk across the room to her trunk would hurt. “I suppose.” She pointed to the trunk on the other side of the bed. “In there, on the top.”

  He strode to the trunk, gathered the shift, and brought it to her. He glanced away and his face reddened as he held out the garment.

  Faith! The formidable Scot was embarrassed. “One would think you’d not had seen lady’s undergarment before.”

  McGowan tossed her the shift. “I have a sister.”

  The man’s awkwardness struck a chord within Claire. “Were you close?”

  The Scot shrugged a shoulder. “She tolerated me well enough. Only half a score in age when I was born, she took care of me when my mother died.”

  “You weren’t given a wet nurse?” How did a girl of ten years care for a newborn?

  “My father dinna care whether I lived or died. My birth was the cause of my mother’s demise. I took his love away from him.”

  “But—”

  “I shall leave you to prepare for the night, what little is left of it.” He gave her a slight bow and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Odd. He did not berate her or speak of her escape. He acted as if nothing had happened. He hadn’t treated her as an enemy but gave her kindness even though she had caused him nothing but trouble. Strange for a Scot. Strange for any man, really. Especially one as scarred from the past as he obviously had been.

  She quickly changed her clothes, plaited her hair, and slid under the covers, the chill of the cool bedding causing her to shiver in truth.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  Who could it be? Leticia or Edith coming to check on her? “Enter.”

  The Scot stuck his head in and then entered, shutting the door behind him. He carried bedding and had a pillow tucked under his arm.

  “I need nothing else. I am warm enough.” She was surprised by his kindness.

  “These are not for you.” He unfolded the bedding and shook it out before the hearth.

  Claire sat up and pushed a stray curl from her face. “You do not think to sleep here—in my room?”

  “Aye, that I do.” He plopped the pillow down and lay on his back, tucking a hand beneath his neck.

  “Nay, you may not.” The impudence of the man! “We are not yet married.”

  “We shall be married on the morrow.”

  Impossible! “That doesn’t give you cause to sleep here tonight. I demand you leave.”

  “I willna take the chance of your escaping once more.”

  “Escaping? With a hurt foot?” She snorted, though pride brewed within that he thought she had the audacity to try.

  A short, deep laugh sounded from the man, and Claire gaped. Laughter—this man was nothing like what she envisioned all Scots to be.

  “I wouldna doubt your ability to try, given all you have attempted thus far. I shall not take the chance,” he said.

  Claire shook her head. The fool. As if she could leave in her condition. She threw herself back on her pillow. “At least open the door. ’Tisn’t proper for just the two of us to be in here together.”

  She waited. Nothing but silence. Throwing off her covers, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and gingerly put her feet on the floor.

  The Scot lifted up onto his elbow and looked at her. “What do you?”

  “I’m going to open the door since you seem too tired to do so.”

  “’Tisn’t necessary, I say.”

  “Yet, I do.”

  The man stared, his gaze foreboding in the flickering light of the fire.

  A challenge? Faith, even if it took every last breath, she would win. Claire rose to her feet, jostling her weight on her good foot.

  “By the saints!” The Scot jumped to his feet, strode across the room, and flung the door wide, the sound of the wood hitting the stone wall reverberating through the chamber. He lay back down on the pallet and put an arm across his eyes.

  The man’s anger palpitated throughout the room. And yet, he did what she wanted. What sort of man was he to rein in his temper so? Her guardian hadn’t been a restrained man. She could even remember her father losing his temper on occasion. McGowan must be working to win her favor. He would show his true nature soon enough.

  Claire pulled up her feet, snuggled down under the covers, and then smiled. She could hardly wait until the morrow when he found out a wedding wouldn’t take place any time soon.

  Chapter 7

  Ian shifted his weight on the thin pallet and winced at the ache in his back. Soft light broke through the window shutter. He stood and stretched, working out the soreness in his limbs as he glanced at the bed once more. The lass hadn’t moved. Had she left a pillow under the bedding in her stead? Had she escaped again? He crept closer. A curly strand of coppery hair snaked from under the sheet.

  Tension eased from his body and he released a breath. As deeply as he�
�d slept, she could have been halfway to London before he’d wakened. He quietly backed away, not wanting to wake her. Perhaps her demeanor would soften if she was well-rested. At least, ’twas his hope.

  Ian gently pulled the door shut and headed for the great hall. While he hoped food would be at the ready, he needed to speak with Phillip about locating a priest. Mayhap the next village housed a man of God. One of the guards would know, but would they share that information? Nay.

  Getting married proved more difficult than he originally thought.

  Porridge and bread had been set on the tables in the great hall. A fire crackled in the fireplace, aiding a few lit torches along the wall. Phillip ate at the head table on the dais, while a few of the guards and Toly occupied one of the lower tables, eating their fill.

  With hunger gnawing at him, Ian slid into the chair beside Phillip.

  Phillip wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Did you manage to sleep whilst watching your bride last eve?”

  “I slept like a babe.”

  “I wager you did.”

  Ian shot his friend a glare. “I bedded down on the floor. Alone. Door open.”

  Phillip looked askance his answer, “The woman was agreeable to your presence?” He shoveled a spoonful of food into his mouth.

  “Nay, but I wasna about to leave her alone to attempt another escape—with or without a bruised foot.” Ian noticed the dark circles under Phillip’s eyes. He appreciated Phillip’s willingness to keep watch. Had he not, no one would have known of Claire’s escape until it was too late. “You must be weary, having guarded the castle all night.”

  “Sleep I would welcome.”

  “Take the room abutting Claire’s after you eat.”

  Phillip slanted him a glance. “Claire, is it?”

  Heat rushed up Ian’s neck. “She is to be my wife.”

  “She granted you permission to call her by her given name?”

  Ian shook his head. “I haven’t addressed her as such.”

  “To see her reaction when you do ...” Phillip chuckled.

  “I’m not sure either of us would be left standing should I do so.” The corner of Ian’s mouth lifted on its own volition. “She is fearsome, that one.”

  “What are your plans this day?” Phillip wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and pushed away the empty trencher.

  “I must find a priest. I dinna ken if the last village we passed through on our journey is adequate to house one.”

  “Mayhap Whitfield’s men would know.”

  “Perhaps, but to share that information with me? They would sooner cut off their tongues than offer aid.”

  “Very well. Let me sleep, and then I will find a priest for you.”

  “I shall …” Claire entered the great hall, capturing Ian’s attention. Dressed in a simple purple gown, she limped across the room, grimacing with each step.

  Ian quickly stood and met her in the middle of the room. Without a word, he bent to lift her.

  Claire gripped his arm. “Nay, I need no aid.”

  “I canna bear to watch your face as you walk.”

  She glared. “How honeyed you are with your words this morn.”

  Despite her protests, he scooped her into his arms. She stiffened, but kept silent, turning her face away. As he carried her to the table, her curls brushed his face and the softness tickled his cheek. Och! Why did she not plait her hair like most women? He wasna complaining; he rather enjoyed her red, wavy tresses moving about like tongues of fire. ’Twas unlike any hair he had ever seen.

  Once she settled in her chair, he sat beside her. “I expected you to stay abed after the events of last eve.”

  “There is much to be done today.” The lass picked up her spoon and began eating.

  “Aye, we must find a priest. Is there one in the nearby village?”

  “Nay.”

  “Where is the nearest priest located?” Ian hoped one resided within an hour’s ride.

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “Couldna say, or willna say?”

  She glanced at Ian and, with a shrug of her shoulder, she turned back to her food.

  Phillip snorted, and Ian shook his head, warning him to cease. Claire needed no provocation. If she wouldna offer information, he would ask her people. Surely one of them would share. “James!”

  Whitfield’s head guard rose from his table and came to stand before Ian.

  “Where is the nearest priest?”

  James looked to Claire, then back to Ian. “I do not know.”

  The lass kept her head down, spooning porridge into her dainty mouth.

  “You, the man in charge of the men here, do not know where a priest may be found?” Ian thought to shame him into offering information.

  “A man of God once dwelled in the nearest village, until it dwindled in size and the priest left.”

  “But you know where one is, correct?”

  “Nay, I do not.”

  Ian held the man’s gaze. How does one force truth out of a person without torturing him? Or her? “I should put you in the tower until you divulge what you know.”

  Claire seized Ian’s arm. “Nay! He speaks truth!”

  Heat from her hand gave him pause, and he looked to the woman by his side. So fierce in defense of her people. Strong and courageous. She snatched her hand away and leaned back in her chair.

  Ian longed to see how his strategy would evolve. “How do I know he isna lying? ’Tis obvious your men are loyal to you. They willna divulge where a priest resides.” He looked from Claire to James. “I would know the truth.”

  “No one knows where the priest is,” said James. “He travels from village to village in the area, so no one has knowledge of his location at any given moment.”

  Phillip nudged Ian and pointed to Noah who whispered in Leticia’s ear.

  Ian addressed the young man. “Noah, what do you know about the priest?” Would his answer be different?

  Noah stood and pulled at the neck of his tunic. “James is tellin’ the truth, sir. The priest travels and only comes once every month or so.”

  Ian nodded, and Noah returned to his seat. What was he to do without a priest? How could he marry without one?

  “Thank you, James.” Ian motioned him away and looked at Claire.

  Her lips spread into a triumphant smile. “’Twould seem our marriage will have to wait.”

  “You knew there was no priest all along, yet you said nothing.” She seemed to gain pleasure in his continual struggle to seize his inheritance.

  “I didn’t want to spoil your plans.” Claire lifted her shoulders. “You seemed set on a quick wedding.”

  Ian was set on a wedding, but a thought occurred to him. They could be handfasted. That was a binding ceremony, and then they could have a wedding once a priest arrived. Handfasting bound them as one and would satisfy the king’s decree. “We shall handfast this eve, with the sun’s setting.”

  The lass’s mouth dropped open, and she gripped the edge of the table. “What do you say?”

  “You heard aright.”

  “Handfasting is not necessary. We can wait for a wedding.”

  “I dinna want to risk you running off without following the king’s command. Handfasting will bind us as required.”

  “But—” Claire’s knuckles whitened.

  “But what? You want time for your foot to heal? To escape once more? To frighten me away from Whitfield?”

  A fascinating display of emotions crossed Claire’s face. Horror. Consternation. Resignation? Would she submit to what was to be? “Claire—”

  She gasped. “I did not give you leave to use my name!”

  Phillip choked on his drink.

  “Phillip, ’tis time for a wee bit of sleep, aye?” asked Ian.

  Phillip wiped at the liquid that had spilled down his chin and rose. “Aye. I believe I shall take my leave.” With a grin, he left the table.

  Ian faced an angry Claire, her face reddened
and brows drawn low. “Since we are to be married, you should call me Ian.” Fearing her fingers would break should she continue to grip the table thusly, he placed a hand on hers.

  Claire jerked her hand away. “I shall not!” She reached for her drink, downed it in three gulps, and then sat back in her chair.

  Ian tried to find the words to reassure her that marriage wouldna be the worst thing to occur, even if he were a Scot. What could he say to ease her frustration at her circumstance?

  “Claire.” Ian waited for her to look at him.

  She cast her gaze upon him, her brows furrowed.

  He leaned toward her, not wanting all to hear their conversation. “All will be well. I am not an ogre. We can fare well enough, you and I.” Her bright green eyes fixed on his. Her breath quickened, and he thought she might flee like a frightened hare in the thicket. “Truly,” he whispered.

  Claire sucked in a breath and pulled away. “But a handfasting? Can we not wait for the priest?”

  “I fear our options are limited. ’Tisn’t fair, to be sure, but neither of us has a choice. We must make the best of it, aye?”

  As he searched her face for some understanding, tears welled up in Claire’s eyes, and compassion for this woman whose life had been upturned gripped him. He’d had time to process the news before laying eyes upon her. She’d had no such fortune.

  A tear spilled down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away. “Must it be so soon?”

  “Aye. The handfast will show the king we are obedient to his decree, even without the presence of a priest. I willna put my inheritance in jeopardy.”

  Claire swiped at her cheek. “I do not care for the idea.”

  “Nor I.” He dinna want to wed a woman who detested his very presence.

  “Then why do you not seek an alternative way? Seek my release?”

  Why, indeed? There wasna enough time, given that more than a se’ennight had already passed, and they were to be married within a month. And, if he were honest, there was something about this proud woman that intrigued him in spite of her devilish ways. “Where would you go that is better than here? You must know that given your birth, you shall not find a better life than here at Whitfield.”