Highland Guard (20 page)

Harcourt sat on Nigel’s left when the man asked him to. When he then turned to have a quiet word with his second, Andrew, and that man left the seat on Nigel’s right empty, Harcourt knew who was going to be seated there. The head table was separated from the others enough that more private conversations could be held. Considering all that needed discussing now that Nigel was seated in the laird’s chair, Harcourt had a feeling that this could prove to be a very uncomfortable meal.

Annys came in and the look on her face when Nigel stood, waving her on to take the seat at his side, told Harcourt that she, too, saw the potential for a very uncomfortable confrontation. Nigel’s smile for Annys showed no hint of that possibility, however. What it did show was pure male appreciation for a beautiful woman and Harcourt abruptly experienced a new, even sharper concern. The simplest solution to the matter of Benet being named heir by David was for Nigel to claim the boy as the heir as well, but, perhaps the man would not mind claiming the heir’s mother, too. She had once been promised to him.

“Nigel, how is it that Adam could keep us from kenning that ye were alive for all these years?” Annys asked as a page filled her plate with the foods she chose but doubted she would be able to eat.

“Coin and a lot of it, freely given,” Nigel answered. “He paid to have me and my men tossed into a prison in a remote keep in the French hills. I believe he meant for us to die there. Two of my men did.” He paused. “Are ye certain ye wish to hear this as we eat?”

“I doubt anything ye can tell me can be too harsh for me to listen to now.” She looked around. “A few more days of seeing the hall returned to this, to what it should be instead of what it was but hours ago, and, aye, I might be shocked. But now? Nay.”

“Weel, the mon holding us wouldnae simply kill us and I am nay sure why,” he said, “but Adam may have hesitated to actually request aloud that it be done. Howbeit, they did naught to make certain we lived. Think on the worst of dungeons, little food and that bad enough to make a mon sick, little water and often foul, and, aye, ’tis a near miracle we didnae all die. And any attempt to get away, any sort of rebellion, nay matter how small, was punished harshly.”

“How did they get hold of all of you?” asked Harcourt.

“A trick. Thought we were to be hired to guard the keep. Sat down to a meal, woke up in a hole.”

“How did ye finally escape?” asked Annys.

“The keep was attacked and when the ones who won came down to free their companions, they released everyone, us as weel. All they asked from us was that we go home and dinnae fight their countrymen anymore. Or e’en fight for them as many used such as us to attack their own people and nay the enemy. They didnae like all the hired swords running free about the country, nay e’en the ones who wanted to kill the English as badly as they did.”

“They sent ye off sick and weak?”

“Nay. They allowed us to stay a wee while.” He smiled a little. “We were a pitiful lot and the mon who had taken the keep was disgusted by the reason we had been caged, e’en more so by how it was done. Once strong enough to ride, we left. By then we were friends of a sort and he readily replaced all that had been stolen from us. Nay free, for he asked us to promise that we would return to help him if he e’er needed it. For free of course. He didnae like hired swords in France but clearly had no trouble if they came to work for him if he had need.”

She looked at all the other men he had brought with him, scattered around the hall, sharing tables with the men of Glencullaich. “Ye return with more men than ye left with.”

“Aye, most are the remnants of other groups that went o’er there to fight, gain some coin.” He smiled at her. “And, aye, I have some. Hid it weel enough that it was ne’er found and, luck was with us in that small way at least, for the mon who caged us kept all our saddles. They held our treasure. On the long journey home we did keep our word and didnae hire out our swords, but we did have to defend ourselves a few times and collected some wealth from those we defeated. A few were prizes we ransomed for handsome sums.”

He frowned. “Then I drew near home and heard the rumors of a battle at Glencullaich. So, all the way here we gathered as much information as we could. ’Tis how I kenned my brother was dead,” he said, emotion making his voice unsteady. “Tell me.”

Annys did but was as vague and gentle as she could be in the details about David’s death. There was no need to dwell on the painful horror of it all. She could see by the grief darkening his eyes that Nigel knew it had been a hard death. It was much easier to tell him about Biddy and how she had paid for her crimes, despite the lingering sting of that betrayal.

“One of our own,” he muttered, as shocked as everyone else had been. “Hard to believe.”

“Aye, but e’en her sisters admit that Biddy thought of little more than of becoming a lady, someone who would have rule o’er others. I suspicion Adam and his mon Clyde recognized that greed inside her and were quick to use it. The ones who used her, killed her, and it wasnae an easy death.”

Nigel nodded. “I dinnae believe in torturous punishments but cannae find any sympathy for what happened to her.”

“Nor does anyone here. Ye are to stay here then?”

“Oh, aye.” Nigel laughed. “My adventure in France was enough to cure me of any urge to seek another. From the moment I woke up in that French hell, all I have thought about is getting back to Glencullaich. My only regret now that I am finally back here is that I was too late to say fareweel to David.” He gave her a sad smile when she briefly clasped his hand to offer comfort. “Ye chose the perfect resting place for him, Annys. He would often sit up there, enjoying the view and thinking of ways to better life for us all.”

“I ken it. I was thinking to bury our dead from the battle beside him.”

“Excellent idea. They, too, belong up there, overseeing the land they fought so hard for. Who died?”

Annys told him who had been lost. She discovered it eased some of her concern about whether this man she did not know all that well would be a good laird. He was saddened by each one she named, knowing more about a few of them than he did the others, and revealing a true grief over their loss. That he would recall anyone after so long a time away told her that he cared for the people as much as David had.

Nigel pushed away from the table. “Give me one hour,” he said. “I wish to think and walk about. Then,”—he looked at Harcourt and then at Annys—“I believe we should meet in the ledger room and have a talk.”

And there went what little appetite she had, Annys thought. She watched Nigel leave with his man Andrew and another who quickly left his seat at a signal from Nigel. Annys looked across the table at Harcourt who was frowning after the man. He did not look very concerned though and she told herself she would not be either. She also knew she was lying to herself.

 

 

“What do ye think, Andrew? Kerr?” Nigel asked as the three of them walked around the outside of the keep, idly surveying what damage had been done. “Sir Harcourt and my brother’s wife?”

“Lovers,” said Andrew. “Mayhap e’en in love.”

“And that wee lad Benet?”

“Theirs,” said Kerr. “Looks like ye just a bit, but nay so much when that mon is standing close to him.”

“I think the same. I would be angry, condemn her as a whore, if I didnae ken her at all,” said Nigel. “But I did ken her ere I left. True, she was little more than a child sent to learn how to be the lady of the keep before she actually married the laird, but I find it verra difficult to believe she would betray David or try to pass off a bastard child as his heir.” He sighed. “I also ken poor David could ne’er have sired a child.” He nodded when his companions winced at the soft reminder of what had happened to David.

“Ye think your brother got Sir Harcourt to play the stud? To breed a child he could then call his own?” asked Andrew after a few moments of thoughtful silence.

“I do and I also think that everyone here kens it,” said Nigel. “I saw the way they looked when we were all together on the steps to the keep.”

“It was a good plan,” said Kerr. “Didnae work to keep Sir Adam away but it might have.”

“Since Sir Adam kenned full weel that David couldnae sire a child since he was the one who set that mutilating bastard on my brother, I think it only made him angrier. Aye, especially when it became evident that no one here would e’er deny that Benet was David’s son. Nay, nor when David’s claiming the boy openly made it true by the laws of the court and the Church. But, now, I need to decide what to do about it.”

“Because ye wish your own get to be the heir.”

“When and if I have any, aye.”

“Ah, ’tis the ‘if ’ ye think on. Ye could breed naught but lassies.”

“Or none at all. Cannae see that happening but it could.”

“Then keep the lad as heir until he isnae needed any longer,” said Kerr.

“But that would tie Annys here and I am thinking she would like to be with Sir Harcourt. I had thought, for a moment, that I would just get a dispensation from the Church and wed her myself, but I dinnae want a lass whose heart is given elsewhere. She would ne’er leave that boy, though.”

“Ye dinnae need the lad here for him to remain your heir until ye can have one of your own,” said Andrew.

Nigel looked at Andrew and slowly nodded. “Nay, I dinnae, do I. Do ye ken? As Annys’s brother, I believe it is my duty to make certain she isnae shamed.”

“Shamed?”

“Aye, used by some rogue of a Murray and left behind, her good name ground into the mud, her tender heart broken.” He smiled faintly when his companions laughed. “He should be offered the chance to do what is right and honorable for our lady. Aye, that is what a good brother would do. Kerr, go see if we still have a priest in Glencullaich and bring him to the keep.”

“Ye mean to put his back hard up against the wall, dinnae ye?” Andrew asked as soon as Kerr left.

“I do. I also think those two need someone to do just that.” He turned back toward the doorway into the keep. “Time to go and sort out the last of the tangles my brother left behind. Mayhap we will e’en be guests at a wedding.”

“Benet isnae David’s son.”

Annys stared at Nigel. She could see no anger in him but her heart pounded with fear. If he thought she had betrayed David or was trying to falsely sit her child in the laird’s seat, Annys was certain he would be furious. Yet he just studied her and Harcourt as if he was looking for something.

She carefully sat in the chair facing the table he sat behind. Harcourt sat next to her and she could feel the tension in him. Then she decided to just tell the truth. David would have told Nigel himself if he had been able to. Annys was certain of that. So, she could do no less.

“David claimed Benet as his son before all,” she said. “The Church and the court consider him David’s son because of that claim and the fact that he was born while David and I were husband and wife. Everyone here at Glencullaich accepts him as David’s son.”

“But he isnae.”

“Nay, not by blood. David could nay sire his own child but ye kenned that.”

Nigel looked at Harcourt. “How did my brother get ye to agree to give him a child? Your child?”

“I owed David my life,” Harcourt replied. “He also told me what would be the fate of the people here if he didnae have one, people who had been naught but good to me. And, I dinnae think I tell ye anything ye havenae already guessed when I say I found it easy enough because I already coveted his wife.” He almost smiled at the deep blush that covered Annys’s soft cheeks.

“But then ye left both behind, the wife and the bairn.”

“I did. T’was what was agreed to. A mon’s honor demands he keeps a promise made. And that is what I told myself, repeatedly, for five long years. That, and that it was the right thing to do, the best thing to do, for all concerned.”

Nigel sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “David could be both cunning and convincing, nay doubt about it. And, aye, an heir might have settled things if he had been dealing with a mon who wasnae half insane with greed and envy. And one who kenned full weel that David couldnae sire a child. It didnae work and, in the end, my brother still lost his life. I suspicion he didnae realize that it was Adam who had been the cause of his maiming for David wasnae a fool and would have kenned that his plan would ne’er work then.”

Annys shook her head. “I think David suspected but then he couldnae recall if he had bedded that woman or nay. At times, I wondered if he thought it had been some punishment for his sins as he saw them.”

“My parents’ teachings,” Nigel said, his tone making it very clear he disdained such teachings, “but mayhap David found an odd sense of peace in thinking that.” He tapped a finger against a small ledger on the table in front of him. “It appears he also tried to bribe Adam and the other MacQueens to leave Glencullaich alone.”

“Oh, ye found it!” Annys glanced at Harcourt. “I forgot that Biddy had stolen it that day I followed her to her meeting with Clyde.” She looked at Nigel. “’Tis where David noted what little we could discover about you and a precise accounting of all he gave to the MacQueens.”

“It will be useful in ending their aspirations,” said Nigel. “David preferred to use bribery. I prefer to use threats. They let Adam do all the work but supplied coin and men to help him. Adam also had a wee ledger in which he noted who gave him what help and how much. I suspicion it was so he would ken how to divide up his gains when he won Glencullaich.”

“Ye actually mean to confront them over all of this?”

“Only if they push me to do so. And that brings us back to the matter of David’s heir.”

Annys inwardly sighed. “Ye wish to keep him as
your
heir, too?”

Nigel nodded. “Until I have my own. I dinnae e’en have a choice of a bride yet so not even the promise of an heir. I did think to just step into David’s place, fulfill the original betrothal agreement. A Church dispensation would settle any questions about its legality.” He grinned at Harcourt who had growled softly. “Dinnae think that would be appreciated by one and all though.”

“Nay,” said Harcourt. “Have lived through that for five years. Dinnae feel inclined to do so again.”

“Didnae think so.” Nigel looked at Annys. “And I would prefer that any wife I take be one who hasnae already given her heart away to another.” He nodded when she blushed. “So, here is what I have decided. For now I will keep Benet as my heir. To do anything else will mark him and ye, Annys, with a stain that isnae easily washed away. Benet doesnae need to live with me but he must remain David’s child and my heir. There needs to be an unwavering acceptance of that by all concerned.”

“Aye, there does.” Harcourt could not hide all the disappointment he felt over still being unable to claim his child but he understood why he could not.

“When I have a son or, even better, when I have two, then it can change, at least amongst ourselves and those closest to us. Since Benet was born and bred whilst Annys was legally wed to him, and David openly claimed Benet as his son, by all the laws I can think of, Benet
is
the heir. This secrecy just saves us all a great deal of trouble and ugly talk. So, aye, Benet remains my heir to all who might speak of it outside of the family.”

“But he doesnae have to stay here,” said Harcourt.

“Nay, but he does need to stay with a mon who can train him to be a warrior and a laird.”

“I think I can do that.”

“As do I or I would ne’er let the child go. So, the goodly priest Kerr found for me is waiting in the great hall and—”

“Wait!” ordered Annys, jumping to her feet. “Am I hearing this correctly? Have the two of ye just decided my entire future for me? Without e’en asking one wee question before ye did?”

It pleased her to see the wary looks both men gave her. As she had listened to Nigel and realized that all that kept her and Harcourt from planning a future together was being pushed aside, her heart had filled with a joyous burst of hope. Then they had continued speaking, neatly sorting out what would happen next without once asking her opinion. Twice she had had a husband chosen for her. She had dutifully accepted Nigel as a future husband because her parents had chosen him. When that did not come about, she had accepted David, again with her parents’ approval and because it was the best thing to do for all concerned. This time she would be properly asked and she
would
be offered more than a man who had no true feeling for her but would be a good husband.

Even as she prepared a speech to make that very clear to these two men, Harcourt leapt up, grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her over to the far corner of the room. She caught sight of a grinning Nigel putting his feet up on the table, picking up the small ledger Biddy had stolen, and beginning to look through it. Then she looked at Harcourt and struggled not to be swayed in her determination by how much she wanted him.

“This solves all of our problems, Annys. It sweeps away the verra thing that meant we couldnae be together, would have to part all over again,” he said.

She sighed. He was right. It almost made her smile to realize how much she wanted to kick him for that. They had both wrestled with the barriers keeping them apart and been repeatedly defeated by the tight restraints of duty. Now Nigel offered them an answer, yanking away the barrier her duty to David and Glencullaich had erected. It was rather foolish to balk now.

Yet, she wanted more now that she could actually choose. She wanted more than passion. She wanted love. It was rare in marriage but she was almost certain it was just within her reach. What she was not certain of was how to let Harcourt know without bluntly asking for what she needed, something that would expose her own weaknesses. Annys shied away from such boldness and was terrified of baring her heart to a man who had never actually said he loved her.

“No one asked me,” she said, inwardly cursing her cowardice.

“Ah, nay, we didnae, did we.” Keeping his back to Nigel, Harcourt pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Then I shall ask. Wed with me, Annys. Come home with me to Gormfeurach so we can begin the life I believe we have both wanted for five long years.”

It was so tempting. The fact that he claimed to have wanted it for five years, just as she had, warmed her heart. It was not the words of love she needed or craved, but she wanted to believe that they held the promise of it. He had already told her once that she was his woman. Most women would think that more than enough. Perhaps she was being greedy, impractical, she thought.

“So? I have asked. Wed with me, Annys. Let us seal the bonds between us, ones formed all those years ago in our river bower. Seal them now so that no one can sunder us again.”

“Aye,” she heard herself say and silently cursed her own weakness.

Harcourt kissed her. He could sense a lingering uncertainty inside her but would deal with that later. Now he had the chance to tie her to him and he had no intention of letting that chance slip through his fingers. The sound of Nigel clearing his throat broke into his thoughts and Harcourt ended the kiss. He took Annys by the hand and went back to where Nigel sat.

“Then let us be about it,” Harcourt said.

Nigel stood up. “Just remember that Benet remains, in the eyes of the world, David’s son and my heir. I will think hard on it if, at some time, I nay longer care if the truth slips out, but for now I want it held secret. Ye can still be a father to him,” he said to Harcourt as he started toward the door. “He can e’en call ye
Father
if he chooses. Since ye will be wed to his mother no one will care.”

“And ye dinnae think anyone will be suspicious since ye will nay be raising the boy yourself.”

“Nay, he is verra young and most would believe that he should be with his mother. I suspect none will find any reason to think ye a poor choice to raise my heir, either. Mayhap, if I have my own heir and enough time passes that people no longer think on David or the child he claimed, ye can be more open since ye dinnae live here. Mayhap when my own grief o’er David’s death eases, I willnae be so deeply concerned o’er keeping that particular secret. I cannae say.”

“I understand.”

The moment they stepped into the great hall, Joan took over. She insisted Annys needed to ready herself and, ignoring Nigel and Harcourt, hurried Annys up to her bedchamber. One look at the gown spread out on the bed told her that Joan had not done this in order to talk her out of marrying Harcourt.

“Are ye being forced into this marriage?” asked Joan.

“Nay.”

“It just seemed that Nigel and Sir Harcourt’s mon Callum were busy deciding it all for ye. I kenned Nigel saw just whose laddie our Benet was and when the priest toddled into the hall, I kenned what was happening. Aye, and Callum assured me that Harcourt wanted this as did his other men. ’Tis why they so readily helped Nigel.”

“They did?”

“Oh, aye, quite firmly. I thought it was what ye wanted, too.”

“It is. Yet, he speaks of beginning a life we have both wanted for five years, and there have been a lot of sweet words born of need, but he has ne’er said that he loves me.”

“Ah, I see.”

When Joan said no more, just started to undress her, Annys demanded, “Ah what? What do ye see?”

“That he is being an idiot mon and ye are allowing it to trouble you.”

“And I shouldnae worry that the mon I am about to marry doesnae love me?”

“Ye wed David and he didnae love ye, nay then and certainly nay as ye mean. Nor did Nigel and ye were going to marry him first. This man is at least nay bound by contract to wed ye for some dower purse or land.”

That was true, she thought as Joan fixed her hair. She had nothing. Harcourt gained nothing by marrying her, neither land nor coin. Annys doubted Nigel would argue if she chose a few cherished things to take with her, but she would be going to Harcourt with only her clothing, towing a child who possessed only a lamb, and bringing a cat. She smiled.

“Is that smile because your mind wandered off to something funny or because ye have ceased fretting and will now go down and wed the mon ye want?” asked Joan.

“A little of both,” Annys replied. “But, ye are right. There is no contract forcing Harcourt to the altar. There is no gain in this for him. Only me and Benet.” She grinned. “And Roberta and Roban.”

Joan laughed. “Och, aye. I wager he hasnae thought much on that yet.” She suddenly grew serious and stood up straight. “And me and my two lads.”

“Joan?” Annys was speechless for a moment, only able to croak out her friend’s name.

“That is, if ye will have me.”

“Of course, I will, but this is your home.”

“Nay, this was my husband’s home. He and all his kin are gone now. Aye, I love it here but I suspicion I can love it at Gormfeurach. My lads will miss Dunnie but they have stables at Gormfeurach.”

“Ye have already talked to some of Harcourt’s men, havenae ye.”

“Aye, because as badly as I wish ye to stay with me, I need to be what I was here or near to. I cannae step down, if ye ken my meaning. Weel, Sir Gybbon said I would be as they dinnae yet have any woman with my skills. Seems it was a rough place with a bad laird ere Sir Harcourt stepped in. Always work in the stables, too. Dunnie will miss the lads but he says there are a lot of others who will run to take their places as his helpers. So, I will go with ye.”

“Listening to all ye just said, I begin to think I do have a dower. ’Tis you.” Annys laughed and hugged her friend. “Then, welcome. I hope ye dinnae regret your decision.” She frowned. “That may leave Nigel lacking a woman to run his keep, however.”

“Nay, there are several women capable of stepping into my place. I gave him their names and he will choose the one who fits him best. I will wager a part of him welcomes this clearing out of some of the old, of David’s time as laird.”

“Ye have been busy. And, aye, mayhap he will find he appreciates making this wholly his keep now.”