Knight Defender (Knight Chronicles) (17 page)

Warriors? Armed to take English ships and men?
Jessamyn could not hear the reply, but it had to come from Raeb. No one else had any reason to plan to marry her. She crept closer while staying hidden by the curve of the staircase.

“Do you no think she will object to such a betrayal of her godfather?” Dougal asked.

“Aye.” Resignation rang in Raeb’s voice. “I doubt she’ll be happy, but Edward canna be allowed to gain a foothold in the Highlands, or we’ll end the same way as Wales, a conquered people dispossessed of our homes and our rights, taxed beyond bearing. Besides, as soon as Jessamyn has a bairn or two, she will no worry over the affairs of kings.”

“If that’s what you think, you’ve less understanding of women than I believed.”

“What I know of women is neither here no there. What’s important is that we keep our plans quiet, especially since we still wait information on how many men Edward will send.”

“I’ve no envy for you when your lady discovers what you plan.”

“I’ll send her with my sisters on a visit to Sorcha at Strathnaver. With luck ’twill be over before she ever knows about it.”

Nausea curled in her stomach and her head spun. Shaky, she leaned against the stone wall. She’d trusted Raeb with her body, had been on the verge of abandoning her dreams for him, and all along he plotted betrayal. She couldn’t allow his plan to come to fruition, especially in light of her father’s hurried farewell. Since he was too busy, her brother Simon would sail on one of Edward’s ships to Dungarob to witness the wedding. Simon could be killed. Raeb could be killed. Though she shouldn’t care, she did. She stiffened her back, turned, and paced softly up the stairs. ’Twas best for everyone if this plot were squashed before it ever began. If she got word to Edward quickly, he would not send his ships. She sped down the hall to her chamber.

Margery was still in the room, straightening up from the earlier bath, when Jessamyn hurried in.

“Oh no, my lady, what will you do?” her maid asked after hearing Jess’s story.

“We will proceed as originally planned. However, for safety’s sake, I’ll write a note to King Edward. You’ll sew the note into the lining of your wool cloak, finish packing your trunk with my dowry, and leave for the harbor. I’ll join you before the morning tide.” She gathered quill, ink, and vellum as she spoke and began to write.

“What if we’re discovered, and what of your horse?”

“Though I had hoped to take her, I regretfully must leave Persia here. We cannot bring her with us and maintain complete secrecy. The stable hands would miss her and give the alarm. As for discovery, no one knows what we’re doing, so we can’t be discovered. If, however, we get separated, you must take the ship without me and get this note to King Edward.”

“I couldn’t.”

“If you care for me, you must, else England and Scotland will be at war, and all of our loved ones will be at risk.” Jessamyn dusted the note and sealed it.

Margery nodded and squared her shoulders as Jessamyn pressed the message into her hand. “Yes, Lady Jessamyn. I’ll do as you instruct. I promise.”

“Bless you, Margery. You’re being very brave. Do not forget to have a very loud and angry argument with me at supper tonight.”

“Yes, Lady Jessamyn.”

Leaving the maid behind Jessamyn prayed none of the million possible problems would occur. She felt little of the confidence she’d manufactured for Margery’s sake. Nonetheless, Jessamyn steeled herself to do what was necessary to succeed. She could not let war threaten those she loved.

• • •

Motioning to a serving lad for more mead, Raeb watched Jessamyn laugh and move among the lower tables. Why had his betrothed avoided him all evening? She’d fidgeted all through the meal and, the moment the servants removed the platter, took the first excuse to leave his side. He’d followed her for a while. They were lovers, and if she wished to mingle he’d no difficulty with that. ’Twas an excellent idea for the clansmen and women to become better acquainted with their new lady. He was smiling the first time she sent him off to get some trinket she wanted to show his sisters. He kept smiling the second and third times, but when she turned to him a fourth time …

“Prithee, Baron, could you go … ?”

“Send a servant,” he snarled before she finished. Then he stalked back to the dais. There he slammed himself into his chair and prepared to indulge in some serious drinking, since his affianced wife had no better use for him than errand boy.

“Tired of playing fetch for Lady Du Grace?” Dougal settled into the next chair ...

“Aye.”

They spent silent moments watching Jessamyn flit about the hall like some rare bird frightened of capture. “What ails the woman?”

Dougal shrugged. “What ails any woman? ’Tis not as if their actions make any sense. Your sisters are always changing their minds.”

Letting the other man ramble, Raeb nodded in sympathy.
Jessamyn isn’t like that
. She’d known what she wanted before she arrived in Dungarob, and it had not been marriage to him or any other man. He leaned forward, resting his forearms against the edge of the table. What was it that Artis had said?

“Lady Jessamyn willna be sold like cattle. Her dearest wish is to retire to a nunnery and raise horses for the nuns to sell.”

He sipped his brew.
But she made love with me, practically begged me. She can’t possibly imagine I would nae want to wed her when I’m the one who took her maidenhead.

Did she think to claim it was some other man? If that was her plan, then she wasn’t the intelligent woman he imagined her to be. He’d wed her anyway. She was up to something, but what?

He tracked her progress across the room. Artis stopped his betrothed, taking her hand just as she was about to leave the hall. It appeared as if his youngest sister was pleading with his betrothed. Looking troubled, Jessamyn shook her head. Artis tugged on her hand. Even at this distance the frown Jessamyn turned on Artis was fearsomely stern. The lady shook her head again and trod on the first step.

His sister flung the lady’s hand away. Then the girl dashed from the hall toward the kitchens. Raeb knew Artis was in the habit of confiding her troubles in the cook.

He was about to go after her when across the hall, Margery stalked toward her mistress. The woman looked angry. Since she was as much friend and confidante as maid to Jessamyn, Raeb could not imagine what the maid was about.

“Lady Jessamyn. I can stand no more ill treatment. I demand you pay my passage back to England on that ship in the harbor.”

Jessamyn jerked, clearly startled by the maid’s loud and rude pronouncement. She turned to confront the servant. The hall fell silent.

Raeb shot out of his chair and made his way to Jessamyn’s side with all possible speed.

“If someone has been less than courteous, tell me whom, and I shall have Baron MacKai punish them for daring to discomfit you.”

“Aye, tell us who,” he said.

Jessamyn placed her hand on his chest. “Allow me to handle this, please.”

He subsided, but he didn’t like it.

Margery ignored him, a novel experience for Raeb and one he wasn’t certain he liked.

“These folk have not insulted me directly, my lady. ’Tis the cold, the damp, the constant comments from all about how weak the English are. I’ve just discovered that when you journey from here with your husband, I will be expected to ride. You know I cannot abide horses, and I refuse to be forced to sit upon one of the vile creatures.”

“Be at ease, Margery. We will find you the gentlest of mounts.”

“I do not want any mount,” the maid shouted. “I want to go home. Where Maytide is warm and people can ride in a cart or walk.”

“Be reasonable, Margery.”

The maid pursed her lips, drew herself up to her full, if inconsiderable, height, and snorted.

“’Tis you, Lady Jessamyn, who is being unreasonable, since you wish me to remain in this dismal place simply to serve you. I had not thought you to be so selfish.”

The folk in the room gasped as one.

Jessamyn lifted her chin. “Very well. I dismiss you from my service. Take your wages and sufficient coin for your passage on the ship from my dowry and be gone.”

She turned her back on the maid and waited.

“Hmph.” Margery’s footsteps echoed all the way from the great hall to the top of the stairs before whispered murmurs broke the silence.

“Will you escort me to my chamber, Raeb? I cannot bear to remain among these murmurs, nor can I bear to encounter Margery if she happens to leave by the main stair.”

“Of course.” He wrapped one arm about her shoulders and took her hand in his. She was pale and trembling. He kept her close, worried that she might collapse. He should have known better.

By the time he seated her in the chamber they would soon share, her color had returned, and her trembling ceased. Fortunately, Margery had remained out of sight.

“I’ll send one of my sisters to sit with you.”

“No.” Jessamyn shook her head. “I will be fine if I can have time alone to decide how I want to proceed without Margery.”

“You’ll have a Scottish maid, of course.”

“Of course, but for now I can do without. Tomorrow will be time enough to solve the problem of my tirewoman.”

“Very well. You are certain you dinna wish company?”

She nodded. “Please. I’ve lost a dear friend and must mourn that loss before I can face anything else.”

In view of that comment, he’d not ask her what had happened with Artis. He’d seek out his sister for that.

He kissed the top of Jess’s head and left in search of Artis. If Margery was still within the keep walls, he would tear the skin from her body for her thoughtless treatment of Jessamyn. Only the idea of his betrothed’s reaction stopped him.

Hours later, Raeb headed for the stairs to the upper chambers. He was heartily tired of women and their whims. Convincing a tearful Artis to confide in him had taken much longer than he expected. Once he heard how she’d wanted Jessamyn to ride with her two days hence to see some new marvel, Raeb could understand why Jessamyn declined. What he couldn’t understand was the brusqueness with which Jessamyn had refused. Yes, Artis could pester the life from a person, but despite eighteen summers, she was so very young. There was no malice in her, and she would soon learn better manners.

So what was behind Jessamyn’s brusque dismissal? Mourning the loss of her maid or not, Jessamyn Du Grace would explain her unkindness. He despised playing the middleman, but he couldn’t stand seeing anyone he loved suffer. His jaw clenched, and he paused in mid-stride as he climbed the stairs then started up again. Every torch in the stairwell was out. He’d save any harsh words for his servants. Such carelessness was not to be tolerated. Anyone who knew the upper levels of the keep less well than Raeb would be in danger of injury from stumbling in the dark.

He placed a foot on the top step, annoyed to find the passageway between chambers dark as well. Maybe he should demand that Jessamyn deal with the servants and give her a better direction for her frowns than Artis.

He’d just turned the corner into the darkened passage when a small cry sounded behind him.

“Who’s there?”

Silence answered him, and in the dark he could not see who might have followed.

“Artis, I said I would speak with Lady Jessamyn, and I’ll brook no interference until I do.”

Nearby a small sound like choked off laughter floated through the dark. Then a scuffle of footsteps fled, but they progressed down the passage, not toward the stairs.

The footfalls stopped. How far their owner had gone, Raeb couldn’t say without more light. Darkness and stone distorted sound. He waited a while for more sounds. None came. The one thing he could say was that the person stalking the passage wasn’t Artis. Whoever it was, they had no good intent or they would have identified themselves.

He drew his blade. With extreme care to be quiet, he placed his back to the wall and sidled along the passage. He’d gone only seven paces when a door’s leather hinges creaked. He watched as the portal to the crenellated curtain wall opened and the dim light of pre-dawn fell on a blue-cloaked figure easing through the doorway and out to the battlement walk.

Jessamyn! Why was she sneaking about? Did this odd behavior have anything to do with her nervous avoidance of him all evening or her callous treatment of Artis, or had the English maid’s departure upset his betrothed enough to drive her from the keep? Patience with female megrims at an end, he pursued her. She’d explain all, or he’d know the reason why.

• • •

Jessamyn sobered as she slipped through the doorway and walked silently across the battlement. For a brief moment, fooling Raeb had been fun, but the truth was that her actions this night troubled her greatly. It was necessary, she reminded herself.
Else I’ll spend my life shackled to an enemy. Worse, an enemy I fear I could love
. The nuns of St. Bartholomew’s needed her skills. All Raeb MacKai needed was her royal connections so he could steal Edward’s ships and her dowry. Pacing quickly along the curtain wall to one of the towers flanking the great gate, she gnawed at her lower lip. Should she have left some of her dowry behind? That might mollify Raeb’s resentment when he discovered her gone.

She entered the gate tower and descended the stairs to the bailey. No, without that whole dowry the nuns might not be able to guarantee her safety. Once her location was discovered, Raeb, her father, or Edward—perhaps all three—would try to retrieve her. Much as she might like to leave coins to soothe a rejected man and ease the plight of the MacKai clan, she could not.

At the bottom of the stairs she paused to look about. A guard walked his post not fifteen paces away. She waited for him to turn his back then darted to the small door set in the lowered portcullis.

Soundlessly lifting the bar that locked the door, she eased it open. She gave thanks that whoever tended the portal kept the hinges well greased. Once outside she fled toward the docks. She had no time to be careful closing the portcullis door. Dawn was breaking, and she must be on that ship before it set sail. She could only hope that the guard thought he’d forgotten to secure the door. She could ill afford pursuit.