Maiden of Inverness (27 page)

He'd gotten it all wrong. She knew well the warring practices of Scots, but Revas Macduff was no animal; none of God's other creatures cherished the females of their breed. Revas had made her shiver with longing and weaken with the promise of a happy future. She simply wanted to be a part of his life. A need, she decided, that had been born of their intimacy. Foolishness, for he excluded her at will. She did not fit in here. Never would.

Bother his ill manners; she could not give up without a fight. “What did Father Thomas do to earn your wrath?”

“He overstepped himself.”

“That shouldn't surprise you.”

Grudgingly he said, “He's a good priest.”

“For his fellow man perhaps. It's only women he ill serves.”

That notion distracted him. He tilted his head to the side and stared into her eyes.

“What has Father Thomas done?” she asked.

“He admonished me when he should have counseled me.”

“That's no answer. What did you do?”

His anger vanished. “I made love to you.”

As always in personal matters, she felt inclined to reticence. But if the cleric knew, others would find out. She scanned the crowd to see if his soldiers were listening. They were not. “You told him about us? About last night?”

He stared at something behind her. “He is my confessor.”

“But you committed no sin.” She, on the other hand, had erred by giving him leverage to keep her in Scotland. But, Lord, the experience had enlightened and satisfied her and made her think for a little while that her dreams could come true.

“Nay, I have not sinned, except to a cleric who cares more for politics than souls.”

Aha! “I told you he was such a man. He condemned me for ignoring my vows.”

“He condemned me for consummating them.”

“Because I cannot now claim the sword of Chapling.”

“Exactly. He said you tempted me. Can you imagine such a thing?”

Hedging might be best, for she had planned a seduction of sorts. She hadn't considered that she'd fall prey to her own wanton desire. “He's a poor priest, and yes, the memory of what passed between you and me is quite vivid.”

As if trying to hold on to his anger, he folded his arms over his chest and grumbled, “He was always better with a sword than a Psalter.”

At least he realized the priest's faults. “You can best him, can you not?”

“ 'Tis probable.”

She took note of the equivocation. The sheriff had said that, too. “Explain yourself.”

“Never have we battled in anger, and I committed a folly.”

On the field of errors, Revas Macduff was a rank amateur compared to her. She had fallen in love with a man who would force her to live among her demons. He asked the impossible of her. “Go on.”

“I boasted that I could defeat him with one arm tied at my back. He'll hold me to it.”

In her heart she knew Revas Macduff would prevail. Still, she felt bound to aid him. He had rescued her. She could not claim the sword. Her purpose in Scotland had not been served. “If you allow him to make a widow of me, I will kill you myself.”

At the absurdity of her words, he laughed. “We haven't had a moment alone. You retired early last night. Are you truly well?”

She understood what he meant, and his concern pleased her. “Aye.”

“You have no discomfort?”

“Only a guilty conscience.” She hadn't counted on loving him so much.

“Now you cannot seek an annulment.”

She wasn't sure she wanted one. A pity they weren't ordinary people—wheat farmers with weather and pestilence as their most serious concern. A curse on swords and crowns and kingdoms. “No one else has to know, and it needn't happen again.”

“I know what occurred.” His voice dropped and his gaze sharpened. “And I intend for us to be fruitful and multiply.”

Try as she would, she could not separate the man from his heritage. Neither could she do the same with her heart and her hatred for Highland ways. “If I give you sons, you will teach them to be soldiers.”

“I'll teach them to cherish and govern and defend this land.”

“With a mace and siege engines and no care for their souls?”

“With fairness and strength and a care for their mother's heart.”

Mother. She'd have children to nurse and love. Lads to send into battle. Innocent daughters to barter like sheep. “No.”

“You're afraid.”

A son to be carried home in a litter, his body broken, his soul unshriven. “I hate this warring land.”

He clutched her upper arms. “Then help me bring peace to it,” he said through clenched teeth. “Tis within our grasp.”

So strong was his conviction, she felt her hatred waver. But other men were ambitious too. “My father enjoys wearing the sword of Chapling and the crown.”

“I know. He strutted about the parliament like a cock in a hen yard. 'Tis an empty kingdom he rules.”

“While your kingdom is full of righteous-thinking Scots.”

He waved an arm. “See you any discord?”

Resolution blanketed her. “Only a man ready to slay a priest.”

Rebuffed, he snatched up his gauntlets. “I will not slay him.” Again he glanced past her. “Gibby is coming. Will you keep her beside you?”

“She cannot watch. What if you're injured?”

“She's a Highland lassie and accustomed to displays of Scottish valor.”

“If taking up a sword to decide a matter of faith is heroism, I'm the queen o' the May.”

“Nay. You're the grand princess of the Highland folk, and I am your champion.”

“Mine? You said the cleric found fault with you. Has he also belittled me?”

“Aye.”

“I'll not be the excuse for bloodshed.”

“I must defend your honor.”

Realization dawned, and with it came welcome relief from the guilt she felt for loving him. She threw up her hands. “Your valor is misplaced. I suspect he defamed not me, but the Maiden of Inverness. What precisely did he say?”

“He said you sinned as Eve, that you seduced me.”

“Your reply?”

“I told him you were innocent.”

“You discussed me as if I were a fractious horse that pitched you into the bracken? I'm mortified, Revas. How could you?”

His mouth broadened in a fake smile. “Gibby,” he said, drawing his daughter between them. “You're to stay with Meridene.”

“Gibby,” Meridene said, nudging the girl toward him. “You're to stay with your father.” Then she headed for the church.

Male pride be damned. She wasn't some serf's daughter trapped in the justice of the ruling class. She was the Maiden of Inverness.

She almost stumbled at that hated thought. No ceremony. She was a daughter of nobility—nothing more. She would be heard.

She found Father Thomas dressed in battle gear and kneeling at the altar. So sacrilegious was the air in the chapel, she did not genuflect, but waited.

The door opened behind her. Revas stepped inside. The priest rose and came toward them. Flanked by a well-intentioned husband and an angry priest, Meridene lost her patience. “I condemn both of you for poor Christians. Kill yourselves if you will, but not because of me.”

Father Thomas radiated condescension. “We do not fight to the death.”

“I see. Only until one of you is maimed.”

“First blood,” said Revas, obviously eager to shed it.

“Why not settle your squabble with bows and arrows and a stout oak for target?” she asked.

Father Thomas slapped his gauntlets against his open palm. “Why not settle it yourself and praise God in the doing by demanding the sword of Chapling? Cutberth cannot know you've lost your innocence.”

Like a spent candlewick sputtering in a pool of wax, her patience waned. “You speak of me as if I were some vessel, necessary to quench your thirst, but bothersome otherwise. How many other women have you served in so shoddy a fashion?”

All imperial and goodly servant of God, he glared down at her. “You have a duty.”

She turned to Revas. “You ask why I hate this land of monsters? Look at yourselves and you will see my demons come to life. You're no different than my father or any other Scotsman who covets power. Bend a knee to each other if you will, but leave me out of your rituals!”

Too distraught to continue, she left them there and locked herself in her room. Darkness found her bent over her loom, her heart aching with regrets and her soul heavy with sadness. As she readied herself for bed, she thought of her room at Scarborough Abbey. She thought of the fishwife who made creamy mullet stew. She thought of Sister Margaret and longed for the nun's good counsel. Looking ahead to tomorrow and the next day and the life that yawned before her, she shivered with foreboding. She saw Macgillivrays pouring over the wall and slaying the people of Elginshire; Sim, lying in a pool of blood; Sibeal screaming in terror as they hacked Conal to pieces; Serena and Summerlad ripped apart. Lisabeth and Gibby . . .

She awakened screaming, and she found herself held securely in Revas's arms.

“Shush, Meridene.” He rocked her gently. “ 'Tis over. No one will hurt you now.”

She felt chilled, damp, and hollow. “How did you come to be here?”

“You cried out.”

A deep shame settled over her. “Did the others hear?”

“Only Serena, and she is unfailingly loyal to you.”

“I'm sorry I disturbed you.”

“Had you come to table tonight, I would have said that very thing to you.”

“Why?”

“ 'Twas true, what you said in the chapel about Thomas and me. We value our pride more than those we have sworn to protect. For that I am deeply sorry.”

“It's all those oaths you swear. You rob yourself of volition.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze. “You put it nicely, Meridene. We are selfish creatures who remember warring and forget the things we truly love.”

He couldn't love her, not when she feared unto death making a home here. “Are you hurt? Who prevailed?”

“Nay, I haven't a scratch. I bested him at arrows.”

They'd taken her advice. The knowledge lightened her weary spirits. “Pity the penitents on the morrow.”

A concerned frown creased his brow. “Father Thomas has gone. He felt the need for a pilgrimage to renew his vows. He gave me a message for you.”

“I'm not certain I wish to hear it, Revas.”

“ 'Twill cheer you.”

“Tell me then.”

“He said you were correct about the role of the church. He also said there is no greater concern for a priest than the well-being of God's children, especially eight-year-old girls with no one to protect them.”

As Meridene had been. But she'd left that lonely child behind. “It does cheer me, but who will say mass?”

“I've sent to Inverness for a priest. Are you thirsty?” He offered her a tankard. “ 'Tisn't your favorite, but you might like it.”

The honey ale quenched more than her thirst; it answered a question. “You were here once before when I had the dream. You left a tankard of Randolph's ale by the bed.”

“Aye. On the night before I relieved Nairn.”

She hadn't conjured his smell or imagined his comfort; both had lingered. “How long have you been here tonight?”

“Since high moonrise.”

Hours. Yet the fire still blazed. “Have you slept?”

“I've been thinking and occasionally reading the Covenant.”

“You respect it more than I.”

He shrugged and took a sip from the mug. “I've had years to enjoy it. It must seem odd to you, reading those accounts now that you are an adult and a wife.”

More than he knew. “Yes.”

“They were very important women, and their writings were helpful to a lad who knew more about skinning animals than leading men.”

A butcher's son. “How so?”

“By studying their legacy, I found the courage to break with Edward the First.”

She realized how little she knew about his rise to power. “It must have looked insurmountable to you at the time.”

“Aye.”

“You swore fealty to King Edward in the church before we spoke our vows.”

“I had no choice. At three and ten I was too scared to do aught else. He also left an armed guard.”

“Did you slay them?”

“Nay.” He kicked off his slippers and wiggled his toes. “I took their wealth in tournaments.”

“When did you learn to wield a sword?”

“Soon after Edward took you away, Brodie began training me. He would have nothing less than excellence.”

“When did the English soldiers leave Elginshire?”

“The last was ransomed by his family five years after you left.”

“You were eight and ten, and you bested the Plantagenet guard?”

“I had Brodie and the assurances of the Forbes. Enough about me. Tell me every moment of your sojourn in England.”

“Sojourn? I made my home there, and friends, too. And don't change the subject. How did you make so many alliances?”

“I hosted the Highland games and came to know the chieftains. The Macqueens were my first allies. Drummond had been taken by old Edward, and Randolph had just risen to chieftain of his clan. I bested him, and for a reward, I asked to foster Summerlad. We were boon companions from the start.”

“What of the Macgillivrays?”

“They attended the games twice. Thereafter only William came. To my disappointment, he also eventually stayed away.”

“He sent me a message.”

Revas's reaction was slight, a quick movement of his shoulders, but she knew he was surprised. “When? How?”

He must have spoken truthfully when he said he had not looked inside the package containing the bird nest. He had respected her privacy. How
un
Scottish of him, she thought. “He put a note in the gift you brought.”