Not Mine to Give (6 page)

“Aye. I daresay if the earl would have had one more daughter, you too would have been commanded to take an English bride.”

“I would never take an English bride.”

Duncan stared at his friend and the look in Ian’s eyes told him he would change his mind if his king commanded it. Duncan knew differently. “You did
na come back to find your family slaughtered as did I. Ferguson blood will never mix with that of the cursed English after they murdered my family.”

“Even for the peace of Scotland?”

“Nay. Na even for Scotland.”

A smile lifted the corners of his friend’s mouth. “I do
na mind telling you I do na regret the choice made for me. I have come to love my Elizabeth. She may be meek and lacking strength, but there is enough love inside her that I will never drink my fill.”

Duncan stared at his friend in confusion. Did Ian not know his wife? Duncan would never use the term meek to describe her. Neither did he think her lacking in strength.

“From the day Elizabeth took my name, she has been a Scot.”

Duncan swallowed hard.
Elizabeth.
That was her name.

“Your wife, Ian, was
verra brave and verra courageous. She stood up to Bolton as well as any warrior.”

The expression on Ian’s face turned deadly. “Where was Chalmers?”

“Dead. He and most of the men you had left behind were killed in a raid some months past. There was no one to protect your home and Bolton took over without a fight.”

“What did he want? What did he think we had?”

“He came for the crown. When Bolton attacked my family, our priest brought it here to Lady MacIntyre for safe keeping.”

The look on Ian’s face was stark. “Is the crown still here?”

“I do na know. Your wife will not admit that she has it.”

“Have you asked her?”

“Bolton tried to make her tell him where the crown was hidden.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed and the muscles in his jaw bunched. “Was my wife harmed?”

“Aye. But she is well now.”

“And the babe?”

Duncan’s heart slammed in his chest. There was naught he could say. By the saints, he didn’t know she’d lost a babe. “There is na babe, Ian.”

Ian lifted an agonizing frown toward the heavens and clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword. He took one deep breath after another until a low, keening moan echoed into the clear Scottish air.

Without another word, Ian turned his mount and raced toward Kilgern Castle. Duncan followed at his side. When they reached the inner courtyard the two lairds jumped to the ground and ran to the steps leading to the keep’s entrance.

“Elizabeth!”

Duncan heard the fear in his friend’s voice and a stronger wave of guilt slashed through his gut. How could Ian’s wife have kissed him like she had? And let him hold her in the night? And touched his face with such tenderness? Did she have no heart? Didn’t she know how much her husband loved her?

“Milord! Milord!” Eloise ran through the doorway and collided with Ian, stopping him in his tracks. “She’s gone. The mistress is gone.”

Ian stared down on her as if the woman had lost her mind. “Lady Elizabeth is gone?”

“Aye. I went to her chamber to tell her you were here and her chamber is empty. I have searched the keep and she is
na here. Just like before. She’s disappeared.”

“Like before? What does she mean, Duncan?”

Duncan didn’t take time to answer. He raced ahead of Ian and ran up the stairs two at a time. Her chamber was empty.

“There’s a passageway leading from this room,” Duncan said. Do you know…”

He didn’t get his question uttered before Ian raced in front of him and pushed against the side of a large wooden chest. The chest moved, revealing the entrance to a stone tunnel. Ian grabbed the torch from the wall beside the entryway and didn’t stop running until he reached daylight.

“She’s gone to the cottage. It’s nearest the tunnel. I showed Elizabeth how to reach it should she ever need to escape the castle.”

Duncan ran with Ian across the narrow meadow, thick with heather and tiny yellow wild flowers, then through a dense grove of trees, around a small pond, and straight toward a tall stone wall. Duncan thought they could go no farther but Ian stopped, then walked through a wide recess in the rocks. The door to a hut was carved of wood and stood as a barrier from those outside. If Ian hadn’t led the way, Duncan wouldn’t have seen the hidden fortress.

Ian reached for the latch and lifted. He threw the door open with a loud crash and stormed into the room as if he were overtaking the keep of a warring clan.

When the door flew open, she spun around, then hugged her arms around her waist as a startled cry escaped her lips. The look of fright on her face was unmistakable. Even after she realized she was in no danger, she was not quick enough to erase the confusion in her gaze. Duncan watched, but saw no heartfelt yearning; no gaze of longing; no look of wifely love for a husband long absent.

“Where is she? Where is Elizabeth?”

Duncan stared at his friend in disbelief. What was wrong with him? This was the Lady MacIntyre. The lass with hair of burnished gold and eyes of liquid blue that Ian had talked of every day and every night while he and Duncan had battled the English. The lass who had begged Duncan for a kiss, then given him the Ferguson medallion. The lass who had answered to the MacIntyre name just before Bolton flayed her body with his whip.

“Where is my wife, Katherine?” Ian
MacIntyre’s voice roared with emotion.

The door to a small chamber opened and a second lass with hair of burnished gold, and eyes as blue as the North Sea stepped into the room. She was a twin to the English woman Duncan believed to be Ian’s wife. A twin so close in looks Duncan did not doubt that no one realized she was not Ian’s wife.

Ian’s wife looked at her husband and covered her mouth to stop a tiny scream, then ran with outstretched arms into his waiting embrace.

Tears of joy flowed down her cheek as she wrapped her arms around Ian’s neck and lifted her face to receive his mouth. He kissed her with a passion that said he either didn’t remember he had an audience, or he didn’t care.

“Are you well?”

“Yes. Katherine took good care of us.”

Ian turned around to look at his wife’s sister. “Thank you, Katherine. I am forever in your debt.”

Duncan looked at the woman. She fisted her hands at her
side and blinked back the emotion that glazed her eyes.

“You should have seen Katherine, Ian. When she heard Bolton was coming with his men, she gathered what we needed to hide here. When she was sure we were safe, she went back to the castle and passed herself off as the wife of the laird of clan
MacIntyre. She told the servants she had sent your son with her sister to the convent to keep him safe and not one of them realized she was not me.”

“You have taken care of my wife well, milady.”

Katherine nodded, then looked away from everyone’s concentrated gaze. Duncan noticed her small body sag against the wall. He wanted to go to her but he stopped himself.

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist and laid her head against his chest. “Katherine has always taken care of me, Ian. It’s in her nature. Not once was I afraid. I knew she would keep us safe.”

Duncan looked at Katherine’s face.
Katherine.
Why hadn’t she told him? Why hadn’t she trusted him enough to confide in him? To let him care for her sister until Ian returned? He pushed down the anger that wanted to build within him. All she would have had to do was ask. All she would have had to do was trust him.

He didn’t turn away from her and the blush on her cheeks deepened. She braved a look at him one time, but quickly lowered her gaze as if she knew he wanted answers she wasn’t ready to give.

“Did Bolton harm you, Elizabeth?” Ian asked.

“No. I was safe here in the cottage.” A frown covered Elizabeth’s face and she turned her gaze to her twin. “Did
Bolton harm you, Katherine? He’s an evil man. We will talk to father. Neither Ian nor myself will allow you to—”

“No, Elizabeth. I am fine.”

Her answer came out swift and easy and Duncan turned his gaze back to her. Again, she refused to look at him.

“Once father hears how evil Lord Bolton is, it won’t matter if the command came from Edward himself, he will never force you to—”

“Elizabeth,” Katherine said, rushing to interrupt her sister. “I’m sure your husband is anxious to see his son.”

Whatever Katherine’s twin was about to say died on her lips. Elizabeth’s face brightened and she ran to the small chamber. When she returned, she handed Ian
MacIntyre a wiggling bundle, then stepped back while her husband looked at his son for the first time.

Duncan had never seen such a look of pride as was on Ian’s face. The breath caught in his throat when he noticed the wetness in his friend’s eyes.

“Look, Duncan. See how strong he is already?” The babe had a grip on Ian’s finger and would not release it. “He’s sure to be one of Scotland’s finest warriors.”

“He will be one of Scotland’s finest peacemakers,” Elizabeth said with the voice of authority. “He will find a way for the Scots and the English to live side by side without war.”

“I pray you are right, wife.” Ian placed his son in one arm and wrapped the other arm around his wife’s shoulder. “I pray you are right.”

“I will not let William Bolton marry Katherine, Ian. We cannot give her over to such an evil man.”

Duncan’s gaze shot to Katherine. Her face had turned deathly pale. A cold hand gripped his heart. “
This
is the sister betrothed to William Bolton? This is the sister your king would force to marry that bastard?”

Ian answered. “Aye.”

Duncan turned his glare back to the woman who had already felt the sting of Bolton’s whip. “You would marry him? You would marry such a man, knowing what he’s capable of doing?”

Elizabeth stepped out of Ian’s embrace and faced her sister. “Did Bolton harm you, Katherine?”

Katherine shot Duncan a harsh glance. A glance that told Duncan he didn’t understand. That he’d stepped over his bounds. That his words were only upsetting Elizabeth, and Katherine would not have it.

Elizabeth’s hands flew to her mouth. “Dear Lord. He did.”

The look in Katherine’s eyes turned hostile.

“Are you all right, Katherine?” There was panic in Elizabeth’s voice. “Oh, no. That’s why you didn’t come to see me for weeks at a time.” Elizabeth turned back to her husband, the frantic look in her eyes edged with despair. “Ian, we cannot let this happen. We cannot let—”

“Stop it!” Katherine turned on her sister, the determined look of resolve strong. “There’s nothing you can do to stop the marriage, Elizabeth. It’s an edict from our king. Do you know what would happen to father if I went against our king’s command?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “You cannot marry such an evil man, Katherine. You cannot.”

“It’s too late to stop it.”

“Ian?” Elizabeth looked at her husband with a pleading look in her eyes.

“I’ll give you refuge, Katherine.”

Katherine closed her eyes and shook her head. “It would do no good. I would only endanger everyone here if I stayed.”

Katherine walked to the arrow slit that let a single ray of sunshine into the room and stood where the sun lit her hair and skin. “Father is one of the king’s closest advisors. He’s a very important man in England. That makes me special to Bolton. I’m a trophy to him. A prize. He collects what he thinks has great value.” She turned to face them. “He wants me for the same reason he wants the Bishop’s Crown. He thinks it will give him power.”

“But we can—”

“You can do nothing without sacrificing the lives of hundreds of innocent people. I’ll handle this problem on my own.”

No one spoke. Tiny tears streamed down Ian
MacIntyre’s wife’s cheeks, but even she realized the futility of her sister’s plight. It was an edict of the King of England, and it could not be ignored. There was nothing for either of them to do.

“Is there a priest in residence at
Kilgern?” Duncan’s voice broke through the silence. It was soft and harsh and determined and unyielding.

“Aye,” Ian answered. “There is a priest.”

“Find him.”

“No!”

Katherine spun around and glared at the huge Scot, hoping that when she looked into his eyes she would not see what she feared. The look was there. So was his determined stance. He stood with his thick, muscled legs braced far apart as if ready to do battle. The cords in his arms bulged as he clasped his hands behind his back, stretching his already too broad shoulders to an unbelievable width. Not one inch of him gave an impression that he would yield.

Katherine shifted her gaze to Ian’s face. His hard glare told her nothing — nothing other than that he understood the reason for Duncan’s request and would support his friend’s decision, even if he did not agree with it.

“Get yourself ready, milady,” Duncan issued again.

“I will not. I will never agree to this.”

“Agree to what, Katherine?” Elizabeth took a step closer to her husband. “Why do we need the priest?”

“We don’t need a priest,” Katherine reassured her.

Duncan took another step closer. “It would be best if you would
na argue, milady.”

“You cannot do this, Lord Ferguson.” Katherine fisted her hands at her sides. “I will not allow it.”

Duncan arched his brows. It was a look with which she was already quite familiar. A look usually followed by the rising of his temper.

“You will
na allow it?”

“I will not allow it.”

“Ian,” Duncan ordered. “Get the priest.”

“Why do we need the priest, Ian? No one has died, have they?” Elizabeth asked.

“Not yet, wife.”

Katherine gave Duncan an icy glare. It didn’t seem to intimidate him in the least. She would try a different approach. She would reason with him. “Lord Ferguson.”

“You will call me Duncan.”

She focused her gaze on him again, a feat not entirely easy given his enormous height and the fact that he had taken several steps toward her. She lifted her chin to focus on his face. “Lord Ferguson.”

His right eyebrow spiked high above the black hues of his eyes. She didn’t give him time to speak. “You cannot mean to do this.”

“You will
na be given a choice, Katherine. It will do na good to argue.”

“Do you know what will happen if you go through with this ridiculous plan of yours? Every Ferguson in Scotland will pay for your foolishness, plus every Scot that gets in Bolton’s way.”

“It’s already too late. It was too late the moment Bolton attacked Lochmore Castle and killed its laird and his family. Bolton is already an enemy of every Ferguson in Scotland. There is na one of them who will na gladly give his life to see Bolton die.”

“But how many of them will give their lives to protect his betrothed? An English woman.”

“They will if you belong to me.”

“Katherine cannot belong to you, Lord Ferguson,” Elizabeth interrupted. “She is betrothed to William Bolton.”

“Quiet, lass,” Ian whispered, placing his hand around his wife’s shoulder and pulling her closer to him.

“But the king has ordered it,” Elizabeth argued.

“I do na think Duncan cares much what your king has ordered,” Ian countered.

“Your husband is right, milady,” Duncan answered, never once dropping his gaze from Katherine’s face. “Your king’s edict means naught to me.”

“But it means much to me, my lord.” Katherine’s voice trembled with emotion. She couldn’t believe he was serious about making her his wife. She had already decided what she would do when she was well enough to leave Kilgern Castle.

She did not plan to become William Bolton’s wife. She had made that decision when Bolton had flayed her back with his whip. She would live out her days in a convent rather than marry such an animal. “If I choose not to follow my king’s order to marry, it will be my decision, and my decision alone to disobey him. No one else will pay the consequences for what I do.”

“What happens to William Bolton is na longer any concern of yours, milady. His fate was sealed when he stepped foot on Ferguson land. All you need concern yourself with is becoming my wife.”

“It will not happen, my lord.”

“It will happen. You will marry me.”

“Why?”

The room hushed to a deafening silence. Not even the baby dared to whimper. Katherine stared at Duncan. She watched the muscles in his jaw tighten and bunch, dared him to speak the truth. “I would ask you why you wish to marry me, my lord? Is it because you have had a change of heart and now find the English less loathsome? Is taking an English wife now a less bitter draught to swallow than it was before you found out I was William Bolton’s betrothed?”

His back stiffened and his hands tightened to white-knuckled fists.

“I thought not,” she answered, daring him to respond. “Perhaps you feel an obligation to me for retrieving your precious medallion and marriage is in some way payment for what you feel you owe?”

His eyes narrowed and the muscles in his jaw worked with inflexible harshness.

She shook her head. “I thought that was not the reason either,” she countered, the tone of her voice bitter. “Perhaps you would marry me for no other reason than because you think I have the crown, and you wish to take me away from William Bolton. You would do anything, even take an English as your wife, as revenge, because she was promised to the man who killed your family. Especially if you thought she possessed the crown.”

His eyebrows arched high. Katherine could see her words had affected him. “I would ask one more question, my lord. Even if I were to become this pawn you wish to make of me, are you sure you can live with English blood forever tainting the blood of every Ferguson from this day forward?”

No one moved. He didn’t flinch as he glared at her. For just one small moment Katherine prayed he would deny her accusation; that he would assure her it didn’t matter to him that she was English; that he didn’t want her just because she had the crown.

The moment passed. He looked away from her and focused his gaze on Ian. “Find the priest. We will wed in one hour’s time.”

Katherine had to try one more time. “Your hatred for William Bolton is that great? You would sacrifice the lives of your people to keep me from him?”

“You do
na know the half of what I would sacrifice, milady.”

He turned his back and stormed from the hut.

The air she needed to breathe left with him and she leaned her head against the cold stone wall and closed her eyes. “I cannot marry him, Ian,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I cannot let him use me to feed his hatred for Bolton.” She didn’t have the strength to look her sister’s husband in the eye. She didn’t want him to see the fear she couldn’t hide.

“You must. He will
na let Bolton have you.”

“He only wants the crown.”

“Aye, lass. He wants the crown. It’s a matter of honor. His father died keeping the crown from Bolton, and Duncan will na rest until Bolton is dead and the crown is in Ferguson hands again.”

Katherine closed her eyes to shut out the confusion that washed over her. “But I can never give him the crown. I vowed I would not.”

“Leave that decision in God’s hands, Katherine. He will show you what to do when the time comes. For now put your life in the Ferguson’s hands. It’s for the best.”

Elizabeth rushed to Katherine’s side and placed her arm around her shoulder. “It will be all right, Katherine. The
Ferguson laird will not let anything happen to you.”

“And how many of his people will die to make that so?”

“Every Ferguson will protect you,” Ian said as if she should take comfort from that fact.

Katherine turned to face Ian. The tears that threatened to spill from her eyes were no longer of importance. “But is there a Ferguson who will accept me?”

The dark foreboding in Ian’s eyes told her he didn’t have an answer. She did not doubt that Duncan Ferguson would make whatever sacrifice was necessary to take her away from Bolton and keep the crown for Scotland. Marriage to her would assure him of both.

…

The MacIntyre priest fumbled with the open book in his hands. Katherine understood his discomfort. Even though the fire in the hearth blazed warmly, the air in the room was as cold as the Highland winters were reputed to be. The look on the face of the groom was not much warmer.

God help her. She did not know what to do.

The edict to marry Bolton had come from the king himself. Yet, she could no more give herself to the man who had beaten her than she could give the crown to the Scot who had saved her.

Katherine bowed her head and prayed for the courage to refuse Duncan. She prayed for the courage to endure a life of seclusion if she was lucky enough to escape Bolton. She prayed for the strength to face her father’s disappointment, no matter what her choice.

Katherine raised her head just as Duncan slammed his fist on the table.

“Enough!” he bellowed. Every person in the great hall jumped with a start. “We’ve wasted enough time, Father. We’ll get this marriage over.”

The priest rushed to stand on the dais before the window on the far side of the hall, and Ian took his place at Duncan’s side. Elizabeth moved to the other side. Only the spot where the bride would stand was empty.

Katherine sat on a wooden chair before the fire and let the warmth seep through her body. She couldn’t walk across the great hall and take her place at Duncan’s side.

She turned her head away from him when he looked at her, and waited. He would come for her. She had no doubt that he would. Soon his massive frame stood before her. “Do na make this any harder than it need be, English.”

She added a special plea for courage at the end of her prayer, then raised her head. The unyielding determination she saw caused her heart to jump in her breast. She steeled her shoulders and spoke with a bravado far greater than she felt. “I have decided I cannot marry you, Laird Ferguson.”

Her statement brooked no reaction other than an arched lift to his brows. His voice showed no emotion other than a deadly hint of warning. “You would rather give yourself to Bolton?”

“I will not give myself to him, either. I have decided to seek sanctuary where Bolton cannot touch me.”

His mouth lifted in a most mocking grin. “If the kiss we shared in the dungeon is any example of what you intend to deny yourself, Lady Katherine, you are hardly suited for a life of seclusion.”

Katherine’s cheeks burned as if he’d set them on fire. “That kiss was but the first mistake I made where you are concerned, my lord. I do not intend to add marriage to the growing list.”

“Perhaps you think it would be more agreeable to share your kisses with Bolton. Mayhap the touch of his whip is not such a painful memory now?”

“Bolton will never touch me again,” she hissed. “I will go where he cannot find me.”

He crossed his arms across his chest and leveled her with his most penetrating glare. “There is no place on earth where you will be safe, English. Bolton will seek you out no matter where you go. Even your father will not be able to save you.”

A cold hand gripped her heart. What if she failed? What if Bolton found her and forced her to marry him? As if she needed a reminder of Bolton’s cruelty, every place on her back where Bolton’s whip had torn her flesh burned. Katherine wiped her damp palms against the folds of her gown and wadded the material in her fists.

“Bolton is no longer your concern. I alone am responsible for whatever decisions I make. I alone will suffer the consequences.”

His back stiffened. “You are wrong. Anything related to Bolton became my concern the minute the bastard crossed our border and took his sword to the first loyal Ferguson.”

The Scot took one step closer until his legs almost touched her knees. His nearness forced Katherine to lift her head at an uncomfortable angle to gaze into his face.

“No matter how confident you are,” he said, his voice a soft, deadly whisper, “you have neither the might nor the
ability to protect yourself. We will wed so that I can protect you from Bolton.”

She lifted her shoulders defiantly. “You wish us to wed so you can take the crown from me,” she hissed. “That’s the only reason you would take me as your wife.”

He did not deny it. He clenched his teeth until the muscle in his jaw knotted. When he spoke, his deep voice rumbled in anger. “Do you think the walls of a convent can protect you when Bolton finds you? You’ve already experienced his cruelty. How long do you think you will survive when he finds you?”

Katherine felt the blood rush from her face. She was a fool if she thought she could protect herself from Bolton. She was a fool if she thought she wouldn’t put those she sought refuge from in danger. But the Fergusons were already at war with Bolton. And the Fergusons would not rest until Bolton was dead.

“Choose, English, and do it now. I will not ask again. You can marry me, or you can sacrifice yourself to Bolton.”

Katherine held still as stone for several long seconds, her gaze never leaving the penetrating glare in his eyes. The mind-numbing truth hit her with the force of a battering ram. She did not have the stomach to follow her king’s edict. She did not have the courage to face Bolton on her own.