Not Mine to Give (7 page)

Katherine fisted her hands in the folds of her skirt to block out what her defiance would mean. She set her spine straight and matched his cold stare without flinching. “Then know this, Scot. It will never be as you wish. You will never possess the crown. I will not give it to you.” She stood and faced him with more willfulness than his expression told her a woman should possess. She could see it in his eyes. “Nor will you ever possess my heart.”

His lips pressed to form a thin, hard line. His hands fisted tight at his side. The anger she read was near the surface, hidden behind the hooded darkness in his eyes. His eyebrows raised in question. “Never is a long time, milady. As impossible to predict as tomorrow.”

“Not in this, my lord.” Katherine held her ground. She could not weaken. “You will never have what you want.”

He stared at her a long time, his countenance darkening even more. A deafening silence stretched interminably between them, and when she could bear his scrutiny no longer, she lifted her chin and curved her lips into a humorless grin. “Has marriage to me lost its appeal, my lord? Is tainting the blood of every Ferguson from this day on too great a sacrifice to make?”

She sat down in her chair and relaxed against the back as if what he decided next did not matter to her one way or the other. “Now the choice is yours, my lord. Do you still want me, knowing you’ll gain nothing from your ill-conceived bargain?”

The blazing fire crackled in the silence and she waited for him to say the words that would end this farce. The words that would condemn her to an uncertain, perhaps even tortured existence.

She said a silent prayer that his decision and God’s will would be one and the same. All the while, keeping her gaze locked onto the unreadable coldness in his eyes.

He pulled back his outstretched hand and folded his arms across his chest. Dear Lord, but he was intimidating. The
dark scowl on his face did not show a hint of softness. She braced herself for his response.

He stood before her with his feet angled wide and his broad shoulders locked in place. Without emotion, he said, “Let us get this over.”

She did not react other than to release the long breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. The Scot would marry her only so Bolton could not have her. And take her to live where she would never be accepted because she was English. He would take her as his wife to repay a debt.

He would take her because he wanted the crown.

Her only other choice was a lonely existence, hiding in fear that Bolton would find her.

If only she would not have kissed her Scot that first time. If only she would not have let him hold her in his arms and comfort her. If only she had not been so willing to trust him. She couldn’t think of that now. She couldn’t think of that ever again.

She stood at her chair and faced the man she would take as her husband. “There is one thing more, my lord.”

He tilted his head and waited.

“You will never again from this day call me ‘English’.”

“You are not proud that you are English?”

“I am not proud to be called it when you speak it. You say the word as if it were bile in your mouth. I would rather be nothing.”

“You can be
Scot.”

“I will be nothing.”

He nodded. “You will be my wife. From this day on, you will be my wife.”

It was decided. She crossed the large room and stood beside him while the priest began the sacrament of holy marriage. Duncan’s foreboding presence obviously made the poor man take notice. Katherine understood that. Even after all the hours he’d spent at her bedside, his dark, brooding dominance still affected her.

“Will you, Duncan Ferguson, laird of clan Ferguson, take the Lady Katherine Downing for your wife?”

“I will.”

The priest breathed an audible sigh and rushed to his next question. “Will you, Lady Katherine Downing, take Duncan Ferguson, laird of clan Ferguson, for your husband?”

She could not answer. There was one more matter.

The silence seemed endless and uncomfortable. One or two of the Ferguson warriors cleared their throats. Elizabeth, turned to her, waiting for her answer. Ian turned to her.

Duncan turned to her.

She looked up and faced him. “The laird of clan Ferguson has not yet asked me if I would consent to be his wife.”

A loud gasp came from Elizabeth. The priest wiped again at the perspiration on his forehead. Ian smiled.

Katherine looked again. Maybe she was mistaken and it wasn’t a smile on Ian’s face. Maybe it was only a reaction to the pleasant wish that he could wrap his hands around her neck and choke the air from her.

It was the same look she saw on Duncan’s face when she looked up at him.

The incredulous expression on his face did not hide his mounting frustration. “You are sorely testing me, woman,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I need to be asked, my lord. It’s important to me.”

For a long time, he said nothing.

She must be asked. When her father came for her, he needed to know that she had not been forced, but had given herself willingly. It might save the Scot’s life in the end.

No one in the great hall moved while they waited for the Ferguson to react. She could hear the murmurs behind her as they anticipated his response.

“I would ask you, Lady Katherine Downing. Will you consent to become my wife?”

Katherine closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “I will.”

The priest quickly pronounced them man and wife, then wiped at his forehead again.

Katherine turned around with her husband at her side. The Ferguson men Duncan had not sent back to Lochmore stood before their laird, the warrior Angus in the front. There was not a happy face amongst them. Not one.

Even Angus, the Scot who had cared for her, wore a mask of resigned acceptance. Katherine read the sadness in his eyes. The regret.

Angus stepped forward and placed a fist over his heart. “We pledge to you our loyalty, Lady Ferguson. Know that we will protect you with our lives from this day on.”

Every Ferguson there placed his clenched fist over his heart, and Katherine bowed her head as she accepted their oath of protection. For that was what it was. All it would ever be. No welcome; no congratulations; no wishes for a long life filled with happiness and the blessing of many Ferguson heirs.

They had promised to protect her, but nothing more. She would be given nothing else. She would never ask for more.

…

Duncan checked the saddles on their horses again and waited for his wife to come. She was such a confusion to him. What did she think she would do if he didn’t marry her? Fight Bolton on her own and defend the crown from all of Scotland?

He leaned his arm on the saddle and paused for a moment. It was the first time he’d allowed himself to think about his decision to marry her. Damn her willful stubbornness. Her accusations refused to go away. Her vow that she would give him neither the crown or her heart echoed in his head.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not deny he was using her as revenge, but…

In time he would win her trust. He had to. Her trust was the key to gaining the crown.

The fact that she understood exactly why he had taken her as his bride did not give him comfort. He wasn’t sure he was pleased his new wife possessed such keen perception. But he’d be damned if he’d let Bolton touch her ever again. How could he let her go after she’d sacrificed so much to give him back the Ferguson medallion? How could he let her go, knowing what her future would hold? How could he let her go, knowing she had the crown?

He pulled on the strap and walked over to the horse she would ride to do the same.

“If you cinch those straps any tighter, Duncan, neither of your horses will have enough air to walk as far as the drawbridge,” Ian said.

Duncan looked down at the strap drawn far too tight and loosened it. Then he walked around Ian to loosen the strap on the other horse. “Is my wife almost ready?” Duncan asked, checking the steps to the keep and finding that she still had not emerged.

“Almost, I think, Duncan. She went into the chapel again to pray. Elizabeth went in to get her.”

“If hours spent in prayer give her an advantage, Ian, I fear I do
na stand a chance.”

Ian smiled a broad grin. “You worry your fair wife is enlisting God’s help against you?”

Duncan picked up a smooth, round stone from the ground and turned it over in his hand while he checked the steps again. “I doubt she is praying for my good health and fortune.”

Ian laughed out loud. “She is indeed a
verra brave lass, Duncan. I’m glad. She’ll need more than her strong will to secure a place in your keep.”

Duncan laughed a shocked burst of disbelief. “That I would like to see. She will
na doubt walk in and demand it. Instead of only sending word that I had married, I should have sent a warning for the Fergusons to prepare themselves to be invaded by one small, infuriating female.”

Ian clasped his hand around Duncan’s forearm, his penetrating gaze filled with warning. “Do not only see the bravery she shows on the outside. Katherine can be hurt, Duncan. On the inside, where she’s most vulnerable. I fear it will
na be easy for her to live among so many Fergusons.”

Duncan hurled the stone in his hand to the dirt. “Do
na fear for her, Ian. The lass I married has a will of iron. Nothing will be much of a challenge to her.”

“Do you really think that?” Ian asked, frowning openly at his friend. “There’s hardly a Ferguson at
Lochmore who did na lose someone when Bolton came. There’s hardly a Ferguson who will na question why their laird chose an English for their mistress. Including the laird, himself, I fear.”

Duncan rebuffed Ian’s comment with a hostile glare aimed at his friend. “Do not fear for her, Ian. In time my people will forget she’s English.”

“Perhaps when their laird does, they will also.”

The truth of Ian’s words seared his flesh like a hot poker in an open wound. By all that’s holy, he’d married his mortal enemy in retaliation against Bolton, and to ensure that Scotland would keep the crown. The crown his father had died to protect. God’s blood. He’d sacrificed it all. There would never be a pure Scottish Ferguson from this day on.

Duncan looked to the top of the steps again, his blood boiling hotter when he did not see his wife standing there. By the saints, she was testing his patience.

Ian ignored Duncan’s temperament and walked to the side of Katherine’s horse, pretending to check the blankets tied behind the saddle. “What will you do about Regan?”

Duncan looked at him in surprise. “There is naught to do about her. I’ve never spoken of love or suggested I would take her for my wife. She’ll accept her new mistress the same as every other Ferguson.”

“Be careful, Duncan. She will
na take your news lightly. There’s something about your pretty Regan that gives me cause to fear. She has always thought you belonged to her. She may not give you up so easily.”

“You worry for naught. Regan has always been there and has been more than willing, but we have never talked of marriage. She knows I do
na love her.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The frown did not leave Ian’s face, but Duncan didn’t have the time or the patience to worry about that now. They needed to be on their way.

He turned back to the steps of the castle. Katherine and her sister stood at the top. She was finally ready. He watched his wife hold the baby close to her then take her sister into her arms again. He knew it was impossible to see so much from this distance, but for a moment he imagined he saw the sun glisten off tears in her eyes.

“See how your wife mothers those around her,” Ian said, watching Katherine care for his wife and son. “I’m glad she will live so close. They’ll both be a great comfort to each other.”

Duncan watched as Katherine walked with Elizabeth, talking the entire way, as if she were giving her instructions to be carried out until they met again. He had no doubts that she would issue her first command within minutes of entering his keep. It was her nature.

Ian held the horses’ reins for him. “Go with care, Duncan.
Are you sure you would na prefer to spend the night and leave in the morning?”

“Nay, Ian.
‘Tis best we leave now. We’ll set up camp as soon as we cross onto Ferguson land, then get up early in the morning and ride to Lochmore. I do na want my bride to reach her new home exhausted and in the dark.”

Ian nodded then clasped his hand on Duncan’s shoulder.
“God’s speed, friend. I will pray for the best.”

“I sent
Gregor home with word that I had wed. By nightfall, all should know there’s a new mistress.”

Ian nodded then reached to take his son from his wife’s arms when they neared the horses. Duncan helped Katherine atop her horse, then mounted himself.

“Goodbye, Lady Ferguson,” Ian said, clasping Katherine’s
hands between his own. “God keep you safe.”
He turned to Duncan. “I’ll be waiting for word when you ride to England. We’ll bring your Brenna home to you. Do na fear.”