Rivals for the Crown (35 page)

"I've told myself that, but it's time to face the truth. He has forgotten me completely, and I should do the same. But when I think of him.. .sometimes.. .sometimes I can still feel his kiss. I dream of him, and I wake and feel as though he's there, with me.

It's like a melding. He takes my breath away, Rachel. My whole body feels alive when he touches me."

"He is very handsome."

"Handsome doesn't say the half of it! Henry is handsome, but Rory.. .Rory glows, like there is a flame within him. When I am with him, I forget the world—" Isabel was silent for a moment, then shook her head. "As he seems to have forgotten me, it is time to do the same." She raised her wine cup high. "To beautiful Rory MacGannon, who has abandoned me. Good riddance!"

"You don't mean that."

"I think I do. I thought he would come back, Rachel. But he hasn't."

"Kieran's gone, too. Perhaps I should marry Mosheh after all. But how could I?"

Isabel wrinkled her nose. "How could you sleep next to a man who killed animals for a living? Your house would smell of blood, and dogs would follow you everywhere. He a nice man, but there will be someone else. And perhaps it's for the best that the Highlanders have forgotten us. You know what your father thinks of Kieran."

"Yes." Rachel sighed. "When Henry returns, please ask him if any of the knights are Jewish. It would solve so many problems for me."

They laughed together.

Berwick began to fill with Scots. Word came that Edward had sent a force of men to camp just outside the city, and that Edward himself was approaching. Jacob and Rachel created a tiny room with a hidden door in the attic of the building next door for Isabel, in case she needed to hide while the hearings were held at the castle.

Gilbert helped them, and of course Mama knew, but they told no one else. They'd had to hire more people to work at the inn, and every new person meant greater risk of discovery. Sarah had invited Isabel to come to them while the hearings were on, and Isabel, they all agreed, might do just that.

The butcher's son Mosheh came to see Rachel almost every day. Jacob joked that if Isabel would find a fisherman to woo her, they'd be doing well. He was pleased with Mosheh, who was serious, and quiet, and told Rachel he planned to marry as soon as he could afford living quarters of his own. Rachel was polite to him, laughed at his infrequent jokes, and told Isabel she was going to discourage everyone from eating meat so that Mosheh's preparation would take longer. But she was beginning to feel as abandoned as Isabel, and as the weeks passed, she looked forward to Mosheh's warm smile and his open admiration.

Until the first day of June, when a man arrived late in the evening, after almost all the patrons were gone. He stood just inside the door, dripping with rain, then he shook the water from

his cloak. He looked at Isabel, who manned the desk in the foyer, then across the tavern room, where Rachel was wiping tables.

"Kieran!" Isabel cried.

Rachel turned, her heart pounding. Kieran pushed back the hood from his dark hair, leaving it wild and wet. His cheeks were ruddy. He looked wonderful. Rachel clasped her hands before her as Kieran crossed the room.

"I'm sorry for coming so late," Kieran said. "The city gates were closed, and I had to bribe the guard to let me in. It took some time."

"Kieran," Rachel said. "How are you?"

"Better now that I see ye before me, Rachel. It's been so long."

"Are you hungry, Kieran?"

"Oh, aye. Food would be grand," he said, with a wide smile. "How are ye, Rachel? Ye look.. .splendid."

Rachel tried to smile. And resist being drawn under his spell again.

"And Isabel," he said, "ye look splendid as well. How is everyone? Yer parents, Rachel? And Sarah? And Gilbert?"

"Sarah is married. A fortnight ago."

"So they did marry. Well, good for Edgar, and Sarah, too, of course. I hope they're happy." He glanced around them and lowered his voice. "Is Rory here?"

"Rory?" Rachel asked. "No. Why would he be here?"

"I'm looking for him."

"You are looking for Rory? You have not been together?"

He shook his head. "No. I've been on Skye, with my family, trying to get the fortifications done, in case they're needed. It's taking all of us to do it. Rory has been in Ayrshire, with his brother at first. But now.. .there's been some trouble.. .and we dinna ken where he is."

"What happened?" Isabel asked, grabbing Kieran's arm. "Is he all right?"

"We think so, but we dinna ken. Here's what we do ken." He told them of Rory killing the English knight. "And now he's been outlawed and we dinna ken where he is. He was with William's uncle in Riccarton, in Ayrshire, but they were discovered and went to the forest, and no one's seen them since. We thought perhaps he'd come here."

"No," Isabel said. "He's not been here, nor have I heard from him since your last visit."

"Nothing? In all this time?"

"Nothing."

Kieran let out a huff of air and shook his head. "The English are looking for him. The Rosses still want his head. What a mess. Look, if he comes here, will ye tell him to go home, to Loch Gannon? Tell him the English mean to hang him."

Rachel and Isabel nodded.

"If he has not come to see me by now," Isabel said, "he'll not be coming."

"Ye dinna ken that, Isabel.. .1 ken him better than ye do. He still has that wreath, the crown ye made in London. He keeps it with him. I think I ken why he's not come here. It's most likely that he's afraid to bring the trail to ye. He kens they're looking for him, and he would keep ye safe."

Isabel nodded but said nothing. She did not need to. Rachel saw the hope flash in her eyes, then dim. Jacob arrived with ale and food then, and joined them, asking the news. Between bites of the
savoury
stew and crusty bread, Kieran told him the story.

Jacob nodded. "Killing a knight is serious business. He'll hang for it."

"Aye, sir," Kieran said. "Which is why we're all out looking for him. His father is in the north. Our uncle Liam has gone to the east, and my father is in the south. We have men everywhere, searching for him and William."

"Dangerous," Jacob said.

Kieran nodded, but Rachel gave her father a sharp look, knowing his comment was meant for her.

Kieran took another swallow of ale. "What is the news here?"

"King Edward has set the Auditors to decide which Scottish laws apply to the succession," Rachel said, "and whether the rules for succession that Edward laid down in England last year can be applied here. So far all we've heard is that there is disagreement among the auditors."

"Not surprising, with that lot," Kieran said.

"Who can tell what will be next?" Jacob shrugged. "Do you need a bed?"

"One night, sir, if you have room for me."

Jacob stood. "I'll get the room ready."

"I'll do it, Jacob," Isabel said, rising with him. "It's wonderful to see you again, Kieran."

"Thank you both." Kieran watched them leave, then looked at Rachel. "Have I done something wrong?"

Have you done something wrong? Rachel thought, looking at the way his blue eyes, surrounded by those long lashes, studied

her. At the way his mouth moved, making her body tingle at the vision of it on hers. Or on her body. At his long fingers stroking the cup and the thoughts that brought. At the slant of his cheekbones and the width of his shoulders and the way he moved, sinuous and wild and male, so very male. Had he done something wrong? Yes. He was beautiful, long and lean and far too tempting. And all wrong, everything about him all wrong for her future. But she wanted him so. She longed to reach across the table, to take his hand in hers, to look into those eyes and tell him to make love to her that moment, to make her forget all her responsibilities to her family, to her people, to make her forget that she would break her father's heart and betray his trust if she accepted the promise in Kieran's eyes, if she acknowledged the way he looked at her, as if he would devour her. But she said none of that.

She looked away from him, moved her hand out of reach of his touch, ignored his gaze on her mouth.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked.

"Yer father. His manner is different. We were welcomed before. Now I have the feeling I'm being tolerated. And Isabel. Is she angry with me?"

"Isabel? No, of course not. But she's hurt that Rory has not come to see her. Nor has he written. You did, I was so glad to hear from you each time."

"I wish I could have sent more missives, but the runners dinna come regularly, and it's not always wise to put things in writing. But yer father, Rachel. Is he angry?"

"Oh. That." Rachel smiled ruefully. "He wants me to marry the butcher's son, Mosheh, who has asked for my hand."

"The butcher's son, aye?" He took another drink of ale. "What's he like?"

"He is a good man. Dependable. He seems to care for me, though the truth is we're just becoming acquainted. He hardly knows me."

"He likes what he sees, Rachel. What man wouldn't?"

"He is Jewish. He lives in Berwick. He comes from a good family. My father thinks it's a good match."

"I see. And ye, Rachel, what do ye think? Are ye considering

it?"

"Not yet."

"Not yet." He turned the ale cup in his hand. "But ye might?" "I have no plans to marry now." "But ye might in the future?"

"I might in the future."

Kieran leaned back and studied her. "How good are ye with a knife?"

"Very good," she said slowly.

"Ah, then perhaps ye'd enjoy cutting meat all day?"

"Never!"

"We have meat that needs butchering in the west as well, lass. I could buy ye a sharp knife and let ye have the run of the place."

She laughed.

He smiled and finished his food. "I missed ye. That's why I wrote, ye ken. I'm glad to see ye again."

"And I you, Kieran."

"Good. And I'm sorry that I have to leave in the morning. I wish I had more time to stay with ye."

"Must you leave?"

"Aye. But I'll come back when I can."

"Truly?"

"Truly. Did I ever tell ye about my da?"

"A bit. He was abducted—"

"Oh, aye, all that. But what ye need to ken is not just about him, but about my mother as well. They were both captured and sold as slaves. They were at the same place for a while, but then my da was sold to a miller in Jutland, far away, and he dinna see her for years. But he never forgot her. He kept her in his heart. And when my uncle, Gannon, Rory's da, rescued him, my father wouldna go home without going back for her, so back he went, and got her. And they married, and had me, at seventeen, the two of them."

Kieran gave her a brilliant smile. "So, ye see, I'm like my da. I dinna forget a bonnie lass. I canna stay this time. But I will come back. And I hope ye'll be waiting here for me."

She smiled. "Then I will wait."

"Keep those wits sharper than the butcher's knives, aye?"

She laughed, and they talked most of the night.

When at last Rachel was in her bed, she tried to reason with herself, that she should tell Kieran not to return, that she could not wait for him, that while it had been
marvellous
to meet him and that she would never forget him, nothing could come of it, and they'd both be better off if they faced that now.

And then she should many Mosheh, the butcher's son, whose eyes lit when he saw her. Who would not tempt her to break her father's heart. Or, if she could not marry him, she should find another Jewish man in Berwick who suited her better. She decided then that in the morning she'd tell Kieran that there could be nothing between them.

But the morning came and she said nothing of the sort. Kieran stood before her, his expression so dejected, his words so earnest, his eyes so full of regret that she could say nothing. He held her hand and told her he would come back. And then he kissed her, his lips surprisingly soft, his desire for her tangible. His mouth lingered on hers for a moment, then his hand slid to the back of her neck and he claimed her mouth again, his kiss fierce and deep and hungry. And then he released her and rushed away, not looking back. She watched him leave, her tears streaming down her face, knowing that whatever was between them was stronger now.

She turned to find her father behind her, watching Kieran as well. He said nothing, but his eyes told her all she needed to know.

King Edward came in June, as promised. But Henry de Boyer did not. He was not among the knights who visited the tavern, and when Rachel asked about him, she was told that he had stayed in London. With his wife, Alis. Isabel nodded and pressed her lips together when Rachel told her, then retreated to the room that they had prepared. She spent the days of the king's visit staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows move along the wall. And thinking.

Edward did not stay long in Berwick. The Scottish auditors had been unable to determine which laws should govern the proceedings, and applied to the English auditors for assistance. Edward postponed the hearings yet again, this time until October 14, and all of Scotland groaned at the delay. Tensions mounted. The friction between those backing Balliol and those supporting Bruce had intensified, and skirmishes were frequent, almost as frequent as those between the Scots and the English garrisoned at every castle and manor house and town of any size. Abuses went unpunished, as before, but now the Scots were retaliating.