The Baron's Bounty (20 page)

Chapter 23

Isobel sat at the dais during the meal, trying not to look at Conlin. Instead of sitting next to him as she’d been doing all along, Catherine filled that spot, sharing a trencher with him as well as a goblet of wine. Isobel sat way down on the end of the long table, next to Rose.

Her uncle sat on the other side of Conlin, and the rest of the seats were filled with some of his nobles, as well as a few of the Scottish nobles that had showed up at Catherine’s request.

“Rose, please eat yer food,” said Isobel, sharing a trencher with the girl. The trencher was filled with sheep’s feet, herbed salmon, and currant cake. Isobel usually loved all of these, but today she had no desire for food.

“You’re not eating either,” said Rose, looking up to her with wide blue eyes.

“I suppose no’.” She smiled. “Mayhap we both are jest no’ hungry today.”

Catherine laughed loudly, and Isobel turned to see her cousin hanging on Conlin’s arm so tightly that he couldn’t even lift his hand to bring food to his mouth. He noticed her looking at him, and when their eyes met, Isobel looked away quickly. She couldn’t stand to see Catherine with Conlin. She also couldn’t accept that Catherine was now his wife.

The musicians started playing music and before she knew it, Catherine was dragging Conlin off the dais to go to the dance floor. Some of the Scottish nobles followed. Isobel had seen them before back in Scotland and knew who they were, but had never really spoken to them.

“Is this your daughter?” asked Catherine, stopping directly behind their chairs.

“Aye, this is Rose,” she heard Conlin answer. Isobel refused to acknowledge them standing behind her.

“Rose, is it? I hear sometimes she can be quite unruly, so does she have thorns as well?” Catherine started her obnoxious laughing again. “Little Rose, I’d like you to meet Laird Angus MacDonald,” said Catherine. The girl wasn’t going to acknowledge the man until her father cleared his throat.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Rose, forcing the words from her mouth.

“Yer daughter, is she betrothed?” Laird MacDonald asked Conlin.

“Nay,” answered Conlin in a low voice.

“I’m lookin’ fer a wife, Baron. Perhaps we can make an alliance jest as ye have with Lady Catherine.”

Isobel could see how upset Rose was, and she knew she had to say something and intervene. She stood up so quickly that her chair fell over in the process. “Laird Angus, Rose is only twelve years o’ age.”

“Is she fertile yet?” he asked. “If so, I’m no’ choosey how young she might be. She’ll be able te give me many bairns at thet age.”

“Rose is not ready yet to be betrothed,” said Conlin.

“I’m her mother and I say she is,” interrupted Catherine. She turned to talk to the Scotsman. “Aye, we will strongly consider your proposal.”

“Nay! I’m not marrying him,” shouted Rose, darting out of her chair and down the dais before anyone could stop her.

“Rose, come back here anon,” called Conlin, but alas, she didn’t listen.

“She’ll not act up like that now that I’m her mother,” Catherine told the laird. The man just nodded and left the dais.

“Conlin, do somethin’,” whispered Isobel.

“Isobel, you’ll not refer to my husband by his Christian name,” sniffed Lady Catherine. “Now be a good proxy, cousin, and disappear. You’re purpose in this whole matter no longer exists.”

“Catherine, stop it,” growled Conlin. “Her name is Lady Isobel, so stop calling her a proxy.”

“Never mind. Did you want to dance?” Catherine looked at Conlin and smiled and he quickly looked away. His gaze shot back to Isobel and their eyes interlocked. Isobel’s heart beat furiously wanting him to dance with her instead.

“Aye, he’ll dance. He needs te dance with his new wife,” said Laird MacEwen as he walked up and put a hand on Conlin’s back, guiding him off the dais.

She should have walked away just then, but something made her stay and watch. Conlin took Catherine in his arms and twirled her the way he’d done to her not long ago. Catherine laughed and everyone cheered for the newly married couple. The laird raised his goblet in a toast, and everyone crowded around to watch Conlin and Catherine do their first dance as husband and wife. Then her cousin boldly reached up and placed a kiss on Conlin’s mouth, getting applause from all the Scottish nobles.

Isobel blinked, and then blinked again as her eyes riveted into the couple. She hated Catherine right now and wanted to walk up and slap her for kissing Conlin. She was considering doing just that when Catherine suddenly looked up and started shouting in a very low voice. She pushed away from Conlin and her eyes became crazed as she bent over and started pointing at individual people, calling them names.

“She’s had a wee bit too much wine, I fear,” said Laird MacEwen, rushing to his daughter and taking her firmly by the elbow. “I’ll bring her te yer solar, Baron. I’m sure ye two would like te get straight to makin’ a bairn.”

The Scottish nobles cheered once again, but the English nobles started whispering behind their hands.

“Aye, take her to my solar,” said Conlin, and once again his eyes darted up toward Isobel. She looked away, picked up her skirts and hurried down the dais and across the Great Hall.

“Isobel,” called out Conlin, catching her by the arm as she passed.

“Let go o’ me,” she told him. “Ye need te go bed yer new wife. She’s waitin’.”

“I don’t want her, I want you,” he whispered into her ear, sending a shiver of passion right through her. She looked up to meet his gaze, feeling a newfound sense of hope.

“Are ye goin’ te do somethin’ aboot this?”

“What can I do? I’ve made an alliance, and you as the proxy should know I’m really married to her. I can’t break the alliance or it would start a war.”

“If ye go te bed with Catherine, I’ll ne’er forgive ye!” She pulled out of his hold.

“I don’t want to, I tell you, but what choice do I have? Isobel, stop acting this way. Take a walk with me, will you? We need to work this out.”

“There’s nothin’ te talk aboot. Now if ye’ll excuse me, me lord.” She ran from the room and out into the courtyard, trying to get away from Conlin and trying to get away from herself. She headed for the stable and once there she grabbed a horse that the stableboy had just saddled. She jumped atop it and headed out of the courtyard and over the drawbridge as fast as she could. She wanted to get far away from here, and the sooner the better. If she had to stay and watch Conlin and Catherine carry on as husband and wife for another minute, it would be the death of her yet.

Conlin was about to go after Isobel when Toft approached him from across the room.

“My lord, I can’t find Rose anywhere.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“I looked in the mews, in your solar, in her chamber, and even in the stables but her horse is still there and she’s nowhere to be found.”

“Have you checked the battlements?”

“Nay, milord. I didn’t think she’d go up there. I’ll do it at once.”

“Nay, I’ll go. You keep an eye open here and ask around if anyone’s seen her. We’ve got to find her.”

“Baron, yer wife awaits ye in yer chamber,” said Laird MacEwen coming down the stairs.

“Well, she’ll have to wait until I’m good and ready,” growled Conlin. “I have more important issues on my hands right now.”

He hurried out to the courtyard, bumping into Shadwell who was carrying a trunk and almost dropped it in the process.

“Excuse me, milord,” said Shadwell. “This is Lady Catherine’s trunk, and there are at least six more in the hold of the Scottish ship.”

“Then take it up to my solar. Lady Catherine’s there. I have other things to attend to right now.”

“Aye, milord.”

Conlin hurried up the stairs to the battlements, calling out his daughter’s name. “Rose, are you up here? Rose, don’t hide from me. We need to talk.”

He didn’t see Rose anywhere, but when he looked over the wall of the battlements, he saw Isobel riding away from the castle, faster than was safe for the shape that the roads were in. She was headed toward town.

“Isobel,” he said under his breath. He knew he had to stop her. He hurried down the battlements, this time running into Elliot who was coming out of the armory.

“Baron, I thought Lady Catherine would be with ye. I wanted te ask if she would like me te show her around the castle, or will ye be doin’ thet milord?”

“She’s in my solar. Go speak with her, as I have no time for such utter nonsense. My daughter is missing. Have you seen her?”

“Nay, me lord, I havena.”

“Then get out of my way.” He ran to the stable, being stopped several more times by his knights, guards, and servants along the way. Every time he took a step, it seemed someone had the need to talk to him and ask him a question. He had to find Rose, and he had to stop Isobel. But at this rate, he’d never do either.

Chapter 24

Isobel paid the foreign merchant for her two new pairs of shoes, and continued down the docks with one pair in each hand. She’d meant to find a merchant or fisherman who would take her back to Scotland, but instead she’d been distracted by a man from Italy who had some of the finest made shoes she’d ever seen in her life.

She’d used money to buy them that she’d found in the pouch inside the travel bag attached to the horse. She’d basically stolen the horse and also the contents of the bag that probably belonged to one of the castle’s nobles. She should feel bad about it, but she didn’t. She was so crazed from seeing Catherine kissing Conlin, nothing she did was out of the question at this point. She was upset and she needed to calm herself by buying some shoes. That was the only thing that would get her through this.

Now that she’d spent all but once pence, she needed to find someone who would get her back to Scotland for little or no charge. There was only one ship she could take that she’d heard was leaving in the morning, and it was the last one she wanted to be on, but she didn’t have a choice.

She walked down the wharf as the sun started to set. This wasn’t a place for a woman, and certainly not a noble to be unescorted. The dockmen had mostly packed up and gone home for the evening, and the only men left were the fishermen or merchants who owned the ships docked in the harbor.

“Wench, come join me behind the bush,” said a wharf rat with blackened teeth and dirty clothes. She could smell whiskey on his breath before he even came near her.

“Leave me alone,” she said, purposely not looking him in the eye.

“How much do you charge, whore?” He reached out his beefy hand and grabbed her by the arm. She took hold of the hard wooden pattens she’d bought and swung around, hitting the man square in the jaw.

“Ow! I’m bleeding,” said the man, wiping blood from his chin.

“Dinna touch me again or ye’ll have a black eye te match thet next.”

The man backed away, and she continued toward the Scottish ship where Laird Angus MacDonald had just returned from the Great Hall with some of his men.

“Laird Angus, I hear yer ship is leavin’ fer Scotland in the mornin’.”

“It is,” he said with a nod.

“I need a ride. Can I have passage back te Scotland with ye?”

“Ye’re Laird MacEwen’s niece arena ye?”

“Ye ken I am.”

“Then why dinna ye go te him fer help? I dinna like the way ye spoke te me in the Great Hall, lassie. Why should I help ye?”

“I can pay ye,” she said, reaching for her pouch.

“How much?” He raised a brow and looked at the single coin she poured into her hand from the pouch.

“One pence,” she told him softly.

“One pence?” He laughed. “That wouldna buy ye a loaf o’ bread let alone passage back te Scotland. What is thet ye’re holdin’?”

“These are me new pairs o’ shoes. I’m sorry but ye canna have them.” She held onto them possessively.

“I bet ye got those from the Italian cordwainer. Give me both the pairs and I’ll give ye passage back te Scotland.”

She didn’t want to do it, she really didn’t. She looked at the shoes, and ran her fingers over them in admiration. One pair was soft leather stitched in waxed thread with a side flap tanned in a lighter shade. The other was a thick pair of fine wooden pattens with not only toe straps but ankle straps as well. She was about to object until she heard Conlin call out to her from down the docks.

“Isobel!” He rode his horse in her direction.

“All right, take the bluidy shoes, but dinna tell the baron, or the deal is off.”

“Why thank ye, lassie.” He eagerly took the shoes from her, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Be here first thing in the morning, or we’ll leave without ye.”

“I hear ye.”

“Isobel, what are you doing?” Conlin rode up and Isobel turned around quickly.

“Jest visitin’ with me fellow Scotsmen, thet’s all.” She faked a smile.

“Really.” He dragged a weary hand through his hair. “Laird MacDonald, what is that you have in your hands?”

“Shoes, me lord.”

“I see.” He looked back to Isobel, waiting for her to say something.

“What do ye want, Conlin?” she asked.

Conlin scowled. His eyes darted toward the Scotsman and then back to her. “Use my title, Isobel,” he said softly.

“O’ course, Lord Conlin de Braose, Baron of the Cinque Ports, I am so sorry.” She added an exaggerated curtsey as well. “And ye may want te remember te use me title as well.”

“What title is thet?” asked the Scotsman with a chuckle. “Proxy?”

“Stop it!” She turned around and put her hands on her hips as she spoke.

“Lady Isobel, give me your hand.” Conlin reached down for her, but she just stared at his hand and looked the other way.

“What fer?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I need you to ride with me. Rose is gone and no one can find her.”

Her eyes snapped upward. “Why didna ye say so? I have a horse in the dock stables. Let’s go.”

“No time. Give me your hand.” He continued to hold his hand out to her and her gaze traveled up his arm all the way to his face. His black hair lifted in the gentle breeze, and she could see a few chest hairs sticking out of the top of his tunic. His muscles were very visible through his clothes, and she couldn’t help thinking of the time she’d spent in his arms. But now it would be Catherine in his arms since she was his wife, and Isobel was naught more than a damned proxy.

“Nay.” She turned and started walking back to the dock stables. “I’ll jest get me horse and we’ll go.” She heard the clip clop of his horse’s hooves as he followed her down the wooden wharf.

“You mean Lord Jackson’s horse, since my stableboy told me you stole it.”

“I’m sure he willna mind.”

“Isobel, turn around.” She didn’t miss the irritation as well as desperation in his tone. The horse whinnied and she felt the brush of the animal’s soft nose against her arm.

“Nay, I dinna think so.” She walked faster to make distance between them. Then she heard the sound of hoofbeats quickening, and when she looked back over her shoulder, Conlin’s arms swept down and scooped her up into the air.

“Losh me!” she said, in surprise as he plopped her down atop his lap.

“I don’t take no for an answer,” he said into her ear, and she could feel his breath tickling the hairs at the side of her neck. She felt his warmth as his arms encompassed her, and she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist so she wouldn’t fall.

“I like it this way, Izzy.” His voice was low and seductive.

“Ye’re married te Catherine now,” she reminded him. “We canna be together.”

“Then we’ll change that.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me uncle ye dinna want te be married te me cousin.”

“I wish I could, but it doesn’t work that way. I’ve made an alliance, and to go back on my word would break Laird MacEwen’s trust in me. It could even start a battle between his clan and my people. God knows Catherine has invited enough Scots into my walls for them to rise up against us.”

“Then I have naught te say.” She sat up straighter, pushing away.

“Rose is missing. I need to find her. Night is setting in and I don’t know where she is.”

“She was verra upset when she heard thet ye wanted her te marry Laird Angus.”

“I never said I agreed to it. It was Catherine’s idea, not mine.”

“So ye’re no’ goin’ te betroth her te him then?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think it over.”

“Laird Angus is three times Rose’s age!”

“Weren’t you the one who said Rose should by right be fostered out or married by now?”

“Betrothed. Not married.”

“It’s all the same. Betrothing leads to marriage, or haven’t you noticed?”

“I’ve noticed. Believe me, I’ve noticed.” She raised her chin and looked the other way.

“Isobel, I don’t want Catherine, I want you. But there is nothing I can do to stop this madness.”

“Mayhap ye should have thought o’ thet before.”

“I can’t anger your uncle right now. I’ve got to get to the bottom of King Alexander’s murder first.”

“So ye believe me? Thet he was murdered?” She turned to look at him, which made her face very close to his.

“Of course I do. That’s why I mentioned it in front of a room full of people.”

“Ye did? Was thet a smart thing te do?”

“It is when I suspect that the killer might have been in the solar at the time.”

“What do ye mean?”

“Think about it, Isobel. The person who killed your king stole my shoes and clothes to do it. Probably to try to pin the murder on me.”

“Mayhap.”

“So that means that it had to be someone who knew my ship was docked in the harbor that night. It also had to be someone who knew the Scottish king would be passing through.”

“Well, I ken it, and so did me guards I suppose.”

“And Toft and Shadwell were with me that night. They went out looking for my stolen bag, and Shadwell was the one who found it.”

“I also heard me uncle tell Catherine thet night thet the king was goin’ te see his new wife.”

“So any of them could have done it. Or perhaps none of them at all.”

“If only I could see the killer walk in yer shoes again, then I’d ken who it was.”

“Aye. But my shoes are in my wardrobe, so that is not an option. Now let’s go look for Rose, shall we?”

“I think I ken where she is,” said Isobel. “But ye’d better let me go te her meself.”