Claimed by a Scottish Lord (38 page)

L
ord Hereford‘s two emissaries arrived a week later, riding onto Stonehaven land carried by a black coach, drawn by six black horses, the Hereford crest emblazoned on the lacquered door—two swords crossed against a blood-red turret—and eight liveried outriders.

His hair wet with sweat and tied back in a queue, Ruark came from the other side of the house still wearing his fencing gear: thick leather jack that protected his shoulders and chest. Boots. Black leather wrist guards that reached up his forearms. He didn‘t bother changing before he strode into the dining hall, where twenty of his clan had followed the carriage through Stonehaven‘s gates and dozens of servants had gathered to receive the men. Both men stood nervously against the wall awaiting Ruark‘s arrival. Colum remained at the door to see that no one else entered.

The properly bewigged emissaries announced that they had come in the official capacity as representatives of the earl of Hereford, their fancy red velvet coats, gold satin waistcoats and dark orange breeches incongruous in a room filled with bearded, tartan-clad Scotsman. The two made their carefully rehearsed presentation to Ruark then stood back and awaited his reply.

The hall grew silent as everyone turned eyes on him, as if awaiting the word from him to remove Hereford‘s two jackals from Stonehaven and have them dipped in tar and feathered. Ruark leaned forward with his hands on the table, his leather jack creaking with the movement.

―Just what
exactly
does Hereford want?‖

The elder cleared his throat. ―He wants to visit his daughter.‖

―Like hell he will.‖

―He has brought her a gift. Many gifts, my lord. Her mother‘s belongings.‖

From the back of the room, he heard a commotion and looked up as Rose came running into the hall, the mumblings of her entry turning everyone‘s attention toward the door. Before Colum could stop her, she‘d swept past him, her skirts hiked to her ankles as she came to a stop below the window, her eyes bright with emotions. Her gaze came to a halt first on him then on her father‘s emissaries.

She started forward. He was quicker than she was and stepped around the table and into her path. ―Rose . you should not be in here.‖

―But is it true? Did my father send my mother‘s things?‖

―Yes, my lady,‖ answered the elder spokesman. ―We have brought only a few trunks with us. The rest will be delivered‖—dark eyes turned to Ruark—―as soon as Lord Roxburghe agrees on an arrangement.‖

Her eyes turned to Ruark. Again the elder spoke, ―Your mother‘s belongings, my lady. He thought you would want to have them.‖

To his disbelief, Ruark saw that after all her father had put her through, this would be the thing to put hope in her eyes.

And Ruark struggled with the burning awareness of his emotions sweeping through his veins worse than fire.

Worse than yesterday, when no one could locate her for half the day, and he had finally found her at the falls with Duncan—
Duncan!
—her herb basket looped over her forearm as his uncle cut lichen off the upper reaches of a tree for her. Enjoying herself as if she had not a care in the world, as if he had not asked her to stay away from his uncle.

And Ruark knew then that he loved her beyond all reason, and his anger had come as equally from jealousy as it had from fear for her.

Then she made them sit down together and share lunch with her.

He could no more destroy the hopefulness in her eyes now than he could yesterday. Though in the end, he and his uncle had talked and perhaps even begun to heal, he saw no similar good ending here. She would know that.

But Hereford had found his single weakness.

Yet, with a nod to Angus, Ruark sent him to deliver the trunks to his wife‘s chambers.

M
rs. Simpson smoothed the hair from Rose‘s damp cheeks. She sat on the floor, her pink-petal skirts spread around her, her head in Mrs. Simpson‘s lap as the elder gently spoke.

Rose sat amidst her mother‘s finery, porcelain figurines, etchings, portraitures, silver ewers, gowns, and laces. She clutched a gown with silk blond lacing that resembled spun gold.

Her mother‘s hair had been the color of gold.

―I remember so many of these things.‖ With eyes closed, she breathed in the faded lilac and knew now why she so loved springtime. ―I thought I had forgotten. Everything.‖

Mrs. Simpson held a small portraiture of her mother cradled in her palm. ―You have her face, my dear. She loved you so.‖

Rose lifted her tear-stained face. ―How can you know?‖

―How can any mother not love her child, lass?‖

The door opened and Ruark entered. Even at this later hour, he still wore the thick leather jack and boots she had seen him wearing in the dining hall, though he had removed the fencing gloves. His hand on the doorknob came to a sudden halt.

Rose came to her feet, as did Mrs. Simpson. ―I will see you in the morning,‖ the elder said.

After Mrs. Simpson left, Ruark walked over to her, his deep blue eyes filled with gentle concern. ―You are crying. Why?‖

She shook her head. ―I am happy.‖

The back of his finger caught a tear. ―Is this happiness, love?‖

―We must get the rest of what he has,‖ she said. ―We must. If it entails him visiting here, what can be the harm if he will bring the rest to me?‖

―This is the harm, Rose. To see what this is doing to you. He is not here for your happiness.‖

Unable to bear the intensity of his gaze that came with the tender brush of his fingertips against her cheek, she laid her hand over his and looked down at all her mother‘s beautiful things.

―I know. I know.‖

She did know. More than anyone, she knew her father never did anything without a reason, without intent. But what could be the harm in allowing him to see her just one more time if it meant .

She looked up into Ruark‘s face, beseeching. ―He did not have to do any of this. Yet he did. Why? Why would he do this? Why now? I don‘t understand. I don‘t deserve this from him, Ruark. How
can
he . This has something to do with your visit to him.‖

He wrapped her protectively in his arms. ―Rose . ‖

She ignored the hard, flat tone of his voice. Stepped out of his arms and faced him with her palms on his face as she forced him to look at her. Her courage wavered. He had done something. Once again, he had brought this fight to his doorstep because of his actions. But whatever it was he had done, he must have passionately believed it was the right thing to do. She knew that much about her husband.

She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him equally as passionately.

―What happened in Mawbray?‖ she asked.

He stared at her. A finite second. A heartbeat no longer. ―The
Black Dragon
is sitting in the shallows of the Solway Firth burned to her waterline,‖ he said. ―I sank her rather than hand her over to Hereford.‖

Rose‘s jaw dropped open. She couldn‘t begin to form words around her thoughts and looked away.

Sadness engulfed her. She looked around her, then back up at him.

She leaned her cheek into his palm. She felt the ring on Ruark‘s finger and felt more than the warmth of his flesh, and then she remembered what Mrs. Simpson had said about the ring that long-ago day in her cottage. ―
What you think you want may not be what your heart wants,
and nothing great is ever accomplished without sacrifice.”

She kissed him. Wrapping herself to him. He spanned her chin with his long, hard fingers.

―Hereford thought that by trying to take the
Black Dragon
, he was taking what meant the most to me,‖ Ruark said into her open mouth, walking her backward into the wall. ―He was wrong. I needed him to know that.‖

He bracketed her with his hands. ―I needed him to know what he threw away. I needed him to know that he had no more power over you and that you were mine.‖

He laid his palm against her chest. ―I feel your heartbeat, Rose. Here. As if it were my own, as if something has been returned to me that I lost many years ago. I have struggled to understand. I only know I live in fear of losing it.‖

Rose wound her arms around his neck. ―Have I not convinced you that my heart is freely given?‖

’Tis only a ring,
she told herself as his mouth slanted across hers with an urgency that equaled her own, and he gave her his own brand of magic that shimmered around her and made her float.

Picking her up in his arms, he carried her into his bedchambers.

―You have been in the fencing room,‖ she said, attempting to unfasten the jack so she could touch the warm flesh beneath.

He lowered her feet to the ground. ―Aye, Colum needs the practice.‖

His hands moved along her spine. He undressed her as quickly as he undressed himself. He bared her breasts and fell with her to the bed. Both of them seemed to disappear into the soft silken folds of eiderdown and fur.

She clung to him, knotting her fingers in his hair, then cradling his head against her breast, feeling his tongue against her hardening nipples, and she gave herself to his touch. She was very wet. Then the hardness of him was against her flesh and he was pushing inside her. He pressed up on his hands to look down at her, watching then catching her cries with his kisses and filling her with sensual fire.

―Ah, Rose,‖ he pressed his mouth into her hair. ―I do love ye so, lass.‖

R
ose awakened late, which was not her usual custom. It had still been dark outside when she had awakened earlier to find Ruark sitting on the edge of the bed fully dressed. ―I have to go out, love,‖ he told her, pressing his lips to hers. ―I shall be back soon. Do not fret. Go back to sleep and dream of me.‖

She had walked to the window, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth as she watched him and a dozen other men ride out. ―That is the problem,‖ she said. ―I am always dreaming of you.‖

Then she crawled back beneath the covers, yet worried as she somehow managed to sleep away the rest of the morning, when she and McBain had their rounds to attend.

Rose splashed cold water over her face, brushed out her hair and plaited the length before Anaya arrived and helped her dress. The first big chill of September had arrived, and as Rose looked out her window, she saw a layer of frost on the ground. Grabbing her plaid wrap, she opened the door.

Colum sat on a chair, his arms and ankles crossed, his chin against his chest as if he were asleep—as if he had been there since Ruark left just before dawn. She gritted her teeth. She had promised her husband she would not contact the emissaries staying in the village. And he
still
put a guard on her. His lack of trust in her gnawed.

Rose saw that Colum was awake, pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders and walked past him. He caught up with her at the stairs. ―Madam,‖ he complained. ― ‘Tis too early for jaunty exercise.‖

―Does he think I would seek out my father? Is he
mad
?‖

―Ruark trusts you fine, my lady. ‘Tis your father he does not trust. Ruark has gone to send away the emissaries.‖

Rose turned to face Colum. ―He told me he sank the
Black Dragon
.‖

Colum scraped a palm across his cheek. ―Went up like a Viking funeral pyre. A person could see the glow for miles.‖

―I know he didn‘t want my father to have the ship. But why . ‖

―He was retiring from the sea anyway,‖ Colum said philosophically and she glared at him in disbelief, unable to believe the man could joke.

She turned on her heel. Colum stepped in front of her. ―I am to keep you company today, madam.‖

―Is Stonehaven under threat?‖

―Your father is encamped twenty miles away. Nowhere near Stonehaven. However, I am still to keep you company.‖

Some of the tension left her shoulders. ―Still, if he is concerned enough to sic you on me, then I am concerned enough to make sure the boys stay in today.‖

Ever since Ruark had taught Jack to ride a horse, he and Jamie were off every morning to the falls.

Clouds had formed by the time she reached the stable yard fifteen minutes later. ―We were beginning to think you had forgotten us, dear,‖ Mrs. Simpson said. ―What is it?‖

―Have the boys been down this morning?‖

Rose walked past Mrs. Simpson into the stable and saw that both of their horses were gone. She clutched her shawl and walked back outside. ―How long have you been down here?

―Thirty minutes. You did say we would be leaving at eight.‖

Rose looked over her shoulder at McBain knobbing it down the hill like a pirate with a wooden shank. ―Tell McBain that we need to postpone today,‖ she said, and looked up at Colum.

―We need to fetch the two scoundrels back.‖

Before she knew what she was about, she was riding out of the stable on a feisty dun-colored mare. She knew the location of the falls, as she had gone there many times to collect plants for the herbal. But Ruark had warned the boys on more than one occasion not to go up there alone as ‘twas dangerous to swim in the waters beneath the falls. The two had become good friends but together they caused naught but mischief.

Colum rode beside her. Rose was not wearing a riding habit and the wind pulled the hair from its braid. She sat with her cloak and blue muslin skirts tucked beneath her legs and stout leather half-boots in the stirrups and kicked the mare to a run, leaping a low stone wall and scattering a flock of tits foraging around a stream. Water sprayed around her.

They galloped for three miles before reining the horses back to an easy lope. The sun emerged from behind the clouds. She spied the two horses walking free some distance from the wooded path leading up to the falls. Her heart suddenly pounding with heightened physical tension, she pulled up short. A puff of fog rose from the mare‘s nostrils.

― ‘Tis a goodly climb to the top, and cannot be done safely with a horse,‖ she said to Colum, as she tried to make sense of the apprehension that struck her like a heavy rock to her chest. ―The horses probably got loose from their reins.‖ One horse she recognized as the dragoon captain‘s horse Ruark had stolen the night he had pulled her from the river. The horse was Jack‘s favorite.