Knight Defender (Knight Chronicles) Page 5

  What game is he playing? What can he possibly gain from ill feeling between his wife and his sisters? Whatever his aim, it need not concern me. She would befriend his sisters or not as she wished. All she had to do was be certain Baron Raeb MacKai thought himself well rid of her when she left.

  The thought cheered her, for having friends would lighten the duration of her stay. She turned back to the girls still babbling before her. “Ladies, ladies. I will be happy to talk with you, but let us take our conversation to my chamber.”

  She stood and looked meaningfully at the hand Raeb still held. “I’m certain your brother has no interest in women’s concerns.”

  “You are right.” Tight-lipped, Raeb released her then turned to his sisters. “I will allow you to occupy Lady Du Grace for this evening only. Dinna tire her for I will demand all her attention tomorrow, beginning with a ride in the morning.”

  With that, he left the dais, gesturing for his men to accompany him.

  As they disappeared to the courtyard, the clan’s women lingered in small groups at the lower tables.

  Jessamyn had no desire to spend any more moments with Raeb MacKai than necessary, but a ride would be welcome, despite his ill-mannered failure to ask if she wished to go with him.

  “Come, Lady Du Grace. We have much to talk about, and Raeb allows us only a short time,” said Maeve.

  “Right, but please call me Jessamyn.” She descended the steps leading from the dais. As she passed the groups of women seated below the salt, she invited them to join the conversation in her chamber. Given what she now suspected of her betrothed, she felt certain she was on the right course. She would charm every female in clan MacKai, and when she left, those women would blame their baron for chasing her away. He’d be hard put to find peace from their scowls for quite some time.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Later that night, standing in the center of the stable with Dougal near to hand, Raeb studied the three horses he owned. Several others, the dainty white palfrey included, occupied the stalls, but those steeds belonged to the MacKai knights and his betrothed. He’d given up his own destrier years ago—the animal had been too expensive to care for and fetched a price high enough to keep the other Dungarob horses in feed through four winters. The only decent horse he’d kept was Artis’s dappled gray courser, Aingeal-ceo. She was greatly attached to the animal, and he’d not had the heart to sell it. Since he couldn’t do his duty to his people and his holding without a sturdy mount, he’d made his use of the stallion a condition of its keeping and for not gelding the beast. As for the other two horses, not one had borne a saddle in close to a year, and neither would be an easy mount for a lady. ’Twas the only reason he was glad Lady Du Grace had brought her own steed.

  Pulling an apple from the barrel where they were kept, he walked over to the mare. Dougal followed.

  There’d been a time when the MacKai stables had been famous for the strength and stamina of the steeds bred and trained at Dungarob and filled with fine horses. But that had been before his parents were murdered and the breeding stock stolen, when he’d been young as he had not been since.

  “She’s small, but she’s verra pretty, and good natured, according to Angus,” Dougal said.

  “But is she strong enough? Despite what my master of horse thinks, this mare looks too fragile to handle our steep pathways.”

  Dougal shrugged. “Who can tell until she tries?”

  “Aye. Makes me wonder if her owner has any real riding skill or if she expects to be led ’round in a circle by a servant long enough to get bored.”

  “I’ve no gotten the impression Lady Du Grace does anything that would cause her boredom.”

  “You’re probably right.” Raeb banished the image of her deep, sea-green eyes and curvaceous form before he could become distracted. “What was I thinking, Dougal? What will I do with that woman for an entire day?” Other than suffer the tortures of the damned, given her effect on me.

  “Aye, that’s a question for some concern. ’Tis no like you could offer to entertain her as you do the tabhairn maids you bed when the need strikes you. And the woman has the surprising ability to disturb your normal outward calm.”

  “Of a certainty she does, and I will guard my thoughts more closely than ever. As for her entertainment, ’tis likely she’ll expect poetry and dancing. She’ll no find either at Dungarob. I’ve much too much to occupy me to be bothered amusing a woman whom I’ll be sending back to her father in little more than two months.”

  “Nonetheless, showing your future bride the full extent of your holding makes sense. And done right, ’tis another opportunity to give her a disgust of you.”

  “True, but a great waste of my time it shall be. I should be assuring my people the month-long peace between MacKai and Marr is real and deserving of their support. I should be preparing my men to take Edward’s ships and the soldiers they will carry, not playing suitor to Jessamyn Du Grace.”

  “Speaking of Clan Marr, have you any word from Lady Sorcha?”

  “Nae. I know she is only a month wed, but a short note now and then would be appreciated. She can be bothered to write to our sisters but no me.”

  “How did you come to approve the marriage? They murdered your parents and crippled Lady Sorcha for no reason but greed, then stole the pride and livelihood of Clan MacKai. Peace and union with the Marrs is the last thing I expected.”

  “Aye, ’tis amazing how things have turned out. After the old earl took an English wife with close ties to Edward I, our perpetual feud with Strathnaver seemed fated. However, Colin doesna share his father and brother’s regard for Longshanks and truly loves Sorcha. When she said she would wed Colin Marr will I or nil I, what could I do but give my blessing?”

  Dougal nodded. “The peace is a godsend, for at least you need no worry about attack from your eastern border. A shame the problem of Lady Du Grace is proving less easy to resolve.”

  “Aye,” Raeb agreed. Getting Jessamyn Du Grace to break the betrothal was essential to restoring his clan’s fortunes and spoiling the English king’s plans to invade Scotland. Raeb might wish the lady to the farthest corner of the world, but he’d no choice. Until those English ships were taken, she must remain in his home. All the same, he’d rather not have dealt with this particular problem. Just look what havoc that woman had caused in the short time she’d been at Dungarob. His sisters and clan were close to revolt against his orders to give no courtesy to his betrothed. She caused his control to fray simply by existing. Whether ’twas a glance from those eyes or a twitch of her plush lips, did not seem to matter. She held his attention whenever she was present, and much of the time when she wasn’t—curse her pretty hide.

  “What will you do tomorrow with your unwanted betrothed?”

  Shaking his head, Raeb gave orders for selected mounts to be saddled and brought to the keep’s main entrance the following morning.

  “I’m no certain. What I do know is that you, Maeve, and Artis shall accompany us. I’ll be damned if I must bear that woman’s company alone.”

  • • •

  The following morning, Jessamyn woke to bright sunlight streaming into the room and the sound of Margery’s voice.

  “Put that trunk near the window, and that one at the foot of the bed.”

  Sleepily, Jessamyn sat up, the coverlet clasped to her chest.

  “Good morning, my lady.” Margery gave a small curtsey then turned to the men who’d carried the trunks and were now staring at Jessamyn. “You may leave us.”

  The maid waved the men from the room. “My lady, if you prefer to sleep more, I’ll draw the curtains and return later to unpack your things.”

  “No, thank you. I slept very well knowing you were nearby.”

  “’Twas a relief to me too, though I’ve been treated well enough.”

  Jessamyn got out of bed. “I am to ride out with the baron this morning, but I wish to visit the stables first, so let us hurry.”

  “I’ll get y
our short tunic and split skirt.” Margery rummaged in one of Jess’s many chests.

  While she washed, Jessamyn pondered the possible reasons for her betrothed’s insistence on this ride. She could find no ulterior motive. Spending time with her seemed counter to her suspicion that he wanted to make her reject the marriage. Regardless, she could gain much from a survey of the MacKai holding. Her godfather would no doubt appreciate a thorough report of the terrain and geographic features between the northwest coast and the interior of Scotland. She must be careful to learn as much as she could. Edward might even be so happy with her that he would not object her retirement to the nunnery. Then she’d never have to return to her father’s manipulative care. Perhaps she could pester Raeb MacKai with her questions. If she made them sound inane enough, he’d have no idea that she planned to report what she learned to King Edward.

  Margery kept up a constant flow of talk while Jessamyn thought.

  “Oh my lady, I was so overset to be separated from you that I completely forgot to be disdainful as you wished.” Margery brought the clothes and helped her into them. “The servants all thought the baron’s failure to greet you or send anyone in his stead appalling. They said they had orders to be rude to you, but the baron said nothing about being rude to me. And after the help you gave to the baron’s sister, Lady Neilina, none wishes to obey his ridiculous order. They are exceeding kind to me, sharing their meals and making certain I have a comfortable place to sleep when you do not need me. This morning I had all the help I needed to bring up your trunks and wash water.”

  Jessamyn let the maid help her into her riding boots. “After more than a week at sea and today’s ride, I’ll give the world for a bath. Do you think the MacKai servants would mind assisting you to provide one?”

  “Certes, they will help, my lady. I discovered that the cook and I share a love of needlework. We could not stop talking, and I’m sure I’ve made a friend there. She’ll convince the rest of the staff to aid us whenever possible despite the horrible baron’s orders. Shall I arrange a tub for this afternoon?”

  “That will be perfect.” Jessamyn stood patiently while Margery found a short cloak to cover the tunic as she rode. “You said you had a comfortable place to sleep. Is the trunk with my dowry safe there, or should we bring it here?”

  “’Tis well out of the way in my quarters, and I’ve the key on a chain under my kirtle.”

  “Excellent. I think you should remain friendly with the other servants.”

  Margery laid the cloak on the bed. “Since you gave aid to one of the baron’s sisters, have you changed you mind about being disdainful?”

  “Save for keeping Baron MacKai at a distance, yes.” Though she was still not certain of the best way to go about that, given the proper timing, she might not have to worry about it.

  “’Tis a shame you must give up your dreams in order to marry a wild Scot,” Margery said.

  “If you are willing to help me, I need not sacrifice myself in such a way.”

  “I am always at your service, my lady. Sit and tell me what you wish me to do while I arrange your hair.”

  “Mind you, there is some risk, and I must warn you not to repeat anything I say. Baron MacKai, his sisters, and knights all speak English quite well. Do you understand?”

  Jessamyn could not see her maid’s face, but she felt the slight tug on her hair when Margery’s grip tightened.

  “Yes, Lady Jessamyn.”

  “Good, now listen closely. First, the marriage vows will not be spoken before midsummer, close on two months from now. The baron himself actually suggested that, so I’ve no need to find an excuse for delay. That gives us plenty of time to allay any distrust by the Scots. We shall both be all that is courteous to everyone but the baron. ’Tis he who controls whether we stay or go, and I would have him happy to be rid of both of us.

  “We’ll bide our time until a ship arrives, then you and I will pretend to argue. You must take coin from my dowry to hire passage to New Castle on a ship departing with the morning tide. The dowry already lies hidden in your trunk, and most of it shall go with you when you leave. I will retire to my chamber, pretending to be distraught. Under cover of dark I will join you, hiding in your quarters on board until the ship has sailed and it is too late to turn back. I’d like to bring Persia with me, but that may not be possible. I’ll retrieve her by claiming she was part of the dowry Baron MacKai lost all right to when he broke our betrothal.

  “By the time King Edward or my father hears that I did not marry this churlish Scot, you will be safe at home, and I shall be secure behind the walls of St. Bartholomew’s nunnery in York. The church will protect me because of the dowry I bring. Your innocence will protect you. None can blame you for following your lady’s orders.”

  “It sounds like a fine plan, Lady Jessamyn.” Margery’s voice trembled slightly. “Tell me, how will you get yourself out of this keep? I have seen only the salley port as entrance or exit and that is well guarded.”

  Jessamyn kept her voice level and her tone light. She had to reassure Margery, for the maid was essential to the plan’s success. “I can easily create a distraction for the guards.”

  “And if that fails?”

  Jessamyn bit her lip in thought for a moment. “If all else fails, I shall resort to bribery from the little of my dowry that I will keep with me. Guardsmen never have enough money. All I need is for the guards to look the other way long enough for me to leave the keep unseen.”

  “Oh, I’d not thought of that. Still, I cannot like it. My place is by your side. Who knows what that Scottish devil will do to you if you are caught? Life could become very unpleasant. Perhaps it would be best to resign ourselves to our lot.” Margery finished braiding Jess’s locks and began to pin the braid in place.

  Unable to shake her head without spoiling her maid’s hard work, Jessamyn added strength to her voice. “No. I will not be sold like livestock.”

  “There, all finished.” Margery’s hands dropped away. “Still, perhaps you should reconsider … ”

  “Why?” Jessamyn patted the completed coiffure and straightened her sleeves while Margery bent to twitch the skirt’s hem into place.

  “You need allies too, my lady. ’Tis not right for me to be your only champion.” Margery’s worried tone spoke volumes more than her words.

  “With luck, we’ll not be here long enough to need a champion. You should remember that when you are among your fellow servants. If the friendships you form are too strong, you and others will suffer when we go. I cannot afford to leave you behind.”

  Margery sobered and straightened to her full, if diminutive, height as she needlessly dusted the shoulders of her lady’s tunic. A dumpling of a woman, Margery always had difficulty looking stern.

  “I thank you for the warning, my lady. I would never abandon you, and should need be, I could always return here once I see you safely to the convent in York.”

  “That may not be as easy as you imagine, if the folk here believe you betrayed them.”

  “Then they cannot be the friends they appear to be, and I shall return to my home in Blancmer, as originally planned.” She handed Jessamyn the cloak. “There, you are ready.”

  “Thank you, my friend.” Jessamyn hugged her maid, then swept from the room.

  Margery’s information about the baron’s orders to his clan confirmed her own thinking and inflamed Jessamyn’s ire again. He imagines I can be cowed by a little silence, a few cold shoulders, and a bit of rough treatment. I’ll show him.

  While she plotted her strategy for antagonizing Raeb MacKai, she admired the craftsmanship of the thick stone walls and defensive features of the staircase.

  She stepped off the last tread, pointed her nose in the air, and glided past the guards without a glance, as if she’d not a care in the world and every right to be where she was. From the corner of her eye she saw the guards shift as if to intercept her. Then they stopped and exchanged embarrassed glances that she ignored. />
  Headed for the stables, she passed through the great hall, aiming for the large, open doors at the far end. She passed a number of women scrubbing the stone floor before covering the surface with new rushes and sweet-smelling herbs. Even though the women appeared to ignore her, she could see the curious glances cast her way, just as she’d noticed the guards’ movements. She walked quickly, for she was eager to assure herself of her mare’s well-being.

  She found the stable tucked into a far corner below the battlements. Beside it stood several enclosures obviously meant to provide a safe, open air space for training, injured animals, or breeding mares with young foals. Three sides were fenced. The farthest side was formed by the keep’s high defensive wall. Odd that at this time of day all of the enclosures were empty. She did not recall seeing any horses in use as she’d walked the length of the large bailey. She’d seen a fair number of men-at-arms training in the yard but none mounted. No doubt some of the baron’s mounts were being used by guards who patrolled the holding. The rest could only be in the stable. Though perhaps he allowed his breeding herd to roam free in the area beyond the cliffs.

  Shaking her head at the conundrum, she slipped through the stable doors, pausing inside to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Dust motes floated in a sunbeam that pierced the gloom from an opening high above the loft. The familiar scents of straw, leather, and horse filled her nostrils, but the only sound was the greeting whinny of a single horse. Persia! Jessamyn would know that laughing whicker anywhere. She hurried to follow the noise to a spacious stall where Persia stood munching hay.