The Magnificent Rogue (8 page)

“We are wed.” Robert sheathed the dirk and turned to Gavin. “Take the horses to the stable.”

“Wed?” Gavin gave a low whistle. “So that’s how you’re going to do it.”

Master Tabord still frowned at them. “It is odd your man does not seem to know of this marriage.”

“Have I taken this woman in marriage, Gavin?” Robert asked.

“Aye.” Gavin smiled as he gathered Robert’s and Kate’s horses’ reins and turned toward the stable. “You’ve taken her right and fast.”

Robert’s hand closed on Kate’s wrist, and he pulled her into the inn. “Hot water, a tub, and a maidservant.”

Master Tabord slowly followed them into the hall. “There is only my daughter, Carolyn.”

“She will do.”

“No,” Kate said quickly. “Not Carolyn. I won’t have her waiting on me.”

For the first time the innkeeper’s expression softened. “Carolyn will not mind, Kate. She’s never stopped talking about you.”

Robert pulled Kate up the steps. “Where is our chamber?”

“The second door,” Master Tabord said. He stood in the hallway gazing up at them. “You’re truly wed?”

Robert turned and said with precision, “I will not tell you again. She is my wife, and you will treat her as such.” He led Kate down the short hall and opened the chamber door.

Kate tore away from his grasp and whirled to face him as the door closed behind them. “You lied to him.”

“I don’t lie.” Robert slammed the door, took off his short cape, and threw it on the chair.

“Don’t do that, you’ll get mud on those fine embroidered cushions.” She picked up the cloak and dropped it on the floor.

“I don’t give a whit about Master Tabord’s cushions.”
He looked at her. “And I’m surprised you do, after the way he flayed you.”

“It’s not his fault. He’s a better man than most.” Her own damp cloak seemed an unbearable weight on her shoulders. She took it off and threw it down beside his. How strange they looked together, she thought vaguely. Rich velvet and shabby wool, as different from each other as she was from this man who had whirled into her life. “He was very kind to me when I was a child. I used to play with his daughter, Carolyn.”

“He didn’t seem overkind to you tonight.”

“When I grew older, Sebastian decided it wasn’t good for me to have the company of the villagers. He forbade me to come to the village, and he told everyone …” She stopped at that remembered hurt and then continued, “He told everyone that I was a harlot, and that he must watch me closely to keep me from sinning.”

“And they believed his lies?”

“Why not? He’s the vicar, a man of God. And he did not think it a lie. He believes I have the soul of a harlot, and they believe him.” She met his gaze and suddenly felt a flare of anger. “But I’m not a whore. I will not be anything he says I am. And I will not let you make me into the harlot he thinks me.”

“I have no intention of making you my whore.”

“I’m not ignorant. Sebastian made sure I know what constitutes carnal sin. We occupy the same chamber; you lie and say we are wed when we are not. Do you have any intention of marrying me?”

“We are wed.”

The statement was spoken with such absoluteness that she gazed at him in shock. “Are you mad? We cannot be wed just because you say it is so.”

“Oh, but we can.” He smiled grimly. “And that is the only way we’ll ever wed. Handfast.”

She repeated the unfamiliar word. “Handfast?”

“Handfast is an entirely legal marriage in Scotland.
There is no religious ceremony, but the man and the woman announce the bonding before witnesses and then live together for a year. If the match proves to give contentment to both, or a child is born, the marriage is declared permanent. If not …” He shrugged. “They are both free to go their own way.”

“It sounds most strange,” she said suspiciously.

“But entirely legal and binding … for a year. I’ll take you to Craighdhu and acknowledge you as my wife. In a year we will part.” His lips thinned. “In spite of any more permanent plans devised by Her Majesty.”

He was angry, but it wasn’t with her, she realized. “You don’t wish to stay married to me?”

“God, no!” He smiled crookedly. “Forgive my lack of gallantry, but you’re the last woman I’d consider marrying. I have enough problems without burdening myself in that fashion.”

“Because I’m who I am. Because I’m
her
daughter,” she said. It was not a question. Sebastian had always made it clear that she was not worthy of marriage, that no man would ever want her in any but the carnal sense.

“Exactly.”

An odd pang of hurt shot through her at the decisive word. It was the answer she had expected, but the hurt was still there. She threw back her shoulders and forced herself to stand up straighter. “Well, I certainly don’t care. I don’t want you either. I don’t want to marry anyone.” She wished he would leave her. She had thought she had armored herself against pain, but somehow he managed to get beyond the barriers to make the loneliness worse. It was only because she was so tired, she told herself. Every emotion was distorted when you were on the verge of collapse. “I don’t know why the lady—Her Majesty thought it necessary to have me wed.”

“You don’t?” He studied her before muttering,
“Evidently the good vicar neglected to advise you on the political implications of being Mary’s daughter.”

“Political?” She looked at him in bewilderment. “I’m nothing to anyone. I have no power. I’m illegitimate, my lord.”

“So was William the First. There are—” He stopped when they both heard the sound of voices on the stairs. “They’re bringing up the tub. We’ll talk later.” He started for the door. “And my name is Robert. Since we are wed, I prefer less formality … Kathryn.”

“Kate!” As he turned to look at her with a quizzical expression, she tempered the passion of her tone. “
He
calls me Kathryn.”

“And you won’t be anything he says you are,” he quoted softly. “What did Landfield mean?”

The question confused her. “What?”

“What he said about you knowing what he had to do.”

“He always told me I had to be saved or destroyed,” she said. “He means to destroy me now.”

“You appear to accept that quite calmly. I would think—” A knock sounded on the door, and he opened it.

A tall, dark-haired young woman stood smiling at them. Kate recognized Carolyn and instinctively tensed.

“I’m Carolyn Tabord, my lord.” She gestured behind her. “Simon is bringing a tub for the countess. We’ve placed another in the next room for you and filled it with hot water. Your man is now bathing in the kitchen. I hope that is satisfactory?”

“Quite satisfactory.” He glanced back at Kate for an instant and then turned on his heel and left the chamber.

Carolyn swept into the room, her dark eyes twinkling. “And I’m sure the countess finds his lordship very satisfactory as well,” she murmured as she came toward Kate. “By the saints, he looks as lusty as that
stallion we watched mount Megan that day in the field. Is he?”

Kate was caught off guard. There was no hint of censure or restraint in Carolyn’s manner. It was as if they had parted yesterday instead of three years ago. “I’m not sure. I mean—Hello, Carolyn. How are you?”

“Fine. You know I’m always fine.” She grinned as she swept up the cloaks from the floor. “I’m to marry also.”

“Who?”

“Timothy Kanut, the blacksmith.” She opened the door and threw the cloaks out into the hallway. “I’ll hang them before the fire in the kitchen to dry and then dust the mud off. Merciful heavens, you’re dirty.”

Kate vaguely remembered Timothy Kanut. He was some years older than themselves, a tall, strapping man with a sweet smile, enormous muscles, and a wife whose tongue was as sharp as a dagger. “I thought he was already married.”

“His wife died last year. Poor dear.” She shut the door and turned with a grin. “Just in time to save me from sinning in the hayloft to persuade Timothy to run away with me.”

Her eyes widened. “You would have done that?”

She nodded. “I love the man, and it would have been foolish for me to let him stay with a shrew who only made him miserable. That would have been a greater sin than fornication, and you know I’ve never been a fool.”

No, Carolyn had always been shrewd, bold and free-thinking, or she would never have had the courage to become Kate’s friend. “Your father would have been brokenhearted.”

Carolyn nodded. “Sometimes he doesn’t see things clearly.” She paused, and for a moment there was a faint awkwardness in her manner. “He shouldn’t have believed Sebastian. I tried to tell him … I went to the vicarage many times that first year, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“She wouldn’t let me see you. I tried to persuade her, and then I shouted at her. I did everything I could to convince her, but she looked at me with those cold eyes.…” She shrugged regretfully. “Finally, I gave up and didn’t go back again.”

“I wouldn’t have given up,” Kate said fiercely. “I would have kept on trying to see you, if it had taken a hundred years.”

“I did the best I could. I knew you wouldn’t understand.” She made a face. “I could never be all you wanted me to be. You always demanded too much. You were never able to accept me as I was.”

One part of Kate realized that she could not expect those days of freedom and friendship to be as precious to Carolyn, but she still fiercely resented the abandonment. Kate had never told her about her life at the cottage; she had wanted to keep their hours together free from any taint. Still, if Carolyn had truly cared about her, wouldn’t she have sensed how alone Kate would be if she permitted Sebastian to separate them? No, Carolyn didn’t understand loneliness, she thought wearily, just as Carolyn had never really understood Kate herself. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, not anymore, at least.” Carolyn’s smile was back. “Now, you’re a fine countess with a husband who can make even my father take a step back. Everything always works out for the best. I heard nothing about your marriage in the village. How long have you been wed?”

“Not long.” She still wasn’t sure if MacDarren’s words about their being married had been true. It all sounded most peculiar. She lifted her hand and rubbed her temple.

Carolyn noticed the gesture and immediately went to the door. “You’re tired, and I’m standing here keeping you from your bath. I’ll see what’s keeping Simon. We can talk while you’re in tub.”

Everything works out for the best
.

How wonderful it would be to believe that were true in this world where her fate seemed left to the whim of a stranger. Yet two good things had already come out of Robert MacDarren’s arrival in her life, she realized with a little flare of hope. She had found she had not been completely abandoned by the only friend she had ever had, and she was free of Sebastian. At least for the time being. She could worry about the rest later. She was too tired to think now.

“And where is our bride?” Gavin asked as he watched Robert come down the steps an hour later.

“Presumably in a tub of hot water. I just got out of one myself.” He glanced around the common room. “Did you tell the innkeeper to fix food?”

Gavin nodded. “It will be ready shortly.” He thrust a cup of ale into Robert’s hand. “And he has a fine sturdy mare. He’s asking more than she’s worth, but I think I can get him down to a reasonable sum.” He paused. “You still intend to take the piebald?”

“I said so, didn’t I?” Robert drained his cup. The liquid was warm and comforting, but it didn’t soothe his bad humor. He didn’t even know why he was in such foul temper, only that it had something to do with the way Kate had stood there looking at him, muddy, weary, and yet arrow straight, refusing to surrender to her own weakness. He crossed the room, sat down before the fire, and stretched his legs out before him.

“May I ask why?” Gavin inquired politely as he followed him across the room and leaned one arm on the mantel.

“No, you may not.” He was silent a moment before he finally answered, “The girl will give us less trouble if we take the horse.”

“Oh, I see. And I thought it was because the poor lass had touched your heart.” His eyes twinkled. “Or
perhaps your more carnal body parts. I suppose I should have known better.”

“Aye, you should.” Robert leaned back in the chair. “I have better taste than to wish to couple with a mudlark.”

“I’d say she’s much too fierce for a mudlark. Besides, you’ve been without a woman for weeks. Considering your somewhat voracious appetites, even a mudlark should look good to you after that time.”

“Not this mudlark. Even if I was tempted, she’s the one woman I would not bed.”

Gavin’s brows lifted. “Surely a strange attitude toward your bride.” Then he understood. “Ah, the bairn. If you got her with child, the marriage would become permanent whether you willed it or not.”

“Exactly.”

“Of course, some risks are worth taking.”

“Not that one.”

Gavin made a face. “It would be difficult, but you could always take precautions.”

“Why? I have no desire to couple with her.”

“The poor lass.” Gavin grinned. “In the full spring of youth and not to know the joys of the flesh. Have you told her?”

“I’ve little time to discuss anything in detail.” Robert paused. “She has no idea what a danger she might pose.”

“To you?”

“To me, to James, to everyone.” He was silent a moment and then exploded with unexpected violence. “Christ, she doesn’t
know.”

“It probably suited Her Majesty to make sure she was kept in blissful ignorance.”

“Ignorance can lead to mistakes, and mistakes can lead to the block.”

“She’s scarcely more than a child. You had to realize this was a possibility. Why the sudden concern?”

He had realized, but he hadn’t let himself think of
anything beyond what he must do to avoid the trap Elizabeth had laid for him. Which was exactly what he must continue to do. The woman upstairs was nothing to him, and Craighdhu was everything. “I’m not concerned. I just think it foolish of the queen not to have had her warned of the—”

“Please, my lord.”

Robert turned to see the innkeeper’s daughter standing in the arched doorway.