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The sun was still well above the horizon when Raeb woke her and said they must leave. But dusk had fallen when they reached the Dungarob stables. She dismounted then removed Persia’s saddle before leading the mare to a spacious stall. Raeb joined her.

“We must talk.”

She raised a brow as she began to brush Persia. “Very well.”

“I’ve taken your virtue. We must wed within the week.”

She suppressed a frown. Arguing would gain her nothing, and since she intended to leave with the ship now in the harbor, agreeing would gain her much.

“I see little difference whether we wed today or at midsummer, but if it will please you, by all means arrange it with the priest.”

“My sisters will want to prepare a large feast and invite every neighbor and stranger they can find.”

She smiled. “I would want the same if one of my brothers were marrying.”

“Then while we will have a large feast in a week, I will ask the cook to prepare a special meal for Clan MacKai tonight. I wish to announce our decision and celebrate it now.”

She nodded and reached for a currycomb.

He kissed her cheek and took the brush from her hand. “Allow me to tend your mare.”

“I rarely let anyone but myself care for Persia.”

His eyes caressed her.

She flushed.

“Allow me to do this for you. You are sore, and a bath will ease your aches.”

She rolled her shoulders against the weariness there. “’Tis true, but I am like to fall asleep and drown if I bathe now.”

“I’ll send my sisters to you.”

He grinned. “None could sleep with all their chatter.”

“And here I thought you were being kind. Instead you punish me with a flock of chirping birds.”

He shook his head then bussed her lips. “Go now, or I may take you here in the hay.”

“Hmm,”

she mused. “A flock of sisters or lovemaking in the hay. There is no choice. Which stall would you like to use?”

She fluttered her lashes at him.

Though he smiled, his tone was stern. “You will have to wait for our wedding before you get more of that, wench. Now go.”

“Very well.”

She sighed as much with guilt as disappointment. She had no intention of going through with the wedding; other promises prevented it. Nonetheless, she conjured a flirtatious smile. “But I only go because I know you’ll suffer as much as I.”

As she left, she purposely twitched her hips, showing him exactly what he’d be missing. Mayhap she should consider changing her goals. She loved Raeb’s sisters and his clan. Dungarob was not as pleasing on the eye as Blancmer, but it had deep valleys and good grazing. She would enjoy helping Raeb rebuild his stables and the MacKai reputation as horse breeders. Her heart raced. Was she truly thinking of abandoning her long-held dreams? After her bath and the sisters left, she warned Margery that there might be a change in their plans. The maid had warned her to decide soon. The ship was to sail on the morning tide, and if Jessamyn changed her mind, the arrangements with the ship’s captain must be canceled. Jessamyn promised a decision by the time supper ended.

***

Descending to supper that night, Jessamyn heard low voices ahead on the first landing. The voices grew louder as she approached.

“The MacKai horses have been left at Strathnaver as you instructed until the Dungarob stables are restored enough to house the steeds properly.”

That voice belonged to Dougal. The captain of the MacKai guard must have returned.

She paused, uncertain whether to interrupt the men or return to her room.

“I’ve delivered all the messages you sent to those who will help discourage Longshanks from using Dungarob as a base for conquering Scotland.”

Dougal continued, “I even encountered Rhuad MacFearann on my travels. He said to tell you that MacTavish accepts your offer and will arrive two weeks before midsummer for his bride. MacFearann also confirmed that throughout the Highlands warriors are arming and training in preparation to take Edward I’s ships and his men. I was welcomed home with rumors that you’ve warmed toward Lady Jessamyn. Have you changed your mind about sending her back? Do you now plan wed the lady?”

Warriors? Armed to take English ships and men? Jessamyn could not hear the reply, but it had to come from Raeb. No one else had any reason to plan to marry her. She crept closer while staying hidden by the curve of the staircase.

“Do you no think she will object to such a betrayal of her godfather?”

Dougal asked.

“Aye.”

Resignation rang in Raeb’s voice. “I doubt she’ll be happy, but Edward canna be allowed to gain a foothold in the Highlands, or we’ll end the same way as Wales, a conquered people dispossessed of our homes and our rights, taxed beyond bearing. Besides, as soon as Jessamyn has a bairn or two, she will no worry over the affairs of kings.”

“If that’s what you think, you’ve less understanding of women than I believed.”

“What I know of women is neither here no there. What’s important is that we keep our plans quiet, especially since we still wait information on how many men Edward will send.”

“I’ve no envy for you when your lady discovers what you plan.”

“I’ll send her with my sisters on a visit to Sorcha at Strathnaver. With luck ’twill be over before she ever knows about it.”

Nausea curled in her stomach and her head spun. Shaky, she leaned against the stone wall. She’d trusted Raeb with her body, had been on the verge of abandoning her dreams for him, and all along he plotted betrayal. She couldn’t allow his plan to come to fruition, especially in light of her father’s hurried farewell. Since he was too busy, her brother Simon would sail on one of Edward’s ships to Dungarob to witness the wedding. Simon could be killed. Raeb could be killed. Though she shouldn’t care, she did. She stiffened her back, turned, and paced softly up the stairs. ’Twas best for everyone if this plot were squashed before it ever began. If she got word to Edward quickly, he would not send his ships. She sped down the hall to her chamber.

Margery was still in the room, straightening up from the earlier bath, when Jessamyn hurried in.

“Oh no, my lady, what will you do?”

her maid asked after hearing Jess’s story.

“We will proceed as originally planned. However, for safety’s sake, I’ll write a note to King Edward. You’ll sew the note into the lining of your wool cloak, finish packing your trunk with my dowry, and leave for the harbor. I’ll join you before the morning tide.”

She gathered quill, ink, and vellum as she spoke and began to write.

“What if we’re discovered, and what of your horse?”

“Though I had hoped to take her, I regretfully must leave Persia here. We cannot bring her with us and maintain complete secrecy. The stable hands would miss her and give the alarm. As for discovery, no one knows what we’re doing, so we can’t be discovered. If, however, we get separated, you must take the ship without me and get this note to King Edward.”

“I couldn’t.”

“If you care for me, you must, else England and Scotland will be at war, and all of our loved ones will be at risk.”

Jessamyn dusted the note and sealed it.

Margery nodded and squared her shoulders as Jessamyn pressed the message into her hand. “Yes, Lady Jessamyn. I’ll do as you instruct. I promise.”

“Bless you, Margery. You’re being very brave. Do not forget to have a very loud and angry argument with me at supper tonight.”

“Yes, Lady Jessamyn.”

Leaving the maid behind Jessamyn prayed none of the million possible problems would occur. She felt little of the confidence she’d manufactured for Margery’s sake. Nonetheless, Jessamyn steeled herself to do what was necessary to succeed. She could not let war threaten those she loved.

***

Motioning to a serving lad for more mead, Raeb watched Jessamyn laugh and move among the lower tables. Why had his betrothed avoided him all evening? She’d fidgeted all through the meal and, the moment the servants removed the platter, took the first excuse to leave his side. He’d followed her for a while. They were lovers, and if she wished to mingle he’d no difficulty with that. ’Twas an excellent idea for the clansmen and women to become better acquainted with their new lady. He was smiling the first time she sent him off to get some trinket she wanted to show his sisters. He kept smiling the second and third times, but when she turned to him a fourth time …

“Prithee, Baron, could you go … ?”

“Send a servant,”

he snarled before she finished. Then he stalked back to the dais. There he slammed himself into his chair and prepared to indulge in some serious drinking, since his affianced wife had no better use for him than errand boy.

“Tired of playing fetch for Lady Du Grace?”

Dougal settled into the next chair ...

“Aye.”

They spent silent moments watching Jessamyn flit about the hall like some rare bird frightened of capture. “What ails the woman?”

Dougal shrugged. “What ails any woman? ’Tis not as if their actions make any sense. Your sisters are always changing their minds.”

Letting the other man ramble, Raeb nodded in sympathy. Jessamyn isn’t like that. She’d known what she wanted before she arrived in Dungarob, and it had not been marriage to him or any other man. He leaned forward, resting his forearms against the edge of the table. What was it that Artis had said?

“Lady Jessamyn willna be sold like cattle. Her dearest wish is to retire to a nunnery and raise horses for the nuns to sell.”

He sipped his brew. But she made love with me, practically begged me. She can’t possibly imagine I would nae want to wed her when I’m the one who took her maidenhead.

Did she think to claim it was some other man? If that was her plan, then she wasn’t the intelligent woman he imagined her to be. He’d wed her anyway. She was up to something, but what?

He tracked her progress across the room. Artis stopped his betrothed, taking her hand just as she was about to leave the hall. It appeared as if his youngest sister was pleading with his betrothed. Looking troubled, Jessamyn shook her head. Artis tugged on her hand. Even at this distance the frown Jessamyn turned on Artis was fearsomely stern. The lady shook her head again and trod on the first step.

His sister flung the lady’s hand away. Then the girl dashed from the hall toward the kitchens. Raeb knew Artis was in the habit of confiding her troubles in the cook.

He was about to go after her when across the hall, Margery stalked toward her mistress. The woman looked angry. Since she was as much friend and confidante as maid to Jessamyn, Raeb could not imagine what the maid was about.

“Lady Jessamyn. I can stand no more ill treatment. I demand you pay my passage back to England on that ship in the harbor.”

Jessamyn jerked, clearly startled by the maid’s loud and rude pronouncement. She turned to confront the servant. The hall fell silent.

Raeb shot out of his chair and made his way to Jessamyn’s side with all possible speed.

“If someone has been less than courteous, tell me whom, and I shall have Baron MacKai punish them for daring to discomfit you.”

“Aye, tell us who,” he said.

Jessamyn placed her hand on his chest. “Allow me to handle this, please.”

He subsided, but he didn’t like it.

Margery ignored him, a novel experience for Raeb and one he wasn’t certain he liked.

“These folk have not insulted me directly, my lady. ’Tis the cold, the damp, the constant comments from all about how weak the English are. I’ve just discovered that when you journey from here with your husband, I will be expected to ride. You know I cannot abide horses, and I refuse to be forced to sit upon one of the vile creatures.”

“Be at ease, Margery. We will find you the gentlest of mounts.”

“I do not want any mount,”

the maid shouted. “I want to go home. Where Maytide is warm and people can ride in a cart or walk.”

“Be reasonable, Margery.”

The maid pursed her lips, drew herself up to her full, if inconsiderable, height, and snorted.

“’Tis you, Lady Jessamyn, who is being unreasonable, since you wish me to remain in this dismal place simply to serve you. I had not thought you to be so selfish.”

The folk in the room gasped as one.

Jessamyn lifted her chin. “Very well. I dismiss you from my service. Take your wages and sufficient coin for your passage on the ship from my dowry and be gone.”

She turned her back on the maid and waited.

“Hmph.”

Margery’s footsteps echoed all the way from the great hall to the top of the stairs before whispered murmurs broke the silence.

“Will you escort me to my chamber, Raeb? I cannot bear to remain among these murmurs, nor can I bear to encounter Margery if she happens to leave by the main stair.”

“Of course.”

He wrapped one arm about her shoulders and took her hand in his. She was pale and trembling. He kept her close, worried that she might collapse. He should have known better.

By the time he seated her in the chamber they would soon share, her color had returned, and her trembling ceased. Fortunately, Margery had remained out of sight.

“I’ll send one of my sisters to sit with you.”

“No.”

Jessamyn shook her head. “I will be fine if I can have time alone to decide how I want to proceed without Margery.”

“You’ll have a Scottish maid, of course.”

“Of course, but for now I can do without. Tomorrow will be time enough to solve the problem of my tirewoman.”

“Very well. You are certain you dinna wish company?”

She nodded. “Please. I’ve lost a dear friend and must mourn that loss before I can face anything else.”

In view of that comment, he’d not ask her what had happened with Artis. He’d seek out his sister for that.

He kissed the top of Jess’s head and left in search of Artis. If Margery was still within the keep walls, he would tear the skin from her body for her thoughtless treatment of Jessamyn. Only the idea of his betrothed’s reaction stopped him.

Hours later, Raeb headed for the stairs to the upper chambers. He was heartily tired of women and their whims. Convincing a tearful Artis to confide in him had taken much longer than he expected. Once he heard how she’d wanted Jessamyn to ride with her two days hence to see some new marvel, Raeb could understand why Jessamyn declined. What he couldn’t understand was the brusqueness with which Jessamyn had refused. Yes, Artis could pester the life from a person, but despite eighteen summers, she was so very young. There was no malice in her, and she would soon learn better manners.

So what was behind Jessamyn’s brusque dismissal? Mourning the loss of her maid or not, Jessamyn Du Grace would explain her unkindness. He despised playing the middleman, but he couldn’t stand seeing anyone he loved suffer. His jaw clenched, and he paused in mid-stride as he climbed the stairs then started up again. Every torch in the stairwell was out. He’d save any harsh words for his servants. Such carelessness was not to be tolerated. Anyone who knew the upper levels of the keep less well than Raeb would be in danger of injury from stumbling in the dark.

He placed a foot on the top step, annoyed to find the passageway between chambers dark as well. Maybe he should demand that Jessamyn deal with the servants and give her a better direction for her frowns than Artis.

He’d just turned the corner into the darkened passage when a small cry sounded behind him.

“Who’s there?”

Silence answered him, and in the dark he could not see who might have followed.

“Artis, I said I would speak with Lady Jessamyn, and I’ll brook no interference until I do.”

Nearby a small sound like choked off laughter floated through the dark. Then a scuffle of footsteps fled, but they progressed down the passage, not toward the stairs.

The footfalls stopped. How far their owner had gone, Raeb couldn’t say without more light. Darkness and stone distorted sound. He waited a while for more sounds. None came. The one thing he could say was that the person stalking the passage wasn’t Artis. Whoever it was, they had no good intent or they would have identified themselves.

He drew his blade. With extreme care to be quiet, he placed his back to the wall and sidled along the passage. He’d gone only seven paces when a door’s leather hinges creaked. He watched as the portal to the crenellated curtain wall opened and the dim light of pre-dawn fell on a blue-cloaked figure easing through the doorway and out to the battlement walk.

Jessamyn! Why was she sneaking about? Did this odd behavior have anything to do with her nervous avoidance of him all evening or her callous treatment of Artis, or had the English maid’s departure upset his betrothed enough to drive her from the keep? Patience with female megrims at an end, he pursued her. She’d explain all, or he’d know the reason why.

***

Jessamyn sobered as she slipped through the doorway and walked silently across the battlement. For a brief moment, fooling Raeb had been fun, but the truth was that her actions this night troubled her greatly. It was necessary, she reminded herself. Else I’ll spend my life shackled to an enemy. Worse, an enemy I fear I could love. The nuns of St. Bartholomew’s needed her skills. All Raeb MacKai needed was her royal connections so he could steal Edward’s ships and her dowry. Pacing quickly along the curtain wall to one of the towers flanking the great gate, she gnawed at her lower lip. Should she have left some of her dowry behind? That might mollify Raeb’s resentment when he discovered her gone.

She entered the gate tower and descended the stairs to the bailey. No, without that whole dowry the nuns might not be able to guarantee her safety. Once her location was discovered, Raeb, her father, or Edward—perhaps all three—would try to retrieve her. Much as she might like to leave coins to soothe a rejected man and ease the plight of the MacKai clan, she could not.

At the bottom of the stairs she paused to look about. A guard walked his post not fifteen paces away. She waited for him to turn his back then darted to the small door set in the lowered portcullis.

Soundlessly lifting the bar that locked the door, she eased it open. She gave thanks that whoever tended the portal kept the hinges well greased. Once outside she fled toward the docks. She had no time to be careful closing the portcullis door. Dawn was breaking, and she must be on that ship before it set sail. She could only hope that the guard thought he’d forgotten to secure the door. She could ill afford pursuit.

At the dock she slowed to wind carefully between crates yet to be removed to the village. It would not do to cause a clatter that raised an alarm. The ship was still tied to the dock. Time enough remained for her to board.

As Jessamyn approached the gangway, Margery appeared at the point where the planks met the ship.

“Praise the good Lord, you made it.”

“Is all in readiness?”

Jessamyn stepped onto the boards.

“The captain is below with his men. Hurry, you’ve only a moment to board before ... ”

Margery was nodding then shouting. “’Ware, Lady Jessamyn, behind you.”

Before Jessamyn could look she was jerked off her feet and a blade was pressed to her neck.

She froze.

“Are you running away, Jessamyn?”

Fear prickled along her spine at the menace in Raeb’s whisper. His free arm locked around her.

“Yes,”

she replied in a smaller whisper, not wishing to risk his blade cutting her throat.

“Why?”

“Who goes there?”

The call came from the ship.

The blade disappeared, and Raeb whirled her round. All in one motion she found herself pressed against his chest, her hands manacled in his steely grip, and his lips demanding her response.

A light illuminated them. The calling voice chuckled. “’Tis naught but a Scots lad kissing his wench, Captain.”

Jessamyn wriggled her arms but could get no room to push against Raeb.

“Then leave him to it and ready the ship. I’ll not miss the morning tide simply to watch a pair of Scots rut.”

The kiss became insistent. Jessamyn would not yield, but neither could she break free.

“But, Captain … ”

Distress colored Margery’s plea.

“Whatever it is, Mistress Margery, must wait until we are at sea.”

The thud of loosed lines against the deck rang the death knell to Jessamyn’s hopes and dreams.

And still Raeb kissed her.

The ship’s boards creaked. The sails slapped loudly in the wind.

And she was freed, so suddenly she crumpled to the hard boards of the dock.

The brightening dawn lit the angry face of the man who loomed above her. “Why?”

She shook her head and stared at the boards beneath her. “I’ve no wish to marry.”

“Do you hate me so much?”

She started, sitting upright, looking him in the eye. “I don’t hate you.”

Though she did hate what he intended to do, and thanked heaven he had no clue she’d sent word to King Edward.

“Then why sneak away in the night? We made love. I trusted you. My sisters trusted you. My clan welcomed you despite your English background.”

His jaw clenched and his words grated, but did she see a spark of anguish and hurt hiding in the eyes that glared at her?

His feelings couldn’t matter to her. If he discovered she’d sent word to Edward, she was a dead woman. Regardless of his affections, he would not allow a traitor to live, and as much as he betrayed her, she was now betraying him. She held out her hands palms up. “I have no other explanation. I’d not planned to wed. I dreamed all my life of living with nuns, women who would understand how much it meant to me to raise and train horses.”

“And you thought I wouldna understand, that I’d no allow my wife to lead the kind of life she wished?”

By the end he was close to shouting.

“No Englishman would want his wife to take up such an endeavor. Why should I imagine a Scot would be any better?”

“Because we’re Scots,”

he yelled. “Before she died, we had a woman, a child still, yes, but a woman notheless as our sovereign. I let my sister wed a man whose father most likely murdered my parents, because she asked it of me. I trust her to ken her mind. You should have trusted me. Now I have little choice. I must treat you as a liar, as someone whom I could never trust.”

He bent, reaching for her.

She cowered back on one arm, raising the other to ward off his blow.

“I’ll no strike you.”

Disgust filled his voice. But he grabbed her by the shoulders nonetheless, then swung her up and over his shoulder, just as he had that first day.

What would he do with her? Would he do anything, or would he leave her to molder and die, her heart and dreams broken with nothing to live for?

She hung limp, unresisting as he hauled her back through the bailey, into the castle, up the stairs and into her chamber where he dumped her on the bed. She pressed her face into the coverlet, forcing back tears.

“You may consider yourself my prisoner, and this your prison. I willna allow anyone I canna trust to have free rein of my home. Someone will bring you food before night.”

The door slammed when he left, and she heard the knell of the bar being lowered outside. The sound reminded her that though she’d begun to consider the chamber hers, it belonged to Raeb. She shivered despite the braziers lit in every corner. Did he intend to rape her? He could. She was his betrothed and a very long way from any who might wish to stop him. Could she bear it if he, who’d just the afternoon before made love to her with such tender care, took her in violence? The thought loosed the flood of tears she’d held back since Raeb found her on the dock.