Chapter 16

I n the cabin, his fingers still on the fastenings of her doublet, Giff stared at his bride. “ What did you say?” he demanded.

“You heard me,” Sidony replied calmly.

“I heard you, but I do not believe my ears,” he said, wanting to shake her but lowering his hands to his sides instead. Trying to sound reasonable, lest she feared to couple, he said gently, “Our marriage is not a marriage until we consummate it.”

“Nevertheless, sir, I have made my decision.”

“This is the devil of a time to find you can make decisions,” he retorted.

“You are the one who made it clear to me that I can make them,” she reminded him. “So I have made this one, and I mean to stand by it. You are also the one who made it necessary by deciding to keep me aboard—twice. You did so when you might have turned back and put me ashore at Lestalric, and again at St. Andrews, when you might have let Father Adam take me to the bishop.”

“You did not want to go to the bishop!”

“True, but that does not affect my decision now. I do understand that to stay on this boat puts me in danger of creating a scandal that would embarrass me and infuriate my father and everyone else in my family. But unless you mean to tell the world that I refuse to couple with you, they need know nothing about that.”

“Marriage is for life. Do you mean to refuse me forever?”

“I have not decided that,” she said, but her gaze slid away from his as she said it, and she did not look at him again. “In troth, sir, you behave much too impetuously for my taste. I do not approve of acting in such haste, on impulse, but you seem to make a habit of it. For now, I would ask that you restrain yourself.”

“Look here,” he said, beginning to get angry. “Rob, Hugo, and the others would have been gone before we could have got back to Lestalric, and even if we could still have moored safely there, we’d have had no way to get you home with any speed. As it was, Fife was on our heels much sooner than I’d expected.”

“I could easily have walked to Lestalric.”

“Don’t talk foolishness. Those two boats Fife commandeered are faster than ours in every respect. Did you see how many oarsmen they have, how long they are, how little draft they require? Had we delayed, they’d have been on us before we reached St. Andrews. As to our escape there, it was just by a hair that we succeeded. If Fife learns we were right in that harbor, he’ll pursue us with even more vigor.”

“You should have taken me ashore at once,” she said stubbornly.

“This may surprise you,” he retorted. “But getting you home again was not the most crucial thing on my mind. Getting my cargo safely to its destination is more so. You need to understand that.”

“So, that crateful of jewels and whatnot is all that is important to you?”

“Crateful of jewels and—” He broke off, realizing that he had stepped into dangerous territory on more than one account. She understood him well enough.

“Is that not what treasure is?” she demanded. “Just objects? To be sure, they are objects of value to someone or other. But let me tell you, sir, I put higher value on kinship and family than on mere objects of any kind. And I’ll expect my husband to put his family first. The fact is that this ship carries only a portion of a treasure that, as far as either of us knows, has done no one any good since it disappeared nearly a century ago. What would it matter if the Earl of Fife or anyone else took our portion if their taking it would ensure the safety of everyone involved?”

“Sit down,” he said curtly, pointing to one of the little benches in the table alcove. “We are going to have some plain speaking, madam wife, and if you think you can refuse to hear me, let me remind you that I now have every right to insist on your obedience. Don’t test me on that, because you’ll be sorry if you do.”

Sidony met his gaze defiantly, then wished she had not. In truth, she scarcely understood her own defiance. She had carefully planned what she would say to him, and she had said it as calmly as she had planned. She had expected him to be surprised, but she had also expected him to understand, especially since he had once agreed that it must be hard always to do others’ bidding.

Her reaction when he leaped to debate with her surprised her almost as much as her decision had surprised him. But he was angry now, and she had never meant to provoke him so far. It was as if, with him, she became a different person entirely.

From the first day, he had elicited characteristics from her that she had not known she possessed, and some of them pleased her. But this impulsive defiance was not one of them. Words of apology sprang to her tongue.

Before she could utter them, he snapped, “I said, ‘Sit!’”

She sat.

He loomed over her for a long moment, glowering, then slid onto the narrow bench across the little table from her, where he remained silent for a few moments, but it was not a silence she felt compelled to break. She told herself to be grateful that he did not seem the sort of husband who bellowed at one and laid down laws. Her father was like that and had an added tendency to alter those laws on a whim.

At last, folding his hands on the table, Giff said quietly, “This conversation has not gone as I would have wished any wedding night conversation to go, lass, but that is as much my fault as yours. I ought to have known you might be reluctant. I was as impetuous as you say I was, but it was not impulse that took us so swiftly away from Lestalric or St. Andrews. I hope you do see that. If you don’t, we can discuss it further. You may always say what you like to me, in private, even about the treasure. Just do not shout at me, and make sure that no one else can hear us.”

“I did not shout,” she said. “And it was impetuous to steal this boat, not to mention its captain and that priest.”

A finger lifted from his folded hands silenced her. “I did not steal the priest,” he said, “but we can discuss that later, too. First, you should know that your views on the treasure’s value are irrelevant. Don’t speak,” he added when her mouth opened.

She shut it, pressing her lips together to avoid venting her own rising temper. The urge was strong to pound on the table or stand up and walk away. Not that one could do it well in a room so small, but that fact did nothing to reduce the urge.

“Protecting the treasure—every item in it—is a matter of honor for us,” he said. “If you know it has been missing for so long, do you also know its history?”

“Do you mean its connection to the Order?” she asked.

“I do.”

This, too, fell into the subjects one ought never to discuss, so it was warily, her anger forgotten, that she nodded.

When he remained silent, she said, “I know that the Knights Templar made it possible for men to travel without carrying their valuables. One needed only a letter from one perceptory to another from Scotland to the Holy Land, or nearly any point between, granting him the right to certain funding on no more than a password. I know, too, that because of their many services of that ilk, and others, they amassed a great fortune that disappeared years ago when the French king tried to seize it.”

“The Order also protected items of great value for Holy Kirk and heads of state,” he said. “So you must understand that where our honor is concerned, little matters but that we continue to protect what we have promised to protect.”

Tempted as she was to point out that he had just promised before God to protect her, she held her tongue. For one thing, she knew that he would risk his life, even sacrifice it, for her. She did not know how she knew, any more than she knew why she was sure of other things about him, but so it had been from the first day on.

He was waiting for her to respond.

“I cannot pretend to understand all that men mean when they talk of honor,” she said. “But Isobel, Adela, and Sorcha seem to know as much about the treasure as all you men do. They also know exactly what our cargo is, do they not?”

He nodded. “I believe they do.”

“Then, now that we are married, will you tell me?”

He grimaced, but the expression was rueful. “Not yet, lass.”

She leaned forward, peering into his eyes. “Why not?”

He shook his head. “I do not know you well enough yet.”

“If you knew me better, would you tell me then?”

His eyes narrowed. “Art bargaining with me, sweetheart? I hope you are not suggesting that if you couple with me, I will tell you all I know.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “I was afraid that was what you were suggesting.”

He chuckled then. “I’m thinking I’ve just proved your point and you have proven mine. We need to become better acquainted, lass. One minute I feel as if I can see into your mind and read your thoughts. The next, I feel as if you are doing that to me. But in the end, I know that neither of us can be sure either way. Suppose we spend some time on this voyage getting to know each other better.”

She nodded, surprised to find that her relief contained disappointment, too.

He stood up and extended a hand to her.

Warily, she took it and let him help her to her feet.

He put both hands on her shoulders, looked into her eyes, and said, “I hope you will hear me out on what I am about to say.”

“Aye, sure, I will.”

“Perhaps,” he said with a wry smile. “Let me put my best reason first. You suggested earlier that the only way others need know about your . . . your decision tonight would be if I were to shout it to the world. The fact is that, by acting as you apparently expect, I would be announcing it to everyone aboard.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, my sweet tormentor, that if I were to leave now and sleep outside with the oarsmen, or anywhere on this boat save in this cabin— my cabin—with you, I’d be telling them all that my bride has banished me from her presence.”

The thought of him spending the night in the tiny cabin with her stopped the breath in her throat and set her heart pounding.

Fife was annoyed that they had as yet seen no sign of their quarry, but he and de Gredin had agreed that MacLennan was heading north. Even if they failed to catch him, the earl was as certain as he could be that the key to the treasure lay at Girnigoe. If last year’s information was correct and the Sinclairs and Logan knew where the Stone was hidden, it was likely they were moving it now, especially as their cargo was so important that when he’d sent the Dutchman away, MacLennan had risked stealing the Serpent Royal to transport it.

It was cold on the water, and Fife was damp, because as fast as the men had rowed leaving Leith Harbor, their oars had splashed a good deal of water on him. Fortunately, since then, the wind had been brisk enough for them to ship the oars.

It irritated him, too, that they’d heard nothing about the girl at St. Andrews.

As they walked to the palace with the bishop, de Gredin had asked if his eminence had had visitors that day, but he denied having received anyone at all.

Fife and de Gredin had made good time from Leith to St. Andrews themselves, and had seen no sign of the Serpent in the harbor, just small vessels, two larger ones, a merchantman bearing a Hanseatic flag, and another with a Norse flag at her bow.

When Fife’s man had requested the bishop’s permission to interrupt their comfortable evening, it was to tell them the Norse ship had left the harbor.

“It sailed not long after we beached, my lord,” the man added.

“Why did you not come and tell us at once?” de Gredin snapped.

Fife said, “What difference can that make? We would scarcely chase it now, even if we wanted to. Why should we care what a Norseman does?”

“Why would any Norseman leave a safe harbor after dark?”

The man who had brought the news looked wretchedly at Fife. “We didna think o’ that, my lord. We didna think nowt until a wee while ago when one o’ the chevalier’s lads said he’d caught a glimpse o’ its stern as we passed it earlier.”

“Sakes, you’ll never tell me it was the Serpent !” Fife exclaimed.

“Nay, he didna ken the name,” the man said. “But he did notice it has a stern port like the Serpent’ s, my lord, with crosspieces that form the shape of an M.”

“The Serpent’ s crosspieces do form an M,” Fife agreed. “But, surely—”

“We must follow at once, then!” de Gredin exclaimed. “If we have any chance of catching sight of them, my lord, we surely want to do that.”

Fife wanted to do nothing of the sort. If he could imagine any more horrible death than wrecking one’s boat and drowning in the sea, it was doing so on a pitch-dark night with no hope of rescue. But when de Gredin went on to explain to the bishop that some miscreant had stolen the earl’s fine ship, Fife could hardly insist that he would rather sleep in a comfortable bed than try to recover it.

De Gredin would likely agree that he should stay with the bishop, and then be off by himself to capture his so-precious treasure and take the Stone as well.

Resigned now to his fate, Fife sent a prayer aloft and tried to get comfortable, realizing only when the man-at-arms serving as his personal attendant told him so that de Gredin had quietly put half of the earl’s other men on the second longboat.

Having made his most persuasive case for sharing the cabin, Giff had heard Sidony gasp softly in response, and his body stirred hopefully. From the moment she had denied him, his desire to hold her in his arms—indeed, to do much more than that—had grown so that what he felt now was pure lust, and he knew it. Her shoulders were warm beneath his hands. His fingers itched to caress her bare skin.

He drew a long, silent breath and carefully released her.

“I suppose you could stay for a while,” she said.

“I’m afraid they’d expect me to stay all night.”

“Every night?”

“To do aught else would denote banishment, for which they would think less of me, or lack of interest on my part, which would—most unfairly—reflect on you.”

She shot him a speculative look but said only, “Then you had better stay tonight at least. I suppose I can trust you to keep your word.”

His hands went back to her shoulders before he thought, and he said, “You can always trust my word when I give it, lass, but in this matter, I will not swear it, because I am not sure I can trust myself. You are too bonnie, too enticing to a man’s lust, and mine is gey strong for you. So take care that you don’t tempt me too much. If you do, I’ll not want to answer for my actions.”

Her eyes widened so much that he wondered if he had frightened her.

Sidony felt a tingling thrill at the thought that she could tempt him so. She had heard bards’ tales of women who wielded such power over men but had never dreamed that she could tempt any man to foreswear himself. The feeling was so energizing that temptation stirred to see what would happen if she tested him.

“Don’t be thinking that I’ll give you a dagger to defend yourself like the ones I’m told your sisters Isobel and Adela carry,” he said with a smile. “I can order the men to catch a large salmon, though, and give it to you to use if I forget myself.”

She laughed at that, and the tension between them eased.

“I don’t need a salmon, sir,” she said. “I can always whistle for help if I need it, or scream. You may stay tonight, but I hope you do not expect me to undress for bed whilst you watch me.”

“I’d like to do that, right enough,” he admitted. “But I’ll see to the crew and speak to Wat Maxwell. Don’t worry about the lantern. I’ll put it out when I return.”

He was gone on the words, and having no idea how long he would be away, she quickly took off her doublet and skirt, shook out both without a hope of doing them any good, and hung them on hooks fastened to the wall by the washstand.

The water-filled ewer sat in a deep pocket in the stand, so the motion of the boat could not tip it onto the floor. She carefully poured enough to wet a cloth, then scrubbed her face and arms and behind her ears. Using her finger, she scrubbed her teeth as well as she could, then pulled two thick feather quilts from the kist where she found them, tossed one onto the top bed and spread the other over the linen-covered pad on the lower one and slid in between them, shivering in her shift.

One could not call such a bed comfortable, and she tried to imagine Fife sleeping on it. Doubtless his manservant would have piled it with eiderdowns first to make his lordship a nest, but with the thin pad that pretended to be a mattress under her, she was certainly more comfortable than when she had wakened in her prison under the floor. And she was sleepy enough, she thought, to sleep on a rock.

She had almost dozed off when the click of the door latch brought her wide awake. “Is that you?” she called, drawing the quilt to her chin as the door began to open. Realizing anyone could answer yes to such a question, she bit back a giggle.

He opened it just wide enough to step inside, shut it behind him, and said, “Were it anyone else, he’d be taking his life in his hands, and well he’d know it.”

She experienced that thrill of feminine power again. She did not believe for a moment that he would kill a man whose only mistake was opening that door, but the fact that he had said he would was heady.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Between Arbroath and Montrose. We passed Devil’s Head a few minutes ago and should shortly be able to make out the two high points of Meg’s Craig.”

“Faith, I don’t know how you can tell. I don’t even recognize those names.”

“The stars are beginning to peek through, but surely you ken Arbroath.”

“I know our famous declaration of independence from England was signed there fifty years ago, but I do not know where Arbroath is.”

“We’re about two and a half hours out of St. Andrews, traveling at four knots per hour. If this wind holds steady, we hope to make Aberdeen by morning.”

“The oars are still up,” she said. “I can tell by the motion of the boat.”

“We’ve no need of them with a wind as favorable as this and the clouds breaking, but both are unpredictable. Are you ready for me to put out the lantern?”

Her body tingled with new sensations. He looked immense in the cabin, his head nearly touching its ceiling. “Do you think that bed will hold you?”

He chuckled. “I can put you up there if you’d prefer.”

The thought of having to climb up there with him in the cabin, or down again with him in the lower bed, was almost worse than the thought of his lifting her up there in her shift. “I’d liefer stay here,” she said, hoping she sounded dignified but certain she’d heard a squeak in her voice that was anything but.

He was kind enough not to laugh again. “I’ll take off my boots,” he said, “but you might want to tuck back a bit, because I’ll step on the edge of your cot to ease onto mine, and this ceiling is not anything like as high as a normal one.”

Then, the lantern was out and the chamber pitch black, but she knew when he put a foot on the edge of her cot and hoisted himself to the bed above hers. She lay tense in the darkness, still chilly, trying to relax, tinglingly aware of him above her.

“Do you really fit up there?” she asked a moment later.

“Near enough,” he said. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

She tried to imagine what they could be.

The motion of the boat was restful. Eventually it would rock her to sleep, but the moments crept by. He shifted, making the wood creak.

Telling herself to stop worrying about him crashing down on top of her, she wriggled on the thin pad and wondered how the oarsmen slept in the small spaces allotted them between the rowing benches, or on the benches themselves.

Jake had told her there were hammocks they could sling in the underdeck spaces but “none so many,” according to the boy, and only when those spaces were not filled with cargo and provisions. Western galleys had no underdecks and carried few provisions, nearly always beaching at night and depending on their men to hunt or fish for their food. Remembering her supper with Jake, she smiled.

She shifted again, certain her hips would be black and blue by morning.

“Still awake?” he murmured.

“I was just thinking,” she said.

“About us?”

“About the ship,” she said. “You never said how you came to steal it—or its captain. And, although you said your decisions to sail away from Lestalric and St. Andrews were not impetuous, can you say the same about stealing the ship and its captain, or stealing the priest? How can you do such things? Especially steal a ship. I should think that would be an impossible feat for one man alone.”

Smiling, Giff said, “At the time it seemed the right thing to do, so I did it.”

“But the ship did not belong to you! You cannot just take things, any more than Jake should. You told him so and even wanted him to repay your shilling.”

“The difference is that I needed both a ship and a way to slow Fife down. He had learned about the Dutch ship I’d hired and sent it on its way. I’d point out, too, that had I not taken this ship, you’d still be a pawn he could threaten to force our capitulation. Doubtless that was his intent when he ordered your abduction.”

“Do you know, I don’t think he did order it,” she said thoughtfully. “Not that he would not have done so had he known he could, for he did try to arrest Adela last year to force Rob’s hand. But recall that when de Gredin captured me, Fife was searching Isabella’s party. How could he even have known I’d be on the ridge?”

“One could suppose that the same spy that told Fife about Isabella’s plans somehow learned about your plan to ride with Lady Clendenen to meet her.”

“Was there really a spy?”

“Aye, but he was at Roslin,” he said, remembering.

“I did not see anyone else I know with de Gredin,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Fife could not have known you would be there, because no one expected you to ride so far. De Gredin must have seized the chance when you provided it. I wonder if Fife knows even now that you were aboard this ship. Aye, sure, he does. You heard de Gredin order his men to tell him.”

“You have not said yet about taking Fife’s ship,” she said.

He grimaced, but she deserved an answer. “You will probably call it impetuous, or impulsive, even reckless and foolhardy.”

“You do frequently seem to behave so,” she said.

“In troth, men have called me all those things from time to time. But I have found that in the midst of chaos one can always find at least one moment of opportunity. I look for that moment and seize it when it comes.”

“And that is what you did with the ship?”

“Aye, sure. I did not think about its being Fife’s ship. I just saw my chance when I realized that, besides the captain and Jake, only two men were aboard.”

“But you abducted Captain Maxwell and Jake, too!”

“I asked Maxwell to swear fealty to me, as I would ask any man in such a case. He did so, because I also vowed to protect Jake. Had I put them ashore and Fife got hold of them, he would hang them both for the loss of his ship.”

She said nothing to that.

He let the silence lengthen, then murmured, “Still awake?”

“Aye.”

“Do you understand now why I sometimes act as I do?”

Sidony did not answer. She liked listening to him, and it was clear that he believed he had done the right thing. But something bothered her, and she was not sure she should tell him. Men, in her experience, did not like their actions criticized.

“What is it, lass? You’re burning to say something more to me. I can feel it.”

“Just, it was only luck that I was aboard this ship, so it is unfair to suggest that what you did was right because of my being here. Moreover, to have found yourself without a ship at the last minute seems like dreadfully bad planning for so important a venture, one that others had been planning for almost a year. Even with great treasure at stake, do all men simply wait for that moment of opportunity?”

Her stomach tightened in the silence that followed, but his voice remained reassuringly steady. “No matter how carefully one plans, something always goes amiss, and the likeliest time for error is at the worst possible time. With our cargo already on the move, I had to act fast or the whole venture would have failed.”

“I do see that,” she said. “But others have said things, too, you know. They seem mostly to say them about you in jest, but one does wonder all the same.”

“When you know me better, mayhap you will cease to wonder about me, but you may always say what you like to me and ask me anything, anytime.”

“ Any time?”

“Any time that we are alone like this,” he said firmly. “Now, go to sleep.”

She smiled and shut her eyes. The previous day had been terrifying, but she felt safe again. Even on the hard bed, she plunged into sleep, deep and dreamless.

When morning came, she awoke to find herself alone in the cabin.

Giff stood atop the aft cabin, peering into the distance behind them. Puffy white clouds billowed to great heights in the sky, warning of worse weather ahead. They were south of Aberdeen yet, but he thought they could make Peterhead by dusk.

He could see no sails behind them, and to be sure, the strong wind had given them good speed, but for all that he hoped Fife’s lack of courage on the water had kept him in St. Andrews, he had a nagging hunch that the hope would prove false.

Wat Maxwell, having given up his bed to Father Adam, had been up all night, in command, and Giff had been confident leaving him in command. Not only did he feel instinctively that Maxwell was trustworthy, but he knew that although the Sinclair oarsmen would obey Maxwell’s orders, they would not hesitate to wake him at once if Maxwell issued any unacceptable command such as a surrender to Fife.

Before climbing atop the aft cabin, Giff had sent Maxwell into the forward one to get some sleep, brushing aside his protest that the priest had not yet arisen.

“Doubtless he enjoys the chance for a lie-in,” Giff said. “But he cannot sail this ship, and you need rest or you’ll be no use to me. Roust him and get to bed.”

So Maxwell had gone.

Giff turned and scanned the rowing deck for one of the smaller oarsmen. Most were long-limbed men with powerful legs and backs because, being Sinclair men, they were fine warriors as well as oarsmen. Finding one he thought would do, he caught the man’s eye and beckoned, then climbed quietly down off the cabin in case the lass—his beautiful, stubborn bride, he thought with a smile—still slept.

“Aye, sir?” The wiry oarsmen gazed at him through candid gray eyes.

“Blegbie, isn’t it?” Giff said.

“Aye, sir, Ned Blegbie.”

“How do you feel about climbing the mast, Ned Blegbie?”

The man grinned. “Nobbut a wee cat’s stroll, sir.”

“I agree, but it is lowering to morale for a ship’s master to have all the fun, so take yourself as high as you safely can and shout if you see any sail behind us.”

Still grinning, Ned Blegbie shinned nimbly up to the yardarm. Then, using the halyard loops, he climbed until his head was just above the masthead.

“I could do that, easy.”

Giff looked down to find Jake beside him, watching Ned Blegbie.

“You’d better not let me catch you,” he said sternly. “And don’t tell me your father lets you, because I won’t believe it.”

“Nay, he caught me starting up once and pulled me back. But I’m no’ afraid.”

“ Have you done it?”

“Aye, sure. A couple o’ the men as were aboard afore ye took the ship, they dared me to, one night whiles me da’ were sleepin’. They promised me a farthing if I touched the masthead. I told ’em I’d do it, but no’ for a farthing, so they said they’d give me a ha’penny, and they did. It were gey easy.”

“Those men can be glad they are no longer aboard this ship,” Giff said. “Have you no chores to do this morning?”

Jake sighed. “I’ll do ’em, then. Ye needna put yourself in a thunder-pelt.” His gaze shifted to a point behind Giff. “Are ye really married to her now?”

“I am,” Giff said, turning to see Sidony in the aft-cabin doorway.

He smiled at her and got a winsome smile in return.

“Sir!” Ned Blegbie shouted. “Two sails, aft t’ steer-board!”

Fife was cautiously hopeful. He had ordered the men to erect a canvas shelter for him at the bow of the longship, to protect him from any rain that might come or from too much sun if they ever saw the sun. Moreover, according to de Gredin, the Serpent was just an hour ahead of them. Fife couldn’t be sure, himself. He did see a ship on the horizon, but it was too far away for anyone to be sure, and he said so.

De Gredin said, “There are few ships of such a size in these northern waters. I’ll be very much surprised if it is not the Serpent .”

“Then tell the lads to put on speed so we can catch up to her,” Fife said.

“If you insist, but she is heading the right way,” de Gredin said reasonably. “They won’t know us, so if we don’t threaten them, they’ve no need to elude us.”

Fife agreed, but only because it had occurred to him that to claim the Stone of Destiny for himself might prove difficult even if they did find it in the Serpent ’s hold. To be sure, the Serpent was his and he would have liked to think he could claim the Stone on that basis alone, but MacLennan would fight to keep it.

Also, de Gredin wanted the treasure and would surely assume that the Stone was part of it. He might not care one way or another about keeping it, but he would surely see its worth to Scotsmen determined to keep it in Scotland, and he could demand the treasure as its ransom. And whether the Templars agreed to pay a ransom or not, the Stone would be of no use to Fife in de Gredin’s hands or in theirs.

Moreover, not only did Fife have only twelve men of his own, but he had come to realize that although he outranked de Gredin, he was by no means in command of the longships or the men rowing them.

And de Gredin had promised that more ships would soon join him.