Chapter Nine

"W hy aren't you resting?" Roderick asked. "Didn't Gertie bring you warm ale and honeyed bread?"

Garrick turned to glare over his shoulder at his youngest brother, then turned back to the job of supervising the finishing touches to the new stone curtain wall that would enclose their keep. He was in pain and knew it showed. Old Gert had told him he looked like the walking dead. I'm not dead… yet .

"I could say the same for you, brother." Garrick bit the inside of his mouth to keep from lashing out at him for taking such a chance with his life. Didn't Roderick understand how precious his brothers' lives were to him? The threat of losing him had been like a dagger poised, ready to cut out his heart had he been too late to save him.

One look at his youngest brother's eyes told him what he had feared; the lad did not understand. He was too young, too reckless and wrapped up in himself to question his own mortality. 'Twas Garrick's fault Roderick failed to take life seriously. He had tried to make up for the fact that their father was gone, and as a result he had been too lenient in his youngest brother's discipline. Was it too late to make up for that too? Mayhap a heavier hand would be needed to bring him back around.

"Your stay in Sedgeworth's lower levels seems to have taken its toll."

Roderick shrugged.

Too preoccupied to pry conversation from his youngest brother, he asked, "Can you ride?"

"Aye."

Garrick leveled his gaze on his brother's shoulder. On cue, Roderick lifted it up and down. Stubborn lad. He'll do.

"I must send you to Fitzrandolph's holding to act as emissary and announce my betrothal to Lady Jillian."

"What about the heiress?"

"I've made no promises, nor broken any vows." He regretted not having been able to negotiate a marriage contract with Fitzrandolph. His daughter's dowry would have paid for the construction of a new hall, and repairs to most of the crofters' homes as well. Not to mention the livestock he would not be getting now.

Roderick spoke up, "Jillian is a fine woman. You'll wed in a fortnight, then?"

Garrick clenched his jaw, thinking of the sprightly maiden who seemed so fragile, yet courageous. "Aye."

She seemed helpless, yet had been bold enough to stand up to her tormentors, and to him. He could not decide what to make of her. He detested confusion and indecision in any man, but loathed it to the point of violence in himself.

Roderick must have sensed the end of his brother's patience. He nodded and headed toward the stable.

"He'll be all right," Dunstan said, coming up behind him.

Garrick looked over his shoulder and nodded. Dunstan fell into step beside him, and they walked to the hall.

"I am counting on his charm to smooth the way." Thinking of Fitzrandolph's disappointment he added, "He had plans for my sword arm." Garrick flexed the stiff limb and groaned.

"Are you certain you will not change your mind and bring Roderick back? Jillian would understand your need to marry Beatrice for her dowry."

Dunstan had unknowingly given voice to the traitorous thoughts swirling in Garrick's head 'til it ached. "For that reason alone, I cannot go back on my word," Garrick said. "Lady Jillian's offer of assistance came at a time when we had no hope at all of reaching Roderick before it was too late."

He wondered if Owen would have acted honorably and freed Roderick in exchange for his ward's hand in marriage and the promised gold. His gut roiled and his head began to pound knowing the man was not to be trusted.

They owed Roderick's life to Jillian. The steely edge returned to Garrick's voice and with it his resolve to honor his word. "How can you even suggest a refusal on my part now?"

Instead of answering, Dunstan asked, "Are you certain you know what you are getting into? 'Twould not do to have you go into this marriage blinded by mere beauty," Dunstan grinned.

Garrick stared out across the bailey and thought of his betrothed. "Aye, she is that." Disbelief speared through him, thinking of the woman who had sent her bodyguard to make certain he was safe.

Dunstan bit back a chuckle. "Your vassal seemed surprised to find you not dead."

"My bride-to-be was obviously worried she would remain as servant in that household." Once he'd uttered the words, he knew them to be false. The lady cared .

When Dunstan spoke, Garrick knew he had not fooled him. "Whatever you say, brother."

Garrick's impatience grew; time was so short. "See to the preparations in the hall. I'll not have my bride arrive only to be scared off by cobwebs and old rushes."

"Do you think so little of her, then?"

Pausing, Garrick remembered the sight of an auburn-haired angel with huge cinnamon brown eyes silently asking him to trust her.

"I am afraid that I am beginning to think too highly of her for my family's good."

Anger flashed in Dunstan's eyes. "God's blood! Your family is not marrying her. You are . We will not have to bed her. You will ."

Garrick was taken aback by his brother's impassioned speech.

"We do not have to look upon her face day in and day out for the next fifty years. You do . Mayhap you need more time to reflect upon your decision to marry." Dunstan turned on his heel and strode out of the empty hall, leaving Garrick to wonder why anyone thought he had had a choice at all.

*

"Lady Jillian," Sara called out.

Turning, Jillian waited until Sara caught up with her. "Have I forgotten something?"

"Oh, aye," her friend beamed.

Resigning herself to the fact that another lecture awaited her, she waited for Sara to fill her in on what she'd done to displease their mistress this time.

"You forgot to tell Kelly and Eamon that you would not be going to the smithy after the noon hour today." Sara's laughter was one-sided.

"Oh, Lord. How could I have forgotten?"

Mortification swept through her. Lord above, she tried not to be difficult, truly, but she simply could not accustom herself to reporting to the man.

Though his protection freed her from worrying about the inevitable beating she would receive at the end of the day, she had yet to grow comfortable approaching the knight with her daily list of duties. Especially when the knight ofttimes frowned and questioned the length and number of them.

But Garrick of Merewood was a warrior to be reckoned with, and to be under his vassal's protection not only freed her, it healed her. The bruises on her face were mere shadows under the cream of her complexion. The welts on her back, from the heavy switch Haldana used twofold on Jillian and her mare, were no longer raised and swollen. She had much to be thankful for. Trying to concentrate on what Sara was saying, she pushed her wandering thoughts aside.

"Aye, Jillian," Sara agreed. "He was most upset. He fears that you are more of a job to watch over than he bargained for."

Jillian missed the glint of laughter in Sara's eyes. The other woman's words cut right to the heart of Jillian's latest fear. Mayhap Garrick would feel the same way . Would she be all that Garrick bargained for in a wife? Would she remember how to be a lady when the time came, or had she been too long a servant?

Her thoughts must have been written clearly on her face; her friend grabbed her hands.

"Don't worry about MacInness," Sara whispered. "It was a jest." Sara squeezed Jillian's hands briefly then let go. "You are all Garrick could hope to find in a wife. No one can run a household better. You have a light hand with the servants, and a big heart."

Jillian looked out over the bustling scene in front of them. Servants rushed from one task to another. At midday, no one would dare be idle, lest Owen bring them to task for slacking off in their duties.

Sara's eyes narrowed. "I'll wager you have even gone so far as to forgive your guardians for their part in your miserable life here, haven't you?"

Jillian could not meet her friend's intense gaze. Why bother to hide the fact especially now that that Sara knew she had. Owen and Haldana were weak in spirit, so she unselfishly prayed for their strength. "If I weren't so clumsy that I—"

"You are not clumsy!" Sara's voice grew cold with anger. "'Twas just an excuse for Lady Haldana to take out her frustrations upon you for having a more beautiful face than any of her daughters."

Sara grabbed Jillian and pulled her aside. "'Tis past time someone told you." Lowering her voice so as not to be heard, she began, "In the three winters you have spent here, not one offer has been made for any of their daughters."

Jillian stared at Sara. "I don't understand. They have had plenty of visitors."

Sara's gaze locked with Jillian's as she told her, "They all offered for you."

Jillian's belly iced over. She couldn't think. Her eyes grew round and very dark. The pain of remembered beatings now made sense. She had helped serve meals to guests in the hall. The beatings had been the most severe after their guests had left. At the time she could not remember doing anything wrong.

"I never knew. I would not even think to encourage any of the knights who graced Sedgeworth's table!"

Sara's eyes filled with sympathy. "You cannot help but attract attention. You are very beautiful, Jillian."

Jillian shook her head, but Sara continued undaunted, "'Tis the beauty of your spirit, and the joy you find in living. Even though Owen refused all offers for your hand, the suitors kept coming back again and again. Why do you think young Roderick kept returning to the hall?"

"To see Maralyne."

It was Sara's turn to shake her head. "The irresistible part of your charm is that you do not know how lovely you are."

Jillian fell silent. She didn't agree. Only her father had seen the beauty inside her, even when she'd been awkward, all limbs and freckles. He thought her a rare beauty, but her father was supposed to think that, wasn't he?

She worried over what Garrick's reaction would be had the cut on her mouth not healed straight. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the thought held that he would not have cared, but she worried just the same. Thank goodness it had healed without a mark.

*

Up at dawn to rouse the lord and lady, Jillian's days passed quickly, filled with so much work she barely had time to rest before rising to start all over again.

The day of her journey to Merewood approached finding her rail thin and bone weary. She knew the bluish circles under her eyes accentuated her tired features because Sara told her every chance she got.

It was all she could do to lift the small satchel of her belongings and tie them behind her saddle. She fumbled with the knot, but her tired hands refused to obey. A deep voice offered assistance. She turned around hastily.

"Worry not lass, I can carry your pack." Patrick's bright green gaze held hers long moments. She hoped he had not guessed the truth of how exhausted she was, or why. Groaning inwardly, she knew she was in no condition to journey more than one-half mile, let alone the two-hour trip to Merewood Keep.

While she struggled to hide her condition from the warrior, he ordered, "Wait here."

Nodding required far too much effort, Jillian offered a half-smile instead. Grimacing, the warrior stalked off.

At the door to the stable, MacInness was engaged in a heated debate with his overlord.

"We'll no' wait for ye. The lass is near to droppin' right now. How do ye expect me to make the lass wait another hour while yer daughters pack the rest o' their fine clothes? I wilna do it. Follow along later."

Turning away, MacInness spotted his friend stalking toward him, anger punctuating his steps.

"She's not fit to travel," Patrick ground out. "What ails the lass? I thought you said Owen promised not to abuse her with added tasks. I know she left the hall early every night. I followed her to her chamber door myself."

MacInness agreed with the warrior. "She did leave the hall early every night."

"Well then, what is wrong with her?" Patrick demanded.

MacInness smiled at the man's concern for their mistress. "I've just spoken with Sara. It appears Owen and his lady had threatened to beat Sara if the extra jobs they assigned were not done to their satisfaction. Apparently, our new mistress snuck out of her chamber in the middle of the night to finish whatever task remained undone."

Patrick appeared thoughtful. "'Tis a loyal woman Garrick is getting. I hope he values her as he should."

"Weel now, we'll just have to see that he does. Ye ken?"

"Aye, you soft-hearted Scot."

*

MacInness lifted the exhausted woman and settled her in his arms atop his own mount. There was no way around it; he'd have to carry her all the way to Merewood. The journey would be twice as long if they fashioned a litter to pull behind them, or if they used a wagon. Besides 'twas too dark to watch over her. His new overlord would not forgive him if his lady came to harm on their journey. Nay, he qualified. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to his mistress.

Giving the signal to ride, a raised fist, MacInness and his Irish Contingent rode away from their past without regret. The future, still a rosy glow on the horizon, held the promise of a better life for them all.

"Garrick," Jillian whispered snuggling against MacInness's chest.

MacInness stiffened only just now realizing how he truly felt about her. Looking down he saw that her eyes were closed. He hesitated; in her present state, she'd probably never realize that it was not her future husband that held her close. A branch reached out to snap in her face. He brushed it aside. "Aye, dear lady?"

"I was afraid you would change your mind," she confessed to the broad chest she leaned against. "I'm clumsy…I daydream," she further admitted. "Lady Haldana oft complained… 'specially about my mother's gifts," she added sleepily.

Confused, MacInness prodded her to explain. "Gifts, lass?"

"Mmmm, my mother's."

He wondered if she feigned sleep. "But what are these gifts mistr—dear lady?" He almost slipped and gave away the necessary deception.

"My mother had the most glorious auburn hair… true beauty… not me." Jillian sighed and frowned in her sleep. "Haldana is right…I am coarse…ugly."

MacInness wished he had the lady's lying white throat in his grasp; he'd strangle the old harpy.

Settling closer against the man holding her, Jillian breathed deeply, "I'll work hard… you'll not be ashamed of your home. I'll take good care of you. Don't send me back, please?"

The exasperating woman fell back into a deep slumber with her questions unanswered. As they rode on, MacInness thought about all she had said. He knew about the beatings and diverted attention away from the lass as often as possible, but knew she was at Haldana's mercy whenever he was away from the keep.

Should he tell Garrick about their strange conversation? He sighed. On the off chance that Lady Jillian remembered it, he'd have to.

"MacInness?" Sean called out, riding back from his position in the lead.

He saw the concern on the other knight's face and instinctively tightened his hold on his mistress. "Is there trouble?"

The warrior shook his head. "The keep is just beyond that stand of trees. You can see it on the rise." Sean's face looked bleak as he added, "'Tis naught but a shell of a home."

MacInness knew the state of Merewood Keep, but hadn't confided such in his men. "We've five more strong backs and willin' arms," he said slowly. "It wilna be long until it's put to right."

He had taken a chance that his men would rally around him upon first glance at the keep and question him later. He began to dread what they would have to say.

Sean rode back to the front, taking the lead position and hailed the guard posted atop the new stone wall. Raising his right fist, as MacInness instructed, he then touched it to his heart.

The silent party rode ahead through Merewood Keep's new gates, ready to embrace their future.