Chapter Fourteen

“I thought the Douglas contracted the girl to the Gordons.” Ruben paced back and forth in front of his father’s desk. Supper had been impossibly long while he waited to get behind a closed door to speak with his father.

His father chackled. “It seems I am not the feeblest between us. Old laird Gordon saw eleven on the letter and thought the girl was seventeen!”

Ruben stopped pacing for a moment. “She is far too young to wed.”

“Agreed.” His father grunted. “The little lass will be a good companion for yer sister.”

Ruben still felt every inch of himself resisting any sort of agreement to keeping Neilina in the Lindsey stronghold. “Ye told me that match was broken father. That I was no longer bound.”

“Ye bedded Sabine.”

Ruben snapped his attention back to his father. Oisin was grinning from ear to ear. “Aye, ye did. I can read it off yer face, even if I did nae see the stricken way the lass appeared when she met young Neilina.”

“Father, I care for Sabine. I would nae have bedded her if I were bound to another.”

Oisin shook his head. “Sabine is a fine May queen. You did well to bring her here. The Lindseys needed hope.”

“And Neilina?” Ruben asked. “Will ye return her to her father?”

His father narrowed his eyes. “Ye are me son, Ruben. The weight of the clan has always been upon yer shoulders.”

“I know it, father.”

Oisin nodded approvingly. “The Lindseys need this. This season. Sabine will provide that hope. When she conceives, we’ll have a fine handfasting. Just in time for St. John’s Day, I think.”

“Sabine is worthy of more,” Ruben argued.

“The coffers are empty, as ye well know.” Oisin shook his head. “Neilina has a fine dowry. And do nae forget that the girl is a Douglas. Neilina will be yer wife when she is grown. Sabine will prove yer virility so that if Neilina does nae conceive, we shall know the cause is not with ye. A fine arrangement.”

It was logical. His marriage was one that would be measured on paper, not in his heart. Ruben still bristled.

His father let out a sigh. “Such a thing matters, Ruben. I have only two children because I did not handfast when yer birth was so very hard on yer mother. She was a good woman but too narrow in the hips. Nature is nae kind. No man knows how many years he shall see. Ye must secure the Lindsey line now. It is my failing to contract ye to a bride too young for celebrating yer nuptials.”

“Sabine should not pay the price with her reputation,” Ruben persisted.

His father raised an eyebrow. “Did ye force the lass?”

Ruben drew himself up. “Nae not.”

His father continued to eye him. “Did ye seduce her through trickery?”

Ruben shook his head.

“Well then, it seems the pair of ye should be seeking my blessing for a handfasting,” his father informed him firmly. “As for Neilina, ye knew of that contract too.”

“Ye told me it was broken,” Ruben insisted. “I would not have touched Sabine if I thought myself contracted.”

“Aye, yet the girl is here.” Oisin wasn’t relenting. “It is better for the Lindseys to have ye keep both lasses.”

Better for the Lindseys.

That was the reality of business. Emotions had no weight. But at that moment, all Ruben wanted to do was give into his feelings for Sabine; however, that was precisely how they had landed in a situation where he needed his father’s permission to handfast with her.

Ruben tugged on his cap and left the study before he argued further. He knew that impulsive actions often had consequences. But nothing had prepared him for how much more it hurt to see someone he loved to suffer for his lapse in judgment.

*

Ruben had a bride.

Of course he had a bride.

Responsible parents made sure their children had secure futures. Being an obedient child was really in one’s own best interest.

She’d strayed.

Sabine lay on the pallet in the storeroom, staring up at the stone ceiling.

She still wasn’t repentant.

No, what she was, was resentful. Sabine fisted her fingers in the blanket and truly wished she might scream out her frustration.

What would be the point of having a fit?

The answer came to her while she stared at the ceiling. What she craved was Ruben’s attention. She wanted him to come and tell her that there was no reason to worry. Somehow lying in his embrace had convinced her that there was no reason to even think about what would happen when their tryst ended.

How foolish she’d been.

He’d soothe her…

She felt certain of it, but that only caused the tears to trickle down the sides of her face because she knew she couldn’t ask him to choose her over his duty.

How could she place such a strain upon him? How could she ask him to tarnish his honor for her sake?

Without a doubt she knew that she loved him. Astonishment held her in its grip while she searched her thoughts, trying to decide just when she’d developed such strong feelings for him.

Did it matter?

Love was one of those things that simply happened. Her mother had warned her to wait for her wedding day to meet any men because a woman’s heart was fickle. Love came unexpectedly into the heart.

And now Sabine knew the truth of that warning. Ruben was solidly inside her heart. It was an incredible feeling. One she had no control over.

Just as she had no control over who Ruben was contracted to marry. He was bound by his honor to marry Neilina. That wide-eyed child who had sat at the supper table looking forlorn and so very lost. Sabine understood what it was to be away from home and on her own.

She would have to leave.

The certainty of that thought was like a dagger going straight through her heart. Tears flowed freely from her eyes, but she knew that she could not ever be the cause of Ruben faltering. She wouldn’t be the one to tarnish his honor. But the only way to ensure she did not tempt him away from his duty would be to leave.

So she would. No matter how painful it was.

*

“It looks as though ye are planning on leaving the stronghold,” Arland muttered with more than a hint of reprimand in his tone.

Ruben nodded. “Ye might notice I’ve sought ye out before going.”

“I did.” Arland waited for Ruben to explain.

“Sabine said she went into the river to escape. I am going into the village to see what I hear over the cider and ale,” Ruben said. He’d changed out of his Lindsey tartan. Putting on a drab length of wool instead.

Arland’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll ride with ye.”

Ruben nodded. “Guild or no, I will not tolerate an attack on my woman.”

Ruben knew he was saying something that could not be taken back. He watched Arland’s face, waiting to see the impact of his words. The crusty captain made a sound in the back of his throat and then one side of his mouth rose into what qualified as a grin for Arland.

“She’s a fine little lass,” Arland muttered. “If one of those tailors treated her poorly, I want to know just who it was. We do nae need that sort of thing on Lindsey land. I’ll change me kilt.”

Ruben enjoyed the moment. He hadn’t been certain just how Arland would react to his intention. Sabine had managed to win the captain over. Satisfaction warmed him but it was short lived. Someone had tried to kill her.

Whoever it was, Ruben intended to make sure he learned just how bad an error he had made.

*

“Laird Lindsey wants to see ye.”

Morven delivered the news. The head of house appeared stern. Her feathers as tight as the day Sabine had met her.

Of course. Neilina would be the mistress of the stronghold one day. The staff wouldn’t want to give the girl any reason to believe they had served Sabine. The girl was young but once she grew, her mother would make sure she was taught to push anyone off of the place that was hers.

Ruben would be expected to choose his wife.

It would be best to see to departing quickly. She’d been restless throughout the night because her mind refused to accept the reality of her situation. She wanted to believe in that fable of May morning, and she had embraced it, but now it was well and truly over.

Sleeping in the storeroom was certainly proof of that. Ruben had not come for her because he understood it too. The only choice she had left was to leave with her dignity intact or make a fool of herself by pleading at Ruben’s feet. It would seem that Ruben’s father was planning on sending her on her way before his son might weaken.

It was for the best.

She sniffed, blinking back tears.

Sabine dressed in her somber dress. She made sure to tie her partlet beneath her arms so that the square garment covered her cleavage. The collar had several hooks and eyes used to close it up to her throat. At last, she picked up her modesty cap. She smoothed her hair back so that when she put it on, not a single strand showed.

May morning was well past. Sabine would have to fade into the past as well.

Morven was waiting in the passageway. “This way.”

A chill clung to the stone walls or maybe the cold was something she noticed more since lying in Ruben’s embrace. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away. Her situation was pitiful enough. She wouldn’t add weeping in Laird Lindsey’s study to the list.

There would be plenty of long, cold nights ahead for crying.

There was a Lindsey retainer standing outside the door of the laird’s study. He took Sabine in before he rapped on the door.

“Enter!”

The retainer opened the door for Sabine. Inside, Oisin sat behind a desk. There were letters and an account book there. The scent of warm wax wafted through the room from the sealing wax that was gently warming in a small brass bowl above a candle flame.

Sabine lowered herself into a curtsey.

“Rise.” Oisin added a gesture with his hand to get her to stand. “Ye and I have some business to attend to, mistress.”

Sabine nodded. “I shan’t be any trouble. If you would send me to where my sister, Braylin is, I will be gone without any fuss.”

Oisin frowned. “Yer sister is in Scotland?”

“Yes, she is wed to Dugan Hay. She is expecting her first child. I can be of use at Black Moss Tower,” Sabine explained.

Laird Lindsey appeared to be thinking. “Ah, aye, Cormac Hay’s bastard Dugan. I recall now. So that was yer sister Lady Alice had stolen away?”

Sabine nodded.

Laird Lindsey scoffed. “It seems it was yer fate to end up here in Scotland like yer sister.”

A fate cast by the Midnight Well…

Sabine ordered herself to focus. As with all things, there was a price to pay. Today, the cost would be her broken heart. “I thank you for the hospitality you have given me.”

“Ye will not be going to Black Moss Tower,” Laird Lindsey declared firmly.

“You…you must see that I cannot stay here and be naught more than a mistress,” Sabine stammered.

Laird Lindsey raised one of his fingers into the air. “Ye’re right about that, lass.”

Sabine should have been relieved to hear him agree with her, but that knot in her belly returned. She pressed her lips into a hard line, determined to do what was right.

“Ruben forbids me to return to my parents’ home. I fear he will follow if I go there. So Black Moss Tower it must be,” Sabine explained.

“Nasty business with those soldiers.” Oisin proved he knew what had happened. “Still, I find myself rather more welcoming to ye since I know ye are willing to put yerself at me son’s back in times of trouble.”

“I wish the best for him,” Sabine declared earnestly.

“Good.” Oisin flattened his hand on the tabletop. “I plan to test ye on that, lass. Indeed I do.”

It would be a test to leave. The hardest one she would ever have to face. Sabine drew in a deep breath. “I am ready to depart.”

Oisin’s eyes narrowed. “Did I not already tell ye that ye are to stay here? And people think I am feeble! Aw well, never mind about that. Ye are a woman in love.”

Sabine felt exposed and Oisin stared straight at her.

“Ye are the May queen, lass,” he offered after a bit. “It is a tradition going deep into the roots of this land. When ye were crowned with heather, ye took the arm of the Green Man on the way to yer coronation. Yer task is to drive away Old Man Winter. I expect ye to perform yer duty.”

Old Man Winter and the Green Man. Fables she’d heard around a winter fire that had somehow become her reality. Oisin’s eyes glittered with hope and anticipation. The English had laid waste to the Lindsey land. Leaving it stripped bare. Sabine discovered that she just didn’t have the heart to argue with Oisin and destroy his hope.

Laird Lindsey smiled when she remained silent. He rubbed his hands together. “Now, as to the matter of ye being productive here. I’ve had an idea.”

Oisin slapped the table top several times. The door opened in response. Laird Lindsey made a “come here” gesture.

“Bring them in,” Oisin ordered.

Sabine turned to see a line of people walking into the study.

“Now, I know nothing about knitting. But we gathered up some people for ye to choose among,” Oisin said. “Morven noticed that ye have long, slim fingers. These are the best fingers she could gather up.”

The line of people looked at Sabine. Some of the younger youths were hopeful while the adults contemplated her dubiously.

“What do you wish me to do with them?” Sabine asked in confusion.

“Ye are going to teach them to knit,” Oisin informed her with a gleam in his eye.

Sabine sucked in her breath. “But…I must leave.”

Laird Lindsey sent his people out of his study with another gesture. “Mistress Sabine will be out in just a wee moment. Go on down to the work rooms. Morven will show ye the place.”

Oisin had his gaze on Sabine while the line of people shuffled out of the door. He waited until it closed with a solid sound.

“Ye have a valuable skill, lass. I intend for ye to pass it on.”

“But the guild—” Sabine wasn’t finished arguing.

“Should nae have started a fight with me over the matter!” Oisin flattened his hand on the desk again. “They will not be telling me what can happen beneath me own roof!”

Sabine opened her mouth, but words failed her. She ended up closing her jaw without uttering a sound.

Laird Lindsey grunted. “Good. Ye understand this is nae just about a few knitted caps. It’s about a great deal more. The men in the village will not use murder to bring me to heel, not when the roof over their very heads was provided by my coin.” He stopped and drew in a deep breath before he tapped a box that was off to his right. “I had the carpenter make these for ye.”

Sabine ventured close enough to open the lid of the box. Inside were at least two dozen wooden knitting wires. She looked up in surprise. Oisin was waiting for her, his lips curved in a very satisfied smile.

“Ye will bring worth to this house.” His gaze lowered to her belly. “Yer new students will be sleeping in the storeroom where ye have been knitting hence forth.”

Oisin’s meaning was clear.

“But the child would be born out of wedlock,” Sabine muttered.

“This is Scotland, lass. I am looking forward to presiding over my son’s handfasting with ye. The child will have a fine place, as will ye. And the Lindseys will have the hope they very much need. It is settled. Ye are staying.”

*

Arden Preyor saw young Pol hovering outside the back door of the guild house. Seamus walked by and ruffled the boy’s hair before young Pol took off into the street.

Arden waited impatiently for Seamus to bring him the letter. Seamus was smart, though. He returned to his work without even looking toward the high ground. Arden made sure to continue working on the large account ledger open in front of him on the head table.

Every house had spies. Just as Aisling was sending word on what was happening in the Lindsey stronghold, someone in the guild house would be willing to sell information on what Arden was doing.

The laird’s son and his captain had been in the village the night before. Arden had gotten that report from several of his sources.

Now, Arden would have to be careful. The Sheriff liked the money Arden gave him but there were limits to being able to bribe the man. The knitter was English, but she was also a young lass. If the matter came to a public trial, Arden knew he risked having the bulk of the villagers turn against him.

But the letter contained ominous news.

Arden struggled to contain his anger once he read the words Aisling had sent to him.

Laird Lindsey was going to have knitting taught inside the walls of the stronghold.

Arden couldn’t allow such a thing to happen. Young lass or not, he would have to find a way to destroy the threat to his monopoly on knitting.

He must!