“King William will follow anon. Upon his arrival, all men here will be swearing fealty. The cost of not doing so is immediate exile.”
Peter stopped on each man as he spoke, measuring their understanding. Their averted gazes said it all. The Scots may not be intentional troublemakers except they had too much time on their hands. He could certainly take care of that little problem. “If any of you choose to follow King William into battle, I can help with your training once I am settled in the castle.”
“We are proud Scotsmen. We could not fight for a Norman,” Niall explained, speaking as the leader again.
“Well, I believe your leader, Malcolm—”
“KingMalcolm,” Niall corrected him.
Peter paused. “You are not in Scotland.”
Niall stiffened at the reminder that he was indeed within Peter’s realm of power.
“Being in England causes you a little problem, Niall.”
Peter did not seek to have enemies right from the outset. If these men could be made to see reason, they might be good allies against any of the few remaining Godwinson and Dane strongholds in the area.
“Will we be given the chance to leave without incident?” Niall stood tall and proud. Peter could definitely visualize this man leading Norman soldiers. He certainly didn’t want to break his spirit. He also could not leave him with any doubt of who controlled the area.
“I believe you have come farther south than you intended. You must be more careful from here on out. These areas are no longer in dispute. These are Norman lands along with all ofEngland.”
The lad’s face became unreadable.
“If you come to see me, I will greet you as a friend,” Peter said.
Niall exhaled and visibly relaxed. The two grasped arms above the wrists as men do in camaraderie and competition. When the lad moved to release his hold, however, Peter held fast. Their eyes met.
“If I have reason to think otherwise, I will not hesitate to kill you,” Peter said.
Niall gave the slightest nod but it was enough. Peter let loose his arm. They had an understanding.
The leader of the Scots contingent glanced once more toward the lady, now modestly covered with a wimple and loose-fitting kirtle. There was no indication of what treasures lay hidden beneath. With downcast eyes, she appeared much younger than Peter knew her to be. The eyeful he’d seen was of a well-formed, womanly body.
Niall and Lachlann helped Aldred to mount and they headed north at a slow pace. One situation handled.
“And you two? What part are you playing in all of this?”
The two exchanged looks of disbelief. The bald man spoke first. “My lord, we are men for hire, paid to see this lady to her new home.”
“And you are?”
“My name is Andrew. We don’t hold any to be our personal responsibility. Understand?”
He did indeed. They had taken pay for a job they weren’t actually seeing to. Peter wished he hadn’t noticed the sadness that passed over the woman’s face before being replaced by a look of nonchalance.
“And who hired you?”
They both pointed to Ivan. He didn’t flinch but glared back at Peter.
If this is the total of the lady’s protection, she didn’t have any. And a sincere attempt to sell this woman? He did not doubt the Scots’ story. What benefits Ivan received from her as his “ward” Peter had yet to ascertain.
The real question was whether she was she headed for the Priory as a soiled dove or a virginal sacrifice. If she left her home as a virgin, her protectors would need to see her arrive at the Priory in the same condition. And if she was a soiled dove? That didn’t mean she was to be used by those protecting her. She could even be with child. A picture of Jeanette holding an indistinct bundle in her arms flashed through his mind. His chest hurt. Perhaps at the Priory, there were ways to see a child and mother safely through delivery. He exhaled to ease the tightness.
Either way, they were passing through King William’s land and that alone gave Peter the right to step in. Fear for her safety, however, hardened Peter’s resolve. He would see her to the Priory. And he would see her safely ensconced, whatever her condition. His arrival at the castle in York would be postponed.
He was surprised to see Mort staring intently at the woman in question. He cleared his throat and turned away with feigned disinterest only to find Peter’s eyes on him. The man’s color deepened. Peter glanced toward Brighit, trying to discern the reason. Her downcast eyes. Her hair primly out of sight. Her hands demurely clasped—Peter checked himself. Two nipples, perfectly outlined against the dampening material of her gown, were now quite visible. The chemise beneath appeared to be the source of the wetness.
“So, gentlemen,” Mort’s suddenly lilting voice caught the group off guard, giving him a chance to grasp each of their shoulders and turn them back toward the fire and away from Brighit. That left Peter with Ivan and Brighit.
