This was her chance—maybe it was her only chance. The carter would be leaving in a moment. Mary was frozen, her heart tripping wildly. She looked around. There were so many people running and milling about—but no one was looking at her. Those who were not going about their business were watching, with much laughter, the antics of the shepherd chasing his flock. She looked at the wagon. It had started to move forward. The carter cracked his whip, yelling at the oxen.
Mary did not pause. Her heart in her throat, she hoisted her skirts and scrambled into the back of the wagon.
She skinned her knees in the mad climb. She dove under the sacking, curling up, her heart banging madly, waiting for cries of discovery. She had made noise as she dove aboard; surely the carter had heard her. She was afraid to move, afraid to breathe. She closed her eyes and prayed briefly to the Virgin Mother.
Miraculously, no one whipped the sacking from her, no one hauled her by her ear from the wagon. No shouts of alarm went up. The wagon continued to roll forward.
Stephen pounded down the narrow spiral staircase. He was grim and unsmiling as he strode into the hall. Will had returned from Liddel, and if he had returned so quickly, it meant that he had undoubtedly found out his captive’s identity. He was no longer sure he wanted to learn the truth. Foreboding filled him.
Will was already at the table, quaffing wine and being served refreshments by one of the maids. Geoffrey stood near him, arms crossed, looking on. Brand, seated by Will, was asking wryly, “So what have you discovered? Is my brother’s little captive little Mairi after all? Or does she belong to some great Scottish lord?”
Will grimaced. When Stephen paused in front of him, he instantly knew that his vassal had discovered Mary’s true identity and that the discovery foretold trouble. At Stephen’s entrance, Will leapt to his feet, his eyes dark with warning. “Stephen,” he said, hesitating. “Liddel is in an uproar.”
“Speak up.”
Will swallowed. “And Malcolm Canmore is in a rage.”
Brand’s mocking smile vanished. Geoffrey stared. And Stephen was silent. Already grasping what was to come, but unable to believe it, his mind reeled. He echoed,“Malcolm Canmore?”
“She is no laird’s by-blow, I fear,” Will said grimly.
And Stephen knew the worst.“Who is she?”
“King Malcolm’s daughter.”
A stunned silence filled the hall.
As if he thought they did not understand, Will said gingerly, “You have taken the princess Mary as your prisoner, my lord.”
Stephen still reeled. For another moment he could not speak.“Malcolm’s daughter?Are you sure?”
Will nodded.
Stephen was stunned, too stunned to think clearly.Malcom’s daughter, Malcolm’s daughter—the refrain chanted in his head. He saw his brothers, equally shocked, exchange glances. “Jesu,” he said hoarsely, “what have I done?”
“His full-blooded daughter,” Will added, another blow. “She is betrothed to Doug Mackinnon, heir to the laird of Kinross. I did not linger to gain more information, but you may be certain that you have the princess. And—” Will grimaced “—’tis already known that it was you who abducted her—many locals saw the red rose.”
Stephen winced. But his mind had come to life with a vengeance. If Malcolm Canmore knew that he had his daughter, Stephen could expect to hear from him immediately. And knowing Malcolm, he had best prepare his defenses. He turned to his brothers. “She is betrothed to Kinross. How come we have not heard of this alliance before?”
Geoffrey’s gaze was sharp. “They must have gone to great ends to keep it secret.”
The brothers all looked at one another, each of them fully understanding all of the myriad political implications unfolding with the facts. Malcolm’s brother was in exile in the Hebrides. He was a legitimate contender to the Scottish throne, for any adult male kin could be nominated tanist during the King’s lifetime to succeed him. Donald Bane enjoyed extraordinary support among the people of the Hebrides—the Isle of List, of Skye, of Lewes, and along the coast in northeast Scotland. These were areas where many of the clan Mackinnon ruled. By wedding his daughter to a Mackinnon, even one not residing in the Hebrides, Malcolm was hoping to lure the rest of this powerful clan to his cause, which was well known. He wanted one of his own sons named tanist before he died.
“You have truly outdone yourself this time, brother,” Brand remarked.
Anger began to seep into Stephen’s veins. “What a fool she must think me. What a fool I have been.” It flashed through his mind that she had indeed been the victor in their battle of wills and wits. He had not been able to seduce the truth out of her, which had been his ambition when he took her to bed. He had not intended to take her virginity, yet he had, unable to stop himself from completing what he had begun.
Stephen’s anger died. He had lost that one battle, both with himself and with her, but he had hardly lost the war.For a man must pay the price for a lady’s virtue.There might yet be a way to turn this to his advantage.
“What could she have hoped to gain?” Brand asked, puzzled. “Did she really think to deceive you for any amount of time? If she had told you the truth, you would not have lain with her and you would have ransomed her back to Malcolm.”
Stephen knew that Brand thought he spoke the truth, but Stephen was not so sure. If he had discovered her identity, would he have kept his word, left her untouched and freed her? He was not a man who gave his word lightly—always before it had been inviolable. Perhaps this time the temptation the princess offered would have been far greater than he could resist—in more ways than one.
Stephen turned his thoughts to the immediate future. “Malcolm will seek vengeance.”
“He will seek your head,” Geoffrey said bluntly. “And rightly so. Apparentlyyouare the one to bring another war down about our heads, not Malcolm and not King Rufus.”
“Not necessarily,” Stephen said. A strange smile, both hard and determined, changed his expression. His eyes were narrowed, focused not on those around him, but on the distant future. The peace was so dear. It did not have to be destroyed. If he could head off Malcolm, and convince him to acquiesce, and of course, convince Rufus …
