Elizabeth held his gaze for a moment. She’d always wondered what had happened between her brother and Jo a few years back—right around the time Thom had left—but from the bits and pieces she’d picked up over the years, she had a fairly good idea.
Perhaps her brother would understand about compromising and touching more than she realized. Not that she’d chance confiding in him. Thom might not have compromised her, but she doubted Jamie would consider the distinction enough to prevent him from killing him.
“I should still kill him,” Jamie said, echoing her thoughts. “I told him to stay away from you. He has no business confusing you.”
“He has asked me to marry him.”
Jamie exploded off the bench beside her. “That overreaching bastard. He had no right! I told him I would never sanction a match between you.”
Elizabeth grabbed his wrist, stopping him from probably fetching his sword and going after him. “Even if I loved him?”
He stilled. “It isn’t enough, El.”
“It was for you and Jo.”
“This is nothing like Jo and me. Thom is the son of a smith. No matter how high he climbs in Bruce’s army, he can’t change that. Nothing will ever make him suitable for you.Nothing. Christ, by comparison Jo is a princess, and you’ve seen how difficult it has been. You’ve seen the derision, the scorn, and heard the comments. People like us marrying beneath us... it offends the community’s sense of place. Of right and wrong. Of honor and duty.”
“And do you regret it?”
He didn’t hesitate an instant. “Not for a minute. But make no mistake: the situations are not the same. Joanna was the daughter of a baron, and I am the Lord of Douglas—powerful in my own right with the ability to make myself more powerful with my place in the king’s army. The match with Thom will not just be seen as ‘unfortunate,’ it will be seen as an embarrassment—as something shameful. He will never be accepted. Many of the people who welcomed you into their homes will no longer wish to socialize with you.” Seeing her expression, he softened his tone. “I’m not saying this to hurt you, I’m trying to protect you. Right or wrong, I want to make sure you know exactly how it would be, what your life would be like if you marry so far beneath you. I cannot in good faith condone such a match. Without a tocher or land of his own, how will you live? I’d wager MacGowan doesn’t have more than a few pounds to his name right now. Will you go back and live in Douglas with his father?”
Elizabeth wished she could say she didn’t blanch, but she did. She remembered the small, dark house she’d visited all those years ago. The soot-stained wattle-and-daub walls, the rush-covered floors, the clothes strewn all about, the dirty dishes...
“I don’t need to tell you that there is nothing romantic about poverty—you’ve experienced it for yourself. How long do you think your love will last when instead of running a castle—a dozen castles—you are cooking, cleaning, and counting every penny?” She thought of the bags of coins she had hidden—counted pennies—and her stomach knotted. “Maybe MacGowan will become a knight, and earn some land along the way, maybe you’ll be able to afford a couple of servants in a few years. But it won’t be easy.”
She knew that. She’d been there before. Poor, shunned, and... miserable.
He gathered her hands in his and gave them a squeeze, undaunted by her continued silence. “I know you, El. You love the excitement of court, being surrounded by educated, accomplished people, the bustle of the cities and big castles, and all the luxuries of wealth because you know what it is like to be without them. Can you see MacGowan at a salon in Paris or sitting at the king’s table during a feast in one of the royal castles? He doesn’t even speak the same language.” French was the language of the nobles. “Being tucked away in a small village somewhere will kill you. Is that what you want?” He let the question linger for a moment. “Randolph will give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Do you really want to risk that for an uncertain future with MacGowan?”
The picture he painted had tapped into her darkest fears. Could she be happy like that? Would his love be enough?
It might...
Perhaps sensing her hesitation, Jamie dove in for the kill. He wielded the one blade that focused everything into sharp reality. “What about children, El? What kind of life would you want for them?”
Children? Elizabeth stared at him in horror. She hadn’t thought about children.
Or maybe she hadn’t wanted to think about them.
All of a sudden she felt ill. Jamie’s question unknowingly evoked painful memories. Memories of those dark days when no one would help them.
It must have been so difficult for her stepmother, alone with three children to protect—two of them barely more than babes—but she’d hid it so well. The formidable Lady Eleanor, who throughout their difficulties had never showed a hint of fear or vulnerability, had seemed the strongest person Elizabeth knew.
But even her seemingly indestructible stepmother had been broken by Hugh’s cries of hunger. Elizabeth would never forget seeing Lady Eleanor’s tears and worse, her helplessness and fear in the face of her baby’s empty stomach. She’d given up, and were it not for the bag of coins provided by the abbess that took them to her uncle at Bonkyl, they would have ended up in an almshouse.
A baby. Children. How could Elizabeth best protect them? What duty did she have to them?
She looked up at Jamie wordlessly, her heart feeling as if it was being squeezed in a vise. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but there had only ever been one answer.
21
THE NEXT DAYwhen Randolph came to her with his proposal, Elizabeth accepted. The stark contrast between Thom’s heartfelt offer and Randolph’s businesslike one perhaps made it easier to bear. There was no confusion; she knew exactly what she was doing. This wasn’t romance, this was duty, security, and advancement. The things she’d always wanted.
Jamie had sent for her just before the midday meal. He was in the abbot’s private solar with Randolph, but as soon as she arrived, he left.
After offering her a seat on a bench, Randolph began in a formal, no-nonsense tone she’d never heard from him before. “Lady Elizabeth, I am sure it comes as no surprise that your brother and I have been discussing the possibility of an alliance between our families. As you know, my uncle has bestowed many new lands on me of late, and it is well past time that I had a wife to help me run them and to sit beside me at the high table.” He gave her a small smile, as if the concession to the impending doom of his bachelorhood should please her. “Your brother assures me that you have been trained well in your duties, and everything that I have seen bears this out. You are undoubtedly the most beautiful woman at court, charming, and will be an asset to my career and future. I can think of no reason why we will not suit.” She frowned. Had he been looking for one? “With your brother poised to hold much of southern Scotland, and my holdings in the north and midlands, the connection between our families will create a formidable alliance. Your brother has provided a generous tocher, with which I am very pleased. Indeed, all the important details in the betrothal contract have been worked out.”
All the important details but one, she thought wryly. Namely the minor little matter of her agreement. But why shouldn’t he take that for granted? Only a fool would refuse him, and he knew it.
