“If you are amenable,” he continued, “we can sign the betrothal contract tomorrow.”
Amenable? For all of the gallantry and emotion in Randolph’s proposal, he might have been discussing the sale of cattle at market. Coming from one of Scotland’s most renowned knights, a man known for his courtly graces and chivalry, the proposal was almost ridiculously unromantic. Shouldn’t he be dropping down on one knee and spouting allusions to the heavens and her beauty?
Unable to resist, she found herself asking, “And what am I to receive in this bargain, my lord?”
She was mostly teasing, but he answered matter-of-factly, clearly appreciating her businesslike attitude. “You will become one of the wealthiest women in the kingdom, and gain a royal connection—as will your children. You will be chatelaine of five castles—at current count—and act in my stead when I am away. You will receive five hundred merks as part of your terce on our marriage, and on my death, you will receive the rest: one-third of our property at that time.”
Elizabeth was glad she was sitting or she might have slid to the floor. All thoughts of teasing fled. She stared at Randolph in white-faced shock. Five hundred merks was a small fortune, and one-third of their property? It was the maximum a widow might be provided, and well beyond what she could have anticipated given his vast wealth. Whether Randolph was alive or dead, she would be a very wealthy woman.
She had what she wanted: her future and that of her children’s was secure.
Seeing her expression, he gave her a wry smile. “Aye, your brother was a tough negotiator. He made sure you were well provided for—no matter what happens.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she said, still reeling.
“Yes seems somehow fitting,” he said with another half smile.
She stared up at him, the simple word sticking in her throat. She thought of Thom as she’d last seen him working at the forge, a little sweaty, face streaked with soot, wearing a simple leather apron and breeches, and more sinfully attractive than any man had a right to be. She thought of his expression as he’d cradled her face in his hand, and the way her chest had swelled until her dress felt too tight. She thought of his mouth on hers as he’d kissed her, and how her body had melted against his as if they belonged together.
I love you. I will always love you.
She pushed the memories away, reminding herself as she’d told Jo not so long ago that she wasn’t a romantic. Love alone wasn’t reason enough to marry. Duty, security, family, power, and alliances—those were what was important. She’d always seen the bigger picture. People like her just didn’t marry whomever they wanted. Her marriage had to have a purpose, and personal happiness wasn’t it.
Taking a deep breath, she looked up to face Randolph. “Yes. What else can I say, but yes.”
If he noticed the odd wording of her response, he gave no indication. He nodded. “I will inform your brother. He will be pleased. I know he is anxious to have this matter settled.”
Elizabeth was sure Jamie was. But what of Randolph, was he pleased?
She couldn’t tell from his expression—which seemed unusually unreadable—but she thought he must have something else on his mind. The siege perhaps?
With the matter decided there was nothing left to do but celebrate. The betrothal was announced at the midday meal to a resounding cheer and a steady stream of congratulations from the well-wishers who passed by the high table throughout the meal.
If the mood seemed a little subdued, Elizabeth attributed it to the season. There were only so many toasts that could be raised before the abbot during Lent—not that the king and James were letting it stop them. They, and many of the men from Randolph’s retinue, seemed intent on extending the celebration well into the evening.
Sitting at the high table between the king and her soon-to-be husband, Elizabeth plastered a brilliant smile on her face and did her best to appear as she should: happy, excited, and honored by her good fortune.
It was harder than it should have been. It would have been impossible had Thom been there. The thought of him watching her—watchingthis—made her feel like squirming.
But apparently he and the Phantoms were off somewhere again. She’d wanted to find him after she’d accepted Randolph’s proposal to tell him her decision in person before he heard it from someone else—no matter how much she dreaded hurting him again, she owed him that—but Jo said he had left the night before.
His wasn’t the only absence from the day’s festivities. Her cousin had also begged off. Izzie had claimed to be coming down with something and wanted to rest to be ready for tomorrow’s betrothal ceremony. Elizabeth hoped she was all right.
At least Joanna was here, seated beside Jamie. But Jo’s forced cheer almost made Elizabeth wish she wasn’t. Her sister-in-law’s reaction upon Elizabeth telling her the news had been a congratulatory hug that was perhaps a tad too tight and a heartfelt wish for happiness. She was clearly disappointed but not surprised. Elizabeth didn’t know whether that made her feel better or worse.
Only once had she tried to say something, but Elizabeth had quickly cut her off. “Please, Jo, this isn’t easy for me. Don’t make it harder to do what I must.”
Joanna had looked at her, no doubt read the truth in her eyes, and nodded. But Elizabeth could feel her sadness.
As the meal dragged on, she noticed that Randolph seemed unusually quiet. Their polite small talk had petered out after the third course. He smiled and laughed at the jests directed his way from the men at the table—which grew increasingly bawdy as the afternoon wore on—and raised his glass along with the others, but she couldn’t help noticing that he didn’t seem to be drinking much.
She’d assumed he wanted this match as much as her brother did. When she’d first arrived in Edinburgh, she was certain he did. But in the past week there had been a subtle shift, and for the first time it occurred to her that she might not be the only one who had needed persuading.
It was a disconcerting thought.
When she finally excused herself, pleading a need to prepare for the betrothal ceremony tomorrow morning, she knew she wasn’t imagining his relief. His insistence on walking her to the guesthouse, however, instigated a fair number of ribald remarks, which she pretended not to hear.
But her heart started to beat nervously. Was that what he intended? She thought he was merely looking for a way of escape, too. But they were as good as betrothed now, and there was one thing he’d yet to do.
