In The Warrior's Bed. Mary WineЧитать онлайн книгу.
yer father.”
She lowered herself and gratefully quit the room. If she wasn’t near the king, she couldn’t say things that would upset the harmony of Red Stone for Keir. It was the honest truth that she never wanted to look at another mare, much less ride one.
But that stung because it was the only escape she had. Despair gripped her and she was out of reasons to avoid tumbling into its grasp. The guards opened the doors for her and summoned her father back into the presence of the king. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard those same doors seal behind her. But the feeling was short-lived. Staring at her was an ocean of eyes. The great hall was much quieter than it had been when they entered. Now women whispered behind their fans while they peered at her like something foul. A few smirks decorated the lips of the men, and more than one was even bold enough to wink at her.
She kept her chin level with the aid of years of practice. But she cringed when she heard one lady whisper…
“Soiled dove…”
“Ye’re a hard man, McQuade.”
James Stuart sat on his throne, making his position clear. For once McQuade didn’t shout out a denial. In fact, the man was too quiet. The laird had never been meek and it made the king suspicious.
“I need to think. Ye’ll stay at court until I give ye leave.”
“It’s winter.”
The king snorted. “Indeed. I’ve eyes that work, man. Ye are the one who decided to travel. I sent ye home only to have ye on my doorstep once more. So ye may stay, since it appears that is what ye want.”
James waved a hand. “Go. Ye have my permission to enter the great hall if ye bring yer daughter. If ye do not, ye’ll stand in the outer reception room. Mark my words, man, ye had better be there when I summon ye.”
McQuade opened his mouth but shut it when the royal guard pulled their swords partially free from their scabbards. He bowed low and quit the room. The sight of his daughter staring at the faces of James’s Court quickened his step. Setting a brisk pace, he strode down the center of the crowed hall. Many that they passed tugged on their hats, while the women curtsied in respect for his position. Aye, he was the laird of a large clan. A man to be feared and respected. Truly, he didn’t care how that respect came to him, only that it was presented in a timely manner.
He was the McQuade.
Her father’s town home was closed up for the winter like so many of the noble houses. The servants looked shocked to see their laird returning so soon. They quickly removed cloths from the furniture that had been draped over the upholstery to keep it free of dust. Lamps were brought in to light the entry hall while a few maids hastily tucked their linen caps onto their heads.
“Take yerself out of my sight, Daughter.”
Bronwyn had never been so happy to obey her father. He gestured to a younger maid. “Put her in the small room.”
“Um…yes, my laird.” The girl dropped an unbalanced curtsy. She looked confused by her instructions but didn’t waste any time picking up a candle and leading the way towards the foot of the stairs.
Bronwyn followed the maid to the second floor. There was one more above it but the maid led her into a small room at the back of the hallway. The girl snuck several looks at her from beneath lowered eyelashes, because she had never set foot in the house, but all knew that her father had a daughter. In most noble families, she would have been placed at court to be dangled in front of powerful nobles. All in the hope that she would marry into a family with connections. Instead of that, her father had labeled her a lightskirt in the middle of the royal court of Scotland and now sent her to the small room.
Aye, she could see how that might confuse the staff. She didn’t know what to think of it herself.
The chamber was very small and didn’t even have a fireplace. One small window had a shutter that slid open and closed. The maid used the candle in her hand to light the wick of a lamp sitting on the single table in the room. With a silent nod the girl left.
The bed was rolled into a tight bundle to keep it clean. A chest sat under the window. Lifting the lid, Bronwyn found the bedding. Making the bed gave her hands something to do while her mind was still stunned.
Soiled…
Never had she believed that a single word might actually hurt. She’d heard it whispered over and over until it felt like it was being chanted at a deafening volume.
She was not soiled…
She ached to scream that truth from the rooftops, but who would believe her? Who, indeed, when her own father had stood in the great hall and called her slut?
Tears burned her eyes but she wiped them away with an angry hand. Her sire was not worthy of her heartache. She refused to grant him her tears. Finished dressing the bed, she turned to removing her clothing. The table was bare save for the lamp, all of the other things locked away when the laird left the house for the winter.
At least there was a door. Some homes did not have hallways yet. It was a newer fashion that allowed guests to get to their chambers without passing through the ones in front of it.
When she was stripped down to her chemise, she snuffed the candle. At least the room was so small that she dinna need to worry about finding the bed. With no fire it was cold. Her feet felt like ice on the wooden floor. Turning back around, she felt for her skirt and found it. Tossing the cartridge pleated wool garment over the top of the bed, she crawled beneath the blankets. Her skirt might help keep the chill away from her skin but there was no way to stop the ice that formed over her heart.
Soiled, she was not, but it was the truth that she wished she were so that her father might feel the same shame he’d heaped on her.
Erik McQuade eyed his sons.
“Ye think me too harsh.”
Liam didn’t look at him but Sodac did. Indecision flickered in his eyes.
“Land is the only thing that truly makes a man wealthy. Never allow it to slip out of yer grasp. Always marry for it. Money can be generated from yer tenants.” He paused for a moment, making sure they were not overheard by any nosy servants. “Listen, my sons, the inheritance that ye shall have is better than the one I got from my own father. I’ve worked too hard to see any land leave the McQuade name. She is one woman, made to service the needs of men. The fact that she is my daughter doesna change that.”
His sons nodded their agreement. Liam spoke quietly. “But was it necessary to blacken her name publicly?”
“Aye, it was. Now Jamie will no press me to see Bronwyn wed. The land that is her dowry was legally bound to her mother and any female offspring she had by royal power. It cannot be broken. Bronwyn must never marry or we lose that land. ’Tis no different than what I expect from each of ye. Strength and endurance. I’ve had too many offers for her this year.”
McQuade snorted. “But she’s a female and I wouldn’t expect her to have the endurance to remain in her maiden’s bed without help from me. Women are weak creatures. They will seek a lover in the dead of night when they’re ripe for breeding. That’s why I’ve made it plain that no man wearing McQuade colors is to even look at my daughter. If she births a daughter, that land will pass to the whelp, bastard or not.”
His sons remained silent, but their faces told him they were no longer feeling the pinch of guilt. He had long ago killed any kind emotions stirred up by his daughter. He’d married her mother for the land she brought with her noble name only to discover that it was bound to her female descendants after her death. He’d consulted some of the best legal minds in the country and they all agreed that the will could not be broken. Even though it was rare, females descended from royal blood sometimes came with inheritances that were bound to their female offspring.
So Bronwyn could never marry. If she remained unwed, the land would become McQuade property. Calling her slut in the open court would see to the end of most of the offers