Lord of Dunkeathe

Then, just as abruptly as he’d entered, he was gone.

It was like the calm after a maelstrom. Or before a storm.

“My lord, I do beg your pardon,” Robert said, clearly horrified by what had just happened. “I had no idea he’d do that, none whatsoever!”

At the sight of Robert’s red, indignant face Nicholas had to turn away and look out the window again, for he felt the most unusual urge to laugh.

He noticed the maidservant was still standing by the cart. “I take it you personally didn’t invite him to join us here?”

“Absolutely not, my lord!”

“Then it’s not your fault.”

“I’ll inform him at once that he cannot remain here, my lord.”

“I didn’t say he had to leave. He’s still the only noble Scot to come, and I don’t think it would be wise to do anything that might cause him to depart before I make my final choice. The ties of blood and family go deep in this country. He may be of little importance, but he might have relatives who are, and they could stand against me if he feels insulted.”

“I haven’t heard that he has any relatives who might cause us trouble, my lord.”

“The ties between clans are complicated. I can’t remember half the clans my sister’s related to now. It would be better to take no chances, so I should at least make it appear that I’m considering his niece.”

Suddenly, the stocky Scot came rushing into the courtyard and headed straight for the maidservant.

“Riona!” he called out, waving. She waved back and hurried toward him eagerly.

God’s rood, was that young woman the thane’s niece? That woman he’d been trying not to imagine in his bed?

“So, here you are, brother. I should have guessed you’d be holed up here instead of talking to the bevy of beauties who’ve come to vie for your hand.”

Nicholas briefly closed his eyes and prayed for patience before he turned around.

His younger brother strolled into the room and threw himself into Nicholas’s chair and put his feet on the table. Like his brother, Henry was strong and well-muscled, a warrior in his prime, and now he sat smiling smugly as if he had not a care in the world.

Which was quite probably true.

“You may leave us, Robert,” Nicholas said, subduing his envy of the brother who’d never shared his struggles.

“Yes, you may leave me to bid farewell to my brother,” Henry said with a wave of his hand, “although I must say, Nicholas, I’m rather tempted to stay a few more days. I had no idea your net would gather such a fine catch. Mind you, that one with the giggle…” He shuddered and shook his head. “Not quite what I’d want to wake up to every morning.”

“I didn’t think you cared who you woke up with as long as you’d enjoyed yourself the night before.”

Henry laughed. “Well, I’d care if she was my wife, which is why you won’t find me sending out word that I’m in the market for a bride, with all and sundry welcome to come and vie for my hand. Really, brother, you make it sound like you’re nothing more than a stallion ready for breeding.”

Nicholas took two long paces and swiped his brother’s feet from the table. “Keep your muddy boots on the floor.”

Henry regarded him with annoyance. “Pardon me for not realizing you were getting so fastidious in your old age.”

“That table cost more than I made the first six months of my service with the Duc D’Aubreay. You may be able to forget when we were poor, but I don’t.”

“I don’t forget.”

“Good.”

Henry got to his feet. “So I do understand why you want a rich wife from a well-connected family.” His temper, so easily roused, was dying down, as it always did. Eventually. “God’s blood, so do I. It’s the method I question, Nicholas.”

Nicholas poured himself some wine from the silver carafe. “I see nothing wrong with having women come to me, instead of running all over the countryside trying to find a bride.”

“I suppose it does make it easier—but wouldn’t it be cheaper to go to them?”

It certainly would, but Nicholas didn’t want anyone to realize he had financial troubles, not even Henry. “It’s not the expense.” He poured wine in another goblet and handed it to his brother. “I don’t want to be long from my estate.”

Henry took a drink and looked over the rim of the goblet at Nicholas. “If this were my estate, I’d get away as often as I could. The weather alone—”

“I don’t mind the rain, especially when I have a castle in which to dry off,” Nicholas replied as he sat in his chair.

“That does make a difference, I suppose,” Henry said, leaning back against the table. “But there’s the Scots to deal with. They’re stubborn and coarse, the lot of them.”

“That’s what Marianne said before she married one of them,” Nicholas noted. “Our sister seems quite happy now.”

Henry sniffed and took another drink of Nicholas’s fine wine. “She’s a woman, and we both know women are slaves to their hearts. Would you marry a Scot?”

“I’d certainly consider a Scot if she had a large dowry and was from an important family.”

“I really think you would at that.”

Nicholas’s temper flared. “I do live in their country, and it was a Scot who gave me this estate.”

Henry put the goblet down on the large table. “You’d better be careful, or you might wind up more Scots than Norman, like Marianne. You’ve already let your hair grow long, the way they do.”

“It saves time,” Nicholas replied. “However, I doubt I’ll ever be mistaken for a Scot, whoever I marry, and as for our sister, she seems content, and I’m happy to have her husband for an ally. I need all the allies I can get in this country.”

Henry, who wore his hair in the Norman fashion, took a long drink, then wiped his lips. “Surely the woman herself should count for something.”

“Naturally,” Nicholas said as he set down his goblet. “She’ll have to be able to run a household without pestering me about expenses or petty squabbles among the servants.”

“You must want her to be pretty,” Henry said. “Or do you intend never to see her by daylight? Or candlelight? Or torchlight?”

“Of course I don’t want to marry some old hag. But as long as she’s not repulsive, her looks are immaterial to me.”

Henry didn’t hide his skepticism. “You used to be more discerning. In fact, you used to be quite fussy in that regard. Considering this is a woman you’ll have to make love to several times if you’re to have heirs, I’m surprised to hear you claim otherwise.”

“All I wanted from a whore was to slake my lust. This is different.”

“Exactly,” Henry cried triumphantly, “because presumably, she’ll also be the mother of your children. You don’t want a bunch of ugly brats, do you?”

“I want my sons to be courageous, honorable men, and my daughters honorable, demure women—as their mother should be. What they look like is less important.”

“We’ll see how serious you are about your future wife’s appearance when you make your choice,” Henry said as he pushed himself away from the table. “Now give me your hand. It’s time I was on my way if I’m to reach Dunbardee before nightfall.”