Bryan gazed at the fortress. The sixth sense that had saved him more than once in battle bade him to be cautious. “Something is amiss. The woman yielded, but I have no idea who actually wields the power, her or Carleton.” Bryan calmed his horse as they awaited the slow progress of the lowering drawbridge. The countess should not have yielded without a fight and until he knew why she had, he would assume the worst.
The gate finally stopped its ascent. With a last caution to Adam and Thomas, Bryan led the way. The horses' hooves clomped upon the wooden bridge that spanned the ditch and they entered a courtyard. Bryan halted his horse while half a dozen men formed a defensive position around him. Each man faced his mount outward like the spokes of a wheel, three on each side. In short order and without resistance, the rest of Bryan's well-disciplined troops disarmed Homelea's defenders and secured the castle.
Thus assured, Bryan dismissed his guards and gave his attention to the question of who was in command. Bryan couldn't help the satisfied grin that creased his face at the sight of Rodney, held in the tight grip of two burly men at arms on the other side of the small bailey. An older man, the household steward by the quality of his clothing, stood next to them.
Bryan urged his horse forward and halted in front of Rodney. “Lord Carleton, why has the countess restrained you like a common thief?”
Carleton glared at him, dried blood marring his aristocratic nose. Someone had taken offense at Rodney. Bryan would like to hear more about the fight but it would have to wait until later. For now, he must deal with Carleton.
“Come, Sir Rodney, you've never been at a loss for words.”
The nobleman drew himself up, not easy to do with a large man hanging on each arm, Bryan noted. Still, Rodney was always one to put up a good pretense.
“You will regret your actions today,
Sir
Bryan,” Rodney sneered. “This castle is mine, and the countess is my betrothed.”
“Ah. And if this is so why did the lady yield to me? To Bruce?” Why had the woman abandoned her betrothed and her king? Was she fickle and untrustworthy? Bryan grew anxious to meet her and take her measure. “Did you have a lover's quarrel?”
Carleton lunged, but the guards held him fast. “She is confused, a weak vessel. She and Homelea are mine, and I will have them while you share Wallace's fate.”
Bryan dismissed Sir Rodney's threat with a wave of his hand even as he fought the images of William Wallace's execution. He would never forget, nor forgive, Carleton's part in the dishonorable affair.
“Let's see what the lady has to say.” Bryan dismounted, handing the horse's reins to his squire.
The countess emerged from the guardhouse, a young man at her side. Bryan drew in a quick breath. He'd heard it said she was comely, but even at this distance it was clear the woman was beyond comely. Tall and graceful, her curving figure was clearly visible in a modest but flattering gown. Golden hair in a thick braid drooped from the top of her head, barely held in place with a gold band.
She stumbled and the man steadied her. Was she frail? Ill? Bryan dragged his gaze from her pleasing shape to her face. As he strode toward them he realized the man had a scar across the lid and brow of one eye and a bruised face. Bryan's attention returned to the woman, and his gaze took in her pallor and swollen lip. Blood glistened from a scrape on her forehead.
By the saints, someone had struck her. Bryan spun around to glare at Carleton. The man's defiant stance and knowing look told him just who had done so. Bryan controlled his anger, willing himself not to walk over to Carleton and bloody the man's face further.
Instead, he stood before the lady. Scowling, Bryan removed his helm from his head and shoved it into the hands of the startled, one-eyed man beside her. The man defiantly shoved it back at him, and the expression on his face warned Bryan that he would defend the lady to the death.
An unarmed man defied the Black Knight. Interesting. The lady apparently provoked staunch loyalty from her retainers. Bryan raised his arm to signal his squire to take the helm, and the lady threw herself in front of the man at her side. “Nay, my laird. Do not strike him, please. I beg you, punish me. I am to blame.”
Bryan stared at them. The man seemed displeased at her defense of him, the woman desperate. Bryan's squire now stood next to him and he handed the younger man the helm. Bryan pushed back his mail hood and said, “Lady, though I question his wisdom in challenging an armed knight, I took no offense. Indeed, I applaud your man's loyalty.”
She looked astonished and disbelieving. Bryan knew he must establish some semblance of trust if they were going to accept him as a leader.
“What is your name?” he asked the man.
The young man straightened. “Fergus, my laird.”
The man looked Bryan in the eye, giving Bryan the notion that he wore his wound with a certain amount of pride. And that his lady's defense had annoyed him, made him feel less of a man. As casually as he would have addressed any soldier Bryan asked, “How did you lose the eye?”
“Lord Carleton struck me.”
“What did you do to anger him?”
“He was threatening Lady Kathryn, my laird, and I came to her defense. Which I have done today and would do again, should the need arise,” he pronounced boldly.
The two men studied each other, taking measure. Perhaps Bryan had found an ally, someone who would protect the lady with his life. Satisfied that the man's belligerence was properly motivated, Bryan nodded and said, “As I would expect you to do, Fergus.”
Bryan saw the man's shoulders relax and the woman's dawning realization that he was praising Fergus, encouraging him. “However, it would be unwise to challenge me again.”
“Aye, my laird,” Fergus said as he sketched a bow, still wary but with a show of grudging respect.
Bryan looked to the lady whose emotions played clearly on her beautiful face. She obviously had great affection for this Fergus, and her relief that the two of them settled their differences peaceably showed plainly. She dipped her head in unspoken acknowledgment, and without giving it a second thought, Bryan silently pledged himself to her protection.
BLACK BRYAN'S COAL BLACK HAIR shone in the sun, and Kathryn swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. Although his treatment of Fergus gave her hope that he would prove to be a man of honor, she didn't trust him. Sir Bryan's reputation as a fierce fighter and his unwavering loyalty to his king were renowned, and Kathryn feared he would not keep his word to her, might still consider her his enemy. She stared at the man's impassive face and prayed.
Lord, what have I done?
Fergus said nothing, leaving Kathryn to further doubt the wisdom of her decision. Afraid to move or breathe, she was determined to maintain a tight rein on her clattering emotions. The warrior's angry dark eyes, rimmed with thick black lashes, transfixed her.
Somehow she managed to step forward and say, “I am Kathryn de Lindsay, Countess of Homelea.” Sir Bryan brushed her hand lightly with his lips, and she withdrew from his touch as quickly as courtesy would permit. The man was huge and well armed with weapons.
“My lady, you are injured.”
With surprise, she noted the concern in his voice. “It is nothing, my laird. I will attend it shortly.”
His dispassionate features hid his emotions. “As you will. You were wise to allow me entrance, Lady Kathryn. You and yours are now under my protection. Robert the Bruce sends you his warmest regards.”
“King Robert is most kind to send such an esteemed knight to convey his regards and offer protection.” Kathryn nodded in Rodney's direction. “However, Lord Carleton has made the same offer on behalf of King Edward.”
The knight glanced to where Rodney stood captive, then offered her his arm as they walked toward the nobleman. “Did you take insult at the offer?”
She was considered tall for a woman yet she felt small walking beside the knight. “King Edward would betroth me to him.”
The man stopped walking, turned to face her, and frowned. “He speaks the truth, then. Your men are holding your betrothed at bay? What mischief is this?”
The coldness in his voice made her want to retreat from him, but she would not allow him to intimidate her. Because, despite her fear, Kathryn knew she must place her trust in this knight. He stood between her and Rodney here in the bailey. And she needed him to remain as a protective shield against Rodney's greed and whatever else drove him to covet Homelea. “I do not wish to marry him. I accept your offer of protection most gratefully.”
She cringed when he lightly cupped her cheek with his gloved hand to inspect the damage Rodney had inflicted, but his touch was more gentle than she expected. “I can understand your dislike of Carleton.” With quiet intensity, the knight dropped his hand to his sword hilt, bent his head to gaze directly into her eyes, and quietly vowed, “He will not harm you again. You need not fear.”
Staring into his cold, dark eyes, she trembled with apprehension. “And should I not fear you, Black Bryan?”
His expression became more formal as he straightened to his full height. “I hope I will not give you or your people reason for such concern, Lady Kathryn.”
Aye, one can hope.
But he fairly radiated male confidence and restrained power, and Kathryn thought it wise to avoid provoking him in any way. She would admonish Fergus to do the same.
Sir Bryan's expression remained unreadable. Didn't he ever smile? It would make him seem more human. Less frightening.
He said, “I have been ordered to hold this castle for Robert the Bruce, and I am inclined to deal unkindly with those who stand in the way.” He pointed toward Carleton. “He cannot stay.”
Placing herself firmly under the authority of Black Bryan, she moved to stand at his side and said, “Nor do I wish him to.” Emboldened by the presence of the formidable man standing next to her, she called to Rodney. “Lord Carleton, it seems I no longer require your company. You may go.”
At a nod from her, the guards released him, and Rodney stalked toward her. Instinctively, she stepped closer to the protection of the knight while a large blond man at arms materialized at Sir Bryan's other side.
Rodney's crimson face and clenched fists betrayed him. Wisely he halted out of range of the Scots' weapons. “Kathryn, this is outrageous. Edward will not allow a prize like Homelea to be handed to his enemy. Nor will I.” He stepped forward, but at the sound of a dozen swords leaving their scabbards he hastily retreated. Kathryn gathered her skirts, the better to run from the skirmish if necessary.
Black Bryan stepped between her and Rodney and drew his own sword. “Lucky for you I promised Lady Kathryn no bloodshed. She has made it clear you are no longer welcome. If you aren't convinced of her sincerity, let me remind you she has yielded to Bruce. To me.”
Kathryn relaxed the grip on her clothing as he closed in on Rodney, placing the point of his sword on the man's neck. “But if you ever touch her again, I'll kill you.”
The knight's resolute declaration let Kathryn know that God had chosen her champion well. Perhaps her fear of him wasn't justified.
The two men faced each other, a dark, powerful warrior and a tall, slender nobleman. Rodney repeated his earlier threat, though it was obvious who held the upper hand. “This isn't finished, Mackintosh. Beware.”
Kathryn shuddered at the hatred seething between these two. She watched as Rodney, his expression malevolent, mounted his gelding and jerked the reins so hard Kathryn winced in sympathy for the horse. Her relief at seeing Rodney cross the bridge was soon replaced with the reminder that the scowling knight remained. What now? Had she relieved herself of one cruel master only to embrace another?
She brought her gaze from the knight to the red-headed squire at his side and was startled when he winked at her and grinned. Caught off-balance by his obvious appreciation for the irony of her situation, she couldn't repress an answering smile.
Kathryn's mood lightened somewhat and she motioned to Peter and Fergus. “Please see to the needs of Sir Bryan's men and their horses.”
As Peter and the blond-haired man turned to leave, Fergus protested. “I will stay with you, my lady.”
“Yes, of course.” He would provide a welcome buffer between her and the knight who now followed her into the hall. Servants were cleaning and putting up the trestles from the funeral feast. Gesturing for the knight to have a seat, she instructed a servant to bring food and drink then sat warily across from her unwanted, but necessary guest. Fergus and the knight's squire sat nearby.
“You should have your injuries tended, my lady,” Black Bryan said.
Again, hearing his concern disconcerted her, because it seemed counter to his stoic features and what she knew about him. Bowing to the wisdom of his advice, she allowed one of the kitchen girls to wash the cuts as she studied the dark knight. At close range, Kathryn realized he might be considered handsome if he would allow his features to soften. The lilt of the highlands colored his voice when he wasn't angry.
His long wavy hair was parted in the middle, drawn back and secured with a leather lace. Not so much as a single hair dared to defy him by falling forward over his wide forehead. The only imperfection she could see was a hawklike nose that had obviously been broken at least once.
God had indeed chosen wellâformidable, unapproachableâ this warrior was an ideal champion. She would be safe in his care. But would he leave Homelea intact?
The servant finished tending Kathryn's injury and departed. Kathryn realized the man was talking and dragged her attention back to what he was saying.
“. . . you have suffered a terrible loss in the death of your father. Let me assure you, my king will see to your well being.”
After a maid placed refreshments in front of them, Sir Bryan continued. “As you may know, several lowland chieftains and members of the nobility, including your father, have refused to align themselves with the crown of Scotland.”