His Captive, His Conquest by Ashe Barker

Chapter Thirteen

“There seems to be some sort of commotion in my brother’s bailey.” Richard, Duke of Whitleigh, viewed the scene below from the window of the chamber he shared with his wife.

Frances came up beside him and leaned over the sill to see what he was watching. “That woman appears to be arguing with your brother’s guards. I wonder what the matter is.”

“I have no idea.”

“She has a baby with her.” Frances slanted a fond glance at the cradle where her own precious daughter slept. “She looks to be very distressed. Perhaps she needs help. I should go down to speak with her.”

Richard kissed her hair. “I shall go. I need to visit the stables in any case to check on Trojan. He never takes kindly to unfamiliar quarters or grooms and is likely to bite someone if not placated. I shall not be long.”

“Thank you, my darling.” Frances gently lifted the sleeping baby from her crib and cradled her to her chest. “We shall be in the solar with Katherine if I am needed.”

Twenty minutes later, his stallion safely ensconced in the meadow outside the castle walls, Richard ascended the spiral stairs leading to his brother’s solar. There, he found the two women cooing over Elizabeth, who had wakened and was clearly revelling in the attention.

Frances rose to greet him. “Is all well? Who was that woman, and what did she want?”

“She is a Scot, I think, by her manner of speech, and she wants to see my brother. Insists she has something to give to him but would not say what it was. She claims it is a private matter and whatever it is that she wants to tell him is for his ears alone.”

“I believe Stephen is inspecting the damage in the north tower,” Katherine said. “Some stones were dislodged in the winter storms. Shall I send for him?”

“I daresay whatever it is will wait until he returns.” Richard helped himself to a mug of ale. “The woman would not tell me her name, but she did give me this, and begged me to pass it on to Stephen. She said to tell him that Flora sent it.” He dug into his pocket and produced a small object which he placed on the table.

Frances picked it up and examined the tiny carved figure of an owl. “This is lovely. A gift for Stephen? How odd.”

“Did you say Flora?” Katherine rushed to the window to look outside. “Flora MacKinnon?”

“She merely told me that Flora sent the owl. I do not know which clan the woman was from, though the baby was wrapped in a plaid of some sort.”

“If it is Flora MacKinnon who has returned to Elborne, I am quite sure Stephen will wish to see her.” Katherine was already making for the door. “And without delay. I shall summon him. Your Grace, might it be possible for you to find the woman and ask her to wait in the hall?”

“The hall?” Richard was seriously interested now. “You think we should invite her inside?”

Katherine was adamant. “I do. If you would be so kind, my lord.”

* * *

“Do I know you?” Stephen eyed the strange woman seated on the bench at the end of his hall. He was surprised at the depth of his disappointment not to find Flora waiting for him.

The woman bobbed to her feet. “Are you the marquis?”

“I am. And you are?”

“My name is Matilda MacKinnon, my lord.”

“You brought this?” He balanced the carved owl on his palm. “From Flora?”

He recalled vividly the day he had accompanied his beautiful captive to the fair and purchased the item for her, because she had admired it.

“Aye. She thought you would recognise it and know that I am truly come from her.”

“I see. And you have a message for me, from Flora?”

“Aye, my lord. A message, and a gift.” The woman, Matilda, held out the infant she had been clutching to her chest, who was now starting to squall. “This is your child, my lord. Flora asks that you see to his care and protection for her, until such time as she is able to come for him.”

“My… what?” Stephen gaped at the screaming child with a mixture of horror and astonishment. And disbelief. “This is impossible.” He backed away a pace or two. “The child is not mine.”

Matilda MacKinnon was equally determined to have her say. “I know that Flora lied to you, that last day she was here. She told me so. I do not know the details of what was said, but please be in no doubt, this is your child.”

“She lied to me? But…”

“He is hungry.” The woman tried to comfort and quiet the baby. “He has not been fed since last night. I am not his mother so I cannot help. Some milk, I beg of you, my lord.”

“He is not mine,” Stephen repeated. “He cannot be.”

Katherine and Frances had followed him to the hall. Katherine now stepped forward to peer at the infant. “He does have a look of you,” she observed. “And the dates would fit.”

“I do not…” His words trailed off.

Could it be possible?

Katherine was brisk and efficient, as ever. “Whatever the circumstances, we shall not deny a hungry child the food he needs. You may go to the kitchens and tell them I sent you. There will be goat’s milk…”

“No. Let me take him.” Frances held out her hands. “I shall see to his care.”

“You, Your Grace?” Katherine could not conceal her astonishment. “But we could never—”

“I have plenty of milk,” Frances insisted, “and Elizabeth will not miss a few mouthfuls for this little one. If the child is truly my nephew, then it is right that I should help. Give him to me. Perhaps you might still like to visit the kitchens, Matilda, and seek food for yourself. You look exhausted.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Matilda relinquished her burden. “I walked all night to reach here. You will see that he is kept safe?”

“I will, I swear it.”

Frances hurried from the hall, taking the infant with her.

As soon as the high-pitched cries of hunger receded and he could hear himself think, Stephen turned to his visitor once more.

“Why did Flora not come herself?”

“She is not able to do so. She is detained at St Mary’s Abbey.”

“But she was able to send her unwanted offspring here to me, in the hope that I would take him in?”

“You must take him. You must protect him. He is yours.”

Stephen drew in a ragged breath. Flora had told him she could not be pregnant, that her courses had started the very day she had left Elborne. But there was only her word for that. He had been puzzled by the lack of other evidence, but since it was not his habit to inspect the dirty laundry, he had accepted her story. But, if she had lied, as this woman said she had…

He made up his mind.

“The child will be cared for here, and until such time as I know differently, I am prepared to accept your word and Flora’s as to his parentage. But you may tell Flora MacKinnon that she should not imagine she can simply dump the boy on me, then saunter back when it pleases her to take him away again. If he is mine, and I believe you when you tell me that he is, then his place will be with me. For good.”

“But, my lord, I—”

“Those are my terms.” He set his jaw and glowered at the woman. “You may take them or leave them.”

There was a brief moment of hesitation, then, “I… I accept, on Flora’s behalf.”

Stephen nodded, his expression grim. “Go and find something to eat. You are welcome to remain here as long as you wish. Take your rest and do not worry yourself any more about the boy. He is in safe hands now.”

“Well, your reluctance to wed Katherine makes some sort of sense now. Who is this Flora?” Richard leaned against the fireplace, his arms folded and his expression inscrutable.

“She is… was… a prisoner who was here last summer.”

Richard raised his eyebrow. “A prisoner, who left your custody carrying your child.”

Put like that, Stephen did not much care for the sound of it. “The situation was… complicated.”

“Forgive me if I appear obtuse, but it does not sound overly complicated to me. She was your captive, and you fucked her.”

“Yes.”

“You forced her?”

Stephen leapt to his feet. “No, I damned well did not. I stripped her, I admit, and I took a switch to her, because she bit me…”

“She bit you? Sounds like a sensible woman to me.”

Stephen ignored the jibe. “She was here for about three weeks. I only learned just before she left that she was in fact the daughter of the Earl of Roxburghe.”

“The chief of the entire MacKinnon clan?”

“The very same. We became… close.”

“As I said, you fucked her. An earl’s daughter?”

“She shared my bed, it is true. I offered to wed her, when I discovered her identity, but she was not especially keen on the idea.”

“I cannot even start to imagine why!” Richard glared at him. “And the result of this liaison is now upstairs, in my chamber, suckling on my wife.”

“It was most generous of Frances to offer to help.”

“God’s bones, brother, do you love this earl’s daughter? This Flora MacKinnon?”

Stephen shook his head. “She was here but a couple of weeks. How could I love her?”

“Now who is being obtuse? Stephen, you must—”

His brother’s homily was mercifully halted when Frances joined them in the solar. Stephen offered up a prayer of thanks for the interruption.

“Is the lad all right? In good health?” Suddenly, it was imperative that he know.

Frances sent him a reassuring smile. “He is. He is a strong little fellow, but he was exceptionally hungry. We may need to find a wet nurse.”

Katherine followed her into the chamber. “There is a woman in the village. I shall send for her.”

“Excellent. But…” Frances clearly had more to say. “He is very young.”

“Yes. He is a baby.” Stephen considered this to be perfectly obvious.

“The cord is still attached,” Frances continued.

“Oh? Is this significant?” Stephen’s knowledge of infants was scant at best.

Richard, apparently, grasped what his wife was trying to say. “How young, sweetheart?”

Frances met Stephen’s perplexed gaze. “Less than a day, I would say.”

He gaped at his sister by marriage. Stephen had considered Flora uncaring enough when he imagined she had given up her young baby, but to relinquish a newborn, within hours, even minutes of his birth. This was beyond heartless.

“What was she thinking of?” he breathed.

“We cannot know, but perhaps her friend could explain,” Katherine suggested.

“I shall go and find her.” Richard strode from the chamber.

“Wait. I shall come with you.” Frances hurried after him.

A few minutes later, Frances returned, alone.

“Matilda MacKinnon has gone,” she announced.

Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“She has left Elborne. Apparently, she went to the kitchens and was given bread and some honey. She took it with her, along with a couple of apples, and left the castle soon after. Richard checked with the guards at the drawbridge, who confirmed she passed them about an hour ago.”

“But she was exhausted,” Katherine said. “She had been walking all night. Surely, she would have wished to rest for a while.”

“She was clearly in something of a hurry,” Frances concluded. “Perhaps she was anxious to return to Flora, especially since she must have given birth very recently.”

“I do not much like the sound of this.” Stephen paced the chamber. “If we are right, then Flora has handed her baby over almost the very moment he was born. And rather than tending to her, her friend has left with all haste to bring the infant here, only to rush back at the first opportunity.”

Katherine wrung her hands. “I did not know Flora as well as you did, but she did not seem to me to be the sort of woman who would abandon her child. Or give him up willingly.”

“Yes,” Stephen replied. “I agree. There is something not right here.”

“I think…”

Stephen did not hear the rest of whatever Katherine was about to say. He was already taking the steps two at a time. He broke into a run when he reached his hall and sprinted to the stables for his horse.

“What are you doing?” He found Richard already there, leading Hades from his stall.

“Saddling your horse. I assume we will be going to St Mary’s Abbey.”

“I… there is no need for you to come.”

“Ballocks,” was his brother’s reply. “You may need moral support. At the very least, you will require company and an escort. St Mary’s is in Scotland, is it not? I am told the Scots are not exactly friendly.”

“Thank you. I… I appreciate this.”

Richard slapped him between the shoulder blades. “Come on, we need to make haste. I took the liberty of instructing your Harry Fairclough to assemble a small group of men to accompany us. Just in case.”

They left Elborne at a canter, and Stephen urged his stallion into a gallop as soon as they cleared the castle grounds. His brother and the half dozen guards matched his pace. Within a half hour, they spotted a lone figure hurrying along in front of them.

“Look. Is that her? The MacKinnon woman?” Stephen reined in his mount and scanned the road ahead.

“Looks like her,” Richard agreed. “And we were right. She is heading towards St Mary’s Abbey.”

Stephen dug his heels into Hades’ flanks, and the animal surged forward. Moments later, he came up alongside the startled Scottish woman.

“My lord? Is something amiss? I was free to leave, was I not?” She scurried back, well away from the stallion’s vicious-looking hooves.

“Where are you going? And why are you in such a hurry?”

“Please, you must let me be on my way. Flora needs me, at St Mary’s. She has no one to tend her.”

“How so? Is the place not full to the rafters of nuns? Is it not their role to care for the sick?”

Matilda MacKinnon uttered an oath, her mouth thinning. “The abbey is led by Mother Immaculata, who is vindictive and cruel. She hates Flora. There will be no care, no compassion to be had from the nuns there.”

“But Flora is the daughter of the Earl of Roxburghe. Surely, she would be tended in a manner appropriate to her rank. Why did she not give birth at Roxburghe Castle?”

“The earl is… not himself. He is ill, and he did not take kindly to the news that Flora was to bear a child, especially not…”

“Not a child fathered by the Marquis of Otterburn?” Stephen surmised. “So, she was banished to St Mary’s?”

“Quite so, my lord. But it is worse than that.”

Stephen reached down for Matilda’s hand. “You may tell me the rest as we ride. I mean to see for myself what is happening at St Mary’s Abbey.”

The distance to St Mary’s was mercifully short, just across the border and only ten miles from Elborne. By the time they arrived at the great iron gates, Stephen had heard all that Matilda could tell him of Flora’s plight.

“Dear God, why did she not send word to me before this? I would have aided her. She must know that.”

“I do not think she did know, my lord. She is aware of your marriage, and—”

“Fuck,” he muttered, reining in his stallion. “I told her I was not betrothed.”

“And she told you she was not pregnant,” Richard observed as he dismounted. “It seems to me that you both have much to resolve.”

Stephen handed Matilda down to the ground, then swung from the saddle. “Let us see how matters stand, shall we?” He grabbed the stout rope which dangled from the bell and tugged on it.

The elderly nun who appeared and glared at them through the gate did not give Stephen the impression that the abbey was in any way pleased to welcome visitors. She seemed particularly vexed to see Matilda.

“Oh. ’Tis you. You need not think you will be permitted to enter these walls again. Deceitful, godless hussy. You will burn in Hell, along with the other one. The Almighty will not be gainsaid in His justice and mercy.”

“And neither will I.” Stephen eased Matilda behind him. “I am the Marquis of Otterburn and this is my brother, the Duke of Whitleigh. We demand entry, at once.”

“You may not enter. This is God’s house, and—”

“Open the bloody gates or we shall remove them,” was Richard’s contribution to the discussion.

“How dare you.” The nun’s features took on a distinctly crimson hue, and Stephen believed he saw spittle forming at her lips. “Go back to whatever pit you crawled from. You are nothing but fornicators and…”

“Sister Gabriel, we need to see Flora. We need to know that she is well…” Matilda stepped forward again, clearly of the opinion that this woman could be reasoned with.

“Go. Be gone. The blessed Lady Abbess has given strict instructions, and I—”

“Take an axe to the hinges.” Stephen beckoned his men forward and folded his arms to observe their progress.

Harry Fairclough and two brawny guards were more than willing to oblige. Within a half dozen strokes the gate dangled from the post, swinging crazily on one edge. Stephen kicked it aside and strode past the enraged guardian of the portal, his brother and his soldiers at his heels.

“Which way?” he asked Matilda.

“Stop. You may not pass.”

Sister Gabriel was nothing if not tenacious. She rushed to overtake the invaders, but Stephen brushed her aside. He was not a man who would normally raise his hand to a woman, let alone a nun, but he was coming perilously close.

“Step aside, or I will ensure that you do,” he growled.

“I shall not. I—”

Stephen was spared the bother of pressing his point, because Matilda chose that moment to punch the woman on the jaw.

“I have been hoping I might get a chance to do that,” she declared. “This way, my lord.”

Her adversary was reduced to sprawling among the abbey’s cabbage crop, yowling, calling down the wrath of the Almighty upon them all and clutching her injured chin.

“Along here. Flora’s chamber is at the end.” Matilda led them through the abbey’s living quarters to the rooms reserved for honoured guests. They were rarely used, but Mother Immaculata had been left with no choice but to afford such dignity to Flora. “Here. This one.”

She halted at a solid oak door and grasped the handle.

The door swung open. Several startled faces turned to regard the intruders.

“Dear sweet Jesu. Flora!” Matilda darted forward to the bed, where the still, pallid form lay.

We are too late.

Stephen’s heart lurched. He should have come sooner. Much, much sooner.

“She lives,” Matilda whispered. “But she is so weak.” She rounded on the nuns who still remained on their knees around the bed. “Why are you not tending her? Helping her?”

One of the unholy sisters got to her feet. “It is the will of God. He will punish all sinners according to His holy law. There is no earthly help for those who offend against the Almighty. You will leave now. All of you.”

“Mother Immaculata, I presume?” Stephen joined Matilda at the bedside. “Dear God, what has happened here?”

“It is the Lord’s will that this woman should pay the price for her corruption and iniquity,” the abbess replied haughtily. “The wages of sin will be death. It is written—”

“By all that its holy, be silent.” Richard joined his brother at the bedside. “’Tis the birthing sickness. I have seen this before. There was a woman at Whitleigh… Frances and Betsy Tinker nursed her, and she survived.”

“Frances is not here,” Stephen replied. “Nor Betsy Tinker. What can we do?”

“There is nothing to be done apart from pray for her soul, pray that the dear Lord might see fit to—”

Stephen rounded on the pious abbess. “This is not the will of God. It is the evil act of a vile old crone and her equally deluded and vindictive followers. Cease your prattling before I fling the lot of you bodily from the window.”

“How dare you? The earl shall hear of this.”

“Aye, he most certainly shall,” Stephen growled. “He is another with much to answer for. But first…” He looked to his brother. “We must get her to Elborne. Quickly.”

“My thoughts exactly. We shall need blankets. Plenty of them.”

Matilda ran to the chest beneath the window. “There are some kept in here.” She began to pull out bedding to pile it on the stone flags. “Are there enough?”

“Aye. Let us get her wrapped up and be away from this place.” Stephen drew back the stained covers on the bed. “Holy fuck!”

The mattress beneath Flora was stained a deep crimson. He touched the blood with his fingers. “It is wet. She is still bleeding.”

Jesu, so much blood…

“Quickly. We must hurry if she is to have any chance of surviving.” Richard lifted the near lifeless form. “Put a blanket beneath her. We will roll her in them for the journey back.”

They ignored the outraged screeches of protest from the abbess and her flock. It took just a few moments to wrap Flora tightly in the blankets, then Stephen cradled her in his arms and strode from the chamber. The sisters of no mercy trailed after him, the abbess herself continuing to call down the divine retribution which she declared was sure to descend upon all their heads for this day’s work.

They reached their horses. Stephen briefly passed his burden to Richard while he leapt up into the saddle, then he reached down to lift Flora onto his lap. He dug his heels into the stallion’s flanks, and the mighty beast surged forward.

Beside him, Richard was also at full gallop, Matilda clinging to his waist. Harry Fairclough and the rest followed.

Please, let us be in time. Please, please, Lord, let her live…