His Captive, His Conquest by Ashe Barker

Chapter Sixteen

Richard burst into his solar. “My brother. Warriors approach from the north.”

Stephen threw back his chair, which clattered to the floor behind him. His hand was on his sword almost before he reached the door leading from his solar.

“Who are they?” he demanded, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Harry Fairclough says they are MacKinnon. He recognised the tartan.” Richard was right behind him. “He is ordering the drawbridge raised and as many villagers as can reach here before it is closed will take sanctuary in the castle.”

“If Angus MacKinnon imagines he will take Flora or Alister by force, he has a rude awakening coming. The man must be as deranged as his chief to even contemplate such folly.”

“Aye.” Richard sprinted beside him to the ladder leading to the castle battlements.

They scaled the rungs then joined the guards stationed in readiness to repel the coming attack. Harry Fairclough marched along the walkway to greet his lord.

“MacKinnon,” he stated, before Stephen could ask. “Thirty or so, all on horseback.”

“Thirty?” Stephen scanned the horizon for the approaching Scots. “That is hardly a raising of the clans.”

“They are armed to the teeth, my lord. And flying the standard of the Earl of Roxburghe.”

“Even so, at those numbers they can hardly pose much of a threat. Have any outlying settlements been attacked?”

“There are no reports of such. The raiding party is heading directly for Elborne.”

Stephen scanned the horizon and considered his next move. “We shall be cautious. This may be a decoy, or some other type of ploy to get around our defences. Until we know what brings The MacKinnon to my door, we shall raise the drawbridge and make ready to repel him and his followers.”

Grim-faced, Stephen watched as his drawbridge was hauled up flat against the outer wall of his keep. If they had come intending to attack, these deluded Scots would first be obliged to cross his moat, at least twenty feet in width. Those who had somehow contrived not to drown would then have to scale the sheer walls, all the time in full view of Stephen’s archers. Elborne was impregnable. The attackers would fail in their ill-judged endeavour, and many would perish in the process. These warriors might be Flora’s kin, but still Stephen looked forward to meting out a degree of justice to the savages who had threatened to murder his son and left the woman he adored to the tender mercies of those hags at St Mary’s.

Oh, yes, he had anticipated this day with an uncommon degree of enthusiasm.

“Look. Over there.” Richard saw them first, emerging from a copse of firs perhaps two miles to the north.

Stephen shielded his eyes from the mid-morning sun and peered at the approaching men. It was as Harry’s scouts had reported, about thirty riders and heading straight for Elborne.

“Ready the archers,” Stephen growled, “then wait for my signal.”

The raiding party drew closer. Unlike English soldiers, they wore no armour, just their traditional plaids. They were, though, as he had already been informed, heavily armed. They carried swords, claymores, axes, longbows, and several of the men had spears lashed to their saddles. Each would also have a dirk or two tucked away within the folds of their tartan, should the fighting become hand-to-hand. Stephen knew well enough the folly of underestimating their ferocity. What the Scots lacked in finesse they more than made up for in battle-hardiness. These were seasoned fighters and utterly fearless.

“What is happening? Why are the villagers all streaming into the bailey? Are we under attack?”

Flora gazed up at him from the foot of the ladder. She held their son in her arms, clutching him to her chest as though she meant to defend him with her life.

Such extremes would not prove necessary, on that he was quite determined. Mother and child were both under his protection now, and he would not fail in that duty. “Do not worry. They cannot reach us in here.”

“Is it Angus?” she called. “Has he sent men to bring me home?”

“I do not yet know what he wants, but fear not. You will not be taken from here. Wait inside the hall. I will send word as soon as there is anything to report.”

“I should speak to him. Perhaps I could—”

“No. I shall not allow you to be put in harm’s way. We have no idea what this fool wants and what he might do. If the MacKinnons have matters to discuss here at Elborne, then they shall speak to me.”

“But—”

“Take Alister inside, Flora.” His tone brooked no further argument. He was relieved to see her spin around and hurry back towards the keep.

Satisfied that those he loved were safe, Stephen turned to regard the approaching clansmen. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to pick out the chieftain he vaguely recalled taking hostage on his visit to Byrness almost a year ago. Angus MacKinnon had been detained at Elborne for several months, but Stephen had seen him just a couple of times during his incarceration.

“I seem to recall that Angus was older,” he mused. “And his hair was darker.”

“Aye,” Harry Fairclough muttered. “’Tis not him. I recognise that one, though, the man at his side. He was here last summer, one of those taken and made to work in our fields.”

The warrior at the head of the group appeared to be tall, and broad in the shoulders. He sat his mount easily, obviously well-used to a life spent in the saddle. His hair was of a shade similar to Flora’s. His jaw was square and firm, and he wore an expression which spoke of determination and clarity of purpose. Intelligence glinted in the dark-green eyes.

“Their chief certainly has a look of the MacKinnons, from what I have seen of them,” Richard observed.

The warriors halted at the edge of Stephen’s moat, and their leader tipped back his head to study the men assembled along the battlements. He met Stephen’s gaze. For several moments, neither spoke.

The Scot broke the silence. “Are you Stephen of Elborne?”

“I am. And you are?”

“Robert, Earl of Roxburghe.”

Stephen furrowed his brow. “I have hoped to meet the earl. There is much I would like to discuss with him. However, I know him to be a much older man. And… he is not well, I understand.”

“You are thinking of my father, the previous earl. He passed from this life a week ago. Your discussions, henceforth, will be with me.”

“I see.” Inwardly, he grimaced. Stephen did not relish the prospect of telling Flora that her father had died. However badly the ailing man might have treated her, she had clearly loved him. “And what might those discussions concern?”

“My sister.”

Stephen nodded grimly. It was as he had feared. This new earl doubtless thought to take Flora back with him.

“I am come from St Mary’s where I was informed that my sister died in childbirth. The holy sisters reported to me that Flora, already close to death, had been abducted by the Marquis of Otterburn.”

“You were misinformed,” Stephen replied curtly. “So, I suggest you take your leave and return to your own keep. There is nothing for you here.”

“I shall not leave until I have seen for myself her final resting place.”

Final resting place?Stephen and Richard exchanged puzzled looks.

“Further, I demand that her child be given over into my care, if the infant lives still, and is here. He is my nephew, and I must be assured of his wellbeing.”

Stephen turned his back on the earl to confer with his brother. “He believes Flora to be dead. That damned abbess…”

“The man does not appear especially hostile,” Richard suggested. “It is reasonable that he would wish to be assured of the welfare of his sister’s orphaned baby. And to know of her fate.”

Stephen could not disagree. He would have acted in just the same manner. “Flora has spoken fondly of her brother. She believes he would have intervened to prevent her incarceration and ill-treatment at St Mary’s had he not been abroad at the time.”

“She will want to see him, then.”

Stephen nodded. “Aye. I am sure she will. And now that it is probably safe to do so, with her brother having inherited the earldom, she may wish to return to Roxburghe with him. I may lose her.”

Richard clapped him on the back. “And she may yet surprise you. Let us look on the bright side. You wanted an alliance with the MacKinnons, and this earl seems to be a man we could do business with.”

That much was perhaps true. “Yes, I believe he might be.” Stephen made up his mind. “I think I shall invite him in.”

He faced the earl once more. “You may enter, accompanied by no more than two of your comrades. You will dismount and bring no weapons into Elborne with you.”

The earl’s expression was impassive. “How do I know that I can trust you?”

It was a fair enough question. Stephen muttered to the guard closest to him. “Find Lady Flora and bring her here.”

A few minutes later, Flora emerged from the keep and hurried across the bailey towards the stone steps at the far end of the parapet. She clearly did not fancy the quicker route, up the ladder. Stephen met her at the top of the steps.

“Is it Angus?” she asked. “What does he want?”

Stephen shook his head. “It is not Angus.”

“Then who? Charles?”

“No. It is your brother.”

Her eyes widened. “Robbie? Robbie is here? I must see him. Please, you must let me speak with him.” She tried to squeeze past him on the narrow walkway.

“Wait. There is something more.”

She paused, all the while attempting to peer around him, to catch a glimpse of the men outside. “What is it?”

“Your brother is… he is now the Earl of Roxburghe. Your father passed away a week ago.”

Her eager features paled, then crumpled. “Dead? He is dead? My papa…?”

“I am so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her. There was nothing more to be done or said.

“Where is Robbie? I need to see him…” she wailed. “I need to know what happened. Did Papa speak of me? Did he forgive me?”

In Stephen’s view, any forgiveness should flow in the opposite direction, but he refrained from commenting. Flora must come to terms with her loss in her own way.

“The earl requires proof that it is safe for him to enter Elborne unarmed. I need you to show yourself on the battlements in order that he will trust my word.”

She managed a tearful nod.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

He took her hand and led her to where Harry and Richard waited. Flora leaned out over the crenelated walls, eliciting shouts of astonishment from below, and one or two cheers.

Stephen moved to stand behind her. “As you can see, your desire to pay your respects at your sister’s grave is somewhat premature. Do you now accept my terms?”

The hard, chiselled jaw softened. Was that the hint of a smile? “I do.”

“Lower the drawbridge, Harry. We have visitors.”

Flora picked up her skirts and dashed back along the parapet to the stairs. Stephen waited just long enough to issue instructions.

“Harry, until we are certain of their intent, keep our archers at their stations but do not open fire unless I command it.”

“Aye, my lord.”

“Richard, with me, if you please.”

They took the shorter route, down the ladder, and caught up with Flora dashing across the bailey. Stephen’s guards were still wrestling with the heavy crank, labouring to lower the portal. The wooden bridge was barely level before Flora raced across to throw herself into her brother’s arms.

“I knew you would come. Eventually, you would come home, and all would be well.”

Stephen and Richard exchanged a wry glance, then followed her at a more sedate pace.

“Aye, lass. I am here.” The earl had already dismounted. He caught his sister, lifted her, and swung her around. “And not before time, from the looks of it. If I had known of your plight… You should have told me, afore I left.”

“I know, but…”

“Never mind that. You are safe. And well.” He set her down and peered into her face. “You are well, my wee Flora? You have been crying.”

“Stephen told me of our father’s death. And I am just so happy to see you.” She paused to scan the others who accompanied him. “Charles! You, too. Mattie will be so pleased and relieved. We had no idea where you were.”

Another of the tartan-clad warriors slid from his horse to also embrace Flora. “I left Mattie at St Mary’s to do what she could to aid you, and I went to France in search of your brother. It seemed imperative that he return afore our clan tore itself apart. He took some finding, but here we are. Did you say Mattie was here also? Is she safe?”

“She is. Charlie, too.”

Behind her, Stephen cleared his throat.

Flora swung around to face him. “Stephen, this is my brother, Robbie. I told you of him.”

“Indeed so.” He eyed the Scottish chieftain warily but extended his hand in greeting. “Welcome to Elborne, my lord.”

Robert of Roxburghe viewed the proffered hand with suspicion. “I understand my sister has given birth to a child. And that you are rumoured to be the father.”

Stephen dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Yes. Alister is my son.”

Stephen was on alert, but the Scot moved fast. The blow connected with his jaw before he so much as saw it coming. Stephen staggered back and would have been sent sprawling in the mud at the gates to his own keep had Richard not been right behind him, able to catch him and keep him upright.

Richard’s sword was in his hand in the next instant, Stephen’s as well. The MacKinnon warriors tensed to attack. The archers stationed upon Stephen’s battlements stood at the ready, bows cocked and arrows in place. The Scots would be cut down in moments, should any of them move.

“Hold.” Stephen rubbed his abused jaw and glowered at his adversary. “I will grant you that, since you are entitled. But no more. Our families are to be joined, so this ends here.”

“Joined?” Robert of Roxburghe returned his glare. “I think not.”

“Robbie, please…” Flora began.

Stephen slung an arm around Flora’s shoulders and tipped up her chin for a quick kiss before returning his attention to her brother once more. “We have much to discuss. Flora, please bring the earl inside. I am sure you will welcome some refreshment, my lord, after your journey.”

Robert, Earl of Roxburghe, entered Stephen’s hall accompanied by Charles MacKinnon and another man, who was introduced as Duncan Elliott, Charles’ brother by marriage. The trio, all clad in their traditional tartan, were greeted with a degree of astonishment by the wary English household.

There was one exception. Matilda, on catching sight of not only her husband, but her brother also, shrieked with joy and ran the length of the hall to fling herself at first one, then the other.

Stephen regarded the happy reunion with optimism. The fact that the MacKinnon women and children had found safety within his keep was a start. His cause was further aided by Katherine. Always the perfect hostess, she was quick to bid their guests welcome and call for refreshments to be brought.

“Ale, quickly. And wine. Sweetmeats, too.” She harried their servants into laying out a veritable feast, then personally poured each of the visitors a mug of foaming ale. “I shall have rooms made ready. And we will send out food for your men. They may shelter in the barns, may they not, Stephen?”

“Aye. I see no reason why not.” Yet.

Stephen seated himself at the head of his table and surveyed those gathered about him. Flora sat to his left, and Richard was at his right-hand side. Frances sat next to her husband, her baby daughter upon her lap. Robert took the seat next to his sister, and Charles MacKinnon sat on his left. Matilda sat between her brother and her husband, a beaming smile upon her features. Baby Charlie was passed between his father and his uncle, and each declared him to be at least twice the size he had been when last they had seen him.

“Am I to meet my own nephew?” Robert asked quietly.

“Of course.” Flora began to get to her feet, but Katherine was quicker.

“No. You wait there. I shall fetch him.”

“Thank you.” Flora smiled happily at her brother. “You will adore Alister. He is strong, and sturdy, and…”

“And fortunate to be alive, I gather.” Robert raised one auburn eyebrow. “Charles tells a most harrowing tale.”

“Yes.” Flora’s expression darkened. “Had it not been for Mattie spiriting him away from St Mary’s, and for Stephen taking him in and protecting him, and then coming for me…”

Intelligent emerald eyes met his. “The so-called abduction?”

Stephen inclined his head. “Quite so. We left that place with all possible haste and brought Flora here to be cared for. She was gravely ill. For several days we feared the worst.”

Robert studied his sister’s now-glowing features. “You appear to be quite recovered, wee Flora.”

“I am. Thanks to Mattie, and Katherine and Frances. It was Frances’s idea, I gather, to place Alister in the bed with me when I was at my worst, in order that I might hear him and know I was needed here. That gave me the will to live, to see my baby again. Frances even fed Alister, until I was well enough to do so myself.”

“Quite inspired. And generous. My thanks, lady, for the diligence and care offered to my family in their hour of dire need.” Robert smiled across the table at the Whitleighs. “Alas, we have not been properly introduced.”

“My apologies.” Stephen recalled his obligations. “Katherine is much better at the social niceties than I. May I introduce my brother, Richard, the Duke of Whitleigh, and his wife, Her Grace, Frances, the Duchess of Whitleigh. And, of course, the little one is their daughter, Lady Elizabeth Whitleigh.”

If Robert of Roxburghe was impressed at the lofty titles, he did not betray it by so much as a flicker of an eyelash. His polite response was interrupted by the door opening. The Whitleigh twins stampeded into the hall and made a dash for the high table. They scrambled up onto the bench next to their parents.

Katherine followed them into the hall at a more decorous pace, baby Alister in her arms.

“Ah, the rest of our nursery,” Stephen said, getting to his feet. He held out his arms and took his son from Katherine. “Thank you. My lord, may I introduce Lady Katherine Bramwell, sister to the previous marquis.”

Robert also stood and bowed to Katherine. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. And may I thank you for your kind hospitality?”

“It is nothing. Flora has become most dear to us. Alister, too. We are delighted to welcome her kin to Elborne, and I trust this will the first of many such visits.”

The earl’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing in response. Instead, he turned to regard his nephew. Alister chose that moment to open his eyes and gurgle at his father.

“A fine boy,” Robert observed. “I see he has your eyes, wee Flora, though he also favours his father somewhat.”

“Yes. He is the very image of Stephen,” Frances offered. “Such a handsome little lad.”

The MacKinnon appeared less than delighted at this observation, though he did stroke the baby’s cheek with his finger and smiled at him. “You named him for our father?”

“Yes,” Flora said. “He is Alister Stephen Parnell MacKinnon.”

The earl raised an eyebrow. “A name to grow into. Parnell?”

“That is my family name,” Stephen clarified. “I am Stephen Parnell, Earl of Romsey and Marquis of Otterburn. Alister is my heir.”

“Your heir?” Robert looked from Stephen to Flora and back. “You mean to acknowledge him publicly, then?

“I already have. And Flora and I are to wed.” He glanced at her and winked. “Soon.”

“’Tis the first I have heard of such a match. My father said nothing of it before he died, nor did Angus.”

“There was no opportunity to discuss the matter with them. Nevertheless, we—”

“No. I forbid it.”

Stephen passed Alister to Katherine and prepared to commence negotiations. The MacKinnon had to come around to his way of thinking. Flora would be heartbroken otherwise.

“My lord, I appreciate that this may appear rather sudden…”

“Quite the contrary.” Robert tipped his chin in the direction of his nephew. “Wee Alister there is evidence enough that this proposal is, if anything, more than a little belated. It is bad enough that my sister has been dishonoured. I will not compound her troubles by locking her into a marriage with our sworn enemies, the English. I thank you, my lord, truly, for your recent actions, but I shall see to the welfare of my kinsfolk from now on.”

“I cannot permit that.” Stephen met the earl’s steady emerald gaze. “I love Flora. And she loves me. We do mean to marry, but I know that Flora would much prefer to do so with your consent and blessing.” Not to mention the prospect of a treaty with the Scottish border clans which would go a long way towards placating Henry of England.

Robert shook his head. “You speak of love. Yet, my sister was your prisoner, under your protection, and she left this place carrying your child. You are no respecter of women, my lord, and my sister deserves better.”

The man had a point. Richard had said much the same thing when first he learned of the events of the previous summer. Stephen, himself, was not especially proud of his actions, he particularly regretted letting Flora leave, but he had only to look at his baby son and any regrets evaporated.

“My lord, we should—”

“Robbie, please.” Flora leapt up and grabbed her brother’s sleeve. “Please, do not forbid this match. I love Stephen, whatever may have happened between us in the past.”

“You love him? But how could you…?”

“I do. I truly do. Please…”

The earl met her gaze, his own expression one of uncertainty. He considered her words for a few moments, then turned to Stephen. “I wish to speak with my sister. Alone.”

Stephen shook his head. “Whatever needs to be said is between us. You and I.”

“Not good enough. I would hear my sister’s side of this story without anyone else present. I will hear the truth, from her lips.”

“No. I shall not permit her to be harmed.”

The earl snorted his derision. It was a sound Stephen had observed to be uniquely Scottish.

“Do not be an idiot. Flora is my sister. I love her. I would never do her harm. And neither will I allow her to be coerced into a match she does not want. I will discuss this with her, in private.”

Stephen looked to Richard, who merely shrugged. Not much help to be had there.

“Please, Stephen. Let me speak with Robbie.” Flora laid her hand on his arm. “It will be all right, I am sure. If I could but speak with my brother, I can explain…”

“Are you sure? These past months we have seen enough of the MacKinnon family compassion to last several lifetimes. I will not have you ill-treated again.”

“This is Robbie. He is different. Please…”

Stephen did not trust the MacKinnons, though he was starting to appreciate that this new earl was no fool and did truly care for his sister. But Stephen did trust Flora’s judgement.

At last, he nodded. “Very well. A few minutes. And I shall be within earshot. If you need me, you have just to cry out, and—”

“She will not require your assistance,” Robert interrupted him. “Where may we talk?”

“My solar. Flora knows the way.”

Arms folded, racked with doubts, Stephen watched the pair leave his hall. Had he done the right thing?

“What if she…?”

Richard moved to stand at his side. “Only Flora can convince him. Be patient, brother. Let her do her work.”