His Captive, His Conquest by Ashe Barker

Chapter Seventeen

“You love him? This English marquis?”

Robbie came straight to the point the moment Flora closed the door to the solar and they were alone.

She sighed. “There is wine, if you would like some.”

“Fuck the wine. Answer me, Flora. Do you love this Englishman?”

She tipped up her chin. “Yes. I do.”

Robbie muttered something decidedly obscene, then took to pacing the chamber, casting incredulous glances her way. “But why?” he demanded at last. “How could you even bear the sight of him, after what he did to you?”

“I love him,” she repeated simply. “He is kind. And generous. And courageous. He loves me, and he adores Alister.”

“I do not understand this. You told me he did not touch you, that day, when I met you after he released you. You swore to me that he had not harmed you.”

“He did not.”

Her brother raked his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, so much like hers in colour. “But you were with child. His child.”

“I shared his bed willingly.” She stated the bald truth. “Papa was angry, I know. And you must be, also. And perhaps you are right to be. But…”

He stopped pacing and came to stand before her. “I am not angry. At least, not with you.”

“Then, please listen. And try to understand. I do love Stephen. I think I did, even then, before…” She drew in a determined breath. “I want to be his wife. I want there to be peace between Roxburghe and Elborne.”

He took both of her hands in his. “Flora, you must see that this marriage is impossible. The English are our enemies. I cannot leave you here, among them, alone.”

“I will not leave.” Perilously close to tears once more, she continued to meet his gaze. “Please do not ask me to.”

“Flora, I—”

“No. You listen to me.” She drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I am staying here at Elborne, as Stephen’s wife. I shall be safe, and I could be happy, if you would consent to this. Stephen is a fine man. You will come to like him, I know.”

Her brother resorted to another bout of profanity.

“If you will not agree to my marriage…”

He gave an exasperated shake of his head. “I have not said that I will not agree. I am… considering what you have told me.”

“Then—”

Robert silenced her with a wave of his hand. “I shall think on what you have said. You will have my decision soon.”

“When? When will you decide?”

“When I am ready.”

Her brother would not be rushed. Flora recognised his stubborn expression. Further attempts to pressure him would be fruitless. “Very well. I shall wait, but not for long. Can I ask you instead for news from home?”

“Of course.” Robert took a seat at the table in the centre of the chamber. “I understand that you have been away from Roxburghe for several months.”

Flora seated herself also. “Yes. I was not there to care for Papa. I was not there when he died.” She raised her gaze and managed a smile. “Did he… did he speak of me?”

Robbie’s expression was not one to inspire much hope. “Our father was gravely ill by the time I returned from France. He died just a few days later and said very little, at least, very little that was coherent.”

“Did he forgive me? At the end?”

Robert reached for her hand. “You knew the nature of his illness. He was not himself, not the man who brought us up, the man we both loved and who loved us.”

“I realise that, but there were moments…”

“Not by the time he passed away. I am sorry, my sweetling, he did not speak of you. But that does not mean he did not forgive you or regret his harsh words. I am sure he would have done so, were he able.”

“But he did not. He died believing me to be… to be a…”

“No. He did not think any such thing.”

“He said I was a strumpet” she repeated miserably. “A light-skirted harlot.” Every bitter word was indelibly etched on her memory.

He squeezed her hand. “Look at me, wee Flora, and listen to my words. That was his illness speaking, not him. Any who would dare utter such disrespect will answer to me.”

“And to me.” Stephen entered from the adjacent bedchamber, Alister in his arms. “I said you could have a few minutes. I trust all is well.” His final remark was directed at Flora.

“Yes.” She offered him a tearful smile. “Robbie was just telling me of matters at home, and I forgot about the time. Are we needed in the hall?”

He bent to kiss her mouth. “No. Katherine has everything in hand, as usual. If you want to stay here, both of you, that is perfectly all right. I merely wished to be sure that you were well.”

“I am. We are.” She glanced at her brother. “Robbie has agreed to consider the prospect of our marriage.”

“I see. I am pleased to hear it. I shall leave you to your conversation, then. I thought you might like to have Alister with you, in order that he can get to know his uncle.”

Flora reached for the baby. “No, do not go. Please, stay.”

“I do not wish to intrude upon your reunion. I realise there is much you will wish to talk about.”

“You are not intruding, is he, Robbie?”

Her brother looked from Flora to Stephen, then shrugged. “I do not object, if he wishes to remain.”

Flora half expected some pithy remark from Stephen — this was his keep after all, and he hardly required permission to stay. But he merely deposited her son in her arms, helped himself to a goblet of wine, and sat beside her.

He regarded his unlikely guest. “I did not offer my condolences upon the death of your father.”

Robbie acknowledged the sentiment with a slight nod.

“The funeral will have already taken place, I suppose,” Flora remarked. “I would have liked to be there.”

“Yes,” Robbie replied. “Five days ago. Had I known you were alive, I would have waited and sent for you.”

“I realise that. It is not your fault. Is Papa interred in the family crypt, at Roxburghe? May I come and pay my respects?”

“Of course. Roxburghe is your home.”

“What of Angus? He would not welcome my return.”

Robbie snorted into his wine. “Angus is currently cooling his heels at Byrness, having failed to offer me any satisfactory explanation for your extended stay at St Mary’s. He should have brought you home when Charles urged him to do so.”

“He was not prepared to gainsay our father.”

“Angus understood the situation, our father’s frailty and confusion. Or he should have.”

“I should have detained your cousin in my dungeons for longer,” Stephen muttered. “He could do no harm there.” He offered Robbie a mirthless smile. “I would be delighted to return him there, if that would help.”

“You may safely leave dealing with Angus to me, Otterburn.”

“Very well. And the merciless crows at St Mary’s? It is my intention to burn their nest to the ground. I trust you will not object to that.”

Robbie’s lip quirked. “I would not take kindly to any hostile act against my people. I shall deal with the matter.”

Flora hugged her baby to her chest, recalling vividly how close she had come to losing him. “What do you mean to do, Robbie? You cannot move against the holy Church.”

“No, I cannot. The abbess is appointed by the bishop, not by the laird. However, the stipend upon which the abbey relies is mine to give or to take away. I have already sent word to the Archbishop of St Andrew’s that I require the removal and banishment of Mother Immaculata and those closest to her, as a condition of Roxburghe continuing to provide monies to the abbey. I suspect that will be sufficient to ensure I have my way, but if not, I shall appeal to the king himself.”

“You have influence over James, I know that.”

“Yes. The king is likely to grant my request. I am minded to suggest that a menial living somewhere more… remote would be better suited to our pious Lady Abbess. This would enable her to properly contemplate the meaning of sacrifice, humility, and atonement, since those are clearly concepts close to her heart. Perhaps on Iona…”

“An excellent solution, my lord.” Stephen raised his glass to Robbie. “I will concede, on reflection, that my approach lacked something in the way of subtlety.”

“It did, though the sentiments which drove it are not lost on me. You appear to care for my sister, as I do.”

“I love her. I told you that already.”

“Aye. You did.” Robbie offered no further comment. Instead, he shifted his attention to Flora and Alister. “May I hold him? It is time I got to know my nephew better.”

“Of course, though he is starting to fret. He will be hungry, I expect.”

“I shall not keep him long from his dinner.” Robbie took the infant from her arms and cradled him. “He is a fine boy, sweetling. You have done well.”

Flora swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. A rush of grief welled from nowhere and threatened to engulf her. “I wish… I wish Papa could have seen him.” She gulped. “Then, he would surely have…” She turned to Stephen. “Do you think Papa would have loved Alister? As we do?”

Her marquis opened his arms and beckoned to her with the tips of his fingers. Flora fell into them. He held her to his chest while she wept. The grief and loss, so new, still so raw, poured forth. Flora was consumed by great, gulping sobs. She wept mainly for the father she had lost years ago, though his earthly life had ended much more recently.

“I wanted to be with him,” she sobbed. “I prayed to see him again, just one final time…”

“I know, my love. I know.” Stephen murmured words of comfort into her hair. “But his son was with him at the end. He did not die alone.”

“I should have been there,” she wailed. “He needed me.”

“It was not your fault. You did all you could for him. And soon, we shall go to his grave and you can say your farewells.”

“Will you come with me?”

“Of course. I shall be right beside you.”

“Thank you.” She swiped at her eyes, trying to restore some semblance of dignity. “I… I would appreciate that.” She turned to her brother. “Please, forgive me. I just…”

“’Tis all right, sister. I understand. Or I am starting to.”

“Alister is hungry. I need to go to him.” Flora stretched against the pillows and rubbed her eyes.

Stephen kissed her mouth. “Stay there. I will bring him to you.”

He rolled from their bed and ambled naked across the chamber to the cradle which had been set into a cosy alcove. Flora watched his progress with undiminished admiration. She no longer berated him for his lack of modesty since he presented such a fine sight to cheer her in the morning.

Surely it is not a sin to lust after my own husband…

Well, almost husband.

“I shall speak to Robbie this morning. He must agree to our marriage.”

Stephen returned to their bed, their whimpering baby in his arms. “We shall be wed, whatever Robert of Roxburghe decides.”

“Yes, but he is my brother, and we were always very close. I would not wish to be at odds with him. And, if he sanctions our union, we can build an alliance upon it, a pact between the MacKinnons and the English which will help to secure peace along this part of the border, at least.”

“I shall speak with him also, try to press the strategic merits of the proposal. Your brother appears to be a man who appreciates diplomacy and negotiation as much as force of arms.”

Flora nodded. “Yes, I suppose he is. King James relies heavily upon him in such affairs.” She took the now squalling infant and quickly put him to her breast. “Between us, we can convince him. We have to.” She glanced up at Stephen, who was lounging across the bed watching her feed the baby. “Is it your intention to get dressed at all this morning, my lord? It is not that I do not relish the display you present, but we have much to occupy us, and the servants will be in soon to see to the fire.”

“Eventually.” His lip quirked in that sensual smirk she loved, and which never failed to set butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “I was merely thinking what a fine sight you make, the pair of you, in my bed.”

She allowed herself a wan smile. “Will it always be this way, between us?”

“Oh, yes. I mean to make sure of it. And you are right, my love. Diplomacy or no, I really should tackle your brother with my boots on.”