Page 39 of My Warrior
Malcolm clasped her shoulder. “He assumed you and Robbie…but then Robbie left and…”
“Robbie?” Surely not Robbie. He was like a brother. She shook her head. It couldn’t be true. The land that had been in her family for hundreds of years couldn’t be snatched from her like this.
“I’m sorry,” Lord Holden said, “but no matter which side wins, Blackhaugh will not remain in your hands. The English won’t allow you to hold it, and the Scots—“
“Have already turned against me,” she finished bitterly, jerking her shoulder from Malcolm’s grasp.
She closed her eyes against the pain. One by one, her hopes were being dashed by this imperious invader. Soon she’d be left with nothing.
Holden spoke softly. “I know of only one way to prevent the spilling of more blood, to guarantee peace between our people, and to allow you to keep Blackhaugh.”
He waited until she reluctantly returned his gaze.
“Be my wife.”
CHAPTER 8
The silent moment that met his suggestion grew so pregnant it was almost comical. Holden supposed it came as a shock to the other three, but he’d given the idea much thought while he lay abed over the past few days. To his mind, it was a brilliant solution.
The sacrifice wasn’t so great. Although he’d bedded his share of wenches, Holden had never considered himself a romantic, unlike his brother Duncan, who pursued women as if they were his Holy Grail. Holden was a warrior, a successful one, and his success had come through careful strategy and a practical nature. He had no intention of giving up his soldiering, but now he was a lord in his own right. It was time he married and began producing legitimate offspring.
He had what he considered a healthy outlook when it came to taking a wife. A wife was neither a burden nor a blessing. A good wife could be as valuable as a good squire. She represented a man when he went off to war, kept his castle running smoothly, provided him with children. Cambria Gavin could certainly do that. Indeed, she could prove quite helpful, being more familiar than he with the Scots ways. Their union was the perfect answer for peace among their people.
King Edward would likely approve the match, as long as the details of Roger Fitzroi’s death remained vague. The king had granted Holden permission to use whatever tactics he required to gain the Border alliance, trusting Holden’s good judgment.
Of course, the most compelling reason for Holden’s decision had nothing to do with good judgment. It was based on neither strategy nor practicality nor honor.
He simply wanted Cambria. In every sense of the word. He wanted her to share his name, his table, his bed, his future. He wanted to wake up each morn to the Scots faerie who flavored his dreams.
Oh, she’d fight him. She’d fight him every step of the way. But he’d never failed to tame a wench once he had her between the sheets. And he intended to have her there soon and often. His loins stirred just thinking of it. He found he relished the game to come as much as he did jousting a worthy opponent.
Garth finally broke the long silence, appalled at Cambria’s lack of response to the more than generous offer. “There must be another way,” he proffered gently. “Any other woman would welcome you, Holden, and be grateful.” He shot Cambria a caustic glare.
Cambria wore such a comical look of disbelief that Holden nearly laughed aloud. He’d never been rejected by a female. It was a curious feeling.
“Come now, Garth,” he scolded. “Let’s not press the lady. The decision is hers to make.”
“You bastard!” Cambria finally exploded, making Malcolm and Garth clinch. “Do you imagine I’ll let a bloody Englishman wed and bed me? I’d sooner die than—“
“Cambria!” Malcolm interceded, urgently grasping her shoulder. “Listen to me!”
Lord Holden’s offer had sparked a fatherly instinct in Malcolm. He’d been vexed with Cambria for days now. That cryptic message the squire had delivered when she’d recklessly gone alone to seek revenge on Lord Holden had left him weak with worry.
He was too old to agonize over her every adventure. He’d already lost his best friend. He didn’t want to lose Angus’s daughter, too. He’d prayed for an answer and saw it in Lord Holden’s offer. Already he envisioned Cambria in wedding garb, standing beside this handsome lord, pledging her troth, keeping the castle in Gavin hands to be passed down to the many children they’d have. He could even imagine Angus smiling down from heaven.
He’d be damned if he’d let the bullheaded wench play games with the future of the clan for her own vanity.
“Cambria,” he said gruffly, “your father would be disappointed. He would never have thrown away his life when Blackhaugh was at stake. He gave all he had to ensure that the title would pass to you. Will you now cast it away, make his death in vain, for your pride’s sake?”
Cambria clutched her head in her hands. Her thoughts were whirling like a spindle. She could hardly believe that her own man was turning against her, and wondered with what poison the de Wares had infected Malcolm’s mind.
Marriage was as appealing to her as jesses to a falcon. Malcolm knew that. The whole clan knew it. Being a bride to any man, let alone the enemy, was abominable. She was more prepared to be executed by the Wolf than to be wed to him.
Still, a small part of her knew it was the only rational thing to do. Itwasthe kind of thing the laird of Gavin would have done, sacrifice himself for the good of the clan. She felt her own rebellion slipping away as her options narrowed to the inescapable one Lord Holden presented.
Collecting herself at last, she turned to Holden. “What do you hope to gain by this? I’m no simpleton, de Ware. The fate of my entire clan rests on the decision I make here. I can see howtheywill benefit from this alliance, but what areyourmotives? What do you intend? Will you lure my people into false trust, and then slaughter them like sheep? Or will you murder me on our wedding night and claim Blackhaugh for your own?”
“I could claim Blackhaugh now and have you tried for the murder of Sir Roger,” he said evenly, giving her pause. “Nay, my motives are simple enough—I need a fortress, supplies, and loyal soldiers to wage this battle, and this is the swiftest, most effective way to achieve that end.”
