Page 36 of The Guardian's Bride
Her fingers trembled. This was her closest secret, yet she wanted—she needed somehow—to share it with him. She held it in her open palm for him to see. Highlights gleamed in crystal and silver, reflecting candlelight and a lightning flash.
“It is beautiful. Like a jewel.” He stared at it, frowning deeply, his expression something other than simple admiration.
“It is more than that, so Grandda said. I do not understand all it does, but I have seen it help illness when nothing else did. Grandda told me to use it with caution, keep it secret, and protect it. He said I was—the guardian of this stone.” She looked at him.
“Guardian,” he repeated. He met her gaze, hazel-dark eyes somber, brows drawn. She handed him the stone and he cradled it, rolled it in his fingers. “A precious thing. You circled this over me, sang a chant. I thought it was a dream.”
“I hope it helped.”
“Something did. Thank you. It is a beautiful thing.” He gave it back, his fingers cupping her palm. His touch sank through her like fire, emanating not from the stone but from some pull between them that was growing stronger. Standing close in the candlelight, hands joined over the polished crystal, she felt the draw of him deep in her body, in her belly, her knees.
“King Edward wants this. He ordered me to send it to him.”
“How did he know about it?”
“Malise,” she said, and explained quietly, quickly, about the gifts Thomas gave the Keith siblings, how they promised to keep them safe and secret, how Tamsin had been pursued for the Rhymer’s written prophecies. It was a surprising relief to tell him. Sharing it with MacDuff, with his easy manner and sharp focus, made her feel calmer.
“I thought the stone might help Sir Malise, so I dipped it in water, but that was all I did with the stone in his case. He was so badly hurt.”
“Not everyone would have helped such a scoundrel.”
She watched the light flicker in the stone as if it had a soul. “But it is my work, and I am not a vindictive sort. I did not think he saw, but he must have, for he told Edward. I would never regret using the stone to help someone, but I fear I made a mistake with him.”
“And now the king wants the stone for himself.”
“Aye, this, and everything Thomas gave our family. Edward had a writ drawn up and told Malise to carry out the order. Malise mentioned it when I went to Yester. If we refuse to give up the legacy Thomas gave us, Edward will collect every item by force.”
“So you want to warn your family.”
“I was home earlier, and told them. But we thought Edward would not follow through on it, and Henry did not intend to obeythe orders. But now that I know men will come for the things, I must go home to be there.” Her voice wobbled.
“Soon, I promise.” He traced his hand down her arm, a touch like soft lightning. She drew a breath. “What can I do beyond seeing you safely there?”
Hold me, listen to me, love me?She could not say what flashed through her thoughts. “There is more. Malise wanted to marry Tamsin, but she refused. Now—” She sighed. “Edward expects me to marry Malise. He thinks a widow should either become a nun, or be married off with no say about it.”
“Too often it is the way. What did you answer?”
A hot blush rose from breast to brow. “Henry was there. He said—we were negotiating my next marriage, so I could not promise to another.”
His brows shot high. “Ah! Sorry, I had not thought—are you betrothed again?”
“I am not. He meant the arrangement you and I nearly had once. It just came to him to say it, though he did not share your name,” she added. “I told Malise I would never marry him. Ever.”
He huffed a little laugh. “Good. The old betrothal will save you trouble, I hope.”
“You do not mind?”
“Why should I mind?” He smiled. “I wanted to marry you once.”
Surprised, she blinked. “You were a lad. We never met.”
“But I liked the idea of joining the Keiths. You see, I—wanted to be part of a family. After our father’s death, my brother and I did not see Mother often after she remarried and went to live in Perthshire. Because my brother and I were heirs of Fife, we stayed as wards of the Bishop of Saint Andrews. He disapproved of the betrothal. He intended me for the priesthood. Clergy in the family can be so useful,” he drawled.
“But you became a knight.”
“I studied theology at Saint Andrews, but swords and chivalry were more to my liking, and the bishop saw I was suited to it. So I rode off as a knight. I married, and we had a son, and I lost a wife.” He looked away.
“I am sorry.” She set a hand over her heart. “But you have a family.”
