Page 55 of The Guardian's Bride
“Aedan, lad,” Brian said, joining him. “The galley turned west to head up the river toward Stirling.”
“Fair riddance,” Aedan muttered. “If they had decided to dock at Queensferry and go up to Dunfermline, that would bode ill for all of us.”
“I only hope he takes my advice to ride in search of Bruce—and you.”
“The king may want Lady Rowena even more than he wants me. We cannot know which direction Malise will take. We must stay on guard in case he comes back to Fife. Remember, Rowena overheard that Edward wants my son taken hostage. “There is too much damage he could do wherever he goes. And he knows it.”
“What will you do?” Brian asked.
Thoughtful, Aedan studied the shore. “Do you know the fishing village on the point, that way? I have friends there. If we sail in close enough for them to recognize me, they will send a boat out to fetch us. It is close to the castle. I must get home quickly.”
“Aye. When I leave Dunfermline, I can take your family back to Bass Rock with me. They can stay as long as they like, or go over to Tyningham. Lady Ellen would be pleased to see them.”
“Thank you. We could meet you there—day after tomorrow? Aye. Lady Rowena and I will head to Kincraig from there.”
“If Malise goes to Castle Black, he will find a garrison, your family gone, and you and your lady well on your way.”
“Not my lady,” Aedan murmured, watching the sea.
“You would not mind if she was, I think.”
Aedan’s smile was guarded. “What man would not? Even you called her wife, and you happily wed as any.”
“I did not say whose wife she was.” Brian grinned. “You claimed her as wife when the pirates asked. A wonder she has not wed again after her widowing, though Her kinsmen couldfind a very good match for her. Worthy family and a worthy lady.”
“I gather she keeps busy with her healing work,” he said carefully.
“Ah. If I may say”—Brian glanced at him—“my wife wondered if you might offer for the lady’s hand. Ellen thinks you have great worth as a husband.”
“Huh, with the English on my tail and Edward eager for my head! “But thank her for the compliment. Did she put you up to the suggestion?”
“Possibly. It would do you good to marry again. You could rekindle the betrothal.”
“I suppose I could.” He said it lightly, not quite ready for that suggestion.
“That lass there,” Brian said, “would be a boon for you. Her kinsmen and her character cannot be bettered—and you both seem well matched. Her patience especially recommends her for putting up with you.”
Aedan huffed. “That may be.” He watched the rippling waves, thoughtful, realizing he felt the urge to let go and move on, but unwilling to admit it aloud.
“I loved your sister,” he finally said.
“I know.” His friend was silent for a moment. “Alisoun would not want you to remain a widower. Nor would she want her lad to be motherless all his life.”
“My sister does well with him. But I take your point.” Aedan turned then, sensing a change. Rowena came toward them, dark blue gown blowing back, outlining her lithe figure. He savored the sight of her feminine curves, her glossy dark braid, the sunlight soft on her skin, warm on her shoulders, bright on her widow’s veil.
Brian asked her about the oarsmen she had treated, and while they spoke, Aedan’s thoughts whirled, considering Brian’ssuggestion. If Rowena was his wife, he could protect her, be her companion on this mad journey now and into the future. If she was his wife, he would not have to leave her at Kincraig, perhaps never to see her again. If she was his wife, she would know his secrets and keep them. And he would protect hers as his own, always.
Always.That was the part of the truth of a strong marriage, he knew. Always loved, always protected, respected, supported, understood. Always had not been part of his first marriage. Those years had been too short, the years since too long.
Marriage with Rowena Keith would endure and grow. He felt it his bones, his blood, his soul suddenly. Their match would be strong, a union of trust and love.
If he had such a wife, his world might right itself at last.
She smiled up at him, catching his gaze, her eyes the same gray-blue as the sea that flashed all around them. Yet he looked away, his heart and his yearning too obvious.
Then she slipped her hand inside his elbow as if seeking an anchor as the ship surged on the sea. He pressed her hand to his side to lend the stability she sought.
“Aedan MacDuff,” she said, “you are very quiet.”
