Page 61 of The Guardian's Bride
“Michael, you are a cousin, lad, and always welcome with us.”
“Thank you.” The knight, ten years younger than Aedan, was black-haired and brown-eyed, with a short dark beard that did not hide the dimples that enhanced a charm that would have done him well in a royal court in more peaceful days. But Michael wanted to serve Scotland and Bruce, and despite his age, he was a capable leader. Though they had not seen eachother often as boys, when Aedan heard of Michael’s prowess, he invited him to Castle Black. Soon he was so impressed with his cousin’s skill and wisdom that he had asked him to serve as seneschal to direct the garrison and ensure the safety of the castle and its residents.
They climbed to a parapet and stood in a corner overlooking the sea that surged to the beach a hundred feet below the castle. Aedan explained Edward’s threat, warning that an attack could occur if Malise Comyn arrived.
“My son and my kinswomen will go with Brian Lauder to the Bass Rock tomorrow. Then I mean to escort a friend to Kincraig in Lanarkshire, but I will be back.”
“We will need more men if Comyn intends to follow the king’s orders. Patrick Wemyss has offered to assign men here. We should do that.”
“Aye then. My sister mentioned Sir Patrick, and I had the sense—is there something there?”
Michael smiled. “They are smitten with each other, if you ask me. As sheriff and neighbor, he keeps watch over us here and shares news when he has it. But he has not mentioned this business with Edward and Comyn. However, he did tell us that you were taken not long ago and had managed to escape. We had feared you might have disappeared into a dungeon for years.”
“I might have, but I did not like their plan, so I left. I met a young woman who was also held, and brought her with me.”
“Is she the one you will escort to Lanarkshire?”
Aedan nodded. “I owe her a favor. So,” he went on, “I am grateful to Sir Patrick for his help in my absence.”
“Aye. Colban is fond of him too. I should tell you, sometimes I allow the lad to knock about with wooden waster swords. He is a quick learner. Lady Marjorie and Lady Jennet are not in favor, but agree you would want him to play at swords as he grows.”
“It has to be part of his education. I appreciate it. Sooner or later, many of us will need to knock about with swords.” Aedan sighed.
Following the boyand his aunt up the stone spiral stairs, Rowena felt the pull of fatigue as she climbed. The voyage across the firth, then sickness, a pirate attack, and an encounter with Malise—all had taken a toll. Rest would do her good, and she felt sure she would sleep well. She felt immediately welcome and at home here.
Marjorie led them up the levels, Colban following with a bouncing step, and Bean, the little brindled gray terrier, running up with them, stretching to make it up the stairs. Rowena proceeded carefully on the wedge-shaped steps that wheeled around a massive stone pillar soaring four levels to the parapet. Aedan had remained in the hall with his cousin and seneschal, Sir Michael Balfour, a quiet, rather beautiful young knight. Lady Jennet sat with them, doing needlework by candlelight, taking part in their conversation.
The older lady was calm, composed, elegant, strict but kind, Rowena thought with admiration. She could see why Aedan and his sister adored their aunt, who had a firm hand over the household. Marjorie had a delightful freshness despite long years as a widow, which she had revealed to Rowena while they chatted at supper. Rowena also admired her ability to match her brother’s wit, and Marjorie was skilled and creative too. Her handsome plaids decorated the hall and were worn by many; they were in demand at local market fairs too, she had learned.
She loved being at Castle Black, and had not expected that. No wonder Aedan had wanted to hurry home to rescue his family from any hint of danger.
As for his little son, Rowena had already fallen in love with Colban, with his honey-colored hair and blue eyes, perhapsinherited from his mother; he had his father’s features, his curls, his laugh, and sense of mischief.
“I want to show Lady Rowena her bedchamber, can I?” Colban asked Marjorie, and looked at Rowena. “It is just above my room, up these steps.”
She smiled, holding fast to the rope slung around the stone pillar as she followed the others. The tenacious little dog, rough-coated and ready, scampered repeatedly up and down, then up again in excitement. One moment Colban was chattering to Marjorie, who climbed ahead. The next moment the terrier yelped, slipped down a step, and rolled into Colban, tripping him.
With a cry, the boy tumbled into Rowena, who caught him as he fell awkwardly across the wedge steps, taking her down to her knees with him. Holding the boy in one arm, her hand clinging to the rope to keep from tipping backward, she fell hard, smacking her knee and twisting her foot on the hard-edged stone. But she hardly noticed, intent on catching him.
“There,” she said, breathless. “There we are.”
“Oh! Colban—my lady—” Marjorie ran down, bending to help them stand again. Bean had fallen a step or two below and clambered back up, shaking her coat, panting, and licking Colban’s hand.
Brushing her fingers over him, looking for injury, Rowena noticed then that his hand was limp. He whimpered. “My arm—”
“He’s hurt,” Marjorie said.
“We will get him to his room and find out for sure. Can you walk, lad?”
He nodded tearfully, holding his arm as they went up a few steps to the level platform. Marjorie opened a door and ushered them into a room that held a draped, postered bed with a green plaid coverlet. Marjorie lifted Colban to the bed, and Rowenamoved close as the little dog ran in after them, jumping about. Marjorie set Bean aside and calmly told her to sit.
“May I see?” Rowena asked Colban, who nodded. Gingerly she took his hand in hers, noting the bruise forming on his forearm as she carefully pushed his sleeve up.
“This—is—my room,” he said tearfully. “Aunt Marjorie sleeps in this bed. My bed is in there—” He pointed with his free hand toward a second door that opened on a small circular room inside the round corner tower. It held a narrow bed.
“What a cozy sleeping chamber,” she said, as she examined his arm. “Where does it hurt?” She asked questions and he pointed here and there, but when she asked him to turn his wrist, he could not, wincing. She looked at Marjorie.
“Can we cut his sleeve? He may have broken something.”
