“Fia?” Morag dropped her arms to her sides, feeling defeated. Branton looked right past her as if he didn’t even know she was there.

  “Fia is in the house with the rest of the family,” Reed answered for her, joining them. “Go on in, Branton,” he said with a nod of his head. The boy hurried off into the house more excited to see Fia and the baby than he was to see Morag. It didn’t feel good to Morag at all. She was the one, along with her cousin, Maira, who had the closest relationship with the boy. Yet, no one would know it by the way he acted.

  “Barnaby, why are ye here?” asked Morag, turning her attention to the messenger so her father wouldn’t see the disappointment on her face.

  “Aye,” said Reed, still holding tightly to his sword. “What would cause ye to risk yer lives with a trip onto Scottish soil?”

  “We come in peace, Douglas. You can put away the sword,” stated one of the guards, lifting his hands to show he wasn’t a threat and held no weapon.

  “I’ll no’ put down the sword unless I feel like it,” snapped Reed. “After all, ye are stinkin’ Sassenachs and ye are on my land and uninvited.”

  “Faither, please,” begged Morag as she spied one of the guards move his hand toward his sword. She had to interfere before a fight broke out. “It’s all right, Da. I’m sure they mean us no trouble.” She reached out and rested her hand on her father’s forearm.

  “That’s right,” said the messenger. “We are here at the request of Lady Rothbury to deliver a message.” Barnaby reached down from atop his horse, handing Reed the missive.

  “Did ye say, Lady Rothbury?” Reed reluctantly sheathed his sword, keeping his eyes on the guards’ movements at all times. Then he took the parchment from the boy. “Dinna ye mean Earl Rothbury?”

  “Nay, my lord,” answered the boy with a quick shake of his head.

  “I’m no’ a laird,” grumbled Reed, opening the missive and scanning it quickly.

  Morag watched as her father’s face clouded over. His mouth turned down in a frown.

  “What is it, Da?” asked Morag in concern.

  “Here. Read it for yerself.” Reed handed the parchment to Morag and looked back at the house. “Conall, Dugal, come take care of the horses,” Reed called out, causing Morag’s brothers to run out of the cottage so quickly that Morag realized they had been waiting at the door. Then her father spoke to the guards. “Ye are welcome to come inside the house to rest for a spell. My wife, Maggie, will offer ye food and ale.”

  “Much obliged,” said one of the guards as they dismounted their steeds.

  Morag read the missive, feeling her heart skip a beat in surprise. “Nay!” she exclaimed, not wanting to believe what she read. “The earl has died!”

  “What is it, Morag?” Fia rushed out of the cottage with her mother at her side. “What’s wrong?”

  Branton followed behind them carrying the baby, apparently so distracted by Fia and her daughter that he hadn’t even told them the sad news.

  “Lord Rothbury died fightin’ for the king,” said Morag, unable to believe that their guardian was gone. She felt a surge of grief wash through her.

  “Nay!” shouted Fia, grabbing the parchment from Morag to see it. “It canna be true.”

  “It is,” said Branton, bouncing the baby in his arms and making faces at the little girl until she smiled. “Since the earl has died without issue, the king said Castle Rothbury and all the earl’s holdings are going to be given away.”

  “Given away?” asked Morag’s mother. “I canna believe it.”

  “Why tell us?” sniffed Reed. “We are Scottish and have no interest in any castle or lands unless they are on this side of the border.”

  Branton continued to make faces at the baby as he explained everything to them. “Lady Rothbury is having a huge gathering at the castle. King Richard won’t let her keep it since she is a woman and the earl had no heir. Since the earl died protecting Richard, he has allowed Lady Rothbury to help decide who will claim the earl’s demesne.”

  “She wants us all to come for the feast,” said Morag excitedly. “It said so in the missive. Da, mayhap ye’ll get a castle like Uncle Rook and Uncle Rowen after all.”

  “If I own a castle someday, it’ll be in Scotland, no’ England,” snapped Reed. He pulled the missive out of Fia’s hand and shoved it back at the messenger. “As soon as the horses are rested and ye’ve had yer fill to eat, ye and yer guards can head right back to Rothbury. Tell the earl’s wife thank ye but that we decline the invitation.”

  “Da, nay!” cried Morag, knowing this was her only chance to get back to England. “We were invited, and it is only proper that we go.”

  “Morag, I canna go,” said Fia. “I need to get back to the Highlands. Alastair is waitin’ for me. Plus, it is too dangerous of a trip for the bairn.” She reached over and took her baby back from Branton.

  “We want to go,” shouted out Conall as the twins took the reins of the guards’ horses.

  “Aye, Da, we want to live in a castle,” added Dugal.

  “Be quiet,” scolded their mother. “Yer faither has already made his decision and we’ll respect it.”

  “Lads, ye are old enough now that ye’ll stay here to be married this spring,” Reed announced.

  “Married? To who?” asked Conall.

  “Whoever I choose for ye. I assure ye that the lassies will be Scottish.”

  “Then we’re no’ goin’ to England?” whined Dugal.

  “Nay, we’ll stay right here in Scotland where we belong,” Reed said in finality.

  “But Da, there will be lots of single knights there,” said Morag. “Mayhap I’ll even find one to marry. After all, I am older than the twins, so I should marry before them. Then I can have a bairn like Fia and give ye a grandchild as well. Dinna ye want more grandchildren?”

  “No daughter of mine is goin’ to live in England, or marry a Sassenach,” growled Reed. “So get that absurd idea out of yer head right now.”

  “Reed, the girls already lived in England for nearly ten years of their lives,” Maggie reminded him.

  “That was only because the king ordered it,” growled Reed. “Morag, when I decide to betroth ye, it’ll be to a Scot and no’ a stinkin’ Sassenach. Do ye hear me?”

  “But I’m already well past marryin’ age,” Morag reminded him. “And Fia got to choose her husband, so I should, too.” Morag had to get back to the secret garden and this was the only way to do it. She needed to convince her father to let her go. Morag crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin in the air defiantly, challenging Reed and waiting for his answer.

  “Morag,” gasped Fia because of the bold way Morag approached their father. “Ye were no’ given that permission from the king like we were.” Fia spoke about herself as well as their cousins, Willow and Maira.

  “Fia, take the bairn back into the house before she catches cold,” said Maggie, throwing a glance of sympathy in Morag’s direction.

  “Mathair, I really want to return to Rothbury,” begged Morag. “Please convince Faither to let me go.” If she were going to be mentored by Mazelina in secret, this was the only chance she would get. Morag had to get there without divulging the secret. It was eating her up not to be able to say a word about it, but she had kept her promise thus far.

  “Reed, Lady Rothbury was the girls’ guardian,” Maggie reminded him. “Morag is correct in sayin’ we should show our respect for the loss of her husband. I think not only her, but all of us should go to Rothbury to support Lady Ernestine in her time of need.”

  “Nay.” With a set jaw, Reed shook his head stubbornly. “There is no reason for our family to be there. There will be plenty of others to comfort her. Besides, ye ken that I never wanted the girls to live at Rothbury in the first place. Therefore, I dinna feel we owe anythin’ to the late earl’s wife.”

  “Reed Douglas, ye are as stubborn as an old goat!” Morag’s mother crossed her arms in front of her chest as well. “If ye want everyone to ken that we were no’ appreciative of what the earl did for our girls, then so be it. But I dinna agree with ye at all. Ye are lettin’ yer hatred for yer late father cloud yer judgment.”

  “Nay, I’m no’,” protested Reed. “Besides, Edward is dead and gone so what does it matter?”

  “Ye act like ye hate the English, and that has to stop.”

  “But I do hate them,” said Reed.

  “Quit foolin’ yerself.” Maggie matched her husband, not afraid to stand up to him. “Just like Morag said, ye are really English. Just accept the fact and quit pretendin’ to be a Scot.”

  Reed ran a hand through his hair. “I dinna care. I still dinna want to go.”

  “Then I’ll just go,” offered Morag. “I will represent our family so Lady Rothbury kens how appreciative we are for her guardianship. I’ll also tell her that we are sorry about the earl’s death.”

  “I dinna like it,” mumbled Reed, looking at the ground.

  “It’s all right, Reed,” said Maggie, taking Reed by the arm. “I will stay here with ye and the children. If Morag wants to go, let her. After all, Lady Rothbury sent her messenger with a missive all the way to Scotland.”

  “Not only a messenger, but two guards and me as well,” said Branton, overhearing their conversation.

  “Why are ye even with them?” asked Reed. “I thought ye were squire to Maira’s husband now.”

  “I am,” answered Branton with a smile. “But Lord Jacob let me come along with the traveling party because I missed Fia and Morag and wanted to see them.”

  “Umph,” grunted Reed.

  “Can I go back to Rothbury with them? Please, Da?” begged Morag, pouting like she used to do as a child, hoping to change her father’s mind. “I’ll only be there until the festival is over. Mayhap a few months and then I’ll return home.”

  “A few months?” Reed made a face. “It shouldna take that long to find a new lord of the castle.”

  “But the festivities dinna start for over a fortnight yet,” Morag reminded him. “Didna ye read that in the missive?”

  “Let her go, Reed,” said Maggie. “It seems to mean a lot to her.”

  “Aye, it does,” agreed Morag. “Besides, I’m sure Willow and Maira and their husbands will probably be there, too.”

  “Oh, I doubt it,” said Branton, earning him a stomp on his toes from Morag as well as a dirty look. He jumped up and down holding his foot.

  “Will any of you be returning with us or not?” asked one of the guards walking out of the house munching on an apple. “I’d hate to think we made the journey all the way here for naught.”

  “Ye havena, because I’ll be returnin’ with ye.” Morag looked up to her father, pleading with him once again. “Can I go, Faither? Please?”

  Reed looked at her and then over to Maggie. With both Morag and her mother staring at him, Morag knew it wouldn’t be long before he crumbled.

  “Och, all right,” he finally agreed, swiping a hand through the air. “Morag, ye can go to Rothbury, but only until the end of the festivities.”

  “Thank ye, Da.” Morag threw herself into her father’s arms and gave him a big hug. “Ye willna regret it.”

  “I already do. And I warn ye, Daughter, stay away from the laddies. If I find out ye’ve married a Sassenach behind my back, I swear, it’ll never be forgotten.”

  “Never be forgotten?” Morag pondered the thought, and a smile slowly spread across her face. Hadn’t Mazelina told her that if she didn’t want to be forgotten that she should do something to be noticed? Well, now, here was an idea! Morag now knew exactly what she had to do as soon as she arrived at Rothbury. She would find herself an English knight and get married.

  Chapter 2

  Castle Rothbury

  Morag was surprised to see the scattering of tents already pitched outside the curtain wall when they rode up to the gate of Castle Rothbury a few days later.

  “Why are all these tents here?” she asked Branton.

  “Those are the tents of the knights wishing to win the favors of Lady Rothbury. They are hoping they’ll have a chance to claim Lord Rothbury’s castle and holdings as their own,” explained Branton.

  “But I thought the decision wouldna be made for nearly a fortnight yet.”

  “That’s right. However, it will take some time for all of the men to have an audience with the lady of the castle. I am sure they will start early. There is a lot at stake and only the first fifty knights to register will be eligible as agreed upon between King Richard and Lady Rothbury.”

  “Only fifty? Why?”

  “The king wants to narrow it down because he is a busy man. He has let the earl’s widow send invitations to her husband’s most trusted friends and allies. However, if some of them decline, then anyone can take their spots. It looks like there are a lot of knights who don’t want to miss out on this wonderful opportunity.”

  “That’s right,” grunted one of the guards. “Earl Rothbury had one of the largest castles in all of England as well as some of the most prestigious holdings. He was favored by the late King Edward.”

  “How is Lady Rothbury goin’ to decide which knight will take it all?” asked Morag. “And will she make the decision alone?”

  “Nay.” Barnaby spoke up this time. “She will make her choice and the king will have to agree. She is going to have private audiences with the knights, talk to them, and test their skills on the practice field to determine who would best be granted the holdings. Then she’ll recommend a few men to the king and he is the one who will decide who gets it all.”

  “My, this is even bigger than I thought.” Morag looked around the grounds as they rode over the drawbridge. Squires busily staked their lords’ colorful tents and tended to the horses, while servants busied themselves making cook fires and preparing food. Everyone bustled about busily, but still they watched as she rode into the castle. “I wish my faither would join in the competition. He deserves a castle, although he would never live in England. Were my Uncles Rook and Rowen sent a missive as well?”

  “They were,” said Barnaby. “However, they both turned down the invitation.”

  “Why would they do that?” asked Morag, appalled at hearing this.

  “I think they were being modest,” Branton told her. “Even Willow and Maira’s husbands were invited to compete but said they were happy with what they had.”

  “That’s absurd,” spat Morag. “I think they all declined only because they ken Richard has never liked them. Either that, or love must have addled their brains. What about Alastair? Fia’s husband? Was he invited, too?”

  “He’s a Scot,” growled one of the guards.

  “So is my da, but he was sent a missive,” Morag pointed out.

  “That’s only because your sister and you were once wards of the earl, and your father was the Black Prince’s bastard cousin,” explained the second guard. “We all have suffered much because of the death of the Black Prince as well as by the death of King Edward.”

  “Ye make it sound as if ye dinna like Richard bein’ king.” Morag noticed a bit of animosity and wanted to find out more.

  “He’s not the man his father or grandfather were,” mumbled another of the guards.

  “Haud yer wheesht,” spat Morag, telling them to be quiet. “That is yer sovereign ye are talkin’ about, no matter what ye think of him. I am a Scot and yet I still respect yer English king.”

  “You are right, my lady. Guards, back to your posts,” said one of the men and they all dispersed.

  Morag smiled inwardly being called my lady. She liked the title even if she wasn’t sure it was real since her father wasn’t a knight and she was only a bastard cousin of the king. “I miss Lord Beaufort.” Morag thought about the man who had been her guardian for many years. “The earl was a kind man. His wife is even nicer.”

  “You should try to convince your father and uncles to come to Rothbury,” said Branton. “I don’t know any knight who wouldn’t want Castle Rothbury and the earl’s lands as his own.”

  “Do ye think so?” asked Morag, looking around the crowded courtyard. Castle Rothbury was, indeed, one of the largest and most majestic castles in all of England. She had lived here while growing up and gotten lost within the mazes of corridors until she got used to her new surroundings. “Just seein’ all these knights and squires, it might be too late by the time they even get my missive askin’ them to come.”

  “Then you can sign them up while you’re waiting for their reply,” commented Barnaby.

  “That’s right,” added Branton. “I think I’ll sign up Lord Jacob while I’m here. Then I’ll send him a missive to change his mind about declining the offer.”

  “Perhaps I should,” said Morag, not really thinking of castles, lands, or competitions right now. All she had on her mind was getting back to the secret garden to see Mazelina so she could start her training.

  Sir Bedivere Hamilton of Gaunt rode through the gates of Castle Rothbury feeling extremely unsettled. The last time he was here was about a year ago and, at the time, his cover had almost been blown wide open. Being here wasn’t a good feeling at all.

  Lady Willow had discovered his secret profession and it hadn’t sat well with him. She had said she’d keep his secret, but what if she hadn’t? The missive he received from Lady Rothbury asking him to apply for the late earl’s holdings came at the same time as his orders for his next job. He was to wait here until further notice. Being suspicious of everyone, he couldn’t help thinking this all might very well be naught but a ploy to expose him as an assassin.

  “Why the hell did Whitmore choose this place to give me my next assignment?” he grumbled to himself, thinking about the king’s advisor, a man he hated more than anyone he had ever met in his life. He scanned his surroundings, always aware of what went on around him at all times. He had to be this way. It was the nature of the job. Usually, a contact met with him, giving him the missive that would tell him the name of his next kill.

  However, his orders were usually given in private. This place was much too busy for anyone to be discreet. The contact would meet him here soon, but it wasn’t to his liking. Still, he had no other choice. And now that he was here, he would have to pretend he was interested in acquiring the late earl’s holdings. If he didn’t, it would be too conspicuous that he had come for a different purpose altogether.

 

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