Rolfe's eyebrows rose. "But I thought marriage was what you were hoping to achieve for Lady Seonaid?"
"Not to that stinkin' sack o' manure English whelp!" Angus snapped furiously.
"I see." Rolfe frowned over that, then shook his head helplessly. "I--" he began, only to pause when the bishop leaned forward to murmur something in his ear. Nodding his head with relief, the younger man then turned back to his host and forced a smile. "Mayhap we should leave this worry for now. Once we've tended to Lady Iliana and your son, we can discuss what to do about Lady Seonaid and Lord Sherwell."
There was a moment of tense silence, then Angus nodded grimly. "Aye. I'll inform the men and send one out to fetch Seonaid."
"Fetch her? Is she not here?"
"Nay. She's gone ahuntin'. She'll not have gone far. 'Twill take no time at all to find her. We can begin the ceremony when she returns."
Brushing her maid's efforts away, Iliana hurried anxiously to Lord Rolfe's side as Angus Dunbar headed for the doors of the keep.
"My lords!" Her gaze slid toward her would-be husband. He sat where she had left him, but was turned toward them, obviously listening to the conversation. Beseeching the king's emissaries, she hissed, "I do not think I can go through with this."
"Praise the Lord," Ebba murmured behind her.
Lord Rolfe was a little less moved. Expression blank, he shook his head. "Go through--?"
"Have you not looked about you?" she asked with bewilderment. "How could you expect me to live here? How could you expect me to marry him?" She gestured toward the man seated at the table. "He smells. This whole place smells. They are drunken louts. They reek of spirits. It fair oozes from their very flesh."
Rolfe took a look about, appearing to notice for the first time the frayed edges that seemed to grace every strip of material in the place, from Duncan's less-than-pristine clothes to the stained tapestries on the walls. A glance down showed him bones and gristle mixed in with the rushes on the floor, along with several other things she did not care to identify. "Well...aye, 'tis a bit messy," he agreed slowly.
"Messy? 'Tis a pigsty, and these people are pigs!"
"Mayhap it just needs a woman's touch, Lady Iliana," the bishop began, but Iliana was not in a mood to be soothed.
"My dear lord bishop, the touch of ten thousand women could not set this keep to rights. These people are barbarians and I will not stay here. Look at my gown from simply sitting on that bench. 'Tis ruined! 'Tis simply impossible. I will not marry him."
There was silence for a moment as Lord Rolfe and the bishop exchanged helpless glances, then the younger man sighed. "What of your mother?"
Iliana stiffened. A vivid image of her mother's bruised and tear-streaked face filled her mind and she sagged unhappily, beaten. She had no choice. She was in dire straits. She needed a strong husband, far from Wildwood, who could keep her safe from her stepfather. 'Twas the only way to free her mother from the troubles that had descended on them with her father's death.
"Is there no one else?" she asked dismally.
The bishop's expression was sympathetic. "I fear not, my lady. No one so far north. Besides, the claim has already been made to Greenweld that this contract was arranged by your father ere his death. 'Twas in the letter bearing the king's seal. We could not claim another betrothal now."
"No, of course not," she agreed miserably, then sighed. "I suppose I really have no choice then?"
"I fear not," Lord Rolfe agreed gently. "The contract was signed by both Lord Dunbar and the king. 'Tis done."
Chapter Two
"You look lovely."
Iliana peered unhappily at her maid as the woman continued fussing over her veil and gown. Lord Rolfe and the bishop had suggested she go upstairs and prepare for the wedding. She supposed it was their way of giving her time alone to face her fate.
It was a stunning blow.... And just one in a seemingly neverending series of late. The first had come a little more than two months ago with the news that her beloved father, Abod Wildwood, was dead. The second had been the form in which the news reached them. Those sad tidings had come in the person of Lord Greenweld, an ambitious baron who shared a border with their property. He had delivered the news with little more sympathy than he had shown while beating Iliana's mother. The beating had been to force her to sign her name to the marriage decree he had brought with him. The effort had succeeded, though Iliana had since learned that it wasn't the beating itself that had worked, but Greenweld's threats against Iliana if her mother did not comply.
Out riding at the time, Iliana had returned just as the mock ceremony had ended. Before she had even really grasped the fact that they had guests, her mother had flown into her arms, nearly knocking her over as she blurted out the news. Iliana had still been trying to unravel the meaning of the words pouring from her mother's swollen lips when Greenweld had torn the women apart and had Iliana removed from her childhood home.
Her mother's cries had rung in her ears as Iliana had been bound, tossed unceremoniously into the back of a cart, and taken away like a common thief. Confused and in shock, she had found herself transported to Greenweld castle, two long hours ride from Wildwood. For three days she had lain in a guarded room and grieved the loss of her father. Refusing food or drink, she had simply lain upon the bed, sobbing. On the fourth day, however, she had awoken angry, her eyes filled with the image of her mother's battered beauty and tear-filled eyes. Then she had begun to plan.
Escape was the only answer. To escape her guards at Greenweld, sneak back to collect her mother from Wildwood, and flee to their nearest relatives.
How naive she had been. How greatly she had underestimated her enemy, she realized now. He had removed her to Greenweld castle, far and away from everyone and everything she had ever known, to ensure Lady Wildwood's cooperation while he'd seen to exerting his power over the people of Wildwood. And he'd been determined to keep her there.
Time after time, Iliana had tried to escape and time after time she had been caught, restrained, and finally beaten and locked in the tower. Then the baron himself had arrived, announcing that she was to be married.
A bath had been brought to her, the first she had been allowed since her imprisonment, and he had sent her a fresh gown. Then Ebba had led her below and she had been introduced to Lord Rolfe and Bishop Wykeham, who were purportedly to escort her to Scotland and see her married. Iliana had been skeptical. She'd left Greenweld castle determined to make her escape the first chance she got...until they had made camp that night and Lord Rolfe and the bishop had spoken with her.
Iliana's mother had been a friend and favorite of Queen Anne's. Depending upon that friendship and the king's affection for his deceased wife, Lady Wildwood had written a letter and slipped it out with a servant to be carried to court. The letter had informed him of the dire straits in which she'd found herself, as well as the news that Greenweld was also attempting to arrange a marriage between Iliana and one of several powerful nobles known to be less than supportive of Richard's reign.
The king had di
spatched Rolfe and the bishop at once, sending them first to Scotland to make the deal with Dunbar, then to Wildwood. They had been told to appear surprised at Lady Wildwood's remarriage, since Greenweld had not yet informed the king of it. They were also to tell Greenweld that a marriage contract had already been drawn up for Iliana by her father; that Lord Wildwood and the laird of Dunbar had arranged it during the expedition in Ireland just before his death, and the king himself had witnessed it. Upon realizing that her father could no longer see to the completion of the contract himself, the king had sent Lord Rolfe and the bishop to tend to it. He had supplied them with a letter to that effect, addressed to Lady Wildwood.
Faced with this claim, Greenweld had had little choice but to give Iliana up.
When she had asked why the king had arranged the marriage to a Scot, and not someone closer to home, Rolfe had explained that Richard wished her to be as far away as possible for now. He intended on aiding her mother, but could not do so as long as Iliana was within Greenweld's reach. The baron had separated her from her mother for the express purpose of insuring Lady Wildwood would cooperate with him and not attempt to annul the marriage. The older woman had been informed that, should she do anything of the sort, Iliana would pay the price. Married and living in Scotland, she would be safe from that possibility and Greenweld would have less leverge against her mother. She would be free to seek an annulment with the king's assistance.
Iliana had relaxed at that news, sure that all would be well. Soon after she was safely married in Scotland, her mother would be removed from her contemptible marriage, and Greenweld would be dealt with.
Now Iliana realized what a fool she had been. She had never once considered what sort of man the king had chosen to husband her, merely trusting him to see to her best interests. But if Duncan Dunbar was his idea of a suitable husband, then the king had very poor taste. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed dispiritedly. 'Twas a shame she had not realized that ere giving up her chance at escape. But she had not. She had been more than satisfied to allow the king to see to everything. She had actually been relieved to place her future, her happiness, her very life--and her mother's as well--in the hands of these men. More the fool, she. It was obvious that by doing so, she had lost any chance at happiness. She could only hope her mother would be able to gain her freedom through this sacrifice.