The Seduction of Laird Sinclair Page 3

  Violet’s heart sunk to her stomach. She wanted to tell him how wretched he was, to use her daughter to sway her. She caught the gaze of Henry Bolingbroke’s dark eyes from across the hall. He shook his head and placed a finger on his lips. Henry was Charles’s closest comrade and her dear friend. He was also a cousin to King Richard. She took his silent message to heart and remained quiet.

  The chancellor approached Richard’s side. “Your Grace, Mowbray insists on your attendance in your private chambers. He has a complaint to make against Henry Bolingbroke.” Arundel continued the rest of his discussion in a hushed tone, and she couldn’t hear what they spoke.

  Richard nodded. “I’ll see him shortly. Make him wait.”

  A tense moment passed, and Violet nervously awaited his rebuke or chastisement of her rejection. As she stood there, she tried to think of a way to sway Richard to release her daughter, but nothing came to mind. The king was vile to use her baby against her. Violet couldn’t let anything happen to Cora, and she strongly considered Richard’s request.

  “Lady Danvers, we are not finished, but I have other important matters to address. You’ll remain here at court until I decide what’s to be done with you.”

  Dismissed, Violet stepped back and made it to the wall. Her heart raced, and her hands shook uncontrollably. She stayed close to the king’s dais in case he called for her again. Sir Nicholas stared at her with fury and his hands fisted. She hoped to avoid his anger, but he blatantly scowled.

  Henry Bolingbroke drew near Richard, tilted his head, and his dark hair pitched to cover his face. When he raised his chin, his expression was emotionless, and she couldn’t detect a smile from his beard-covered face. “Cousin, you’re a busy man this day. I haven’t seen the hall this crowded since your coronation.”

  “Nicholas, leave us,” Richard said with a wave of his hand. “Welcome, Henry.” He signaled to a servant who brought forth cups of ale. “Join me in a drink. Explain Mowbray’s accusations that you insist you should receive my favor and not he? Is it true you challenged him to a duel?”

  Henry sat in the chair next to the king’s and took the offered cup. “As much as you irk me, Richard, I couldn’t allow him to make treasonous remarks toward you. I won’t let him slander our family’s honor or name. I challenged him and we shall settle the matter.”

  “I am uncertain if I approve of this duel. Besides, it is my discretion which will decide who shall gain my favor, or whether I believe Mowbray’s words treasonous against me.”

  Violet listened to their conversation. Charles told her of Henry’s involvement in the king’s repellent assembly. Parliament wasn’t pleased with Richard’s misuse of monies and thought him a wastrel. They vowed to bring their sovereign to task for his excessive overspending. Poor Charles was executed for it, but somehow Henry escaped punishment, or perhaps his relation to Richard lessened the king’s anger.

  She wanted to flee, to go home and find her beloved Cora there. Her heart ached at the thought that her dearest daughter was apprehended by Richard’s men. How frightened she must have been. She was only three in years and too young to understand what happened or why she’d been taken away. As Violet waited, she pondered what to do. If she married Sir Nicholas as the king demanded, he’d be abusive. He’d threatened her often, and if she refuted him, he would probably kill her. Then where would Cora be? In the hands of the most brutal man alive, that’s where. Richard wouldn’t harm a child, at least, she hoped not. They were safer if she opposed the wedding, or at least, Cora would remain unharmed.

  Henry finished his conversation with the king. Richard left the dais in a huff and entered his private chambers. Violet, as well as those nearby, bowed to him as he passed.

  Henry approached and stood before her. “Violet, I’m sorry. You must be distraught. Charles’s last words were of you. He gained my promise to protect you.” He twitched a finger to a lad who stood nearby. “Take Lady Danvers to my chamber where she might recover from her shock. Wait there for me, because I must speak with you. I’ll be along as soon as I can. I must soothe Richard’s temper and deal with Mowbray’s accusations.” He set off and trailed Richard to his chamber.

  She followed the lad, happy to be away from the hall and Sir Nicholas. Once inside Henry’s rooms, she fled to the bed and cried her heart out. Her life and her daughter’s was in even greater peril than she imagined. She sat on the bed for an hour and tried to reason a way to persuade the king not to wed her to Nicholas and to return her daughter.

  Henry entered the chamber and took her in his arms. Despair burst forth, and she wept on his tunic. Heart wrenched dread kept her voice mute, except for her sobs.

  “Ah, sweetness, don’t weep. There’s nothing to be gained by it now.” Henry’s dark eyes held fast to hers. He appeared as crestfallen as she.

  “He executed Charles. Charles was a good man and a devoted husband. He didn’t deserve to die that way. How did you escape Richard’s wrath?”

  Henry smoothed a hand over her back. “My relation to Richard saved my neck, but he’s angry with me and my fate is yet decided. I’ll probably be exiled for who knows how long. Hopefully, he’ll be lenient and remember how close we were when we were young. I deem he means to allay parliament by being somewhat forgiving toward me. And my father negotiated the treaty betwixt Richard and the lords against him. Surely my father had a hand in Richard’s leniency.”

  She’d heard Lord John was a vital emissary in settling the matter between Richard and parliament. But Lord John’s influence hadn’t helped poor Charles.

  “I’m sorry, Henry. I should return to the hall. The king will expect me to be present.”

  Henry pulled her back when she stood. “Wait. Charles told me how he married you to protect you from that knave Colfax. And what Colfax did to your father and family home. He’s the devil’s servant and cares not who he crushes. You won’t survive his torment. Colfax will stop at nothing to have you. He definitely had a hand in Charles’s execution and easily sways Richard’s ear. Violet, you cannot marry him.”

  “It’s the last thing I want, but I must think of Cora.”

  “Cora will be safe. Richard will probably send her to a nunnery to be looked after. You must listen and heed me.” Henry squeezed her hand.

  “I won’t risk her safety.” Violet shuddered inside, and tears threatened to fall again.

  “You’re my friend, and I won’t allow you to be used as Richard’s pawn. You must leave England at the soonest. Colfax won’t desist and I’ve heard his boasts. He means to bodily harm you and make your life most miserable.”

  “Are you saying you’ll take me with you? Your wife will have something to say about that.”

  “Of course not, and my wife will be displeased when she learns about Charles’s death and what the king demanded of you. I must see to your safety, but no, I cannot take you with me, because I’m unsure where I’ll end up. Richard will probably send me to the end of the world.”

  “I cannot return to Cumbria. The king will search Charles’s estate.”

  “Until I secure Richard’s pardon, I cannot send you to my estates either. But I know where you can go. There is a comrade in the Highlands who owes me a favor. You must go to him. I sent a missive and he expects your arrival. Your maid readies for your journey and awaits you at my manor in Lincolnshire. You must make haste and be gone before Richard or Sir Nicholas finds out your intent. It’s the only way I can keep you safe.” Henry placed his hands on her face and kissed her forehead.

  Violet closed her eyes as his solace comforted her. “I’m to leave all and without Cora―”

  Henry wrapped her in his arms and leaned his head against hers. “We will figure out what to do about Cora. It’s your life that is in peril, not hers. Sinclair is an honorable man. You should trust him. Whatever you do, don’t return to England. If you must, entice him, or do whatever it takes to win Sinclair’s affection to remain there.”

  She scowled at his words. “Are you telling
me to seduce him?”

  “If that’s what it takes, Violet. Do what’s necessary to keep from Sir Nicholas’s clutches. You’re the most tenderhearted, kindest, comeliest woman I’ve ever beheld. I don’t want anything wretched to happen to you at the hands of that blighter.”

  “But Charles―”

  “I am aware of your relations with your husband. He had several mistresses. You’re entitled to a little pleasure too. Besides, Charles is no longer here. You’re free to take a lover or lovers. I wish you were my mistress, but alas that cannot happen now.”

  Violet held him and disbelieved Henry’s admissions. She’d never suspected his fondness, but his words alluded that he cared for her. In the years she’d known him, she secretly held him in admiration too, but they were both married, and neither would be disloyal to their spouses. At least, she wouldn’t.

  “Sinclair needs you.”

  She sighed and lowered her face. “Why does Sinclair need me?”

  He raised her chin and gazed at her eyes with a serious expression. “He was broken of spirit and in a sorrowful state when last I saw him. But I trust he’s recovered, at least, that is my hope. I came to respect him and revered his strength and gallantry. Sinclair will keep you safe, and I won’t worry about you. You’ll be well away from London, Richard, and Colfax. Be sure to win Sinclair, Violet, and hold no guilt, for Charles would want you to be happy.”

  She nodded. “Will I be happy with this man―?”

  His lips almost touched hers as he caressed her face with his. She drew back, confused by his passion. Violet wasn’t aware of Henry’s feelings until this day. But it was too late to act on their attraction, and besides, he was married, supposedly happily with two sons, even if he had mistresses.

  Violet pushed him away. “Henry, please, you shouldn’t kiss me. I won’t cause your wife’s distress. Mary loves you.”

  He cupped her face with his palms and ran the pad of his thumbs on her cheeks and smiled. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you, but you’re right. And I do love Mary. You’re not meant for me, sweet Violet, as much as I wished it was so. Your beauty and kind heart will sway my comrade’s affection. Callum is the kind of man all women chase after. Not because he’s arrogant, prideful, or thinks he’s superior to anyone. He’s noble and has spirit. Sinclair doesn’t know the gift I send him, but he will soon enough.”

  Chapter Three

  Girnigoe Castle, Wick

  Caithness, Scotland

  February 1388

  The sea’s turbulent water lashed at the rocky slope of land beyond the barbican. Callum Sinclair stood on the rampart and closed his eyes. His homecoming wasn’t as pleasant as he’d hoped. He held disdain in his heart. Being the son of a Sinclair, he couldn’t forgo his responsibilities regardless of his want, but he balked. He had decisions to make, which led him out to the wall. It was the best place to clear one’s head and reason hefty considerations.

  “There you are. I suspected you would come here. Ah, a storm comes. The sky and land call.”

  He turned at his grandmother’s voice. “You shouldn’t be out here, Mor. The wall is dangerous and you might lose your footing.”

  She scoffed and hastened forward. “I’m old, but not daft enough to fall off the wall, my lad. You’re troubled. You seek solace?”

  Callum nodded. He stood next to Mor and took her hand. “I’m troubled about many things, especially about Gavin’s death. It should’ve been me that died.”

  “Aye, but you didn’t die.”

  He sighed wearily. “Why would I survive, and Gavin perish?” Guilt plagued him when he learned of his brother’s death. He should have been home, protecting their land and his laird, not on a godforsaken raid which caused him more despair than he would’ve liked.

  “It is God’s will. Your brother loathed you and you feel empathy at his death? You shouldn’t bother to feel for his loss. Gavin treated you ghastly. He wasn’t kindhearted or a good leader. I’m not saying the clan rejoices, but there are rumors his death couldn’t have come at a better time. The great fire in the sky alluded to his demise. We should’ve foreseen what was to come.”

  “The fireball had nothing to do with it. I’m trying to understand how I received grievous wounds and recovered, yet my brother was murdered and cut down on our own land. What reason would he be killed? Who wanted him and me dead? How is it none saw his attacker? There were no witnesses?” Callum hadn’t figured out why his clansmen tried to murder him at the battle of Otterburn either. Someone wanted the Sinclairs dead, that was certain.

  “Lockie says he saw Gavin fighting with someone on the night he was killed. But Lockie’s mind is not as sharp as it once was. He doesn’t name the man he saw with Gavin.”

  Callum drew his brows together in wonder of why his Uncle Lockie wouldn’t alert the sentry or call men to arms. “The clan… Clive tells me they’re undecided who will become our laird.”

  She clutched his arm and held tight when a hefty gust of wind shook the rampart. “Many hope you will take the position for you deserved it more than Gavin. You showed care towards the clan’s people, more than he ever did, and many revere you.”

  “Mor, how can I accept the position? I cannot lead our soldiers or even hold a damned sword. I haven’t fully healed, and it’s unlikely I’ll ever regain my strength.”

  She pressed a hand on his shoulder. “You should seek your answers at the stones, for they’ll comfort you and show you the way.” Mor turned and peered at the great water in the distance. “You must go when the great rain comes and night falls upon you, only then shall the spirits give you answers and comfort.”

  “Answers to what?” Clive asked as he approached.

  “Callum is uncertain whether to take the position as laird. I’ll leave you to discuss it. Don’t stay out here long, the sky has awakened.” Mor rushed to the door as a light flashed in the distance.

  Clive, the clan’s steward, his cousin, and closest comrade, glared. “There’s nothing to be uncertain about. Our clansmen made their decision and won’t be dissuaded. You’re the laird, whether you wish to be or not.”

  “What I wish is to be left alone.”

  His cousin snorted. “Aye? Don’t we all, but we all have our duty and yours is to be the laird.”

  Callum shook his head. “What of the Imbolc festivities? Will the clan gather?” He’d broached the subject of the festival to get his cousin to desist in pestering him about the lairdship. Clive attended to all clan matters of late. That left Callum to do as he wanted, which was to hold up in his solar, alone, and able to reflect on his regrets. His sorrowful mood hadn’t improved on his return home.

  “Laird, will you not listen?” Clive shoved his arm. “You asked about the festival.”

  “Aye, I heard you. You want me to give the farmers incentive to begin the season’s planting.” Callum took a deep breath and gazed at the waters beyond and the flashes of light in the distance. A tremble shook the ground with a rumble.

  Imbolc had been celebrated by the Sinclairs for generations. Legends prevailed that Cailleach, the Goddess of winter, gathered her firewood to sustain for the rest of winter, if the season’s cold continued. Cailleach would ensure the weather fair so plenty of wood might be collected. Yet if the day was of foul weather, it meant Cailleach slept, and none would bother to collect wood, and winter would abscond. His grandmother was a true believer in the spirits of the Goddesses, but he didn’t hold such beliefs.

  “We’re due for an early spring if what Mor speaks is true for the weather is foul enough to bring forth the season’s change. We can discuss the festival later if you prefer.”

  “Do as you will. I trust your judgment.” Callum continued to peer at the water, disinterested in Clive’s concerns, or about the festival.

  “Will you join us? It’s been weeks since anyone saw you. The clan doesn’t believe you live because you haven’t shown yourself since your return.”

  He sighed again and pressed a
hand on his forehead, certain Clive would pester him until he gave in. But Callum didn’t want to join his clansmen or to leave his solar. He didn’t want his clansmen to witness his weakness as a lesser man, one unworthy of the position of laird. “I cannot.”

  “Our clansmen wish to see you. Our uncles declare they will come to you if you don’t show yourself soon. And what of Dela? She needs her da.”

  “Our uncles are welcome here. I would hear what they have to say. As to Dela, I don’t want her to see me like this. Hawisa takes care of her.”

  Clive punched him hard on the shoulder. “Hawisa tolerates the lass, but that is all. You need to be there for your daughter, for she’s a hellion and misses her ma―”

  “I need time. There’s been too much dread to think about on my homecoming. My brother was murdered, and my wife…” The thought of his wife brought forth more disheartened matters to tense his chest. Callum couldn’t reason how Lydia was taken from him, in childbirth no less. He wasn’t aware she expected a bairn, but what troubled him more about the situation, was the babe wasn’t his. Torn between mourning her and abhorring her deceit, he tried not to consider it.

  “You hold up in your chamber and never leave, except to come out here. The clan will deem you’re a ghost if you ever show yourself again.” Clive chuckled.

  Callum held up a hand to get Clive to concede. “This is where I belong.”

  “Laird, you belong to us and we care―”

  He cut him off and wished to end the dispute. “Is that all you wished to discuss?”

  Clive slapped his back and his voice pitched, “Nay, it is not. You hide here because you think all will believe you are weak. It’s an injured arm, Laird, you have another. And by God, are you not fortunate to have your sword arm?”

  He scowled at his friend’s conjecture. Just an injured arm? He had a good arm, his sword arm, yet he was weakened, and hadn’t the strength to lift said sword arm. He wasn’t whole, that’s all that mattered to him. Fortunate? He hadn’t been so in many a month or years for that matter. “I will not discuss this further.”