By Honor Bound Part 6

"And?" Gruach waited breathlessly for her husband's reply.

"Duncan is the king and has my loyalty. I have given him my oath."

Before Gruach could find an answer to that, Elen slipped out of the room. She had heard this same argument many times by now and it bored her. She was not on very good terms with her cousins these days. They had quarreled bitterly after Elen's betrothal.

"How could you have insisted on a year's delay?" Elen had asked. "You know how much I want to marry Patric."

"You are too young," Gruach said. "Wait a while."

"That's a stupid excuse. You were just my age when you married Gillecomgan."

"Elen, we want what is best for you." Macbeth was eminently reasonable. "There is more than your youthful affection for Patric at stake here. There are vast lands, all of Lagganshire, and an important t.i.tle to consider. This is a matter of power. Love has nothing to do with the

arrangement of such a marriage. You should know that without being told."

"The king said I could marry Patric. Why are you being so difficult?" The tears she had held back withsuch an effort in Duncan's hall now fell freely. Elen's face was wet with them.

"My dear girl, have patience." Macbeth enfolded her in his arms. "A year is not so long. In time, you will come to see we are only concerned for your welfare."

Elen understood it was useless to fight them. They honestly believed they were doing what was right for her. She would have to endure it. She drew on years of convent schooling to make herself obey them with the meekness that was her duty.

The hardest part was never seeing Patric alone. Whenever they met there always seemed to be someone else nearby. In the two weeks since their betrothal they had managed only one hasty kiss, when both Fionna and Conal were present.

Now, as Elen hurried toward the chapel, she met Patric with his brother-in-law. After greeting her, Conal asked, "Is Macbeth in his chambers?"

"Yes, they are talking about Malcolm.""Everyone is talking about Malcolm," Conal said in his solemn way."How is Lulach?" Patric asked."He'll be all right once his nose regains its rightful size." Impulsively, Elen added, "I wish someone wouldstop Malcolm from beating him all the time."

"Lulach is too old to be so soft," Patric said in stern tones. "Gruach coddles him because he is her onlychild. If you want to help him, tell him to fight back. He's four years older than Malcolm, he ought to beable to win occasionally. He should be at weapons practice every day, too."

"He's not very warlike." Elen knew Patric's advice was good, but she could not help feeling just a bit angry with him. He could have been more sympathetic to poor Lulach. Then she noticed for the first time how serious both men looked.

"Tell Lulach he must become warlike very soon," Conal told her, his face grim. "And when you go to chapel, pray for us. We are going to war again before long."

Winter 1039 to Spring 1040.

Macdowald, the disaffected n.o.ble who had left Duncan's court in a rage, had turned to open revolt.

"He and his men have been seen near Forres, in my own Morayshire." Macbeth was coldly angry. " Duncan is sending Bancho and me north with an army to crush him. I'll have that devil's head on a pike for carrying his feud with the king into my lands."

When Macbeth and Bancho rode north, Patric mac Keith and Conal mac Duff rode with them. King Duncan remained at Dunfermline. He had been ill, and his physicians said he was not well enough yet to ride so far.

Elen and Patric managed one brief meeting before he left. Elen had gone to Conal's apartments to visit Fionna, and while she was there, Patric appeared.

"I ought to consult with my servants," Fionna said. "I want to be certain they are packing everything Conal will need. Will you excuse me for a little while?"

"Dear sister." Patric watched her disappear out the door with a knowing smile on his face. "I knew I could depend on you."

For the first time since the day of their betrothal, Elen and Patric were alone. They regarded each other warily from opposite sides of the hearth, each afraid to make the first move toward the other.

"You will take care, my lord," Elen said nervously. "I would like to see you come home safely." To her own ears the words sounded silly and too formal. Why could she never seem to say the right thing in exactly the right way, as Gruach always did?

"Elen." Patric's large hand moved toward It reaching across the s.p.a.ce that separated them "Elen, my love."

Elen's right hand seemed to take on a life of its own. She felt it rising, stretching toward Patric's hand. She could not have controlled that movement no matter how hard she tried.

Their fingertips touched, parted, touched again. Their hands met, palm to palm. Elen's slender fingers vanished into his giant's grasp. He gave a gentle tug, stepping forward as he did, and she fell against his chest and rested there in perfect contentment.

"We should not be alone together," she murmured after a little while. "My cousins would be so angry if they knew."

"I care nothing for Macbeth, or Gruach either. I want you."

He was gentle at first, holding back so as not to frighten her. His kisses were light, falling softly on mouth and cheeks and brow. To his surprise, she moved firmly against him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him back with growing ardor. He found it harder and harder to restrain himself.

"Patric," she whispered, "why don't you kiss me the way you did before? Have I displeased you?"

"Never. But Gruach said you were afraid of me, and shy. I thought that was why you wanted the wedding delayed."

"I? It was Gruach and Macbeth. I wanted to marry you at once. I should have spoken out, but in front of the king and all those people, I couldn't. Oh, Patric, I was weak, and now you are going away to war, and who knows what will happen?"

"Do you mean that?" He was looking at her with a radiant expression that made her heart sing. "You do want to marry me, and at once?"

"Yes."

Suddenly she was swept off her feet. He spun around with her in his arms until she was dizzy. He laughed and laughed, and kissed her, and whirled her around again until they finally collapsed into Conal's big wooden chair that sat by the hearth. Elen cuddled on his lap, her legs over one arm of the chair, her head thrown back on his shoulder.

"My love," he said, still grinning broadly.

"My love," she replied, between happy giggles.

She was dizzy from all the spinning. His mouth found hers again while it was open in the middle of a giggle, and he was laughing, too. And then they were very, very serious. His laughing mouth was suddenly a fiery brand, igniting her being in a blaze of longing. Her fingers laced through his curly hair, pulling his head closer. She wanted to melt into him, to become one with him in the fire he had started.

He removed his lips from hers only to light a series of small flames across her cheek and down her throat. His hand cupped her breast, sending remembered heat curling deep into her innermost being. What she wanted most desperately at that moment was to be free of her clothes. She wanted to feel his hands on her flesh, though she knew his touch would sear her until she was only ashes.

She gritted her teeth against the feelings rising in her. She shouldn't, she mustn't. Macbeth and Gruach would be furious with her. But this was Patric, her betrothed. She was his, to do with as he wanted. There was nothing wrong in it, and she wanted to know again the delicious, heavy sweetness his touch created. She gave herself up to pleasure.

Patric shifted in the chair, holding her closer still, and now she was aware that he was pushing her skirt up over her knees. She felt his hand, hot on the skin of her inner thigh, his touch sending waves of heat upward toward the hidden center of herself that had begun to throb with a delicious ache.

He moved again, letting her feel his arousal. She looked at him with eyes wide and dark, and brilliant with newly awakened desire.

"Patric?" Her voice was full of wonder as she recognized how deep was his need of her, and how strong the control he had set upon himself.

"Ah, my love, now I know you don't fear me." His hand moved again, stroking along her thigh, sliding upward in a gesture of tender possession. "Were we in some private place, I'd make you mine right now. "

"I am yours. I will always be yours." "I know that at last. We were meant to be together, Elen, and nothing will keep us apart." His mouth lingered on hers once more as he stood up, still cradling her in his arms. Then he set her carefully on her feet. "I cannot see Duncan again before I leave for the north. He is still weak from his illness, and the physicians have limited his visitors. But I promise you, the day I return I will speak with him privately. I will tell him you have overcome the shyness of which your cousin Gruach complained, and we want to wed at once. We'll be married when I return, and then, my sweet, I will bed you with great joy."

His youthful confidence carried her along, dissolving any reservations she might have had about Macbeth' s ability to delay or prevent their marriage.

"I will come to you with joy," she said. "Though I wish we need not wait. Patric, if you want, I'll go to your room with you now, before you must leave."

His smile was rueful as he caressed her face.

"I know the dangers I face, love. I am deeply grateful for the gift you offer, but I'll not accept it just yet. I 'll do nothing that might hurt you." His handsome face grew serious. "I have a favor to ask of you, my sweet."

"I'll do whatever you ask."

"You will make an excellent wife," he teased, kissing the tip of her nose. "It's not for me, it's Fionna. Will you be her friend, Elen? Did you know she's with child? I've heard the first babe is the most difficult. She is the only kin I have left, and I worry about her. She will be lonely once Conal and I are gone."

"I'll be her friend gladly," Elen replied. "And when you return, I will even more gladly be her sister."

He thanked her with yet another tender kiss. When Fionna returned a short time later, she found Elen sitting demurely beside Patric, telling him about Laggan, so he could begin to learn of the domain that would soon be his.

"You were with him," Gruach said. "Alone with him."

"Have you set spies on me in his sister's household?" Elen was amazed at her own courage as she faced the older woman. For love of Patric she would anger even her dear cousin. "He is my betrothed and he is going to war. We only said goodbye."

"Well, you were alone only a short time," Gruach said in a softer tone. "I suppose there is no harm in it. Who knows what will happen in battle? I fear for Macbeth constantly."

"Then you must understand how I feel."

"Aye, I do." Gruach's arm went around Elen's slender waist. "I love you, and I only want what will be best for you, my dear."

"I know."

Elen wished that Gruach and Macbeth's conception of what was best for her was more in keeping with her own ideas on the matter. She said as much to Fionna the next morning while they watched the army ride out of Dunfermline. The co-generals, Macbeth and Bancho, led the way. Talcoran, Macbeth's most trusted aide, rode close behind his lord. Mounted on a great black stallion, garbed in leather helmet and a flowing deep red cape, Talcoran looked surprisingly n.o.ble, almost heroic. Elen noticed him with startled eyes before her attention was caught by the sight of the man for whom she had been looking.

Patric wore a blue tunic and cloak. Tall and proud on his snorting, prancing steed, which he easily kept under control, he was to Elen's eyes the handsomest man in the entire army. His glance met hers for a moment, and he raised one leather-gloved hand in salute before he pa.s.sed by,

Patric and Conal mac Duff each rode at the head of a detachment of their own men, as did many of the other n.o.bles that Elen had met since she came to court. She sent up a silent prayer for the safety of all of them, and then turned to comfort Fionna, who was trying hard not to weep as she gazed after her husband's back.

"Don't worry about your cousins," Fionna said as they walked to her quarters after the army was gone. " No one wanted me to marry Conal mac Duff, but at last King Duncan commanded it. Now Patric loves Conal like a brother, though they argue all the time. Conal and I are very happy, or we will be once he returns safely from this campaign." Fionna patted her newly rounded abdomen. "You will be happy, too, one day soon. You'll see. My brother will make you a marvellous husband."

Dunfermline was quiet with most of the men gone. Gruach was often in attendance on the queen, who continued ill and kept to her rooms. To occupy her days, Elen divided her time between Fionna, who was rapidly becoming a valued friend, and Lulach. Following Patric's advice, she encouraged Lulach to attend weapons practice daily, and she tried to teach him to read, an activity the delicate boy much preferred. He would make a better priest than a warrior, but Elen knew there was no chance that Lulach would be permitted to follow his own inclinations. She sometimes thought that she and Lulach were little more than p.a.w.ns being moved about a chessboard to suit the needs or ambitions of others.

Their nerves had been stretched to the breaking point before news came from the north. When they received word that a dusty rider had stumbled into King Duncan's presence with messages from his generals, the few n.o.bles left at Dunfermline, all of the ladies, and many of the servants began gathering in the great hall, to wait in anxious expectation. When Duncan appeared at last, a hush fell.

"There is good news," Duncan proclaimed, his words producing a raucous cheer. "Macbeth and Bancho have suppressed the revolt. According to the dispatches, there was little fighting for our men to do. At sight of the army drawn up for battle, most of Macdowald's men left his side and joined Macbeth. Macdowald's remaining supporters were easily defeated. There were few of our men killed, and fewer wounded. A great victory for Alba and the crown!"

Duncan himself led the cheers that followed this report. He was glowing with pleasure Watching him accept the acclamations of his courtiers, Elen thought he looked more like a king than she had ever seen him look before.

"Perhaps he will become a better ruler as he grows older and wiser," she murmured to Fionna "So Patric believes," Fionna said. "Conal doesn't entirely agree with him, but Patric thinks time and experience will steady Duncan."

"It was not Duncan's victory, but Macbeth's," Gruach said, voicing a different opinion of the news.

"Bancho of Lochaber was there also," Elen reminded her.

"Aye. Bancho. That one." Gruach was thoughtful. Then she brightened. She had had her own messages from her triumphant husband "But the battle was fought in Morayshire, on Macbeth's own lands, and he it was who put down the revolt and had Macdowald's head placed on pike on the battlements of Forres Castle, as he had sworn to do. And now he is coming home to me." Her silver-grey eyes shone.

I.

Elen could barely conceal her own excitement. Patric had promised he would speak to Duncan as soon as he returned. It was possible they would be married in just a few weeks.

"They will be home soon," she said to Fionna."I hope so." Fionna laughed as she regarded her rapidly expanding waistline. "If Conal is away muchlonger, he may not recognize me when he does see me again."

The joy over Macbeth's victory was shortlived, for soon came news from eastern Alba that the Danes had invaded from the sea. The weary army returned to Dunfermline only to learn it would have to march again in a few days.

"The Thane of Cawdor will hold the Danes off until we arrive," Bancho said. He had stopped in Macbeth

's quarters to greet Gruach and Elen."I don't trust that man," Macbeth grumbled. "He is too ambitious." He was obviously tired, his usuallyruddy face pale with lack of sleep, his blond hair and beard streaked with the dust of travel.

"So are we all ambitious, if it comes to that," said Bancho. He stretched, wriggling his shoulders andrubbing at a sore spot on one. "I wish we could dispense with this royal banquet tonight. I could well usea full night's sleep, but we can't cheat the king of his victory feast. Elen, have you seen Patric?"

"Not yet.""What? If you were my betrothed, I'd have kissed you h.e.l.lo long before this.""She will greet him at the banquet," Gruach said primly."Ah, I see. Well, you two will want to be alone." Bancho grinned at his co-general and c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at Macbeth's lady. "I remember how it was when my wife was alive and