Relief flashed in Cecille's eyes. “So you will marry Teagan?”
“I will do whatever it takes,” Greer whispered. She cleared her throat and, at last, sank onto the bench beside him, almost as if she had no choice. As if she was but a possession sold to one man and then another. Defeated and hopeless.
He wasn’t any man, though. And she had a great deal of hope ahead of her.
Just as troubled by Greer’s behavior as he was, Cecille inhaled deeply before finally telling her daughter the whole story. Not just about the family jewels she and Greer’s father had stolen, but the pact Teagan had made with his brothers to restore their clan.
“So, my dowry is a piece of this fortune.” Greer's shoulders sank. “The other, this main jewel that uncle wants, has convinced him to take me from Bartholomew and give me to Teagan.”
Not a question but a lackluster statement.
“Aye,” he replied when it seemed too difficult for Cecille. He explained how they had left the jewel at Edmund's holding in case they were searched upon arrival. “Edmund will ride back to his estate and retrieve the gem. Then, once your uncle has it in hand, he will let us go.”
“A jewel that proves he’s related to the King of England,” she said softly, “which will make my marriage unnecessary. After all, it would confirm his royalty, earning him the prestige he’s so desperate for.”
“That's right,” Cecille confirmed. “So he will no longer need you.”
In a thousand lifetimes, he would have never thought someone like King Edward III, the man responsible for so much Scottish bloodshed, capable of relations like these women, but apparently, it was true.
Greer remained silent for what seemed an eternity but was likely only a few moments. She sighed and put her head down, redirecting her submissive behavior effortlessly from Bartholomew to him. “May I go now, Teagan?”
While he might ken the necessity behind all this, there was no reason for him to behave like other men had.
“Only if ye wish, lass.” He wanted to rest his hand over hers or, at the very least, touch her in reassurance but knew it was too soon. “Though I would much rather ye stay and spend time with yer good ma.”
Now that she understood why her mother hadn't come back straight away, he assumed she would want to spend time with her. Then again, though Cecille had made clear she hadn't abandoned Greer, she had just supported her daughter marrying another without any real choice in the matter. So it wasn’t all that surprising when Greer requested to leave.
Her eyes remained lowered. “If ’tis just the same, I would rather get some rest.”
“Of course, darling.” Cecille started forward. “Let me walk you back.”
“Please, no.” Greer shook her head and glanced at Teagan, asking his permission. “If ’tis all right, I would rather walk back alone.”
“Aye, lass, whatever ye wish.”
“Thank you.” She curtsied and vanished almost as quickly as she came.
Though tempted to make sure she made it back safely, he sensed she did this sort of thing often at night and knew her way around just fine.
“Bloody hell.” He braced his elbows on his knees and hung his head. “This isnae fair to her.” He scowled at Cecille, who stared forlornly after Greer. “She thinks me but another man who means to own her.”
He realized even as he said it how that sounded, and Cecille took notice.
“Well, you are, are you not?” Cecille arched a brow. “Or so that’s how things appear.” She sat beside him, her gaze compassionate. “However distanced you mean to keep your heart from all this, feeling nothing for Greer’s circumstances is impossible for a man like you. So I’m sorry your journey with her had to start out this way. That…” She clenched her teeth, grappling with anger. “That you could not give her the choice she so rightly deserves for once in her life.”
“I will, though,” he vowed, never so certain of anything. “I will give her the same choice Malcolm gave Isabella, with or without her dowry. After we marry, I will let her go if that is her desire.”
“You will have her dowry,” Cecille said softly, surprising him with her vehemence. “And God willing, in the end, her heart, too.”
That, as he told her yet again, was not something he sought. Even so, as he lay in bed later that night, he found himself wondering what it would feel like to open his heart to a lass. He’d never done it, so had nothing to draw on.
Before he and his brothers went off to war, he’d been more like Malcolm. Lighthearted and flirtatious, enjoying lasses aplenty but never falling in love. After that, the years of battling made love seem more and more improbable. That day in the village made it downright impossible. He was too changed. Too disenchanted. Since then, he barely lay with a lass, much less entertained the idea of anything more.
Now he was curious or at least intrigued.
He intended to put Edmund’s time away to good use and get to know Greer better. Which, as he discovered the next day, would not always go so smoothly.
Chapter Ten
Greer tossed and turned all night, barely sleeping a wink. Eventually, she gave up, sat by the window overlooking the courtyard, and watched the sun crest the horizon.
“I understand why you are upset,” Margery would say. “But is this not what you wanted? Does the idea of marrying Teagan instead of Bartholomew not appeal to you?”
“You know it does,” she’d reply. “But not like this. Not told rather than asked.”
When a light rap came at the door, she called out that Ada could enter, not surprised to see her friend up so early.
“Good morn,” Greer said in greeting. “I would ask how you knew I was awake, but know better.”
“Aye, I heard ye looked glum upon yer return to the castle last night, so figured ye’d have a restless night.” Ada sat beside her, concerned. “What happened? Because I know yer future betrothed and mother made their way to the river as well.”
Though she might be out of sorts, there was no reason for her friend to be. So she squeezed Ada’s hand and mustered a smile. “I have good news.”
She filled her in on their plan.
Though wary, hope flared in Ada’s eyes. Yet, instead of focusing on her own impending freedom, she remained concerned about Greer’s discontent.
“So ye’re to marry yer warrior-hero after all. That’s good!” As usual, Ada figured out Greer quickly enough. Her smile wavered, and she cocked her head. “’Tis not quite the story ye spun in yer mind, though, aye?”
Of course, it wasn’t. In any love story, a man would marry a woman for love, not her dowry. She would be worth more than the coin that came with her or, in this case, jewels. Greer didn’t voice such, though, because it was too unrealistic a desire to bother complaining about.
And truly, did such love exist beyond a tale?
“No,” Greer admitted. “When I envisioned this, I was not told to marry another man nor forced to break my good word.” She tried to look at the bright side. “Though I will admit this situation has a better outlook than marrying Bartholomew.”
“A thousand times over,” Margery would mutter. “So stop brooding.”