He could not believe how easy it was to consider giving up everything he had wanted for a decade, simply to feel this astounding emotion every day. To hold her in his arms like this each night after indulging in a most intense and mindless passion.
What his sister had wished for him had actually happened. Without even trying, a woman had broken down his walls and stolen his heart.
But… what if Elspeth didn't wish to marry him? What if she could have no more children? She wasn't old by any means, but she was a few years older than most brides.
He enjoyed listening to her talk about her son. 'Twas obvious she was a caring and wonderful mother. He could easily imagine her holding their future bairn, his heir, in her arms. 'Twould be a most loving and beautiful sight. His heart pounded hard, for this was his new goal, his new dream. But first, he had to crush their enemies.
To do that, he had to eat. His stomach was already growling again. The carrot had done him little good. He might have to fight a long battle tomorrow. Of course, he didn't want Elspeth to go hungry either.
He arose, leaving her sleeping, took the candle and crept up the steps toward the tavern. At the top, he paused to listen. It had been an hour or longer since he'd heard anyone walking around up here. And all he heard now was silence. He tried the door latch and found it opened easily. Peering into the common room, he saw only darkness.
Using the candle to light his way, he slipped into the kitchen and found leftover bread and bannocks, as well as barely warm stew. He hollowed out two round loaves of bread and filled them with generous helpings of the stew. The brambleberry scones tempted him, and he found he could not pass them up. After putting the food into an empty basket with wooden spoons, he quietly returned to the cellar.
Elspeth startled awake at some small sound he made and sat up. "You scared me."
"I found food upstairs," he whispered, unloading the basket. "Let's eat. We'll need our strength on the morrow. I'll bring some coins back for the owner, to repay him."
"Oh, I thank you." She tried a wee spoonful of the stew. "This is delicious. I didn't realize how hungry I was."
While he ate, he simply enjoyed watching her devour the food. He prayed he could defeat all Dalacroy's men the next day and keep her safe.
∞∞∞
Early the next morn, Henry watched in anticipation as Talbot sat down at the table in the solar and unrolled the deeds.
"I appreciate that you were able to come so quickly."
"Always happy to be of service to you, my laird." The gaunt solicitor raised his bushy gray brows, likely imagining the hefty commission he would make on his work here. Henry had promised twice his normal fee.
'Twould be worth it, for Henry might well have everything he wanted before gloaming. Standing by the solicitor's elbow, he could hardly wait to hear the good news. Once the deeds were authenticated, all he had to do was find the whore and make her sign.
Talbot placed spectacles on his long thin nose and peered down at the first document, the deed for Darby Hall, a property Henry was especially keen to get his hands on. Prior to his father's daft decision to gift it to the wench, the property had been in his family for centuries and should return there.
Talbot traced a long, bony finger beneath the sentences. "Uh-huh," he grunted from time to time.
Several minutes passed and Henry could do naught but pace. He drew in a deep breath and released it, wishing the man would get on with it.
His patience waning, Henry peered over his shoulder again, then strode to the other side of the room.
Finally, Talbot reached the bottom of the deed. "Humph!"
"What is it?" Henry rushed to the table, knowing that sound foretold bad news. He'd used the man's services off and on for years and had learned the relative meaning of each of his grunts. "Tell me."
"One moment, if you please, my laird." Talbot moved back up a few lines and slowly traced his finger beneath the words again.
Henry muttered curses under his breath and shoved a rough hand through his hair, tempted to rip it out by the roots.
Talbot cleared his throat. "My laird, I fear you will not like what I'm about to say. 'Haps you should be sitting when you hear it."
Hardly able to draw breath, he seethed, "Just tell me."
"This deed is worthless."
Outrage blasted through Henry. "What! How is that possible?"
"These last few lines." Talbot pointed. "Someone thinks they are very clever."
"What does it say?" Henry snatched the deed from the table and approached the window for more light. He squinted, hardly able to decipher a word or two of the horrendous handwriting. "Damn it all! What does it say? Read it to me." He shoved the deed back in front of the solicitor.
