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“Kat?”
“Very well. I do not find you entirely repulsive, and you seem…kind. Apart from the spanking, obviously.”
He permitted himself a grin. Not entirely repulsive. It was a start.
* * *
“There! Look, that is Roxburghe.”
Flora stood up in her stirrups and pointed ahead.
Katherine, who was riding alongside, craned her neck to see, and managed to pick out the crenelated walls of the keep, just poking above the skyline, perhaps five miles away.
“It seems…very grand,” she murmured.And very big.
“Not really, but it is quite cosy. Well, the lord’s apartments are. My father always liked to be comfortable.”
“I am sure it will prove most…agreeable,” Katherine replied.
Flora, always sensitive, reached for her hand. “You will be happy here, I am certain of it.”
Katherine nodded. She might have preferred to live out her days at Elborne, but she was resigned to the shift in her fortunes and meant to do all in her power to ensure that her marriage was a success. And she would not deny that she was rather looking forward to seeing Robbie again.
He had departed Elborne shortly after their private conversation in the courtyard. Robbie had remained only long enough to conclude the formalities regarding the marriage agreements, or at least as much as might be achieved without the formal assent of their respective monarchs. Richard, Stephen’s brother, had left at once for London to speak to Henry Tudor, whilst Robbie had undertaken to present their proposal to James of Scotland.
Katherine sincerely hoped the kings would find favour in the plan.
Before leaving, Robbie had invited Stephen, Flora, and others of the household to join him at Roxburghe to celebrate Easter. He had most specifically requested that Katherine attend. Stephen had not been especially eager, but here they were. They had ridden out of Elborne soon after first light and expected to be dining at Roxburghe that evening.
It was to be a short visit, just three days. Flora would be able to pay her respects to her recently deceased father at the MacKinnon family crypt, and they would all celebrate the sacred festival of Easter together. Devout as she was, uppermost in Katherine’s mind was the fact that this would also be her first opportunity to meet those who would be her family from now on. And for them to meet her. Despite Flora’s assurances, she could not help the fluttering in her stomach.
What if they do not accept me?
The English and the Scots are bitter enemies. What if they hate me?
What if Robbie comes to resent me for coming between him and his clan?
With every clop of her palfrey’s hooves, Katherine became more apprehensive. By the time their party clattered across the Roxburghe drawbridge her stomach was churning so much that she feared she might disgrace herself.
That would be a fine start, making a mess on the very steps of her future husband’s keep.
Stable lads ran to grab the reins of their horses. As she waited to be assisted from her mount, Katherine took the opportunity to scan the dark-grey façade of Roxburghe castle.
A squat, square tower guarded the southern corner, and a higher, round one the west. Katherine could make out the guards stationed along the walls, their suspicious stares taking in every move down in the bailey.
Clearly, they had yet to become reconciled to this new alliance and expected trouble at any moment.
Katherine suspected they might be right.
The mighty gatehouse, now behind them, offered accommodation for the laird’s soldiers. Most of the servants, according to Flora, slept on the floors of the great hall, exactly as was the custom at Elborne. The laird’s private chambers were situated in the round tower. Katherine scanned the solid stone walls, wondering which of the small, narrow windows, set at regular intervals, would be hers.
“Kat. Welcome to Roxburghe. Let me help you down.”
She had not seen or heard his approach, but Katherine was reassured when Robbie reached up for her. She rested her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to lift her to the cobbles.
“Thank you, my lord. It is good to see you once more. I…oh!”
Her startled gaze landed on his kilt and the leather sporran which hung from his belt. The Earl of Roxburghe had adopted an English style of dress when he visited Elborne, but here, in his own keep, he clearly favoured the traditional garb of his clan. The purples, yellows, and greens blended in an intricate pattern to create the distinctive tartan, the emblem of the MacKinnons.
