“That I should let her remain with you, because she’s a grown woman?”
“She’s still a maiden.”
Curan drew in a stiff breath, calming down.
“But I wonder if it isna time to be changing that.”
“Enough!” Curan made a slashing motion with his hand that drew dark looks from his waiting men.
Barras snorted at Curan. “I do nae think so. I’ve already gone to a great deal of effort to ask ye for permission to court her, so do nae insult me by implying that I’d no honor her if I took her to my bed.”
“Is that what you plan, Barras?” Curan curled his hand into a fist. “I cannot stand idle while you keep my sister imprisoned.”
“Well, it’s sure to be better for her if one of us keeps her from riding out without a care for what danger lurks on this land.”
Curan drew in a stiff breath. “I concede that you are correct. Jemma cannot be allowed to continue as she has. She was changing her habits, which accounted for how late she went riding yesterday. She is a woman and doesn’t know the details of how violent our land has become. Neither my father nor I felt politics a suitable subject for her. I wish I might be so ignorant, for the current policies coming from London do not please me. It was my decision to keep such dark tidings from her.”
Gordon felt the tension between them ease. For all that he was Scottish and Curan pure English, they had discovered a common ground between them. Neither felt the need to hate one another simply because they had been raised to do so. They judged each other by their deeds, which was something their countrymen might benefit from learning.
“I want to court her.”
Curan narrowed his eyes, and Gordon shrugged. “In my own manner, and mind the way ye are glaring at me, man. I seem to recall ye using a few direct tactics to bring yer bride to yer bed. Ye didna want anyone telling ye how to proceed, either.”
“She is my sister.”
Gordon couldn’t resist grinning at the strained tone that Curan used. “Aye, lad, but the fact is Jemma has grown into a woman who needs to be allowed to deal with a man who wants her. That will never happen beneath yer roof. If I come courting to yer home, she’ll discover herself wed to a stranger because she will never see the true side of my nature while everyone is watching us. Besides, I’ve no more patience for sitting there while she runs away and ye will nae allow me to chase her.”
“So you want me to allow her to remain beneath yours? Is that it, Barras?”
Gordon stared straight back at Curan without flinching. “Aye, lad, I do.”
The English baron held his thoughts for a long moment, studying him.
“Why? To bed her before wedding her?”
“Why do ye want her returned so quickly, Ryppon? Is there another offer that is better? I’ll match it if I bed her.”
“If?” Curan raised one eyebrow in question.
Gordon shrugged. “I told ye, Ryppon, I want to court the lass. It may be that I will send her back to ye happily.”
“Careful, Barras. Jemma might have made a mistake yesterday, but she took my father’s passing very hard, for she tended him for the years that he was ill. A woman’s heart is tender, as I am discovering with my own wife. Don’t make the mistake of thinking ill of Jemma for loving our father so greatly she faltered under the pain of his passing. That capacity to love is the thing that makes a woman worth more than any treasure on this earth. Women love deeply, and sometimes that sends them into despair when they lose the person they give their heart to.”
There was a light in the baron’s eyes that made Gordon envious. The emotion surprised him, stealing the heat from his next words.
“I want the chance to discover who yer sister is, and I can nae do that with ye about.” Gordon shrugged. “I’ve been the master of my own home too long, just as ye did nae take too kindly to anyone telling ye how to treat yer own bride. Ye have been in command too long to sit and perform like an untried lad.”
“That is true enough.” Curan rubbed his chin. “But if you bring tears to Jemma’s eyes, I swear I will smash your face, Barras. Business or no business, and that is my solemn promise to you.”
Gordon smiled, the expression cocksure and arrogant, drawing a chuckle from Curan.
“I promise you, Barras, you won’t enjoy this fight.”
“Neither will you.” There was thick promise in his voice but also a good amount of boyish merriment. Curan shook his head but not completely with disgust.
“I’ll be back, Barras, and soon.”
Curan rode back to join his men, and smiles appeared on their faces when they learned that they would not be ordered into battle. Gordon knew that his own men would be wearing similar expressions. He could feel their relief hitting his back while he maintained his position and watched the English baron turn his men around. There was a single knight who defied his lord’s command. Two white plumes were mounted on the back of the man’s helmet, signifying his rank. He remained facing the Scots, and Gordon could feel the heat of the man’s glare. But his lord jerked his head, and the knight bent beneath the order.
Kerry joined him with an expression that was smooth. But there were questions brimming in the man’s eyes.
“Keep yer thoughts to yerself, man. I’ve enough to think about.”
A low whistle was his captain’s reply, one that Gordon had heard before when the man was teasing him over something. Today, Gordon didn’t find any humor in the moment, and his captain’s whistle irritated him. He sent
