Lady's Ransom (The First Argentines, #3)

I’m pleased to say that the renovations of Connaught castle are going well. The roof and outer walls have been repaired, which means we can winter here. Lord Toole has successfully been established as high sheriff, and taxes continue to flow into our coffers. Even better, we now have an ally in Lord Tenthor, who, despite the drubbing he received—or perhaps because of it—has been a strong voice for unity in Legault. That doesn’t mean other lords aren’t acting like complete eejits, but each disruption has been put down, the culprit fined for breaching the peace. Each fortnight, we ride to Atha Kleah to hear complaints and dispense justice. A boat is faster, but the mere thought of sailing makes me ill. The vomiting is coming less and less now, and my belly gets firmer and firmer, like it’s becoming the rind of some strange fruit.

Things are not as well back in Ceredigion. The justiciar, Lord Longmont, has managed to offend nearly everyone, including the queen dowager. They say he is relentless in collecting taxes to support the war with the East Kingdoms, but he pockets plenty of the proceeds for himself. He has a new wardrobe made every other fortnight, rides expensive stallions, and makes people bow as if he himself were king. So far, the queen has tried to temper Longmont’s impulses with warnings, but he’s utterly deaf to them. She doesn’t want to countermand Benedict’s decision so soon after the appointment, but the lord chancellor is showing no signs of self-awareness. If he continues in this way, he will give Emiloh and Ransom no choice but to act.

Benedict and Portia were married on the Isle of Cerest, as the doge insisted in his terms for the wedding, so none of us have even seen her. It is unclear whether they will try and cross before the winter storms begin. It seems a foolish risk to me, but I imagine Benedict’s impatience will prevail.

I’m grateful we are so far away. Sir Simon sends us news from Glosstyr regularly. But Longmont hasn’t provoked Ransom. In fact, he has put two new royal castles under Ransom’s stewardship, providing us with additional income. My husband didn’t ask for them. I think it’s Longmont’s way of trying to keep those happy who could do him the most harm.

—Claire de Murrow

Connaught Castle

At the turn of the season





CHAPTER EIGHT


Fell Return


The noise of birds awoke Ransom from his slumber. They’d kept the windows open again that night, and by morning, a chill had settled into the room. He opened his eyes and found Claire turned away from him, the quill scratching softly in the little book she kept. A book that she’d not let him read.

He nestled closer to her, hooking his chin on her shoulder. Turning her head, she gave him a smile and then took his hand and placed it over her womb.

“Are you very sick this morning?” he asked her. Some mornings it was the sound of her retching that awakened him, not the noise of the birds.

“Surprisingly, no.” She blew on the page to dry the ink and then gently closed the book. She set both the book and quill down near the ink bottle on the table beside their bed.

“What were you writing about?” he asked her.

“I was describing how loudly you snore,” she said with a teasing grin. Then she snuggled back against him. “I jest. I was writing about Longmont.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a love poem?” he asked, teasing her back.

“Am I to be a minstrel for you? We can send for one if you would like to hear yourself praised all day long.”

He circled his palm around her belly, still finding it strange to think a living being had quickened inside of her. There was no sure way of knowing if they would have a daughter or a son, although Keeva believed it was a girl because she’d dangled a ring on a chain over Claire’s womb, and the ring had gone in a circle instead of swinging back and forth. Part of him was overjoyed, but the prospect of fatherhood terrified him. His own father had bet his life on King Gervase’s compassion. And Ransom had watched as the Elder King’s sons turned against him, one by one. Even months after his death, the horror of watching the man die had stamped an imprint on Ransom’s soul.

He didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past, but life had a cyclical nature he did not quite understand. Wishing to avoid something wasn’t the same as doing so.

“You’re quiet of a sudden,” Claire said, turning. “Are you brooding?”

“I suppose I am,” he confessed.

“About what, my love? Where shall we start? Lord Purser Dougal is acting like a brainless badger again. He’s been stealing from his neighbor in the middle of the night and then attacking with his knights when the man attempts to reclaim what he took. Lord Crowen just fell off his horse and broke his leg, leaving him vulnerable to attack. It’s costing more to fix Connaught than we were told in the beginning, which has strained our coffers here as well as in Glosstyr. There is a heap of missives to be read and answered that only grows fatter . . . as do I. Some days I wonder if we should even bother getting out of bed.”

He smiled at her banter and kissed her earlobe.

“What’s troubling you?” she asked, more solicitously that time.

“It’s nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Why borrow trouble?”

She shifted and lay on her back, looking up at his face. To him, she was breathtakingly beautiful, even in the morning when her hair was disheveled and she wore a simple linen chemise instead of a royal gown.

Reaching out, she touched his chest with her hand. “Will you ever share your heart with me, Ransom?”

“You have my heart,” he said, looking at her in confusion. “All of it.”

“But you hide things from me. Like right now. You hide your feelings.”

He put his hand atop hers. “What kind of father was Lord Archer?”

“That’s a different question from what kind of man he was. He was strong in front of others, like you, but he was a caring and indulgent father. He’d listen to me prattle on about stories of the Aos Sí, even though I’d repeated them dozens of times before, and he’d smile as I assume most indulgent fathers do. He trusted me. He let me make my own decisions, even if they annoyed him.” A smile of memory touched her lips. “Remember when we met in Chessy? After all those years of not seeing each other? You gave me a taste of penuche, and I gave you the bracelet.”

“Of course I remember. That’s the night I began serving Emi.”

“And now you serve another queen,” she said with a wicked smile. “My father could have forbidden me to walk with you. From his perspective, you weren’t a suitable husband back then. But he didn’t forbid it. He gave me his counsel and let me make my own choice. He trusted me not to be foolish. Not many fathers would have.”

She painted such a lifelike picture he found himself wishing he’d known Lord Archer better.

“So are you going to tell me what you were brooding about?” she asked with entreating eyes.

“I was worried about being a good father,” he said simply.

Her look softened to one of deep tenderness. “That you even have that worry is a good sign, you fool eejit. I’ve never had any brothers or sisters, and my mother died when I was very little. So I have the same fear. But Emiloh was a good example to me. You will be a wonderful father, Ransom Barton. Or else!”

He chuckled softly and took her hand and brought it to his lips. He felt the calluses on her first two fingers from the bowstring. He liked that she practiced so much, even though he worried that the strain of effort might not be good for the baby growing inside her. But he didn’t say anything about that worry, since he knew nothing about what her body was going through. Sometimes she’d get cramps in her legs for no reason at all. It was all rather baffling.

“I should get up and go to the training yard,” he told her, releasing her hand and touching the tip of her nose.

“I suppose I should let you,” she sighed. “There is much to do today.”



A ship from Glosstyr came with the morning tide, which wasn’t unusual since Sir Simon sent updates regularly from Ceredigion. But this time he came in person, and when Dearley announced him, Claire and Ransom looked at each other in startled surprise and pushed aside the breakfast dishes.

Sir Simon strode into the room, tugging off his gloves and stuffing them into his belt as he approached their breakfast table in the great hall. He bowed quickly.