mission, so I couldn’t be of any help,” added John.
“Stop it. Both of you. I didn’t need your help.”
“Did you save your betrothed?” asked Nicholas curiously.
“Aye. Where is she?” added John, looking around.
“Get yer stinkin’ hands off o’ me. I dinna need help te walk,” came a woman’s voice from the ship. Conlin looked over to see Isobel standing at the top of the boarding plank with the blanket wrapped tightly around her, and Shadwell trying to help her down to the pier. Her Scottish guard, Elliot, stood behind her wrapped in a blanket as well.
“Is that . . . the horse face?” Nicholas just stared with his mouth open as Isobel made her way down the plank to the pier. She was barefoot, and slipped, but righted herself quickly. When she did, the wind blew open the blanket exposing her rosy, taut nipples poking up from under the wet, white tunic Conlin had given her right off his back.
“If it is, I’ll never look at a horse in the same way again,” added John with a slight whistle.
“Nay. She’s Lady Catherine’s cousin, Lady Isobel,” Conlin told them.
“Good! So is she married?” John looked like a randy boy about to bed his first wench.
“Back off, Hastings. She is Lady Catherine’s proxy, so she’ll be marrying me – for now.”
“Really? What a shame.” John looked sorely disappointed.
“She’s a proxy? I don’t understand.” Nicholas shook his head. “So . . . where is your betrothed?”
“Lady Catherine wasn’t on the ship at all,” he told his friends. He watched Isobel trying to hold the blanket closed with one hand as she bent over and squeezed the water out of her long hair at the same time with the other. “We managed to save only Isobel and her guard. The rest – are dead.”
“Oh!” That took John by surprise.
“I’m sorry,” said Nicholas looking at the ground and shaking his head.
Conlin knew that neither of his friends was fond of the Scots, so losing a shipload of them would probably not cause either of them to lose any sleep. None of the English were fond of the Scots, as they had lost many good men fighting battles against them in the past. Conlin’s betrothal to a Scot had raised a few eyebrows and caused whispers behind his back, but he didn’t care. He was making this alliance to secure his lands as well as to help his daughter. At twelve years of age, Rose needed a mother to talk to, and would not even confide in Conlin with her problems anymore.
The Scottish guard came down the boarding plank next followed by Conlin’s squire, Toft. They walked over to join Isobel.
“What about the bounty?” asked John. “Did you manage to at least save that?”
“Aye.” Nicholas perked up. “It’s our privilege granted by the king.”
Conlin couldn’t believe his friends. They almost sounded as if they thought they’d be getting part of the bounty. He could have laughed aloud, after neither of them went to any extreme to try to help him collect it.
“I’ve collected several trunks, some barrels of wine and food, and some boxes which contain – I have no idea what they contain, actually.”
“We can help you find out,” added John, sounding a bit too eager.
“The bounty is mine since it was found on open water and I’m the only baron who risked my life to try to save those aboard the ship,” Conlin reminded them.
“Of course, of course.” Nicholas looked away again. “And it seems your biggest bounty is standing barefoot and wrapped in a blanket.”
“What about the dowry? Was your betrothed’s dowry that was promised to you aboard the ship?” John was always excited about wealth and treasure.
“Lady Catherine’s dowry wasna on the ship,” Isobel announced, overhearing their conversation. She walked over to join them, followed by her guard and Conlin’s squire. “And it’s jest like a Sassenach te care aboot bounty more than the lives thet were lost today.”
This silenced both his friends better than
“Stop it. Both of you. I didn’t need your help.”
“Did you save your betrothed?” asked Nicholas curiously.
“Aye. Where is she?” added John, looking around.
“Get yer stinkin’ hands off o’ me. I dinna need help te walk,” came a woman’s voice from the ship. Conlin looked over to see Isobel standing at the top of the boarding plank with the blanket wrapped tightly around her, and Shadwell trying to help her down to the pier. Her Scottish guard, Elliot, stood behind her wrapped in a blanket as well.
“Is that . . . the horse face?” Nicholas just stared with his mouth open as Isobel made her way down the plank to the pier. She was barefoot, and slipped, but righted herself quickly. When she did, the wind blew open the blanket exposing her rosy, taut nipples poking up from under the wet, white tunic Conlin had given her right off his back.
“If it is, I’ll never look at a horse in the same way again,” added John with a slight whistle.
“Nay. She’s Lady Catherine’s cousin, Lady Isobel,” Conlin told them.
“Good! So is she married?” John looked like a randy boy about to bed his first wench.
“Back off, Hastings. She is Lady Catherine’s proxy, so she’ll be marrying me – for now.”
“Really? What a shame.” John looked sorely disappointed.
“She’s a proxy? I don’t understand.” Nicholas shook his head. “So . . . where is your betrothed?”
“Lady Catherine wasn’t on the ship at all,” he told his friends. He watched Isobel trying to hold the blanket closed with one hand as she bent over and squeezed the water out of her long hair at the same time with the other. “We managed to save only Isobel and her guard. The rest – are dead.”
“Oh!” That took John by surprise.
“I’m sorry,” said Nicholas looking at the ground and shaking his head.
Conlin knew that neither of his friends was fond of the Scots, so losing a shipload of them would probably not cause either of them to lose any sleep. None of the English were fond of the Scots, as they had lost many good men fighting battles against them in the past. Conlin’s betrothal to a Scot had raised a few eyebrows and caused whispers behind his back, but he didn’t care. He was making this alliance to secure his lands as well as to help his daughter. At twelve years of age, Rose needed a mother to talk to, and would not even confide in Conlin with her problems anymore.
The Scottish guard came down the boarding plank next followed by Conlin’s squire, Toft. They walked over to join Isobel.
“What about the bounty?” asked John. “Did you manage to at least save that?”
“Aye.” Nicholas perked up. “It’s our privilege granted by the king.”
Conlin couldn’t believe his friends. They almost sounded as if they thought they’d be getting part of the bounty. He could have laughed aloud, after neither of them went to any extreme to try to help him collect it.
“I’ve collected several trunks, some barrels of wine and food, and some boxes which contain – I have no idea what they contain, actually.”
“We can help you find out,” added John, sounding a bit too eager.
“The bounty is mine since it was found on open water and I’m the only baron who risked my life to try to save those aboard the ship,” Conlin reminded them.
“Of course, of course.” Nicholas looked away again. “And it seems your biggest bounty is standing barefoot and wrapped in a blanket.”
“What about the dowry? Was your betrothed’s dowry that was promised to you aboard the ship?” John was always excited about wealth and treasure.
“Lady Catherine’s dowry wasna on the ship,” Isobel announced, overhearing their conversation. She walked over to join them, followed by her guard and Conlin’s squire. “And it’s jest like a Sassenach te care aboot bounty more than the lives thet were lost today.”
This silenced both his friends better than
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