Still quivering, she set her palms to the cold, wet floor and scooted over enough to see in the slash of sunlight coming through the window. She could recall her father’s face just before he had locked her in this bedchamber, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Never had she seen such rage from him. He’d been nearly purple and unable to speak, and it said a great deal that he had not come to see her even once in the past sennight, nor had he allowed her out of her bedchamber. She had thought he would have by now. In fact, she had been sure he would visit so he could tell her he was vexed, very vexed, but that he loved her and had been compelled somehow to give the horrific order to burn the men.
She twined her hair around her finger, her agitation increasing. She was not sure how much longer she could endure being locked in here alone. The only person she had seen since returning to the king’s court was the chambermaid who brought a tray of food three times a day and emptied the chamber pot. She let out a ragged sigh. Perhaps she should be grateful she was being fed. She began to rock back and forth, going through the events that had led her to disguise herself as a squire and ride out with her father, his men, and Lord Carrick, Robert the Bruce.
It had been two things truly. She’d been irritated that her father had dismissed her request to ride with him that day so completely, loudly, and publicly. She’d not known the “mission,” but she had known she wanted to be part of it, and she could not see why she should not. Father had always allowed her to do things other girls did not. She rode as a man did, she spoke her mind, and she had even accompanied her father and his men on hunts.
The other compelling factor had been Lord Carrick himself. She had not met him, though the young man had been at court for some time. He was always surrounded by other lords and lavishly dressed women batting their eyelashes at him, but it was the way his dark gaze looked through the ladies and the simpering lords as if they were not there—or perhaps as if he wished to be anywhere but there himself—that intrigued her so. Once she had overheard her father tell the king that Bruce concerned him. He feared the young lord harbored secret compassion for the wretched Scots’ cause. Those words had burrowed into her heart, for she secretly thought that it was wrong of her godfather to try to make himself king of a land to which he had not been born, to a people who did not want him as their king. She did not dare utter such a thing out loud, of course; even she knew it was foolish to always speak one’s mind.
A soft tap came at the door followed by, “Elizabeth?” in a low, worried murmur.
Elizabeth jumped to her feet at her cousin’s voice, nearly slipping in her haste. “Lillianna!” she cried out, pressing her palms to the thick, dark wood of the door. Never had she been so happy to hear her dearest friend’s voice.
Lillianna was more of a sister to Elizabeth than her three true sisters were. Lillianna was the only female Elizabeth knew who shared her leanings toward things that were considered restricted for women—riding as a man, archery, swimming, and learning more than how to embroider and select food for supper. Her cousin also was an excellent eavesdropper, a talent she’d taught Elizabeth when Lillianna had come to live with them two years ago after the death of her mother.
“I’m so glad to hear your voice!” Elizabeth said. “What news do you bring? Is it terrible? Am I to be banished? What did you learn?”
“Not very much, I’m afraid,” Lillianna moaned. “Whatever has been decided about your fate has thus far been discussed behind doors too thick for eavesdropping. I’m not even supposed to be here. Your mother and father expressly forbade me from coming to see you, and Aveline has been trailing me, keeping watch.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her older sister Aveline being her usual perfectly awful self. “How did you manage to escape her?”
Lillianna snickered. “I told her Guy de Beauchamp wished to see her in the solar.”
“Oh, Lillianna!” Elizabeth laughed, feeling so grateful for her cousin and only true friend. “Aveline will be livid when she learns you tricked her. She has a tendre for Lord de Beauchamp. Though I cannot see why. There is something about him that unsettles me.”
“Perhaps it’s the way he is always staring at you as if you are a great treasure he wishes to add to his collection when you become of age,” Lillianna said sarcastically.
“I will never marry a man such as Guy de Beauchamp,” Elizabeth vowed. “I don’t care if he is one of the wealthiest lords in the land. Aveline can have him!”
“As if you will have a choice of who you marry.” Sadness blanketed Lillianna’s voice.
Elizabeth wished she could hug her cousin. “Are you thinking of your mother and father?”
“Yes,” Lillianna said, her tone hushed. “I will likely be forced to wed, just as my mother was forced to wed my father. And look how that turned out.”
Elizabeth bit her lip as agitation roiled within her. Uncle Brice had beaten Aunt Kara for supposedly being unfaithful, and she had died from the beating. But Elizabeth knew, as everyone in the family did, that Uncle Brice had really killed Aunt Kara because of a long-festering rage that her aunt did not love her uncle.
It was not even that Uncle Brice had loved Aunt Kara and wanted the affection returned. He had only married Aunt Kara because she had been a seer, and he had wanted to know the future. But she had lost her abilities when the man she had truly loved had betrayed her. According to legend, a seer like Aunt Kara only had the power of sight when she was in love, so when she couldn’t be made to love Uncle Brice, her power did not return and he had never forgiven her. No one truly knew what had finally made him snap and kill Aunt Kara after so many years, but he had. Yet being a powerful lord, he had gone unpunished for the death of a simple Scottish lass.
Elizabeth inhaled deeply, burying the worry that was trying to rise. She had enough to be concerned about and the problem of one day being forced to wed against her will was at least several years off. “We shall both use our very clever minds to come up with a plot to marry men of our own choosing. We will aid each other!”
“You are so naive and hopeful, Elizabeth. ’Tis one of the reasons I adore you so. I cannot linger, though I wish I could. I came to warn you that your mother is coming to see you today.”
Elizabeth tensed. Her mother never had a kind word for her, only criticism, and Elizabeth could only imagine what she would say about ignoring her father’s orders. Likely, she was livid. Not out of care for Elizabeth, of course, but over being embarrassed at court by Elizabeth’s actions. “You better depart, then. I’d not want Mother to take out her vexation with me on you.” And her mother would; Lillianna knew this. Mother cared for Lillianna even less than she did Elizabeth, which was barely at all. Elizabeth felt sure her cousin had only been permitted to come live with them because it had made Mother look charitable and warm-hearted.
“I’ll return tonight if I’m able,” Lillianna said.
“Only if it’s safe. I don’t want you bringing trouble to yourself on my account.”
“I’ll be careful,” Lillianna promised, then the tap of her footsteps fell on the floor.
Elizabeth stood there listening until the sound of Lillianna’s departure faded. Silence descended momentarily but was broken once more by the tap of shoes upon the floor. She sucked in a sharp breath, fearing it was her mother. She hoped Lillianna had not been seen.
A distinct jangling of keys and the clink of a lock made Elizabeth’s heart race. The door opened, and her mother, looking perfectly coiffed and richly garbed, stepped into the room. Blue eyes that she’d been told a thousand times were the same color as hers narrowed on Elizabeth. “You cannot depart this room looking like that.”
Her mother’s unfriendly tone made her clench her teeth, but the news that she was to depart hit her like a ray of hope. “I’m to be released? I’m forgiven?”
“Forgiven?” Sarcasm laced Mother’s words. She stepped in front of Elizabeth, close enough that she got a full whiff of the pungent oil her mother liked to wear. �
�You are not forgiven. You are lucky to still have your head, you silly, willful girl!”
The slap came fast and hard, leaving a sting that brought tears to Elizabeth’s eyes.
“Marietta!” Elizabeth’s father boomed from the doorway. “Don’t raise your hand to Elizabeth again!” Relief flowed through Elizabeth, but as her father settled his dark, unfriendly gaze on her, it vanished. “She has to be taken through the great hall to depart, and I’ll not have anyone seeing her skin marred with red welts that will remind them of her deed.”
“She is the talk of the court!” her mother wailed. “Let them see we punished her!”
Elizabeth’s stomach knotted at her mother’s words.
“Clearly, you have not been in the great hall this morning,” her father said to her mother. “Elizabeth’s deed is no longer on everyone’s lips. Bruce is the talk of the court now.” His voice was lethal. “It seems he left the rebel Moray’s castle and rode from there to join the other Scottish lords and renegades to rise against Edward.”
“Pity,” her mother murmured. “I had a hope to marry Aveline to Bruce but that won’t do now. He’ll lose his estates for certain.”
Her father frowned. “I have a marriage in mind for Aveline already, so don’t vex yourself. Now, wait outside. I wish to speak with Elizabeth alone.”
“Richard,” her mother exclaimed, “you promised me I would have charge of her now!”
The news made Elizabeth cringe.
“Woman!” her father roared. “You will, but you will have it after I have spoken to her.”
Her mother, eyes wide and no doubt sensing she had pushed Father as far as he would be pushed, backed out of the room, shutting the door as she left.
Elizabeth pressed her back against the wall, wishing she could disappear into it.
Her father’s eyes seemed to harden as he looked at her. “You have made a fool of me.”
Elizabeth clenched her hands. “Father, no. I—”
“Silence!” The word whipped across the space and hit her just as hard as her mother had.
She flinched away from him and fisted the slick material of her gown in her hands.
Her father’s gaze raked over her. “I always had a particular tendre for you, so I gave indulgences I did not with your brothers and sisters, ones I should not have allowed.”
Color rose in his cheeks as he spoke, and Elizabeth stared at the rosy bloom that spread down his neck. Father saying that he’d had a particular tendre for her echoed in her mind. Had she destroyed his love for her, then? Her belly felt suddenly hollow.
He swiped a hand across his red beard, tugging at the ends. “Your mother warned me that I was ruining you, making you into the opposite of what a lady should be—willful, too curious, wild—but I told her to mind her place.” He shook his head. “I let you linger when I should have sent you away, and because of my weakness, you believe you can do as you please!” He banged a fist into his open palm. “You—” He pointed a finger at her. “You seem to think you have a place at the table of men!” His hand gripped her chin so swiftly she gasped. “I tell you now, you do not. You are a girl and will grow to be a lady, obedient and lovely, and you will learn that your purpose is to serve my house as I command for the furthering of the family. Do you understand me?”
She fought against the tremor in her body. She understood. Her importance to him lay only with what wealth or connections she could bring to the family one day, just as Aveline had always claimed. Elizabeth had not believed it until now. What a fool she’d been! She had no freedom, only the rights her father gave to her. Did he feel no true affection for her? Was there no explanation for the order he had given that day? Her mind spun, making her stomach clench.
Her father squeezed her chin. “Do. You. Understand?”
She stared at the pulsing vein near his right eye. She knew she ought to respond immediately, yet such worry coursed through her, she could not make herself speak, even knowing her silence would have grave repercussions.
“Elizabeth,” he hissed, his color rising again. “Your head is currently on your shoulders because I convinced the king that you could be useful to him eventually. Should I tell him otherwise?”
The king? Her father had convinced Edward that she would be useful to him? But how? Gooseflesh swept down her arms as her father’s fingers curled even deeper into her skin. “No,” she managed to choke out.
“Good.” He released her chin, and she rocked back from him, desperately wanting to rub her aching skin. Instead, she forced herself to fold her hands together and prayed she appeared calm.
Silence stretched between them, and he watched her steadily before he smiled. “You are stubborn and prideful, and you don’t know your place. But you will learn it. By God you will.” He grabbed her suddenly by the arm, half dragged her across the room, flung open the door, and shoved her toward her mother. “Take her home to Ireland, and make her into a lady who will benefit this family.”
The anger and hurt deep inside Elizabeth burst within her and overcame her fear. “You would have burned men alive to keep the king’s esteem,” she accused with a desperate hope that he would deny it.
“Yes,” he replied, his wintry voice and open acceptance of the awful truth making her feel as if her legs would buckle. She placed a steadying hand on the wall as the floor beneath her seemed to sway. “Do you think I became this rich and powerful without aiding men such as the king when they request a favor?” he demanded.
“Favor?” She heard herself gasp, yet her voice seemed very far away. Her ears rang horribly. “How can you call a request to burn men alive a favor?”
Her father’s nostrils flared, and she tensed, fearing he would strike her. But he inhaled a deep breath and said, “I cannot allow anyone to defy me. Ever. Including you. You’d do well not to forget it, Daughter.”
She would not forget. As much as it pained her, she would hold close the memory that her father had traded his honor for the king’s continued support and the wealth it would bring. Never would she marry a man who would do such a thing.
Chapter One
1301
Northern Ireland
Elizabeth pressed her fingertips to her pounding head as the carriage jostled down the road toward her home. It had been a long day’s ride already from the party they had attended at the estate of Lord Belfine, a friend of their father’s. How she would endure Aveline’s prattling much longer, she did not know, but she had to or her carefully laid plan would be ruined.
Aveline frowned at her from the other side of the carriage. “I told you to drink more wine. It’s the heat, you know, making your head ache.”
Elizabeth’s blue eyes met their cousin’s green ones. Lillianna sat beside Aveline with her hands fisted in her lap. She opened her mouth as if to argue.
“I’m certain you’re correct,” Elizabeth rushed out to stop Lillianna from starting an argument with Aveline. If Aveline became angry, she may well call for the carriage to be halted, and if they halted now, they would not do so at Avondale Forest as they had agreed upon before taking the journey. They had to stop there. Elizabeth and Lillianna’s plans to escape her parents’ rule, made secretly over the past fortnight, hinged on them rendezvousing with Connor Daniel, a mercenary for hire. It had taken a month of notes, stealthily delivered and received by way of Elizabeth’s chambermaid, whom she and Lillianna had paid in jewels. They had first learned of the mercenary by overhearing her older brother Walter speaking about the man to one of Walter’s friends. That conversation had given Elizabeth the original idea to try to hire him to aid them. The man had agreed, and he had been paid in full as he had required. Now all that was left was to meet him at the set location in the woods, and then he would help them flee.
“Here,” Aveline scolded as she held the wine skin out to Elizabeth. “Drink this. It will ease the pain.”
Elizabeth took the skin without argument, her hand passing into the sunshine. The large emerald she wore would aid h
er and Lillianna once they were free. Freedom, she thought, taking a long drink of the blackberry-tinged wine, was the most precious and rare thing in the world. While she was eager to earn it fully, she feared the small bit she had already been granted was about to disappear completely.
“I see you wore the emerald Father gave you,” Aveline bit out.
“Yes, I thought it would look nice with my dress,” Elizabeth lied, running a finger over the cool stone. She felt bad that Father had not sent Aveline a gift for her birthday, but she knew now that he had sent the ring for Elizabeth to wear when she eventually returned to the king’s court. No doubt, he wished for her to appear not only well-dressed but well jeweled. Which could only mean her father was ready to give her away as penance to the king. She’d also overheard enough of a conversation with her sister Beatrice and her mother to know the king had decided on a man for her to marry.
Elizabeth met Lillianna’s steady stare over the wine skin, took another long drink, and then handed it silently to Lillianna. She likely needed to calm her nerves as much as Elizabeth did. It was both exciting and worrisome to think they would escape this day, if all went according to plan. If it did not, she shuddered to think of the consequences for her and Lillianna.
Elizabeth stared out of the brancard and watched the rolling green landscape of her home country creep by. Hopefully, they would be on a ship to France tonight. The emerald should purchase both herself and Lillianna passage, and as their escort, Mr. Daniel would keep them safe. What they would do once they were there, she hadn’t any notion, but the glorious idea of freedom made her smile.
“Are you smiling over the latest news swirling at Lord Belfine’s about the Scots’ continued efforts at rebellion?” Aveline asked. “It is so tedious.”
“No,” Elizabeth said, taking one last look across the sun-kissed, glistening heather that swayed in the gentle breeze. She would miss Ireland. It was beautiful and wild, much like Scotland. The thought had her focusing on Aveline. “What is the news?”
Outlaw King Page 3
