Outlaw King

by Julie Johnstone

  “Perhaps there is another choice,” Robert ground out, thinking of his hope that Wallace would return and help him raise men to defend the north and then see reason about Balliol.

  “Thinking of yourself on the throne, are you?” the king asked with a chuckle.

  Robert blinked in surprise for the crown had not been anywhere near his thoughts.

  “Your father is aging, true enough, and you will inherit his titles and the rights he claims to be his, but you will have to be satisfied for now with gaining your wealth, titles, and lands back and turn your thoughts from the crown you wish to wear.”

  Edward was a fool, who did not know Robert’s mind at all. “Only the King of Scots can grant me lands that were wrongly taken from me and given to Comyn,” Robert replied, unable to resist throwing that fact in Edward’s face.

  Edward slammed his hands against the table, causing the wine goblets to rattle. “I will conquer Scotland and give you back your lands there, but if you do not accept my offer, I will destroy your land entirely. I will leave it so devastated, so blackened, that you will not recognize it.” He leaned in close to Robert, their faces a hairsbreadth apart. “Think on this: if I return those lands to you, you will hold the power to stop Comyn from taking the throne.” He smiled, looking much like a wolf. “Mayhap I will decide to step aside and allow your father, or even you if he is gone, to take the throne without a fight.”

  The lie came out so easily that Robert wanted to laugh, yet he thought of his father, who had been told a similar thing years ago, and Robert felt such rage he trembled with it. He was not as foolish as his father, a man who had actually believed that if he submitted to Edward’s peace and helped drive Balliol from the throne, then Edward would step aside and allow him to claim it and support him. The king had two faces and a golden tongue. Edward sought to divide Scotland. Robert saw it so clearly. He feared both Comyn and Bruce as the sole leader of the rebellion, for if the two great Scots’ houses that now stood divided were truly fighting together, there would then be one man for Scotland to rally behind. The bickering would fade and Scotland would be stronger, defeating Edward, in the end.

  Robert’s thoughts turned at an almost sickening pace. As much as he distrusted Comyn, if Wallace returned now from France, Robert and Comyn would have to find a way to work together if they were to save Scotland. But for now, Robert had no notion how he could work with Comyn, nor was he in a place to be able to sway Comyn to see reason. For now, he would continue with his plan.

  “Who knows what the future holds for you, Bruce, if you choose wisely,” Edward said. His silky tone held a challenge as well as a threat.

  The king thought to dangle power, but Edward did not truly know him, nor the man he had become. What he wanted above all was freedom. He nodded, as the trenchers were set before them.

  “You will think upon my words?” Edward inquired with a narrow-eyed look.

  “Aye,” Robert replied, picking up a chunk of bread and dipping it in the sauce on his platter. “I will consider all ye have said.” With that, he turned his attention purposely to his platter, hoping to avoid further conversation.

  A tense silence fell at the dais for a short time as everyone followed suit, but then the queen began to chatter about various guests. Her comments were directed to Elizabeth, and as Robert ate, he got the distinct impression that Elizabeth was not familiar with most people at court. He knew she had once been, and he could not help but wonder if she had been banned until recently, perhaps for her actions of years before? And if she had been banned, why call her back now when he was set to be here? Suspicion niggled at him again.

  As they finished their meal, the servants cleared the floor before them, moving tables and chairs to make a place for the dancing. Music began to fill the room, and the king said, “Bruce, let Elizabeth show you how hospitable my court can be.”

  Robert looked to Elizabeth, who sat rigid, her face flushed. If she was a part of the intrigue Edward appeared to be weaving around him, she did not seem a willing participant. Yet it hardly mattered if the outcome was the same.

  He could refuse. He likely should. Angus’s warning rang in his mind, and he was not such a fool to ignore that his attraction to her was the strongest he had ever felt for a woman. Still, he needed the king to believe he was going to submit, and perhaps Elizabeth was exactly the person to convey this to Edward.

  “Would ye care to dance with me?” he asked, going through the formality. He felt certain she was in no position to decline with King Edward and her father looking on.

  “But of course,” she said. Her gaze darted to Edward and her father as she rose, but when Robert held out his hand, she slipped her dainty one into his. He curled his fingers around her delicate bones, and a tremor went through her, which to his shock felt as if it had gone through him, as well.

  And in that moment, he was certain that whatever plots coiled around them, Elizabeth was as affected by him as he was by her. Dangerous satisfaction surged through him. He had to tread carefully, lest he find himself a spider trapped in a web of the king’s making. He felt the king’s eyes and those of de Burgh on him. Elizabeth looked to him, a trembling smile coming to her lips. She was the picture of exquisite vulnerability, and his protective instincts awakened.

  His heart beat too hard for his liking, and his head warned him to keep his distance. Yet he had to play the game. He led her down from the dais, into the throng of the dancers, and swung her into his embrace. His heart slowed as she settled in the circle of his protection. She was all softness and silk, and swirling scents of heather. He’d imbibed only one swig of wine tonight, but he suddenly felt drunk from her presence.

  He meant to simply play his part, yet his own eagerness rebelled, an impossible thing to resist. He pulled her as close as decorum allowed, one hand finding and settling on the delicate curve of her back, while the other intertwined with her fingers. Her mouth parted on a sharp intake of breath, and a thought struck him that would not dislodge: did she make that same sound in the height of her passion?

  His body strummed with a yearning to find out, and so he did the only thing he could. He began the moves of the dance and of the dangerous game they were now being forced to play. If he was ever inclined to go to battle for the affection of Elizabeth de Burgh, the struggle could well prove as difficult as any he had endured in his life, possibly even be deadly if he lost his focus. He had no doubt that she could easily make a man lose his wits.

  Chapter Five

  Elizabeth was achingly aware of Robert’s hand on her back and his fingers laced with hers. The heat of his hand pressing against the curve of her spine burned through the layers of her clothes and into her skin, sparking a warmth in her belly and chest. She tried to steady her too-rapid breath while also attempting to discreetly take his measure. Was he honorable or not? Was he here to regain his wealth or play his part in this game for the throne of Scotland? She could not say for certain, and even if she could, she was painfully, shamefully aware that the truth did not change what she had to do to save Lillianna. The thought of her cousin put a lump in her throat. If her father was pleased with her performance tonight, perhaps he would allow her to visit Lillianna in the dungeon.

  As Robert twirled her around the dance floor, she allowed her gaze to travel up the broad expanse of his chest, across his solid shoulders, to his strong chin dusted with dark whiskers, over the slant of his prominent cheekbones, and finally to his dark, gold-flecked eyes, which she realized with a start were observing her in return. His probing gaze made her heartbeat increase and her belly tighten. The way he stared at her, as if there were no one but the two of them in the great hall, made her overly hot. He did not smile or talk, just continued to move her among the other dancers. He stared at her unwaveringly, determinedly. She wanted him to speak first, to set the tone of their conversation, but after several minutes, she understood that he would not say anything until she did.

  Robert twirled her around again, but this
time they ended up at the outer edge of the dance floor where no other dancers were close enough to hear their conversation. “I did not think you weak, Robert,” she said, deciding that staying as close to the truth as she could would aid her in not tripping over her own necessary lies. Her stomach coiled into knots of self-loathing.

  He quirked his eyebrows and his mouth turned up at the corners as if her question amused him. “And now ye do?”

  She moved her feet in time with his as he twirled her once more. “It seems you are a turncoat, and if that is the case, then yes, I would say you are a weak man.”

  “Perhaps I’m a wise man and simply know when the battle has been lost,” he replied.

  “The man I saw at the Moray holding and spoke with in Ireland seemed willing to fight to the death to free his people.”

  His expression immediately darkened with unreadable emotion, and just as quickly, his face became blank, as though all his feeling had been wiped away by an invisible hand, or perhaps his will. “That man,” he growled, “watched many of his vassals die for a cause that seems near hopeless. I saw my lands burned and those who counted on me with no place to lay their heads, no food to put in their stomachs. I came to court to do what I must. Do ye intend to stand here in judgment of me?” he demanded. “Can ye say ye would do differently if ye were me?”

  “No,” she whispered, struck to the core by his words. He circled her again as the other dancers moved. The dais came into view, and she watched the king lead the queen off the dais and onto the dance floor. It was rare for the king to dance, and her palms began to sweat, knowing he would most likely be heading for them. “I—” She swallowed hard, furious at her father, the king, and herself that she was forced to do such a dire deed as tricking and seducing a man she actually admired. For even in his defeat, she could see the courage it took to come here, the pride he had to let go of to make peace with the king. He came for his people.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I judged you unfairly. I find it admirable that you think of your people and how best to help them.”

  “You do nae need to apologize,” he said, a brooding expression passing briefly over his face. “If we are speaking truths, I must admit, I am judging ye, as well.”

  She frowned. “You are judging me?”

  His mouth twisted wryly. “Aye,” he drawled. “Ye seem surprised.”

  “I am,” she admitted. “What is it you are trying to discern about me?”

  He pulled her a bit closer, as if someone might overhear what he said, but no one was near enough. His heat reached across the small space between them and curled deliciously around her. “I wonder,” he said, his voice silken, “whether ye are dancing with me of yer own accord or if ye are a puppet whose strings are being pulled by yer father and the king.”

  Her breath caught at his question, and the intensity of his dark gaze upon her. She licked her lips, knowing the exact right thing to say and realizing with a deep, gut-wrenching awareness that the truth might well be the thing that made him less wary of her and not more. “I’m a woman, therefore I’m but a puppet,” she replied, hearing the disgust in her own tone. His eyes narrowed, and she rushed to say the rest of what was in her heart. “But I swear to you, though they think they command my every move, I wanted very much to dance with you.” And that was the bitter truth. She found him fascinating, compelling, alluring. It would not be a horrible hardship to spend time with him, but it would be horrible to deceive him, to goad him into revealing things and then passing on his secrets.

  From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the king and queen approaching. “So,” she said on a deep breath, unable to perceive how her words had affected him. His expression was carefully neutral. “Have I disappointed you?”

  “Nay,” he said, releasing her hand and brushing a finger over the slope of her cheekbone. “Ye have beguiled me, bean bhàsail.”

  “I’m no temptress,” she whispered, her heart beating with the intensity of how his light touch made her feel.

  His hard expression gentled. “I think ye know ye are, which is why they set ye in front of me.”

  His words sent a tingle up her spine. “What will you do?” she asked, hope and dread colliding.

  He stared at her, unspeaking for a moment, and she could feel him considering, weighing, judging. His face became calm, serious. “I will dance with fate,” he said, and then the king was there, clasping him on the shoulder and exclaiming at them both what a handsome pair they made, how charmingly they danced, how captivated they both looked.

  She heard it all but she didn’t. Her heart was thundering. Her palms were damp. Her mind was racing. Then all contact with Robert was broken as he stepped away from her, and she wrapped her arms around her midriff, wanting to hold onto the memory of how he had truly made her feel. If her emotions were so real and intense, perhaps she was not seducing him at all; perhaps he was seducing her… The thought did not lessen the sharp bite of guilt as she looked at him.

  The king was speaking to Robert about hunting, and the queen had turned away to talk to someone. A desperate need to escape it all and see Lillianna slammed into Elizabeth. Her father rose from the dais as if to leave, and she feared her chance to see her cousin would disappear if she did not go to him now. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, my queen, my lord. I must speak with my father.”

  “By all means, Elizabeth,” the king said pleasantly, even drawing her hand up for a kiss. “You have pleased me this night.”

  She cringed at his words but nodded, and when her gaze flicked to Robert, the air between them seemed to shiver with the cold look upon his face. He knew the king was pulling her strings and it disgusted him. She did not blame him, yet she could not change it.

  “Lord Bruce, perhaps tomorrow we could ride?” She held her breath, fearing he would refuse her, but he smiled slowly, his eyes gleaming like a child with a secret.

  “It would be my pleasure,” he said before the king engaged him again in talk of a hunt.

  She trembled as she made her way through the thick throng to her father, who was already off the dais. “Father!” she called, and he turned to her.

  “You did well,” he said, smiling. “I knew you would.”

  How she would have once loved to hear such praise, but now it only sickened her. “Thank you,” she forced out. “May I please visit with Lillianna?”

  “Yes,” he agreed and motioned to the knight who had escorted Lillianna to the dungeon earlier. “Stephen, take Elizabeth to see her cousin, but guard her until you return her to her bedchamber.”

  Cold permeated the air—and her heart—as Elizabeth and Stephen came to the bottom of the slick stairs in the damp dungeon.

  “Leave me,” she ordered him.

  “You heard your father,” Stephen replied in a hard tone. “I was told to stay with you until I return you to your bedchamber.”

  “Then you may guard me at the top of the stairs,” she insisted, pulling herself to her full height.

  Stephen’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a semblance of a smile. “I do believe, Lady Elizabeth, your father’s concern is that you will try to free your cousin, not for your safety.”

  Elizabeth wanted to laugh hysterically. Of course that was his concern! “You have the key to the cell, yes?” She knew he would, and she could see the iron cage in the distance. There would be no breaching those bars without the key. Her chest squeezed painfully with the knowledge.

  “I do,” he returned.

  “Then you know as well as I do that I cannot free my cousin, no matter how much I wish it. The only way to free her would be to overcome you.” The words flew out of her mouth, and the prospect took hold.

  The guard laughed and then nodded. “I’ll be at the top of the stairs—watching,” he warned.

  As he headed back up the stairs, she thought about what she had said about overcoming Stephen. If only she had someone she could trust to aid her. Robert came to mind, but she dismissed the idea
immediately. He was there to make peace to save his people. He would not be willing to risk that for her and Lillianna. Or would he? If he knew the truth of what the king was demanding of her, would he risk it all to help her and Lillianna escape? Was it even possible?

  She had only to consider all the guards that stood just at the top of the stairs and were stationed through the castle to know it was not possible. No, telling Robert the truth was not the answer. Lillianna’s only hope was Elizabeth seducing Robert and learning secrets that would satisfy her father enough that he would free Lillianna.

  With all of this in mind, Elizabeth moved quickly to the cell, her heart stuttering when she realized Lillianna was curled on her side, lying on the floor. “Lillianna!” she whisper-shouted, trying to keep her voice low so Stephen would not hear them. When her cousin did not move, she called her name again, louder this time. “Lillianna!” Elizabeth said, her voice echoing around her. The moment seemed to stretch without Lillianna stirring. “Cousin!” Elizabeth boomed, and Lilliana twitched where she lay. Tears burned Elizabeth’s eyes. “Lillianna, it’s Elizabeth. Please, please sit up.”

  Slowly, Lillianna moved her arm to press her palm against the dirt floor, and she raised herself up with a groan. “Lizbeth?” Lillianna said, using the moniker that she had not used since they were children.

  “Yes, yes! It’s me. Here. Behind you.” Elizabeth smacked at the iron bars of the cage, and Lillianna slowly turned toward her.

  Elizabeth gasped. Her cousin had a black eye and a split lip. “By God!” she exclaimed. “Did my father beat you?”

  “No.” Lillianna crawled first to her knees and then to her feet, where she swayed for a moment before staggering toward the bars Elizabeth stood in front of. “The guard, Stephen, did it when I fought him as he brought me in here.”

  “Dear God, Lillianna, did he—”

  “No.” Lillianna shuddered. “Though he vows he will. Elizabeth, did your father find out we tried to flee?”