Outlaw King

by Julie Johnstone

  “Yes,” she choked out, her throat horribly tight.

  His nostrils flared, and he growled. “I assume ye are to seduce me to learn my secrets so they can either control me or destroy me.”

  Guilt and shame blanketed her. When he said what she was to do aloud, it sounded even more horrid. “The king and my father wish to know for certain if you are truly here to bend the knee. I was told to discover that, as well as any other secrets you might let slip in…in—” God above, how could she say what she needed to? Her face, neck, and chest felt on fire.

  “In what?” he asked, his stare withering.

  She stiffened. He had every right to be angry. “In the throes of passion.” She turned her face away and staring toward the woods. “I’m sorry,” she managed. “So very sorry.”

  “Look at me,” he said, and it was his beseeching tone that caused her to turn her face to his once more. He surveyed her with such unexpected tenderness that she heard herself exhale some of her tension. “Ye do nae need to be sorry, lass. Ye wish to save yer cousin.”

  “Yes,” she replied, near trembling with relief. “My father threatened to kill her if I did not do as he ordered, and the king threated to allow her to be ravaged by one of the guards. I did not want to seduce you!”

  He smirked suddenly. “Ye are nae good for my pride, Elizabeth.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh! I did not mean—That is to say, I, well, it’s not that I do not find you pleasing,” she mumbled, embarrassed.

  His warm touch startled her. She looked down at her hands in his rough ones. Robert was no pampered noble. Every inch of the man was a hardened warrior, from his calloused hands, to his chiseled body, to his calculating mind. He slowly brought her fingertips to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to them one by one. Heat pooled in her belly, and her fingertips tingled from his touch. “It’s heartening to know I don’t disgust ye.”

  “You tease me,” she said, her blood roaring in her ears.

  “Aye.” He released her hand and brushed her hair away from her face.

  The touch seemed so familiar, so natural, so right. What if there could be a future for them? The errant thought shocked her. She needed to worry about freeing Lillianna above any concerns of the heart. She took a deep breath. “I must ask for your help, though I presume much doing so and I know I have no right.”

  “But ye do, lass,” he said with a smile.

  She frowned. “I do?”

  “Aye. Ye aided me long ago with the Moray men, and I will now return the favor.”

  “You will risk much by aiding me,” she warned.

  His gaze held her steady and made her overly warm and slightly dizzy. “I would risk my honor by nae aiding ye, and that I can nae risk. It may be all I have in the end.”

  “Then you would be the greatest of men to me.” The sensuous look he gave her made her tremble. She bit her lip on the desire to ask him if honor and his sense of duty to repay her were the only reasons he would aid her. “My cousin, Lillianna, is being kept in the dungeon. My father will not release her unless he believes I am making progress with you. Only then will he set her free. He will keep her guarded, though. Do you know of anyone who could help her escape if my father does release her from the dungeon?”

  “Aye.” Before he could say more, the distinct sound of thundering hooves echoed to her ears, and by Robert’s actions, she knew he’d heard them, too. He whisked her to her feet, closed the distance between him and her horse, snatched the horn from the hook on the horse’s saddle, and blew it loud and clear.

  The sound had not even ceased to rumble in her ears before her father, the king, and the huntsman galloped from the woods led by a pack of snipping, growling dogs. They raced toward Robert and her, teeth bared. Before she knew what was occurring, Robert was by her side, and then she was behind him, as he had placed himself between her and the vicious Alaunts. They came so near she could see the foam dripping in jagged lines from their jaws. Robert reached behind him with one arm and grasped her to pull her near, and with the other, he withdrew a dagger from a holder at his waist.

  “Tell yer hellhounds to hold,” Robert said, directing his attention to the hunt master.

  The dogs growled and snarled, now situated between Elizabeth and Robert, and the dead boar.

  “Stand down!” the hunt master ordered, and the dogs immediately retreated to his side.

  The king and her father drew their horses up to the boar. The king eyed the beast as her father eyed her. The proud look he gave her turned her belly as soured milk would have. Her father believed she had successfully begun the process of seducing Robert. He’d expect secrets soon.

  “Bruce, congratulations on killing the boar,” the king said, his tone begrudging. Her godfather did not like to lose at anything, not a hunt nor a fight for a country that was not his to rule.

  When Robert released his grip on her hip, Elizabeth startled. She’d not even realized he had been holding her so firmly and intimately. His protective touch on her felt perfectly natural. He shocked her yet again when he caught her fingers with his and tugged her gently forward to his side.

  He had an easy smile on his face, but at the side of his temple—where only she could see from where she stood—he had a tic, as if inside he was repressing a tempest. “Elizabeth helped me kill the boar.” He glanced down at her then, his eyes shining with adoration.

  Her mouth parted in shock, and gratitude swelled within her. He would make them think she was seducing him! The risk he was taking for her made her heart pound an erratic rhythm. She felt connected to him, as though there were an invisible bond suddenly between them. Perhaps there was: freedom. They both desired it for themselves and others.

  “Yer goddaughter,” Robert said, looking to the king, “and yer daughter,” he added, focusing on her father, “is most skilled in the art of securing her prey. I wonder, would it be possible to stroll with Elizabeth in the gardens tonight after supper?”

  “Anything is possible, Bruce,” the king said, looking triumphant. “You but have to ask, and you shall receive all that is mine to give.”

  He stepped forward and slung an arm around Robert’s shoulders, which effectively pulled him away from her. “Come, Bruce. Let us ride back side by side. Elizabeth’s father can accompany her.”

  Robert’s eyes locked with hers for a breath as he mounted his horse, his expression unreadable. Her father stepped to her side as the king and Robert rode away, and the hunt master moved around them to ready the boar to take back to the castle.

  “You have the look of a woman besotted,” her father accused.

  She gritted her teeth as she met his gaze. “Is that not how you and King Edward wanted me to appear?”

  Her father narrowed his eyes upon her. “To Bruce, yes. Don’t forget where your loyalties lie, Elizabeth.”

  “How could I?” she asked, thinking of Robert and Lillianna, not her father. “Will you release Lillianna from the dungeon now?”

  “I suppose,” her father said with a twisted smile. “If the king agrees. But if she is released, I will keep her well guarded.”

  “Of course,” Elizabeth said in as pleasing a voice as she could manage with the anger coursing through her. Her father narrowed his eyes. She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Father. I do not like having to seduce Bruce. I never expected such a thing for my life.” That was the absolute truth. She wished she and Robert had met and become acquainted as simply a man and a woman who were attracted to each other.

  “Don’t fret so,” her father chided. “The king may marry you to Bruce, but you can always take a lover.” She hissed in a breath, which caused her father to frown at her. “If you fail Edward,” her father continued in a harsh tone, “he will bring his wrath upon you, and if you ever think to flee, Bruce will pay accordingly. Do you understand me?”

  It was a threat and not a veiled one. They wanted her to seduce Robert, not fall in love with him. They wanted her to pledge her hand to him but her loyalt
y to them. They would have her join with him in one breath and spy on him in another. Her life was at risk. Her liberty was at risk. And she feared, after that kiss, that her heart may well be at risk, as well.

  “Did I nae tell ye to keep yer wits about ye?” Angus growled at Robert after he finished telling him that he was going to aid Elizabeth. Angus paused two steps below Robert on the stairs that led down to the main keep and his friend turned to look at him. Shadows danced across Angus’s face as darkness slowly crept across the sky.

  Robert scrubbed a hand across his face. “I kept my wits about me,” he said through clenched teeth. “Did ye nae hear what I said?”

  Angus glanced up and down the long staircase, as did Robert. They were still alone. This was the first moment Robert had been able to seek his friend out. Thankfully, he had happened to locate Angus on his way to the great hall for the celebration of the killing of the boar. “Oh aye, I heard ye,” Angus said, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Ye’re thinking with yer head, but it’s nae the one upon yer shoulders.”

  Robert flinched. Could that be? He did not think so. Yes, he desired Elizabeth greatly, but every instinct he possessed told him she had a good heart and was being truthful. “I’m nae. I vow it.”

  “Och!” Angus waved a hand at him. “I ken a man gripped by lust when I see him. Do ye deny it?”

  It irked Robert something fierce that he could not. “I desire her, but I’m nae a fool.”

  “Of course ye’re a fool!” Angus whispered fiercely. “Every man is a fool when it comes to the lasses. They’re like ban-druidh! They bewitch us, and it is all we can do to maintain our senses. Ye must stay focused, Robbie.” Angus eyed him like a father would a stubborn child. “Scotland’s freedom is at stake.”

  “I have nae lost my focus,” Robert growled. “But I will aid her.” He heard the finality in his own voice.

  “How the hell will ye aid her to free her cousin? Ye will get yerself killed! And me, as well! And I kinnae allow myself to die. My clan and my brothers and sisters depend on me.”

  “I know,” Robert agreed, fully understanding the weight of responsibility Angus felt for all those who counted on him, especially his younger siblings. Robert felt the pull of the same responsibility from his own siblings. “It’s simple, and I’ve already started the ploy. If her father thinks she is making progress seducing me, he will free her cousin. Once that occurs, ye will take her cousin away from here—somewhere she will be safe. Mayhap yer clan?”

  “The devil I will! Ye are succumbing to their plot without even realizing it.” Angus shook his head. “I’ll nae leave ye here alone when the spider already has lured ye into its web.”

  “Elizabeth is nae a spider,” Robert said, his frustration mounting even further.

  “God’s teeth!” Angus groused, grabbing at his chest. “Already she has ye blinded by her beauty. The king picked her purposely—dunnae be mistaken. He kenned it would take a special lass to capture ye. Think, man,” he pleaded. “If ye were to fall deep into the lass’s charms and wish to wed her, the king would have a spy in yer bed for the rest of yer life. Whether Scotland gains freedom or nae, ye would nae ever be free. The people would nae accept her. If the time comes that ye are to be king, ye need the people to love yer queen, nae mistrust her.”

  “Ye have me wed before I have barely spent any time with the lass, Angus,” Robert snapped. “But if that did come to pass, the people would accept her because her honor and loyalty would be undeniable.”

  Angus’s answer was a groan. “Ye’re already hopeless.”

  Chapter Eight

  Elizabeth did not get the chance to speak with Robert at dinner. The queen was not feeling well and had requested Elizabeth attend her. Despite everything the king was not, he was a husband who had grown to adore his wife once they were wed. He had submitted without question to Queen Margaret’s request that Elizabeth stay by her side, and it was a long while before Margaret’s pains settled.

  When the queen was finally still and reclined comfortably on the bed, she said, “Away with you to the great hall. The king has told me that you have done excellent work ensnaring Bruce’s attention. We certainly do not wish for you to lose it now and chance Bruce leaving and foiling the attack against his men in Ettrick Forest.”

  It took all Elizabeth’s will not to gasp at the news the queen had inadvertently let slip. The king had an attack planned against Robert’s man in Scotland? She rose on shaky legs, inclined her head, and forced herself not to flee the queen’s chambers and immediately go find Robert.

  She walked as calmly and normally as she could to the great hall, and when she entered, supper had already ended, and dancing was well underway. She paused at the doorway, scanning the crowed room for Robert, intent on finding him and telling him his people were in danger.

  “I hope you are searching for Bruce,” her father said from behind her, startling her. He took her by the elbow and led her toward one of the alcoves that held covered seats facing each other and large stained-glass windows.

  Her father sat and motioned for her to do the same. Around the alcove, music, laugher, and chatter swirled. She inhaled a slow breath to quell her nerves, but they would not be subdued. Her heart raced at the thought of warning Robert of her father and the king’s plans. Her father stared at her expectantly, waiting, she knew, for the answer to his question. “I was searching for Lord Bruce. The queen only just excused me from service for the night.”

  “I know,” her father said slowly. “I know everything you do, Elizabeth. Trust me.”

  Uneasiness stirred in her breast, but she fought to quiet it. He could not know of her conversation with Robert in the forest. They had been alone. “I thought to seek him out in hopes that he would ask me to dance.” She folded her hands in her lap because the urge to fidget nervously was nearly overwhelming. “Have you released Lillianna? Did the king agree?”

  Her father nodded. “She’s in the chamber adjacent to yours making herself presentable.”

  Elizabeth swallowed past the lump in her throat, which was now made up of both fear and hope. “I thought, perhaps, if I spent more time with Lord Bruce—private time—it would bring more opportunity for him to reveal things that will aid you and the king.”

  Outside the alcove, she could hear a woman’s laughter and a man’s deep chuckle. They sounded very near, and she hoped her father would cease the conversation and dismiss her to find Robert; however, he appeared oblivious to the couple.

  “An excellent notion,” her father said with a smirk. “If you can, guide him to speak of his men he left in hiding. We’ve learned they are in Ettrick Forest, but it would be most helpful to know an exact location so we don’t waste too much time finding and killing them.”

  Her nails bit into her palms as she struggled to maintain her calm. Her father and the king had no intention—and likely never had—of keeping the temporary truce. Instead, they were using this time to hunt down the men Robert had left behind to come here. They intended to slaughter Robert’s men. Her stomach roiled at the confirmation of what the queen had revealed.

  “How clever you are, Father,” she made herself say, greatly relieved her voice did not tremble. “I promise I will do my part.” Her father looked at her with narrowed, skeptical eyes. Fear stabbed her. She had to make him believe her. “Already, he thinks I’m for his cause,” she said, her mind searching for the right words. The closer she could stay to the truth, the better. “I told him I longed for freedom for myself and for his people, and he believed it.”

  Her father gave her a rare smile, leaned forward, and patted her hand. “You have turned out well, Elizabeth. I must admit, I had doubts, so headstrong and rebellious you have been at times, but I’m glad to see maturity has made you see your errors and shown you your place.”

  A wave of sorrow overcame her. Her father would never see her as anything more than a woman to be used for his gain. She did not know how she had been so blind to who he truly was when she
was younger. “I’m glad, as well,” she managed to agree as she rose.

  A rushing sound came to her from outside the alcove. She poked her head out and saw Gwendolyn hurrying away. Elizabeth frowned. It seemed to her that Gwendolyn was lurking everywhere Elizabeth went lately. She would need to keep her guard up around that woman.

  Facing her father, Elizabeth said, “I’ll report all soon.”

  He dismissed her with a wave, and she was all too glad to depart. She moved from the alcove and into the crowd in the great hall, looking for Robert as she wove in and out of the guests. Finally, she spotted him on the dance floor, twirling a redheaded woman around. They were both laughing, and a surge of jealousy gripped Elizabeth. She turned away and found herself face-to-face with Guy de Beauchamp of Warwick.

  He was an attractive man, with blue eyes, golden hair, and a strong face, but the same wariness she had always felt for him swept over her. The man stared at her as if she were a tasty treat he wished to devour. He bowed low, and she curtsied. “I have been looking for you, Elizabeth.”

  She startled at his use of her Christian name, but bit her tongue on commenting on his familiarity with her. The sooner she could escape him, the better. “Have you? Whatever for?”

  “The king and I spoke of you,” he said. Unease caused her body to tingle. “Come.” De Beauchamp gripped her elbow in an iron hold. “Let us dance. The king has commanded it.” He tilted his head to the side. “See him there.”

  Elizabeth’s gaze flew to the dais, where de Beauchamp had indicated. Her godfather nodded, indicating that de Beauchamp spoke the truth. Did Edward think to make Robert jealous? She could not imagine.

  De Beauchamp brought her close, and she could not help but compare him to Robert. Both men were tall and powerfully built, but de Beauchamp had the look of gentle nobility, whereas Robert had the look of a dangerous warrior. Where de Beauchamp was neatly shaved, Robert always had a shadow on his face and in his eyes, as if to disguise his emotions.