“Are you offended that I touched you, Countess, or just mad that you enjoyed it?”
The truth of his accusation stung. Tears swelled in the back of her throat. “What do you want from me?”
A slow, lazy smile curled his mouth but never reached the hardness in his eyes. “What are you offering?”
The mocking brigand was back. The man who didn’t care about anything. How could she have thought differently? “It’s always about money to you, is that it?”
His gaze, an even more piercing green than usual, raked over her in a way that made her feel dirty. “I wasn’t talking about money.” She gasped. “Countess, if I wanted money from you, I’d take you to Edward myself.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t, since gold is all that matters to you. Didn’t you tell me yourself that Robert is done? Seems like you picked the wrong side this time. What will happen to all that coin you’ve been promised?”
“You have me all figured out, don’t you, Countess?” He held her gaze, and something in his eyes made her wish her taunts back. “You make a good point. One I’ll have to consider. It’s always good to weigh your options.” He gave her an exaggerated bow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to.”
Bella almost called him back. She knew she’d been unfair. That the shame of dissolving in his arms had made her lash out at him. It wasn’t his fault she hadn’t pushed him away the way she should have.
But she didn’t. Calling him back wouldn’t change anything. Even if they made it out of this alive, what kind of future could they have? She was the set-aside wife of another man. Nothing good could ever happen between them. These feelings—the intensity of emotion pouring through her—scared her. She feared what they might make her do. It was better this way. She had to make sure something like that never happened again.
Now that she’d tasted passion, she wished she never had.
She joined the others in the chapel and tried to sleep. But she kept one ear pinned to the door, hoping to hear him come back.
He never did.
Just after dawn, she stirred at the sound of a door closing. It was Magnus again. He’d come in and out a few times, during the night, probably checking on the men keeping watch outside. She could hear him whispering to William, “He should be back by now.”
She quickly got up and hustled over to them. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Magnus said honestly. “But we should gather the rest of the women and get ready to go.”
By the time she did, it was too late.
“You can’t do this!” The frantic voice of the priest was the first hint of what was to come. Through one of the arched windows they could see the old man standing a few feet before the church door, arms wide, trying to block the entrance.
But the soldiers paid him no heed. The Earl of Ross and at least a hundred of his guardsmen had surrounded the church.
Dear God in heaven, they’d been discovered! She couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t just the shock of discovery, but also the egregiousness of what she was seeing that made her blink with disbelief: Ross was breaking the sanctuary of the church.
She heard Magnus swear. He and William exchanged looks. She knew they wanted to fight. William shook his head. They were outnumbered, even for men of their skill.
“Someone could get hurt,” William said.
Magnus nodded, his expression as grim as she’d ever seen it.
The men would be the first to be punished, imprisoned, or executed without trial. “Go,” she said. “Save yourselves. Nothing you can do will help us now.”
Both men looked outraged by her suggestion. “Our duty is to protect you, my lady,” Magnus said. “As long as there is breath in my body, I will do so.”
While Magnus went out to negotiate their surrender with the treacherous Earl of Ross, Bella tried to calm the rising panic of the other women. But there was nothing she could say. After over a month of hiding, of running for their lives, it was over. Ross would take them to Edward, and they would be at the English king’s mercy.
Thank God, Lachlan wasn’t here. It was fortunate indeed that he’d managed to escape their fate.
But where was he? Could he be watching? Part of her feared that he might do something rash to try to rescue them. The other part actually believed he could. If there was one thing she’d learned about Lachlan MacRuairi, it was that he would do whatever it took to get the mission done. He’d rushed into a burning building without thinking to save one man; what would he do with all of them?
When she’d stepped out of St. Duthac’s Chapel into the crisp morning sunshine to surrender to the Earl of Ross, she couldn’t help scanning the countryside, half-expecting him to race out of the trees.
The earl must have been watching her. Ross was similar in age and expression to Buchan—and just as stern and proud. He’d spent six years in Edward’s prisons after his capture at Dunbar; never would she have thought him capable of this travesty. “Looking for someone, Countess?”
She tried not to show her surprise, but her heart immediately started to pound. Ross knew about Lachlan, which meant … Oh God, what had happened to him?
Ross’s smile was smug. “I must admit I thought Bruce had better sense than to put an opportunistic scourge like that bastard MacRuairi in charge of you. The man can’t be trusted. He’s stolen rents for me for years. More than even the capture of Bruce’s ladies can repay.”
Bella rejected what he was saying, ignoring that her initial characterization of Lachlan had been much the same.
Despite what she’d accused him of, the thought that Lachlan might have betrayed them hadn’t occurred to her. Should it have? But at the mention of “repay,” a vague uneasiness settled in. “Where is he? What have you done with him?”
Her voice must have given something away. Ross lifted a brow speculatively. “The bastard is hardly worthy of your concern, Countess. He’s the one you have to thank for leading us to you. He won’t be any help to you now. But don’t you worry, Lachlan MacRuairi will get exactly what he has coming to him. All his debts will be paid.”
Bella’s stomach knifed. Leading us to you …
No, he wouldn’t. She couldn’t believe him capable of such treachery. To sell them to Ross, knowing what would befall them.
“Don’t trust me …” His warning came back to her.
Ross walked away, ordering his men to put them in a cart to take them to Auldern Castle.
William must have seen the horror in her expression. He came up beside her before she was roughly shoved into the cart. “There has to be a mistake, my lady. The captain wouldn’t—”
His voice stopped as disbelief filled his eyes. Bella turned in the direction of his stare, and gasped. Her heart seemed to shrivel in her chest. All hope that she’d been wrong died.
Lachlan stood at the base of the hill, surrounded by a handful of Ross’s men. He was staring at her. When their eyes met, there was no mistaking what she saw: guilt.
Her chest burned with emptiness, as if a big, hot stake had hallowed it out. She’d trusted him. She’d thought …
She turned away. Of all the disappointments in her life—her father, her husband—none had cut this deeply. By now she should have known better. She was no longer a fifteen-year-old bride or a little girl begging for crumbs of her father’s attention.
Lachlan had shown her the kind of man he was—he’d told her not to trust him—but she’d invented romantic fantasies, making herself believe there was something more to him. She’d actually convinced herself he cared for her. But all he’d wanted was what was between her thighs, and once she’d denied him that …
God, it shouldn’t hurt this badly.
“Chane—” Gordon tried to yell something as the cart was pulling away, but one of Ross’s men pushed him to the ground.
Changed? Was that what he was trying to say? Bella realized it no longer mattered. What difference did it make, when they’d been
caught?
Mary Bruce cried on her shoulder as the cart bumped along the road to Auldern, and Bella tried to soothe her.
The girl who reminded her so much of her daughter looked up at her with terrified, tear-filled eyes. “What will become of us, my lady?”
“I don’t know, my love. I suspect some time in the tower. It won’t be so bad. Some of the rooms I hear are quite nice.”
Neither of them could have imagined just how wrong she would be.
Eight
Where’s Nigel Bruce? And de la Haye,
And valiant Seton—where are they?
Where Somerville, the kind and free?
And Fraser, flower of chivalry?
Have they not been on gibbet bound,
Their quarters flung to hawk and hound,
And hold we here a cold debate,
To yield more victims to their fate?
Sir Walter Scott, Lord of the Isles, Canto II, XXVI
Dunstaffnage Castle, Lorn, October 10, 1308
This was it—the information Lachlan had been waiting for. The king wasn’t going to put him off again. For over two years Lachlan had been forced to bide his time. No more. He was going after Bella and no one was going to stop him. Not Bruce, not MacLeod—hell, not the entire blasted English army.
The sounds of revelry that followed him into the solar were proof enough the time had come. It wasn’t just the wedding of Arthur Campbell and Anna MacDougall that they celebrated, but also the capitulation of Ross—the last of Scotland’s great magnates to hold out against King Robert. The bastard who’d turned Bella and the other women over to Edward had made his peace.
From the jaws of almost certain defeat, Bruce had risen again like a phoenix from the ashes, first defeating the English, and then the powerful Scottish nobles who’d stood against him. Bella had been right: Bruce’s near miraculous comeback was the way legends were made. Her faith in the king had not been misplaced.
It was they who’d failed her. Bruce. Himself. Everyone.
But no longer. With MacDougall and Ross tamed, there were no more excuses. No more enemies to defeat before he could go after her again.
Lachlan paced the small room with all the calm of a caged lion while he waited, trying to tamp down the excitement coursing through him. God knew there’d been too many disappointments in the past. Bad intelligence. Rumors of release. Negotiations that went nowhere. And even a failed rescue attempt.
He’d been so damned close. But one guard had managed to raise the alarm before Lachlan had gotten halfway up the tower where Edward’s barbarous prison cage hung. He and the other members of the Highland Guard who’d accompanied him had barely escaped with their lives.
Seeing her in that abomination was something that would haunt him the rest of his life. She’d seemed so thin and pale. Her big, round eyes dominated her face, as she stared into the distance with a look of desolation that cut to the bone. He’d never felt so damned helpless in his life. Seeing her and not being able to reach her had driven him half-mad.
He’d taken some comfort that she’d been released from the cage not long afterward, but the failure ate at him.
But not this time. He wouldn’t fail again.
A few minutes passed before he heard the door open. The king entered, followed by Tor MacLeod, the captain of the Highland Guard—or Chief, as his war name proclaimed him. Neither man appeared pleased to have been pulled away from the wedding festivities.
The king sat down in the thronelike chair recently occupied by John MacDougall, Lord of Lorn, and gave him a hard look. “I assume since this couldn’t wait the few hours until morning it must be about the countess?”
Lachlan stared across the table at the man who’d spoken so calmly. But like him, Lachlan knew that Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland, was anything but calm. These past two years since the women had been taken in Tain had been almost as hard on Bruce as they’d been on Lachlan. Almost. But not quite.
Bruce wasn’t the one responsible for their capture.
“She’s to be moved—Mary as well.”
The king sat forward; clearly Lachlan had surprised him. “And how did you learn of this?”
Lachlan shrugged. “I have my sources.”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Bribing spies? Damn it, Viper, why was I not told of this? Is that where all the money I pay you is going?”
Lachlan’s mouth fell in a hard line. He didn’t explain himself—even to a king.
MacLeod stepped in to defuse the tension. “Where are they to be moved?”
Lachlan shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for. With Bella leaving the castle, there won’t be a better time for a rescue.”
The king and MacLeod exchanged a glance, but neither man disagreed.
“I’m not surprised that they’ve decided to do something about Bella,” Bruce said after a moment. “With Buchan dead and no longer calling for her head, De Monthermer was able to persuade the new English king to release her from the cage, but since then no one knows what to do with her. No one wants her around. She’s a black mark on the first Edward and on England, and too powerful a symbol of the rebellion to simply let go free. They want her to disappear. My guess would be a convent or a castle in a remote part of England. But that doesn’t explain why they’re moving Mary.”
No one had an answer.
“When is this supposed to happen?” MacLeod asked. The captain of the Highland Guard and at one time one of Lachlan’s fiercest enemies would want to know every detail.
“My source says in a few days. They are making preparations now. For obvious reasons, they are keeping it very quiet.”
“How can we be sure your source is telling the truth?” the king asked. “What if it’s a trap?”
Lachlan’s mouth thinned. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take. I’m leaving tonight.”
He looked at both men, daring either one of them to argue with him.
The silence dragged on. Lachlan sensed he wasn’t going to like what was coming next. He was right.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Bruce asked. “Perhaps it would be best if you let MacLeod—”
Lachlan leaned forward. “There is no way in hell I’m not going.”
The king pretended not to notice the threat, but MacLeod frowned. “Have care, Viper,” he said. “You aren’t exactly rational about this.”
That was putting it mildly. Hell, obsessed was putting it mildly. From the moment he’d seen her loaded into that cart, knowing he was responsible, Lachlan had vowed to see Bella freed.
When he’d learned of the fate that had befallen her, he’d been half-crazed with the need to get her out. But delays, war, and a failed attempt had stood in his way. Now, thanks to this new information, he had another chance. There was no way in hell he wasn’t going. This was his mission.
“The king has good reason for caution,” MacLeod added.
“Indeed I do,” Bruce said. “Thanks to John of Lorn, your identity as one of the members of my ‘secret’ army has just been revealed. You are one of the most wanted men in Scotland right now. If you are captured, the English will torture you until you reveal the names of the others. With three hundred marks on your head, everyone will be hunting you. You need to stay hidden for a while. Perhaps visit that isle you will soon be calling home.”
Lachlan’s glare was mutinous. The king wouldn’t distract him with talk of his reward. Lachlan’s three years of agreed-upon service was all but fulfilled. The land and coin he’d been promised would be his when Bruce held his first council. His debts would finally be paid, and he’d have the solitude and peace he craved. It was almost done. But he had one final mission to complete before he could leave.
“I’ve been tortured before,” he said flatly. “Nothing they do to me will force me to reveal the names of my fellow guardsmen. Just like nothing will stop me from doing this.” He held the king’s gaze. “I have to do this.”
<
br /> The king studied him silently for a moment before turning to MacLeod. The fierce Island Chief shrugged. “I didn’t think he’d see reason.”
“Neither did I,” the king said with a sigh of resignation. He turned back to Lachlan and gave him a black scowl. “You’d better be careful.”
The king didn’t need to tell him that. He had no desire to ever be locked up in another pit prison. Dark holes held no fond memories for him. He repressed the reflexive shudder. To free her he would risk it. He would risk just about anything. “Who can I take?”
The king and MacLeod conferred privately for a moment before MacLeod answered. “Raider, Dragon, Hunter, and Striker.”
Lachlan muttered an oath. He’d be glad for Lamont’s tracking skills and MacLean’s gift with strategy, but he’d be spending half his time trying to prevent Boyd and Seton from killing one another. “What about Saint and Templar?” he asked, referring to MacKay and Gordon.
“They’re coming with me, Hawk, and Arrow,” MacLeod said. “If they’re both being moved, we’re going to try to free Mary as well.”
Lachlan nodded grimly. Like Bella, young Mary Bruce had been hung from a cage—hers was located at Roxburgh Castle.
The first Edward also had originally wanted to hang Bruce’s daughter Marjory from a cage at the Tower of London, but she’d been given a reprieve. Like her Aunt Christina, Marjory had been sent to a nunnery instead.
The queen, probably due to her powerful father, Edward’s close cohort the Earl of Ulster, had been placed under house arrest in Burstwick. The young Earl of Mar had been sent to the English court to be raised. The Earl of Atholl, however, had not been so fortunate. He’d been sent to the gallows.
MacKay and Gordon had been mistaken for ordinary men-at-arms. They’d been imprisoned at Urquhart for a few months, but Lachlan and other members of the Highland Guard had managed to free them.
“And the other women?”
Bruce’s face was somber. “We’ve heard from my old friend Lamberton, the Bishop of St. Andrews—freed from prison but still confined in England—that my wife, daughter, and sister Christina are being treated well. They are still too far south and too well guarded to attempt anything. But when the moment is right, I will lead the damned rescue party myself.”
The Viper Page 14
