Daring Lords and Ladies

by Emily Murdoch

  Robert whirled, expression shocked. “No. Never. How can you—”

  Elizbeth cut him off with a slashing gesture. “Then how can you say you let Daniel die? You tried to save him. I am the one to blame. If I hadn’t come to you that morning, full of childish, selfish dreams, Daniel would still live.”

  Robert’s features clouded. Pain stabbed through her she tried to take a deep breath, to stave off tears, but that breath turned into a sob. “I-I should get water.” She whirled toward the door.

  The quick pounding of boots across the wooden floor frightened her, then a strong hand seized her arm and swung her around. In the next instant, his arms banded around her in a hug so fierce she could scarcely breath.

  “Nae,” he said in strangled voice. “You cannot go.”

  “Go?” she squeaked. Did he think she intended to leave? “I am only going to wash.”

  He didn’t release her, but only shook his head. His arms were so glorious around her. She wanted to melt into his embrace. Would he hate her even more if she gave into her need just this one?

  Robert drew back just far enough to force her to angle her head up to meet his eyes. “You are not to leave this cottage without me,” he said. “Do you understand?”

  Ire flared before she caught the desperation in his gaze. He did think she was going to leave. Did he think her loyalties so fickle?

  His grip on her shoulders tightened and he gave her a shake. “Do you understand?” Before she could answer, he said, “I failed Daniel—I failed you. I will not fail you again. I swear.” He yanked her against him and muttered, “I cannot lose you, too.”

  Her head whirled. He failed her? He couldn’t lose her, too?

  “Robert.”

  He shook his head, but still held her tight.

  Elizbeth slid a hand up his back until her fingers brushed the hair on his neck. “Shhh.” She stroked his hair. “You did not fail me. You saved us—all of us. It was I who—”

  He drew back and cupped her cheek. “I should never have sent you home that morning. I should have saddled my horse, swept you up, and ridden hard for the nearest chapel.”

  Her heart leapt with joy, but she shook her head. “I wouldn’t have been worthy of you then. I am even less worthy now.” Elizbeth cursed the tremble in her voice. She was still acting like a silly schoolgirl.

  “Unworthy?” He stared into her eyes. “You are a princess. The blood of Scottish royalty flows through your veins. I am no one, a commoner, and all but guilty of fratricide.”

  Elizbeth drew in a shuddering breath. “We both failed him. What will we do, now?”

  Robert took a deep breath. “We will go on. We will do our duty and persevere. What else can we do?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  What else could they do?

  Tears blurred Elizbeth’s eyes, but didn’t obscure the way firelight played over the firm line of Robert’s jaw, caressed his lips, flickered in his eyes. The pain in those eyes hadn’t lessened. Anger still stirred in their depths, but not loathing. Not hatred.

  “Our duty?” she murmured, well aware what that meant.

  Robert had said he couldn’t lose her, too, but did that mean he loved her? If he did love her, was that enough to move on with the shadow of Daniel hanging over them?

  “If you are willing,” he whispered

  If? She’d been willing since the first time he kissed her. Nae, since the day they were introduced in her family’s parlor, she but a girl of seventeen and him a slim young man standing in the shadow of her father’s previous attorney. She recalled the piercing look Robert had leveled on her then, his eyes so very serious.

  “You knew,” she murmured. “You have always known who I am, since the moment we met.”

  He nodded. “You awed me, Liza.”

  A tremor rippled through her at the use of his pet name for her.

  His attention settled on her lips for a long moment, then dropped lower. “You awe me now.”

  Heat washed through her, having little to do with the ever-brightening fire. Robert’s hand slid up her neck and into her hair. He gently tugged free the pins, sending her auburn locks tumbling free.

  “You have not given me an answer, Elizbeth.” He gripped her shoulders. “I know what we were bade do, but I will not, cannot, make this decision for you.”

  Lightness filled her, a giddy flutter in her belly. She gave a shaky nod.

  Robert shook his head. “I would have you say it.”

  “S-say what?” she stammered.

  “Say you want me.”

  Heat filled her face. “Aloud?” she gasped.

  “We are man and wife.” He caressed her shoulders. “You may say anything to me. Especially this.”

  Elizbeth fought against the jitter that shook every limb and locked her gaze with his. “I want you, Robert.”

  His mouth crushed hers. His touch soothed and excited, dispelling her nervous trembling and inciting a foreign, deeper emotion. Elizbeth buried her hands in his hair. She matched her mouth to his. Every fiber of her being strove for closeness.

  He broke the kiss. She swayed forward, his tall form preventing her from toppling over. She searched his face. What had she done wrong? He swept her into his arms and headed for the bed. Hurt shot through her. He meant to leave her there, as he’d done the night before?

  Rather than toss her, he lay her gently down. Nor did he turn away. He stood beside the bed, his gaze roving over her, from her jumbled tresses to the hem of her skirt. She reached up, wanting him to kiss her again, willing him to stay.

  “Do not go,” her voice came out a mere whisper. “I said I want you.”

  “Aye, and I want you, too.” He climbed into the bed and spent the rest of the night proving how much he wanted her.

  ***

  Elizbeth rode alongside Robert in a glorious haze, down the rocky mountain path toward the sea. Her sennight in the cabin with Robert had filled her with a peace she hadn’t known since before her mother died. She hadn’t had a home since then, she realized. Aunt Davina had done her best, but no one had successfully banished the sorrow that entered Kaerndal Hall the day Mother died. The carefree joy of Elizbeth’s childhood would never be more than a pleasant memory. Kaerndal Hall would never again be her home.

  They rounded a crick in the trail and she sighted a ship anchored in the narrow bay. A lean, quick vessel, reminiscent of the great Nordic ships of old. Robert halted and withdrew a flag, half red, half blue, a line of gold between them. He waved it three times, then carefully folded the cloth and stowed it away.

  They waited. Elizbeth held her breath, some of her happiness dimming. Aboard ship, a similar flag unfurled down the side. Robert urged his mount down the winding path. When they rounded the next switchback, a rowboat had been lowered and men climbed aboard.

  By the time the zig zagging trail reach the rocky shore, the rowboat had landed. Robert dismounted and handed her his horse’s reins. He met her gaze for a moment. Without words, he instructed her to stay by the trail. If anything seemed amiss, she was to leave his horse and flee. Elizbeth nodded.

  He turned and picked his way across the rock-strewn beach. Two men remained in the rowboat, but two stood on shore. From what she could see, the two on shore were armed, though they left their pistols undrawn. Elizbeth rested a hand on her lap, near the small gun hidden in the folds of her skirt.

  Robert spoke to the men at length, but Elizbeth could read unease in the set of his shoulders. One of the men withdrew a letter from his front coat pocket and handed it to Robert. Robert accepted the page and slipped it inside his pocket unread, then turned to her and offered a nod. She slid from the saddle as Robert and two of the sailors started toward her.

  The men reached her and the two sailors bowed low. “Your highness,” one said.

  Elizbeth glanced up the steep ridges behind them, sighting no one. “There is no need for that, and I daresay ‘tis dangerous.”

  “Aye, your—your ladyship,” the man
said. “We are to return the horses to one of our safeholds. You and your husband are to go with them.” He pointed to the two men who waited with the rowboat.

  “Thank you. Your service to Scotland is appreciated,” Elizbeth said.

  Both men bowed again and started toward the horses.

  Robert offered his arm. “Baroness,” he said, voice pitched too low for the retreating men to overhear.

  Elizbeth accepted his arm with a smile. “Where are we headed?” she asked as they picked their way down the beach.

  “We won’t know until we board. Only the captain knows, and he will not divulge the information until we sail.”

  She nodded. That seemed a good precaution. Even if every man on the ship were loyal, the risk remained that the two left behind might be captured, even tortured. She and Robert had, when not diligently fulfilling their duty to Scotland, discussed at length the seriousness of her father’s intentions.

  They boarded the ship and the crew furled the flag and stowed the rowboat, then set about hauling anchor. Robert spoke with the captain before guiding Elizbeth toward the prow. The wind that whipped down from the north held an icy edge. Elizbeth hugged herself. Robert wrapped her in his arms. Content despite the cold, she leaned against him.

  “I have a letter for you from your Aunt Sandra,” he said.

  Elizbeth checked her startlement and said in a calm voice, “I cannot wait to read what she has to say.” She checked her curiosity. They would read the letter in the privacy of their cabin.

  “We sail for the Isle of Skye,” he whispered in her ear. His warm breath sent a delightful shiver through her. “She has a manor there.”

  Elizbeth nodded. Skye seemed as good a place as any. It mattered little to her, so long as Robert remained with her. Was she selfish for wanting him near during this time? She recalled Aunt Davina’s words. “What, if not this, are we fighting to preserve? Family is everything.” Aye, she was being selfish. But she and Robert would fight to the death for others to be with their loved ones, as well.

  She turned her head. “Margarette is likely wed by now.” Her lips brushed his cheek as she spoke.

  “Aye. It has been a week. Her ladyship isn’t one to accept dawdling.” He squeezed her tighter. “I am sorry, Elizbeth. I know you wished to be there. I give my word, you will see your aunt and sister again. This trouble stirred by your father and the French cannot go on forever.”

  Elizbeth nodded. He’d made the promise before. She had every faith he would keep it.

  “When all this is over,” he said, breath warm on her cheek, “I will take you home.”

  Elizbeth wound hers about his neck. “Robert, when I am with you, I am home.”

  She pulled his head down and kissed him. Lost in his embrace, she didn’t note the moment the ship left the bay. She didn’t dread the dark of the open sea as it spread out before them. She didn’t, even once, look back.

  ###

  Rhapsody and Rebellion

  Aubrey Wynne

  Copyright © 2018 by Aubrey Wynne

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editing by The Editing Hall

  Proofing by Paula Proofer

  Cover by Sweet N Spicy Designs

  Rhapsody and Rebellion is #3 in the Once Upon a Widow series.

  This book was originally a part of The Enduring Legacy series. Each book told the stories of the descendants of one family that were persecuted during the height of the witch trials in Scotland. This family is not real, and is the work of fiction, but what happens to them very much occurred to individuals in the sixteenth century and beyond.

  The special legacies are handed down to the MacNaughtons through three siblings from 1590 Scotland and include the gift of sight, the gift of empathy, and the ability to see the Truth. They are persecuted because of their gifts and desire to help others. However, their children are saved and their legacy continues to live on.

  In Rhapsody and Rebellion, Gideon learns he has inherited the legacy of Truth while his mother has secretly possessed the gift of sight.

  Once Upon a Widow (Sweet Regency Series)

  Earl of Sunderland #1

  http://aubreywynne.com/book/earl-of-sunderland/ A Wicked Earl’s Widow #2 http://aubreywynne.com/book/a-wicked-earls-widow/ Rhapsody and Rebellion #3 http://aubreywynne.com/book/rhapsody-and-rebellion/ Earl of Darby #4 http://aubreywynne.com/book/earl-of-darby/

  A MacNaughton Castle Romance (Steamy Scottish Regency) If you enjoyed Gideon’s Scottish relatives from Rhapsody and Rebellion, meet the whole clan in this new, steamy Regency series.

  A Merry MacNaughton Mishap (Prequel) https://aubreywynne.com/book/a-merry-macnaughton-mishap/ Deception and Desire #1 https://aubreywynne.com/book/deception-and-desire/ Allusive Love #2 (Coming August 2020) A Bonny Pretender #3 (Coming October 2020)

  Prologue

  “Rebellion against tyrants is obedience to God.”

  Benjamin Franklin

  June 4, 1792

  King’s Birthday Riots

  Edinburgh, Scotland

  The noise outside grew steadily louder until Maeve’s mother, Peigi, snapped the drapes closed. Specks of dust danced in the slivers of sunlight, beckoning Maeve to investigate the muffled cries for justice, the shatter of glass, and splintering wood outside the window. The bedlam on the city streets was horrifying and riveting. It reminded her of the first time she’d witnessed a deer hunt, not wanting to watch the dying animal but unable to look away.

  A sheen of sweat covered Ma’s face in the humid, still air of the dining room. Maeve reached out and squeezed her fingers in reassurance. “He’ll be here soon.”

  They would be safe with Da. He was bigger and stronger and more astute than anyone she’d known in her fifteen years. The sound of horseshoes and carriage wheels crunched in the driveway. A moment later, the heavy oak door slammed open. Calum MacNaughton filled the doorway, wild black curls clinging to his neck and strong jaws, a whip in his hand.

  “Let’s go, my lovelies. We dinna know how long this uproar may last.” Sapphire blue eyes glittered with urgency. “I’ve rented a hack to get us out of the city limits. The carriage is too tempting for the rabble.”

  Maeve picked up her heavy skirts with one hand, grasped her reticule with the other, and hurried for the door. The footman tossed baggage on top of the hansom then returned to assist Maeve. Her heart beat rapidly as she settled on the worn padded bench. A far cry from the soft velvet of their own carriage. Maeve had been delighted to accompany her parents to Edinburgh. Now she prayed for the safety of her Highland home.

  “What if they stop the carriage? I’m frightened, Calum.” Panic added a shrill pitch to her mother’s voice.

  “They’re just hungry and tired of not being heard. I willna let any harm come to ye.” Her father’s calm tone soothed both the women. “Now up ye go, Peigi, my love. We’ll be out of here in the blink of an eye.”

  He sat across from them, rapped his knuckles against the roof, and the vehicle lurched forward. The horses whinnied in protest and sidestepped men running through the streets and debris flying in their path. Someone tried to hitch a ride on the side of the vehicle. Calum swore under his breath, leaned out the window, and punched the man in the face. The trespasser fell on his arse in the mud, waving an angry fist and holding his nose.

  The driver headed toward a narrow alley to avoid the throng of rioters. Maeve peeked out the window to view the square, packed with hundreds of people streaming in from all sides. On a shoddily erected platform hung a noose, with a group of workers balancing what looked like a man on their shoulders. They tied the noose around his neck. One of his arms swayed unnaturally by his side, and she sighed with relief when bits of straw fell from the coat sleeve.

  The coachman c
racked his whip, careened into the alley, and broke free of the crowd. As the noise subsided, Maeve listened to her parents argue about the political situation that had led to the insurrection. She leaned her head against the hard bench, each rut jerking her neck back and forth. It had been such a long day, with little sleep the previous night. Her lids grew heavy, and she gave in to a fitful sleep.

  The horde of men jeered and poked flaming torches at the driver and team of horses. Their clothes were filthy, and they had an air of men used to taking what they needed. A man of wealth poked his head out of the gleaming carriage, his tall hat hitting the window frame and toppling to the dusty ground.

  “What are you hooligans about?” he demanded. “I order you to step aside and let us cross the bridge.”

  One of the men laughed, his yellow teeth protruding from his cold smile. He appeared to be the leader. “Sorry, milord, but we canna do that. In fact, we think it’s time you traveled the same as the rest of us.”

  “Look here, I insist—”

  Two of the rabble pulled the nobleman from his upholstered seat and sent him sprawling across the dirt road. The stiff breeze picked up the clouds of dirt that swirled into little grayish brown whirlpools. Another man touched his torch to the wooden bridge in several places. Embers glowed then spread, crackling as the flames began to lick at the dry planks.

  “Looks like ye won’t be crossing the stream today, unless ye don’t mind getting those Hessians mucked up.” The group laughed as the leader picked up the hat and placed it on his own head.

  “You will all pay for this. Do not think this attack will go unpunished.”

  “I beg yer pardon, my lord, but this topper here could feed my family for a month or more. Can’t imagine yer family ever goin’ hungry.”

  “And to be honest, the riots in Edinburgh are keepin’ the constables a bit busy.”