The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel

by Monica McCarty

  He flinched as if he’d just taken a blow from a war hammer. Through the burning in his chest, he forced her to look at him, staring in her eyes and daring her to lie to him. “Tell me one thing. Do you want to marry him?”

  She didn’t blink. “Why wouldn’t I? Sir Ralph is one of the most handsome, important knights in Christendom. Any woman would be honored to be his wife.”

  Erik clenched his jaw against the sudden twist of pain. It should be relief. His mission had to come first, and now he could leave with a clear conscience. He’d asked. She’d refused. He’d done his duty; his honor was intact.

  Then why did his chest feel as though it were on fire? Why was he so bloody angry? And why did he want to kill Sir Ralph de Monthermer?

  It was what Erik’s ancestors would have done. But he wasn’t a Norse barbarian. He had no right to claim her.

  Dawn was breaking. The galleys were drawing closer. Another five minutes and there would be enough light to make out their two forms. If he was going to go, he needed to do it now.

  He glanced at Ellie right before he slipped into the water. Bundled in the plaids and furs, she looked so small and helpless. But she wasn’t; she never had been. She didn’t need him. Though he fought the urge to pull her into his arms and prove otherwise.

  His jaw hardened with icy resolve. Nay, it was better this way. He had a mission to complete. Once he returned to Bruce and the attack was under way, he would have so much to do he would forget all about her. Time and circumstance, he reminded himself. Once the adventure and excitement died down, he’d stop feeling this way.

  With one last look, he slid into the water and started to swim. Numb inside, he barely noticed the cold.

  He looked back only once.

  Halfway to shore, he paused just in time to see the first English galley reach the skiff. He stiffened, recognizing the arms of de Monthermer: the green eagle on the yellow sail. A moment later, he saw Ellie plucked from the small skiff and pulled into the arms of a tall, mail-clad knight bearing the same crest on his tabard.

  Erik’s lungs felt as if they were burning with salt water.

  Seeing her in the arms of another man brought out every primitive instinct in him—instincts he didn’t even know he had. But he told himself she was safe. He’d returned her to her family as he’d promised. His duty was done.

  He slid back underwater and swam with everything he had, focused on one thing and one thing only.

  The mission was all that mattered.

  * * *

  When Ralph enfolded her into his arms, Ellie’s carefully constructed composure crumbled. She didn’t care that there were four galleys of soldiers watching her. All the emotion she’d been holding inside shattered in a heart-wrenching flurry of tears and sobs.

  Attributing the outpouring of emotion to relief from her rescue—not realizing that her heart was breaking—Ralph soothed her with calming words. It was all right. She was safe now. No one would hurt her.

  He was sturdy and warm, tall and strong. His broad, solid chest even smelled of the wind and sea. And when he smiled down at her, his handsome face was gentle and full of concern.

  But Ralph de Monthermer wasn’t the man she wanted, and he never would be. The man she wanted was lost to her—though he’d never really been hers at all.

  The truth stung, but the pain seemed to give her strength. Embarrassed by the all-too-public display of emotion, she drew back and wiped the tears from her eyes. There would be time enough to mourn when she was home. But for now, she needed to ensure Erik’s escape.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized. She knew Ralph must be anxious to hear what had happened, and how she’d come to be alone, marooned in the small skiff.

  “You’ve nothing to apologize for,” Ralph said gently. “I’m just so relieved we found you. The storm—”

  He didn’t finish, but gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s a miracle that you were able to stay afloat.”

  Not a miracle; the skills of one man.

  Ralph’s face hardened. “But where is he? Where is the man who took you?”

  Ellie knew she had to do whatever she could to convince Ralph that Erik had perished in the storm, but she hated having to lie to him. “He’s gone,” she replied flatly. “I don’t know how it happened. The storm was horrible. It was dark and impossible to see through the wind and rain. He ordered me to stay down low in the hull of the boat. One minute he was standing there, the next he was gone.”

  “Hawk is dead?” a man said incredulously.

  Ellie turned at the sound of the familiar voice. A man stepped out from behind the crowd of soldiers who’d gathered round. The color drained from her face. “Thomas! You’re all right!” So profound was her relief to see him that she took a few steps toward him before stopping. “But what are you doing here?”

  Thomas’s face flushed scarlet, but it was Ralph who answered for him. “It’s thanks to Sir Thomas that we found you.”

  “Sir Thomas?” she echoed. It was what she’d always known, but hearing it surprised her nonetheless.

  Thomas gave her a short bow. “Sir Thomas Randolph at your service, Lady Elyne.”

  It took her a moment to place the name, but when she did her horror was only worsened. “You are Robert’s nephew,” she gasped.

  The young knight nodded.

  Ellie felt ill. She couldn’t believe that the man she’d considered a friend had betrayed not only Hawk but also his own uncle.

  What else had he told them?

  She turned away sharply, addressing Ralph. “How did you find me?”

  “Randolph was certain the rebel would head for Ireland.”

  Dear God, had Thomas told Ralph the plan? Giving no hint to the panic rising inside her, her eyes flickered to Thomas.

  “Hawk told me he intended to take you home,” Thomas explained.

  She bit back the sigh of relief at his half-truth. Apparently, Thomas hadn’t completely betrayed them. Their eyes held for a moment before she turned back to Ralph for him to continue.

  “We laid a trap in the channel last night, but when the storm hit we were forced to retreat. I was certain the outlaw would do the same, but Randolph assured me the storm would not stop him. As soon as the storm abated we set sail for Ireland. He is more reckless than I imagined.” Ralph’s face darkened. “The fool could have killed you both.”

  She placed her hand on his arm. “He saved my life,” she said truthfully. “More than once.” Tears pricked her eyes. “Whatever else he might have done, I am here, and he is gone. All I want to do is go home and forget.”

  Ralph was immediately contrite. “Of course you do. You must be exhausted. We can talk later. Your family will be overjoyed to have you returned safely.”

  He gave the orders to turn about, and she frowned. “Are we not going to Ireland?”

  He shook his head. “Forgive me, I forgot that you did not know. Your father has been ordered by the king to the castle at Ayr.”

  Scotland. She couldn’t believe it. While she’d been on Spoon Island, her father had been a coastline away.

  Ralph sat her on a chest near the bow of the boat, bundled a few more blankets around her, and gave her a comforting squeeze of the hand. “It’s good to have you back, Lady Elyne. Lady Mathilda will be relieved.” A strange look crossed his face. “All your brothers and sisters will be relieved.”

  He was kind, she realized. She’d known it before, but her odd discomfort around him had always gotten in the way. Guilt welled up inside her. She needed to tell him the truth. “My lord, there is something …” Her cheeks fired. “Something I must tell you.”

  “There is no need,” he said firmly. She started to protest, but he stopped her. “You aren’t to blame for anything that has happened. Randolph told me that you had become … er, close with the man who took you.”

  She couldn’t believe it. He knew—or at least suspected—and didn’t care. His understanding only made it worse. She couldn’t let him think that she�
�d been forced. “I was not unwilling, my lord,” she said in a whisper.

  He gave her a long look—more pensive than accusing. “Whatever happened is in the past. You are safe now; that is all that matters.”

  He was going to make it easy on her. Easier than even she’d expected. Easier than she deserved.

  “Rest,” he said. “We can talk later.” He paused, a frown settling over his strong, handsome features. “I’m afraid your father will have many questions for you. King Edward is most anxious to catch this rebel sea captain they call the Hawk. He’s convinced Bruce is planning something.”

  Her blood chilled, but she forced her expression to remain impassive. “I’m afraid I won’t be much help.” None, in fact.

  He held her gaze, perhaps understanding too much, and then gave her a swift smile. “Be that as it may, you should be prepared.”

  She nodded, appreciating the warning. She recalled that Ralph and Bruce once had been close friends. Was he more sympathetic to Robert than she realized?

  He returned to his men, leaving her to the cruel solitude of her thoughts. Her parting from Erik had been so swift and unexpected that she hadn’t had time to think. But now, with every minute that took her farther away from him, the cold realization settled in. As the magnitude of what she’d lost hit her, Ellie was filled with an overwhelming sense of despair. The future seemed bleak and lonely. It seemed impossible to believe that she would never see him again. That the freedom and happiness she’d known were at an end.

  How was she going to go back to her life as if nothing had happened? How was she going to do her duty and marry Ralph when she loved another man?

  She didn’t want to believe that it could be over so suddenly, and she found herself glancing over her shoulder more than once. She knew he wouldn’t come after her. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. But the foolish part of her that didn’t want to accept the truth wouldn’t listen to reason.

  If only it didn’t have to hurt so much.

  What had she expected? Hadn’t she known that this was the only way it could end?

  She’d convinced herself that he cared for her. That she was different. That a future between them might be possible. But he’d never professed to love her or want anything more than the pleasure he’d offered. She’d given him a chance by confessing her feelings, but he hadn’t taken it.

  The only thing tempering her heartbreak was that soon she would see her family. With favorable winds, the galley made short work of the crossing that only hours earlier had very nearly killed them. It wasn’t long before the sandy shores and verdant hillsides of the Ayrshire coast came into view.

  She stiffened when she saw Thomas—Sir Thomas—approach. He sat down beside her; she pretended not to notice.

  “He swam to Fair Head, didn’t he?” His voice was low so as to not be overheard by the soldiers nearby.

  Her pulse jumped, but she held her expression perfectly still, keeping her gaze fixed on the shoreline. “If you are speaking of the captain, I told you what happened.”

  “I didn’t tell them anything, Ellie—Lady Elyne—I swear.”

  She gave him a sharp glance. “Except where to find us.”

  Heat crept up his cheeks, but he thrust up his chest. “The way Hawk treated you was wrong. When I discovered who you were, I couldn’t let it continue.”

  Ellie couldn’t believe it. Hawk’s entire mission could have failed because Randolph’s knightly sensibilities had been offended. She looked around to make sure no one was listening to them and whispered, “So you decided to set the English on us instead? Don’t you know what is at stake? Or do you no longer care?”

  His flush grew hotter. “I know what’s at stake, although I haven’t been privy to the details. For once I’m glad my uncle did not fully take me into his confidence. I’ve said no more than was necessary to find you. As for Hawk, he always manages to land on his feet, or haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  He seemed desperate for her to believe him, as if her opinion mattered, but he could not be absolved so easily. Erik had avoided capture, but just barely. Whether he’d succeeded, however, neither of them would know for some time.

  “And yet you still switched sides?” she pointed out.

  He met her accusatory stare unflinchingly. “I had no choice.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “Would you have rather we’d all been killed?”

  Her gaze shot to his. “Of course not.”

  “Well, that’s what would have happened had I not surrendered.” Much to Domnall’s anger, she imagined. But she could not blame Thomas for doing what he could to save their lives. It was what she would have done, even if Erik wouldn’t.

  “Where are the rest of the men?”

  “In the dungeon at Ayr.”

  “And yet you are here.”

  He bristled, his reaction implying censure to her tone. “My uncle and I have not seen eye-to-eye for some time. I’m a knight, not a pirate, and I wish to fight like one.”

  So when he’d been given the opportunity to change sides, he’d taken it.

  As much as she wanted to condemn him for it, she could not. Even aside from chivalry, Randolph had done what countless others had done before him, following his best interests, not his heart. Expediency over principle. Many of King Edward’s supporters supported him because it was prudent to do so, not because they believed in his cause. Even her father could be put in this category.

  There were few William Wallaces willing to die for a noble cause.

  Erik would. Loyalty, duty, honor—whatever she called it—the ties that bound him to the people he cared about were what mattered to him.

  Death before surrender.

  She shivered. When he’d spoken those words she did not doubt that he meant them. She could only pray that it didn’t come to that.

  Had he reached the Irish in time and gotten them safely to Robert? Would Bruce’s last-ditch effort to take back his throne succeed?

  It might be some time before she knew the answers to those questions. If they failed, she might never know. The agony of not knowing what had become of him just might drive her mad.

  Twenty-one

  After a long day of waiting—almost twelve hours since he’d left Ellie—Erik MacSorley sailed into the bay along Rathlin Isle’s western shore with the three hundred Irish soldiers he’d vowed to deliver to Bruce.

  With all that had come before it, his arrival at Fair Head minutes after dawn had been strangely anticlimactic—though it had been close. The McQuillans had already begun to load their ships to leave, thinking that something must have happened to call off the attack. The Irish chief said they would have returned the following evening, but Erik wasn’t so sure. They’d already collected half their payment, and having fulfilled their end of the bargain, it would have been a substantial windfall for simply showing up.

  In any event, Erik had reached them in time and, after taking care to hide the ships from any passing English patrols, they’d spent the day waiting for night to fall until they could leave for Rathlin.

  Now, as he maneuvered the first of five ships into the bay, he knew he should be relieved—proud that he’d done what he set out to do, despite the many hurdles that he’d had to overcome. But the success of his mission held little satisfaction for him.

  The last conversation with Ellie still sat too bitterly inside him.

  The king needed to be told. But that unpleasant conversation would have to wait. First Erik had to get them to Arran, and, after the unexpected delays of the night before, he wanted to give himself as much time as possible.

  The two score of men he’d left a few scant weeks ago were gathered on the shore to greet him: the king, his closest supporters, and the handful of Bruce’s loyal vassals who’d escaped with them from Dunaverty last September. But the group had swelled by an additional hundred soldiers—thanks to the additional Islemen provided by his cousin Angus Og.

  Erik hopped over the edge of th
e birlinn into the knee-deep water and strode toward them.

  “Where have you been?” Bruce demanded before he’d even taken a step upon the rocky beach. “You were supposed to be here yesterday. This is cutting it too damn close, even for you, Hawk.” He looked around. “Where’s your ship? And my nephew?”

  Erik’s mouth fell in a grim line. “The English found us on Spoon a few hours before we were to leave. I will tell you everything when we reach Arran, but Randolph and my men were taken.”

  Even for a man who’d suffered so many disappointments, the blow did not fall any softer. Bruce flinched. “Dead?”

  Erik shook his head. “I do not think so, your grace.”

  He kept his suspicions to himself for now, but the king was shrewd, and Erik suspected he was wondering the same thing as he: how unwillingly Randolph had gone.

  The king’s gaze hardened, his eyes as cold and black as polished ebony. “I hope you have a good explanation for how this could have happened.”

  Erik nodded. So did he.

  He glanced at Chief, who stood beside Bruce. “Is everyone ready?” Erik asked.

  “Aye.”

  Erik could see from his gaze that the captain of the Highland Guard had questions for him, too. But like Bruce’s, they would have to wait.

  Erik quickly conferred with the king about who would lead the Irish ships as well as two of the four birlinns of Islemen. Ewen “Hunter” Lamont and Eoin “Striker” MacLean had taken the other two ships with Bruce’s brothers south to Galloway for the second prong of the attack against the MacDowells.

  With seven ships to deal with—five Irish and two of his cousin’s—it was decided that Erik would lead the fleet in one of the Irish ships, and Chief would captain one of MacDonald’s ships carrying the king. As the king’s largely Lowland retinue had limited sailing experience, Erik left the seafaring Irish to captain their other ships. He placed Gregor “Arrow” MacGregor—the only other member of the Highland Guard present—in charge of the remaining birlinn.