The Rock

by Monica McCarty

  Focused on movement beyond the castle walls, he didn’t pay much attention to the footsteps coming up the guardhouse stairs, assuming it must be the officer in charge. It was, but Carrick’s lieutenant wasn’t alone.

  “MacGowan. You are needed below. Peter will take your place until you return.”

  Thom didn’t argue. He was so glad to be relieved he didn’t question the cause. It wasn’t until he was led into a small guardroom built into the stone wall—probably a place where the English had temporarily kept prisoners—and saw who was waiting for him that he wished he could return to his frigid post.

  Elizabeth.

  She didn’t greet him right away, but turned to the lieutenant with a grateful smile. It was a smile to make men silly, even humorless old warriors like Sir Reginald Cunningham. “Thank you for finding him. I promise this will only take a moment.” When it looked like the man intended to stay, she added, “What I have to say to Thom is of the utmost secrecy. If you could see that we are not disturbed, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  The old warrior looked uncertain. “Does your brother know you are here, my lady?”

  She gave him a dazzling smile. Having been on the other side of that smile more than once, Thom knew a falsehood—or at least a misleading statement—was on its way.

  “He knew exactly where I was going.”

  Which answered precisely nothing.

  Thom’s mouth fell into a hard line as Sir Reginald, still in a bit of a blinded stupor, grinned back at her and left them alone.

  She immediately spun around to look at him and raced into his arms.

  He was so startled that they instinctively closed around her. She melted against his chest, her soft feminine curves pressed against him in all the right places. He inhaled the delicate scent of her perfume and felt the memories crash over him. She’d always smelled so sweet and fresh.

  For one treacherous heartbeat, he forgot everything. Where he was. That three years had passed. How hard it had been to get over her. That he didn’t still love her.

  For that one treacherous heartbeat, he thought she’d reconsidered. He was so overcome by the rush of emotion that when she looked up at him and said, “I need you,” he heard, “I want you.”

  Lost in the entrancing sea of her eyes, he’d felt himself falling. His mouth lowered, and it was only when her eyes widened in shock at what he was going to do that he snapped back to reality.

  “I need your help,” is what she’d said.

  She hadn’t reconsidered. She didn’t want him, she wanted something from him.

  With a sharp curse, he let her go. But the emotion—the lust—pounded through him like a bitter drum.

  They stared at one another for a long moment. Elizabeth in surprise, and he in anger—at himself. He’d moved on. He didn’t love her with every fiber of his being anymore. Elizabeth Douglas was his past.

  Seeing his expression, she took an instinctive step back.

  He forced his anger to cool. She’d lost the power to hurt him three years ago. “What do you want, Elizabeth? I’d wager a week’s wages that Jamie not only doesn’t know you are here, but explicitly told you not to come here.”

  She bit her lip guiltily, and he had to force his eyes away from the sight of those tiny white teeth with that plump lower lip in their tight grasp. It made him think of taking the velvety red softness between his own teeth. It made him think of sliding his tongue over the marks and then into her mouth, finally tasting her.

  Past, he reminded himself.

  Instead, he focused on trying to control the temper that was threatening again. “Did you listen to nothing I said before? I asked you to let me be, and now you are dragging me away from my duty. You can no longer come running to me whenever you want. This is my job, Elizabeth. I have responsibilities and people who are counting on me. I am no longer yours to command.”

  She blinked at him, wide-eyed, obviously taken aback. “I never thought you were. And I wouldn’t have come to you if it weren’t an emergency. I need—we need—your help. It’s Archie.”

  Thom didn’t know her younger half brothers very well, but he knew how much she cared about them. “Has he been found?”

  “No . . . Yes . . . I don’t know.” With tears glistening in her eyes and emotion thick in her throat, she blurted out a garbled explanation. From what he could tell, Archie had been taken by Henry de Beaumont’s men to Bamburgh Castle, and Jamie and a small group of warriors were planning an attempt to rescue him.

  “But the only way into the castle is up a steep cliff, and I thought . . .” She looked up at him expectantly.

  He knew exactly what she thought. “You thought I would drop everything, ride not just halfway across Scotland but also across the enemy lines, climb not just a dangerous cliff but also the wall of one of the most fortified castles in England, and then somehow find your brother—in prison, no less—release him, and get him to safety without being discovered by an entire garrison of English soldiers. Does that about sum it up?”

  Big blue doe eyes lifted to his in a face that had lost some color. She stared up at him wordlessly, making him feel like he was kicking a blasted puppy.

  But this wasn’t his problem—she wasn’t his problem—and he wasn’t going to let himself get sucked back in. It had been hard enough to get over her the first time.

  But it wasn’t just that. He’d worked hard to be where he was, and he wasn’t about to let her interfere. She’d pulled him from his duty, damn it, without a thought. What would she do next time she “needed” him?

  She finally found her voice. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but Jamie will be with you along with . . .” She chewed on her bottom lip as if contemplating how much to say. “Some very good warriors. The best.” Suddenly, she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand as if something had just occurred to her. “Of course, your shoulder! It must be causing you pain.”

  “My shoulder has nothing to do with this.” It was still sore, but he could climb if he wanted to. “I have nothing to do with this. So why come to me, Elizabeth?”

  “I thought you would want to help.”

  He lifted one brow in challenge. “I very much doubt you thought about me, or what I wanted, at all. You just assumed that all you would have to do was ask, and I’d come running like I always have. Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t. Not this time. You’ll have to find someone else who wants to help.”

  She gazed up at him, stunned. “You are saying no?”

  She looked so incredulous that if it wasn’t at the expense of his pride he might have laughed. “It probably never occurred to you to think I would refuse, did it?”

  The guilty flush that pinkened her cheeks put the first crack in his composure. He took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him and hear what he said. “I don’t have to play the doting servant to your princess anymore. Nor do I have to hold my tongue around my ‘betters’ and jump to you or your brother’s bidding. Let James work another one of his miracles, or better yet, have him ask me himself.” He laughed as if he knew it would snow in hell before her brother ever came to him for help. “I have other things to do.”

  He tried to turn away, but she reached out to catch his arm. The injured one, but that isn’t what made every muscle in his body seize. “That is not why I am here. You are being unfair, I’ve never thought of you like that.”

  “Haven’t you? Am I not someone to rely upon? Someone who has always been there for you?”

  “Yes, that is why I came to you. That is what friends do.”

  “Don’t you mean that’s what I do? Your idea of friendship sounds rather one-sided.”

  She blinked up at him. “I . . .” Tears welled in her eyes. “I didn’t realize . . .” She drew in a ragged breath that made his heart skip. “I’m sorry, Thom, I didn’t mean to be such a burden to you.”

  She’d let his arm go, and he raked his hand back through his hair. Bloody hell. He hated this; hated refusing her anything. It made him
feel as if spiders were crawling all over his skin. “You weren’t a burden. But you just have to understand that I just can’t be there like that for you anymore.”

  He didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t let himself get distracted or be diverted from his goal. Lady Marjorie was waiting for him, and he wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass him by.

  He knew Elizabeth. If he let her in even an inch, she’d do something sweet to burrow her way into his heart again. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

  “I understand.”

  But she didn’t. She turned to leave, but this time it was he who stopped her. He took hold of her arm and turned her back around to face him. He had to make her see, or she’d be right back the next time the impulse struck. “I have something else to do. Someone is waiting for me.”

  “Who?”

  “The woman I hope to marry.”

  Marry? The word echoed in her head, and Elizabeth felt suddenly dizzy.

  She caught herself from swaying and looked up at him. Something in her chest squeezed. Her lungs felt as if she’d just inhaled a cloud of acrid, gritty smoke.

  “You are getting married?”

  He arched a brow. “You sound so surprised. Did you think that because you did not want me no one else would?”

  The subtle chastisement in his voice was like a slap. “I never thought that at all. Why are you putting words in my mouth to think the worst of me? I’m shocked, not surprised, although you are right—I shouldn’t be. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

  Actually, it was more surprising that he wasn’t married already. Just look at him. He was gorgeous. One of the best-looking men she’d ever seen. He must have dozens of women clamoring for his attentions. Something she ate must not have agreed with her, because she suddenly felt ill.

  “Not any woman,” he said flatly. Then, as if angered by his own words, he made a movement with his shoulders that wasn’t quite a shrug. “Nothing has been formalized.”

  “But?”

  “But I have reason to believe a betrothal is imminent. I hope to leave in the next day or two to escort her to her estates in Yorkshire.”

  Why was she finding it so hard to breathe? The air seemed to have grown cold and icy in her lungs. Estates? “I see. C-congratulations. I am happy for you. She is a v-very lucky woman.”

  She meant it, even if the words seemed to stick in her throat.

  “It’s a good match,” he said matter-of-factly. “She is the widow of a minor baron who holds a castle near Peebles.”

  A castle? The widow of a baron? It was a good match—a very good match. She should be proud of him for making such a beneficial alliance. Which didn’t explain why a strange sinking feeling had settled low in her stomach.

  She forced a smile to her face and hoped it didn’t look as tremulous as it felt. “I’m happy for you. You deserve the best, Thommy—Thom,” she quickly corrected.

  Their eyes held for one long heartbeat before he looked away. “Aye, well, it will make knighthood an easier reach.”

  She smiled. He was the most noble, honorable man she knew. He’d always had a keen sense of right and wrong. He’d been a knight to her for a long time, but she didn’t think he’d appreciate hearing any more childhood memories from her. He was getting on with his life just as he’d said.

  She just hadn’t realized . . .

  Married.

  Wasn’t she hoping to do the same? Had she forgotten about Randolph?

  She was ashamed to say she had.

  She took a deep breath, forcing air through her dry lungs. Maybe they both had moved on. “You were right, I shouldn’t have come.”

  Thom wasn’t the boy from the village anymore. He wasn’t her childhood companion and confidant. He hadn’t been for a long time. He was a soldier. A man she didn’t even know anymore.

  His face was taut, his expression grim. He seemed pained when he spoke, as if he were waging some kind of fierce internal battle. “Jamie will bring your brother home safely, Elizabeth. He’s a good climber.”

  It was true. After the near disaster in the tree all those years ago, Jamie had been determined to become just as good a climber as Thom. He’d pushed past the fear that she wasn’t supposed to know about—she’d figured out what had stopped him that day a few years later—and become very good. But no one was as good as Thom. She’d seen him scale sheer rock faces that would make a spider hesitate.

  Nonetheless, she forced a wide smile on her face. He was right, this wasn’t his battle. “I’m sure you are right.”

  They stared at one another in the semi-darkness, neither knowing what to say, but both understanding that it was goodbye.

  She wished, she wanted . . .

  She took a deep breath and broke the silence. “Goodbye, Thom.”

  “Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

  With one last look to hold on to, she opened the door and left.

  Elizabeth scanned the horizon, willing a group of riders to appear. The vantage from the East Tower chamber of the castle afforded a broad view of Roxburgh and the stark, gently undulating countryside beyond. There were hundreds of people bustling along the narrow wynds and roads of the important burgh, but none were the men she sought.

  God in heaven, how much more of this must she endure? It seemed all she did of late was stare anxiously out of tower windows, waiting.

  She sighed with frustration. Two days! James and Bruce’s famed Guard been gone two long days, and not one word. Had it taken them longer to reach the castle than they expected? Or had something gone wrong?

  Not knowing was agony. With nothing to do but wait, she felt like a lion in a cage.

  Or a princess in a tower.

  Her heart squeezed as it had every time she thought of Thom since their parting two nights ago—which was often. His accusations had stung. She’d never realized what it had been like for him. Never glimpsed the resentment and bitterness that must have been lurking underneath the stoic facade, and she’d been digging through her memories to see whether there was something she could point to—something she might have done to cause it.

  But she’d come to realize that maybe it wasn’t any specific occurrence that had fueled his resentment; it was simply a natural function of the separation between them in rank. It was something that had never mattered to her because she didn’t have to think about it. Thom, on the other hand, didn’t have that luxury. He would have always been aware of the differences in rank between them, and precisely what that meant. The laird’s daughter and the smith’s son; the laird’s heir and the smith’s son—there was no question of who took precedence and who had authority.

  They weren’t equals. Even if she had never thought of it that way, she’d always implicitly understood it, and perhaps their relationship had been forged on that uneven foundation—just as Thom’s had with Jamie. Her brother didn’t have to toss his authority around or force Thom to take a knee before him; the fact that he could do so would be difficult enough to swallow for a man like Thom. A strong, proud man whose natural authority made him a leader in his own right. The village boys had always looked up to him as their leader unless Jamie was around. Then it was her brother to whom they deferred.

  For the first time she wondered what their relationships would have been like had they been born of similar rank. Her perception shifted. It was no longer clear that Jamie would have been in charge, just as it was no longer clear that she would have never thought of Thom as a potential suitor. She suspected she would have thought of things quite differently. It was a disconcerting realization.

  That there was undoubtedly some truth to Thom’s accusations made her feel horrible. She had taken him for granted and assumed he would always be there for her. She could acknowledge that.

  But he was wrong about the rest. She’d never thought of him as a servant who must jump to do her bidding, and she hated that he could think that of her. But as important as it was to her for him to know that, she also knew that the only way
to prove it to him was to heed his request and leave him be.

  She had her own plans for the future to think about, didn’t she?

  She had to let him go.

  But her chest squeezed as she glanced out the window. This time her eyes scanned the yard below. Had he gone to his widow yet?

  She hadn’t seen him since the midday meal yesterday, but she hadn’t been able to find the courage to ask Edward Bruce about him at today’s. She feared the answer.

  A soft rap on the door drew her gaze from the window. Expecting her maidservant, she was surprised by the woman who entered.

  Immediately, her heart jumped. “Have you heard something?”

  Lady Helen gave her a wry smile and shook her head. “Not yet.” Shifting the wiggly bundle in her arms, she added, “Willie and I thought you might be in need of some company.” Her gaze shifted meaningfully to the window Elizabeth stood before. “I’ve spent many hours staring out of windows.”

  Elizabeth could only imagine. What must it be like to be married to one of Bruce’s Phantoms? To the men who were called upon for the most difficult, dangerous missions? She shuddered. “How do you manage?”

  The pretty healer smiled while struggling to keep hold of the wee laddie who, in addition to wiggling, had started verbalizing his displeasure at being held. “This stubborn little ox for one. I also have my work, which keeps me busier than I’d like.”

  Elizabeth understood. Helen tended to the men who were injured on the battlefield. Crossing the chamber, she held her arms out and smiled. “He’s adorable. May I?”

  Helen looked relieved. “Do you mind? My arms feel like they are about to fall off. He’s already so heavy, and he doesn’t like much being held right now.”

  “He wants to crawl?”

  Lady Helen nodded. “Aye, and he doesn’t like being told no. I’m afraid he’s as muleheaded as his father.” She grinned, noticing how Elizabeth’s arms sagged with the weight. “And built as solid as his father as well. I must admit I’m looking forward to him walking.”