A few of the men exchanged glances, and Thom wondered what he’d said.
“Well, that’s an understatement. I’d wager the English are still scratching their tails, wondering how we got in there.”
Tail was a slur for coward, and Thom chuckled along with the others.
The Highlander Magnus MacKay, who was leaning against a tree next to Thom, gave him a long look. “I have to admit I share Hawk’s healthy respect for heights.”
“And for your wife?” Sutherland quipped.
MacKay grinned; his wife, Helen, was Sutherland’s sister. “Aye, with her knowledge of plants, I’d better.” He turned back to Thom. “How do you get past it?”
“The height?” Thom asked.
MacKay nodded.
He wasn’t aware Jamie had come up behind them until he heard him answer. “He doesn’t look down.”
Surprised—actually, shocked as hell—at the easy reference to the day of their first meeting and what had solidified their friendship, Thom snapped his head around to look at him.
There was something odd about Douglas’s expression. It took Thom a moment to pinpoint why: he wasn’t looking at him as if he was contemplating ways of sliding a blade between his ribs.
“Can I speak with you for a moment?” Douglas asked.
Thom nodded and stood from the rock he’d been sitting on. It wasn’t without some effort. His limbs ached from the long hours on horseback.
He was sure Douglas noticed, but he refrained from making a remark. They moved a short distance away toward the small stream where they’d watered the horses. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable silence, but he waited for Douglas to break it. When he did, he said the last thing Thom expected.
“Thank you,” Douglas said, stopping at the edge of the water and turning to face him. “I owe you . . .” His voice fell off, and when he spoke again, Thom could hear the emotion. “You saved my brother’s life.”
Maybe he should have just accepted his thanks and left it at that. But too much had passed between them, and the past burned with too much resentment. “I wasn’t left with much of a choice, was I?”
There was still enough light left to see the pulse below Douglas’s jaw tic, but it was clear he was making an effort not to lose his temper. “I couldn’t take any chances.”
“You could have tried asking.”
“You refused my sister, I didn’t think you would do it for me.”
“That’s a pile of shite,” Thom said angrily. “You didn’t ask because you couldn’t stand the thought of lowering yourself to ask me for anything.”
The anger and animosity were back, filling the air between them as they faced off in the semi-darkness.
“Maybe because I knew how much pleasure you would take in refusing me,” Jamie snapped back.
They knew each other too well—knew their weaknesses and the pride that was the source of the tension between them even when they were the closest of friends. Douglas was right. Thom would have refused, and after how they’d found Archie, the realization shamed him.
The anger seeped out of him. He drew back and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “No matter how it came about, I’m glad that I could help, but I wasn’t alone.”
Douglas gave him a wry look, apparently amused that Thom was seeking to share the credit. “Nay, but we wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.” His expression cracked, revealing the torment underneath. “Christ, if I hadn’t been so stubborn—if I’d listened to Ella and brought you in the first place we could have saved him two or three days of suffering. What he went through . . .”
Archie had told them that they hadn’t had food in days, and the only water they had was from the rain that backed up from a drain in the floor. They’d been left to freeze every night, and the only time they’d seen light was when they were taken out to be beaten by the bored soldiers. Three of the men they’d arrived with they suspected had been killed.
“MacKay said he will have no lasting injuries. He is fortunate nothing was broken.”
Why the hell was he trying to give him comfort?
“Maybe not his bones, but the spirit does not recover so easily. Christ, Archie told me they were planning to torture them. If we’d waited until tomorrow, God only knows in what state we might have found him.”
Both men were silent for a while, staring at the slow-moving water before them. There wasn’t much that could be said. Finally, Douglas straightened and turned back to him. “Anyway, I meant what I said. You acquitted yourself well today, and we wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. For what it’s worth, you have my thanks.”
Surprisingly, it was worth a lot. Thom nodded in acknowledgment, feeling as if an uneasy truce formed between them.
“I probably should be thanking you,” he said after a minute.
Jamie didn’t hide his shock. “For what?”
“Giving me a chance to fight alongside the best warriors in Scotland—hell, probably in Christendom.”
Only someone who knew him as well as Thom did would see the hint of wariness that returned to Jamie’s expression. But he needn’t worry; Thom wasn’t looking for confirmation. He didn’t need it. If these men weren’t Bruce’s illustrious Phantoms (and at least two were), then they might as well be.
Perhaps recognizing that, Douglas relaxed. “Aye, they are that.”
“They?” Not Douglas, too?
Jamie lifted a brow. “If I didn’t know you better, I would think that was a compliment.”
“And if I didn’t know you better, I’d think that was you being modest.”
Jamie laughed, and Thom found himself smiling as well. For a moment, it almost felt like old times. The easy exchange, the jests, the prodding—he’d forgotten how it had been. It was probably why despite the danger he’d been enjoying himself so much the past couple of days. These men had a bond not unlike the one he’d had with Jamie all those years ago.
He’d never let himself acknowledge how much he’d missed it.
“What will you do now?” Jamie asked as they started to walk back.
“Nothing as exciting as this. But thankfully not taking down any more castle walls—at least for a while. Although with the weeks of boredom ahead at Stirling during the siege, I might be wishing for an excuse to swing a hammer.”
Jamie frowned. “I thought Ella said that you had something else to do first? Something about an engagement to the widow?”
The reason for the frown became apparent. Undoubtedly, the knowledge of his betrothal had been met with considerable relief by Jamie—which might explain some of the easing of tensions between them—and he wanted to make sure what Elizabeth had told him was the truth.
Thom nodded, allaying his fears. “Lady Marjorie Rutherford.”
Douglas lifted both brows, clearly impressed. “I’ve met her before—you have done well for yourself.”
Thom shrugged. “Nothing has been formalized.”
“But it will be?”
If the question was more intense than the situation warranted, Thom pretended not to notice. “Aye.”
A broad smile spread across Jamie’s face, and once again, he was relaxed. “Well, then you have my congratulations. Jo will be beside herself with two betrothals to celebrate.”
“Two?”
Jamie stopped to stare at him, his expression recovering some of its wariness. “Ella didn’t tell you?”
Thom heard the irritation in his voice. “Tell me what?”
Sensing he wasn’t going to like what Douglas had to say, Thom braced himself.
“My sister is to be betrothed to Randolph.”
No amount of bracing could have prepared him for the blow. For the white-hot ball of pain that had shot into his chest and exploded.
He flinched—maybe even staggered.
Elizabeth was getting married.
Why hadn’t she told him?
Because he had nothing to do with it. She’d never looked at him as a potentia
l suitor. Christ, why should she? She was about to marry one of the most important men in the realm. And he was just a lad from the village.
Damn it, he’d thought he was immune. He thought she’d lost the power to hurt him.
Anger at his own weakness made him stiffen. Pride schooled his features into a hard mask, but he knew Douglas had seen the toll his words had taken.
Forcing the bitterness from his voice, Thom said, “She did not mention it. But when you see her, please give her my congratulations. To you both,” he amended. “An alliance with the new Earl of Moray . . .” He let his voice fall off. Not even Douglas with his well-known ambition could have reached much higher. “You must be thrilled.”
Douglas swore. “Fuck, Thom, I’m—”
But his apology—if that’s what he intended—was lost when Thom walked away.
For good.
11
YOU’LL MAKE YOURSELF sick if you don’t eat,” Joanna said. A small smiled turned her lips, and she placed her hand on her stomach. “And take it from someone who has had her head in a basin for the past couple of weeks—there are far more pleasant ways to spend your day.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Oh, Jo, a new babe? I’m so happy for you!”
She was thrilled to hear her suspicion confirmed, although beneath her smile of joy was a fresh wave of stomach-churning, chest-twisting horror.
Pregnant. Dear God. In the long list of horrible consequences that had paraded up and down her mind (relentlessly) over the past two and a half days, she hadn’t considered a child. In addition to ruin, disgrace, and the loss of her virtue—which she’d so narrowly avoided—she might have been left with a far more lasting reminder of her temporary loss of sanity. For that was the only thing that could explain her utterly irrational, illogical, foolish behavior.
Still, she felt a sharp stab in her chest as the image of a tiny, pink-cheeked cherub with piercing blue eyes and almost-black hair flashed before her.
If she didn’t know better, she would say it was longing. Which was silly. She wanted children, of course. They were her duty. But unlike Joanna, she hadn’t been counting down the days from the time she turned sixteen until she could be a mother.
Joanna had always been the type of girl who had to hold every baby in the room. She loved nothing more than being at home surrounded by her family.
Elizabeth had never been like that. She liked children (some better than others), but she didn’t need to hold every one. She’d never seen herself in a big Hall surrounded by nothing but her children. She saw herself at court surrounded by excitement, entertainment, and lively conversation.
But . . .
But nothing, she told herself firmly. Nothing had changed because of that ill-advised kiss. Except that she’d learned a powerful lesson in tempting sin.
She should have listened to Father Francis! From the time she was a little girl, it had been drummed into her head to hold fast to her virtue. To be chaste until her marriage. To not let the Devil tempt her into immorality and wantonness.
She’d thought a kiss was nothing. Because the two kisses she’d experienced before had been nothing. She hadn’t anticipated how persuasive the Devil could be—or rather, how skilled he could be with his tongue!
Good Lord, when she thought about it, her knees still felt weak.
Thom’s kiss was nothing like the two that had come before. It hadn’t been simple and chaste, it had been carnal, and sensual, and overwhelming. It was a side of him that she’d never seen before. A bold, authoritative, and aggressively masculine side of him. A dominating side of him.
It had aroused feelings—sensations—in her that she’d never imagined let alone experienced before. Most of all it had made her feel good. Too good. As in “I’ve lost my mind good.” As in “here is my innocence for your taking” good.
She still couldn’t believe how quickly a kiss had spun out of control. How one minute she’d been thinking how warm and soft his mouth was, and how good he tasted, and the next she’d been sprawled on a table, half-naked, with his mouth on her breast, his hand between her legs, and practically begging for him to take her virtue.
She was glad he refused—of course she was. She just wished he hadn’t done it so harshly, when she’d been feeling so dazed and happy. If he’d thought her an untouchable “princess” before (where he got that ridiculous notion, she didn’t know), it was clear he no longer thought of her that way. She’d never realized how much he’d been keeping from her, and how much he’d been holding back. All that passion . . .
Sensing her sister-in-law’s eyes on her, Elizabeth forced herself to take a big spoonful of the beef pottage they were enjoying for the midday meal. She chewed slowly, making sure Joanna saw, and then asked, “Does Jamie know about the baby?”
Joanna shook her head. “I wasn’t sure when he left, and I didn’t want him distracted by anything.”
Elizabeth understood. Jamie had been unbearable with worry when Joanna was pregnant with Uilleam, as Joanna had suffered a previous miscarriage. Not that it had made her brother’s over-protectiveness any easier to bear.
Her cousin, who was seated on Joanna’s other side, interjected. “Perhaps your happy news will soften the blow of our ‘surprise’?”
The three women looked at each other and broke out into laughter. They all knew that Jamie was going to roar like an angry lion when he heard that his wife—his pregnant wife, no less—and “dear” cousin had ridden “halfway across Scotland” without an army for protection.
Jo and Izzie had arrived yesterday, much to Elizabeth’s relief. She’d been climbing the walls (what was left of them), waiting for Jamie and Thom to return with Archie. Her fear for her brother mingled with fear for Thom. It was only after Thom left that she fully considered the danger he would be facing. He wasn’t Jamie. He wasn’t used to fighting scores of Englishmen or performing death-defying feats of bravery at every turn. He’d only handled a sword to forge one until a few years ago.
What if she’d sent him to his death with that kiss?
If anything happened to him . . .
Her heart twisted, and the smile fell from her face. She would never forgive herself.
“James will recover,” Joanna said matter-of-factly. “I had to come. As soon as I received his missive that Archie was missing, I began to make preparations. When I learned that Archie had been imprisoned . . .”
Her voice fell off, and Elizabeth reached over to put her hand over hers to give it a comforting squeeze. “He will be all right,” she said firmly. They both would be all right.
“Of course he will,” Izzie said from her other side. “The smithy’s son will help.”
“Thom,” Joanna filled in, with a sidelong glance at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth made a great show of dunking a chunk of bread in the broth and pretended not to notice. Joanna had been very interested to hear that Thom had not only been here, but had been conscripted into helping with the rescue. Elizabeth had provided an edited explanation, but she knew that Joanna sensed there was more to the story.
Izzie wrinkled her nose. “How did a smith’s son from Douglas end up fighting with Edward Bruce?”
“It’s a long story,” Joanna said.
There were a lot of turnips and onions in the soup, Elizabeth noticed from the intense study she was doing of it.
“You were all friends growing up?” Izzie asked.
Joanna didn’t answer, so Elizabeth was forced to look up from her bowl. “We were.”
Were, but not any longer. Thom had made that perfectly clear. And after what had nearly happened, Elizabeth wasn’t inclined to challenge him.
Not that she was worried about that happening again. She was sure it had been a one-time loss of sanity. Now that she was experienced and knew what to expect, she would not succumb so easily. It was her innocence that had been to blame, she told herself. It could have happened with anyone.
Of course, it would have been much more appropriate if
it had happened with Randolph.
She bit her lip. But now that she had tasted passion, she was sure it would. Of course it would.
Still, prudence dictated a certain amount of caution around Thom. She would not tempt sin unnecessarily. He was so blastedly handsome, and all those muscles had felt surprisingly good—wonderful—against her.
Something in her voice had caused Izzie to frown. “Did something bad happen with the smith’s son? You tense up every time he is mentioned, and cousin Jamie turns outright black with temper.”
“Nothing happened,” Elizabeth responded quickly. Perhaps too quickly. And with far too much insistence. Her cheeks flushed. “Nothing specific. He and Jamie . . . they grew apart. We all did.”
Jo looked like she wanted to argue, but pursed her lips and studied her barely touched pottage instead.
Izzie seemed to understand. “I suppose it’s only natural. The friends we have when we are children aren’t always suitable when we get older.”
Elizabeth bristled. “Thom is perfectly suitable. He’s a wonderful man. He was always the best among us. I wasn’t the one who ended our friendship.”
Izzie held her gaze for a moment. “I see.”
But she didn’t; she only thought she did.
Elizabeth would have corrected her, but at that moment there was a commotion at the door to the Hall as one of the guardsmen rushed in. Barely had he announced that the men were back when Jamie came striding into the room.
The three women seated at the dais rose in unison. Elizabeth clutched a hand around her throat as if it might help her to breathe, but her chest was frozen as her eyes scanned the men behind him.
Her knees buckled, and she was forced to grab the edge of the table to keep from falling. Right behind her brother, initially hidden from her view by the sizable warrior who walked beside him, was Archie.
It had worked! Her brother was safe, and . . .
The cry that bubbled from between her lips was more of a sob. Even among the group of exceedingly tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular warriors, she picked him out easily.
Thom was as well.
Despite her hold on the table, her legs gave out. She collapsed back on the bench. The relief was too much, and the emotion of the past few days caught up with her all at once as she burst into tears.
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