Lords of the Kingdom

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Jossalyn didn’t catch the rest, for she was through the portcullis and beyond the thick curtain walls now. Forever.

  She wove her way through the last few clumps of villagers on the road from the castle to the village, and then ducked down one of the dark alleys. She kept the hood of her cloak up, though, fearing the light of the nearly-full moon would reflect off her pale hair.

  Just as she was about to turn the last corner before the main road in front of the smithy, she heard deep male voices and skidded to a halt. It was Garrick and Burke, talking quietly in front of the smithy. Her heart leapt at the sound of Garrick’s voice, barely audible even though she was mere yards away from the two men.

  “…with the rest of it in the wagon. We needn’t tell John anything.”

  Burke didn’t respond, but then she heard a rustling even closer to her and realized he had walked to the wagon, which was just around the corner on Jossalyn’s side of the road. She heard him toss something into the wagon, and then caught the sound of rustling canvas as he covered the wagon’s contents. Straining, she thought she could hear him walk back to the smithy, but she couldn’t be sure, for both men moved unusually quietly.

  She took a deep breath to brace herself. She couldn’t wait any longer. It was time to act.

  As quick as she could, she darted her head around the corner and back behind it again, but in the fraction of a second of sight she had given herself, the street had been quiet and empty. Neither Burke nor Garrick was in sight in front of the smithy. They must be inside. Taking another fortifying breath, she eased herself around the corner.

  Blessedly, the wagon was mere feet from where she had been hiding. She darted behind it, squeezing herself between it and the building opposite the smithy. Then she threw one leg over the side, and pushed her foot underneath the canvas cover, which was loosely strewn over what looked like several dark lumps.

  As she eased her weight in and began to pull her other leg over the side, the large draft horse, which was already hitched up, turned its head in the growing darkness of the night and looked at her.

  She froze, her blood running cold, praying the horse didn’t snort or give any other indication of its load increasing. Instead, it merely stared for a moment, then turned its head back forward as if it were bored by the sight of her stowing away in the back of the wagon.

  Nearly witless and exhausted with the strain and fear holding her taut, Jossalyn eased the rest of her body into the wagon and shimmied under the canvas. She managed to wedge herself between the wall of the wagon and a few of the lumps of supplies she had seen earlier. Thankfully, the supplies made higher mounds than her body did, so the canvas draped smoothly several inches above her between the supplies and the side of the wagon. Her shape wouldn’t be detected, even in daylight.

  Just as she settled in, she heard the faint sound of the door to the smithy swing open and closed. A moment later, the wagon rocked gently from side to side as the two men swung into the bench at the front. Neither spoke, but Jossalyn heard the slight snap of the reins on the draft horse’s rump, and the wagon began to roll. She was off.

  Chapter Ten

  At first, the hours had stretched uncomfortably for Jossalyn. The road seemed extra bumpy—were they even on a road? But why would the two men take one of the barely-used, faint dirt paths to travel north when there was such a fine road leading from Dunbraes?

  Whatever the answer, Jossalyn had endured all the bumps and jostles she could stand not long after the wagon had started moving. But sometime several hours into their journey, either their path smoothed considerably or her weariness finally won out, for she dozed for a while.

  She wasn’t sure how long she rested, for she moved in and out of a light sleep. The wagon never stopped, despite the fact that they traveled through the entire night. Eventually, the total darkness underneath the canvas began to lighten to first a dim gray, and then a pale blue.

  She dared to use one finger to lift the canvas ever so slightly, creating a tiny gap between it and the side of the wagon. She could see the early morning sky in the sliver of space. She guessed that they had been on the move for six or seven hours.

  Not long after she had checked the sky, the wagon rolled to a halt. She held her breath, suddenly unsure of what to do. She had planned on slipping out of the back of the wagon during a stop for the men to rest or stretch their legs, but there hadn’t been any such occasions. Could they already have reached the two men’s homeland? If so, she would need to not only slip out unseen, but also would have some walking ahead of her to avoid plopping herself down in the middle of their lives—or, more precisely, in the middle of Garrick’s life.

  As she lay motionless, considering her options, she heard the quiet whisper of a blade being drawn. That was all the warning she had before the canvas was yanked back.

  Something wasn’t right, Garrick was sure of it. He couldn’t put his finger on what was different, but his senses were screaming at him to be on high alert. They had traveled through the night, stopping for nothing. Nevertheless, he felt like a sitting duck in this damned wagon. They were moving too slowly, were too visible, even though they had stayed off the main roads nearly the entire journey.

  Now that they had reached the uninhabited safe house, he should feel more relaxed. They could ditch the wagon here, and move much faster and more inconspicuously on their two horses rather than in this hulking, awkward wagon.

  And most importantly, he would have his bow back in his hands. This last week had been excruciating without it. He had felt like he was missing a limb, like he was constantly exposed and unprepared. But not anymore. He would have Fletch underneath him, his bow and quiver on his back, and the Sinclair plaid around his hips and shoulder, where it belonged.

  Then why couldn’t he shake the feeling that something was off? As he pulled the draft horse to a stop, he motioned for Burke to go ahead to the safe house’s barn to retrieve their horses and gear. As Burke moved away, the sounds of his footfalls faded, and Garrick was left straining to discern what had him on edge. He listened. Birds of varying species called in the distance. The draft horse snorted in exhaustion. And then he heard it.

  Breathing. It wasn’t his, it wasn’t the horse’s, and it certainly wasn’t Burke’s. He closed his eyes to concentrate, as he often did just before letting his arrow fly at a mark. Yes, it was there, though it was extremely faint—or muffled.

  His eyes flew open and darted in every direction, but all he could see was the forest all around. As he turned his head over his shoulder, he could hear the breathing slightly more clearly. Could it be…coming from within the wagon itself?

  Even as the blood surged in his veins, he forced himself to move slowly, silently. He eased himself out of the front seat of the wagon and placed one foot and then the other on the loamy forest floor. He bent and placed one hand on the small dagger he kept in his boot to cut the fletching for his arrows, extending the other hand toward the canvas that covered the wagon. Then as smoothly as he could, he yanked free his dagger and jerked the canvas back.

  The sight that met his eyes nearly caused him to stumble backward, but he kept his footing. Gazing up at him, wide-eyes and mouth agape, was Jossalyn. She lay on her side, wrapped in a cloak, but with her head turned up at him.

  “What…how did you…” The gears in his mind ground together slowly as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing.

  “Garrick! I…I was just…”

  “Christ, what have you done?” He registered vaguely somewhere that he had shouted that, but the confusion and frustration were turning to anger quickly. She had not only endangered herself, but she was threatening their mission—and all of their lives. If she found out who they really were or what they had been sent to do, they could be hanged for treason—and maybe she could be too, for she had gone willingly with them. His mind raced, trying to figure out how much she could possibly know at this point.

  Burke must have heard their voices for he was racing towar
d the wagon from the barn. “What is it?” he said, his voice tight with fear.

  Jossalyn slowly lifted her head up and over the side of the wagon so that Burke could see her. Burke cursed under his breath, and Jossalyn flinched.

  “Let me explain,” she began shakily.

  Garrick exchanged a dark look with Burke. Burke’s normally controlled and gallant affect had slipped, and he was frowning deeply.

  “I couldn’t stay at Dunbraes any longer. My brother…he will be very angry with me for working in the village, and I wanted to be free to use my skills, and I am more needed here in Scotland, where I could actually help people, than I am sitting on my hands in some English garrison, and you were headed north and I needed a way to travel, so…” The flood of her words seemed to finally run dry, and she shifted her eyes between Burke and him, a pleading look on her face.

  Garrick scrubbed a hand over his face. “And what was the rest of your plan, lass? Follow us around Scotland like a lost puppy?”

  His words came out harsher than he had intended, but damn the lass for her foolhardy plan, and for endangering them all. Even as he tried to justify his harshness, he cursed himself for the stricken look she gave him now, her eyes wide and glistening, her lips turned down and trembling slightly.

  “No, I w-wasn’t going to follow you. I just wanted to get far enough away that I would have the freedom to…” She swallowed hard and tried to gather herself. “I was planning to slip out of the wagon in some smaller village on the way to your town. Then I could either travel onward from there, or set up a new life for myself—on my own.”

  “Garrick, may I speak to you for a moment?” Burke had regained some of his composure, and was now looking calmer.

  Garrick turned from Jossalyn and followed Burke to the barn, where their warhorses, weapons, and gear awaited them. Once inside, Burke turned and said quietly, “All is not yet lost, Garrick. The lass doesn’t know who we are.”

  For some reason Burke’s rationality grated on him. “Aye, but what are we going to do with her? We can’t leave her here at the safe house, and we damn well can’t take her with us!”

  He forced himself to lower his voice to a whisper again. “We don’t have time to deal with this, Burke. The Bruce needs to know about the rumors of Longshanks’s illness as soon as possible. The entire rebellion could rely on it!”

  “Aye, I know that, and your brother needs to hear of it too. But as you said, we can’t very well leave the lass in the middle of the forest right next to a secret safe house for Scottish rebels. We only have one option. We have to take her back to Dunbraes.”

  “That will put us back by at least sixteen hours of hard riding,” he said exasperatedly. “Even if we could do another two legs of eight hours of travel on top of the nightlong ride we just had, what about the horses? And how are we supposed to keep our identities concealed from the lass if we are riding with our weapons strapped to our animals?”

  “I don’t know, but we can’t take the wagon. It will only slow us down further. We will just have to avoid the lass’s questions and get this over with as fast as possible.”

  “Shite, what a mess,” Garrick said through gritted teeth.

  This entire mission had been a mistake. He shouldn’t be in the Lowlands gathering intelligence, he should be at the Bruce’s side, fighting with his bow. If it weren’t for his damned older brother, who had somehow convinced the Bruce that it was in both of their interests to monitor Raef Warren’s holding, he wouldn’t be in this debacle.

  But if he hadn’t been sent on this mission, he wouldn’t have gotten to meet and share a kiss with Jossalyn Williams, the most beautiful and intriguing woman he had ever met.

  He pushed the though aside harshly, though; right now, Jossalyn was only contributing to this disastrous situation. If she hadn’t thrown herself in his path, they would be on their way to the Bruce’s camp in northeast Scotland right now.

  But, he reminded himself, she hadn’t thrown herself in their path—he had nearly run her over. That’s when the troubles with the lass began, and he had only made it harder on both of them by kissing her senseless and then leaving her the next day.

  Either way, she had stowed away in their wagon and was now dangerously close to realizing they weren’t who they said they were. She was setting them back by at least a day’s worth of travel, not to mention the extra wear and tear on them and their animals.

  This disgruntled thought came from the angry, stubborn part of him that didn’t like to deal with people and their inconveniences. But the lass hadn’t known they lied to her about who they were and where they were going. He couldn’t hold it against her that she believed them, and he certainly couldn’t blame her for wanting to get away from a brother who stifled her dreams and used force against her. In fact, if he set aside his stubbornness for a moment, he actually admired the lass’s bravery in seeking out her freedom and trying to make a new life for herself.

  He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. Burke was waiting for him to agree that they only had one course of action. After one last futile attempt to search his brain for an alternative, which yielded nothing, Garrick grudgingly nodded.

  “I’ll hide our gear as well as I can and get the horses ready. You’d better speak to the lass,” Burke said.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jossalyn fumbled with the tie on her cloak as she watched the sun creep upward through the trees. She still sat in the wagon, waiting for Burke and Garrick to emerge from the barn a few dozen yards away. Occasionally, she could hear their voices rise, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  A knot had formed in her stomach despite her best efforts to calm herself. These were good men, she reasoned. Even though they weren’t happy about her hiding in their wagon, they wouldn’t hurt her…would they?

  Her mind ran wild with speculation, all of the oddities about the two flooding back—how Garrick’s voice sometimes slipped into a thicker Scottish accent, as it had when he had discovered her in the wagon, or how Garrick had been covered in scarred-over cuts rather than burns, as a blacksmith should have been, or how they had traveled all the way to Dunbraes looking for work but had known they would only stay for a week. And now here she was, in the middle of the wilderness with just the two of them, and they seemed overly jumpy, overly angry with her.

  She forced herself to stop the spiral of these thoughts. She was being foolish, reading more into things than she should. And besides, why wouldn’t they be furious with her? She had deceived them, and not just about hiding in their wagon. She had lied to them about her last name, her station, and who her brother was. If she wasn’t careful, she might let something slip, and then she really would be in trouble, no matter how good these men were. If they found out that her brother was Lord Raef Warren, they would feel compelled to deliver her to him to avoid punishment for “kidnapping” a lady. And if her brother found out that she had not only been working in the village, but had tried to escape with two strange men…. She wasn’t sure what he would do, and that’s what frightened her.

  She tried to gather her thoughts so she could at least present her case coherently to Burke and Garrick when they returned. She had been so surprised when Garrick had ripped the canvas off the wagon and the two of them had glared down at her that she hadn’t explained it well at all.

  Just then she saw Garrick storming out of the barn. His eyes locked with hers, and she felt a chill go through her at their cold steeliness. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling again and willed herself to keep her wits about her in the face of his intensity. He halted in front of her, his eyes still boring into her.

  “Garrick, let me explain,” she said again, and was relieved that her voice didn’t shake as much as before. “I know it was wrong of me to use you this way, but I wanted—”

  He held up a hand to silence her, and she couldn’t help but flinch backward. He furrowed his brow in confusion, then looked at his hand and seemed to realize something. />
  “Lass, I’m not going to hurt you. I am not such a spineless man that I would strike you or force you to obey me. I’m not like your brother.”

  She felt her eyes widen in shock at his words. How did he understand so well?

  He went on. “I think I understand why you would want to leave Dunbraes and start a new life somewhere else. But I cannot be part of it.” This last was said through gritted teeth, as if it pained him.

  “I don’t expect you to just let me insert myself into your life!” She had to make him understand this, for it had never been her plan to merely latch herself onto him and hope he would save her. She was saving herself, regardless of him. “I would never assume that. I wanted to do this on my own. You were just a means of transportation.”

  That came out wrong. She knew it even before she saw his face darken at the insult. “What I mean is, I don’t…expect anything from you. I know it was wrong to use you to get me out of Dunbraes, but I couldn’t think of any other way, and time is running out before…before my brother finds out what I have been up to.”

  “Jossalyn, we have to take you back to Dunbraes.”

  “What? Why?”

  He reached over the edge of the wagon and took her hand in his. Even through the shock of hearing that he was going to take her back to the castle, to her hellish life, a spark ignited in her stomach at his touch.

  “Because you cannot come with us, and we cannot just leave you here. No matter how much of a bastard your brother is, it is not our place to be complicit in your escape.” Despite his soft tone, his words bit into her.

  “Why can’t I just go on with you a little farther to the nearest village? I promise I’ll never speak of you. No one will ever know of your part in this. Or you could just leave me! I can find my way to the road and hitch a ride with someone else!”

  He shook his head. “Then I would feel responsible if something were to happen to you. It isn’t safe for a lass like you to be traveling alone in the Borderlands right now.”