by Starla Kaye
“I need to lie down,” she said quietly, forcing her weak body to remain standing.
Fia stepped to her side. “Ye puir lass. What they’ve put ye through, because they have more faith in the likes of that lying wench than in their own lady.” She glared at the guards. “When yer brother finds out ye’ve been mistreated like this, he will bring hell upon this castle and all of its people.”
Maggie gave her a weak smile. She remembered how furious her favorite brother could be at times, how brutal he could be at defending those he loved. Then sadness filled her. “But Brodie doesna ken me right now.”
That took the fire out of Fia, though the men had the good sense to look concerned. Brodie had a reputation as a fierce warrior and it was well known through all of Scotland and England as well. He wasn’t known for showing mercy when wronged.
“He would understand,” Gerald started, but quickly closed his mouth. It was clear he worried about that.
Fia turned on him, stepped right up to his chest. “Brodie would never believe such a woman as Lady Stanhope. He isna an idiot.”
She blew out a breath but continued her defense of Maggie. “The Great Scottish Devil will come. I ken it.”
The Great Scottish Devil. Maggie saw the men flinch at the hard-earned name her brother had received. You didn’t want to be on his bad side.
“Aye, he will come,” Maggie confirmed, praying somehow he would.
“And he will prove my lady’s innocence. Then he will take my lady and I back to Urquhart with him. He will never stand for Lord Middleham ever doubting his sister. Your lord’s doubt made clear by his not wanting her brought to him until the morrow. By his ordering her locked in the tower,” Fia said.
Maggie stiffened at the reminder of why she was being moved to the tower. It was like a knife to her heart. “Ye can tell Lord Middleham I dinna wish to see him. Ever again.”
“You will see him if he wishes it,” Gerald countered gruffly. “You must at least tell him your side of things. Try and prove your innocence.”
She held her head high and started up the stairs, although it was awkward with her hands tied behind her back. “Ye will have to carry me to him then. ‘Tis clear by his no’ ordering me release that he doesna believe me innocent.” And that realization cut her to the core.
* * *
It had been a rough night. Nicholas had tossed and turned lost in a fever, lost in nightmares. Finally only a few hours ago he’d broken the fever and managed to rest a bit. Dreams of Maggie being tortured in the dungeon forced him awake. He sat up and cried out, “No!”
Pain tore through his upper back. He ground his teeth together to get beyond it. His breaths came in short pants.
The older cook came to him immediately, putting the back of one hand to his forehead. “The fever is gone, My Lord, but you need to lie still. Your wound is slow in healing.”
Richard and Gerald strode over from where they’d been talking quietly by the narrow window. Both men studied him gravely, neither speaking.
“I dreamt that Maggie was in the dungeon,” Nicholas admitted and glanced around the chamber. “Where is she?”
The two men shared an uneasy look. Gerald finally spoke. “You don’t remember what was said yesterday?”
Nicholas shook his head, which was a mistake. His forehead throbbed and he reached up to gingerly touch a swelling there. Then his mind flashed upon a fuzzy conversation from the day before. “God’s teeth! She was in the dungeon.” Then he recalled being told that she’d attacked him, which he’d tried to deny. They’d insisted it was the truth, and Lady Stanhope had vowed she’d seen the attack. “I told you to put Maggie in the tower, didn’t I?”
Both men nodded. Nicholas felt sick. She would never forgive him for being imprisoned. She doubted she’d accept that he’d ordered her put in the tower for her own safety. But he’d been in no condition to protect her himself from any who might try to insist she be punished for having tried to kill him. An angry mob might not even let her be taken to King Edward for trial. They might hang her here. And she was innocent. He knew it in his gut, but he also knew that wouldn’t be enough. Her innocence must be proven. Lady Stanhope’s word held weight. Her act of concern had been fairly convincing. He should have sent her away to Edward and let him deal with finding her a husband himself.
“Bring her to me.” He closed his eyes, knowing the chasm between he and Maggie had grown even wider.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” Gerald said quietly.
He should have guessed that, but as nearly impossible as the situation was, he needed to see her. Make sure she was okay. “Bring her to me.”
By the time Richard and Gerald returned with Maggie, Nicholas had been washed off with a rag by the cook. He’d drank some mead but dared not try to keep down even a bite of bread she’d offered. As they walked into the chamber, she smiled reassuringly at Maggie and left, pulling the door closed behind her.
His two firsts stood uncertainly beside her. Nicholas first noticed that her hands were tied in front of her. “Remove the binding,” he ordered, furious at such an atrocity.
He studied her as Richard did his bidding. She didn’t seem to care that she’d been bound or even set free. Her clothes were stained, torn in places. Her silken hair hung limply and in disarray. A darkened bruise showed through the dirt on her face. And a rag bandage was wrapped around her lower right arm. But worst of all was the sadness in her eyes, the dejection in her slender shoulders that tore at him.
“I will personally kill the man who beat you,” he gritted out, fisting his hands in the sheets.
She lifted her chin and a flash of the temper she’d once shown met his gaze. “Even if I tried to kill ye? Which I did no’.”
He focused on Gerald, rage at her mistreatment swirling through him. “Bring me the man who did this to Lady Middleham. I will have him drawn and quartered.”
Maggie shook her head. “No one harmed me. I fell, is all.”
Nicholas glared murderously at his two firsts, then motioned to the rag on her arm. “Why hasn’t her arm been looked at? That isn’t a proper bandage.”
Both men looked more closely and then appeared shocked. “How could you have tied her hands and not seen her injured arm?” Nicholas growled.
“One of the guards bound her hands. We just escorted her to you,” Richard said and flashed an apologetic glance at her. “I hadn’t seen it. Truly, My Lady. I will fetch the cook to tend to it.”
He turned to pull open the door when someone else pushed it from the other side. Another guard stopped in the doorway, looked worriedly from the knights to Maggie, and then to Nicholas. “Urquhart riders approach, Lord Middleham. At least fifty of them, maybe more. Heavily armed.”
Nicholas stiffened as he sat up.
“The Scottish Devil leads them. Another guard who has seen him before recognized him and his big warhorse.”
Chapter Eleven
God’s teeth! Could his life get any more complicated? Nicholas swung his legs to the side of the bed, fully intent on getting up and dressed. The pain in his back was excruciating. He sucked in a breath that all in the room heard.
Maggie automatically started toward him, but was restrained by Richard and Gerald. She huffed in annoyance. “I was only going to try and make the idiot mon lie back down.”
“I’m sorry, My Lady, but—” Richard said and looked regretful but determined.
“Release her,” Nicholas gritted out. The linen had slipped so that it barely covered one leg and his cock. He didn’t care, nor would his men. Maggie, though, had widened her eyes in obvious notice of his naked state. A fact that, if the situation weren’t so impossible, he could better appreciate. Instead he said grimly, “I will not face Brodie of Urquhart lying in bed, naked. I will dress and go down—”
“Dinna I say the mon is an idiot!” Maggie grumbled, cutting him off. “One of ye fetch him a tunic, but no more.” She narrowed her eyes at Nicholas, hands on her hips. “Ye sit
back in that bed and wait fer Brodie to come to ye. I mean it, husband. Ye are no’ to set foot out of that bed!”
He scowled at her, though he felt a moment of hope that just maybe she would one day forgive him for what she was being put through now. He held the hope close to his heart.
Even as he thought that, he noted how both of his previously severe-looking knights blinked in surprise. Then Richard quietly chuckled and strode to one of the trunks. Nicholas remained sitting on the side of the bed as his head pounded with such pain he had to fight not to pass out. Damn, he hated feeling so weak. He’d been out of bed only a few times the last couple of days, to use the chamber pot. He had hoped to be much stronger today. But maybe she was right. Maybe he should have Brodie brought up to him. He was afraid if he tried to go downstairs now that he would fall flat on his face or tumble down the stairs.
Gerald shifted uncomfortably. “I should go meet the Scots.” But it was clear he was reluctant to leave Maggie there with him.
Richard walked back with a dark blue tunic and Maggie stepped forward to take it, and then sighed at Gerald’s low growl. She stood rigidly next to him. “Aye, I ken, I might be tempted to suffocate the mon in his own clothing,” she stated in clear bitterness.
Nicholas groaned. He hated this whole awkward situation. He knew in his gut and in his heart that she was innocent, but, until it was proven, everyone in the keep would be nervous having her around him.
He waved Richard away and carefully shifted back against the headboard. “Forget it. He’ll just have to see my bare chest. I haven’t the strength to raise my arms to don the tunic.” And he thought such movement might break the healing wound open again.
His gaze met Maggie’s and he prayed she saw the deep regret in his eyes. “I must meet with your brother, alone.”
Her shoulders slumped but she nodded. “’Tis back to the tower with me, then. At least ‘tis no’ the dungeon again.” She gave a small shudder. “I believe I’d take me own life before going there again.”
Her quiet admission struck him hard. His stomach tightened. “If I’d had a say in the matter, I would never have allowed you to be sent there, Maggie. But….” He stopped, all knowing he hadn’t had a say in it. He had been unconscious and nearly died.
A second of acknowledgement sparked in her eyes, and then she stiffened. “But those who have grown to ken me were quick to believe the worst of me. None would listen to me, no’ when Lady Stanhope told her lies. Nay, was easier to believe her than me.”
“You held the dagger in your hand,” Gerald said forcefully. “I saw it myself. There was blood on your hands.”
She drew in a breath and sadly shook her head. “And there couldna have been another reason I held it?”
Her glance shifted in anger back to Nicholas. “I canna live here after this.” Her chin went up. “If I get a chance to live free again, that is. Or to live at all.”
Everything had just taken another turn for the worse. What hope Nicholas had started to feel about saving his marriage disappeared. She’d been immediately doubted, although the evidence had been damning, he couldn’t deny that. People she’d trusted had turned on her. She had been tossed in one of the dungeon’s cells for three days and all but forgotten. Being locked in the tower was better, but still had to be beyond disheartening. God almighty. Making things right between them again seemed an impossible task.
The strained silence was interrupted as they all heard the loud hoofbeats clambering over the wooden drawbridge outside. Gerald stiffened, his expression grew even grimmer. Richard, too, appeared extremely uneasy. Nicholas knew the already serious situation had just gotten much more complicated. Brodie could be a difficult man to deal with at the best of times. These were certainly not those times.
“Take her to the tower, Sir Richard,” Nicholas said on a heavy sigh. “Gerald, bring Lord Urquhart to me.”
* * *
With her hands bound once more in front of her, shame filled Maggie as she walked away from the man she’d started to love. She’d seen in his eyes he didn’t believe her guilty. At least she thought she’d seen that. Yet she’d noticed his frown when Gerald had stated he’d seen the dagger in her hand. Doubt in her again? She knew how it had looked. Yet she would have expected them to listen to her protests.
Hurt and anger curled in her empty belly. She had meant what she’d said; she wouldn’t stay here, couldn’t. If she was proven innocent, the memory of all of this would be too much to bear. It hurt deeply that no one seemed to believe her, even if she hadn’t actually told them her complete side of what had happened. But no one had given her a chance. She swallowed hard against the disappointment she felt clear to her bones.
Going down the circular stone stairs was difficult. She stumbled several times, losing her balance and having to awkwardly reach for the wall to keep from tumbling head first to the bottom. Richard reached for her every time she had to catch herself, but she hissed at him. She didn’t want his help. She wanted no one’s help now other than her brother’s. He was the only one she could trust.
Her heart pinched. Had his memories come back? Was that why he’d come here? To save the sister who loved him with every breath in her body. She prayed that was so.
When she finally reached the bottom of the stairs, the eyes of the couple dozen or so people sitting at various tables in the great hall all looked in her direction. Hostility and a longing for justice emanated from many of them. A few people looked questioning, possibly not wanting to believe the worst of her. None, though, appeared friendly. She froze, finding it difficult to walk across the room toward the door and out to the tower to be imprisoned again.
Richard took her arm and urged her forward. “You can do this,” he said quietly.
She drew in a steadying breath and forced back tears so near the surface. They’d only taken a few steps when she heard loud, angry voices just outside the keep’s doors. She recognized the deep threatening rumble of her brother’s voice. Relief swarmed over her.
“Move aside or I’ll slit ye from gut to neck!” Brodie warned.
Every soldier in the hall stood and reached for their weapons.
“Nay!” Maggie pleaded, hurrying forward, dragging Richard with her.
Looking bigger and brawnier than any man at Middleham, Brodie stormed into the doorway, standing imposingly as he let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light.
Alive! Thank God! Maggie savored the sight of her beloved brother. She’d been determined all this time to believe he lived, but it had been hard. Her knees gave out as she collapsed in relief. Tears streamed down her face.
Richard bent over her, concern on his face. She shook her head against his help. “No, don’t touch me.”
Brodie strode into the hall, wearing a kilt with a swath of the plaid of his clan over his right shoulder, and a bare chest. Muscles bulged and rippled as he shifted, looked around, dismissed the armed soldiers facing him. His gaze found her sitting on the stone floor. His brow furrowed. “Maggie? Maggie of Urquhart?” he asked uncertainly.
He doesn’t know me. The realization flowed over her, tightening her throat as she nodded. Oh God.
Gerald stepped beside him, clearly uncomfortable. “Allow him entry,” he told his men. “Lower your weapons.”
Reluctantly weapons were lowered, although a thick tension hung in the air.
Brodie moved slowly toward her. Behind him, Gerald moved from the doorway and a lot of the men who’d ridden with Brodie walked grimly into the hall, including Douglas. They were armed, but their weapons were also lowered. Still, the tension only grew thicker.
When Brodie stopped in front of Maggie, he carefully pulled her to her feet. Richard stood guardedly a few feet away. The man so many men feared even hearing his name spoken studied her with grimness, and with a clear lack of recognition. But, when he glowered at Richard, there was no doubt of his fury.
“The ropes chaff her wrists.” He lifted a massive hand to ever so gently touch the bruise on he
r face. “Ye’ve beaten her.” He growled, sounding much like an angry bear. “I should kill ye fer this alone.”
Then he looked again at her arms and saw the blood-stained bandage around her forearm and pure fury spread over his hard, chiseled face. It seemed to be the breaking point for his tolerance. If she didn’t intervene, someone would die.
Maggie turned her head and kissed his palm, hoping to calm him. He immediately stiffened and lifted his surprised gaze to her. “I wasna beaten, Brother.”
The word “brother” made his forehead pinch as if in pain, made sadness flicker in his dark eyes. “I wish to me soul, lass, that I recognized ye.”
He looked menacingly at Richard again. “Jist because I dinna ken the lass I’m told is me sister, doesna mean I will no’ fight to the death fer her. Or me men, either.”
While she hugged his words to her heart, she knew she didn’t want him risking his life for hers. In truth, she didn’t want anyone to die because of her. Except for the real guilty party.
Then he turned to Nicholas’s wary soldiers and his stern-faced clansmen. The infamous Great Scottish Devil stood before them, a man who never backed down from a fight. “Be warned, even now more than 500 highlanders are riding this way. What wrongs have been done to the Lady of Urquhart will be set to right. Yer English lord should no’ have stolen her away from her home.”
Rumblings began in the large hall. Maggie didn’t want a war here fought for the wrong reasons, or for any reason. She reached for Brodie and snagged his attention. “Nicholas dinna steal me away. The English king ordered me brought here,” she spoke the words bitterly. At his continued frown, she added, “It appears Douglas dinna tell ye, but I’m the Lady of Middleham now. Nicholas is my husband. ‘Twas ordered by their English king.”
His chest puffed out in anger. His jaw tightened. She should not have let her disgust with King Edward come out. But what he’d done, having her taken from her home, had been the first step toward this tragedy she now faced.
