by Starla Kaye
Beaten down and wishing it all over with, she reached for Brodie’s knife. She could not be taken away, could not face being unfairly sentenced, and then hung.
Brodie struggled to keep control of his knife, looking in horror at her. “What are ye doing, lass?”
“Ending this. Please. Jist let me end this.” Tears streamed down her face and her hands trembled, but she tried to get the knife. “I canna take anymore.”
Chapter Twelve
Maggie felt like she was floating in a cloud of confusion. She couldn’t seem to open her eyes, couldn’t quite focus on anything. Where was she? She felt limp, unable to move. Except she was moving…or being moved. Someone was carrying her. Someone strong and determined. Brodie?
Brodie! Oh God! She’d been fighting him for his knife. She wanted to open her eyes, wanted to say something, but it all seemed like too much effort. She was tired, so very, very tired. And she hurt everywhere. Her throat hurt, odd that, but not as much as her heart. Her heart squeezed with such pain, such loss. Whatever there had been, whatever there might have been between she and Nicholas was gone forever. Stolen from her by someone who hated her enough to want her framed for trying to kill him, wanted her to hang. Bruises and cuts from the days of being imprisoned hurt as well. Her bottom, too, stung from Brodie’s spanking.
“What happened?” she heard Richard ask, sounding alarmed.
Brodie strode on and she sensed they were walking through the great hall now. She could almost feel the hostility there from the soldiers of Middleham and the Scots loyal to her. “She tried to grab my knife,” Brodie finally growled. “She wanted to end her life.”
Now she remembered it all. Gerald saying word had come from King Edward to take her to him. Her panic at not wanting to hang. Her belief that all was lost. And then Gerald coming up behind her, his arm encircling her throat, squeezing.
“I had to render her unconscious,” Gerald stated grimly.
“You should have let her kill herself,” Mary snapped. “It would have saved having to take her to the king’s court for hanging.”
Maggie heard grumblings of agreement. If she could will herself to die, she would.
Fia rushed over to their side. “Your lady dinna attack your lord! Ye’re all fools, listening to the lies of that woman.”
“I saw her. She was holding the knife, and Sir Gerald saw that,” Mary protested.
More grumblings and now the sounds of weapons being drawn. Maggie didn’t want to face these people, but she didn’t want a war breaking out here because of her. She opened her eyes and struggled in Brodie’s arms. “Ye shouldna have stopped me,” she croaked out.
Brodie stood frozen, looking horrified. “Ye dinna do it. I ken it in me gut.”
“Why do ye care? Ye dinna even ken me as yer sister now.” She tried to push out of his hold.
He refused to let her go. “Because I need ye, Maggie. I need ye to help me remember.” He looked at the men around them, his expression fierce. “I’m taking me sister from here this day, even if me and me men have to fight our way out. And then with the help of the highlanders on their way here, we’ll destroy this castle and kill all who live here.”
“Nay!” Nicholas shouted from the foot of the stairs. “There will be no warring here. Maggie is not the one responsible for attacking me.”
The hall grew silent and all eyes turned in his direction. Maggie’s heart raced with the flickering of hope, with the determined way he defended her, and with the emotion in his gaze as he focused on her.
“Of course she is responsible. I saw her thrust that small dagger of hers into your back. I saw the look of triumph in her eyes.” Mary stood rigid with anger only a few feet from Brodie and Maggie. She stepped closer, her expression appearing wild now.
Richard and two guards walked up behind Nicholas with the men who had grabbed Maggie earlier in the hall. They had clearly been physically encouraged to tell the truth about the matter. Again Maggie felt hope growing within her.
Mary shifted toward a Middleham soldier, who was intently listening and loosely holding a knife at his side.
“Seize her!” Nicholas ordered. “These men have admitted she hired them to make trouble for my wife. She hired them to steal her away from here and rape her, then kill her.” His face pinched in fury. “They will be taken to King Edward to pay for their intended crimes against my lady wife.”
Brodie’s whole body tightened as he held Maggie. She felt his barely contained anger. If he got to the men, there wouldn’t be anything left of them to take to Edward.
She reached up to touch the side of his stubbled face and he sucked in a surprised breath. “They will answer for their intended crimes. But no’ at yer hand, brother.”
“Whatever they told you was a lie,” Mary bit out. “I have never seen them before today.” She glared at Maggie and then at Nicholas. “You should have married me! Not that…that Scottish whore.”
The immediate silence in the hall was thick with danger.
Except for Brodie’s immediate growl.
Except for Nicholas’s roar of anger.
Brodie finally set Maggie on her feet and reached for his knife.
Nicholas, too, started in their direction, a knife in his hand as well.
But Mary had reacted first. She grabbed the knife from the soldier next to her before he could even think about stopping her. When he did attempt to stop her, she slashed a long gash across his chest. As he put a hand over the bleeding wound and gaped in shock, other men nearby strode toward her. She held them at bay, waving the knife wildly around, looking crazed at Nicholas.
Maggie knew the other woman had moved far beyond rationality. There was a dangerous, indomitable look to her thin face. She snarled at Nicholas, “She was supposed to hang at the hands of your outraged people. I was supposed to heal you. You were supposed to realize the horrible mistake you made in marrying her instead of me. We were supposed to marry. Then I could go to court and….”
She stopped speaking, shook in her resentment, and raised the knife toward Nicholas.
Men started moving closer, but Maggie was closest. She didn’t think, just reacted. She threw herself at the slightly taller woman. They hit the hard stone floor. As they landed, the knife sliced across Maggie’s upper left arm before falling away.
Maggie sucked in a breath and ignored the pain. She hissed, “Ye’ll never hurt my husband again!”
“He should have been my husband,” Mary snapped, grabbing at Maggie’s long hair, pulling hard.
Blood dripped from Maggie’s arm but she didn’t care. She’d suffered too much already at this woman’s hands. She threaded her fingers into Mary’s hair, tugged equally hard.
Mary held Maggie’s hair with one hand and clawed at her face with the other. “I’ll kill you, and then him.”
They rolled and fought furiously for another minute before Brodie and Nicholas managed to each grab one of the women and pull them apart.
Maggie hurt all over, her arm was bleeding, and she struggled for breath. She made a weak attempt to get out of the firm hold Nicholas had on her. But the fight went out of her as the warmth of his body surrounded her. She felt his heart pounding against her back. It felt so good to be held by him that she nearly forgot everything else around them.
Until she saw the dangerous look in Brodie’s eyes, saw how tightly he held Mary around the neck with one strong arm. Mary’s eyes started to glaze over and Maggie knew he wanted to kill her right then.
“Nay, brother!” Maggie squirmed away from Nicholas. “Do no’ kill her. She deserves to hang at Edward’s court.”
Gerald and Richard grimly pulled a barely breathing Mary from Brodie’s fierce grip. Yet she managed to break apart from them. In a quick move, she snagged a small dirk from a sheath on Brodie’s wide belt. Her wild gaze focused on Nicholas.
Maggie wanted to protect him. But when she tried to step between them, Nicholas shoved Maggie aside. Then before Mary could even raise the dirk,
he threw his own knife at her, stabbing her directly in the heart.
Mary gasped in surprise and glanced down in shock. With her last breath, she looked at Maggie, her eyes narrowed in anger as she crumpled to the floor in death.
* * *
Over. All the horrors of the last week were finally over. Nicholas sat in the chair behind his desk in the solar for the first time since being stabbed here. The horrors of all that had happened washed over him. His shoulder still ached, but was healing. His people were weighed down into strained silence by their guilt for having wrongly blamed Maggie for attacking him. Even though the truth had come out, there was a tension-filled strain between the Middleham soldiers and the Scots. And Brodie was like a caged wild animal. He needed to leave, to return to Urquhart and find a way to get his memories back or come to terms with who he was now. But he refused to leave without Maggie.
Maggie. His precious Maggie. He woke up at night in a sweat, fearing all over again that Mary would kill her or seeing her hanging. Each time he’d awakened, he’d pulled her close to him, needing to be reassured by just holding her that she was alive. She let him hold her. She had even let him make love to her, but the passion that had budded between them before was missing. She hadn’t forgiven him for doubting her at first. And, truthfully, he didn’t blame her.
Disrupting his troubled thoughts, Brodie walked into the doorway. His intimidating presence demanded attention. This was a hard man, a loyal man, a very lost man at the moment. He grew more frustrated with each new morn. This morn that frustration fairly emanated from him. Nicholas wished he could help him, wished he could be friends once again with the man he had fought with in the Crusade.
“Are you leaving today?” Nicholas asked when Brodie just looked at him.
“Aye.” Brodie stepped into the room and glanced back as Maggie moved beside him. “Maggie, too.”
Nicholas stiffened at that and felt a dull pain in his chest. She hadn’t talked about leaving with her brother these last few days since Mary had died. She had allowed him to see that her wounds were treated, allowed him to pretend that they could get beyond what had happened. But she had kept an emotional distance from him. It was like her fighting spirit had disappeared, and he hated that. He missed the spirited woman who had challenged him, who had gone against him time and again, the woman who made him smile.
He searched her face, tried to read the look in her eyes. “This is what you want?” But she wore her Scottish clothing again and he already knew the answer.
She hesitated, and then looked up at her brother. “He needs me,” she stated quietly.
And I don’t? Nicholas resented the big Scot, but only for a moment. His friend was suffering. Nicholas couldn’t even imagine the horror of not knowing who you were. Yes, he would suffer, too, by letting his wife leave. But he owed Brodie his life. Brodie had saved him more than once in the fierce battles in Tunis. But do you owe him your wife?
He gave a curt nod and swallowed down a lump in his throat. “I won’t stop you then.” God’s teeth, just saying that was like a stab to his heart.
She gave him a wobbly smile, tears misting her eyes. “’Tis fer the best, I’m thinking. Time apart, I mean.” She squared he slender shoulders. “If ye want to set me aside, I would understand.”
“Nay. I will wait for you to come back to me.” He would never set her aside. She was his wife. No other woman would ever own his heart and soul as she did.
“If I do no’….”
“You will.”
Brodie put an arm around her shoulders and turned her from him. They left the room and Nicholas let them go. He wanted desperately to stop her from leaving him, but knew it would be a mistake. He had to give her time. And he had to let her try and help her brother regain his memory. But, God, he hated to see her go.
* * *
Maggie barely heard the steady crunch of leaves being trampled under the feet of the horses. She barely noted the towering pines of the forest they were passing through. They had been riding for two days and with each new day her heart grew heavier. She was torn between the two men she loved. Brodie, still so troubled by all he couldn’t remember, needed her help. Nicholas, her husband who had suffered even worse nightmares than she had, needed her as well. And she had treated him so badly.
She shifted in the saddle and thought about the proud man she had been forced to marry. He’d done his duty to his king both in Tunis and by taking a wife he hadn’t wanted. Yet he had been tender with her in their bed, wild at times, too. It was those wilder times that made her woman’s place ache with longing. She was a passionate woman by nature. Nicholas brought out those passions even more. And he had tried to bring them out again after she had consented to return to his bed. But she had held herself back, not let her desire fire enough to love him back. She had held a grudge about him having doubted her. But the circumstances would have made anyone in his position doubt her, she knew that now.
Brodie rode up beside her and glanced over in concern. “Are ye all right?”
“He let me go,” she said in half sadness, half disgust.
“Ye wanted to go.”
She shrugged. “Fer ye, aye.”
“Do ye love him, Maggie?”
“Aye.” She didn’t even question her feelings any longer. She loved the big English lord and wondered if they could ever make things right between them again.
“He loves ye, too, ye ken.”
“He let me go,” she repeated, but studied her brother. He didn’t seem as hard today, more at peace. Maybe all her chattering away about their youth together had helped in some way. She felt good, hopeful, about that, but she longed to be with Nicholas.
“Aye, he let you go, but he dinna want to do so. He loved ye enough to let ye go.”
She frowned at him. “Why are ye men so impossible? If he truly loved me, he should have insisted I stay.”
Brodie rolled his eyes and laughed, something she imagined he hadn’t done in a long time. “Even no’ remembering all aboot ye, I ken ye would have shown a bit of temper if he’d insisted.”
“Mayhap.” She smiled. “Aye, I’d have been most upset with him.” And now she was upset because he’d let her go. “He should have spanked me to make me see reason.” Her face heated at the admission, hoping her brother hadn’t heard it.
Brodie grinned. “Aye, now I’m thinking he should have.”
Maggie huffed and refused to look at him.
“I’ll send a dozen men with ye,” Brodie said, sounding serious once more.
She blinked in confusion. “With me?”
“Ye need—want—to go back to Middleham.” He met her gaze and held it. “Make up with yer husband. I’ll be fine.”
“But—”
“Ye belong with Nicholas.”
She did. Feeling anxious, hopeful, she reined in her horse. She memorized her beloved brother’s face and vowed to convince Nicholas to go with her to Urquhart in the next month or so. But for now, she wanted to show him that she’d forgiven him for doubting her, that she truly loved him.
“I love ye, ye ken.”
Brodie gave her a sad smile. “I ken.”
* * *
Nicholas wiped the sweat from his brow and bit back a groan from the aches he felt after having trained so hard these last four days. Gerald and Richard had tried to tell him it was too soon, to let his wounds completely heal. But it wasn’t really his shoulder that pained him or drove him to do this. He couldn’t sleep in his bedchamber without inhaling the scent of Maggie, so he slept in the great hall with the other men. He couldn’t work in the solar without seeing the sad look in Maggie’s eyes before she’d walked out of the solar with Brodie. No, the wound that wouldn’t heal was the ache of his heart from having let Maggie walk away from him.
“You could go after her,” Gerald said, stopping beside him to rest a moment. “I can get some men ready to leave even this day.”
He’d thought about it every second of every day since sh
e’d left Middleham. He could, he should, but he held to his promise to let her go with her brother. Yet he knew he couldn’t let her stay at Urquhart forever. “Nay, I’ll give her a fortnight.”
Deciding he needed to burn off more frustration, he stepped back toward the other men still training with wooden swords. He’d just moved into position to train with Gerald when a guard yelled down from the parapet, “Riders, My Lord!”
Nicholas looked up, his stomach knotting with a foolish hope. Before he could question the guard, the man called down once more. “’Tis Lady Middleham and six of the Scots.”
Maggie! His whole body tightened in anticipation. She had come back to him. God’s teeth, she had come back to him.
He waited, hardly breathing, with the three dozen men who had stopped to wait as well. It seemed like hours but was really only minutes until she rode over the drawbridge with her accompanying guards. She didn’t even seem to notice the bailey full of men watching. She rode straight to him. Her eyes were solely focused on him. And, oddly, she looked more annoyed as she grew closer.
She slid from the saddle before he could lift her down. Shoving the reins at Gerald, she marched right up to him, frowning. “Ye let me go. Ye dinna come after me.”
“’Tis what you wanted, wife.” He wanted to grab her and hold her, but he also wanted to know what she intended now.
She stepped toe-to-toe with him, jabbed his chest with a finger. “Do ye love me? Honestly love me?”
Their audience was listening intently, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that she’d come back to him. “Aye, Maggie, I love you.”
She bobbed her head, appearing somewhat satisfied with his answer. “Well, I love ye, too.”
Then she took his hand and started dragging him with her toward the keep. He trailed along more than willing. But she stopped on the steps and grinned back at the men. “Yer lord will no’ be training the rest of the day.”
