“I’ve seen stars before,” she said a moment before she gasped. “Oh my, they were never as sharply defined against the night sky as this.” She shifted her body toward his until she was settled against his side. “You’re trembling,” she whispered, sounding surprised.
“You do that to me.”
She tightened her fingers around his and scooted closer.
Warmed by the feel of her body against his, he stared not at the sky but at her. A soft breeze continued to tousle Elizabeth’s hair as she searched the star-blazed sky. Thousands of stars glittered like diamonds overhead. “The Greeks called that swath of orange and gold above us the Milky Circle.”
“Where did you learn about the stars?”
“From my father. He taught me about astronomy. After he and mother were gone, I spent much of my early life alone. But wherever I looked up at the night sky I could always imagine them watching down over me.” He paused. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me. It couldn’t have been easy.” She said nothing more, but he knew where her thoughts went. It was because of her clan that he had been so alone.
He drew in her fragrance as he reveled in her closeness. “If you are interested in learning more about the night sky, there is a book in the library that might interest you, On the Revolutions of the Heavenly Spheres by Nicolaus Copernicus. He theorized that the center of our universe is the sun and not the Earth, as scientists have thought.”
“I’d like to read that book.” Her eyes appeared luminescent as the stars danced in their depths.
Wrapped in silence, they watched the stars glitter in the sky and as they did, Lachlan realized tonight Elizabeth had given him a gift as well. She had given him back his dreams. While the entirety of his life had been filled with one battle after another, he’d had to suppress any hopes for the future. And when he did allow himself to imagine the future, half the time he didn’t think he deserved for his dreams to become reality, the other half he was terrified they’d be stolen away, and he was too afraid of the pain.
Yet at Elizabeth’s side tonight, anything seemed possible, even those things he’d never allowed himself to want. A wife. A family. A future.
She turned to him and her eyes searched his briefly. To his surprise she stretched over him and lightly kissed him on the lips.
He responded, touched by her sweetness, her warmth.
When they came apart a moment later, she pulled back with a smile. “We should make our way back to the castle. You might not fear my father, but I do.” Her eyes became troubled. “I do not understand why he is taking so long to arrive.”
Lachlan stood, then helped her up. “Perhaps he has changed his mind and will leave things as they are.”
“Perhaps.” The word was barely a whisper.
He folded the blanket and tucked it under his arm. When he was done, he took her hand once more in his own, and hand-in-hand they walked slowly back to the horses. Lachlan smiled into the darkness as he set Elizabeth atop her horse. Even though he hadn’t thought of Elizabeth in a favorable way at the time of their marriage, the king and queen had done him a greater service than he’d ever imagined. His enemy had become his friend, and with luck they would become a lot more in the days and weeks ahead.
If only he could win her father over as easily.
Chapter Ten
The first dress arrived the next morning. It was an exquisite pale yellow silk gown with clean lines that fit Elizabeth’s body to perfection. Gold braid had been added to the bodice and sleeves and accented with tiny seed pearls. It was the most sumptuous dress she had ever owned, and she wore it now in the solar as she finished her first lesson with twelve of the castle’s servants—four women and eight men. Mistress Barron and Peter Grayden were among them.
For two hours they had practiced the alphabet, and by the end of their time together all twelve had learned to write their names. Pride filled Elizabeth as she accepted Mistress Barron’s slate with her name spelled properly upon the gray-green sheet of stone. “You did well today.”
She curtsied as she said, “As long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted tae learn how tae read and write. ’Tis truly more than I ever dreamed possible. Thank ye, milady.”
Elizabeth knew exactly how the chatelaine felt. In the past few days, her own life had taken an unforeseen turn. She was now mistress of her own home, and she’d been given a purpose that went far beyond herself. The castle residents were eager to sit at her feet and soak up whatever she would give them in order to better their own lives.
Just as Lachlan had bettered hers. He had changed. Or was it she who had become something different, molded by her circumstances? When she was in Lachlan’s presence, she no longer felt a twist of hatred. Instead, when he looked her way and smiled, her stomach took flight in the most disturbing of ways. And when he touched her . . . an odd warmth flowed through her limbs. A wild cascade of sensations tumbled through Elizabeth as she remembered how Lachlan had taken her hand as they walked through the village yesterday, and how he had pulled her against the hard musculature of his chest when she’d started to trip on an uneven cobblestone.
“How did the lessons go?” a voice called from the doorway.
Elizabeth was jarred from her thoughts at the sight of Lucy coming into the chamber. “Better than I could ever have expected. They are all so eager to learn.”
Lucy sat on the bench, and put out a beckoning hand to Elizabeth. “They are fortunate you can teach them such skills.”
“I feel like I am the fortunate one.”
“The Douglas men are unique among men,” Lucy said with an understanding smile. “I just sent a servant off to deliver a letter from Lachlan to my sister-in-law, Vivian, asking her to take on a new student, training her in the art of healing. For a Jane Wenham? Do you know her?”
“Aye. Lachlan and I met her on our travels here.” Elizabeth had felt a bond with Lucy from the moment they had met. She was so easy to talk to. Thrilled that she had come to her now, Elizabeth set the slate she held on a table, then moved to sit beside her new cousin. She’d had several intimate conversations with the queen while she’d been at Falkland Palace, but it had been years before that since she’d enjoyed female companionship. And never had she talked with another woman about a man. “Can I ask you something?”
Lucy settled her hands in her lap. “Anything.”
“I know you had little choice in your marriage partner, much like myself. Did you always like Reid?”
Lucy’s smile turned soft. “I did, but I tried to convince myself I did not. It was easier to hold myself apart than to trust him.” Her gaze sharpened. “Do you ask because of your desire to know more about me and Reid, or does the question have more to do with you and Lachlan?”
“Is it that easy to see through my words?”
“It is more of what is in your expression than what is in your words,” Lucy replied. “Is all going well between you two?”
“Apart from the fact he is insufferable at times.”
Lucy smiled and her eyes danced. “You like him.”
“The way I feel matters not. My father is coming, and he is set upon revenge. The feud between our families has gone on too long for my marriage to a Douglas to make any difference to him. Now that he’s gotten what he wanted from the king, my father will find a way to stir up trouble again.”
“Don’t let him. Stand for what you want, regardless of what has passed between the clans before now.”
Elizabeth frowned. “I’ve never gone against my father before.”
“What will be the result if you don’t?”
Her heart gave a jerk and then began to pound wildly. “A battle.”
“If it comes to that, then people will die on both sides of that conflict. Is that what you want?”
Elizabeth stood. “I don’t know what I want,” she said, her voice shaking. “This would be so much easier if I did.”
“You do know w
hat you want,” Lucy said smoothly. “You are simply afraid to reach for it.”
“I’m not as brave as you.”
“Aye, you are. You’ve already proven that a hundred times in the last few days. It takes a strong and brave woman to leave everyone and everything she knows behind and to start over with no guarantees or promises.”
But Lachlan had made her one promise: to keep her from harm. But in keeping that promise, would he endanger himself instead? Could she put an end to it all by standing up to her father?
Elizabeth’s thoughts were an incoherent jumble as her emotions vacillated between hope, anxiety, and fear. “You do not know my father.”
Lucy raised a brow. “And he knows not the woman you mean to become.” She stood. “If you truly care about his welfare and the lives of the people in this castle, then you’ll stand up to him and fast.”
“Why do you say that?” Panic speared through Elizabeth.
“Because your father and his men were spotted approaching the castle over two hours ago. They will be here at any moment.”
Elizabeth met Lucy’s gaze. “Why did you not say something sooner?”
“Because ten minutes ago you were not ready for an encounter with your father. Now you are not only prepared, you are primed for battle.”
“I’m not so certain of that,” Elizabeth admitted, feeling suddenly heavy. “He hasn’t arrived yet?”
Lucy shook her head. “Not as of ten minutes ago.”
“Where’s Lachlan? I must speak with him.”
“In the great hall with Reid, waiting.”
Elizabeth didn’t hesitate, she hastened through the doorway of the solar that emptied into the great hall. “Lachlan. I must speak with you. ’Tis urgent—” She skidded to a stop. “Father.” Elizabeth was so surprised to see her father standing before her she could do little more than gasp and stare. When she recovered some of her equilibrium she said, “You are already here.”
Only her father and the young man, Keddy, whom her father had taken under his wing, were present from their clan. Yet six other men stood nearby, waiting and watching.
“Lady Elizabeth Douglas.” Keddy’s lips pulled up at the corners and his eyes glittered with malice.
“The Countess of March,” Lachlan corrected.
“I’ve come to take you home, Lizzie,” her father said.
“Nay.” Her heart was pounding like a drum in her chest, and her hands were shaking so badly she balled them into fists at her sides. Her gaze moved beyond her father not to his warriors but to the five older men dressed in their Sunday best. Another man, a minister—dressed in a black robe with a white collar—hugged a parchment scroll to his chest. The look in his eyes was not one of welcome, but a portent that something horrible was about to transpire. When her gaze shifted back to her father, a dangerous smile pulled up the edges of his hard mouth. It was a smile like none she’d ever seen before.
Behind the men stood Reid, Peter Grayden, and Mistress Barron, as well as several of the other servants who had been her students only a few minutes ago. The tension in the chamber was thick, but fury burned away the despair numbing her emotions. “I will not go with you. This is my home.”
“Not for long.”
“I’ve had enough of your blustering, Ruthven. State your purpose.” Lachlan’s features were as hard as stone. “I invited you in so we might negotiate beyond what the king and queen have already done. I’d hoped we might finally put this battle between our two clans to rest, as they wanted.”
“We’ll put the matter to rest all right.” Donald Ruthven laughed as his eyes glinted like the amber flames of a fire. “And there will be no bloodshed but yours.”
Elizabeth felt a chill touch her spine as a commotion came from the doorway. The castle’s warriors suddenly filled the great hall. Their swords were present, but not drawn as they formed a half circle around her father and the other men. “What is this, Father? What are you doing?” Elizabeth asked when the noise settled.
“Battling evil.” The very callousness of her father’s tone made her heart leap in fear.
“There is no evil here.” Her voice was hoarse and oddly broken.
“Oh, but there is, my girl. There is so much evil that you can no longer see clearly through the shadows it casts over you.”
On one side of her, Elizabeth could feel waves of rage rush toward her father and yet Lachlan contained his emotions. She could see the cost to him in the leaping of his pulse at his temple, in the clenching of his jaw, and the coiled tension of his muscles.
On the other side of her, her father smiled craftily, perfectly relaxed. Which was odd. What was he about? Why didn’t he just say what he’d come to say? Because he not only wanted to threaten Lachlan, he also wanted him to suffer. When she could bear no more, she asked, “If you have something to say, Father, say it.”
“There are witches and warlocks in this land, my girl. We are in a battle to save not only ourselves but the very heart of Scotland. We have a responsibility to keep witches and warlocks from roaming freely about this great land of ours, which is why I have come to accuse your husband, Lachlan Douglas, of being a warlock, in league with the Devil to turn you against your own family.” Her father grabbed her arm in an attempt to pull her toward him.
Elizabeth recoiled from his touch as his words landed with the force of thunder. Up until that moment she had always assumed her father was a strict but honorable man, but suddenly, before her eyes it was as if a veil had been dropped and she no longer saw the brave, brawny warrior. In his place stood an ambitious, ruthless man, who had no pleasant mask to hide his inner ugliness now. “Nay, Father. I will not let you do this. Lachlan is no warlock.”
“The evidence against him says he is.” Donald Ruthven bared his teeth.
The whisper of steel sounded all around them as Reid and the other warriors drew their swords. But Lachlan stayed the weapons with a tight shake of his head.
“If you have such evidence, then put it forward,” Lachlan said grimly. “For I know I have no evil upon my soul.”
“Liar!” Keddy erupted as his gaze moved past Lachlan to somewhere behind him. “Begone, you wretched spirit!” He pointed with one finger to something behind Lachlan. “The Devil is in the air. I can see him prancing about this pretender as if he’s on a stage. The Devil whispers to him as he stands beside him now, directing him what to say and what to do.” Keddy spun toward the others in the chamber. “Do you not see the Devil in our midst?”
“There is nothing there,” Elizabeth cried out even as she clutched Lachlan’s arm to keep herself upright as the room swam before her eyes. Would her father really stoop so low as to charge Lachlan with witchcraft in order to wrest him away from her? Those who were arrested, questioned, and then charged were more often than not burned at the stake with very little effort made to seek their innocence.
“Again, I ask, what evidence have you?” Lachlan challenged.
Her father pushed the minister forward. “This man of God will be only too happy to relay what evils you have wrought on your journey to this castle with my innocent daughter. The elders are here as witnesses.”
The minister cleared his throat as he unrolled a parchment scroll. “Lachlan Douglas, I have a warrant for your arrest. You are charged with multiple counts of sorcery. The charges are as follows: You gave a potion to Bessie Broun at the Buckhaven Inn that sent her into convulsions, as though she herself was possessed by demons. There are witnesses who heard you use magical chants to calm her. Other witnesses claimed you nearly sacrificed your own wife in your marriage bed while at Ravenscraig Castle. We have the blood-soaked linens as proof of the tale.” The minister’s gaze shifted to Elizabeth. “’Tis glad I am you survived that trauma, child.”
“Nay!” Elizabeth protested. “You are wrong. I—”
“Leave it be, Elizabeth,” Lachlan interrupted. A warning flashed through his eyes. He did not want her to say anything that might implicate her.
&nb
sp; But she could not hold her tongue entirely. “He is not a warlock. I know this!”
The minister’s accusing gaze moved back to Lachlan as he continued. “On the Firth of Forth you caused the sea to churn and drowned Dillon Kemp, and you almost claimed the life of Thomas Cockburn. There are multiple witnesses who heard you call out an enchantment that capsized the small fishing vessel near your mighty ship.”
Elizabeth listened, with a growing sense of unreality. All the charges they’d read so far were fabrications drawn from only parts of the actual truth.
“And finally,” the minister droned on, “while in Aberlady at the Cairn Inn, you changed yourself into your familiar form—that of a black cat—as you escorted your wife to the inn to partake in a meal.”
“Nay!” Elizabeth said with despair. “That was an actual barn cat. I was in the presence of both Lachlan and the cat at the same time.”
The minister met her gaze. “The Devil is capable of many things. I suspect appearing in two forms at once is but an easy task for one so powerful.” He cleared his throat once more and straightened. He held out the order of arrest and read:
“In whereas the honorable Roland Carswell, Mistresses Bessie Broun, Jane and Meg Wenham, Mariam Swinton, and the crew of the fishing vessel The Four Winds have appeared before us and made significant complaints against Lachlan Douglas, the Earl of March, for suspicion of witchcraft, and injury done to Bessie Broun and Dillon Kemp, and contrary to the peace sought by our Sovereign rulers, James and Anne, King and Queen of Scotland, you are therefore required to turn yourself over to be examined and interviewed. Failure to comply will be at your own peril. Signed, Hugh Godfrey, in accordance with the Privy Council of Scotland on behalf of King James VI.”
There was a collective intake of breath, and a low murmur that followed as those present talked among themselves. Reid stepped between the minister and Lachlan. “This cannot be. Lachlan Douglas is one of the king’s favored warriors. The king would never seek his arrest.”
“Unless the king believes the Earl of March truly is a warlock,” one of the elders, a balding man with mottled cheeks, spoke for the group. “We have sent word to His Grace at Falkland. If he agrees you should be released, he will send word to us, I am certain. Until then, you are still required to submit yourself to us and our examination.”
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