by Eliza Knight
“Is that…bone?” she asked, unable to get the vision of white out of her mind.
“Nay, my lady. Only an angry wound. But I can see where ye might think it is bone. The onion salve that Lucas used did well to stave off infection and promote the growth of new skin. I shall have to try this.”
Cora thought she might faint. She stiffened her back to keep from falling over.
“Does it hurt, my lady?”
“Not as much as it did at first.”
“Pain is good news.”
“It is?”
“Aye. Means that ye’ve not been damaged as badly. When the damage is more severe, ye’ll feel nothing, because the wee feelers in your body that recognize pain have been destroyed.”
“Does that mean I might…be able to use my hands again?”
The healer nodded. “Your chances are better than I first believed.”
Cora let out the breath she’d been holding. “How long until I can take these bandages off?”
“Well, the wound is still open, though I can see new growth along the edges. Perhaps a few weeks more.”
It’d already been at least two weeks if she was counting right. A few more miserable weeks of being fed and having her maid help her use the chamber pot… “I shall pray on it.”
“Aye. Pray on it, and I shall come back twice daily to help.”
“Twice?”
“Aye. I live in the castle, so ’tis no hard thing.”
Cora didn’t argue, even though her wounds before now had only been tended to once a day.
“We’ll have ye good as new soon.” The healer pulled a small vial from her medicine box. “Add a few drops of this to your ale each meal. That will help.”
“What is it?”
“Just some herbs that encourage healing.” The healer’s face softened with knowing. “I promise ’tis not poison. Ye’re one of us now that ye’ve married a Scot.”
Cora smiled gratefully, a little bit embarrassed that the woman seemed to have read her mind. “Thank ye.”
The healer patted Cora on the shoulder, then she gathered her items and departed. Cora barely had a chance to breathe before a guard knocked and requested entry.
“My lady, ye’ve been given permission to see Lady Segrave.”
Cora nodded gravely. She’d not seen or spoken to her mother since they’d locked her in her chamber, and she’d feared they wouldn’t let her at all. Every morning since Liam had departed, she’d walked past and asked quietly if she was allowed entry. And every morning, the men had said no. She’d asked politely if they would gain the king’s permission, to which they’d nodded, but each morning it had been the same.
It would seem her wish had finally been granted. She was overcome with worry for her mother. And with Liam gone, she felt quite alone.
The guard followed her the few paces down the corridor, where she paused outside the door.
“I can’t knock,” she said softly.
The guard didn’t respond but gave two swift taps to the door, which was promptly opened by another guard inside.
“My daughter!” her mother shouted from within the chamber, leaping from the chair she’d sat in, and rushed forward.
Cora pushed through the door, and practically tossed herself into her mother’s arms, breathing in her scent, and glad that the woman was still alive, and didn’t look any worse for wear.
“Will you please give us some privacy?” Her mother gave both men her most influencing smile, even fluttering her lashes, but it did no good.
“King’s orders.”
The door was shut, and both men stood before it, their eyes toward the far wall.
Her mother frowned, looked ready to say something, but Cora threaded her arm through her mother’s and tugged her toward the cushioned window seat.
“Please, Mother, if we make it hard for them, they may not let us see each other at all.”
Her mother rolled her eyes and let out a huff, but she didn’t argue further. They settled beside each other on a cushioned bench in the window’s alcove and were afforded a modicum of privacy.
“How are you, Mother? Are they treating you well?”
“I’m perfectly fine, my dear, if not feeling rather cooped up. I have asked permission to contact Baron Mowbray, but I’m not certain they will allow it.”
Cora was able to let go of her mother’s lack of concern for her own welfare because of the news she’d relayed. “About my brothers?”
“Aye. I want to make certain they are all right. That he knows where we are. They will be worried.”
“I’m certain they are fine.”
Her mother shook her head, wringing her hands as she stared down at them in her lap. “You do not understand, child. Your father… He went against Baron Mowbray before he was…before we were…” Her mother’s voice cracked, and she quickly swiped at her eyes, as though doing so would cease any tears from starting—and it seemed to work.
“How, Mother?” Cora kept her voice soft, encouraging her mother to explain but not wanting to seem too demanding. This was the most information her mother had ever given her before.
“There was a treaty…” Her mother spoke so softly Cora could barely make out the words.
Was this what Liam had been speaking of? The treaty her father broke? She flicked her gaze toward the men who stood by the door. They didn’t seem to be paying attention, but that meant little.
Lady Segrave waved away the words. “In any case, your father and Baron Mowbray were at odds toward the end.”
“How will this fair for my brothers?” Cora feared for them greatly now. It was one thing for the castle to have been attacked—she’d escaped. But her brothers were still in the hands of an enemy of their father’s making.
“Well, Brent will have inherited your father’s title. He is now Baron Segrave, so perhaps he can forge an alliance of his own.” Her mother shook her head, her face falling into her hands. “I am so worried.”
“It’s a lot of responsibility for a fourteen-year-old boy, but you said yourself when they visited last that Brent seemed very grown up.”
“Yes,” her mother agreed. “Baron Mowbray has taught him well, but…in the wake of what has happened, I fear he’ll try to avenge his father.”
Cora nodded. “Any boy would.”
“I need to write to the baron to make sure he keeps Brent in check. It would not do for the boy to start a war with Ughtred and his band of Scottish rabble.”
Cora wished she could grasp her mother’s hands, hold them steady. “Do you think he will be amenable, mother?”
Her mother was wringing her hands again. “I don’t know. He was very angry when your father went against him.”
And with good reason. Seemed her father had made a lot of enemies.
Cora drew in a deep breath and whispered, “What was Ughtred looking for, Mother?”
Her mother’s eyes widened and then narrowed with accusation. “We discussed this. It’s better you don’t know.”
Cora pressed her lips together, knowing it was better not to argue with her mother. The woman had an extreme stubborn streak. Perhaps it was a topic best discussed another time. “How can I help?”
Her mother leaned forward, eyes locked on hers. “Beg your husband to allow me to write to Baron Mowbray.”
“But he has left.”
“Left?” Her mother’s voice grew shrill, and she jerked her gaze toward the warriors by the door. “Then we are lost.”
“No, Mother, don’t say that. He has left, but he will return.”
But it mattered not what she said, for her mother was already breaking down. She stood, waved Cora away and pressed her hands to her temples, eyes squeezed shut as she shuffled toward her bed. “Leave me. I need to rest.”
Cora was stunned by the sudden dismissal. “Mother, please—”
But Lady Segrave only turned angry eyes on Cora and shouted, “I said, go!”
She nodded, backing toward the door while ca
sting her mother an imploring look, but Lady Segrave paid her no more attention. She tossed herself onto the bed and faced the opposite direction. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day. Cora sighed and left her mother’s chamber. One of the guards followed her out. He started to walk with her down the corridor toward her own room like an oppressive shadow.
“You need not follow me. I can manage,” Cora said, trying to keep the irritation level in her tone low.
“King’s orders.” The guard stared straight ahead, his voice monotone.
Cora stopped walking, stepped in front of him and stared hard at his unmoving face. “Am I a prisoner?”
“Nay, my lady.”
“May I request an audience with the king?”
“I will ask.”
“Thank you.” She whirled around and stalked toward her door, waiting for him to catch up.
The guard grunted, opened the door to her chamber, for which she was grateful, as she would not have been able to do so herself.
She stepped inside, but before he shut it, said, “Wait. I should like to walk outside. Have I permission to do that?”
“With an escort and only within the castle walls.”
“All right, then I shall require you as an escort.”
“Aye, my lady. After ye.” He swept his arm wide toward the door.
Cora sighed, pleased that at least she could walk out in the sunlight and gain some perspective.
“Alice, please fetch my cloak.”
Her maid stood from where she’d been mending something by the hearth, took Cora’s cloak from her wardrobe and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“You can come,” she said to the lass, who smiled, probably also eager to be out of the drafty room.
Cora was disappointed when they stepped out into the busy courtyard and saw the sky was overcast. A light mist filled the air, but when the guard suggested he take her back inside, she told him no. A little mist never hurt anyone. And anything was better than being cooped up inside.
They walked about the courtyard, and she smiled at the various castle folk going about their duties. Several children ran past with empty buckets toward a well. A blacksmith and his apprentices hammered away in their open workshop. Two men carried a skinned deer on a spit toward the back of the castle where she presumed the kitchens must be. A young girl led a goat by a string, and several women carried baskets full of linen.
The castle was alive with activity, which made Cora yearn for something to do. Some task she could complete. But without the use of her hands, what good was she to anyone?
Her eyes kept being drawn toward the gate. It’d been several days since Liam left, and she knew she shouldn’t expect to see him return so soon, but she couldn’t help it. Perhaps it was a habit she’d honed over the years, waiting to see him ride up and rescue her.
Well, he had done that. And the night before he left, he’d swept her up in his arms in a heated embrace she never would have imagined. It was incredible. Wonderful. Perhaps even lifechanging, in that it opened her eyes in so many ways. That kissing and touching could be so magical… That Liam had so much passion inside him—and so did she. But it also left her full of questions. Did he want her truly? Would he come back for her? Was he in danger now?
Liam didn’t want to make love to her until she could touch him. The healer said she was healing nicely, but what if she never did? Would he deny her because of that?
The scent of the tanner’s hut was a little nauseating, but all the same, she stepped inside, an idea sparking in her mind.
“Good day, sir,” she said when he looked up from where he’d been scraping a hide.
He narrowed his eyes at her, and she realized this was not any normal castle, and she not any normal visitor. She was English, and the Scots hated the English. Despite what the healer claimed about her being one of them now, Cora was still wary of that.
“Pardon me.” Cora ducked back out, embarrassed that she’d so readily intruded on the man’s workspace.
He followed her out, wiping his hands in an irritated fashion on his apron. “What is it, then? Ye interrupted me, ye might as well spit it out.”
“I do apologize for having interrupted.” Cora waved her hands in apology, realizing too late that the bandages only seemed to catch his attention all the more—and she no longer wanted it. She wanted him to let her go quietly.
“Get on with it, then.” The man looked irritated beyond belief.
Well, she might as well, if he wasn’t going to allow her to leave without causing a scene. “I was wondering if you might fashion me a pair of leather gloves.”
He glanced down at her hands. “Seems ye already have some.”
Her face heated, and her belly plummeted at him calling the bandages wrapped around her hands. That was a low blow, and a dig meant to hurt to be sure.
“And ye’ve a nasty sense of humor,” Alice butted in. “This is Lady Cora, married to Sir Liam Sutherland, son of the Earl of Sutherland, right hand to the king, and ye’d best be showing her respect, else your treatment of such a fine lady will be reported back to the king.”
The man blanched, huffed and turned away. Cora tried to pick her jaw up off the bailey floor. Alice was always so meek and tender, she didn’t realize the lass had a hard bone in her body at all. She was flattered that she’d come to her rescue and wished she could hug her.
“I suppose he likes punishment then,” Alice said a little too loudly and then shyly met Cora’s face.
Well, for all the bluster, they both knew her threats would lead to naught, as Liam was away, and Cora had no other champion of merit here to take up her cause. And she certainly wasn’t going to complain to the king herself.
Chapter 14
“Someone’s coming!” The alarm at the warriors’ approach echoed through the air, over the field and into Liam’s ears as he and his men rode toward Ross castle.
He smiled at the panic he noted in their tone. The moonlight fought for purchase with the clouds, casting shadows on the ground and making visibility low.
“Who is there?” One of the men upon the Ross wall called down. “State your name and purpose!”
Liam and his men urged their horses into the dim light let off by the torches on the castle wall. He waved casually up at the guards and smiled, as though he were there on a social call and not about to lay siege to them. From above, the men would look down and see Liam and twelve warriors. Though they were heavily armed, there weren’t that many of them, which would cause the Ross men to let their guard down, at least a little bit, for who would attempt to take a castle with only twelve men?
That was rather humorous actually, because there were plenty of Highlanders who would. The stories from when he was young were that William Wallace had singlehandedly laid siege to more than one castle. Liam was sure there was a bit of exaggeration to those tales, but one could relish in them all the same.
What they couldn’t see from above was the dozen archers that stood back in the shadows, prepared to fire. Or Liam’s father. Magnus had taken another contingent of men to the rear of the castle, where they would sneak in by swimming across the moat and climbing the walls using ropes and hooks. The Earl of Sutherland and his men had done it many times over the past three decades. While they were busy quietly infiltrating the castle, Liam and his men would serve as a distraction. When the Ross men denied Liam and didn’t surrender, Liam would call out for the attack. At which point, the Sutherlands inside would open the gates so Liam and his band of warriors could take the castle by storm.
“I said, who the bloody hell are ye?”
Liam’s grin widened. “The Sutherlands. We come on official business for King Robert the Bruce.”
“Sutherlands,” scoffed one man.
“Ye know verra well we’ve been labeled traitors by King Robert. What do ye want with us?” said another.
“We are here to offer ye a truce. Surrender the castle, and we shall let ye live.”
A barrage of
laughter from above followed Liam’s statement.
“Deny us the castle, and we’ll see ye punished,” Liam continued. “Laird Ina and her husband, Ughtred, are both imprisoned at Stirling. Ye protect traitors by keeping the castle in their name.”
The laughter died down. “How do we know ye speak the truth? Why should we trust a Sutherland?”
“Ye ken Ina Ross was captured months ago. And ye ken Ughtred was at the border, aye? I took him myself. But I speak true when I tell ye they are both alive, and that the king has offered ye a pardon if ye let me in.”
The men spoke amongst themselves, then one man’s voice came out louder than the rest. “We believe ye, wee Sutherland, but alas, we willna be giving up so easily.”
“’Tis a shame,” Liam called, “for I hate to take a man’s life when he might have lived had he not been so stupid.”
The men atop the wall blustered, issuing a barrage of curses upon Liam’s head. An arrow was shot down toward Liam’s horse, but he shielded with a quick raise of his targe. The arrow sank in deep, the tip piercing through to face him.
Well, he supposed that was as good a warning as any that they would not be relenting.
Liam let out a battle cry, and the warriors who still stood in the shadows raised their arrows and let them loose toward the men on the wall. His father knew that was the first step, and if they were anywhere within shooting distance, they would now be ducking for cover. Given that no one was sounding the alarm, his father had yet to be discovered.
Their arrows hit two of the men on the wall. They fell forward, slumping into the crenellations of the ramparts, their arms dangling down over the stone, their mouths slackened in death. Liam shook his head.
“It doesna have to be this way,” he called up. “I offer ye another chance to surrender.”
The single archer on the wall responded in retaliation, but the two arrows he loosed sank only into the wood of the targes Liam’s men held aloft. A scream from the rear of the castle alerted Liam that his father and his men had successfully made entry. The men upon the wall turned their backs—a mistake, as Liam ordered his men to shoot their arrows, taking out three more guards.
