The Highlander's Secret Vow

by Eliza Knight

  There remained only one man now atop the ramparts—the archer. And he let loose a string of curses with every arrow he shot down at Liam.

  Liam caught as many as he could with his targe, but one sank into Robin’s flank, which caused his horse to rear up. Liam grappled with the reins, prepared to fall, roll and leap to his feet once more. The men in his line surged forward to block him from the next round of arrows. Liam did fall to the ground, landing on his back with Robin on his leg.

  “Get him off me,” he bellowed, and his men rushed forward, helped the horse regain his feet and broke off the arrow in his flank. Thankfully, the mount was not hurt worse, but it would be difficult to calm him. Liam tried to soothe Robin, but the horse was too angry. He’d have to soothe him later.

  The archer on the wall screamed as he was attacked by a swordsman on the other side. A sharp crank came from the main gates as the portcullis was raised and the drawbridge lowered. Liam and his men rushed forward, as men from the village came at them with pitchforks and shovels, armed with all their tools of the trade. Mixed amongst them were savage warriors. They must have been hiding somewhere.

  Liam tried to go easy on the villagers, who fought only because they were brave enough to try and defend their castle.

  “We offer ye surrender! A truce!” Liam shouted. “Ye need not fight for traitors. All will be saved!”

  But they continued to come at them, unrelenting. When he could, Liam spared them by simply knocking them unconscious, and when a lad of no more than twelve ran toward him with a pike twice as long as his wee body, Liam leapt out of the way and lifted the lad by the scruff of his neck.

  “Go home, ye wee bastard, else ye get yourself killed.”

  The lad nodded, terror in his gaze, and took off weaponless toward the gate.

  Liam was fighting savagely with a Ross warrior who seemed to come from out of nowhere, housed in the keep rather than defending the castle, when a searing pain shot through his back.

  He ignored the pain, until another came, and then another. Liam stumbled forward but kept his balance.

  The only thing he could think of was that he’d been shot. That his back was riddled with at least three arrows. Who would be such a coward that they would shoot a man in his back?

  He glanced over his shoulder, searching out who could have attacked him, and his eyes locked on the lad standing on the ramparts with another arrow pointed in his direction. Time seemed to freeze in that moment. The same lad he’d told to go home had shot him. Regret flashed on the lad’s features and he lowered the arrow.

  Liam gritted his teeth against the pain and returned his attention to the fight, certain the lad was not going to take a final shot.

  Despite his vision blurring and the warrior before him fading in and out of two bodies, Liam continued to fight. He arched his sword high and swung it through both of his opponent’s bodies. Then he moved onto the next, taking down three more men, before his vision started to darken, and he dropped to his knees. Even powerless to stand, when a Ross man ran at him with a bellow that echoed in his ears, Liam was able to lift his sword at the last minute and thrust it through his enemy with the last bit of oomph he had left.

  The Ross warrior fell forward, thumping to the ground before Liam, and acting like a brace against the hard earth, as Liam, too, finally fell forward and allowed the darkness to take him.

  Standing before a raging hearth was Robert, King of Scots, a man very capable of taking Cora’s life. His hair was the color of a starry night—dark with swatches of white—and his beard looked much the same. His skin was weathered, and deep grooves creased the sides of his eyes and brow.

  He was taller than Cora would have expected, though Liam had a few inches on him.

  The fire crackled and popped in the hearth, and he slowly turned to look at her with eyes that were intelligent and hard.

  “Your Majesty,” Cora said, a little breathless with fear, as she dipped into a low curtsey, her legs shaking and threatening to spill her onto the floor.

  “Lady Cora. I’ve wanted to meet ye for a long time.”

  How long was long? The few weeks that she’d been at his castle? For she’d requested to see him every day since Liam had left, and each day she’d been denied.

  “I knew your father.”

  All the breath left her. This was not going to be a good visit then. She’d not got any further with her mother, so she felt as though she were coming into this meeting blind.

  Cora touched her fingertips to each other in front of her waist. Her hands were still mostly wrapped with the linen bandages, but as her recovery had continued, the healer had put on less and less. The new skin itched something fierce and felt tight when she tried to stretch her fingers. It was extremely uncomfortable, but she was glad for the sensation. After the healer had told her she could have lost all feeling in her hands, to know that she hadn’t made the pain bearable.

  “How are ye healing?” the king asked, pointing toward her hands.

  Cora jerked her gaze down toward her hands, wondering why he would ask her such a thing. He was the King of Scotland. He need not worry himself over such trivial matters as a traitor’s daughter’s injury.

  “Well, Your Majesty, I thank you for asking. The healer says I might be able to go without bandages some of the time within a week or two.”

  King Robert nodded thoughtfully. He watched her, studying her, for several awkward moments, then he finally let out a long breath. “Your father betrayed me. I see no need to dance around the subject.”

  Cora’s mouth fell open. She’d had an idea, since Liam had told her that her father broke a treaty, and her mother had said her father had gone against Baron Mowbray, who fostered her brothers, and was a known ally of King Robert. But for the king to broach the topic with her, meant it went even deeper than she thought. Cora was speechless, and even if she could find her voice, she wasn’t certain what she’d say.

  He faced her fully, and she was paralyzed. “As ye’re an Englishwoman, I would nay expect ye to pledge your loyalty to me, but alas, ye’re not simply any Englishwoman.” The king’s voice was even, and his eyes serious.

  Cora swallowed.

  “Ye’re married to Sir Liam Sutherland.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said softly.

  “And ye have been for some time.”

  “Yes,” she admitted readily.

  “Do ye forsake your own country in place of loyalty to your husband’s?”

  This was not something she’d ever thought about before. Forsake her own country? Become the enemy of her brothers? Her mother?

  Her chest started to burn, and she realized it was because she’d been holding her breath.

  The placid expression on the king’s face was quickly turning to anger. “I take your silence for nay.”

  “No,” Cora hurried. “I would obey my husband, and I would align with him, with Your Majesty.”

  “Ye would, or ye do?”

  Tears sprung to Cora’s eyes. She’d not asked for this. None of this. She’d not asked to be attacked at her castle when she was thirteen, nor by Lord Ughtred. She’d not asked to be abandoned at the Scottish king’s castle. Nor to have to defend her traitorous father. She’d not asked to have to bend the knee to a king she didn’t know, a king who hated her father.

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” she whispered.

  King Robert took several slow, assessing steps toward her. His hands were clutched behind his back, eyes scrutinizing. It felt like he was trying to peel away the layers of skin and bone in order to see inside her brain.

  “I must protect my people,” he said, firmly. “And Liam is one of them.”

  Cora drew in a ragged breath. “Yes, he is, and never a more loyal man have I met.”

  “Loyal to ye. He has gone behind my back twice now for ye.”

  Cora’s knees were shaking. She wanted desperately to run from the room. Liam, where are you?

  “He is loyal to you, Your Majes
ty. He’s told me himself, and I would never ask him to betray his country.”

  “If ye wish to remain married to Sutherland, and safe within these walls, then ye’ll need to pledge your fealty to me.”

  “You have it.” Her voice cracked as she said the words. “But I beg you to spare my mother and brothers.”

  “I dinna intend to harm them. Do ye nae ken that Baron Mowbray is in allegiance with me?”

  Cora nodded.

  “Aye. ’Tis why he wouldna send your brothers home when your da asked.”

  “He asked?” This was news to her.

  “Aye. They are lucky, and they owe the baron their lives, for they would have been killed by Lord Ughtred had they gone home.”

  Once more, the breath left Cora. Did her mother know this?

  “Your Majesty, if I may be so bold as to ask, why are you telling me all this?”

  The king chuckled. “I sense there is goodness in ye, my lady. Ye remind me of my wife. And I also fear that your mother may turn ye against us.”

  Cora shook her head. “No, Majesty, she wouldn’t try to do that. Not when you’ve offered us your protection.”

  “Ah, but ye see, your mother doesna think my castle so welcoming.” He smiled at her. “Lord and Lady Segrave were planning a rebellion along the border, my lady. Though your mother denies it, I’ve a letter penned in her own hand. She was planning to wed ye. She didna say to whom, but I’m guessing he was in alignment with Lord Ughtred, and then Lord Ughtred went against him as well. That is when I sent Liam.”

  Cora’s mind was reeling at all of the revelations. But most importantly—the king knew all along that she and Liam had been wed? And he’d done nothing for thirteen long years about it. “You knew?”

  “Aye. The priest who wed ye came to see me shortly after. ’Tis why I’ve never pressed a marriage upon the lad. I knew him to already be tied.”

  Cora stood there, stunned. What else was she unaware of? What else was Liam unaware of? Her hands started to tremble, and she wished she could shove them into her skirts to hide them, but alas, her bandages were still too bulky.

  The king continued as if he’d not given her such a major shock. “I need ye to find out from your mother who the other lord was. He’s still out there, and while he is, there is still danger for my people, for ye. He is a traitor and must be dealt with.”

  Cora nodded, uncertainty racing through her. Prying anything from her mother was going to take a lot of work, but for Liam’s sake, for her brothers, she needed to do it. “I will do my best, Your Majesty.”

  “Good. I’ve arranged to allow your mother out of her chamber. Perhaps not feeling so under lock and key will entice her to be more open.”

  Cora curtsied to King Robert and backed out of the room, feeling like she could breathe again only when she was two levels below and safely in her own chamber.

  As she normally did when she was in her chamber, she went to the castle window, pressed her face against the stone of the narrow opening and stared out over the Scottish landscape. A slight breeze blew in, cooling her heated skin, allowing her a moment to breathe. Hills and valleys, mountains in the distance. The sky was overcast, and a slight breeze moved the trees and grasses. The scent of peat fires mingled with the damp air that threatened rain.

  Where was Liam? Why was it taking him so long to return?

  She wasn’t certain of what direction her chamber faced or which direction Liam would come from. Any slight movement caught her eye, usually a sheep or cow, and occasionally a rider. But not once was it he.

  Cora touched her lips, longing for his kiss, if only to help her escape. Escape the injury to her hands. Escape a mother who knew too much and said too little. Escape a king she needed to bow before, a king who asked her to make the impossible happen.

  What would it be like to wake up one morning and not have anything to worry over save for lounging in the arms of the man she…loved?

  Yes, she loved him. Or at least she loved the idea of loving him.

  He’d been gone for three weeks. Shouldn’t he be back by now?

  A sharp knock came at her door, and she hoped for a minute that her window faced the wrong direction and Liam had returned while she’d been musing. But her mother burst through without waiting for a reply, spoiling her fantasy.

  “They have set me free!” Lady Segrave’s shout could have rattled the stones in the walls.

  “That is excellent news.” Cora pushed away from the window and embraced her mother.

  “What’s this?” Lady Segrave touched the tips of Cora’s fingers.

  Cora smiled. “Yes, I am no longer wearing my full mittens.”

  “And eating? Can you eat?”

  “And drink.” The linens were wrapped around each individual finger, and then between them too, and around her palm. While thick, she was able to get in some movement. “The healer thought it best I not go too much longer without attempting to use them, else it would be harder when I finally take them off.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Let us have wine to celebrate. In the great hall. I want to walk about.” Joy emanated from her mother. It seemed as though she was about to break out into a twirl, but that would be so very unlike her.

  The light was quickly extinguished from her mother’s eyes, and she was stoic once more.

  “Let us go, child,” her mother encouraged.

  Cora glanced toward the guard, who did not argue with the notion. Instead, he followed them out of her chamber and down the stairs. As they went, Cora noticed a slight trembling from her mother. Was she nervous? Or was the joy true, and she just had a hard time keeping it contained?

  In the great hall, they were met with stares from many Scottish courtiers, as they’d not made an appearance there before. Cora because she was hiding, and her mother because she was under lock and key. The looks were curious and accusatory all at once, and none were particularly friendly. Many of the men wore the plaids of their clans, and the women wore gowns similar to the ones Cora had seen at the English court.

  Of course, Cora did not recognize any of the men sitting around the tables and standing at the edges of the room, but her mother seemed to. Cora was surprised to find out that several of those in attendance were in fact English. How peculiar. Then again, her father at one time had been one of those men.

  One man in particular followed them with his gaze, but her mother swept right past him as if she’d not seen him before and accepted two cups of wine from a passing servant.

  “Here you go, daughter. To our freedom.”

  Cora smiled, clinking her metal goblet to her mother’s and drinking the rich and smooth wine, and all the while wondering exactly what her mother meant about freedom. Should she trust her mother or trust the king?

  And why was her mother making that choice so difficult?

  “My lady.” The man who’d been watching them moments before approached them and bowed to her mother.

  Lady Segrave stiffened and stepping a few inches in front of Cora, her elbow bent slightly enough as a hint to Cora to remain where she was. Subtle to anyone looking, but not in the least to Cora, who was used to her mother pushing her out in front of any noble.

  “My lord. I am surprised to see you here,” Lady Segrave said.

  “As am I.” There was a glittering malice in his eyes that made Cora’s skin crawl. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company so far from the border?”

  “Have you not heard?” Lady Segrave asked, casually taking a sip from her wine, her jaw too tight to actually be taking in any liquid.

  “Ah, aye, I suppose I have.”

  Cora stood stiffly observing the back and forth, panic causing bile to rise in her throat.

  “Of course, you have.”

  What on earth were they talking about? Cora wanted to step between them and demand they expound on their coded speech.

  “My lady.” His gaze slid to Cora, and though her mother tried to make herself look bigger, the truth was no mat
ter how much she puffed her chest or rose on tiptoe, she wasn’t going to be able to hide Cora from him. “A pleasure, Lady Cora, as always.”

  As always? Cora didn’t think she’d met the man a day in her life. Although there was something oddly familiar about him.

  Cora nodded. “My lord.”

  Her mother waved her hands dramatically in front of her face. “I am feeling faint. I suppose it wasn’t such a good idea for us to have left the comfort of our chambers so soon.” Lady Segrave grabbed Cora by the hand, none too gently, and Cora stifled a cry of pain.

  Without a backward glance, her mother swept her from the room, not letting go of Cora’s hand until they were safely behind closed doors. When she did, Cora breathed out the lungful she’d been holding, her hand throbbing from her mother’s tight grip.

  “I’m sorry, dear.” Her mother pushed out her lower lip as she looked toward the hand Cora held aloft.

  Anger filled her. Panic. Worry. Confusion. Cora was done playing games. Done allowing her mother to hide the truth from her. This ended now. “Explain to me, Mother, and I’ll not be taking no for an answer.”

  Lady Segrave looked ready to argue, but then her shoulders slumped, and she nodded, as though she’d finally given up the fight.

  Chapter 15

  Magnus Sutherland, chief of his clan and earl of his holdings, was a seasoned and hardened warrior. At age fourteen, he became chief of his clan, and was left in charge of his younger siblings when his da was killed. He’d been through more battles than he could count. Fought beside the legendary William Wallace, Andrew Moray, and faithfully served Robert the Bruce from the very beginning of the Scottish Wars for Independence. He’d been there at the Battle of Stirling Bridge and every major battle since.

  Raising five children with his beloved wife, Arbella, the love of his life, had been one of the many crowning honors of his life. Seeing them all grow into the amazing people they were—leaders and fighters, even his lassies—was enough to make him die a happy man if he should fall in the field of battle tomorrow.