Mari gave Lachlan a quick hug and stepped back. “Let us be off.” Before we are not strong enough to go.
…
The English were in the process of breaking camp when Mari and Lachlan arrived.
She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her as he helped her down from the horse.
Sir Ridley came forward with a sly smile on his face. “Didn’t I tell you this would be easy, Felix?” He turned toward a large man. “The Scots claim to be fearless warriors, but they would turn over their own mother if it meant avoiding unpleasantness and claiming a reward.”
The men laughed, and Lachlan released her to take a step forward, his hand on his sword.
She looped her hand through his arm to hold him back. “Don’t. They’re trying to rile you,” she whispered.
“Your Grace,” Sir Ridley said, bowing formally. “We meet again.”
She gave him a single aristocratic nod. Since she wasn’t certain she was calm enough to speak, she handed over her satchel and turned to the laird as Ridley stowed her bag in a waiting carriage.
“I wrote a letter for you as well, my laird,” she said, holding it out to Lachlan.
He scowled at the letter, then snatched it from her fingers. “I don’t think you understand the wrath I’ll face back at Dunardry when your husband and sister find out what I’ve done this morning. This is so wrong. The duke deserved his death for mistreating you so badly.”
“Thank you for your escort, Lachlan. The situation is not fair, but you are doing the right thing as laird. I know what this will cost you, and I’m sorry for it. In time, they will forgive you. I truly believe that.”
He handed over a bag of food. “For your trip. I doubt the bastards will provide for you.” He gave her a fierce hug and stepped back with a firm nod. “It was a pleasure knowing you, my lady. I will tell my children what a brave woman you were.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Far braver than I.”
With that, he walked back to the horses and mounted. She watched as he rode away with her horse following behind him.
“Your Grace, we are ready to leave for home,” Ridley said, holding the door to the coach with his other arm held out to her, waiting.
Her feet wanted to run away. But the three pistols hanging from his belt made it clear she wouldn’t get far. With another regal nod, she accepted his offer and allowed him to help her inside her dead husband’s coach.
The sun rose as the horses were whipped into movement. She looked back toward the castle and saw the grove of trees and the field where she’d first met her husband.
She was right back where she’d started. But she’d been forever changed.
She’d face whatever came next knowing she’d had this time with Cam to remember. Those all-too-short months had made all the coming pain worth enduring.
…
Cam knew something was wrong as soon as he rode into the bailey.
The feeling of unrest he’d had the whole trip had increased until he’d found himself racing his horse the last hour to get home and see his wife.
But she wasn’t waiting for him. Instead, he was faced with a grim-looking Lachlan.
Cam passed his horse over to a waiting groom and greeted the laird. “Lach.” He nodded. “I’m honored you came out here to meet me, but if I can be honest, you’re not really the person I wish to see.”
“I know, but I didn’t want you to wonder why she wasn’t here to greet you.”
Unease snaked around Cam’s stomach, squeezing uncomfortably, far worse than the fear at the first cry of battle when his body lurched into action. This was cold, numbing. He was unable to move.
“What’s happened?” he asked, knowing he couldn’t bear to hear the answer.
“She’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“The English came for her.”
Cam looked around the keep in confusion. “I missed the battle? We lost?”
“There was no battle. She went willingly. It was why you were sent away. So you wouldn’t be here to make it bloody.”
Cam stared at his friend in horror, unable to swallow the profound betrayal. “You tricked me into leaving the castle so you could turn over a woman—my woman—to be hanged? Your own wife’s sister?” He couldn’t hide his disgust. “What kind of man have you become?”
“The kind who honors the wishes of my wife’s sister, despite feeling strongly otherwise.” He held out a folded parchment.
“What is that?”
“The letter she wrote you. She wrote one to all of us.”
“I don’t want a bloody letter. I want my damn wife!” Cam brushed his hand in the air, refusing to take the parchment as he walked in a circle. “How long ago did she leave? I can still catch them.”
His horse was spent, but surely he could borrow another and be on his way.
“You were not yet off MacKinlay lands to the west as she was leaving in the carriage to the southeast for London.”
“Four days. I can catch up to them.” It would be a struggle, but he’d make it work.
Lachlan shook his head. “And then what?”
“I’ll fight whoever’s holding her and steal her back.”
“They’ll only send others in their place. Don’t ye see? You’ll never be free. She killed a bloody duke. They won’t just turn a blind eye to murder. Especially when the killer is a Scot. She’ll swing, if only to show their bloody power over us.”
“Nay!” Cam roared and took a step toward the stables. He’d get a fresh horse and leave this instant. He’d get Mari back and they’d run. Somewhere far away. He wasn’t sure where yet. They’d figure it out when he had her in his arms once again.
He got to the stables and found his way blocked by Bryce, Liam, and four of his other men.
“Stand down,” he ordered, but they didn’t move.
In fact, they stepped out toward him, creating a half circle. He spun to see Lachlan close in with three other warriors.
Cam pulled his sword. “I don’t want it to come to this. But I’ll strike you down if you don’t get out of my way so I can go claim my wife and bring her home.”
His voice cracked on the last word. He knew he’d not be able to return to Dunardry. He wouldn’t bring the English down on his clan.
“Cam, take the letter. I’m sure she explained her decision—”
“No!” He pulled his dirk so both hands held weapons. He was one man facing down ten warriors. Most of them trained by him. All his brothers, his kin. “Please,” he begged, knowing he’d not win against them all. Not at the same time. “Help me get her back. I beg you.”
Lach swallowed and shook his head. “I canna. She didn’t want it. She chose to go in peace rather than risk harm to those she loves. You would have done the same. You know in your heart it was the bravest thing to do. The only thing possible.”
Cam let out a sob and fell to his knees, his weapons scattered in the mud.
The men gathered around him, placing hands on his shoulders and head, some whispering prayers, some wordlessly telling him they hurt for him. The icy rain on his neck added to the chill in his bones as he wailed, his cries echoing off the stone walls of the courtyard.
When the pain had exhausted him, the men helped him to his feet and led him off. He didn’t bother to look where he was going. He knew wherever it was, there would be whisky.
Even when he was locked in the dungeon, he barely noticed. He was numb from pain and longed to become even more so with drink. Through the grates of the cell, his men plied him with whisky, and all sat near to drink with him. It wasn’t until the next morning when he woke feeling like hell itself that he realized he was locked up.
His cell was clean and covered in fresh straw, but it was the dungeon.
What the bloody hell?
“Why am I in here?” he demanded o
f Lach, who sat against the wall outside his cell. He looked as if he’d been there all night.
“I couldn’t be sure all the warriors in the clan would be able to stop you if you decided to go after her. I don’t want anyone hurt, least of all you.” Lach stood and let out a sigh. “And I don’t know that any of us truly wants to stop you. For everyone’s safety, you will remain in there until we hear that it’s been done.”
Been done.
With horror, he realized Lach meant that his wife had been hanged and was dead.
“What would you do if it were Kenna?” Cam asked, tears of anguish blurring his vision.
“I’d hope you would be the one sitting out here making sure I dinna do something that would endanger the whole clan.”
“I wouldn’t,” Cam declared gruffly. “I’d be on the horse next to yours as we rode like the devil himself to go get her back.” That thought brought on a different question. “Does Kenna know what you’ve done?”
Lach frowned. “Why do you think I spent the night down here with you instead of in my bed with her? She’s spitting mad. I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me.”
It was small consolation. “I know I never will,” Cam spat out. “In my heart, it’s the same as if you’d tied the rope around her neck yourself.”
Lach’s eyes, already bleak in the low light, shimmered. “Mayhap if you read her letter—”
“I’m not reading the damned letter. If she wanted to say something to me, she should have bloody well been here to tell me herself. Not snuck off as soon as I turned my back.” Cam’s chest was on fire. The slash he’d suffered in battle and the broken ribs had been nothing compared to this pain. He couldn’t breathe.
Lach had already dropped the parchment through the grate. It lay on the stone floor at Cam’s feet.
“I’ll hate you forever for this, Lachlan MacKinlay.” Cam’s voice was calm as he stared at the man he’d once loved like a brother. He would have to move to another clan, for he’d never respect his laird again.
Lachlan let out a breath and nodded. His head hung in despair. When he finally turned to leave, Cam saw unshed tears in the man’s eyes, but he didn’t feel the slightest spark of sympathy.
Despite the fire blazing in the hearth across from his cell, he began to shiver uncontrollably. Picking up the two heavy blankets he’d been given, he wrapped them around himself, but still he shook.
They brought food, but he didn’t eat. They brought whisky as well, but he was past his desire for oblivion. He paced his cell, thinking and planning.
Surely there must be a way to get out of here. When he’d shaken every bar and tested every stone twice, he gave up and slumped onto his pallet. Other than the maid who brought his food, he hadn’t seen anyone. No doubt they were giving him time to be alone with his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse.
When the main door opened and he heard the soft footsteps of a woman, he assumed they had sent him more food. Was it already time for supper again? He’d lost track of time.
“Cam?” a familiar voice called.
Kenna.
He came close to the bars, and she reached out to take his hand. When tears filled her eyes, he gave in to his own grief once again. He hadn’t cried since he was eleven and his dear mother died. But today he couldn’t seem to stop.
“I have a plan,” Kenna whispered, brushing her tears away.
For a moment, her words made no sense. Then they sparked, and hope began to stir. A plan? That meant doing something to get Mari back.
Kenna held up the key to his cell and glanced toward the main door.
“Come. We must hurry.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The stench of London woke Mari, and like many other times on their long voyage from Scotland, she was forced to pound on the roof so the driver would stop. She barely exited the carriage before being ill.
She’d not been one for travel sickness before, but her nerves were a jumble and had made her nauseous. Who could blame her? She was facing certain death.
Wiping her mouth, she took in the pale-pink sky of early morning. Would this be the last day of her life? Would they even bother with a trial?
Sir Ridley did a fair job of hiding his annoyance at yet another delay. No doubt he had a large bounty waiting to be claimed upon his return with her.
Admittedly, over the weeks as they’d traveled, the man had been a gentleman. Even his pointed comments had died down after a few days, and he’d spoken with her as a regular person. Once he’d even asked for her account of that night. She’d explained her terror, and how she’d been certain her life was at stake. It seemed ironic now. She hadn’t saved her life at all. She’d only delayed her death.
But no. In that delay, she had made wonderful memories to take with her to the gallows. Memories of a large Highlander with a kind heart and a blissful touch. She would recall the tight hugs of her nephews and the soft smile of her beloved sister.
“I am taking you to Blackley House so you may change and rest in comfort. You’ll be guarded heavily while arrangements are made to bring you before the lords for your trial.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He thought he was doing her a kindness, but in truth, she hadn’t ever wanted to set foot in that house again. It had been a place of pain and fear, not comfort.
When she was brought inside, Lucy came to her in tears. “Oh, Your Grace. Are you all right?”
“Yes, Lucy,” she assured the maid, though it was untrue. Nothing would be all right ever again. “I’m just tired.”
“Of course. Let us put you in the blue room. The other room is…not ready for guests,” she said.
Mari nearly laughed. First, because she wasn’t a guest. And second, because she was doubtless the reason the room was unusable.
“The dowager duchess is here,” Lucy shared as they walked upstairs to the blue room.
Mari gasped at this news. The Dowager Duchess of Endsmere had been an unhappy shrew even before Mari had killed her son. Lord only knew how much worse her attitude would be now. She’d never wanted her son to marry Mari.
At this rate, Mari might be begging the lords to end her sooner rather than later.
Lucy helped her into bed, where she closed her eyes, feeling the sway of the carriage even now that she was on solid ground. She squeezed her eyes tighter, but it didn’t help. She vomited what little was in her stomach and sat on the floor.
Lucy came rushing back in, having not gotten far. “Are you ill, Your Grace?”
“It’s travel sickness. I’ve had it since the morning I left.” She blinked and shook her head. “Actually, I was sick before I got in the carriage. It’s nerves. Facing death will do that.”
Lucy looked her over critically. “Have you been eating more recently, my lady?”
Mari shook her head. “No. I could barely keep anything down the whole journey here. I’ve eaten far less. Though truthfully, I could stand a bite to eat now.”
Lucy tilted her head to the other side thoughtfully.
“What?” Mari asked.
“As you say, you’ve eaten less. Yet, that nightgown is tighter across your bosom than it was before you left. Traveling sickness doesn’t start before traveling. I believe, Your Grace, you’re with child,” Lucy announced happily.
Mari looked into the smiling eyes of her maid while she counted the days since she’d last had her courses. She counted a second and then a third time to confirm, and then swallowed.
“Good heavens. I think you may be right.”
Sleep was hard found after that, despite her exhaustion. Mari worried what would happen to her child. Would they hang her despite her condition?
“I’m sorry, little one,” she whispered into the darkness, tenderly touching her stomach.
…
Cam didn’t want to st
op, but he had to. He’d never run a horse to death and he wouldn’t start now. His da always told him there was a special place in hell for those who mistreated their beasts. Cam was already living in hell, but he surely didn’t want to make things worse.
While his horse rested, Cam stretched his stiff muscles. Blast Lachlan for confining him in a cell like a criminal. Cam would never be able to thank Kenna enough for releasing him. Though he knew it wasn’t only for his sake she’d planned his escape. She’d wanted someone to go rescue her sister, and Cam was the only willing accomplice who would defy the laird’s orders.
Lachlan would no doubt be enraged, but he wouldn’t hurt Kenna. Cam wouldn’t have left if he’d had any worry she’d be in danger for their actions.
As the days of travel wore on, the familiar mountains and valleys of the Highlands dropped away. He’d never been so far from home, but he didn’t think Dunardry would ever feel like home to him again. Not without Mari.
He occasionally pulled out her letter, still sealed and unread, and wondered what words she’d left him. No doubt it was goodbye, and therefore he’d not open it. He wasn’t ready to admit he would never see her again.
He might well be too late already, but he needed to go and at least try to bring her home.
…
After spending an hour being sick and then being dressed in one of her former fancy gowns by Lucy, Mari went down for breakfast. She was always famished after being sick.
She’d been at Blackley House for five days now, and so far she had avoided the other inhabitant. Mari rather hoped she would continue her run of luck for the entire duration of her stay, but she wasn’t big on luck lately. It wasn’t a surprise to find the dowager duchess sitting in the breakfast room with a plate of eggs and a scowl.
“Good morning, Mother,” Mari said, her normal way to address the dowager.
“Please don’t feign familiarity with me.”
“Well, a good morning to you anyway.” Mari hadn’t apologized to the woman for killing her son, because she wasn’t sorry. The man had been a monster. But she only had a short time left, so she damn well wouldn’t spend it arguing with the unpleasant woman.
Her Accidental Highlander Husband (MacKinlay Clan) Page 22
