Realizing her tears were only causing Archie more guilt and distress, Elizabeth quickly got her emotions under control. But after days of fearing she might never see her young brother again, she was reluctant to take her eyes off him or let him be pried from her side.
But the lad was exhausted, and once she’d assured herself that he had eaten as much as he could—his beaten, starved appearance had shocked her—she resisted the urge to follow him to the barracks and watched him walk out of the Hall with Joanna’s brothers.
Tears swelled in her eyes and throat, the tumult of emotion ranging from relief to heartbreak.
Jamie, who had been fixed to Archie’s other side throughout the meal (also, it seems, reluctant to let him out of his sight), put his hand over hers. “He’ll be fine, El.”
She turned to meet her brother’s gaze. “Will he?” she challenged, anger flaring inside her. “I’m not so sure. He is not the same mischievous, overly confident young brother who snuck away from Blackhouse a week ago. He has aged ten years since I saw him last.”
She knew it was unfair to take her anger out on Jamie, but he seemed to understand. “No, he is not,” he admitted. “But he is alive and safe, and we can be grateful for that. The rest will work itself out in time.”
The tears finally slid down her cheeks. “It’s not fair. Whatever he’s gone through . . .” She had figured out the basics and wasn’t sure she wanted to know the details. “He’s only a boy, Jamie.”
“Aye, and he’s not the only young person who has suffered in this war. But he’s more fortunate than most, so remember that.”
“I’ll try.”
Jamie nodded. “I’m sending him back to Blackhouse with Richard and Thomas tomorrow.”
Elizabeth’s heart jumped. “But I thought he would come to Edinburgh with us.”
With the castle mostly dismantled, James was anxious to return to the king, who was currently at Holyrood with his nephew—her soon-to-be fiancé, Thomas Randolph, the new Earl of Moray.
“He can join us when he has recovered, but Lady Eleanor will be returning from England at the end of the week. She will know what he needs.”
Elizabeth wanted to argue, but she knew Jamie was right. Their formidable stepmother had been through many difficult times in this war with many husbands, including her father when he’d been returned from prison. She would know how to help her son.
Elizabeth nodded and turned her head back to her plate, pushing the small pieces of bread and cheese she’d broken off but hadn’t eaten around the trencher with her finger. She cast a quick glance in Joanna’s direction a few tables away but drew her eyes back sharply. She wasn’t sure what the tight, prickly feeling was in her chest, but she didn’t like it. If she didn’t know better, she would think it was jealousy. Which was ridiculous. Joanna and Thom had been friends since before Elizabeth had met them. They were like siblings. Why should she care that they were talking, laughing, and so clearly happy to see one another?
So what if when Joanna had cried on seeing him and thrown herself into his arms he’d laughed, spun her around, and hugged her tight. So what if every time Elizabeth heard him laugh, she remembered how it used to be, and it felt as if a knife was sinking deeper and deeper into her heart. So what if he hadn’t looked at her—not once—and acted as if she weren’t even there. As if he hadn’t held her in his arms three nights ago, kissed her, and made her feel something she’d never felt before.
Who was she trying to fool? His indifference, especially compared to how he was with Joanna, hurt. It hurt a lot.
She wasn’t the only one casting glances to the other table. Jamie, too, could barely hide his annoyance. But he was too smart to try to do something about it. Those who didn’t know Joanna well only saw the gentle and sweet outside, but her sister-in-law had steel in her spine that was every bit as rigid and unbending as Jamie’s. When it came to Thom, she would defend him as fiercely as she would Uilleam. Jamie knew better than to try to interfere.
“You were right,” Jamie said, catching her last glance. “We wouldn’t have been able to free Archie without him. No one else could have climbed that cliff. I’d forgotten how good he was.”
She suspected Jamie had forgotten quite a bit when it came to his old friend. “We are fortunate he agreed to help. I should thank him.”
Although she was fairly sure the last thing Thom wanted from her was her thanks. “Leave me the hell alone.”
He’d made his wishes quite clear.
“I already thanked him,” Jamie said.
She couldn’t hide her surprise. “You did?”
Jamie shrugged. “It was the least I could do after not giving him any choice in the matter. I already told you that he was ordered to go, and from what Carrick said, he was furious.”
“But I thought—” Her mouth slammed shut, all of a sudden realizing what had happened.
Thom had lied to her. He’d let her think he still had a choice. He’d let her try to convince him, let her bargain her virtue, and let her kiss him, while already knowing that he had been ordered to go.
He’d tricked her. Used her desperation for her brother in some kind of misguided form of vengeance for perceived wrongs at Douglas hands. The irony of course was that she’d done it for him, trying to salvage his pride.
And how easily she’d succumbed. How satisfying it must have been for him.
Her eagle-eyed brother hadn’t missed any of her reaction. “You thought what?”
She didn’t say anything, pressing her lips together tightly.
“You spoke to him, didn’t you?” He swore. “I knew there was something odd going on. Damn it, Ella, I told you to stay away from him.”
Elizabeth glared back at him. “I thought a request from me would be easier to swallow than an order from you.”
“And he agreed this time?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”
Elizabeth didn’t flinch. She wasn’t going to give her dogged brother any bone to sniff. “I don’t know why. Maybe he liked hearing me beg. Does it really matter?”
Jamie watched her a little longer and then shrugged, apparently satisfied. “Nay, I suppose not. But as grateful as I am for what he did to help with Archie, I can’t say I’ll be sad to wave him off tomorrow when he leaves to fetch his widow.”
Tomorrow? She glanced over one more time and willed Thom to look in her direction. When he didn’t, she turned away.
It’s for the best, she told herself.
Then why did it hurt so terribly?
“I’ve missed you, Thommy. We’ve all missed you.”
Thom gave Jo a small smile that was surprisingly wistful. “I’ve missed you, too,” he said. It was good to see her—really good. He paused, his eyes meeting hers intently. “You are happy? He treats you well?”
Joanna’s mouth split into a wide grin. “I am obnoxiously happy, and James treats me like a queen.”
Thom studied her a few moments more, and seeing nothing to dispel the truth of her words grumbled, “He’d better. ’Tis how you deserve to be treated. After what he did—”
She put her hand on his arm to stop him. “That was a long time ago, Thommy. James has changed.”
Thom held her gaze a little longer before nodding. If Joanna’s state of bliss was any indication, Thom was willing to concede that Douglas had changed—at least in some ways. In others, he was exactly the same. His ambition where his sister was concerned, for example. Randolph. Thom gritted his teeth and tried—unsuccessfully—to prevent the muscles in his neck from bunching.
Mistaking the cause of his reaction, Joanna squeezed his arm and forced his gaze back to hers. “Truly, Thom.” She smiled. “And I don’t need a ‘big brother’ to watch out for me anymore, I know how to fight my own battles.”
He suspected she did. But it would never stop him from watching out for her. “Aye, well, that’s the thing about siblings. You have them whether you like it or not.”
She laughed, but then after a moment so
bered. “I wish you would come home more often. Johnny misses you—and so does your father.”
Thom didn’t say anything. What could he?
Sensing Elizabeth’s gaze on him again, it took everything he had not to look in her direction. He didn’t trust himself. When she’d seen him walk into the Hall a short while ago and burst into tears, he’d nearly forgotten everything and gone to her.
He was a bloody fool. For three years he’d had to work to put the past behind him, and just when he’d finally succeeded, he lost his damned mind and kissed her.
You did a lot more than kiss her. He fought a pained groan as the memories assailed him again.
He might have resisted the temptation to look at her, but Joanna hadn’t missed Elizabeth’s one-sided exchange. “She misses you, too. More than she wants to admit.” Thom’s mouth fell in a hard line; he didn’t say anything. “Has it helped?” she asked. “Has staying away made it any easier?”
He was tempted to pretend he didn’t know what she meant. If it had been anyone other than Jo, he would have. But she knew him too well. She’d been there. She’d seen his broken heart and understood because she’d had one, too. And for the same reason: Douglas pride and ambition. Hers might have turned out differently—and Thom didn’t begrudge Jo her happy ending—but she had to realize that not all bards’ tales came true. And unlike Jamie, who had loved Jo since almost the first day they’d met, Elizabeth had never loved him. She’d never even been aware of him like that.
But she was aware of him now, he thought with not a small surge of satisfaction. Very aware.
There be dragons . . . He pushed the dangerous thoughts away.
“Aye,” he said. “It has made it easier.” At least until recently.
“And you are happy?”
A wry smile turned his mouth. “I’m a soldier fighting in a war; there is not much cause for happiness. But I like what I’m doing, and I am satisfied with how things have progressed so far.”
“You have done well for yourself,” Joanna said. “The earl speaks highly of you.” She paused and glanced over at her husband, who sat with Elizabeth and some of the other men, including MacLeod and Boyd, at the high table with Carrick. “James said you acquitted yourself well on the mission, and that lot,” she said with a nod in the direction of the Phantoms, “are hard to impress.” She smiled. “I’m proud of you. It couldn’t have been an easy adjustment when you first arrived.”
It hadn’t been. The other men-at-arms had made it about as difficult on him as they could. But the blacksmith’s son had withstood everything they’d thrown at him and proved that he had a place among them. He’d earned his right to be there, even if some thought his blood should have barred him from any consideration of knighthood.
Perhaps sensing that he would rather not talk about it, Jo added, “What will you do now? Will you journey with the earl to begin the siege at Stirling, or will you go with us to Edinburgh? I hate to say goodbye when we’ve only just said hello. I’m sure James could be persuaded—”
“Neither,” he said, cutting her off before she could say it. He’d rather die of boredom laying siege to a thousand castles than put himself under Douglas’s authority—one successful mission or not. “I have an errand that has already been delayed too long.”
“Ah, yes, your widow. Ella mentioned that you were considering marriage.”
His mouth fell in a hard line. Would that Ella had been as forthcoming about her own nuptial plans. He gritted his teeth. Randolph . . .
Bloody hell.
“Do you care for her?” Joanna asked.
He looked at her sharply, but then realized she meant the widow. “I barely know her, but she is pleasant, attractive, and wealthy. I’m sure we will get along well enough. It is a good match.”
“I’m sure it is on parchment,” Joanna said. “But there is more to marriage than tochers, alliances, and advancement. Or there can be if you find love.” He stiffened instinctively, a steel wall dropping down before him. But Jo paid it no heed and punched right through it. “Are you certain you and Ella . . . ?”
“Absolutely certain,” he said in a voice that brokered no argument. “There is no me and Ella and there never has been.”
He made the mistake of looking over at her, and for one perilous heartbeat, their eyes met. The bellow of heat that blasted his chest burned a hole right through him. Feelings he didn’t want, feelings that had taken years to be rid of, poured over him in a hot, penetrating wave and threatened to take hold.
He looked away sharply, breaking the connection. Breaking any connection. No way in hell was he going to let it start all over again. He’d had enough of his insides ripped out getting over her the first time.
Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to get out of there. Rutherford Castle and Lady Marjorie were waiting for him. He pushed back from the table and stood before Jo could respond. “Carrick is calling for me.”
The earl wasn’t even looking in his direction.
Joanna knew he was lying, but nodded and stood to return to her husband. “You won’t leave without saying goodbye?”
He shook his head and leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek. “I won’t.”
“Promise?”
He quirked a smile. “Aye, I promise. Although I hope you like being woken at dawn.”
She smiled back at him. “I don’t mind, although James isn’t overly fond of early risings.”
Like his sister, Thom couldn’t help remembering. Ella had always bemoaned his having to get up so early to start the fires and carry the coal when he was a lad. He hadn’t minded, but she’d thought it must be torture.
Memories, blast it. This had to stop.
He left Jo laughing with a promise to make it nice and early and approached the dais where Carrick was seated. He caught his eye and was pleased when the earl immediately called him forward.
“Ah, MacGowan, I was just going to send for you.”
He arched a brow in surprise. “You were?”
“Aye, you are a popular man.”
Thom frowned, having no idea what he was talking about. But from the glance Carrick sent to MacLeod, who was seated a few feet away from him, Thom suspected he’d been hearing about the mission.
“My lord?” he asked, seeking clarification.
The earl held up a folded piece of parchment. “Not an hour after I receive a message from my brother requesting your presence in Edinburgh, MacLeod comes to me with a similar request.” One side of his mouth lifted. “I also received a rather annoyed missive from Lady Marjorie this morning. Apparently the lady’s patience is wearing thin. She is growing tired of waiting for an escort and wonders if she should find other arrangements.”
Thom swore under his breath.
Carrick heard it and laughed. “Aye, the lady is far from subtle, isn’t she? I’m afraid you are going to have some explaining to do to her when you can convince my brother to give you leave.”
Thom pushed aside his worry about Lady Marjorie, still reeling from the news that the king wanted to see him. “Do you know what this is about, my lord?”
“I suspect it is about the same thing that caught MacLeod’s attention, but you’ll have to ask him.”
Thom nodded, not knowing what to say. He was honored and, if he could admit the truth to himself, not a little nervous. The Bruce wanted to see him? The smith’s son had indeed climbed high.
It was just when his chest had started to swell like a pig’s bladder filled with air that Carrick took out a pin. “I understand you are close with Douglas’s wife and sister? You’ll be pleased to hear that you will be riding with them to Edinburgh.”
Pop.
12
IF ELIZABETH WAS secretly pleased that Thom was journeying with them to Edinburgh (and not riding to his widow), she refused to admit it—even to herself. She knew her brother was less than thrilled—to put it mildly—but there was nothing for him to worry about. There was nothing between her and Thom. Not even friendship
.
All right, maybe that wasn’t quite true. There was something between them. Something that fired her blood and made her skin hot whenever she saw him. Identifying it as awkwardness and embarrassment, she was sure it would fade when she became accustomed to seeing him again.
Although how she was supposed to be accustomed to seeing him when all she seemed to be able to notice was how ridiculously attractive he was, she didn’t know.
And she wasn’t the only one. She didn’t understand. It had never bothered her before when the village girls used to flirt with him; why did it bother her now to see practically every unmarried female in the vicinity batting an eye—or two!—in his direction?
Perhaps because he couldn’t trouble himself to lift one or two in her direction. Not once since the night he’d returned with James two days ago had he spoken to her or even glanced her way. But with them leaving for Edinburgh in the morning, she knew that she had to do something to ease the awkwardness between them. She couldn’t see him for hours on end—it would take at least two days, maybe three if the weather was bad, to reach Edinburgh with their large train of carts—and let this continue. People would notice. Like Jo and Izzie, who were already watching her with far too many raised brows and knowing looks.
His words came back to her as she walked across the cold, torchlit yard. “Leave me the hell alone.” She would. Just as soon as they reached Edinburgh, and once she’d had a chance to say her piece.
She found him in the stables. He seemed to be talking to someone—and not in a very nice tone. “So listen up. This is how it’s going to be.”
She stopped and stood on her tiptoes to try to peek around him, but his shoulders blocked her view. Not that she was suffering from the scenery. They were quite impressive shoulders: square, broad, and stacked with thick slabs of round, hard muscle. Or maybe that was considered the tops of his arms? Those were rather impressive as well. She could remember how hard they’d felt when her fingers had tried to dig . . .