He almost regretted his forthrightness when he felt a shiver shudder through her. But hiding the truth from her wouldn’t help keep her safe. She needed to know exactly what they were up against: the most powerful, wily, and vengeful king in Christendom, who was out for blood.
Bella MacDuff had made a powerful enemy when she’d placed a crown on Bruce’s head. He hoped to hell it was worth it.
Though the light was fading with the dusk, he could still make out the play of fear and worry on her stubborn features. “But we shall have at least some reprieve. They will not find us right away. You said they did not follow us?”
He shook his head. “Not from what we could tell.” Hopefully, the English wouldn’t realize the ladies had separated from the rest of the army. What was left of it, anyway.
“It’s Rob—the king—they want. They’ll follow him west.”
This time he didn’t tell her what he thought. It wasn’t just the king Edward would pursue with a vengeance. If they discovered the ladies missing, they would come after them as well. Moreover, Kildrummy Castle, with its strategic location at the juncture of the roads leading north into Buchan and Atholl, was a valuable prize even without the queen and Bella.
She took his silence as agreement and relaxed against him slightly as they navigated the path leading up to Kildrummy. The castle sat on a rise, surrounded by a wide ditch in the front and a steep riverbank in the back—natural defenses made nearly impenetrable by the strength of the castle itself. High, thick stone walls were topped with numerous towers to defend against any encroachers who attempted to cross the ditch. The massive donjon known as the Snow Tower was seven stories high, with walls in places eighteen feet thick.
Lachlan knew something was wrong even before they crossed the narrow bridge to the two gatehouse towers that guarded the main entry to the castle. Though it was dusk, it was still light enough for villagers to be milling about. But the place was deserted.
He could almost feel the tension in the air. If Gordon hadn’t ridden ahead to warn Nigel Bruce of their arrival, he suspected they would have found the portcullis down, the gates barred, and the arrow slits in the towers filled with archers.
He tried to keep his wariness from the countess, not wanting to wipe the relieved smile from her face as they passed under the gate.
But his instincts were validated the moment they rode into the courtyard. His eyes found Gordon’s in the subdued crowd that had gathered to welcome them. The other man shook his head.
Damn.
Lachlan quickly dismounted and helped Bella down, taking care for her ankle, though it seemed to have healed.
After Nigel Bruce greeted his sister-in-law, his sisters, his niece and nephew, and Bella, the young knight turned to him and extended his hand. “MacRuairi.”
Lachlan returned the firm grasp of forearm to forearm. Much like Gordon and MacSorley, Nigel Bruce was a hard man not to like. Bruce’s favorite brother had wit, charm, and the kind of even-keeled temperament that people gravitated toward. He’d impressed Lachlan on the battlefield as well, fighting with a ferocity not typically seen in his noble counterparts.
“I’m glad to see you,” the young knight said, “but I fear it will not be for long.”
Though he spoke in a low voice, Bella had heard him. The momentary relief Lachlan had glimpsed when they’d entered the castle gates was gone. “What is it?” she asked.
Nigel gave her a somber smile. “Come,” he said, taking her hand. “You must be hungry and exhausted. You can eat and sit in comfort by the fire in the Great Hall while I tell you what is happening.”
But Lachlan already knew what young Bruce was going to say: The English were coming.
Bella listened to Robert’s younger brother with a growing pit in the bottom of her stomach. The safe sanctuary she’d hoped to find at Kildrummy had proved a cruel mirage. A nightmare from which she could not wake. How much more of this could she take? The constant danger. Living on the run. When would it ever end?
“The Prince of Wales landed in Aberdeen the day before yesterday,” Nigel said. “Even hauling their siege engines, it won’t take them longer than a few days to cover less than forty miles. When the scouts return we will know for sure, but I expect they will camp near Alford tonight and be outside our gates before the sun has set tomorrow night.”
Only Bella, Christina Bruce, and the queen had remained on the dais after the meal to hear the men discuss their plans, and the three women exchanged distraught glances.
“We’ll leave for the coast in the morning for the journey to Norway,” Lachlan said.
Bella bit back a cry. Norway! It was so far away.
Nigel shook his head. “You can’t go by ship. At least not from here. They’re expecting my brother to escape by sea, and Edward has his fleet patrolling the east coast from the Knuckle of Buchan to Berwick.” He cut off MacRuairi’s protest. “I know what you Islanders can do in a galley, but you will have women and children to man your ship, not seasoned warriors. I can’t spare many men. We’ll need all the soldiers we can get to hold the castle for my brother. It’s safer to travel by land, at least until you’ve reached the Firth. Once you’ve past Buchan you can secure a galley.”
Bella couldn’t stand silent any longer. “But why must we leave at all? Why can’t we just stay here with you?”
Lachlan pinned her with his gaze. She saw the hint of compassion in his eyes and knew he saw too much. He’d guessed her reason for not wanting to flee to Norway. The separation the past few months from Joan had been hard enough. But leaving Scotland …
“It will only be for a little while,” he said quietly.
Tears sprang to her eyes. This time they both knew he lied. “But this castle is one of the strongest in Scotland. Built to withstand even Edward’s Warwolf,” she said, referring to the King of England’s infamous trebuchet. “Surely it is safer to stay behind these walls than to be hunted across the countryside?”
Nigel might not know the source, but he’d sensed her distress. “Have you ever been through a siege, my lady?” She shook her head, and he continued. “You would not wish to. I need to hold the castle for my brother’s return. It could take months.”
Bella swallowed. Or longer.
“My orders were to take you to Norway if the English drew too close,” Lachlan said.
Her fists clenched. Every bone in her body recoiled at the idea of leaving the castle. At leaving Scotland. At leaving her daughter—again.
The queen put her hand on hers. “It’s what Robert wished,” she said gently.
Bella held the other woman’s gaze for a moment, seeing her own fear reflected there, and nodded.
Forgive me, Joan. I swear it will not be much longer. The distance might be greater, but her goal would never change: to have her daughter back in her arms as soon as possible.
She felt Lachlan’s eyes on her again and when she turned, was surprised to see the flash of anger before he shifted his gaze back to Nigel.
What had she done now?
“We do have an advantage,” Lachlan said.
“What advantage can we possible have?” Christina Bruce asked.
“Nigel said there are spies and roving war parties all over the area, and that they probably have marked our arrival. If we can get out of the castle without being seen, they will think we are still inside and won’t be hunting us.”
“But how can we leave without being seen?” the queen asked.
Lachlan turned to Nigel. “Is there still a passage to the well-house on the other side of the riverbank through the old cistern chamber?”
Nigel lifted a brow. “You know about that? Aye, it still exists. The well dried up years ago and ’tis no longer needed since the new one was dug at the base of the Snow Tower. The passage hasn’t been used in some time; I would not vouch for its state of repair.”
Lachlan explained his plan. They would leave from the postern gate before dawn and enter the sunken stepped passageway that desce
nded the steep wall of the riverbank to the cistern chamber and emerged on the other side in a tunnel to the abandoned well-house. They would disguise themselves with dark cloaks over plain clothing, and travel on foot until horses could be procured.
“You will not be able to take much,” he said.
None of the women said anything. They didn’t have much left. Most of their belongings had been left behind after Methven.
“But it must be over sixty miles to Moray,” Christina Bruce cried. “My son will never be able to walk that far.”
“We’ll find horses as soon as we can. Until then we’ll take turns carrying the young earl,” Lachlan said.
He had a plan for everything, Bella thought glumly, wishing a reason could be found not to go.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement. A man of about forty years with enormous arms—rivaling those of Robbie Boyd—passed by the table with a sack of grain on each broad shoulder. Another man soon followed. And then another.
She waited until the men had finished discussing their plans before asking Nigel, “What are they doing?”
“The blacksmith and his sons are helping to move the grain into the Great Hall for the siege.”
Her eyes widened with understanding. The Great Hall was built of stone and wouldn’t burn as easily if fire were pitched over the walls.
The gravity of what had befallen them knotted in her chest.
Bella lingered at the table after many of the others had left to start preparations. Her cousin and a few of the other ladies had returned from putting the children to sleep, and Lachlan had gone over to inform them of the plan. She could see from their pale faces that the news was not being received well. They were all exhausted and scared.
He seemed to be trying to ease their worries. How gallant of him, she thought with a pinch in her chest. A pinch that grew worse when she saw him lead them out of the Hall. She watched them go, not knowing why she suddenly felt so forgotten.
“He’s not interested in them, you know.”
Bella turned to find William beside her. She hadn’t even heard him approach. Her cheeks flushed. “Who?”
He smiled at her attempt to feign ignorance. “MacRuairi. He’s relaxed around those women because they’re safe.”
And I’m not?
William laughed, guessing her thoughts. “Exactly. He avoids you on purpose.”
Embarrassed, she tried to dissuade him, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “It doesn’t make any difference to me. He’s hardly the sort of man a lady would be interested in.”
Something she needed to remember.
Though it was the truth, Bella felt a pang of conscience in saying it. She sounded priggish. But a bastard, a heartless mercenary, a disreputable scourge, wasn’t an appropriate suitor for ladies of their ilk. Even if he wasn’t as wholly unredeemable as she’d initially thought.
William frowned. “Don’t judge him too harshly. MacRuairi’s had a rough time of it.”
The dangerous spark of curiosity rekindled. “What do you mean?”
The young warrior shrugged. “Ask him. He’ll tell you.”
She hid her disappointment with indifference. “No matter. It’s not important.” Not wanting William to get the wrong impression, she changed the subject. “Will you be going with us?”
“Aye.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Norway isn’t all that far, my lady. It’s faster to get to Norway by ship from the Isles than it is to get to Edinburgh. If your daughter needs you, you can reach her. She’ll know you had no choice.”
Bella smiled, a fresh wave of tears brimming in her eyes. He was a kind man. “I know, but thank you for saying it. At least Joan knows that I did not intend to leave her. I can take solace in that. I’m grateful to Robert for thinking to take word to her.”
Gordon’s brows drew together. “Bruce didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“But he told me a messenger had gotten word to Joan.”
“Aye, but the king didn’t order it.”
“Then, who …?” Her voice slowed to a stop. Her gaze snapped to William’s in silent question.
He pushed back from the table and cast a glance toward the opposite end of the dais. “Who do you think?”
Bella was stunned, following the direction of his gaze. Lachlan had returned to the Hall and stood talking to Nigel. Had he been the one to take the message to Joan? But why, why would he do that?
It was kind and thoughtful. Two words that didn’t usually come to mind when she thought of him.
Had she misjudged him? Was he not the opportunistic brigand, loyal only to his purse, that she first thought? Was he not immune to what was going on around him? Did he care more than he let on?
Did he care for … her?
It shocked her how much she wanted it to be true.
Barely had the question formed when Nigel withdrew a small leather bag from the sporran at his waist and handed it to Lachlan, who quickly tucked it in his cotun.
It was like a slap in the face. There was no noble purpose hiding under his mercenary facade. He’d never pretended differently; why should she try to make him into something he wasn’t? She knew why: to find an excuse for this illogical attraction to him.
Feeling foolish and not a little angry with herself, Bella left the Hall. If she was walking a little fast, it was because there was so much to do before they left. She wasn’t fleeing. And if her eyes were blinking a little too rapidly, it was because they were burning from the dry air of the peat fires.
What the hell was wrong with her? Why had she fled the Hall as if the devil were nipping at her heels?
Lachlan followed her out the door and into the courtyard. “Countess!”
He knew she heard him when she flinched, but she didn’t stop. He caught up to her and grabbed her arm. “Damn it, what’s the matter with you?”
In the torchlight, her eyes shimmered. “Nothing.” She tried to jerk away. “Let go of me.”
He dropped her arm, surprised by the coldness of her voice.
“Was there something you wanted?” she said tonelessly, not looking at him.
He frowned, confused. “You should be more careful with your ankle. You were walking too hard and too fast.”
Hell, he sounded like a nursemaid. The lass was making him daft.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Damn it, Bella. What’s the matter? Why are you so angry? Is it about Norway? We can’t stay here. Surely you see that? It’s the king’s orders,” he reminded her. It hadn’t escaped his notice what had persuaded her before. “It’s what Robert wishes,” the queen had said. It was clear Bruce held great power over her. The question that kept grating on him was why.
“And how much is our safety worth?”
He jerked back at the scorn in her tone. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw Nigel give you the bag of coin. I don’t know why it surprises me. You would probably sell your mother if the price was high enough.”
He stilled; every muscle in his body went hard. Slowly, he forced himself to relax. A smile curled his mouth. “She wouldn’t have been worth much.”
Bella gasped in shock. “How can you say something so horrible?”
He shrugged indifferently. “It’s the truth.”
She studied him in silence for a moment. He knew she’d sensed there was more to the story when she asked, “Who was she?”
“A Welsh princess my father caught sight of on one of his raids and decided to take, in keeping with my Norse ancestors’ penchant to take thralls.” He didn’t waste time on bitterness. The past was the past; it couldn’t be changed.
“What happened to her?”
He held her gaze, deciding to tell her the truth. No matter how ugly. “She killed herself after my youngest brother was born rather than bear more bastards.”
The petite, beautiful woman who’d once been a princess had hated the sight of them. Servants had raised him and his brothers.
She put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
He was long past the point of compassion, but he accepted the gesture with a nod.
A sharp bark of laughter rose in his throat. “She won in the end, though.” The countess’s brows furrowed together over her nose. He answered the silent question. “She died cursing my father, and her curses came true.”
She hesitated. “What did she say?”
“She vowed that he would have no more sons. He didn’t. Leaving one of the most ancient kingdoms in the Western Isles without a legitimate male heir.”
“Your sister might have inherited the land, but you could still have been chieftain.” He didn’t say anything. “Why have you turned your back on your clan?”
They were better off. He smiled, unable to resist. “It’s more lucrative escorting countesses.”
Her mouth tightened a little, but his words didn’t prick as much as he intended.
It shouldn’t bother him that she’d jumped to the conclusion she had about the money. Usually it was warranted. He wasn’t ashamed of what he did. And he sure as hell didn’t explain his motives to anyone. But her scorn bothered him, damn it. For the first time in a long time, someone’s opinion mattered.
And he sure as hell didn’t like it.
“Did you take a message to my daughter?”
The quick change of subject disarmed him. It took him an instant too long to respond. “What are you talking about?”
His annoyance didn’t put her off. He must be losing his touch.
“Someone took a message to my daughter. Was it you?”
He held her gaze in the moonlight, looking for something he didn’t expect to find. “Does it matter?”
She didn’t answer right away. “I think it does.”
Lachlan felt himself pulled by the strange emotion he saw in her eyes. Curiosity. Attraction. And most dangerous and tempting of all: possibility.
He could almost believe she meant it.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. He leaned closer. Her lips parted instinctively at his movement. He smothered an oath. Knowledge surged inside him, hot, primitive, and raw. He could kiss her. And God, he wanted to! Wanted it so badly it scared him. Christ, he could almost taste her on his lips.