Chapter 42
Rosalyn didn’t know where her courage had come from. Perhaps she’d channeled the spirit of her dead father, but even though she was thrilled beyond measure she’d been awarded Fyvie and Lachlan had joined her, she wanted nothing more now than to find her mother and sister.
Bursting through entrance to the serving kitchen, she scared Ursula into shrieks.
“There you are,” Rosalyn shouted, embracing the frightened healer.
Ursula was gasping. “What a scare you’ve given me.”
“What relief you’ve given me,” Rosalyn said releasing her friend. “Why did you not join Lachlan in the great hall?”
Ursula was quick to answer. “With Ethan claiming to have taken your mother and sister, I wanted to make sure they were still safe. I just left them in my chamber with two servants, and ordered them to stay put until I returned.”
The healer’s words eased her fears, but she was anxious to join them. James had offered a Garter escort and she was ready to make her way there without delay.
But before she could voice her concerns, Ursula asked, “Are you the new laird of Fyvie?”
“Yes.” Both she and Lachlan agreed at the same time, then he pointed to her.
“Yes, my lady is the new laird,” he clarified, tossing her one of his dashing grins.
“We must celebrate,” urged her friend, taking her hands.
Rosalyn gave Ursula’s hands a squeeze, but quickly released them when she grew serious. “Aye, we must celebrate, but Ethan is still a concern. The Garter knights and loyal Highlanders are searching the castle now. Blocking all exits, combing all corners of the castle. But we are all still at risk.”
Lachlan placed a protective arm around her shoulder. “Do not worry, he’s more apt to escape than cause harm when he’s lost a wager. He’s a poor loser. All he wants to do brood and drink away his sorrows.”
She wanted to believe him, but he’d killed Greta. “Nay, Lachlan, he’s grown more desperate than you know.”
But Rosalyn got her way and once they’d recruited two Garter knights, it wasn’t long before their group was heading down the corridor toward the healer’s chamber.
Ursula was the first to knock on the door and call out their arrival.
It cracked open slightly and a servant’s head popped out.
“Greta!” Rosalyn shrieked. “I thought you were dead!” She paused, emotional over finding her nursemaid alive. “Ethan said he’d killed you.”
“‘Twould take more than one evil lord to deter me from helping you win Fyvie, my lady.” Then she bowed slightly.
Lachlan gave Rosalyn’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Your efforts have not gone unrewarded, Greta. This is the new Laird of Fyvie,” her husband announced proudly.
“Come,” the maid gestured. “Donna stand in the corridor. Come, your mother and sister will want to share in the good news,” Greta offered, stepping back and the four of them filed in to the welcoming shrieks of her family.
After hugs and tears of joy subsided, there were enough seats for all as Rosalyn told her mother and sister about had transpired.
Grateful for the reunion, but troubled by Ethan’s escape from the great hall, Ursula’s question thankfully turned the conversation to Bishop Passarelli. “Pray tell, then, has the holy man found the Golden Rose of Scotland?”
The Golden Rose. Yes, if he couldn’t have Fyvie, the pope’s gift of honor would be Ethan’s next target. The Rose was valuable beyond measure and could command a king’s ransom. But first Ethan would need to elude the most accomplished knights in all of England.
“Should be safe in its hiding place,” Rosalyn finally answered when no one else had.
She coughed nervously as all eyes were on her.
“You have the Rose, Rose?” her husband asked softly, making all the women twitter with laughter, but Greta remained serious.
“Lady Rose, the Golden Rose may not be safe,” she warned, more guarded than before. “I must confess to ye now that Ethan did nae kill me because I gave him my skeleton key.”
When Roslyn gasped, Greta shuddered. “Not only does he have the key, my lady, he forced me to reveal the Rose’s hiding place,” she confessed, hanging her head.
Rosalyn immediately went to her side, as did her mother and sister. She gently reached for the nursemaids hands, unfolding them from her lap.
“Dear Greta, you are alive and that’s more important than any treasure. Donnae believe you’ve done any wrong.” She squeezed her hands and gazed at her nursemaid lovingly.
“We must rescue the Rose before it’s stolen away again,” Lachlan suggested, standing with his hand on his hilt.
Greta’s eyes brightened, but Rosalyn patted her hands hoping to discourage the idea.
“Saving The Golden Rose of Scotland would be a most noble act, Husband, but none of us should risk leaving this chamber until we know Ethan is found first.”
“Not all are at risk.” Ursula stood when she spoke. “Ethan has no quarrel with me, nor does he consider me a threat. In fact, he may find think me an ally.”
“Or a distraction,” said Lachlan.
“And that’s the point,” the healer pressed. “Tell me where the Rose is hidden, for I am willing to save it for Scotland,” Ursula stated proudly.
The silence in the chamber was more distracting than if she’d heard arguments for or against Ursula’s brave offer. As the new laird, even her husband awaited her decision.
“Then I’ll be going with her,” her nursemaid volunteered, walking over to join Ursula.
Judging by their determination and willingness to volunteer, Rosalyn could not be insensitive to their requests. As much as she wanted to honor their offer, she could not. For it was her responsibility to protect the Golden Rose. And although she questioned his decree, the bishop had insisted Rosalyn was the chosen one.
With an appreciation for all her da had accomplished leading the clan afore her, Rosalyn strode stoically forward to stand before the two volunteers.
“I wish I could grant your request, but I cannot put the two of you in danger,” she announced, glancing to her husband. “From the very start, the Rose is what brought Lachlan and I together. We must finish it.”
Ursula’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded. Greta bowed. It was settled. Leadership wasn’t easy, and Rosalyn imaged it never would be.
~ ~ ~
The castle was eerily silent as Rosalyn led Lachlan through a vacant servant’s work area and down a dark corridor. She stopped finally before the foreboding, iron-latticed door that guarded Fyvie’s supply of surplus and ancient weapons.
They’d traveled with no torch through the castle and as she entered, with Lachlan at her heels, the vast war room appeared even darker than she’d expected. The moonlight shining in through the rooftop loophole windows provided little illumination.
Rosalyn held her finger to her lips as she waved Lachlan to follow her into the massive room, where her favorite treasure chest stood. Where she hoped the Golden Rose still rested safely inside.
Using one of her hands as a guide along the wall, she held Lachlan’s with her other, inching her way toward the back, far corner doused in darkness.
Forced to leave the security of the wall after they’d gone as far as they could, Rosalyn reached out her free hand to wave away the darkness as if she could push it to each side and clear a path for them to pass.
When her knee slammed into something hard, she bit her tongue to keep her from crying out. At the same time, Lachlan ran into her backside, knocking her forward.
With little time to react, but with both arms free, she braced herself for a fall. What she didn’t expect was to land softly on the other side of her tumble. More so, she’d landed in someone’s lap.
A low rumble of laughter followed, but it wasn’t Lachlan’s.
Rosalyn froze, fearful any movement might cause her harm, even with Lachlan standing silent somewhere close by.
“Fitting isn’t it, that we meet again?” Ethan asked, breaking the silence. “Comfy, my dear?”
When she stayed mum, he ambled on. “I’m surprised, though, I thought winning the castle and the lairdship would be enough for you. Won’t you give me something for my trouble? Perhaps the missing Rose?”
Stalling, she contemplated her options. Surely, Lachlan was doing the same. She hoped Ethan assumed she was alone.
“But wait. You and I have some unsettled business. We should take care of that first,” he said, placing his hands on her breasts and squeezing them so hard tears welled. Biting her tongue to keep from swearing, a rush of air passed Rosalyn’s ear.
Whack!
When Ethan’s head snapped back, he finally released her.
“Brother, let’s hope my fist reminded you of your lack of manners.” His voice was cold and laced with anger, but her heart warmed at his defense.
“This lady is my wife, no longer the missing Rose,” Lachlan continued, lifting her out of his twin’s lap. “And you, Ethan, are no longer welcome in our home.”
Relieved to be rescued by her husband from Ethan’s hold and for the moment safe, she was also mindful of his madness. Perhaps Lachlan had grown accustomed to his brutality, for she’d learned when he was brooding, he was dangerous.
“Come, Brother. You’ve won again,” Ethan whined like a young child, “the earldom in Somerset, the fiefdom of Fyvie, the lovely lady Rosalyn. Let me have an award for my trouble. Give me the Golden Rose.”
“Why did have you not made away with it already?” Lachlan asked what she’d wondered. “You’ve had ample time.”
“The skeleton key let me in, but the box would not open,” he griped. “And it’s too awkward and heavy to carry, or I would have been halfway to England by now,” Ethan admitted.
The keys were not identical! Rosalyn now realized. She looked up to heaven and whispered, “Thank you, da.”