26
EOIN’S BLOOD had run cold when he’d heard Margaret’s cry, but it turned to ice when he saw the reason why.
His jaw locked in wintry rage as he quickly removed the plaid—and the dead bird that had been resting on it—from the chamber. He called for one of the servants to dispose of both. He would question them all later, but first he needed to attend to his wife.
She was still pale as he entered the room. He went to the sideboard and poured her a cup of whisky. Handing it to her, he said, “Here, drink this.”
She didn’t argue and did as he bade. He was rewarded by a flush of color to her cheeks.
Handing the cup back to him, she laughed nervously. “At least we don’t need to guess for whom it was meant.”
Eoin’s mouth tightened furiously. No, there wasn’t any doubt. It hadn’t been just any dead bird, it had been a dead raven—the symbol of the MacDowells. “I will find out who was responsible.”
The menace in his voice must have worried her. She put a quelling hand on his arm, her golden eyes wide with worry. “I’m sure there is no real threat. It was probably someone’s bad idea of a jest, or a way of encouraging me to go back home. But this is my home, Eoin, and I won’t let them intimidate me this time. I was merely startled. No real harm was done. It might only make things more difficult.”
“God’s bones, Maggie. You can’t think I will ignore this? Call it what you will, but someone wanted to scare you.”
“Maybe so, but I am not so easily frightened.” A wry smile turned her pretty mouth. “I know you too well to think you will do nothing. I’m just asking you not to overreact. You’ll not gain me any friends by subjecting all your clansmen to an inquisition.”
His mouth fell in a grim line. “I know where to start.”
It was obvious to whom he referred. “I doubt Fin would do something so blatant.”
He didn’t think so either, but no one had been more discontented to hear of Margaret’s return.
The incident cast a pall over the rest of the evening. Eoin explained to his parents what had happened, and they seemed nearly as outraged as he—especially his mother, who pointed out how easily it could have been Eachann who found the dead bird. Indeed, she seemed to have taken the “message” personally, and insisted on questioning the servants herself after he had finished.
His father sent for Fin and his other household guardsmen. One by one, Eoin questioned them, but most of his father’s men—including Fin—had been away all afternoon patrolling the seas to the north and west. They hadn’t returned until the first course of the meal.
The questioning was to no avail; no one had seen anything.
Eoin kept a close eye on Margaret and Eachann (fortunately, the boy wasn’t aware of what had happened) over the next few days, rarely leaving them alone, but nothing appeared amiss. No doubt the coward had been alerted and scurried back into his foxhole.
Margaret was probably right. Eoin doubted it was a real threat as much as something to make her feel unwelcome, but he wouldn’t take any chances. Knowing he couldn’t delay his trip to Dunstaffnage any longer, he was debating whether to take them with him, even if seeing Campbell again so soon provoked more questions from Margaret, when the problem was solved for him. Although not in a way that would make it any easier.
Answering a summons from his father that pulled him away from training, Eoin was surprised to find Campbell waiting for him in the solar. Although the prized scout was the one known for his keen, almost eerie instincts, Eoin could tell right away that this was not a neighborly visit. The members of the Highland Guard had perfected the stone in stony, so Campbell’s expression gave nothing away, but Eoin sensed his friend’s edginess.
To ensure their privacy—and that what they had to say would not be overheard—Eoin’s father stood guard outside the door himself.
As soon as he left, Campbell’s expression turned grave. “I know you are supposed to be on leave, but I need your help.”
“Does this have something to do with your father- in-law?”
“How did you guess?” he asked with dry sarcasm.
Eoin filled him in on the fisherman’s story.
Campbell’s jaw was clenching so hard Eoin wondered if he was second-guessing his decision all those years ago. “That sure as hell sounds like him. We’ve had a few reports of ‘pirate’ attacks in the past few weeks, as well as reports of his men in the area demanding rents from his former tenants.”
Eoin wasn’t surprised. When Bruce had been exiled in the fall of 1306, he’d funded his return to claim his kingdom by sending Eoin, Lamont, Boyd, and MacGregor on similar missions to collect rents from his tenants (or former tenants according to King Edward) in Ayr. At the time their movements had been aided by Campbell, who’d been acting as an informant in the English camp, much as now they relied on information from a secret source in Roxburgh Castle they simply called the Ghost.
“That’s why I’m here,” Campbell explained. “I need you to help me set a trap for them.” He had a credible report the MacDougalls were heading to Appin—the small coastal peninsula between Loch Linnhe and Loch Creran—and wanted to be there waiting for them when they did.
The MacDougalls had a small fort on an islet just off the coast in Loch Linnhe called Stalker, with many loyal clansmen in the area. Despite Bruce’s victory at Brander a few years back, and the fact that he’d made Dunstaffnage his royal headquarters in the Highlands, there were still plenty of clansmen in the area sympathetic to the former Lords of Argyll MacDougalls, who had reigned over this part of Scotland like kings for centuries. Before the war, the MacDougalls had been the most powerful clan in the west. But their ill-fated decision to support the Comyns rather than Bruce had opened the door for the MacDonalds and the Campbells.
“How fast can you be ready?” Campbell asked.
Eoin started to respond, then hesitated. Margaret. It wasn’t just that he hadn’t discovered who had left the raven, he also knew that his leaving was sure to provoke questions. Questions that he didn’t want to answer—or rather, didn’t want to not answer.
Campbell mistook his silence. “Is it your knee? Have you not recovered enough to fight?”
Eoin shook his head. “I resumed training yesterday.”
“Then you are reluctant to leave your wife?” Campbell’s perceptiveness had stopped surprising him years ago. “She’ll want an explanation, and you can’t give her one.”
It wasn’t a question, and Eoin didn’t need to explain. He was sure Bruce wasn’t the only one who didn’t want Margaret to know what he did. Eoin might be ready to trust her again, but that didn’t mean his brethren felt the same.
He cursed, dragging his fingers through his hair. Why the hell did everything have to be so complicated?
“I shouldn’t have come,” Campbell said. “You need more time. I can find someone else. Maybe Hawk . . .”
“You don’t have time to fetch Hawk and be in position by nightfall,” Eoin said flatly.
“I have my brothers. They and a few other guardsmen will be enough.”
Eoin knew Arthur referred to his brothers Dugald and Gillespie, who served the king with Arthur at Dunstaffnage. They were both formidable warriors.
But they weren’t the Highland Guard.
This was his job—his responsibility—and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let one of his brethren down without good cause. A hypothetical threat and wish to avoid conflict wasn’t enough. If something happened because he wasn’t there, he would be responsible.
It was only a few days at most. His father would protect Margaret and Eachann with his life. And if Margaret wanted to know where he was going . . .
Bloody hell, he was going to have to deal with this at some point. It might as well be now.
“Give me a half hour, and I’ll be ready.”
“But what about your wife?”
“I’ll figure something out.”
He just wished he knew what.
Not again.
Margaret stared at Eoin in shock, telling herself not to overreact. But she couldn’t escape the feeling that it was happening all over again. The floor of the chamber suddenly felt as if it were a boat swaying on the ocean. Her head was spinning.
“I have to leave.”
She’d known something like this was going to happen when she’d recognized the man riding through the gate as one of the warriors from Dumfries. During the siege, he’d been quieter than the others and seemed to blend into the background, which is why she hadn’t noticed him right away. Arthur Campbell, she recalled Eoin calling him. He was the youngest brother of Neil Campbell, the chief who’d been with Robert Bruce all those years ago at Stirling Castle and was still by his side now.
Margaret had felt a trickle of unease slither down the back of her neck, sensing that the real world was about to intrude. But if this was their first test, it was a failure so far. She hadn’t missed that he hadn’t told her anything about where he was going or what he was doing. In the dark . . .
Eoin looked pained. “God, Maggie, don’t look at me like that. I hate leaving like this, but I have to go. It’s only a few days at the most. You’ll be safe. My father will personally see that you and Eachann are guarded.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I know you think it wasn’t anything, but I won’t take a chance—”
“It was Marjory.” It was his turn to be shocked. He drew back to gape at her. “I was coming to tell you, but your father said you were in a meeting and could not be disturbed.” Now she knew why. More secrets.
“How do you know?”
“Eachann saw her going into the room with a ‘gift.’ He asked her about it today when Marjory came to spend the afternoon with your mother working on the new tapestry.”
He swore.
“Your mother had much the same reaction, although not so plainly put. I’ve never seen her so angry. I took Eachann from the room, but Marjory left a short while later in tears. I’m sure the incident will not be repeated.”
“I’m sorry, Maggie.” He shook his head, furious. “Damn it, my own sister!”
“You have nothing for which to apologize. Marjory is not your responsibility.”
“I’ll speak with Fin, when I get back.”
“Don’t. It will only make it worse. Besides, I suspect your sister’s marriage doesn’t need any more challenges.”
Perhaps the same could be said of hers. She wanted desperately for Eoin to trust her, but maybe she was asking too much. Maybe forgiveness was all she could expect?
Would that be enough?
In her heart she knew it wouldn’t. She did not need to know all the details, but he could not cut her out of half his life as he had before. Not when she knew the difference now. There was something he was hiding. Something important. But she could not force him to trust her.
She turned away. “I will see you when you return.”
He grabbed her elbow to turn her back. “Don’t be like this, Maggie. I want to tell you, but I can’t.”
She dipped her face so he wouldn’t see her disappointment and hurt. “I understand.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, turning her face back to his. “Nor should you. It’s just . . . damn it, it’s complicated.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She didn’t know whether she’d start sobbing or start hurling demands and accusations at him. But neither would do either of them any good. It would only make it worse.
Patience, she reminded herself. But how long would it take?
Eoin made it as far as the dock before he turned around. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave her like this.
It felt too much like last time—except maybe this time it was worse. He didn’t have accusations and demands to fuel his anger, distracting him and helping him convince himself he was doing the right thing.
He wasn’t doing the right thing. All he could think about was the hurt and disappointment in her eyes when he’d told her. A stony lump had formed in his chest, and it had only grown heavier as he’d left her standing in the barmkin beside his parents, clutching Eachann’s hand like a lifeline. Seeing her so vulnerable ate at him. Margaret was strong, confident, irrepressible. He was breaking her heart, damn it. Just like he’d done six years ago.
“It can’t work . . .”
She was right, if they were going to have a chance, he needed to trust her. “I have to go back,” he said.
Campbell had already jumped in the birlinn and was readying the ship for voyage. Oddly enough, he didn’t look all that surprised by Eoin’s pronouncement. “Forget something?”
“Aye, to tell my wife where I’m going.” The blunt admission elicited only a quirked brow from Campbell. “Do you have an objection to that?”
The other man shrugged. “Not if you don’t.”
In other words, Campbell trusted his judgment. Eoin knew that—they’d all had their lives in each other’s hands at some point over the last seven and a half years—but somehow this felt different. He acknowledged the show of faith with a nod.
Campbell’s mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Marrying the enemy’s daughter isn’t easy, is it?”
Eoin smiled back at him, appreciating the understanding that could only come from someone in the same position. “You can sure as hell say that again. Give me a few minutes.”
He took the stairs two at a time, hoping to catch her in the yard, but the small group that’d bid him farewell on what was allegedly a short trip to Dunstaffnage had already dispersed.
He nearly ran into his father as he started up the stairs to the tower house. “Did you forget something, son?”
Eoin shook his head. “Have you seen Margaret?”
“She went to the stables. I think she said she was going to go on a ride.”
His chest stabbed with a hard prick of guilt. Damn it, he really must have hurt her. He remembered riding away had been her first impulse when she’d been hurt by Comyn’s sister all those years ago.
He found her in Dubh’s stall with one of the stable lads, securing the saddle around the horse.
She jumped when she heard him come up behind her. “Eoin! I thought you were . . . you startled me.” He thought he glimpsed a twinge of fear in her expression before it turned to concern. “Is something wrong?”
“Aye.” He told the lad to fetch the horse a carrot and give them a few minutes of privacy. As soon as the boy was gone, he startled her again by drawing her into his arms. “I forgot to tell you something.”
She blinked up at him, obviously confused by his odd behavior. The light through the open window cast soft shadows across her delicate features. Her skin was so smooth and pale it almost looked translucent. “Yes?”
“You didn’t ask where I was going.”
Her gaze held his for a long heartbeat. “I thought it was a secret.”
“It is. But I trust you.”
Her eyes widened. “You do?”
He was ashamed of how much surprise there was in her voice. “Aye. I want it to be different this time.” He wanted to make her a part of his life—all of his life.
“So do I,” she said, the surprise turning soft with happiness.
He took a deep breath; it wasn’t easy sharing things he was used to keeping to himself. “John of Lorn is making trouble again. There are rumors that his men are in the area, trying to scavenge up some coin. We have reason to think they’ll target his former lands in Appin next. We’re going to set a trap for them and see if we can learn what they have planned.”
She didn’t need to know the details, the gist was enough. More than enough. Though he was not technically breaking his promise to Bruce—he hadn’t told her about the Highland Guard—he knew his cousin wouldn’t approve of him telling her anything about his activities.
But Eoin intended to have a serious talk with Bruce the next time he saw him. Either he let him out of his promise or Eoin was going to leave the Highland Guard. The secret of his role in Bruce’s army was too big to keep from her. She might not need to know all the operational details, but she needed to know what he was involved in.
Margaret had been right: he owed her a duty as much as he owed his cousin. Eoin hadn’t made his wife a priority before, but that was going to change.
He made sure to impart the seriousness of what he was telling her. “No one not involved in the mission knows this but you, Margaret.” He hadn’t even told his father as much as he’d told her. “That’s the way we like to keep it.” The less people who knew, the less chance there was for something to go wrong.
She bit her lip, concern clouding her features. “Will it be very dangerous?”
“It’s nothing I haven’t done a hundred times before. I won’t lie to you, there is always an element of danger, but it’s greatly reduced by having the element of surprise.” He smiled. “It’s better to be the pirate, remember?”
The jest earned him a smile. “I thought you called it Vikings and Highlanders. Which one is the pirate?”
He grinned back at her. “Both.”
She laughed, and he pressed a soft kiss on her lips. A soft kiss that nearly turned into something more, when her hands wrapped around his neck and her breasts melted into his chest. He went hard at the contact, his cock instinctively seeking the sweet juncture between her legs. He cupped her bottom, lifting her against him, as his tongue stroked deeper and deeper into the warm cavern of her mouth. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to feel her legs wrapped around his waist as he drove in and out.
He was a few grinds of her hips away from tossing her down on the pile of hay behind her. But Campbell was waiting for him.
He drew back—with some effort. “I have to go.”
She nodded a bit dazedly, her features still bearing the stamp of arousal. Her eyes were heavy, her pupils dark, her lips cherry red and swollen, her breath uneven . . . Christ, she was going to kill him.
He started to go, but she called him back. “Eoin.”
He looked back over his shoulder.
“Thank you.”
Their eyes held, and the smile that spread across her face was one that he would never forget. It was as brilliant as a rare diamond but a thousand times more precious to him.
“I love you,” she said softly.
A powerful warmth spread through his chest, filling him with a sense of contentment he’d never experienced before. He’d done the right thing.
“And I love you, a leanbh.”
A few moments later he was gone, leaving the shadows of the stable—and its opened window—behind.