Chapter Eleven
The second slap was even harder than the first and sent Elizabeth staggering. She placed her hand on the cold stone wall in the courtyard and blinked. The pain of her father’s hit had brought tears to her eyes. When she raised her head, she spat out the blood that was accumulating in her mouth from her lip that had just been busted.
The first face she saw was Stephen’s, and he smirked at her. She curled her hands into fists, vowing to get retribution for herself and Lillianna the moment she could, but it was not now.
“Where is she?” her father demanded.
Elizabeth’s body tensed, preparing for the next hit. “I told you, I do not know,” she ground out, meeting her father’s livid stare. “Mayhap she simply left the chamber without your guard realizing. Mayhap he left his post!” she offered, raising her voice. She would say more except she did not want to draw a path between Stephen and Gwendolyn, to protect Gwendolyn, who had simply done what she could to aid Lillianna.
“Damn you, Elizabeth! You are lying! I’ll beat it out of you!” her father roared.
He reared his hand back to hit her again, but Robert’s voice cut through the night.
“If ye strike her, I will kill ye.”
Elizabeth gasped then hissed at the pain it caused her throbbing lip. Robert came into view under the torch, and by the horror that settled on his face, she knew the moment he could see her clearly. Then such fury contorted his features that she found herself backing away from her father.
“Christ’s blood!” Robert swore, pushing himself between her and her father as a shield. Gratitude and fear for Robert filled her. “God damn ye, de Burgh. Ye are nae a true man of honor. Ye are a coward to strike yer daughter.”
“A coward?” her father snarled. “I’m her father. It is my right. She needs to learn obedience.”
Robert snatched her father to him with a suddenness that made her yelp. When Stephen moved to aid her father, Robert released him, shoving him at Stephen, who caught him. They both stumbled backward, her father swearing and shoving Stephen away.
“Make yourself useful!” he yelled. “Go find Lillianna. Scour the woods. I have little doubt that she has fled.”
Stephen nodded and rushed away, and her father faced her and Robert, heaving great breaths. “I lost my temper,” he said, his mood seeming to change before her very eyes. “I am sorry.” He looked at Elizabeth before cutting his gaze to Robert. “It pleases me to see you care for my daughter’s welfare, but if you put your hands on me again, we will come to swords.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Robert growled.
She caught her breath, fearing that his words would set her father into an even worse temper, but he nodded. “Elizabeth, you may speak to Bruce for a moment. I will wait just inside to escort you to your room.”
She frowned, not understanding why he was allowing it but glad for the moment. She and Robert stood in silence as her father departed, and when he disappeared within the castle, Robert’s hands were suddenly on her, touching her hips, her hair, and then her face, which drew another hiss from her.
“Christ,” he moaned. “I did nae realize truly how he treated ye. Elizabeth, I’m sorry. I will bend the knee for ye, but I must have time to warn my men.”
Elizabeth shivered. The night was not cold—far from it—but Robert’s words put a chill in her heart. The words she needed to say, needed to make him hear, flowed through her mind.
He pulled her into his embrace. It was warm, solid, and comforting. Her body relaxed at once, though she fought against it and pushed him back. She could see his face just enough that she could make out the frown he now wore. “You must listen to me.” She could hear the desperate urgency of her own voice. “You are doing exactly as they wish. They are pulling your strings—our strings,” she added, unable to shake the feeling that she was somehow unwittingly aiding her father and the king. By the wary look that crossed Robert’s face, she thought he must have sensed it, too. “I cannot say how, but I feel it here.” She set her hand to her stomach. “Besides that, I would never allow you to marry for less than love, nor myself for that matter.” She rushed on, not wanting him to think he had to make a declaration. “You cannot submit to the king to protect me.”
“Elizabeth—”
“No,” she interrupted. “Let me say what I must.” His fingers tightened their grip on her shoulders, but he nodded. “If you submit to the king, you risk men who would one day support you turning from you. You cannot let that happen! I have heard my father and the king speak of Comyn and Balliol. I have listened, so I know you are the only hope for Scotland.” Tears blurred her vision, and she tried to blink them away, but they slid hot down her cheeks.
Robert leaned in and kissed her tears very gently, wiping them away with care with his lips. “I believe ye have seduced me, Elizabeth, for I can nae imagine letting ye become de Beauchamp’s wife and leaving ye to the mercy of yer father.”
She stood there, silent. She was at war with herself and with him. She wanted to let herself fall in love with him and him with her, but what if it cost his country its freedom? He would hate her, and she would hate herself. “You must fight for Scotland’s freedom first, above all,” she murmured low.
“Do nae fash yerself,” he whispered in return, brushing his hand over the back of her hair to settle a warm palm against her neck. “I have nae given up the fight for Scotland’s freedom, but that does nae mean that I can nae also fight for ye.”
“Elizabeth!” her father bellowed.
“I have to go,” she said, seeing her father coming toward them.
“Aye,” Robert agreed and glanced in the direction Stephen had gone. “I have to depart, as well. I have a debt to settle.”
“Don’t do anything foolish,” she whispered desperately before moving to meet her father.
Stephen was easy to track. He was noisy in the woods, leading Robert straight to him, yet as Robert approached through the thick brush, withdrawing his dagger, he heard one growl and then another. Eyes glowed in the darkness from across the clearing. I took Robert a moment to realize the animal with the glowing eyes was on a ledge above where Stephen had slowed his horse to a walk. Suddenly, the wolves sprang down at the guard, knocking him from his horse to the ground. Robert hesitated for one breath, his mind flashing to Lillianna’s bruised face and then to Stephen not aiding Elizabeth when her father hit. Yet, Stephen’s screams sent Robert into action. He released his first dagger at one wolf and then sent his second dagger, which he pulled out of its sheath, into the other wolf. The growling stopped, and the only noises that remained in the woods were Robert’s breathing and the gurgling sounds that came from Stephen.
Robert approached him, and when he crouched low, he saw that the man’s throat had been ripped open. He was dead before Robert even got his plaid off, which he had intended to press to the man’s neck in an effort to save his sorry life. Instead, he closed his eyes and said a brief prayer, then rose, collected his daggers, cleaned them, and made his way quickly to the castle and his bedchamber.
The guard that was there gave him a long look. “You did not slip me,” the guard said defensively. “De Burgh instructed me to await you here. He said you would return when you finished speaking to his daughter.”
Robert didn’t bother to respond. He brushed past the man, into his room, and shut the door. De Burgh was confident Robert would not flee, and damn the man, he was right. Robert paced his bedchamber, turning over in his mind how to proceed. He had to get word to at least Niall and Wallace that it would seem he had relented to the king when in fact he had not. With Angus and Fraser gone, he had no notion how he could get a message out of the castle.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. When he opened it, he was surprised to see Gilbert de Clare, Eighth Earl of Gloucester. They were friends—of a sort. Their families had been friends for generations, though the bonds had been stretched with the war between Scotland and England. Robert was unsure what remained of their friendship.
“Gloucester, when did ye come to court?” he asked.
“The king summoned me,” Gloucester said, raising a thick, red eyebrow.
Robert glanced at the guard stationed at his door and waved Gloucester into his bedchamber. He firmly shut the door, then turned to the man. They were matched in height, but that was where the resemblances stopped. While Robert had dark hair and eyes, Gloucester had red hair and light eyes. “Why did the king summon ye?”
“I don’t know specifically. He only summons me when there is a battle to be won. Know you anything of an impending battle?”
Robert frowned as uneasiness danced along his spine. “Nay.”
Gloucester eyed Robert. “You know you can trust me, Robert.”
“I used to know that. Ye’re English.”
“And you are a Scot,” Gloucester retorted. “I don’t hold that against you.”
Robert eyed the man. “Ye fight for Edward to control Scotland,” Robert said simply.
“No, I fight because I love to. It happens my lands are in England, so that is the side I fight for. I am loyal to you personally, Robert. I just arrived, and I came here to you. Before the king.”
That did say a great deal, if Robert could trust it. That was the problem. Could he? Did he even have a choice? “How far does yer loyalty extend?”
Gloucester shrugged, though his face was serious. “As far as I can help you without giving my life.”
Robert snorted. “Ye always have been painfully honest.”
“To you, yes. To those I count true as friends…”
Robert exhaled, feeling some of the tension leave him, but not all, never all. He could not remember a time he had felt completely at ease except—He could! With Elizabeth, when they had spoken in Ireland, when they had danced, and even in the woods, he had felt utterly at ease. She put him at ease. She knew how to soothe him and focus him. He inhaled a long breath, letting the realization seep into his mind. “Does the king number among yer friends?” he asked, still probing.
“No,” Gloucester answered quickly, his tone even like one who spoke the truth. “But he is my king so I will do as he bids—mostly.”
Robert was in a precariously dangerous position. He needed someone to trust, and Gloucester was in a position to be able to get a message out for him. Robert would rather risk his life than allow Elizabeth to remain in danger from her father and de Beauchamp. “I need ye to get a message to Niall.”
Gloucester nodded. “I can send someone directly after I leave yer chamber.”
Robert blinked in surprise. “Someone ye trust with yer life?”
“Yes,” Gloucester answered with staid calmness. “And yours.”
“Who is it?” Robert demanded.
“I can’t tell you that, Robert, but I vow you can trust her.”
“Her?” he echoed, startled.
“Yes.” A slight smile tugged at Gloucester’s lips. “Her. Women are surprisingly good allies.”
Robert thought immediately of Elizabeth. “I have discovered something similar recently. I need ye to get word to Niall, Lamberton, Wallace, and my brothers that it will seem I have bent the knee to Edward, but not to take everything as it seems.”
Gloucester smirked. “Are your knees weak, then?”
“Nay,” Robert replied. Talking without revealing the actual truth was a game he was long used to, and Gloucester was clearly as adept as ever. “I’m of a mind to wed Elizabeth de Burgh, but the king will not consider it unless I pay him homage and accept him as my liege lord.”
Gloucester frowned. “It seems a strange choice for a man fighting for Scotland’s independence to marry the goddaughter of the king who intends to rule Scotland.”
Robert shrugged. “Elizabeth is well titled and landed,” he said, careful to keep his tone neutral. “There is no strangeness in wanting to increase my wealth. Much has been taken from me.”
“Ha!” Gloucester said. “You care for none of what has been taken from you more than you care for the throne of Scotland being taken from your family, but I’ll not quibble or dig further. I fear I would uncover much I would be compelled to hide. It’s better I simply don’t know.”
“Verra astute of ye.”
Gloucester chuckled, but then he cocked his head. “I have long thought I was the most astute person I knew.”
“Ye always were smug,” Robert said, laughing in earnest.
Gloucester grinned. “Yes, and you always were honorable. Hopefully, it will not be your downfall.” He opened his mouth as if he would say more, but instead he pressed his lips together, studied Robert, and finally added, “I’ll depart then to see your message sent on its way, and I’ll look for you tomorrow.”
“Aye. I’ll want to ensure my message was sent. When I ask how yer travels were—”
“If I am with others, I’ll say they were successful,” Gloucester said with a smug air.
“And if the message does nae go out?” Robert prodded, needing a code response for disappointment, as well. He would need to know one way or the other.
Gloucester looked at Robert as if he had spoken a foreign tongue. “I do not fail. Ever.”
“Indulge me,” Robert pressed, barely keeping his patience.
“Fine, fine.” Gloucester had a faraway look in his eyes as if deep in thought, then he snapped his fingers suddenly. “I’ll say my travels were quite difficult. Will this suffice?”
Robert gripped the man’s arm. Gloucester was taking a risk to aid him. “Aye. Thank ye, Gloucester.”
The man eyed Robert for a long moment, doubt clear on his face. “I hope she’s worth it.”
Elizabeth’s face flashed in his mind. “She is,” he said, realizing how truly he believed it. She had come to mean much to him in a very short time, and even if she was not in peril, he did not think he would ever wish to part with her.
When Elizabeth entered the great hall the next morning, it was abuzz with excited chatter, which seemed to stutter to halt when she passed the full tables. She touched her lip self-consciously and arranged the loose braid she had fashioned in a side sweep to cover her bruise near her left ear, more fully over the hurt spot. The cracked lip, she could not hide, but she had a ready lie for anyone bold enough to ask.
The dais was empty, so she scanned the tables for Robert but did not see him. Gwendolyn waved her over to sit with the other ladies-in-waiting. As the queen’s ladies were always privy to the gossip of the court, Elizabeth decided to sit with them, though she normally avoided them, if she could, for exactly that reason. She wanted to learn what the courtiers were saying of Lillianna disappearing.
As she sat, Gwendolyn shifted over for her, but Grace gave her a hostile look. The woman had not been friendly to Elizabeth since she had returned to court, and Elizabeth suspected it was because Grace had designs to marry de Beauchamp. Honestly, she did not understand what women saw in him, though upon further thought she knew well it was his wealth, or at least in her sister’s case it had been. Elizabeth would try to make it clear she was not interested in him, except the word would surely reach her father and the king, and there would be the devil to pay. A better thought was to dissuade Grace from the man, who was a horrid person.
“Did I see you speaking with the Earl of Gloucester after chapel?” she asked Grace.
Grace’s green eyes narrowed. “Do not think to sink your claws into him, too.”
Elizabeth inhaled a long breath. So she had been correct. Grace was needlessly jealous. “I would not be so bold,” she assured the woman. “He seemed rapt with you. When did he return to court?”
“Last night,” Grace commented, her rosy blush hinting that she might have possibly seen the earl then. “Why do you care? Are your hands not full with de Beauchamp and Bruce fighting over you like two wolves, not to mention your cousin’s disappearance? Do you think she fled the court? Why would she do that? Heavens!” Grace exclaimed. “If she did flee, she could be dead, and they simply have not found her body yet.”
“What are you talking about?” Elizabeth demanded, as calmly as she could, though her heart raced. “Who was found dead?”
“The guard Stephen was discovered dead in the woods this morning,” Gwendolyn replied. “And we heard”—Gwendolyn exchanged a glance with Grace—“that he had been ordered to search for Lillianna in the woods because she was missing?” Gwendolyn raised her eyebrows in question.
“Yes, she’s missing,” Elizabeth replied, reaching a trembling hand toward her wine goblet as she thought upon Stephen.
“Elizabeth!” Gwendolyn said, grabbing Elizabeth’s hand. “You’re shaking.”
Elizabeth pulled her hand from Gwendolyn’s and set it in her lap. “Do you know how he died?” she managed to choke out.
“Wolves,” Gwendolyn said, staring at her with wide eyes. “The wolves in the woods.”
“I heard the wolves were found dead, as well,” Grace commented, picking at her food. “That seems odd, does it not? That the wolves were found dead as well?”
Elizabeth though immediately of Robert. He could have killed the wolves. She wanted to flee, yet she forced herself to comment. “Mayhap Stephen killed some of the wolves but others in the pact fled. I pray my cousin did not venture into the woods with the wolves about.” Elizabeth’s mind raced. Had Robert gone after Stephen for retribution? Robert had heard her father order Stephen to the woods. Had he killed the guard? She swallowed the large lump in her throat, but she could feel control slipping quickly from her, and then suddenly, he was there, in the door to the great hall.
She exhaled in a relieved whoosh as she stared across the distance at him. He had stopped to talk to the Earl of Gloucester. The two, matched in height, stood face-to-face, very close, as if they discussed something private.
“Whatever did you do to your lip?” Gwendolyn asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Elizabeth busied herself putting food on her platter so she would not have to look directly at Gwendolyn as she lied. “It was so careless, really. I ran into a column.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Robert break off from his conversation with Gloucester and sweep his gaze around the room—she hoped looking for her. When their gazes met, the corners of his mouth curled slightly, and he strode across the room, his powerful, well-muscled body moving with easy grace. Within a few breaths, he was standing in front of her, and when he looked down at her, as if she were the only woman at the table, a sense of calm came to her.
He cocked his head. “Ladies,” he said to all the ladies-in-waiting who sat there. Giggles erupted down the line of the table, which Elizabeth wanted to frown at but managed not to. “Lady Elizabeth, might I speak with ye for a moment?”
Elizabeth nodded, quickly rose, and took the hand that Robert held out to her. The touch of his hand was almost unbearable in its tenderness. What she felt for him was deep and powerful already. He led her out of the great hall, not speaking, but she was certain it was because what he had to say was private. When the entered the hall, he pulled her closer to his side and interlocked their arms. She felt herself melt into him, into his strength.
As they strolled down the corridor, past servants and other courtiers, he glanced sideways at her. His burning gaze managed to hold hers. “I have news,” he said, his voice very low.
“Wait,” she returned.
He nodded, and they continued on until they strolled into the sunny courtyard. Servants flittered about, busy at their chores, and a small circle of knights gathered at the north side. They appeared as if about to ride out, dressed as they were in battle armor. Robert drew Elizabeth to the south end, where no one really was.
“Stephen is dead,” he said low, facing her. Obvious dislike hardened his gaze.
She inhaled a shaky breath. “Yes, I know, Gwendolyn made mention in the great hall as well as mention of Lillianna’s disappearance. Did you…did you kill him?” she asked.
Robert frowned. “Would ye turn from me if I had?”
She sucked in a sharp breath, not at his question, but at the realization that she would not. “No. I might have killed him myself, given the opportunity.”
Robert’s eyes widened. “I did nae kill the man, though I did nae move overly fast to aid him when the wolves attacked him.”
“Oh,” she whispered, wondering what he now thought of her for what she had said.
He raised his hand and brushed a gentle finger near her cracked lip. “I want to kill yer father.”
She pressed her hand over his, against her cheek. “The king would have you killed instantly if you did.”
“Aye, but I can nae say it would nae be worth it.”
Her heart squeezed at his words. “It would not. Your country needs you, and—” she swallowed hard “—so do I.”
“I need ye, too, I think,” he said with a frown.
She sucked in her lip. “You do not want to need me?” She found herself holding her breath.
“I do nae because I fear I will draw ye from the danger here only to bring ye into a different sort of danger,” he said.
His words set her pulse pounding. He wanted her, and not simply out of desire. Robert was not the sort of man to be led by his baser needs. She licked her lips. “I would rather be in danger with you there than in danger here by myself.”
He smiled then, and it set little crinkles by his eyes, so that she knew the genuineness of it. “Lass, I had that exact same thought. I sent a messenger last night, getting word to those who need to know, that I will bend the knee, but all is not as it seems.”
“Oh, Robert!” she gasped. “Will they not name you traitor, even so?”
Robert drew her into his embrace, and she let him. He pressed his lips to her head. “They will understand. I will nae let harm come to ye.”
She pulled back and looked up at him. “You cannot marry me to protect me, Robert.”
His dark gaze settled on her, the light in the depths of his eyes reflecting his desire and something else. “I would do what I must to protect ye, Elizabeth, but ye should know, I’m nae so noble. I want ye. I will nae stand by and watch ye married to another. I would have taken this slower, courted ye properly, but what I feel for ye is real, and strong, and true.”
Her lips parted at his words. Her own emotions mirrored his.
“I married once for my family, for political gain; this time, with ye, if ye will have me, I will marry for my heart. Will ye have me?”
She struggled to bring her emotions under control, yet they were wild within her, swirling like dirt off the road in a storm. She swallowed hard and grabbed his hand, holding tight, afraid he would decide she was too troublesome before she could order her thoughts. For several breaths, with his dark, expectant gaze boring into her, she struggled with how to tell him what was in her heart. None of the sentences in her mind seemed to do justice to the depth of what she felt. She trusted him, was awed by him, felt protected by him, and believed in him. Her heart told her she loved him, but her mind warned it was too soon. She had to speak.
“Yes,” she said simply. “I will.”
He cupped her face ever so gently. “As soon as I get word that the message was successfully delivered, I will bend the knee to the king. Until then, we can at least enjoy courting,” he said, grinning wickedly, but his smile faded fast. “Ye will need to take a care with de Beauchamp, but do nae fear, I will keep ye in my sights always.”
She nodded and pressed her cheek against his chest, listening for a moment to the thump of his heart. His arms tightened about her, and his chest expanded with a deep breath. Suddenly, he released her, his face darkening. “Yer father,” he said simply.
She turned, noting the sounds of footsteps on the gravel. Her father approached, his brow knitted. “Lillianna has not been found.” His gaze bore into her, and she was grateful when Robert’s fingers brushed hers. It gave her strength.
“I heard news of Stephen. Perhaps wolves got Lillianna as well,” Elizabeth choked out, fearful he would see through her lies.
He cocked his head and said slowly, “Perhaps. But it is strange that the wolves were also killed, don’t you think so?” he asked, his tone probing.
“Yes,” she managed, her heart hammering. “Maybe Stephen killed but a few of the wolves in a larger pack,” she said, offering the reason of earlier.
Her father’s lips pressed into a line. “Mayhap.” Skepticism clung to the word, and she knew deep within he did not believe it. Yet he passed his gaze between her and Robert and said, “It seems you two are getting along quite nicely.”
Her cheeks heated with embarrassment even as she felt relief that he would let go of the subject of Lillianna for now. Of course he would! He was only to keen to see if his and the king’s plan for her to seduce Robert was working.
Robert simply nodded. “Aye, yer daughter is beautiful and fascinating. An irresistible combination.”
“Yes,” her father agreed, his lips turning to a smirk for a moment but then pressing back into a thin line. “Interestingly enough, your man Angus seems to be missing as well, according to my guard.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught, but Robert merely shrugged. “Aye. I’m nae surprised.”
Her father arched his eyebrows. “What do you mean by that?”
“Angus is a prideful man, and the queen’s lady-in-waiting, Gwendolyn, struck a harsh blow to Angus’s dignity.”
“Truly?” her father said, as if he was perfectly ready to believe it. Elizabeth knew her father better. He would never believe anything readily, and he was prone to rage when things did not go his way, yet he seemed calm and, for the most part, uncaring that Angus was gone. It made little sense, unless he simply considered Angus so insignificant that her father did not care.
“Aye,” Robert said. “He asked the lass to marry him, and she declined. He threatened to leave the castle, but I did nae take him seriously. He must have gone.”
Her father nodded. “I will have to punish the guard who was set to watch him for letting him slip away. Speaking of guards, I told yours not to follow you when you are with my daughter.”
“I noticed,” Robert said. “Verra considerate and unusual.” His words rang with sarcasm.
Elizabeth tensed, waiting for her father to come to anger, but again he surprised her. He flashed a smile, and it was this show of complacency, almost jovialness, that worried her more. “I do not fear that Elizabeth would ever be improper with you, and I know you to be a man of honor. And since you are courting her currently, I would not think you would do anything to try to harm the king. And the king, of course, is well guarded.”
“Of course,” Robert said smoothly.
“It’s a fine day for a ride,” her father said. “You should allow Elizabeth to take you in the woods, but take a care for wolves, of course.” He gave Elizabeth another probing look. “She knows the woods well. Do you not, Daughter?”
Her father’s gaze penetrated her, and fear tingled down her spine. He knew she had aided Lillianna and Angus. She could swear he knew, but if he did, why had he not said? Why was he not sending men after Angus? Why was he standing there playing this game? She forced herself to shrug, hoping she appeared nonchalant as Robert had. “I know them passably well.” She turned to Robert. “Would you care to go riding?”
“Verra much,” he replied.
“Come then,” she said, wishing to put distance between herself and her father. “We can go ask the stable master to ready the horses now.”
Not long later, she led Robert down the same path she had led Angus and Lillianna down. “I cannot say why exactly,” she said, continuing the thought that she felt her father knew something. “It’s a feeling in my gut.” She pulled her horse to a stop beside the stream, as did Robert. He dismounted and helped her to do the same. When his fingers curled firmly around her waist, and he lowered her to the ground so that their bodes brushed chest to chest, she almost forgot her worries and her fears. Almost. “He’s not even angry that Angus is gone,” she said, biting her lip.
Robert frowned. “True, which does nae seem like yer father, but perhaps he just considers Angus insignificant and not worthy of his concern.”
“Yes, I had thought of that, as well,” she replied.
“Do you think he might give up searching for Lillianna if he believes the wolves got her?” Robert asked.
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said. “He seemed skeptical, yet if he cannot find her, he may become convinced. How long do you think until we hear word she made it to the MacLeod clan safely?
“Not long, I hope.”
Elizabeth nodded with relief as she leaned down and tugged off her slippers.
“What are ye doing?” Robert asked.
“Dipping my feet in the stream,” she replied, giving him a challenging smile. If they were granted time to be alone, she intended to use it to discover all she could about the man who would be her husband. “Will you join me?”
Robert grinned, looking suddenly so very young and carefree that her heart skipped a beat. “I’ll do better than that,” he said with a mischievous look. “I will teach ye a game my brothers and I used to play when we were lads called Catch the Fish.”
He was in the stream and splashing her before she had even grown accustomed to the water. “Robert!” she gasped as cool water hit her face and her chest. “Stop! The water is freezing!” She wiped her hands across her face to get the water out of her eyes and heard him splashing toward her. When she opened her eyes, he was there scooping her off her feet and into his arms. His left arm slipped under her legs and his right one slid around her shoulders to hold her tight against his muscled chest. His eyes burned with desire as he gazed at her. “I’ll warm ye, lass.”
Her heart jolted with the promise of what was to come. “You may try,” she teased him.
“Did yer father nae ever tell ye it’s verra dangerous to challenge a Scot?” Robert asked in a silky tone.
“He did,” she whispered, “but I have a mind of my own and tend to do as I please.”
“Aye, that ye do. I like that verra much about ye, but now I will have to show ye that I can, indeed, warm ye.”
Before she knew what he was doing, he had them out of the water and lying in the soft grass. His lips captured hers in a kiss that heated her from her toes to her scalp, and then set her aflame as his tongue explored her mouth and his hands gently roamed over her shoulders, her arms, her hips, and then her backside. When he pulled away, she was panting.
“Well?” he asked, arching his eyebrows. “Are ye heated?”
“Scorched,” she admitted with a giggle.
He drew her into the cradle of his arm, and they lay there, legs intertwined as they stared up at the bright-blue sky. For a long while they said nothing, and Elizabeth simply listened to the birds and enjoyed the gentle breeze cooling them.
“I wish it could be like this forever,” Robert said. “This moment with ye is the most peace I’ve had in years.”
“For me, as well. Come,” she said, determined to enjoy the entire day. “Teach me that game.”
He helped her up, and they waded once more into the stream. “It’s simple really. The person who catches the most wee fish wins.”
“Are they not hard to catch?”
“Aye,” Robert chuckled. “Nearly impossible. I have four younger brothers, and the most any of us have ever caught was three.”
“Well, then,” she said, tying her skirts into knots, “I must break that record so I am seen as your equal.”
“I see ye as my equal already, Elizabeth,” he said, his tone and face serious.
“Yes,” she replied, her feelings for this man so strong her throat ached. “I thought you did. But I wish to prove to you that you are correct.”
And by the end of the day she had. Robert carried her four fish back in his leather satchel, and that night, at supper, sitting on the dais, the two of them ate the fish she had caught, smiling and exchanging secret looks, and everything seemed perfect, though when she caught the king and her father exchanging smug, triumphant glances, she knew things were not perfect. It was but an illusion, and the sense that she had missed something, something important orchestrated by her father and the king, gripped her and would not let go.