Chapter Twenty
Robert entered his bedchamber and found it empty. He knew Elizabeth had returned to the castle safely because Fraser had come to Robert in the forest, but where was she? He did not intend to sit here and wait for her. As he turned to depart, a knock came at the door, and when Robert opened it, Gaston MacLeod stood there. Fraser had told Robert before departing with Gwendolyn that Gaston was one of the contacts he used to bring messages to the king’s court and that he would be the one bringing confirmation that Wallace was in place to rise in rebellion.
Robert waved the man in and shut the door.
Gaston narrowed gray eyes on Robert. “I passed Fraser on the way here. He told me to bring ye the message that Wallace is ready.”
Before Robert could respond, the bedchamber door burst open and Elizabeth rushed through it. She barreled straight into him. Instinctually, he caught her around the waist, steadied her, and then pulled her to his side, soaking up the feel of his wife near him once more.
“Robert!” she gasped. Then her gaze drifted to Gaston, and she frowned.
Robert kicked the door shut without releasing Elizabeth and said, “Gaston is an ally, so you can speak freely in front of him.”
She bit her lip but nodded. “My father and the king are sending troops this very day to ambush Wallace and Comyn in Selkirk Forest. We must find a way to warn them! The king means to kill Wallace and use Comyn to his gain.”
“Christ,” Robert muttered, exchanging a look with Gaston. They had to warn Wallace and Comyn, as he was working to aid Wallace currently. How the hell did the king know about Wallace anyway? “How did ye come by this information?”
She blushed but kept her gaze steady on him. “Listening at the door to the king’s solar.”
“Verra canny, Wife,” he praised and smiled when she beamed, thankful to see such happiness on her face, not to mention that he had such a forgiving wife.
A long horn blast filled the room, and he cursed. It was a call to arms, and if the king was calling his men to arms, it could well mean he knew about Gaston and was searching for him.
Robert looked to Gaston, who scowled. The man swiped his hand across his face. “It seems someone in this castle has betrayed me or Fraser.”
“Aye,” Robert said. “And as we do nae know who, we must get ye out of here secretly.”
“Agreed,” Gaston replied, already drawing his dagger.
Elizabeth turned to Gaston as Robert tried to think on how to help the man escape. “I can lead you safely out,” she said to their new ally.
“Nay!” Robert said, appalled by the idea of her in such danger.
“How?” the Highlander asked.
“There’s a secret passage from my bedchamber in the ladies-in-waiting chambers. As long as I still serve the queen, she promised to keep it as mine. If I can slip you inside, I can lead you to the water. I know the way. You can follow, swim to the island, and head to Scotland from there. But we must go now.”
“Nay,” Robert refuted, tightening his grip on her.
“Robert,” Elizabeth said in a soothing tone while placing her open palm on his cheek. Her touch was like a balm to his wounded heart. “You cannot lead Gaston to the passage in the ladies-in-waiting chambers. You, they would question being there, but not me. And we cannot let Gaston be taken. If they have information to suspect him, they will kill him.”
“I’d rather nae die this day,” Gaston said, a thin smile on his lips.
Robert nodded, firmly holding on to Elizabeth. He had just found her again, and now he felt as if he was on the verge of losing her forever. “There must be another way.”
“None that I know of,” Elizabeth answered. “We waste valuable time. You must let me do this!”
“God’s teeth!” Robert growled as Elizabeth pulled away from him. He had to let her go, or Gaston’s blood may well be on his hands. He felt powerless in the moment, and it filled him with rage. “Ye will be careful and return to me, lass,” he commanded gently. “Or I will come for ye.”
Joy filled her eyes even as worry flickered across her face. “Be assured, I will return.”
Robert kissed her, and then he and Gaston clasped forearms. “Tell Wallace I continue as we agreed.”
Gaston nodded. “One day, we will meet again, Bruce, and I will call ye king. I feel this will be so here.” Gaston touched his heart.
“I can nae know what the future holds,” Robert said, “but let us hope we meet again and can call ourselves free from Edward’s rule. If we can say that, then we are fortunate men.”
Gaston nodded, and Robert took Elizabeth’s hand, then stepped to the door and cracked it open. He glanced into the passage and found it empty.
“Robert,” Elizabeth said, “give Gaston your cloak. The hooded one. He will hopefully be mistaken for you, and I will pretend you wish a tryst in my chamber.”
Robert nodded, gathered his cloak, and then speared Gaston with a look. “Do nae forget yerself with my wife.”
“Dunnae fash yerself, Bruce,” Gaston said, taking the cloak. “I’ll nae touch yer wife more than I must in order to keep my head.”
“Gaston,” Robert growled, gripping the man’s forearm, “if more than ye must involves anywhere currently covered by her clothes, I suggest ye do nae risk it. I will nae be forgiving.”
The man chuckled. “I hear ye, Bruce. I’ll nae forget.”
Robert pressed a kiss to Elizabeth’s lips. “I’m sorry, lass. I failed ye.”
“All is already forgiven, Robert, and tonight, when we are reunited, you can tend to my bruised heart with your tender touches,” she whispered, her eyes filled with sinful promises.
“Take a care. If ye’re nae back by nightfall, I will come for ye.”
“Robert!” Elizabeth protested. “You mustn’t—”
“Do nae waste yer breath,” he told her. “I will come when darkness falls. I’ll nae risk ye in the dark, away from the safety of the keep, alone.”
“Then I will return, for I’ll not risk your head.”
Hours later, as the sun started to fade from the sky, Robert paced the room like a caged animal until he simply could not take it anymore. He did not care about the risk to him. He strode across the room, threw open the door, and went to find Elizabeth.
Getting Gaston into her private lady’s chamber had been much easier than Elizabeth had anticipated. Most of the guards were gone because of the call to arms, and the one that still manned the door did not blink an eye at her saying her husband wished for private time with her in her rooms. She shut the door behind Gaston and then motioned toward the floor. “Help me roll back the rug,” she whispered.
As quietly as possible, they moved the heavy rug just enough for the concealed opening in the floor to come into view. Elizabeth jammed her dagger into the crack and pried up the door, holding her breath when it squeaked. The queen had remarked on the secret passage the year before, and Elizabeth had then found it and explored it, half out of curiosity and half out of a feeling that she may someday need to use it.
She silently motioned for Gaston to grab one of the torches, and then they crept down the stairs into the dark, damp air of the tunnel. Remembering that the door slammed hard, she turned quickly to warn Gaston, but a hard thunk told her she was too late.
Above them, there was a pounding on the door. “My lady, are you all right?”
Elizabeth shoved past Gaston, eased the trapdoor open, and answered. “Yes, yes. Lord Bruce merely knocked something over. Mind yourself, not me.”
“Yes, my lady,” came the guard’s reply.
Shaking with relief as much as fear, she squirmed past Gaston and started through the passage at a clipped pace, brushing cobwebs from her face as she went. Behind her, Gaston breathed heavily, no doubt cramped in the small space.
“It’s not too far,” she assured him. Yet their progress was slower than she had expected because water had filled the bottom of the passage where it sloped downward, making the dirt slippery and mucky. By the time they reached the opening in the woods, the sky had already taken on the glaze of an afternoon departing, and her mind flew immediately to Robert’s vow to come for her if she had not returned by dark. “We must hurry!”
Gaston nodded, and she clutched her skirts and began to run, aware of men’s voices that did not sound too far from them. She led Gaston along the short, twisting path to the water, and then she and Gaston crouched in the tall weeds and flowers facing each other. “Swim straight to the island. There is a boat near the summerhouse that you can take the rest of the way.”
Gaston nodded. “How do ye swim?”
Her jaw dropped open at his question. “You don’t know how to swim?”
“Nay, but I did nae want Bruce to ken and risk himself for me.”
She nodded, nibbling on her lip. “I cannot teach you to swim that quickly. No one could. I’ll have to try to swim you over.”
“A man of my size?” He gave her a skeptical look.
She eyed him. “Yes. If you will but stay calm. That is the most important thing. If you panic, we’ll both likely die.”
“I’ll nae panic if ye sing to me.”
“Sing to you? Surely, you jest.”
“Lass,” Gaston said, “I dunnae ever jest about song.”
“Take off your clothes,” she said distractedly as she tried to recall the words of the song Robert had sung to her that day in the woods.”
“What? I dunnae think Bruce would like that.”
“He will like it less if we die because our clothes dragged us underwater. Either leave your clothes or your sword,” she said, eyeing his blade.
He frowned, his hand going protectively to his sword. “Dunnae ever ask a man to leave his sword, lass. That’s like asking a man to leave his willy—”
She pressed a finger to his lips and fought a smile that he would have said such a thing to her. The Scots, she decided, did not care much for propriety. It was refreshing. “I take your point, Gaston, and I suspected as much. So it will be your clothes and mine,” she said, already tugging her gown down.
Gaston’s eyes popped wide, and then he turned away. “Ye’ll be certain to tell Bruce I did nae look at ye.”
“Aye,” she teased, stepping out of her gown, covering it with leaves, and then moving toward the water. Once Gaston had stripped himself of all but his braies, they moved deeper into the water until it touched her waist. “Turn onto your back,” she said, worry making her tone clipped.
Gaston did as commanded, and she slipped her arm around his chest before pulling him back against her. “Bruce will kill me for this,” the man groaned.
“Do be quiet,” she snapped, “or I will kill you! Now, when I say push off, push and then kick.”
“Push and kick. I’ve got it,” he murmured.
“Now!”
He pushed, and they glided backward, his heavy weight settling on her. Instantly, he tensed, and fright gripped her. “Gaston,” she said in a reassuring voice, “I have you. Do not let fear kill us both. The people of Scotland need you.”
“Aye,” he panted. “Sing me a song.”
“Oh the summertime is here,” she started, stroking with one arm and kicking.
“Wintertime,” he corrected. “Dunnae ye ken the song?”
“No,” she admitted. “Robert sang it to me, and it was the only time I heard it.”
“What? Well, I’ll be,” Gaston said, laughter in his voice. “I did nae even ken Bruce could sing. I kinnae wait to tell the—”
“You’ll tell no one. He would be very cross with me.”
“Ye love him, aye, lass?”
“Yes,” she agreed, and then she started to hum the tune she recalled Robert singing as she swam them to the island.
Once there, Gaston surprised her by handing her his sword. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“It’ll be dark when ye return. I’ll nae have ye unarmed.”
“You’d give up your sword for me?”
“Aye,” he said. “One day, ye will be my queen.”
“How can you be certain? Robert’s father lives still. Mayhap he will sit on Scotland’s throne.”
“Nay. He is a weak man, whereas yer husband is strong, and he is made even stronger now with ye by his side.”
“I thank you for the compliment,” she said, pressing his sword back to him. “I have a dagger.” Not to mention the weight of the sword would be too heavy, but she refused to admit that.
“All right, then, but dunnae forget ye are meant to be with Bruce. Nae all Scots will welcome ye into our fold when Bruce brings ye home with him.”
“I’ll remember it,” she said and rose on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Gaston’s cheek. “For luck.”
“May it shadow both of us,” he replied.
The swim back to the shore was shorter in distance, but as darkness swallowed the sky, it set fear in her heart. She tugged on her gown, not even bothering to lace it all the way up, so that by the time she was through the passageway and lifting the trap door to her bedchamber, her gown had slipped all the way down her right shoulder. She climbed through the opening, her gown wet and clinging, and froze. Sitting on her bed was the guard.
His gaze swept over her body, stopping on her breasts. “I’m de Beauchamp’s man,” he said by way of explanation. “He will be most interested to learn there’s a secret passage in your room that you led your husband through. Unless, of course, you wish to pay for my silence with your favors.”
Her skin crawled at the very thought, but as the door to her bedchamber cracked open silently, she nodded, seeing Robert’s narrowed eyes. “Very well,” she said, doing her best to sound resigned, her heart beating like a drum, unsure what Robert intended to do.
The guard stood, his back to Robert, and walked to her. “I cannot wait to plant myself in you. Goddaughter to the king. Daughter of the mighty de Burgh. Lusted after by de Beauchamp and married to a filthy Scot. I’m going to make you scream for me, but I suppose I’ll have to cover your mouth to muffle it.”
“I do nae suppose ye will,” Robert snarled and yanked the man off his feet into a choke hold. The guard immediately started to sputter and claw at Robert, but he twisted the fiend around and drove his knee swiftly up into the man’s groin. “Did that hurt? Ye wish to plant yerself in my wife, did ye say?” Robert whipped out a dagger and pressed it between the man’s legs. “I should cut off yer bollocks.”
Stark fear twisted the guard’s face, and Elizabeth held her breath, not entirely certain that Robert would not do as he had threatened.
“Please, Bruce—”
“Lord Bruce,” Robert growled, moving his dagger just slightly, though the man hissed in pain.
“Please, Lord Bruce, do not harm me.”
Robert flashed a feral smile. “Oh, I’m going to harm ye—of that ye can be certain. I’m going to make ye scream as ye claimed ye would do to my wife. Ye’ll nae be making threats to anyone ever again.” With that, Robert jerked the man toward him, looked to Elizabeth, and said, “Turn away and dunnae turn back until I tell ye.”
Elizabeth swallowed. The man was despicable and he deserved to die, but she did not want his blood on her or Robert’s hands. “Robert, please do not kill him.”
He acknowledged her with a dip of his head. “See the goodness of my wife? She has a pure heart, and ye would have defiled her. Thank my wife.” He shoved the guard to his knees and yanked back his head.
“Thank you, my lady,” the man choked out.
“Turn around, Elizabeth,” Robert said gently. “I’ll nae kill him, but I vow ye do nae want to watch. Please trust me. Though, God knows I do nae deserve to ask it of ye.”
“You have always had my trust, Robert,” she said and did as he had bid her.
The noise that came from the man next made the blood in her veins curdle, but she did not turn back around. A gurgling sound followed, then a slide of feet, and a grunt.
“I’d go to the medicine woman if I were ye,” Robert said, “so ye do nae bleed to death. I could have taken more, ye understand, and if ye do nae flee this castle, I will hunt ye down and take the rest of yer tongue. As it is, yer injury will heal in the years to come and ye will speak again. Mayhap then ye will keep yer nastiness within ye. Now go.”
Heavy footsteps fell, the door swished open and then banged shut, and suddenly Robert was behind her, his hands on his shoulders and his mouth close to her ear. “I’m sorry, mo ghraidh.” He turned her slowly toward him, regret and pain dancing in the flame of his eyes. She sucked in a breath and reached a shaking hand to his. She ran a finger along his fist, which still clutched his bloody dagger. His fingers twitched.
“Do not be sorry. It does neither of us any good. Just never lose faith in me again.”
“When did ye become so strong?” he asked, his voice suddenly hoarse. She knew in her gut he was allowing himself to feel all things for her again. She wanted to weep with joy.
She cupped one palm against his cheek. “The day I fell in love with you.” She took the dagger from him, having to pry his fingers away one by one, and the memory of the story he told her of the first man he ever killed struck her. Robert was not the sort of man to injure another lightly. “How do you feel?” She was not sure if he would answer honestly, but she hoped he would.
“Repulsed.” His gaze was steady on her. “I wanted to kill him so much I ached with it.”
“But you didn’t,” she pointed out. “You restrained. You have a gentle soul.”
“Nay.” His denial was fierce and fast. “Nae when it comes to someone injuring ye. I imagined ripping his heart out with my bare hands. I imagined cutting off his wee filthy parts. I—” He stopped then, but she shuddered with the image he had created. “I’ve horrified ye,” he said softly.
“No, Robert, no.” She walked to a stand, set the dagger down, and came back to him. “I only just fully realized that you would kill for me, risk your life for me, and in that, you would risk the freedom of Scotland for me.”
“I can nae help Scotland if I can nae protect my wife,” he replied. He brought his hands between them and rubbed at the blood smeared on his fingers. “I would have killed him gladly, but I knew it might have brought questions that could come back to harm ye. This way, taking part of his tongue, he can nae talk to anyone. But I am nae gentle.” His gaze locked with hers. “Do ye…do ye think ye can lie beside such a man night after night?”
Was he looking for absolution or reassurance?
“I know I can,” she said. “I love you. You are gentle, though I know you will not allow it to linger for more than a breath here, a caress there. You cannot. But I know this, too: the world demands your fierceness, your sword arm, your cunning, and your leadership. You give it all, without asking in return. Tonight, I demand one thing of you that will wipe the hurt between us away.”
“What would that be?” he asked, sliding his fingertips down her cheek.
“Show me your gentle side, as I have seen it before.”
Robert took her hand, led her to the bed, undressed them both, and laid her on the pillows with care. The coverlet was soft under her back, and his hands were like silk upon her front. He took his time, whispering kisses over her from head to toe, murmuring his love, and stirring the passion in her that he could so expertly awaken it. She ran her hands over his chest, relearning the way his muscles were formed, memorizing each scar. She traced his heart, pressed her palm there, and felt the solid beat within. She prayed nothing would stop his heart but old age.
He glided a finger down her inner arm, along the faint blue line of her veins, and whispered his own Gaelic prayer. “Life to wrinkles and gray. Life with grandchildren at yer feet. Life with laugher on yer lips and love in yer heart,” he said, kissing her eyelids, her lips, and then her neck.
The love she felt for him was nearly unspeakable. It raced through her veins to echo in the very chambers of her heart. “Take me, Robert,” she begged, as he kissed his way down her belly to her inner thighs.
His answer was to grip her hips and thrust into her with a cry of possession, followed almost immediately with a shudder of a man who had come home after a long journey. When they had joined their bodies and lay drowsily in each other’s arms, smelling of their passion and slick with it, rain pattered on the window, and Robert stroked a hand through her hair.
“We must plan for what is to come,” he said, his voice thick with his own need for sleep.
She forced her eyes open and pushed herself up onto one elbow so that she could see his face. His forehead was wrinkled in concentration so she shoved back the cobwebs of sleep and focused on her husband. “What do you mean?”
“If Gaston is successful and he reaches Wallace and Comyn, Edward will surely know I have betrayed him. He will suspect when the temporary peace is over, they will strike, but he will not be able to prove anything.”
She clutched at his arm, suddenly afraid. “He will try you for treason.”
“Nay. He will try to find a way to break me, something to use to control me, and it can nae be ye. Ye must spend these next weeks ingratiating yerself to the king and yer father. We will give them little tidbits of information that seem useful so that they will be pleased with ye.”
“What if they separate us? What if you believe the worst of me again?”
“I’ll nae ever believe that ye are anything but true to me again, Elizabeth. I swear it upon my life. I am stronger with ye. I feel it as sure as I feel my chest rise when I inhale. Ye are my breath, the beat of my heart, the voice of reason in my ear. Ye are my partner.” Tears trickled down her face, and he kissed them away. “Why do ye cry?”
She laid her head on his chest. “Because it cannot last. War is rising, and with it, a tide will sweep us up. And I fear it will sweep us apart so that it could be months before we look upon each other again.
“Come with me,” he said, rising suddenly and taking her hand. She followed him off the bed, and he led her to the window, situating her in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against the solid length of him. His breath was warm upon her neck, and his heart beat steady against her back. He pointed to the starlit sky. “If we are apart, look into the sky and know I will be looking into it and thinking of ye, remembering this moment and how I am but a man who loves a woman with all his heart. And know that I will return to ye always.” She nodded, too emotional to speak. He stroked her arms and said, “I will have to make it seem as though I am aiding Edward if he demands my assistance before I can flee, even while I am hindering him. I must be canny.”
“Do you mean such things as tinkering with war equipment so that it does not work?”
“Aye, lass, I do.” He kissed the back of her neck. “Do ye have other ideas?”
“I do, but let us share them in bed.”
Once they were situated in bed again, they talked until dawn, coming up with ways for Robert to foil the king. As sunlight filtered into the room, Elizabeth yawned. “When do you think we can flee the king and my father?”
“As soon as the temporary truce expires,” he said.
“It cannot come fast enough,” she murmured, her eyes shutting as she drifted off to sleep.