Chapter Twenty-Five
Time passed in a sort of haze at the king’s court with Robert gone. Elizabeth asked Queen Margaret if she could once again attend to Her Majesty to help keep her mind occupied. Then she would not spend all her moments worrying about Robert. She did not have anyone at court she could talk to or trust. She knew nothing of what was occurring with the hunt for Wallace, as no one spoke of it to her. She caught the other ladies-in-waiting eyeing her warily, and people in the court doing the same, and she realized they were not certain if they could trust her anymore. She threw herself more fully into her duties, determined to make them all think she was blindly loyal to the king. She took to speaking ill of Scots at supper and pondering just how the king would torture Wallace once he captured the man while she embroidered with the other ladies-in-waiting. The conversations always left her feeling as if she would toss whatever food was in her stomach, and this night was no different.
The noise in the great hall was a steady hum in Elizabeth’s ear as she sat picking at her food and thinking of Robert, not paying much attention to the other ladies-in-waiting around her, but Grace, who had just returned to the king’s court, said something that made Elizabeth’s breath freeze in her lungs.
Grace leaned forward, her green eyes shining with the excitement of the story she was telling. “We passed a band of captured Scottish outlaws on the way here and Father called for our assembly to halt, and then bade us all out of the carriages, including the ladies. He said it would do us all good to see how the king conquers those who oppose him.”
“What happened?” Lady Bethany, another of the queen’s ladies, asked Grace, her eyes wide.
Grace shot her gaze around the table, and her attention landed on Elizabeth. “They disemboweled all the men,” she said, giving a little shudder. “They deserved it, of course, the filthy Scots, but it was horrid to hear the noises the men made as their organs were removed.”
Elizabeth’s stomach roiled as she pictured it, and fear pummeled her. What if the king declared Robert a traitor, and he was caught? She would not be able to live through such a thing!
“Elizabeth,” Grace said, her voice sweet as honey but her gaze sharp. “You look pale. Don’t fear this could happen to Bruce. He’s loyal, after all.” The woman smiled with a cruel twist of her lips.
Elizabeth inhaled a steadying breath and rose from her seat as she held Grace’s gaze. “I do not fear that would ever happen to Robert. He has more loyalty than anyone I have ever known.” And that was the truth. He was loyal to his people and his righteous cause. “If you will excuse me, I feel unwell.” She did not wait for a response. She left the table and the hall, and made her way to her room, where she retched from nerves for Robert and the horror of Grace’s tale. She crawled into her bed and fell asleep in a fit of exhaustion.
She was awoken sometime later by a knock at her door. She gasped, sitting up in her bed in the dark with only moonlight to see. Chills swept her body even as sweat dampened her neck and brow. She muffled a cry, recalling her dream of Robert in the church with Comyn and the man stabbing Robert. A knock came again.
“Yes?” she called.
“The queen wishes ye to attend her,” came an oddly familiar voice.
Elizabeth frowned, scrambled off the bed, secured her wrapper around her, and then went to the door and opened it. Catarine stood there smiling at her.
Elizabeth’s mouth fell open, and happiness filled her. “What are you doing at the king’s court?” she asked as the woman hugged her.
“I’m glad to see ye, as well,” Catarine said in a low, teasing tone. “We have but moments, as the queen has indeed called ye to her. To answer yer question, Robbie arranged it through messages with Fraser and my father. The queen needed a lady to replace Gwendolyn. The queen confided in me upon my arrival that Gwendolyn was secretly rushed from court in disgrace by her cousin, Fraser, when Gwendolyn discovered she was with child.”
“So that’s the tale Fraser told the queen,” Elizabeth murmured.
Catarine grinned. “Aye. Fraser has a magnificent imagination,” she said, her awe for the man obvious by her tone. “Robbie sent me here to keep ye company.”
Her love for Robert sprang tears to her eyes. “Do you have any news of Robert?” she asked. “How is he?” A sadness in Catarine’s eyes chilled Elizabeth. “What is it?” Catarine grabbed Elizabeth’s hand, which made her heart drop to her feet. “Tell me,” she said, her blood now roaring in her ears.
“Robbie’s father has died,” Catarine whispered.
A soft gasp escaped Elizabeth. “Died?” Her mind reeled with the implications of the news and the sadness it must be causing Robert.
Catarine squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “Aye. Ye know what this means, do ye nae?”
Elizabeth nodded, feeling almost numb. “Robert is now the rightful heir to the throne.” She wound her arms around herself, feeling as if her world was turning so wildly that she would be ripped apart. “Robert will be king,” she said on a low voice, feeling the truth of it in her heart. She heard the wonder and fear in her voice.
Catarine squeezed her hand. “I know ye’re afraid.”
Elizabeth nodded, grateful she did not have to hide it at this moment. “I’m petrified,” she admitted. It would be a bloody battle for the throne, of that she had no doubt. “What are Robert’s words for me?” she asked, realizing she had not even done so.
“Lamberton has drawn up a secret treaty for Robbie and Comyn to sign. Robbie hopes he and Comyn can aid each other.”
“My God,” Elizabeth muttered, her shock increasing. Things were proceeding rapidly.
“The king has released Robbie’s brothers,” Catarine continued, her words growing quicker, and Elizabeth understood it was because they needed to hasten to the queen, who likely wished to tell Elizabeth herself of Robert’s father so she could watch Elizabeth’s expression. With Robert’s brothers out of immediate danger, it left only her, she realized, swallowing the large lump in her throat. Catarine’s eyes seemed to see into Elizabeth’s thoughts. The woman nodded. “He said to tell ye nae to fash yerself. The king is pleased that Robbie had done all he can to capture Wallace, even though they have nae thus far. Ye are safe.”
“I do not fear for myself,” Elizabeth said, meaning it. “I fear for him.”
Catarine nodded. “This is why ye will be a good queen, Elizabeth. Now come. The English queen will wish to see just how happy ye are to hear the news of Robbie coming one step closer to the throne.”
Not long later, Elizabeth stood in front of the queen, pretending to hear of the death of Robert’s father for the first time, and as the queen studied her, tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes. The queen exclaimed, “My dear! I did not know you were close to Bruce’s father.”
“I was not,” Elizabeth said, knowing staying as close to the truth as possible would be the best way not to reveal things she did not want seen. “I do not like that the king might fear Robert would try for the throne.”
“Bah!” the queen exclaimed. “Edward returns here tomorrow. I will whisper in his ear myself how loyal you are and how loyal your husband is, too. Have no fear.”
Elizabeth forced a smile and prayed she did not look as scared as she felt.
Robert returned to Westminster with a heavy heart. The snarling English throngs stood in the hot August sun awaiting the arrival of Wallace, who had been captured. Robert’s mind felt too weary to continue, yet rage that Wallace had been betrayed by a desperate Scottish servant in need of coin propelled him to continue forward. There was no time for rest. His people were starving and turning on themselves. He felt the desperation himself. He had to see Elizabeth; the separation had been too long. The months of tirelessly riding; pretending to search for Wallace; having secret rendezvous with him, Lamberton, and other Scottish nobles; and getting precious little sleep had taken their toll. Robert felt as though he had aged fifty years.
He shoved his way through the crowd, toward the north end of the hall where the king and men who dared to sit in judgment of Wallace had gathered. A haze of red descended over Robert’s gaze and helplessness flowed within him. He had done all he could to save Wallace, and in the end, it had not been enough. Christ, he needed Elizabeth.
As if the thought of her had conjured her, she was suddenly there, standing behind the queen and to the left. She was dressed in fine blue silk, her light hair piled atop her head to show the slender, vulnerable column of her neck, her eyes luminous yet appearing calm, her mouth neither smiling nor frowning but set in a perfect line of indifference. His wife. He stuttered to a stop, standing, being jostled, simply drinking in the sight of her. She had done more than simply survive in his absence. He could see it in her proud, confident bearing. She would be able to withstand whatever came their way.
Her gaze caught his then, and a smile of such joy spread across her face that his vision blurred for a moment. There was still good in this world where his wife existed in it. She leaned down and whispered to the queen, and the queen looked to him and smiled. Then she waved Elizabeth to go. His wife came toward him, the crowd parting before her as they would for the Queen of England. The irony of it hit him like a swift punch.
Within a breath, she stood before him, people pressing in on them from every side, yet he felt as if it were just the two of them. She closed the few steps that remained, and he cupped her face, not caring about anything but her for a moment. “My God, but I have missed ye.”
Tears filled her lovely eyes, but she dashed at them. “I cannot imagine it has been as much as I have missed you.”
He nodded, knowing how hard it had to have been for her here, alone for so long, until he managed to send Catarine to her. “There is much to speak of, but nae now.”
“Robert—”
He covered her mouth with his, taking the anguish he heard in her tone as his own. He felt her sorrow for Wallace was as great as his was, and the weight pressed him hard, but he would bear it gladly to lighten her grief. “I know,” he said as he drew away. “There are too many eyes, lass, so smile now. We will watch, as we must, or we may find ourselves next dragged through the streets to stand in front of a court of men who will condemn us.”
She nodded, and he linked her hand through the crook of his arm and guided them both toward the king. Edward’s eyes were upon them, and as they neared the king, he spoke. “Bruce, it is good to see you returned, and just in time to watch me put this scourge Wallace to the death. Now that Wallace is captured, I feel at ease,” the king boasted.
Elizabeth squeezed Robert’s hand, and he gladly took the comfort she was offering. The king at ease was just what he wanted. He smiled, though his face felt as if the effort would crack it. “I’m glad, Yer Majesty.”
“I have decided,” Edward said, “that you and Bishop Lamberton will work together on a committee with Comyn and eight other Scottish commissioners to draw up an ordinance for your country. Are you not happy to be my favored son, my boy?”
Robert trembled where he stood. Wallace was about to be put to death, and Robert had to stand and take it as the king sat there and crowed, for if he did not, this opportunity for Scotland would slip through his fingers and freedom would forever be lost. His throat burned with rage, but he swallowed and said, “Of course, Sire. I am honored.”
God’s teeth, he prayed he did not lost his control. His nostrils flared, and he clenched his teeth. Suddenly, Elizabeth’s finger brushed soothingly over the back of his hand. The motion continued, dulling the roar in his ears and the racing of his heart. He looked to her to convey with his eyes, his gratitude that she was here by his side.
As his gaze locked with Elizabeth’s, the queen exclaimed, “Edward! See how in love they are! I beg you, let Elizabeth go with your favored son to his home so that they may have time in private. They need heirs!”
Robert stilled, his breath frozen in his chest. If the king agreed to this, it would be the opening he had been searching for to get Elizabeth out of his ready reach. The king chuckled and waved his hand toward Robert. “Yes, yes. Take my goddaughter to Glenzier Castle. I return it to you. Besides, if I need you, it is but a ride down the road,” the king said, eyeing him. “But first I will have you stay as witness to Wallace’s torture until they drag him away toward his imminent death.” The king smiled mercilessly.
Robert inclined his head, his emotions barely under control, his new role of favored son nearly impossible to stomach, but it was necessary. Yet the worst of the day was still to come. Wallace was led out with a crown of flowers on his head. He was battered and bloody, having been dragged here on his belly, hands and feet tied, behind a horse. The man had been braver than any Robert had known, and now he would die for the cause. Robert had failed him now, too. Containing his grief made his throat ache, and somehow, throughout the long proceedings, he did so, with nothing but Elizabeth’s touch to give him strength. But later that night, when they entered their bedchamber and she laid her hand upon his heart, he broke.
Robert was nearly destroyed, shredded from the outside in, as if time itself were a razor that had scraped upon him until there was almost nothing left but bone. Elizabeth had noticed it the minute she had spotted him in the crowd, and her eyes had met his bloodshot ones. She ached for him as she placed her hand over his heart, finally alone in their bedchamber after this long and wretched day of death. He shook violently under her touch, and the blank stare that had filled his eyes as they had watched Wallace being dragged off to his death was now haunted. She opened her mouth to tell him Wallace’s death was not his fault, but she promptly shut it when he pushed her hand aside and began to pace the room like a trapped animal. He would not hear or ever believe that Wallace’s death was not on his hands.
He strode back and forth muttering to himself, and she could see the tempest rising within him, her husband who would be king. She had no doubt it would come to pass. Scotland was in his blood, and he would not rest until his people were free. She loved him fiercely for it. Suddenly, he twirled toward the wall and sent his fist into it, making her flinch at the impact. His knuckles were bloody as he drew his hand away, yet she did not move to stop him. She wanted to. God, how she wanted to, but Robert was an unstoppable force of nature. As most kings were, she realized with a sharp intake of breath.
She gripped her hands together, watching him as he hit the wall over and over. Tears blurred her eyes at the injuries he was causing himself, but she knew there was no other way.
When it was over and he slid to the ground panting, she went to him, kneeled before him, and took his hand in hers. He drew his gaze up and watched her silently as she cleaned and wrapped his hand. Once she had finished bandaging it, she looked into her husband’s eyes. “No one can break you but you. No one can tear us apart but us. You will be king, and you will need to share your pain with me. It is too much to bear alone.”
He reached for her, stripping them both of their clothes in a flash. “I love ye, Elizabeth,” he murmured as he rose, bringing her with him. He roamed his hands over her breasts, down her belly, and to her bottom, which he gripped and then hoisted her up. “Wrap yer legs around me,” he urged.
Desire spiked within her as she did as requested while also circling her hands around his back to where his muscles strained to leash the power within him. “Share your burden with me,” she encouraged him once more.
“Ye’re certain?” he asked, nuzzling one breast and then the other.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” she assured him.
Suddenly, he backed her against the wall, his mouth coming to her breast as he entered her. His tongue swiveled slowly around her bud, teasing her, as he seemed to be teasing her with slow strokes of his body. Her core tightened with the yearning he was creating within her, and she felt herself clenching around him.
“Christ!” he muttered, claiming her mouth as his pace quickened with a sort of wildness that took her breath and her senses. They found release together, their bodies tensing as one, pressed together pounding heart to pounding heart. “I love ye so much I ache with it,” he whispered in her ear, running his fingers down her neck and across her collarbone, and then setting his warm palm to her still racing heart.
“I love you too,” she said, kissing his jaw and his mouth as he lowered her feet to the ground, drew her to the bed, and situated them both there. He cradled her in his arms, his hands stroking her hair. His heat enveloped her, and his scent of pine soothed her.
“We will leave for Glenzier at daybreak,” he said.
She nodded.
“This is it, lass. There is nae turning back once I rise in rebellion. Ye are certain ye can withstand what will come?”
She pulled herself up to her elbows and met his gaze. She wanted him to see her face and know the truth. “I am certain,” she said. “I can withstand all that comes our way as long as we have each other. Tell me. What will you do now?”
“I will hopefully strike a bargain with Comyn. I can nae have him dividing Scotland.”
Fear made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. “Do you think you can trust him?”
“Nay, which is why Lamberton has been working with me to create the treaty that will stand between myself and Comyn. If Comyn feels he has made the best pact and still receives what he can get now, I believe he should keep our agreement to aid each other, especially if he knows the church will be denounce him if he does nae. I wish for the throne, and I will give him my land for it.”
She was not surprised at Robert’s willingness to give up his wealth. It was part of why she loved him. She clung to him, not voicing the fear she felt deep down.
That night, the nightmare about Robert struck her once more. She awoke with a gasp and shook Robert until he too woke up.
“What is it, lass?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.
“I dreamed that Comyn tried to stab you in a church.” Her heart still raced with the dream.
“Shh,” he said in a soothing tone, yet fear still clung to her. “It was just a dream.”
“No,” she said stubbornly. “No. It is the future. I feel it. I fear I have some sort of sight.”
Robert frowned. “Have ye seen the future before?”
“Well no,” she said, feeling suddenly foolish.
“Do nae fash yerself. I told ye before, I will nae let my guard down around the man.”
“Vow it again,” she demanded, knowing she sounded crazed but not caring.
“I vow it,” he promised, and sealed it with a kiss, yet fear for him lodged in her heart and filled her with worry.