Chapter Twenty-Six
The same dream of Comyn stabbing Robert in a church continued to haunt Elizabeth. Despite Robert’s reassurances to her that he would be careful, the night he set out to meet Comyn and Lamberton to secretly sign the treaty and put their seals to it, Elizabeth was nearly frantic, but all went well, and he returned to Glenzier Castle two nights later unscathed. The night was black when he arrived at Glenzier weary from the hard ride back, and as he pulled his horse to a stop in the torch-lit courtyard, the castle door swung open, and Elizabeth raced out, worry etched on her beautiful face.
“Robert, Robert!” she sobbed, coming to him as he dismounted.
“Shh,” he soothed her and drew her to him to hold her in the protective cradle of his arms. “All is well. Comyn will relinquish the throne, and I my land.”
Elizabeth pulled back and glanced at him. “Exactly as you thought,” she said.
“Aye,” he replied and brushed his hand down the slope of her cheek. “There will be no divide now amongst the Scottish people when we rebel against Edward.”
Elizabeth squeezed him tight. “You will be king and lead your people to freedom.”
“I pray I am strong enough and canny enough to do so.”
“You are!” she said, fiercely, her belief in him reassuring.
“We must flee tonight for Scotland, lass,” he said, feeling already the weight of worry that he was taking her toward war. But his brave wife smiled, rose on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek.
“I will pack a few things in satchels for us.”
Robert nodded, secured his horse, and followed Elizabeth into the castle, but he no more than shut the door and headed toward the stairs to the bedchamber, when pounding commenced at the door.
It was far too late for social visitors. Robert withdrew his sword and motioned Elizabeth to go up the stairs, but she stubbornly shook her head and withdrew her dagger. His wife would be the death of him with worry for her safety. Scowling at her, he turned and strode to the door and swung it open, his sword at the ready. Gloucester stood there and Robert’s eyes widened as he waved the man in. Once the door was shut, he said, “What ill tidings bring ye at this hour?”
“Papers were recovered from Wallace’s person that indicate you were in contact with him and aiding him.”
Elizabeth cried out behind Robert and then rushed to his side, her hand coming to his. He squeezed her fingers and drew her close to give her comfort, as he nodded to Gloucester. “Go on,” he said, careful to keep his tone steady, though his own concern was great.
Gloucester inhaled a long breath. “The king has just read the paper. Robert,” the word was heavy with sorrow, “you’re to be named traitor and Elizabeth taken. You both must flee now.”
Robert felt Elizabeth trembling but when he looked to her, she gave him a brave smile. Her desire to show him strength made his heart ache with love. He grasped Gloucester’s forearm. “Thank ye. Thank ye for risking yer life to save mine.”
Gloucester nodded. “You are the most honorable man I have ever known. I wish you Godspeed.”
“Gloucester,” Robert said, thinking of Fraser. The man was still at Westminster. Fraser needed to know the time had come that he no longer had to play the spy, and he could flee for Scotland. “Can ye get word to Fraser that we must flee?”
Gloucester grinned. “Yes. I’ll make haste now.”
Robert shut the door and turned toward her. “We must leave now. I’m sorry, I—”
“Do not be sorry, Robert!” she chided and waved her hand dismissively. “Think you I care about these things or what little I could have taken? As long as I have you, I have everything I need.”
He cupped her face in his hands and gave her a long kiss. “I can nae imagine my life without ye, Elizabeth.”
“Well, then,” she said, smiling coyly, “it’s a good thing you do not have to.”
“Come,” he urged, leading her out of the castle to his horse. “We will ride together. There is not a moment to waste.”
She nodded. Once they were mounted, he urged the horse into a gallop, but as they turned onto the road that would lead them away from Glenzier and Westminster toward Scotland, a lone rider appeared on the road. Every protective instinct Robert had flared as the man drew closer. The torch he held lit his face and Robert recognized him. He had been outside the church where Robert, Comyn, and Lamberton had met. He was one of Comyn’s men and had departed with Comyn, as far as Robert had known, to return to Dunfermline, Scotland. Something had to be wrong.
Tension made the muscles in Robert’s arms twitch, and he was acutely aware of Elizabeth pressed behind him.
“Where are ye bound?” Robert demanded, riding straight up to the man, who appeared no more than twenty summers. His eyes widened with obvious recognition of Robert.
“I’ve an order from my lord Comyn. Make way,” the man demanded, his gaze straying to Elizabeth. Robert’s instinct for treachery rang in his ears. He slashed his sword across the man’s chest, splitting his plaid but not drawing blood.
“Name yer business or I’ll kill ye.”
“A letter,” the stranger croaked. “For the King of England from my lord.”
“Damn the man to Hell,” Robert swore, knowing without seeing the letter that Comyn was betraying him. Still, he reached forward, yanked the man’s satchel away from him, and secured the letter, sealed with Comyn’s emblem. He opened it, scanned the contents, and swore again. “Dismount yer horse or I’ll kill ye.”
The man did so without question.
“Elizabeth,” Robert said, dismounting and keeping his sword pointed at the man. “Get the rope out of my satchel.”
She immediately did so and handed it to him. Robert made quick work of tying the man’s hands and legs, and then he turned at the sound of material ripping. He frowned at his wife who held a long piece of material toward him from her gown.
“Put this in his mouth, so he can not call for aid,” she said, handing him the fabric.
Elizabeth’s strength and cleverness amazed him. He did as she suggested, and together, they dragged the now-crying man to the woods, left him there, and regained Robert’s horse.
“Comyn has betrayed you?” Elizabeth asked, her voice as lethal as any warrior’s he’d ever heard.
“Aye.” He tapped the letter still clutched in his palm. “He sent Edward my signed agreement with him to give him my lands if he would relinquish any claim to the throne. He makes a bargain with the devil, and my fate would be death and yer—” Robert could not even utter the words that she would likely be made the wife of de Beauchamp if Robert was put to death. “Come,” he said, “we must ride hard and fast to my home in Lochthorn, Dumfries. Angus was to make his way there, as well as my brothers. They were to rally my vassals.”
“How far is the ride?” she asked.
“Three hard days normally, but we must do it in two. I’m sorry to ask this of ye.”
“Shh.” She leaned over and kissed him. “If I am by your side, I do it gladly.”
As they turned to lead their horses away, the sound of hooves erupted behind them. Robert moved in front of Elizabeth, his heart exploding, and his sword ready, but when he saw that it was Fraser and Catarine, relief flooded Robert, and he lowered his sword.
Fraser had a fierce look on his face. “Gloucester just told me the news of the papers.”
Robert nodded and looked to Catarine. Had she been with Fraser at this late hour? There was no time to voice the question. Instead he quickly told them both of Comyn’s betrayal. “Fraser, I need a favor.”
“Anything,” the man responded immediately.
“Ride to Comyn. He should be making his way to Dunfermline near the Greyfriars Church. Do nae let on what has occurred. Tell him I wish to meet with him at the church in four days, and then ye meet me there. I will take Elizabeth and Catarine to Lochthorn for safety.”
Fraser nodded. “I could kill Comyn…”
“Nay,” Robert said. “I will nae divide Scotland to appease my hatred of the man. If he dies, it will be after a fair trial.”
“As ye wish,” Fraser replied. “I’ll meet up with ye then in four days.”
“Aye,” Robert agreed, thinking suddenly of the nightmare Elizabeth had repeatedly had about him. Was it a premonition? The question haunted him as they fled.
The ride to Lochthorn was every bit as grueling as Robert had promised. By the time they arrived two days later, and Robert helped Elizabeth dismount, her legs nearly buckled from under her. As one of the guards at the castle helped Catarine dismount, Elizabeth noticed Catarine leaned on the man, obviously in the same state of exhaustion Elizabeth was in. The guard helped Catarine limp away as Robert held Elizabeth up and pulled her against him. She pressed close to him, knowing they would soon be separated. “The man approaching us is my brother Nigel, and with him is my friend Niall Campbell, laird of Clan Campbell, whom ye saw long ago in Ireland but ye never properly met,” Robert said loudly, as the courtyard was abuzz with activity. “Nigel is the brother closest to me in age.”
Elizabeth nodded, focusing first on Robert’s brother. He had Robert’s same dark hair and handsomeness, but Nigel appeared much younger to her than Robert. When he smiled at Robert and her, she could see true kindness in his clear blue gaze. She thought him to be at least five summers younger than Robert, and she understood with a completeness she had not before, why Robert had intentionally tried to keep his brothers in Scotland, and thus, in relative safety. No doubt, her husband felt responsible for their well-being.
Nigel and Robert clutched forearms when they stood face-to-face, both grinning, and Elizabeth felt her own mouth pull into a smile at their obvious affection for each other. Robert was the first to break the hold.
He motioned to Elizabeth. “Brother, this is my wife, Elizabeth.”
Nigel offered a friendly smile. “Ye are even bonnier than the rumors.”
Elizabeth’s face heated with the compliment. “I’m pleased to meet you,” she said as all three men started to chuckle. Frowning, she looked to Robert, and he winked at her.
“Scottish lasses expect to be complimented and rarely blush,” Robert said. “I’ll need to give ye more lessons on being a proper Scottish wife,” he teased. When her face grew even hotter, Robert laughed outright, then sobered, the grave lines returning that had set on his face since they’d fled London.
“And this, as I told ye moments ago, is Niall,” Robert said.
Elizabeth looked at the red-haired, green-eyed giant of a man and had a flash of memory from the day she had first seen him in Ireland. “You drew your sword on me,” she recalled.
Niall nodded. “Aye. I’m sorry, lass. I did think ye possibly dangerous.”
“Oh, I am dangerous,” she said sweetly. “To my enemies, so do not get on my bad side,” she teased.
Niall grinned at that. “I’ll remember that.” To Robert he said, “What’s occurred? Are we ready to rise?”
Elizabeth stomach knotted as Robert said, “Aye. Are my men here?”
“Aye. We gathered them as instructed.”
Robert quickly told Niall of what had occurred, and Elizabeth grew more frightened as her dream kept coming in bits and pieces. Robert had been talking, and his words suddenly penetrated her haze of fear. “I will meet with Comyn in the church—”
“No!” Elizabeth gasped. “Not a church, Robert. I beg you. He’ll try to kill you. I know it!”
“Mo chridhe.” He cupped her face, his gaze burning with so much conviction that she knew what he would say before she spoke. Though his bravery was one of the many reasons she loved him, it did not dampen her own fear, her own certainty that he would ride to danger tomorrow—possibly to his death. He brushed her hair back from her brow, his touch making her shiver with a deep need for him. “I can nae cower in fear. What sort of man would I be? I have already sent the message.”
“Meet him outside of it,” she grumbled half-heartedly.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his large, warm palms still holding her face. “I will nae let fear rule me, Elizabeth, but I will take care. I vow it. I will have Fraser meeting me there, and Nigel will go with me,” Robert said, looking to his brother, whose eyes widened with surprise, but who quickly nodded. “And look there,” Robert continued, “there is Angus, who will ride with me.”
Elizabeth looked at the large Scot walking toward them, and she was glad he would ride with Robert, but her fear would not subside. “Take Niall as well,” she urged him, the dream flashing like a perfect picture in her mind.
“Nay.” The reply was definite, his tone unbending. “If I should be cut down—”
She turned her face from him, not wanting to hear his words, but he gently made her look at him once more. “If I should be cut down, I would have Niall here to watch over ye.”
“I will guard ye with my life, my lady,” Niall vowed.
Robert ran a hand down her cheek. “Niall knows the underbelly of the woods better than anyone. If it became necessary for ye to flee off the beaten path, to hide for a time in the wild, he is the man who can ensure ye and my other brothers survive.”
She nodded, placing her hands on top of his, which were still upon her cheeks. Tears filled her eyes, but she dashed them away as the men left her and Robert standing alone.
“Come,” she said, taking his hand. “I would have this night with you before you leave me tomorrow.”
“I depart in body, Elizabeth, but I leave my heart with ye. Keep it safe for me, aye?”
“Yes,” she replied, and then he led her into the keep. They walked silently up the stairs, past a number of servants. When they were finally in a bedchamber she assumed to be his and the door was closed, they faced each other. She stared at him for several minutes, wanting to memorize every line, every rise and dip of his body, and from the way he roamed his gaze slowly over her, she knew he was doing the same.
She slid her hands up his arms, over his shoulders, and down his back, praying that the strength she felt there would keep him safe. Silently, she removed his sword from its sheath, the blade hissing as she did.
“Careful, lass,” he said, his concern obvious in the crease that appeared between his brows.
“I believe I’ve already proven that I can handle your sword,” she said wickedly, suddenly desperate to see him smile once more.
He chuckled as a smile pulled his lips up, the dimples she so loved appearing. “Aye, ye can that.”
“I love the tiny dents in your face that appear when you smile,” she told him, wanting him to know. She pressed a finger into each dimple.
He cocked his eyebrows. “Aye? I did nae know. Did ye know that ye have dimples, as well?”
She frowned. “I don’t.” Then she playfully narrowed her eyes at him. “You must be recalling another lass you have joined with.”
“Nay, Wife. I have thought of only ye since the day I saw ye in Ireland. Ye took my heart and all thoughts of others that day.”
Warmth flowed through her at his words. “Where are these dimples you claim I have?” she asked.
“Ah, I will be happy to show ye,” he said, his voice a velvet whisper and his gaze glinting with blatant desire. “But first remove yer gown and yer undergarments.”
Heat pooled in her belly, and she tightened at her core. She sucked in a sharp breath of yearning, pulled up her gown, and clumsily worked to undress while Robert watched her with a growing grin.
“You could help me,” she said, thinking he was laughing at her prolonged effort to take off her clothing.
“Nay, I am quite enjoying watching ye do the deed. Ye make the simplest movement erotic.”
“I feel a fool,” she admitted.
“Do nae. Ye make me want to rip off yer clothing just watching ye.”
His words made her flesh burn at the idea of him acting upon that desire. She finally got her undergarments down and then kicked them away.
“Come to me,” he commanded, his voice humming with his need. She stepped into his open embrace, and his hands settled on her waist. He pulled her off her feet. “Wrap yer legs around me, mo chridhe.” She did so, hooking her ankles behind him on his lower back. Her heel pressed into his backside as he slid his hands to her bottom. He brought his mouth close to her ear. “Yer wee dimples that I adore are just here,” he said. Strong fingers pressed gently into the center of her lower back. “I love the way yer body dips in this spot.”
“Do you?” she asked, her voice a throaty whisper. It was all she could manage with her pulse throbbing so quickly. “Is that all you love about me?” she teased as he drew circles over the dips he had mentioned.
“Nay, Wife.” He nuzzled her neck as he turned her toward the windowed alcove. He set the edge of her bottom on the ledge that protruded, and the cool night breeze washed over her back as his hands came to her breasts. “I love how silky yer skin is,” he growled, tracing her right breast. “Even my calloused fingers glide over it, and I can nae help but think of melons.”
“Melons?” She gasped as his fingers did wicked things to her breasts.
“Aye,” he said, his lips coming to one breast and then the other, a well-planned strategy of seduction. Within moments, she was groaning, her body humming, and her need escalating. She dug her nails into his back, feeling as if she was spinning out of control. “I love yer scent,” he continued. “Here—” he traced his tongue across her neck “—ye smell of heather. But here—” he grasped her wrists and pressed a kiss to them “—there is a scent I do nae know, but it’s spicy.”
“Oil,” she panted. “From one of my father’s travels.”
His gaze flicked to her, and he smiled devilishly. “I will have to get some of this oil to rub all over yer body.”
“That might make me rather slippery,” she managed to get out.
“Now ye have the idea,” he said, running a single finger from her wrist, down her arm, to her hip, over her belly, and between her thighs. His other hand came to her right thigh and suddenly both of his hands were there, spreading her legs. “Here,” he said, his tone husky, “ye smell of woman, and I can nae think of a better scent in the world than that which is uniquely yers.”
The tension within her, the contracting of her core muscles made her mad with need for him. She twined her legs around him once more and grabbed his hips to tug him closer. “I want you, Robert.”
“Oh, aye?” he asked, teasing in his voice. “Then ye shall have me.”
And with that promise, he gripped her bottom, heaved her up off the ledge, and slid his body into hers. They were two halves of a whole, flawed and jagged along their edges, yet somehow they fit together perfectly. His body was hot, slick, and smelled of the forest they had traveled through to get here. Under her fingers, the muscles of his back strained as his arms held her tightly, kept her safe and protected from enemies, protected from a fall. Heat engulfed her thighs where they rubbed with his body, and the flame spread to her belly, her breasts, her neck, and her face. His movement within her created a delicious friction that stoked the blaze within her, but she wanted to prolong the moment, the tiny fear that it may be their last in her head.
His hands clamped her to him, and he moved with delicious strokes that offered no quarter but demanded release of her fear and submission to the moment. She cried out as he ground deeper into her, and his own buttocks flexed before a guttural cry was ripped from deep within him. Hearing and feeling his surrender to her, she joined him, and together, they blazed like a star across the sky.
Later, as they lay there, she had a thought. “Robert, I will go with you tomorrow,” she said resolutely.
“Elizabeth—”
“No! You listen to me for once,” she said on a rush, determined to have her way in this. She glanced up at him and met his wary stare. “In my dream, we are never together and I see you stabbed, but I also see myself separately, learning that you have been injured. Don’t you see? If I am with you, then the dream cannot possibly come true.”
She tensed, prepared to argue with him, but he surprised her by kissing her for a long moment. Then his hands slid down her body, and he stroked her. “We will talk of it in the morning,” he said. “Tonight is for loving ye.”
She could not protest as his fingers expertly rekindled the flame that had been put out not long ago.