Chapter Two
Robert rode parallel to the river that traversed his land, Niall at his side. Tomorrow they would start the journey back to Scotland to prepare for Edward’s next invasion. Luckily, they would be returning with fifty more fighting men than they’d had when they’d departed for Ireland. He held up a hand for them to stop, and when Niall acknowledged him with a dip of his head, Robert slowed his horse and directed the great beast toward the river’s edge. When he slackened his reins, the horse immediately dipped his head to drink. He pulled out his wine skin and drank liberally before passing the vessel to Niall, who turned it up to quench his own thirst.
Robert glanced across the grassy knolls of his grounds, so green and thriving, and thought angrily of the charred land of Scotland that had been so devastated by the four years of brutal war with Edward. His mind turned briefly to his four younger brothers, for whom he felt wholly responsible given their father had all but deserted them for the luxury of England. He had left the eldest two, Nigel and Edward, in charge of the younger two, Alexander and Thomas, and settled them at Belmont Castle, deep in Scotland, well away from the fighting. But he knew it was only a matter of time before the war swept them into its clutches. His stomach tightened with the thought. Already, Nigel and Edward needled him constantly to be allowed to fight, and soon, he would have to allow it, though he despised the idea. As for Alexander and Thomas, they were far too young to fight, but the perfect age for the savage Edward to try to use the innocent boys to force Robert to his will.
“Why are ye scowling? Today was good, aye? Most of yer vassals decided to come with ye to Scotland and fight.”
Robert swiped a hand across his face. “I’m thinking of my brothers and looking at my estate here, and it makes me think of the land we’ve had to destroy to keep Edward from profiting. It sickens me.”
Niall nodded. “Aye, but it would sicken ye more if Edward gained those holdings and became so powerful that we had no hope of defeating him. As for yer brothers, they’re safe.”
Robert met his friend’s keen gaze. “For now. I lie awake at night and try to imagine how we will defeat Edward as we are going now. My people are scattered, sick, and barely surviving, and still, I need them to continue the fight,” he said, bitterness burning in his belly. “And soon the day may come that I must allow Nigel and Edward into the thick of the battle as they wish.” It was not often he spoke so freely, but he knew Niall shared his concerns.
“Robbie,” Niall began.
“Hear me,” Robert interrupted, needing to relay his greatest concern before Niall spoke. “How can we, the men who are at the head of the rebellion, lead the people to freedom when we quarrel so much amongst ourselves that we’re too divided to lead effectively?”
“We will find a way. You’ll lead them.” Niall appeared to look past Robert, but he knew his friend was deep in thought. He recognized the contemplative look. “The Comyns pretend to fight with us, yet they conveniently only rise to battle when it endangers their lands. And they plot still to bring Balliol back to Scotland. If the man did nae have the necessary mettle to defeat Edward before, he certainly will nae have it now. I suspect they mean to make him their puppet king, pulling his strings and demanding much for themselves.”
Robert scrubbed a hand across his face. “Aye, but how we convince those loyal to Balliol of this truth escapes me.” To struggle with the English king for the freedom of the Scottish people was one thing, but to struggle with the Comyns, fellow Scots, was another. He longed for peace, but the Comyns would never allow it. They desired the throne, and Robert would consider stepping aside, except he knew well they would destroy him and all who had ever fought beside him in the process.
“Angus is coming,” Niall suddenly said.
Robert turned from the water and frowned. He’d left Angus MacLorh at his estate this morning while he and Niall had ridden out to gather more vassals for the cause. He trusted his longtime friend implicitly. He, Angus, and Niall had all trained together at the Earl of Mar’s castle years before. If Angus had left his post guarding Robert’s castle this day, there must be a very good reason.
He rode up fast, pulling the reins sharply and dismounting in one fluid motion. The tall Scot’s gray gaze settled on Robert. “A messenger arrived with a letter from Fraser. The man said it was urgent and needed to be delivered to ye directly.” Angus reached in his satchel and held out the note to Robert.
Robert tensed. Simon Fraser was a spy, a master manipulator, but most importantly, dedicated to defeating Edward. He had also trained with Robert, Niall, and Angus at Mar’s home. Robert noted Fraser’s seal and tore open the letter.
The puppet dances to a Scottish tune played on a golden French harp.
“God’s teeth!” Robert swore.
“What does it say?” Angus and Niall both demanded.
Robert held the note up for them. Both men read it and then looked questioningly at Robert.
Angus snatched the message and frowned down at it. “Leave it to Fraser to make the code impossible to understand,” he growled, thumping the parchment. “What in God’s name does this mean?”
“It means that the king of France is considering giving Balliol forces to return to Scotland so he can reclaim his throne if the Pope will release Balliol from banishment.”
Angus pressed his lips together momentarily. “Ye got all that from that one line, did ye?”
A memory struck him of them all teasing Angus during training. He had always been the last to break codes, but the man made up for the slowness in deciphering by being the toughest to defeat in combat. Angus was renowned for his skill with a sword. And he was plenty smart, just impatient. “Nay. Fraser and I spoke of the code months ago.”
Angus nodded. “The Comyns surely have had a hand in this.”
“Aye,” Robert agreed. “It would take much power and money to get the king of France to consider such a thing. If Balliol returns to reclaim the throne, Scotland may gain freedom from the tyranny of King Edward but it will be traded for the tyranny of the Comyns. I can nae allow this to happen.”
“We kinnae,” Angus said, to which Niall nodded.
Robert clenched his fists, consumed by fiery anger. “We must fight Edward, even as we battle Comyn’s plots.” He yanked his hand through his hair. “I can nae watch my back for his knife and watch my front for the Englishmen who are charging at me.”
Angus dismounted and clasped Robert on the shoulder. “I will watch yer back.”
Niall dismounted, as well, and seized Robert’s forearm. “And I will be by yer side.”
Before Robert could respond, a female voice called from the distance. “Mr. Daniel?”
Steel hissed and swished through the air as Robert, Niall, and Angus all withdrew their swords. Robert turned toward at the sound, prepared to fight, reminding himself that a woman was the perfect distraction for an ambush.
Primed for battle, shock slammed him in the chest and stole his breath as the woman came into view. A memory of Elizabeth de Burgh—young, foolish, and brave as she defied her father to aid the Moray men—filled him. The years had stolen Elizabeth’s girlhood and replaced it with a swanlike beauty. A tall, slender woman stood before him with lively blue eyes and a proud tilt to her head. Her hair was the color of golden wheat and tumbled invitingly over her shoulders. She wore a traveling gown of fine emerald silk, and the bodice clung to the ample curves of her chest—a thing she must have sensed for she crossed her arms.
“Robert the Bruce,” she said simply. His name flowed from her tongue with such musical cadence it stirred something deep within him.
Angus surged forward as if to stop an attack. Robert gripped his friend by the arm and stilled his motion. Elizabeth shuffled backward, her face pale. “I know this lass,” he told Angus.
“Aye?” Angus grumbled. “That dunnae mean she did nae wish to kill ye. In my experience, the better lasses ken me the more they wish me ill.”
“I do nae know her in that sense, Angus,” Robert snapped, a protective instinct for the girl—no, woman—flaring.
Her blue eyes widened with what appeared to be fright, and her full lips parted. He quickly sheathed his sword and held his palms up. “I do nae mean ye harm.”
She cocked an eyebrow, almost haughtily, then pointed to Angus. “It’s not you I’m concerned with. It’s that one there—with the dagger.”
Robert flicked his gaze at Angus and frowned. His friend, ever suspicious of beautiful lasses due to his own history of being horribly betrayed by one, had drawn his dagger. “Put yer weapon away, man.”
With a reluctant look between his blade and Elizabeth, Angus took his time complying.
“There,” Robert said to her. “Ye do nae have anything to fear now. May I approach?”
Wariness danced across her lovely face, and he had a feeling she would be far more comfortable if Angus and Niall were not standing there. “Ye two make yer way back to the castle and prepare the men for the journey home.”
“I’ll stay,” Angus scoffed, a stubborn glint in his eyes.
“I do nae need yer protection from one wee lass,” Robert said.
Angus scowled. “It is because ye see her as such that she could well be the most dangerous of all enemies.”
Robert caught Elizabeth’s interested gaze on them. A smile quivered at her lips. “He’s right. Mayhap I’m deadly with my hands.”
Niall chuckled but Angus narrowed his eyes. Elizabeth’s forehead wrinkled, and an image of her hands on Robert’s body danced before his eyes, sending a hot wave of desire over him.
“See there,” Angus said. “The lass kens how to use her hands.”
“Leave me,” Robert ordered, giving Angus, and then Niall—who looked as if he was about to protest as well—a warning look. As Niall and Angus quickly mounted their horses and rode past her, Robert closed the distance between the two of them. When he was near enough to see the golden flecks in her eyes, the curl of her dark lashes, the proud tilt of her chin, he lost his ability to speak. Elizabeth de Burgh was no common woman; she was exceptional.
He bowed slightly, and when he came up, she was grinning. “This must be a first for an enemy to bow to another.”
“Are we enemies?”
“My father is in England to aid my godfather in crushing you.”
“As long as ye are nae trying to destroy me, ye are nae my enemy.”
She glanced behind her toward the woods, then back to him. Her voice dropped low. “My brother Walter and three of his men are beyond those woods.”
His pulsed ticked up, not at the proximity of men who would gladly see him killed but at the fact that she had warned him. “I thank ye.”
“I’d not wish to see your blood shed this day.”
“Another day is preferable?” he teased, surprising himself. He’d never jested so lightheartedly with a woman. In truth, he’d had little time for women, jesting, or soft emotions. He had been sent away to train at a young age, and then strife had plagued his family—for many long years now—so his mind habitually turned to battle, the physical and mental toll extracting most of his energy.
Elizabeth blushed. “No, but surely you can see that I should be loyal to my family and not have warned you that they are near and would kill you for being on our property.”
Misguided family loyalty had compelled him to do many things. He understood her predicament and felt a pang of regret for her. She would likely come to learn that family loyalty often coiled like a snake waiting to strike at the most vulnerable moments. Robert cleared his throat, not wishing to be the one to color her view of her family, which had obviously not been too tarnished by her father’s deeds. “Ye are on my property, so yer brother and his men would nae have just cause here to try and kill me.”
“Oh!” A look of equal surprise and embarrassment swept across her face. “I had not realized we were on your lands.”
He nodded. “Are ye lost then?”
Guilt flashed across her face. “No,” she said, her voice uneasy. “It’s too complicated to explain, but I beg you, if you see my brother, please, please do not tell him you saw me.”
Robert frowned. “I doubt we would pause to have a conversation. Yer brother would nae have just cause to kill me on my land, but I do nae doubt he would try to do so, if nae capture me. And that would make conversation unlikely.”
“Of course.” She tugged a hand through her hair. “I’m normally more astute, but you see, I—” She bit her lip. “I’m fleeing my family,” she blurted. “My cousin Lillianna and I, we, well—” She waved a hand. “It hardly matters. I really must make haste. But before I depart, do you know a Mr. Connor Daniel? He was to meet us not far from here at the hills.”
Robert’s nostrils flared at the mention of the swindler who’d stolen from several of Robert’s vassals. “Daniel is a charlatan.” Her shoulders drooped considerably. Robert wanted to curse at her obvious distress. “Did ye already give the man coin?”
“Yes,” she said, barely above a whisper. “He was to meet us here today and then take us on a ship to France.”
“France? Why do ye wish to go there?”
She looked over her shoulder. “I really must depart, my lord,” she said, meeting his gaze again and refusing to answer his question. “I must speak to my cousin. If Mr. Daniel is not going to aid us, then we have to return to my brother before we are missed.”
“Please,” he said, “call me Robert.”
She glanced behind her again, and when she turned back to him, he saw the stark fear in her eyes. “I would hear their steps upon the leaves if they were coming,” he assured her.
She nodded. “Yes, but Robert—” she gave him a shy smile “—my cousin is waiting. And if we’re nowhere to be found, Walter or my sister will tell my mother, who will tell my father all.” She shuddered, and anger coursed through him for what she had left unsaid. The truth of it showed clearly on her face.
“Ye would be punished.”
“Yes.” Her cheeks pinkened. “Severely. But I care more about the punishment that would befall Lillianna. I persuaded her to do this.”
“Why do ye wish to flee?”
Her shoulders drooped, and her gaze darted from him. “I fear I’m to be married.” She looked at him once more, her face a portrait of defiance. “I would choose my husband myself rather than have one forced on me.”
Her sentiments matched his so exactly that he found himself gaping.
Her lips pressed together, and she crossed her arms defensively. “I suppose you think I have no right to choose my husband because I am a mere woman.”
“Nay, I—”
“God’s teeth!” she exclaimed. “I cannot think why I even told you, a stranger, such intimate things.”
The downward tug of her mouth ignited something within him, some emotion he could not name. “Ye do nae have to fear what ye reveal to me. Shortly, we will part ways. Therefore, ye sense ye do nae have to fear judgment.”
“Would there be any?” She looked at him questioningly. “I mean, if you and I were ever to cross paths again?”
“Nay, Elizabeth.” Why did it seem he knew her when he didn’t? “I married by my family’s orders,” he revealed, though as with everything that concerned her, he was unsure why. “I’d nae wish that fate on another.”
She frowned. “You’re wed?”
Guilt surfaced for his late wife. Isabella had been thrust upon him, and he had seen little choice but to accept his fate. He had been twenty-two summers when they’d wed, and theirs had been a short, loveless marriage but one that still grieved him a full year since she had died.
Their year together before her death had not been one in which they had grown close, but he took the blame for that. He could not allow himself to feel the way a woman needed a man to feel for her, as if she were everything to him. Scotland was everything to him, so Scotland had to come first.
“Robert?” Elizabeth prodded, bringing his attention back to her. “You did not answer my question. Are you wed?”
“Ye sound sad,” he teased, grasping at a moment to feel carefree, though there was no place for the emotion in his hazardous life.
A haughty look transformed her face. “You flatter yourself.” The words would have rubbed him harshly if laughter had not been in her voice.
He captured her gaze as the heat of desire coursed through his veins. He reached out and grasped her hand. Her lips parted with a soft gasp, but she did not pull away. He could not recall the last time he had flirted. Slowly, he brought her long, slender fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss upon the soft tips. The contact of her silken skin to his mouth jolted his heart much the same way the start of a battle always did.
“I do,” he agreed. Her eyes widened a fraction. “But let me do so, aye? For tomorrow I depart for home to battle yer king and yer father, and yer lovely face—and the memory of a beautiful woman intrigued with me, the man—may well be the dream that goes with me to my grave.”
“Do not say such things, even in jest,” she chided but still did not attempt to move her fingers from his grasp. “You must have faith in yourself if you are to prevail.” Her voice had become vehement. Her eyes burned a brilliant shade of blue, as if passion smoldered from within her. She tugged her hand away suddenly. “I’m certain your wife will tell you the same.”
“She’s deceased,” he blurted.
“Oh!” she said, frowning as her hand fluttered to the graceful column of her neck. “I’m so sorry.”
“Aye, so am I. My father forced me to wed her, and I was nae man enough at the time to refuse. If I had, she might well still be alive… Never again.”
“Never again?” she asked, glancing behind her. She was clearly anxious to return to her cousin.
He never spoke of these matters, but he found himself saying, “Aye. I will nae be forced to marry again.”
“I but wish I had that luxury,” she muttered. “I had hoped…”
He grabbed her hands in his again. She startled, but he did not release her. He was moved by the realization that she struggled for freedom, exactly as he did. “Do nae ever relinquish hope.”
A smiled touched her lips and brightened her eyes. She squeezed his hands. “You must not either.” With those words, she slipped her hands from his. “I must make haste.”
He nodded. “I’ll accompany ye.”
“No! I’ll not be the reason you’re captured this day.” The sudden set line of her lips hinted that she would continue to argue, so he nodded. He’d follow from a safe distance and ensure her safety. “Be safe, Robert,” she said, before nimbly dashing back the way she had come.
Her golden hair flew behind her as she ran with abandon. As he kept pace behind her, he found himself hoping for her sake that Connor had arrived, but when they turned the corner toward the hills, a lone woman paced in the distance, making it obvious that Connor had swindled Elizabeth and her cousin, just as he’d suspected. His chest squeezed for her. He crouched in the thick woods and watched her approach her cousin. A breath later, Walter, whom he recognized from Edward’s court, appeared. That was it, then. Her plan for freedom had been destroyed for now.
Her brother reached for her arm, anger distorting his face. Robert’s hand slipped over the hilt of his sword. He started to rise, but Elizabeth deftly turned away from her brother and marched past him with her head high. Robert crouched once more, his heart pounding, ready to give away his presence to come to her aid. The knowledge seeped into his mind. That would have been careless when so many counted upon him, yet he could not have allowed her to come to harm either. Luckily, he’d not had to make such a choice this day.