Chapter Eight
Elizabeth did not get the chance to speak with Robert at dinner. The queen was not feeling well and had requested Elizabeth attend her. Despite everything the king was not, he was a husband who had grown to adore his wife once they were wed. He had submitted without question to Queen Margaret’s request that Elizabeth stay by her side, and it was a long while before Margaret’s pains settled.
When the queen was finally still and reclined comfortably on the bed, she said, “Away with you to the great hall. The king has told me that you have done excellent work ensnaring Bruce’s attention. We certainly do not wish for you to lose it now and chance Bruce leaving and foiling the attack against his men in Ettrick Forest.”
It took all Elizabeth’s will not to gasp at the news the queen had inadvertently let slip. The king had an attack planned against Robert’s man in Scotland? She rose on shaky legs, inclined her head, and forced herself not to flee the queen’s chambers and immediately go find Robert.
She walked as calmly and normally as she could to the great hall, and when she entered, supper had already ended, and dancing was well underway. She paused at the doorway, scanning the crowed room for Robert, intent on finding him and telling him his people were in danger.
“I hope you are searching for Bruce,” her father said from behind her, startling her. He took her by the elbow and led her toward one of the alcoves that held covered seats facing each other and large stained-glass windows.
Her father sat and motioned for her to do the same. Around the alcove, music, laugher, and chatter swirled. She inhaled a slow breath to quell her nerves, but they would not be subdued. Her heart raced at the thought of warning Robert of her father and the king’s plans. Her father stared at her expectantly, waiting, she knew, for the answer to his question. “I was searching for Lord Bruce. The queen only just excused me from service for the night.”
“I know,” her father said slowly. “I know everything you do, Elizabeth. Trust me.”
Uneasiness stirred in her breast, but she fought to quiet it. He could not know of her conversation with Robert in the forest. They had been alone. “I thought to seek him out in hopes that he would ask me to dance.” She folded her hands in her lap because the urge to fidget nervously was nearly overwhelming. “Have you released Lillianna? Did the king agree?”
Her father nodded. “She’s in the chamber adjacent to yours making herself presentable.”
Elizabeth swallowed past the lump in her throat, which was now made up of both fear and hope. “I thought, perhaps, if I spent more time with Lord Bruce—private time—it would bring more opportunity for him to reveal things that will aid you and the king.”
Outside the alcove, she could hear a woman’s laughter and a man’s deep chuckle. They sounded very near, and she hoped her father would cease the conversation and dismiss her to find Robert; however, he appeared oblivious to the couple.
“An excellent notion,” her father said with a smirk. “If you can, guide him to speak of his men he left in hiding. We’ve learned they are in Ettrick Forest, but it would be most helpful to know an exact location so we don’t waste too much time finding and killing them.”
Her nails bit into her palms as she struggled to maintain her calm. Her father and the king had no intention—and likely never had—of keeping the temporary truce. Instead, they were using this time to hunt down the men Robert had left behind to come here. They intended to slaughter Robert’s men. Her stomach roiled at the confirmation of what the queen had revealed.
“How clever you are, Father,” she made herself say, greatly relieved her voice did not tremble. “I promise I will do my part.” Her father looked at her with narrowed, skeptical eyes. Fear stabbed her. She had to make him believe her. “Already, he thinks I’m for his cause,” she said, her mind searching for the right words. The closer she could stay to the truth, the better. “I told him I longed for freedom for myself and for his people, and he believed it.”
Her father gave her a rare smile, leaned forward, and patted her hand. “You have turned out well, Elizabeth. I must admit, I had doubts, so headstrong and rebellious you have been at times, but I’m glad to see maturity has made you see your errors and shown you your place.”
A wave of sorrow overcame her. Her father would never see her as anything more than a woman to be used for his gain. She did not know how she had been so blind to who he truly was when she was younger. “I’m glad, as well,” she managed to agree as she rose.
A rushing sound came to her from outside the alcove. She poked her head out and saw Gwendolyn hurrying away. Elizabeth frowned. It seemed to her that Gwendolyn was lurking everywhere Elizabeth went lately. She would need to keep her guard up around that woman.
Facing her father, Elizabeth said, “I’ll report all soon.”
He dismissed her with a wave, and she was all too glad to depart. She moved from the alcove and into the crowd in the great hall, looking for Robert as she wove in and out of the guests. Finally, she spotted him on the dance floor, twirling a redheaded woman around. They were both laughing, and a surge of jealousy gripped Elizabeth. She turned away and found herself face-to-face with Guy de Beauchamp of Warwick.
He was an attractive man, with blue eyes, golden hair, and a strong face, but the same wariness she had always felt for him swept over her. The man stared at her as if she were a tasty treat he wished to devour. He bowed low, and she curtsied. “I have been looking for you, Elizabeth.”
She startled at his use of her Christian name, but bit her tongue on commenting on his familiarity with her. The sooner she could escape him, the better. “Have you? Whatever for?”
“The king and I spoke of you,” he said. Unease caused her body to tingle. “Come.” De Beauchamp gripped her elbow in an iron hold. “Let us dance. The king has commanded it.” He tilted his head to the side. “See him there.”
Elizabeth’s gaze flew to the dais, where de Beauchamp had indicated. Her godfather nodded, indicating that de Beauchamp spoke the truth. Did Edward think to make Robert jealous? She could not imagine.
De Beauchamp brought her close, and she could not help but compare him to Robert. Both men were tall and powerfully built, but de Beauchamp had the look of gentle nobility, whereas Robert had the look of a dangerous warrior. Where de Beauchamp was neatly shaved, Robert always had a shadow on his face and in his eyes, as if to disguise his emotions.
When de Beauchamp entwined her fingers with his smooth, fine-boned ones for the dance, she recalled Robert’s large, calloused hands. Robert’s hands were those of a man not afraid to go into the trenches where he ordered others to go. He was a man of the people who cared deeply for them and their welfare and would risk his life to gain freedom for all. Whereas de Beauchamp was a man who would lord over the people with no regard for them.
By the time de Beauchamp had twirled her around the floor for a fourth time, as he droned on about all the animals he had hunted and killed this year, and about the Scots they had taught a lesson, she desired nothing more than for the dance to end. She was so preoccupied and distracted by the thought that she did not even realize they were dancing beside Robert until they nearly collided.
“Watch yourself,” de Beauchamp snapped at Robert.
“It is ye who would be wise to pay mind to those around ye,” Robert said, his eyes sharp like a sword and trained on de Beauchamp. “I’m nae the sort of man to relinquish what I consider mine.” His gaze flicked to Elizabeth, and the look he gave her was so scintillating that a tremor went through her.
De Beauchamp flinched before he hastily turned her away. “How dare Bruce speak to me that way,” he snarled, “and look at you in such an uncouth manner.”
She bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from snorting at his ironic statement. He glanced toward Robert and the lady he still danced with, who were still very near to them. De Beauchamp pulled her tightly against him, a triumphant smile coming to his face. She started to press a hand to his chest to push him back, but he caught her fingers and smiled. “This morning, the king gave me permission to court you.”
She felt her jaw drop. Her godfather was playing games—again—and she had no doubt it had something to do with Robert.
“Did you hear me?” de Beauchamp asked rather loudly. She was sure his aim was for Robert to hear. “There is every possibility we will be wed. I’d prefer you not to speak with Bruce anymore.”
She glanced to Robert. His lip twitched, whether from amusement or anger she was unsure; the rest of his face revealed nothing. She found herself hoping he might be a tad jealous, and then she mentally scolded herself for such thoughts. She had get away from de Beauchamp, and hopefully, Robert would find a way to discreetly follow.
“I feel unwell,” she blurted, and without waiting for de Beauchamp to reply, she twisted out of his embrace and fled past Robert, cutting her gaze sideways at him. His eyes held hers, and her breath hitched at the possessiveness she saw there. She continued on, making her way out the door and through the halls until she exited the castle and made her way down the stone path to the gardens.
“Excuse me,” Robert said to a gaping Lady Blanchard as he bowed and left her on the dance floor while the music still played. He strode toward the door of the great hall, from which Elizabeth had just fled, but paused in the empty corridor, unsure which way she might have gone. Before he could make up his mind, Angus appeared at the north end of the corridor. His face was illuminated by the torches blazing on the wall.
“She went to the gardens,” he said with a scowl.
Robert covered the distance between them in several hurried steps. “Ye’ve been watching her,” Robert said, surprised, though he realized he should not be.
“Aye. I told ye I would be. I ken ye trust her, but I dunnae, and now I have proof that ye should nae, either.” Angus motioned Robert to follow him. They departed the castle and went to the courtyard that was deserted, save for the guards in the distance who were too far to overhear them.
“What proof is that?” Robert demanded.
“I overheard her speaking with her father. She said she told ye that she wants freedom for herself and for our people, and that ye believed her. Robbie, she’s lying to ye!”
“Nay,” he countered. “She is saying what she must to her father.”
Angus’s lips pressed into a hard line. “She is saying what she must to ye! Ye clot-heid!”
Doubt sprang in Robert’s mind, though he fought it. Had he become entangled in her web as he had vowed he would not? Had she cleverly tricked him? Made him think she understood desiring freedom and that she needed him to aid her with her cousin? If so, how far would she take the scheme? To the bedchamber? To marriage? Was she his most dangerous enemy, or was she merely a woman caught in this game for the throne?
“I’ll nae call her a liar until I have definite proof,” he said, giving himself time to decide.
“God’s teeth, Robbie,” Angus growled. “Is what I just told ye nae proof enough?”
“Nay. The king and her father are clever, and they play games,” Robert said, thinking on Guy de Beauchamp’s announcement that there was a possibility that he and Elizabeth would be wed. Was it true, or was the king simply trying to stir Robert’s jealousy for Elizabeth so he’d be distracted? “I’m going to go speak with her.”
Angus nodded. “I’ll come with ye. Ye’re under her spell already. Ye’ll need me to ferret the lies from the truth.”
“Nay,” Robert replied. “I vow I’ll keep my guard firmly in place.”
His old friend sighed. “I’ll wait for ye in my bedchamber.” He gave Robert a long look that clearly communicated that he’d expect Robert to come there and tell him what had occurred immediately afterward.
Robert chuckled. “I vow to report to ye all that occurs.”
With that, he strode through the courtyard and to the garden. Elizabeth stood among the flowers with her back to him. The moonlight shone down on her flowing pale hair, and she had her arms wrapped around her waist. She looked so vulnerable that the need to protect her surged within him. She had not only managed to make him feel soft emotions again but she made him feel with an intensity he could not explain or even understand.
He made his way to her, thinking she would hear him and turn, but she didn’t. When he was close enough that he could reach out a hand and touch her on the shoulder—or better yet, encircle her waist, and tug her to him for another kiss—he spoke. “Elizabeth.”
She whirled toward him with a gasp. “Thank God! I was worried you would not be able to slip away. Did de Beauchamp see you?”
“Nay. I was careful. Did I hear correctly that he said the two of ye might be married?” He studied her, not sure what he hoped to see, but the look of disgust that swept her features pleased him immensely.
“You heard correctly. I believe the king wishes to stir your jealousy, to make me appear more enticing to you,” she said, her embarrassment clear in her tone.
“The king does nae need to bother making such an effort,” he murmured, the desire to kiss her once more so strong he could taste it.
“He doesn’t?” she asked.
She was not deceiving him as Angus believed; she was an innocent pawn. The sheer intensity of what he felt for her in that moment seemed to vibrate the very air around them. He hoped she did not feel it. It was too complicated for them to have a real future, never mind that it was too soon for him to feel so strongly toward her. He was not frightened of battle or warriors bent on killing him, of a king determined to destroy him, but of her, the wee lass that she was, he felt real fear. He wanted to trust her completely, and that was a very dangerous thing. That would make him vulnerable to her in a way he was to no other, in a way he did not have the luxury to allow. He wanted to, nonetheless.
Need for her beat like a hard drum within him. It flowed thick through his veins. Perhaps it was too late to stop what was occurring. Perhaps it had been fated on the very day she had shown her courage to him. He closed the distance between them, intent on satisfying the clawing need within him.
“What are you doing?” she whispered as he slipped his hands up her arms to press the length of her body to his.
The need within him became so painful he had to clench his teeth for a moment. “Ye affect me,” he said, his voice rough. “I did nae wish it, but ye do. I did nae mean to allow it, but ye have stolen into my head and I can nae get ye out.” He slid his hands over her dainty shoulders and up the long column of her neck, and entangled his fingers in her silky hair.
She stood silent, except her breath had become heavy, and her body trembled beneath his fingertips. “You are in my heart and head, as well, but I’m fearful. My father and the king are dangerous, and they will do all in their power to use me to hurt you.”
“Do nae fash yerself for me, Elizabeth. As long as ye tell me only truths, they can nae hurt me.”
With that, he brushed his lips over hers, reveling in the shiver that he felt run through her. He wanted to devour her mouth, yet he also wanted to go slowly and savor each moment, each touch. Her thick eyelashes fluttered against the perfect slope of her creamy cheek before she raised her gaze to his once more.
“You are wicked, my lord,” she said, placing her hand over his heart. “And I must be wanton, for I surely like you exactly as you are.”
He captured her mouth fully this time, and her lips parted eagerly for him. He drank in her sweetness and her uninhibited response to him. He moved his hands down her back to explore the delicate curve of her spine, and then the enticing roundness of her hips. She moaned from deep within her throat but pulled away from him. “My cousin has been released from the dungeon. She is in her bedchamber with orders to make herself presentable. Do you have any ideas of how we can help her escape or to where she could possibly flee? Her mother was a MacLeod. Do you think they would take her in?”
“Aye,” he replied, allowing his hands to rest on her shoulders, loath to release the contact with her. “I will have my man Angus take her to them. She will be safe there. I just need to find the perfect time and determine how we will get her away from the guards I’m sure have been set to watch her by yer father.”
“Robert, I cannot thank you enough for aiding me and Lillianna.”
“Would ye wish to flee with her?” he asked, thinking of what Elizabeth had revealed in Ireland about wishing to choose her own husband. If she could flee from here, from her father and the king, and disappear into the wilds of Scotland, then she would have that choice. He did not want her to go, but he could not, in all honor, hold her back from doing so.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “No.” She bit her lip and cocked her head as if contemplating what to say, and then she spoke. “My father warned me that if I were to flee, you would suffer.”
Robert frowned. “I do nae fear yer father.”
“You should,” she said flatly. “For he has no honor, and a man without honor is a thing to fear.”
Her words made his chest squeeze. He tugged her to him, and suddenly his mouth was on hers, hot and seeking. Their tongues tangled, leaving him wanting more, but he forced himself to pull away. “I do nae wish ye to go, do nae mistake me, but I’d give ye the chance to disappear and choose yer own future, yer own husband, if ye wish it.”
Elizabeth felt the warmth of his hands upon her shoulders acutely, heard his intake and exhalation of breath as he waited for her to answer. She was astonished and deeply touched that he would offer her such a thing, but she could no more leave him now than she could abandon her cousin. She swallowed, feeling tethered to this man as if a thick rope had been tied to each of their wrists. “I wish to stay and take a chance that, though a choice may be forced upon me, it would be one I would have made myself.”
His fingers on her shoulders curled into her skin and pulled her closer so that when he breathed out, she breathed in his air. He reached up and brushed his fingers across her cheek. “I can nae say what time we will have. I may have to depart rather quickly.”
“Oh!” she suddenly gasped, recalling what else she had to tell him. “Robert, Queen Margaret and my father said that the king needed you distracted so that his attack on your men in Ettrick Forest would not be foiled.”
“God’s blood!” Robert swore. “If Edward knows my men are hiding in Ettrick Forest I have to get word to them immediately.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’d go myself, but I fear it would arouse suspicion.”
“I fear you’re right,” she said. Suddenly, a plan came to her. “I have an idea! One that could possibly get Lillianna away from her guards and with Angus, so that he could flee with her.”
Robert smiled. “I’m listening.”
“What if I can convince my father that he could use Lillianna to seduce Angus as he thinks he’s using me to seduce you? Then he might possibly allow Lillianna to be alone with Angus. I could suggest riding in the forest tomorrow, and then they could simply ride away and not return!”
Robert frowned. “It sounds too easy.”
“And that makes you frown?”
“Aye. In my experience anything that sounds as if it is too easy is fraught with a problem I have yet to see.”
“I cannot imagine what,” Elizabeth said, taken by excitement at the prospect of Lillianna escaping her father’s clutches and Angus being able to warn Robert’s men. As they stood in silence, Elizabeth considered everything.
“It would link ye directly to Angus and Lillianna disappearing for one thing. Yer father is certain to suspect ye played a part if they simply disappear after being together. Besides that, yer father has men watching Angus and me. I doubt he will tell them to cease that simply so Angus can ride with Lillianna.”
She nibbled on her lip, thinking for a moment. Then her eyes went wide. “I can disguise Angus as a priest, which will allow him to ride out of here with me and Lillianna! The stable hands will likely not question Lillianna riding with me, as my father has not made it known that she is under his watch, except for the guard assigned to her. He will be a problem.”
Robert’s brows dipped. “I believe I know the perfect person to distract the guard—if she will agree to it.”
“She?” Elizabeth asked.
“Aye. Gwendolyn Fraser.”
“Queen Margaret’s lady-in-waiting?” Elizabeth asked, surprised.
“Aye. She is for our cause.”
“Is Simon her cousin?” Elizabeth asked, thinking of the conversation she had overheard between the man and her father.”
“Aye.” Robert’s gaze probed her. “Why?”
“I overheard him speaking with my father on the day you arrived, and he seemed to be working with him to convince you to come here.”
“Then Simon plays his part well. Now, even if ye manage to ride away with Lillianna and Angus disguised, yer father will still likely suspect ye had a hand in allowing yer cousin to escape.”
“I’m willing to take that risk,” she said, though fear did coil in her belly.
“I can nae let ye do that.”
“It is not your choice to make,” she said quietly. “Freedom is just as important for me and Lillianna as it is for you and your people.”
Robert sighed but nodded. “Come,” he said. “One good thing about the plot twining around us is that we can be seen together without it raising questions. I’ll walk ye back to the castle, and then I must go speak with Angus. If ye can, try to discover when the king intends to send men to Ettrick so that Angus does not encounter them.”
“I’ll do my best,” she promised. “Hopefully, the queen will be in a mood to talk when I return to her chambers shortly. I’ll give you word in the morning of what I have discovered. Meet me here.”
His answer was to pull her to him again. Their eyes locked, and their breathing seemed to come into perfect unison. He cupped her cheek, and heat rushed to the spot he touched. Slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to her, caressing her mouth more than kissing it. Yet, his nearness, his touch, sent waves of passion washing over her. She rose to her tiptoes and twined her hands around his neck, wanting to keep him near and make the moment last. When his tongue touched her lips, she parted them eagerly. Her need to be touched by him was so strong that she could not even feel embarrassment for what was certainly wanton behavior. It seemed so natural with him, so perfectly right. She swept her hands over his broad shoulders and then threaded her fingers into the heavy locks of his hair. He did the same to her, and when he ended the kiss, they stood face-to-face, surrounded by darkness, but a light of understanding seemed to glow between them.