14
I’M FINE,” ELIZABETH SAID, brushing off her brother’s concern. After being pulled up the hill with the help of the rope, Jamie had ordered a tent to be quickly set up for her to be checked over. “’Tis my pride that is bruised more than anything else. I can’t believe I was so careless.”
“You could have been killed,” Jamie said. As it was wont to happen once the threat of danger was over, some of his concern gave way to anger. “Damn it, Ella, you know better than to wander off on your own like that.”
Joanna hurried to her defense as she usually did when Jamie lost his temper with her. Putting herself between the stubborn siblings who often butted heads was something she’d been doing since they’d first met. “It was an accident, James. Elizabeth didn’t mean to slip. And she didn’t wander off, she was looking for privacy, which everyone needs a few times a day.”
If Joanna had always been the loyal defender, then Izzie had always been the clever diplomat. She turned the conversation away from Elizabeth’s part in the day’s events. “You are so fortunate Thom found you when he did,” Izzie said. “I can’t imagine having to jump like that. You must have been terrified.”
She had been—at first. But the moment Thom had his arm around her, she’d felt secure. A calmness had descended over her, which given the situation was preposterous. “I was,” she said. “But I knew Thom wouldn’t let me fall.”
There was a moment of silence as her brother, sister-in-law, and cousin stared at her with varying degrees of interest, from Izzie’s curiosity, to Joanna’s “I knew it!” to Jamie’s eagle-eyed suspicion.
Self-conscious under their scrutiny, Elizabeth added, “I just meant that he is so good at climbing there is no one I would rather have with me in that situation.”
“He has done it before,” Joanna pointed out with a smile.
“He has?” Izzie said. “You never told me,” she said to Elizabeth accusingly.
Joanna proceeded to rectify the matter, recounting the tale of their refusal to be left out of the boys’ game and the dangerous aftermath.
Unfortunately, the story had not distracted her brother. “Did anything else happen, Ella?”
The image of her plastered against Thom’s big, hard body, her leg wrapped tightly around his waist as he pressed his manhood against her shuddering body, his hand touching her as their mouths devoured and tongues lashed . . .
“Elizabeth?”
She startled at her brother’s voice and blinked incredulously. Good God, she couldn’t think about that! She should never think about that. What could she have been thinking to kiss him again?
No matter how incredible it felt.
She forced a calmness she did not feel to her expression and hoped the guilt was not plain on her face. “What are you implying, Jamie?”
He gave her a hard look. “You know exactly what I’m implying.”
Joanna intervened again. “It is really none of your business, James.”
“Damn right, it’s my business! She’s my sister and my responsibility. And she’s marrying Randolph.”
“Nothing has been decided,” Joanna said.
“Yes, it has,” Elizabeth insisted. “We’re going to Edinburgh to meet my betrothed, and my sliding down a hill has not changed that. But Thom is my friend, Jamie, and nothing will change that either.”
Except it had changed. Elizabeth was beginning to realize that first kiss—and the one that had followed—had changed everything. What she didn’t know was how to change it back.
Despite the late start, once he was assured Elizabeth was uninjured, rather than spend another night on the road, Jamie decided to press on to Edinburgh. It was only a handful of miles, and with a break in the rain, he hoped they would reach Holyrood Abbey—where the king had set up his temporary court—by vespers. Elizabeth suspected a big part of his decision was to prevent her and Thom from any more “chance” encounters on the road—with or without Joanna’s intervention.
Elizabeth couldn’t fault his reasoning—or the need. As much as she’d loved spending time with Thom, and a return to some vestige of their former friendship, she knew it was probably best to put temptation out of temptation’s reach.
And he was temptation personified.
Why had he kissed her, blast it? Why had he made her feel . . . she didn’t know what she felt, but whatever it was she didn’t like it. It made her anxious. Unsettled. Confused. It made her heart jump whenever she caught sight of him. It made her ache to finish what they’d started.
What was wrong with her? She’d narrowly avoided disaster twice, and she was looking for another opportunity? She must be out of her mind.
From her bench in the carriage, Elizabeth stared out one of the small openings. The rain had stopped, and despite the cold, she’d pulled back the leather flap to feel the air on her face. The bumping and tossing of the carriage over the rough terrain were making her slightly nauseous.
Fortunately, Joanna, whose stomach didn’t need any additional cause for nausea, had fallen asleep—as had the others—on some of the pillows and cushions that had been piled on the benches and floor of the carriage to make it more comfortable, which given the constant jerking and jostling was definitely relative.
Elizabeth sighed, watching the darkening countryside roll by in a bumpy panoply. Every now and then she could make out snippets of conversation coming from the men who rode ahead and behind, but the clatter of the carriage prevented her eavesdropping and relieving some of the boredom.
She would rather be riding, but having accepted an offer to ride in the carriage, they felt obliged to keep Lady Mary company for the duration of the journey.
Thank goodness they would be arriving in Edinburgh soon. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? She’d been counting the days to be back in a big city, far from the monotony of the countryside. She’d been eager to begin preparations for the wedding that she’d been so excited about.
A wedding she had barely thought about since she’d left Blackhouse Tower.
There had been so many other things to think about, she told herself. Archie, for one. She was sure all the excitement would come back to her once they arrived, and she and Randolph came to their understanding.
Her stomach lurched, which she attributed to the jostle of the carriage. The lurching of her heart, however, could only be explained by the man who’d just ridden past. Her chest squeezed at the sight of the familiar frame, the broad shoulders ensconced in dark leather and strapped down with a multitude of weaponry, the inch of wavy dark hair visible beneath the steel edge of the helm, the powerful legs gripping the horse tightly—perhaps too tightly, she thought with a smile. Would he ever be comfortable on a horse?
He was so achingly familiar and yet so different. The village boy who’d been her closest companion was a powerful warrior now, and he looked it. The change was difficult to grow accustomed to.
“I remember you, you know.”
Elizabeth startled at the sound of their hostess’s voice. Lady Mary had woken, and if her thoughtful expression was any indication, she’d been watching her.
“I’m sorry?” Elizabeth said, perplexed. “Have we met before?”
Lady Mary smiled. She was very pretty, which perhaps explained some of Joanna’s irrational jealousy, and had been nothing but kind and gracious to them. Although perhaps to Joanna it was more politeness than graciousness. The subtle difference in how Lady Mary addressed Joanna would not have been noticeable had Elizabeth not been looking for it. But it was there. As it was with most ladies of noble birth. It was a level of reserve. An invisible raising of the hand to keep a distance between them. Joanna wasn’t one of them, and she never would be—no matter whom she married.
“We have, though I’m not surprised you don’t remember. We were both children. I was visiting my aunt and uncle, the Earl of Angus, when your stepmother sought refuge with him after your father’s death.”
Elizabeth paled, but Lady Mary appeared not to notice.
“I was only a couple of years older than you at the time, but you made a big impression on me. You were such a beautiful child, and I remember thinking that if someone who looked like you could find yourself in such dire circumstances, I could as well.” She laughed. “Isn’t that silly? Children are so superficial and inclined to see the world only as it relates to them, aren’t they? But I remember feeling so sorry for you. It was such a scary time, and everyone feared doing anything to offend King Edward. I overheard my uncle and aunt arguing about it. My aunt wanted to help your stepmother, but my uncle was terrified Edward would come after him. Did she want to be in the same position? he asked her.” Lady Mary shook her head. “I know they both deeply regretted turning you and your brothers away—James was being fostered, wasn’t he?”
Elizabeth nodded. With William Lamberton, but she was afraid to speak, lest the mortification she was feeling be made obvious.
Lady Mary smiled. “I thought so. A blessing, I suppose, for him. At ten or eleven he wouldn’t have been much help. Anyway, I’m sure they would apologize if they could. I hope you do not blame them.”
“Of course not,” Elizabeth said honestly. They had not been alone, and their reaction had been understandable. King Edward might well have sought retribution against anyone who helped them.
“I’m sorry.” Elizabeth could hear the Earl of Angus’s voice as he spoke to her stepmother in the laird’s solar while she and her baby brothers waited on a bench before the fire in the Great Hall. “But you have to understand . . . we can’t risk it.”
Why would no one help them? Tears filled her eyes, though she’d heard the words before. It was the same thing the others had said. This was their third castle. Their third friend “who couldn’t refuse them.” But they had. She was only eight but she knew they were running out of places to go—and money to get there. She was tired and hungry, and didn’t want to sleep in another church.
The memories came back. The fear. The helplessness. The darkness and hunger. Feeling like they were lepers. God, she hated thinking about it. Hated talking about it even more. She wasn’t an eight-year-old little girl anymore who’d been one bag of coins away from an almshouse. Were it not for the generous abbess who’d taken pity on them and given them a bag of silver that was meant for the convent, that’s where they would have ended up. The thought of being in a position like that again . . .
She repressed a shiver.
Unconsciously, her hand went to the purse of coins at her waist. It was almost full, and when it was, she would start again. “It was a long time ago,” she said to Lady Mary. “I barely remember it.”
“And you’ve come a long way from that time, haven’t you? I hear a rumor that you are to marry the new Earl of Moray? I’d venture to say there isn’t a more highly prized unmarried man in all of Scotland.”
Elizabeth smiled tightly. Good gracious, she made it sound like Elizabeth had won a contest, landed the biggest fish, or brought down the most pheasants. It wasn’t a game!
Or was it? Wasn’t the game of marriage all about “winning” the best alliance?
Lady Mary didn’t seem to mind Elizabeth’s lack of response. She continued on, adding in a low voice, “At least one Douglas will make a good match.”
Elizabeth stiffened; her spine felt as if a steel rod had been stuck down it. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
Lady Mary gave her a chastising frown. “Come now, Lady Elizabeth, your loyalty to your sister-in-law is admirable, but surely you realize that a daughter of an obscure local knight is not a fitting wife for one of the most powerful lords in Scotland?”
Of course she did in theory, but it sounded so horrible when put like that. Though Lady Mary wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t accepted belief and something that nearly every person of their acquaintance had probably thought, it made Elizabeth want to cringe and rage at the unfairness. Joanna was perfect for James, why couldn’t everyone else see it? Why did society have to put barriers of rank between them? It was so silly. But it was the way it was. It was the way people thought. And nothing could change it.
Jamie had known what would be said of his marriage, and he’d gone through with it anyway. Because he loved Joanna. But the world had not changed with him. Nor would it during their lifetime.
“The Dicsons have been very important retainers for the Douglases for years. Joanna’s grandfather gave his life for my brother’s cause. My sister-in-law is eminently suitable. Indeed, I can’t think of anyone more suitable for my brother.”
Lady Mary put up her hand. With a wry smile, she said, “I see I have offended you. It was not my intent. It is obvious you are very loyal to your sister-in-law. She is fortunate to have you.”
Elizabeth shook her head. That was where she was very wrong. “We are fortunate to have her.”
After the awkward conversation with Lady Mary, Elizabeth was relieved a short while later to be freed from the confining walls of the carriage—although she did wish her freedom hadn’t come at the expense of Joanna’s stomach.
“Are you sure you are all right?” she asked her sister-in-law, who was riding beside her looking considerably less pale than she had when she’d rushed from the carriage looking as if she might lose the contents of her midday meal.
“I’m fine,” Joanna assured her. “The fresh air is doing wonders.” She looked over her shoulder to make sure Jamie wasn’t listening—he wasn’t—and lowered her voice. “Truth be told, it wasn’t my stomach. But I needed to think of something that James wouldn’t object to so that I might get out of the carriage.”
Elizabeth’s mouth twisted. “I wish I’d thought of it earlier.” Then more earnestly, she added, “But you have nothing to worry about, Jo. I don’t think my brother has even looked at another woman since he was nine.”
Joanna chuckled softly, but then shook her head. “There’s just something about that woman that gets under my skin. Maybe it’s that I know James might have married her, and she would have been the perfect wife for him.”
“You are the only perfect wife for him. Anyone who sees you together knows that.”
He would have been miserable with a woman like Lady Mary.
Joanna smiled. “Thank you for saying that. No matter how many unpleasant carriage rides I must endure, there has never been a day—an hour of a day—that I’ve regretted marrying your brother. Never,” she repeated adamantly as if for Elizabeth’s benefit.
The reason why became immediately apparent. Joanna paused, her gaze flitting momentarily to Thom, who was riding near the front of the group with a few of the Phantoms. Elizabeth had to force herself not to follow her sister-in-law’s gaze. Hers had strayed to the front too many times already. She was doing her best to avoid looking at him, since it caused so many problems. But she was discovering that she didn’t need to look at him. Just knowing he was there made her feel funny.
Joanna looked back at her. “I just want the same happiness for you.”
“I shall have it,” Elizabeth said determinedly. “Sir Thomas will make me very happy. Just because we did not start out desperately in love as you and James does not mean it won’t grow that way.”
Joanna held her gaze, clearly wanting to believe her. “I hope so. I just don’t want you to regret—”
“I won’t.”
It wasn’t the same. Elizabeth didn’t love Thom. Well, maybe she loved him, but not in the way Jo loved Jamie. It was the other part that troubled her. The lusting part.
Clearly realizing that she’d said enough on the matter, Joanna let the matter rest.
Elizabeth was more relieved than she wanted to admit. She didn’t want to talk about Thommy with Joanna. She didn’t want to talk about Thommy with anyone. All she wanted to do was reach Edinburgh, where she was sure everything would fall back into place.
She would be back in a city again, with all the entertainment and excitement that had to offer. Even in the midst of a siege, the city would be a buzzing beehive of activity. There would be markets, shops, music, noise, and so much to keep her busy with planning for the wedding she wouldn’t have time to think of anything or anyone else.
The incessant awareness—lust, whatever it was—that she felt every time she thought of Thom would disappear.
It would be perfect.
And as the lights of the city came into view on the horizon ahead of them, it seemed to be true. Her heartbeat quickened with excitement. It was so beautiful. The imposing castle perched high on the rock above the twinkling lights of Scotland’s biggest and most important city (at least since the English had taken Berwick-upon-Tweed). It looked magical—like some enchanted kingdom from a child’s faerie tale.
By the time they reached the famous abbey built by King David I after a cross miraculously appeared from the sky and saved him from being gored to death by a hart, Elizabeth could barely sit straight in her saddle she was so excited. Or at least mostly excited. A small twinge of trepidation was to be expected, wasn’t it?
If the stench of the city had perhaps taken some of the enchantment out of the moment, it was soon replaced when not a minute after the king came out of the abbey to greet them, a man came galloping through the gate as if riding straight out of that same faerie tale. He shimmered from head to toe in a magnificent suit of mail that must have cost a king’s ransom. The rich velvet surcoat of gold and yellow bearing the arms of Moray also adorned the most impressive-looking warhorse Elizabeth had ever seen. It was a big, ferocious beast that looked as if it should be pulling Satan’s chariot rather than Apollo’s. But somehow the juxtaposition of dark against all that blazing light worked.
When the man dismounted and tore off his helm, revealing tousled dark waves of thick hair and a face so finely featured and classically handsome, by all rights Elizabeth should have gasped.
Her cousin did. “Good gracious,” Izzie whispered. “Is he for real?”
There was a slight edge of wry amusement to her cousin’s voice that made Elizabeth smile. He was almost too faerie-tale perfect to believe. Lancelot to Bruce’s Arthur without the complication of Guinevere.
The king must have been standing closer than they realized. “My nephew certainly does know how to make an entrance,” he added dryly. “He will never be accused of modesty or meekness.”
Elizabeth smiled at the man who’d defied the odds and wrested the throne of Scotland from the iron grip of the most powerful king in Christendom, Edward of England. “Perhaps not, sire, although perhaps he has no cause for either.”
The king laughed. “I suspect you are right.” James had gone forward to greet him. They’d exchanged a cross grip of the forearm, and Randolph said something that sounded like “Where is she?”
James pointed in her direction, and through the crowd Randolph’s gaze found hers. Their eyes met and held. It was a significant moment—and undeniably a romantic one—and she forced herself to feel something. But her heart didn’t stop, her breath didn’t catch, and her chest didn’t squeeze. The most she could manage was a tentative smile.
He broke out into a broad grin in return and crossed the distance between them, the men falling back out of his way to create a path like the sea parting before Moses.
All except one. He had his back to her, but she didn’t need to see his face. It was etched on every inch of her memory.
Now all those things happened: her heart stopped, her breath caught, and her chest squeezed; she feared that he would not move at all. That he would stand there like a dark sentinel and block Randolph’s path to her. That he would confront or challenge the man she meant to marry. One of the most powerful men in the country.
Oh God, Thom, don’t . . .
At the last minute, he moved out of the way, taking a deliberate step back.
Elizabeth exhaled, finally releasing the breath she’d been unconsciously holding. She hoped no one else had noticed, but from the look of worry on Joanna’s face, she knew she’d seen it as well.
The smile fell from Randolph’s face long enough to frown in Thom’s direction, but it quickly returned to hers with a smile.
What he did next was the kind of thing that wee lasses dreamed of—the kind of thing that when she had been married for years she would tell her grandchildren. Instead of taking her hand or bowing, he stopped before her and dropped to his knee.
Izzie muttered something that sounded distinctly like “Good grief.”
Elizabeth could almost hear her eye roll. She would have shot her a glance, but Randolph did it for her. Her cousin simply met his frown with an innocent smile. Frowning harder, he turned back to Elizabeth and held out his hand.
Realizing she’d forgotten her part, Elizabeth placed her hand in his. He bowed over it and said, “My lady. I’d hoped to be here when you arrived.” Standing, he did not release her hand right away as he looked into her eyes. “I hope your journey was uneventful?”
Elizabeth thought of the ravine and her eyes unconsciously sought Thom’s. Their gazes held for only a fraction of an instant; she felt seared by the contact, the flash of heat was so intense.
All of a sudden, he turned and left without saying a word. He didn’t need to. The look of pain on his face said everything. He’d lied. Thom did still care about her, and unintentionally she’d hurt him again.
“My lady?” Randolph inquired.
Elizabeth jolted, brought sharply back to reality. Uneventful. “Aye, my lord, perfectly uneventful. Although we did get stuck in the carriage, and I managed to fall down a ravine.”
His brows lifted for a moment in surprise before he laughed and shook his head. “I’d hate to think about what warrants eventful. But come, we shall hear all about it.”
With that the king led them all into the Hall. But Elizabeth was painfully aware of the man who was absent. The man whose tortured expression would haunt her sleep for too many nights to come.