Over the next two days, Niall and his men scoured the surrounding area for any signs of MacGregor, his men, or possibly another culprit, but they continuously turned up empty. Bella waited each night for him to come to their chamber, but each time fell asleep before he arrived. When she woke in the morning, he was gone, but she had a sense of him having slept beside her, and his woodsy scent lingered on the indentation on his pillow. The man was almost like a phantom in the castle. One she could feel and was aware of but rarely saw.

By the fourth day, Niall and Walter could wait no longer to comply with the king’s summons. She’d been waiting anxiously for this moment and hoping there might be another message from the king saying they were no longer needed. But such a message never arrived. An anxious knot formed in her belly, for Niall and Walter to journey to Arbroath meant possible danger, and her father had always told her there was a risk any time there was a gathering of lairds, chiefs and the king in one place. On more than on occasion, an enemy had struck out then, causing maximum damage. It also meant that those at home were in more danger, because their castles were left without their leaders.

Of course, Bella was not unused to this. Her father was often away on clan or royal business. Their mother had defended the castle more than once against invaders. And Bella would do the same. That didn’t mean she dreaded him leaving any less.

A messenger had left days ago with the reply that Niall and Walter would be there, and if he put it off any longer, he was in danger of angering the king. So he made arrangements with Philip to make daily searches of the surrounding lands and to keep all the men on high alert. All of this she’d overheard when she listened in on various conversations, as her husband had told her none of it outright.

“Be safe,” she said, trying to hold a smile on her face, though she didn’t feel at all jovial.

“I will. And ye, be safe here. Dinna practice your shooting without an escort. And if ye can, please, dinna practice at all until I get back.”

Bella nodded, surprised that he was even giving her the choice. Niall could very well have told her she must remain within the walls, which her father had done many times when he left.

“I mean it. Use caution and never go alone.” He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “I’d forbid ye from leaving the castle, but I know ye too well.”

“Aye, it would seem ye do.” She grinned up at him, this time the smile going all the way to her eyes. “I am going to miss ye.”

“I will miss ye, too. But I shan’t be gone more than a sennight, ’haps a little less.”

“Can I not come?”

“Nay, love, not this time. If we were going to court, aye, but from what I gather, ’tis a secret meeting, and I couldna put ye in danger. Your da will be there, and if he sees ye, he’ll likely take my head for putting ye in danger.”

“This is true.” And with those words, he’d all but told her that joining the leaders at Arbroath was a dangerous mission. Her mind whirled with all the terrible possibilities, but she forced herself to put on a brave front for Niall. “Well, then ye must be sure to come back to me. I’ll have a surprise for ye when ye return.”

“A surprise?” He winged a brow and eyed her skeptically. “I dinna think I like surprises.”

She shrugged. “Well, ye’ll have to pretend then.”

Niall pulled her against him and kissed her tenderly, the touch of his lips warm and fleeting. “I will come back then, if only to appease my curiosity.”

“Aye, come back.”

She wanted to tell him more, to tell him that if he didn’t return to her she’d be devastated, that she’d gotten used to the feel of his warmth beside her at night and tripping over his boots in the dark when she searched out the chamber pot in the middle of the night, though she could have done without that, it wouldn’t be the same in any case. She liked his smile, the teasing glint in his eyes when she caught him watching her, the sound of his laugh and the taste of his lips. To think that just a month before, she’d been certain never to marry and would have missed out on all of these things.

Bella watched Niall, Walter and a few of their warriors leave from the bailey to head to Arbroath and then made the climb to her chamber to watch them disappear from the window, the same routine she’d had since Niall started his daily searches in the surrounding lands. Afterward, she made her way down to the kitchens, where she’d made friends with Cook, who allowed her to help with meal preparation. The staff of the castle had warmed to her, and the few times she’d seen Niall’s mother, the woman hadn’t glowered at her. Instead, she’d made a smile that looked half like a grimace. But it was something, and she’d take it.

Soon enough, she’d find her place and settle completely.

After showing Cook how to prepare her mother’s famous mushroom tarts, which would be served at the nooning, she went out to the fletcher’s workshop to work on Niall’s surprise.

“Have ye got what I asked for?” She smiled wide, folded her hands in front of her and rocked onto her tiptoes with glee. “I am excited to see it.”

“Aye, my lady.”

The fletcher pulled a wool blanket off of a back table to reveal the special bow she’d had commissioned for Niall. He’d been with the family for years and had made Niall several bows before his accident so knew the specifications for his height and arm length. Though this bow had special modifications that Bella had created after spending hours with her arm tied behind her back and seeing just how she could use a bow that way. She prayed her design would work. If it didn’t, she’d just try again.

“He’ll have a time of it training to shoot from the opposite side, given he was used to holding the bow with his left arm. With the mechanism ye requested, however, I think he will get the hang of it. I tried it myself, and it works.” The man’s smile was genuine, and there was hope and pride in his eyes.

“That is my fervent hope. Sir Niall and I met during an archery competition when we were children.”

“So I heard.”

“May I?” She stepped farther into the fletcher’s shop and reached for the special bow.

“Aye, my lady.”

She took the bow and smoothed her hands along the arched face to the tip. This was the first place where Niall’s bow differed from others. Rather than only the bowstring connected at the notch, there was another long, finger-length thick leather loop. This attachment would be looped around Niall’s left shoulder, to help him anchor the bow against his body, essentially acting as an extra support. In the center of the bowstring was a thick braided rope, about an inch wide and two inches long, which he would bite to pull the string back in place of his missing fingers. At the center of the cording was where the arrow would be nocked.

“Ye said ye tried it?” she asked.

“Aye. Works just like ye thought it might, my lady,” the fletcher beamed.

“Mind if I give it a try?”

“Please.” He motioned for her to follow him behind his workshop where a makeshift target area had been set up.

“Thank ye.”

At first, she looped it over her shoulder, tightened the strap to fit her frame, and held her left arm behind her back. But nocking the arrow like that was too difficult. So instead, she held the bow between her knees, nocked the arrow, slipped the loop over her shoulder. Using her right arm, she held the bow up, steadying it, then let her elbow relax so she could bite the cord. Teeth clamped on to the corded rope, she tugged with all her might, finding it a lot harder to pull the string back with her teeth than she would have expected, but she eventually got it and locked her arm. Holding on to the rope with her teeth was uncomfortable, but not impossible. She lined up her sight, and let it go.

The arrow flew through the air and hit the target, but several inches to the right and up a few.

Bella laughed. “It works! I didna hit my target, but with practice, I could.”

“Aye, my lady. Took me a few hours to get close to the center, and still I’d need more time practicing to get it perfect. Ye designed a good bow, my lady. But ye and Niall shall have an easier time of it as your skill surpasses mine.”

“Not by much I imagine.” She grinned. “Ye didna become a fletcher because ye canna shoot.”

“True.” His cheeks reddened.

“May I take it now?”

“Well, there was one more thing I wanted to run by ye.”

“Aye?”

“I had thought it might be a nice touch to carve his name into the wood. I used to do that when he was a lad, but I didna want to overstep if ye wished it to be plain.”

Bella handed him back the bow. “Please do. And also your brand. Ye must have a brand, so anyone who sees it will know ye’re the one who made it.”

“Aye, my lady. And what of ye, shall I carve something special on it from ye?”

Immediately, an idea came to her, and she suppressed a giggle as her heart soared. “Aye.” She leaned closer and whispered to Fletcher what she wanted him to carve. “But do so on the inside, so it’s not so visible to anyone taking a look.”

“Aye, my lady.”

The day might have started off in a somber way, but it was quickly looking up. Bella couldn’t wait for Niall to see what she and the fletcher had created and to see him try it. No longer would he have to simply watch her when she was practicing with her bow. He could join in. They could compete once more. She could show him that being without a limb did not mean he could shoot.

The following days passed the same way, with her going about the duties she’d slowly started to acquire since being at the castle. Bella was starting to get into a routine, and though she missed her family, writing letters to them in the evenings helped while away the time. Mary was also good company, and they penned back and forth, Mary telling her all about Philip and how he’d stolen a kiss the day before in the gardens.

She’d also been visiting the fletcher’s workshop and practicing with Niall’s bow. She wanted to be able to show him it could be done, and with precision, which meant she needed to practice with it—she had not used her own set in as many days, which was just as well, since she didn’t want to worry Philip and the men by having them escort her outside the walls.

But it had been many days since Niall had left, and the scouts had not seen any sign of the MacGregors. It was likely that the vile laird had moved on from his vendetta, or in the very least, he wasn’t going to strike when Niall wasn’t here, as his intention was to hurt her husband.

“Mary, will ye tell Philip I wish to go to the river today to practice my archery.”

Mary nodded, departing after she’d brought Bella some porridge to break her fast. The cook had started to make it the way she liked it—with milk, cinnamon and a tab of butter in the center. It was divine, just like home.

By the time she finished and made it down to the bailey with her things, Philip was already giving precautionary instructions to the men.

“Should we go another day?” Bella asked, chewing her lip.

“Nay, my lady, all is safe. The scouts returned this morning to report that all was clear. But it doesna hurt for the men to be prepared.”

“All right. We will not stay out long.”

They made their way through the back gardens, barren in the winter, through the gate that creaked with the cold and echoed across the snow-covered fields where the men were at work training. They bowed as she passed, and she offered them all cheerful greetings. Though it was cold still, the sun was out today, which always brought out the best in her moods.

“Where shall I set this up, my lady?”

“Just there is fine.” She pointed between two trees and then backed up fifty paces.

After he set up the target, Philip stood off to the side to watch, and Mary sat on a log with a blanket wrapped around her.

“Are ye not going to shoot?” she asked Philip, knowing Mary wouldn’t. The lass had tried a few times with her, and each time, the arrow had somehow backfired into her poor forehead.

“Nay, my lady, not today.”

She nocked her arrow and lined up her sight, but every time she was about to let it go, she felt their eyes on her.

“This is very odd. I’ve practiced with an audience before, but I feel…different today.”

Philip looked at Mary, who shrugged. “No different than a tournament, my lady, or any other time ye’ve practiced.”

“That is true.” Perhaps she was only feeling off because Niall wasn’t here, or because she’d not shot with her arrow in days. With the thought of a challenge in mind, she lined up her arrow again, blew out a breath and fired.

One inch to the left of her target.

“Unacceptable,” she murmured to herself while Philip and Mary clapped.

Bella shook out her arms, blew out several more breaths. She stomped her feet and worked out whatever kinks were in her body and whatever nerves were holding her back. The next dozen shots she hit dead center.

Philip clapped. “Sir Niall said ye were good, but I’d not realized how good.”

“He is my equal, Sir Philip.”

“Not according to him, my lady. He has nothing but praise for ye.”

Bella blushed. “Well, there have been many years between the match that named me superior. I think we are due for a rematch, and I intend to see it done.”

Philip was silent, but she could tell by his furrowed brow he did not agree, and since he did not know about her secret bow, she couldn’t blame him. Given his position as her escort, and a warrior in her husband’s army, he would not contradict her out of courtesy and etiquette. No matter, even if he didn’t, she wasn’t going to tell him about the bow. She’d sworn the fletcher to secrecy so it would be a complete surprise for Niall when he returned.

“Trust me, Philip,” she said, putting her bow tip on the ground. “He will shoot again.”

Mary nudged him in the ribs and gave him a look she’d seen her mother give her father on many an occasion.

“I believe ye, my lady.” When Philip said it, there was a conviction in his tone that showed her he actually did believe her.

“Good.” Bella smiled and returned to her target, firing off another dozen arrows in quick succession and hitting multiple targets beyond the one they’d brought. Just as she would if she were in battle.

“Impressive.”

But before she could respond to Philip’s compliment, a stray arrow whizzed past her to land just behind where she stood.

Bella whirled in confusion, thinking she’d somehow misfired, even though it was impossible. Another arrow and then another landed next to her, until she was standing in the center of six arrows, all with plaids of green and red tied round their middles.

“MacGregors,” she murmured.

“My lady!” Philip was shouting, had been shouting, and he ran forward and crushed her to the ground where he lay on top of her. Poor Mary cowered beneath her blanket as though the fabric would make her invisible.

“We must run, Sir Philip! Lying here will only get us killed.”

Philip grunted and let her up. Bella ordered Mary to run and slipped and skidded in the snow before catching herself upright.

Her lungs burned as they charged across the field. The men who’d been training had not been close enough to witness what occurred, but they saw them running and heard Philip’s bellow of attack, they charged forward to form a protective circle around Bella and Mary as they retreated inside the castle walls.

It was only when they were behind the safety of the twenty-foot high stone barrier that Bella realized no one had run after them. No one had given chase. No one had even revealed themselves after firing the arrows. Whoever it was had watched with sickening pleasure as they’d ducked and then run.

Like the attack in the woods on the scout, the tactic had been to cause fear. Induce terror.

“’Twas the MacGregors,” she panted, placing her hands on her knees. “They…they shot at us. Their plaids were tied around their arrows.”

Philip had had the temerity to take one of the arrows from the ground and showed the men the plaid tied around the middle. The warriors were loud in their disdain and desire to charge the enemy and cut them down.

Up on the wall, the men called out what they saw—which was nothing. No men approached. Nothing stirred in the trees. The MacGregors were as good as phantoms.

“My lady, I think it wise ye dinna leave the castle until your husband returns,” Philip said. “’Tis not safe.”

Bella didn’t argue. Besides, if she were to leave, whoever escorted her would only be in danger. She couldn’t allow that. Nay, she’d stay right here. Dretch, but when would Niall be back? She needed to feel the comfort of his arms around her.

Philip ordered the men to mount up as he led a charge beneath the portcullis. Bella prayed they caught the MacGregors and that none of the Oliphant men were harmed.

It took them two days to arrive at Arbroath Abbey, and just as long for the men to come to somewhat of an agreement. Gaining independence was priority number one for the king, and Niall was one-hundred percent behind him. Freedom was something their king had been fighting toward nearly his entire life. A cause the Oliphants had upheld and fought for. Many Scotsmen had fallen, and still they fought. How many battles now? How many lives in total lost?

The Wars for Scottish Independence had been going on since Niall was a bairn. He could not think of a time when they were not at war with the bloody Sassenachs. When he was a wee lad, he’d pretended to be William Wallace when he played with his mates. They’d mourned his death when the English had beheaded him. Niall and Walter both had begged their father to let them go with him when he fought for the Bruce. That had been the first time Niall had seen battle, and he’d been proud to be a Scot.

Now, here in this grand abbey, he had the chance to become a part of something even bigger. Grander. To change history and the course of the nation.

“We’ll petition the Pope. Make him see that excommunicating our king for the past several years was punishment enough. That we as a people want to be free from English tyranny. We will all sign it. He canna excommunicate an entire nation.”

There was a round of cheers. “Aye! Never surrender!”

Niall glanced around the room, taking stock of all the men present. He stood between his brother and Magnus Sutherland. Bella’s older brother, Magnus, and his youngest brother Ronan were also present.

There were perhaps fifty men in all, accounting for the majority of Scotland.

The doors to the abbey opened with a creak, drawing everyone’s attention to the back of the nave.

Eòran MacGregor was attempting to sneak in but was seen by everyone present.

Niall stood straighter, and a thousand prickles stabbed into the back of his neck. MacGregor had not been present the past two days. In fact, Niall hadn’t even expected to see him given the meetings had started and no one else had dared come late. Why was he late? Ice gripped Niall’s spine.

“I dinna like that he was late,” Niall murmured to Walter.

Walter’s expression mirrored Niall’s. Lips straightened into a flat line and brows narrowed, assessing. They both were stiff with tension. Nostrils flaring. “Aye. What do ye think he’s been up to?”

Magnus Sutherland looked their way. “Is something amiss?”

“We were attacked by MacGregors on the way home from Dunrobin.”

“Aye, my men told me.” Sutherland flicked his gaze to where MacGregor stood on the opposite side of the chapel.

“And again less than a sennight ago,” Niall said. “They fled without a trace.”

“They are known to do that. Ghost tactics.” Magnus shook his head. “Cowards, truly. Did ye kill any of them?”

“A fair amount when they ambushed us, aye.”

“Ye want me to speak to MacGregor? Bring the peace?” Magnus asked.

“Nay, not yet. I…” Niall swallowed around the rising panic. “I need to go.”

“Where?” Magnus asked.

“Back to Dupplin. Something doesna feel right. He was two days late. Enough time to have attacked the castle while I was gone.”

From across the nave, MacGregor stared at them, a dark look on his face as well as something hinting at triumph. Niall didn’t like that look. It did not bode well.

“I need to leave now. He’s either done something or is planning to.”

“I’ll have our horses readied,” Walter said.

“Nay, ye remain behind. At least our presence will be noted.”

“Take my oldest son,” Magnus said. “Your brother-by-marriage. Let Strath help.”

Niall nodded. “Let us go.”

They quietly left, and within a quarter of an hour were on the icy road. They rode hard for two days, and every time they had to stop, Niall felt the rising panic all the more. How many times was he going to fail Bella?