Twenty-four

“After her!” the priest shouted. “Guards! Don’t let her get away.”

Janet shot down the wynd as fast as her legs would carry her.

One glance over her shoulder sent her pulse jumping through her throat. Figures were shadowed at the mouth of the wynd behind her. A half-dozen soldiers, maybe more. They’d been closer than she realized.

She took some comfort in the knowledge that her source had likely gotten away, but that was dampened by the realization of what was at stake. If she didn’t get out of here, if she didn’t get to Bruce in time, it could all be over.

Knowing she had only a few minutes to get out of the village before they blocked off the roads, she turned at the first corner and plunged down another dark wynd.

She could hear them chasing behind her, but she didn’t think about it. Her lungs were bursting and her legs were weakening, but she didn’t slow. She kept her mind focused on getting out of the village. If she could make it to the forest, she had a chance.

But they were fanning out behind her. Closing in.

She needed a horse. But that would have to wait. If she could just make it to Rutherford, she would be able to find something.

And maybe …

Her heart squeezed, and it wasn’t from the lack of air in her lungs. She had no reason to think he would be there, but if Ewen had come after her, Rutherford would be her best chance at finding him. “I will find you.” His words from when they were being hunted came back to her. “She’s heading for the forest!”

Her stomach dropped, hearing the horse and rider close behind her.

But she was almost there. A moment later she plunged into the heavy darkness. It swallowed her like a tomb. A figurative one, she hoped.

She experienced a fresh burst of energy with the knowledge that the trees would slow the horses down and raced through the brush and bracken, pushing limbs out of the way when she could see them, not noticing the scratches that tore through her skin when she could not.

The sounds behind her started to fade. She kept heading in the same direction, praying that it was the right one, but the darkness and trees had taken away her sense of direction.

After another handful of minutes, she had to stop. Bending over, she gulped in air like a starving person. She might be able to walk for days, but running at full speed for twenty minutes had sapped her of every bit of her energy.

Yet she had to keep going.

Slower now, but still running, she threaded her way through the trees. Please let it be the right direction.

For so many reasons, she wished she had Ewen with her. He wouldn’t get lost, which was more than she could say for herself. With the clouds, there weren’t even stars to guide her. She was going on instinct now, looking for any sign of something familiar. It was less than five miles between Roxburgh and Rutherford, with forest between them most of the way. The road was to the north of where she hoped she was.

The sounds were gone now. But she didn’t let herself relax, knowing the forest could absorb sound as efficiently as it did light.

That was why she didn’t hear him until it was too late.

A man grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her side with his big, steel-clad arm. A leather gauntlet slammed over her mouth before she could scream. Her feet kicked wildly but uselessly in the air. “I have ’er!” he yelled.

Something wasn’t right. Ewen’s unease had begun to grow about an hour ago. The lad was late.

“He should be here by now,” he said.

“Perhaps he was delayed by the feasts?” Sutherland suggested. “It seems to be quite a celebration, if those fires are any indication.”

From their vantage on the hill, they could see the main gate and into the castle courtyard. Roxburgh Castle sat on the tip of a small peninsula of land at the juncture of the rivers Tweed and Teviot. The village lay behind and was mostly blocked from view, but they could see the roar of the fires.

By this time of night, the gate to the castle would normally be closed, but due to the feast, people were still flowing freely in and out.

“I’m going in there,” Ewen said.

“Are you mad? Roxburgh Castle is one of the most heavily defended castles on the Borders. There are at least five hundred English soldiers garrisoned there right now, waiting to resume the war, where one of their greatest objectives is to kill the members of Bruce’s famed secret army. And you are just going to walk right in there without a plan and hope they don’t notice you?”

Ewen gritted his teeth. “Aye. I’m sure as hell not just going to keep standing here. With the feast, this might be my best chance to get in there. And I do have a plan. I’ll relieve one of the men-at-arms celebrating in the village of his attire.”

“That’s a plan? It’s bloody suicide, that’s what it is.”

“If her contact is at the castle, Janet could be there right now. The feast would be a perfect opportunity.”

“That’s a hell of a lot of risk for a possibility.”

“Possibilities are all I have right now. Unless you have a better idea,” he challenged angrily.

Sutherland’s jaw set in a hard line. He stared at him for a long moment. “I’ll go with you.”

Ewen shook his head. “I need you out here. If something goes wrong, I may need you to use that powder of yours for a distraction.”

Sutherland swore. “I sure as hell wish Viper were here.”

Ewen couldn’t disagree. Lachlan MacRuairi had a unique ability to get in and out of almost anywhere. But right now, Ewen would be grateful for any of his brethren—or former brethren. If something happened, two swords against five hundred wasn’t exactly encouraging odds.

Damn, it was hard to believe that he wasn’t going to be a part of this anymore. Fighting in this team had been the greatest thing he’d ever done. And these men …

They were the closest friends he’d ever had. They were like brothers to him. Leaving this all behind was going to be harder than he wanted to think about.

He and Sutherland had just finished working out the details—there weren’t many—of his plan when Sutherland caught a movement coming up the side of the hill. “So much for circumspect,” Sutherland said wryly. “The lad isn’t exactly trying to hide his eagerness to get here.”

Ewen’s pulse spiked as the lad drew near enough for him to make out his expression. “It isn’t just eagerness—something is wrong.”

The lad’s eyes were wide as he scrambled over edge of the hill. “Sorry … late … lady …” he gasped, heaved over, between big gulps of air.

Ewen grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him upright at the mention of “lady.” “What about the lady? Did you see her?”

The lad’s eyes went so wide, Ewen thought they were going to pop out. He was mouthing words, but no sounds were coming out.

“Calm down,” Sutherland said at Ewen’s side. “You’re scaring him.”

Ah hell. Ewen let him go, and tried to moderate his tone when he felt like roaring at the top of his lungs. “What happened?”

The lad eyed him warily, still trying to catch his breath. Finally, he uttered the words that sent every drop of blood rushing from Ewen’s body.

“The p-priest … he found the lady.”

Janet fought with everything she had, but the soldier seemed to barely notice as he dragged her through the forest. The road was closer than she’d realized. After about fifty yards, they broke out of the trees and he pushed her forward with enough force to put her on her knees. She gazed up and found herself surrounded by men on horseback. In addition to the priest and the oaf who’d caught her before, she counted a half-dozen soldiers.

But none looked more dangerous than the priest. There was nothing churchly about the menacing gaze fixed on her. “Did you have a nice run, my dear?”

Janet felt a flash of panic but forced it aside. She had to think. She wasn’t going to give up without a fight. A handful of different explanations filtered through her mind, but she didn’t have time to weigh them all. She went with the first thing that came to mind: pretending that she hadn’t known who he was. “You are a priest?” she said, getting to her feet. “Thank goodness! I thought you were with this man who was accosting me.” She motioned to the oaf.

The priest shook his head with a tsking sound. “You can forget the playacting, my dear. I know who you are. Your friend the monk was most forthcoming—with some persuasion, of course.” The small smile sent shivers racing up and down her spine. Poor Thom. “I know of your transformation from the Italian nun to the novice Eleanor. I suspected you of helping the usurper king to pass messages, but imagine my surprise and pleasure when you led us right to his secret army. I am most interested in learning the names of the men you were traveling with.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she persisted. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

His eyes narrowed. The soldiers moved their horses in tighter around her, and she had to fight the overwhelming urge not to try to dart between them and run. The instinct to flee at the danger closing in was primal.

“Do you think removing a veil and putting on a pretty dress will fool me?” the priest demanded. “It took me a moment when I saw you dancing, but I don’t forget a face. Especially one as pretty as yours. It’s a shame. So much beauty, going to waste.”

Janet didn’t like the sound of that. She didn’t know what to say. Her tongue seemed tangled in her mouth. He wasn’t the knight or the squire, and she didn’t have the merchant and his wife to help her. She didn’t have anyone to help her. God, what she wouldn’t do for Ewen and his friends right now.

All she had was her wits—which seemed to be failing her right now—and her dagger. She would have to wait for the right time to attempt to get away, which, with all these men surrounding her, clearly wasn’t right now.

She tried her luck with the soldiers. “It seems there is some misunderstanding,” she said to one of them. “Perhaps it would be best if we returned to town—”

The priest didn’t let her finish. “There is no misunderstanding. What were you doing with the woman in the alley? And who is she?”

“Woman?” Janet repeated, as if confused. “Oh, you mean the beggar woman?”

“Do you usually embrace beggar women?” the priest asked, a shrewd glint in his eyes.

Janet cursed her mistake; she’d forgotten about the hug. “I was surprised myself, Father. But she was most grateful for the coin I gave her.”

“I do not think so, Genna or Eleanor or whatever name you are going by now. But it isn’t your identity that concerns me.” Obviously the dead friar hadn’t been privy to her real name, or she suspected the priest would be very interested. “We’ve suspected that someone has been leaking information from the castle, and you are going to tell us who that is. But first things first.” Janet didn’t like the small smile on his face when he turned to the soldier who’d captured her. “Search her.”

His words sent a chill racing down her spine. She knew it wouldn’t take them long to find the parchment in the purse at her waist. And if they did …

She didn’t want to think about it. It wasn’t just her life at stake, but also her informant’s, the king’s, and the future of Scotland itself. If Bruce were captured now, the cause would be lost. Who else would be brave enough to stand up to the most powerful kingdom in Christendom? King Edward would put another puppet on the throne or take it for himself.

She couldn’t let them find it; she had to get away.

The time for talk had ended. She reached for her dagger, but she wasn’t quick enough. The soldier grabbed her arms in his crushing hold and spun her around to face him.

“Let go of me!” She managed to get one of her hands free and lashed at his face. One of her nails caught his cheek, but it only made him angrier.

In the torchlight she got her first look at him, and she almost wished for darkness. He wasn’t exceptionally tall like the man who’d caught her in the alley, but what he lacked in height he made up for in breadth and bulk. He was wide as an oak, thick and strong. Beneath the edge of his helm, all she could see was a squashed-in, crooked nose that looked like it had healed in the same position in which it had been punched, a thick, dark beard that covered the bottom half of his face and a good portion of his neck as well, and piercing dark eyes that were staring at her with rage.

“Bitch!” He caught her wrist in his hand and squeezed so tightly, she thought he meant to snap the bone. He let go of it long enough to slam his fist into her jaw.

Her head snapped back, and she cried out in pain and the shock of being struck. He hit her again, this time backhanding her against the cheek. Blood poured down her face as tears sprang to her eyes. But still she fought back. She lashed out wildly—instinctively—but he caught her blows with ease. He hit her again and again, beating her into submission. Her jaw … her cheek … the side of her ribs. Her head swam; the pain was overwhelming. It took everything she had just to stay on her feet.

“That’s enough,” one of the other soldiers said, distaste evident in his voice. Apparently not all the soldiers were brutes who enjoyed beating women. “Let’s see if she has something first.”

The brutish soldier spun her around again, holding both her wrists in one vise-like hand, while the other pawed roughly at her body with obviously relish.

“The purse,” the priest said impatiently. “Give me the purse.”

She cried out and made one last frantic effort to protect the missive, but he snapped the leather girdle from her waist and tossed it to the priest.

Through tear- and blood-streaked vision, she watched as the priest removed the parchment from the leather pouch. A gleam of victory appeared in his gaze as one of the men held a torch above his head, and he read it.

He folded the damning evidence back up and slid it into his vestments. “I see I was right about you and the lady. I should think with this, Lord de Beaumont should be able to pinpoint the source of his leak. Although that won’t be half as much fun as it would be for Randolph here to retrieve the information from you. It’s a particular talent of his.”

Numb with the pain of his beating, her bruised and battered body still managed to chill. Torture! Oh God, give me strength. Though she’d known the danger from the outset—and had known something like this could happen—she had hoped never to face it.

The priest must have read the fear in her eyes because he smiled. “I do hate to deprive him of his fun.” He looked at Randolph. “See what you can find out. If she doesn’t tell you what you ask, kill her.”

Janet’s heart leapt to her throat. “Wait. You can’t do this. You are a man of God.”

“And you are a traitor. The man you call king is a murderer and excommunicated by the pope. God has no mercy for rebels.”

Janet turned to the soldier who’d spoken for her before. “Please.”

But he turned coldly away, ignoring her pitiful plea. Chivalry had ended with the discovery of the missive.

A moment later, the priest, his oafish minion, and the other soldiers were riding away, leaving her with her torturer and executioner.

“Do not take too long,” the priest said over his shoulder right before they disappeared from view.

The brutish soldier started to drag her back into the trees. Janet’s heart was slamming against her ribs—her probably broken ribs—and every instinct urged to use what remaining strength she had to fight back. But she had to be patient and wait for the perfect opportunity. She would have only one chance to take him by surprise. So she forced the fight from her muscles, becoming as floppy as a poppet of rags.

When they reached a small clearing, he tossed her unceremoniously on the ground. She looked up at him looming over her and tried to push back the panic crawling up her throat.

Her stomach turned.

He reached up under his habergeon of mail and started to work the ties of his braies. “Don’t move, you stupid bitch. I’ve never fucked someone into telling me what I want to hear, but then again I’ve never questioned someone as pretty as you. Or as pretty as you used to be. Your face doesn’t look too good right now.” He laughed.

Janet tried to shut out his words. Tried not to hear what he was saying as she concentrated on the hand reaching slowly for her boot.

Just a few more inches …

She gasped when stepped over her. He would have crushed her legs with his foot if she hadn’t reacted by separating them. But unknowingly by spreading her legs, he helped her. Her hand found its target.

She grasped the hilt of her dagger in her hand as he knelt down on the ground before her.

All she could see in the moonlight was the cold gleam of his smile. “Aren’t you going to fight me? It’s much more fun that way.”

Her heart was in her throat. She held her breath, waiting for the perfect moment.

He lifted his habergeon. Her eyes went to the protruding mass of flesh, and she shuddered with revulsion.

He saw her reaction. “Aye, it’s impressive isn’t it.” He dropped his gaze and wrapped his hand around himself, giving it a hard stroke.

That was when she struck.

She slid the blade from the scabbard and plunged it into his leg.

He cried out in shock and pain. His eyes widened and then his hands circled around her neck, squeezing …

She screamed until she ran out of air.

Ewen took what the boy had told him—that the priest had caught sight of the lady in the village and had sent to the castle for soldiers to arrest her, but the lady had run away before he could catch her—and was able to pick up her tracks at the place the horses had chased her into the forest.

Leaving the boy to watch the road, he and Sutherland followed the tracks through the forest. As it was dark, he had no choice but to use a torch.

He came to the place where another set of tracks appeared from the road, and a dank chill raced through his blood. A few feet later his fears were confirmed: whoever had been following her had caught her. He had just started to follow the tracks where the man had dragged her, when he heard a sound that stopped his heart: a woman’s scream.

He didn’t hesitate. Even after Sutherland bit out a warning to him to be careful, he plunged into the trees. The sound had been close. Torturously close. He prayed as hard as he’d ever prayed in his life. Please let me get there in time. Don’t let it be too late. Just a few more seconds …

He burst into the clearing, sword raised. When he saw the small figure struggle to her feet from beneath the body of a prone man, everything inside him seemed to come to a sudden halt.

His hand fell. “Janet?”

She looked up at him, and he made a pained sound. The emotions were so fierce and intense, he staggered. His stomach heaved. He’d felt something like this only once before, in the aftermath of his first battle, where the sight of all the blood had sickened him. But it was nothing to the sight of the woman he loved battered and bloody.

“Ewen?” she said softly. “You found me.”

She swayed, and he lurched forward, catching her against him. His heart was pounding so hard he couldn’t breathe. He cradled her to him like a broken bird. The thought of how close he’d come to losing her made his knees week. “Oh God, are you all right? What happened?”

She buried her head in his chest and grabbed hold of him, clutching him like a frightened kitten. But a glance at the body of the man at her feet told him that his kitten had the heart of a lion. She’d been beaten but not defeated, and through the gut-wrenching emotions wracking him he felt a swell of pride.

He kissed her head, savoring the silky texture of her hair and the scent of bluebells that reminded him of home. She was his home. How could he not have known it? “It’s all right now,” he murmured soothingly. “I have you. Everything is going to be all right. I promise.”

Sutherland came up behind them and swore, the torchlight enabling him to see her face. It seemed to break the trance that had enfolded them.

She looked up at him, her bruised and bloody face suddenly intent. “You have to catch them before they reach the castle.”

“Who?” he asked.

Before she could respond, the sound of a sharp whistle pierced the night. He and Sutherland exchanged a look. Sutherland responded, and a few moments later, they had company.

Janet was in a state of shock. She could still feel the man’s hands squeezing her neck. She had thought he was going to kill her. He would have, too, if her blade hadn’t found the perfect spot. Before he could finish her off, he collapsed on top of her, his life’s blood still rushing from his body.

Out of this nightmare, Ewen had appeared like an image from a dream. It had taken her a moment to realize he was real.

He’d found her. He was holding her, and she never wanted to let him go.

But then she remembered the priest. They had to find him before he reached the castle. Her informant’s life was at stake.

Her explanation, however, was interrupted by the arrival of three more nasal-helmed phantoms. Under normal circumstances she might have felt a flicker of apprehension, even knowing they were friends, but Ewen was holding her.

“We heard the scream,” one of the men said by way of explanation. Magnus, she realized, recognizing his voice.

When she turned from her position pressed against Ewen’s chest to look at him, the big Highlander swore.

She bit her lip, tasting blood, and realized her face must look as bad as it felt.

“What happened, lass?” he asked, his voice more gentle than she’d ever heard it.

She must really look bad. “I don’t have time to explain. There is a party of five soldiers, a priest, and another man headed back to the castle. You have to catch them before they arrive. They have a missive meant for Bruce. A note that could spell a death warrant for someone inside the castle.” She sensed movement from one of the men at Magnus’s side and instinctively retreated to the safety of Ewen’s chest. Even beneath the darkened nasal helm, he looked meaner than the rest.

“Back off, Viper,” Ewen said from behind her. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

The warrior ignored him, his eyes fixed on her—the eeriest eyes she’d ever seen. “When did they leave?”

“A few minutes ago.” Janet thought back. “Maybe five?”

“I’ll go,” the man Ewen called Viper said.

Janet turned to Ewen. “You must go, too. You have to make sure they find them and no one gets away.”

Ewen clenched his jaw shut, looking as yielding as a stone wall. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Please,” she said. “You must do this for me. I beg you.”

His eyes searched hers. “Don’t ask this of me. You’re hurt. Jesus, Janet, you’re covered in blood, and your face …” His voice caught. The moonlight almost made his eyes look shiny with tears.

She managed a wobbly smile, though it hurt. “My face will heal and the blood is not mine.” At least most of it wasn’t. “But I need to find Robert as soon as possible, and I cannot do so unless I know the person in the castle is safe.”

“Viper will see to it,” Ewen said. But he must have read something on her face. “This is important to you?”

She nodded. “The parley in Selkirk is a trap. The English plan to break the truce.”

More than one of the men swore at her news. “You are sure?” Ewen asked. “The breaking of the peace at a truce is beyond even the normal course of English treachery.”

She nodded. “I am sure. The proof is in that missive.”

The mean-looking one with the appropriate name of Viper interrupted. “We need to go if we hope to catch them before they arrive. It isn’t far to the castle.”

Still, Ewen hesitated. He didn’t want to let her go.

Her heart squeezed. “It will be all right,” she said softly. “My brother-in-law will keep me safe. Won’t you, Sir Kenneth?”

Mary’s husband smiled and stepped forward. “As I would my own wife, my lady.”

Sir Kenneth held out his hand, and reluctantly, Ewen released her. “I’ll hold you to that, Ice,” he said fiercely.

Ewen, Viper, and a man she recognized as MacLean started to move off, but Magnus stopped them. “Bàs roimh Gèill.” Death before surrender, she translated. “And Hunter.” Ewen turned to look at him. “Hurry back. I think there’s something you forgot to tell us.”

Ewen’s expression turned grim—God, how she’d missed that!—and he nodded. With one last look to her that spoke of things left unsaid, the three men rode off.

Selfishly, Janet wanted to call him back. She wanted his strength around her. She wanted to bury her head in his chest, curl into a ball, and let him make it all go away.

But they both had a job to do.

When it was over …

For the first time since she’d left him that night at the stable, Janet had hope.