The Highlander's Quest: A Sutherland Legacy Novella (The Sutherland Legacy Book 0)

by Eliza Knight

  “I will not.” Oh, she was so ready to pull the dagger out and jab it right into his insolent mouth.

  “Then I shall take ye to the earl, and ye can tell him yourself why ye’ve come sneaking about King David’s chamber.”

  Aha! So, she was right! “For the last time, I’m not sneaking.”

  “Then what would ye call it? Skulking? Slithering?” He leaned closer on this last word, hissing it out.

  “I’m nae a snake. I’m a lady, and I’m a… protector.”

  He frowned. “A protector? Of what? Gowns and bobbles?”

  “Ye offend me, sir.”

  “And ye offend me by trying to lie. I’m nae a fool.”

  “Ye could have fooled me.”

  Julia crossed her arms over her chest and braced her legs, prepared to remain rooted in this spot.

  “I’ll ask ye once more,” he growled.

  “And once more, I’ll avoid answering.”

  Sir Alistair made a move like he was going to lift her up, but she jabbed him in the ribs with her fist and kneed him in the thigh.

  Merida jumped up to all fours.

  The man grunted but did not double over; if anything, he seemed to gain strength from her hit.

  Insolent wench.

  “I’m not insolent,” she countered, “I am loyal and determined.”

  He stopped what he was doing and stared down at her in confusion. “What did ye say?”

  Julia repeated herself, finding it hard to concentrate with the way he was so intently staring at her.

  “I believe ye,” he said in a low tone.

  She was prepared to argue with him some more. To fight him until he surrendered, but she’d not expected at all for him to cave so quickly.

  “What?”

  “I believe ye.” He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

  Julia didn’t know how to react. She regarded him silently, waiting for him to make the first move or to say more. Know thy enemy. Something her mother always said.

  “Are ye protecting… the earl?” he asked her.

  “Nay.”

  “Nay?”

  “Nay.”

  He looked over her head, his chin jutting toward the king’s door. “Ye’re here for him.”

  Julia bit the inside of her cheek, mulling over in her mind whether or not she could tell him that much. When she’d first met him, she’d not been certain she could trust him, and she still wasn’t fully prepared to give him her trust, but he had said he believed her. Had stopped fighting her, and there was an earnestness in his eyes that made her believe him.

  “Aye.”

  Sir Alistair nodded. “All right. So, why are ye here now, in the middle of the night? Did ye sense danger?” He scanned the corridor, as if he too expected villains to leap from shadows.

  Before she could answer, there was a small cry from within the chamber. They both jumped, and in their haste to get to the door, bumped into each other, losing balance and falling to the floor. For the briefest of moments, his entire hard body lined hers, crushing her into the wood planks.

  But it was very brief, and soon he was off of her, twisting the handle and finding it locked.

  He banged on the door but Julia stilled his hand, pulling one of the pins from her hair and picking the lock.

  They burst into the room but it was too late. Lying on the floor were all the guards and two nursemaids. Their mouths foamed white—poison.

  “The king!” Julia shouted, rushing around the room and not finding him there at all. Everything was in disarray.

  She’d only just arrived, and already she’d failed in her mission.

  Alistair burst through the door to the earl’s chamber to find his overlord crawling in his nightclothes toward the door. His head was bleeding and he held onto his leg where blood seeped through his fingers. Clearly, whoever had taken the king had tried to kill the regent, or at the very least incapacitate him. Alistair wanted to stop to help the regent, but the king was a priority. For less than a breath, he stood still, trying to figure out what to do.

  “I’ll be back,” he finally said, and the earl nodded his head emphatically and murmured something that sounded like, Go.

  Alistair burst through the door, Lady Julia and her hound on his heels as they went back out into the corridor they’d just come through. There was no sight of anyone, and when he determined to go down the stairs, he turned to see the lady standing in the hallway with wide eyes, shaking her head.

  “Not that way. This way.” She turned and ran in the opposite direction.

  “Where are ye going?” There was no way out down that way that he knew of.

  She frantically twisted handle after handle, tears in her eyes, until she finally came to a door that opened.

  Inside the unused chamber, a secret door had been left gaping.

  “There.” Julia ran to it, but Alistair reached forward to grip her arm, stopping her at the last second.

  “Let me go first,” he said, not wanting her to bear the brunt of whoever their enemy was…and confused as to why he felt this sudden need to protect her.

  “I can protect myself,” she countered, breathless.

  “I know. Ye’ve proven that already. Still, allow me.” He spoke fast. Clipped. Wanted to hurry; there was no time to waste.

  She didn’t argue but shoved both of her hands against his chest in indication that he should go.

  He spun around and ducked into the darkened space, feeling along the wall and desiring that he’d have brought a torch. The steps were slippery and small, and with his overlarge feet, he found himself having to hurry down the steps in an awkward sideways pattern in order not to tip forward and over.

  At last, they reached the bottom of the stairs—and a stone wall.

  Alistair pushed with every ounce of power he had, but the barrier would not budge.

  “Search for a latch,” Julia said behind him, her fingers brushing his as she searched too. “They had to have gotten out somehow.”

  But there were no latches to be had. No stones that pushed inward. No levers. No notches. Nothing.

  “Ballocks,” he cursed under his breath.

  “We missed something.” Her voice sounded as panicked as his own.

  “What?”

  “I dinna know.” The sound of her retreating steps was the only clue given that she’d gone back upstairs.

  Alistair gave one more shove to the barrier, and then he, too, retreated, catching her just as she looked ready to come find him.

  “Come quick.” With rapid hand gestures, she hurried him forward and pointed, showing him what they’d missed before—the hearth no longer had a back wall.

  “Wait, should we not first see if there is another?” He regarded the room, scrutinizing every tapestry and every exposed inch of stone wall.

  “I already looked. This is it.”

  “Let’s go then.” Alistair ducked into the hearth, and this time, they encountered stairs going up. The narrow stairwell turned abruptly, and a door opened onto the battlements, the cool night air hitting them with force.

  The ramparts were empty on this side of the castle. “Where are the guards?” Alistair said angrily.

  Julia was peering over the side of the castle, toward the moat, and then looked at him with sorrow. “They are down there.”

  Alistair winced at the bodies below that he could see in the moonlight. “Whoever we are dealing with is strong.”

  “And knows well how to use poison.”

  He stared at her, and she nodded. “I think the same one who might have tried to kill my mother. They would not have known that I would come in her stead. Little good that did.”

  Alistair didn’t understand what she meant exactly about her mother, but there was definitely a connection, and why was it that she seemed to read his thoughts? The lass was hiding something, but there was no time for him to find out what. Not yet.

  They followed the line of dead guards that hadn’t fallen ove
r the wall. Each of them had a small dart in their neck, likely filled with poison. This was how whoever it was who’d taken the king was able to do so silently and without sending up an alarm.

  Was Hugh clever enough to do this?

  “The nursemaid,” he grumbled. I should have told the earl.

  “What about her? What do ye know?”

  They ran to the other side of the ramparts, where another door had been opened. He couldn’t answer her now, and she didn’t ask, as they didn’t want those they pursued to hear them.

  Once they made it to the bottom, ending in the bailey, there was nothing but quiet.

  “She must have had something to do with it.”

  A loud clank from the gates jarred them toward the gatehouse, where they found out Sir Hugh and a servant had left hastily with a messenger, as he’d gotten news of a close family member being near death.

  “That was no messenger!” But he didn’t tell them anything else. Instead he ran back toward the castle. He had to tell the earl what had happened.

  When he arrived in the earl’s chamber, Julia was not with him.

  Ballocks!

  Had she gone after the king alone? Or was she a part of this elaborate plan? A sinking feeling churned in his gut. It was awfully convenient for her to have just now arrived, and the king to disappear on that very night.

  “My lord.” The earl had managed to get to a chair and was sitting on it with a rag held to his head to stop the bleeding.

  “Sir Alistair. What happened? All I remember is waking to a pain in my head. Someone attacked me while I slept.”

  Alistair grimaced. He should have been there to protect him. “The king has been abducted, and I believe Lady Julia may be involved. She’s disappeared along with your attackers. I’m certain Sir Hugh and possibly his new nurse were also involved.”

  The earl paled, and took a lengthy sip from his mug. A dark bruise marred the side of his face.

  “I canna believe ’twas Lady Julia. She would not have done something like this. Her family has been nothing but loyal. Protectors of the royal family. Hell, they are part of the royal family.” The earl’s voice was scratchy. “But Sir Hugh… something has been off about him for awhile now. I wish I could have seen it before now.”

  “He is guilty, I’m certain. I should have told ye. I’ve been watching him, knew he was up to something, but I was nae entirely certain what.”

  “’Tis not your fault. Go after the king. Bring him back. And find Lady Julia, too. Likely, she went after the king, as it is her duty. Dinna say anything to anyone. I dinna want the entire country in a panic.”

  “Ye have my word. I will leave at once, my lord. What about the dead guards? What will ye tell everyone has happened?”

  “I will take care of it. I’ll tell them there’s been a breach of safety, and that ye’ve taken the king to a secure location. No one is to know that he is missing.”

  “Aye, my lord.” Alistair crossed the room. “I will not let ye down. I will save the king.”

  And he was going to make Sir Hugh and whoever else was involved pay for their treachery.

  4

  Sneaking out of any place was easy—doing so with a horse and a hound was a different story altogether. Even still, Julia managed it with such skill, she was certain her parents would have thrown a feast in her honor.

  And thank goodness she’d been able to do it, because if she’d had to get to the king by force, she wouldn’t have hesitated to take a few lives along the way.

  She raced along the moors, listening to the cries of the young King David that echoed in her mind. Were they real or manifested? She prayed they were real, that the whispers, the mind reading she’d believed to be a curse, were actually turning into something of a blessing. The young king had a running commentary going on in his mind that somehow connected with hers. Fear dominated him, but as a young lad, he also took notice of things that an adult mind would not have—clues that told her where he might be.

  I want my mama. Why did they steal me? There’s the cliff that looks like cat ears Papa took me riding by. I miss my papa. My king. Why is it so dark in the woods?

  Julia refused to be terrified by the voices in her head. Most things didn’t terrify her at all, which her father often said was a flaw. Having a little bit of fear made one more cautious and gave one the ability to protect themselves and others. However, fear was not something she often felt. And this new ability—hearing voices or mind reading, whichever it was; were they the same?—didn’t faze her as it probably should. Upon realizing with Sir Alistair that she could hear his thoughts, she determined that somehow, miraculously, she hadn’t been imagining the whispers.

  But she couldn’t hear everyone’s constant thoughts, even Sir Alistair’s, just glimpses and phrases.

  Merida kept her nose to the ground, sniffing out the lad’s scent. Julia’d had the forethought in the lad’s chamber to grab hold of one of his shirts. Merida was an excellent hunter and could find anyone hiding, as long as she had their scent.

  They journeyed through the night, having to stop to rest when the sun came up, but not for long, perhaps an hour or two, and then she was on her way again. Julia did this many times through the next day, traveling for five or six hours and resting for two or three. And by the third day, she was exhausted, her horse and the hound were exhausted, but she could still hear the lad. Hear him crying for his mother, for his nurses. Hear him commenting on a deer carcass that crows were eating, on a fallen tree. All things she passed by within an hour or two’s time.

  Ironically, she could not hear the voice of the king’s captor. As much as Julia squeezed her eyes shut and focused on evil, focused on hands gripping a child, she came up with nothing.

  When they stopped to rest, usually near water, whether that be a loch, burn or puddle, the animals sipped. While her horse fed on grass, Merida hunted for squirrels, and Julia foraged for berries, nuts and roots, since she couldn’t risk a fire to cook any game—despite her loyal hound offering her several squirrels and a rabbit. Every few stops, she closed her eyes, but would quickly bolt awake.

  Every step of the way, Julia fought off the rising panic, the great sense of failure. How was she ever going to face her mother? Anyone, for that matter, after this?

  Failure wasn’t an option.

  She must save him.

  As the days passed, she had a sense of someone following her. Thought a few times she might have recognized the sound of Sir Alistair’s voice in her mind, but every time she circled back around, she found no one there. No traces of anyone.

  If only she’d grabbed hold of something of his and could send Merida out. But, then again, she couldn’t risk the loss of her hound’s nose for a meddlesome warrior when the king was a priority.

  The landscape they traversed was familiar, and soon she realized they were in her own clan’s territory. When she stopped to rest, she could see the outline of Eilean Donan’s keep tower. The lure to go home and check on her mother was intense and more than a handful of times, she got up, prepared to do so. But the moment she walked over that bridge, she was certain her father would force her to stay, and perhaps even send Tad out to find the king, along with an army of warriors.

  She couldn’t risk the enemy knowing they were being followed. And given she had Merida and the sounds of the wee king’s voice in her head, she was his only chance.

  That, or she was going mad.

  Julia was just about to close her eyes for a few minutes respite before they continued on the hard journey, when the snap of a twig sounded behind her. Merida growled—but the ensuing click of a tongue had Julia leaping to her feet, prepared to cut Sir Alistair down where he stood.

  A sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, she scanned the trees. Every rustle was a marauder; every light breeze was the breath of her enemy.

  “Come out from your hiding place,” she demanded. “I know ye’re there.”

  Sir Alistair melted from behind a tree. His
jawline shaded with a few days’ growth of beard, his hair pulled back tight with a leather strap. Beneath his eyes were shaded purple from lack of sleep, but he was still a welcome sight. Relief flooded her, which of course then only irritated her. Why should she want him here?

  Julia looked behind him. Had he walked all this way? Run? “Where is your mount?”

  “Back a ways.”

  Julia frowned and raised her sword, pointing it toward his neck. “Ye wanted to sneak up on me. Ye failed. What took ye so long to make yourself known?”

  Merida leaned into his thigh as he patted her head absently. He shrugged.

  Julia rolled her eyes and put her sword back in the scabbard at her hip. As much as she would have enjoyed sparring with him, there wasn’t the time.

  “Ye’re not going to kill me now?” he teased.

  “Nay.”

  “Why did ye run off without me?” He leaned against a tree, picking a blade of grass and placing it between his fine lips.

  Fine lips? There was something so alluring about the shape of his mouth…

  Since when did she care a fig for a man’s mouth? Never. Not even her husband for a day. None had given her pause until she’d met Sir Alistair. Wicked rogue.

  Julia shook herself from whatever path her thoughts were taking and concentrated on the crease between his brows instead.

  “I have a duty to protect the king, Sir Alistair. That duty does not extend to asking ye for permission.”

  “But I could have joined ye.” There was an accusation in his gaze she didn’t like.

  “So ye have.” As much as she tried to concentrate and possibly hear exactly what was going through his mind, his thoughts were shut off to her. Perhaps that was a blessing.

  “Good point.” He fingered the blade of grass, rolling it with the tip of his fingers before plucking it out of his mouth. “So tell me, Lady Julia, how do ye know where ye’re going?”

  She wasn’t about to tell him about the strange ability that seemed to have taken over her ever since her mother gave her the mission of attending the king, so she nodded toward her dog.