Historical Hearts Romance Collection

by Sophia Wilson

  Ewan rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “And I will always stand by yours,” he responded in kind.

  A smile cracked on Aiden’s face. “Perhaps if you choose the Cameron wench Janet will come seeking me for comfort?”

  Ewan laughed, “Yes, perhaps it could be so.”

  “And she will realize that I am the better, handsomer, stronger of the two of us? She will fall for me?” he continued to joke.

  “You would have my blessing, of course. She could not choose a better second choice,” Ewan teased.

  “Then you have done away with her?” Aiden questioned.

  After a long pause, Ewan replied, “In many ways I have. It is not easy to let go of one you care for, one you have been betrothed to since childhood and have grown familiar with. And yet, she is not Iona. She does not have the strength of spirit, nor the tenderness of heart, nor the beauty of a candle that lights the world with its brilliance. Janet is much to me, but she is not the one I love.”

  Chapter Six

  Evening came, and Janet carried a tray with wine into the darkness beneath the stairs where she could not be seen.

  “Have you been noticed?” she asked in a whisper.

  Hushed tones replied, “Of course not. I left him in the woods where he continued walking. I told the counsel I was unable to find him.”

  “And what did you learn?” she prodded, leaning out far enough to set the tray on a stair so she was able to move freely in the dark.

  “He loves her. Very much. And he will not allow her to be executed,” Aiden informed the rejected woman.

  “Ah yes, this is what I expected to hear,” she said, attempting to remain aloof in spite of the deep wells of bitter sadness and dejection that overwhelmed and pained her so deeply.

  Janet’s eyes began to adjust in the darkness, and she made out the features of Aiden’s face. His strong jaw and muscled body were not unpleasant to look at, and he made a wonderful tool for her needs. She had considered more than once using him to satisfy the wants she had been forced to hold back from Ewan until their marriage. But soon the day would come that her wedding would arrive, and she would have only her husband. She allowed herself to toy with the idea of Aiden once more.

  “You do so well for me. Perhaps my parents chose the wrong betrothed,” she teased, running a finger from the top of his firm chest and stopping just above his waist.

  Aiden reached for Janet but she casually turned away and swung into the light. Her black dress absorbed the glow around her but the flames of the candles danced against her dark eyes.

  “Now now, you must remain in the shadows, my quiet knight,” she said.

  “Only if you join me there,” Aiden replied hungrily. He had wanted her to be his for so long that she nearly laughed at his desperation. This had always been a mere game for her, but to Aiden it was need.

  Janet moved her body slowly back underneath the stairs, but did not touch him. He was useful, but he was not the one she desired. He had to remain in her grasp, but aware that she was not in his. That is, she was not his yet. The fine balance of keeping his hopes alive despite her determination to never belong to another had proven tricky, but not impossible.

  “What is it you desire of me?” she asked, once more in a teasing voice.

  “Must I say it? Do you not well know?” he asked her, nearly panting with desperation for some sign that she would one day give her love to him. His face took on such a look of sadness that Janet almost felt pity for him. And yet, he was a good toy to play with.

  “Should I leave my betrothed to be yours?” she asked, returning her tone to the mockery that kept her strong.

  “Aye, leave him to the Cameron wench and come away with me,” Aiden begged. He reached again for her hand and grasped it tightly so that she could not pull it away. She barely even tried, knowing that this little sign of contact might continue to hold him in her own grip in return.

  “Iona Stewart is a child, and she will never be his,” Janet said bitterly.

  “And I shall never let you sink to being his either. You deserve better. A man who can be strong in battle, false in friendship, and blessed in other areas that women desire,” he listed. Pride swelled around him. He was a child in his need for her, but a man in his arrogance.

  “Is that so?” she asked mockingly.

  “Aye it is,” he said reaching again. This time Aiden managed to grasp her waist and pull her close.

  “Do you intend to show me now?” she asked with a surprised smile and a cocked eyebrow.

  “As you wish,” he replied. Aiden leaned in to kiss her but she held up an olive hand to stop his lips.

  “I wish to take wine to the guard,” she stated abruptly.

  Aiden stood motionless for a moment before releasing her. The rejection was painful but he stood firm in the knowledge that he would one day have her. He was certain he could convince her to choose him over his weakling of a childhood playmate and waste of a leader.

  “Then you must be off,” he said, reluctantly releasing her body from his own. He knew this was not the end for them. He would be with her again.

  Janet exited the shadows and grabbed the tray on the staircase before slowly and tauntingly climbing, aware of the attractive angle that Aiden was watching closely.

  She reached the crest of the tower and saw the guard sitting before her. He was evidently exhausted, and Janet was certain that this must be her chance.

  “Some wine for you?” she offered, already pouring the cup.

  Temptation flitted across his face, and he lifted a hand to reach for the cup. He considered for a moment before bringing his hand once more to rest on his thigh.

  “I had best not, mistress. I am grateful for your generosity of late, but the Laird would be rightfully angry with me should I be caught, and he hasn’t come yet for his - I mean he often comes to check the security of the prisoner, and I wouldn’t like him to see me with drink,” he recovered. He had nearly confessed to Janet what he heard from the outside of the prisoner’s door, but had managed to catch himself just in time.

  The furrowed brow of Janet’s face let him know that her suspicions had long been aroused and she was aware of exactly what was happening. Nevertheless, he could not have his master finding out that he had come even close to mentioning the nightly visits that lasted for hours.

  The guard had seen Iona many times and it was not difficult to understand why Ewan had fallen so deeply in love with her.

  The guard had also seen Janet a great many times and was happy that she was visiting him so frequently and generously. Deep within, he felt that something was amiss. Nevertheless, the hope welled within him that perhaps her attention was directed at him for more personal reasons. He had heard rumors of her character, but her vision and beauty clouded judgment.

  He nodded to her, and she nodded in return.

  Janet turned with the tray in hand and left with no more words.

  Half an hour had passed when another tray came up, this time carried by Ewan and filled with rich and bounteous foods for him to share with Iona. He had begun a pattern of eating little during his dinner with the others but pretending to be hungry later and telling his men that he desired a nightly walk in the castle to retrieve it. Deception by deception, Ewan had ensured his ability to see Iona each evening. It was the only guarantee he had to be with her.

  Additionally, he had brought her a new set of books to read in her ample time. These were what she was most grateful for. Ewan knew how precious the words on paper were but for him there was no price too great to pay for Iona’s comfort in the midst of her imprisonment.

  He entered the room and placed all before her.

  “Where have you been?” Iona asked, seemingly distraught that he had been so late in coming to her that evening.

  “I walked today and wished with all my heart that you could have joined me,” Ewan said apologetically.

  “Yes, well it is very difficult to go walking when o
ne is a prisoner,” she replied with the hint of bitterness that still remained in her. In only a moment of being with one another, her mood had appeared to drop. Each evening, she had hoped that he would come with the news of her imminent release and during the days she listened intently for any sign of a counsel meeting.

  Ewan’s face was downcast. He knew it was true. He knew that she was still a prisoner and that Iona had every reason to hate him for it.

  “I brought you more books,” he said brightly, remembering that at least he had done one thing to benefit her.

  “For that I am grateful,” she said with a smile. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and she was glad for anything that might keep her busy during the long days.

  Ewan passed the books to Iona and she set them beside her as she continued to eat. It was clear that something was on her mind.

  “I keep them in the study beside my chambers in the East Wing,” he told her.

  “I think your rooms must be very different from mine,” she replied.

  He was quiet for a moment before responding.

  “Yes, it is true. They are different, but soon you will stay in them rather than here. In the East Wing, my room is marked by a lion, the study marked by a scroll. The beds and chairs are the most comfortable in the land. It pains me that you are not with me there,” he finished.

  Still she ate without response.

  “Tell me,” Ewan said, knowing her well enough by now to see clearly when she was distressed. He could continue speaking aimlessly, but it would do her no good if she was unable to be free of what held her mind.

  “I wondered about your family. Tell me what it was like for you. I have heard the story from our clan and I have heard some from yours, but I have not heard what it was you heard and felt on that night,” she petitioned. In her heart, Iona hoped that it would help her to understand more of Ewan’s reasons for capturing her, his hatred for her family and her clan.

  Ewan did not respond right away. Instead he bit into a slice of bread and chewed long and thoughtfully before replying.

  “I heard the screams of everyone I loved and they still echo every minute in my mind. A wash of red has covered the memories and blood plagues my every decision. Iona, it was the most vile event in history. And yet, had it not happened, I would not find myself sitting here with you,” was his only answer.

  In turn, Iona now sat thinking.

  “I disagree,” she finally said, with her brows nearly touching.

  “How so?” Ewan asked, seemingly offended by her response to his unburdening of anguish he had felt for nearly two decades.

  “You say it is the only reason you and I are together, but I cannot believe that to be true. Peace could also bring us together. Forgiveness on the part of my clan for what yours took from us. Forgiveness on the part of your clan for what was done by our previous generation. Peace, forgiveness, friendship between the clans, that could have brought us together. That could have led me into your courts, your home. Peace could have joined us. And were that the case, you’re right in that you would not be sitting here with me, but perhaps we would be in your chambers now as man and wife,” she explained at length. Her reasons pained them both alike.

  Ewan wrapped a hand around Iona’s waist where they sat on her bed and pressed his lips to hers. She responded in kind and they held one another for a long time.

  “I am sorry for what I have done,” he said, holding back the salty tears that threatened his eyes.

  “Are you sorry for what you have done or for what you have continued to do? I am still locked in your tower, Ewan. You are not done with it yet, you are still committing this act against me,” she said bravely. “It is an indignation and a sign of selfishness rather than love.”

  “If I release you, I shall never see you again,” he responded with fear.

  “Did you hear nothing of what I just said? Peace, Ewan. Peace and friendship, forgiveness. All of that. That is how we may be together!” she yelled in frustration.

  “Your brother will never agree to it. He will never forgive even if I forgive him. He will not allow you to be mine. Of that I am certain,” Ewan said with determination.

  “Then I am to rot here until your advisors behead my corpse. And if that is so, I will choose to rot alone. You may leave,” she instructed.

  “Iona…”

  “I asked you to leave,” she insisted.

  Ewan stood to go, but turned back and cupped her chin in his hand. He gave Iona the gentlest of kisses.

  “I take my leave of you. But I hold you with me still.”

  Chapter Seven

  Eleidh turned her back to Janet as she refilled her wine.

  “Tonight you will tell her of the plan?” she asked.

  “Yes, Mother. I will wait until the guard leaves for his business, and I will tell her. Tomorrow, then, that is when the plan will be put into action, that is when that little creature will be dead,” Janet spewed with venom.

  “That is my good girl. You always were clever. And beautiful. The way you used the friend of Ewan was quite brilliant. You are my daughter, indeed,” Eleidh complimented.

  “Yes, Mother. And once our plan takes effect, I am able to release him from my grip. Until then, he must remain devoted to me,” she replied.

  “He will never be released from your grip, Janet. He will remain yours forever, a plaything you can crush as needed. Or use when Ewan is untrue once more,” Eleidh said nonchalantly.

  “What makes you believe he will be untrue again?” Janet asked, startled.

  “It is the way of a man, my daughter. Your father was so; Ewan has already proven he is so. Only playthings remain true. Only those who do not have you will continue to desire you,” she explained.

  “Mother, you think far too little of me. Ewan is not as father was and I am not so like you as you happen to believe. Ewan has been bewitched, but he will remember me. And as for me, I will not lose my appeal as you have done. I will not grow old or weary or drunken, I will remain as I am forever,” Janet declared.

  Her mother scoffed.

  “You say this now as I once did. You will see, my dear, you will see. Time catches up with us all and you, too, will one day be caught,” she replied. Eleidh snuck under the blankets of her bed and rolled over with eyes closed.

  ***

  Janet carried the large pitcher of water up the stairs and to the guard. At the crest, she found him staring at his hands in exhaustion.

  “Water to wake you?” she asked in a flirtatious voice.

  He sat up rigidly at hearing her lilt and tried to act as though he had been fully awake from the beginning. He cleared his throat and trained his eyes on her olive hands holding the water.

  “You are so tired, I think. Perhaps this will help to wake you. Might I get you anything else?” she offered gently and with suggestion, pushing her hip out and leaning at an angle to accentuate her curves.

  His eyes made their way up and down her form for a moment before standing and reaching for the pitcher.

  “Only this, my lady. I thank you,” he replied quietly, sitting again. He poured the water into a cup and drank.

  Janet watched him as he refilled for a second cup. He was thirsty, that was a good sign.

  “I hope all will be well with you as the evening continues,” she said, taking her leave and descending the stairs.

  ***

  With darkness having taken her place above, Clan Cameron settled for the night. Only the guards and Wallace himself remained alert in their respective areas.

  Wallace tossed his body on the bed, listening for any sound. He had grown paranoid, certain that Clan Chattan would descend at any moment and take his people, the last beings he loved.

  Each sound of bird, twig, or wind had him sitting up and rushing to the window with squinted eyes. What if Iona’s capture had been only a prelude of what was to come? What if a battle would soon ensue? Had he been a fool for not attacking sooner? Had his decision to wait until they
were no longer expected been a mistake?

  The thoughts overwhelmed Wallace, compelling him to an anguished groan. If only he could sleep, if only he could rest his mind and ease his body. He knew that the thoughts were unlikely; he knew that it was insomnia that kept him so unwell, and yet the fears that plagued him became more real than any event surrounding his presence.

  The sound of an owl outside the window caused Wallace to jolt upright.

  “Who goes there?” he shouted in demand. Silence answered him until the sound of his door opening alerted him once more.

  “Sir?” a man’s voice asked quietly, not fully opening the door. “Are you alright? What has happened?”

  Wallace gripped the sheets covered in his sweat.

  “I thought I heard something. That is all. Please go,” he ordered in a quiet voice.

  The door closed, and the tortured chief tossed and turned once more.

  ***

  A mere hour had passed when Janet heard the shuffling of the guard above. This was her moment, this was the first step.

  Already, she had ensured that Ewan was in his own chambers, and she was thrilled that he had not stayed so long in Iona’s quarters that evening. Perhaps he had grown weary of her.

  She quickly and silently escaped from beneath the stairs and tip-toed her way up them, finding the guard’s chair empty. He would be but a moment, she knew. It would take him time to get to the bucket he used and it would take time to return, but her window remained small.

  She knocked gently on the door of Iona’s prison.

  No response was heard. She knocked again.

  “Iona,” she whispered. “Come to the door if you hear me. I am here to help you.”

  Iona rustled about inside.

  “Who is there?” she asked in her delicate, yet firm voice.