"Nay, I will not raise a weapon against—"
"Pray God you will not have to. I intend to have Iain's people in the hills and the keep burning before dawn."
"What if you are caught?"
"Then you'll have the pleasure of rescuing me," Lion teased. He strapped his claymore onto his back and covered it with a ratty cloak. From beneath the bed, he took the coil of rope he'd used when he went visiting Rowena. "I want you to go back downstairs, Bryce, and inform His Grace that I am stinking drunk and dead to the world, unlike to rise before morn, and then with a sore head."
Bryce frowned but nodded. "The room smells foul enough that anyone who comes checking will believe you, I suppose."
"Will, you're to stand guard outside the door to see that no one disturbs my drunken slumbers."
"Aye. But I'd rather be going with ye."
"Not this time."
"Just in case…" Bryce drew back the blankets, heaped dirty clothes onto the bed and covered the mound again so it resembled a sleeping body.
Grinning, Lion tied one end of the rope to the bedpost and threw the other over the windowsill. "Enjoy your ride to Creagan, but stay clear of Alexander on the way back. He's bound to be in a foul mood when he discovers his prey has escaped."
"Take care."
Lion nodded, then slipped down the rope as quickly and silently as rain water. When he tugged on the rope, Bryce sent the length of hemp tumbling down to him. After hiding the coil beneath a bush to await his return, Lion flitted through the inky shadows in the back garden and thence to the small postern gate in the rear wall. From the pouch at his waist, he took the duplicate key that had come in handy numerous times and thanked his father for having taught him the importance of having an escape route. It paid off now, for he walked out, locking the door behind him so the guard would suspect nothing.
The dusty road from the castle to the village below was edged with large boulders. Keeping low, Lion darted from rock to rock till he reached the bend in the path. Then he stood and trotted the rest of the way to the blacksmith's shop on the fringe of the settlement. He tapped twice on the rough side of the lean-to at the back, where the smith's assistant slept.
"Who the hell's there?" growled Roderick Sutherland, whose size and skill with a hammer had gotten him this job under the false name of Rod Shaw. It paid to have a man on the outside, Lion's father had often said.
"The light of your life," Lion whispered.
Roderick opened the door a crack. "Trouble?"
"Isn't there always?" Lion said cheerfully.
In five minutes, he had a swift horse and was headed away from Blantyre. He'd refused Roderick's offer of help, but stopped in the forest glade where Wes and the other Sutherlands were camped. "Sorry to disturb your rest, lads," Lion said as they rolled from their blankets and strapped on their swords. "But the Rosses are bound to need a bit of help getting away."
" 'Tis a right fine night for a ride," Wes said, swinging into the saddle. "And I've the instructions Iain sent when he said we should send wee Colin to him."
With Wes in the lead, they raced across the open moor, taking a shortcut Lion hoped Alexander's scouts had not discovered. The air smelled of rain and of the tender grass trampled beneath their horses' hooves. It reminded Lion of other spring nights, other rides filled with danger and adventure.
Not that he'd done much raiding, for his father did not hold with taking what was not theirs. But Lion had often been part of the watch patrolling his clan's far-flung lands. If they did find that someone else had lifted Sutherland cattle, they'd set off on the hot trod. A wild, midnight ride to reclaim the stolen beasts or a wagonload of purloined goods. He'd learned to ride tirelessly over some of the roughest land in all Christendom, then fight with sword, dirk and his fists, if need be, at the end.
If life in the Highlands had honed and tempered him, life at the French court and university had polished those rough edges, just as his father had intended. Grateful as Lion was for the lessons learned abroad, he still bitterly resented those lost years with Rowena. Why would she not give them another chance at happiness?
"There is it," Wes muttered, drawing rein.
Lion shook off his dark thoughts and halted to scan the stern tower hugging the lee of the mountain. The windows were dark, the Rosses sound asleep. Lion's band got within a few hundred yards of the keep before they were challenged.
"Who are ye?" demanded a sleepy voice.
Lion wheeled in the direction of a pile of rocks, over which peered a pale, wary face. "Friends," Lion said curtly. "And you can be glad of it, else you and all within yon tower would be dead now."
"So ye say." The man whistled sharply.
A cry rang out from the left, gravel crunched and another face bobbed up from behind a rock. Ahead, two men dashed onto the path, long spears extended before them.
Fools. Young fools to think they could challenge a troop of thirty men with a few pikes. "I need to speak with Iain Ross right away."
"The laird's asleep in his bed," called one of the spearmen, advancing down the road with his weapon raised.
"Best rouse him quick," Lion called. "The Wolf is coming here…within a few hours. We have come to help—"
"How do we know this is not some trick to get inside?"
Lion gritted his teeth. "We are wasting valuable time. Just send someone to tell Iain that Lion Sutherland is here."
"The same who sent young Colin to us? Why did you not say so in the first place?" The guard shouted orders over his shoulder, then stepped from the path. "Come within, my lord."
By the time they reached the outer wall, lights shone in the tower's second-story windows and torches rimmed the barmkin. A fair-headed man hurried down the wooden steps. "Lion! What's this my cousin says about the Wolf coming here?"
"I fear 'tis true."
The wind sent the torches writhing. In the flickering light, his face was ashen, dazed. "He knows Colin's here?"
"Nay. He's decided to punish Clan Ross, and yours is the closest holding. He means to wipe you out…kill you all and burn the tower."
"Jesu… I'll send word to Fergus."
"Your uncle could not get here quickly enough."
"But he'll not let this attack go unpunished. Fergus will avenge us."
"If he does, Fergie will find himself outlawed." Lion's jaw tightened with frustration. "Alexander is the king's brother. The viceroy of the Highlands."
"Butcher'd be a more apt title."
"Aye, but the fact remains that to raise arms against the king's appointed ruler is an act of treason. The Wolf is counting on you to fight him and give him an excuse to declare the folk of Clan Ross traitors. He'll kill you all as an example to others who refuse to join him."
"We'll not surrender. We'll not—"
"What I'm asking you to do is hard, I know. I want you to get away into the hills and fire the tower. My men and I will help get your people and your livestock to safety."
Iain looked up at the square stone building that likely contained all he held dear in the world. They'd take what they could, but there wasn't time to pack more than the essentials. Filling the bottom of the tower with peat and setting it ablaze would make it impossible for the Wolf's men to get inside, however. With any luck, the raiders would tire of sitting about watching the peat smolder and return to Blantyre. The Rosses could wait a week or so for the fire to burn out completely, then come back, hoe out the ashes and see what they could reclaim.
"Better to fire it than lose lives, I suppose," Iain said. "That's twice ye've helped us, and I do thank you for it."
"Thank me when we've got you and yours safely away."
"How much time do we have?"
"Three or four hours, no more." Lion looked up and saw Colin standing on the step above his uncle.
The lad's eyes were dark and haunted with more misery than one person should have to endure. In a way, Colin was a symbol of all that had happened to Scotland.
Lion was more det
ermined than ever to bring the Wolf down.
Rowena stood in the window of her darkened room and watched the flurry of activity in the courtyard below. Wind-whipped torchlight flickered over the controlled chaos as Georas MacPherson bellowed orders to the milling men. Many of them were still struggling into their leather vests and belting on their huge claymores.
She saw Bryce and the Sutherlands grouped off to one side, armed and ready to ride, though their grim faces contrasted sharply with the avid excitement of the MacPhersons, Chisholms and even the Gunns. Eneas was in the thick of things, bullying men and horses into line.
Alexander strode down the side steps, mounted his waiting stallion, then held up his hands for silence. "We ride to avenge the attempt on my life." He wheeled his horse and cantered toward the lowered drawbridge.
"Death to the traitors," someone shouted. It sounded suspiciously like Eneas.
The others took up the cry with resounding fervor, their voices nearly drowned out by the swirl of the pipes. Vaulting into the saddle, the men charged out the gate after the earl.
Rowena's belly cramped with fear. There were so many of them. What if Lion didn't succeed in getting the Rosses away? What if he was captured?
She bowed her head in silent prayer, then turned toward her bed. As she did, her gaze caught a furtive movement below. Two men stood before the stables, heads bent together in a pose that fairly screamed intrigue. They broke apart suddenly, one staying behind to lurk in the shadows cast by the building, the other crossing the courtyard. He looked up as he climbed the stairs to the castle, and she recognized Clem Gunn. Which meant the other man was likely a Gunn, also. Why had they stayed behind?
To trap Lion?
What if Eneas suspected Lion's drunkenness was an act and had left his men here to follow in case Lion left?
She smiled smugly. Lion was already gone, of that Bryce had assured her when she'd cornered him just after he returned from toting Lion off to bed.
Her smile fled.
What if Clem saw Lion return?
Cat snagged the hem of Rowena's bedrobe. Absently, she bent and picked up the kitten. Rubbing her face in the soft fur, she tried to think what to do. Warn Lion, certainly, but how?
Bryce had also said that Red Will would stay to guard Lion's door. She would tell Will what she'd seen.
Rowena tucked Cat into her basket, threw a cloak on over her robe and headed for Lion's room. It was on the floor below hers, which was doubtless why he'd climbed up so easily. If she was not so afraid of heights, she'd have preferred the window route herself, for then she'd not have had to argue with the dour Kier, standing guard outside her door, over her plan to visit Lion Sutherland in the middle of the night.
"Finlay would not like it that ye're putting yerself in danger to check on a drunk."
"The place is virtually deserted, and you'll be with me." Rowena brushed past him and set out. The hallways were dark and ominously silent, and she was actually glad of Kier's company.
Red Will Sutherland and another clansmen she did not know sat before the door playing at dice by the light of a thick candle. Both stood at her approach.
"I've come to see Lord Lion," she said brightly.
Will scowled. "In the middle of the night?"
"I would make amends for our quarrel."
"He's not awake."
Will did not know that she knew what was afoot. "He will be come morn, and then he'll be in a lot of trouble." She fixed him with a hard stare. "He'll have headaches aplenty," she added. "But I've a bit of knowledge that may ease his suffering."
Will's eyes widened as her message reached him. "Oh, well…" He lifted the latch and stood aside for her to enter, slamming the door shut in Kier's face. "What has happened?"
"Eneas Gunn has left men behind. I think they are watching for Lion's return." She peered at the lumpy bed. "He is gone?"
"Aye. Through the window and out the postern gate. He has a key."
"Very foresighted."
"Lion leaves little to chance. He'll come back the same way, with none the wiser."
"Unless Eneas's men see him."
"Mmm." Will scratched at his red beard. "There'll be hell to pay when the earl returns empty-handed."
"And Alexander will be looking for someone to blame."
"How can he accuse Lion when he's been in his room all night?" Will muttered.
"So you say, but you are his man." Rowena frowned, considering. "We must make it seem that Lion is very sick. I will stay with him, of course, but Alexander might not believe me, either. So…so we must create a stir. Involve other people in this play."
Will eyed the bed. "Yon will not bear close scrutiny."
"We will not let anyone in past the doorway. We will send for things…for medicines from Felis, hot water from the kitchen. And clean bed linens, anything that will cause people to think Lion is in here, suffering." She wrinkled her nose. "Indeed, it stinks of the sickroom already."
"Lion rid his belly of most of the ale he'd drunk before he left," Will said.
"How foresighted," Rowena repeated weakly.
For the next few hours, Rowena kept the servants hopping. Maids were dragged from their beds to fetch and carry. Felis's helper brought the herb chest to Rowena, along with a recipe to calm the stomach. Every time the door was closed, Rowena uttered low, anguished moans. When Donald Shaw came to see what the fuss was about, she hinted that Lion's ale might have been tainted.
Donald scurried away to launch an investigation.
As the sun poked up over the castle walls, Rowena flopped onto the bed and closed her eyes. She was exhausted, but triumphant. There could not be a single person at Blantyre who thought Lion Sutherland had spent the night elsewhere.
The loud grinding of the portcullis being raised drew her from her bed to the window. Alexander's army clattered into the courtyard, their sullen expressions a marked contrast to the high spirits with which they'd left. They had not succeeded, then. She hugged herself.
To say that Alexander was out of sorts was to put things mildly. He leaped from his horse, backhanded the stable boy who took the reins and kicked at a curious dog that got too close.
"We will get them when they return," Georas said, but he spoke from several arm lengths away.
Alexander swore, his face purple beneath the helmet he tugged off and hurled to the stones. "Someone warned them of our coming. I want the traitor found."
Eneas, Georas and a dozen other men pressed forward, offering to search.
A slithering noise from behind her had Rowena whirling toward the rear window. A rope sailed in through the opening. The hook at the end caught on the sill, then began to twitch.
She met Lion as he swung his lean body into the room.
"Sweetheart! How nice to find you wait—"
"Never mind that. Get the rope in before someone sees it. The earl has just come, and he is in a terrible temper."
"Good." Lion grinned grimly, but did as she asked, winding the hemp into a neat coil, which he stuck between the mattress and the leather straps that supported it. "Why are you here? Not that I'm complaining, but—"
"Eneas left men to watch the stables and the keep. I think he suspects something." Briefly, she told Lion about the ruse she and his men had enacted.
"Clever lass." He pulled her into his arms and lowered his head. Before he could kiss her, a shout rumbled down the corridor outside the room.
"That sounds like Alexander." Rowena's heart lurched. "Quick, get your clothes off and get into bed."
While he unbuckled his sword belt, Rowena attacked the broach pinning his plaid to the shoulder of his tunic. The six-yard swathe of plaid slid to the floor. Lion wriggled out of the chain mail, opened the trunk and dropped it in.
"At least you do not smell of smoke," she said.
"I washed in the village before coming back here." He bent to tug off his boots.
"Hurry! Hurry!" Rowena cried. The voices in the hall were growing louder, closer.
"Get naked and into bed."
Lion stood, grinning wickedly. "Ah, I've dreamed of the moment you'd say those words, lass, but I thought we'd have a bit more privacy."
"Oh, you foolish man. Are you never serious? Do you want them to catch you?" She threw back the blanket, shoved the pile of dirty clothes onto the floor. "Get in."
"See here…ye cannot go in there," Red Will cried.
"I'll go where I damned well please." It was Alexander.
Lion cursed and shucked off his long tunic, giving Rowena a heart-stopping glimpse of his lean, bronzed body an instant before he dove under the covers.
"My lord has been sick all night," Red Will protested from the other side of the door.
"Ha! I've reason to believe he's not in there and never was," Eneas shouted. "Now step aside."
"Lion," Rowena whispered. "What will we do?"
"Brazen it out. You'd best sit down beside me, lass. You look a trifle pale."
Rowena sank down on the edge of the bed, her teeth chattering, her heart galloping. She watched the door, bracing for the moment when the earl would explode into the room and denounce Lion as a spy. What if this ploy didn't work? What if they dragged him away and hanged him? Sweet Mary, how could she bear to lose him a second time?
"Easy, lass. You've done a fine job thus far. We'll get through this, you and I." He took her icy hand and kissed it gently. "Now put your hand on my aching brow and pretend you're offering a wee bit of comfort to your love." He winked at her, then called out, "Who the hell is there?"
For a moment there was silence.
"It's a trick," Eneas said. "It's one of his men."
The door flew open. Eneas stumbled across the threshold, followed by Georas and Alexander. A dozen more men bobbed behind them, craning to see what was going on.
"What is the meaning of this?" Rowena leaned forward, her arm going protectively around Lion.
Alexander frowned. "I thought you said someone saw Lion in the back garden."
"Aye." Eneas turned. "Clem? Get in here."
The man shoved his way through the mob to his master's side. "I saw him creeping about not five minutes ago."
Lion's Lady Page 18