The Rock

by Monica McCarty

  Breathtakingly so. And heart-stoppingly and head-confusingly so, as well. Good Lord, how had that happened? When had that happened?

  “Grateful to be alive” wasn’t her second thought either. Or her third, for that matter. The thoughts that followed were rather occupied by the awareness of the big, slightly sweaty, half-naked body on top of hers, which looked and felt about as hard and solid as all those rocks that had been about to tumble down on her, and that by all rights due to his size should be crushing her but wasn’t. He actually felt good. Really good. Even though he was heavy and hot. As in standing-too-close-to-the-forge hot. Her fingers were practically burning as they dug in—or tried to dig in—to the steel ball of muscle on his upper arms.

  God almighty, he was strong! She’d known that, of course. How could she not with as many times as she’d watched him work or do his chores? But it was quite a different thing to see it and another to experience it viscerally over every inch of her body.

  Indeed, everything about what she was feeling right now was visceral. Her senses were heightened, her nerve endings prickling, her skin tight and sensitive, and hot. Did she mention hot? All over hot. Drenching hot. Rushing to strange parts of her body hot.

  Good gracious, what was wrong with her?

  It was only when she looked into his eyes that she felt her sense of equilibrium return. The familiar gaze gave her an anchor in a storm of confusion.

  Thommy.

  She sighed with relief and made a jest. A jest that from his expression hadn’t been received very well.

  She was still trying to figure out what she’d said wrong this time, when her brother intruded.

  Thommy was pulled off her, and she was left . . . bereft. Not to mention cold and strangely let down.

  “What the hell do you think you are doing?” Jamie shouted at Thommy.

  There were very few men who could appear completely nonplussed to have the Black Douglas shouting at them, but Thommy was one of them. Even as a youth, he would stand up to Jamie in a way that none of the other village boys dared. He would face him just the way he was right now, with a calm, expressionless look on his face that drove Jamie crazy. Though there was nothing outwardly challenging or defiant, simply by the level of control it was exactly that.

  He was a rock. Solid, steady, and unflappable. No matter how much Jamie egged him on to fight back—no matter how angry Elizabeth could sense Thommy was—he never would. At least that’s the way it had been in Douglas and before the argument that had ended their friendship. But now, she wondered if something had changed.

  This time, Thommy broke his stoic facade with a cocked brow. “What did it look like I was doing?”

  There was a subtle taunt in his voice that Elizabeth didn’t understand. But Jamie did. He made a sound low in his throat like a growl and moved toward Thommy. “I’m going to kill you, I don’t care what Carrick says.”

  After getting herself to her feet—the two men were too busy breathing fire to remember her—Elizabeth stopped him. “Wait, Jamie!” She stepped in front of Thommy, who was still standing there lazily with his arms crossed in front of him, as if he didn’t have a care in the world (especially that he was a moment away from having Jamie’s fist in his jaw). “He was saving my life, that’s what he was doing,” she said. She moved her hand, gesturing to the rocks all strewn around their feet. “Did you happen to miss the wall that just came down? Well, it would have been on my head had Thommy not pushed me out of the way.” She bit her lip, turning around to face Thommy. She had to dip her head back to look up. “Are you hurt?”

  He held her gaze for a long heartbeat. There was an intensity there that she couldn’t decipher. She would have given almost anything at that moment to know his thoughts.

  “No.”

  She wasn’t sure whether to believe him, but he was making her feel kind of funny with the way he was looking at her—her heart was fluttering oddly—so she turned back to Jamie and glared. “You should be thanking him.”

  Unable to deny the evidence around him, Jamie stepped back.

  She waited. Unlike Thommy’s, her brother’s expression hid few of his thoughts, and right now “stubborn” was besting what was “right.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Well?”

  For the first time, Elizabeth was aware that there were other men with Jamie, and that with the men working on the wall, they now had quite an audience. Thus at least a dozen men witnessed the rare sight of James Douglas apologizing. He might be drawn up as tight as a bow, his hands might be curled into fists at his sides, and his mouth might look like he’d just drunk curdled milk, but he said, “It seems I owe you an apology. I didn’t realize—”

  All of a sudden he did realize.

  He spun on her with all the anger that had been directed at Thommy. “You could have been killed! God damn it, Elizabeth, don’t you know how dangerous this is? What the hell are you doing in here?”

  Apology apparently forgotten, he eyed Thommy suspiciously, and she felt him stiffen behind her.

  Elizabeth frowned at her formidable brother. She knew his anger was out of concern, but he was wrong with what he was insinuating. “I was looking for you. I was told you were in the North Tower.”

  “I was. This is the Guard Tower.”

  “Aye, well, I realized that too late. I was leaving when I accidentally knocked down the wall.”

  She decided it was more prudent not to explain she’d grabbed the wall to brace herself from the shock of seeing a half-naked man.

  Not just any half-naked man.

  Her brother’s eyes darted to Thommy, and then back to hers again. “Why are you at Roxburgh at all? As I recall, I told you to stay put, and I would be at Blackhouse to fetch you when I’d finished here. This is no place for a lady.”

  Was it her imagination, or had he emphasized that last word for Thommy’s benefit? The tension between the two men was palpable.

  Jamie was acting like she’d come to Roxburgh to find Thommy. But that didn’t make sense. He should have guessed why she was here. She frowned. “I came after Archie, of course. To bring him back.”

  Jamie wasn’t looking back and forth to Thommy anymore; his gaze was firmly fixed on hers. “What are you talking about?”

  Her heart sank, as the first hint of panic spiked her pulse. “Archie took a horse and rode out yesterday to join you. I followed him to bring him back, but didn’t catch up with him in time. I thought to find him here with you.”

  Jamie shook his head, and she knew from his grim expression what he was going to say. “Archie isn’t here.”

  5

  AFTER JAMIE’S OMINOUS pronouncement, Elizabeth and her brother retired to the king’s solar in the North Tower—the actual North Tower, this time, which was connected to the Guard Tower by the aptly named North Range.

  Jamie had led her away so quickly she hadn’t had a chance to speak with Thommy—not that the blank stare he gave her invited conversation—but she would seek him out later.

  First, she had Archie to worry about. She was trying not to overreact, but she could sense Jamie was anxious as well. He’d called for Richard, and along with Joanna’s other brother, Thomas, they were gathered around the table on benches with a few of Jamie’s other household guardsmen.

  Her brother’s eyes seemed to have turned black as they felt like pinpoints on her. “You rode halfway across Scotland with one guardsman for protection?”

  Truly, he was so predictable. “I’m not the one who matters right now. We need to find Archie. Where else could he have gone?”

  She didn’t doubt there would be hell to pay later, but Jamie’s worry for the sibling who was currently in danger won out. “Are you certain he was making his way here?”

  Elizabeth bit her lip, her hands twisting anxiously. “Nay, but I assumed after our argument”—she’d filled him in on the disagreement she’d had with Archie the night before—“he would come here. It’s what he’d threatened to do.” She looked to Ri
chard for help. “He was headed in this direction—at least until Selkirk.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Richard put in. “I tracked him easily enough but lost him in the city.”

  Jamie swore, dragging his fingers through his hair. His eyes fell on her accusingly. “You were supposed to be watching him.”

  Elizabeth gave him a harrowing look. She knew he was upset, but she wasn’t going to let him turn this on her. “Other than lock him up, I don’t know what you expected me to do. He’s a stubborn, pigheaded, sixteen-year-old lad who wants to prove himself and thinks he is indestructible. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Jamie’s mouth twisted, trying not to smile. “I gave orders that he wasn’t to leave the castle, but he stole a horse while most of the men were hunting, and no one noticed that he was gone until I went to look for him. He had no more than a few hours’ lead time on us.”

  Jamie stood and came over to pull her up into his arms. He squeezed her tight. “Hell, I’m sorry. I know this isn’t your fault. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find him easily enough.”

  Elizabeth felt the tears gathering behind her eyes as she stared up into her big brother’s handsome face. “Do you think so?”

  He pressed a kiss to her brow. “I know so. I will lead the search party myself.”

  Relieved, Elizabeth stood to the side and listened as he gave orders to his men. If Jamie said he would find him, he would. When it came to warfare, there was no one she trusted more.

  Although under the circumstances, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make doubly sure. She waited for him to finish and drew him aside for a private word. “Are any of the Phantoms here?”

  His expression went tellingly blank. “What are you talking about?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Really, Jamie, it’s not that hard to figure out. Although I don’t know why you didn’t join, since you are always fighting with them anyway.” She rattled off the names of the men most often in his company: Gregor MacGregor, Kenneth Sutherland, Magnus MacKay, Ewen Lamont, Eoin MacLean, and Robbie Boyd. She knew Alex Seton had been a member as well, but he’d recently switched allegiance to fight with the English.

  “How the hell . . . ?” His eyes narrowed. “God damn it, Ella, you are too old to be listening at doors.” He gave her a hard look, meant to intimidate. Although impressive, it was thoroughly wasted on her.

  He stormed off without confirming or denying anything, but she was relieved to see that when he rode out of the castle less than an hour later, four of the men she’d mentioned rode with him.

  It would be all right. Her brother and Bruce’s Phantoms—or as they called themselves, the Highland Guard—would find Archie. She retreated to the room provided for her to bathe, eat something, and rest, confident that when she woke, she would be giving her young brother a scolding like he would not soon forget for scaring her so horribly.

  Elizabeth tried not to be alarmed when her brother and the other men still had not returned by the evening meal. She’d hoped to have a chance to talk to Thommy, but he hadn’t been among the two hundred or so warriors who’d gathered in the Great Hall for the light repast.

  She’d missed him the past few years, but hadn’t realized how terribly until she’d seen him. There had been a void in her life since Thom left, and now that she’d been given the chance, she was determined to put it right between them. They couldn’t go on like this. They’d been friends for too long.

  When she’d inquired of Edward Bruce where she might find him, he told her he hadn’t seen MacGowan since the men had finished the work on the tower for the day a few hours earlier. He’d shrugged indifferently and suggested he might have gone into town with some of the others. He was a popular man in town. From how Carrick said it, she took it to mean with the women.

  At that point, a man seated nearby interrupted. “He’s not in town, my lord.” He turned to her. “If you are looking for MacGowan, my lady, he was waiting to see the healer.”

  “The what?” She didn’t realize she’d jumped to her feet until everyone turned to stare at her.

  The man—who was really more of a lad at seven or eight and ten—blushed. She suspected he was one of the earl’s squires. “I didn’t mean to alarm you, my lady. It is nothing serious.” He frowned. “MacGowan wouldn’t have been able to swing a hammer all day if his shoulder were broken.”

  Elizabeth didn’t need to hear anything more. “Where?” she demanded.

  The lad—Henry—pointed her in the direction of the apothecary, which he said was located near the kitchens on the other side of the castle garden.

  It was dark and cold out as she fled the warmth of the Hall, but she didn’t take time to fetch her cloak. The directions weren’t as easy to follow as she thought, so she was forced to stop and ask a few times, but eventually she found the right door and burst into the small building windblown, breathless, and half-frozen.

  But none of that mattered when she caught sight of the man seated on the stool with his back to her. He had his shirt off again, but this time she didn’t notice the broad shoulders, narrow waist, and wide expanse of muscle. This time all she could see was the patch of horribly bruised and swollen skin that covered a large portion of his right shoulder.

  A sharp cry strangled in her throat.

  He turned at the sound, and their eyes met.

  “You’re hurt!” she exclaimed accusingly.

  “It’s nothing,” he replied, a hint of annoyance marring the overly polite tone. “I thank you for your concern, my lady, but you should return to the Hall.”

  He didn’t wait for her response, turning his head and giving her his back. Apparently, she was supposed to leave. Well, she was about to disappoint him. Undaunted by the cold clip of his voice and undeniable air of unwelcomeness, she closed the door behind her and crossed the room.

  Although Thommy was ignoring her, the healer was not. The young, very pretty healer, she suddenly realized. The red-haired, green-eyed, pixie-faced woman was looking at her with unabashed curiosity.

  “Elizabeth Douglas,” she said by way of introduction. “The injury is my fault. Is it broken?”

  “Ah,” the healer said with a smile. “You are James’s sister. I thought you looked familiar. We met a long time ago when the Highland Games were held at your uncle the Steward’s castle on the Isle of Bute. My father was the Earl of Sutherland. I’m Helen MacKay.”

  MacKay. It took Elizabeth a moment to make the connection. “Ang—” She started to say Angel, but stopped, realizing she wasn’t supposed to know that Lady Helen was the unofficial physician of the Phantoms. The woman’s eyes widened; she’d caught the slip. “You are Magnus MacKay’s wife,” Elizabeth said instead. “I’ve heard James speak of you.”

  Thommy was in good hands indeed.

  Helen’s mouth twisted. “It seems you have. But to answer your question, it is not broken. Although, as I was explaining to Thom here, he made it much worse by working all day after he was injured. I’m sure it must have hurt like the devil to swing a hammer or pick with this. If something hurts,” she explained, as if talking to a bairn, “that means you shouldn’t keep doing it.”

  “It was fine,” Thommy said stubbornly.

  Both women acted as if he hadn’t spoken. Men were so ridiculous when it came to admitting pain. Elizabeth didn’t need a physician to know that. She had three brothers.

  “Now, he will need to keep it bound for at least a few days until the swelling goes down,” Lady Helen continued. “I’ve applied a soothing salve, which should be reapplied in the morning and evening before he goes to sleep. He’ll need someone to help him wrap it.”

  “I can—”

  “I will have one of the men in the barracks see to it,” Thommy said, cutting her off with a sharp glance. “You should go back to the Hall, Lady Elizabeth, you don’t belong here.”

  If Helen was surprised by his rudeness, she did not show it.

  “As it was my fault you were injured, I certainly do,” Elizabeth repli
ed.

  “I doubt your brother would agree. Should we go ask him?”

  Elizabeth smiled sweetly at the threat. “You are welcome to when he returns.”

  Helen’s head was going back and forth following the exchange, and she seemed to be fighting hard not to smile when Elizabeth finished.

  “Would you show me how?” she asked the healer. “That way I can make sure it is done properly.”

  “Damn it, I don’t want—”

  “I’m sure Lady Helen has other patients who need help,” Elizabeth said, cutting off his protest. “Do you want to waste time arguing or will you let me do this? Good gracious, Thommy, it’s not as if I haven’t touched you before.”

  Helen’s eyes shot up at that, and when she realized how it sounded, Elizabeth’s cheeks heated. But at least Thommy seemed to understand she would not be shooed away. He snapped his mouth closed, gave her a hard glare, and turned away from her to face the wall. From the way his jaw was clenched, she was surprised his teeth weren’t cracking.

  If she didn’t know him better, she might think that he wasn’t just being stubborn but that he really didn’t want her here. But she did know him . . . didn’t she?

  She had to admit this indifferent stranger attitude was slightly disconcerting. He wasn’t just acting like he didn’t know her, he was acting as if he didn’t want to know her.

  Lady Helen handed her the strip of cloth and showed her how to wrap it around his shoulder and then around his ribs to secure it. Despite what she’d said about touching him before, Thommy wasn’t the only one who jumped when she pressed the strip of linen to his skin. She felt like she’d been buzzed with lightning.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, recovering from the shock. “Did I hurt you?”

  He mumbled nay, something that sounded like a curse, and gruffly told her to hurry up and finish.

  Now, that sounded like Thommy. She muttered something back about rude, grumpy, overgrown little boys who were too proud and muleheaded to admit they were hurt.