With Helen’s help, it didn’t take long to wrap the linen around the injured shoulder. Satisfied, Helen told Thommy he could put on his shirt, which due to the loose cut, he was able to do on his own—despite not being able to lift his right arm more than a few inches. Elizabeth suspected that keeping him from lifting was the reason for the binding. Donning his leather surcoat was a bit more difficult, but he managed with Helen’s help.
Without looking at Elizabeth, he thanked Helen, grabbed his plaid and weapons, and started for the door.
Elizabeth exchanged a surprised glance with Helen and went after him. “Thommy, wait! I wanted to—”
Talk to you. But her words were cut off by the sound of a door closing.
Elizabeth blinked, almost as if she couldn’t believe he’d just slammed the door on her.
After a hastily muttered apology to Helen (although why she was apologizing for his rudeness, she didn’t know), she went after him. Actually, as he was walking so fast, she had to run after him.
“Thommy!” Her voice grew louder. “Thommy, wait!”
There were a number of people milling about the yard who turned to look at her. Unfortunately, Thommy wasn’t one of them. He didn’t stop walking until she came up next to him, grabbed his arm, and forced him to acknowledge her. They were a few feet away from what she suspected was the barracks, and the torches near the door provided enough light to see his face. “Good gracious, Thommy, I asked you to wait. Did you not hear me?”
“I heard you fine—the English on the other side of the border probably heard you fine—but I did not hear a question.”
She frowned. “You did not give me a chance. I was going to ask to speak with you.”
“No, thank you,” he said in the same overly polite tone he’d used earlier. He started to move away. Would have moved away if she hadn’t stepped around to block him. Or tried to block him, but as soon as their bodies came into contact, she realized the futility of that. It was like running into a stone wall. Actually, it was like having a stone wall run into her. He was forced to catch her to prevent her from falling on her backside.
He set her on her feet and let her go about as quickly as a burning pot. “Bloody hell, Elizabeth, do you ever look before you step? I’ve never known someone to have such a difficult time staying upright.”
It sounded so much like something he would have said years ago that she grinned back at him. “I tie my boots together, remember?”
It was what he’d always teasingly accused her of doing to explain her frequent stumbles as a girl. She didn’t stumble so often anymore, although the last time she had, it was the first time he hadn’t been there to catch her. She’d ended up with a twisted ankle.
She’d always been able to lighten his moods with a silly jest or gentle tease, but it was clear that wasn’t the case anymore. His expression was not one of amusement. Ambivalent, mildly annoyed, and impatient was probably a more accurate description.
Darkly shadowed and strikingly handsome was another. She couldn’t seem to stop staring at the familiar features and wondering how it could be that he looked so different.
But it wasn’t just his appearance that had undergone changes in the past three years, she realized. The changes were deeper—far deeper. The grim, taciturn warrior with the merciless mouth and eyes as cold and sharp as steel was nothing like the reserved, if sometimes stoic, childhood companion she remembered. If she didn’t know him so well, she might think he looked intimidating. Maybe even fierce.
But it was clear that the past few years had been hard on him, and suddenly she wanted to hear everything about it. Everything about him. Just like it had been when they were young.
“What is it that you wanted, Elizabeth? Say what it is you have to say. I’m tired and want to get back to the barracks.”
She looked up at him, scanning his face for any vestiges of the man she remembered and wondering how she was going to break through this impenetrable shell he’d put up around him. She couldn’t let it go on like this. He was too important to her. He’d always been the one person she could count on, the one person who was always there for her—even when he wasn’t. The thought that she might never see him again—never talk to him again—was inconceivable. She needed him in her life. She just hadn’t realized how much until now.
She tried not to sound hurt. “I just wanted to speak to you.”
“And what I want is immaterial?”
She stepped back, unsure of what he was accusing her. “Of course not. But it’s been three years, Thommy. I thought you might wish to speak with me, too? I had hoped you would still not be angry with me after what happened last time. You never gave me a chance to apologize.”
“I am not angry with you at all. Why should I be? The fault was mine.” He spoke so calmly—so indifferently—it was hard to believe this was the same man who’d burned with such passion. She almost wished he was still angry with her. At least then she would know he cared a little. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry if I offended you. You need not fear it will be repeated. I see things very clearly now.”
She didn’t know what he was trying to say. Did that mean he no longer had feelings for her? She was relieved. Of course, she was. That meant they could go back to being friends. “I never meant to hurt you, Thommy. Surely you know that?”
He stared at her intently, as if wanting to deny it, but ultimately, he seemed to concede her sincerity. “Aye.”
It was the first crack in the steely facade, and rather than step back and be patient as she should have, she pressed forward. “Does that mean we can still be friends?” She reached up and put her palm on his cheek, the stubble underneath thicker and rougher than it had been before. Something about that sent a shiver over her skin as she said, “I’ve missed you.”
He flinched away from her touch. She could feel the hard calluses on his palm as it wrapped around her wrist to drag her hand to her side. “You can’t touch me like that anymore, Elizabeth. We aren’t children. Someone might see and get the wrong idea. Your brother, for one.”
She frowned. “Jamie can go to the Devil. I don’t care what he thinks.”
“I wish I could say the same, but in this case he’s right. You and I . . . There is no you and I. We cannot go back to the way it was. I haven’t been Thommy for a long time—and you aren’t Ella. We have different lives. I’m a soldier, and you are the sister of the Black Douglas. We live in two different worlds. You need to go back to yours and leave me to mine. I’ve moved on, it’s time for you to do the same.”
Her lips parted with a gasp that never came; it stayed lodged in her chest, where it started to burn.
He turned on his heel and walked away. This time she let him go.
Elizabeth told herself that Thommy—Thom (how was she supposed to think of him that way?)—didn’t mean it. He couldn’t want to cut her out of his life completely. Forever. They would get past this. They had to get past this.
Time . . . that’s what he needed. She vowed to give him that before seeking him out again.
But it didn’t take her long to regret that vow.
Only one hour later, she stood gazing up at her brother. “What do you mean, there is no sign of him? There has to be a sign of him. He couldn’t have just disappeared.” Jamie’s expression was too still. Too expressionless. “What is it? What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing,” he said.
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Tell me, Jamie, I know when you are hiding something.”
He shook his head and sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I’m not. But you were right, we were unable to find any sign of him after Selkirk. Archie isn’t usually so careful, and it bothers me.”
She’d thought the same thing. “Perhaps you could use a different tracker?”
Jamie quirked his mouth in a half smile. “I used the best. Trust me, if Lamont can’t pick up his trail no one can.”
“Then what do we do?” She started to pa
ce in front of him. “We can’t just stay here and do nothing.”
“We aren’t. I’ve sent a few men back to Blackhouse to see if he’s returned there, Lamont and MacLean are still out searching for signs, and a couple of friends have ridden to Edinburgh to fetch someone who might be able to help find out more information.”
“Lachlan MacRuairi?”
“Bloody hell, Ella, just how often were you listening in on my conversations?”
She decided it prudent not to answer that question. “It’s not exactly a secret. MacRuairi was named as one of Bruce’s Phantoms years ago.”
Jamie wasn’t fooled. “Aye, well, that may be true, but not everyone knows why I might have sent for him.”
“So you did send for him?”
He shook his head. “You are incorrigible. I almost pity Randolph.” His wicked smile, however, suggested otherwise.
“When will you know more?”
“I hope by tomorrow.” Sensing her distress, he pulled her into his arms and gave her a comforting squeeze. “I know it’s hard, but try not to worry too much, little one. For all we know, Archie decided to return home, or he took a wrong path and is turned around.”
Neither of them believed that. Something was wrong, and they both knew it. But Jamie was right. It wouldn’t help to imagine all the horrible things that could have happened. They would have to wait for his “friends” to return with information.
Until then . . . she had to resist the impulse to run straight to Thommy. Thom.
It wasn’t easy. The next twenty-four hours were some of the longest of her life—especially after MacKay and Sutherland returned from Blackhouse Tower the following morning to report that Archie hadn’t returned there. It was Lachlan MacRuairi they were waiting for now, and it wasn’t until after the bells for vespers had rung that he finally rode through the gate with a handful of the other Phantoms.
They looked like they’d been in the saddle for hours, and if the grim expressions on their faces were any indication, the news was not good.
The men immediately retired to the king’s solar with Jamie—the same room where she’d met with him yesterday. Jamie posted a man outside the door, but she’d noticed the day before that the room also had a fireplace with a chimney, which was shared with the room above. Before the castle had been taken, the third-floor chamber would have been occupied by one of the English nobles—or perhaps noblewomen—in the castle, but fortunately for her, it was empty. She had no intention of waiting for Jamie’s edited and condensed version of what the men had to tell him. It was a little smoky with her head almost in the chimney, but due to the late hour and lack of noise in the yard she was able to hear most of the conversation.
She almost wished she hadn’t.
“An English patrol of men wearing De Beaumont’s arms was seen rounding up men suspected of being rebels near Selkirk and Jedburgh on Wednesday morning after news reached them of the attack on Roxburgh.”
Her heart sank hearing the words from the man she assumed was MacRuairi.
She heard her brother use a vile curse she’d never heard him use before. “Was Archie among them?”
Another man spoke. “We can’t be sure, but it seems likely. The timing fits and the lad’s tracks disappeared not far from where the patrol was seen.”
“They will have taken him to Jedburgh,” Jamie said. “It’s one of the only castles in the area we’ve been unable to take.”
“Aye,” the man she’d identified as MacRuairi said. “That is what we assumed as well. But there’s more.”
Elizabeth braced herself, gripping the edge of the bench she was seated on until her fingers turned white, sensing that what he was about to say wasn’t going to be good.
It wasn’t.
MacRuairi explained how he was able to get inside the castle with a group of villagers and merchants that morning, but there was no sign of the prisoners. Unable to find out any information, he’d had to ride to their contact at Carlisle Castle to learn the rest.
Elizabeth wasn’t surprised they had an English spy, but she was surprised when MacRuairi referred to a her.
“She was able to find out that the men were taken to Bamburgh Castle in Northumberland for imprisonment.”
“Northumberland?” Jamie repeated. “Bloody hell, why take them that far? Do they know who he is? Do they know they have a Douglas?”
“She doesn’t think so. She thought it was a precaution. With your men in Roxburgh, the English patrol didn’t want to take a chance with Jedburgh being so close.”
Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face. She’d been to Bamburgh Castle once as a child when her father had been keeper of Berwick Castle, and the knowledge of where they’d taken her brother filled her with despair and horror. She didn’t need to hear the men below discuss the difficulty of a rescue; she understood it. Bamburgh’s location perched on a steep, rocky cliff made it virtually inaccessible and the perfect place for a prison.
But these were the Phantoms; surely if anyone could free Archie from an impossible place they could?
“We can attempt a rescue,” MacRuairi said. “But we’ve never done anything like this before. Without a long siege, our only way in is up that cliff. It’s not like climbing a thirty-foot wall with grappling hooks and a ladder. It’s over a hundred and fifty feet of sheer basalt rock without a tether. Success is far from guaranteed, and we could make the situation worse.”
Jamie echoed the question in her head. “How could it be worse? He might as well be in the Tower of London, damn it.”
“A rescue attempt could alert the English to the importance of one of the prisoners. If they start questioning your brother, how long will it take for them to discover his identity? And if they do . . .”
He didn’t need to finish. They all knew what that would mean. If the English learned they had the brother of one of the most hated men in England in their possession, the man blamed for countless “black” deeds and reviled as the Devil, they would hang Archie from the nearest gallows—or worse.
But what if they already knew? What if the prisoners were already being questioned? Tortured? How long did Archie have then? He was only sixteen!
The men went back and forth, but Elizabeth knew they couldn’t take a chance and wait. They had to try. Especially when there was someone who could help them. As soon as MacRuairi had mentioned the sheer rock, she’d known. Jamie would know, too.
She kept waiting for her brother to say something, but when it was clear he wasn’t going to, she knew she had to act.
She didn’t give the man at the door a chance to stop her. She brushed by him, ignoring his protests, and burst into the meeting.
Ignoring the men looking at her with surprise, she stared right at her brother. “You know someone who can help. You have to ask him.”
The guard spoke at the same time. “I’m sorry, my lord. I tried to stop her.”
“Not very well, it seems,” James said, addressing the man first. He sniffed in the air, his eyes narrowing on the fireplace. The smoke had given her away. “I will speak with you later, Elizabeth. Now is not the time.”
The calm, low voice didn’t fool her. She knew he was furious at her for eavesdropping—she didn’t blame him—but this was too important. “But Thom can help.”
“No, he can’t. This has nothing to do with him.”
“But—”
“Damn it, there are no buts! We don’t need his help. Climbing trees and hills around Douglas is a far cry from trying to sneak into one of the most formidable castles in England. MacGowan has been a warrior for three years. He isn’t cut out for something like this. These are not normal missions. His inexperience will only make the rest of our jobs more difficult and could put the rest of us in danger.”
Jamie was blind when it came to Thom. She knew her brother was too proud to ask Thom for anything, after the falling-out between them. She started to argue but he stopped her.
“This is supposed to be secret, and it
’s important that it’s kept that way. There are many lives at stake, including Archie’s. Do you understand?”
Wide-eyed, she nodded. Suddenly conscious of all the eyes upon them, she turned around to leave. She wasn’t about to give up, but she knew her brother well enough to know that she would not convince him like this.
But he knew her well, too. He followed her to the door and said in a low voice so that no one else would hear, “Stay away from him, Ella, I mean it—I don’t want you anywhere near MacGowan. You will be on the first horse back to Blackhouse in the morning, and he will be on the other end of my sword.”
Her brother’s warning echoing in her ears, Elizabeth hesitated for about thirty seconds. She did not doubt that Jamie meant what he said, but she would gladly return to Blackhouse if it meant Archie was safe. And although Jamie was irrational when it came to Thommy, he would not kill him just for talking to her. Besides, she was confident she could prevent a battle between the two men if need be. She’d done so many times before.
No matter what Jamie said about Thommy’s lack of experience, there was no question in her mind that he could help. He could climb anything. How many times had she watched him scale cliff sides when they were younger? Not to mention the tower houses. He could help the Phantoms, she was certain of it. Just as she was certain he would help.
6
BLOODY HELL, IT was cold. The padded wool arming coif that covered Thom’s head and neck beneath the steel bascinet was scant protection against a wintry Scottish wind. Hell, it wasn’t much protection against a summery Scottish wind, which could be almost as frigid. His ears were frozen.
Why the hell hadn’t he brought an extra plaid? He paced the ramparts as much to keep warm as to keep watch on the darkened countryside.
Guard duty at night was a special kind of hell. Long, lonely hours trying to stay alert and not freeze to death. Who would have thought he’d be longing to swing a hammer? But this was his “reward” for saving the princess. Unable to help with the taking down of walls for the next day or two while he rested his blasted shoulder, he’d temporarily been re-assigned to the night’s watch. But in a day or two, as soon as additional men arrived from Edinburgh, Carrick had given him leave to return to Rutherford Castle and Lady Marjorie.
The Rock Page 9