The Rock

by Monica McCarty

  She came around to stand beside him, holding the drawing out for them both to see. “There needs to be scrollwork on the crossguard and hilt, which should be covered in silver gilt, with maybe a large ruby here”—she pointed to the tip of the pommel—“there should be a design etched on the blade, and the scabbard should be inlaid with gold and more precious stones.”

  She looked so outraged he had to fight not to laugh. Instead he acted as though he’d barely heard her and continued putting on his clothes—finally donning his shirt.

  “Draw something up if you like,” he said, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other.

  She glared at him angrily, clearly annoyed by his indifference. “I will!”

  She started to stomp back off toward camp but he stopped her. “Wait. I’ll take you back. You shouldn’t be walking around camp by yourself.”

  She shook her head. “Someone might see us. I’m just supposed to be fetching . . .” Her voice dropped off, and she looked around. “There it is! I must have dropped it when—”

  She stopped, her cheeks heating again. She quickly ran back to the edge of the trees where she’d first seen him and apparently had dropped the excuse she’d given for heading down to the stream. “I’m fetching a fresh bucket of water for Helen. I volunteered to help her look after the wounded men today.”

  He lifted a brow, impressed by her resourcefulness. Although he probably shouldn’t have been given how often they’d devised ways of being alone when they were young. She also seemed to understand the risk.

  “I’ll watch you from the trees all the same.”

  She nodded and hurried back to the infirmary tent, the bucket of water jostling back and forth at her side.

  He smiled, wondering how long it would take her to show up at the forge with the drawing.

  18

  THERE! ELIZABETH THOUGHT with satisfaction as she drew the final scroll on the drawing. Now that is a sword!

  Not for the first time this afternoon, she felt a presence over her shoulder. “Are you done yet?”

  She glanced up at a hovering Joanna. “Yes. What do you think?” she asked, handing it to her.

  Joanna studied it for a moment before looking back at her in amazement. “It’s spectacular. You think Thom can do this?”

  “If he can get the materials.”

  Joanna waved off her concern. “I’ll procure whatever he needs.”

  “It will be expensive,” Elizabeth warned.

  Joanna just gave her a look. Jamie had become a very wealthy man in the past few years. The cost would not be a hardship, although it might be difficult for Jo to explain to her husband why she needed all that coin.

  Elizabeth’s mouth twisted. Or maybe it wouldn’t be. Her sweet, uncomplicated, probably never told a lie in her life sister-in-law was proving a rather devious fellow conspirator.

  She’d already agreed to cover for Elizabeth later when she went to find Thom at the forge and had even arranged a guard for her from among Jamie’s men—someone who she thought wouldn’t be prone to ask too many questions. The forge was just up the high street from the abbey, but she was taking no chances.

  “Thank you again for helping with this, Elizabeth. James will be so surprised.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t resist a wry smile. “He will indeed, especially if he learns who made it. I must admit, I’m rather surprised you were able to get Thom to agree to do it.”

  “It wasn’t so hard,” Joanna said with a knowing smile. “I think he has cause to want to improve his relationship with James.”

  Elizabeth pretended like she didn’t know what Joanna meant and folded the drawing into quarters before tucking it in the purse she wore attached to her girdle.

  “Are you ready?” she asked, standing. “I want to return these to Brother Richard before I go.” She held up the quill, ink, and small knife that she used to cut the tip of the quill and make small corrections to the drawing.

  They found the young monk in the scriptorium, and after thanking him, they were heading to the stables to meet the guardsman who would accompany Elizabeth to the forge when they saw Izzie and Randolph hurrying toward them.

  “There you are!” Izzie said, her relief obvious. “The earl was waiting in the refectory for you when I came in from my walk around the gardens. I’ve been doing my best to keep him entertained, but we decided we better come look for you.”

  In other words, her cousin had exhausted pleasantries and had run out of nonirritating things to say to Randolph. Although if Randolph’s expression was any indication, it might be too late.

  “You didn’t forget, did you?” Randolph asked her.

  Elizabeth looked at him blankly. “Forget?”

  “We were supposed to go riding this afternoon. I was going to show you Samson’s Ribs in the park.”

  Elizabeth cursed inwardly while pasting a smile on her face. He’d spoken to her about the strange rock formations yesterday. “Of course, I didn’t forget, it’s just that . . .”

  As “I’m sneaking off to see another man” didn’t sound like a great excuse, she tried to think of an alternative explanation.

  Joanna came to her rescue. “I’m afraid it’s my fault, my lord. I didn’t realize Elizabeth had other plans when I begged her to help me with an errand. I’m not feeling very well, and you see . . . well, it’s a private matter, I hope you understand.”

  Randolph looked properly discomfited and vaguely panicked that she might try to explain. “Of course. We will do it another day.”

  “But you’ve come all this way,” Elizabeth said, suddenly—belatedly—struck with a few pangs of guilt. Pangs that grew in number when she noticed the leather bag he carried, which, from the smell of fresh-baked bread, she suspected was stuffed with food. “Why don’t you take Izzie?”

  It was hard to say who looked more horrified.

  “But I should come with you,” Izzie protested.

  “I should return to camp,” Randolph said at the same time.

  “It’s best if I do this alone,” Elizabeth said meaningfully. She gave her cousin a look that pleaded for agreement. Please.

  Izzie returned the look with one that said she was going to owe her—a lot—but she’d no doubt suspected the source of Elizabeth’s dilemma. “I would love to see this rock formation, if you would show it to me, my lord.”

  Randolph could do nothing but agree. He looked at her cousin for a long moment and then gave her a short nod. “We should not delay; it will be dark soon.”

  Elizabeth exhaled slowly as the two walked off. It was hard to say between both of them who appeared less eager.

  “Thank you for doing this for me, Ella. I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble with Randolph.”

  There was something about the way Joanna said it, however, that made Elizabeth think her sister-in-law wasn’t bothered by the idea at all, and indeed might even be happy if this project for Jamie caused plenty of trouble with Randolph and pushed her toward Thommy.

  Her eyes narrowed. Was that what this was about? Was this sword just another of Joanna’s attempts to push them together?

  If so, she had to admit, it had worked. Elizabeth was fully involved; she couldn’t wait to see how the sword turned out.

  “It was my fault, I forgot about our ride today,” she said.

  Fortunately, Joanna chose not to comment about that—although much could be said. Instead, she frowned pensively, watching a stiff-backed, tensed-shoulders Randolph lead away an unusually morose Izzie. “Do you think . . .” Her voice dropped off, and she shook her head. “Never mind.”

  Elizabeth was too distracted to follow up on it. “I hope Randolph doesn’t question your man waiting in the stables.”

  Joanna shrugged. “Even if he does, it won’t matter. You are running an errand for me. I did not speak an untruth.”

  No, but she certainly had left out a few salient details.

  Fortunately, there was nothing to worry about. Elizabeth’s “escape” fro
m the abbey went smoothly, and a short while later she was pushing open the door of the forge.

  She’d forgotten the blast of heat, the smoke, and the smell of burning metal, but the memories hit her the moment she entered.

  Thommy was already hard at work and didn’t immediately hear her come in, giving her time to observe him as he pulled the red-hot blade blank from the forge and set it upon the anvil to hammer.

  She felt a wave of powerful emotions pulling her down a path of bittersweet longing for a time when life was far less complicated. When a friendship between the lord’s daughter and the smithy’s son didn’t matter.

  Her heart squeezed. How many times had she come on something like this before? How many times had she come bursting into the forge excited to tell him something? Excited to see him?

  So many things had changed, but in that one fundamental respect she was forced to admit they hadn’t. She was still excited to talk to him and still excited to see him. Far more so than she’d ever been with anyone else, and far more so than she should be.

  If anything, the childhood memories paled in comparison to what she felt now. For now her feelings were complicated by other reasons for excitement. Like noticing the way the linen of his shirt stretched over broad shoulders and powerfully muscled arms as he hammered the hot metal, or noticing the damp tendrils of dark hair at his temple or the bead of sweat running down the hard lines of his cheek and jaw. Or noticing how the wide mouth that had kissed her so tenderly was pressed in a taut line of concentration as he worked.

  As a girl, she’d been unaware of the primitive appeal of a tall, handsome, powerfully muscled man who was hot with sweat swinging a hammer before a fire. But she was aware of it now—achingly, painstakingly, rousingly aware of it.

  Why was she here? Why was she putting herself in temptation’s grasp?

  She might have turned around had he not looked up and noticed her. The boyishly happy smile that curved his mouth prevented her from doing anything other than just stand there and stare at him with her breath firmly locked in her chest.

  He put down the hammer, removed one of the leather gauntlets he wore to protect his hands from the fire, and wiped the back of his hand over his forehead. “That was fast. Finished with the drawing already?”

  Elizabeth’s mouth quirked. “Aye, well, I wanted to get it to you before you messed anything up.”

  He laughed and crossed the room to stand beside her. The forge wasn’t a large building, and with him standing next to her, it suddenly felt even smaller. He was so blastedly big! The fire that powered the furnace seemed to grow even hotter. She could smell the heat of his body, but it was not an unpleasant scent. Rather the opposite. The faint hint of muskiness brought a sensual edge to the heather from his soap.

  “Let’s see what you’ve come up with,” he said easily, having no idea of the havoc he was wreaking on her senses—or her pulse for that matter. It seemed to have shot up through her throat.

  She pulled out the drawing and handed it to him, feeling unaccountably anxious all of a sudden. She wanted him to like it, she realized.

  She need not have worried. His expression shifted from one of study to one of incredulity. “You drew this?”

  She nodded.

  “Why have you never told me you knew how to draw?” He was frowning at her as if she’d kept something important from him.

  She shrugged, inordinately pleased by the implicit compliment. “I didn’t know myself. But I was inspired.”

  He’d turned unusually serious. “This is very good, Elizabeth. Very good.”

  Her cheeks heated with pleasure, but she couldn’t resist teasing him. “You sound so surprised I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

  He grinned lopsidedly. “Flattered. Definitely flattered.” He pointed to the etching on the blade. “What is this?”

  She turned over the parchment. “I drew a more detailed part of that section here. It’s oxen and a castle.”

  It didn’t take him long. “Roxburgh.”

  She grinned. “Aye, I thought Jamie would like immortalizing one of his greatest achievements on his blade.”

  “He will indeed,” Thom said wryly.

  They both knew that James liked nothing more than to have the name of Douglas remembered for generations.

  They spent the next half hour going over the details of the design. Thom asking questions and then them discussing alternatives if he thought one of her design elements might interfere with the function.

  When they were both satisfied, Thom stepped back. “I should get back to work. This sword of yours is going to take quite a bit of time, and Joanna wants it next week.”

  Elizabeth nodded, strangely reluctant to go. It had been so nice being with him again like this. She wasn’t ready for the moment to end. “Do you mind if I stay awhile?”

  Thom stared down at that beautiful upturned face and wanted to tell her she could stay forever.

  No longer wrapped up in the discussion about the drawing—she’d surprised the hell out of him with that—Thom was thinking about being wrapped up in other things. Like her legs around his hips as he drove . . .

  Hell.

  “I’m not sure that is a good idea.”

  She looked so crestfallen he had to force his arms to his sides so as to not pull her into them. “Why? I just want to watch a little while, I promise I won’t get in the way.”

  “Because if you stay, I’ll want to touch you.”

  She didn’t appear taken aback by his bluntness. “Would that be so horrible?”

  Her soft voice was like a siren’s song, drawing him in. He wanted to answer it. Actually, he wanted to sweep her into his arms, push her back on the table, and ravish her senseless—but he forced himself back from the edge of the precipice.

  “Aye, it would. I’m not going to do that while you are letting another man court you—even if he is doing a piss-poor job of it.”

  She looked mildly offended. “What do you mean?”

  He gave her a long, penetrating look. “If you were mine, you can be bloody well sure you wouldn’t have time to sneak away to meet another man.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’ll have you know Randolph and I were supposed to go riding today.”

  Thom tried to dim the hope that swelled in his chest at what she’d unintentionally revealed. “So you could have been with Randolph, but you are here with me instead.” He stepped closer, not caring that he might get soot over her fine cloak, took her arm, and pulled her to his leather-apron-covered chest. “Does that not tell you something?”

  She looked startled, and then maybe a little cornered. She tried to pull away. “I wanted to get you the design.” He gave her a look that told her he knew that wasn’t everything. “You are right. I shouldn’t be here.”

  She broke away and headed for the door. But Thom wasn’t going to let her go so easily. “You can’t marry him, Ella. You don’t love him.”

  She paused for a moment. “Nay, but I like him. And there are other reasons to marry—far more important ones.”

  “Such as fear? That isn’t a reason. Don’t tie yourself forever to a man you don’t love because of things that happened in the past.”

  She bristled as he knew she would. “You don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “I know you think Randolph’s lands and money will protect you from ever having to be poor again. That his position as the king’s nephew and one of his chief lieutenants means that no one will ever close a door to you. But there are no guarantees in life, El.”

  Alarm took away some of her anger. “Are you saying you think Bruce is going to lose the war?”

  “No one knows the future. I think he’s got a fighting chance, which is a hell of a lot more than anyone else has had, but England is the most powerful nation in Christendom. What I’m saying is that whether Bruce wins or loses the war won’t change what you went through as a child or erase those memories.”

  She tried to brush
away his concerns. “That was a long time ago. Yes, it was horrible. But I was a child. I hardly even think about that time anymore. And if you haven’t noticed, with his lands restored and the additional rewards from the king, Jamie has become very wealthy in the past few years. I’ve hardly been suffering.”

  Thom eased back one edge of her fur-trimmed plaid cloak to reveal the embroidered purse she had tied to her waist. Reaching between them to lift it, he weighed it in his hand. “That feels like a lot of coins to be carrying around town.”

  “I thought I might go to the market later.”

  He held her gaze. “So you aren’t still saving coins to bury under bushes and rocks?”

  Her face went stark white. “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you think I didn’t know? Christ, you were only a wee lassie when I realized what you were doing. I wasn’t going to let you go wandering off unprotected—especially carrying that kind of silver.” For a moment he saw a flash of panic in her eyes and understood. “It’s all there. I never touched any of it.”

  She looked away, ashamed. “I never thought you would.” Her eyes glistened. “You must think I’m a fool . . .”

  He took her chin, forcing her gaze back to his. “I think you were a scared little girl who did what she could to make herself feel secure in a world torn apart by war. And I still think you are scared and trying to protect yourself. But marrying Randolph isn’t the answer.”

  “And you are?”

  He stiffened at her tone. It wasn’t a scoff, but it had enough attitude to be damned close.

  He gritted his teeth but kept a rein on his temper, dropping his hand. “I can’t promise you the lands and wealth that would come from marrying Randolph, but I am not without means or prospects. I will be able to provide for you. Perhaps not in the manner you are used to, but we won’t be living in a hovel either. And I can promise you one thing—one thing that Randolph will never be able to give you. I can make you happy.”

  “How can you be sure he won’t when there is every reason to believe we will suit fabulously?”