by Tarah Scott
* * *
Iain shook his head—hard. The people, the place—the place should have been England with Hockley’s castle in view, not the meadow where the end had begun. He bolted upright, unable to control the shaking in his hands as he turned each one from palm to backside, to palm. His adversaries muttered amongst themselves as, again and again, Iain scrutinized his hands.
“No blood.” He looked up, shifting his stare from one to the other of the men. “No blood, at all.”
Iain jerked his gaze past them and scanned the forest, beginning left, then circling the entire woods. He twisted and looked behind him, but his wild-eyed search found things just as they had been when he and Victoria had fallen asleep. He glanced at the sky.
Had it been but an hour?
Victoria. His gut twisted. Where are you?
“He is touched with the fever,” a man said.
“Get up.” David Robertson shoved Iain with a booted foot.
Iain blinked up at him.
“Are you deaf?” David demanded. Still, Iain didn’t move. David reached down and hauled him to his feet. Surprise twisted his features when Iain didn’t resist. “What trick is this?” the Robertson chieftain hissed.
“Christ,” Iain whispered, “that it be not a trick.”
Was this the dream, or was the place he had just come from the dream?
“Bah!” David growled and shoved Iain in the direction of their horses.
Iain glanced around the meadow once more. How many second chances did a man receive in a single lifetime?
* * *
Victoria pitched forward, the toe of her rullion catching on a rock. Her hands instinctively reached to break the fall. Her body jolted upon impact and pain shot through her hands and arms. Her knee smashed against a rock and she bit back a cry. Victoria gritted her teeth and forced herself to her feet. Blood seeped from gashes that streaked her hands and she wiped them on her dress and started forward again.
At last, she broke free of the forest and Fauldun Castle came into view against a dusky sky. An indistinguishable shout went up when she came within sight of the guards on the battlement. A moment later, the gates swung open and a lone rider shot toward her. Even before he was close enough to distinguish his features she knew it was Thomas.
“My lady,” he said, sliding from his horse before the animal stopped moving.
“They have him, Thomas.” Victoria faltered. He gripped her shoulder, steadying her. “Nay.” She pushed away. “There is no time. David Robertson has captured him.”
“Where?”
“The meadow this side of the mountain, before the ascent up to Dawilneh.”
Thomas hoisted her into the saddle, vaulted up behind her, and sent his horse in a gallop toward the keep.
* * *
A steady murmur rippled through the great hall as the men left behind to guard the castle ate in relative quiet while awaiting word from the party gone in search of their lord. At the sound of the postern door opening, Victoria hurried from the kitchen. Liam’s eyes met hers and she stood motionless as he strode toward her.
“Do not worry, lass,” he said. “It is early yet.”
“It is past midnight.”
“Aye.” Taking her hand, he led her to the table.
“But it is unlikely they will harm him just yet.”
Victoria allowed herself to be gently pushed into a chair. “That is not so, and you know it.”
Liam seated himself and looked away, calling for ale.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Hide your expression as you will, my lord. That does not change the facts.” Liam sighed and squeezed her hand. “Do not give up on him just yet. Never a more stubborn lad graced God’s earth.”
She laughed, despite her worry. “Aye. Let us pray it works to his advantage.”
They both looked up when the postern door again opened. At sight of Thomas, Victoria rose.
“We lost the trail, my lady,” he said when he neared. Thomas clasped Liam’s hand. “The party split in two a few miles south of the meadow. Our men separated, but the trail east was lost in the rain.” “And the other party?” she asked.
“I do not know,” he answered. “We rode back as far as we could, but their trail, too, is gone.”
A surge of dizziness assailed Victoria. A strong arm encircled her waist, and Liam eased into her the chair.
“Do not despair yet,” Thomas said. “If the others do not return by sunrise, we will begin again.”
Liam nodded. “I will fetch men from Talturn to help.”
“We must talk.” She stood so quickly, a spasm of pain knotted her knee.
“What is amiss?” Liam demanded.
Victoria gave a harsh laugh. “How am I to answer that?” She looked at Thomas. “You are cold and wet and surely hungry.” She motioned to a lad leaning against the wall. “Fetch Thomas a bath.” “My lady—” Thomas began.
“Nay,” She held up a hand. “The refreshment will stand you in good stead through the night. When you
finish, we will speak in the library.”
An hour later, Victoria sat with Thomas and Liam in Iain’s study. She fixed her gaze on Thomas, who sat behind Iain’s desk. “What are the chances he still lives?” she demanded.
“Good. They must have plans. Otherwise, they would have killed him immediately.”
“Then he is in no real danger?”
Thomas’s expression grew cautious. “I did not say that. I only meant you need not despair—just yet.”
“The bastards have hatched a plot in revenge for the lad keeping their kinswoman,” Liam cut in.
Thomas leaned forward on the desk, pushing aside the plate of food that lay untouched. “I agree.” “Do they mean to ransom one for the other?” Victoria asked.
Thomas shook his head. “They know Iain would retaliate once he was free.”
“I do not understand,” Victoria said. “If they plan to make him pay, why not kill him when they found him?”
“Lass,” Liam said, “mayhap you should let us deal with this.”
“Nay.”
Liam sighed. “All right, then.” Taking her hand in his, he said, “Chances are they did not kill him because they mean to make the most of the task.” Victoria swallowed, but the action did nothing to halt the wave of nausea sweeping through her. “You mean they intend to torture him.” She looked at
Thomas. “Thomas.”
“Aye, my lady.”
“My horse has not returned,” she said.
“I was not aware of that.”
“Would she not have come home?”
Thomas nodded. “Unless something stopped her.”
“Or someone,” Liam interjected.
“Is it possible they knew I was there?” Victoria intercepted a look that passed between the two men. “You think they wanted me as well—why did they
not search for me?”
“They probably feared being too close to the keep,” Liam said.
“If only Edwin were here.” Victoria felt Liam’s fingers tighten around her hand. “My lord.” She pulled free and rubbed her hand vigorously. “How far could he have gotten?” She looked at Thomas.
“He?”
She frowned. “Do not be obtuse, sir. Edwin.
Where is he now?”
“I have no idea.”
She ceased rubbing her fingers. “I assume you mean you have no notion where he is at this moment. However, that does not mean you do not know where he was last seen.”
For the first time in their association, Thomas’s eyes reflected suspicion.
She lifted her chin. “It is a simple question, sir.”
“What does that matter?” Liam thundered. “We have no time to worry about where the English dog is.”
“That is where you are wrong,” she said. “Edwin may be the one person who can help us. After all, who else but an Englishman with a grudge against
Iain MacPherson would David Robertson trust?”
Thomas raised an amused brow, but it was Liam who broke the hushed silence once Victoria finished outlining her plan minutes later. “A perfect example of the very reason women should not involve themselves in such matters.” His gaze moved to Thomas, who only shook his head, clearly not about to embark into the hazardous waters Liam was charting.
She met the aging warrior’s gaze. “You have no say in the matter.” This statement won her a startled look from him. He opened his mouth to respond, but Thomas interjected.
“She is right, Liam. This is to be dealt with by MacPhersons.”
“Nay,” Liam said, his mouth drawn in a hard line. “I have as much right as anyone, and you know it.” He held Victoria’s eyes for a moment, then added, “Not to mention, I do not relish facing your husband after allowing such foolhardy behavior. No doubt, he will renege on the treaty between us, after separating my head from my body, that is. Besides,” he paused,
“it is not your place, but mine.”
Victoria took his hand in hers, leaned in close, and whispered, “No one blames you, Liam. You had no way of knowing. No one did.” Except Lily, she thought, and knew he understood. “No one knew David would take him,” she said in a louder voice, hoping to allay the question Thomas’s bemused expression indicated.
He nodded. “Even I had not anticipated so bold a move. They must have acted on their own. I cannot believe William would allow such provocative action. I sent word to the Robertson. If things are as I think,
David’s actions will not set well with him, nor with
Clan Chatten, for that matter.”
Victoria nodded. “But we will deal with David
Robertson now.”
* * *
Faint fingers of light streamed over the horizon. They would arrive at Edwin’s camp anytime. As Victoria had suspected, Thomas knew his precise location. Despite the MacPherson men she knew who lay in hiding about the hills, the trepidation she felt upon learning Edwin was only three hours away increased as they drew nearer. The two men who rode beside her were in no better mood than she.
“It will not be long now,” Victoria addressed Liam, who had maintained a stubborn silence throughout the morning.
He growled an unintelligible answer and Victoria felt sure he was further commenting that she should be back in her room, the door barred from the outside. Thomas had seen things differently and, until Iain MacPherson returned, there existed no higher law on MacPherson territory than Thomas MacPherson.
“It will do you no good to remain in such a foul mood,” Victoria said, but any comment Liam might have made went unsaid when Edwin’s camp became visible in the distance.
“They have seen us,” Thomas said. He looked from Victoria to Liam. “I will go on ahead alone, as planned.”
“Thomas—”
“Nay, my lady. We are agreed, oui?”
She recognized the resolve behind the soft answer and sighed. “Aye. If you are sure.”
“He is sure,” Liam said with much more fervor.
Thomas spurred his horse into a canter until entering the midst of the armed men who stood in front of the camp. Victoria’s heart jumped when one man turned and hurried to the middle of the compound where the largest tent stood. A moment later, Edwin emerged. He paused outside the entrance and glanced in her direction, then strode to where Thomas waited. The two men spoke for what seemed too long before Thomas whirled his horse around and headed back toward them.
Moments later, he reined up alongside her and gave a nod. Victoria took a deep breath and nudged her horse into a walk.
When she reached the camp, Edwin had disappeared, and one of his men escorted her into the tent she had seen him emerge from earlier.
“Thank you,” she murmured when the man pointed to the pile of thin cushions scattered on a carpet located on the opposite side of the tent. A low table with wine and goblets sat beside the cushions. Another group of larger cushions covered with furs lay to the far left.
Once she lowered herself onto the cushions the man had indicated, he left. The moments she waited seemed an eternity until the tent flap drew back and Edwin stood in the opening. Despite his guarded expression, Victoria knew he hadn’t expected her. He released the flap and strode to the table where he wordlessly poured two glasses of wine. Edwin handed one to her, then lowered himself onto a cushion beside her.
“I know how you despise lengthy explanations, my lord,” Victoria said without preamble, “therefore,
I will speak plainly.”
He looked over his glass. “In this case, I find the notion of a lengthy explanation interesting.”
A tremor ran through her midsection. “I have come to ask for your help.”
“So I understand.” With a quick flourish, Edwin finished his wine, placed the goblet on the ground beside him, and looked expectantly at her.
“My husband has been kidnapped.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes, but he said smoothly, “Who has your illustrious husband offended this time?”
“David Robertson,” Victoria replied. She dropped her gaze to the full goblet she held and, against her better judgment, took a drink.
“What is to keep me from taking you home with me?” Edwin asked.
Though her heart skipped a beat, her reply was instantaneous, “I would imagine the men I came with.” She sipped more wine.
“Those few men would stand no chance against our numbers.”
Victoria tilted her head to one side just as she’d rehearsed in her mind. “You think they are the only ones?”
“How many more lurk about in the forest beyond my camp?” he asked, clearly not surprised.
She shrugged. “I did not ask.” And she hadn’t. There had been no need. She knew full well Thomas would not come unmatched.
“I believe it would be worth the fight.” Victoria gasped.
“Never fear,” he said. “I am not quite ready to die. But I have to wonder,” Edwin studied her, “with your husband dead—” He halted at her intake of breath. “You cannot believe he still lives?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“If they wanted him dead they would have killed him while he slept in the meadow they captured him in.”
“Sleeping was he?” Edwin grunted. “Still, that they wanted to draw out the pleasure of their revenge does not mean they meant for him to live long.” “Will you help me or not?” she demanded.
“What would induce me to help him?”
“It is not him you would be helping, but me.”
“You may see it that way, but I do not.”
“Edwin,” Victoria leaned forward, “out of the goodness of your heart should suffice.”
He raised a brow. “I recall you telling me I had no heart.”
“Yet you insisted I was wrong.”
“Nay. I said I was not my brother.” “It is the same,” she persisted.
“Hardly.” He regarded her. “Does his life mean so much to you?”
“Aye.” More than she had realized until even this moment.
“Then you would do anything within your power to redeem him?”
At last, the words she had expected. “I would.”
“What do you expect of me?”
Victoria sat her goblet on the ground. “We must discover where they have taken him.”
He nodded. “My visit to Fauldun Castle will be well known.”
“Exactly.”
“They will assume I hold a grudge. How am I to have come by the information that they have him?”
Victoria straightened. Now for the part of the plan she had kept to herself. “If they believed you had
rescued me from my lord—”
“They would believe I had come to settle the score.” Edwin finished the sentence for her. “They would also believe you were coming home with me.” I know, she thought.
“And,” Edwin said, his eyes never wavering from her, “it would be the truth.” That, she knew, as well.
* * *
Victoria’s pulse leapt when Liam and Thomas reined their horses away from Edwin in the lead and positioned themselves on either side of her gelding. Since yesterday, when the plan for Iain’s rescue had been made, she managed to avoid being alone with the two of them. Now, the company was nearing the boundary of MacPherson land, and the two men had clearly decided discretion be damned. Although Liam had cared nothing for discretion when she informed him and Thomas of her decision to go with Edwin to meet David Robertson.
“You are his wife,” Liam had shouted. “He would not allow you to come for him, and he certainly would not leave you with only this cur to defend you.” He pointed at Edwin, then added, “Neither will I.”
Victoria could deal with Liam well enough, but it was the glare he sent Edwin’s way that frightened her.
“If you were any sort of man you would not involve her in this,” Liam said to Edwin.
“My lord,” she said, “they must believe I have chosen to return to England with Edwin.” When Liam didn’t answer, Victoria saw no other alternative. “You have no choice in the matter.” Though that hadn’t been wholly true; he could have chosen to fight. He might still.
“All seems a might easy,” Liam said.
“Aye,” Thomas said. “A might easy, indeed.
Would you not agree, my lady?”
“Have you another plan that will lead us to my lord?” she asked coldly. Other than a low snort from
Liam, silence followed. “Then I am going.” “Aye,” Thomas said again.
“And you shall return,” Liam added.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thomas reach toward her. With Liam to her right, she had nowhere to go when Thomas’s fingers closed around the bridle of her horse. The slow canter was broken when he pulled back on the bridle. The horse whinnied.
Thomas leaned forward and whispered, “With or without Iain.”
He released his hold on the horse and, before Edwin glanced over his shoulder, urged his horse forward. Victoria didn’t miss the final look Liam shot her as he followed Thomas. She prayed to God that Iain was freed, as much for his life as for the fact that Thomas and Liam would surely chase after her if he wasn’t. An unexpected thought arose. What would she do if Iain came for her?