‘Twas a story many might think fictitious, gathered from his twin half-brothers and the Italian bishop, but the issues were real for James.
A final turn in the corridor brought him to his destination. The final judgement could be delayed no longer.
Taking his place at the makeshift court bench in the great hall, James scanned the group before him.
“Welcome nobles, clansmen, Lord Lachlan, and Lady Rosalyn.” He directed his attention to the Highland lass before him. “I see you are now well enough to join us.” A few snickers surfaced in the back of the hall.
“Aye, Lord Luttrell, I am honored to be here,” she responded, ignoring her husband beside her. “You see it was not that I was sick at all. Instead, I was held against my will in the dungeon of this castle to prevent me from making a claim.”
The sounds in the room went from the snickers to shocked ahhs of surprise and hushed voices.
Lachlan’s expression turned from neutral to nervous.
James responded by slamming the gavel to the table. “Go on,” he encouraged her, still standing.
“You see, Sir James, Fyvie is my home, where I was born, as was my father, his father, and his father before.” She glanced behind her. “I was told my servants stood before you earlier today to support my stake. I see the men of families who’ve protected the Macphersons for hundreds of years gathered here.”
She swept her hands in a broad arc and gazed about the room from one side to the other. “I am willing to lead Fyvie, because I am willing to die for Fyvie.”
The men cheered as she clasped her hands in front of her heart. “Sir James, I would like to do something unconventional.”
“My lady, you’ve already accomplished that so far. Please,” he said, gesturing her to take his place and speak. James stood to the side while she walked onto the dais and Lachlan stepped back into the crowd.
Rosalyn held her composure as she readied to address those before her. “When I left Aberdeen a few weeks ago, I tried to take over Fyvie dishonestly.” She paused, after a few hushed words interrupted her, but she pushed on.
“And I married for convenience, hoping that would bring me closer to my goal.” More mumblings of disbelief sounded, and she waited to finish.
“But to make matters worse,” she started again, “I was lied to by someone close to me pretending to be another.” She stopped then and appeared to search for that someone, perhaps Lachlan? But she seemed undeterred.
“But during my journey, I was reminded that God had showed me a path that was true and if I traveled that path, I would be able find my way home.
“Of course it was not easy, and I feared for my life and those I care about, but the road has brought me home to stand before my countrymen,” she said, her arms sweeping outward.
“Because for me, home really isn’t a place, it’s people. So with your permission, Sir James, I request that the choice of lairdship of Aberdeen and control of Fyvie Castle be awarded instead of by decree, by vote here and now.”
James weighed her request for a few long moments. He was thinking about what he would report back to the King of Scots. Not only was her request at stake, but so was his reputation. He joined her and raised her hand with his.
“Good people of Aberdeen. Is this your new laird and leader? Will you follow her orders, wishes, and if called upon, fight to the death to protect her and all those within these walls?”
When James ended his plea, the room went silent. But then a wave of hands began to rise. Before long, every hand was in the air, including his.
Then room erupted in cheers and huzzahs. When the group finally quieted down, a voice called out from the back of the hall, “Aye, she will. I can testify to that.”
The large crowd of only men began to part as a dark-haired man made his way forward. The widow’s peak was unmistakable. His other twin brother.
Ethan?
“Hello, wife, you can do this all on your own, but I am here to support you,” one of the twins said, gazing at her lovingly.
“Lachlan?” she said, dazed, as if she’d seen a ghost.
Then Rosalyn spun around. “Where’s Ethan?”
James took her elbow. “Don’t you mean, Lachlan?” Now he was confused. There was only one twin standing with them.
She turned around in a circle looking out over the heads of men who’d just chosen her as laird, searching, then beseeching, “Donnae let him get away.”
“Lachlan or Ethan?” James needed clarification.
“We must hurry and save one and jail another.”
Then she took the hand of the twin standing weak-kneed before him. “This is Lachlan,” she said with a huff, as if it was easy to tell them apart. “Ethan is the one trying to escape.”
James’s raised his hand and signaled his Garter knights who were stationed around the perimeter of the hall.
“Ethan!” This time she shouted the name. As Rosalyn’s gaze swept the room, the others turned about in their places.
James noticed the back of a noble that fit Ethan’s description slipping out through the kitchen entrance as his eight Garter knights joined him on the dais.
Rosalyn spotted him at the same time. “There he is. Lachlan’s twin. Lock him up,” she pointed toward the servant’s entrance.
Most gathered for the hearing, stood and many others started toward the servant’s entrance, including Lachlan.
James pulled her aside by her elbow behind his men. “You’ll need to provide specific directions. Clear your head. Speak directly,” he instructed.
“Hold up!” Rosalyn shouted, accepting his advice and coming forward to the front of the dais.
“Aye, Laird Rosalyn,” many shouted in return.
She squared her shoulders. “I know this will sound confusing, but the man who stood with me first before Sir James was not my husband, Lachlan, but his twin, Ethan, who locked me in the dungeon and later coerced me into this farce, knowing he could not win Fyvie without me.”
Then she stopped her confession and her gaze scanned the crowd until it landed on James’s other brother. “There is the real Lachlan, poisoned by Ethan and left for dead in the dungeon. But because of prayers and the will of God and those who fight alongside him, my husband has escaped.”
“We’ll fight for you, Laird Rosalyn!” one man shouted.
“We’ll bring Ethan to justice,” another called out.
“Kill the bastard,” said a third.
Rosalyn held up her hand. “As much as I’d like to kill the bastard, Ethan should be brought to justice first,” she said with a level voice.
“Those who are willing, now is the time to search the grounds, every corner of the castle. Take a good look my husband. Remember, he’s dressed in noble robes, not a kilt.”
James laughed at that and added, “Should make him easier to find considering there are few on the grounds who aren’t dressed as Highlanders, knights, servants or squires.”
Rosalyn nodded. “The other Garter knights will be instructed by Sir James to secure the gates and entrances of Fyvie, then Lachlan and I will go take care of my mother and sister.”
In an orderly manner, the Highlanders, knights and servants went about following Rosalyn’s orders.
The lass reminded James of another lady with passion for what’s right and courage worthy of envy.
Chapter 42
Rosalyn didn’t know where her courage had come from. Perhaps she’d channeled the spirit of her dead father, but even though she was thrilled beyond measure she’d been awarded Fyvie and Lachlan had joined her, she wanted nothing more now than to find her mother and sister.
Bursting through entrance to the serving kitchen, she scared Ursula into shrieks.
“There you are,” Rosalyn shouted, embracing
the frightened healer.
Ursula was gasping. “What a scare you’ve given me.”
“What relief you’ve given me,” Rosalyn said releasing her friend. “Why did you not join Lachlan in the great hall?”
Ursula was quick to answer. “With Ethan claiming to have taken your mother and sister, I wanted to make sure they were still safe. I just left them in my chamber with two servants, and ordered them to stay put until I returned.”
The healer’s words eased her fears, but she was anxious to join them. James had offered a Garter escort and she was ready to make her way there without delay.
But before she could voice her concerns, Ursula asked, “Are you the new laird of Fyvie?”
“Yes.” Both she and Lachlan agreed at the same time, then he pointed to her.
“Yes, my lady is the new laird,” he clarified, tossing her one of his dashing grins.
“We must celebrate,” urged her friend, taking her hands.
Rosalyn gave Ursula’s hands a squeeze, but quickly released them when she grew serious. “Aye, we must celebrate, but Ethan is still a concern. The Garter knights and loyal Highlanders are searching the castle now. Blocking all exits, combing all corners of the castle. But we are all still at risk.”
Lachlan placed a protective arm around her shoulder. “Do not worry, he’s more apt to escape than cause harm when he’s lost a wager. He’s a poor loser. All he wants to do brood and drink away his sorrows.”
She wanted to believe him, but he’d killed Greta. “Nay, Lachlan, he’s grown more desperate than you know.”
But Rosalyn got her way and once they’d recruited two Garter knights, it wasn’t long before their group was heading down the corridor toward the healer’s chamber.
Ursula was the first to knock on the door and call out their arrival.
It cracked open slightly and a servant’s head popped out.
“Greta!” Rosalyn shrieked. “I thought you were dead!” She paused, emotional over finding her nursemaid alive. “Ethan said he’d killed you.”
“‘Twould take more than one evil lord to deter me from helping you win Fyvie, my lady.” Then she bowed slightly.
Lachlan gave Rosalyn’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Your efforts have not gone unrewarded, Greta. This is the new Laird of Fyvie,” her husband announced proudly.
“Come,” the maid gestured. “Donna stand in the corridor. Come, your mother and sister will want to share in the good news,” Greta offered, stepping back and the four of them filed in to the welcoming shrieks of her family.
After hugs and tears of joy subsided, there were enough seats for all as Rosalyn told her mother and sister about had transpired.
Grateful for the reunion, but troubled by Ethan’s escape from the great hall, Ursula’s question thankfully turned the conversation to Bishop Passarelli. “Pray tell, then, has the holy man found the Golden Rose of Scotland?”
The Golden Rose. Yes, if he couldn’t have Fyvie, the pope’s gift of honor would be Ethan’s next target. The Rose was valuable beyond measure and could command a king’s ransom. But first Ethan would need to elude the most accomplished knights in all of England.
“Should be safe in its hiding place,” Rosalyn finally answered when no one else had.
She coughed nervously as all eyes were on her.
“You have the Rose, Rose?” her husband asked softly, making all the women twitter with laughter, but Greta remained serious.
“Lady Rose, the Golden Rose may not be safe,” she warned, more guarded than before. “I must confess to ye now that Ethan did nae kill me because I gave him my skeleton key.”
When Roslyn gasped, Greta shuddered. “Not only does he have the key, my lady, he forced me to reveal the Rose’s hiding place,” she confessed, hanging her head.
Rosalyn immediately went to her side, as did her mother and sister. She gently reached for the nursemaids hands, unfolding them from her lap.
“Dear Greta, you are alive and that’s more important than any treasure. Donnae believe you’ve done any wrong.” She squeezed her hands and gazed at her nursemaid lovingly.
“We must rescue the Rose before it’s stolen away again,” Lachlan suggested, standing with his hand on his hilt.
Greta’s eyes brightened, but Rosalyn patted her hands hoping to discourage the idea.
“Saving The Golden Rose of Scotland would be a most noble act, Husband, but none of us should risk leaving this chamber until we know Ethan is found first.”
“Not all are at risk.” Ursula stood when she spoke. “Ethan has no quarrel with me, nor does he consider me a threat. In fact, he may find think me an ally.”
“Or a distraction,” said Lachlan.
“And that’s the point,” the healer pressed. “Tell me where the Rose is hidden, for I am willing to save it for Scotland,” Ursula stated proudly.
The silence in the chamber was more distracting than if she’d heard arguments for or against Ursula’s brave offer. As the new laird, even her husband awaited her decision.
“Then I’ll be going with her,” her nursemaid volunteered, walking over to join Ursula.
Judging by their determination and willingness to volunteer, Rosalyn could not be insensitive to their requests. As much as she wanted to honor their offer, she could not. For it was her responsibility to protect the Golden Rose. And although she questioned his decree, the bishop had insisted Rosalyn was the chosen one.
With an appreciation for all her da had accomplished leading the clan afore her, Rosalyn strode stoically forward to stand before the two volunteers.
“I wish I could grant your request, but I cannot put the two of you in danger,” she announced, glancing to her husband. “From the very start, the Rose is what brought Lachlan and I together. We must finish it.”
Ursula’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded. Greta bowed. It was settled. Leadership wasn’t easy, and Rosalyn imaged it never would be.
~ ~ ~
The castle was eerily silent as Rosalyn led Lachlan through a vacant servant’s work area and down a dark corridor. She stopped finally before the foreboding, iron-latticed door that guarded Fyvie’s supply of surplus and ancient weapons.
They’d traveled with no torch through the castle and as she entered, with Lachlan at her heels, the vast war room appeared even darker than she’d expected. The moonlight shining in through the rooftop loophole windows provided little illumination.
Rosalyn held her finger to her lips as she waved Lachlan to follow her into the massive room, where her favorite treasure chest stood. Where she hoped the Golden Rose still rested safely inside.
Using one of her hands as a guide along the wall, she held Lachlan’s with her other, inching her way toward the back, far corner doused in darkness.
Forced to leave the security of the wall after they’d gone as far as they could, Rosalyn reached out her free hand to wave away the darkness as if she could push it to each side and clear a path for them to pass.
When her knee slammed into something hard, she bit her tongue to keep her from crying out. At the same time, Lachlan ran into her backside, knocking her forward.
With little time to react, but with both arms free, she braced herself for a fall. What she didn’t expect was to land softly on the other side of her tumble. More so, she’d landed in someone’s lap.
A low rumble of laughter followed, but it wasn’t Lachlan’s.
Rosalyn froze, fearful any movement might cause her harm, even with Lachlan standing silent somewhere close by.
“Fitting isn’t it, that we meet again?” Ethan asked, breaking the silence. “Comfy, my dear?”
When she stayed mum, he ambled on. “I’m surprised, though, I thought winning the castle and the lairdship would be enough for you. Won’t you give me something f
or my trouble? Perhaps the missing Rose?”
Stalling, she contemplated her options. Surely, Lachlan was doing the same. She hoped Ethan assumed she was alone.
“But wait. You and I have some unsettled business. We should take care of that first,” he said, placing his hands on her breasts and squeezing them so hard tears welled. Biting her tongue to keep from swearing, a rush of air passed Rosalyn’s ear.
Whack!
When Ethan’s head snapped back, he finally released her.
“Brother, let’s hope my fist reminded you of your lack of manners.” His voice was cold and laced with anger, but her heart warmed at his defense.
“This lady is my wife, no longer the missing Rose,” Lachlan continued, lifting her out of his twin’s lap. “And you, Ethan, are no longer welcome in our home.”
Relieved to be rescued by her husband from Ethan’s hold and for the moment safe, she was also mindful of his madness. Perhaps Lachlan had grown accustomed to his brutality, for she’d learned when he was brooding, he was dangerous.
“Come, Brother. You’ve won again,” Ethan whined like a young child, “the earldom in Somerset, the fiefdom of Fyvie, the lovely lady Rosalyn. Let me have an award for my trouble. Give me the Golden Rose.”
“Why did have you not made away with it already?” Lachlan asked what she’d wondered. “You’ve had ample time.”
“The skeleton key let me in, but the box would not open,” he griped. “And it’s too awkward and heavy to carry, or I would have been halfway to England by now,” Ethan admitted.
The keys were not identical! Rosalyn now realized. She looked up to heaven and whispered, “Thank you, da.”
Chapter 43
Even though he deserved to die, Lachlan had resisted killing his twin. When Ethan molested his wife, he’d come unhinged. Given the opportunity again, without Rosalyn as witness, he would have pummeled his brother to death with one of the castle’s ancient weapons. There had been plenty to choose from and he’d had the provocation.
The Golden Rose of Scotland (The Ladies of Lore Book 2) Page 25