Forbidden Night with the Highlander

by Michelle Willingham

  And for now, it was enough.

  * * *

  On the morning of her wedding, Lianna was startled to hear shouting and men gathering weapons. She hurried to her window and saw Lord Montbrooke arguing with Harold de Beaufort. Their forces were joining together, and she saw two of the guards dragging a young boy towards the keep.

  A maid entered her bedchamber, and said, ‘Good morn to you, my lady.’

  ‘What is happening below?’ Lianna demanded. ‘It looks as if they are preparing for war.’

  ‘I cannot say.’ It was unclear whether that meant she could not or would not say.

  The maid picked up a green silk bliaud and began helping her to dress. Lianna hardly cared what she wore, but she did worry about the boy outside. Something terrible must have happened, and she wanted to know what had caused the men to gather weapons and assemble as if for battle.

  When the maid had finished helping her, Lianna picked up her skirts and went below stairs. She hurried towards the Great Hall and immediately saw Rhys waiting for her. He approached and caught her hand. ‘There is a problem, Lianna.’

  ‘I saw the soldiers.’ She was about to ask him what had happened when the two guards entered, dragging the adolescent boy with them. His face was white with fear. ‘Who is that?’

  ‘Go back to your chamber,’ Rhys ordered. ‘You should not be here right now.’ The dark look in his eyes suggested that the boy was about to face a serious punishment.

  ‘Not until you tell me what’s happened.’ And even then, she intended to find out what the adolescent had done. He couldn’t be more than three and ten. Why would he be seized by soldiers?

  Rhys kept her hand in his and led her back towards the stairs, out of the way. ‘He is Ademar of Dolwyth. Apparently, he helped my brother Warrick escape with Lady Rosamund de Beaufort last night.’ His face turned grim. ‘They intend to question him. And once they know where Warrick and Rosamund are, they will hunt them down and punish them both.’

  Lianna was horrified by the thought. ‘Why would they run away? Could they not be married?’

  Rhys shook his head. ‘My father and younger brother have been enemies for years now. He would never allow such a match for Warrick.’

  ‘Why?’

  But Rhys only shook his head. ‘Suffice it to say, he believed the lies told by his second wife, Analise.’

  At the far end of the Hall, Lianna winced when she saw the guards seize Ademar and hold his arms behind his back while another man backhanded his face with his fist.

  ‘Where are they?’ the guard demanded.

  ‘I—I—I d-don’t kn-know,’ the boy stammered.

  The guard mocked Ademar’s stutter. ‘You’d better th-th-think harder, boy.’ And with that, he struck the lad across the face, over and over, until blood ran from his nose.

  Lianna dug her nails into Rhys’s sleeve. ‘Please stop them. He’s just a boy.’ And the more they questioned Ademar, the more evident it became that the lad had a speech difficulty. He could not voice any words without the stammer, and the more they questioned him, the more he was beaten. She could hardly believe the men would treat an adolescent boy in such a way as they questioned him. How could they mock his stutter and continue to strike him, when he could give no answers?

  ‘I will do what I can,’ Rhys promised. ‘But you must stay here.’

  She nodded and ducked back into the shadows of the spiral stairs. He strode through the Great Hall, ordering, ‘Enough of this.’

  Lianna craned her neck to see what was happening. Lord Montbrooke appeared displeased at his son’s interference, but Rhys went to his father’s side and spoke to him quietly. Then he addressed Lord de Beaufort in a low voice while the guards continued to hold Ademar. The boy had sagged to his knees, blood dripping down his face and nose.

  Rhys moved forward and leaned down to speak with Ademar. The boy raised his head, and tears mingled with the blood. But he did answer the questions in a tremulous stutter.

  Rhys motioned for another servant to take the boy away, and then he returned to his father’s side. Within moments, the men were gathering arms and leaving the Hall.

  Lianna stayed on the stairs for a moment, wondering what would become of the young lad. It didn’t seem right that they had punished him for helping a man and a woman in love. She decided to tend the boy’s bruises and talk with him awhile.

  No sooner had she taken a single step forward before Rhys caught her hand. ‘Come to the chapel within the hour.’

  She faltered at the suddenness of his command and hardly knew how to respond. ‘So soon?’

  He nodded. ‘My father wants to witness the vows before he goes in search of Warrick.’ He squeezed her palm. ‘You needn’t worry. It’s unlikely there will be more than three guests.’

  She understood that this was another way of delaying his father’s pursuit. And she found that she wanted to help Rhys. It was wrong for Edward de Laurent and Harold de Beaufort to search for the lovers with the intent of forcing them apart.

  ‘Will we then travel to Scotland?’ she asked him.

  Rhys reached out and traced the edge of her face. ‘I must follow my father and Lord de Beaufort while they search for my brother. But after that, yes.’

  There was a hard cast to his tone, as if he didn’t want to go. ‘What do you plan to do?’

  He expelled a breath and admitted, ‘I plan to help my brother in any way I can. Once they find Warrick, they might try to kill him for daring to take Rosamund de Beaufort. I only hope I can stop them.’

  A numb feeling settled in the pit of Lianna’s stomach, for she knew exactly how he felt. She had been unable to prevent her own brother’s death at the hands of Rhys. But with each day that passed, she was finding it more difficult to look upon him with hatred. Her mind and conscience warred with one another, and though she wanted to despise him, he had been nothing but kind to her.

  Confusion clouded her mood, and she took a step backwards. ‘I will meet you in the chapel within the hour. But I want to tend Ademar’s wounds first.’ And with that, she retreated, needing the task at hand to steady her mind.

  Lianna walked past the guests, asking one of the servants where the boy had gone. When she learned that he was outside near the training grounds, she ordered the servant to bring her clean water and linen.

  As she left the keep with a pitcher of water and the linen, she saw Rhys joining the other men. He risked a glance back at her, and her cheeks warmed at the sight of his intense stare. It was as if he were reminding her that she would be his wife within the hour. And dear God, it made her body soften at the very thought.

  She shut her eyes tightly, trying to push back the unbidden images. No. She would not allow it.

  To avoid thinking about him, she hurried towards the training ground where the servant had told her she could find Ademar. She found the boy seated against one of the outer walls, his shoulders slumped forward. Lianna walked towards him and crouched down. At first, he didn’t seem aware that she was there.

  ‘I am Lianna MacKinnon,’ she told the boy. ‘I’ve come to tend your wounds.’

  He didn’t look up but kept his shoulders slumped forward. From the slight motion, she guessed he was crying.

  ‘Will you let me see your face?’ she asked softly, kneeling down beside him. He still refused to meet her gaze, and so she began to talk. ‘I heard of how you helped Warrick and Rosamund. Few grown men would dare to do what you did.’

  ‘I b-b-betrayed them,’ he managed.

  Lianna poured some water on to a linen cloth. ‘I don’t believe that. And neither will they.’

  ‘H-he was my friend. And I told Lord Montbrooke where they were t-travelling.’

  Lianna touched the wet cloth to his forehead, and at last he looked at her. His eye was swollen, and he had bruising along his jaw. His nose was still bleedi
ng, though it was not broken. She washed away the blood and then dipped the cloth back in the pitcher, wringing it out again. ‘Hold this to your eye.’ He obeyed, and she said, ‘They would have tracked them down eventually. It’s not your fault.’

  ‘I should have b-been stronger.’

  She rested her hand on Ademar’s shoulder. ‘You cannot change what happened. And trust me when I say, they will not blame you.’ He was only a young adolescent and could hardly be expected to endure such brutal questioning.

  Her words seemed to have an effect on him. Though Ademar kept the wet cloth held to his eye, he straightened. ‘One day, I w-will not be so w-weak.’

  She smiled at him. ‘No, you will be much stronger in time.’ Nodding towards the kitchens, she suggested, ‘Go and get something to eat. You’ll feel better for it.’

  His expression dimmed, as if he didn’t think that were possible. Lianna added, ‘Don’t be afraid for Warrick. Rhys will help him.’ She poured water on to her own hands, washing them, before she folded up the linen cloths to take them away.

  She gave the pitcher and linen back to a servant and returned to the donjon. Then she ascended the spiral stairs to the chamber where she had stayed these past few weeks. It was an easy matter to pack her remaining belongings, tucking them into the trunks for the journey home. She studied the elaborate Norman gowns Rhys had given her. A part of her wanted to leave them behind, to pretend as if she held no part in his heritage. But then, there might come a time when she needed them. With reluctance, she packed them away, along with the jewels.

  A knock sounded at the door, and when she called for the person to enter, she saw Joan. Rhys’s sister was wearing white, as she always did, along with the simple iron jewellery. The young woman said, ‘They are ready for you at the chapel. I will take you there.’

  Lianna rose from her knees. For a moment, she wanted to ask for Joan’s forgiveness. The woman had offered friendship, and Lianna had pushed her away. She regretted that decision and wanted to make amends.

  But what could she say? How could she even begin? The words failed her, and Joan led her towards the small family chapel within the donjon. Lianna felt as if she had stepped into someone else’s life. She wore clothing that did not belong to her, and she was living in another place where no one loved her.

  When they reached the doorway, Lianna stopped her. ‘Will you...stay to witness the vows?’ She meant it as an invitation, a chance for them to start anew.

  But Joan shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t. My presence would only bring bad luck to you.’

  It was a strange thing to say, and Lianna reached out and took her hand. ‘Don’t say that. We would like to have you there.’

  The young woman’s expression turned sad, and Lianna wondered the cause of it. She knew that Joan had never married, which struck her as strange. Edward de Laurent was not a man who would miss an opportunity to arrange a good marriage for his eldest daughter, binding her in matrimony to a nobleman.

  Joan squeezed her hand and said, ‘I wish you both happiness, and I do think you will come to love Rhys as I do. I would not want my presence to cast a shadow over your union. Believe me when I say it’s better this way.’

  And with that, she turned her back and left. Lianna felt her nerves gather into a tight ball, feeling more alone than ever.

  Inside the dim chapel, the priest was waiting, along with an impatient Lord Montbrooke and four other men she didn’t recognise. She stepped inside, and the earl remarked, ‘At least you are more appropriately dressed this time.’

  Lianna wanted to blurt out a scathing reply, but she stopped herself. Instead, she asked, ‘What will become of Warrick when your men find him?’

  Edward de Laurent shrugged. ‘It is no concern of yours.’

  ‘Since he is to become my brother through marriage within a few minutes, I think it is my concern. What has he done wrong, except to run away with the woman he loves?’

  The earl’s countenance turned black with rage. ‘You know nothing of what Warrick has done. He deserves to be flogged for harming an innocent maiden.’

  ‘From what I saw, she wanted to be with him,’ Lianna answered. ‘I hardly think love is a reason for a flogging. It should be the two of them getting married, as well as Rhys and myself.’

  ‘He will never wed Rosamund de Beaufort. Or any other woman, save a common wench.’ Edward crossed his arms and glared at her. ‘It would be well if he did not survive the flogging.’

  ‘How can you say that about your own son?’ She wanted to understand his reasons for the violent hatred.

  ‘Because he killed my youngest daughter. And that, I will never forgive.’

  She was shocked into silence, and Rhys entered a moment later, followed by the priest. There was far more to this story than Lord Montbrooke knew, but from what Rhys had said, Edward believed his former wife’s untruths.

  There was no time to argue, for Rhys took her hand in his and the priest began the wedding ceremony. Lianna’s hands grew cold, and she could hardly grasp what was happening. Suddenly, everyone was staring at her, and she knew not what to say. Rhys leaned in. ‘I know this was not the wedding we should have had. But I will give you a proper celebration in Scotland when we arrive.’

  She managed to nod, and the priest took that for her consent. He blessed the pair of them, and Lianna felt dizzy that it should be over so quickly. Rhys kissed her mouth swiftly, and it was done. He was now her husband.

  There was no Mass, for Lord Montbrooke was already leaving the chapel in search of his younger son. Rhys held her hand, drawing her back until they were alone. He lowered his mouth to her ear. ‘Pack your belongings and be ready to leave as swiftly as you can. We have to follow them north.’

  She understood his haste. ‘My belongings are ready now. If you want to send the wagon with my trunks back to Eiloch while we follow your brother, we can meet up with my men later.’

  He relaxed at her suggestion and nodded. ‘Good.’ But even so, he did not release her hand. Lianna glanced at the doorway, wondering why he was holding her back.

  ‘I should send you back to Scotland with your own guards,’ he admitted. ‘This isn’t your battle to fight. But I don’t want you to be alone. I would rather protect you myself.’ His voice was warm, and it suddenly made her nervous.

  She wanted to pull away from him, but Rhys rested both palms on the wall behind her. She was cornered in his arms and didn’t know what to do.

  Lady Montbrooke had counselled her to soften towards her husband. And yet, everything about Rhys de Laurent set her off balance. Her heart beat faster, and she could hardly catch her breath.

  ‘I didn’t give you a proper kiss of peace,’ he said, tilting her chin up.

  Lianna wanted to turn her face away, but she didn’t dare to move. Her body grew aware of his presence, and she was spellbound by the hard planes of this man’s face and his sensual mouth. Heat burned through her skin, and she tried not to let herself feel anything.

  But then Rhys’s mouth covered hers, and he pressed her back against the wall. She could hardly grasp a single thought when he kissed her, and she was caught up in the storm of his warm mouth upon her lips. He caught her waist and pressed himself against her so that she felt the hard ridge of his need. And she could not deny the restless response rising within her.

  Confusion and guilt roiled through her, and she broke free, feeling helpless. ‘Y-you should go and prepare the horses.’

  He stared at her, and in his gaze she felt the unfulfilled promise. ‘This isn’t over, Lianna.’

  And God help her, she knew it.

  One week later

  His brother was lucky to be alive.

  After being flogged, Warrick’s bleeding body had been left behind at Dolwyth. Rhys had taken him away, bringing Warrick back to his own camp before their father could find him. For four days, they had tra
velled north to Scotland, while Lianna did her best to tend his brother’s wounds.

  Their father had ordered the punishment—and perhaps Edward had wanted him to die. Icy resentment gathered up within him as he wondered how any man could treat his son this way. But he didn’t know how he could solve the hatred between the two men. Warrick had done nothing wrong, despite the accusations against him. But Edward had been only too eager to believe Analise’s lies.

  The familiar anger kindled inside him, and he strode towards the tent he’d shared with Lianna. He had been so distracted by his brother’s fate, he had not touched his new wife in the past sennight. The irony didn’t escape him, but perhaps it was better that he left her alone for now.

  ‘How is he?’ he asked her.

  The tent was immaculate, his brother lying prone while she had a basin of water and bandages laid out in neat rows beside her. Lianna pulled back the edges of Warrick’s shirt, which they’d had to cut away with a blade since the blood had stuck the garment to his skin.

  ‘He is still in pain, and he has not spoken to me. But he has eaten.’ She removed an older poultice and began making a new one with garlic and yarrow. Despite her healing efforts, Warrick’s back was deep red from the lash marks, and there was no doubt he would be scarred. It seemed impossible to imagine that their own father had ordered this done to him.

  Lianna reached for a wooden bowl filled with warmed water and one of the rolled linen cloths. She began washing Warrick’s wounds, and he shuddered the moment she placed the new poultice upon his back.

  ‘Where is she?’ he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Rhys didn’t have to ask who Warrick was talking about. He exchanged a glance with Lianna. ‘Her father took her away. He intends to wed Rosamund to Alan de Courcy.’

  His brother was silent while Lianna wrapped the bandage around his torso. There was a grim cast to his features, and at last he demanded, ‘When?’

  Rhys shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ Likely as soon as possible. He helped Lianna finish tying off the bandage and said, ‘I’m sorry.’