Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection

by Lana Williams

  “The Sentinels of Scotland wish to restore our country to Scottish rule,” Gilbert offered. “What better way to do so then rid our lands of the English and those who sympathize with them? Isn’t that right, Thomas?”

  Sentinels? Prioress Matilda had spoken of the Guardians. Who were the Sentinels? A tap on Garrick’s shoulder had him looking back. Again Chanse signaled his readiness to proceed but Garrick shook his head. If Thomas would reveal who the Guardians were, they might be able to stop future bloodshed.

  “Who are they?” Sophia asked.

  “That is of no matter to ye,” Thomas said. “If all goes according to plan, yer brothers will soon follow ye to the grave.”

  “We had nothing to do with the siege. Surely you know that, Thomas,” Sophia said. Her voice had taken on a desperate edge.

  “Yer brother, William, has one foot in Scotland and one in England, as does Sir Gilbert. That is not tolerable.”

  “Beliefs such as that make us no better than the men who laid siege to our city two years past,” Sophia argued. “Surely you of all people know that, Thomas.”

  Only silence greeted her response.

  “If this is a matter of money,” Gilbert began.

  “Yer coins cannot buy me. Not after what the English pigs did to me and my family.”

  Garrick fought the urge to rush into the hall. If possible, he needed the name for one of those in the Sentinels. As long as no harm was befalling Sophia or Ilisa, he would hold. Gilbert’s wellbeing was not his responsibility. Thomas had a stubborn side to him from what little Garrick knew of him. The chance of Garrick forcing Thomas to state the name of who was involved was unlikely. He doubted beating the man would have any affect. But perhaps Thomas would reveal a name in the heat of the moment.

  Why didn’t Gilbert question Thomas further? Did he not care what the Sentinels intended? He should, especially since he might pay for it with his life.

  “I’ve never committed any disloyal acts to the city of Berwick or Scotland,” Gilbert blustered.

  Thomas scoffed. “Now ye tell lies.”

  Garrick suddenly realized why Gilbert wasn’t asking who was involved in the Sentinels—because he already knew. Was he one of them?

  No matter. Garrick had no intention of letting them succeed in hurting any members of the Douglas family. If Gilbert survived this encounter, Garrick would have a better chance of gaining a name from him than Thomas.

  “But first the two women must die,” Thomas said.

  Garrick’s heart caught in his throat.

  “Curse you, Thomas,” Sophia called out. “Damn you to hell’s fires. Your hatred of the English will only lead to more bloodshed for the entire city.”

  Sophia’s words spurred an idea. Garrick turned to his cousins to whisper, “Follow my lead.”

  With Sophia’s words and the threat to her life propelling him forward, he drew the hood of his cloak over his head and staggered into the hall, moaning as he went.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Sophia nearly choked on her fear. To hear Thomas speak of the death of her family as though none of them mattered frightened her beyond words.

  She knew the butcher was superstitious. Calling out a curse on him was the only way she could think of to convince him to walk away without hurting anyone.

  A glance at Gilbert told her he would be of no assistance. He’d be more than pleased to dance on her brother’s grave. While he wanted her for a wife, he’d be able to easily replace her with another.

  Her sister’s eyes were wide with fright. Hadden held tight to her arm and his knife. She looked at Sophia as though asking what she should do. Unfortunately, Sophia wasn’t certain. But she intended to fight, first with words, then with anything else she could think of. After all, she wasn’t dead yet. Until Thomas used that damned knife, she would do all in her power to halt him.

  But how?

  Thomas had frowned at her words but little else. What more could she say to convince him to stop this madness?

  Movement from the shadows near the entrance to the hall not far from where the steward held Ilisa caught her gaze. A monk stepped into view, his face hidden by the hood of his brown robe. He appeared unsteady on his feet as he released an odd moan. He staggered toward Thomas.

  “What are ye about?” Thomas asked, obviously alarmed at the monk’s antics.

  The figure moved closer still then tipped his head back, revealing his face to the butcher.

  “Away with ye,” Thomas yelled, a crazed look in his eyes. “Yer dead. I drowned ye myself.”

  “You are a murderer, Thomas,” the monk declared.

  Sophia gasped. His deep voice was achingly familiar despite the strangeness of his attire. Garrick? How had he come to be here dressed like that? And what was he doing?

  Thomas backed away and made the sign of a cross over his chest with trembling hands. “Yer dead I say.”

  Garrick tugged off the hood as he reached for Thomas’s knife.

  Thomas made a feeble attempt to shove at Garrick’s chest to stop him only to draw away. “Yer warm. Not dead? How?”

  Sophia could only hold her breath as Garrick forced Thomas back.

  “Who gives you orders, Thomas?” Garrick demanded. “Who wanted me dead?”

  “Nay. I cannot say.” With a resurgence of strength, he shoved Garrick. “Ye must die. I already promised Lord Ja—” He clamped his lips shut as he realized what he’d nearly revealed.

  As the two men fought over the knife, Chanse and Braden ran into the hall. They made quick work of the two men with Thomas as Garrick fought with the butcher.

  Chanse moved toward Sophia, only to be thrown off balance when Hadden shoved Ilisa into his path. The steward lunged toward Braden, thrusting his blade into Braden’s shoulder.

  Braden gasped, glancing down at the knife in disbelief. He looked at the steward who stood staring at Braden as though unable to believe he’d struck the large knight. The smaller man obviously had no idea how to proceed. His eyes widened with terror.

  With a roar, Braden pulled out the steward’s knife from his shoulder and drove the blade into the steward’s chest. Chanse was at Braden’s side but his brother didn’t need his help.

  The steward screamed, a high-pitched screech that echoed along the stonewalls of the great hall and halted everyone’s movements. He put his hand on the hilt of his knife and tugged but could not free it from his chest. Blood seeped into his tunic, spreading quickly.

  He turned to Gilbert and held out one hand as though to plead for help. But Gilbert only shook his head.

  Chanse once again caught Ilisa in his arms and turned her away from the sight as Hadden dropped to his knees then to the floor.

  Garrick seemed to surge with power. He jerked Thomas’s hand up, squeezing his wrist until Thomas squealed in pain. Still he didn’t release his knife. Garrick plunged his own knife into the butcher then shoved him away.

  Thomas moaned, covering his stomach as he staggered back before falling to his knees.

  Garrick spun toward Sophia. His blue gaze held hers for a moment before catching on something behind her.

  Too late, she realized she should’ve escaped Gilbert’s reach. Even as she stepped away, Gilbert grabbed her and jerked her back against him. The prick of his blade on her neck halted her struggle to free herself.

  “Hold,” Gilbert yelled.

  Garrick stopped, holding out his hand, palm up, toward Gilbert. “Release her.”

  “Nay. She is the key.”

  “Release her so we may resolve this without further bloodshed.” Garrick darted a look at Braden.

  His cousin held one hand over his shoulder, whether to staunch the blood flow or lessen the pain, Sophia wasn’t certain. Though he still stood, his face was growing pale. A bead of sweat appeared on his forehead. He gave Garrick a nod as though to say he would be fine.

  But Sophia wasn’t so sure he would be. Once Garrick turned back to her, Braden’s shoulders slumped as though the
effort to appear strong was too much.

  Determined to win her freedom, she gripped Gilbert’s arm with both hands to draw it away from her neck so she could at least breathe. Yet even that small movement caused his blade to press into her.

  “Let me go,” she demanded between clenched teeth.

  Gilbert chuckled then pressed his lips to her ear. “You will be mine afore the day is through.”

  A chill raced down her spine at the confidence of his threat. She couldn’t allow that to come to pass.

  Chanse pushed Ilisa behind him and eased forward, watching Gilbert closely.

  Sophia’s gaze caught on Garrick who seemed to have drawn closer without her seeing him move. The strength, love, and confidence she saw in his expression released something deep inside her.

  Oh, how she loved him. How could she have thought that she should deny the gift of his love? How would them staying apart aid anyone, least of all themselves? Fate had brought them together for a reason. Who was she to turn away from that?

  Would she have a chance to tell him she couldn’t live without him?

  Resolve filled her. She would not allow him to lose his life for her. They deserved a chance to be together. She need only determine how.

  “Gilbert, you cannot force me to marry you.”

  “If you believe that then you know little of men.” He lifted her easily to prove his point.

  She kept her head high, hoping to avoid the blade. But that did not still her feet. She struck him with her heel, hoping to make him realize that carting her away would be no easy task.

  “Umph,” he grunted. Then he squeezed tighter, his arm around her waist along with the blade pressed to her neck making it difficult to breathe.

  “Release her,” Garrick demanded again.

  At last Gilbert set her back on the ground and eased his hold on her.

  She drew a deep breath, attempting to be as subtle as possible about it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d frightened her.

  Fighting the hopelessness threatening her, she berated herself for thinking she could deal with Gilbert on her own. She’d lived with political intrigue all her life which had taught her never to assume anything. People, especially those in power, hid their true motivations. She’d known Gilbert’s desire to marry her wasn’t truly about her. But she’d taken the risk of coming here with the misguided belief that she could resolve this.

  She should’ve told Garrick everything and trusted him to aid her. He loved her for herself rather than for what she might do for him. And he was here now to help her.

  She’d always placed duty above her personal wants. Always. And where had that gotten her or her family? With Garrick, she had the chance of a new beginning, of building something fresh, no matter where they lived. As long as they were with each other.

  Somehow, together, they would make it through this and claim their chance for happiness. Somehow. They had a love worth fighting for.

  ~*~

  The sight of Sophia in Gilbert’s terrible embrace, a trace of blood dribbling down her neck, caused all thought to fall away, leaving only fear in Garrick’s belly. Added to that was his worry for Braden’s injury. Garrick knew his cousin was hurt far worse than he let on. Time was of the essence but how could he free Sophia and save them all?

  “Garrick, watch out!” Chanse’s words came as Thomas crawled forward, reaching for Garrick’s leg.

  Garrick kicked him away, turning him over, then drew his sword, plunging the weapon through the butcher’s chest.

  Thomas’s eyes went wide, staring up at Garrick, the life in them quickly fading.

  Garrick pulled his weapon free and looked back at Sophia.

  What had he gotten them into? While he’d known the situation would be dangerous, he’d never thought to be in this sort of standoff. Where was his second sight now, when he needed it most? If only he’d receive some sort of sign as to how he should proceed that might save them all.

  That sign came from an unexpected source—Sophia. Her steady gaze caught his, and he could see she was prepared for whatever move he made.

  “Gilbert, aren’t you the least bit curious as to who ordered Thomas to kill you?” Garrick asked. If he could get the man to talk and either convince him they were on the same side or at least distract him, they might have a fighting chance.

  “I have a good enough guess. And I’ll deal with him later.” But Gilbert’s tone was less than confident.

  “Him? It sounds as if more than one man is involved.”

  Gilbert glanced at Thomas’s body. “No matter. I will speak with them one at a time.”

  Garrick eased closer. “Unless they finish what Thomas started first.”

  “Impossible.”

  As he spoke again, Sophia gave Garrick the smallest of nods then stomped on Gilbert’s foot and thrust her fist back, landing a blow to his face.

  Gilbert’s hold loosened under her assault.

  Garrick lunged forward to plow his fist into Gilbert’s nose, the only clear target if he wanted to avoid striking Sophia.

  The older man grunted under the force of his blow but still did not release Sophia. She was having none of it. She wrenched her arm free from Gilbert’s grasp and spun away, keeping a careful watch on the knife still in Gilbert’s hand.

  “Blast you, woman,” Gilbert bellowed. He leveled a glare at Garrick, his gaze taking in the sword in Garrick’s hand. “You’re not going to kill me.”

  “That’s your choice. You and I are on the same side when it comes to the Sentinels. We only wish for peace for this city. There has been enough death here.”

  Gilbert’s eyes narrowed. “War is not a profitable time for most though there are exceptions.”

  “Such as yourself?” Garrick asked. At the older man’s reluctant nod, he continued, “I’m certain the people of Berwick have many reasons as to why they prefer peace. They have certainly earned it.” Garrick glanced to where Sophia stood a safe distance away. “We are leaving, and you will not come after us. Your feud with the Douglas family must end here. Lady Sophia will never be yours.”

  As Gilbert opened his mouth to protest, Garrick held up his hand. “She’s betrothed to me. Isn’t that right?” He looked at her again, daring her to disagree.

  “’Tis true,” Sophia said with a nod.

  They were betrothed as far as he was concerned. And he intended to hold her to it.

  Gilbert placed his knife in his scabbard but rested his hand on the hilt of the sword strapped to his side. “I could call my men, have you and your friends killed, then take Sophia for a wife.”

  “You’d be dead before you left the hall,” Garrick promised, raising his sword.

  “Let it go, Gilbert,” Sophia argued. “We’ve all suffered enough.”

  “She’s right,” Garrick agreed as he reached for Sophia’s hand. “Let us put this behind us and begin anew.”

  His determination wavering, Gilbert released his sword. “The Sentinels won’t stop. They are determined to rid Scotland of all English ties.”

  “They will find many supporters. But their methods must change if they wish to keep King Edward out of this country.”

  “Killing those with English ties will prove impossible,” Gilbert said. “Convincing them of such will be difficult. In the meantime, Sophia’s family will be in danger, as will you and I.”

  “All the more reason for us to end this, Sir Gilbert. Will you allow us to leave in peace, or will you force us to fight?”

  Gilbert scowled. “It doesn’t appear as if the choice is mine.”

  “Tell me who’s behind this so we can stop them,” Garrick requested. At Gilbert’s hesitation, he added, “Think of the lives you’ll save.”

  “Lord James Graham. But tread cautiously or you’ll be dead.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “Now be gone with you before I change my mind.”

  “Can you walk out of here?” Garrick asked Braden.

  His cousin nodded, st
ill holding his shoulder, blood visible around his hand.

  Garrick turned and led the way out, Sophia’s hand in his. A glance back showed Braden directly behind them with Chanse and Ilisa following.

  The door to the tunnel opened wide, and Alec rushed forward to give his sisters a brief hug as they entered the tunnel.

  Chanse took a torch from a nearby wall. “Gilbert won’t miss it.” Then he shut the door firmly behind them. “Are you certain you can walk?” he asked his brother.

  “I wager I’ll be through the tunnel before you,” Braden said.

  “Let us hurry before Gilbert changes his mind,” Garrick said.

  Chanse led the way down the stairs and through the narrow tunnel.

  “Alec showed you this way?” Sophia asked.

  “Aye,” Garrick said. “I remembered you telling me how you escaped during the siege. Luckily Alec found the entrance for us.”

  Garrick kept a close eye on Braden. If only he’d been injured instead. Then Braden could’ve healed him. Why did it have to be Braden?

  The rest of their journey was completed in silence. No one wanted to discuss all that had passed until they were safely away.

  At last they made their way out of the tunnel and into the foliage that hid the entrance.

  “Let us leave here one or two at a time so as not to draw attention to our presence or to the location of the tunnel,” Garrick ordered. “We will meet at the cottage.”

  “Perhaps we should meet at Hilda’s cottage,” Sophia suggested with a nod at Braden.

  “Excellent notion.” Garrick looked at Braden. “Can you make it that far?”

  “His horse is nearby. I’ll fetch it,” Chanse offered. “Come with me, Alec.”

  Ilisa stepped forward. “I will escort Sir Braden so that I might help to see to his injury.”

  Braden nodded in agreement and soon followed Ilisa.

  At last it was Garrick and Sophia’s turn to wind their way through the narrow, crooked streets. As they walked, Garrick searched for a place where they could have a moment of privacy before joining the others. A quiet alley would have to do. He guided her into the doorway that hid them from the few people about and quickly shed the monk’s robe. He had no desire to maintain that guise.