by Eliza Knight
Lady Lorna returned with a steaming cup of soup. With a few coaxing words, she had the Lord of Northwyck downing the contents. She issued orders for him to be taken to a chamber, and for guards to watch over him to make certain he didn’t cause himself harm or attempt to escape.
“How long has he been like this?” Lady Lorna asked, concern in her gaze.
“I’ve never seen him this way. Forgetful maybe, but this…never.”
“The stress of the situation,” she said as the men led him away. “But I do believe he may be suffering from a madness that afflicts the older generations.”
“Madness?” Eva stared at the empty place where her father had been only moments before. If she thought she’d been lonely before, now was ten times worse.
“I’m sorry, my dear. Perhaps some rest will help him regain his senses.” Lorna’s voice was soft, and Isobel had yet to let go of her arm.
Tomaidh reappeared but then ducked through the archway toward the main door of the castle.
“The men must have returned,” Isobel said.
Eva’s limbs prickled. In her rush to see her father, she’d almost completely forgotten about Strath and Jamie out on the field with their men. Had they beaten Belfinch? She’d not been surprised at all when the lying villain had chosen to fight instead of giving himself up. She prayed the casualties were not great, and that Belfinch had been apprehended quickly. Though she knew this fight had nothing to do with her, she couldn’t help feel guilty about someone getting hurt or killed.
What if Strath had been hurt?
She was pulled in two directions—one upstairs to see that her father had calmed down, and the other to run after Lady Lorna to make certain Strath had not been harmed in battle.
How did one make a decision between duty and heart?
Strath made the decision for her when he ducked beneath the arch, searching out the great hall until his gaze fell on her. Relief swept over his features in much the same way it swept through her.
“Ye’re here,” he said, as though he’d imagined she would have floated away. She was relieved he’d not rebuked her for leaving her chamber.
“You’re not hurt.”
He shook his head. It took everything she had not to leap up, rush forward, and toss herself into his arms. Lady Isobel slinked away and somehow managed to silently tell everyone else in the great hall to disappear, too. The two of them left quite alone, the air in the room felt charged.
Eva rushed forward and tossed herself into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her off the ground, burying his face in her neck.
“I was so worried,” she said.
“Everything will work out.”
“Where is Belfinch?”
“He is in our dungeon. I promise ye, lass, he’ll never harm ye again.”
She looked up at him through a sheen of tears. Despite the emotional turmoil raging in her head, she could sense he was hiding something from her. But before she could ask, he kissed her.
Eva allowed herself to be swept up for a few moments in his touch, his kiss, forgetting about everything that had just happened. But all too soon, it was over.
“Where is your father?” He frowned, almost as if he worried over the answer. “Tomaidh was supposed to bring him in.”
“He has been taken to a room. He…” It was too difficult to say he was consumed with a madness she didn’t understand. That he seemed to have almost forgotten who she was. “He is unwell.”
“I see.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve sent word to the king.”
“The king?” She’d nearly forgotten…
“Aye.”
“Will he…be coming here?” Will he decide my fate?
“Nay, not yet. Belfinch will likely be kept here as a prisoner. Or mayhap moved to Edinburgh.”
“And you?”
“I will stay here for a short time. Once I hear back from the king, I will know my orders.”
She nodded, wanting to ask about herself. What was she to do now that her father was…ill? What would she do if Strath had orders to go on another mission? She couldn’t stay here. Up until that moment, she’d told herself that wherever Strath was would be her home, but he would never allow her to journey with him on a mission.
Staring up at him, his expression gave her no idea as to what he was thinking.
Finally, she asked, “What am I to do? Where am I to go?”
His eyes widened. “Ye’ll go home.”
“Oh.” His words might as well have been a sword slicing through her belly.
“If I’m unable to do it myself because of the king’s orders, I will have Tomaidh escort ye.”
He was sending her back to England. Eva couldn’t believe her ears. She stumbled back, feeling the room start to spin. When Strath steadied her, she jerked away from him.
“When will that be, my laird?”
“I have to question your father. There is information I need from him.”
Eva shook her head. “I do not think you will gain the information you seek.”
“Why is that?”
Why should she answer? He’d broken her heart so casually and then asked about information he needed.
“Because of the memory lapse ye mentioned?”
“Mayhap he is not the only one with a memory lapse,” she retorted.
Strath frowned again, having the audacity to appear confused when he looked at her. Well, she wasn’t going to remain quiet.
“How dare you rail at me this morning when I offered to sacrifice myself when you were planning to send me back all along.”
Strath tilted his head, eyeing her as though she was the one to have gone mad and not her father. “Explain.”
Explain? He would treat her like one of his underlings? Ha.
Eva crossed her arms and glowered at him. “Perhaps you ought to be the one explaining.”
“I must admit, Princess, I’m confused about what we’re talking about.” He spoke calmly, rationally, as though he were mocking the very real emotion that made her voice waver.
“You are sending me back to England!”
“I am doing no such thing.”
“You just said you were sending me home, that Tomaidh would escort me.”
Understanding dawned then, and he shook his head, a soft chuckle on his lips. “I’m sending ye home, aye, but to our home, not back to England.”
“Our home?”
“Ye’re to be my wife, and my wife lives at Dornoch Castle, with me.” He stepped forward, and she didn’t retreat.
“I am sorry. I feel foolish for having assumed otherwise.”
“The both of us have been doing a lot of assuming. ’Tis not good for us. Let us make a truce, here and now, no more assuming. We will clarify things of such importance.”
“That seems like a good rule.”
“And then also we must kiss and make up.”
“An even better rule.”
Strath bent to kiss her again, the stubble of his chin scraping over hers as he claimed her mouth. Eva sighed, their tongues dueling, and the hardness beneath his plaid pressing provocatively to the front of her gown. Quivers of desire lit up like a thousand candles inside her body.
Against her lips, he murmured, “I need to talk to your father, love. As much as I want to carry ye up to my room…I canna. Not yet.”
“All right,” she sighed, disappointed. “But as I said, it will be difficult. He appears to have suffered some sort of fit. He does not know what year it is.”
Still holding her in his arms, Strath leaned back, his narrowed gaze on hers. “As evidenced by what?”
“By him believing we were at home, that my mother was with us. Then he started saying she’d been taken by Scots.” Eva shook her head, still confused by all that still remained hidden.
“Och, lass, nay.”
Eva nodded, forcing back tears that threatened once more. “I think this means she is alive as I suspected. Mayhap with her family. Or
else another cruel trick.”
Strath didn’t say anything, but a light went off in his eyes that had her questioning what he might be thinking. He kissed her swiftly, then let her go and walked toward the door.
Before she could call him back, before she could wrap herself once more in his warm embrace, he left the great hall.
Chapter Nineteen
“Ye said he killed your da.” Strath paced before Belfinch, who’d been chained to a wall in the castle’s dungeon.
The man watched him, his expression blank, his lips unmoving.
“Why did he kill your da? How do ye know it was him?”
Still nothing. Strath refused to let the man’s lack of response cause him to lose his temper. Strong and steady won every time.
“Why does he think his wife was taken by Scots?”
Belfinch winced.
“Ye know why. Tell me.”
Still, he kept his mouth firmly closed. Strath seized the front of his shirt and lifted the bastard several inches off his arse. Belfinch gritted his teeth. He was scared but fighting it.
“I willna hesitate to beat the truth from ye, dinna test me.”
“The old man is mad,” Belfinch said through bared teeth, eyes cagey. “I’ve been dealing with his ramblings for months.”
Strath regarded Belfinch skeptically. He was hiding something. And Strath was about to take a giant leap at knowing what that might be. There’d been two clues. One from Belfinch himself, and another from Eva’s father. “Ye know something.”
The man shrugged as much as one could in shackles while being pinned to the wall by a much larger warrior. “I know a lot of things.” Spittle peppered the corners of his mouth.
“Why does Lady Eva believe her mother could be alive? Why did Northwyck say she died of a fever?” Strath kept his voice even, not displaying any outward sign of what he guessed.
The corner of Belfinch’s eye twitched. “Why does anyone say someone has died of a fever?”
“Dinna answer my questions with riddles.” The vein in Strath’s neck throbbed, and he had to restrain himself from head-butting the bastard into unconsciousness. He kept his hands fisted in Belfinch’s shirt rather than pressing his forearm to the man’s throat.
In the dim light of the dungeon, Strath could have sworn the man paled a shade. And why shouldn’t he? The fact he hadn’t already pissed himself was either a sign he wasn’t as afraid of Strath as he should be and was therefore stupid, or, well, really there was no other reason besides stupidity.
“We’ll start with your fingernails,” Strath said. “We willna tear them off at first. Nay, we’ve a lass who likes to jab her sewing needles beneath the nail. The pain will be excruciating.”
More sweat beaded on Belfinch’s forehead, and he bared his teeth but still said nothing.
“When ye’re bleeding from your nails, we’ll move to your toes. When we finish with your feet, we still won’t tear off your nails. Nay, we’ll save that for later. Instead, we will start to peel the skin away from your arms. Layer by layer, until we reach the bone.”
Belfinch trembled with fear, the stink of his sweat pungent.
“Her mot-th-her—” Belfinch stuttered, his teeth chattering. “Eva has always believed her mother died of a fever because that is what her father told her.”
“Is she dead or alive?”
The man’s body strained, ceasing its trembling before letting out a great shudder. He was trying hard to be brave. Trying hard to hold on to his secrets, but Strath wasn’t going to let him.
“Tomaidh, get Elsie, and tell her to bring her needles.” Of course, Strath was lying. There was no lass, and he’d made up the name. But often the threat of torture was enough to get men talking.
“Wait!” Belfinch shouted.
Tomaidh halted, and Strath nodded. “Go on then, tell me, else I will send for Elsie.”
Belfinch’s beady eyes flicked back and forth before he finally said, “Lady Northwyck…is not dead.”
Strath stilled. “Say again?”
“She is not dead.”
“Lady Eva’s mother, the wife of Lord Northwyck, is not dead?”
Belfinch nodded emphatically. “Not dead.” His eyes were wide, and he seemed to be telling the truth.
“Where is she? What happened to her?”
The man’s shoulders slumped, as though he’d tried for too long to hold in the truth but had given up now. Once one part had slipped, what did it matter if he held in the rest?
“When we abducted her, we held her for months, nearly six of them. And she did catch a fever. But then, in the dead of night a load of you heathens descended upon our castle and took her into the Highlands,” he said dejectedly.
“Explain.” Strath’s heart started to pound, and he tightened his fists on the man’s shirt. Eva’s mother was alive? She’d told him how much she missed her. How close they were. Even her father had said that Eva’s mother was the strength in their household. God, what it would mean to Eva to see her again.
“We believed Northwyck to be behind our ruin. Our crops failed season after season. Our cattle and sheep died. And yet Northwyck thrived. There was no other reason for it other than he had to be stealing what was ours and poisoning our flock. So my father had Lady Northwyck taken.”
“Who stole her from ye?” Strath demanded through gritted teeth. “Was it her family? The Lindsays?”
“I do not know.”
“Liar.” He slammed Belfinch against the wall.
“I swear.” Belfinch’s gaze was flying everywhere as though he couldn’t find a place to focus.
The bastard was lying. He had to be. “How do ye know she’s still alive?”
Belfinch swallowed, shaking now. “He wouldn’t have killed her.”
“Who wouldna?”
“I don’t know!” he shrieked, squeezing his eyes shut, anticipating a blow that Strath did not deal. “Only that he wasn’t paid to kill her.”
“That doesna mean she did not die of illness, or by some other means.”
Belfinch nodded, hurrying to say, “I retract my statement then. I believe she is still alive, for there would be no cause for her death.”
“Is this why Northwyck killed your father?”
“Aye.”
“And ye blackmailed him all these years, holding over his head the accusation of murder and his wife’s whereabouts?”
“Aye.”
“Ye’re a bastard. And ye deserve a painful death.” Strath pulled the sgian dubh from his boot and pressed it to the skin at Belfinch’s throat.
“Please. I am the only link you have to finding her,” he pleaded, licking his parched lips.
“Ye just said ye didna know the Scot who has her.” Strath pressed harder, causing a droplet of Belfinch’s blood to slide down the blade.
Belfinch winced. “I know who took her. Please don’t kill me.”
Strath could have pounded him for keeping the information. For making it such hard work to get out. “Who?”
“Your king.”
Strath let out a growl, pushing the blade enough to sting but not cause any real damage. Belfinch howled all the same, wrenching against the shackles. If Strath weren’t careful, the man would impale himself on the blasted dagger.
“Ye’re a lying bastard! The king didna take Northwyck’s wife! I’ll give ye one more chance to explain.”
“But he did! She’s his cousin!”
“What?” At that, Strath’s anger cleared. Had he heard correctly?
“Lady Northwyck’s mother is sister to Robert the Bruce’s mother.”
“This is absurd.”
Belfinch started to laugh, an uproarious maniacal sound. Mad… “But it is the truth. And you know it. The Lindsays are powerful, and you know they are related to the king. Do you not see? The king sent you to stop me from tormenting his relation’s husband. He sent you to find out whether the lass lived because we sent a rumor north that Eva was dead. That was what this was all abou
t. ”
“It was about the Scottish people,” Strath insisted, tasting bitterness on his tongue.
Why could his king not have been honest with him? Did he not trust him with the truth? Why didn’t Eva tell him she was a bloody royal—did she even know? So many questions swirled through his mind. And then he thought about the fact that his men had judged her solely on being wholly English when in fact half her blood was Scots.
And dear God, the lass didn’t know the truth about her mother. The letter she’d received had been real. Her father had lied. So many questions… Burning most of all: why had her cousin, the King of Scotland, not sent for his relations in England?
Belfinch’s laughter continued, and Strath’s patience had come to an end. He shut the man up with a hard knock to the head. The English bastard slumped to the ground, laughter silenced at least for now.
“My laird,” Tomaidh said.
Strath shook his head. “Not now.” He left the dungeon by way of the ladder, and Tomaidh followed. They pulled up the ladder, leaving Belfinch where he was, unable to escape.
Mo chreach… His mind tumbled back to Eva.
She had no idea.
Strath wanted to punch a wall. He marched back toward the great hall but found it empty.
Tomaidh followed but far enough behind to give him the space he’d requested.
“Tomaidh,” he said, turning around. “What am I going to tell her?”
“Tell her about what?” Uncle Jamie came toward them.
“Bloody hell,” Strath grumbled. “We’d best go somewhere private.”
In his uncle’s study, he explained what had happened in the dungeon, and Jamie, too, was left quite speechless.
“The king not telling ye everything has nothing to do with trust, lad. There is something deeper here. Darker.”
“Like what?”
“I dinna know.”
“Do ye think my da knows?”
Jamie shook his head. “He would have told ye, even if the king swore him to secrecy. Your da trusts ye and wouldna have wanted ye to go into this mission blind.”
Strath let out a breath. “That’s true.”
“When ye sent word to the king of Belfinch’s capture, I sent word to your Da. He is not far, should be here by morning.”