by Caroline Lee
Liam sighed and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest and frowning at both MacLeods, as if blaming them for his situation.
Well, it is yer fault, lass.
Charlotte’s lips twitched at the thought.
When Elizabeth sank down onto the cushion-covered chair, it was hard for Charlotte to remember she wasn’t in a throne room. It was also hard to remember the woman had spent the last eight years in near-solitary confinement in England; she was just as poised and elegant as she ever was.
Tosh and a few black-clad men carried Liam’s men up to the dais, and were preparing to arrange them on the floor, when the Queen spoke.
“Release them. I will hear from them myself,” she commanded.
Everyone froze. Elizabeth’s demand countered Tav’s, and Tosh glanced at Charlotte for instructions.
She swallowed again, resisting the urge to look to Liam for a hint or suggestion. Releasing the Queen’s bodyguards would put Charlotte and her men at a severe disadvantage, and if Elizabeth planned to take revenge for their attack, that would be the perfect time to do it.
On the other hand, Charlotte had been at fault, and the woman was her liege’s wife.
So she nodded to Tosh, who shrugged and sliced the bonds on the man he was carrying.
For better or worse, the die was cast.
Chapter 6
As soon as Ross’s boots hit the deck, Liam lunged toward him, grabbing the other man’s shoulders and helping to keep him upright. He was bleeding from a cut on his hairline, and was blinking woozily around him, but for the most part, he still seemed to be whole.
Murtaugh was unconscious, and Liam found himself praying it was from a blow to his head, rather than any unseen blood loss. Tearlach surged to his feet and stood between the pirates and his brother, his dirk held in his left hand as his right hung awkwardly. Broken?
But it was Finn who worried Liam the most. The youngest of their team thrashed against his bonds, his threats and curses muffled by the length of MacLeod plaid shoved in his mouth. Apparently, the pirates had grown weary of his voice.
When he was freed, Finn launched himself at Tosh, going from horizontal to vertical with all the speed and grace of youth. Arms outstretched, he seemed ready to strangle the pirate when Liam stopped him.
“Finn!” He used his voice as a whip, knowing the lad would remember his training. “Stand down. The Queen,” he snapped, knowing Finn would understand.
He did. The lad halted his attack, glared at Tosh—who appeared more than a little amused by the threat—and dropped his palms to his empty sheaths, before moving to stand beside the Queen.
Liam took a deep breath, his eyes darting around their little scene. His men were alive and accounted for, and in a position to protect Elizabeth if something went wrong.
If Charlotte betrayed them all.
But she’d been in power, and there’d been no good reason for her to cut loose his men and give up that power, unless she meant what she’d said to the Queen. She really was only here to talk.
And so, when Elizabeth settled herself in her chair and raised an imperious brow at Charlotte, he moved to stand beside the woman he loved.
He might not be able to protect her from Elizabeth’s wrath, and he might not be able to offer her comfort for whatever had pushed her to this course of action, but he could be there for her all the same.
What had she’d said about her time at Finlaggan?
Being told what a miserable piece of garbage I was.
His rage, at hearing those words spoken so neutrally, as if she’d long-ago accepted the affront, had been near overwhelming. Then, to hear her admit the marriage contract her father had made was voided because she wasn’t a virgin…
Cold had slammed into him, at the realization of how John MacDonald had known that.
When Charlotte took a deep breath, her shoulder brushed against his, but she didn’t glance his way, and he resisted the urge to touch her further.
Losing control in front of the Queen once had been enough.
“Yer Majesty, last autumn, regardless of what happened…between Liam and myself…” She shook her head and cleared her throat. “My father made a marriage contract with the MacDonald of Finlaggan, selling me to his youngest son. I am no’ my father’s only daughter, no’ even his eldest. My sister made an advantageous marriage two years ago, and I’d lost my value to him as an alliance broker.”
It was impossible not to hear the bitterness in her voice when she spoke of her father’s attitudes. Liam was relieved it hadn’t been there when she’d referenced what had passed between the two of them, but perhaps that was intentional.
What was interesting was the Queen’s response. Liam knew good and well she’d had an arranged marriage with Robert twelve years ago as an alliance between her father, the Earl of Ulster and good friend to King Edward of England, and the then-Earl of Carrick.
But despite her similar history, Elizabeth watched Charlotte dispassionately, not revealing her thoughts on the story she was being told.
“In an effort to facilitate the match, Da rushed me off to Finlaggan. Once there, I discovered I was to be treated as little more than—”
Her voice caught then, and when Tav stepped toward her—to offer support?—she shook her head and took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin.
“My betrothed had nae use for me, nor any other woman, other than what lay between our legs. He told me so many times. He also did no’ bother hiding his sins, thinking me incapable of understanding.”
Slowly, Elizabeth moved, until her elbows were resting on the arms of the chair, and her fingers were laced before her. “You mentioned treason?”
Charlotte took another deep breath. “Aye, Yer Majesty. John MacDonald collaborated with the English prior to Bannockburn. He was in correspondence with the Warden of the Marches, discussing Scottish strengths and weaknesses. After his death during the battle, John contacted the Earl of Surrey, who now holds that position, and requested gold in exchange for his knowledge.”
The silence stretched between the two women. Finally, Elizabeth ducked her chin. “I have been away for eight long years, but even I know how powerful the MacDonalds can be—both as an ally, and as an enemy. Accusing even a younger son of treason should not be done lightly. Ye have evidence of this?”
Tavish stepped forward again, holding a carved casket in his hands. Behind him, his illegitimate son—the lad staring wide-eyed at the Queen—looked taller than the last time Liam had seen him.
And as angry as it made Liam to think of his friend subjecting the innocent lad to such dangers, he had to admit his own father had taken him reiving at the same age. He and Tav had become friends during his time on Lewes, and he didn’t like to think he’d lost Tav’s regard for good.
But as long as he could regain Charlotte’s, that’s what mattered most.
From the casket, Charlotte removed an oilskin packet, then nodded to her brother. Tavish waited a long moment before returning the nod, then tossed the empty wooden box to his son and stepped back to rest with his hands crossed atop his sword’s hilt.
Charlotte took a deep breath as she stared down at the packet in her hand, then turned and presented it to the Queen. “His letters, Yer Majesty. He bragged of their existence, so before I fled to Lewes, I stole them.”
Dispassionately, the Queen took the packet and removed the letters, flicking two of them open at random. Liam couldn’t read her expression.
When she finished reading those two letters, she opened another, then another. In all cases, she took care to examine the signature at the bottom of the letter.
She revealed nothing.
Finally, she hummed and stacked the letters on her lap, atop the oilskin packet. She laced her fingers in front of her chin, and peered at Charlotte. “Earlier, you said John MacDonald discovered your lack of maidenhead. How?”
Damn the consequences!
When the Queen asked wh
at he wanted—needed—to know, Liam stepped forward to stand beside Charlotte once more. There was a moment, just a heartbeat, when he thought she might sink against him and take advantage of his strength.
But she wouldn’t be Charlotte if she didn’t meet her troubles head on.
His love kept her attention on the Queen, and Elizabeth’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’m waiting, Lady Charlotte.”
Finally, Charlotte looked away, but only to sweep her gaze over the gathered audience. All men. He read the significance in that look, and his heart began to slam against his ribs.
What had the bastard done to her?
When the Queen didn’t rescind her order, Charlotte didn’t back down. Of course not. She lifted her chin and met the other woman’s eyes, as if to say, Ye’ll force me to say it in front of these strangers? Aye, then.
“He raped me.”
Liam jerked as if hit, and without looking, Charlotte reached for his hand.
To hell with that! He wanted to wrap his arms—his body! His soul!—around her, and swear to her he’d protect her, he’d avenge her.
It wasn’t until she squeezed his hand that he realized she was comforting him.
“He bled for that particular sin, Yer Majesty, and I donae think he’ll force himself on an unwilling lass again.” When she shrugged, Liam could see the forced nonchalance in her posture. “Afterwards, I stole the letters and escaped. I kenned I needed to get them to Scone, but the only one who would take me was my—my brother, Tavish.” She didn’t look at the man in question, still trying to protect the Black Banner’s identity. “So I went to Lewes, and then to Scone, before Da realized I was gone. When we returned in failure, my father told me the marriage contract was still valid.”
It was not proper to speak while the Queen was deliberating, but to hell with propriety!
Liam gave into the urge he’d been fighting since her announcement, and pulled her into his arms. She didn’t fight him, thank God, but allowed him to offer her what comfort he could.
“I’ll make him pay, lass,” he said, under his breath. “Ye’ll no’ marry anyone but me.”
It was a vow he hoped he could fulfill. Their fate would be up to Elizabeth at this point.
Charlotte raised her head from his shoulder and took a deep breath. The sorrow in her eyes told him she knew that fact just as well as he did.
She was the one who looked away first, cutting her eyes toward the regal woman on the dais. Liam swallowed down his sigh and followed her gaze.
Liam respected Elizabeth and her husband, the King, and had pledged his loyalty to the Crown. But he loved Charlotte, and prayed he wouldn’t have to choose between his two loyalties again. Almost a year ago, he’d put his loyalty to his liege above his loyalty to his heart, and it caused Charlotte untold grief. He couldn’t do it again.
The Queen tapped the letters against her palm, as she stared at the two of them, and Liam couldn’t read her expression. She was just as intelligent and cunning as Charlotte.
Would she understand Charlotte’s desperation, and the drastic measures she felt she had no choice but to take, and overlook them?
Or would she hold Charlotte accountable for the crimes she’d committed today?
How could Liam do anything but stand with Charlotte, knowing what that bastard MacDonald had done to her?
He tightened his hold on Charlotte’s shoulders.
Finally, Elizabeth hummed. “I have been held prisoner for eight long years, and I have not seen my husband. We are to be reunited after we land at Oban. I am hopeful today’s delay can be made up, once you and your pirates have left us in peace.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to respond, but Liam squeezed her in warning, and she remained silent.
The Queen inclined her head just slightly, as if in approval.
“Once I am reunited with Robert, I presume there will be quite a few topics we’ll want to discuss, though the possible punishment of a traitor shall be low on that list, I’m sure. However,” she said, cutting off Charlotte’s objection, “I will get around to sharing this evidence with him.”
Under his arm, Charlotte seemed to shrink as she exhaled in relief.
“Ye will take the letters, Yer Majesty?”
Liam understood the question. Although he hadn’t seen them, those letters represented Charlotte’s entire evidence against the man who’d attacked her. By giving them to the Queen, by trusting her to follow through on the prosecution, Charlotte was giving up her only weapon.
But then Liam remembered how well she’d fought—how she’d held him at sword-point and threatened his life—and his lips twitched.
Mayhap not her only weapon.
Elizabeth was already folding the parchment back into the oilskin packet, and once she was through, she lifted her chin and swept her gaze around the gathered men—guards and pirates both. “I will take this evidence, and I will make it known to my husband, the King. The decision lies with him, but I am vowing to all of you gathered here today, MacDonald’s true nature will be made known.”
Charlotte breathed another sigh of relief and dipped her head in acknowledgment.
“Da will no’ force me to marry a traitor,” she murmured, and he wasn’t sure if the words had been meant to reassure him, or herself.
He twisted her in his arms once more until they were facing one another, and lifted her chin with one finger. “Angel,” he said seriously, “ye will no’ marry John MacDonald. Ye’ll no’ marry any man but me. I swear it.”
She met his eyes, and the cautious hope he saw in their dark depths made him ache over what she’d been through in the last year.
“I love ye,” he whispered, wanting her to remember that.
“Liam!” The Queen’s voice cut through the moment he shared with Charlotte, causing Liam to jerk upright. “Release her!”
As much as he wanted to kiss Charlotte again, there was no need…not after his vow. So he nodded once and stepped back, his hands still on his love’s shoulders, as if he could offer her support from a distance.
Elizabeth stood, the skirts of her ornate gown swirling around her. “Charlotte MacLeod, I have given you my word your King will learn of John MacDonald’s treachery. I have not stated what will become of you. You have attacked my vessel, threatened the lives and limbs of my guards and men, and forced me into a most difficult position.” Her eyes narrowed. “Your actions today…” She swept her gaze over the gathered men, lingering on Tav and Tosh. “Your actions were dangerous at best, treasonous at worst. You could pay with your lives, and if my husband demands it, I—a mere woman—can not gainsay him.”
The silence which met her words was so deep, Liam could hear Charlotte’s shallow breaths.
Elizabeth’s poise and cold glare were the very definition of regal. “You will leave now. You will leave immediately— Nay, do not even bid my bodyguard your goodbyes,” she hurried to amend her command as Liam attempted to draw Charlotte closer. “You will leave now, and if you are very lucky, you’ll not hear from myself or my husband again.”
Beside him, Charlotte swallowed, met his eyes, then flicked her gaze away again. She placed her palm over her heart, lowered herself in a bow—she would’ve looked ridiculous attempting to curtsey without skirts—and stepped toward the rail.
Tav, who was frowning—although just in general, not at Liam in particular—nodded to Tosh and grabbed his son Dane by the back of the lad’s black shirt.
“Get the men on board,” Tavish commanded. “We’re leaving now. Yer Majesty.” He nodded in deference. “Liam.”
And before Liam could nod in return, before he could draw Charlotte back into his arms and tell her he loved her again, the Black Banner’s men were back on their own birlinn and rowing away.
Charlotte stood at the bow, facing him, as the boat retreated in the distance.
Never once did she lift her hand in farewell.
Chapter 7
A fortnight later
* * *
C
harlotte folded her hands in her lap and did her best to emulate her mother. Despite her age, Lady MacLeod still sat straight and elegant, the picture of propriety and grace.
It was enough to make a wild lass such as Charlotte roll her eyes.
Tonight, Mother sat quietly with her head bowed, listening to Da rant about ungrateful children and unruly women who will wind up in hell. No one at the supper table—or in the great hall—could mistake who he meant, but few disagreed. Charlotte’s brother’s wives were just as biddable and sweet as Mother, and Tav wasn’t in attendance.
After their adventure in the Western Isles, Tavish had returned her to Lewes. Not because she wanted to be subjected to her father’s whims or—even worse!—forced to return to the MacDonalds. Nay, Charlotte had gone home because she knew, if Liam had been telling the truth about his feelings for her and his attempts to contact her, Lewes would be the only place he’d know to look.
As her father gestured emphatically with a leg of mutton, Charlotte tucked her chin near her chest—hoping it would make her seem subdued—and frowned in thought.
A fortnight ago, she’d been in Liam’s arms once more, if only for a moment. She’d tasted him, held him, breathed in his scent. It was what she’d longed to do, what she’d given up hope of ever experiencing again.
She’d mourned her lost love for a time. But then she’d pulled herself up and reminded herself the world hadn’t ended when she’d thought Liam had abandoned her. She’d reminded herself she was strong and capable, and would never be yoked to a cruel man like John MacDonald.
Aye, she’d done all that, and more, when Liam had abandoned her.
But now, it turned out he hadn’t.
And she was still getting used to that.
Despite what she’d told herself for the last few weeks, seeing him—kissing him!—proved she’d never stopped loving him. She loved Liam Bruce, and for the first time in months, she harbored hope they’d be able to have a future together.