Mercy’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Her head tilted to one side and her lower lip quivered as she studied him. With a sudden hard dip of her chin, she released his hand, took a step back, then withdrew his dagger from its concealed spot between her breasts. She held it out. “I shall wait until you call for me. I shouldn’t have treated your wishes so lightly.”
Graham stared at the sgian dhu, warring with his emotions. She understood. He shook his head and pressed it back to her. “Put it back where I placed it, lass. In case ye need it.”
With an obedient nod, Mercy tucked the knife back in place. As Graham pulled the door open and moved to step out into the hall, she caught hold of his arm. “If you get yourself killed, I swear to God Almighty that I shall cross over after you and tan your arse. And my brother and mother will be there to help me. Understood?”
An even deeper appreciation for this rare woman flooded through him, nearly taking him to his knees. Graham chuckled. “Aye, m’love. Understood.”
Chapter Twenty
Mercy bolted the door behind Graham, then hurried to the bench in front of the window. Hiking her skirted pantalettes up to her knees, she crawled up onto the window ledge and perched in one of the casings. With a tight hold to the iron supports surrounding the panes of glass, she leaned out as far as she could. If only their chamber was at the front of the keep rather than located in the rear wing of the stronghold overlooking the mountains. And it was full on nighttime by now. Granted, the sliver of moon shone bright, and not a cloud hid the stars, but she still couldn’t see a blasted thing. She strained to pick up on any noise that might give her more information.
No shouting. No metal on metal. No gunfire. That gave her some comfort. She slid back down to the window seat and fisted her hands in her lap. She had half a mind to sneak down and spy from the staircase, but she couldn’t. Not in good conscience. She had told Graham she would wait for him here. So, wait for him she would.
“I am a fool for saying such,” she said to the room in general.
She jumped up from the seat, poured herself a glass of honeyed wine, and downed it. Smacking her lips, she eyed the bottle of port. Better not. It took very little port to make her head reel.
Depending on what developed downstairs, she most certainly needed to keep her wits about her. She poured another glass of wine and took to pacing. As she walked back and forth across the room, she smiled at the awareness of a subtle soreness with every step. She was a true wife now. A moment of happiness thrilled through her. Perhaps they’d even seeded a child already. Her cheeks heated. Their love had peaked many times. She’d never imagined such sensations, such feelings.
The door rattled, startling her out of her musings. She froze in place, holding her breath, hand pressed to her chest to draw the dagger.
“’Tis me, lass. Open the door.”
A noisy exhale escaped her. Graham. Thank God. She rushed to undo the latch and open the door. “You’ve returned so soon! Good news, I pray?”
Graham’s dark look dashed her excitement.
“Tell me,” she said, taking hold of both his hands. “Are we under attack?”
“Not yet.” He motioned her toward the hall and extended his arm for her to take. “But we soon will be if we dinna piss out this wee flame threatening to blow into a bonfire.”
They rushed down the hallway. Energy surged through her, making it difficult to breathe. As they hurried down the staircase, Mercy steadied herself by sliding her hand along the rough surface of the stone wall. Her heart pounded into her throat. She swallowed hard to keep it from strangling her. What threatened them now? Had father sent more men? Had he unleashed the Campbells? “What flame, Graham? Are the Campbells about to attack?”
“They have reported ye as kidnapped.” They reached the first level of the keep and Graham picked up the pace, turning them toward the great hall. “His Majesty’s guard as well as Campbell’s regiment have been dispatched to recover ye and they’ve been informed to give no quarter.”
Mercy stopped in her tracks. “Kill any and all in their path?” She closed her eyes, pulled in deep breaths, and struggled not to sob out her fury. “How could they?”
Graham steadied her, holding her close. “Dinna give up hope, lass. Soldiers from Fort William are here to investigate. ’Tis the Earl of Crestshire’s regiment. He is friend to us. Fostered with the MacCoinnichs for several years before my clan fell ill. He and Alexander are like brothers.”
The faintest hope flickered within her, easing the panic. “So, His Majesty suspects the report of kidnapping to be a ruse?”
“It is our hope.” Graham halted as they reached the last stone archway, the entrance to the great hall. “We will get through this, love,” he reassured with a kiss to her temple.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing with all her might. His warmth, his strength, the steady beating of his heart against her lips, steadied her. “I love you,” she whispered.
His arms tightened around her even more. “I love ye, too, m’dear sweet lass. Love ye more than ye’ll ever ken.”
Mercy eased out of Graham’s embrace, smoothed her clothes, and lifted her chin. “I am ready.”
Mercy assumed the pleasant demeanor Mama had taught her. One must never appear vulnerable. If the enemy senses it, your weakness will grow, and you will be conquered. Mama had survived so much. Mercy would honor her memory by surviving. They entered the great hall and alarm pulsed through her.
“Janie,” she said from between clenched teeth in a voice for Graham alone.
Janie, wide-eyed, and red-cheeked, stood slightly behind the tall, broad-shouldered commander. Janie’s hands twisted into trembling fists in front of her waist. With her red hair mussed and clothing smudged and torn, the maid looked worse for her alliance with those who would see Mercy fall.
The commander, immaculate not only in his uniform but with perfect blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, stepped forward and bowed. “Lord Crestshire at your service, Lady Claxton. It is my upmost pleasure to meet you.”
“Actually, Lord Crestshire, my name is now MacCoinnich, but you may address me as Lady Mercy.” She gave a slight curtsy along with a reserved smile. Graham had named the man as friend, but she’d decide for herself whether he warranted that designation.
Crestshire gave a curt nod, and his military stance appeared to relax. He gave Graham a genuine smile and then shared it with her. “Congratulations to you both, Lady Mercy. May God bless you with a long, happy life together.”
“My husband tells me I have been reported kidnapped.” She riveted her stern glare on Janie. “Who filed such a report?”
Janie jerked, then lowered her gaze to the floor. “Not me, mistress. I’ve done nothing but try to prove to you I would never wrong you. I swear it.” The girl’s voice trembled. “I’m here to help you any way I can.”
Graham squeezed Mercy’s arm. “The lass speaks the truth. We judged her poorly. Hear what Crestshire has to say.”
Crestshire motioned toward Janie. “Miss Hughson came to the garrison and refused to leave until I granted her a meeting.” He stepped back, took hold of Janie’s arm, and walked her forward until she stood in front of Mercy. “She reported all that had happened during your trip through the Highlands, including the attack by the miscreants hired by Lord Edsbury. Your husband confirmed everything she said.” He looked first at Graham, then at Duncan who had taken a stance to Mercy’s right. “She also attested to the protection given by these two MacCoinnichs.” Amusement softened his stern demeanor. “But she failed to tell me you had married one of them.”
“I didn’t know she married him. I only knew she loved Master MacCoinnich.” Janie gave a dismissive shrug. “I knew she wasn’t pretending like her father told her to.”
Mercy had treated her so badly. Misjudging poor Janie.
Mercy held out both hands. “Can you ever forgive me?”
Janie slid her hands into hers.
“I understand why you acted as you did. Especially after everyone turned on you.” She squeezed Mercy’s hands. “I hope you know I’d never betray you, m’lady. Never.”
Mercy pulled Janie into a tight hug. “I am very sorry, Janie.” She blinked hard against the threat of tears as she took hold of Janie’s shoulders and squeezed. “But you’re here now, and here you will stay—if you wish it.”
“Oh yes, m’lady.” The frazzled weariness fell away from Janie, replaced by a vibrant, joyous glow. “I was hoping you’d ask me to stay. I’ve nowhere else to go.”
Catriona stepped forward. After a nod and smile toward Mercy, she waved one of the kitchen maids forward to stand beside Janie. “Jenny, this is Janie Hughson. Help her get cleaned up and settled in, so she can serve her mistress properly.”
“Yes, m’lady.” Jenny bobbed in place, then took Janie by the arm and led her away.
“I feel so badly about the way I treated her.” Mercy watched her maid hurry away at Jenny’s side, both girls already chatting as though they were fast friends.
“Ye had no way of knowing,” Catriona said. “Not after the way the rest of them betrayed ye.” She turned aside. “A curse on every one of them.”
“They’re doomed for certain now.” Alexander took hold of his wife’s arm and hugged her to his side. He grinned at Mercy and the rest of those gathered.
Catriona smiled. “Cook said supper’s ready. Sit and eat whilst ye plan your battle.”
Battle. The word sent a chill clear to the marrow of Mercy’s bones.
“Easy, lass,” Graham said, his deep, calming tone soothing her. “We have the beginnings of a plan.” He led her to her seat, then took the chair beside her.
“That we do,” Lord Crestshire agreed. “This very evening, I shall send an urgent missive notifying His Majesty of your happiness, your willingness, and your obvious consent to be Graham’s wife.” Crestshire folded his hands above his plate, casually observing as a servant reached in between him and Duncan to fill his wine glass. “But I have concerns. I fear it will not be enough for the king to call off his guards or the Campbells.” He shifted with a deep inhale. “King William does not like to be made to look the fool, even when he is wrong.”
Mercy agreed. Memories of her family’s dealings with the king, both personal and public, validated Lord Crestshire’s observations. “Lord Crestshire is right. King William never admits when he’s wrong.”
“Ye could go to France,” Catriona suggested. “Surely, he’d leave ye be there. He’s too busy warring with the French and doesna have money to spare. He’d no’ have the time to send Campbell chasing after ye.”
“But he could send Campbell here,” Mercy replied, looking to Alexander at the head of the table as she did so. She could tell by his expression that he’d thought the same thing but just hadn’t said it aloud. “I have to find a way to convince King William to accept my marriage and call Campbell off.”
“You shall be hard pressed to do that, m’lady,” Captain Marsden said from farther down the table. “There is the matter of the betrothal His Highness arranged for you. He is sure to be most displeased when he discovers his plans will not come to fruition and will have to notify all concerned that the betrothal is off.”
Mercy bowed her head and massaged her temples, willing it all to go away and leave her to the happiness of her new life. A dismal, sickening realization came to her. “I have to go back,” she whispered without lifting her head.
“What?” Graham leaned in close, took her hand, and squeezed. “Go back where?”
“To court.” Mercy took a deep breath and stared at the center of the table. It was the only way. “I shall seek a private audience with the king.” She turned to Graham, wishing she could stay here forever. “He’s never denied me any requests in the past.”
Graham raked a hand through his hair, still loose about his shoulders. He looked a wild, untamable warrior, and she loved him for it. “I dinna like that at all. What about your father?”
“If King William listens to me and calls off Campbell, that should silence my father as well.” She gave Graham a sad smile and brushed a finger along the day’s growth of stubble along his jaw. He’d been clean shaven when he’d taken her to their marriage bed. “Few will listen to a penniless duke banned from court and His Majesty’s presence.” She almost added that her father might finally understand all that she, her mother, and her brother had endured, but she knew better.
“Would ye accompany us, Edward?” Alexander asked, his calm focus sliding over to Lord Crestshire.
“What?” Mercy interrupted before Lord Crestshire could answer. “This is not your concern, Chieftain MacCoinnich. In fact, if I could find a way to do so, Graham would stay here and I would go alone.”
“Ye no longer bear the burden of being one in this world, m’love. We are one together, ye ken?” Graham said.
“Well said, brother. And let us make something else clear whilst we’re about it.” Alexander leaned forward, his scrutiny pinned on Mercy. “I’m no’ Chieftain MacCoinnich to ye, good sister. I’m your brother, Alexander, ye ken?” He waited for Mercy to acknowledge his words. “And I’ll also add that a MacCoinnich never fights alone. Your battle is our battle as well.”
“If I could come along, I would,” Catriona said. “But I willna take my babies into such dangers, nor will I leave them to the nursemaid as yet.” Catriona smiled. “But dinna doubt for a moment if Willa and William were older, I’d no’ hesitate to travel at your side.”
“Will ye come with us then, Edward?” Graham asked. “I dinna care overmuch for the pomp and foolery of court. An Englishman at my side might help.”
“I doubt that,” Lord Crestshire said with a snort. “But I will go and do my best to keep you from getting into trouble.”
Graham scratched his chin, squinting as he stared off into nothingness. “Even with the best horses, ’twill take us at least a sennight or more to get to London. And that’s at a hard, steady ride with but a few hours of rest each day—just enough for the horses’ needs.” He kissed Mercy’s hand, released it, and reached for his tankard. “Do ye ken the whereabouts of Campbell and the king’s guard? And how many? I dinna care overmuch about leaving Tor Ruadh to the wolves.”
“We can defend ourselves just fine, brother,” Catriona said. She glared at Graham as she reached over and rested her hand atop Alexander’s arm. “MacCoinnich warriors will guard us well and keep us safe. I grant ye that.”
Mercy made to sip at her wine but didn’t attempt to eat. Emotions threatened to overcome her. Her new family overwhelmed her with their caring. They’d been complete strangers only days ago, but now they were willing to risk everything to protect her. They’d taken her in and embraced her. Treated her with an accepting love she hadn’t experienced since Mama and Akio.
A tear escaped and raced a hot trail down her cheek. She swiped it away, sniffing to prevent anymore from falling.
Catriona jumped up from her seat and raced around the table to hug her. “Dinna cry, lass. We’ll get through this, and soon our wee bairns will be tumbling and playing across the heather together.”
The men shifted in their seats, giving each other uncomfortable glances, and taking deep draughts of their ale. They could plan battles and killing all day long, but not one of them had the courage to face a woman in tears.
“I’m fine.” Mercy sniffed as she patted Catriona’s hand still on her shoulder. “Thank you so much, dear sister.”
“Think nothing of it, lass. Ye’re our own now.” Catriona hugged her one last time, then returned to her seat.
“So, Lord Crestshire.” Mercy sat taller and fixed the commander with a polite smile. “As my husband asked, how many men are we dealing with?”
“I’d say about a hundred men. Campbell’s regiment is only about fifty or so now. They broke off from Argyll’s six hundred after Glencoe. The king’s guard is massive but are dedicated to other causes.” He took a healthy swallow from
his tankard, then supported his assessment with a slow nod. “They have already made their way into Scotland, but I received a report they’ve been instructed to report to Fort William before coming here. That will work to our advantage. They can be delayed there while we seek an audience with His Majesty.”
“Can we be ready by morning?” Mercy looked to Graham, then turned to Alexander. “We must make haste.”
“Aye, lass,” Alexander said.
“Then tomorrow it is,” Graham said. “The sooner we end this, the better.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“But how can we refuse her?”
“We tell her she is to wait here. Simple as that.” Graham turned and glared at the her in question—Janie, perched on the back of a sturdy mare.
Fidgeting with the reins, the maid looked as though she feared the horse would unseat her at first opportunity. He didna like that girl. Nor did he trust her no matter what she or Mercy said. His gut told him loud and clear, the lass was trouble.
Graham jabbed a thumb in her direction. “Look at her. Scared to death. Does she even ken how to ride?”
“She can ride.” Mercy glanced at Janie, and a faint cringe betrayed her lie. “She’ll be fine. What better way to hone her skills?”
May God have mercy on his soul; he’d married an impossibly stubborn woman. Graham widened his stance and folded his arms across his chest. They didn’t have the luxury of time to argue over something as inconsequential as that maid. Mercy needed to leave go of this ill-conceived idea. “Six riders is plenty. We dinna need to slow our pace by adding a seventh. Especially one that canna ride.”
Mercy glared back at him. “I will not set her aside again. She wishes to resume her position. A position she’s earned with loyalty, even though she wasn’t believed.”
“Ye dinna need a lady’s maid on a hard ride across Scotland and England. There’ll be no tents. No dressing gowns. And no time for extended ablutions.” He motioned for Alexander, but his coward-of-a-brother shook his head, held up a hand to fend off any words, and walked faster in the opposite direction.
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