Highland Hope by Julie Johnstone
Nineteen
Eve’s stomach knotted as Royce stood before her, telling her what had occurred and repeatedly tugging his hands through his hair in a clearly agitated gesture. When he finished, he paused and gave her an agonized look as her mind replayed his summary of the past hour’s events. It hurt her that his clan needed proof she was being truthful, but she understood why, and she understood the position he was in.
“Eve,” he sounded as tortured as he looked at her, which gave her some small comfort, “I would nae need proof, ye know this, aye? I trust what ye have told me. But the clan…”
They didn’t trust her yet. She’d lied, and though Royce understood, he knew things of her past the clan did not know, and she did not think it would matter to them anyway. They needed concrete proof.
“You believe me?” she whispered, her heart pounding.
“Aye, Eve. Completely, which is why I’ll go fetch the wine from Eolande and have ye drink from the horn if ye agree. I’d nae ever subject ye to a public examination.”
“I agree,” she whispered.
He enfolded her in his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “This will be over by the morrow, and then we will be wed. I’ve set Clyde to guard yer door. Stay within, aye? Sotherby and his men have been locked in the dungeon, but I’d feel better if ye stayed in yer bedchamber.”
She nodded. “I’ll be right here when you return.”
“All I’m saying,” Elena said, making Royce grit his teeth so hard that pain shot through his jaw, “is that ye did nae have to make either choice.”
Royce jerked around to face Elena. “Ye have said that at least a hundred times on the trek to Eolande. Remind me why I allowed ye to come.”
Elena glowered. “I insisted and ye got tired of arguing with me. And I’ve said it a hundred times because ye’re nae hearing me.”
Royce flicked his gaze to the five other guards with them, a silent order to fall back. He would allow his sister to challenge his decision but in private. The guards fell back, and he motioned to Elena. “Speak yer piece, then do nae speak of this again, aye?”
“Aye,” Elena agreed and took a deep breath, indicating she had quite the speech to give. “Ye are laird. If ye declare what ye will do, the clan may rumble, but they will follow yer order because they trust ye. Ye have earned it.”
“I ken this,” he said, impatient. “But it will take them much longer to accept her that way. It will cause strife in the clan.” Elena gave him a disbelieving look, which made a tic start at Royce’s right eye. “Do nae give me that look.” The look only deepened, and he had to count to ten to keep his temper. “’Tis my duty to put the clan first, above myself, my desires, my wishes—” He stopped, images of his life with Lara suddenly filling his head. Leaving. He’d always been leaving to fulfill clan duties. And even when he’d been home, he’d had never-ending duties that he had put first, as his da had instructed him to do, and yet… “Da always put Mam above everyone.”
Elena smirked at him. “Men are so slow to learn. I do nae know why Da never simply smacked ye on the head and told ye nae to take his instructions so literally.”
“God’s teeth,” Royce said, scrubbing a hand across his face, his blood now moving swiftly through his veins. “I need to put her first above the clan.”
“Aye,” Elena said, smirking. “And before ye go letting guilt hit ye for Lara, her reaction to ye always putting yer own and her needs after clan duties should nae have been to betray ye. It’s time, Royce, for ye to balance clan needs with yer own, yer daughters’, and yer wife’s needs, aye?”
“Aye. Let’s return home. I believe Eve completely, and the best way to prove it to her is for there to be no drinking from the horn and no examination. The clan may rumble, but they will eventually accept her, and I’ll be by her side to support her every moment. The last use of the Luran’s horn will be for another time, one when I do nae know in my heart that I already have the truth.”
Eve awoke to a hand clamped over her mouth, and then the faces of Danaria and Clyde appeared in the moonlight of Eve’s bedchamber. She reacted by trying to jerk up, only to discover her hands and feet were bound. Her heart jolted, and she darted her gaze to the door, which was firmly shut.
Clyde shook his head. “Everyone trusts me to guard ye, Lady Eve,” he said, her name a snarl on his lips, “so there will nae be anyone coming for ye.”
Danaria grinned down at Eve, the woman’s eyes glittering maliciously in the dancing slashes of pale light. “When Royce returns, I’ll comfort him, of course, as he’ll be distraught that ye would flee him with yer husband. And since it must seem as if ye came here for a reason other than to escape yer husband, I will tell him ye were spying for yer husband and the English king, trying to find out what plans were afoot for attacking more English borders. It will be easy enough for Royce and the rest of the clan to believe that yer husband thought he could plant ye here to do so. I’m doing ye a favor, ye English ban-druidh. Clyde here wanted to push ye from the cliff. He has a habit of that.”
“Shut yer mouth,” Clyde hissed.
Danaria grinned. “It dunnae matter if she knows ye pushed Lara to her death. The lass will be gone.”
Eve shivered at the revelation.
Clyde looked as if he wanted to murder Danaria. “Lara was a scared fool after Royce caught her playing him false. She feared not telling him all her sins against him. I could nae let her confess that I’d bedded her,” he said, agitation in his voice. “Royce would have banished me, or worse, and I deserve to be captain of the guards for life.”
“Quit yer whining,” Danaria snapped. “I told ye after I saw ye push her that I’d keep yer secret as long as ye helped me win Royce for myself, and now ye are finally aiding me. Do nae say ye do nae gain pleasure in it. I know ye are jealous of him. Always have been.”
Clyde scowled. “He’s too high and mighty. I wish I could tell him I bedded his wife so he’d know that just because he’s laird, it dunnae mean he always gets everything.”
Danaria looked to Eve once more. “Poor Clyde wanted to wed Lara before she wed Royce, ye see, but she betrayed him by agreeing to Royce’s hand when it was offered by Lara’s father. Lara was given a choice—rare for a woman—and she wanted power, to be a future laird’s wife instead of the wife of a mere guard. I do think she fell in love with Royce truly, but he did nae ever give her the attention she needed.”
“Shut yer mouth, Danaria,” Clyde growled again.
“Fine, fine,” Danaria said with a wave of her hand. “Let us just do what we’re tasked with, aye? We’ll hand her over to her husband, and in return, ye’ll be given yer own castle and gold. Ye’ll finally be equal to Royce, as ye’ve long thought ye should be, and I’ll finally have the chance to become his wife.”
Eve’s stomach dropped as Danaria revealed their plan.
“I only get the gold if I give the man the egg and list,” Clyde said, and they both stared down at her. “I’m going to remove my hand,” he said to Eve, “but if ye scream, I swear I’ll knock ye out.”
Eve nodded, her heart racing. The moment the man’s hand left her mouth, she gasped in a ragged breath and said, “I don’t have the egg or the list.”
Clyde smacked her so hard her lip split. “Liar. Yer husband says ye stole some egg from him with a list in it, and he wants it back.”
“I don’t have either,” she said. “I traded the egg for passage away from him, and I know of no list,” she lied.
When Clyde raised his hand to strike her again, Eve flinched. Danaria caught him by the wrist. “Ye waste time. Let her husband deal with her. Ye’ll at least get the castle for her. ’Tis better than nae anything.”
Clyde gave a reluctant nod, and before Even knew what was occurring, Danaria stuffed a rag in Eve’s mouth and smacked her cheek several times. “That’s much preferable. I do nae know what Royce thought he liked about ye, but know this: he’ll nae come for ye this time. I’ll make certain of it.”
Eve’s mind filled with doubt and fear. Would he come for her? She’d already lied to him, so the idea of her fleeing would not be so illogical, especially if it truly looked as if she had.
As the question buffeted her mind, Clyde hoisted her up and slung her over his shoulder. The air was knocked out of her, and her head was dangling downward, making specks of bright light dance in her vision. How did he think he’d take her from the castle without the other guards seeing her?
Her question was answered three footsteps later when Danaria kneeled in front of Eve, tugged back a rug, and opened a secret trap door. She grinned at Eve. “I’d wager our last laird, Iain, did nae ever expect the secret passage he had put in from here to the sea would ever be used to rid the castle of an unwanted Englishwoman his son was planning to wed.”
With that, she rose, and Eve was plunged into darkness and cold as Clyde hoisted her higher on his shoulder and climbed down into the passageway. Cobwebs covered her face, and dampness permeated her skin while musk filled her nose and her lungs. As he climbed, a whooshing sound became louder and louder, until suddenly, she realized they were in a cave partially filled with water.
Moonlight slashed through the darkness ahead, and there she saw her worst nightmare waiting for her: Frederick. Clyde walked faster, bumping her head against his bottom with each of his steps, and then he stopped. She could not see Frederick, but she could sense his evilness.
“Put my wife upright,” he ordered.
“The wench isn’t yer wife apparently,” Danaria said, her voice snide.
“I’ll remedy that tonight,” Frederick snarled. “Set her on her feet.”
She was righted so fast it made her dizzy, and for a moment, Frederick’s face danced left and right in front of her. Then he grabbed her cheeks in a crushing hold that made her whimper. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, Eve, and you will pay.” He glanced to Clyde and demanded, “Where is the jeweled egg and the list?”
“She says she traded the egg for passage from England and that she knows nothing of a list,” Clyde said.
Frederick yanked the rag out of Eve’s mouth. “Tell me this is not true.”
Eve shook with the rage in his voice, but she was glad she could thwart him. “It’s true,” she said. “I traded the egg to flee you. You’ll never see it again, Frederick.” His face went pale, and though she knew it was horrid of her to twist the knife she’d just plunged in, she could not help herself. “Did you steal it? Is that why you look so desperate?”
“Malbec,” Frederick said, not taking his unwavering gaze from Eve, “take care of our problem.”
Eve frowned as Malbec stepped in front of Clyde and, in a blur, plunged his sword into the man’s gut. Eve cried out as Danaria gasped. Clyde groaned, then gurgled, as Malbec stabbed the man three more times. Then Malbec withdrew a bag of gold from a satchel and tossed it to Danaria. “For your aid.”
She caught the rattling coins and clutched it to her chest, then looked to Eve. “Goodbye, English witch,” she said. Then she disappeared the way they’d come.
Eve’s heart beat furiously, and her palms grew instantly sweaty.
“Look at me, Eve,” Frederick snarled, but she did not comply. She would not be cowed by him ever again, even if it meant her death. He grasped her chin and yanked her face toward him. “I did steal the egg, you stupid bitch. From. My. Father. The king’s wife gave it to him—one lover to another. That egg was going to free me from my father’s control, which might have made me more inclined to free you. But now we’re stuck with each other since you took away the only true leverage I had.”
With that, he reared back his hand and hit her so hard that blackness descended.
“Something’s wrong,” Royce said.
Bright-orange flames flickered against the black sky like marching ants. The war torches at Dunvegan Castle had been lit while they’d been away. He nudged his destrier into a gallop away from the woods where he, his sister, Magnus, and the other guards had just exited after abandoning their mission to see Eolande. Royce raced across the rocky land, maneuvering deftly around crevasses and up and down hills to come to the stream at the western edge of the main castle grounds. He guided his horse to jump the stream, and he heard multiple thuds of horses’ hooves as the others behind him did the same.
Something was most definitely wrong. Those torches being lit were a call to war. He pushed back on the fear speeding his pulse as images of his girls and Eve filled his mind. The girls were being guarded by Ragnar, and Eve was being guarded by Clyde. They would be safe. Whatever had happened, they were safe.
He urged his horse into a faster gallop, the cold air buffeting and numbing his skin, and thunder cracked in the sky, making the air feel as if it vibrated. As he drew nearer to Dunvegan, rain joined the thunder, light at first but growing rapidly in intensity. Above the pounding of the horses’ hooves and the hiss of the rain, war cries floated on the air, causing him to grip his reins until they bit into his skin. And then the courtyard of Dunvegan Castle came into view.
There, in front of what appeared to be nearly all the warriors, was Ragnar, whom Royce had left in charge, striding in front of the gathered men. Royce could not hear Ragnar’s words, but he stopped, paused, and the men let out another war cry.
Then someone called out, “The laird has returned!”
Royce rode the horse straight up to the men, dismounting before the beast had come to a full stop. “What’s occurred?” he demanded, a primitive warning sounding in his brain.
“The prisoners have escaped,” Ragnar said.
“How?” He could not recall a single incident in the history of Dunvegan Castle—in his time or that he’d been told—of a prisoner escaping the dungeon, except one when there had been treachery from within. The thought stilled him for a moment. “Where are my girls and Eve?”
Ragnar gave him a pained look that made Royce’s gut hollow. Then the man said, “The girls are safe within their bedchamber and guarded, though I do nae think there is a need. The prisoners stole a vessel and set a fire at the stables so that we were distracted when they escaped.”
Fear beat a tattoo within Royce. “Where is Eve?”
Danaria stepped out then from behind Ragnar, and Royce blinked, surprised to see the woman out here with the warriors, instead of safe in the castle. “Laird—”
“I had her await ye here, Laird,” Ragnar interrupted, giving the woman a look that showed his dislike of her. Ragnar never had cared for Danaria, even when they were all much younger. He had said before that he thought her dishonest.
“Where is Eve?” Worry pounded within him.
“She fled with the English,” Danaria spat. “I saw her.”
The woman’s words did enter his brain, but his mind rejected each one. “She would nae do that.”
“She did, Laird. She must have been sent here as a spy for the English king. Mayhap to gain information on the border raids or some such? And, Laird,” Danaria sobbed, “they killed Clyde!”
He flinched at the news that Clyde was dead. “How did Clyde die?” he demanded, feeling personally responsible, though he’d not even been there.
“I do nae want to agree with Danaria, Laird, ye know I do nae—”
Danaria glanced up and glared at Ragnar. “I’m telling the truth!” she bellowed.
“That remains to be seen,” Elena said, coming to stand by Royce, Magnus with her.
“Someone let them out of the dungeon, Laird,” Ragnar said. “The door was nae broken down. Someone had to unlock the door and let them out.” He sounded miserable at having to deliver the facts. “Clyde was watching yer lady, and Clyde is dead. And yer lady’s bedchamber door was nae broken down, either.”
“I tell ye that she left willingly!” Danaria said.
Royce dismissed Danaria’s comment for the moment. He believed in Eve’s honor and her good heart. He did not, however, trust Danaria.
“Laird, ye should let her go, and—”
“Cease speaking,” he said to the woman, his worry for Eve a vine growing in his chest, spreading its thorny spikes and puncturing his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He could not lose her. He could not. He’d just found her, and he wanted her as his wife, his friend, the mother for his girls. “Even if I were to let her go—and I tell ye now that as long as there is breath in my body, I would fight for her—I would still go after them for killing Clyde.”
“Clyde would nae want ye to risk yer life for him,” Danaria said.
Royce frowned at the daft woman. “Clyde would want exactly that.” To Ragnar, he said, “Man the Aileach,” referring to his fastest birlinn.
“’Tis done, Laird. We were about to leave. I called the remaining men here to guard the castle at full force.”
Royce nodded again, feeling the eyes of his clanspeople on him. He glanced toward the crowd of men gathered and held up his hand for silence. It fell quickly and completely, the only sound in the courtyard that of the rain falling. “The English have taken my woman, set fire to our stables, and killed one of our own,” he said, not hesitating to claim Eve in front of his entire clan since he did not believe she’d betrayed him. “I am going to retrieve her and avenge Clyde. Magnus will act as laird in my stead. Listen well, and guard the castle with yer lives.”
A thunderous cheer went up that vibrated the ground under Royce’s feet. He locked gazes with Magnus, who looked as if he wanted to protest. “I need ye here,” Royce explained. “With Brus gone, I need ye here.” He turned to make his way to the seagate stairs but paused to whisper in Magnus’s ear. “Keep an eye on Danaria. I do nae believe for a moment she saw Eve flee willingly.”
The Aileach dipped and rocked on the turning sea so that Royce had to brace his hands upon the railing as well as lean into it to keep upright. The rain pounded upon him and Ragnar as they stood at the helm in search of the Spartan, which was the ship Sotherby had stolen. The wind gusted and howled, high and screeching, making Royce feel as if doom were inevitable, and the torch at the front would not stay lit. The men behind him rowed vigorously and without slowing, though the weather and pace were brutal.
He kept his gaze trained on the dark sea, knowing the violence of the storm by the feel of it. He sent a silent plea to God, whom he hadn’t talked to in quite some time, not since he’d discovered Lara’s betrayal.
Keep her safe. Let me find her. Let me save her.
He thought it over and over until it flowed continuously, one sentence morphing into another. Thunder boomed overhead, once, twice, and on the third time, blue-and-white lightning illuminated the sky and the sea—and the Spartan!
Royce’s nerves sizzled to life. “There she is!” he called out to Ragnar above the roar of the storm and sea.
Thunder resounded once more and lightning streaked as Ragnar leaned to him, gripping Royce by the arm. “What do ye want to do?”
Royce’s mind was racing, searching for the best way to approach the other vessel, when lightning lit the sky and struck the Spartan. He watched in horror as red sparks exploded into the sky, followed by the cracking sound of wood carrying on the wind and reaching across the violent sea to still his heart.