Heaven and the Heather (34 page)

Campbell and his guards filled the doorway. The lord of the castle confidently, casually rested a hand against the door frame.

“Well, what good fortune for
me,
” Campbell said. “Two conspirators, two
lovers
, too bad you both will die. MacGregor, do me the honor of dropping your weapon to the floor.” Campbell aimed his sword inches from Niall’s heart.

“Do as he says,” Sabine told him. She placed her right hand on the door.

Niall placed all of his trust in Sabine and obliged her.

He tossed his claymore to the side. It clanked to the floor, well within the chamber, well away from the swing of the door. He read Sabine’s mind. This royal falcon and Highland fox were not going to stay trapped for long.

“I’m glad you see things my way, MacGregor” Campbell said, a smug smile upon his thin lips. “Now, come with me and tell your warriors who have taken over the bailey that you admit defeat, that you
will join me
.”

Niall stood firm, raising his chin a bit, just like Sabine.

“That will happen the day I see ye sent to the Danes, ye bastard.”

“Look at him,
mademoiselle
,” Campbell sneered. “See how he desperately clings to a wee bit of false pride. So like you, how you pretend that your malady is not noticed by the queen and her court. All you’ve gotten from them is pity, never trust.”

“Eeeeyyyyyaaaahhhhh!!!!” Sabine screamed.

She swung the door hard, smashing the wood against Campbell’s fingers. His howl of pain was deafening. Niall slammed his body into the door, mashing Campbell’s fingers harder, making him howl louder.

Niall looked at Sabine. “Ye are the best, my love.” Dear God, I meant that, he thought.

He released pressure on the door, enough for Campbell to jerk his crippled hand back. Then Niall slammed the door hard.

“See how you like it!” Sabine shouted to the door.

“Rory’s claymore,” Niall said, still braced against the door, “get it.”

She hefted the weapon from the floor.

“Now, put the blade into the keyhole as far as ye’re able,” he said. “Campbell did us a favor by not placing ye in that chamber with the odd door lock.”

“
Oui
,” she said, taking aim with the blade, both fists gripping the long handle. “I see what you wish me to do.”

Niall kept the latch firmly in hand, bracing his back against the door. On the other side the guards pounded on the door against the background of Campbell’s curses and screams. Sabine drove the blade into the keyhole.

“Back, Sabine,” Niall said, “please.”

She released the claymore. It remained stuck in the keyhole. Niall smashed the heel of his foot several times into the flat of the blade. The claymore clattered to the floor. The tip remained embedded in the keyhole. Niall stepped back from the door. The pounding and screaming continued.

“That’ll bargain us some time, but not much.

He reached out a hand to Sabine. She took it with her right and gave his fingers a powerful squeeze.

“’Tis time for us to leave this nasty pile of gray stone,” he said.

Sabine stared at the door then back at him. “How?”

Niall nodded to the window.

Sabine shook her head

“Oh, Niall,
non
…
non
.”

He took her by the hand and pulled her closer to the window. “If I dinnae miss my guess, there’s a cart loaded to bear with straw right below this window.”

“There could be the down from five thousand geese on that cart, and I’m still not going to jump from this garret.”

Niall threw open the window glass. He glanced down—not too far, the length of two men maybe more. He pulled Sabine against him. “Dinnae look down.”

With one hand he tossed the claymore to the bailey, where it landed in the straw and mud to one side of the cart. Sabine leaned forward over the window ledge.

“No,” he said, shielding her eyes with a hand.

“Niall,” she protested, “do not be so absurd.”

“’Tis better this way. Pretend ye’re a falcon, a royal falcon.”

“A royal falcon who’ll fly back to the palace,” she whispered.

“Ye’ll not fly there alone.”

Niall pulled Sabine to the sill. Gripping her hand tightly, he placed one arm tightly around her waist, then swung his legs out the window.

“Niall….” Sabine said. She clawed at his hand over her eyes. “Foxes cannot fly.”

“Relax. Close yer eyes….” He looked down, now the length of three men at least. Niall swallowed.

The pounding on the door grew. Campbell had been joined by more guards, those who were not taking part in the melee in the bailey. Niall held Sabine tighter to his body.

“Let’s fly, my love,” he said. “To the palace.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said struggling in his hold. “We cannot fly.”

“That’s because we have yet to try.”

He pushed away from the ledge, spiriting Sabine with him. Her screams rang in his ears well after they had made a safe landing and quick escape through the narrow postern gate guarded by his clan. Faster than the west wind, they rode away from Castle Campbell Dubh toward Holyrood.

T
he sun was setting, but Niall did not slow his mount. They would not rest. Sabine could sleep in the saddle if she wished, but he would not stop. He had to put as much distance between Campbell, should he manage to escape his castle and the grip Clan Gregor held on it. Niall shivered a wee bit. Campbell would escape. The bastard knew the castle better than Niall’s men.

“I should have taken the bastard out when I had the chance,” he whispered. “Not cripple his hand.”

“I crippled his hand,” Sabine said suddenly.

These were the first words she spoke since she had stopped screaming after they had jumped from the window.

“Aye, ye did,” Niall agreed.

“Stop,” she said. “I wish to dismount.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, cannae do that.”

“You can,” she said. “And you will.”

The tone of her voice hammered the back of his neck. Niall took a deep breath.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“I will see the queen on my own,” she said. “After you return my
sac
. I know you have it.”

“We will see the queen,” he said firmly.

“You are betrothed,” she said flatly. “I cannot trust you with my
sac
, the proof against Campbell, if you would keep such a thing from me. We made love. It meant so much to me then, but now, it means very little.”

“Lying doesnae wear well on ye, Sabine,” he said. “Ye still care. Otherwise ye wouldnae have left your purse in the byre and ye wouldnae have come with me.”

“You will marry Agnes,” she said.

“I willnae,” he said with a small laugh.

He felt her stiffen against his back.

“I saw you and her. She had her hands on your…on your backside.”

“She was pulling nettles from my arse with a moss poultice. Agnes and I have never loved each other. We have never shared the same feelings that I feel for ye.”

He paused, held his breath. What had he just stepped into?

Sabine breathed short, warm puffs on the back of his neck. “What’re you saying, Niall?”

He sighed. Best he go forward. Always…forward.

“I love your strength, the way ye stand up to adversity. I love your art, the way ye create life on paper.” He swallowed. “Ye could say…
I
could say, um, Sabine…I love ye, with all my heart.”

He felt her arms squeeze him tighter. He felt the pounding of her heart as she leaned against his back.

She did not speak, just held onto him, breathing gently.

Niall smiled. This silence was wonderful. He wondered if it would last all the way to Holyrood and if Sabine would return the sentiment.

From the way she held him, she did not need words. For now that was fine with Niall. She was safe and with him. He vowed never to let her from his sight whether she wished it or not.

She held to him tighter.

She did not wish it.

That was the one certain thing before him. The only one. He dug his heels into the horse’s ribs and urged the beast forward on the darkening path.

chapter 19

In The Duck’s Nest

“D
o not worry so, Niall,” Sabine said. “We will get into the palace.”

“Aye,” he replied with yet another glance over his shoulder. “’Tis the method that vexes me though.”

Sabine smiled and looked through the dingy panes of the shop window. The sun of early day could barely chase the grey mist away from between the teetering buildings of Edinburgh’s High Street. She had seen Le Canard’s carriage leaving the gates of Holyrood. It was her suggestion that they follow him. She hoped that her giant friend had not subscribed to the harsh rumors about her certain to have made rounds within the palace. Monsieur Le Canard argued the price over some orange silk with the merchant. She could hear him quite clearly through the dingy glass.

“But ’tis not the best price for this silk. And I must say this is an inferior quality,” he said, waving the roll of fabric before the indifferent merchant’s eyes. “Her Majesty enjoys this particular color though, so I will purchase it…
robber
.”

He dropped the fabric into the already laden arms of a meager pageboy. The lad’s knees buckled. Le Canard reached for his bulbous purse, hidden away under the doublet covering his shelflike belly.

Sabine pulled back from the window. “He will be out in a moment,” she told Niall.

He leaned against the stone wall, his plaid pulled up to hide his face. It did little to cover his displeasure. “Right,” he said through gnashed teeth.

“Monsieur Le Canard has not the desire for you, Niall MacGregor. He is my friend and, dare I hope, my only ally in Her Majesty’s court.”

Sabine stared into his eyes. Despite the morning mist swirling all about them, they still shone spectacular blue, captivating her. How could she ever be angry at him? He had professed his love. Captured in the moment, thrilled that there was nothing between him and Agnes, she had tried to say the same before Rory’s intrusion. Yet, on their journey to Holyrood, there had been few words between them although the opportunity had been ample. With each mile closer to the palace, Sabine felt the burden of differences between them grow heavier. Social differences that had seemed so petty in the remote Highlands, in the sanctuary of his arms, were now a sturdy wedge that she could not dislodge.

Did Niall’s frustration with her plan mirror her feelings? Did he consider, as well as she, that if Campbell’s treachery were believed by Her Majesty that she must go back to royal service, and he must return to his beautiful wilderness? That was the truth of Sabine’s future should the queen believe the proof against Campbell. And the truth stung like a hornet.

“Look up my love,” Niall said from the shadow of his plaid. “Yer ally is shifting his bulk from the shop.”

“
Alors, mon petite…
,” Le Canard said to the lad. He took a glance down the center of Edinburgh at the rows of shops and taverns on the road leading to Holyrood. “…We shall return to the palace with our purchases. Where is that carriage?” He looked down the street. Sabine stepped into his sight, waiting for his glance to settle down upon her.

The giant took only a second to recognize her, and another second to break into tears. He quickly swallowed Sabine in his arms, pressing her against the great wall of his perfumed body, jasmine this day.

“Oh,
Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu!
Ma Sabine!
” he wailed. “I have missed you so!” He released her, and once again she could breathe.

Niall stepped forward and leaned in toward Sabine. “As much as I enjoy a good reunion, having one in the middle of bloody Edinburgh isnae the best idea.”

“Oh!
Mon Dieu!
’Tis the bold and, dare I say, most handsome Highland fox!” Le Canard exclaimed just as one of the royal carriages rumbled up to them.

Niall leapt back into the narrow way between the shops, grabbing Sabine’s arm, dragging her with him.

Le Canard peered into the shadows, his caterpillar brows knitted together in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you not know?” Sabine asked him stepping away from Niall. She shrugged from his hold on her.

“Sabine, dinnae—” he protested.

Le Canard nodded ruefully. “
Oui
, this about you I know, my sweet Sabine. But I did not believe a word. I know you love
Marie
Reine
more than any of her court. You are not capable of wanting to kill her.”

“Of course she isnae a murderer,” Niall said, “but we have proof of who—”

Sabine jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. All Niall could say was a startled “Oof!”

She turned her attention back to Monsieur Le Canard. “I need to see Her Majesty on a matter that is most urgent.” She nodded toward the carriage.

Le Canard’s eyes glinted. “Oh,
cherie
, you have but made me so happy. Of course, I will see that you get to the palace. And…” he paused to look her up and down. “…I will make you a beautiful new gown. I am sorry to say you look less the courtly lady and more the urchin of the hills.”