Highland Surrender (44 page)

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Authors: Dawn Halliday

BOOK: Highland Surrender
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Cam slid him another look. “Well, then. Perhaps you might look into it for me.”
Bram hesitated. “They weren’t thieves, were they, milord?”
“No. They were after me alone.”
“Jacobites.”
“Yes. Your kind.”
Bram’s lips twisted. “Nay. My kind doesn’t rely on pernicious, murderous ambushes in the woods. My kind possesses more honor than that.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
Bram sighed softly. “There be better ways to achieve victory.”
“Yes, there are,” Cam agreed.
“Killing our earl isna the answer.”
“No, it is not,” Cam said. “You should know—my current heir would take pains to destroy my land and its people.”
“Och, then ye must marry and produce an heir as quickly as possible.”
“Yes. I must.”
Bram took a breath and clenched his fists at his sides. “I’ll find those highwaymen, milord.”
They walked the remaining way to the kitchens in silence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
 
 
C
eana woke before dawn. She’d awakened often to check on her patient, so her sleep had been restless for the past two nights. Rob remained in a coma through the day yesterday, but, though insensible, he had begun to wake for brief periods at dusk. The waking periods lengthened throughout the night, and the dilation of his eyes had reduced. He remained weak and shaky, and still didn’t have the strength to lift himself to a seated position on Anne Tynan’s bed.
The widow herself slept on a pallet in the other room, separated from them by only a thin screen, and Bowie had chosen to sleep under the stars along with the cart and horses.
Ceana stood and stretched, then went to check on her patient. She lowered herself to the edge of the bed, watching his chest rise and fall with easy, steady breaths.
He would survive. Closing her eyes, she thanked God.
“Ceana?”
She opened her eyes and smiled down at him. “Saints, Rob, you scared me for a while there.”
“Where . . . am I?”
“We’re in the cottage of the widow Tynan.” He looked confused, and she pressed a hand to his cheek, finding it clammy, but the fever that had flared last night was gone, and the jaborandi had done its work to counteract the drying effect of the belladonna. “How do you feel?”
“Terrible.”
“Can you manage a bit of a mild tea?”
He looked doubtful. “Maybe.”
She fetched the cup of green tea she’d prepared for him last night. “You’ve used up all my most expensive medicines,” she said lightly after she’d helped him take a sip.
He frowned at her. “What happened?”
“You were poisoned. By the Duke of Irvington, I suspect.” She said the man’s title with a shiver. He’d probably discovered Rob’s liaison with Elizabeth and thought it worthy of murder.
Rob’s eyes widened. “Where is my wife?”
“Your wife? Rob, love, you’re not mar—”
“Elizabeth!” he exclaimed, lurching up on his own power. “Where is Elizabeth?”
“Lady Elizabeth?”
“Aye, Ceana, my wife . . . Oh, God. Oh, hell.”
He shuddered, and sweat glistened across his upper lip. Ceana grabbed his shoulder. “Rob, you must lie down.”
“Where is Elizabeth?”
“I don’t know,” she said firmly. He’d gone insensible again. She thought he’d passed that stage. “Now lie down before you make yourself faint.”
Stiffly, he lay back in the bed and remained quiet until the violent shudders died down. When his body had calmed, the feral light began to drain from his eyes. He licked his dry, chapped lips.
“Tea?” Ceana asked.
“Aye,” he croaked out.
She propped his head and held the cup to his lips. He took a deep draft and settled back into the blankets.
“We’re married.”
Ceana stared at him in confusion. “Who’s married?”
“Elizabeth and I. We married . . . before the duke found us.”
“What?” she said breathlessly. “Are you . . .
What?
Why?”
“She was in danger, so I took her from Camdonn Castle. I tried to save her . . . I failed.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. “Please, you must believe me.”
“I . . . Of course I believe you.” Either he’d succumbed to madness or he spoke the truth. Insanity was easier to believe, and yet there was no lunacy in the manner in which he spoke.
“What day is it?” he asked quietly.
“Thursday.”
They stared at each other. For they both knew the truth: Thursday the nineteenth of May was the day the Earl of Camdonn intended to marry Lady Elizabeth.
It was about five o’clock in the morning. In the best conditions, Camdonn Castle was a six-hour drive away. Cam and Elizabeth’s marriage was set for ten o’clock this morning in the chapel, to be followed by a feast in the castle courtyard.
“Elizabeth will not marry Cam if she’s already married to you,” she said soothingly.
“She will if she thinks me dead. She’ll believe she has no other choice.” His throat moved as he swallowed. “She knows that’s what I want her to do. Just before they took me away, I told her to marry him.”
And Cam would marry her. Not only because it was his duty to follow through with the betrothal, but because Ceana had left him. Ceana’s own actions had stripped him of any other choice.
Ceana stared down at Rob. He was strong. He would continue to grow stronger by the hour. He would survive, even if she pushed him to his limits today. She took his hand and squeezed it.
“Rouse yourself, Rob. We’ve a wedding to stop.”
 
“The Lord sanctify and bless you. The Lord pour the riches of His grace upon you, that you may please Him and live together in holy love to your lives’ end.”
Elizabeth blinked at the man. As if through a thick pudding, she slowly turned to Cam as the reverend finished his blessing.
Cam stared down at her, and the confusion she felt simmered in his expression.
They were married. They were husband and wife now, until death separated them.
Oh, Lord, what had they done? How would either of them survive this?
They must. They both must.
Cam’s hands cupped her shoulders, and a brief, forced smile crossed his face. He bent down and kissed her gently, chastely, on the lips.
“Wait!”
A woman’s voice, shrill and loud, sounded from behind them, from the door of the chapel. Both Elizabeth and Cam spun round.
Ceana.
She was breathing hard, and her skirts were muddy. From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw her uncle rise from the pew just beside her. Clothing rustled as the other attendees—nearly every occupant of Camdonn Castle was packed into the tiny chapel—turned to stare at Ceana.
“Ceana?” Cam said. “What are you doing here?”
Ceana ignored the crowd. Her eyes latched onto Cam. “You cannot marry her.”
He stared at the woman for a long moment, and then closed his hand over Elizabeth’s. “It is too late. We are already married.”
She shook her head wildly, curls flying. “No. You can’t marry her, Cam. She is not free to wed.”
Uncle Walter snarled. The crowd began to murmur. Ceana held up her hands.
“You cannot marry Lady Elizabeth,” she announced, “because Lady Elizabeth is already married.”
 
Cam blinked hard as Rob appeared at Ceana’s side. He looked awful, pale and haggard, and it didn’t appear he could walk save for the help of Bowie MacDonald, who supported most of his weight.
Beside Cam, Elizabeth gasped. Her hand fluttered in his own.
“Elizabeth is my wife,” Rob grated out, his voice sounding as haggard as he appeared.
Gasps echoed through the small chapel.
“This is an outrage!” Irvington blustered. “How dare you come in here and make these accusations? You . . . you swine!”
Ceana narrowed her eyes at the duke. “Robert MacLean claims he is Lady Elizabeth’s husband. If she agrees that they are married, there has been a declaration of marriage
de presenti
, and their marriage is legal and binding.”
Elizabeth squirmed, but Cam held her hand tightly, keeping her beside him. Rob stood at the door, his dark eyes focused on Elizabeth. God, Cam realized, he’d been right: Rob did love her. Whatever had happened, he had not left her intentionally.
His attention moved to the bristling Duke of Irvington. Irvington was furious—his face was lobster red and his lips were twisted into a snarl.
“You lie,” the duke growled. “You are a commoner, a servant. You would not dare to touch my niece!”
Irvington knew, Cam realized. He knew all about Elizabeth and Rob’s liaison, and, somehow, he’d tried to stop Rob.
Rob looked like . . .
Oh, hell.
Cam blinked hard. He looked like a corpse—pale and peeling. Ceana propped up one of his shoulders while Bowie stabilized the other. Had the Duke of Irvington tried to murder him?
Cam glanced again at the duke. Rage built within him, but he contained it and returned his focus to Rob.
“Is it true, Rob? Are you and Lady Elizabeth married?”
Rob’s attention moved from Elizabeth to him. For a long moment, the brothers held each other’s gazes. Then Rob nodded. “Aye, my lord. She belongs to me.”
Cam breathed out. God help him, it was a sigh of relief.
The reverend’s gentle voice sounded behind Elizabeth. “Are you already married to this man, child?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said as she sobbed quietly. “Yes. Robert MacLean is my husband. We are married.”
Cam’s gaze shifted to Ceana.
This was as it should be. Elizabeth was Rob’s and Ceana was his. He would not allow her to escape from him this time. He wouldn’t allow her to be separated from him. Ever again.
The murmurings rose to a crescendo as the dark figure of the Duke of Irvington burst forward from the front pew. He wrenched Elizabeth’s hand from Cam’s, and she screamed as he dragged her backward along the front row. Cam leaped to tear her away from her uncle’s grasp, but reeled to a stop when he saw the barrel of a pistol pressed against her temple.
It all became sickeningly clear. Cam’s friend, the Duke of Irvington, had tried to kill Rob. He now held a gun to his beloved niece’s head.
Cam quickly tamped down his surprise. His brother needed him now. Elizabeth needed him now.
Dressed in his ceremonial plaid, Cam carried no gun, only his dirk tucked into his hose. That would do little good against the madman whose finger already rested on the trigger.
“Get back!” the duke snarled. “No one is to touch my Lizzy. Not some Scots bastard, not anyone! Everyone stay away!”
Wedding guests shrank back from the duke. Elizabeth stared at Cam, her sky-blue eyes round as saucers. Cam raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
“Irvington. She’s your niece. You wouldn’t hurt her.”
The duke’s lip curled. “Better to see her dead than married to a Highland pauper.”
“Nonsense,” Cam said.
Irvington turned to Rob, baring his teeth. “You were as good as dead when we left you.”
He still looked it, Cam thought bleakly. “Let her go, Your Grace,” he soothed.
“Never!” Irvington dragged her toward the side door of the chapel. Cam calculated rapidly even as his mind rejected this impossible turn of events. The duke couldn’t get far—his carriage wasn’t ready for travel. Where the hell did he intend to take her?
One of Irvington’s men kicked open the door, and he dragged Elizabeth over the threshold, his arm clamped around her waist and his gun digging into the side of her head. She didn’t resist him. She looked truly petrified.

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