Plead Forgiveness (Loyalty Series) (2 page)

“I was kidnapped.”

“You bitch! For a Scot bastard, you broke our
betrothal. ‘Twas your deception that cost me my title and land. As punishment
for trying to retrieve the woman sworn to me by her sire, our sovereign lord
forced me to fight in the crusades for five bloody years.”

King Henry had been outraged that Phillip had attacked
the Mackenzie Clan, especially after warning him not to seek retribution for
the loss of Emma. As penalty for his treachery, the King of England stripped
Phillip of his title and lands. However, the king did offer Philip Emma’s
younger sister as wife if he returned from the holy land.

“You were given Eleanor’s hand in marriage, as well as
my father’s title and lands upon his... his…” Emma broke off, sickened by the
realization.

“His death, “Philip finished her sentence. “Aye, I am
now Baron of Greystone.”

“The king will…”

With contempt, he cut her off. “As we speak, your
husband travels to king’s court and will deliver the news of your father’s
untimely death to King Henry. I assure you, it will nae come as a shock that
your father died. He was an old man and his health was poor.”

“Greed is why you killed the man who treated you as a
son for so many years?”

“Nae, my dear, revenge. Your father paid for his
deceit in nae protecting what he swore to me.”

“My sister, what have you done to her,” Emma cried
out.

“Unlike you, Eleanor has remained faithful to me. Her
death will come, but after she gives me an heir as well as a spare. That may
take a few years.”

“My husband-”

He grabbed her by her collar, and then hauled her off
the ground as he railed, “Nae, I have planned for Alex Mackenzie to live a long
life of misery without his wife, daughter and sons.”

He slammed her into a tree, pleased when he saw her
tears. “His pain and suffering has only just begun. Slowly, I will destroy all
Alex Mackenzie hold precious in this world. You, the love of his life, will be
the first of many mortal wounds I inflict upon him.”

Pressing the dagger against her throat, Philip resumed
his speech. “King Henry will be told Isabel is Eleanor’s distant cousin, and it
will ensure my guardianship of the little bitch. I will make your daughter into
a slave. She will be beaten, starved and worked like the lowest serf. Fear not,
I will nae kill her. I will leave that privilege up to the man she will wed.
After a year or two of him using and abusing her little body, she will welcome
death. I presume you have heard of Baron Montgomery.”

Emma sucked her in breath.
Please God, don’t let
this happen
. She silently prayed as pain sliced through her heart imagining
her young daughter in the clutches of that evil man.

“I see you have heard of the man who will be Isabel’s
husband. ‘Tis true he killed his wife within the first year of marriage. He and
I met while fighting in the crusades. When we were captured by the Saracens,
enduring hell on earth, we planned our revenge.”

"You’re insane if you think-”

He backhanded her before she could finish.

"Silence!” He bellowed as he grabbed her hair,
forcing her to stand. “Your words mean naught. Let me tell you what will happen
to your family before you die."

His face contorted with rage as he relayed the final
part of his revenge. "I will draw your husband to your daughter's wedding.
The shock of finding his daughter alive, but having no power to save her from a
fate worse than death, will shatter his heart. It will not end there. When he
arrives home his sons-" Philip's words died in his through when Emma tried
to fight him, even as the dagger drew blood from her neck.

"You will burn in hell! I will kill you
myself!" She continued to struggle until Philip pinned her hands above her
head with one hand. His other hand held the tip of the dagger at her throat.

"Nae, for my revenge starts now and will continue
until everyone you love is dead.” As he said the last word, Philip drove the
dagger into her throat, and with perverse satisfaction, he watched her blood
dripped down his arm as she died.

EIGHT YEARS LATER

Isabel, now known as Lady Ella, raced through the
hills of Greystone astride her ash-colored horse, Apollo. It was a warm, sun
filled day in late May as she returned from the Westshire Abbey and her daily
work of training and breeding horses with the monks.

Sir James rode with her, insisting that escort was
necessary when she traveled to and from the abbey. He was commander of the
men-at-arms at Greystone, her home for the past eight years. He was also her
uncle and half brother to Lady Eleanor, her aunt. They were her only family now
and she valued their love above all else.

Taking in Ella’s attire, James said, “If not for all
that hair you would look like a lad of ten summers.”

Sir James studied the girl that had come to mean so
much to him in his five years at Greystone. Her long blonde hair tied at her
neck fell in gentle waves down her back, a hands length shy of her waist. Long
lashes surrounded her large green eyes. Her nose was small and slender, her
lips full and hid straight pearl white teeth. Her body was naturally thin, but
lithe from constant activity. She had long legs that gave the appearance that
she was taller than her average height, and James was always amused that she
viewed herself to be bigger that her petite frame.

She was a distant relation to his half sister, and
even though he did not share the same blood, Ella called him uncle. It was a
small thing really, yet nevertheless, he felt immense pride in the title. The
role of protector came easy to him, and he vowed one day to see her safely away
from Greystone.

Looking down at her breeches, tunic and leather,
knee-high boots, Ella said, “Philip believes that I am safer dressed as a boy.”

Sir James cursed softly, and then said, “Eleanor’s
husband is more a danger to you than the Devil himself.”

“But in the five years you’ve been here, there has
been less opportunity for Phillip to lose his temper at me. I can never thank
you enough for arranging me to work at the abbey. I have found so much joy in
the knowledge the monks have given me.” Then with youthful eagerness, she said,
“Let me show you what I have taught Apollo.”

 James watched Ella drop the reins of the large
Arabian courser, and then guide the horse around trees using only knee
pressure. Following her few verbal Latin commands, he then saw the battle
skills Apollo had been taught; such as rearing up, spinning in the opposite
direction, and kicking out his back legs. James was more than a little
impressed, and very proud of her accomplishment.

“You have done well. Have you taught my horses these
same skills?”

During the past five years, James had purchased over
twenty horses, all bred and trained at the Westshire abbey. King John built the
abbey after returning from the crusades with hundreds of horses. He wanted the
monks to breed the valuable horseflesh, because unlike his vassals, they would
keep accurate records of their bloodlines.

“Aye, as well as other skills I think you will
appreciate. I am still training them to overcome their natural instinct to flee
loud noise, but they have learned to accept sudden and unusual movement from
the weapons a rider may use, along with how to avoid being injured in combat.”

“’Tis nae wonder that Philip allows you to continue
working at the abbey, since he benefits greatly from the skills you’ve been
taught.”

Abbott Davis had agreed to give Philip a small
percentage of the profits made from selling the horses Ella bred or trained
along with two horses a year. The Abbott believed it was a small price to pay.
He did not care for Philip, especially after he saw the injuries Phillip
inflicted on the child. After the first few months it was evident the monks
adored teaching the young girl.

“He does get the finest choice of purebred Arabian,
Andalusian and Friesian horses in the country. Abbott Davis says he does not
mind giving over two horses a year, if it means that I am allowed to continue
working with them each afternoon.”

“At least your afternoons are peaceful, and in the
mornings you are with your aunt in the village.”

For the past five years, Ella spent her mornings with
her loving and devoted aunt, either tending ailments and injuries or collecting
herbs for healing. Lady Eleanor had learned the healing arts from her sister,
Emma, and continued to seek out knowledge about matters concerning birth,
conception or in her case the inability to conceive.

At a score and six, Lady Eleanor had remained barren
after miscarrying eight years ago, when she was eight months pregnant. The
shock of her father and sister’s death had been too much for her fragile body.
The final devastating blow came later, when the midwife announced that the
damage done by the miscarriage left her barren. Philip blamed Eleanor’s
infertility on Ella, stating that the young girl was a curse, who brought only
death and devastation to those around her.

Eleanor knew Ella’s identity and fought tooth and nail
to keep her precious niece from harm. Philip often punished his wife’s
interference, not by physically harming her, but by beating Ella. Infrequently,
he prohibited Ella from working with Eleanor during the morning hours, but only
for short periods since he saw the benefit of two healers tending to his men
and the villagers.

“Aye, I love spending time with Aunt Eleanor,” she
said just before the guards at the drawbridge halted them.

The guards insisted on speaking with their commander
privately, and when her Uncle James returned, he said, “There is a matter that
concerns me here. Go on up to the keep and I will join you later this eve.”

She thought the guards seemed anxious, but did not
comment on their behavior. She replied using his formal title, which Philip had
insisted upon, “Aye, Sir James.”

He watched her cross the drawbridge, and then turned
to speak with the guardsmen, unaware of the news and the events that would
follow.

Heading to the stables, Ella’s gaze drifted to the
tower she lived in her first six months at Greystone. She shook her head to
banish the memories of that dismal time. Yet, while gingerly cooling Apollo
down, she remembered those first few days Greystone eight years ago.

Mama, I tried to save you. I aimed the arrow at the
man attacking you, not you . . . never you. Please forgive me, Mama.

Struck from behind the moment she released the arrow,
only to regained consciousness hours later, locked within a dark tower as
lightning split the night sky and thunder smothered her screams of pure fright.
She repeatedly called out for her mama and papa, but they did not come. As
terrifying as that night had been, it didn’t compare to the devastation she
learned the next morning when she saw her arrow covered with blood. Her
mother’s blood.

‘Twas your arrow that ended your mother’s life, and
although I tried to explain that it was unintentional, your father nae longer
claims you as his daughter.

She had doubted Philip’s words until she read the
missive.

Dear Baron of Greystone,

This letter is to inform ye that I am leaving for
Scotland on the morrow and vow never to return. I hold nae love for England,
for she has taken what I loved most in the world. My grief will be worst when I
inform my sons of the greatest loss they have ever known. The heart of Clan
Mackenzie lives nae longer. For now, I live only for my sons.

Do as ye like with the one who killed my wife, for she
is nae longer daughter to me. If she ever returns to Scotland, I will nae
hesitate to end her life the way she ended Emma’s.

‘Tis my understanding that yer grief equals my own.
There has ne’er been any love-loss between us; nevertheless, I wish to pay my
respects to ye for the loss of your unborn bairn. Losing one’s child,
regardless of their age, is like losing part of your soul. I pray that yer wife
will recover, and the future finds ye with many healthy children.

Please extend my condolences to your wife, Lady
Eleanor, for the loss of her sister, child and father.

Alex Mackenzie

After reading her father’s letter, she collapsed to
the ground as earth- shattering pain tore through her heart. Trembling and in a
fetal position, she listened to Philip explain that in order to spare her life,
she would have to take on a new identity as Ella, a distant cousin to her Aunt
Eleanor.

The Baron of Greystone confined her to the tower for
six months to rid her tongue of the Scottish accent, with the assistance of her
only visitor, her aunt. When Philip returned, he explained that when King Henry
learned that Eleanor was barren, her orphaned distant relation was decreed ward
to Baron of Greystone.

Ella chastised herself for allowing her painful
memories of the past to wreak havoc on her heart. She had trained herself long
ago not to think about that devastating time or hope that her father would
forgive her. Aware that reconciliation with her highland family was as likely
as her being declared Queen of England, she now lived only for her English family,
for Aunt Eleanor and Uncle James.