The Arrow: A Highland Guard Novel (The Highland Guard) (42 page)

Pip looked at him uncertainly, his reaction obviously not what he’d expected. “What?”

“I love her, and I might have destroyed whatever chance at happiness that we had.”

Pip stared at him as if he were a stranger. “You love her?”

Gregor didn’t answer him. His mind was on one thing. He donned the rest of his clothes quickly and strapped on his weapons. Noticing the blade on the ground, he picked it up and handed it back to the boy. “You might have need of this yet. If Cate won’t forgive me, I’ll let you plunge the damn thing into my heart.”

Pip’s eyes widened, but he remained silent on the short walk back to the tower house.

Gregor hadn’t taken a step into the hall when his brother blocked his path. “Where have you been? Or do I want to know?”

Gregor gritted his teeth, ignoring the unwanted questions. “Where’s Cate?”

“I was hoping you would know. When Ete went to her room this morning, she wasn’t there and her bed hadn’t been slept in. No one has seen her since last night.”

“What do you mean, no one has seen her since last night? Where the hell could she be?”

His brethren must have heard the commotion and left their meal to come over to help. “What is it?” Campbell asked.

“Cate is missing,” Gregor answered.

“Where would she go?” MacSorley asked.

MacRuairi asked the one question all of them were thinking. “Did she know where you were?”

Gregor looked to John. His brother nodded. “But that isn’t all. She saw the note.”

“What note?”

“The missive in your solar about Fitzwarren.”

Gregor swore. The panic running through his blood turned to a full gallop. He quickly explained about the letter to the others.

“Would she go after him on her own?” Campbell asked.

“I don’t know, but I think we have to assume yes.”

Wasting no time, Gregor quickly organized a few parties of riders to go after her. John and Campbell would lead one, MacSorley and MacRuairi another, and he a third. But before they left the Hall, one his men found him and handed him a crumpled piece of parchment.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“One of the village lads brought it this morning. He said a man had given it to him last night but told him not to bring it until morning.”

There was something inside. Unwrapping it carefully, Gregor’s heart stopped beating when he realized what it was. The familiar ring stared back up at him. The betrothal ring he’d given Cate. The words on the parchment swam in front of his eyes. He handed it to John to read, but he knew what it said. “We have something that belongs to you. If you want her back alive, come to Perth Castle.”

The blood drained from his body. For the first time in his life, he felt like he might faint. They had her. The English had Cate. It was just as the Guard had feared if their identities were ever revealed. They would use her to get to him.

If anything happened to her …

He couldn’t let that happen. He
wouldn’t
let that happen. Cate was the most important thing in the world to him. He would give his life to save hers a thousand times over. And it looked like he was going to have to do exactly that.

Twenty-three
 

Cate was ready to collapse by the time they reached the outskirts of the royal burgh of Perth, one of the most important and wealthiest burghs in all of Scotland. Located on the River Tay—making it an important city for trade—and close to Scone Abbey, Perth was considered the capital of Scotland by ancient Scottish kings.

The castle had been partially destroyed by floods about a hundred years ago but rebuilt by King William the Lion. Less than ten years ago, the city had been fortified with stone walls, towers, and gates by Edward of England after he’d taken the city during Wallace’s rebellions.

The wall was how she’d guessed that they’d reached their destination, as the party of riders drew up on the crest of the last hill. She’d never seen anything like it. The massive stone fortification that surrounded the city shimmered like golden alabaster in the dawn’s first light. Surrounded on three sides by a
lade
—the wet ditch was the town’s only previous defense—the east side butted up against the natural defense of the Tay. Seeing those daunting walls—and knowing that she would soon be imprisoned behind them—gave her a moment’s pause.

Cate looked at the men who were sitting on their horses discussing something among themselves, paying her little mind, and glanced over her shoulder at the wide expanse of forest just beyond the next hill. If she were going to try
to escape, this would be her last chance. But she couldn’t. Not with the opportunity for vengeance so close at hand.

The weapon hidden under her cloak at her side bolstered her courage. The soldiers hadn’t searched her—probably figuring one weapon was unusual enough on a woman. She had to hope they didn’t conduct a more thorough search when they arrived. She did not deceive herself. Her chances at success or escape were not good, but they were even less without the element of surprise the dagger would give her.

She knew she had to act quickly. No matter what he’d done, Cate would not allow Gregor to give himself up for her. Not if she could help it. She was counting on her father to force caution upon him. Even though Gregor thought she’d betrayed him, she did not doubt he would come charging through those gates as soon as he was able. As her “guardian,” he would feel responsible for her. But Robert the Bruce wouldn’t allow one of his most important warriors to give himself up to the English for a woman. Bruce might have let her down as a father, but she could not deny that some of those same qualities made him a good king. Ruthless decisions—not emotional ones—were what had placed the crown upon his head, and thus far had kept it there.

Unless she was mistaken about the identity of the army of men taking position on the far side of the river, Gregor wouldn’t be able to avoid him. From the looks of it—and what seemed to be concerning the soldiers who’d taken her—Robert the Bruce had arrived at Perth to begin his siege. Along with Berwick, Roxburgh, Edinburgh, and Stirling, Perth—or St. John’s town, as it was also known—was one of the key castles left for Bruce to take back from the English. What must be especially galling to Bruce was that Perth Castle—like Stirling Castle—was being held by a Scotsman, Sir William Oliphant, and defended by a garrison comprised of mostly Scots.

The knowledge that her father was so close brought an unexpected pang to her chest. Even after all these years, she wanted to know one thing: why. Why had he left her like that? Was it because of his new bride? He’d married his first wife, Isabel of Mar, shortly after he’d left. Had she demanded he stop seeing the woman who’d fathered one of his “bastards,” or had he merely tired of his Cate and her mother?

She turned away from the army of men beyond the gates. She would never know; as she wasn’t marrying Gregor, she no longer had to face the prospect of seeing her father again. It had been so long, he probably wouldn’t even have recognized her. She wondered if she would have recognized him. The handsome young earl was now a man of nearly two score and a king. Yet somehow she knew she would know him. He’d loomed so large in her past. But that was where he belonged: in her past. Along with Gregor. Her mouth tightened with residual anger and bitterness that not even her exhaustion could erase.

One of the men, a young soldier by the name of Gibbon, who had taken pity on her over the last day and a half of their journey, handed her a skin of water. Cate was a competent rider, but to prevent Gregor from catching up to them they had ridden over forty miles with only brief stops along the way. She could barely sit on her horse, she was so tired.

“How will we get in?” she asked, noting the closed gates. “I assume those are the king’s men on the other side of river opposite the drawbridge?”

“Aye, King Hood has begun his siege earlier than we expected. We won’t be able to use the red gate near the bridge or we’ll run the risk of encountering some of his men. But he hasn’t had a chance to position his men around the city yet, so we can use one of the other gates. They’ll admit us when they see the banner.”

The men rode under De Bohun’s arms. She guessed they
were not knights but ordinary men-at-arms, although from what she’d caught of their conversation, it was obvious that young Fitzwarren hoped to be made a knight as reward for capturing one of Bruce’s Phantoms.

“We are fortunate that we arrived when we did,” Gibbon said with a kind smile. “Or we might have had a more difficult time making it back inside.”

“I would think inside would be the last place you should want to go with a siege about to start.”

He laughed. “Normally you would be right. But this won’t last long. Look at that wall. King Hood doesn’t have the siege engines to bring it down, and we are ready for his trickery. The city has fresh water and stores enough for six months. But it won’t take nearly that long. Mark my words, King Hood will pack his carts and slink back into his foxhole soon enough.”

Cate couldn’t have realized how prophetic his words would prove to be.

Two weeks after riding into camp, Gregor stood before the King of Scotland looking very unlike one of the most elite warriors in Scotland—and even less like the most handsome. He’d slept little in the days since Cate had been taken, and every moment that he was awake he was tormented by thoughts of what was happening to her. He looked as horrible and on edge as he felt.

He was done being patient—no matter who was asking it of him. “I can’t wait any longer.”

The king eyed him from behind the long table that had been set up in his pavilion. The tent was sparsely decorated for a royal lodging—even a temporary one—but Bruce was more warrior than king. It was one of the things Gregor and his fellow Guardsmen most admired about him. The tent itself was a colorful scarlet and gold, reflecting the royal arms, but inside they stood on rushes, not expensive carpets from the East, and in addition to the
table there was only a chair, a bench, a bed, and a painted wooden screen for privacy where the king might wash and change. After living on the run for so many years, the king had learned to travel light, unlike his English counterparts, who seemed to campaign with endless carts carrying furnishings and the royal plate.

“I understand what you are going through better than anyone, Arrow. Do you not think I would like to ride into England and free my wife and daughter if I could? But I will not let you go like a lamb to the slaughter. I need you too much. Nor will I risk the others.”

Gregor tried to bite back his frustration, but the king’s refusal to let him attempt a rescue—or exchange himself for Cate—was driving him past the edge of reason. He’d never felt sorry for MacRuairi before, but the past week had given him an inkling of what the famed mercenary pirate–turned–loyal Guardsman must have gone through for two years. God forbid Cate was being kept in a cage like MacRuairi’s now wife had been for part of her imprisonment. Isabella MacDuff was free (as was the king’s young sister Mary), but Bruce’s queen and heir were still being held in English convents. Gregor also understood the king’s fear of Gregor breaking under English torture, but Angel—Helen MacKay—could give him something to ensure that didn’t happen. Monkshood or another poisonous plant would ensure the safety of the others, if it came to that.

Gregor turned back to the king and tried to use what rationality he had left to argue his point. “But Cate isn’t in England—she’s here in Scotland, in one of our castles. And they weren’t threatening to kill your wife and daughter.” His voice broke, and he looked at the king with hot, dry eyes behind a face that had to be as haggard-looking as he felt. “They said they would kill her by the end of the week if I don’t surrender. I won’t let that happen.”

Over the past two weeks, Gregor had exchanged a series
of missives with Sir William Oliphant, the former Scot hero who was now keeper of the castle for the English and governor of Perth. But after Cate had been brought out on the battlements yesterday to prove that she was alive and in good health, Gregor had nothing more with which to delay. The sight of her—even from a distance—had nearly brought him to his knees with relief, but it had also instilled a new urgency in him.

“I won’t ask you to. I’m only asking that you be patient for a few more days. That is all we will need to be inside the castle, if my plan goes as I hope. Nor do I believe Oliphant will sanction the killing of a lass—no matter what the English would like.”

Given how unsuccessful their limited siege weaponry had been so far against the city walls, Gregor thought the king optimistic about their chances—to say the least. But they’d succeeded against far worse odds too many times for him to completely dismiss the king’s words. Nor would he wager Cate’s life on Sir William’s honor as a knight. “How do you intend to do that?”

Perhaps sensing Gregor’s doubt, the king leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms smugly. “By retreating.”

Cate could hear the cheering of the soldiers the moment she exited the tower.

Sir William Oliphant, the former Scottish commander who’d fought alongside Wallace, and the man now tasked with holding the city of Perth for the English king, walked beside her on the parapet. When he reached the place where he’d brought her the day before—to prove her good health to Gregor—he stopped and let her see for herself why the men were celebrating.