The Daring Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) (35 page)

For a brief moment, he was horrified that the bolt had found her after all, but then his chest exploded with such burning agony that he could only smile, knowing that he had succeeded.

Liselle was safe.

For a brief moment, he opened his eyes to see Pascal running towards him, horror etched upon his face as he shouted, “Have you lost your power of reason, Julian?”

Behind him, Julian was dimly aware of Antonio with a drawn sword, towering over the body of the thick-browed Saluzzo, now lying still on the ground.

And then Liselle’s warm arms were about him, and her face filled his failing vision.

“I love you,” she cried, her hazel eyes bright with tears.

Julian drew his breath sharply as agonizing pain surged through his body. With every ounce of his strength, he managed to wheeze, “Aye, and I love ye, lass.”

And then consciousness slipped from his grasp, and darkness swallowed him.

Chapter Nineteen – We Are Revenge

Consciousness came to Julian in momentary flashes.

His chest
throbbed in pain. It was difficult to breathe.

There was the soft intonation of a man’s voice giving him the last rites, and then bliss
ful nothingness swept him into its embrace once again.

He woke once more to voices shouting around him. Someone pressed hard upon his chest. The resulting wave of pain caused him to faint.

The moments of lucidity were rare after that. He was distantly aware of someone forcing a bitter liquid between his lips. Repeatedly.

He only knew that it was too hard to breathe. Each breath taxed his strength to the point that he only wished for his agony to end, but it did not. His lungs felt as if they were made of lead.

Time passed.

A woman’s voice that he did not know whispered through his mind, a low voice, speaking as if from a great distance. She spoke words of comfort, words that brought peace.

During the worst of it, he distinctly heard Pascal’s arrogant tones ordering, “You belong to the Vindictam. You cannot die. I will not allow it.”

And then everything became dreamlike and peaceful, seeming to stretch into eternity, until gradually, he became aware of the warmth of the sun upon his face.

Too tired to lift his lashes, Julian lay as he was, enjoying the heat on his skin as he listened to the song of the birds before drifting off to sleep.

When he woke next, he finally succeeded in opening his eyes. He saw first the blue sky framed by a narrow arched window. In the distance he could see Linlithgow Palace, so he realized he must be in the Carmelite friary. Puzzled, he turned his tired gaze upon his bed. He lay under a fox-fur coverlet with his head resting upon the soft luster of a satin pillow.

Moving as if to rise, he gasped at the sudden pain ripping through his chest and collapsed back, overwhelmed by a bout of dizziness.

A soft rustle of skirts hurried to his side, and he opened his eyes long enough to see an ageless woman with raven hair threaded with silver. Her bright blue eyes were kind and intelligent as she placed a cool hand over his forehead.

“Rest,
caro
.” She sent him a comforting smile. “You will grow strong now. Love has brought you back from death’s door. I knew love would not fail!”

He was too weak to ask who she was or what she meant. His eyes were already closing, and then the peace of sleep carried him away again.

After that, there were several brief flashes of a cowled monk clad in coarse woolen robes, but the thought of love
gave him comfort, and he slept for a very long time.

* * *

Julian woke to the soft light of morning.

The heavy weight in his chest was gone, and for several long minutes, he savored the simple joy of breathing.

The ageless raven-haired woman stood at a small table
a short distance away. For a time, he watched her select flowers from a basket to grind the petals and stems before she sensed his eyes upon her.

“Good morning, Lord Gray,” she greeted him warmly as she wiped her hands upon an apron covering her skirts. Tucking a silver-threaded lock of hair behind her ear, she picked up an earthenware cup from the table and approached his bedside.

“Drink this,
caro,
” she ordered briskly, supporting his head with her hand, she pressed the cup to his lips.

Recognizing the bitter taste, he grimaced, but drank half the cup in one gulp.

“Much stronger! Yes, you are much stronger,” she announced, quite pleased. And then with a slight frown, she clucked and shook her head. “You stayed at death’s door far too long,
caro
.”

Julian frowned, attempting to recall the circumstances of his injury.

And then the events of the Saluzzi and Liselle returned with a rush.

Choking on the remainder of the liquid, he half sat up and gasped, “Liselle! Where is she? Is she harmed—”

“Hush,
caro
!” The woman laughed. Pushing him back gently, she placed a finger upon his lips and nodded to the other side of the bed. “Liselle is safe. You saved her life. And she has never left your side for many, many days. Not once.”

The effort of turning was a draining one, but worth it upon seeing Liselle’s honey-colored locks fanned out about her delicate face. Though still sitting half in her chair by the bed, she lay sound asleep, her head cradled upon one arm on the pillow next to him.

“She is exhausted,” the raven-haired woman said. Her skirts rustled as she moved to stand behind Liselle’s chair, and a soft expression crossed her face. And then bending down, she lightly kissed the top of her head. “
Mia bèla
. I had never thought to see her.”

Julian raised a quizzical brow.

Straightening, the woman noticed his curiosity and smiled, a soft dimple graced her cheek. “I am Lady Sutherland,” she said, answering the unspoken question.

Julian’s eyes lit in recognition. While he had only seen Lord Sutherland’s lady once before, he knew her husband quite well. The distinguished noble was one of the most honorable, upright men in Scotland. But Julian’s curiosity only deepened. Why would Lady Sutherland hope to see Liselle?

“My husband has always spoken highly of you,” Lady Sutherland said, moving away and patting his blanket as she headed towards the door. “We can speak more later,
caro
.”

Julian opened his mouth to call her back, but then a familiar alto voice whispered his name.

“Julian.”

With a one-sided smile creasing his cheek, he turned to see Liselle staring at him in surprise.

Reverently, he lifted his thumb to trace the tears falling down her cheek.

She held still, too overcome to speak for a time. But finally, she reached for a cup and asked, “You have been so feverish! How is your thirst?”

His eyes glinted at that. "Unquenchable,” he said, unable to resist a suggestive reply, but he was taken aback by the weakness in his own voice.

Liselle blinked but did not smile. Instead, she moved to lay her cheek lightly on his shoulder. “We thought you would die,” she said, her voice quivering.

With great effort, Julian lifted his hand and stroked her cheek. “The softness of your skin is powerful medicine, lass. I’ll mend quickly now,” he promised.

And then exhausted, he closed his eyes to let sleep carry him away.

After that, his strength returned rapidly, and on a damp gray afternoon several days later, a familiar voice sounded from the door of his chamber.

Glancing up, Julian grinned as Cameron stepped through the doorway. Folding his blue-velvet mantle over his arm, the Earl of Lennox drew his dark brows into a stern line.

“Ach, Julian,” his deep voice disapproved. “But ye fair scared us all, lad! There are less painful ways to lie in bed all day with your lady by your side.” His words were polite, but Julian caught the teasing twinkle in his expressive eyes.

Laughing, Julian cast a quick sidelong glance at Liselle, but she had merely risen to curtsey.

However, Lady Sutherland, sitting in the corner, rolled her eyes, but her words were warm as she said, “My dear earl, it is a pleasure to see you yet again and so soon.”

As Cameron bowed graciously to them both, Julian queried, “So soon?”

Cameron moved to tower over him. “I dinna care to witness a priest reading ye the last rites, lad.” His eyes were serious and filled with deep concern.

“Aye, well, clearly, ‘twas a misjudgment and a bit premature,” Julian replied lightly. Glancing at Liselle, he sent her a reassuring smile.

Following his gaze, Cameron’s carved lips crooked into a smile. “Aye, ‘tis time ye took up other important matters, lad. And I’ll have the king issue ye a decree if that is what it takes.”

Julian raised a questioning brow.

“I do believe Castle Huntly is in need of an heir,” the Earl of Lennox replied with a sly smile.

Julian chuckled, noting a slight shade of pink stealing over Liselle’s face as Lady Sutherland rolled her eyes once more.

“Shall we leave these boys to their discussion,
cara
?” she asked, looping her arm through Liselle’s to sweep her away.

As they left, Julian watched Liselle with a smile upon his lips. Aye, he could think of nothing more pleasant than to lock himself away with her in a castle. But she had scarcely gone before Cameron turned to tidings of the court.

“Albany has betrayed Scotland yet again,” the earl informed him with a shake of his chin. “And we’ve had reports from England that Edward’s health is failing.”

Julian sat up in bed. Aye, ‘twas invigorating to be enmeshed in the web of intrigue once more. Surprisingly, he had missed it. “Then Gloucester will become King of England,” he observed thoughtfully, and then smiled. “And after these recent matters, he’ll not support Albany nor muster an army to bother Scotland any time soon.”

“Aye,” Cameron agreed, permitting his eyes to smile in return.

Julian eyed his friend in admiration. Cameron was ever the wily statesman. “Well played,” he said. “We’ve staved off another English threat then, aye?”

Cameron nodded, but then grew serious. “But dinna forget, now we have Albany loose again. He has withdrawn to Dunbar and has just this day been named a traitor to the Scottish crown.”

“He’ll never stop until he’s dead,” Julian said grimly. “Ach, but ye need me, Cameron! I should be riding, not lying abed!”

Julian slapped the bed with the flat of his palm, but the gesture made him wince in pain.

“Ye’ll ride soon enough, lad,” Cameron assured him and then settled back in his chair.

They spoke of other things then, and when Liselle returned after a time, the afternoon passed pleasantly with Cameron regaling her with tales of Julian’s follies throughout the years.

Julian didn’t mind. Hearing Liselle laugh warmed his soul. And though he desperately fought to stay awake, it was too difficult in such a peaceful atmosphere.

He was not even aware he had fallen asleep until he woke to find himself staring into the dark eyes of Pascal standing at the foot of his bed.

“I trust you are feeling better, Lord Gray?” the graceful youth queried in a guarded tone.

Easing himself onto an elbow, Julian gave a dry laugh. “The fact that I yet live tells me the Vindictam has rescinded my death sentence.” With a gracious nod, he added, “And for that I thank ye, lad.”

Pascal’s lips curved into a smile. “You are protected … for now. But it
is an easy enough matter to make someone disappear,” he said, caressing the hilt of the sword belted about his slim waist.

Recognizing the glint of humor in the lad’s eyes, Julian merely arched a brow.

Pascal remained silent for a time, and then began to pace thoughtfully before the window. “You were delirious for quite some time, Lord Gray,” he said at last. “And in the heat of your fever, you spoke of what I had long suspected in France—and knew for sure in Fotheringhay.”

“Aye?” Julian prodded curiously.

Pascal’s dark eyes riveted upon him. “You are
Le Marin.”

A smile creased Julian’s cheek as a memory flashed across his mind, and he said, “Aye, and in that fever, I distinctly recall hearing the voice of the
Electus
ordering me not to die.”

Their gazes locked, and then Pascal dipped his chin in graceful acknowledgment. “An order that you dutifully obeyed,” he pointed out. And then his intense eyes grew serious. “Join us, Julian. Your
fingers will flow with gold. Work with us in the fair city of
Le Serenìssima
.”

Julian chuckled. “Nay, lad, I
serve Scotland alone,” was all he said.

“Dare you stir my anger?” Pascal’s grim tone was at odds with the smile on his lips. “Mayhap I should tell you that the Quattuor Gladiis has not yet decided upon the fate of
Le Marin—
whoever
he
may be.
”

“And mayhap I have faith that the Electus—whoever
he
may be—will introduce a wee bit of Scottish common sense into his men. Loyalty before vengeance, aye?” Julian replied easily.

Pascal’s dark eyes lit with a smile, but it took some time for his reluctant reply. “
Then we have an understanding.”

“Do we?” Julian asked, easing back onto the pillow.
“Orazio and ye should know that I’ll be wedding Liselle.”

"Do you have a death wish, Lord Gray?” Orazio’s distinctive voice sounded from the doorway.

Glancing up, Julian watched the man enter the chamber and approach the bed, his hands folded behind his back.

“Tread softly, Orazio,” Julian warned, boldly meeting the man’s piercing gaze. “I’ve already proven that I’ll protect her with my life. I’ll not live without the lass.
I love her.”