The Outcast Highlander (22 page)

He must have watched her sleep, traced the lines of her face, held her body close to his, smelled her hair, touched her skin for what seemed like hours before someone finally knocked at his door.

“Who is it?” Broccin whispered, being careful not to wake Kensey.

“It’s Duncan,” the voice whispered back.

“What do you need?”

“There’s someone here to see you.”

“I’m with my wife at the moment, can they not come back in the morning?”

There was a long silence, and Broccin could almost feel the anxiety before Duncan answered. “It’s Elizabeth.” Another long pause. “She says it’s about Andrew and you must come now.”

“Andrew?” Broccin was up as quickly as he could without stirring his sleeping bride. He rushed into clean clothing and boots and quietly opened the door. “Did she say what’s wrong with him? Did she give you some clue as to what she needs?”

“Only that she needed to see you right away and that it was about Andrew.”

Broccin was at his brother’s side in a matter of seconds and the two of them rushed down the stairs into the great hall where Elizabeth stood, pacing about.

Elizabeth de Moray was well beyond beautiful. Her porcelain skin and silky blonde hair accentuated the deep mahogany brown of her large, sparkling eyes. She was the tallest woman Broc had ever seen and commanded a room the way few could.
Still, after having left her and Andrew, Broc was surprised to find upon seeing her again that even his fascination with her looks had waned.

He no longer felt anything like affection or desire in her presence. Was that Kensey’s doing? Or resignation after time? Either way, it was good to be free of her.

“Lady de Moray.” Broccin greeted her, remembering his formality, and kissed the hand she offered.

“Please, Broc, we’re long past all that now, aren’t we?” Her voice was soft and luscious as a ripe pear. Even Duncan seemed drawn in, though he did not kneel to kiss her hand as his brother had. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Please, Elizabeth.” Broccin slipped into his familiarity with her once again. Some habits ran too deep. “You told Duncan you’d come about Andrew. What is wrong?”

The color drained from her delicate features. She breathed in sharply and blinked heavy tears. “Oh, Broc. Andrew’s been captured.”

Panic seized his heart. “Captured?”

“He’s in the dungeons at Berwick, where the Duke of Buckingham has stationed his guard.” She reached out a hand but Broc didn’t move. He couldn’t. Andrew was one of the best warriors Broc had ever seen. The man could fight his way out of a garrison if he had to. To be captured.

“Is he injured?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Broccin exchanged a look with his brother. They’d just returned from Balconie and there was a decent chance Duncan hadn’t actually killed Colin Ross after all. If Colin was dead and his guard could name the attackers, someone would come for them. To be fair, someone would come, either way. Either the Rosses would avenge the attack or the English soldiers would set upon them.

“Do you think there will be a battle here?” Broccin directed his questions at Duncan. “Have we heard anything from the outliers?”

Duncan shrugged, pacing back toward the hallway. “You want to know if it’s safe for you to go to Andrew?”

With a sigh, Broc followed his brother. “If I can go to Berwick and petition for Andrew’s release, then perhaps I can also discover the Ross’s plans.”

Fists at his sides and tension in his voice, Duncan kept his back turned to his brother. “You go if you must.”

From across the room, Elizabeth’s voice carried. “I already filed a petition with the magistrate. I promised father I’d come to you and beg for your help. He doesn’t know what to do and we can’t leave Andrew to be butchered. Twenty-one days, Broc. They’re going to starve him for twenty-one days and then execute him.”

Broc rubbed at his beard, considering. If he remained here and the Rosses were filing a petition with the king, then the first they’d know of it would be soldiers. In a week or so. If they planned to attack the castle, well, good luck to them. In two hundred years, the walls had never been breached. With the sea to their back and mountains near, there were only two ways to attack. Both would require an outnumbering of men, and they could still escape to the sea at any time. There would be no starving out. No inescapable outcome. Andrew, on the other hand, had no such luxury.

He crossed to Elizabeth and took her hands. “You have to tell me what happened?”

“There was a battle. Andrew, his father, and his uncle Kenneth were all captured as leaders of the rebellion. King Edward will to sign their death warrants, he’s promised it. Unless they swear their allegiance to his throne and denounce the Bruce, which none of them will ever do.”

“I did not know there had been a battle.” Broccin, suddenly light-headed, leaned his large frame against the cold stone wall and expelled a huge, frustrated gust of air.

“Andrew meant to send for you, but there just wasn’t time. He asked me not to tell you of their plight, not to involve you. But you’re the only one I can turn to now.” Elizabeth choked, the tears flowing more freely. Resisting the urge to comfort her, Broccin remained fastened to the wall. “I don’t know what else I can do. And King Edward isn’t granting clemency to any of the Scottish nobles.”

“Any? Are there more?”

“There are more every day. Every battle they win, more men meet the same fate. And many others as well. Anyone who would stand against Edward and is captured.” She sniffed, pulling a white lace handkerchief out of the end of her long sleeve and dabbing her eyes carefully. “All I know is that Andrew is in that dreadful dungeon and he’s to be executed if you don’t help him.”

Broccin stood, stunned, unable to process all the information he was being given. First of all, he’d thought Andrew was finished with his freedom fighting, having finally married Elizabeth and wanting children of his own. Second, Elizabeth’s letter had come, telling him she was with child and he knew Andrew wouldn’t have gone off to battle, had there been the possibility of Elizabeth being left alone. Something didn’t feel right.

But, he reasoned, to look at her now, one would never know she was with child. Her frame was still slim and graceful. Not even the slightest bulge around her midsection.

“What about Kensey?” Duncan asked from behind Broccin.

Elizabeth perked. “Who is Kensey?”

“Broccin’s wife,” said Duncan with great relish.

“Wife?” Elizabeth wondered, visibly shocked. “I didn’t know you were getting married. Why wasn’t I... why didn’t you tell Andrew?”

“There wasn’t time,” Broccin lied. There had been plenty of time. Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to think about whether or not Elizabeth would be in the crowd when he took his wife.

“Is the lass with child?” Elizabeth raised one eyebrow and Broc bit his lower lip.

“Nay.” He held up a hand as Duncan stepped forward to defend Kensey’s honor. “I just did not see the need to wait.”

“Well, then.” She clasped her hands and let them drop to her waist. “Congratulations.”

A strained silence hung in the air. At the far end of the hall, footsteps sounded and all three heads turned, but they exited through another corridor. Elizabeth

“So, what about Kensey?” Duncan repeated.

“Yes, let’s discuss your wife while
my
husband rots in a dungeon.” Elizabeth’s face reddened.

“Och, lass.” Broccin stepped toward her, but she retreated. “We’ve only just married.”

“Surely she can part with her new husband for a short time to help rescue Scotland’s greatest hero and soon-to-be Guardian.”

Duncan smiled tightly at Elizabeth and said, “Surely those newly wed can spend an entire night together uninterrupted and it will not effect the state of the union.”

“Duncan,” Broccin warned, his voice low. “Do not worry yourself.” He turned to ascend the stairs with Duncan behind him. “You stay here.”

Elizabeth swung her head and the long plait bounced as Duncan and Broccin left her presence.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Duncan insisted as they were out of Elizabeth’s earshot. “Kensey will not understand this, I mark.”

“Aye, she will,” said Broccin. “She will and I’ll be back shortly. When Fiona can be seen, send Brigid to my room to retrieve Kensey. She should see her friend this morning.”

“You’ll be back shortly? Is that what you said last time you left us? And how long were you gone then?”

“That was different.” Broccin growled, turning to face his brother mid-stride. “I will return. I have new reasons to come back.”

“Reasons that were not good enough before.”

Duncan was so calm, and Broc’s throat closed with heavy regret. He felt more guilty for considering leaving with each passing moment. He wanted nothing more than to return to Kensey and lie beside her, watching her sleep, seeing her round with their child. But he had a sworn duty to Andrew de Moray and he owed Andrew his life, many times over.

“I promise, I’ll come back.”

Duncan stepped into his brother’s face, his breath short. “You think you leave on a noble cause, and I say you’re breaking one oath to keep another. You think about this.” His finger dug into Broc’s chest. “The noble heart will find no shortage of places to offer itself in martyrdom, but you cannot die on every battlefield, brother.”

Broc couldn’t speak. Duncan’s words cut deeper than any sword or arrow ever had. He pushed the hand off his chest. “Leave, brother, before I say something I will regret tomorrow. Go to your woman. I will be no more than a few days at Berwick. Once Andrew is free, or I know he will not be released, I will return.”

“Aye, I’ll leave. But you remember what you have here,” he said quietly. Without meeting Broccin’s eyes, he turned on his heel. “All of it.”

Broc watched his brother retreat into the darkness and was suddenly struck by what Duncan had been trying to say. He’d never even considered that Duncan was hurt when he didn’t return to St. Claire. Or the fact that he might have taken issue when his older brother lived out in the wilds of the countryside instead of returning home to be with his family.

Kensey wasn’t his only reason for returning, and all the more reason to be quick about this business with Andrew. Now that he’d come into his own right, there were responsibilities he couldn’t ignore for very long, even when he left someone as responsible as Duncan in charge of things.

He would bid his wife quick farewell, for then he could return to her all the more quickly. Opening the door quietly, Broccin slipped into the semi-darkness of his room. The fire was a pile of smoldering embers and the only light in the room was the breaking light of dawn through the window. Even basking in the glow of sleep, Kensey looked perfect to him. It was all he could do to remind himself he had to leave her now.

He sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently. She mewed softly at him while she turned over and her eyes slowly opened to the darkness.

“Kensey,” he whispered. “Are you awake, love?”

She didn’t answer immediately, her eyes covering the corners of the room and settling on his face. Her lazy morning smile warmed everything Elizabeth’s presence had frozen inside him and he returned the gesture.

“You’re up early.” She sunk down into her pillow as she stretched her arms, yawning.

“We were both up early.” The warm tone in his voice reminded him of their morning and he thought if he could come home from every battle to find her in his bed, he would die a happy man whenever death claimed him.

The red flush was barely visible as it crept up her neck, but he wanted to kiss it anyway. He leaned down and brushed his lips over the spot where her ear and jaw met, where he knew she was sensitive already. She squirmed beneath him.

“It can’t be even dawn yet.” She yawned again. “Did you wake me for a reason, or may I return to sleep?” Kensey’s eyes fluttered closed and she seemed to sleep again.

“I woke you because I have to leave now,” said Broccin, reluctantly.

“Where are you going?” she asked, stifling a yawn and almost seeming to be unaware of the situation. He understood she was tired, but didn’t want to try to wake her anymore than she already was, for she’d need to get back to sleep as soon as he’d left her.

“I...” he began, but he was interrupted by the door opening. Elizabeth pushed on the door and walked into the room. “Elizabeth!” he growled. “What are you doing here?”

“Broc, we must leave now.” She came close to the bed, tears on her cheeks.

“Lizzy, get out of here.”

“Why?” Her tears suddenly stopped. Her voice had acquired a strange, hard tone. “Don’t you want your young
wife
to see me in your bedroom?” The implied sexuality behind that word fairly dripped from each word. If she had been a man, he would have smacked her clean across the face. She could not let a day pass without trying to create havoc somewhere. Today, she’d picked him and he would have no more of it.

“Elizabeth, that will be quite enough,” he seethed. Turning back to Kensey, Broccin tried to deduce whether or not she was fully awake. But her eyes only fluttered and he was sure she would soon slumber again. He bent over her and kissed her lips softly, lingering for a few seconds.

After pulling away, he whispered, “I’ll be back soon, love, I promise. Brigid will come for you after you wake. She has a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” she mumbled.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yes, and we’ll have porridge and honey and I can bake you a cake if you like.” She yawned. “Lydia is teaching me how.”

He swept his lips across her babbling mouth and tucked the coverlet around her, tucking her back into the warmth of the bed. Turning to face Elizabeth, he clucked his tongue.

He walked to the door and grabbed her arm, taking her from the room. She pulled free of him just outside the doorway and stopped in her tracks.

“Thank you for coming with me when I so needed you.” She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. Broc, surprised by the gesture and afraid of the noise, pulled the door closed and freed himself from Elizabeth’s grasp. She often used their familiarity against Andrew as well. And against Broc himself, until he’d been wise to it.