The Viper (27 page)

When she tried to question him about it, however, he told her that of course he was wary--it was bloody dangerous. They could leave anytime she came to her senses. She glared at him and didn't raise the subject again.

The full moon was still aglow in the inky sky as the first light of dawn appeared on the horizon. Wisps of mist curled off the river like dragon's breath. A shimmering blanket of dew glistened on the grassy banks. On their right, to the north, a dense forest of trees--their branches weighed down by lush leaves and moss like a druid's beard--hugged the side of the road, providing cover in their dark and wizened limbs should the need arise.

If danger didn't lurk behind every tree and bend in the road, Bella might have appreciated the lush, verdant beauty of the quiet countryside. Instead the forest seemed a sinister jungle of shadows, the river seemed a brewing cauldron, and the crisp dawn air felt eerily still.

But slowly the day opened up. The shadows faded, forced to reveal their secrets under the bright glare of daylight.

Trailing off the road into the trees, Lachlan led them up a small rise and came to a stop. She gasped. Opposite them, on the other side of a valley, lay Roxburgh Castle, spread out like a small city on a triangular knoll of land between the juncture of the River Tweed and the River Teviot. It was a vast fortress of walls, towers, and heavily guarded gates, the likes of which she'd never seen. The castle was reputed to be the strongest along the borders, but she'd never imagined
this
. Five, six, seven ... she counted at least eight towers protecting the main fortress alone.

God in heaven, how could they hope to enter such a place unseen? And how could Lachlan possibly find her daughter?

Lachlan dismounted and conferred briefly with Robbie Boyd--Sir Alex had ridden ahead to see what he could find out from the villagers (his Yorkshire accent would draw less attention)--before turning to help her down. "We wait here until Dra"--he stopped himself--"Seton gets back."

She frowned, wondering what he'd been about to say, and nodded. But she hadn't realized how hard it would be, knowing her daughter was near and not being able to do anything about it. The castle--so close she could practically reach out and touch it--was the devil's own temptation.

Fortunately, they didn't have to wait long. She'd just finished breaking her fast with a few oatcakes and pieces of dried beef that Lachlan insisted she eat--God, he could be surly--when Sir Alex came riding through the trees. The dour expression on his face didn't alarm her; she'd grown used to discontent from the once gregarious young knight. The war had changed him. As it had her. Death and suffering made the world seem a far crueler place.

Lachlan must have seen something she hadn't. "What is it?"

"The wedding was a few days ago," the knight said. The men seemed to take this as bad news, and she wondered if there was something they weren't telling her. "Many of the guests have left," he added.

Left?
Bella's heart dropped. "My daughter?"

Sir Alex met her gaze, sympathy in his eyes. "I don't know, my lady."

"Did you see Lady Mary?" Lachlan asked.

Seton shook his head.

Mary? Oh, dear God, no
. "What has happened to Mary?"

"Nothing," Lachlan said quickly, but the twinge of disappointment in his voice made her certain there was indeed something they were keeping from her.

Sir Alex looked at him intently. "There are rumors she was moved south a few weeks ago."

Boyd cursed, and Lachlan's expression turned grim. She looked back and forth between them. "What is it? What are you not telling me?"

The men exchanged looks. Boyd's shrug seemed to serve as some kind of affirmation, and Lachlan explained. "Yours was not the only escape that was planned."

She sucked in her breath. "You hoped to free Mary as well?"

Was that why he'd agreed to come? She'd thought he'd wanted to help her.

"Not us, but some of the king's other men. From the sound of it, they were too late."

Poor Mary! Bella's heart went out to the girl whose suffering had mirrored her own. It was hard to think of her friends still imprisoned while she had enjoyed freedom for ... was it only a day? "But surely they will not give up?"

"Never," Lachlan said.

The adamancy in his voice proved oddly reassuring.

Suddenly a loud, grating sound drew their attention toward the castle. The portcullis was being raised. From their bird's-eye vantage, she had an excellent view of the main gate and inner close where, despite the hour, a crowd of people were milling about. Horses were being led out of the stables and a large number of soldiers had gathered.

"Someone must be getting ready to leave," Sir Alex said.

Bella spun on Lachlan, immediately panicked. "What if it's my daughter?"

He gave her a steadying look and spoke to her with exaggerated calmness. "There's no reason to think that. It could be anyone."

Bella clenched her fists. She didn't appreciate being treated as if she were unbalanced, or a delicate piece of porcelain that could shatter at any moment. Humored. Patronized. Didn't he understand how important this was to her? It was all she'd thought of for two years in prison. She couldn't come this close and take a chance. "But what if it is?" she insisted, not caring if she sounded stubborn. "We need to find out."

An angry spark appeared in Lachlan's eye. "
We
aren't finding out anything.
You
are staying right here. I'll go."

Her eyes widened. "You're going in the castle now?"

His gaze intensified. "How else did you think I would get a message to your daughter? I may as well go now, while there is a crowd. The sooner we can get the hell out of here." He said the last under his breath.

Bella bit her lip, feeling a prickle of unease. All of a sudden, the thought of him getting close to the castle didn't sit well with her. She didn't like the idea of Lachlan putting himself in danger for her.

I don't want anything to happen to him
. The realization didn't take her aback as much as it should. Without the anger and blame she'd used to block out her feelings for him, it was harder and harder to muster indifference.

"How will you get past the guards?" she asked.

"Let me worry about that." He was already giving instructions to the other two men while removing the arsenal of weapons he carried. He unstrapped the two baldrics that held the two swords he wore across his back, his bow, and the short-handled axe at his waist, which left him with only a pike.

"But ..." Her voice dropped off. She couldn't turn her gaze from the formidable castle.

The motherly instinct to ensure her daughter was safe warred with another part of her. A part she couldn't identify but that proved surprisingly strong. A part that didn't want to let him go. That didn't want him to do something that might put him at risk. And there was no doubt that going into that castle would be extremely risky.

He seemed to sense her unease. "Trust me, Bella. I know what I'm doing. Just do as I say and don't move from this place until I get back."

He spoke with such authority, she felt herself nodding like one of his men.

"Do you have the letter?" he asked.

God, how could she have forgotten? She'd spent a large part of the previous day while they waited to leave composing it. She still wasn't sure she had it right. But she'd been careful to avoid any mention of her release from captivity. Lachlan didn't want to take any chances in case the letter fell into the wrong hands. Bella's safety and her daughter's depended on no one knowing she wasn't in that convent.

She removed the short missive from the leather bag at her waist--the lad's garments were proving surprisingly comfortable and convenient--and handed it to him.

He took it, and their eyes held for one long moment. Like her, he seemed to want to say something but didn't know what.

She took a step toward him before she stopped herself. She had no right or cause to touch him, but the impulse was still there. The memory of his mouth on hers burned.

But then he turned, snapping the connection.

Trust me
. The words echoed in her ears as she watched him scramble down the hill and disappear into the trees.

She'd done that before, and he'd left her daughter behind. As before, she felt the inexplicable urge to put her faith in him. Then it had proved a mistake. What was it about this man that made her want to trust him, when every indication was that she shouldn't?

Lachlan threaded his way through the crowd of villagers, doing his best to look like a common man-at-arms. He wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary; he'd blended in like this thousands of times. There was no reason to think anyone would notice him. But still he felt uneasy. Exposed. More so than ever before. The hair at the back of his neck was standing on end, for Christ's sake.

He didn't understand this strange apprehensiveness. He'd been in plenty of hair-raising situations with the Highland Guard over the last few years. Dangerous, seemingly impossible tasks under extreme conditions were exactly the type of missions for which the Highland Guard had been formed. They were the best of the best. Stronger, faster, better trained, and more experienced warriors who did the things that others feared. Hell, he never even thought about the danger. But the past two days he'd felt ...

Realization dawned. Hell, he was bloody
nervous
.

It was an entirely new and unwelcome feeling. He was one of the most elite warriors in Christendom, and he was acting as jittery as a wet-behind-the-ears squire in his first battle.

His jaw tightened, knowing the cause. Bella. Her presence was the difference. She made him feel--blast it!--
vulnerable
.

He was letting her get to him. Letting her get too close. He never should have given in to her. He was angry at himself, but it was too late to do anything about it.

What was it about Bella MacDuff that made him lose his resolve? That made him want to do anything to make her happy?

Damn it, this mission wasn't going at all as he'd anticipated. Freeing her from prison was supposed to get her out of his system. For two years he'd been telling himself that when he got her out he'd stop thinking about her, stop driving himself half-crazed with the memories of kissing her. He'd told himself he'd only imagined the strange connection between them.

It was his failure to protect her that explained his infatuation with her, he'd told himself.

But he knew he was wrong. The connection was still there. And he wanted her just as badly--perhaps even more. Two years of built-up lust had taken its toll.

It had become painfully clear that ignoring his desire for her--let alone trying to control it--wasn't going to work.

There was only one thing that was going to do that. He should seduce her and be done with it. But damn it, after what she'd been through, he couldn't do it.

It was a hell of a time for him to be plagued with a conscience.

Grimacing, he forced his mind back to the task at hand. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking around with a giant target on his back.

With all the guests who had descended on Roxburgh for the wedding, the village around the castle was a bustling hub of activity. Tents had been erected in every open space to house the extra servants and soldiers who had filled the village far beyond its normal capacity.

Adding to the chaos, it was market day. Temporary stalls had been erected in front of carts where the farmers had brought their goods to sell or barter. Vendors of livestock, fish, fruit, vegetables, grain, every kind of spice you could imagine, cloth, jewels, leather goods, and even a sword-maker cried out their wares.

It was just the kind of chaos and confusion Lachlan needed. His plan, if you could call it that, was to pose as a member of the bride's family's retinue. He'd had dealings with the Comyns before and figured his attempt to ferret out information on Bella's daughter wouldn't draw as much attention that way.

Of course, it was those very dealings with the Comyns that made being here so dangerous. He hoped to hell he wasn't unlucky enough to run into someone who would recognize him. He'd made a lot of enemies over the years--English and Scottish alike. At times like this, notoriety was damned inconvenient.

Avoiding the men, he focused on the women, striking up general conversations about the excitement of the wedding and sliding in what he hoped were innocuous questions where he could.

The comings and goings of the nobles at the castle were of great interest to the villagers--sightings of "Lord X" and "Lady Y" would be talked about for years--and he quickly learned the names of those who had already departed. Thankfully, none of the Comyns appeared to be among them. Hugh Despenser, one of the second King Edward's current favorites, was rumored to be leaving this morning and the villagers were eager to catch a glimpse of the illustrious nobleman.

Confident that Joan was still in the castle, he took his time to see what more he could find out. One of the women, a serving maid at the castle sent to purchase fresh vegetables for the midday feast, provided his first bit of useful information about Bella's daughter, when she asked him whether he was serving one of the Comyn ladies staying in the constable's tower. It gave him a place to start searching.

But first he had to get in the castle.

His skill at getting in and out of places without being seen had earned him the war name of Viper. But it wasn't just a talent with locks and an ability to move stealthily through the shadows. It depended just as much on being able to read the situation and use it to his advantage. To see ways in and out that others didn't. Chaos, crowds, and diversions had opened as many gates as his blade.

He worked his way closer to the castle, waiting for the right opportunity. The level of scrutiny for those passing through the gate varied. In times of peace during daylight hours there was typically very little, and it was easy to pass to and from the village. But this was the Marches, a place that rarely saw peace, and he wasn't going to take any chances. To avoid questions, he needed to slip past the porter.