Marriage By Arrangement (26 page)

Empty, rumpled bedclothes. She collapsed on the edge of the bed, cradled her womb, and rocked.

****

Hand on the banister, Cailin stood at the top of the staircase. All day she’d kept busy with tasks that must be done, and now she could barely stand with her shoulders back and her head held high. After their talk last night, she’d so expected to see Avondale today.

She only had dinner to endure. She would sneak her hand into her husband’s under the damask tablecloth and give him a silent message that she desired him to join her in their suite immediately after they dined.

And if he refused her invitation—what? Pain would rip into her heart again. She thinned her lips. But she would risk more suffering. After she forced herself to take the first step down, the remaining descent seemed easier.

The others, already gathered around the table, looked up with smiles and greetings.

The dining butler behind her chair seated her.

When Avondale strode to his place at the end of the long table, despite how tired he looked, she couldn’t keep the wide smile from her face.

“Hello, my love.” After he settled himself, his knee brushed hers. Hidden by the long tablecloth, his warm hand closed around hers.

She placed her other hand over his, gently squeezed, and gave him another bright smile.

Yet something was wrong.

His jaw was set. His face too ruddy. His frown too deep, the bruise on his forehead hidden by thick, mahogany hair. He nodded at her and smiled. “I trust you spent the day well.”

Though he acknowledged her publicly, he seemed troubled.

“Yes, well. But I had hoped to see you.”

“I’m sorry. I was called away on an urgent matter.” The moment his gaze left her, his smile faded, and a cleft deepened between his dark brows. The slight stubble on his cheeks shifted as the muscle in his jaw clenched.

She’d seen that tense expression before.

Oh, dear God, please, not another of his spells.

He barely tasted his soup and soon waved the server to remove his bowl. His back looked rigid as an iron post, and he shook his head as the waiter offered the lamb savory.

Her husband stared down the long table at Papa. He cleared his throat. His tense manner curtailed conversation among the family and various guests.

Heads turned in his direction.

Papa lowered his fork.

“This news comes straight from the lion’s mouth.” Avondale’s voice sounded raspy, as if the news hurt his throat. “A friend, a royalist in a government regiment, sent word via secret dispatch that the Duke of Cumberland ordered his dragoons and his Kingston Horse to widen the search for rebel Highlanders. He’s searching the Lowlands. Beginning tomorrow.”

Cailin’s heart sped. She glanced at Brody, sitting across the table.

According to Megan, he’d gotten the news late last night and had whisked the men hidden inside the broch away to some secret places—Brody thought best that none of them knew where. Fortunately the men’s wounds were healed enough they were now mobile.

The English guests barely nodded and went back to their eating, flirting, and conversations.

Avondale heaved a deep sigh and raised his voice. “Cumberland ordered the soldiers to search every square inch of the Lowlands, castles and cottages, burghs and farms, because three of their soldiers have recently been murdered.” He glanced at Brody and his mouth thinned. “The duke thinks some Lowlanders are abetting the rebels. He is searching every single cottage and castle for fugitive rebels.”

Cailin’s hands grew icy.

Brody chewed more slowly, his eyes downcast.

Megan’s face drained of color.

Fiona blushed wine red, dropped her fork, and arranged and rearranged the silver fork across her plate of uneaten food.

The English gentry gazed at Avondale. “Surely not our castles and estates,” several of his peers spoke together.

“You will need to fly your colors. But yes, they will search your estates. I suggest you return to your lands to guard your holdings in person.” Her husband’s shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world burdened him. “Cumberland believes the Highlanders are mounting a new irregular type of warfare, using ambush and murder.” Avondale’s strong hand trembled as he sipped water from his glass. Some spilled on the white ruffle of his shirt. “Cumberland means to track any fugitive Highlander who escaped after the battle and found refuge in other parts of Scotland. Since he’s already scoured and plundered the Highlands, he’ll begin tomorrow with the Lowlands.”

“Wasn’t destroying the Highlands enough for them?” Megan’s green eyes flashed. “Aren’t his soldiers tired of searching? Don’t they ever want to return home to their families?”

No one else spoke.

Red stained Fiona’s neck and face all the way to the roots of her hair.

Brody rose from the table and bowed. “Ye will please excuse me.” His boots clattered in the silence as he strode down the long table past the other diners, and then from the dining room.

Every servant craned his neck to watch, and then jerked back into attention.

Was her mouth filled with cotton? Cailin wet her lips. The napkin she put to her mouth trembled.

Papa picked up his fork, gave a meaningful glance at the servants, and stabbed his meat. Obviously, he meant for the family to take little notice of Brody’s leaving, so as not to bring more attention to him.

Several long minutes later Megan folded her napkin and glanced at each of them. “I love you all so very much.” She rose from the table and rushed from the dining room.

Cailin pushed her lamb with her fork, but couldn’t force another bite down her tight throat. Megan would follow Brody into hiding. Would she ever see her sister again? Oh, she hated this war!

Abruptly Papa dropped his napkin, rose from his place, bowed to Avondale, and, boots striking the granite floor like a blacksmith’s hammer on the anvil, he left the dining room.

Finally, the awkward dinner ended, and family and guests departed to wherever they fancied.

Cailin and Avondale met in their chambers.

“Come sit with me.” He held out his hand and patted the side of the large, overstuffed chair.

She nodded and curled at his side. The elation she’d expected was dampened by the set of his jaw and the dark shade of his eyes.

Would the news he’d delivered send him over the edge?

Would she worry the rest of her life about what would send him into one of his spells? His future looked so bleak. But, no matter what he did, to her or even to their bairns, she would never, never allow Rafe to carry out his plan of her dear husband’s accidental
death. “I so appreciate what you did for our family tonight. Do you think your banner will keep Cumberland’s soldiers from searching our castle?”

“No. He’ll search. Pray God he finds nothing.” His chocolate eyes deepened to onyx. “You must remain in our chambers. In our bed. With a cloth over your eyes. You will feign sickness.”

“That will not be difficult. I am sick at heart.”

“Obey me in this, Cailin. Do not leave our bed tomorrow. No matter what happens.” His lips parted in a sad smile. “You and our baby are too important to risk.” He took her hand. “Promise me.”

She nodded.

He went to a chest in the corner, pulled a key from his vest, unlocked a drawer and withdrew a length of royal blue silk. Slowly he unfurled the banner, royal blue embroidered with three gold stags, and using the stairs to the bed, draped the royal banner of the house of Avondale over the red velvet canopy at the foot of the huge bed. From the door, the silk emblem would be the first object anyone entering would see.

Soldiers could not miss the message.

He returned to the chest and removed a small box from the drawer, closed the door, and walked slowly to her side. He took her hand and slid a gold ring with the royal blue seal of the house of Avondale onto her index finger. It was a small replica of the gem he wore on his own finger.

He bent and kissed her forehead. “With this ring I give you my heart. No one dare touch you as long as you wear this ring. This seal is second to the Duke of Cumberland and third to King George himself. This ring holds power and authority.”

Darkness touched her heart. Did his preparations mean he feared a bout of blackness? Did he expect he would be unable to defend her? “Will you not be here beside me?”

He turned his face away. “I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. But if you obey me, you shall be safe.”

What did he fear? What did he know that she didn’t? Why was he not open with her? Would he run, rather than face his nightmare, Bloody Billy?

Avondale’s tight lips and frown forbade her asking. She wouldn’t push him over the edge by forcing him to speak.

He settled in his accustomed double chair next to the crackle and snap of the fireplace. She twirled the ring on her finger watching the gem flash and sparkle in the reflection of the flames. The fit was loose, so she must be careful not to let the seal slip from her finger. Well she knew the significance of this ring. With this emblem, he empowered her to act in his stead. He’d given her his heart, and he fully trusted her. Madman or not, he’d deposited far more power into her hands than she’d ever before experienced. Her hand shook.

What did he expect would happen tomorrow?

His face was set with determination.

“But you will be by my side tomorrow, will you not?”

“You shall be safe.”

Though he still evaded answering her question, the darkness on his face kept her from asking yet again. Since the morning would certainly bring evil into the castle, tonight she would speak to him of his protection. Whatever put the tension in his stance, the rigidness in his broad shoulders, the tight set to his lips had to be dangerous. Especially for a man subject to periods of blackness. He needed what she’d yearned to speak to him about since the day they wed.

She slipped into the chair beside him. Cuddled into the one big seat in front of the roaring fire, she cupped his strong face in her hands. “Let us read together from the Holy Scriptures. Our earlier reading has taken us to the book of Romans.”

He nodded, his eyes on the fire, his face tense.

She found the place she wanted in the fifth chapter.

“
For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
She looked up from reading and raised a brow, trying to keep her expression calm while her heart beat so fast she feared he might detect the sound or see the palpitation.

“Yes, I am well acquainted with sin.” His voice deepened, “I walk with a load strapped to my back every day.”

“Why not, here tonight, receive God’s gift?”

“How can losing the guilt be as easy as taking a gift?”

“Easy for us, but not easy for God’s Son.” She leafed back in her worn Bible to the book of First Peter.

“
Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed.”

“I know of Christ’s suffering terrible agony and dying on the cross. More agony than any man should ever bear.” He rubbed the stubble on his cheeks, making a small rasping sound in the silence.

A log broke in the fireplace and fell with a comforting thud.

She skipped back in her Bible to Romans again. “
That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.”

They talked long into the night.

He promised he would think on the words she had read.

She would remember his sweet lovemaking for a very long time. It was as if he thought there might not be another opportunity to show his love.

Yet, the next morning when she opened her eyes, his pillow was empty.

Throwing a robe over her nightdress, she ran into the dressing room…and stumbled over the two bodies sprawled on the floor. She gasped and the room spun.

Hennings and Rafe.

28

Avondale snatched off his hat and wiped sweat from his forehead. After last night, he’d risen early and ridden all day. Thus far, the hordes of soldiers had not bothered any of Castle Drummond’s people.

When the soldiers began their search of the castle, he’d stood outside the front door, hand on his sword, praying Brody and the wounded men had disappeared without a trace of their having been inside the broch.

But he’d had to ride off before the two bodyguards regained their senses. He’d left a note pinned on the insides of Hennings’ and Rafe’s jackets. They must not follow him. At the risk of their own lives, they must protect Cailin and the babe. When the laudanum he’d administered them wore off, they would guard her with their lives.

He’d seen from his perch on the distant hilltop that the redcoats had thoroughly searched the castle and grounds. Some still lingered, but he couldn’t. Urgency drove him.

Scores of redcoats were underfoot everywhere, popping out from the forest, riding up over the hills, threading through Kirkmichael’s streets. Hundreds stalked the Lowland countryside on foot. Others thundered past on horseback.

He’d raised his coat of arms to fly over each cluster of cottages dotting the great estate, and King George’s soldiers had respected his banner. They searched homes, but had taken no prisoner on MacMurry lands.

He beat dust from his shoulders. His tongue clung to the roof of his mouth, and, all but falling from his saddle in weariness, he’d ridden further afield to the cottages in Kirkmichael, the adjoining burgh.

He heard rumors that soldiers rounded up one or two Scottish peasants at each cottage they rode up to, ravished the women, and pillaged the farms and stores. With no opposing army to protect the peasants, and the redcoats goaded by the duke’s proclamation, the people were at the mercy of the soldiers.

And he had long since crossed the boundary of MacMurry land.

He stiffened his back and put his hand on his sword. Yet another band of soldiers herded a group of men and boys, hands bound behind their back, up the carriage road in his direction.