Risk Everything (34 page)

She didna need to search out Ugsome. He came to her. No one paid much note to the figure of a slender man and the dog walking beside the castle walls. Meghan followed him and sought a way to tell the dog what she needed.

“Ugsome, leave,” she commanded. It did not work.

“Out, Ugsome.” Nothing.

“Hunt, Ugsome.” Still, no response.

Then she pictured the small strip of land outside the castle walls. If he went through a bolt hole, how did he reach the bridge to cross to the mainland? He could not. Though a man could lower a ladder to the land where they worked on the outside walls, a dog couldna climb up the sides of the bridge.

However, he could swim to shore!

“Water.” No flicker of interest. Then she thought of the times she, Ede, Garith, and Ugsome spent enjoying the lovely pool of water just inside the forest.

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“Swim, Ugsome.”

He twirled in circles, his tongue lolling out. Trotting ahead, he turned often to see if she followed. He stopped at the south wall where dense shrubs as high as her head grew against the stone walls.

A guard paced above where Ugsome disappeared. She stepped but a pace into the open, but of a sudden the clouds passed. ’Twas bright as day.

“Ho, there,” the guard called out.

Meghan lowered her head, raised her arm, and waved quickly. She turned her back on him, approached the nearest tree, and pretended to open her breeches and relieve herself as a man would do. He said no more, but she knew she could go no farther tonight.

She retrieved the cloak and returned to Ede’s chamber. No sooner had she closed the door behind her, than she heard MacDhaidh’s footsteps approach his room.

Shame scorched her soul, knowing she had been used as a common leman. So much did it affect her, that bile surged up her throat, burning it until she felt it was afire. She barely made it to the basin afore she spewed her meal.

Chapter 25

Today was the MacDhaidh’s wedding day. Meghan awoke as the sky lightened in the east, and she ate the stale bread she had secreted under her pillow. Once she knew her stomach would not rebel, she eased herself out of bed.

She was no coward. She wouldna make it easy for herself or for the MacDhaidh. He would marry afore her eyes, killing the dreams she had fostered in her heart these many years.

She dressed in the rose outfit he preferred, brushed her long hair until it crackled, and placed a shining silver circlet around her forehead to control it. She studied the face in the polished metal square.

Wiser. She looked wiser, by too many years. Hmpf! Why not?

No dreams were left to make her eyes guileless.

No hopes left to make them expectant.

Nay. The woman who peered back at her knew the worst.

Her eyes were like stone.

She waited atop the castle and calmly watched people scurrying to prepare for the big event. Dougald and Alpin brought Luath and the palfrey to the foot of the castle entrance, and she went below. Ugsome followed close beside her skirts. Everyone made way for her and the beast. Some smiled shyly. Others hung their heads, shamed for what their master had done.

The MacDhaidh emerged. He had shaved his face smooth, and someone had trimmed his hair. The silver streak at his temples was twice as wide as the day afore, making the braids there glisten in the sun. He was resplendent in a black silk

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tunic. Across his shoulders rested a black silk cape covered over with fine stitches depicting beasts and trees of all kinds done in brightly colored threads. The silver lining seemed to ripple with changing shades.

His ceremonial sword rode at his hip, its scabbard glistening with emeralds of all hues. Silver hose met black leather shoes, their garters red silk.

He wore but one ring. The ring that proclaimed him The MacDhaidh of Rimsdale.

She knew the moment he saw her. His jaw twitched, then firmed to granite. He did not meet her eye, nor did he need to. Her appearance at his wedding told him he was now as nothing to her.

Alpin helped Ailsa mount her palfrey. She wore a gown of white, glittering with yellow roses done with gold threads. At the center of each was a pearl. A veil covered her silvery hair.

Alpin also wore white. Together they looked like two beautiful silver twin angels come down to grace Rimsdale’s bailey.

Father Mark held the ceremony outside the chapel door so all could hear and bear witness to the wedding. Meghan swallowed bile as she heard Rolf swear to “worship thee with my body.” While he spoke the words, he glanced up and his gaze met hers.

Had she not been staring so coldly at him, she would have missed the emotion that flashed through his eyes.

Pain. Not of the body. Of the soul.

At the end of the ceremony, he lowered his head to kiss his bride. Meghan melted back through the crowd.

She returned to the highest part of the castle as Ugsome followed closely. She was there but a short time when she heard a tumult on the stairway. The MacDhaidh’s curses recoiled off the stones as he burst through the doorway, Dougald and Jamie behind him.

The sun’s light glinted off his jeweled scabbard like a crystal, flashing beautiful streaks across her tunic. As soon as he spotted her, he jolted to a halt. Had he thought she could disappear at will? Nay, ’twas not that. He gave his

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thoughts away when he looked at the open spaces between the merlons.

“Dinna flatter yerself, MacDhaidh. Ye are as nothing to me.” She let all her feelings flash from her eyes.

Betrayal. Hate. Scorn. Distrust.

He stiffened and stared a moment, then acknowledged her with a nod before he turned and disappeared down the stairway. Her hands curled into fists.

Meghan watched the sky and prayed Cloud Dancer would soon come. She remained atop the castle and avoided all the festivities. In the bailey below, they had set tables laden with food. Off to the side was a large roped-off area where the men competed in games of skill. ’Twas that sight that drew her attention. She watched as the day marched on. Finally, the archery competition pitted one man against the other.

None could best Rolf. Once they ran out of men to challenge their lord’s skill, Dougald approached him. Soon, a crowd gathered around the two men. They appeared to argue over some point. After much urging from the crowd, Rolf nodded. What were they about? Garith pointed to the top of the castle. She knew. Men began wagering coins into two helmets, and excited voices reached her ear. Rolf shrugged his shoulders, and Garith took off at a run.

“Meghan!” His voice sounded breathless as he pounded up the stairs and hurtled through the doorway. He stopped but long enough to tug Ugsome’s ear and thump his sides. “None has bettered Rolf ’s aim, but Dougald has bet everyone that you can.”

“Nay.” Meghan turned to face toward Blackthorn and willed the great eagle to come gliding through the clouds.

“I know ’tis not to your liking, but that witch who is now my sister-by-law laughed and sneered when Dougald said you were a worthy opponent. The chandler, the baker, the tanner, even the falconer’s lad put coins in the helmet for you as winner.”

“See Dougald returns their hard-earned money. I dinna wish to be in yer brother’s presence.”

“Ailsa has made a special bet. She said she noted your
ugly

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silver band.” He frowned, adding, “She lies, for ’tis beautiful.

She pledged the gold circlet with a sapphire at its center that Rolf gave her for her betrothal gift. She said if Rolf’s wh— uh, if you can best him, the circlet is yours.”

“Nay. I dinna care what she pledged. It interests me not.”

“Please, Meghan,” he pleaded. “She said you would know you were too unskilled, and if you refused, the coins collected should go to her.” His face became agitated, but she still did not move. “The men agreed. If you dinna, they will lose all.”

She glanced down at the stillness below. They all waited quietly as they shielded their eyes from the sun and watched her.

“Lucifer’s poxed tarse.” She whirled toward the stairway.

Garith ran over to the open area, raised a fist high in the air, and shouted a war cry.

Meghan gritted her teeth to keep from screaming curses as she hiked up her skirts and stalked from the castle. The crowd parted as Garith led her and Ugsome to the waiting men. She noted Dougald held her bow and quiver of arrows, an excited grin splitting his face.

“One arrow each. The MacDhaidh will shoot first,” Meghan ordered. Not once did she look at Rolf.

Pandemonium broke out. Everyone argued ’twas not fair to her that she have but one chance to beat him.

Meghan turned steely eyes on the crowd, and they quieted.

She faced him and allowed her contempt to show in her face.

“One try. If I win, ye will return my clothin’, and Garith will take Storm to Blackthorn under a flag of truce. Ye will give back the wagered coins. Yer
wife
may keep her circlet. I dislike baubles.”

“Aye. One shot. If I win, you will vow not to escape.”

Meghan uttered a sound deep in her throat. Her lips stretched and lifted in a snarl to equal Ugsome’s.

If looks could render a man impotent, he wouldna be fit to perform his marital duties this night.

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Sophia Johnson

Rolf ’s soul flinched at the look of revulsion flashing in Meghan’s eyes. From the moment he had announced Ailsa would be his bride, all hope for happiness slid from his heart like melting snow off mountain tops in late spring.

He forced his features to a stern rigidity, afeared his dread of the future would show. He glanced at the rose tunic that accented her beauty tenfold. Ailsa was the moon’s shadow.

Meghan was the earth’s energy and the sun’s warmth in one golden form.

“Will your clothin’ not hinder your aim?” He eyed her flowing tunic.

“Will yers?” She looked pointedly at his own fancy attire.

“Then let us settle this.”

Dougald’s men pushed the crowd back to the far side of the rope. Only Rolf, Dougald, Meghan, and Garith remained inside.

Taking an arrow from Dougald, Rolf aimed for the dead center of the target. He could do no less, since ’twas there he had landed more oft than not this day. As he expected, but not as he had hoped, he struck true.

“Since my strength is greater than yours, take five paces forward afore you shoot.”

“I need no concession from ye.” She eyed him with disgust.

Rolf prayed she would not shame herself. His face felt taut as leather as she borrowed two ribbons at the neck of Garith’s shirt. She pulled the sleeves of her tunic up to her shoulders, and Garith helped tie them there with the ribbons.

Taking her bow, she tested its tautness, for in these many weeks at Rimsdale she had not the use of it. Satisfied with its familiar feel, she held her hand out to Garith for an arrow.

With fluid grace, she raised the bow, notched the arrow, and sighted down its length. Smooth and leisurely, as if she was alone on the field, she arched the bow till he marveled how her arms stood the strain. She let the arrow loose. It flew toward the target, its whoosh of air audible in the silence.

Time slowed as Rolf watched it soar through the open space. It made a sharp, snapping noise as it struck. Not at the

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edge of the target. Not at the center of the target beside his own. His arrow fell to the ground. Split in half.

Involuntarily, a shout left his lips. His heart pounded with pride for her. He caught himself, shrugged, and feigned bore-dom.

“Garith will deliver Storm to Blackthorn on the morrow.”

His gaze scanned her comely form. A grimace flashed over his features as he added, “Afore the sun sets, your boyish garments will be sent to your chamber.”

Meghan nodded and turned her back on him. Ugsome again cleared a path for her return.

As he watched her leave, naught was left for him but the raw misery of an aching heart. He clamped his jaw shut.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Ailsa seize the gold circlet and secret it in the folds of her finery.

Gray mist shrouded the mountains to the north and crept over the land, making the waning day appear near nightfall.

Ugsome padded beside her as Meghan paced the parapets.

She studied the shoreline where she must swim ashore when she made good her escape. The forest was closest there, leaving but a small open stretch of land for her to cross afore gaining the line of ancient rowan trees.

Satisfied that she would have no difficulty even on the darkest night, she waved at the alert guards and went below to Ede’s chamber. Spying the returned clothing folded neatly upon the bed, she nodded grimly.

The MacDhaidh had kept to worthless promises, but the one that mattered as much as her life and death, he broke without a qualm. She stripped off the lovely rose outfit and tossed it into the peat fire burning in the grate, then dusted off her hands as if ridding herself of trappings meant to please a man. Ugsome looked up at her and back at the fire. They watched together as flames licked the edges of the cloth, then consumed the garment. Satisfied, she dressed swiftly in the familiar breeches and open-necked shirt.

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After she wrapped the belt twice around her slender waist, she untangled her windswept hair with a carved comb. An idea struck. ’Twas a long comb, slender at one end. She turned it around in her hands and studied it. Was she to break off the last three teeth, a sharp thin edge would be left. Could she pick the lock on the MacDhaidh’s chest where her dagger rested?

With efficient speed, she soon had what she needed. She checked the landing afore she slipped from her room to the MacDhaidh’s. A few heartbeats later, she had picked the lock open, delved within the chest, and brought forth her dagger and sheath. Small pieces of parchment caught her eye, for her own handwriting was visible on it.

Her missives to Connor, telling him they need not worry for her! Her heart cracked wider with this latest deceit. No wonder Blackthorn warriors had picked off his men. To question them of her safety, no doubt.