The Rock (22 page)

Pregnant
. Dear God. In the long list of horrible consequences that had paraded up and down her mind (relentlessly) over the past two and a half days, she hadn’t considered a child. In addition to ruin, disgrace, and the loss of her virtue—which she’d so narrowly avoided—she might have been left with a far more lasting reminder of her temporary loss of sanity. For that was the only thing that could explain her utterly irrational, illogical, foolish behavior.

Still, she felt a sharp stab in her chest as the image of a tiny, pink-cheeked cherub with piercing blue eyes and almost-black hair flashed before her.

If she didn’t know better, she would say it was longing. Which was silly. She wanted children, of course. They were her duty. But unlike Joanna, she hadn’t been counting down the days from the time she turned sixteen until she could be a mother.

Joanna had always been the type of girl who had to hold every baby in the room. She loved nothing more than being at home surrounded by her family.

Elizabeth had never been like that. She liked children (some better than others), but she didn’t need to hold every one. She’d never seen herself in a big Hall surrounded by nothing but her children. She saw herself at court surrounded by excitement, entertainment, and lively conversation.

But . . .

But
nothing
, she told herself firmly. Nothing had changed because of that ill-advised kiss. Except that she’d learned a powerful lesson in tempting sin.

She should have listened to Father Francis! From the time she was a little girl, it had been drummed into her head to hold fast to her virtue. To be chaste until her marriage. To not let the Devil tempt her into immorality and wantonness.

She’d thought a kiss was nothing. Because the two kisses she’d experienced before
had
been nothing. She hadn’t anticipated how persuasive the Devil could be—or rather, how skilled he could be with his tongue!

Good Lord, when she thought about it, her knees still felt weak.

Thom’s kiss was nothing like the two that had come before. It hadn’t been simple and chaste, it had been carnal, and sensual, and overwhelming. It was a side of him that she’d never seen before. A bold, authoritative, and aggressively masculine side of him. A dominating side of him.

It had aroused feelings—sensations—in her that she’d never imagined let alone experienced before. Most of all it had made her feel good.
Too
good. As in “I’ve lost my mind good.” As in “here is my innocence for your taking” good.

She still couldn’t believe how quickly a kiss had spun out of control. How one minute she’d been thinking how warm and soft his mouth was, and how good he tasted, and the next she’d been sprawled on a table, half-naked, with his mouth on her breast, his hand between her legs, and practically begging for him to take her virtue.

She was glad he refused—of course she was. She just wished he hadn’t done it so harshly, when she’d been feeling so dazed and happy. If he’d thought her an untouchable “princess” before (where he got that ridiculous notion, she didn’t know), it was clear he no longer thought of her that way. She’d never realized how much he’d been keeping from her, and how much he’d been holding back. All that passion . . .

Sensing her sister-in-law’s eyes on her, Elizabeth forced herself to take a big spoonful of the beef pottage they were enjoying for the midday meal. She chewed slowly, making sure Joanna saw, and then asked, “Does Jamie know about the baby?”

Joanna shook her head. “I wasn’t sure when he left, and I didn’t want him distracted by anything.”

Elizabeth understood. Jamie had been unbearable with worry when Joanna was pregnant with Uilleam, as Joanna had suffered a previous miscarriage. Not that it had made her brother’s over-protectiveness any easier to bear.

Her cousin, who was seated on Joanna’s other side, interjected. “Perhaps your happy news will soften the blow of our ‘surprise’?”

The three women looked at each other and broke out into laughter. They all knew that Jamie was going to roar like an angry lion when he heard that his wife—his
pregnant
wife, no less—and “dear” cousin had ridden “halfway across Scotland” without an army for protection.

Jo and Izzie had arrived yesterday, much to Elizabeth’s relief. She’d been climbing the walls (what was left of them), waiting for Jamie and Thom to return with Archie. Her fear for her brother mingled with fear for Thom. It was only after Thom left that she fully considered the danger he would be facing. He wasn’t Jamie. He wasn’t used to fighting scores of Englishmen or performing death-defying feats of bravery at every turn. He’d only handled a sword to forge one until a few years ago.

What if she’d sent him to his death with that kiss?

If anything happened to him . . .

Her heart twisted, and the smile fell from her face. She would never forgive herself.

“James will recover,” Joanna said matter-of-factly. “I had to come. As soon as I received his missive that Archie was missing, I began to make preparations. When I learned that Archie had been imprisoned . . .”

Her voice fell off, and Elizabeth reached over to put her hand over hers to give it a comforting squeeze. “He will be all right,” she said firmly. They
both
would be all right.

“Of course he will,” Izzie said from her other side. “The smithy’s son will help.”

“Thom,” Joanna filled in, with a sidelong glance at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth made a great show of dunking a chunk of bread in the broth and pretended not to notice. Joanna had been very interested to hear that Thom had not only been here, but had been conscripted into helping with the rescue. Elizabeth had provided an edited explanation, but she knew that Joanna sensed there was more to the story.

Izzie wrinkled her nose. “How did a smith’s son from Douglas end up fighting with Edward Bruce?”

“It’s a long story,” Joanna said.

There were a lot of turnips and onions in the soup, Elizabeth noticed from the intense study she was doing of it.

“You were all friends growing up?” Izzie asked.

Joanna didn’t answer, so Elizabeth was forced to look up from her bowl. “We were.”

Were
, but not any longer. Thom had made that perfectly clear. And after what had nearly happened, Elizabeth wasn’t inclined to challenge him.

Not that she was worried about
that
happening again. She was sure it had been a one-time loss of sanity. Now that she was experienced and knew what to expect, she would not succumb so easily. It was her innocence that had been to blame, she told herself. It could have happened with anyone.

Of course, it would have been much more appropriate if it had happened with Randolph.

She bit her lip. But now that she had tasted passion, she was sure it would. Of course it would.

Still, prudence dictated a certain amount of caution around Thom. She would not tempt sin unnecessarily. He was so blastedly handsome, and all those muscles had felt surprisingly good—wonderful—against her.

Something in her voice had caused Izzie to frown. “Did something bad happen with the smith’s son? You tense up every time he is mentioned, and cousin Jamie turns outright
black
with temper.”

“Nothing happened,” Elizabeth responded quickly. Perhaps too quickly. And with far too much insistence. Her cheeks flushed. “Nothing specific. He and Jamie . . . they grew apart. We all did.”

Jo looked like she wanted to argue, but pursed her lips and studied
her
barely touched pottage instead.

Izzie seemed to understand. “I suppose it’s only natural. The friends we have when we are children aren’t always suitable when we get older.”

Elizabeth bristled. “Thom is perfectly suitable. He’s a wonderful man. He was always the best among us. I wasn’t the one who ended our friendship.”

Izzie held her gaze for a moment. “I see.”

But she didn’t; she only thought she did.

Elizabeth would have corrected her, but at that moment there was a commotion at the door to the Hall as one of the guardsmen rushed in. Barely had he announced that the men were back when Jamie came striding into the room.

The three women seated at the dais rose in unison. Elizabeth clutched a hand around her throat as if it might help her to breathe, but her chest was frozen as her eyes scanned the men behind him.

Her knees buckled, and she was forced to grab the edge of the table to keep from falling. Right behind her brother, initially hidden from her view by the sizable warrior who walked beside him, was Archie.

It had worked! Her brother was safe, and . . .

The cry that bubbled from between her lips was more of a sob. Even among the group of exceedingly tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular warriors, she picked him out easily.

Thom was as well.

Despite her hold on the table, her legs gave out. She collapsed back on the bench. The relief was too much, and the emotion of the past few days caught up with her all at once as she burst into tears.

Realizing her tears were only causing Archie more guilt and distress, Elizabeth quickly got her emotions under control. But after days of fearing she might never see her young brother again, she was reluctant to take her eyes off him or let him be pried from her side.

But the lad was exhausted, and once she’d assured herself that he had eaten as much as he could—his beaten, starved appearance had shocked her—she resisted the urge to follow him to the barracks and watched him walk out of the Hall with Joanna’s brothers.

Tears swelled in her eyes and throat, the tumult of emotion ranging from relief to heartbreak.

Jamie, who had been fixed to Archie’s other side throughout the meal (also, it seems, reluctant to let him out of his sight), put his hand over hers. “He’ll be fine, El.”

She turned to meet her brother’s gaze. “Will he?” she challenged, anger flaring inside her. “I’m not so sure. He is not the same mischievous, overly confident young brother who snuck away from Blackhouse a week ago. He has aged ten years since I saw him last.”

She knew it was unfair to take her anger out on Jamie, but he seemed to understand. “No, he is not,” he admitted. “But he is alive and safe, and we can be grateful for that. The rest will work itself out in time.”

The tears finally slid down her cheeks. “It’s not fair. Whatever he’s gone through . . .” She had figured out the basics and wasn’t sure she wanted to know the details. “He’s only a boy, Jamie.”

“Aye, and he’s not the only young person who has suffered in this war. But he’s more fortunate than most, so remember that.”

“I’ll try.”

Jamie nodded. “I’m sending him back to Blackhouse with Richard and Thomas tomorrow.”

Elizabeth’s heart jumped. “But I thought he would come to Edinburgh with us.”

With the castle mostly dismantled, James was anxious to return to the king, who was currently at Holyrood with his nephew—her soon-to-be fiancé, Thomas Randolph, the new Earl of Moray.

“He can join us when he has recovered, but Lady Eleanor will be returning from England at the end of the week. She will know what he needs.”

Elizabeth wanted to argue, but she knew Jamie was right. Their formidable stepmother had been through many difficult times in this war with many husbands, including her father when he’d been returned from prison. She would know how to help her son.

Elizabeth nodded and turned her head back to her plate, pushing the small pieces of bread and cheese she’d broken off but hadn’t eaten around the trencher with her finger. She cast a quick glance in Joanna’s direction a few tables away but drew her eyes back sharply. She wasn’t sure what the tight, prickly feeling was in her chest, but she didn’t like it. If she didn’t know better, she would think it was jealousy. Which was ridiculous. Joanna and Thom had been friends since before Elizabeth had met them. They were like siblings. Why should she care that they were talking, laughing, and so clearly happy to see one another?

So what if when Joanna had cried on seeing him and thrown herself into his arms he’d laughed, spun her around, and hugged her tight. So what if every time Elizabeth heard him laugh, she remembered how it used to be, and it felt as if a knife was sinking deeper and deeper into her heart. So what if he hadn’t looked at her—not once—and acted as if she weren’t even there. As if he hadn’t held her in his arms three nights ago, kissed her, and made her feel something she’d never felt before.

Who was she trying to fool? His indifference, especially compared to how he was with Joanna, hurt. It hurt a lot.

She wasn’t the only one casting glances to the other table. Jamie, too, could barely hide his annoyance. But he was too smart to try to do something about it. Those who didn’t know Joanna well only saw the gentle and sweet outside, but her sister-in-law had steel in her spine that was every bit as rigid and unbending as Jamie’s. When it came to Thom, she would defend him as fiercely as she would Uilleam. Jamie knew better than to try to interfere.

“You were right,” Jamie said, catching her last glance. “We wouldn’t have been able to free Archie without him. No one else could have climbed that cliff. I’d forgotten how good he was.”