The Rock (29 page)

“I won’t.”

It wasn’t the same. Elizabeth didn’t love Thom. Well, maybe she loved him, but not in the way Jo loved Jamie. It was the other part that troubled her. The lusting part.

Clearly realizing that she’d said enough on the matter, Joanna let the matter rest.

Elizabeth was more relieved than she wanted to admit. She didn’t want to talk about Thommy with Joanna. She didn’t want to talk about Thommy with anyone. All she wanted to do was reach Edinburgh, where she was sure everything would fall back into place.

She would be back in a city again, with all the entertainment and excitement that had to offer. Even in the midst of a siege, the city would be a buzzing beehive of activity. There would be markets, shops, music, noise, and so much to keep her busy with planning for the wedding she wouldn’t have time to think of anything or any
one
else.

The incessant awareness—lust, whatever it was—that she felt every time she thought of Thom would disappear.

It would be perfect.

And as the lights of the city came into view on the horizon ahead of them, it seemed to be true. Her heartbeat quickened with excitement. It was so beautiful. The imposing castle perched high on the rock above the twinkling lights of Scotland’s biggest and most important city (at least since the English had taken Berwick-upon-Tweed). It looked magical—like some enchanted kingdom from a child’s faerie tale.

By the time they reached the famous abbey built by King David I after a cross miraculously appeared from the sky and saved him from being gored to death by a hart, Elizabeth could barely sit straight in her saddle she was so excited. Or at least mostly excited. A small twinge of trepidation was to be expected, wasn’t it?

If the stench of the city had perhaps taken some of the enchantment out of the moment, it was soon replaced when not a minute after the king came out of the abbey to greet them, a man came galloping through the gate as if riding straight out of that same faerie tale. He shimmered from head to toe in a magnificent suit of mail that must have cost a king’s ransom. The rich velvet surcoat of gold and yellow bearing the arms of Moray also adorned the most impressive-looking warhorse Elizabeth had ever seen. It was a big, ferocious beast that looked as if it should be pulling Satan’s chariot rather than Apollo’s. But somehow the juxtaposition of dark against all that blazing light worked.

When the man dismounted and tore off his helm, revealing tousled dark waves of thick hair and a face so finely featured and classically handsome, by all rights Elizabeth should have gasped.

Her cousin did. “Good gracious,” Izzie whispered. “Is he for real?”

There was a slight edge of wry amusement to her cousin’s voice that made Elizabeth smile. He was almost too faerie-tale perfect to believe. Lancelot to Bruce’s Arthur without the complication of Guinevere.

The king must have been standing closer than they realized. “My nephew certainly does know how to make an entrance,” he added dryly. “He will never be accused of modesty or meekness.”

Elizabeth smiled at the man who’d defied the odds and wrested the throne of Scotland from the iron grip of the most powerful king in Christendom, Edward of England. “Perhaps not, sire, although perhaps he has no cause for either.”

The king laughed. “I suspect you are right.” James had gone forward to greet him. They’d exchanged a cross grip of the forearm, and Randolph said something that sounded like “Where is she?”

James pointed in her direction, and through the crowd Randolph’s gaze found hers. Their eyes met and held. It was a significant moment—and undeniably a romantic one—and she forced herself to feel something. But her heart didn’t stop, her breath didn’t catch, and her chest didn’t squeeze. The most she could manage was a tentative smile.

He broke out into a broad grin in return and crossed the distance between them, the men falling back out of his way to create a path like the sea parting before Moses.

All except one. He had his back to her, but she didn’t need to see his face. It was etched on every inch of her memory.

Now
all those things happened: her heart stopped, her breath caught, and her chest squeezed; she feared that he would not move at all. That he would stand there like a dark sentinel and block Randolph’s path to her. That he would confront or challenge the man she meant to marry. One of the most powerful men in the country.

Oh God, Thom, don’t
. . .

At the last minute, he moved out of the way, taking a deliberate step back.

Elizabeth exhaled, finally releasing the breath she’d been unconsciously holding. She hoped no one else had noticed, but from the look of worry on Joanna’s face, she knew she’d seen it as well.

The smile fell from Randolph’s face long enough to frown in Thom’s direction, but it quickly returned to hers with a smile.

What he did next was the kind of thing that wee lasses dreamed of—the kind of thing that when she had been married for years she would tell her grandchildren. Instead of taking her hand or bowing, he stopped before her and dropped to his knee.

Izzie muttered something that sounded distinctly like “Good grief.”

Elizabeth could almost hear her eye roll. She would have shot her a glance, but Randolph did it for her. Her cousin simply met his frown with an innocent smile. Frowning harder, he turned back to Elizabeth and held out his hand.

Realizing she’d forgotten her part, Elizabeth placed her hand in his. He bowed over it and said, “My lady. I’d hoped to be here when you arrived.” Standing, he did not release her hand right away as he looked into her eyes. “I hope your journey was uneventful?”

Elizabeth thought of the ravine and her eyes unconsciously sought Thom’s. Their gazes held for only a fraction of an instant; she felt seared by the contact, the flash of heat was so intense.

All of a sudden, he turned and left without saying a word. He didn’t need to. The look of pain on his face said everything. He’d lied. Thom did still care about her, and unintentionally she’d hurt him again.

“My lady?” Randolph inquired.

Elizabeth jolted, brought sharply back to reality.
Uneventful
. “Aye, my lord, perfectly uneventful. Although we did get stuck in the carriage, and I managed to fall down a ravine.”

His brows lifted for a moment in surprise before he laughed and shook his head. “I’d hate to think about what warrants eventful. But come, we shall hear all about it.”

With that the king led them all into the Hall. But Elizabeth was painfully aware of the man who was absent. The man whose tortured expression would haunt her sleep for too many nights to come.

W
HAT DO YOU THINK
?”

It took Thom a moment to respond. It wasn’t only the “did I just fall down a faerie hole?” daze brought on by the identity of the man posing the question (the king of Scotland was asking
his
opinion?), or that he was surrounded by five of the most powerful men in the country (the king’s oldest and most trusted advisor, Neil Campbell, Randolph, Douglas, MacLeod, and MacRuairi), it was also that he was trying to figure out whether the king was jesting. But from the serious expressions of the men watching him, he realized the king was very serious.

Jesus
.

“Can it be done?” the king added, obviously impatient for his response.

Thom was glad he hadn’t laughed or blurted out “by a dead man” as had been his initial reaction. Instead, he gave the question the respect due the questioner.

Bloody hell
.

Nudging his mount forward, and then back and forth to the left and right, he looked over the infamous “Castle Rock” of Edinburgh Castle from every possible angle from where they were positioned at the base of the steep rock face. He pushed aside the knowledge that climbing the Rock had never been done, pushed aside the words “impossible” and “suicide,” and tried to look at it objectively. But almost three hundred feet of nearly-sheer basalt cliffs didn’t give quarter.

Thom had never contemplated climbing anything of the like. It made the cliffs at Bamburgh look like child’s play. He followed cracks and crevices in the rock up the face, but they all disappeared into dead ends of solid, unyielding, impenetrable rock. There were handholds and footholds, but they were few and far between. Short distances could be managed, perhaps, but almost three hundred feet?

He shook his head. It would likely be suicide. But
could
it be done?

He turned back to the king. “I don’t know.”

The Bruce’s dark eyes gleamed. “Does that mean it’s possible someone could climb it?”

“No one ever has before, but at this point, I’m not saying it’s
im
possible. I’d need a closer look to scout it from different vantages to see whether there is a way up.”

Something that he wasn’t seeing right now.

“You shall have whatever you need,” the king said quickly. “My nephew will see to it.”

Thom stiffened reflexively. Maybe the only thing worse than being under Douglas’s command would be being under Randolph’s. The sting of last night’s arrival at Holyrood was still too fresh. He’d felt like he was watching some kind of damned farce. A play torn from the pages of Arthur and his knights, featuring the perfect shining knight and the beautiful princess for all to admire.

Except that it hadn’t been a play; it had been too damned real. And the beautiful princess was his, damn it.

For Thom, standing aside in silence as Elizabeth greeted the man she planned to marry was like a slap in the face and all too reminiscent of his youth.
Remember your place. Don’t reach too high. Keep your mouth shut
.

Stepping back had been the only prudent thing to do. But why did he feel that in doing so he’d conceded something he didn’t want to concede?

Perhaps sensing the direction of Thom’s thoughts, MacLeod said, “It would have to be done at night. We will see to it that no one from the castle is alerted.”

The king lifted a brow. “You want MacGowan with you?”

The Highland Chief nodded. “Aye.”

Thom almost heaved a sigh of relief.

Randolph shot Douglas a surprised look, at which his old friend just shrugged. They all knew what MacLeod’s command meant: Thom was being recruited by the Phantoms.

“Very well,” the king agreed. He turned to Thom. “You may be able to help with a few other missions I have in mind.”

Thom nodded. “I’ll do whatever I can, sire.”

“My brother says you wish to become a knight?”

“Aye, sire.”

“Do well, and I will personally see to it,” he said. Thom was still reeling from the king’s words when Bruce added with an enigmatic laugh in MacLeod’s direction, “Although not everyone sees the value, knighthood still has much to recommend it.” He glanced down at Thom’s horse—a pathetic beast compared to the fine horseflesh ridden by the other men. “You will need to find a better horse.”

Thom repressed a groan. “I’m working on it.”

More than one man laughed as they turned their mounts and headed back through the forest to return to the abbey.

Fortunately, it would be a short stay. With his release from Douglas’s temporary command, Thom would leave the abbey for the siege encampment at the base of Castle Hill—the elevated rise from the west that provided the only accessible entrance to the castle—about a mile away. Staying at Holyrood, being forced to watch Randolph woo his bride, would have been unbearable.

Thom needed to put his head down and concentrate on the opportunity being given him with the Phantoms. Christ, the king had offered to knight him if he proved himself.

He was riding at the back of the group with MacRuairi and MacLeod going over a plan to try to get a closer look at the cliff that very night, when he took the opportunity to ask about the king’s earlier remark. “What did the king mean when he said you did not see the value in knighthood?”

The two West Highland chieftains exchanged a look.

“We’re Highlanders,” MacLeod said as if that were explanation enough.

“We have our own code,” MacRuairi added. “The chivalry of knights may make for romantic tales,” he said with an eye to Randolph. Apparently Thom wasn’t the only one not impressed by Randolph’s performance. “But it is not reality, nor does it win wars.” He gave him a slightly evil smile. “You’ll see.”

Thom frowned. “There are no knights among you?”

“A few,” MacLeod answered. “But it is secondary to their place in the Guard.”

The Guard
. Thom stored the information away for later.

“There was another among us for whom it was not secondary,” MacRuairi said with a deadly look on his face. “He lost sight of his place and betrayed us. He fights for the English now.” He practically spat the last.

Whoever the man was, Thom wouldn’t want to be in his boots if he ever came face-to-face with Lachlan MacRuairi again.

Thom realized that Sir Neil Campbell, who in addition to being one of Bruce’s oldest friends was also brother to one of the Phantoms, must have overheard some of their conversation when he started prodding Randolph. “I hear you made quite an impression last night, Randolph. I’m surprised you did not call out the trumpeters.”