Timeless Desire (35 page)

Panna said, “I’ll bite your cock off, you bloody half-wit.”

Jamie heard the roar of blood in his ears and dove for the man, knocking him to the floor. With a yowl, he grabbed the man’s throat.

“Let him go!” the man with the pistol yelled. His companion dug at Jamie’s hands, but Jamie had thirty pounds on him and his hold was too strong.

“Promise me her safety,” Jamie said, “or I’ll crush your friend’s throat.” The man’s mouth stretched open in a useless attempt to draw a breath. His face was as red as the blood on Jamie’s chin.

The standing man looked from his companion to Jamie.

“If you were going to shoot me, you would have,” Jamie said. “Promise me her safety or I’ll crush it now.

“I promise.”

Jamie released the other guard. The man rolled to his side, gasping for air, and climbed to his feet. “Let us hope your word means something this time. Step outside. My wife needs to dress.”

The man gave him an impatient look. “The door stays open.”

Jamie grabbed the collar of the man on the floor and dragged him into the hall, dumping him there and then returning.

“Dress quickly,” he said to Panna as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots. “No one will hurt you.” Then he stood and helped Panna into her dress and shoes. “I don’t know what will happen next.” He reached for his coat. “Follow my lead—and be prepared to run.”

“Hurry!” the man in the hall called.

Jamie took Panna’s hand.

“Wait!” she cried, and ran to the bed. She dropped to her knees and grabbed the books as well as some papers that had fallen there. She slipped the papers into her pockets. Then she grabbed the animals of Noah’s ark and stuffed them in, too. “I don’t know if we’ll be back.”

“We won’t. Not if I have anything to say about it.” Jamie leaned toward her as if to tighten her laces and whispered. “If anything happens to me, tell MacIver you carry his heir. It will guarantee your safety.”

P
ANNA HURRIED ALONGSIDE
J
AMIE
,
WHO MOVED AS IF HE WERE
planning to take his grandfather by the neck and throttle him when he found him.

They were led by the guards to the same high-ceilinged hall in which they had breakfasted, only the plates had been cleared and the twenty or so clan chiefs sat ominously silent, glaring at Jamie as he entered. MacIver no longer occupied the seat at the head of the table. He had been moved to a chair in the middle. Robbed of his rightful place, the man looked frail and hunched. He did not meet his grandson’s eyes, which turned Panna’s gut to jelly. She clutched Jamie’s hand.

Another chief stood near the now-empty seat reserved for the leader of the clans. He held up a hand and pointed to a place next to the hearth. One of the guards poked Jamie with his pistol. With a look of anger, Jamie shook his way free and parked himself where the chief had pointed, inserting himself in front of Panna.

“I am Cathal,” the chief said, “chief of Clan Bruce.”

“I know who you are.” Jamie stood straighter.

“I have taken your grandfather’s place as questioner to ensure fairness.”

Panna thought she heard a faint snort from Hector.

“Why have you chosen to betray your countrymen?” Cathal asked.

She felt Jamie flinch, as if he’d been hit by another shot, and she willed him the fortitude to answer.

“I don’t think of my visit here as a betrayal.”

Several clan chiefs leaned forward, and one, a lanky young man with a pock-marked face, muttered, “English filth.”

“That, I’m afraid, is what has us concerned,” Cathal said. “Your grandfather has said he wants us to heed your exhortation to hold our arms. He says he relies on his intuition. Hector MacIver’s intuition has led us through many a difficult time in the borderlands. But it is not enough for every man here. And Hector has agreed to abide by the will of the group, have you not?”

Hector pressed his lips together and nodded.

“You tell us to stand down, yet you did not tell your grandfather that English troops were gathering over the border. There are many here who consider that an egregious omission.”

Jamie held his tongue, though Panna could tell he was vibrating with the effort to do so.

“And you say you were in Scotland to marry, though the marriage was sudden and there is at least one here who questions your avowed ardor.”

A flush came over Abigail Kerr’s face, and she gave Panna a regretful look.

“They consummated their vows,” the guard said, “and had a lively time of it.”

It was Panna’s turn to redden, and Jamie gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Your army has taken great satisfaction in slaughtering our countrymen. You yourself have captained regiments that have inflicted mortal harm on many men. In short,” Cathal said, “your behavior does not paint a picture of a man particularly worthy of our trust. However, the council has agreed to give you time to speak.”

Jamie cleared his throat. “I hold the ties to my mother’s countrymen as highly as I hold the ties to my own.”

“Liar,” someone said.

“Quiet,” Abigail said. “Let him talk.”

“I came with a turbulent heart,” Jamie said. “What I want more than anything else is peace for the people who live in the borderlands.”

“That and a father’s name,” someone said.

“Silence!”
Cathal ordered.

“Through an accident, I became the possessor of information which made it clear now is not the time for the Scots to do battle.”

“What information?” Cathal said. “You ask us to trust you, but you dinna give us reason to. We need more than your word.”

“Please, I have risked everything to come here. In fact . . .” Jamie paused, and Panna felt him teetering on the verge of saying something more, but he licked his lips and shook his head. “In fact, some of the risks will be quite painful to bear. I know you to be honorable men and women—honorable men and women I have met on the fields of battle. You know the meaning of fealty. The details of what I’ve learned or how I learned the information I have I cannot share. In truth, there will be many who say I shouldn’t have shared as much as I have, but I make my own choices and will live with the consequences.”

“Hear, hear.”

Panna searched the sea of faces for signs of sympathy, but found little to give her comfort.

“And if I have betrayed anyone’s trust here,” Jamie added, “all I can say is you did not deserve it, and I most humbly beg your forgiveness.”

Abigail Kerr stared, tight-lipped, into her goblet.

“The price for raising arms right now is too high,” Jamie said. “You have to believe me. Stand down. Send your men home—”

“Wi’ several thousand English soldiers an hour from our door?” a chief at the far end of the table cried.

“Aye. I know it looks discouraging, but—”

“Discouraging? We’ll be slaughtered by the same bloodyminded Englishmen who’ve burned our villages and raped our women.”

“I lost thirty men at Dunkeld,” another chief said.

“Don’t believe the Englishman!”

“He’s his father’s bastard son!”

“The men of Clan Turnbull stay in the borderlands!”

The table was growing more agitated. A few men stood. Panna clung to Jamie’s side.

Cathal raised his hands. “Enough!” The chiefs quieted, though the ones standing made no motion to sit. “We have heard Captain Bridgewater speak. Are there any here who would believe him? Show me your hands.”

The man who said “Hear, hear,” raised his hand, as did two chiefs who had sat stonily silent near the head of the table. A fourth raised his hand despite the hiss of his tablemate. Slowly, Abigail’s hand rose, and Panna gave her a grateful smile. But no other hands went up, not even Hector MacIver’s.

Cathal gave the table another long moment to see if any more of the clan chiefs would offer their support. He needn’t have bothered.

“Six for,” Cathal said, “fourteen against. Hector, do you have anything to say on behalf of your grandson?”

Hector shook his head, a black look upon his face. “No.”

Cathal hesitated. “This may be your only chance to affect his fate.”

“He is the blood son of a lying English blackguard. He has chosen his fate.”

The bile in his words made Panna’s breath catch. She could feel Jamie sway.

Cathal said, “The punishment for spying is hanging. Twill be carried out within the hour. Take them back to their room.”

Jamie squared his shoulders. “What of my wife?”

“She will be held until the close of the battle, then escorted to the Solway ferry,” Cathal said. “If you have any gold upon you, I suggest you give it to her now. Twill be the only money she will have.”

“May I have your word she will be safe?”

Before Cathal could answer, Abigail said, “You have my word and the word of the council.”

A balloon of panic filled Panna’s chest, nearly choking her. “No, wait! You need to listen. Jamie can’t tell you, but I have taken no such oath—”

“Panna, no.”

“The English army will not attack unless you do. The queen’s commands do not allow it. All you need to do is wait three days, and the army will return south. That is all the time they have been given.”

A silence so complete fell over the room, Panna could hear the breathing of the hounds that lay under the table.

“She lies to save her husband’s skin,” someone whispered.

One of the chiefs said, “I canna allow the safety of my clan to depend on the word of the wife of an English officer.”

“We should hang her, too.”

A fevered commotion broke out at the table, stopped only by Hector’s clear voice. “She’s as guilty as he is. She shall share his fate.”

“No!” Jamie cried, and the guards immediately pinned his arms.

Hector rose from his seat and made his way to Jamie. “Tis the worst sort of by-blow who shames both sides of his blood. You’re a disgrace.” Then he spit on Jamie’s boots.

“And you’re a liar.”

Hector grabbed his shirtfront and shoved his grandson hard against the wall. “Take this English offal to the pig house,” he said to his guards, his eyes blazing into Jamie’s. “They may await their fate in the shite. And as for the wench,” he added to Panna, “do you see the box of trouble you have opened here? See if you can do the same there.”

She wished she still had her box cutter. She would shove it into his neck.

Another guard took her arm, and she kicked his shin.

“Cunt,” the man said, and cracked her across the face.

With water running from her burning eye, Panna was led behind Jamie through the bowels of the castle into the blinding daylight of the courtyard and down a rise to the animal pens. There they were shoved past pigs voicing irritated squeals into a small wooden structure stacked high with stinking piles of straw.

One of the guards searched Jamie while another grabbed the books from her arms. “A lot of good they will do you here.” He tucked the books under his arm. “What do you have in your pockets?” He reached for her again, taking a generous feel of her ass. “Wait, what’s this?” He pulled out the handful of animals from Noah’s ark and laughed. “And you two will be the pair of pigs.” He tossed the animals onto the floor and crushed them with his boot. Then the guards left, and the lock was fastened behind them.

Jamie pulled her into his arms. “Did he hurt you?” He lifted her chin and winced at the sight of her throbbing eye. “Oh, God, I’ve failed you. I can bear everything else but not that.”

“No,” she said. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Satisfying as it may be, twill do us no good to sit here excusing each other’s blame. We must look for a way to escape.” He walked the tiny perimeter, quietly pressing his shoulder against the wall as he moved. “As sturdy as a fort,” he said.

Panna dropped to her knees, the crushed animals bringing her inexplicably to tears. Only a fox remained unbroken. She picked it up. “Oh, Jamie.”

“Come.” He helped her up and guided her to a box with a solid lid, then sat down and pulled her onto his lap.

“Your grandfather surprised me,” she said. “I had thought perhaps . . .”

“I know.” He tucked her head into the curve of his neck.

“He even joked with me about my name.”

“He sways with the wind. Today’s wind was a strong gust away from compromise.”

She ran her hand along his cheek. “Everyone has abandoned you. And you don’t deserve it.”

“
You
haven’t abandoned me, Panna. You came back for me twice.”

“Lord, what sort of a box
have
I opened? Your grandfather was right: I am like my namesake. I should—Oh, my God! My namesake!” She jumped up. “Get up! Get up!”

When he stood, she tried to lift the lid, but it was locked. “Why would a box in a pig house be locked?”

“I don’t know.” Jamie gave the lock a calculated kick and it dropped into the mud.

Panna pulled open the lid and found . . . nothing.

“There’s nothing in here.”

“What did you expect?” Jamie asked.

“I don’t know. ‘Do you see the box of trouble you have opened here? See if you can do the same thing there.’ There was just something about the way Hector looked at me when he said it.”