The fierce Islander chuckled—it wasn’t a sound Thom had ever heard from MacLeod before and the novelty even broke through his exhausted haze. He pulled back the blanket and cranked open one eye.
“Hail, Caesar. It’s time to get up and put on your laurel. Rome is waiting. You don’t want to sleep through your own triumph.”
It was far too early for jests. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’ll have to see for yourself.”
A short while later Thom did. The high street from the castle to Holyrood Abbey was lined with a cheering mob—the citizens of Edinburgh had taken to the streets to show their support of the king and celebrate yet another miraculous feat that would perhaps be the crowning achievement in what was to become the almost mythical legend of the Bruce.
Randolph was being hailed as a conquering hero, and Thom, for his part, as the man who had made it all possible. His role as the warrior who’d climbed the unclimbable had been impossible to keep secret. His name was being bandied everywhere, and everyone wanted to see the smith’s son from Douglas who’d climbed to the highest peak and set this latest miracle into action.
When he, Randolph, and some of the other men from Moray appeared at the castle portcullis, the cheer was so resounding, so deafening, that Thom indeed knew what Caesar must have felt like when he returned from his victories.
Pretty damned good.
Thom knew the Guard didn’t believe in personal accolades or singling out men for accomplishment, but he would fade back into obscurity tomorrow. Today, he was going to bloody well enjoy it.
But if there was one face he wanted to see in the crowd more than any other, he told himself it was to have the satisfaction of knowing that she’d been wrong not to put her faith in him.
Very wrong.
“I made a mistake.”
His mouth curled. Damned right, she had.
Elizabeth had returned from camp with Lady Helen in such a state of distress that it was impossible to hide the cause from Jo and Izzie. She’d made a mistake, she told them. She loved Thom, and he was going to die before she could convince him of that fact.
Elizabeth didn’t need to swear the two women to secrecy; she knew they would go to their graves before they told anyone what the men had planned. Both women immediately understood the gravity of the situation and the extreme danger.
“No!” Jo said. “Castle Rock? He can’t.”
“Randolph, too?” Izzie asked.
Elizabeth nodded.
She wasn’t surprised when tears filled Jo’s eyes, but she was surprised to see Izzie similarly affected. At first Elizabeth didn’t understand. But when an explanation finally occurred to her, she knew she had even more reason for doing what she was going to do.
In those long, tortured hours of waiting, of not knowing what was happening, of not knowing whether the man she loved was dead or alive, Elizabeth decided two things: she couldn’t marry Randolph (no matter what the consequences of breaking the betrothal), and it wasn’t too late for her and Thom. She would do whatever she had to do to prove that to him.
But if she knew Thom, it wasn’t going to be easy. She’d failed him, and in the process unintentionally hurt him where he was most vulnerable—his pride. She could see it now, if only she’d seen it before.
She hadn’t been strong enough to defy her family and society, or brave enough to face an uncertain future—one without extreme wealth and comfort. She’d let herself be swayed by thoughts of what could happen to her children, while losing sight of the fact that the only children she wanted to have were Thom’s.
Worse, when she’d refused him, Thom wouldn’t have just seen it as a rejection of his offer of marriage for one that was so much obviously “better,” he would have also seen it as a rejection of him. Of the man he was. She’d made him feel as if he were not good enough—as if he were not worthy of her hand—when nothing could be further from the truth. His crude words of parting came back to her—“good enough to fuck isn’t good enough”—how horribly he’d misunderstood her motives. To her mind, there was no one better or more worthy. She just hadn’t been able to see through the fear.
She had no wish to live in poverty ever again, but Thom was right: there were no guarantees. With him or without him, she did not know what the future held. But she did know that without him she would be miserable, and she trusted him to keep her—and their children—safe.
What he’d accomplished so far should have convinced her. He’d made his way up a ladder that was all but impossible to climb: the smith’s son had become a formidable warrior, one skilled enough to be recruited by the greatest team of warriors this country had ever seen. And he’d done so with skill, determination, and hard work. She was so proud of him, but when she’d been given the chance to prove that to him, she’d faltered.
Even if he never achieved more than he had at this moment it didn’t matter. Unlike most men of her rank, Thom had skills beyond the battlefield to fall back on. He could be one of the greatest sword makers in Scotland, if he wanted to be.
Of course, it would have been much easier if she could have understood all this before she agreed to marry Randolph. But it took making that commitment, Lady Helen’s advice, and most of all the fear of losing him to force her to accept the truth. She should have jumped. He was worth the risk. All the gold, land, and security in Christendom wouldn’t matter without him. He was all that mattered. And she swore that if Thom gave her another chance, she would do whatever it took to prove to him that she would stand by him come what may.
He just had to survive the night.
The three women huddled together late into the evening. Lady Helen had stayed for a while but needed to return to her son. She was worried, too, but she told Elizabeth to have faith.
She tried.
Finally, they heard the sound of a bell shatter the night. Roused from bed, the occupants of the guesthouse, including Lady Mary, a handful of the other women, and the Bruce sisters, came pouring out into the abbey yard.
“What is it?” Lady Margaret Bruce asked.
“Something is happening at the castle,” one of the other women responded.
Elizabeth, Jo, Izzie, and Lady Helen exchanged glances, no one daring to give voice to their hopes.
But the bell was good. Surely it had to be good?
The excitement—the nervousness—was so overwhelming that when news finally arrived in a message from the king himself that the castle had been taken by a group of men who’d climbed the Rock, it was as if a dam had burst.
They laughed, they cried, they hugged, and did all three at once.
Elizabeth couldn’t believe it. Thom had done it. Dear God, he’d done it!
Though she had no confirmation that he’d survived the battle, she knew in her heart that he had.
When confirmation did come from Magnus, who’d arrived to fetch Helen to tend the wounded, Elizabeth was overjoyed to hear that not only had Thom survived, he was being hailed as a hero. She wanted to go with Helen, but Joanna held her back.
“Give him time to enjoy his moment with the others,” she said. “There will be time enough tomorrow to discuss the future.”
Jo was right. Elizabeth didn’t want to take this away from him. She would let him have this time with the men, but later she would find him whether he wanted to be found or not.
Besides, she had something to do first. Though unpleasant, it must be done. Before she finally went to bed, she went to the scriptorium to fetch a quill and ink. She had a letter to write.
25
THOM WAS SEATED at the high table. After being roused from bed by MacLeod, he and the others had taken to the streets to join in the celebration, which had eventually wound its way into the Great Hall of Edinburgh Castle. The midday meal was a sea of people, the Hall stuffed to the gills with loyal Scots grateful to the king—and his men—for liberating the castle from the enemy.
And at the center was Thom.
From his pos
ition of honor beside the king on the dais, he could take it all in, savoring the moment for all that it meant. This was his moment, damn it. The blacksmith’s son had indeed climbed high—high enough to sit next to a princess. Lady Margaret Bruce was seated on his other side. But she wasn’t the princess who was bothering him.
Throughout the long meal, Thom was painfully aware of the woman seated on the other side of Randolph, who held the other position of honor beside the king. Fortunately, due to the two men being between them, the only conversation he’d had to endure with Elizabeth was when she and the other women had arrived at the table to take their seats, and she’d offered her heartfelt congratulations and “relief” that he was safe. Ignoring the plea in her eyes the one time they’d met, he’d given her offer more than it deserved: courtesy and nothing more.
But keeping up the wall of steel he’d erected around his heart wasn’t easy, especially when he could see how much his remoteness hurt her. But this is what she’d wanted, he kept telling himself. Not him. Which didn’t explain why he felt like he’d just kicked a kitten.
She’d tried to engage him in conversation a few more times, but the men between them proved a convenient barrier and means of evasion. Not to mention they were also speaking French. Of course they were. All nobles spoke French. Maybe that’s why he’d always hated it. It brought home the division between them in a way that could not be denied. He didn’t even speak the same bloody language.
It never would have worked out. He could see that now. She had tutors and he had no formal education to speak of; he’d grown up with one pair of boots for the winter, and she had a trunk full of pretty slippers; he melted gold and silver for a living, she wore it decorated with precious jewels in her hair. She was sophisticated and refined, he was provincial and rough.
He could go on and on. But even the fact that he was thinking about her made him angry.
He was furious with himself. He’d done what he’d set out to do—hell, far more than he’d ever set out to do—changing his fortune by earning a knighthood, a barony, and a place among the most elite warriors in Christendom. He’d done something no man had ever done before in climbing Castle Rock (solidifying his war name in the Guard as Rock), and in doing so had achieved battle immortality.
He should be basking in the glory, wallowing in the admiration, and delighting in all that he’d achieved. Instead it all rang hollow. None of it could fill the emptiness inside him or dull the ache where his heart used to be. None of it could make up for the one thing that he’d lost.
Damn her.
He made his escape at the earliest opportunity.
“Back to work already, MacGowan?” the king said as they stood to leave.
“Aye, sire. Some of the men have already begun taking down the south gate.”
The king nodded. “It is an unfortunate task but necessary. We can’t risk letting the English use this as a stronghold against us again, and I do not have the men necessary to defend it and meet them on the battlefield.” He put his hand on Thom’s back. “But at least we will enjoy it for a few days. Tomorrow we will have quite a celebration—I hope you are ready.”
Thom nodded. “I am indeed, sire.”
Tomorrow Thom would be knighted by the king himself, admitted into the Guard with a private ceremony, and formally be given his barony. A barony that had gotten richer when the king learned of his role in saving his nephew. He was going to be a wealthy man.
By refusing him, she’d given him the means of achieving not only fame but also fortune.
Irony was a cruel bastard.
Elizabeth watched Thom walk away with her heart in her throat. She wanted to go after him, and might have tossed propriety aside and done exactly that, had Randolph not been speaking to her.
Since she’d arrived at the castle with the other women from the abbey, she’d been fighting for a chance to speak to Thom. But he’d been surrounded by hordes of townspeople who all seemed to want to be near him—to touch greatness.
Especially the women. Watching them fawn and flirt had made her heart ache and her stomach turn. What had she expected? That he would become a monk? He was swoon-worthy handsome, tall, with a body that was as hard and impressive as the famous Rock he’d just climbed. Just because she’d been too blind to see it didn’t mean others wouldn’t.
She’d been unable to approach him until they were seated for the meal, but even then he’d barely spared her a glance and cut off any attempts she made to talk to him.
She’d known it wasn’t going to be easy, but it was difficult being patient when every moment felt like his heart was growing harder and harder against her. Soon, nothing would be able to penetrate.
And then there was Randolph. She’d wanted to speak to him as well, but he was so happy, she couldn’t stand the idea of tarnishing what was sure to be one of the greatest days of his life.
Oblivious to her torment, Randolph had regaled her with a moment-by-moment replay of the battle. Her horror on hearing about his fall—and Thom’s crazed rescue—was real. Mistaking the source of her distress, he’d apologized for scaring her, telling her he was perfectly hale. He’d finished the tale—which was a magnificent one indeed—just as Thom was leaving.
Randolph couldn’t seem to wipe the grin off his face. “I’d love to see your brother’s face when he hears the news. I daresay he won’t be happy.”
Jamie wouldn’t be, but not just because of the castle. Had her note reached him yet? She’d sent it with a messenger this morning.
She smiled. “I fear what he will do next to try to top you.”
Randolph laughed. “I’d like to see him try. I think this feat will stand for a while. Your friend MacGowan’s idea for those spikes was ingenious. Good thing he wasn’t born the son of a baker.” He laughed, and then suddenly sobered. “You were right about him; I owe him my life.”
It seemed like the perfect opening. Her voice wobbled a little. “My lord, might we speak in private for a moment?”
He took her hand to help lift her from her seat as they stood. “I should like nothing more, but might it wait? My uncle has put me in charge of the destruction of the castle, and the men are waiting for me.”
She smiled wanly. “Of course.”
“You are a gem. I knew you would understand.”
But would he? Elizabeth had to admit she was not looking forward to Randolph’s reaction on hearing that she wished to break the betrothal. She did not delude herself that he had any real feelings for her, but appearances mattered to him, and his pride would no doubt suffer.
Both Joanna and Izzie looked at her expectantly as she rejoined them for the walk back to the abbey—they’d been seated at a different table.
When Elizabeth shook her head, they couldn’t hide their disappointment.
Izzie asked. “What happened?”
“Neither of them would talk to me. Thom barely looked at me, and Randolph was too happy—and too busy. He said we could speak later.”
“Perhaps it would be best if you waited for James to speak to Randolph?” Joanna said.
“But you said that you didn’t know when Jamie would be back.”
“I don’t. Although I imagine once he receives your note, it won’t take him long. If he wasn’t away when it arrived, I’d wager we’ll see him sometime around midday tomorrow.”
Which was even more reason to have things settled with Thom. The last thing she needed was her brother interfering. When Jamie came back she and Thom needed to be a fait accompli.
But how was she going to manage that when he wouldn’t even talk to her?
Her mouth pursed with frustration. He could be so blastedly stubborn. Prying him out of one of his dark moods had always been difficult, and this was much worse than a dark mood. She was going to have to come up with something far more than a silly jest or two. She needed a plan. A sure way to get him alone.
She hated to involve her sister-in-law, but there was no other choice. Thom would certainly no
t answer a plea from her, but he would from Joanna.
When she asked for her help, however, Jo surprised her. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I think I know where he will be. I should have realized it right away. He said he would have James’s sword ready for me later tonight.”
Elizabeth followed the direction of her thoughts. “Which means at some point he will have to go to the forge to finish it.”
Joanna nodded excitedly.
Elizabeth smiled. “I will just wait there until he shows up.”
“A good Bruce tactic,” Izzie said wryly.
Elizabeth grinned. “That it is. So far this war has been won on lying-in-wait ambushes.”
It took Elizabeth a moment to realize Joanna wasn’t smiling anymore. Indeed, from the way she was biting her lip, she appeared to be having second thoughts.
“What is it, Jo?”
“Thom can be stubborn. What if he won’t listen?”
“I will have to make sure he does.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. You won’t do anything . . . rash, will you? I don’t want you to get hurt.”
They both knew what she meant by rash. “I’ll be careful, Jo. Besides, you know Thommy.”
He was honorable to the core.
Elizabeth, however, wasn’t. Douglases did what it took to win. Jo, however, did not need to be reminded of that.
Her sister-in-law immediately brightened. “I do.”
Izzie, however, wasn’t so easily placated. But surprisingly, her no-nonsense, play-it-straight cousin seemed to be impressed—maybe even admiring of her sinful tactics. She pulled Elizabeth aside so that Jo couldn’t hear. “Don’t worry about Randolph. Do what you need to do. Leave him to me.”
Elizabeth took note of the determined look on Izzie’s face and did not doubt it. She’d been right in her suspicions. She went to the table that still had the quill on it and wrote a quick note of apology. “Give this to him. And thank you.”
Something resembling relief flashed in Izzie’s eyes. “No, thank you.”
Not wanting to take a chance at missing Thom, Elizabeth left for the forge immediately—this time without an escort. She didn’t want someone standing outside to alert Thom to her presence, and she certainly didn’t want anyone inside with her.