Lachlan gave a humorless bark of laughter. “I doubt he’ll appreciate your attempt at following his orders, but I’ll not have you face them alone. I will escort you. It’s the very least I can do.”
She nodded and reached into the satchel she’d packed long ago for this eventuality. Pulling out the letters she’d written to everyone, she handed them to her brother-by-marriage. “Will you see that everyone gets my letters?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’m ready.”
That was a bald-faced lie. No amount of planning could prepare her for this moment. She had looked at Cam for the last time. She only wished she’d realized how she felt about him before it was too late. Somehow, never saying the words “I love you” seemed her greatest betrayal.
Lachlan bit his lip and shook his head. “I’m not sure I’m ready. You have become my sister in heart, and I truly don’t want to lose you. My children will only remember you from stories, and I fear I will always feel responsible for that loss.”
She hadn’t expected this from the normally practical and hardhearted laird. But she’d known there must be something under his shell that her sister had found appealing and worthy of her love.
Mari gave Lachlan a quick hug and stepped back. “Let us be off.” Before we are not strong enough to go.
…
The English were in the process of breaking camp when Mari and Lachlan arrived.
She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her as he helped her down from the horse.
Sir Ridley came forward with a sly smile on his face. “Didn’t I tell you this would be easy, Felix?” He turned toward a large man. “The Scots claim to be fearless warriors, but they would turn over their own mother if it meant avoiding unpleasantness and claiming a reward.”
The men laughed, and Lachlan released her to take a step forward, his hand on his sword.
She looped her hand through his arm to hold him back. “Don’t. They’re trying to rile you,” she whispered.
“Your Grace,” Sir Ridley said, bowing formally. “We meet again.”
She gave him a single aristocratic nod. Since she wasn’t certain she was calm enough to speak, she handed over her satchel and turned to the laird as Ridley stowed her bag in a waiting carriage.
“I wrote a letter for you as well, my laird,” she said, holding it out to Lachlan.
He scowled at the letter, then snatched it from her fingers. “I don’t think you understand the wrath I’ll face back at Dunardry when your husband and sister find out what I’ve done this morning. This is so wrong. The duke deserved his death for mistreating you so badly.”
“Thank you for your escort, Lachlan. The situation is not fair, but you are doing the right thing as laird. I know what this will cost you, and I’m sorry for it. In time, they will forgive you. I truly believe that.”
He handed over a bag of food. “For your trip. I doubt the bastards will provide for you.” He gave her a fierce hug and stepped back with a firm nod. “It was a pleasure knowing you, my lady. I will tell my children what a brave woman you were.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Far braver than I.”
With that, he walked back to the horses and mounted. She watched as he rode away with her horse following behind him.
“Your Grace, we are ready to leave for home,” Ridley said, holding the door to the coach with his other arm held out to her, waiting.
Her feet wanted to run away. But the three pistols hanging from his belt made it clear she wouldn’t get far. With another regal nod, she accepted his offer and allowed him to help her inside her dead husband’s coach.
The sun rose as the horses were whipped into movement. She looked back toward the castle and saw the grove of trees and the field where she’d first met her husband.
She was right back where she’d started. But she’d been forever changed.
She’d face whatever came next knowing she’d had this time with Cam to remember. Those all-too-short months had made all the coming pain worth enduring.
…
Cam knew something was wrong as soon as he rode into the bailey.
The feeling of unrest he’d had the whole trip had increased until he’d found himself racing his horse the last hour to get home and see his wife.
But she wasn’t waiting for him. Instead, he was faced with a grim-looking Lachlan.
Cam passed his horse over to a waiting groom and greeted the laird. “Lach.” He nodded. “I’m honored you came out here to meet me, but if I can be honest, you’re not really the person I wish to see.”
“I know, but I didn’t want you to wonder why she wasn’t here to greet you.”
Unease snaked around Cam’s stomach, squeezing uncomfortably, far worse than the fear at the first cry of battle when his body lurched into action. This was cold, numbing. He was unable to move.
“What’s happened?” he asked, knowing he couldn’t bear to hear the answer.
“She’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“The English came for her.”
Cam looked around the keep in confusion. “I missed the battle? We lost?”
“There was no battle. She went willingly. It was why you were sent away. So you wouldn’t be here to make it bloody.”
Cam stared at his friend in horror, unable to swallow the profound betrayal. “You tricked me into leaving the castle so you could turn over a woman—my woman—to be hanged? Your own wife’s sister?” He couldn’t hide his disgust. “What kind of man have you become?”
“The kind who honors the wishes of my wife’s sister, despite feeling strongly otherwise.” He held out a folded parchment.
“What is that?”
“The letter she wrote you. She wrote one to all of us.”
“I don’t want a bloody letter. I want my damn wife!” Cam brushed his hand in the air, refusing to take the parchment as he walked in a circle. “How long ago did she leave? I can still catch them.”
His horse was spent, but surely he could borrow another and be on his way.
“You were not yet off MacKinlay lands to the west as she was leaving in the carriage to the southeast for London.”
“Four days. I can catch up to them.” It would be a struggle, but he’d make it work.
Lachlan shook his head. “And then what?”
“I’ll fight whoever’s holding her and steal her back.”
“They’ll only send others in their place. Don’t ye see? You’ll never be free. She killed a bloody duke. They won’t just turn a blind eye to murder. Especially when the killer is a Scot. She’ll swing, if only to show their bloody power over us.”