“Thank you for being here with me, Lucy,” Elizabeth said as the two women waited for the king’s physician in one of the bedchambers at Hardgate Manor where the king had taken residence for Lachlan’s impending trial. Lucy had been kind enough to come with her once Elizabeth explained the situation.
“If not from you,” Lucy asked with a frown, “then from where did all that blood come?”
Heat rushed into Elizabeth’s cheeks. “’Twas my fault it was in the bed in the first place. I begged Lachlan to cover for the fact that we had not yet . . . that we . . .”
“I understand,” Lucy said with a gentle touch on Elizabeth’s arm.
“Lachlan went to the slaughterhouse and brought back blood that had been set aside from the stag we’d had for a banquet in our honor at Ravenscraig Castle.” Elizabeth tensed, expecting to see pity when she brought her gaze back to Lucy’s face. Instead, she was gifted with a look of understanding. “I was so filled with doubts and confusion about him then.”
“And now?”
Elizabeth hesitated. Only one doubt remained, one that might have been fabricated by her father as all the witchcraft accusations against her husband had been. “I’ll never really know him fully, just as he will not know me. Each day we are new persons based on the previous day’s events and emotions.”
Just then, a knock sounded on the door. “Enter,” Elizabeth bade as a young page opened the door. He bowed low before he announced, “King James of Scotland.”
The king swept past the young man, followed by an older gentleman whom Elizabeth assumed was the physician. King James’s imposing figure filled the room at once. He was dressed in a dark blue doublet, slashed with red-gold silk.
Elizabeth and Lucy both rose to their feet and curtsied. “Your Grace, we are deeply honored by your attendance to his matter.” The king came forward and offered Elizabeth his ringed hand. She dutifully kissed it briefly then stood.
“Let’s get on with the examination,” he demanded without further ceremony. He moved to a table near the hearth and poured himself a glass of wine before taking a seat and staring into the fire, ignoring them.
Elizabeth moved to the bed. She had already removed her slippers, garters, and hose. All the physician had to do was to flip up her skirts to examine her fully.
“Good morrow, Lady March. I will be conducting your examination,” said a tall, thin man dressed in a pale yellow tunic. He advanced toward the bed with a cheerful smile. “I’m Dr. Parkins.” He stopped at the bedside and took her hand, tapping it gently. “No need to fear, my dear. I’ll make this as quick and as painless as possible. When you are ready, lie back.”
On the other side of her, Lucy placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it affectionately.
Elizabeth glanced at the king, who still stared into the fire. For the gift of privacy, she was grateful. Ready to get the examination over with, she took a deep breath and held it as Dr. Parkins lifted her skirts over her knees. When he spread her legs apart and thrust two fingers inside of her, she gasped. Then just as quickly as he had entered her, he retreated.
“Very good,” the doctor said cheerfully, as he lowered her skirts once more before turning to the king. “She is indeed intact, Your Grace. The blood on the sheets could not have been as a result of breaking her hymen. She is a virgin still. I shall write up my findings and enter them in the court records.”
The king grunted and downed the contents of his glass before standing. The king swung to look at Elizabeth. A droplet of red liquid dribbled down his chin, but he did not seem to notice. “Of the five charges against your husband, this exam seems to prove him not guilty of one.” His gaze narrowed. “There are still four others against him, so do not allow yourself to find any kind of hope in this revelation.”
Elizabeth swung her legs over the bed and stood, staring resolutely ahead as she suspected the king was not through with her yet.
“I had trusted both you and Lachlan to take my offer of a truce between your two families seriously, like sensible, faithful subjects who obey their sovereign in all things.” The color in the king’s cheeks rose to match the drop of ruby liquid on the flesh above his beard.
“We needed time to adjust to each other, Your Grace. Time to put our feelings of hatred aside.”
His gaze narrowed further. “You have both brought disgrace upon your families, and if you do not consummate this marriage between you tonight, then I will see that the other four charges against Lachlan hold, no matter what witnesses come forward and give testimony. And you,” he said, as a vein at his temple began to throb noticeably, “I will see you given in marriage to a man of little means and in a desolate location far from all whom you might know and love. Do I make myself quite clear?”
Elizabeth’s heart pounded in her chest as she nodded.
Then, as abruptly as he had come, he turned and left the room. When he was gone, and the physician with him, Elizabeth collapsed back upon the bed and clutched her trembling hands in her lap. “That man is utterly terrifying!”
Lucy laughed as she came around to Elizabeth’s side of the bed and dropped down beside her. “At this moment I would have to agree, but I have seen a very different side of our king at another time in the not too distant past. One where he stood, trembling with fear in front of all his subjects.”
Elizabeth gaped at her cousin by marriage. “Do tell, please, so that I might have something else to think about every time I am in his presence.”
With a conspiratorial smile, Lucy told her about the time she had pretended to assassinate the king with her bow and arrow in his own court at Falkland Palace.
Bolstered by Lucy’s story, Elizabeth quickly dressed and the two women left the Hardgate Manor, returning to the carriage that had brought them there. The carriage jerked forward as the horses were set in motion, forcing the two women back into the squabs.
“What will you do now?” Lucy asked as they headed back to Haddington.
“As I am ordered,” Elizabeth said with a shy smile. “I wish to see my husband.”
“Is he faring better now that he is at least out of a cell and away from Swinton?”
Elizabeth nodded, but could not stop a shudder that came at the memory of the striping to Lachlan’s back. “He is healing and gaining strength. But how does one ever put that kind of abuse behind them?”
Lucy’s lips turned up into a smile. “With your help and a little time and attention, I am certain he will be renewed.”
“We still have the trial ahead—”
A horse neighed in agony. The carriage lurched and shuddered to a halt, throwing both Lucy and Elizabeth to their knees.
Lucy slowly rose and carefully peered out the window. The blade of a dagger pierced the wood beside her head, pointing into the frame. Lucy jerked back from the window, but not before retrieving the blade. She held it out to Elizabeth. “Take this. You might need it.”
Crouched on the floor, she heard the shouts of men and the clashing of metal against metal mixing with the screams of the horses. “What is happening?” Elizabeth asked as she accepted the weapon.
Lucy reached into the folds of her skirt and pulled free a dagger she obviously kept hidden there. “There are several men attacking the carriage.” Her expression deadly serious, she added, “One of them is your father.”
“I refused to go with him after Lachlan was charged, and now he seeks to kidnap me instead.” Elizabeth staunched the surge of emotion that threatened. “We must get out of here. I cannot let him take me. If he does, I may never see any of you again.”
“Your own father would harm you?”
“Either harm me or hide me away where no one will ever find me. Then he’ll blame my disappearance on the Douglases, and continue the feud for the next generation.” Elizabeth raised herself up and peered through the window on the left side of the carriage. As she suspected from the sounds, all the fighting was coming from the right side. She cautiously opened the door and peered out. A copse of rowan trees was only a few yards away, and no one else was in sight. “Come. We can take cover in the trees.”
Clutching the dagger in her hand, Elizabeth drew a deep breath and leapt from the carriage. With Lucy at her heels, she darted across the grassy road and into the gorse that lined the roadway before reaching the cover of the trees. Branches lashed at her face and arms as she pushed through the barrier.
“Stop!”
A sudden chill gripped her as she glanced over her shoulder to see not only her father, but also Keddy crashing through the gorse behind them.
Elizabeth ran faster, trying desperately to outdistance her father. Lucy kept pace beside her as they scrambled over the mossy forest floor that was riddled with exposed roots, rocks, and fallen logs. There was a stream on their left and another on their right, but they picked their way around the obstacles, keeping several paces ahead of their attackers.
Elizabeth’s breath was coming in little gasps as they broke through the tree line and emerged into the open. Instantly the whoosh of wings filled the air as the birds resting there took flight. Once that sound dissipated, another took its place, that of the roar of a waterfall. They had come to the edge of a cliff.
Elizabeth and Lucy stopped, then turned back to the forest, their harsh breathing mingling with the rush of the water behind them. They couldn’t go forward, and they could not go back toward her father and Keddy, who had stopped a few yards from them.
“There’s no way out of this, Daughter, except leaping to your death,” her father said between breaths.
Elizabeth swallowed hard. She had considered that once, and fortunately Lachlan had come along to stop her. “Nay, I have too much to live for, too many things that remain yet undone.”
“Such as consummating your marriage?” Her father sneered. “I was outside the door at Hardgate Manor. I heard the king’s demands. But I have my own demands. What you failed to accomplish shall never come to be between the Douglases and the Ruthvens. I would rather you die at my hand than let that vile man have you. Now put down your daggers, both of you, and come here.”
Keddy and her father both held swords in their hands. The longer and stronger weapons would overwhelm two small daggers. She and Lucy might get in a few strikes if they attempted to battle, but the ultimate outcome would most likely be their deaths.
As a sudden chill gripped her, Elizabeth looked at Lucy, trying to assess what they should do. There was something in the woman’s eyes . . . a spark of mischief followed by a plea of trust.
“We’ll put our weapons down,” Lucy said, taking several steps forward before she bent to set her dagger next to a long, thick branch lying on the ground. The blade touched the earth for only a heartbeat before Lucy came up with the branch. In a fluid motion, she stepped toward a surprised Keddy and thrust the jagged end into his groin with all her might.
Keddy screamed, dropping his sword as he fell to his knees, clutching his most male part. With another swing of the branch, Lucy whacked Keddy on the side of the head, rendering him senseless.
“You’ll pay for that!” her father roared as he charged forward with his sword. His blade arced toward Lucy but she blocked the strike with the branch and spun away as Elizabeth’s father stumbled, trying to regain his balance. When he did, he let out a roar of displeasure and came at her again, but Lucy was prepared.
“Cease your attack and you might walk away unharmed,” Lucy said, holding the branch before her like a quarterstaff, balancing on the balls of her feet, ready to strike, ready to defend them both.
“I’ll not let you, a Douglas woman, get the best of me again!” Cursing, her father charged. His blade whistled down through the air. He spun, then came at Lucy from the side instead of down, but she was prepared and blocked the stroke.
She spun and twisted away. A heartbeat later, she attacked, striking Elizabeth’s father on the leg, the shoulder, the head, until his movements were jerky and the effort to stop her hits drained him of energy. Even so, her father lunged. He caught Lucy’s arm, drawing blood, but before he could step away, she jabbed her staff into his stomach.
He hissed in pain, doubled over, and his sword thumped upon the ground.
Elizabeth snatched it up. She held the heavy weapon in her own hands, pointing it at her father. She felt a surge of primitive satisfaction. “Stop this, now.”
“Give me the sword, Elizabeth!”
“Never attempt to harm me or my kin again.”
“I am your kin!”
“I thought so once, but I’m not so certain anymore.”
Elizabeth’s father’s eyes glittered with anger. “They have turned you against us. They have bewitched you!”
“Nay, Father. It is you who have opened my eyes to the truth with your lies and your manipulations.”
“I had hoped you would remain faithful to your clan, but it appears you serve the Douglases now?” His face twisted, contorted with anger.
Elizabeth’s breath caught. Were his words true? Had she switched her allegiances and fallen for her enemy? The realization washed over her not with fear, but with acceptance. “I serve no one but God, Father.” She narrowed her gaze on his face, trying to see the father she once knew in the man before her. “What is wrong with you? You’ve changed. You’ve become a—”
“Monster?” he supplied a description for her. “If I am a monster, the Douglases made me so.” His eyes were cold now. “I will see they pay for their sins, and as much as it pains me, now that you are one of them, you shall pay for those sins too.”
Elizabeth could only watch him hobble away with her heart in her throat. Her own father had tried to kill her, and now threatened the family who had treated her with kindness and welcomed her into their midst.
“Should I go after him?” Lucy asked with her makeshift quarterstaff still in her hands.
“Nay,” Elizabeth said with a mixture of dread and anticipation. “We should head back to the carriage and make sure the coachman is unharmed and that the other men have gone.”
Lucy lowered her weapon and moved to Keddy’s prone form. She placed her fingers alongside his throat. “He lives. What should we do about him? He’s far too heavy for us to carry.”
“Leave him here,” Elizabeth said. “When we return to Haddington we can send someone to collect him.”
Lucy nodded and stared back toward the rowan trees. When Elizabeth continued to stand where she was, with the sword clutched in her hands, Lucy took the weapon from her and nudged her gently forward. “I cannot even imagine the sense of betrayal you must feel right now, but we must return to Haddington with all due haste before your father can regroup with his men and come after us. We were lucky this time. Let’s not tempt fate any further, agreed?”
Elizabeth knew she was right, but she still couldn’t quite believe her own father would sacrifice her for the sake of the Ruthven-Douglas feud. The king was right. This had to end, and it would end with her and Lachlan taking charge.