Chapter Ten

They rode up to the gates of Kirkenroch just after sunrise. A sleepy page ran to get his master and within a few minutes, they were met by John and Lady Elizabet.

“William,” John said, clasping him in a quick hug. He took a step back, keeping his hands on William’s shoulders to look him over. John frowned. “If ye’re arriving at the break of dawn, bloodied and weary, I can guess yer news.”

“Aye,” William said. “Ramsay is on the march. And close.”

John nodded and then turned at the sound of more feet clattering down the stairs.

“William?” Philip asked, hurrying toward them with Lady Alice.

She gasped and pulled Rose into a hug while Philip frowned. “What is wrong? What are ye doing here?”

“And why are you with him?” Alice added, looking at Rose.

John’s grave face said more than William needed to. John was the jovial cousin, always quick to jest, always with a smile. With his dour expression, Philip knew instantly what was wrong.

“Ramsay,” he said.

John nodded, and William put down the cup Elizabet had pressed into his hand. “He willna be far behind us. A day at the most. We rode as fast as we could but I wasna able to get away as quickly as I’d hoped. And with the horse carrying the both of us…”

Philip clapped his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Ye did well, lad.”

Will knew the lad was more a term of endearment than statement of his age, but he still cringed. His older cousins would probably always see him as the young lad they needed to protect.

“But how did the two of you come to be together?” Alice asked, frowning at Rose. “I left you on the docks at Dover. You were supposed to have returned to my parents.”

“I’d planned to, my lady. But then—”

“I took her prisoner,” Will said, knowing his tone suggested he’d been suffering for his actions ever since. But…he wasn’t wrong. That didn’t mean he hadn’t enjoyed at least some of that suffering, but he didn’t think it prudent to admit that to anyone.

“You did what?” Alice asked, taking a threatening step closer.

“It was a misunderstanding—” he started before Rose cut in.

“Because you jumped to conclusions and rather than wait two minutes for me to explain, you trussed me up and hauled me off for questioning. Thinking I was a spy for Ramsay!”

“What?” Alice gasped.

William sighed. They’d been getting along so well. That whole kidnapping thing would be biting him in the arse until the day he died. “Oh, for the thousandth time, woman, I’m sorry. Ye have no idea how sorry. It was the worst mistake I’ve ever made in my entire life. And ye’ve been making me pay for it for weeks now.”

“As well you should be! Just because you were off playing spy doesn’t mean the rest of us weren’t simply trying to mind our own business. And then you had to drag me into all of this, when I had strict orders from my lady—”

“Must we go over all this again?” William said, rubbing his face. “At this point, madam, I’d sell my soul to the devil himself if it meant I could undo what I did, but I cannae do that, so ye’re either going to have to learn to forgive me or get on with killing me, because I’d rather die a swift death by yer blade than listen to ye naggin’ me about it for the rest of my life.”

“I’d be glad to oblige, but you took my dagger!”

“Then I’ll gladly give ye my own!”

“That’s not what you said a few hours ago when I tried to take it from you.”

William opened his mouth to respond, but Philip put himself between them. “Now, I’m sure that’s a fascinating story, but as long as the lass hasna been hurt in any way…” He looked at Rose with a cocked eyebrow, and she begrudgingly shook her head, even as her eyes narrowed at Will.

Philip nodded. “Well then, I say we let the matter drop and send these two to rest and refresh themselves. They’ve had an arduous journey in order to bring us this news. We need to use it to our advantage. All else can wait until after Ramsay has been dealt with.”

Alice didn’t look like she wanted to let the matter drop, but even she couldn’t argue with the need to fortify themselves against the coming attack.

She bundled up Rose and took her upstairs, though Rose looked like she was about to argue. Will knew she’d much rather be with the men discussing the coming attack. He gave her a little smile and wave as Alice dragged her up the stairs. Her expression promised retaliation for that bit of childishness, and he grinned.

He turned back to Philip and John, who were both looking at him with confused but amused expressions. Then John chuckled and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Come, Will. Let’s away to the kitchens and get some food in ye while ye fill us in on the finer details.”

They sat around the table near the kitchen hearth while Will ate some cold roast chicken and crusty bread.

“I truly am that sorry about the lass, Philip, I swear it…” he said, his amusement over riling Rose fading in the face of his cousins’ certain disapproval.

“Pay it no mind, Will. For now, anyway. There’s more important matters to discuss.”

Will nodded and took another bracing drink of ale.

John pulled up a stool and sat down. “I’d love to ken how the maid plays into all this, but for now,” he said, holding his hand up against the immediate defensiveness Will felt, “tell us the relevant information on Ramsay. How far away is he? How many men with him? Do ye ken what he is planning?”

Will told them all he knew, from the moment he’d left Philip at the docks, to when he’d rejoined Ramsay’s men in his disguise as one of them, to the moment he and Rose had broken away.

Philip and John listened with growing concern.

“We havena much time then,” Philip said.

“Nay, my laird,” Will said. “A day or two at most. Perhaps less if he’s discovered my deception.”

John called a lad in and sent him scurrying off to Glenlyon as fast as he could go. Then he turned back to them. “Thank ye, Will,” John said, clapping both hands on his shoulders. “Ye’ve given us a chance to prepare a defense. One we didna have last time. Let’s not waste it!”

“I do have a bit more information,” Will said. He grabbed Rose’s satchel from under his chair and pulled out her apron.

“A lassie’s dirty apron?” Philip said with a frown.

“Rose’s apron, to be exact. But not dirty.”

He laid it flat on the table and pointed out the X marks. “I canna be sure the large X is Glenlyon, but it stands to reason, as Ramsay doesna ken about Kirkenroch. As far as I was able to discover.”

“We can hope. But it’s a good assumption,” John said. “And these marks?” He pointed to the smaller ones.

“All along the journey, small groups of men broke away from the larger group and went off alone. At first I assumed that they were deserting. But their disappearance never flustered Ramsay and it happened in regular enough intervals that it must have been intentional. Rose and I believe these smaller X marks note where each of these groups of men will be stationed.”

John and Philip exchanged a glance at Will’s mention of Rose but didn’t say anything. Instead, Philip nodded. “It’s a good strategy, damn the man. Surrounds Glenlyon neatly, leaving only the loch side without groups of men.”

“True. Though they’d be hard put to sneak up on us from that direction,” John said.

“Aye,” Philip agreed. “And if this is Kirkenroch, then it leaves only the cliffside open. Again, a side which would be nearly impossible to penetrate, regardless.”

They all nodded and stared at the Xs. Then John turned to Will. “If ye had to guess, what would you think the large X denotes?”

Anxiety wormed its way through Will’s chest. If he guessed wrong, it could be the difference between winning or losing this battle. Between lives lost and lives saved. He hesitated to say anything, but both men waited.

“I canna be sure. But I believe it is Glenlyon. As far as I ken, Ramsay is focused on Glenlyon, as he has always been. He’s never mentioned any destination but Glenlyon. And as ye’ve pointed out, few ken the existence of Kirkenroch. Those who remember it think it’s still a ruin.”

Both men nodded in agreement. “I think ye’re right, lad,” John said, his lips twitching a bit at Will’s obvious irritation at being called lad.

“Dinna take it to heart, Will,” Philip said with a wry smile. “Ye could be as shriveled and gray as Malcolm’s old cat and he’d still call ye lad.”

John grinned. “He’s not wrong.”

Will groaned and carefully refolded the apron. He found a bit of cloth and twine and wrapped it up before calling in another stable boy to run it to Glenlyon. He relayed the information about the Xs, making the lad repeat it to him before letting him go.

“Well,” John said. “We’ve done what we can to warn Malcolm. Now let’s do what we can to fortify Kirkenroch. We may not have much time, and the day isna getting younger.”

Will nodded. “What do ye need me to do?”

They discussed strategies for the coming battle with contingency plans depending on where Ramsay attacked. Will was pleased they treated him as an equal, giving him real responsibilities. Whether Ramsay attacked at Glenlyon or Kirkenroch, Will would stay with the men at Kirkenroch. A small part of him chaffed at not being given the chance to go to Glenlyon and fight Ramsay. But the women would be staying behind at Kirkenroch. Will knew how much his kinsmen cared for their wives. To be asked to protect them was a great honor and responsibility, and Will was humbled at his cousins’ trust in him.

And Rose would stay behind with her lady. Which meant he could keep an eye on her as well. Whether she wanted him to or not.

“All right. We canna do more tonight,” Philip said. Then he put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “We need ye to get some rest.”

Will batted his hand out of the way. “Despite yer jests, I’m no’ some stable boy who needs coddling.”

“Aye, man, we ken that well,” Philip said. “But ye’ve also spent the night riding like the devil was on yer arse to get here. With a cantankerous lassie and a bleeding wound to boot. Ye’ll be no good to us if ye canna hold a sword.”

The fact that Rose had said nearly the same thing to him made it all the more galling. Even more so because he knew they weren’t wrong.

“Get yer arm looked at. It may need stitching if it’s still seeping like that,” he said, pointing to the growing red spot on the bandage. “And then get a few hours of sleep. There’s a room at the end of the hall that should do. Meet me back in the courtyard after the midday meal and I’ll put ye to work.”

Will wanted to argue again but John frowned. Will sighed. “Aye, my laird.”

“Good. And Will,” he said, before Will could leave the room.

“Aye?”

“If ye want to visit yer lassie, my Bess put her in the small chamber off my suite,” John said with a grin. “Second floor, third door on the right.”

Will left the room, cursing under his breath as his cousins laughed at his expense. Bastards.

Yet, when he’d climbed the staircase, instead of going to the room at the end of the hallway, he turned to the third door on the right.

He had to be out of his mind. But he raised his hand to knock anyway.

…

Rose opened the door, eyes widening a bit upon seeing William standing there.

His rather sheepish grin had her lips twitching in response. “Now that ye have some sewing supplies at yer disposal, I thought perhaps ye could tend to my arm.”

She opened her mouth to point out there were more qualified women at the manor to tend him. But instead, she opened the door wider and stepped aside so he could enter.

He came in and looked about her room. It was small but comfortable. A soft cot piled with blankets took up one end of the room, and a fire crackled warmly in the hearth. She even had a narrow, paned window with a cushioned seat along with a table and two chairs. Her room was not hung with the rich tapestries and paintings that were displayed in the larger rooms, but that was as it should be. She was happy with her quarters. Even more so because her mistress was right next door.

“Sit down,” she bade him.

He did so, unwinding his kilt from his shoulders.

There was a bit of blood crusting the bandage, but not nearly as bad as before. Still, once she unwound the bandage and got a good look at the wound, there were several gaps that would heal better with a stitch or two.

She poured a bit of water from the pitcher on her table and rummaged through the sewing basket she’d found near the bed. In addition to the needles and thread, she also found several clean strips of linen. She snorted softly. Maybe they were used to stitching up their men as often as their socks in the Highlands. It didn’t surprise her. Most tales she’d heard of Scots made them sound like savages who were constantly warring with one another. And the stories William had told her, along with what she’d seen on their travels, hadn’t done much to change that notion. All the more reason to get back home to England as soon as possible.

She cleaned the wound as best she could and threaded a needle. But she paused before she began. He glanced up at her, a question in his eyes.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” she asked. “I’ve never stitched flesh before.”

He gave her that half grin she loved so much and shrugged. “It’s much the same as stitching cloth. Mayhap a bit tougher to get through.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Stitched yourself up before, have you?”

“Aye. A time or two.”

She snorted and leaned back over him. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”

“Och, it’ll be fine…” His voice broke off with a hiss when she made her first jab. She bit her lip.

“One second,” he said, reaching over to where she’d laid his coat to dig out a small flask of whisky. He downed three large gulps, then nodded at her to continue.

He flinched when she poked the needle through the other side of the wound and gently pulled the two sides together. But he didn’t protest, so she kept going, putting in two or three stitches, then biting off the thread and moving to another gaping spot.

William sat silently through her ministrations, taking another drink now and then, his eyes watching her. Every now and then she’d raise her gaze to meet his and looked away each time, her cheeks growing warmer.

Finally, she finished. She stepped back with a sigh and regarded her handiwork. “It’s not too bad,” she said, her brow creased in a frown.

He looked down. “Verra fine,” he said, glancing back at her.

She flushed again and got a clean strip of linen to wrap around his arm. “I hope it won’t hamper you too much if there’s fighting to be done.”

He snorted. “I’ve fought with worse.”

“I bet you have,” she said.

He stood and dragged his coat back over his shoulder. She stepped back, expecting him to leave now that she’d done what he’d asked. He did move to the door, but instead of leaving, he remained standing in front of it, his back to her.

She crossed her arms and waited.

“I am…sorry, that I took ye,” he said finally, his gravelly voice so low she almost couldn’t hear it. “I dinna ken if I’ve said that to ye yet.” He turned back to her and gave her a small smile. “And meant it, at least.”

She smiled at that, her heart thumping happily. “I suppose you want me to forgive you all your sins in case the battle goes poorly,” she said, trying to joke, though her words were anything but funny.

His smile faded. “No. There’s no forgiveness for what I’ve done.”

She frowned, her mouth opening to argue, but he held up a hand.

“Dinna argue, lass. Not this time. Nothing you can say will absolve me. I took ye, an innocent, put ye in harm’s way in the lair of the very devil. And in doing so, brought that devil to the doorstep of those I hold most dear. How can I expect forgiveness for that?”

“William,” she murmured, her heart breaking for him.

He stood, tall and proud before her, but the haunted eyes that stared into hers betrayed the regret that tormented his very soul.

“You may not be asking for it, and you may not accept it. But you do have my forgiveness.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, and she took his face in both her hands, forcing him to look at her.

“You made a mistake. Not one I enjoyed, I’ll grant you that,” she said with a smile that drew a small smile from him. “But you’re as human as the rest of us. No one is infallible, Will. And you’ve since saved my life—more than once.”

“Yer life was in danger only because of the mistake I made,” he said shaking his head. “It doesna atone for what I did.”

“You can’t know that,” she insisted. He shook his head, but she pressed on. “I mean it. You don’t know what would have happened had you not taken me. I wasn’t happy letting my mistress board that ship. I would have returned home because I promised her I would. But I’d already started thinking of plans to follow her. I might have done something even more stupid had you not intervened. Or I might have been taken anyway. Lionel saw me that day. He might have seen me return home and decided to take me at some point. Either way, my mistress’s secret would have been discovered, and I’d have been in more danger had I followed her on my own. And as it stands, I am here at my mistress’s side, where I belong. And I’m not alone.”

She forced herself to keep her gaze locked with his, even if the words she’d uttered, and their implications, made her want to turn and run. He stared into her eyes for what felt like forever. Then he brushed a thumb across her cheek.

“I dinna deserve yer forgiveness.”

“You have it anyway.”

His lips twitched. “Must ye argue with everything I say?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

He laughed and then sighed deeply and dropped his hand. “I should let ye rest.”

She shook her head. “I’ve rested enough. I couldn’t sleep now.”

“Nothing I say will change yer mind, will it?”

She smiled up at him. “No.”

He sighed. “Ye’d test the patience of the saints themselves.”

“Thank you,” she said.

He laughed and shook his head. Then he rubbed his hand over his face. Despite his insistence, she could see how weary he was.

“Truce?” she asked. “For tonight, at least?”

He chuckled again. “Truce.”

“Good. Come.” She took his hand and drew him to the cushioned seat below the window and drew him down so that he sat beside her.

He turned, his back against the wall so he could gaze out the window, and she followed, leaning back against him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She closed her eyes, knowing he couldn’t see her face, and savored the feel of his arms about her. Their truce wouldn’t last. He’d always annoy her. He’d probably never forgive himself for all his perceived sins, no matter what she said, and that would be a problem. He was a stubborn Scot who belonged in his savage Highlands, and she was an English maid who belonged…well, she no longer knew where she belonged.

At Lady Alice’s side, she supposed. Wherever that ended up being. She longed with all her heart to return home. To a civilized city far from the terrifying clan feuds that apparently still raged in the Scottish wilds. To the familiar house where she’d grown up. To her grandmother and the bevy of servants in the Chivers’ household who were more like her family than her real kin.

But for one night, she could let him hold her. Let herself feel how it might be if things were different. If they were different.

There was still a good chance one or both of them wouldn’t survive the fight that was coming. She spoke of forgiveness now, but he wasn’t wrong. His actions had put them all in grave danger. He’d done much to make up for that mistake. Hopefully, it would be enough. But if her lady were to be harmed…if she herself came to harm…

No, it wasn’t all William’s fault. The true villain was the man who hunted them. But Rose couldn’t guarantee that her feelings wouldn’t change if the fight were to go against them.

But for this moment in time, she would pretend nothing else in the world existed except the two of them.

Behind her, William’s breathing grew deep and even, and the arms about her loosened, although even in his sleep he kept them about her. She smiled and wrapped her arms about his.

It would work out. They’d defeat their enemies. The alternative was too painful to consider.