Since most of the horses had to bear the burden of two riders, the getaway from Stirling passed at an exceptionally slow pace. Minute after agonizing minute slipped by. Eleanor continually looked back to see if the castle guards had caught up to them, but there was no one behind them.
Will held her father tightly in his arms. The earl looked alarmingly weak.
“Hang on, Father, we’re nearly there,” she called to him, trying to sound more confident than she felt.
But they were not nearly there. They wouldn’t be nearly there until morning. And at the pace they were going, it might even be longer than that. Much could happen before then. The sound of her voice, at least, seemed to rouse him for a time.
Dougall, too, was struggling. He held his injured arm at an odd angle. When she’d asked about it, he’d told her only that it had been an unexpected scratch. Eleanor knew he was lying but didn’t have the time to prove it. They had to keep on. And she worried about the arrow he’d taken to the side. There was no evidence of a shaft, but the slice might be deep. He might be bleeding to death that very moment, and there was nothing she could do about it. She paid attention to him, too, as they went, checking to make sure he remained strong enough to ride.
His hands did not hold the reins; hers did. She could only imagine what his mangled palms might look like come daylight. The image of putrid carrion came to mind. Dear God, let his hands not look like that.
Just before dawn, the dreaded sound of rapid hoofbeats against the grass met their ears. Were those horses Douglas men, or castle guards?
Frantically, Eleanor peered around Dougall’s solid frame to the open ground behind them. No horses were yet in sight. There was no time to wait and see which riders would be astride them.
“Be ready to fight, men,” MacRae shouted, drawing his broadsword from over his shoulder. Eleanor reached into her rivelin and unsheathed Ranald MacNaughton’s sgian dubh, brandishing the small, heavy knife far more expertly than she had when she first won it off his corpse. Moments before the party kicked their mounts into a sprint for one last bid to escape, she looked back into Dougall’s eyes. He was holding his own broadsword awkwardly, hampered by his injured hands and body.
This was it. They would die together. She should tell him now, tell him that she loved him. Surely this would be her last chance.
But…a reprieve. Death would evade them for a short while longer.
“They’re ours,” one of the men declared with tangible excitement as the riders closing in on them materialized on the horizon.
Indeed they were. About ten rode at full speed to catch up, with Gabhan at the helm.
“Gabhan,” Eleanor exclaimed joyously. “Thank the heavens ye’re all right. Ye were supposed to meet us at the boat. What happened?”
“We fought them off quickly,” Gabhan explained. “There werena so many as we were expecting, so we decided to try and catch up wi’ ye.”
Relieved, Eleanor searched the other newcomers. “Is Manus wi’ ye?”
Gabhan hesitated, and then sadly he shook his head.
Oh no. Not Manus. His kind face and sure, portly frame came to her mind.
“How?” she managed tightly.
“In the city. They stopped the first wave of guards, it seemed, before they could leave the gate and give chase on the road.”
“I was there, My Lady,” put in one of the men. “I saw it. It were quick. Manus didna see it coming, and he didna suffer long.”
Poor Manus. Tears stung at her eyes and she wept silently for him.
“What about Angus?” Dougall asked.
“He lives,” Gabhan confirmed. “He’ll remain in Stirling. He’s decided to take the chance that he’ll no’ be found out.”
“He’s staying?” Will inquired, oddly interested. “What are his chances of escaping discovery, d’ye think?”
“He should be fine unless he’s snitched on,” Gabhan answered. “’Twas dark, and we didna leave the guards alive to tell of what we looked like.”
Will sat back in his saddle, considering this.
They reached the harbor on the banks of the Forth, just past the town of Dunmore, as the sky was lightening. They’d made it, and they’d beaten the castle guards. Eleanor knew they must not be far behind, but she was willing to revel in this one small victory.
Thomas met them at the mouth of the harbor. The joy that spread across his face was like a shining beacon. He ran through the early morning marketgoers, as excited as a child with a new toy.
“My Lord! The heavens have mercy, My Lord.”
He ran to Will and helped Lord Albermarle to the ground. From atop their mount, Dougall hopped down first and then offered a hand to Eleanor.
“We’d best be off now,” Gabhan told Thomas. “The alarm was raised, and the castle guards are no’ far behind.”
“Will Manus be along, too?”
The group’s downcast eyes told Thomas what he didn’t want to hear.
But the time for grieving was not now. They had to get everyone onto the boat. Eleanor stood by, watching the hustle as the prisoners were walked up the plank. She should be helping, should be boarding herself. But she was paralyzed. Her eyes were fixed on Dougall.
Was this really it? Was this the last time she would see him?
“Nolie?” Will hedged gently. “Ye’d best board now, lass, or we’ll lose our head start.”
Yes, she must board. They must bring her father to safety. Forcing herself to move, she held out her hand for Will to take, so they could board together.
He looked at her hand, reluctant to take it. “Actually…I’ve decided I’ll no’ be going to England after all. I figure if Angus Mhor can do it, so can I.”
“Dinna be daft,” she protested. “Of course ye are. What do ye have to stay for?”
A slight smile came to his lips. “Call it love, I suppose.”
Eleanor stared at him, aghast. “Love? You mean Roisin?”
His grin deepened into a ridiculous smile, and he nodded.
“Does she love ye?”
He shrugged. “I dinna ken, in truth. But I have to find out. I canna leave if there might be a chance of something between us.”
She understood perfectly how he felt. It was how she felt about Dougall, after all. Then why was she contemplating leaving, where Will was brave enough to stay?
“Good luck to ye,” she said, throwing her arms around him. “And thank ye, Will. Ye saved my life.”
He returned her embrace just as fervently. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, lass.”
Once more, Dougall was the last man she had to say good-bye to. She’d said her good-byes once, thinking he might be killed. But he’d survived the tower. Now she was having to say good-bye all over again. But this time she would forever know that he was alive in the world somewhere, existing without her, and she without him. Her heart seared with an unprecedented pain.
She approached him, wanting desperately to touch him, to hold him. And not being able to bring herself to do either.
“Ye havena much time,” he told her.
As if to emphasize the point, Gabhan called from the boat, “Nolie, lass, let’s be away. They’ll catch us before we’ve even taken off at this rate.”
Suddenly, her paralysis broke. Eleanor threw herself into Dougall’s arms, and crushed her lips to his, crying as she did. He returned her kiss with the same fierceness, the same desperate passion and grief. When she pulled back, she saw that he, too, was crying.
“Good-bye, Dougall MacFadyen,” she choked.
“Good-bye, Lady Eleanor Douglas,” he answered.
With a gasping sob, she fled to the boat and boarded. Then the boat was off, pulling away from the dock with the sun rising red in front of it. Eleanor pressed herself to the rail as Dougall grew smaller and smaller on the bank. She watched him, did not take her eyes off him. She wanted to memorize every detail of this, her last view of him.
This couldn’t be right. She couldn’t let him go. To return to her mother and live a life that wasn’t worth living…
No. No, she would not! A madness took over her body, and she scrambled up onto the gunwale, unfastening her cloak and letting it drop to the deck in a heap.
“Dougall,” she cried.
With a mighty leap, she plunged into the frigid water. It closed over her in a rush, pulling her down to the bottom. She kicked and fought against it, clawing her way to the surface with a great, heaving breath.
“Nolie,” she heard Dougall call from the bank. She wiped the water from her eyes just in time to see him dive into the river after her.
She reached him at the same time that her feet touched the bottom. Crying openly, she lunged for him. Grabbing his face between her hands, she planted sloppy, rough kisses all over his cheeks, his forehead, his lips—anywhere she could get at.
“Are ye daft, lass?” he demanded, kissing her back. “Ye could have been drowned. Are ye mad?”
“Aye, Dougall. I am mad,” she blurted. “I’m driven mad by the thought of life wi’out ye, and I dinna want to do it. I love ye, Dougall MacFadyen. I love ye, and I’m sorry I didna say it sooner. I canna go back to Kinross, nor even Kildrummond, because they’ll likely find me. But I will follow ye anywhere in this world if ye’ll let me, just to be wi’ ye.”
Dougall pulled her fiercely to him. “Sweet heaven, Nolie, I was thinking of jumping into that water after that boat to tell ye the same thing. Only ye got around to it first.”
“Are ye coming, Dougall?” called Gabhan from the boat. “If ye are, ye’d better hurry up, lad, before we’re too far away to reach ye.”
“Shall I?” He looked intently into her face, holding her at arm’s length. “Shall I come wi’ ye to England?”
She laughed, looking back at him with all the love in her heart. “If ye dinna, then I’ll find ye, wherever ye are, and drag ye there by yer hair.”
***
The castle guards reached the banks of the Forth as the sails of the boat disappeared over the horizon.
“’Tis them all right,” said their captain regretfully. He nodded at the abandoned horses milling around on the banks, the ones that hadn’t taken off on their own or been appropriated by more enterprising harborgoers. “Catch them, and bring them back wi’ us.”
“What about them that’s on the boat?” protested one man, a new and young guard.
“What are ye going to do—swim after them?”
“Well, nay. But couldna we send a missive to the garrison at Airth?”
The captain sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “God’s bones, ye have a lot to learn, lad. By the time it gets there, they’ll be out to sea. They’re gone. Let us prepare to face His Majesty’s wrath the best we can.”