Chapter Twenty-Seven

“I should never ha’ left her.”

Mercien’s words, spoken bitterly and not for the first time, echoed those lurking in Malcolm’s mind. Now many miles from Dun Ballan, and with the day bright around them, he felt little relief. Instead he carried the pain in his chest still, an ache cold as stone lodged beneath his heart.

“We had no choice,” he stated far more harshly than he intended, and eyed his brother with misgiving.

He’d been a fool to send Catha’s men away to fetch reinforcements. Now the two of them rode alone, Mercien on a horse given by Latham.

Malcolm wondered how he stayed on its back, and just what he’d do if Mercien succumbed to his weakness and tumbled off. Only sheer will kept the lad there. That and the hard emotions filling him.

Those, Malcolm understood far too well.

“She told me her love for me would sustain her.” Mercien shot his brother a lopsided glare. Despite the bandaging, Malcolm could barely look into his brother’s face, so changed he mightn’t have known him if they had met elsewhere. Mercien, the bright, shining one, the laughing one—gone. What would Da say?

“Did she, so?” Compassion flooded Malcolm and softened his tone. “A braw thing, that, to carry wi’ you.”

He should have given words of love, aye, to Tansy, and should have sought them from her also. Something to guard against the emptiness and battle the pain.

“Latham will compel her,” Mercien’s voice dripped venom. “He will force his devil’s spawn on her. She will live out her days wallowing in the poison of that place.”

For an instant, Malcolm could not breathe.

“Brother,” Mercien grated, “let us go back.”

“And do what? Take on Latham and all his men? We would no’ get through the gates. Nay, let us get you home and tended. I will gather father’s men and go back, make an attempt to free them.”

“Them?” Again Mercien looked at him.

“Catha. And her companion.”

“Her companion—the wee, dark lass. Brother, what is she to you? Is she more than Catha’s servant?”

“I brought her to Crag Corvan, and before that I rescued her from a crowd o’ villagers bent on seeing her tried for witchcraft.”

“Witchcraft! No ordinary servant, then.”

“No servant at all. I doubt anyone could constrain that lass’s heart to obedience.”

“Save you?”

“Eh?”

“I wondered at how you looked at her. And she at you. Ha’ you bedded her?”

“An honorable man does no’ speak of such things.”

“He tells his brother, especially a brother desperately in need o’ distraction.”

“I’ve bedded her.” If what had taken place between him and Tansy could go by so paltry a description. Surely more than mere pleasure and release had followed. He’d given part of himself into Tansy’s keeping and acquired this damned ache at his heart.

Mercien fell silent for a moment before he asked, “And do you love her?”

This time Malcolm’s silence seemed to provide an answer, for Mercien grunted and went on, “Then she maun be a singular woman indeed. For I’ve known you to love nae woman—save Catha, and that like a sister.”

So Mercien might well think. Malcolm’s feelings for Catha had been far more than brotherly, but they paled in comparison to what he felt toward Tansy. God help her. The prayer trailed from his mind like the steam of their breath in the chill air, even though, like Mercien, he could no longer claim unwavering belief in that deity.

He did, however, believe in Tansy Bellrose Gant.

****

“I should no’ waste my strength in tears—I know that full well,” Catha whispered brokenly. “I canna’ seem to help it, though.”

Tansy made no answer. Alone in the chamber they were meant to share, the two women huddled near a fire that failed to warm either of them. Following Malcolm and Mercien’s departure, Catha had somehow held onto her poise while with Latham. But once she escaped to privacy, she’d crumbled and collapsed in Tansy’s arms.

“Go on and weep,” Tansy told her now. “Mayhap it will help.”

“Naught will help, I fear! Do no’ mistake my meaning—I am that glad to see him awa’. I kept fearing all the while Latham would change his mind or—or call them back.” She raised a stricken face from Tansy’s shoulder. “You do no’ think he will, do you? Send a troop after them and drag them back?”

The very idea made Tansy’s stomach turn. Being marooned here might be a terrible fate, but seeing Malcolm and Mercien imprisoned would be far worse. Like Catha, she clung to the thought of them free.

Who knew love would spawn such sacrifice? Especially in the breast of one such as she.

“What said Latham when you met wi’ him?” The bastard had called Catha immediately into his presence as soon as the two knights rode away.

Catha whispered her answer, as if the walls had ears. “He speaks already of our marriage. He will send today and request a reading of the banns. Till then, I believe he will no’ touch me—other than a kiss or a mauling.” Catha shuddered. “He will allow no questions about the legitimacy of any son I give him. ’Tis greed drives him in this, rather than lust. That is…” Catha choked and paused. “I fear he will expend his lust on you. He asks already that I send you to him.”

“Now? In broad daylight?” And with Malcolm barely out of her sight. How could she muddy his precious memory with Latham’s vile presence?

“What will you do?” Catha asked.

Tansy gave her a meaningful look. “You ken full well.”

“But how? And when?”

“Managing it will be no easy feat. And I would no’ wish to act before I believe Malcolm and Mercien far enough away, just in case somewhat does go wrong.” Tansy puffed out a breath. “I shall have to stall him.”

“Again? What if he catches on?”

“Then I will ha’ to endure whatever punishment he hands down.” Could memories of Malcolm save her—imagining herself in his arms, aflame beneath his kisses, willing to offer anything?

She didn’t know and felt suddenly so ill she doubted she could rise from the bench where she and Catha huddled together.

“If he touches me,” she said suddenly, “I will surely vomit.”

Catha’s hands tightened on hers. “Do not go to him.”

“And reveal our hand?”

“We will think of something else.”

“There is naught else.”

“Och, Jesu! Tansy—”

Tansy freed her hands from Catha’s and struggled to her feet. Courage she never knew she possessed carried her out the door of the chamber, down the stairs, and to the closed door of Latham’s study, where she knocked.

How far would she go to buy Malcolm more time? Just as far as she must.