Captured Heart (24 page)

“King James will never allow it,” Ewan said in defense.

Boswell let loose a staccato laugh. “Your King James is no match to the great King Henry VIII. I also understand that your king is suspicious of the Macbains supporting the Protestant reformation. He will support Henry in an effort to keep relations cordial.”

Meg’s heart hammered against her ribs. Boswell meant every word he spat. She could see it in his stance, his face. And she had no way of knowing how much influence he had over the English monarch or what lies had been told to the Scottish king.

What if Boswell incited Henry to massacre the Macbains? And the Munros and Macleods? She could be responsible for all their deaths. She also knew in her wildly pumping heart that if she went with Boswell she would meet the same fate as her mother, or possibly worse.

Boswell’s gaze fastened onto Meg’s. “Do your duty to these people, as your mother was dutiful when her father brought her home. Come back with me to England and ask your King Henry if you may marry here in the north. He is a good and just king.”

“Who knows nothing of me but what you’ve poisoned him with,” Meg responded.

Boswell’s mouth remained grim but a hint of victory shown in his eyes. “Ah, but he will get to know you. If your words are true, you have nothing to fear.”

Meg’s mind raced. This was a decision of life and death and not just hers. What would Caden do if he were here? Probably slice Boswell’s head off. Of course, killing him outright could cause even more problems. She needed a weapon, one just as lethal as Caden’s blade, but without the bloodshed.

Unfortunately, all she had were the bits of information from her mother’s desperate note and Colin’s memory. However, Boswell didn’t know that.

Meg summoned a sweet and thoughtful expression. “If I return with you, King Henry will also get to know
you
.”

Boswell’s confident expression softened. “He already knows me.”

Meg kicked a charred piece of peat into the hearth. “Not the Rowland Boswell you wish him to know.” She turned to him. “The Rowland Boswell who conspired to kill him when he was a young and untried king. The Rowland Boswell who even now may still be plotting to assassinate him.”

Boswell’s frown sharpened into a sneer. She’d just poked a sleepy viper with a stick. The man nearly hissed. “You spew lies like your mother. And she burned for them.”

At the open threat, Ewan stepped in front of Meg and slid his sword free. She placed her hand on his arm and stepped to the side, almost as if she were playing a child’s game of seek.

“Lies?” she asked. “The ones you wrote in your own hand? I wonder if our good and just king will see it that way.”

“Show me these letters written in my own hand.”

Meg created an expression of innocent confusion to barely hide the victory surging inside her. “Letters?” She tilted her head. “Did I say letters?”

Boswell pursed his lips tighter.

Meg stepped out from behind Ewan’s large body and walked closer to Boswell, showing him that she didn’t fear him. “Rowland Boswell, I am Meg Macleod Macbain of Druim Castle. I am daughter to Colin Macleod, chief of the Macleods. I am niece to Alec Munro, chief of the Munros. And before God and government I am wife to Caden Macbain, chief of the powerful Macbain clan of Druim. I am nothing to you any longer except the person who could bring about your fall and subsequent traitor’s death if you threaten any of my people.”

Boswell’s face burned redder with each word. His lips pulled back to show even, brown teeth, and his hands fisted at his sides.

Meg took another step toward him, leaning slightly forward.

“You are not welcome here.” She lowered her voice to a seething whisper. “And your threats against my very extended family have made these rugged, cold climes very dangerous for a delicate man like you. Rowland Boswell, I suggest you return to England immediately.”

With that, she turned her back on him and strode to her aunt and uncle, who were still thawing near the hearth. She didn’t miss the pride-filled glances of Angus, Kenneth, and Bruce, who all puffed up like roosters. If she weren’t so shaken, she’d have laughed.

She took up Mary’s cold, cracked hands and rubbed them in her own, though her own were probably just as cold.

Boswell’s shrill voice rang throughout the room. “This is not over, Meg. If you don’t come with me, Henry will send back troops ordered to destroy everything in their path. They will not read false letters you’ve concocted.”

The words made sense, but the power had ebbed from his voice. Meg willed herself not to respond. She would set it all before Caden and they needed those letters to see what exactly lay in those caves. From Boswell’s reaction, it seemed her mother’s letter had been true. Her mother had saved King Henry’s life.

“Ewan, escort Lord Boswell out,” Meg said with the authority of a great lady of the house.

“Harold, Mary, come,” Boswell ordered, and Meg’s hands clasped around Mary’s arm.

Boswell had obviously forced them to come north to use them in some way against her. To persuade her to listen to him? To trade their freedom for her acquiescence? He’d made a mistake by bringing them into Druim. She wouldn’t give them up.

“Nay. They stay,” Meg said, her eyes locking onto Mary’s.

“If they stay, then they are traitors, too,” Boswell said.

She turned around. “And if they go, you will freeze them to death on the return to England.” She was close to the cracking point, where anger would blend with exhaustion, tipping her into tears. And she couldn’t weep, not in front of the devil.

Rachel stepped around them, over to Harold, and clasped his hand. “I am so delighted that you and your wife have come to visit me and Alec. I’ve been asking all these years, and you finally came. We will throw a banquet in your honor, brother.” She turned to Boswell. “I think your good and just king would have no law against a subject visiting his own sister in a peaceful country.”

Uncle Harold stood taller next to Rachel. “I do not think to flatter myself to wonder if my good king would even notice that I am gone from his kingdom to visit my kin. I am but a humble farmer and pleased to visit my sister until the roads south are more hospitable. For the safety of my wife.”

Meg could feel Mary’s muscles relax.

Boswell turned on his heel and grabbed his wrappings. Without a single farewell, he strode out of the hall, Ewan close on his steps.

As the door slammed in the entryway, Meg moved over to a chair and collapsed into it, shaking. Tears threatened, angry tears that she couldn’t do more, frustrated tears that she was a woman and couldn’t take out her vengeance on Boswell’s wickedness.

The three elders stood before her and bowed.

“Definitely the daughter of a Highlander,” Angus said with pride thick in his brogue.

Kenneth struck a fist against his heart. “The fire in ye, lass, why, it made me proud.”

“If that devil knew ye had a bow, he’d be watching his backside right now as he scurries away,” Bruce added, and Angus laughed in agreement.

Meg gave a nervous exhale and pressed the back of her hand against her mouth.

“Isabelle,” Rachel said, her eyes tearing up, “is smiling right now from heaven.”

With the wet sparkle to Rachel’s eyes and the mention of her mother, Meg’s own tears wouldn’t stay down. They spilled out on her cheek and the four elderly men started poking in their pockets for handkerchiefs.

Uncle Harold found one first. The square was a bit soggy from the snow, but Meg took it and wiped her eyes. Angus handed another to Rachel, who took it gratefully.

Evelyn poked her head back in the room, holding a long knife. “Are the English gone?”

“Aye,” Angus called out. “Our Meg here scared that devil Boswell off. Didn’t even need us.”

“Oh, I definitely needed all of you,” Meg said and stood to hug Mary again. “Now let’s get you two into some dry clothes.”

Mary took Meg’s hands. “I am so proud of you, child. Oh my! You’ve grown so much in the last month. You’re even wed!”

“I’ve so missed you,” Meg sniffed.

“No tears,” Ewan commanded as he came back into the room. He grabbed her in a fierce bear hug, swinging her around. Meg squeaked.

“Hurrah, Meg!” he cheered and set her down. “Now ye’re definitely one of us,” he said. “Tough and clever as a Highlander, snubbing yer pretty nose at the English.”

Harold cleared his throat.

“Present company excepted,” Ewan said without breaking stride. “Wait until Caden hears. Yer words at the end.” He shivered dramatically. “I still have chills.”

Meg couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “I don’t know, Ewan. I may have just yanked the devil’s tail.”

“Oh, but he certainly asked for such,” Mary said. “The bloody devil.”

“Mary,” Harold said.

“He treated us terrible,” she continued, unhindered by Harold’s warning. “Threatened us if we didn’t go with him, fed us so little, I swear Harold lost ten pounds. Even when we stayed at that drafty old castle, we couldn’t get warm.”

Ewan’s jubilation faded. “At which castle did ye stay? I don’t know of any abandoned castles near Druim.”

“Oh, ’twas fully occupied,” Mary said.

Ewan turned to Harold.

Harold answered the unasked question. “Gilbert Davidson.”

The name squeezed like dank meat in Meg’s stomach.

“No wonder Boswell knows so much,” Rachel said. “That Caden and most of the men were away today. That you were here and married. He must have known before, even when he sent the letters to each of us.” She turned to Harold. “How long have you been at Davidson’s castle?”

“A fortnight,” Harold answered.

Meg’s breath caught. “You’ve been here since a week after I arrived. He must have received news immediately that I was in the Highlands.” She turned to Ewan. “Could Girshmel have told Gilbert and he have contacted Boswell?”

Angus rubbed his beard. “Gilbert wouldn’t have known yer worth or that Boswell was trying to find ye so soon unless he already had dealings with the man.”

“What would Boswell want with a contact up in the Highlands?” Meg asked. “I don’t know of any business or trading that he’d be involved with.”

“He must know the letters are up here somewhere,” Kenneth said.

“Perhaps he’s been keeping an eye on me,” Rachel suggested. “Only the devil knows the mind of one of his demons.”

Evelyn made the sign of the cross and the room stood motionless for a long moment while everyone’s minds spun.

Mary shivered. “Evelyn, do we have another room to house my aunt and uncle?”

“They can share my room,” Rachel said. “Alec is gone and I will follow him as soon as he returns. I have a banquet to prepare for you two.”

Meg laughed. “Beware, she says she will plan a banquet, but let’s see if it actually happens.”

Rachel turned to Meg. “Ah, but you had a much grander celebration here.” She looped her arm in Mary’s and gestured to Harold. “Come up to your rooms and I’ll tell you what amazing events have been happening since Meg came to Druim.”

“She makes it sound like a story,” Meg said, and followed her.

“I hear Jonet and Ann have already started another tapestry with ye as the central figure,” Ewan called.

Meg glanced at Elspet dying on the great hall tapestry. Would she bring England down on these noble people? “Good Lord,” she whispered. “What have I done?”

…

“Hail, Druim!” Caden’s voice broke through the hushed mist as he halted before the wall.

“Hail, The Macbain,” Hugh Loman yelled back. “Open the gate.”

“The herds come,” Caden called to two other men who ran out of the bailey. “Into the bailey tonight. We’ll corral them beyond tomorrow after the sun has worked through this fog.” He jogged up to the steps of the castle and swung down.

Ewan stepped out of the great doors, his expression a mix of relief and concern.

“Meg?” Caden asked, his heart leaping as he waited the scant second it took Ewan to respond.

“Sleeping,” Ewan answered.

Caden breathed in fully, the weight of worry dissolving with that one word. He’d thought of her all day—worried, really. Yet she was safe, in bed, warm. He hadn’t been able to wake her this morning to say good-bye. Perhaps he’d have an easier time waking her if they were both naked.

The moos and bleats pulled his attention back to the cold night around him as the animals rushed through into the bailey.

“The portcullis was down,” Caden said.

“Boswell paid us a visit.”

The tightness pressed in on Caden’s chest. “With troops?”

“Only ten men and Meg’s aunt and uncle from England,” Ewan shouted over the din of animal noises.

Caden glanced behind at the sea of cattle and goats. His men moved among them, blanketing the young and throwing out hay. The troughs were filled as the animals crowded around, drinking away their thirst.

He waved to Colin and Alec to follow him. The other men would tend the animals and find their own beds. As he walked inside, Angus and Kenneth pushed out of their chairs by the fire. Bruce’s snores vibrated through the great hall until Kenneth thumped his arm.

“What?” Bruce mumbled and then spotted Caden. He unfolded his body and followed the other two.

Only something important would keep these three in the great hall this late. Caden grabbed a mug of ale on the table and guzzled the liquid down his parched throat. He eyed the three elders and Ewan as they waited. Alec and Colin also found ale.

“What has you three up so late?” Alec asked.

“Boswell was here today,” Caden said.

Kenneth frowned at Ewan. “Did you already tell him how Meg sent him away speechless? We wanted to tell him what she said.”

“Aye, you said we could tell him,” Bruce said and belched.

Caden’s focus bored into Ewan, his gut tightening. “You let him talk to Meg?”

“She wouldn’t go upstairs,” Ewan said. “And Rachel wasn’t likely to budge, either.”

Alec snorted. “If Rachel wants to stay put, she stays.”

“You should have heard our Meg,” Kenneth said.

“She did us proud,” Angus added, puffing up his chest. “Made that devil turn bright red and retreat. She wouldn’t even let him take her aunt and uncle back with him.”