Page 44 of Bound to a Scot (Sins in a Kilt #2)

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

“’ T is a lovely day fer a sail, eh? ‘Tis a pity we sail fer such grim business,” Burchard said and clapped Maddox on the shoulder. “But ‘tis nae all bad. After all, we’ll sign the treaties and formalize our alliance today, eh? The start of a new day.”

Not trusting himself to speak, Maddox said nothing. He simply looked at the man and gave him a firm nod. Burchard frowned but then put a smile back on his face, clapped Maddox on the shoulder again then walked up the dock to the waiting birlinn that would carry them. The sight of Emmeline, chains binding her wrists and ankles, being led up the dock by armed and armored men sent a painful stitch through his heart. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and tried to quell the tempest in his belly.

“Steady, lad,” Lorn said for the umpteenth time in the past days as he took a position beside him.

In the days that followed the scene in the hall, Burchard had stripped Lorn of his title of war chief reasoning that acting on the lady’s orders or not, his loyalty was now in question. He was not cast out and did not face the headsman the way Emmeline did, but he was no longer in Burchard’s favor. That pale, obsequious cockroach, Laith, had unsurprisingly become Burchard’s chief advisor, making official what had already been a fact for a long while.

Burchard was moving quickly to consolidate his power and control. All he needed to do now was to execute Emmeline, freeing him up to marry another fer additional lands, men, and wealth. After that, once he and Cecilia had been wed, Maddox knew Burchard would come for him.

The birlinn was quickly filling up with Burchard’s entourage and soldiers. Maddox ground his teeth, his shoulder’s tensing. The rowers were already below deck, getting themselves set and the captain was issuing orders to his sailors, pulling up sails and readying for the voyage. Time was running short.

“Easy,” Lorn said again.

“Where in the bleedin’ hell is he?”

“He’ll be here. His letter said he’d be here soon.”

They had received a message from Adair letting them know the king had heard him and was sending men to see to this affair for himself. He would not sanction Burchard’s death. Not without proof. But he was willing to hear them speak on the matter. The problem was that the birlinn was getting ready to sail and if it left the dock, all was lost.

Maddox and Lorn reluctantly walked up the dock and climbed aboard the birlinn. Still bound, Emmeline sat at the front of the vessel, her eyes red and swollen, as if she’d been crying, but a look of stubborn defiance on her face, nonetheless. Cecilia huddled near her, the girl’s face tear-streaked and her lips quivering.

“We’re almost ready tae go,” Burchard shouted to the sailors. “Let us be away.”

Maddox’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword. “I guess we dae this me way then.”

“Hold,” Lorn said. “Look.”

Two dozen men on horseback appeared reining to a stop on the shoreline flying the standards of the king himself. And when he spotted Adair, Maddox almost let out a cry of triumph. The soldiers dismounted and a tall man with dark hair and black surcoat bearing the king’s sigil walked up the dock. Maddox cut a glance back at Burchard, whose face blanched and was wracked with confusion. Adair quickly scampered aboard the birlinn and stood beside Maddox.

“We made it,” he whispered.

“With bleedin’ moments tae spare,” Maddox grumbled.

“We wanted tae make a dramatic entrance.”

“Mission accomplished, lad,” Lorn said.

“Laird Macfie,” called the man in the surcoat. “Present yerself.”

A frown on his lips, Burchard stepped to the edge of the birlinn and glowered down at the newcomer. His gaze drifted quickly to Maddox and Adair, his eyes glittering dangerously.

“I’m Laird Macfie,” he called.

“I am Farlan Taillear,” the stranger replied. “I am advisor tae His Royal Highness, King James IV and I am here tae inspect this vessel. I have questions.”

Burchard frowned. “I’ve nay mind tae be answerin’ questions.”

“The king demands answers.”

“About what?”

“About certain machinations that have been brought tae light,” Farlan said. “Now, present yerself tae me here on the dock.”

“I am laird of these lands?—”

“And James IV is king of all these lands—including yers.”

“Gentlemen, I understand ye have some concerns,” Burchard was getting impatient and bit out the words, “but we’ve business tae attend tae?—”

“The only business ye’ll be attendin’ tae right now is answerin’ the king’s questions or ye shall face the consequences of disobeying his orders,” Farlan raised his voice.

Knowing there might not be a better opportunity than now, Maddox glanced at Lorn, who gave him a quick nod, silently telling him to strike while the iron was hot. He stepped to the edge of the birlinn and looked down at the royal advisor. Burchard glanced at him, concern in his eyes.

“Me name is Maddox MacLachlan, Laird of the MacLachlan clan and I ask the permission tae speak,” he asked and after Farlan’s nod he continued. “Laird Burchard Macfie has engaged in a plot tae arrange the murder of meself, Laird Maddox MacLachlan, his wife Emmeline Macfie former MacCallum, Lady of clan Macfie, and his daughter Cecilia Macfie, in an effort tae steal the MacLachlan lands and men?—”

“Bollocks!” Macfie shouted as he rounded on Maddox.

He cut Macfie a dark glare. “He already tried tae murder his ladywife once. If I’d nae intervened, she’d be dead right now.”

“These are very serious charges, Laird MacLachlan,” Farlan said. “I trust ye’ve got proof?”

“Aye. I dae.”

They turned to see Cecilia standing up, her back rigid, her face defiant. Macfie’s mouth fell open but his face grew tight, pinched, and he sneered at his daughter. But then he quickly turned back to the royal advisor on the dock below.

“This is a mummery,” Macfie called. “’Tis a conspiracy tae deprive me of me lands!”

Emmeline stood and held her chained wrists up for Farlan to see. “I am Emmeline Macfie, Lady of clan Macfie, Burchard’s wife. He has accused me of conspiracy. We sail now to where I will be executed fer something I didnae dae.”

“She confessed before an entire hall of people,” Macfie shouted.

“Aye. She did,” Lorn called out. “Tae protect Cecilia, whom Burchard Macfie, her own father, had also accused of conspiracy and treachery… without a shred of evidence.”

“But I’ve got evidence,” Cecilia called. “Excuse me fer interrupting.” She then added and did a small curtsy in the king’s men’s direction.

Burchard’s face paled when his daughter produced the sack of correspondence she’d filched from his office and threw it down to Farlan. The man caught it and began to rifle through the pages. Macfie’s eyes, cold and narrow, turned to each of them in turn and Maddox could see the rage building within him. The air around them crackled with tension and the dark promise of violence. Maddox knew there would be bloodshed before the day was over.

“Laird Burchard Macfie,” Farland called. “These letters paint a very dire picture.”

“They are lies,” Burchard shouted. “’Tis a conspiracy.”

“Was it conspiracy when ye sent men tae murder me?” Emmeline raised her voice at him. “And fer what? Fer more power? Land?”

Macfie spun around and glared at Maddox. “This is yer doin’. Ye seduced her and turned her against me. Dinnae think I dinnae ken about ye two.”

Maddox shook his head. “I didnae turn her against ye. Ye did that all on yer own.”

“Laird Macfie,” Farlan called. “Come down ontae this dock now tae account fer yerself.”

“Ye might as well confess now,” Emmeline called. “Confess yer plot and maybe the king will show ye some mercy.”

“Tell them ye were goin’ tae murder me and steal me lands,” Maddox pressed.

“Ye’re bleedin’ right I was goin’ tae,” Macfie hissed. “Ye’re a poor excuse fer a laird. Yer people are starvin’. They need a real laird who will?—”

“Who will what?” Maddox growled. “Who will use them fer his own ends? Who will throw them intae a war fer his own vanity? His own greed?”

“Ye’re nae just a poor excuse of a laird,” Emmeline shouted. “Ye’re an even poorer excuse of a man! Ye’re nae even a man!”

With a growl of rage, Macfie drew his sword and advanced on her. Unsheathing his own blade, Maddox darted forward as chaos erupted on the birlinn. Some of the king’s soldiers scampered onto the deck, joining with Adair and Lorn, who were busy subduing Macfie’s men. The sound of swords clashing rang in Maddox’s ears and he had to shove several men out of his way, his gaze focused on Emmeline, who pushed Cecilia hard, getting her out of the path of her father.

Macfie swung his sword, a blow that would have taken Emmeline’s head clean off her shoulders. But Maddox threw himself in front of her, deflecting the blade with his own. The impact was hard, jolting his arm all the way up to the shoulder. He grimaced and launched a counterattack, his blade spinning and whirling in a deadly rhythm. Macfie’s face was tight, and he took a step back, defending himself, managing to parry every one of Maddox’s thrusts.

Pressing his advantage, Maddox waded in, scoring hits on Macfie that opened gashes in his arm and side, drawing a pained hiss from the man. His teeth clenched, the man did not give up. He instead moved forward, his steel flashing as he darted in with a series of feints and thrusts that Maddox barely avoided.

“Maddox look out!”

Emmeline’s voice rang loud in his ears and he spun just in time to see Macfie’s man Laith bearing down on him. He had just a moment to register the dagger in the man’s hand before it sunk into his side. Blood, warm and thick, spilled from the wound and sent a wave of pain through Maddox. He grunted and managed to twist away from the pale man, knocking him off balance. He brought his sword up and brought it down with a roar of pain, driving it through the flesh between his shoulder blades. Laith immediately went limp and fell to the deck of the birlinn, a thick scarlet pool spreading out beneath him.

With a howl of triumph, Macfie launched himself at Maddox, the tip of his blade sinking high into the left side of his chest. Maddox heard Emmeline screaming but it sounded a thousand miles away and rather than pain, all he felt was a numbness spreading through his body. Macfie’s eyes hovered mere inches from his, sparkling with a maniacal glee at his victory. Maddox wasn’t done though, and drove his own sword straight into the man’s belly.

The man’s eyes grew wide, and Maddox felt the rush of blood spilling over his hand and arm. He staggered backward, disengaging the blade from his belly. His sword hit the wooden deck with a clatter as he stared at the gaping wound in his gut in disbelief. Blood poured from his belly and pooled on the deck at his feet. Maddox turned to Emmeline and felt his heart swell even as his vision narrowed to a point. As the blood rushed from his own wounds, he felt himself stagger and then fall.

The water was hard and unyielding as he hit the surface. As he began to slip below though, he was overcome by a sense of calm and peace he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Emmeline and Cecilia were both safe. Macfie would never be able to harm them again. And that was good enough for him. His was a worthy sacrifice. Adair would be laird of the clan. The MacLachlans were safe with him. A small smile upon his lips, Maddox let the surprising warmth and comfort of the encroaching darkness swallow him.

As he surrendered to the darkness, Maddox felt hands seize him, roughly pulling him through the water. Pain gripped him.

“Dinnae ye dare die on me, ye bleedin’ donkey!”

Maddox opened his eyes and saw that Emmeline was in the water beside him. She had her arm wrapped around his chest, her sparkling green eyes locked onto his and an expression caught somewhere between fear and grief on her face. But her jaw was clenched in that look of stubborn determination he’d learned to adore.

“Ye’re in the water,” he said weakly.

“I suppose I am.”

“I’m proud of ye. I always kent ye could dae it.” He thought he said that out loud but was not sure.

A wan smile touched her lips, and her eyes flooded with tears. The pain of being yanked about ebbed again and the numbing cold began to take hold once more.

“’Tis too late fer me,” he said.

“Like hell it is,” she snapped.

Maddox heard another loud splash in the water and then Adair was there. Together, he and Emmeline managed to get Maddox out of the water and back onto the shore. As he was surrounded by strangers tending to his wounds, Emmeline held onto his hand tightly. He gave her a weak smile and squeezed her hand.

“I love ye, Emmeline. We should wed,” he said, his voice thready.

“Aye,” she said as her tears began to flow. “Dinnae die on me, and I’ll marry ye.”

Maddox smiled, that feeling of peace joined by contentment and then pure joy. He felt a happiness he’d never known before. And with thoughts of marrying Emmeline and being with her forever flashing through his mind, he finally slipped into the warm embrace of the dark.

Maddox groaned and when he moved, white hot bolts of pain shot through his body. His eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring at the ceiling of his bedchamber.

“I’m alive,” he said.

“Aye. Ye’re alive.”

Emmeline’s voice brought a smile to his lips, and he turned his head, wincing at the flash of pain that cut through his belly, sharper than any blade. She sat in a chair beside his bed, her face pale and drawn. Dark half-moons marred the flesh beneath eyes that were red and watery. She looked as if she hadn’t slept for days and had cried the entire time. But when he turned to her, the look of relief that spread across her face made her positively radiant.

“Ye saved me,” Maddox said, his throat dry, his voice cracking.

“Nay. ‘Twas the castle surgeons who saved ye.”

“How is everybody else? Did everybody make it out all right?”

She nodded. “Aye. Lorn and Adair took minor wounds, but that just gave them new stories tae tell, scars tae bond over and show off tae the lasses,” she said with a small laugh. “I think they’ve become best friends.”

“Of course,” Maddox said with a dry chuckle. “Cecilia?’

“Safe. She’s goin’ tae have a difficult time fer a while. ‘Tis tae be expected, what with watchin’ her faither die, of course,” she said with a touch of regret in her voice. “But she understands ‘twas her faither’s own doin’ that put him on that path. She doesnae blame ye. In fact, she’s grateful tae ye fer savin’ me life. She’ll be glad tae see ye awake. She’s been worried sick about ye.”

“So, Burchard died,” Maddox said but couldn’t muster any sympathy for the man.

“Aye. He’s gone,” she replied. “And his creature Laith is in the king’s dark cell’s waitin’ fer royal justice tae be done.”

“Good.”

Maddox struggled to recall large parts of what had happened. He remembered the battle. The chaos. But he couldn’t seem to remember some of the specifics. Maddox leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes, racking his brain. Slowly, bits and pieces started to drift back to him. There was one memory that stood out to him, clearer than the rest. He turned to Emmeline, his eyes wide.

“Ye jumped intae the water,” he said. “Ye pulled me out.”

A gentle smile touched Emmeline’s lips. “Aye. I suppose I did.”

That she had confronted her fear of water so boldly—to save him—was not lost on Maddox.

“But ye were stabbed tryin’ tae save me. Twice,” she said. “I suppose I felt like I owed ye.”

Her dazzling green eyes sparkled, and a smile touched her lips, making Maddox’s heart beat a staccato rhythm in his chest. She gazed at him with an expression of unrestrained love, the emotion he saw in her warming him from the inside out. He would have gladly been run through a dozen times just to see that exact look on her face.

“Thank ye,” Maddox said. “Thank ye fer savin’ me.”

She reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Ye saved me, Maddox. In more ways than one.”

A slow smile spread across his lips as he heard the truth in her words. She too, had saved him in a multitude of ways. She had opened his heart once more and allowed him to feel what it was to love and to be loved in return. She had brought him a happiness he never thought he would ever feel again in his life. He returned his gaze to her and found Emmeline staring at him with a strange look he couldn’t interpret on her face.

“What is it?” he asked.

She lowered her gaze, turning away from him for a moment and it was as if clouds had rolled in and denied him the sunlight of her eyes. The corners of her mouth quirked upward as she turned back to him, and she bit her lower lip.

“Before ye… well… after ye were wounded, ye asked me a question,” she said. “I ken ye were wounded and probably thought ye were dyin’, so I’ll nae hold ye tae anything ye said. Ye were clearly out of yer head and?—”

“Of course I meant it,” he said, recalling exactly what she was referring to. “I want tae marry ye, Emmeline. I want tae spend the rest of me life with ye. I was nae out of me head when I asked. Ye make me happier than I ever thought I could be again. Ye’re a light in the darkness fer me and I want tae be with ye forever. If ye’ll have me.”

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks and she laughed. “I want tae be with ye forever tae, Maddox. Of course, I’ll marry ye.”

She leaned forward and threw her arms around him as she jumped onto the bed, joy etched into her features. Maddox cried out and winced, making her draw back, her face ashen.

“Oh, bleedin’ hell,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed. “’Tis all right. But maybe we could wait tae be married until I’m healed?”

She lay down next to him, moving slowly and gently, and laid her head softly upon his chest. Together, they laughed and exchanged gentle kisses. And in that moment, Maddox knew what it meant to be genuinely happy.

To feel complete.

Whole.