Page 19 of Jack (Highland Outlaws #1)

J ack’s gaze swept over the comforts of the Redesdale solar.

A massive hearth filled one side of the room.

Colorful tapestries covered the walls. Elaborately carved, high-back chairs, like the one he sat in, dominated the room’s center.

Doubt suddenly gripped his heart. He would never be able to give Bella such comfort, not in ten lifetimes.

Exhaling a quiet breath, he bowed his head and forced himself to relax.

In front of him sat Lord Hugh Trevelyan, Isabella’s betrothed, and to his left, Lord Redesdale.

Isabella’s father had glanced their way when Jack, Quinn, and Abbot Matthew first entered his solar, but that was his only acknowledgment of their presence.

His gaze remained fixed on the low burning fire.

Jack remembered Bella telling him that following her mother’s death, her father had shut life out and her along with it.

Silently, Jack cursed King Edward again for causing so much grief.

Given Lord Redesdale’s current apathy, Jack was not surprised when it was Lord Trevelyan who first addressed the abbot.

“Lady Redesdale’s carriage was discovered by Lord Widdrington, who was marching to Dunbar.

His messenger rode first to Berwick Castle, where King Edward sits in residence.

At once, the king ordered dozens of guards north to recover my lady and to find the beasts who butchered her guard; however, Lord Redesdale and I did not receive word of the attack until the earliest hours of this very day.

As far as I know, none of the villains have been caught.

” Lord Trevelyan leaned forward in his seat and stared hard at the abbot.

“That is all we know. Now, it is your turn. How came you to find Lady Redesdale?”

The abbot straightened in his seat. “Brothers from my order witnessed the attack.” He gestured to Jack. “Brother Peter was included in their number.”

Jack raised his gaze from the floor and locked eyes with Lord Trevelyan.

Jack was a good judge of character, and as much as he wanted to despise the English lord, Jack could not deny his display of honor.

Lord Trevelyan had treated the Scottish monks with every due respect.

He was attentive to Lord Redesdale. He had even shown kindness to the servants, who had arrived moments after they had entered with trenchers of food and ale.

Jack glanced at Quinn. He could not tell Lord Trevelyan the truth of Bella’s rescue. After all, they were supposed to be monks, not warriors able to charge on horseback, defeating bands of criminals.

Jack cleared his throat. “We heard the attack from further down the road—”

“Why were you so far from your monastery?” Lord Trevelyan interrupted, his voice curious but not unkind.

Jack fought the sudden urge to shift in his chair. He was not familiar with the customs of monastic life.

Abbot Matthew spoke before Jack could. “The road cuts through the outskirts of monastic lands, my lord. My fellow brothers were still within our boundaries.”

Lord Hugh nodded and gestured for Jack to continue.

Jack chose his words carefully. “When we heard the clash of blades, we circled back and hid among the trees, observing the struggle. The lady was pulled from her carriage, but she managed to escape into the woods. We rushed to her aid and retreated deep into the forest. They never found our trail.” The image of Bella’s near rape flooded his mind, but he forced the memories away.

Neither her father nor her betrothed needed to know the full extent of danger that Bella had been in.

“We returned to the monastery with Lady Redesdale. She was blessed to be free from harm. After she had rested, we set out to bring her home.”

Lord Trevelyan nodded, seemingly satisfied by Jack’s explanation.

“She does not appear to have suffered any physical injury, although she is rather subdued. I’m certain she is ill from the shock of the ordeal.

” He frowned and was quietly reflective for a moment, but then he once more met Jack’s gaze.

“I must thank you for your bravery in rescuing my betrothed. You have my utmost gratitude.”

Jack inclined his head in acknowledgement.

He couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt for deceiving Lord Trevelyan, but it was necessary to protect himself and his family, not to mention the secret rebel network, for which the abbot and bishop have worked so tirelessly.

“We are relieved that no lasting harm was done,” he said.

A sad look came into Lord Trevelyan’s gaze. “I am afraid that is not wholly true.” He raked a hand through his light brown hair. “Rumors abound, claiming the attack was not the act of common thieves but rebellious Scottish peasants. I fear this incident will be used to renew border violence.”

Jack frowned, and once again considered the incongruences of the attack. “I agree, my lord, that this was no common raid. Their number surpassed twenty men.”

Lord Trevelyan shrugged slightly. “But twenty is not so great a number if they were exiles. I’ve heard of such camps existing, outcasts and outlaws who’ve come together.”

Jack nodded. “Hidden within the northern forests are small villages of people as ye’ve described. Still, they would not tinker in so large a number, at least not in the light of day.”

Lord Trevelyan expelled a long breath. “Then the rumors are true. Damnation,” Jack heard him mutter. “Our borders have been peaceful for some weeks. I, for one, welcomed the respite from war.”

Jack moved to the edge of his seat. “My lord, I said it was no simple raid, but I can also tell ye they weren’t Scottish peasants.”

Brows drawn, Lord Trevelyan leaned back in his seat. “Are you suggesting they were English peasants?”

Jack shook his head. “Whether Scottish or English, I cannot say. But I’ve one certainty—they weren’t peasants.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Jack turned to look at Lord Redesdale, who had been the one to pose the question. His eyes were the same pale green as Bella’s, and within their depths, Jack was surprised to see such intensity, given that up until that moment, he had yet to even speak.

Jack took a deep breath before addressing Bella’s father. “The men who attacked yer daughter’s carriage showed every physical sign of excellent health. They were men used to an abundant table. And the skill with which they fought belied their meager dress. They were organized and well-trained.”

Lord Redesdale did not reply. Once more, he shifted his gaze away from Jack to stare at the flames. A sadness stole into Jack’s thoughts. It was clear to Jack that Lord Redesdale had, once again, retreated into himself.

But why?

Jack knew the hardship of grief, but grief alone could not have taken Lord Redesdale from the world. Only shame held that power. But what shame did Bella’s father carry?

A knock on the door pulled Jack out of his thoughts. The door opened after Lord Trevelyan gave the order, and a young maidservant announced that the hour for supper had arrived.

Jack, Quinn, and the abbot followed Lord Trevelyan to the great hall.

Jack had never been inside one of the large fortresses within Berwick.

When he had resided in the city, he had lived in a one room, wooden home, shared with his parents and six siblings.

Until now, he had never known that one could be inside and yet feel so entirely unconfined.

When he took his seat at one of the trestle tables, he glanced up.

The ceilings might have grazed the heavens, they were so tall.

Flickering candlelight resembled stars studding the night sky.

For a moment, he was reminded of when his captain’s ship would make port.

He had often slept on board beneath the stars rather than returning to their cramped home.

Closing his eyes, the expansive room disappeared, and he was out there, once more on the sea, moving to the rhythm of the waves.

Suddenly, he was struck with such doubt. His eyes flew open and followed ribbons of smoke coiling up from the central hearth, then out a vent in the roof. Already Bella had the sky—what could he give her?

He fought to chase the demons from his thoughts, but his heart felt heavy as his gaze shifted to the mantle place above the hearth, which bore a large shield with the Redesdale coat of arms. For a moment, he felt as though the grandness was closing in around him.

He had no title to give Bella. He could not even offer her an honest name—Jack MacVie was a thief.

He reached into the sleeve of his monk’s habit and felt her soft handkerchief.

Quinn nudged him. “’Tis like a tomb in here.”

Jack raised a skeptical brow. “Ye’ve lofty aspirations for yer final resting place.”

“Look around ye,” Quinn whispered.

Jack’s shoulders tensed. “Trust me. I have.” The surrounding opulence mocked him.

“’Tis barren and cold,” Quinn said with a scowl.

Jack glanced at the warm fire and brightly colored tapestries in confusion.

At first, he did not know what Quinn meant, but then he considered the empty tables and strange, almost eerie, silence.

At the high dais sat only Lord Redesdale, who had not looked up from his trencher since first taking his seat.

Despite the richness of their surroundings, the room was, as Quinn had described, cold and uninviting.

An oppressive gloom hung in the air with the strength to push out all life and laughter.

“’Tis no wonder she came looking for ye,” Quinn whispered.

Jack cocked a brow at his brother. “She was attacked, her virtue nearly stolen, and then we abducted her. She did not exactly set out to find me.”

Quinn smiled. “Aye, but she did find ye, and thank God above for that. She’ll suffocate in here.”