Page 24 of The Guardian’s Bride (Highland Secrets #3)

T he boy stood in a beam of golden light from a high window and called her name again. “Lady Rowena!”

The men heard too. A knight—Abernethy—ran out of the side nook and snatched the boy up as Malise and the monk followed. Colban yelled, arms and legs flailing, his shrill cry smothered by a gloved hand.

“Let him go!” Rowena called, running down the central aisle, skirts flying. Her only driving thought was to stop them, grab the boy away—

Whirling, Malise reached out, but she skirted around him to confront the knight holding Colban. Incensed, she pulled at the man’s arm while he struggled with the writhing boy. Abernethy pushed her away even as Colban managed to kick him so hard that the man grimaced.

“Let him go!” she shouted, pummeling his arm. But Malise grabbed her back toward him, trapping her, though she struggled.

“Lady Rowena! How good to see you,” Malise said into her ear. “Be still.”

“Let the boy go!”

“I thought he was a town brat—but he knows you. Who is he?” His voice had an ugly edge. “Who are you, boy?”

“Do not touch him!” She twisted in his grip.

“I am Colban MacDuff,” the boy piped up, “son of Aedan, son of Colban, son of Duncan, son of—”

“Colban MacDuff!” Malise held Rowena in a hard grip, his arm across the front of her shoulders. “We have been looking for you and your father.”

“My father is a warrior and he will come after you if you hurt Lady Rowena!”

“I am eager to see him. Where is he?” His arm was an iron band around her, but Rowena kicked backward. He grunted, barely avoiding the blow.

“Rowena—mmph!” Colban shrieked as Abernethy clapped a hand over his mouth.

She reached out, hindered by Malise, while Colban watched her with large, frightened eyes. He flailed his uninjured arm, which Abernethy grabbed back.

“He has a broken arm, can you not see that?” she demanded.

Abernethy, a muscular man whose chainmail hood framed a square face, dark beard, and rather large brown eyes, eased his hold, frowning as he looked at Colban.

“Go easy on the brat, but keep him quiet,” Malise snapped. “I need to decide what in God’s name to do now. I was not expecting this,” he muttered.

Abernethy set Colban on his feet but kept a grip on the boy’s bunched tunic. Colban kicked and twisted, distracting the fellow, who sidestepped and held on. Rowena twisted against Malise’s grip, but felt her ankle wrench. She cried out.

“Quiet,” Malise growled. “I have to think.”

“You wanted us, now you have us,” she hissed. “But this is a holy place and it would be a great sin to harm us.”

“As great a sin as Bruce committed, killing my cousin in a church in Dumfries?”

“That was for the good of Scotland—you have no such worthy reason. Let us go. We are too much trouble.”

“Trouble indeed,” Malise agreed. “God’s bones!”

“Where?” Colban looked around. “Are God’s bones over there?” He pointed to a tomb and effigy in a side chapel.

“Shut up,” Malise said.

“Take them to the ship,” said Hugo. “The king wants both of them.”

“He wants the boy taken to Northumbria, and the woman brought to him,” Malise said. “We cannot go in both directions at once. We will take her.”

“What do we do with the boy?” Abernethy asked.

“I have not decided yet.”

“If I do see Edward, I will tell him all I know about you,” Rowena told Malise.

“He might like to see you and dispense justice in person.” Hugo spoke now, moving toward her. “The king was furious when he heard what you tried to do. He would never listen to you now.”

“Hugo! You know I did not poison him. You watched everything I did when I was there, yet I was accused. I wonder if you know something about it!” She glared at him.

“Do you accuse me instead?” He shook his head. “Get them to the ship, Comyn.”

“Are you in charge here?” Malise snapped. “How in hell are we to do that? Go outside and see if anyone is about. No one will notice another monk. Go!”

Scowling, Hugo went to the door and pushed his way out.

“Colban, listen. All will be well,” Rowena said, seeing the fright in the boy’s eyes. He nodded, glancing again at the door. She knew he feared and yet hoped, as she did, that his father might arrive with friends at his back.

“If you want to spare that child, tell me where MacDuff is,” Malise said in her ear.

“If you want to be spared, leave Dunfermline now,” she retorted.

“A threat?” He laughed, then drew a dagger from his belt sheath and pressed it against her throat. “Tell me where he is, or you and the boy will suffer.”

“Stop this.” She angled away from the steel point. “Malise Comyn, I know you better than you think. I saw you at your weakest—you were not a bad man then. Not then, when you were suffering and in need. You said you owed me. What of that now?”

He stared down at her, nostrils flaring. “I paid my debt to you when I arranged for you to go to Yester. The order was for Berwick. You were to suffer the same fate as Bruce’s kinswomen.” He laughed, flat and bitter. “I intended to take you out of Yester myself, but you had escaped with MacDuff! I owe you naught, lady.”

“What was your plan at Yester?”

“I was concerned about your welfare. In fact, I returned to Yester with a priest, intending to find you. Why do you think that wretch Hugo is with me?” He leaned closer. “He agreed to marry us according to Edward’s wishes. But we can still do that.”

“I would never marry you. I told you that already,” she said, writhing in his grip.

“Think! If you were my wife, I could plead for mercy. Otherwise, I must follow Edward’s writ. Marriage would solve your problem. Henry said you were betrothed, but there is still hope for you.”

She lifted her right hand. The ring glinted in the low light.

“What is that?” His eyes narrowed.

“My betrothed gave it to me. He was my father’s choice for me years ago. Thomas the Rhymer’s choice for me too.” Heart pounding, she hoped the sanction of her father and the Rhymer would give him pause. “The banns have been posted.” She hoped so.

“Who is the man,” he growled.

“My da gave her that ring,” Colban said. “I heard them talking this morning.” Rowena blinked, not knowing that.

“MacDuff?” Malise snapped.

She lifted her chin. “My hand was promised to Aedan MacDuff years ago.”

“What! When Edward hears that, you will lose any hope of his favor.”

“Sir Malise, we do not need to follow his orders or his laws. Scots are not his subjects,” she said. “Release us and go your way. Remember I helped you. Please, for the boy’s sake—”

“You do not understand Edward’s temper. What the devil!” This as Hugo burst into the church, bumping into Abernethy and Colban, who cried out.

“People are coming this way! Men, ladies, and monks will come for prayers soon.”

“Did you see MacDuff? Big fellow. Brown and brawny as an ox.”

“I did not see him. But if they enter the church—we have to get out!”

“We cannot just walk her out and let the boy go—wait,” Malise said. “Hugo, do you have it? Use it.”

“Use what?” Rowena strained against Malise’s grip as he took hold of her jaw, his fingers biting into her cheeks, his arm locking her arms to her sides.

“Who knows you are here? MacDuff?” he asked low.

She could not lead him to Aedan. “The abbot. The bishop. And Wemyss—the sheriff of Fife,” she managed, despite the hand clamped over her jaw.

“Damn,” Malise muttered. “Hugo, now would be excellent,” he hissed.

The monk approached as Malise pried open her mouth with his gloved thumb. Hugo set something cold to her lips. Glass or ceramic—then liquid drizzled into her mouth—the thick, sweet burn of heavy wine—mead, she realized—with an oddly bitter undertaste. The potion seeped under her tongue. She struggled, and for a moment felt as if she could hardly draw a breath. Wooziness began to creep its cold through her.

Dizzy, gasping, she knew then. Mead, as a carrier for the strong, bitter tincture called the Great Rest, a powerful sleeping potion of dried, crushed poppies originally brought back by crusading knights. Mixed with cloves and other herbs, the substance was common in wealthy infirmaries. Brother Hugo, an infirmarian in Edward’s court, would have access to it.

Chasing under the tongue, the liquid would rapidly penetrate the body. Though dizziness swamped her, she saw Hugo move as if through fog. He went to Colban.

“Not the boy,” she said hoarsely, “he is too small for a dose of—”

Colban thrashed and shrieked, then suddenly ducked down, so that Abernethy lost hold of him. The boy slipped between the knight’s legs and raced to the door, still partly open after Hugo rushed inside. He slipped through the gap and was gone.

“After him!” Malise yelled, holding Rowena, whose limbs began to fail. As her knees buckled, she felt Malise grab her under her arms. “Peter! Fool, go get him!”

“What am I to do with him?”

Malise growled in disgust, and Abernethy ran outside.

“What a disaster! Hugo, help me get her out of here.” Malise picked her up in his arms; she was losing strength to fight. Her senses were slipping, but she could still hear what was said.

“The side door,” Hugo said. “I saw a cart out there. We will wrap her up in her cloak like a parcel from the market.”

“Damn and damn,” Malise said.

“You are damned,” Rowena slurred. “Aedan MacDuff will—”

“If he comes for you, he will walk into a trap. I will see to it.”

“We could just leave her here with the boy, and run,” Hugo said.

“You are as much a dimwit as Abernethy!”

As he carried her toward the side door, Rowena felt strangely floaty. As they passed the altar, she noticed the chapel behind it where the queen’s beautiful tomb shone in the afternoon sun.

“Lady, help us,” she mumbled, and sank into darkness.

“Rowena!” Aedan called, standing in the entrance of the church. He strode down the nave, steps echoing, and paused to turn slowly around. The west door opened and he turned in relief. “Rowena—”

“Colban!” Marjorie entered the church. “Are you here?”

“Where is Rowena?” Aedan walked toward her, seeing Lady Jennet and Patrick coming in after her. “I thought she would be here. And you are looking for Colban?”

“He should be here,” his sister said. “He ran ahead of us a while ago, and said he wanted to find Rowena, who we thought would be in the church.”

A cold chill went through him, but he dismissed it. “Neither of them is here. They must be in the market square. You must have missed them.”

“They are not in the market, I assure you,” Patrick Wemyss said.

“I let him go on his own, thinking he would be safe.” Marjorie seemed on the verge of tears. “But where is he?”

“We will look everywhere, my dear,” Patrick said. “We will find him.”

“Rowena is gone too,” Aedan said. Worry dragged at him, but he had a thought. “She wanted some time in the queen’s chapel. Let me look there.”

His footsteps echoed as he went past the altar to the chapel extension. In the rainbow light of stained glass, he paused before Margaret’s tomb to nod briefly to the painted effigy of the queen. She had been a beauty, he thought.

“Where is my son, lady? Where is my wife,” he whispered, that last word coming so easily to his lips. Dread sat heavy in his gut. Something was very wrong. He felt it.

Yet nothing seemed out of place. He turned to leave, then noticed a space behind the huge tomb. Peering around the plinth, he saw a small foot.

“Dear God!” He sank to one knee and looked around the corner. Colban ran into his arms so fast, he nearly lost his balance.

“What is it? What happened?” Aedan asked, holding him.

“I was hiding—I ran, and came back, and I saw them—and I hid in here. I heard your footsteps and I kept hiding.”

“Who was here?” Aedan lifted his son in his arms, holding him close for a moment. Then he left the chapel to stride through the church calling for the others.

“Quickly, to the abbot’s house.” He had a strong feeling that the church was not a safe place. He hurried outside and across the lawn to burst into the house.

A flurry of action soon had Colban installed in the abbot’s best chair with a cup of milk and an oatcake. Desperate to know what Colban had seen, Aedan waited, not wanting to frighten the boy. But Rowena was gone, and fear had its claws in him.

“Tell us what you know, lad,” he said quietly.

Colban nodded. “Men came into the church. Knights. And a monk all in black.”

Aedan glanced at the abbot and the bishop, standing near Patrick and Marjorie. The abbot shook his head; the Dunfermline monks wore brown robes.

“Was Lady Rowena there when you saw these men?” Aedan asked.

“Aye. They grabbed me and her too. I fought and so did she but they would not let us go even when she asked them.”

“And then what?” He began to feel an incandescent fury. “Did you hear their names? Did Lady Rowena know them?”

“She called one of them Milo, I think. Or Miles.”

“Malise,” Aedan groaned. He glanced quickly at Patrick, who scowled. “Colban, did they hurt you, or harm the lady?”

He would kill them hard and swift if they had. He waited.

Colban shrugged. “When they grabbed me, it hurt. But I kicked one of them. Then the monk gave Rowena something to drink. And he was going to give me a drink too but she yelled at him. And then I got away. I ran.”

“Where did you go?” Marjorie asked.

“I ran to the market to find you, but I did not see you. The other man was chasing me so I ran back up the hill and came in here. He came in too but did not find me. I was sure he saw me, but he looked away. So I waited and then you came.” He smiled up at Aedan, looking like an angel, an elf, and a scared little boy all at once.

“You will be fine now. All will be well.”

“Rowena said that too. Where is she?”

“I do not know, but I will find her.”

A servant came into the great hall. “Father Abbot—Sir Brian Lauder is here.” As he spoke, Brian entered, his face creased with worry.

“I just came from the quay,” he said. “Comyn’s galley was there. They were loading supplies on the ship and did not seem rushed. I was about to ride up here to find you, but the harbor master arrived to ask what goods we were delivering or taking away. Now I wonder if Comyn sent him deliberately to delay us.”

“Could be. Is the galley still there?” Aedan stood.

“Gone,” Brian said. “Before I could do anything, they sailed out.”

“Was Rowena with them?” Aedan growled.

“That was why I hurried here. One of my crew said they saw a woman on board. Blue gown, dark hair. They thought they recognized Rowena.”

Aedan swore. “Is your ship ready to leave? Patrick, can you sail with us?”

“I can. If wrongdoing was done in my sheriffdom, I have authority to go after these fellows with you. I can bring some guards with us.”

“Good. Quickly, aye? Father Abbot, can my son and his aunts stay here until we return? I cannot send them to Castle Black now and we have no time to stop at Bass Rock until we find Rowena. I will be back as soon as I can.”

“Of course, they are welcome here,” the abbot said. “Go!”