Highlander Betrayed (Guardians of the Targe) (27 page)

Nicholas wanted to look away, to lie, to revert to his old slippery self and find the way out of this. But that would take him away from Rowan, away from these good people who deserved better than to be expendable pawns to Edward’s greed. It would take him away from the man he wanted to be. He met Duncan’s gaze and spoke the truth. “He learned it from me.”

Uilliam charged him, grabbing him by the collar of his tunic and slamming him against the back wall of the tiny building. “I—Ye—I should—”

The punch to his gut, like an iron ball flung from a trebuchet, would have doubled him over, had not Uilliam still held him up with one hand. Nicholas tried to breathe but couldn’t pull any air into his lungs. He tried again. At last Uilliam let go and Nicholas bent over, hands on his knees, desperately gasping for air.

When he could breathe again, he looked up from his bent position. “I did not do it on purpose. He overheard Rowan and I—”

“Rowan would never speak to a stranger about the Targe.” Uilliam stood very close still, his feet spread and his fists clenched at his sides.

“She did not.” He held up his hand to stop the growl that was coming from Uilliam. “I came here knowing some about it—not exactly what it was, nor did I have any understanding that a specific person had any part in its function. We thought it would be something like the Stone of Scone—an ancient relic that was held in great
reverence, but that was really a symbol, something to hang beliefs upon. But then…”

“But then?” Duncan asked, silencing the renewed growl from their companion.

Nicholas took a shallow, careful breath, testing to see how much damage Uilliam’s fist had done him. So far, ’twas not bad. He was not naïve enough to think it would not be worse on the morrow. When he was sure he could both stand and breathe he continued.

“But then Lady Elspet performed the blessing and I felt it, felt the power in the blessing. Rowan was quite literally stunned by it, though she says such a thing had not happened before. It became clear to me that it was not just a legend, not just a relic. It became clear that there really was power in the Targe. ’Twas later that I saw the stone and ’twas not until this day that I understood”—he suddenly realized these men did not yet know that Elspet was no longer the Guardian. No one had told them and it was not his place to reveal the news—“about the Guardian.”

“And this Archie kens this?” Duncan asked when Uilliam did not.

“Some of it. Enough to know that taking the Targe to King Edward will ensure that nothing will stop the king’s men from sweeping up this valley and into the heart of the Highlands. Enough to know that the one who delivers it will gain great wealth and the monarch’s regard.”

“You.” Uilliam’s voice was flat, dangerous.

“’Twas to be me and Archie but things changed.”

“Rowan.” It was Duncan now.

“Aye.” Nicholas held his breath, waiting to see if they would believe him, though he knew if the situation were reversed he would never believe the story.

“You ken there can never be anything between you?” Duncan said, a curious softness taking the hard edge off the words.

Nicholas looked Duncan in the eye—the man deserved that. “I ken it is difficult, but I hope…”

“Does she feel the same?” Duncan asked again.

Nicholas nodded, his own hope that somehow they would find their way through this mess to each other, clogging his throat. “She did before she learned why I came here. I hope she will again.”

“I will be damned if I allow such a thing.” Uilliam’s voice was a low snarl. “Kenneth will agree.”

Nicholas refused to let hope slip away, though he knew the road ahead of him was fraught with many obstacles.

“I understand,” he said, “but I am determined to keep Rowan and this clan safe from Edward’s machinations. Know this for the truth it is: Archie is dangerous. I have known him for years, and was not unlike him… until recently. He feels nothing for those between him and his prize. Plus he feels betrayed by me and that will fuel his desire to take the Targe and win the reward Edward dangles in front of us like a worm to a hungry fish. You ken Edward’s drive to conquer Scotland, to be king of all the islands. Archie is a mirror of his master and he will not stop until he has his prize.”

“So you tell us this out of the pureness of your heart?” Uilliam clearly did not believe him.

“Nay, for there is no pureness in my heart except where Rowan has taken up residence within it.” The warmth he’d drawn from her, the caring, the beginnings of love, filled him, hardening him to his task: the betrayal of not only Archie, but King Edward.

If he succeeded in thwarting the taking of the Targe from these good people his life would be forfeit. King Edward would never let such a betrayal stand unanswered. One way or another, it would surely be Nicholas’s head upon a pike outside the Tower. But if he could contrive to keep Rowan safe from such a fate, and her clan, then perhaps he would be worthy of the trust she had given him before she knew the truth. Perhaps he would earn it back.

“I would not see Rowan,” he said, “nor any of those she loves, hurt because of my past and my belated conscience. Keep me here if you must. Bar the door. But warn Kenneth. Send out scouts to find Archie before he returns here to take the Targe, for I guarantee that he will not rest until he has it.”

The two men stood before him, distrust rolling off them as they assessed his words. It was clear that any trust he had built with these two was destroyed.

“Ask Rowan if what I say is true.”

“Rowan has met this Archie?” Duncan’s voice was pure surprise.

Nicholas shoved his hair back from his face, wincing at the memory of what Archie had tried to do to Rowan. “She has,” he said. “Ask her and do not tarry. Go find her now. Archie must be stopped
before
he gets here. ’Twill take little effort for him to find his way into the castle with the curtain wall laid low. He has no conscience. Everyone who bides here is in mortal danger if they get in his way.”

Uilliam glowered at him from beneath his bushy eyebrows, his fists still clenched so hard that even in the dim light of the hut the man’s knuckles shown white. A frustrated “arrrg” burst from him as he pivoted and left the hut. Nicholas took a long, deep breath.

“Will he speak to Rowan?” he asked Duncan, who still stood staring at him.

“Aye, he will. I shall see to it.”

“My thanks. If I had this to do again, I would not have brought such danger to your door.”

Duncan stood stone still for a moment before answering. “I do not ken why, but I believe you. I have seen you with Rowan and she with you. Your affection for each other does not feel feigned. She would not have brought you into Lady Elspet’s chamber if she did not trust you.”

Nicholas did not correct the man, for he had not been taken inside the chamber by Rowan, only to it, but he would take what advantage he could if it meant Duncan would help stop Archie.

“Duncan, I know Archie better than anyone. I know the man’s habits, his strengths. I know his weaknesses, too. I need to speak with the chief. None of you know how Archie thinks or what he is capable of. I am the one to stop him
before
he gets back to the castle.”

Nicholas could see Duncan weighing his words. “Naught good can come of this situation,” Duncan said. “You will not be released, of that I am certain, but I will see that your warning is heeded.”

Duncan pushed the heavy door closed, taking what light there had been with it. As the lock snapped shut Nicholas slid to the floor, bracing his back against the wall. He doubted not that Duncan would do his best to make Kenneth listen to reason, to prepare the castle for Archie’s inevitable return, but Nicholas could not simply sit there and wait.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

D
AWN WAS BREAKING
as Rowan finished dressing. She perched on the edge of her bed and pulled her hair into a tight braid, determined that at least this one thing would be fully under her control today. Tendrils sprang loose about her face before she’d even secured the end with a leather thong.

Nothing was in her control, not even her own hair.

She cradled her head in her hands, fighting the urge to climb back under her blankets and hide from the day. But that would be cowardly and the clan had no time for her to give in to such weakness.

She pushed up from her bed, threw her braid behind her, and straightened her back. She was the Guardian of the Targe. The clan would look to her for their protection. They would need her and her gift if they were to thwart Archie, and ultimately his king. They would need her to be strong.

And in order to be strong for them, she must learn to call upon her gift, to focus it through the Targe. She closed her eyes, trying to feel the flowing pressure, trying to summon it, coax it to her. But there was nothing but the aches and pains from her run through the forest yesterday.

She had so much to learn and no time to waste.

She shook Scotia awake. “You must attend your mum this morning. Jeanette and I have work to do.”

Scotia’s eyes slitted open. “ ’Tis just dawn. Jeanette will not need me for several hours.”

“On a typical day, aye, but this is not a typical day. Get out of bed. Attend your mum. We all have responsibilities this morn we did not have a day ago.”

Scotia grumbled, but did as Rowan asked.

“Tell Jeanette to meet me below in Auntie’s old bedchamber as soon as she may.” Rowan picked up the ermine sack from the stool by her bed and left Scotia grumbling about how she was always the one who had to do as she was told and how someday that would all change.

Rowan couldn’t help but laugh as she descended the stair to the floor below. It was the same complaint Scotia had been muttering about for years. At least some things hadn’t changed yesterday.

As she let herself into the neglected bedchamber she and Jeanette had agreed was as safe a place as they could find within the castle for the work they did this day, she mulled over the information they had collected from Denis last evening.

He had seen the wall fall, first bowing outward then bursting, except for the section nearest the gate. It, too, had bowed outward then seemed to be pushed back upon its foundation before it had finally collapsed upon itself, sending part of its stones down the hillside and the rest piled upon themselves. He cast it off as fancy on his part, old eyes, imagination, but Rowan knew deep inside that he was right. Something had pushed the wall outward. She had pushed back, somehow holding it long enough for Nicholas, Scotia, and herself to escape the devastation. She had felt the pressure give, though at the time she had not noted what she did.

She’d spent another hour with her uncle, Uilliam, and Duncan, answering questions about Archie, Nicholas, their mission, and what had happened by the loch. The men had been angry and a bit stunned by what had transpired, though she had left out the part where Archie had attempted to despoil her. She had defended herself. Nicholas had kept Archie busy so she could escape. Nothing terrible had happened… not physically. Besides, she needed them thinking, not going after Archie in a haze of fury. And finally, she’d been able to bathe and rest, though sleep had eluded her for a long time as worry about Nicholas, Archie, and her own new station in the clan clambered through her mind, tumbling one over the other.

She knew there had been a large band of men who had left the castle before dawn. By now they would be spread out, searching for any sign of Archie in the forest.

What she didn’t know was if she and Duncan had convinced the chief that Nicholas should be numbered in that group so they could use his knowledge of Archie in their efforts. She’d been surprised by Duncan’s support of Nicholas but then he was a clear thinker. Kenneth valued his mind for strategy, his ability to understand their enemies, so perhaps, if her own argument had not meant anything to Kenneth, Duncan’s would.

Turning her attention to her own task this day, she opened the ermine sack and pulled the Targe stone out, balancing it in her palm. Last night she had not wanted to touch it. But now…

She tossed the sack onto a chest at the end of the bed and settled the stone between both palms. She felt nothing but its cold weight. She raised it up, as if in offering, as she’d seen Elspet do. Nothing.

Perhaps she must speak the prayers, make the signs in the air.

“What are you doing?!”

Rowan spun, startled. Pressure surged through her, then through the stone, as if a dam had been breached. The door slammed into Jeanette, knocking her off her feet, back out into the corridor, closing her out of the chamber. Rowan wanted to move, wanted to drop the Targe stone, wanted to go to Jeanette. But she could not move. Whatever the force was that her gift called up, it poured through her, liquid and strong, holding her in place, whipping an unnatural wind around her. Fear gripped her. If she had been able to force back stone walls before she had been made Guardian, what could she do to this tower now? To this castle? Goose bumps covered her body. The energy grew stronger. The wind made the heavy bed creak and shiver.

She tried to cry out but her voice was no more than a whisper in a tempest.