Highland Promise Page 18

  Bethia frowned and glanced into the shadows of the small alley she stood near. Jennet and the man she was trying to buy her herbs from were having a fierce argument about the price of his stock. It had been amusing for a while, but Bethia had finally stepped away, if only to give her poor abused ears a rest. The sudden urge she had to rejoin the maid and listen to the bickering all over again did not make sense.

  Just as she decided she would obey whatever instinct was telling her to move away from the alley, a hand closed over her mouth and she was dragged backward into the shadows. Bethia clawed at the hand that nearly smothered her and heard a man curse. The rough voice so close to her ear made her blood run cold.

  “Ye little bitch,” William growled as he moved his arm to around her neck. “Ye will pay for all ye have cost me.”

  His strangling grip on her throat made it impossible for Bethia to do any more than whisper. “Ye must be mad to think ye can kill me here. Everyone will ken it was you.”

  “Do ye think I care? Your husband is working to make me an outlaw—a mon any other mon can kill without hesitation, a mon who must spend his life running and hiding. Let him ken who killed ye and then let him try to protect the boy.”

  Bethia did everything she could to slow William down as he dragged her away from the market square, but she was unable to completely stop him. “So run and hide. At least ye will be alive.”

  “Nay for long, but I mean to have the satisfaction of kenning that ye are dead ere I meet my fate.”

  “Lady Bethia?” Jennet called.

  Bethia tried to call back but her voice was little more than a croak. “Ye willnae e’en get out of town.”

  “Who is that?”

  “My maid.”

  “As if I fear some stupid little bitch. I ken that your husband isnae near. Those two women assured me that he is at court and thinks ye safe. One maid isnae enough to save you.”

  Bethia was a little surprised that Catriona and Elizabeth had arranged this, although those were the only two women he could possibly be referring to. She had not thought that she had angered them enough for them to want her dead. Sending a murderer after her seemed a very harsh punishment for an insult.

  “Lady Bethia? Are ye down there?”

  Please, Bethia prayed, as she started to weaken and William was able to move faster. Even little Jennet would be a help. The thought of dying was hard enough, but the thought that she could be taking her unborn child with her was more than she could bear.

  Eric heard Bethia’s name being called and shoved his way through the crowd to the woman doing the yelling. It took him a minute to recognize the little maid. He struggled to recall her name as he reached her side.

  “Jennet, where is my wife?” he demanded.

  “Oh, Sir Eric, I am so glad to see you,” Jennet said. “I saw her standing here but a moment ago and now she is gone.”

  “Did ye see anyone with her?”

  “Nay. I think she went down there although I cannae imagine why.”

  Even as Eric looked down the dark alley he heard a soft sound as if someone or something was being dragged along. Pulling his sword, he started down the alley. He was halfway down before he saw them and softly cursed. It was not going to be easy to get Bethia away from the man.

  “Ye have been caught, William. Let the lass go,” Eric called as he drew closer.

  “Ah, the great Sir Eric. Ye are just in time to watch me cut her throat.”

  “And yours will be cut ere she hits the ground.”

  “Ye have had me declared an outlaw. I am already a dead mon.”

  Eric wondered how William knew that. “Ye could buy yourself a little more time if ye just let the lass go.”

  “And give ye an easier target?” William laughed. “How big a fool do ye think I am?”

  Bethia felt William’s grip ease on her throat as he pulled his sword, preparing to meet Eric’s possible charge. She took several deep breaths as cautiously as she could, not wishing to let William know that she was recovering from his choking grasp. It was clear that Eric was helpless to act as long as she was in the way. Eric’s presence, and the return of air to her lungs and head, helped Bethia clear her mind of fear for a moment. Then she recalled something Bowen had taught her.

  Praying that Eric could move fast enough if she managed to loosen William’s hold on her, Bethia balled up one fist and punched William in the groin as hard as she could. His bellow of pain nearly defeaned her. He loosened his grip as he instinctively covered himself and she fell to the ground. She tried to move away from him, but was too weak to do more than crawl. The moment she heard him making a loud, stumbling retreat, she collapsed.

  “Bethia?” Eric sheathed his sword and knelt by her side.

  “Go after him,” she rasped.

  “Jennet! Get in here and help your mistress,” Eric yelled, and as soon as he heard the maid hurrying over, he took off after William.

  “M’lady,” Jennet cried as she knelt by Bethia and helped her sit up. “What has happened to you?”

  “I will be all right,” Bethia said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

  “Jesu, ye sound as if ye have been strangled.”

  Bethia almost laughed as Jennet helped her stand up. “I was.”

  Bethia was not really surprised when Eric rejoined them before they even got out of the alley. She only needed one glance at the black look on his face to know he had lost William. The man was proving alarmingly hard to catch.

  It took a few moments to convince Eric not to carry her all the way back to the castle. With Jennet’s help, they got her back to her bedchamber. Eric left to send his men out to hunt for any sign of William, and Jennet helped Bethia have a bath, then get into bed. The maid was just giving her a drink of spiced ale heavily sweetened with honey to soothe her throat when Eric returned.

  Bethia sat sipping her drink as Eric pressed several coins into Jennet’s hand and thanked her for her help. As soon as the maid left, he came and sat beside Bethia on the bed. He looked at her throat and Bethia could tell by the murderous look in his eye that she was badly bruised.

  “I ache to kill that bastard,” he muttered as he briefly hugged her and pressed a kiss against her hair.

  “Aye, so do I,” Bethia murmured.

  “Why did ye stay alone at the market?”

  There was more confusion in his voice than anger and Bethia wished she could tell him the whole story. She really had no proof that Catriona and Elizabeth were behind the attack by William, however. All she knew was that they had purposely left her alone and unprotected and William had mentioned the aid of two women. Eric was not without enemies. Someone else could easily have thought to strike at him through her and seen William as the perfect way. She could not bring herself to accuse the women of having a hand in an attempted murder when she had so little proof.

  “I became seperated from the others,” she replied, trying to stay as close to the truth as possible. “As I was headed back to the castle, I met with Jennet and decided that staying with her would be better than going on alone.”

  “Catriona and Elizabeth said ye had trouble deciding what lace ye wished to buy and had told them to go on back without you.”

  “They probably saw that ye were upset and didnae wish to have ye get angry with them.”

  “Mayhap.” Eric had the feeling she was not telling him everything, but decided not to press her.

  “They didnae ken some madmon was about trying to kill me. They couldnae ken that it was dangerous to leave me alone. We havenae told verra many people. Ye saw them and decided to come looking for me, did ye?”

  “Aye. I admit I was a little puzzled that ye had gone with them in the first place.”

  Bethia smiled faintly. “I didnae want to, but I decided I had insulted them enough. In truth, I suddenly wondered if either of the women might know people who could cause ye trouble. Since we were soon to leave here, I felt it would be best if I didnae antagonize them any f
urther.”

  “And we are indeed soon to leave here.”

  “Truly?” she asked, the mere thought of going home enough to make her feel better.

  “Aye.” He smiled and brushed a kiss over her mouth. “I was hoping to leave on the morrow, but…”

  “I will be fine.”

  “Of course. Nearly being strangled is naught to worry about.”

  Bethia ignored Eric’s sarcasm. “Did ye get what ye wanted?”

  “Aye. William has been declared an outlaw. He was right to say he is already a dead mon, although I am curious as to how he kenned he had been condemned, for I have but recently been told myself.”

  “He had probably heard that ye had requested it and didnae doubt that ye would get what ye wanted.”

  “That could be the way of it. He must have been lurking around here for a while to have found ye so easily. I am having thoughts of locking ye away again,” he muttered.

  “And I am beginning to think I just may agree soon. What of the other things ye wanted?”

  “I am the laird of Dubhlinn. Sir Graham Beaton has been formally asked to leave, to hand the keep and the lands o’er to me. If he doesnae, he too could find himself declared an outlaw. And the last thing I asked for will be a pleasant surprise, I hope. I didnae tell ye about it beforehand as I didnae want ye to be disappointed if I didnae get it.”

  “And what is that?”

  “I have been named James’s guardian.”

  Bethia was speechless, surprise and delight stealing her ability to say any of the things whirling in her mind. She felt tears sting her eyes, and hastily setting her drink down on the table by the bed, she threw herself into Eric’s arms. He laughed softly and hugged her.

  Eric kissed her on the cheek, felt the dampness of her tears, and said, “That was supposed to make ye happy.”

  “Oh, it has.” She rubbed her hands over her cheeks in a vain attempt to brush away her tears. “I was so afraid of what would happen to James now that he is a laird, but too young to take his place at the head of the clan. I just tried not to think of it much. It pained me too much to ken that I might lose him. Now he is ours to raise. Ye could have given me no finer gift.”

  “Except, perhaps, to go home and tell the lad the good news?” He smiled at her when she looked at him and slowly began to grin.

  “Aye, except that.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “And ye are arrogant enough to think ye can do a better job of raising Sorcha’s child than we can?” Lady Drummond demanded.

  Bethia stared at her parents and barely stopped herself from sharply replying aye. She had only been back at Dunnbea for an hour, just long enough to clean the dust of three days of travel away and kiss James. It was true that she had requested this meeting with her parents, but she thought it somewhat inconsiderate of them to demand she meet them in the solar so soon after her arrival from court. She had not even had a chance to tell Eric, who had gone to settle their men and oversee the unpacking. Bethia wondered if that had been her parents’ intention.

  “Eric and I are young,” she began.

  “We arenae in our graves yet.”

  “I ken it, Mama. ’Tis just that ye have already raised two children—three, if ye include Wallace. ’Tis the time of your life when ye should be at your ease. A lively child like James can be a trial, even with a nursemaid and others to help.”

  “Ye dinnae e’en ken where ye will live yet,” her father said. “That mon has ne’er told us where he means to take ye and the bairn. I think we should ken where our grandson will live ere ye take him away.”

  “He will live at Donncoill,” Eric said as he walked in and moved to stand beside Bethia. “’Tis a fine, strong keep south of here. ’Tis held by the clan Murray. My brother Balfour is the laird there.”

  “Your brother? I thought ye were a MacMillan.”

  Bethia stood quietly as Eric gave her father a cool, succinct explanation of his lineage. She could not believe her father did not know all of that already. Eric must have told him something but her father had obviously not cared enough to listen. It appeared that her father had not really been concerned about whom she had married except that it was the man she had been found in bed with. She supposed she should not be surprised. Her father had already revealed his disdain for her and her marriage, even for her husband in some ways, by not offering even the meagerest of dowries for her.

  “So ye will be the laird of Dubhlinn soon?” Lady Drummond asked, scowling at Bethia before turning her cross look upon Eric.

  “Aye, and weel able to raise James to become laird of Dunncraig.”

  “Weel, I hope ye can hold on to his lands better than ye held on to your own.”

  Taking Eric’s hand in hers, Bethia tried, silently, to ease the sting of her mother’s insult. She did not understand why her parents treated Eric so poorly. He was a man many parents would be glad to have as a husband for their daughter. He was handsome, strong, and wealthy—a laird with a rather impressive bloodline. The marriage had brought the Drummonds new allies. Yet her parents often spoke to him, when they deigned to acknowledge him at all, as if he was some baseborn pauper.

  “I have already asked my cousin, Sir David MacMillan, to hold Dunncraig for James until he comes of age,” Eric replied in a cold, hard voice that revealed his barely controlled anger. “The mon is not only a kinsmon of mine, but one of your oldest allies. I believe we can trust him.”

  A few more questions were asked, a few more complaints and insults tossed at their heads, and then Bethia and Eric were coldly dismissed. Bethia felt ashamed as well as confused. She also realized that, not once, had her parents ever called James by his name. She glanced up at Eric as he walked her to the nursery so that she could have a longer visit with James, and she winced when she saw the anger on his face.

  “I am sorry, Eric,” she said. “I dinnae ken why my parents treat ye so”—she hesitated, searching her mind for the right word—“unkindly. It makes no sense at all.”

  Eric bit his tongue to control the angry words aching to spill from his mouth. He wanted to tell Bethia that her parents did not like him because they knew he saw them clearly as the coldhearted, arrogant fools they were. That he saw how cruelly they treated their own daughter and how they gave no thought at all to their own grandson until it became clear that Bethia wanted the child. Saw too how they resented him for depriving them of the dutiful, meek servant they had turned Bethia into, or at least had tried to. Such truths would only hurt Bethia, and no matter how much he wanted her to break free of her parents’ cruel hold, to see that they were wrong to treat her as they did, he would not hurt her by forcing her to see it. He was sure she was beginning to see it on her own and when that revelation finally came, she would be hurt enough without him adding to it with his anger.

  “Mayhap they havenae forgiven me for seducing you,” he finally said, even though he believed that only troubled them because it had forced a marriage.

  “Many parents would be secretly glad,” she said and gave him a shy smile. “I chose a rich, handsome laird to lead me into sin and thus get him dragged before a priest. I am surprised no other lass has been so clever.”

  “A few have tried, e’en before there was talk of my becoming laird of Dubhlinn. I learned quickly to recognize the dangers.”

  Bethia was about to ask why he had not recognized that danger in her, but they entered the nursery and James’s squeals of welcome quickly distracted her. The nursemaid smiled and quietly left her and Eric alone with the child. Bethia sat on the floor and watched Eric play with James. He was going to be such a good father, she thought with a sigh.

  “Does something trouble ye, lass?” Eric asked as he gently bounced a giggling James on his knee.

  “Nay. I was but thinking, yet again, how glad I am that ye were named his guardian. Ye will be such a good father to him.”

  “Thank ye. Although it should have been ye who were named as his guardian. Ye are his mother’s
twin, after all.”

  “No one would give a wee lass a guardianship. And e’en if they wanted to, James is destined to be the laird of Dunncraig. No court or king would entrust such a lad to a mere woman.”

  “Aye, sad and unfair, but true.” Eric took a deep breath to steady himself and said, “I want us to go to Donncoill.”

  “Of course. I have been expecting the journey. ’Tis your home,” she said quietly.

  “Now. I want us to leave as soon as possible. I would leave today if I could.”

  “Is it safe to travel? ’Tis the time of the year when the weather can worsen verra quickly.”

  “I think we are being blessed with a verra mild season. Are ye nervous or afraid to go to a strange place?”

  “Of course I am nervous. But I have just survived a month in the court of the King of Scotland. I believe I can meet a few Murrays and nay wilt.” Bethia grinned when he laughed.

  “They will love you,” Eric reassured her. “Are ye certain about leaving Dunnbea? ’Tis your home, after all, and once ye are away with me to Donncoill, then settled as the lady of Dubhlinn, ye willnae see this place verra often.”

  Bethia looked deep into her heart and found no regret about leaving her home, not even much reluctance. There were people she would miss, deeply so, but they could always come to visit her. The more she looked into herself, the more Bethia realized that there lurked within her an eagerness to leave Dunnbea, nearly a joy at the thought that she would soon be free. Free of what, she was not really sure.

  “There are people I will sorely miss,” she confessed, “but that is all. I am your wife. I go where ye go—always.”

  Eric briefly kissed her. It was no vow of love, but her word held a calm, heartfelt conviction that pleased him. There was no sense of only duty there, although he had no idea what other emotion lurked behind her readiness to stay at his side. For now, however, it was enough.

  “Mayhap ye need not miss all of them for too long,” Eric murmured, smiling at her.

  Before Bethia could ask what he meant, Wallace arrived to tell him that they were ready to begin a search for William. She took James from Eric, hugging the child close as he left with her cousin. Simply the name of her enemy was enough to bring a chill to her heart. She tried to find some comfort in the fact that, despite William’s elusiveness and his attempts to kill her, he had not drawn close to James since his sons had died.