Sutherland's Secret (20 page)

“We have no proof other than my suspicions,” Eleanor said to Brice and Campbell. “And the fact that I knew Charles. He never would have done the things he was accused of.”

“We don’t need proof,” Campbell said. “We need conviction. Blackwood will be shocked when he sees you, and we must use that to our advantage. Be firm. Don’t show fear, and we will win.”

“I want him to admit what he’s done,” Eleanor said. “I want Charles’s name cleared.” It was the least she could do, and it was the right thing to do, and suddenly it became her mission. Because Charles didn’t have a voice, and Eleanor had been too intimidated and timid to speak up. Now she had the power of two clan chieftains at her back, but more important, she had her own power.

“Cumberland is very strict, very ordered. He’s fair to his soldiers. If he hears your story, he will look into it and do what is right.”

“How do ye know this?” Brice demanded.

Campbell looked at him steadily. “I know the man.”

Brice cursed and glared at Campbell. “Ye support Scotland’s enemy. Who is the traitor here?”

Eleanor put a steadying hand on Brice’s arm. Tension ran through him. While she agreed with Brice, she couldn’t alienate the one man who could help her. She still hadn’t decided why Campbell was willing to help. England’s business wasn’t his business. The accusation of one unnotable dead colonel wouldn’t interest him in the least. The only thing she could think of was that one day he was going to call in his favor, and Brice would have to pay it, and Eleanor hated that Brice would be obligated because of her.

Campbell didn’t respond to Brice’s accusation of treason. He simply stared at Brice with no emotion. What was going on behind that bland expression? What was he thinking? She had a feeling that few, if any, knew what Campbell was thinking.

For two days the three of them discussed strategy while Thomas glowered and grumbled. It was exhilarating. If this was what it was like to take control of one’s life, then Eleanor never wanted to give up such power.

They left three days later. It had been decided that they would take a Campbell ship from Dornach to Inverness, and from Inverness they would travel on horseback to Fort Augustus. Brice couldn’t offer the use of a ship because they were both being used to transport refugees, of which Campbell knew nothing. But Campbell had offered up his own ship.

Thomas went with them as an escort, not willing to leave Eleanor alone with the Scottish chiefs. The way he had said “Scottish chiefs” offended Eleanor; she could only imagine what it had done for Brice and Campbell.

They were well on their way, under full sail, and making good time toward Inverness when Eleanor finally confronted her brother. He was standing at the railing of the ship when she stepped up beside him. They stood shoulder to shoulder for a bit, riding the swells of Moray Firth.

Eleanor had always enjoyed sailing. She loved the feel of the waves under her feet and the brush of the wind in her hair. On the water she felt unencumbered by the weight of her world. But not right now. Now she felt the chasm between her and Thomas. “You’re not happy with me,” she said, staring into the horizon.

She felt Thomas stiffen. There was a time when he wasn’t so uptight, but over the years, with the knowledge that soon he would have to take over the extensive earldom that their father ran so well, he had withdrawn from her. She supposed it didn’t help that she had always blossomed in society and adored fashion. She’d been foolish and shallow. He had been preoccupied and too serious.

He leaned his elbows on the railing and folded his hands in front of him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come now, Thomas. It’s me you’re speaking to. You’re not happy that we’re on our way to Fort Augustus instead of London.”

Apparently he preferred to keep quiet on the subject, which wasn’t good enough for Eleanor. “Why?” she insisted.

Thomas let loose a gusty sigh. “I see no good that can come of this. My God, Eleanor, the man had you imprisoned, and you’re walking right back into his clutches.”

She turned until she was facing him. “I believe about half of that.”

He looked at her in surprise. “You don’t believe I’m concerned for your welfare?”

“That’s the half I believe. You have to know that I will be well protected with Sutherland and Campbell at my back and you at my side. Blackwood may be able to discount the Scottish chiefs, but he can’t ignore a powerful man such as yourself.”

He grinned. “Now you’re appealing to my vanity.”

“I’m speaking the truth.”

His grin faded and he looked down at the sea rushing past them. “I don’t like your relationship with Sutherland. It’s unseemly and…”

“Beneath me?”

He glanced up at her but looked away quickly.

“I’m ashamed of you, Thomas.”

Color tinged his cheeks, and it wasn’t from the northerly wind. She would like to think it was from chagrin.

“Our parents brought us up better than that. Were we not taught to accept all people?”

“And what do you think Father would have done if he knew that you and the Sutherland…that you two…” He looked away again.

Eleanor pressed her lips together because she knew Thomas was correct. Their parents might have preached acceptance, but they did not live what they preached when it came to their children. ’Twas the reason her suitors had been well vetted.

“I love him,” she said.

Thomas flinched.

“I love him because he’s an honorable man. He’s kind and honest and…” What else could she say? That he was saving half of Scotland one man at a time? She couldn’t reveal that. “He’s far more honorable than most of the men in London.”

Thomas sighed. “We have to return to London, Eleanor.”

“I know. But that’s my burden to bear. Not yours. These were my decisions. Not yours.”

He looked at her squarely. “And the consequences, if there are any? Will they be your burden to bear as well?”

She lifted her chin. “If so, then I will gladly bear it.”

“You’ll be ostracized. Talked about. Doors will be closed to you. Invitations will stop arriving. People you thought were friends will no longer be friends.”

“Then they weren’t true friends to begin with. I’ve lived and died a thousand lives here in the Highlands. Some of it was horrific, but most of it was beautiful. My life before all of this, it’s not who I am anymore. Balls, teas, musicales mean nothing to me. I like who I’ve become. Oh, Thomas if only you knew the things I saw, the things I’ve been able to do…” She swallowed the rest of what she was about to say, because she couldn’t tell him of assisting at the birth of a baby or her crucial role in helping people start a new life in a new land.

Thomas pushed away from the railing and looked down at her. He seemed more at peace than he had since Brice pulled him off the horse and away from Blackwood.

“If you’re happy, then I’m happy, and I will stand by you whatever happens.”

She smiled up at him and gave him a hard, quick hug. “Thank you, Thomas.”

He patted her back awkwardly and pulled away, never one for overt affection. “I can’t say the same for Mother and Father, though.”

“I know.”

Thomas ambled away and Brice was suddenly at her side. He looked just as comfortable on the sea as he did on Galad. The weak sunlight glinted off the gold in his hair and the red in his short beard.

“That looked serious,” he said.

“Thomas doesn’t approve of us,” she said.

“Ah. And how do ye feel about that?”

She shrugged. “I care, but not as much as I would have.”

“Or as much as ye should?”

She detected sharpness in his tone that put her on alert. “What does that mean?”

“It means ye should not discount Thomas. He knows what he speaks of.”

“Does he? And pray tell what does he speak of?”

“Obviously I did not hear yer conversation, but I can easily guess at it.”

“Please, enlighten me.” Her anger was in her voice and he looked at her quickly.

“Yer parents will no’ approve of us. Ye will no’ have the support of yer friends. It will be a lonely life for ye when ye return.”

Her gaze slid away, because it was so close to what Thomas had said that she was disconcerted.

“Ah,” he said. “I was right.”

“And do you know what I said?”

“That ye did no’ care.”

“You certainly know how to take the wind out of my sails.”

“But ye should care, lass. Yer people and mine do no’ get along. Yer family is powerful, and ye and I will just hurt them.”

“My family can take care of themselves. And there are some Scots and English who get along.”

He huffed out a breath. “Very few.”

She tilted her head at him. “So what are you saying, Brice?”

“Nothing that ye don’t already know, lass.”

“So I should just forget you and all of the Sutherlands and the people I’ve helped? What about the babe I delivered? Should I forget her, too? Just walk away as if nothing happened up here in the Highlands? And what about you, Brice? Will you forget about me just as easily?”

His chest heaved in a deep breath as if it were difficult for him to breathe. She understood, because it was difficult for her to breathe.

“No,” he said.

“No, you won’t forget me?”

He moved abruptly, taking her by the shoulders and nearly lifting her off the deck. “No, damn ye. I will no’ forget ye. I’ll never forget ye’. For as long as I draw breath, you will be a part of me. Ye will always live in my heart.”

She looked him in the eye. Slowly he set her back on her feet and took a step backward. She said, “Good. Because I won’t forget, either. I don’t want to forget any of it. Edinburgh. Fort Augustus. Castle Dornach. They’re all entrenched in my heart and my soul. Forever. I owe it to Charles to remember. I owe it to England to reveal Blackwood for what he is, and I owe it to myself to never, ever forget you or the friends I made in your clan.”

He rubbed his eyes. “This is a mighty fine fix we’re in.”

She rested her palm on his cheek. “I have to trust that this will work out.”

“Ye have more faith than I do, then.”

Eleanor smoothed the skirts of the gown she was wearing. It was very plain compared to those she wore in London, but beautiful nonetheless. Cecilia had found it in the back of the wardrobe. It was an emerald green brocade, very simply cut and a few seasons out of date, but Eleanor didn’t care.

With Cecilia’s deft sewing skills, the gown now fit like a glove, the squared neckline perfectly framing Eleanor’s breasts and plumping them just enough but not too much to be vulgar. The skirts fell in pleats to the ground. The long sleeves had Belgian lace sewn at the cuff, giving it a very feminine look.

Cecilia had found matching slippers. They were a little big on Eleanor, but she wore them anyway because the boots she normally wore would not have been appropriate, and even more inappropriate would have been to go barefoot, as she liked to do while in the castle.

Eleanor wished she had a mirror to check her appearance, but all she had were Brice, Campbell, Thomas, and the retinue of warriors they were traveling with. She’d dressed in the trees with Brice as her maid, much to Thomas’s disapproval, but she needed someone to lace her up, and she wasn’t asking any of the other men.

She turned nervously toward them. “Well?”

“Very nice,” Thomas said, barely giving her a look. Since the talk, their relationship had been better, less strained, and though Thomas clearly did not approve of her relationship with Brice, he seemed to accept that it was her decision to make.

Brice studied her a little more closely. “Ye’re beautiful,” he said with a soft smile.

“Thank you.”

His gaze went to her hands, which were shaking, and he took them in his. “Are ye sure about this, lass?”

She hesitated before nodding. “I need to do this.”

They’d sailed for two days and weighed anchor in a hidden inlet north of Inverness. They were an hour or so away from where Cumberland was garrisoned and where they would find Blackwood. But first Eleanor needed to get into her part.

It felt strange, wearing a fine gown. She wanted her tunic and arisaid back. She wanted to be padding through the great hall barefoot, serving Brice’s people. She wanted to be hiding in the woods, waiting for the next group of refugees.

She wanted all of this behind her.

“Ready?” Campbell asked, walking up to them and giving her a quick glance.

For the hundredth time Eleanor wondered why Campbell was assisting them. What was he getting out of it? If he sided with the English, he should be helping them instead of her. He pretended to be a mercenary, doing this for some mysterious favor in the future, but Eleanor wasn’t convinced of that.

“Let’s go,” Brice said.

It was far more difficult to ride astride in her gown than it was in breeches, but Eleanor managed it, while her heart pounded in dread and anticipation. She couldn’t believe she was actually riding back into Fort Augustus. Knowing she had Sutherland and Campbell on her side made it better, but she also knew this was a battle she had to fight on her own. She was doing it for Charles and his family but maybe for herself as well. Maybe she was taking back her life, telling Blackwood and anyone else who cared that she was no longer the weak, defenseless woman she once was.

That thought gave her the strength to ride through the gates of Fort Augustus.

When Brice helped her dismount, her knees barely held her up. Brice lent a supportive hand under her elbow until she found her footing.

Campbell announced himself to the guard who appeared at the gate. The guard looked them over closely, spending much more time studying Brice. Brice stood there in his kilt, looking every bit the Highlander, tall and proud, his face a mask of indifference that showed nothing of his thoughts or feelings.

He was doing this for her. If not for her, he would not be anywhere close to Fort Augustus, Blackwood, or Cumberland. He wouldn’t be risking everything for her.

She grabbed his arm and turned him around so they were somewhat private. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered. “Go back to the ship. They don’t know who you are yet. Go back. Wait for us.”

“Ye want me to leave ye here?” he asked.

“I want you to be safe.”

His brows slammed down. “Ye think I can’t take care of myself?”

She thought of Colin, taken by Blackwood’s soldiers. He’d thought he could take care of himself, and now look where he was. “I think it’s foolish for you to be here with me. You have too much to lose.”

His gaze softened. “Aye. I do. I have ye to lose.”

She blinked. “Brice—”

He gently lifted her chin so she was looking at him. “Nay, lass. I’m staying right by yer side. Where I belong.”

The guard appeared again. “This way,” he said.

Brice grinned at her, and she glimpsed the warrior who lived inside of him. There was a light in his eyes of an anticipated battle that made her shiver.

“Besides,” he whispered close to her ear, “I want to see ye rip Blackwood to shreds.”