X Marks the Scot (4 page)

Hell, the lass looked so lusciously alluring. She always did. Her actions showed that she could be as playful as a young lass or as composed as an intelligent woman, a strength that did not lessen her femininity.

Casting a sideways glance, he saw that tiny curling tendrils escaped the heavy silken mass of her raven tresses. Her beauty was exquisite. She carried herself confidently, unaware of the approving glances that men threw at her. Declan studied her thoughtfully for a moment. She was truly a woman to be treasured.

“’Tis such a lovely day.
Mòran taing
for walking with me.”
Thank
you
very
much.

He winked when he caught her eye. “’Tis my pleasure, lass.”

Her smile broadened in approval. “So tell me, MacGregor. Do ye miss the Highlands as much as I do?”

He chuckled. “I hope ’tisnae that obvious, but aye.”

“I bet ye miss your family.”

He did not fail to notice the silent sadness upon her face. “What? The endless lectures from my brothers, Aisling and Rosalia’s prodding, and my nephew’s screams? Nay, I donna. I do miss Ealasaid’s biscuits, though.”

There was a heavy silence.

“And what of ye, lass? The Earl of Argyll was many things, but he was still your kin. How do ye fare?” Declan asked, his tone filled with compassion.

A soft gasp escaped her and she gave him a sidelong glance of nonbelief. “MacGregor, ’tis the first time I ever heard ye call my brother something other than ‘the bloody Campbell.’ My apologies, I just need but a moment to recover.”

They exchanged a look of subtle amusement. “Ye donna realize how truly painful that was for me,” he jested, holding his hand over his heart.

She elbowed him in the arm. “Cease, ye rogue.”

“Ye didnae answer my question, lass.”

Her features held a solemn gaze as she spoke. “Archie chose his own path, and fate decided it wasnae the correct one. Howbeit ’tis those of your clan—Aisling, Teàrlach, and Rosalia—that are in my prayers. My brother’s conduct was inexcusable, and I donna know how your family doesnae hold me accountable,” she said, looking down at the ground.

Declan stopped and moved to stand in front of her. He lifted her chin with his finger and saw that her eyes bordered with tears. “Look at me, healer.” She glanced up at him, but he did not give her an opportunity to speak. “Ye are naught like the bloody Campbell. If nae for your actions, lass, my nephew would be dead. Ye brought Aisling back to Aiden. Ye are a courageous woman, Lia—”

A sudden uproar in the garden caught their attention. Robert Cecil, Viscount Cranborne, walked through the garden, cheered by everyone he encountered. It had been due to the man’s skilled diplomacy that King James was able to sign the peace treaty that brought the war with Spain to an end. In celebration, a grand banquet was being held in Cranborne’s honor.

The healer gasped and the heavy lashes that shadowed her cheeks flew up.

Declan reached out and supported her. “What is amiss? The color has drained from your face, lass.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word. “’Tis Viscount Cranborne,” he said as though it was the obvious answer.

Her voice rose in surprise. “Aye, I know.”

Drawing a deep breath, Liadain forbade herself to tremble. Her heart refused to believe what her mind told her.

It was him.

Robert Cecil, now Viscount Cranborne, ambled through the garden right before her very eyes. If she had not witnessed it herself, she would have never believed it. Robert’s dark hair, just graying at the temples, was still full. His face was bronzed by wind and sun, his handsome visage still familiar. How long had it been? Three years perhaps—three years and not a single word from him.

She remembered the first time she had met him. She’d entered the Campbell great hall for the midday meal and there he was, boldly confident, undeniably attractive. She recalled Archie clearing his throat to break their trance. Once her brother introduced them, the two of them had conversed throughout the entire meal. In fact, they did not even realize Archie had already taken his leave. For well over a fortnight, Robert wooed her, made promises. And then he simply took his leave and did not return for her. Her musings were interrupted by a male voice.

MacGregor.

He gazed upon her with concern. “Are ye well, healer? It looks as though ye have seen a ghost.”

She nodded in confirmation. “I am well. Shall we resume our walk? ’Tis such a beautiful day and would be a shame to waste it.”

He looked at her hesitantly and then reluctantly nodded. “If ye are sure.”

Liadain took his arm because she was too shaken to walk on her own accord. She needed time to absorb that Robert was presently here—alive. She had often inquired about him to Archie, but her brother had brushed off her words. Her thoughts continued to race wildly.

Robert, Viscount Cranborne, was now at court. What were the odds? She would be bound to encounter him again. What would she say? What would he say, for that matter?

MacGregor chuckled. “Lass, ’tis obvious something troubles ye.”

His voice brought her back to reality. “My apologies. ’Tis naught, truly. I thank ye for escorting me. I really needed the fresh air.”

He raised his brow and gave her a questioning glance. “I think I know ye well enough to know when something is amiss. Do ye want to speak upon it? I am a good listener, or so I have been told.”

Unsettled, Liadain shook her head. “Nay, I donna, but thank ye,” she said, giving him a forced smile. She stole a quick glance at him and hoped he was not aware of her discomfiture. One thing was for certain. MacGregor was not an idiot.

***

That was interesting. How did the healer know Viscount Cranborne? Perhaps through the bloody Campbell. That would certainly explain the association, but there was indisputably something more to the story than the lass was willing to reveal. If her actions were any indication, she was distraught upon seeing Cranborne in the garden. No matter, Declan was convinced the truth would eventually come to light. It always did.

She bit her lip yet again, something he recognized as being her habit when she was ill at ease. In an attempt to ease her distress, he decided to change the topic. “Lass, there are many arriving at court this day for the celebration. I donna want ye unattended. I will be your escort this eve.”

She glanced up at him and raised her brow. “Are ye asking me or are ye telling me?”

He mocked the tone of her voice. “Are ye going to battle with me or just accept the inevitable?” Now his bonny healer was more like herself.

Her eyes danced with amusement. “I would be honored if ye would escort me, MacGregor.”

“Ye see, healer? ’Tisnae that difficult. It would be so much easier if ye would just do as ye are told from the start,” he said, exasperated.

“But then I wouldnae have the pleasure of hearing ye bellow at me,” she jested, the glint of humor finally returning.

“And I hope ye donna expect me to dance with ye this eve. I donna dance.” He enjoyed seeing the light come back into her eyes.

“Then fortunate for me that I wasnae thinking of having ye as my partner.”

Their gentle sparring was short lived when, out of the corner of his eye, Declan spotted a man walking toward them with long, purposeful strides.

Damn. Cranborne.

Immediately stiffening at his side, the healer slowed her steps. Cranborne moved toward them and the silence grew tight with tension.

Cranborne studied them both and then stepped forward and gave an elaborate bow. “My lady.”

Declan had to give his wily lass credit. She lifted her chin, meeting the man’s gaze straight on. “Viscount Cranborne, a pleasure to see ye again. Pray allow me to introduce ye—”

“Declan MacGregor,” said Declan, giving him a slight bow of his head.

“A pleasure.” Turning to the healer, Cranborne spoke softly. “I was wondering if I might have a private word with you.”

She cast an unreadable expression. Declan would have been more than happy to return the favor she had just previously bestowed on him, but the choice was clearly hers. Raising his brow, he cocked his head slightly, giving the lass the opportunity to voice her opinion.

She nodded in consent, but he was not foolish enough to leave her to face her demons alone. As she turned with Cranborne, Declan halted her with a firmly placed hand on her arm. “I will be over here if ye need me.” Casting a warning glance at Cranborne, he quickly added, “For anything.”

The healer adjusted her smile. “I know where to find ye.”

***

Liadain forced herself to settle down. What could Robert possibly say to her that would obliterate three years of heartache? Three years of wondering what could have been?

“I knew that was you in the garden. I would recognize you anywhere.” Robert reached out to touch her and then pulled his hand back almost as a second thought. “You look well, Liadain.”

“Viscount Cranborne,” she said, trying to keep the censure out of her tone. She folded her arms in front of her in a protective gesture. She was irked by Robert’s cool manner. If he asked her about the weather, she might have to throttle him.

“I owe you an explanation,” he said softly.

She chuckled. “An explanation? After three years? I think ye are long past due, Viscount Cranborne.”

Recovering, Robert spoke lightly, “You have every reason to be cross with me.”

“Cross with ye? Mayhap after the first year that I received nay word from ye. Mayhap even after the second, but definitely nae after the third,” said Liadain, her voice raising an octave. Where the hell had he been? What of the promises of their life together? She only knew one thing for certain.

Robert
was
a
liar.

The man had the nerve to cast a worried look at MacGregor. “Please lower your voice.”

Her jaw dropped. “Why? Ye didnae even care enough about me to say fare-thee-well. That would have been more bearable than nae leaving a single word. A single word, viscount.”

Robert had pledged his loyalty to her. And then he had vanished like a thief in the night with no regard for her or her welfare. The man was clearly nothing more than an English cur who’d never given a damn about her. How could she have been so foolish? She continued to glare at him with burning, reproachful eyes.

“I have no excuse for my behavior. I had every intention to return for you and then I departed for Spain. It changed me.” His voice was resigned.

Liadain reached out and squeezed his arm. Her voice was inflamed and belligerent. “I see your arm isnae broken. Ye verra well could have written.”

Sheepishly, Robert glanced away from her. “I didn’t know what to say. I figured after that long…you would have wed and moved on with your life.”

She gave him a hostile glare. “I wasnae pining after ye, Robert. I didnae wed because I am a healer. I care for others and donna have time for the likes of a man. Nae to mention the wee detail that ye completely ruined me, but mayhap ye have forgotten that fact.” She was so furious she could hardly speak.

The beastly man actually had the nerve to look offended. “Liadain, I did not mean to imply…What are you doing here at court? Where is Archie?” He had such a look of concern upon his face that she almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.

She briefly closed her eyes when she realized Robert did not know. She needed more time to erase the pain. It was too fresh. Her misery was so acute that it was a physical pain. “Archie is dead,” she replied in a low, tormented voice.

He had a genuine expression of shock upon his face. “What? When?
How
?”

Liadain glanced over at MacGregor. At least the rogue pretended to look occupied. Hesitating, she tried to prepare the words in her mind before they left her lips. “There is nay easy way…I will just speak the truth.”

There was a heavy silence.

When she tried to speak, her voice wavered. Clearing her throat, she attempted once more. “Archie was determined to seize the lands of Ciaran MacGregor of Glenorchy. When my brother realized it was futile, he set fire to the stable in the village and killed a MacGregor man. Archie plotted to have Laird MacGregor declare war on the Campbells in retaliation and therefore break His Majesty’s orders for peace in the Highlands. MacGregor would have hanged as a traitor.”

She shifted from foot to foot. “But instead of storming the gates as Archie had planned, the MacGregor sent my brother a missive about the stable fire. Of course Archie denied any involvement. Howbeit Archie wouldnae accept defeat. He held the laird’s kin and an innocent bairn, treating them horribly,” she said, choking on her words and closing her eyes at the memory.

His eyes softened with compassion. “You don’t have to explain further. I understand what you are trying to say.”

“I couldnae stand by and watch while he tortured innocents for the sake of his greed.” She lowered her head, ashamed of her brother’s actions. “Archie ordered the death of the bairn and I couldnae bear it. I helped the women escape, leaving verra little choice for Laird MacGregor. He ended Archie’s life for his treachery. I traveled here with Laird MacGregor’s brother, Declan, to give an account of Archie’s…”

She left the words unspoken, not needing to relive the pain. “Since there is nay one to take Archie’s place, the MacGregors hold my brother’s lands, which are now relinquished to the realm. And I am now a ward of the court until His Majesty decides my fate.”

Robert looked amazed. “I don’t know what surprises me more. Archie’s deceit or your bravery. I am sure it was difficult for you to speak to Archie’s character or lack thereof.” Reaching out, he gently touched her arm. “Listen, Liadain, I have the king’s ear. Tell me what you want or where you want to go. I can at least offer you that for my ill-mannered behavior.”

“I donna want anything from ye,” she bit out. “Ye couldnae even give me the truth.”

He sighed and held an expression upon his face that seemed regretful. “When we met, you were but a young girl, Liadain. I know I made promises to you, but then I was sent to Spain and I fell—”

“Robert! Robert!” yelled a woman upon her approach. She wore a moss-colored gown and her hair was the shade of honey. The woman appeared petite and flowerlike until she turned and displayed a rounded belly very much with child. Holding her hands under her stomach, the woman moved unsteadily toward them, the wind whipping color into her pale cheeks. “There you are, Robert.”

Liadain would not have even noticed MacGregor’s approach if not for the strong hand placed supportively at her back. She leaned against the palm of his hand as the woman spoke.

“Robert, I need to go back to our chamber. I feel ill. The babe pushes too much and I need to lie down.” Placing her hands at her back, the woman stretched, looking totally uncomfortable. A rush of pink stained the woman’s cheeks and she cast a sheepish smile. “Pray excuse my husband’s comportment, my lady. I am Viscountess Cranborne.”

Liadain gaped at Robert and he held some unreadable mask of emotion upon his face. At the same time, MacGregor’s hand at her back suddenly became almost unbearable in its tenderness. The shock of discovery hit Liadain in full force. She stood there, blank, amazed, and shaken. This was Robert’s
wife
.

All of those promises that flashed before her eyes were now blown away like petals that fell from a beautiful flower, a gentle reminder of what could no longer be. Her pride had been seriously bruised, and now her face flushed with humiliation and anger—mainly at herself for being such a fool.

An unwelcome tension loomed between them like a heavy mist.

Struggling to maintain collectedness, Robert coughed. “My apologies, dearest.” He cast Liadain a gaze of complete and utter terror, similar to the same flustered expression that MacGregor had upon his face earlier.

MacGregor spoke and his voice was tender, almost a murmur. “Healer.” His tone brought her swiftly back to reality and she leaned back against his massive frame. If his arms did not support her, she would have fallen.

Liadain smiled tenderly at Robert’s wife, her foolishness turning quickly into annoyance. “Viscount Cranborne was ne’er one for manners. I am Lady Liadain Campbell. The Earl of Argyll was my brother. The viscount and I were acquainted from his visits with my brother. Please, I would be honored if ye would call me Liadain.”

Robert’s wife smiled graciously and then suddenly turned her head. “Pray excuse me,” she murmured, placing her hand over her mouth. Taking a few steps away from them, the woman tossed her contents all over the ground.

The gagging sounds brought Liadain’s instincts into awareness, and she immediately ran to Robert’s wife, placing a nurturing hand at her back. “’Tis all right. Ye have the sickness all day, my lady?”

The poor woman nodded in response, still huddled over. She moaned loudly as another bout of sickness came upon her. When she finished, she could barely pull herself to stand. She gulped hard, tears slipping down her cheeks. “My apologies.”

Robert pushed back his wife’s hair from her cheeks and his eyes were gentle, understanding. He wiped the woman’s tears with his thumb. “Let me take you inside, my love. You have been up and about all day.”

Liadain’s hand rubbed the woman’s back. “There is nay need for apologies, my lady. I am a healer. Let me help ye. I can brew something that will assist ye with the sickness.”