Book 1 > Highlander Vows
England, 1357
Faking her death would be simple. It was escaping her home that would be difficult. Marion de Lacy stared hard into the slowly darkening sky, thinking about the plan she intended to put into action tomorrow—if all went well—but growing uneasiness tightened her belly. From where she stood in the bailey, she counted the guards up in the tower. It was not her imagination: Father had tripled the knights keeping guard at all times, as if he was expecting trouble.
Taking a deep breath of the damp air, she pulled her mother’s cloak tighter around her to ward off the twilight chill. A lump lodged in her throat as the wool scratched her neck. In the many years since her mother had been gone, Marion had both hated and loved this cloak for the death and life it represented. Her mother’s freesia scent had long since faded from the garment, yet simply calling up a memory of her mother wearing it gave Marion comfort.
She rubbed her fingers against the rough material. When she fled, she couldn’t chance taking anything with her but the clothes on her body and this cloak. Her death had to appear accidental, and the cloak that everyone knew she prized would ensure her freedom. Finding it tangled in the branches at the edge of the sea cliff ought to be just the thing to convince her father and William Froste that she’d drowned. After all, neither man thought she could swim. They didn’t truly care about her anyway. Her marriage to the blackhearted knight was only about what her hand could give the two men. Her father, Baron de Lacy, wanted more power, and Froste wanted her family’s prized land. A match made in Heaven, if only the match didn’t involve her…but it did.
Father would set the hounds of Hell themselves to track her down if he had the slightest suspicion that she was still alive. She was an inestimable possession to be given to secure Froste’s unwavering allegiance and, therefore, that of the renowned ferocious knights who served him. Whatever small sliver of hope she had that her father would grant her mercy and not marry her to Froste had been destroyed by the lashing she’d received when she’d pleaded for him to do so.
The moon crested above the watchtower, reminding her why she was out here so close to mealtime: to meet Angus. The Scotsman may have been her father’s stable master, but he was her ally, and when he’d proposed she flee England for Scotland, she’d readily consented.
Marion looked to the west, the direction from which Angus would return from Newcastle. He should be back any minute now from meeting his cousin and clansman Neil, who was to escort her to Scotland. She prayed all was set and that Angus’s kin was ready to depart. With her wedding to Froste to take place in six days, she wanted to be far away before there was even the slightest chance he’d be making his way here. And since he was set to arrive the night before the wedding, leaving tomorrow promised she’d not encounter him.
A sense of urgency enveloped her, and Marion forced herself to stroll across the bailey toward the gatehouse that led to the tunnel preceding the drawbridge. She couldn’t risk raising suspicion from the tower guards. At the gatehouse, she nodded to Albert, one of the knights who operated the drawbridge mechanism. He was young and rarely questioned her excursions to pick flowers or find herbs.
“Off to get some medicine?” he inquired.
“Yes,” she lied with a smile and a little pang of guilt. But this was survival, she reminded herself as she entered the tunnel. When she exited the heavy wooden door that led to freedom, she wasn’t surprised to find Peter and Andrew not yet up in the twin towers that flanked the entrance to the drawbridge. It was, after all, time for the changing of the guard.
They smiled at her as they put on their helmets and demi-gauntlets. They were an imposing presence to any who crossed the drawbridge and dared to approach the castle gate. Both men were tall and looked particularly daunting in their full armor, which Father insisted upon at all times. The men were certainly a fortress in their own right.
She nodded to them. “I’ll not be long. I want to gather some more flowers for the supper table.” Her voice didn’t even wobble with the lie.
Peter grinned at her, his kind brown eyes crinkling at the edges. “Will you pick me one of those pale winter flowers for my wife again, Marion?”
She returned his smile. “It took away her anger as I said it would, didn’t it?”
“It did,” he replied. “You always know just how to help with her.”
“I’ll get a pink one if I can find it. The colors are becoming scarcer as the weather cools.”
Andrew, the younger of the two knights, smiled, displaying a set of straight teeth. He held up his covered arm. “My cut is almost healed.”
Marion nodded. “I told you! Now maybe you’ll listen to me sooner next time you’re wounded in training.”
He gave a soft laugh. “I will. Should I put more of your paste on tonight?”
“Yes, keep using it. I’ll have to gather some more yarrow, if I can find any, and mix up another batch of the medicine for you.” And she’d have to do it before she escaped. “I better get going if I’m going to find those things.” She knew she should not have agreed to search for the flowers and offered to find the yarrow when she still had to speak to Angus and return to the castle in time for supper, but both men had been kind to her when many had not. It was her way of thanking them.
After Peter lowered the bridge and opened the door, she departed the castle grounds, considering her plan once more. Had she forgotten anything? She didn’t think so. She was simply going to walk straight out of her father’s castle and never come back. Tomorrow, she’d announce she was going out to collect more winter blooms, and then, instead, she would go down to the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea. She would slip off her cloak and leave it for a search party to find. Her breath caught deep in her chest at the simple yet dangerous plot. The last detail to see to was Angus.
She stared down the long dirt path that led to the sea and stilled, listening for hoofbeats. A slight vibration of the ground tingled her feet, and her heart sped in hopeful anticipation that it was Angus coming down the dirt road on his horse. When the crafty stable master appeared with a grin spread across his face, the worry that was squeezing her heart loosened. For the first time since he had ridden out that morning, she took a proper breath. He stopped his stallion alongside her and dismounted.
She tilted her head back to look up at him as he towered over her. An errant thought struck. “Angus, are all Scots as tall as you?”
“Nay, but ye ken Scots are bigger than all the wee Englishmen.” Suppressed laughter filled his deep voice. “So even the ones nae as tall as me are giants compared te the scrawny men here.”
“You’re teasing me,” she replied, even as she arched her eyebrows in uncertainty.
“A wee bit,” he agreed and tousled her hair. The laughter vanished from his eyes as he rubbed a hand over his square jaw and then stared down his bumpy nose at her, fixing what he called his “lecturing look” on her. “We’ve nae much time. Neil is in Newcastle just as he’s supposed te be, but there’s been a slight change.”
She frowned. “For the last month, every time I wanted to simply make haste and flee, you refused my suggestion, and now you say there’s a slight change?”
His ruddy complexion darkened. She’d pricked that MacLeod temper her mother had always said Angus’s clan was known for throughout the Isle of Skye, where they lived in the farthest reaches of Scotland. Marion could remember her mother chuckling and teasing Angus about how no one knew the MacLeod temperament better than their neighboring clan, the MacDonalds of Sleat, to which her mother had been born. The two clans had a history of feuding.
Angus cleared his throat and recaptured Marion’s attention. Without warning, his hand closed over her shoulder, and he squeezed gently. “I’m sorry te say it so plain, but ye must die at once.”
Her eyes widened as dread settled in the pit of her stomach. “What? Why?” The sudden fear she felt was unreasonable. She knew he didn’t mean she was really going to die, but her palms were sweating and her lungs had tightened all the same. She sucked in air and wiped her damp hands down the length of her cotton skirts. Suddenly, the idea of going to a foreign land and living with her mother’s clan, people she’d never met, made her apprehensive.
She didn’t even know if the MacDonalds—her uncle, in particular, who was now the laird—would accept her or not. She was half-English, after all, and Angus had told her that when a Scot considered her English bloodline and the fact that she’d been raised there, they would most likely brand her fully English, which was not a good thing in a Scottish mind. And if her uncle was anything like her grandfather had been, the man was not going to be very reasonable. But she didn’t have any other family to turn to who would dare defy her father, and Angus hadn’t offered for her to go to his clan, so she’d not asked. He likely didn’t want to bring trouble to his clan’s doorstep, and she didn’t blame him.
Panic bubbled inside her. She needed more time, even if it was only the day she’d thought she had, to gather her courage.
“Why must I flee tonight? I was to teach Eustice how to dress a wound. She might serve as a maid, but then she will be able to help the knights when I’m gone. And her little brother, Bernard, needs a few more lessons before he’s mastered writing his name and reading. And Eustice’s youngest sister has begged me to speak to Father about allowing her to visit her mother next week.”
“Ye kinnae watch out for everyone here anymore, Marion.”
She placed her hand over his on her shoulder. “Neither can you.”
Their gazes locked in understanding and disagreement.
He slipped his hand from her shoulder, and then crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture that screamed stubborn, unyielding protector. “If I leave at the same time ye feign yer death,” he said, changing the subject, “it could stir yer father’s suspicion and make him ask questions when none need te be asked. I’ll be going home te Scotland soon after ye.” Angus reached into a satchel attached to his horse and pulled out a dagger, which he slipped to her. “I had this made for ye.”
Marion took the weapon and turned it over, her heart pounding. “It’s beautiful.” She held it by its black handle while withdrawing it from the sheath and examining it. “It’s much sharper than the one I have.”
“Aye,” he said grimly. “It is. Dunnae forget that just because I taught ye te wield a dagger does nae mean ye can defend yerself from all harm. Listen te my cousin and do as he says. Follow his lead.”
She gave a tight nod. “I will. But why must I leave now and not tomorrow?”
Concern filled Angus’s eyes. “Because I ran into Froste’s brother in town and he told me that Froste sent word that he would be arriving in two days.”
Marion gasped. “That’s earlier than expected.”
“Aye,” Angus said and took her arm with gentle authority. “So ye must go now. I’d rather be trying te trick only yer father than yer father, Froste, and his savage knights. I want ye long gone and yer death accepted when Froste arrives.”
She shivered as her mind began to race with all that could go wrong.
“I see the worry darkening yer green eyes,” Angus said, interrupting her thoughts. He whipped off his hat and his hair, still shockingly red in spite of his years, fell down around his shoulders. He only ever wore it that way when he was riding. He said the wind in his hair reminded him of riding his own horse when he was in Scotland. “I was going to talk to ye tonight, but now that I kinnae…” He shifted from foot to foot, as if uncomfortable. “I want te offer ye something. I’d have proposed it sooner, but I did nae want ye te feel ye had te take my offer so as nae te hurt me, but I kinnae hold my tongue, even so.”
She furrowed her brow. “What is it?”
“I’d be proud if ye wanted te stay with the MacLeod clan instead of going te the MacDonalds. Then ye’d nae have te leave everyone ye ken behind. Ye’d have me.”
A surge of relief filled her. She threw her arms around Angus, and he returned her hug quick and hard before setting her away. Her eyes misted at once. “I had hoped you would ask me,” she admitted.
For a moment, he looked astonished, but then he spoke. “Yer mother risked her life te come into MacLeod territory at a time when we were fighting terrible with the MacDonalds, as ye well ken.”
Marion nodded. She knew the story of how Angus had ended up here. He’d told her many times. Her mother had been somewhat of a renowned healer from a young age, and when Angus’s wife had a hard birthing, her mother had gone to help. The knowledge that his wife and child had died anyway still made Marion want to cry.
“I pledged my life te keep yer mother safe for the kindness she’d done me, which brought me here, but, lass, long ago ye became like a daughter te me, and I pledge the rest of my miserable life te defending ye.”
She gripped Angus’s hand. “I wish you were my father.”
He gave her a proud yet smug look, one she was used to seeing. She chortled to herself. The man did have a terrible streak of pride. She’d have to give Father John another coin for penance for Angus, since the Scot refused to take up the custom himself.
Angus hooked his thumb in his gray tunic. “Ye’ll make a fine MacLeod because ye already ken we’re the best clan in Scotland.”
Mentally, she added another coin to her dues. “Do you think they’ll let me become a MacLeod, though, since my mother was the daughter of the previous MacDonald laird and I’ve an English father?”
“They will,” he answered without hesitation, but she heard the slight catch in his voice.
“Angus.” She narrowed her eyes. “You said you would never lie to me.”
His brows dipped together, and he gave her a long, disgruntled look. “They may be a bit wary,” he finally admitted. “But I’ll nae let them turn ye away. Dunnae worry,” he finished, his Scottish brogue becoming thick with emotion.
She bit her lip. “Yes, but you won’t be with me when I first get there. What should I do to make certain that they will let me stay?”
He quirked his mouth as he considered her question. “Ye must first get the laird te like ye. Tell Neil te take ye directly te the MacLeod te get his consent for ye te live there. I kinnae vouch for the man myself as I’ve never met him, but Neil says he’s verra honorable, fierce in battle, patient, and reasonable.” Angus cocked his head as if in thought. “Now that I think about it, I’m sure the MacLeod can get ye a husband, and then the clan will more readily accept ye. Aye.” He nodded. “Get in the laird’s good graces as soon as ye meet him and ask him te find ye a husband.” A scowl twisted his lips. “Preferably one who will accept yer acting like a man sometimes.”
She frowned at him. “You are the one who taught me how to ride bareback, wield a dagger, and shoot an arrow true.”
“Aye.” He nodded. “I did. But when I started teaching ye, I thought yer mama would be around te add her woman’s touch. I did nae ken at the time that she’d pass when ye’d only seen eight summers in yer life.”
“You’re lying again,” Marion said. “You continued those lessons long after Mama’s death. You weren’t a bit worried how I’d turn out.”
“I sure was!” he objected, even as a guilty look crossed his face. “But what could I do? Ye insisted on hunting for the widows so they’d have food in the winter, and ye insisted on going out in the dark te help injured knights when I could nae go with ye. I had te teach ye te hunt and defend yerself. Plus, you were a sad, lonely thing, and I could nae verra well overlook ye when ye came te the stables and asked me te teach ye things.”
“Oh, you could have,” she replied. “Father overlooked me all the time, but your heart is too big to treat someone like that.” She patted him on the chest. “I think you taught me the best things in the world, and it seems to me any man would want his woman to be able to defend herself.”
“Shows how much ye ken about men,” Angus muttered with a shake of his head. “Men like te think a woman needs them.”
“I dunnae need a man,” she said in her best Scottish accent.
He threw up his hands. “Ye do. Ye’re just afeared.”
The fear was true enough. Part of her longed for love, to feel as if she belonged to a family. For so long she’d wanted those things from her father, but she had never gotten them, no matter what she did. It was difficult to believe it would be any different in the future. She’d rather not be disappointed.
Angus tilted his head, looking at her uncertainly. “Ye want a wee bairn some day, dunnae ye?”
“Well, yes,” she admitted and peered down at the ground, feeling foolish.
“Then ye need a man,” he crowed.
She drew her gaze up to his. “Not just any man. I want a man who will truly love me.”
He waved a hand dismissively. Marriages of convenience were a part of life, she knew, but she would not marry unless she was in love and her potential husband loved her in return. She would support herself if she needed to.
“The other big problem with a husband for ye,” he continued, purposely avoiding, she suspected, her mention of the word love, “as I see it, is yer tender heart.”
“What’s wrong with a tender heart?” She raised her brow in question.
“’Tis more likely te get broken, aye?” His response was matter-of-fact.
“Nay. ’Tis more likely to have compassion,” she replied with a grin.
“We’re both right,” he announced. “Yer mama had a tender heart like ye. ’Tis why yer father’s black heart hurt her so. I dunnae care te watch the light dim in ye as it did yer mother.”
“I don’t wish for that fate, either,” she replied, trying hard not to think about how sad and distant her mother had often seemed. “Which is why I will only marry for love. And why I need to get out of England.”
“I ken that, lass, truly I do, but ye kinnae go through life alone.”
“I don’t wish to,” she defended. “But if I have to, I have you, so I’ll not be alone.” With a shudder, her heart denied the possibility that she may never find love, but she squared her shoulders.
“’Tis nae the same as a husband,” he said. “I’m old. Ye need a younger man who has the power te defend ye. And if Sir Frosty Pants ever comes after ye, you’re going te need a strong man te go against him.”
Marion snorted to cover the worry that was creeping in.
Angus moved his mouth to speak, but his reply was drowned by the sound of the supper horn blowing. “God’s bones!” Angus muttered when the sound died. “I’ve flapped my jaw too long. Ye must go now. I’ll head te the stables and start the fire as we intended. It’ll draw Andrew and Peter away if they are watching ye too closely.”
Marion looked over her shoulder at the knights, her stomach turning. She had known the plan since the day they had formed it, but now the reality of it scared her into a cold sweat. She turned back to Angus and gripped her dagger hard. “I’m afraid.”
Determination filled his expression, as if his will for her to stay out of harm would make it so. “Ye will stay safe,” he commanded. “Make yer way through the path in the woods that I showed ye, straight te Newcastle. I left ye a bag of coins under the first tree ye come te, the one with the rope tied te it. Neil will be waiting for ye by Pilgrim Gate on Pilgrim Street. The two of ye will depart from there.”
She worried her lip but nodded all the same.
“Neil has become friends with a friar who can get the two of ye out,” Angus went on. “Dunnae talk te anyone, especially any men. Ye should go unnoticed, as ye’ve never been there and won’t likely see anyone ye’ve ever come in contact with here.”
Fear tightened her lungs, but she swallowed. “I didn’t even bid anyone farewell.” Not that she really could have, nor did she think anyone would miss her other than Angus, and she would be seeing him again. Peter and Andrew had been kind to her, but they were her father’s men, and she knew it well. She had been taken to the dungeon by the knights several times for punishment for transgressions that ranged from her tone not pleasing her father to his thinking she gave him a disrespectful look. Other times, they’d carried out the duty of tying her to the post for a thrashing when she’d angered her father. They had begged her forgiveness profusely but done their duties all the same. They would likely be somewhat glad they did not have to contend with such things anymore.
Eustice was both kind and thankful for Marion teaching her brother how to read, but Eustice lost all color any time someone mentioned the maid going with Marion to Froste’s home after Marion was married. She suspected the woman was afraid to go to the home of the infamous “Merciless Knight.” Eustice would likely be relieved when Marion disappeared. Not that Marion blamed her.
A small lump lodged in her throat. Would her father even mourn her loss? It wasn’t likely, and her stomach knotted at the thought.
“You’ll come as soon as you can?” she asked Angus.
“Aye. Dunnae fash yerself.”
She forced a smile. “You are already sounding like you’re back in Scotland. Don’t forget to curb that when speaking with Father.”
“I’ll remember. Now, make haste te the cliff te leave yer cloak, then head straight for Newcastle.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” she said, ashamed at the sudden rise of cowardliness in her chest and at the way her eyes stung with unshed tears.
“Gather yer courage, lass. I’ll be seeing ye soon, and Neil will keep ye safe.”
She sniffed. “I’ll do the same for Neil.”
“I’ve nay doubt ye’ll try,” Angus said, sounding proud and wary at the same time.
“I’m not afraid for myself,” she told him in a shaky voice. “You’re taking a great risk for me. How will I ever make it up to you?”
“Ye already have,” Angus said hastily, glancing around and directing a worried look toward the drawbridge. “Ye want te live with my clan, which means I can go te my dying day treating ye as my daughter. Now, dunnae cry when I walk away. I ken how sorely ye’ll miss me,” he boasted with a wink. “I’ll miss ye just as much.”
With that, he swung up onto his mount. He had just given the signal for his beast to go when Marion realized she didn’t know what Neil looked like.
“Angus!”
He pulled back on the reins and turned toward her. “Aye?”
“I need Neil’s description.”
Angus’s eyes widened. “I’m getting old,” he grumbled. “I dunnae believe I forgot such a detail. He’s got hair redder than mine, and wears it tied back always. Oh, and he’s missing his right ear, thanks te Froste. Took it when Neil came through these parts te see me last year.”
“What?” She gaped at him. “You never told me that!”
“I did nae because I knew ye would try te go after Neil and patch him up, and that surely would have cost ye another beating if ye were caught.” His gaze bore into her. “Ye’re verra courageous. I reckon I had a hand in that ’cause I knew ye needed te be strong te withstand yer father. But dunnae be mindless. Courageous men and women who are mindless get killed. Ye ken?”
She nodded.
“Tread carefully,” he warned.
“You too.” She said the words to his back, for he was already turned and headed toward the drawbridge.
She made her way slowly to the edge of the steep embankment as tears filled her eyes. She wasn’t upset because she was leaving her father—she’d certainly need to say a prayer of forgiveness for that sin tonight—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d never see Angus again. It was silly; everything would go as they had planned. Before she could fret further, the blast of the fire horn jerked her into motion. There was no time for any thoughts but those of escape.
